Light streamed into Joe’s bedroom, as he fought to wake. He had been home for several days and had slept through most of them. The physical and emotional strain of the days in Reno, followed by the travel home had weighed heavily on him and his body demanded sleep. He surrendered to the need for rest, as he slept in a dreamless slumber for many hours. His family checked on him often, each spending time sitting in his room, feeling the need to protect. It had been something they had grown accustomed to doing in Reno and each felt the need to continue their vigil. They seemed to know Joe would not want to wake to an empty room and took turns making sure he was well attended. Meals were catered to him as he needed assistance simply to eat, and he would fall back into sleep quickly after. The reassurance Joe received at waking to a loving presence kept him free of panic and away from the cellar. He had told himself countless times while in the doctor’s office, if he were to be home, then he would be free of the Stranger. For a short time, as the belief he was free from terror held in his mind, Joe felt safe and without fear.

As the sun proved it would not give in to his sleepy protests, Joe reluctantly opened his eyes and for a few moments forgot what he had endured. He lay in bed dozing, enjoying the warmth of the blankets, and doing as he always did upon waking late. He listened to hear who was around and what kind of mood his father might be in. Sleeping late had always been a source of pleasure for Joe, who would take advantage of any time he was given the opportunity and a source of irritation for his father. Joe knew his father believed in rising with the sun to begin work, but to Joe, his father seemed far too eager to get to things that could be done just as easily in a later part of the day. And, he had justified to himself long ago, if he were more rested, he would do a better job any way, so it was beneficial for everyone that he get the most sleep possible. He had known not to share his reasoning with his father, because on this topic, they would never see eye to eye. As a matter of fact, Joe knew most of the Nevada territory would disagree with his philosophy regarding when best to begin the day.

As Joe lay in bed drifting in and out of sleep, he moved his leg and felt the pain that brought the events in Reno back to his awareness. It was no longer simply a day he had slept late where the worst that could happen would be he received a lecture from his father on the evils of laziness. Instead, it became a day where he would spend much time remembering why it was he was sleeping so much and would fight a battle to stop his thoughts from going to the Stranger.

Joe sat up and groaned aloud as his body fully woke and told him of it’s displeasure. He began thinking of how he was going to manage to get out of bed and dressed when he heard someone coming down the hall. He looked towards the door, as Adam looked around the corner to check on him. "Hey, Joe. Heard ya groaning. You okay?"

"Yeah, just hurts ta move much. What are you doin’ around? I thought I’d be stuck up here ‘til least lunchtime. What time is it any way?" Joe asked through a yawn.

Adam laughed. "Lunch was an hour ago. We didn’t want to disturb you. We knew you needed the sleep."

"Seems that’s all I’ve done for a while. Hey, could you maybe help me get up and dressed? I think I’d like to look at something other than this room. I got to see lots of it over the years, and sittin’ up here kinda makes me feel like Pa’s mad, and he’s sent me to my room again."

Adam thought back to the many times he had heard his father say, "Joseph, go to your room," and smiled. His brother had indeed spent many hours in his room supposedly contemplating his transgressions. It was more likely though that Joe had spent the time in his room playing or sleeping through the punishment rather than thinking of where he had erred. Adam had also experienced his fair share of banishment to his bedroom as a boy, but had to admit Joe had them all beat in that area. "Sure, I’ll help. We’ll get you liberated and downstairs."

The two worked together, and Adam helped Joe dress. All was calm until Adam wanted to retie the slings around Joe’s arms, and the gag fell out onto the floor. Joe had originally felt the cloth next to his arm after the Stranger had placed it there, but after having been medicated, and then having fallen asleep in the wagon, he had forgotten it had been there. That was until it had fallen out onto the floor. Joe’s eyes remained set on the cloth as Adam picked it up and looked at it. He then turned his look to Joe, and saw his little brother very pale and about to faint.

The room began to spin and Joe knew he needed to sit down. He moved to his bed, sat and put his head down. Watching Joe’s reaction, Adam was unsure what to make of it. He looked again at the cloth in his hand but had no idea the significance. "Joe, what’s wrong? You look sick. What is it?"

Joe remained with his head down, as he tried to stop the dizziness. He made himself breathe as he looked at the floor. He started counting the wood planks to get his mind off of the gag. He swallowed hard and could almost taste the cotton in his mouth. He resisted the urge to bite down hard, as he had done so many times when it was bad in the cellar.

Seeing Joe in obvious distress, Adam moved over and sat next to him. "What is it? Is this thing upsetting you?" Adam was holding the cloth so that Joe could see it out of the corner of his eye. Joe turned and looked away. He knew he had to get himself under control, or Adam would become suspicious. "Uh, nah, it ain’t that, Adam. I got dizzy from standing, I think. I haven’t done much of it, and the doctor said it would make me feel funny. That’s all that happened. I’ll be okay in a minute."

Adam felt Joe was lying but he had no idea why. The reaction Joe had seemed to have occurred because of the rag. It did not make sense though as Adam asked himself, "But why, Joe? Why would you lie?" Adam held out the rag and asked, "Do you know what this is?"

Joe did not look at Adam’s hand as he answered, "Uh, I saw Doctor Green with a rag like that. Maybe he was trying to rush too much getting me outta there, and he got it mixed in with the sling. I don’t know how it got there."

Joe looked Adam in the eye, and Adam saw fear. He knew he should not push. "Well, okay Joe. But listen. If there is something else, something more, you can tell me, buddy. Maybe I can help?"

"No, there’s nothing to help with. ‘Sides, I already need you to help me get down stairs. Now can ya help me finish dressing?" The dizziness had passed, and Joe stood once more. He told himself to not think of the gag, the cellar or the Stranger.

After Joe was dressed, the two made their way downstairs. Adam had to help Joe’s every movement, so they traveled slowly. The more he was up and around, the more pain Joe felt. By the time he reached the downstairs sofa, he was exhausted and hurting. As Joe sat, Adam could see movement had been painful and was quick to get the medicine the doctor had sent with them to help manage the pain.

Joe lay on the sofa with his head resting back on the arm waiting for his body to calm, and the pain to move away. After insuring Joe was comfortable, Adam walked over to the large desk from where the massive Ponderosa Empire was run. He had volunteered to stay around the house that day to be available if Joe needed anything. Hop Sing was also there, so between the two men they felt that whatever Joe might need they could easily care for him. Adam sat at the desk trying to concentrate on the facts and figures of the timber mill. He had difficulty concentrating and could not help but look up and watch his little brother. Joe had always been somewhat of an enigma to him, and he wondered if his suspicions regarding Joe’s deception was due to his not understand his brother’s emotional reactions, or if there was something deeper going on inside of Joe.

The frustration and guilt over Joe having been injured had not calmed in Adam. He had laid awake the previous night thinking about his anger at Baxter and questioning if he had allowed foolishness or even naive arrogance to drive him pursue the ruthless man. Adam was a man of principle and integrity who felt that corruption, wherever found, should be exposed, and the perpetrator strongly punished. He knew he still believed it in theory, but now he had begun to develop certain questions within himself. Questions he had thought he had known the answer to until Joe had been brutalized. Now it seemed so much of what he held as an unquestionable belief was up for grabs.

The questions that ran through Adam's mind the previous night, the one’s that had kept him so far from sleep, were questions men had asked over the ages. After the ramifications of his decision to set up and bring down Cyrus Baxter, Adam now wondered if his decision to protect society from the likes of Baxter was wrong. He had asked himself what was more important, Baxter’s downfall or protecting his own family? When was it the right choice to protect himself and his family and turn his back on the masses? He had no idea the answers.

In the past, Adam had found people who had not been willing to get involved and take a stand for what they believed in to be harmful to the greater good. They were too self-focused in his opinion. He had shown his father several times where the needs of the people of Virginia City outweighed the needs of the Ponderosa. He had helped his father loosen some of the rigidity Ben had developed regarding people whom he viewed as a threat to the Ponderosa. Ben was naturally benevolent, but Adam had encouraged, supported, and at times prodded his father into not being so isolationistic. Now the family had experienced an enormous price for involvement in the affairs of others, and Adam wondered if the price had been too high. He wondered if the Cartwrights would not have been better off keeping to themselves and protecting their own. Questioning and self doubts had replaced secure belief, and Adam was thrown.

The Virginia City Press Enterprise lay off to the side on the desk. Adam looked at the headlines - Baxter’s Conviction Brings Investigation into Mining Corruption. The conviction of Baxter was what Adam had wanted when he had talked to his father the months before regarding his suspicions, and now it was there in bold type. The jury had deliberated less than four hours bringing in a guilty verdict at the same time Joe was giving his statement to the Sheriff of Reno. Ben had been told of the conviction while they were still in Reno and had notified Hoss and Adam. Since Joe had not asked, they decided to wait until he was stronger to talk to him of the trial, and Doyle’s death. If Baxter would be charged with a crime in what had happened to Joe, it would be up to Joe to be the one to charge him and testify against him. Adam shook his head. It would be a Cartwright once more going up against the man Adam now felt was truly evil. He had serious doubts if Joe could tolerate such an ordeal given how he had responded to giving his statement, and the emotional reactions that were occurring inside his little brother for which there seemed no obvious reason. Adam began to regret not having shot the man as his first impulse had told him to do.

Adam looked over to the sofa and could see Joe’s eyes closed. He stood and began to walk across the room when he saw Joe’s eyes open. "Hey, feeling better?"

"Uh, yeah. Kinda tired now, but it doesn’t hurt so much."

"I was going to the kitchen. You want anything? You gotta be hungry."

"Nah, I don’t want anything. Thanks anyway."

"You know you’re not gonna get away without eating, so let me get you something, and I’ll help you eat it."

Joe sighed loudly. "Adam, I don’t want anything. It’s just all, uh… I’m not hungry right now."

"Hey, I know this is really hard on you Joe, but you’ve got to eat. I’m gonna get you something, and you just try and eat what you can." Adam did not wait for Joe to respond before he was off to the kitchen. He returned without a tray and Joe gave him a questioning look. Adam explained, "Hop Sing told me he would get it and sent me out of the room."

The two shared a look and a grin, both knowing Hop Sing was the boss of the kitchen, and they would have to bow to his wishes. Hop Sing soon appeared with a tray piled with food and placed it on the large table in front of Joe.. "Little Joe, you eat all and get better."

Joe rolled his eyes at the doting cook and then looked at the tray. "Hey could ya put some cinnamon on the rice pudding, Hop Sing? It’s better that way."

Hop Sing gave Joe a look of questioning and offense. "Why you now want to change how Hop Sing make your pudding? You eat all time the way Hop Sing make. Now you change. You no like Hop Sing’s no more?"

With that Hop Sing turned away from Joe and Adam to make Joe the rice pudding exactly the way he wanted it. As he left, Hop Sing silently scolded himself. He had forgotten Joe now liked cinnamon on the pudding. He had wanted to make his boy feel better, and he felt as if he had failed. He chastised himself all the way to the kitchen.

Joe watched Hop Sing scurry to the kitchen and shook his head. He knew how much Hop Sing loved and pampered him, but also knew Hop Sing would not show it in the traditional western way. Hop Sing and Joe had developed a strong bond long before Joe’s mother died, and he knew the cook’s rantings were a sign of affection. He chuckled and said, "You’d think I insulted second cousin or somethin’. Sheesh."

They laughed as Hop Sing returned quickly. He placed the bowl on the tray and scurried away, chattering all the while. "Little Joe think I have all time in world to make pudding. He not care Hop Sing busy. Too busy to mess with boy who change mind. Hop Sing’s pudding used to be best boy ever had. Now it no good. Boy need to make own pudding he not like Hop Sing’s." The rest of the speech was in Cantonese of which Joe understood. He heard Hop Sing say, "Eat it all. There is more if you want it."

Joe chuckled at his friend’s carrying on and the ‘secret’ message he had been given. Adam enjoyed Joe’s laugh, but as he helped his brother eat, he saw Joe’s mood sober. Adam debated if he should ask what was wrong, although he knew it was that Joe hated to be so dependent. He decided to approach it differently. "Joe, there’s something I’d like to talk to you about if you’re up to it."

Joe was caught off guard. "Yeah, sure. What is it?"

Adam felt uncomfortable, but wanted to help. "You know, you and I haven’t really talked about what you went through and how grateful I am to you."

"Yeah we did, Adam, at the doctor’s office. I don’t remember some of it, but I remember you talking to me. You already thanked me. But, you know…" Joe felt his discomfort rising. "You don’t have to thank me. I only did what you would do for me."

"But Joe, I want you to know I know how hard this is for you. I’m sorry that you went through what you did, buddy. I would trade places with you if I could."

"I know that, Adam. I do." Joe saw something come over Adam’s face. "What is it, Adam? Why you lookin’ like that?"

"I wanted to tell you I’m sorry. Sorry for getting you hurt." The words were hard for Adam, not because he was unwilling to apologize, it was because the emotions felt uncomfortable and expressing them with his youngest brother was somewhat foreign.

"But you didn’t get me hurt. It was Baxter and… um… the uh… the men he told to, uh… ta do it. You didn’t do it, Adam. You got nothin’ to be sorry for." Joe saw Adam’s concern and it made him feel loved, but awkward. His relationship with Adam was confusing to him as they usually allowed much to go unspoken between them.

Adam saw his opportunity to ease his brother’s discomfort. He thought that if he made it so Joe felt he was helping him, then Joe might relax and allow himself to be properly tended. Adam was not fooling himself either. He knew it would make himself feel better to help Joe, but that was really secondary to wanting his brother to acquiesce. "Well, I do feel responsible about all of this, and I’d like to… Um Joe, I think it would help me some if you let me help you. It’s real hard to know I caused all this, and you’re hurting, and I think that maybe we could get each other through it. What do you say?"

Joe was conflicted and torn. He wanted to be independent because that was his nature and how he felt most comfortable, but he knew it was impossible for him at that moment. He wanted to help make Adam feel better, but to do so in the manner Adam said he needed, require him to have to lean on his brother, and that went against Joe’s nature. However, the conflict was complex and multifaceted. He also wanted his big brother’s protection, but knew he was the one who had to protect them all from the evil he had encountered. It left him confused. "I don’t know what you’re askin’ Adam. What do you want me to do?"

"Nothing Joe, other than let me take care of you for a while. Well, me, and Pa, and Hoss, really. Let us tend to you and get you all better. I know it would help me, and you should have seen Pa and Hoss stumbling all over themselves to help you these past few days. I think we need to do this for you, buddy."

"But Adam, I don’t… it uh, bothers… I hate bein’ like this. I hate havin’ to have help with everything. You wanna know frustratin’? Try having an itch on your face that you can’t scratch, and then even if you could, it would hurt so darn bad to scratch the place." Joe looked down at his arms. When he looked back up, there were tears in his eyes. "I hate it, Adam."

"Hey now, we’re your family, Joe. We want to help you, and you won’t be like this long. You’re gonna heal up quicker than you think, and it will all be over."

"I know, but I feel like I’m three years old not bein’ able to do anything and getting all upset all the time. It’s driving me crazy."

"Buddy, you need us. There is nothing wrong with that. We want to help. Hey, I want to help. I know you’ll be there to return the favor someday. Hell, you already have done that. Joe, it’s not a weakness in you. You’re incredible in what you survived. It won’t be long before we’ll be arm wrestling again, and I’ll let you win as I always do." Adam was grinning broadly.

"Oh yeah! You let me win! I can beat you with one arm tied down!" Joe realized what he said and grinned back at Adam. "Just not two of ‘em!"

Adam leaned over and ruffled Joe’s hair. "You let me help you now, and we’ll see how you do against me."

"I’ll try, Adam. I will. I just can’t guarantee I can do it without gettin’ upset sometimes."

"Hey, I understand. You can get upset, but I’m still going to be there to help." Adam was encouraged at how things were going.

"Okay, you got a deal. You help me now, and I’ll beat you later." Joe tried to hold his smile, but it was hard, as he knew he was admitting he was dependent and agreeing not to fight it so hard.

The two settled into a familiar quiet with each other, as Joe finished his meal and then began dozing once more. Adam moved back over to the desk and tried to finish the work he scheduled for himself for that day. It was near dinnertime when the big door opened, and boots were heard across the hardwood floor. Adam looked up to see his father catch sight of Joe on the sofa. Ben moved over to where he could see his youngest son’s face and smiled at his sleeping child. Hoss moved quietly over to a chair near the sofa and sat down, tired from a day of ranch work. He too looked at his little brother. The work he was doing on the ranch was a project both he and Joe had started before the ordeal with Baxter, and he had found himself missing Joe’s company throughout the day. When Hoss and Joe worked together, they often found the fun in a tedious task by either ruthlessly teasing each other, discussing the latest pretty girl that had caught Joe’s eye, or news and gossip from Virginia City. It had been too quiet in Hoss’ opinion as he worked, and he looked forward to Joe being up and about to keep him company.

Ben walked over to Adam and spoke softly. "How’s he been today?"

Before answering, Adam thought over what had transpired in Joe’s room. He had no idea what had happened inside of his brother and wondered if telling his father would only make him worry. "Oh, he’s had a pretty good day. He’s slept most of the time, but about an hour after lunch he woke up and wanted to come downstairs. He seemed to have a rough start getting going, but he’s okay now."

"What do you mean rough start?" A look of worry crossed Ben’s face.

"I’m not sure what happened to tell you the truth. He seemed like he was going to faint, but then, he’s been fine since. I thought it was because he was getting upset about things from Reno, but he told me it was cause he felt funny standing. I don’t really know what it was. But Pa, he’s okay right now. Don’t worry."

Telling Ben not to worry about one of his boys was like telling the sun not to shine. He looked over at his youngest with concern. "I am worried, and I know you are too. We need to continue to keep a close eye on him for a while."

"We’ll get him through it, Pa. He’ll make it." Adam prayed his words would come true given his own doubts that Joe could return to his former self. Adam felt the change within him and wondered if anything would ever be as it had before he had heard the name Cyrus Baxter.

The remainder of the evening passed quietly, with Joe dozing off and on, and the rest of the family retiring to their usual relaxation. Conversation was casual and easy with the family sharing small talk and several laughs. Joe joined in as much as he could, but it was obvious he tired easily and was fading fast. "Joseph, it looks like you’re ready for bed. I’ll help you upstairs." Ben began to stand and was over to Joe before he could protest.

Ben and Joe moved slowly together up to Joe’s room. Joe sat on the bed feeling the strain of climbing the stairs. He was tired, but was uncertain if he really wanted to try to sleep. This was the first night he was not so incredibly exhausted since being injured, and he knew he might not fall off quickly to sleep. He thought of being alone in the dark, and it bothered him. He looked at his bedside table and saw Adam had placed the gag on it. He knew he would have a difficult night. "Uh, Pa? I uh, well, I’m not real tired, so maybe I’ll stay up a while."

"That’s fine, son. You need me to help you get undressed, don’t you?"

"Yeah, I guess. I wanna get my arms out of these things. It’s hard to sleep with ‘em all done up like this."

Ben once more helped his youngest get ready for bed. He thought over the many times he had done this for his boys, making sure they were scrubbed clean, or at least were without obvious dirt, and had said their prayers before bed. He recognized as he helped his son that he missed having little boys around at times. He had never felt a closer time with each of his boys when they were little than at night, as they ended their day and were about ready to be lost to sleep. During those precious times, he had heard many fanciful tales and little boy tragedies. They were all locked firmly away in his heart, and he held them close.

Ben began to tuck in Joe and then stopped himself. He looked at his son with an expression of apology, and Joe smiled. "I was waitin’ for it myself, Pa. Kinda feels like a lot of other times. Ya know? Times when I was little."

"I still see you as little sometimes, Joseph. You grew so quick."

"Could a fooled me. I thought it took forever!" Joe quipped.

Ben laughed at his son’s remark, knowing growing up had been Joe’s primary goal as a child. He patted his son’s leg and then stood to walk out of the room. "Do you need anything else, son?"

"Naugh, I’m fine."

Ben went to pull Joe’s door closed when he heard, "Uh, Pa. You can leave it open. I, uh, well I may, uh…" Joe had no reason for the door being left open except to hear his family around him.

"Oh, uh, good idea, son. If you had to get up in the night to get one of us, the door would be a problem. I’ll leave it open."

"Thanks, Pa." Joe lay back putting his head on the headboard of his bed and sighed heavily as he listened to his father walk away and down the stairs. The room was then quiet, and he was alone. He looked around his room once more, noting that nothing appeared out of place. He listened to voices speaking in low tones downstairs. They were close and could come if they heard him yell, but the feeling of being alone and exposed was strong, and his family’s presence did little to quell it.

Joe lay in bed staring at the familiar ceiling, telling himself to breathe easily and not think of Reno. He had little success and finally decided to do what he did as a boy. He struggled and sat up slowly, feeling each muscle he used as he moved. He made his way over to his window and sat in the sill. His first instinct was to look up and try and locate his mother’s star. He knew it was the time of year where it was harder if not impossible to find, and it left him feeling abandoned. He talked quietly to her in his head, telling her how much he missed her and loved her and then turned his attention to the yard below him.

He had never noticed before, the number of shadows that were cast on the area around the house. The moon was a crescent so the light was low, but the shadows were massive, and Joe felt his uneasiness grow. He studied the area as best be could, trying to think if anything was different. "Has that always been there and I’m just now noticing it, or has someone moved it?" He asked himself as he scanned the area. He then felt silly at his need to know that everything was in it’s place, and there was nothing in the dark to harm him. Joe was about to move back over to the bed, when he saw a small glow of a cigarette. He squinted hard and tried to make out the figure. It was a man standing leaning against the barn. Joe was frustrated at the lack of light, which made it impossible to make out who was there. He felt his heart beat faster as he noticed from the cigarette light that the figure had turned and was looking up at him. He sat frozen as he began to breathe rapidly, his pulse racing and the fear growing. "Who are you, and what do you want?" He said aloud to the figure. "Get out of here! Leave! Go! Go away!"

Joe’s heart jumped as the figure moved. He watched as the man threw down the cigarette, smashed it out with his foot and then turned and went inside the bunkhouse. Joe closed his eyes as he breathed a sigh of relief, but he remained trembling and shaken. He opened his eyes to the dark of the night and realized there could be anyone outside his window, waiting for him. The thought was overwhelming. He rapidly moved himself back to his bed, out of the line of sight of lurking evils.

Night. Joe hated the constant return of the time that was so hard for him. During the day there were many distractions and obligations to keep him away from himself, but the night. The night made him have to listen to his head and feel the loneliness of the lack of answers. It was not always bad. There were times he welcomed the dark and embraced the freedom it gave him to allow his mind to wander far away to adventures and intrigue. But the dreams he knew were coming were the ones where he would fight to wake. They were the dreams of death and torture and pain.

"Safe." The word kept reverberating in his brain. "If only I could feel safe." His room was usually a place of safety at least it had been for eighteen years. Was it still safe? Would he ever feel any place was safe. He thought again of the man outside and was immediately thrown into fear. He told himself to stop it- stop thinking of unknown threats, but it did not work, and he was terrified.

Joe felt his vulnerability. Felt it and hated it. He stood and made his way slowly to his door and then out and into the hall. He creeped down the hallway, careful not to make a sound to alert his family below. He did not want them to know of his fear. He made it to the hall closet. He was unsure if he could even perform the next few maneuvers, but he used his fear to push him forward. He took a deep breath and made his arm move. He closed his eyes to the pain as he felt the door handle. It was next to impossible to grip it, and it took several tries to get a grasp and turn the knob. He felt lightheaded as the pain went through him, and he paused for it to pass.

Eventually, he reached into the closet, and lifted several towels. It was there as he had hoped. He reached in to pick it up, but the weight was too heavy, the pain immense, and the pistol fell to the floor with a loud thud. "Damn it!" Joe swore as he waited to hear what the response from downstairs would be and thankful the weapon had not fired.

"Joseph? Everything okay?" Ben called up the stairs.

"Uh, yeah, Pa, every things fine. I was trying to move some things off my night stand and they fell on the floor."

"You need help?"

"Nah, no, Pa. I’m fine. Just gonna go to sleep now."

"Well you call if you need anything."

"I will, Pa, night." Joe breathed a sigh of relief when no one came up the stairs to investigate. He looked down at the weapon lying on the floor and knew although it did not weigh much, there was not any way he could pick up and carry it. He worked diligently and quietly, scooting the pistol along the floor with his foot. He kept it on the rug to avoid any noise the gun could make against the floor. Joe painstakingly guided it to his room and over to his bed. He knew the most difficult part was next. He bent down and using both hands, he scooped up the weapon and placed it on his bed. He had to sit then in order to calm the fire in his arms as he also gathered his breath. However, having the gun in his possession quieted some of the fear. After the pain lessened to a dull ache he used his hands one final time to push the gun under his pillow. His task complete, he breathed a sigh of relief once more. He could now sleep, because he felt he was ready for the Stranger. It would hurt him to have to hold and fire the weapon, but he knew he would do it and that gave him peace.

Joe finally allowed himself to lie down to sleep. His need for protection was momentarily addressed, and he would reluctantly let go his diligent watch. Joe fell off to sleep trying only to think of the good that was around him. He knew the bad would eventually intrude, but he wanted it safe just a little while, and he made it that way in his mind.
 

The time dragged on as Joe impatiently waited for his body to heal and attempted to manage his thoughts. His moods vacillated, and he became difficult and hard to predict. He would move through periods of irritability where he was very dark, and snap and bite, as the limitations of his mobility would wear him down. His family helped him as best they knew, but no one was immune to Joe’s moods. If he was in a complacent mood, the house felt peace, but if he were in a black mood, it hung over the house like a cloud.

Joe made a realization early in his recovery. The medication kept him too groggy, unaware and relaxed in his surroundings; something he felt was dangerous for him so he began taking less of it. He soon was enduring his body’s protests by sheer will power, as he preferred pain and alertness to medication and the possibility of something happening for which he was not prepared. He admitted to himself that the seduction of the medicine was a strong temptation. He knew it could allow him to become unaware of so much including the memories of the cellar, but the risk of harm to himself or his family was too great, and he would not allow it.

As he became increasingly mobile, Joe attempted to manipulate situations so he was never alone in the house if it were at all possible. His tendency was to keep close to whomever was around, all the while trying to make it appear only a coincidence or as if he were merely bored and wanting to talk. He would stay in the kitchen with Hop Sing as the cook tended the family’s needs, or in the great room when his father or Adam worked on the ranch paperwork. Hoss tended to work outdoors most of the day, and Joe missed spending time with him. He made up for it at night when he would spend the majority of his time talking to Hoss, listening to how his older brother’s day had gone, or as his arms and wrist became somewhat stronger, playing checkers.

It was not abandonment Joe feared in being alone, rather it was his own vulnerability. He had learned his family would not willingly leave him, but he knew they were also very busy, attending to the Ponderosa’s welfare. He knew the livelihood of the ranch was important, but he could not quiet the need inside of him. He needed the ranch to step aside and be second. He was afraid and wanted to be with the familiar and the safe. Somehow, he reasoned, if there were others around, he was less likely to be taken off guard. He made sure when he woke he was out of bed and down the stairs quickly, so he would know everyone’s whereabouts. He was on his way downstairs when he overheard Adam and his father talking at his father’s desk.

"You gonna talk to him about it?" Adam asked with concern.

"Yes, I know I should, just not sure when." Ben answered, but upon seeing Joe, he changed the subject quickly. "Joe, morning. Sleep well?"

Immediately Joe knew the conversation concerned him. "Talk to me about what?"

"Oh, uh, well, I wanted to talk to you about your birthday. We’d like to have a party for you."

Joe looked at his father and then Adam with suspicion. He was at first unsure if his birthday was what they were really discussing, and became certain they were hiding something from him when he saw his father quickly put down and cover up a paper he had been holding in his hand. It bothered him that he was being deceived. "You’re discussing my birthday?"

Ben responded as if he did not notice Joe’s questioning. "I think we should have a big shin dig here for you, what do you say?"

The idea of having a group of people around felt overwhelming. Joe had not wanted to be seen by anyone since returning to the ranch and knew he could not tolerate a party. The thought of friends looking at him with unspoken questions or worse yet, pity made him feel ill. He was slowly recovering, but his face and body still showed the torture he had undergone. He briefly pictured how an evening of friends would be for him but stopped the thoughts. "No, Pa. I don’t want a party. I uh, I’m not really feelin’ good enough yet."

Joe’s response saddened and concerned his father. Ben knew his youngest loved parties, especially his own birthday parties and had hoped a party would lift Joe’s spirits. Joe was quite popular with the young ladies and tended to use get-togethers and parties as a time to flirt with all of them, which seemed to always put him in a good mood. He thought he knew why his son was turning him down and wondered if Joe was not returned to his former self, how long his son would spend his time held up in the house. Ben was unsure the best manner to handle Joe’s discomfort. "Okay son. But is there anything you’d like to do for your birthday?"

"No, not really. It doesn’t matter to me." Joe walked over to the sofa and sat down. He did not want to discuss his birthday further and hoped the subject would quickly change. As he sat, he started to think that his father and Adam had been talking about something they did not want to share with him. He then started to feel annoyed. One of Joe’s greatest irritants was when he felt his family was trying to protect him from something they felt he should not know. He often wanted to ask them, "Am I such a child you have to coddle me? When’ll I ever be grown to you?" As he sat thinking, he became angrier. Soon Joe was furious. He was lost in his anger when his father spoke, "What are you going to be doing today, Joe?"

There was a pregnant pause before Joe answered in a terse manner. "Probably, the usual-nothing."

Ben and Adam noticed Joe’s mood and knew to tread lightly. Adam made a suggestion. "You want to ride out with me to the branding corral? It’d be good to get out of here I think."

"Oh and you know what is good for me don’t you?" Joe muttered. The anger drove him on as he spoke before he thought, "I know you weren’t really talking about my birthday when I walked in. What is it you two were discussing? Not my mother this time ‘cause nothing I know of brought that one about, so what is it now you feel you both have to protect me from?"

Adam and Ben became nervous at Joe’s confrontation. Adam tried to remain calm. "Joe, it’s nothing you need to get so angry about. We were just talking about some things."

"Okay, I’m an idiot! It was enough of something that you wanted to hide it from me, but I’m not supposed to let it bother me! What is it? What do I need protection from now!" Joe knew he was becoming obnoxious, but his frustration drove him.

"Joseph, stop." Ben commanded.

"Stop what, Pa? Stop getting upset at the secrets you two whisper? You gotta be kidding me! Really! You’re not very good at all of this! I learned a thing or two I could show you! Don’t let ‘em see they’ve got you, Pa! You go through it and you don’t say nothin’, and you let ‘em do it to you." The hurt, pain and fear of what Joe had endured were pushing hard on him. He did not want to say what he had, but seemed unable to stop it.

"Joe, come on. Don’t do this. You don’t need to get so upset." Adam tried to calm Joe, but knew from experience that his brother was probably passed calming.

"Oh of course Adam! I have no reason to be upset! Well dear brother, you and Pa go on and have your secrets. I don’t really care. But don’t think me a fool! I know what is happening! You and Pa both so good at agreeing to protect poor Joe from something. Well ya wanna know somethin’, older brother? I’ve seen the worst that can happen! I seen it and looked at it and made my peace with it! Whatever you think you’re protecting me from, I don’t need it! You got nothin’ I ain’t seen! So go on ahead and lie to me!"

"Joe, stop now! Stop it!" Ben was beginning to anger.

"You keep saying stop, Pa. Stop what exactly! Stop asking to know the truth! Stop wanting you two to stop talking behind me! What, Pa! Tell me what to stop, and I will!"

"Joseph, calm down now and hold your tongue. You have no right to speak like this, and I won’t tolerate it."

Joe smirked. "Pa, I ain’t afraid of you!"

"What did you say, Joseph?" Ben could not believe what he heard from his youngest. He started to move towards Joe, but then stopped himself. Taking a deep breath he said, "I’ve never wanted you to fear me, but you will respect me. I think you need to go back upstairs and think about what it is you will say next to me. And I would advise you, young man, to think long and hard about it."

There was a standoff as Joe stood looking at his father defiantly, and Ben stood firmly. Joe looked to Adam, their eyes locked briefly, and then Adam looked away. Joe stood, turned and ran up the stairs to his room. He slammed the door and then looked around his room. He asked himself why he had become so angry and had no answer. He looked to his desk and saw several books. He picked them up and threw them across the room. The intense pain he felt from using his arms was ignored due to his anger. His rage seemed to be building rather than dissipating. He felt the need to hurt someone as he wrestled his feelings. He wanted revenge and had no idea how to channel the rage.

The books being thrown across the room were not missed by the men downstairs. Ben looked to the ceiling and shook his head. "I have no idea what to do with him right now. He’s impossible. One minute he’s fine, the next he’s taking our heads off. Has he talked to you or Hoss about Reno?"

"No… he’s been pretty quiet about all of it. But you know as well as I do that it’s eating at him. Let me go try and talk to him. Maybe tell him what happened to Baxter. It could possibly help him."

Ben stood thinking for a moment, then shook his head at the problem. "It’s worth a try I guess. I’ll be up later to talk to him as well. He has got to learn to control that temper of his."

Adam grabbed the paper he and his father had been discussing and headed up the stairs. Ben watched Adam leave and then walked over, sat at his desk and put his head in his hands. He was at a loss as to how to help Joe.

The knock on Joe’s door was not unexpected. Joe ignored it, hoping whomever was there would go away. He was standing looking out his window when the door opened. "Go away and leave me alone." Joe did not bother to turn around as he stood trying to control his rage.

Adam ignored Joe’s protest. "Hey, I wanted to talk to you about what Pa and I were discussing. You’re right. It did involve you. Come sit down and talk to me."

"I can talk just fine from here. What do you want?"

"Come on Joe, calm down. No one meant to upset you. We were trying to figure out the best way to tell you."

"Tell me what?" Joe asked staring into the yard.

Adam was unsure how best to approach the topic. "With everything you had to go through in Reno…"

"I don’t want to talk about Reno! Reno is over, so if that is what you want to talk about, get out!"

"Joe, wait it isn’t really about Reno, its about Baxter."

Joe finally turned around and looked at Adam. "What about him?"

"You up to talking about this?"

"I can handle it." Joe tried to sound tough, but hearing Baxter’s name had made his heart jump.

"Pa and I were discussing Baxter’s conviction when you came in the room. While we were still in Reno, Baxter was convicted. Given ten years in Yuma."

"So, he deserved it. What does that have to do with me?" Joe was beginning to feel uneasy. There had been no discussion regarding Joe pressing his own charges against the man for what had happened in Reno. He wondered if that was what they wanted him to do and had no idea how he would survive something like that.

Adam took a deep breath before continuing. "Roy Coffee rode out this morning before you woke up. He came out to tell us Baxter’s dead."

"Dead? How? When?" Joe was shocked at the news and slowly sat on the bed.

"Roy said the prison guards were transporting Baxter to Yuma when they were ambushed. One guard made it but the rest were killed. They seem to think it may have been someone Baxter had swindled. I guess the way he was killed was brutal. Roy said it was pretty obvious he was tortured." Adam realized what he had said too late.

Joe was looking at his hands unsure what to feel. He kept asking over and over in his mind, "Baxter dead?" Joe spoke quietly, "Tortured? How?"

Adam held a newspaper account of Baxter’s demise in his hand. "You want to read this?"

Joe reached out and took the paper. He was unsure if he wanted it. "Uh, I’ll read it later. Well I guess that’s it then. They’re all dead. Was wondering about a trial, but I guess there’s no one left to testify against."

What Joe said struck Adam as strange. "You know about Doyle?"

"Yeah, why wouldn’t I know?" Joe made his admission before realizing its significance.

"Joe, how’d you know that?"

"Uh…" The realization of where Joe had learned the information hit him and he was thrown. "I, uh I think Pa told me maybe. I don’t really remember. Doesn’t really matter anyway." Joe looked at Adam hoping he had not raised suspicion.

Adam knew their father had not told Joe about Doyle. They had talked about telling Joe when they had discussed Baxter’s death. Adam could see Joe was nervous and thought to himself, "Joe, what’s really goin’ on with you? What is it you’re hiding?" He said, "Hum, that’s strange Joe, Pa told me he hadn’t told you about Doyle."

"I don’t know where I heard it. Must have been Hoss, then. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. It’s all over and done with." Joe looked at the newspaper article more for a distraction than anything else. He started to read.

CYRUS BAXTER, PRISON GUARDS SLAIN IN ROUTE TO YUMA

Reports arrived in Virginia City late Monday evening from Yuma Territorial Prison that the wagon transporting Cyrus Baxter has been ambushed. Baxter was murdered along with two prison guards who were traveling with the convicted man. The lone survivor of the attack, a prison guard named Henry Taylor was shot and left for dead. Taylor survived his wounds and was able to give an accounting of the events to lawmen. He reported the attack appeared well orchestrated, as no one saw anything until it was too late. A roadblock was placed on a blind curve, which resulted in the driver having to veer from the road, tipping the wagon. Taylor went on to tell that the guards were shot immediately after the wagon came to rest. Although injured, Taylor was able to hear the events that occurred next. He heard the voice of a man who seemed to know Baxter’s identity. The unidentified assailant spoke to Baxter as he took him out of the wagon. Taylor reported the man having said, "This is going to be fun," and told Baxter he really should not have withheld the money the man was owed. Taylor heard screams from Baxter as the assailant laughed and told him he knew he was weak and he was easy to break. Cyrus Baxter’s body was brutally tortured and he eventually died from multiple knife wounds. Motive for the killing has been speculated as revenge for Baxter’s bilking of thousands of dollars. There are no known suspects as of this writing.

Joe read and reread the article. His eyes kept returning to what the assailant had said. He knew immediately who had killed the corrupt businessman. Adam watched Joe read and then saw him go back and look over the article once more. "You okay?"

Joe sat staring at the paper, unable to divert his eyes. He heard the Stranger’s voice in his head laughing and saying over and over "This is going to be fun." He finally spoke very softly, "Uh, Adam, I’m fine. Just fine, I uh, think I uh, wanna be alone."

Adam did not want to leave his brother by himself. Joe did not seem to be fine. "Hey, why don’t I just stay a little longer and maybe you and I talk some?"

"Huh? Talk?" Joe sounded far off as he questioned Adam.

Adam took the paper from Joe’s hands and set it aside. "I don’t think you’re okay right now. I’m just going to stay with you a little while."

Joe ignored Adam’s response as he sat continuing to look at his hands. It appeared as if he were simply thinking out loud. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure. Ask."

"Why would someone want to torture someone?"

"Uh, I don’t know, buddy. I’d think there was something wrong with them."

"Like what?"

"Well, some folks would say they’re evil I guess. Or maybe they were not right in their head some way. To tell you the truth, I’m not sure why someone would want to do something like that."

"What do you think makes someone evil? They born that way? Does somethin’ happen to them, and they just get that way?"

"Boy, you’re asking some tough ones. I don’t know, Joe. There’re books written on this stuff. No one seems to really agree. Some say you’re born that way and some say you become that way."

Joe sat not speaking as he thought over his ordeal with the Stranger and asking himself questions - so many whys. "Why did he like hurting me? Why does he kill so easily?" Joe knew the murder of Doyle and Baxter was to keep them quiet, and yet he himself was left to walk around free to speak at anytime of the Stranger. "Why did he let me live?" He had no answers as the questions ate at him. Joe wondered how long it would be before he and the Stranger would once more meet. He involuntarily shuddered as he sat reliving their previous encounter. He knew he had more to endure.
 

It had not been his original plan to bother with Baxter, but Baxter had tried to change the rules and that was not done. He had received a wire from one of Baxter’s cronies that told him he would not be paid for his work. That was an insult to him as a businessman. How dare Baxter tell him his work was not worthy of being adequately compensated. After all, it was Baxter’s men who had allowed the kid to be discovered. Of course once found, he himself had surrendered the handcuff key, but it had been part of the game - rescuing the kid from himself. It had made him laugh.

He had followed the prison wagon from Virginia City. Virginia City. He knew that was where his opponent lived. He thought of the kid when he was in town and knew he was somewhere close. As he thought of the encounter he had wanted with his adversary he became melancholy. The kid was so very close, and yet the game could not continue just yet. The kid had to heal and be ready to come for him.

What was the kid doing? Was he thinking of him? Was he in his blood? The kid was growing in importance in his own mind. He hoped it was the same for his young opponent. He hoped he was thought of, dreamed of and waited for. Was he there? Was he waiting?

He followed the wagon for a while and then rode ahead. He knew the trap he would set was to rid him of the one who had questioned his bill. Baxter was a soft, fat, weak man. He knew it before he had approached, but the man’s reactions confirmed it. He had told Baxter of his displeasure and had seen fear. Fear-a weakness if the man could not control it. The more he talked the greater the reaction. He had killed the guards without thought other than they was a nuisance and needed to be gone from his sight. They knew the perils of their job when they took it, so he gave it no thought to shoot them. His pleasure was firmly on playing with Baxter. He dragged Baxter out of the wagon by his hair as the man whimpered and cried. He threw him against the rocks to make the man quiet and still the man begged. "What a pathetic pig!" He had said.

He had looked with disdain on the businessman knowing he was so far beneath him. The torture left him empty, as it was easy and unchallenging. He sat and looked over Baxter before deciding how he would sign his work of art. He eventually decided to make his mark in the execution by gutting Baxter. He reasoned it was fitting a pig.

After finishing his task, he looked himself over to make sure he had been professional and had not soiled himself with the dead man’s blood. He noted a drop of blood on his boot and swore out loud. He kicked Baxter’s dead body feeling he had been wronged once more by the dead man. He then wiped the boot with a handkerchief, mounted his horse and rode away never looking back. He would go to Salt Lake and rejoin his life as he waited for the one he knew would come. He began to think of that encounter and smiled.
 

It was dark. The only sound, a constant drip of water. Joe tried to determine where he was, but the blackness kept the location hidden. He called out, "Is anyone there?"

"Come here." The familiar voice called to him. He moved towards it, knowing he could do nothing to stop himself. The Stranger was there as he always was-waiting.

"Is it over?" Joe asked once he was standing in front of the Stranger.

The Stranger laughed. "Yes."

"I can leave? You’re finished?"

The laugh continued. "Oh no, Pretty Boy. You can’t leave. You’re dead. You’re life is what is over. All that is left now is me. You and me." The Stranger then pointed to the handcuffs. "You know what to do."

Joe picked up the handcuffs and placed one around his wrist. He reached up, put the cuff over the beam and then cuffed his other wrist. He heard the cracking of the whip and the wicked laughing getting louder. The laughter and the popping became deafening.

The screaming was heard throughout the house, as Joe bolted upright in bed. It was difficult to breathe, and he gasped. He kept saying over and over to the night, "Get out of my head! Get out!"

Ben and Adam were quick to Joe’s door. Ben waved Adam off as he entered his youngest’s room. Adam remained in the hallway, wanting to help, but knowing his brother needed his father. Joe’s nightmares weighed heavily on Adam’s shoulders.

"You okay, Joe?" Joe jumped at the voice. He had not heard his door open, or Ben enter.

"Uh, yeah, I think so, Pa."

"Sounded like a bad one." Ben moved over to the bed and sat next to his son. "Tell me about it?"

"It’s just the, uh, the stuff that happened... I keep dreamin’ ‘bout it. It keeps comin’ back. I can’t seem to stop it."

"I’ve noticed they’ve been real bad since you found out about Baxter. Think there’s any connection?

Joe had been free of nightmares once he placed the gun under his pillow, but since he read of Baxter’s death, the gun no longer brought comfort. He knew the Stranger could get him anywhere, anytime. "Don’t know, maybe. I just wish I could forget it all. I don’t know why it won’t just go away."

"Son, what you went through was a nightmare in itself. I know none of us can really understand what it was like for you, but you’re safe now. The people who hurt you are dead. It’ll take time for you to put it behind you, but you will eventually. I know that. Listen, what can I do to help?"

The desire to tell his father was strong. Joe said the words in his head, "There’s one more. He’s evil, Pa, and he’s inside me. He did it all. He did it, and I can’t keep him away from me. Help me kill him, Pa. I want him dead." Joe looked at his father, his eyes seeming to beg.

"All you have to do is ask, and I’d do it."

"I know you would, Pa. There’s nothing you can do, though. It’s all in my head. I’ll be okay. You go on back to bed."

Ben patted his son’s leg. "You think you can go back to sleep? I could stay, you know."

"Um, leave the lamp, and I’ll read a bit and then probably fall back asleep. I’m okay, though. Really."

Ben sat a while longer, knowing Joe was trying to be brave. He also knew his son would hide his fears from him. Finally Ben stood. "Son, you need me, I’m right down the hall."

"I know. I’ll get you if I need you. I’ll just read a while. I’ll be fine."

Ben left his son’s room reluctantly. He saw Adam still in the hall and placing his hand on his eldest’s shoulder. He whispered, "He’s okay. Don’t worry."

Ben and Adam shared a look and then each retired to his room. Both did as they had done whenever Joe was having difficulty with nightmares. They left their doors cracked, wanting to listen in case Joe needed them. Adam lit the lamp in his room, knowing he would not fall back asleep any time soon. He picked up the book he had been reading and tried to become involved in the words on the page. He was unsuccessful as the words remained merely words, and the plot left him flat. He finally put down the book and laid thinking.

His thoughts went to his brother. Joe was bad off. Adam knew it and was at a loss as to how and help. He thought over the times in their lives that he had experienced the greatest connection with his little brother. He knew it had been when Joe was very small and looked upon his older brother with admiration. Something had happened to them as Joe grew. Adam was unsure just what it had been. Was it Marie’s death that had formed the wall between the two? Was it his own travels to college while Joe was still little? Was it his return after time away from the family that had made the rift? He knew he and Joe loved each other very much, but there were strong differences in temperament. He wondered if that was all it was between them.

Adam had to admit that it was very hard for him not to parent Joe. The age difference made it a natural tendency, but it was when he became like a parent that Joe and he were doomed for an explosion. But Adam had to admit to himself, there were times he did feel very parental with Joe. His biggest frustration was that his little brother was very bright, but had never really done much with his intellect. Adam wondered how Marie would have felt about it. Marie had encouraged and supported his own intellectual endeavors and wondered how she would have brought up Joe. Adam also knew Joe had a fire in him that was difficult to harness. He saw the potential in his brother and was frustrated that Joe did not seem to care. His brother seemed to simply take it for granted, or worse yet, at times give into his destructive impulses.

Joe’s passions were not Adam’s. Adam thought of where Joe found happiness. His brother loved a good horse, laughing with his friends, a pretty girl, and a brawl in a saloon. Was that it? Was Joe no deeper than that? No, Adam knew Joe also found his greatest joy in his family and being part of what they were building with the Ponderosa, but beyond that, Adam admitted he did not know his little brother very well. His relationship with Joe could be very good. When both could relax, they could laugh and talk easily. But if one or the other were defensive, an argument would soon result; the tension between them could be thick.

Defensive. Adam asked himself why it was so easy to become defensive with Joe. He knew part of it was because Joe could be brutal in his attack-going straight for the throat and not seeming to care the damage. But was that all it was, Joe’s rage? No there was more, and as Adam lay in bed being honest with himself, he admitted something. At times he felt Joe did not like him as a person. It seemed silly to worry about your own brother not liking you, but it was true. Adam knew Joe loved him, but wondered if Joe really liked him. He saw the fun Hoss and Joe had, and it was obvious the two genuinely liked each other. The picture was much murkier with him and Joe, and he had no idea how his little brother felt about him.

He asked himself if he liked his brother. He thought over Joe’s escapades and laughed - thinking of his little brother’s mischievous look when he was up to something, Joe’s grabbing hold of life full force, without fear, and his brother’s funny habits that made the family exasperated at times. Yes, he did like his brother. He concluded he must or the situations he found himself in with Joe where they were locked in heated battle would not frustrate him as much as they did. He would never share with Joe that an argument between the two would stay with him for days. It is one reason he dreaded the friction. Joe could get to him as no other could.

The night passed slowly as Adam lay in thought. He noted the light stayed on in Joe’s room and eventually got up to check on him. He saw his little brother propped up against the headboard, sound asleep, a book in his lap. Seeing his brother asleep with a book brought a smile to Adam. Adam had tutored Joe with some of his schooling and could just about bet money that if Joe were left with a book to read that Joe deemed dull, he would quickly be asleep after the first few pages. Joe had jokingly told Adam it was their own fault he fell asleep reading, because that was how they had always put him to bed when he was little.

Adam walked over and took the book. He glanced at the title: Critique of Practical Reason. He was taken aback that Joe would be reading Kant. He knew Joe was an action and adventure lover, and a book such as he was now reading would have been Joe’s last choice for entertainment. It was apparent the book was from Adam’s room, one he had used in college. As Adam thought over what the philosopher had discussed in the book, he thought he knew the reason Joe was reading it. The book discussed morality and man’s actions. Was Joe still asking questions about evil? Adam wanted so badly to wake his brother and talk with him.

Instead, Adam talked very softly and moved Joe so he was lying in bed. He pulled up the blankets to cover his brother, but Joe in his sleep quickly pushed them back down. Adam took a seat in Joe’s room holding the book and watching his brother. Joe slept soundly, with no torture invading his dreams. He eventually rolled away from Adam, as his sleep deepened. Adam looked at his brother’s back the whip marks so harsh. What had been done to Joe was amoral, the epitome of evil. Adam looked at the book, wishing Joe’s answers were all inside.

Adam stood to walk out of the room when something caught his eye. There was a glint of silver under Joe’s pillow. He reached for the object, Joe too lost in sleep to know. Adam’s hand touched metal, the object familiar. He closed his eyes knowing his brother was so very afraid. He said softly, "Little buddy, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry." and placed the gun back as he had found it. He would do nothing to deprive his brother of security. Adam sat back down, placed his head in his hands and watched over his youngest brother as he slept.
 

The smell of cake permeated the downstairs of the large house. Hop Sing had been cooking most of the day in anticipation of the celebration that evening. The day was Joseph’s nineteenth birthday. Ben decided to honor Joe’s wishes that there be no party with guests, however he had remained hopeful up until a few days prior, Joe would change his mind. He was disappointed when Joe never broached the subject. Ben talked with Adam and Hoss about trying to make the day a good one for Joe, and both brothers vowed it would be so.

Joe woke early that day, after a difficult night of dreams laced with never ending torment. He was exhausted, but knew the gift of sound sleep was something he would not be blessed with that morning. He lay in bed for what seemed hours, not wanting to get up and face the day. He was thinking he finally might be ready to leave his bed when there was a knock at his door. "Yeah, come in." Joe halfheartedly invited.

He saw Hop Sing in his doorway, a tray in his hand, and Hoss standing behind, smiling. "Happy birthday, Little Joe." Hop Sing greeted.

Joe tried to look interested and smiled. "Thanks, Hop Sing. I’d forgot it was today."

"Little Joe forget birthday? That very bad. Hop Sing no forget. Hoss no forget. We bring breakfast. You eat in room, stay in bed you want."

"What’s this, Short Shanks?" Hoss was determined Joe would be happy. "You forgettin’ it’s your birthday? That just ain’t right. I’ll fix that for you by singing to ya."

"NO! PLEASE DON’T!" Joe begged. "Last time you sang there was an avalanche. No tellin’ what you’d bring down with that voice of yours."

"Nope, Joe. I gotta do this. It just ain’t your birthday without me singin’ to ya." With that, Hoss launched into his own rendition of Happy Birthday.

Joe could not help but laugh. He groaned and winced as Hoss was determined to hit all the notes on the scale. Ben and Adam had been downstairs but could not miss hearing Hoss serenade his little brother. They crept up the stairs and saw Joe, sitting up in bed laughing. Hoss was standing in his most professional of stances, hands clasped in front of him, projecting his voice across the room.

Upon finishing, Hoss put down his hands and bowed to his audience. Joe was laughing hard and shook his head at his brother’s talent. Ben and Adam joined in the laughing, and the family shared it first real joy in some time. Determined to keep the mood light, Ben yelled, "One more time." With that Hop Sing, Ben, and Adam joined in with Hoss singing a rousing chorus of Happy Birthday to the youngest Cartwright. Joe moaned and groaned at his family’s entertainment, but for a few minutes, he completely forgot Reno and the Stranger.

After the singing, Ben, Adam, and Hop Sing returned to their tasks, and Hoss and Joe were alone in Joe’s room. Joe sat eating the breakfast Hop Sing had lovingly made. It was pancakes with lots of syrup, which happened to be Joe’s favorite breakfast as a little boy. Hop Sing, a big one for tradition had decided long ago Joe would get pancakes on his birthday, or any other special occasion. He smiled at his friend’s remembrance. Hop Sing loved to keep Joe small, and Joe humored him in a way he would do for no other. To be small for Hop Sing cost him nothing in family status, and it allowed him to feel a little of his mother. He would have it no other way.

Hoss had wanted to spend some time alone with Joe and was grateful the room had cleared quickly. He wanted to talk with his little brother about the thing they always discussed on their birthdays. Joe and Hoss had started some time back their own birthday tradition. It had begun as little boys, but was a part of them, and neither would forget the event. "So you thought of it yet?" Hoss asked with full knowledge Joe would know what he was asking.

The memories came flooding back. It had been on Joe’s first birthday after his mother had died that Hoss had wanted to cheer him up. He had told his baby brother that birthday’s were magical and, because they were such, Joe could ask one thing of his older brother which Hoss could not refuse. That birthday Joe had decided Hoss would have to take him fishing, and they would have to go alone. Joe had kept the tradition alive on Hoss’ birthday, allowing a request to be made of him. That sealed the event as a yearly occurrence between the boys.

Joe sat and remembered other birthdays and requests he had made. He thought of the time he and Hoss were feuding badly, and he had made Hoss dig a six foot trench with further specifications that it be four feet deep, collect all the earthworms from the diggings and then fill it back in. Hoss had countered that year by deciding Joe should have to sort through a box of hundreds of nails, placing them in piles according to Hoss’ directions. Joe recalled more requests: a hunting trip, the use of a favored rifle, more fishing, and an occasional chore. The only rules to the tradition were that requests stayed between the brothers, nothing was asked that could wind either up in their father’s bad graces, and the request, if reasonable, could not be denied. The definition of reasonable was left to the minds of little boys.

The history of requests made Joe smile as he thought of them, but he sobered quickly. He knew what he wanted to ask of Hoss, but wondered if he was breaking a rule. Was what he was about to ask reasonable? Joe’s voice was soft and he looked at his blankets as he made his birthday request. "Hoss, I want you to never, uh, to um, never hate me for what I might do."

Joe’s request stunned Hoss. "Hate you? Joe, I could never hate you. What would make you ask something like that? No, that ain’t no request. Ask something else."

Joe looked up at Hoss. "Uh, no Hoss. It’s what I really want from you. Just give me that."

"That’s the easiest one you’ve ever asked for, cause I’d never hate ya, Joe. Not in a million years." It was confusing to see Joe so serious, and his request disturbed Hoss greatly. "Is there somethin’ buggin’ ya that maybe I could help with? Seems you’re troubled. I hear the nightmares, Joe. You wanna talk?"

"Um, Hoss it’s just bad right now. But it’ll get better. You know that."

Hoss knew Joe was trying to take care of him with his words, but Joe would speak no further on the topic. "Uh, Joe, let me help you get dressed, and we’ll head on downstairs."

"How ‘bout you finish the pancakes there so I don’t get fussed at, and I can manage most of the gettin’ dressed ‘cept the buttons and such." Joe tried to return the atmosphere to it’s previous lightheartedness, but he felt pensive, and it proved difficult.

After dressing and making his way downstairs, Joe encouraged Hoss to go about his daily activities, but Hoss would not hear of it and made himself at Joe’s disposal. The two sat and talked of nothing deeper than how Hoss had heard the hunting was in the high country. Joe would not tell his family but he was dreading that evening. He had wanted his birthday to simply come and go, but knew his family would never hear of that. He hoped he could pretend well enough that he was happy that they would enjoy the evening and he would avoid hurting their feelings. He was brought back to the conversation with Hoss, when Hoss asked, "Mm, Joe, that cake smells great, don’t it?"

""Yeah it does."

"I’m glad it’s your birthday, cause it’s chocolate cake tonight. Boy, when Pa has his, he has that ol puny angel food cake. That stuff’s mostly air. I gotta eat a lot more to get satisfied on that measly cake."

"Yeah, I noticed. But, I also noticed heavier cake don’t stop you from eating at least two slices of the chocolate one either." Joe chuckled.

"Ah, come on Joe, you see how Hop Sing holds back on me. Seems to think I should cut back. I happened to think I need the cake on the chance I could be stuck somewhere on this ranch and miss a meal or two. Then I’d need it to endure the hardship."

"Yeah, I know we’d worry if you went without a couple of meals. Could be dangerous."

The two remained bantering until the door opened, and Ben and Adam arrived. There were the usual exchanges, and then the family was ready to sit down for dinner. Ben had brought out one of his finest wines for the evening meal and stood to propose a toast. "Gentlemen, may I propose a toast to Joseph, on his nineteenth birthday. Son, you have brought me such happiness and have contributed to more than your fair share of gray hairs on my head. We are so very blessed and thankful you are with us and well on the mend. Happy birthday, son."

The allusion to Reno made Joe uncomfortable, but he accepted the toast as if he had not noticed the reference and drank. He sat through dinner trying hard to smile at the right times and comment when appropriate. He fought hard to stop thinking of headier issues, such as why was he still alive to have a birthday and would he survive to have another? The thought would pass briefly through his head, and he would make himself refocus and think of nothing more than the plate in front of him.

Dinner concluded and Hop Sing took center stage. He made Hoss dim the lanterns as his cake made its entrance. Everyone knew to hem and ha at the presentation, as this was Hop Sing’s finest hour. It became momentarily awkward when Hop Sing presented the knife for Joe to cut the cake, and Joe balked. He was gaining control of his arms much easier than his wrists and had difficulty at times using his hands. Ben, seeing his son’s discomfort, quickly stepped in with the excuse that he had to take over to cut the cake so each would get their fair share. After cake, the family retired to the great room.

"Well Joseph, now comes your favorite part, the presents." Ben watched his son’s face and could see Joe was not enjoying his birthday much. It seemed his son was trying hard, but was distant.

"Oh boy, now I get to do mine first. Be right back." Hoss was on his way to the kitchen before anyone could speak.

"Hey Joe, maybe it’s a side of beef?" Adam quipped.

"Naugh, Hoss’d give me his bank account before I’d see him part with a side of beef."

Hoss quickly returned along with Hop Sing. "Now Joe, this is really from Hop Sing ‘n me. You know that time I knotted up all that rope bettin’ you couldn’t undo it, and it took you days, but you finally got it? Well Joe, this is your challenge. Hop Sing showed me a thing or two ‘bout puzzles. You ain’t gonna get this one."

Joe unwrapped the gift and saw before him a very simple looking puzzle of two metal pieces interlocked. "What, this thing? It looks easy. I bet I can do it, too."

Hop Sing and Hoss smiled. The gift peaked Joe’s interest. Hop Sing furthered the challenge, "Little Joe, think easy. Spend many hour, no get puzzle undone. Little Joe have to ask Hop Sing for answer. Hop Sing decide if he give answer."

"There’s no way I’ll have to ask you, Hop Sing. I’ll get it. You watch."

"Well Joe, this is from me. It’s a challenge of another sort. Happy birthday." With that Adam handed Joe his gift. Before even unwrapping, Joe knew it was a book. He looked at the title: Critique of Pure Reason. Joe had no idea Adam had seen what he had been reading. There was an awkward silence, and then Joe spoke, "Uh, I borrowed that uh, other one from you. I guess I should a asked. I was um, just…"

Adam helped him out, "Hey the one you’re reading’s his second volume. This is his first. I’d lost my copy of this one, or I’d’ve just loaned it to you earlier. I guess I’ll have to borrow this one from you some time."

"There’s a switch." Hoss remarked.

Joe and Adam stood looking at each other, neither speaking. Joe eventually looked down once more at the book, and without thought, opened the front cover. He saw Adam’s distinctive script. Adam did not tell Joe the words he had written had been advice given him many years ago by Marie. He hoped his little brother would heed the words as he sought out answers to very painful questions.
 

Joe-

Happy 19th birthday. For the answers you search for, let books be only part of where you look. Let your family and your heart also guide you. You’ll never get lost that way.

Love,
Adam

The words touched Joe deeply, and he felt the tears wanting to form. He cleared his throat, took a deep breath and said, "Thanks Adam. I’ll try."

Ben was touched at the scene he witnessed between his eldest and youngest. He stood by quietly, allowing his boys to share something very special. He knew they both needed it. Eventually though, the moment was over, as neither Joe nor Adam could say anything further, and Ben intervened. "Well Joseph, I have a gift for you, but we need to go to the barn to see it." Ben had himself, lovingly placed his gift to his son on Cochise after thoroughly grooming the paint pony.

Joe heard he would need to go outside and his heart began to beat wildly. He avoided being out of doors since returning to the ranch, and the thought brought terror. The feeling of vulnerability was almost overwhelming. He developed a sense of safety being in the house with his family and had not entertained the idea of traveling outside.

Ben saw Joe go pale. He had noticed since the time they had returned from Reno, Joe was staying inside, and it was one reason why he wanted Joe to venture out to the barn. The hope was that on such a happy occasion, Joe would be able to be with his family and see there was nothing to fear. Ben wondered if he had done the right thing. However he worried if he did not get Joe out of the house soon, the problem would only become worse. "Son, why don’t we go out there and see what you got?" Ben put his arm around Joe’s shoulder and started walking. He felt Joe’s legs resist slightly, but then he began to walk.

Adam and Hoss watched what was occurring. The three had discussed the previous evening after Joe had gone to bed the need to get Joe outside and back into life. They agreed to try to get him out to the barn, but each one was having second thoughts as they saw Joe’s face. As they moved toward the door, Joe stopped. He looked at his father trying not to panic. His thoughts were loud as they raced through his mind. Ben said very quietly, "It’s okay. I’ll be right beside you."

Joe looked to his father wanting to talk him out of making him go outside, then to the waist of each man. He saw no gun belts, no way to protect. He did not know if he could make it out the door. His eyes darted to the credenza and saw his own gun belt lying atop the cabinet, no gun in the holster. He turned his focus back to his father and tried to trust. He made his unwilling legs move, but a man to the gallows would have shown more life in his step. Ben opened the door, and Joe looked out into the night. Across the yard a light burned in the barn. Joe told himself to focus on the light and simply make himself walk. He made it through the doorway then he stopped, "Wait!" He called out as he turned and grabbed the first gun belt his hand could reach. He winced at the weight and quickly threw it over his shoulder. There was pain, but relief. He told himself he could now make himself move.

No one commented as they moved out to the yard. Ben had his arm firmly around Joe. Joe allowed himself to feel the weight of the gun, and Adam and Hoss brought up the rear. It was then that Joe could face his fear. The group made it to the barn, and Ben slowly opened the barn door. The first sight Joe could see was Cochise decked out in all new tack, and the walk across the yard was temporarily forgotten. "You were listening!" Joe exclaimed in reference to the many hints he had made to his father.

"Yes, as a matter of fact I listened the first time you told me about the saddle, and the second, and the third."

"Ew wee, Cooch that does look right fine on you." Joe began to talk softly to his beloved horse. "I bet there ain’t a better lookin’ pony in the territory. No, I take that back-in the country. You’re gonna be the envy for sure."

Ben, Hoss, and Adam stood back as Joe walked all the way around Cochise, seeing the tack from every angle, and talking quietly to the mare. "Yeah, you’re gonna make them other Ponderosa horses look a might pitiful. We’ll have to not make ‘em feel so bad, only do this get up when we really wanna look our best. Otherwise, Pa, Hoss, and Adam’ll just hide away from embarrassment, and you and I’ll have to do all the work ‘round here. Yep, this is for when we’re feelin’ spry."

Ben, Hoss, and Adam exchanged looks and laughs. No one could carry on more about an animal than Joe could about Cochise. It was enjoyable to watch, and the family lingered in the barn. Eventually, Joe reluctantly allowed them to unsaddled Cochise, as he closely supervised where the new tack should be placed. Finally the family was ready to return to the house.

As they moved towards the house, Joe suddenly stopped at the hitching post in front. He wanted to make himself fight the fear. He had felt happiness in the barn as he fussed over Cochise, and the return of fear upon being exposed in the night bothered him. It started to make him angry with himself. He wanted his freedom back, but the fear was strong. He decided to face it. "Uh Pa… I wanna, um… listen… I am gonna stay out here a few minutes… um… I wanna see if… I’ll be in soon. You all go on inside."

"Son, we can all just stay out here if you want, or one of us can stay with you."

"No… thanks… but you know as well as I do… I gotta… do it."

Ben felt proud Joe was willing to try. His son’s courage continued to amaze him. "Very well. We’ll be inside." Ben put his arms around Hoss and Adam and walked them inside without looking back.

Joe heard the door shut and reminded himself to breathe. He had the gun belt on his shoulder and told himself, "If he’s here, I’ll shoot him. I’ll just shoot him." Joe was shaking and felt his legs want to buckle. He kept telling himself he was safe; it would pass. He wanted to run for the door, but made himself lean against the hitching post. He would not give in. He closed his eyes to make himself focus on even breathing, but opened them quickly to a noise. He soon identified the noise and talked himself through the panic. He would make himself stay until it passed.

Immediately upon entering the house, all three men moved over to the high windows behind Ben’s desk and looked out. They watched. They watched Joe look longingly at the door to the house, but he did not move. They watched as Joe closed his eyes and shook his head. They watched, as it was obvious Joe was forcing himself to do something that terrified him. They watched and each held their breath. They rooted for Joe in their head that he would win and overcome a personal demon. They were rewarded when an hour later Joe slowly walked into the house, put the gun belt on the credenza and casually walked upstairs to bed. The three men looked at each other realizing Joe had given himself the most awe-inspiring gift.
 

The dream came as it usually did, the darkness, the sound of dripping water, the Stranger. It was all there, as it was every night. The dream was a constant that stayed with Joe, waiting - willing to be placed on pause during waking hours, waiting - willing for him to join in each night. He lay sleeping, his face grimacing at the realization The Stranger was there, and they would again be locked in a sadistic dance. Joe talked aloud, no one to hear but the Stranger in his head. The light burned in his room, but in the drama, there was only darkness. Two men, two wills, both battling for one man’s peace. The dream ran it’s familiar course, but as the Stranger pointed for Joe to place himself in bondage, something changed. The dance was altered, as a new script was written. Joe’s mind resisted the old scenes, as it had fought the fear in the yard days before. His mind took the lead as the scenario developed anew.

The Stranger pointed to the cuffs, and Joe walked to them. He picked them up, but as he looked down, expecting to see the familiar, he saw a pistol. The fear left, as he realized he was finally protected. The torture was over. He could now fight back. He turned to the Stranger, as he held the gun firmly in front of him. There was no shake, nor tremor in his hand, as he aimed. It felt good. It felt so very good. The rage was strong, stronger than any other feeling he experienced. It was powerful and intoxicating to have the Stranger in his sites, Joe in full control. Joe smiled as he spoke, "Now you die!" He pulled back the trigger and fired.

The first shot sent the house into panic. Ben, Hoss, and Adam were immediately awake and down the hall to where they heard the shots originate.

The Stranger would not fall as Joe shot him rather he stood defiantly laughing and mocking. Joe pulled the trigger once more, as he growled, "I want you dead! DEAD!"

All three men arrived simultaneously, but were momentarily halted, as the sight before them was completely unexpected.

Joe sat up in bed, arm outstretched, and eye looking down the sites of the pistol, a haunting grin on his face, firing into the wall across the room. Ben called out "Joseph!" just as Joe pulled the trigger. The gun discharged - bullet three.

Ben reacted before he thought, moving quickly towards Joe, all the while mindful of the gun. "DIE, DAMN YOU!" Joe screamed his voice guttural. The gun discharged - bullet four.

Ben dove on top of Joe at the same time he reached for Joe’s left arm. He made sure to grab securely, pointing the gun away from any target. The gun discharged - bullet five.

Joe felt panic and confusion as his father grabbed him, placing him firmly in a bear hug. The nightmare still remained but was fading. "NO! YOU WON’T WIN!" Joe quickened his pace, as he began madly squeezing the trigger. The gun discharged - bullet six. As he continued to pull the trigger, the click of a dry fire was heard over and over. The gun discharged - the bullets gone.

"NO!" Joe screamed repeatedly as he woke himself. He was fighting and struggling with his father to be freed. "I WANT YOU DEAD!"

"Joseph! Joseph, wake up! Wake up, son!" Ben held on to his bucking son as Joe became more coherent.

"NO! No! no!" Joe cried, but the terror was leaving. He realized he was no longer with the Stranger.

"Son, it was a dream! Wake up!" Ben went to take the gun from Joe’s hand, but his son held firm. He saw Joe’s knuckles, white from his grip. "Joseph, let go of the gun. Go ahead. It’s okay to let go."

Joe was disoriented and confused. He had no idea he had been shooting at nothing, nor that it had all been a dream. He felt his left arm being grabbed, and he tried to move it away. Ben held firm, and Hoss and Adam moved over to help. As Joe became more coherent, he still refused to let go the gun. Ben wrestled his arm down, pinning it against the bed. Adam then reached in and began to work to remove the weapon from Joe’s grasp. He had to pry the gun away, as Joe screamed, "NO! I NEED IT! I GOTTA KILL HIM! STOP IT! NO!"

"Joseph, let go!" Ben commanded.

Adam worked to free the weapon. Joe’s strength was fading, but adrenaline worked where injury inhibited, and it proved difficult. Eventually, Adam won and pulled away, the gun in his hand. Joe let out another scream, "NO! GIVE IT BACK! YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND! I GOTTA KILL HIM!"

Ben grabbed Joe by the shoulders, gave Joe a little shake as he made his son look squarely in his eye. "Joseph, stop it and look at me! LOOK AT ME!"

The grasp and the shake made Joe stop fighting. He looked at his father confused. Ben tried to explain, "Joseph, it was a dream, only a dream. Now calm down and stop this right now. Settle down."

Joe was breathing hard from the ordeal. He looked at his father but then turned to Adam. "Give it here." Joe said calmly.

"No, Joseph! Stop it!" Ben continued to try to get Joe’s mind off the weapon. "Joseph, you just shot up your room with that thing! You don’t need it!"

"Huh? I shot… What?" It slowly registered what his father had told him. He noticed the smell of gunpowder in the room. He looked passed his father and saw bullet holes in the wall in front of him. Four definite holes, each less than an inch from the other. He looked back to his father and shook his head, "No Pa, I didn’t. I couldn’t. I was…" Joe suddenly turned from his father and looked back to the head of the bed. His pillow was thrown to the side, the gun gone.

It finally registered. Joe realized what he had done. He looked back to his father, his expression a mixture of fear and embarrassment. "I uh… I didn’t mean… oh geez!"

Realizing Joe was fully cognizant and aware Ben released his hold. The two sat unmoving, both uncertain what to say. Joe broke the silence. "Pa, I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t do it on purpose."

"I know that, son. I know you were asleep. Tell me, where’d you get the gun?"

"Gun? It was… I had it… I put it… it’s from the closet in the hall."

"You walked out there and got it tonight? Do you remember that?"

"Uh, no… I didn’t get it tonight. I got it a little while ago. I was uh… I kept it…" Joe closed his eyes not wanting to see his father’s reaction. "Under my pillow."

"WHAT! You’re telling me you kept a loaded weapon under your pillow! You could’ve blown your head off! That’s ludicrous!" Ben was reacting out of his own fear, momentarily forgetting why Joe had needed the gun so desperately. His son had shot up his room and the thought that something worse could have happened gave him a shiver. "What in the Sam Hill were you thinking!"

"But Pa… I needed it. I need it. It makes it better. I’m sorry, Pa. I won’t do it again. Just give it here, and I’ll put it somewhere else." Joe reached to Adam hoping to get the weapon back.

"Adam, don’t you dare give that to him. Joseph, do you have any idea how dangerous this was? What you did?"

"But Pa, I didn’t mean it. I didn’t. It won’t happen again. I promise."

"You were asleep! How are you going to promise not to do something you did in your sleep?! This is the most bizarre thing I’ve ever seen. You are not getting that gun back, young man!"

"You can’t do this! I told you I didn’t mean it. It was an accident! You can’t!"

"Pa?" Adam interrupted. He could see his brother and father escalating and knew where they were headed. "Maybe we should all just calm down."

Ben ignored Adam. "Oh, I can, and I will, Joseph! You have no business with a gun under your pillow! Under your pillow! I still can’t believe this!"

"I didn’t mean for this to happen! I just need it! I’ll put it over here on the nightstand, and it’ll just stay right there! Pa, you gotta let me have it! Adam, please!" Joe once more reached for the gun in Adam’s possession, a look of pleading on his face.

"Joseph! Stop it now! Someone could have died tonight! Do you not have any understanding of that! You were shooting a gun off, asleep! You must be crazy if you think for one minute I’m gonna trust you with a gun in here!"

"I’m NOT crazy! You don’t know what it’s like! I have ta have that gun!" Joe jumped up and was headed for Adam. His only thought getting his hand on the weapon and bringing back safety.

Ben lunged forward, grabbing Joe around the waist and pulling him back onto the bed. "You’ll do no such thing! You stay right on this bed, and you don’t move, if you know what is good for you!"

"I’m trying to tell you, and you won’t listen! I gotta have that gun! Give me the gun!" Joe knew his father would stop his movements, and all he had left was to beg. It felt degrading.

"Pa, Joe, stop it. This is getting out of control!" Adam intervened once more trying to be the voice of reason.

"Adam, stay out of this! This is between Joseph and myself!"

Adam wanted to try to help his father get beyond what could have happened, to remember why it was Joe had the gun in the first place. He feared if his father did not remember soon, more damage might inadvertently be done to Joe. "Pa, Joe had the gun to help him handle what he’s been through. You know that."

"Oh, so Adam, now you’re gonna tell me you think it’s okay for Joe to have a loaded weapon under his pillow! Surely you can’t think that’s smart!"

"Pa, I won’t put it there! I promise! Please! You don’t know what happens!" The emotion was extreme as Joe fought hard for what he believed would keep him from harm. He was shocked and angry with himself for what he had done, and fearful his father would remove the one thing that had given him back his power. For the first time since the torture, Joe had felt powerful. He now knew it had been a dream, but the feeling of control was such a relief. He needed the feeling to remain, but saw his father tearing it from his grasp.

"Well Pa, I didn’t see the harm, but now I do. It’s just there has to be some middle ground here." Adam was hoping to deflect the intensity between Joe and his father, but realized too late he had added to his father’s anger.

"What do you mean you didn’t see the harm! You knew he was doing this!"

"I, um… saw it there once, but I didn’t think it would hurt anything."

"I can’t believe this! I could almost expect this out of him, but you! Adam, what the hell were you thinking!"

As Joe listened, he felt hurt and his rage. It was obvious his father did not understand what he needed. His need for protection was paramount, and the one with whom he usually felt it was betraying him.

"Joe was just trying to cope with what he’s been through. He’s scared, Pa!" Adam had not wanted to meet his father’s intensity, but he realized it was the only way to get through. He felt his own guilt that Joe was suffering and was frustrated his father had forgotten.

Ben half listened to his eldest as he was ready to chastise Adam’s lack of discernment. He had been so very afraid of Joe dying only a few short weeks ago and the current situation sent him beyond fear. Joseph had acted inexplicably, and it seemed to Ben, he was the only one trying to protect Joe from himself. "He’s scared! This isn’t helping, to go shooting off guns in the house! Joseph, you expect me to believe this helps you!" Ben had faced Adam as he talked with him, but as he went to ask his youngest the question, his arm made a sweeping gesture, which passed in front of Joe’s face, inches from hitting him.

Joe recoiled as if his father’s arm had struck him. He had been sitting tense and afraid as he listened to the argument. His father’s movement caught him off guard. He pulled back, the need for flight apparent. His eyes were wide appearing almost wild. Why did his father want to hurt him? He anticipated the hits to his face, and his body tensed. He wanted away from the danger. He had no understanding of what was happening to him-only the need to flee.

Ben saw the reaction immediately and drew back. Had he accidentally hit Joseph? His child’s reaction appeared as though he had, but he had not felt it. "Joe? I didn’t hit you did I?"

Joe was lost to them, gone to another place, another time-where pain was expected and his only thought was to survive. He moaned a low moan as he drew back, away from the threat. As Ben moved towards Joe to check if he were okay, Joe retreated. Every move Ben made forward, Joe countered with a retreating move backward. Ben’s anger quickly left only concern in its place. He looked at his son, and his heart broke.

Joe sat trembling, his eyes wide with fear. He was watching every move, every breath his father made. He scooted away from the approaching threat until his back hit the headboard of his bed. He was trapped. The moan got louder as the fear overwhelmed. Joe’s breathing was in gasps, almost hick ups, as he tried to maintain his presence of mind. The fear he was experiencing was far beyond any the other Cartwright’s had faced.

Ben stopped advancing, knowing it was what was panicking his child. He momentarily berated himself; he had handled it all wrong. His youngest child, his baby was afraid of him. He had been so concerned at losing Joe he had forgotten what his son had needed. He let his fear go and call out for his child. He hoped it could reach through the terror. "Joseph, I’m sorry son. We need to stop this now. You need to not be so upset."

Joe heard soothing words and wanted to believe, however the terror and fear were there once more. He was confused as he asked himself what had made those feelings leave. Everything was jumbled as his thoughts raced. He wanted his father, but they were now at odds. What was he to do to stay safe? He could not move any further away from his father as he was pushed up against the headboard. He waited to hurt.

The scene was tragic. Joe appeared so young and vulnerable as he tried to protect himself from the pain. Each man in the room knew this was not the Joe who had been with them before Reno. Before, Joe had no problem standing toe to toe with his father. If anything, Joe’s prior behavior made it so hard for him to back away from the conflict. Now all Joe knew to do was retreat.

"Joe?" Ben asked softly, as he tried to reach out to his son.

Joe reflexively recoiled as a quiet, small voice begged, "Please don’t hit me."

"I’m not gonna hit you, son. It’s okay. No one is gonna hurt you. I won’t hurt you."

"I don’t wanna be hit anymore. I don’t wanna be scared anymore. I don’t wanna…" Joe broke out crying and eventually the tears turned to sobs.

Ben moved to Joe to hug him, but through Joe’s sobs, he verbally pushed his father away. "No, don’t… don’t… I don’t wanna hurt."

Hoss could stand the scene no longer. He had been in shock for most of the ordeal, but his own reflexes kicked in, and he moved to Joe’s bedside.

"Joe, you ain’t gonna hurt no more. No more, buddy. We didn’t know it was so bad. You should a come got me if the night was this bad. You’re okay, Joe. Remember it’s all over? I got you out of there, and you ain’t never goin’ back." Hoss reached over and pulled Joe to him.

Joe leaned in with little resistance. He allowed himself to let go as the tears poured from him. It felt safe to be with Hoss, as it had when Hoss had saved him. His brother had made it stop once, and Joe truly believed he could do it again.

Ben and Adam watched, feeling helpless. Both felt a lack of connection with Joe at a time when they desired it most. Joe had been fearful of his father, and although Ben knew why Joe had rejected his advances, it was painful. Adam wanted to be where Hoss was, doing what was so natural between his two younger brothers. His guilt was strong and comforting Joe his desire. He knew only too well though, Joe would probably not allow him to help, and it left Adam with only his guilt.

As Joe released his fear in crying, Hoss quietly talked to him. Eventually, Joe calmed and sat leaning against his brother. He wiped his eyes and looked around, only to realize the room was empty except for himself and Hoss. "Where’s Pa?"

"Um, Pa and Adam went on out a few minutes ago. Listen, it is really late, and you gotta get some sleep. Why don’t you go ahead and nod on off."

The look of fear returned to Joe’s face, but Hoss was quick to comfort. "Hey, don’t worry. I’m stayin’ right here the rest of the night. After all, that was my room you were shootin’ at, so I figure it’s a lot safer over here with you."

Joe looked at Hoss with eyes full of so many emotions, but he did not speak. He simply laid his head down on his pillow and closed his eyes, knowing with Hoss there in his room, he could let go his fear and sleep.
 

The following days were thick with unspoken words, as each Cartwright avoided discussion of the night in Joe’s room where rage and terror had never been more apparent. As days passed, Adam became more withdrawn as he stood back, watching his little brother. His guilt was growing. Ben attempted to approach Joe, and although Joe would speak to his father, it felt to Ben as if his son were apprehensive. It seemed as if Joe startled more easily around him, at any moment expecting to be hit. Ben’s concern was growing. Hoss diligently attended to Joe at night, his little brother not needing to ask if he would be there. He had all but moved into Joe’s room in order to make sure Joe felt safe. Hoss’ need to protect was growing.

Joe grew more uncertain of himself, as the days passed. The rage that came felt good, as the protection from it made him confident. But the rage only came in sleep-in dreams- abandoning him upon waking. He was becoming successful at conquering the Stranger at night, only to be left defenseless during the day. The morning after Joe had begun to fight back in dreams, he had attempted to solicit Hoss into helping him be able to fight while awake. He had asked his brother to help him obtain another weapon. When Joe made his plea, he saw Hoss was tempted, but said he could never go against their father’s wishes. Joe tried hard not to be angry, for even as he made his request, a part of him knew Hoss would turn him down. However, Hoss’ refusal left Joe feeling alone in his conflict, the fear and rage enormous. He could not allow himself to go unprotected, his belief being he would eventually succumb to the terror, if it remained unrestrained. The only manner he had found to repel the persecution was to have a gun. He became fixated on possessing one and was willing to go to most any lengths to accomplish his mission.

The house was quiet as Joe arrived downstairs. He had stayed in his room most of the morning reading from the book Adam had given him. He had made himself focus and concentrate on the pithy material-wrestling with profound issues such as ‘what is’ versus ‘what ought to be’ with regards to man’s behavior - to the point where he had developed a headache. He was finding it much more difficult to take in the philosopher’s deep musings. He knew some of what he was reading made no sense to him, the meaning lost in convoluted reasoning, but he so desperately wanted to know the ‘why’ of what he had endured and attended to the work as if his life depended upon it. He eventually sighed heavily and closed the book. He had been lying on his stomach while reading, and sluggishly rolled over to stare at the ceiling. Lying there continued to produce more questions than answers, and Joe eventually decided a change in scenery, as well as giving his thoughts a break, would help ease his head.

Joe walked across the great room, headed towards the kitchen. When he woke, he had thrown on a pair of torn jeans, a loose shirt and had not bother to put on his boots. His hair was messed from the thoughtless running of his hands through it as he lay on his bed, reading. Joe rounded the corner after passing through the dining room and ran smack into Hop Sing who was moving quickly. Joe jumped, his heart racing at the unexpected encounter. "Geez Hop Sing, you scared me!"

"I scare you! Why you make no noise? Why you sneak round?"

"I’m not sneaking around. I was just coming to get something to eat."

"Kitchen closed. You get up with rest family, or you no eat."

"What’s got you in such a bad mood?"

"Whole house very strange. No one act like self. Mr. Ben not self, Mr. Adam not self, Mr. Hoss not self, and you not self. When everyone be back?"

"That bad ‘round here, huh? I think everything’ll calm down soon. It’s probably my fault everyone’s acting the way they are any way. I gotta convince them I’m okay, and then they’ll be okay."

Hop Sing looked at Joe with concern. He knew his boy would try and put on a mask for everyone, including himself. "Little Joe, very troubled. Heart and head very heavy. Hop Sing know Little Joe not telling all. Hop Sing worry Little Joe try to solve problem all by self."

Joe was amazed at his friend’s powers of observation. He knew his family suspected he was holding back something from them, but they had spent so much time with him in Reno and the days following, Joe was not surprised. He had talked very little to Hop Sing about Reno, and yet his friend knew him so well, he could see the conflict inside him. "Uh, Hop Sing, I’m just looking for some answers right now. Once I find ‘em, I think I’ll be okay."

"Answer why you hurt? Why someone hurt you?"

Hop Sing’s direct questions increased Joe’s nervousness. He had been unprepared for the conversation and wanted to find a fast way out of it. "Well, uh, maybe something like that."

"Little Joe need to understand the nature."

"The nature?"

"The nature of things. It a fish’s nature to swim, a bird’s nature to fly."

"Yeah, well so far, no big revelation there, Hop Sing. I think I know all that, but hey, thanks for the wisdom." Joe tried to walk away, hoping he could stop the conversation from going further.

"Little Joe try to find nature of men."

Joe had turned his back and was walking away. He stopped as he heard Hop Sing’s words. He turned to look once more at his friend. "Hey, I think you got me confused with Adam. I don’t think that hard, most the time. And if I did, it would be about some girl any way. No Hop Sing, I don’t want to know the nature of men, women definitely, but I’ve got no need for the other. That stuff’s beyond me."

"Little Joe try make fun. Try not show it bother. Little Joe very bothered. Little Joe need to know why men hurt him. Hop Sing know why men hurt Joe. Men bad. Men have bad nature and do bad thing."

Joe remained quiet and did not move from where he stood. Hop Sing could tell from Joe’s face he was speaking of things that were troubling the young man. He decided to guess further what might also be present in Joe’s thoughts. "Hop Sing know bird can be with fish all time and never be fish. Sparrow can be with eagle and never become eagle. Not in nature."

The conversation was emotionally more than Joe could handle, and he had to defend against any further interaction with the cook. "So you’re sayin’ me bein’ with Cochise all the time won’t turn me into a horse. Well, I am truly relieved to know that and I thank you. Now I gotta go get somethin’ upstairs, excuse me." Joe did not wait for a reply from Hop Sing. He was halfway up the stairs when the cook said, "Little Joe have good nature. Very good boy."

Joe was quickly to his room. He closed the door and leaned against it, closing his eyes as he breathed hard. He was unnerved that Hop Sing was so easily able to see his troubles, and the feeling of exposure washed over him in a wave. He slid down his door, put his head in his hands and sat thinking. He would be alone in his mind many hours, but the answers still would not come.

As the hours passed, and his thoughts raced, Joe’s headache increased in magnitude until it made him nauseous. Thinking was not giving him peace, if anything, it was making it worse. Talking to others had not given him answers, only discomfort and more questions. His mind returned again and again to the one thing that made it all bearable. A weapon to kill - the thoughts, the pain, and the memories. A weapon to kill the one responsible, the personification of evil, the Stranger.

Joe knew what he was about to do was wrong, but his fear was greater. He had to find some peace. He had not heard anyone come in the house since he had been upstairs and prayed the house was still empty. He made himself stand; his body stiff from hours in one position and walked to the top of the stairs. He looked around, relieved he saw no one in the room. He called out for Hop Sing, but was greeted with only silence. Joe looked skyward and whispered "thank you" as he descended the stairs.

Joe crept over to where the rifles were stored in the built-in cabinet. He contemplated taking his own rifle from the case as his choice, but decided it would not serve his purpose. He opened the drawer under the rifles; his father’s pistol collection stored beneath. Looking at the weapons, he thought of the stories that went with each. There were several revolvers he automatically passed up as being too old, too valuable, or completely impractical. His eyes finally came to rest on his father’s latest addition, a 1860, Navy Colt .45. Immediately he knew he had found it. As he stood looking at the weapon, he grew more certain this was the one to protect him from the Stranger. This would be the gun that took it all away.

The revolver had an interesting history, only three years old, and already infamous. It had been used to bring the untimely end to the life of Charles Von der Nacht (not his real name, as his identity was never discovered), a man of German decent, known for breaking into wealthy homes in San Francisco and killing his victims at night as they slept. The crimes were particularly gruesome however, there was never any apparent motive, as no money or valuables were ever taken. It appeared Von der Nacht simply liked to kill. The man who had ended Von der Nacht’s killing spree had stumbled upon the killer after having heard a noise in the night. When he went outside to check the source, he came face to face with the killer. Gunfire was exchanged, and Von der Nacht ended up the loser. The man who had killed Von der Nacht soon after sold his home and the weapon, taking his family to what he believed a safer refuge.

The weapon had been a gift to Ben, a kind of practical joke of sorts from an old friend in San Francisco. Ben had found the gun’s history grotesque and had placed the weapon in his collection, more from an uncertainty as to what else to do with it, than wanting to keep it for it’s value.

The gun was a larger caliber than Joe ordinarily carried - his own weapon, a Colt .38. The thought of a larger caliber brought comfort as it’s stopping power was more certain. He thought once more of the story of the weapon. He smiled. "Von der Nacht." Joe said out loud, the smile widening to a grin. "Perfect."

He allowed himself the luxury of a fantasy as he stood, holding his new protection. Joe raised the weapon. It felt heavy, but true. The security of weight gave comfort. He knew he would have to strengthen his wrist to use the gun, but he saw that as a mere inconvenience. He pointed the gun at the door, thinking of shooting the Stranger. The sites dead on, he looked down them and laughed. "DIE!" He said with hatred in his voice as he imagined the man falling to the ground. He was just about to replay the scenario when he heard boots across the porch.

"Damn!" Joe swore at the noise. He reached in, grabbed a box of bullets and shut the drawer with his hip. Quickly looking around, he hunted for a hiding place. He saw an ash can by the fireplace and threw the pistol and the bullets behind it, turning around just in time to see his father and brothers walk through the door.

All three men entering the house saw Joe jump at the opening of the door. They had grown somewhat used to him being skittish, but seeing him startle at the slightest noise was unnerving. It made them realize the depth of Joe’s difficulties. Even in his own home, Joe anticipated being hurt. That in itself was hard to face, but how best to help him remained a mystery.

"Hey." Joe greeted, trying to look innocent.

"Hey yourself, Short Shanks. What ‘cha up to?" Hoss naively asked.

"Nuthin’, just sittin’ ‘round. I was thinkin,’ tomorrow I may get out for a ride or somethin’. I can’t take it in here no more." Joe had already begun to formulate his plan. He would have to start slow getting himself back to where he was before the Stranger.

Hearing Joe was interested in being outside was viewed as good news to everyone. Ben encouraged his child, "Son that sounds really good. But you sure you’re up to it? You feel okay?"

"Uh, well, I kinda just wanna go out and not really do much. Maybe just take a ride. And yeah, I feel okay. I know the strength isn’t back in my arms yet and I get tired easy, but it’s gettin’ there. Anything goin’ on tomorrow?"

"Actually there is. Frank Percy and a couple others are comin’ over to see the new foals that stallion we got from Yuma’s producing. Why don’t you come on out with us. You know Frank’ll have a thousand questions, and you could help answer some of ‘em."

"Uh, well, I was, uh… maybe later, Pa. I haven’t… um… I was just gonna…"

"Yeah, maybe Joe’s right." Adam quickly responded as he turned to his brother. "I think that would be a long day for you and it being your first one out, you may want to take it easy. How ‘bout Hoss or I go with Pa and show Frank around?"

Joe was surprised that it was Adam coming to his rescue. It threw him to have his oldest brother so quick to derail his father. Joe looked at Adam and was given a nod in return. He felt uncomfortable. Adam showing concern was hard for Joe to accept. He interpreted it to mean Adam had come to believe there was something seriously wrong with him. Joe thought of the gun, hidden, but waiting. He told himself that would fix everything, and he would no longer need to be rescued.

Ben looked from Joe to Adam and back to Joe. He felt so out of touch with his youngest. Every move he made since the scene in the bedroom had felt wrong, and Joe was drifting away from him. He contemplated trying to run the house business as usual, but feared Joe could not handle the pressure. He thought of allowing Joe to take the lead, but after seeing what could happen if Joe was left to his own devices, Ben could not trust his son to manage it safely. He had been in town that day, the purchase a gift for his youngest. He hoped it would help repair the damage between the two of them and help his son’s state of mind.

He kept his eye on his youngest, noting how young Joe looked at that moment. So young to have to wrestle with something Ben knew was far beyond what most men his age had to face. Joe’s life had been played with, as he had been made to surrender to someone whose sole purpose was to hurt him. The ones, who had hurt Joseph, had hurt Ben deeply as well. He was now realizing the extent. The agony of seeing what Joe had been through stayed heavy on Ben’s mind. The flashes of Reno would come to him, and it would be all he could do not to run to check on his son. He could hear Joe scream as he underwent the torture of medicine it’s intent to save his boy, but its procedure gave pain. He wondered if he could ever let go of what he had seen and see his boy before him unmarked and at peace.

As Ben looked at Joe, his familiar fatherly role took over. He could not help but notice Joe looked like a street urchin. Ben and Joe had been going round and round for several months about Joe’s choice of dress. Joe had tended to grab tattered clothes and wear them until, in Ben’s opinion, they were well beyond good use. Joe had countered with the argument he was just being thrifty, but Ben had chalked up more to Joe’s need to rebel. "Let’s discuss tomorrow’s plans at dinner. I’m sure we’re all starved, so let’s get cleaned up. Speaking of cleaned up, Joseph you need to go upstairs and put on some decent pants and some shoes. I know we aren’t formal around here, but I think you could look a little nicer than what you got on. And run a comb through that hair."

Adam and Hoss were already headed for the kitchen as Ben instructed his youngest. Joe could not let the situation pass without a smirk and a slight look upward to show his displeasure. Inside however, he was relieved, as he saw he had been given a break. He walked to the stairs and mumbled so his father could hear, "I don’t see what the big deal is. You’d think we were having the King of England here for tea."

Ben listened to Joe mumble and shook his head. It was shades of the child he knew before, and although Joe’s grumbling was disrespectful, he was glad to see his child reacting in his usual manner. "Joseph, the big deal is because I said so."

"Yes sir." Came the rote response.

Ben then turned and followed Hoss and Adam to clean up. Joe reached the top of the stairs, turned and watched his father round the corner to the kitchen. Moving quickly and quietly he ran down the stairs, over to the ash can and grabbed the gun and bullets. His heart was racing as he looked once more towards the kitchen and saw he was still in the clear. Feeling himself free from capture, he rapidly ascended the steps, shut the door to his room with his foot and, still having momentum from his speed, dove on top of his bed. He lay trying to catch his breath and smiled. He felt more freedom than he had since returning from Reno. He had what he needed for protection in his hand. He believed it would be what would save him.

Breathing and heart rate returned to normal as Joe contemplated where in his room he would hide the gun. He could not risk it being found by anyone, and he admitted he could not risk himself reaching for it while sleeping and giving a repeat performance. He thought a few moments and remembered an old hiding place. He moved to the floor, laid on his back and looked up at his mattress. It was still there. He had almost forgotten how important the place had been for secret treasures when he was young. He pulled back the covering of a little boy, hiding place and out fell a small pouch. Joe smiled and said aloud, "That’s where I left those!"

Joe had found what had at one time been a most prized possession, his bag of marbles. Joe could not help but sit up, open the pouch and survey the contents. He held the cat’s eye up to the light and remembered. He had won the coveted marble from Stevie Potter, and when it became his, it had been a young Little Joe’s proudest day. He had hid the treasure in his secret place years ago, when he had been forced to share his room with a little boy named Albert, with whom Joe had felt especially withholding. After his visitor had left, Joe had forgotten where he had placed his precious marbles, and they had lain hidden, waiting for a little boy to return to play.

The memories took him back in time, and Joe sat thinking for several minutes. He brought himself around when he realized there was not a lot of time to waste before he would need to be downstairs for dinner. He lay back down on his back and looked at the space available. It would be tight, but he could pull some more of the feathers out of the mattress and perhaps the gun would fit. Working his fingers made his wrists ache, and he had almost abandoned the idea when he decided to try and see if the gun would fit. He wiggled and pried, and the gun finally moved into place. The task accomplished, he breathed a sigh of relief.

He had now only to hide the box of bullets, a chore he felt was much easier to complete. He scanned the room and decided on a temporary spot. He could explain a box of bullets much easier than a weapon, so the risk was minimal. He opened his top drawer, dug up under some clothes and hid the bullets, closing the drawer when there was a knock at the door. He had forgotten why he had been sent to his room. "Yeah, come in."

Joe was surprised to see his father. "Uh, Pa, I was just gonna head on back downstairs."

Ben heard his son, but noticed his clothes had not changed. He looked at Joe, confused. "I hope you were going to change first."

"Change?" Joe looked momentarily confused. "Oh, uh, yeah, I was. I was gonna do that and then go downstairs."

"Well, before you do that, I’d like to talk to you. Come sit down." Ben motioned to the bed, and Joe moved over and sat. He saw his father had a box in his hand, which he placed between them. "Joseph, I owe you an apology."

"You do?"

"Yes, I do. Son, I handled the other night all wrong with you. I got angry when I needed to be more understanding. I’ve been thinking a lot about it, and I realize I was so afraid of what could have happened to you, I overreacted."

Joe shifted uncomfortably. "You don’t have anything to apologize for, Pa. I… um, it was nothing. I’ll change, and we can go eat. I’m starving."

"Don’t do this, Joe. We need to talk."

"But dinner’s waiting."

"It can wait. This is more important. Son, you have a heavy burden you’re carrying, and I think I added to it the other night. You never have to be afraid of me, Joseph. I’d never hurt you."

"I know that. I’m not." Joe wanted the conversation over as he looked longingly towards the door.

"Joe, please son. Talk to me."

"I don’t know what to say, Pa. I couldn’t help what I did when I got scared. It just happened."

"I saw that. What scares you son? Tell me."

Joe turned and looked at his father. What should he say? Everything? Nothing? He stood and walked to the window. Looking out he said, "It’s not one thing that scares me. It’s different things, and I don’t know when it’ll hit. I’m nineteen, and I feel like a kid. It is so stupid. I look out into the yard, and I think about what could get me - like I was three or something. I hate it."

Listening to his son was painful. Ben hated he could not simply show his child there was nothing lurking under his bed or in his closet, as he had handled Joe at three. He knew at Joe’s age, the best way to help would be to have his son talk about his fears, but it was difficult to listen and not want to take it all away. "I know you hate it. But son, every man gets afraid. And with what you’ve been through, I think anyone would feel like you do."

"What I went through… Huh? It’s all so unreal, and at the same time, I see it over and over like it’s happening right now." Joe remained staring outside, not allowing himself to think, only talk. "It’ll start, and it’s so strange, but I can’t stop it. I’m back there, and it’s happening again. I’m sorry I got afraid… It wasn’t you. I thought you were gonna… You know what was the worst part…? I would hang there in the dark… dreading the hurt… The actual hurt was bad, but… I think the waiting was worse… It’s… so dark, and… and the noises upstairs are hard to hear. I wish I could hear them, ‘cause then I could stop thinking about when he’s coming back. I hear so many noises. So many things that could be him… If he comes now, I think it’ll be the last time. I can’t hold on much longer… I don’t know if I can. What scares me more is, I don’t know if I want to. If I let go, he won’t have his answer, but I don’t want to die… I don’t want to die. I don’t want to let go, cause I wanna see everyone again… Does it hurt to die?"

Ben sat listening to his son go back to the cellar. Joe’s voice had dropped to a quiet monotone and took on the feel of distance. Ben could hear his son moving back to Reno in his head. He heard what it had been like for his son, and it pained him beyond words. He was nervous as to what he should do to help, his instinct being to reach out and hug his boy. He knew it might not help Joe, so he resisted the urge. His fear was he would scare his son if he touched him, so he remained quiet, looking at Joe’s back, as tears fell silently down his face.

"It hurts so bad… His eyes scare me… He likes to see me hurting… I’m not gonna let him see it. I’ll think of something else… He’ll wanna watch me die I know it… What does he feel…? What does he think …? Thinking. God, I wish I could stop it. I hate thinking. Too much noise. Too much… Pa?"

Ben looked to see his son turned towards him, tears falling down his child’s face. Joe’s tears touched Ben deeply. "What can I do, son?"

"Pa, why? Why did it happen? Why did he hurt me? Why? It won’t go ‘way, Pa! He’s there!"

Ben was up and to his son. He grabbed him and held him tight. "Joseph, I’ll take it all away. I’ll do it, son. I’m so sorry."

"Pa, why? Why did he like it?"

"Joseph, the people who hurt you were wrong, so very wrong. It’ll never happen again."

Joe pulled back to look his father in the eye. "Pa, you can’t promise that one. I know you want to, but you can’t. It could happen again. It could."

"No, Joseph. Your brothers and I will keep you safe."

"Pa, I’m not a child anymore. I want to be right now, but I’m not. I know you can’t protect me all the time. I know it, and that’s why I got that gun. I wasn’t trying to do something to make you mad, really. I have to be able to protect myself."

The discussion reminded Ben of his gift. "I understand that, and I want to give you something. Come over here."

Joe let his father lead him over to the bed. He sat, took the gift and slowly unwrapping it. The words Colt were on the box, which held the present. He opened the gift to see it was a gun. A gun that looked just like the weapon he carried before everything, before the Stranger. The same pearl handle, the same caliber, and as he looked, the same engraving. His father had tried to replace a weapon Joe truly loved. He tried to be happy, but the new gun was untested, it’s prototype, the one he did trust, in the possession of evil. "Thanks, Pa." Was all he could say. He did not want the gun, but would never tell his father.

"I think you need that, but I want it left downstairs. I do promise you, Joe. Up here in your room, you’re safe."

Joe thought of the gun tucked safely away. He believed in the weapon. "I know I am, Pa. I know it."

"Well now. You need to change clothes and then come on down to dinner. I’ll take this and put it in your holster."

"Uh, Pa. I’m kinda not hungry, anymore. I think I wanna just stay up here. I’m all of a sudden really tired." Joe was exhausted from the day, and the thought of making small talk at the table was too much. He was feeling dark and did not want to pretend to be happy.

"Okay Joe, you rest. I’ll have Hop Sing bring up a tray. But son, you’re really safe. I promise."

Joe once more thought of the hidden weapon. "I know I am, Pa. I know."
 

Joe stretched in bed as he kept his eyes closed, attempting to have morning come slowly. He had heard Hoss get up much earlier and leave his room. His brother had checked on him by saying he was leaving and patting his shoulder. Joe had rolled away and grumbled, never letting on that his brother’s presence and concern gave him reassuring comfort. It had become a routine with the two, an unspoken, allowing Joe to sleep without dreams.

Lying in bed, letting his thoughts meander over fantasies and daydreams, Joe eventually landed on the purpose of his day. He remembered what he had wanted to accomplish, and it motivated him to get out of bed. He pulled on the jeans he wore the day before and walked over to the wash basin. He had been actively avoiding looking at himself in the mirror, but that morning he stood and made himself look. His face was healing he could see that. The bruising was still evident, as were the areas that were still sore and swollen, but he noticed he saw more of his old self, coming through. He examined closer and knew he would have a scar over his left eye. He only hoped it would be small. The rest he did not know, but was for the first time that he was hopeful he might see his old face return.

He turned around and looked at his back in the mirror. Joe’s mind so willing to go to when he had received the lashes. "No! Don’t! Just look and be done!" He was unable to keep the thoughts away. He had no idea how much time passed, as he stood reliving the nightmare. He eventually brought his hands to his head, closed his eyes tight and made himself stop thinking. "Stop it! Stop it, now! I’m not there! It ain’t happening! GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" Joe looked around the room for something to draw him away from his thoughts. His eyes landed on the space up under his bed. "Get it!" He encouraged himself. "Get the gun! You’ll kill him, and it’s over!"

In a desperate frenzy, Joe lunged towards the hiding place where he had put the gun. He was urgent to feel the weapon in his grasp. Madly digging at the gun, he started tearing the hiding place open. He ripped the gun from its lair, and as he finally held it, he felt power. He sat on the floor, his back against his bed, embracing his rage and enjoying the strength it gave him. The fear was gone - the feel of metal as his finger drew back the trigger, the sound of an explosion, the recoil in his hand - there was no room for anything else in his mind, as the fantasy took hold. He would not feel fear with the weapon. It gave him the ability to feel rage and hate. It gave him his urge for revenge.

He held the gun cocked and pointed, his fantasy disturbed only when he heard the downstairs door close. Joe’s thoughts returned to the room, and the wave of rage momentarily receded. He looked down remembering he was only half dressed, the morning having been clouded in thoughts and nightmares. He slowly stood, feeling out of sorts and foggy. His movements were sluggish as he went to his dresser to grab a loose shirt. As he finished dressing, sitting on his bed pulling on his boots, he thought over what he had done that morning, much of it confusing to him. He returned to the Stranger’s prophecy that he would feel hate. The Stranger was right. He hated. Was this The Stranger’s revenge or his own? What did the Stranger want him to feel? Rage? Fear? What did the man want from him? Joe finally said aloud, "I don’t care what you want. I don’t care, and you won’t make me do anything I don’t want to do. You have NO power over me! I’m in control! I can do as I please!"

Joe grabbed the gun and bullets, as he walked quickly out of the room. He moved rapidly down the stairs to the front door, grabbing his holster along the way and moving outside. He did not slow as he strapped on his gun belt, all the while walking across the yard. Entering the barn, he saw Cochise stood saddled. Without pause, he lead the paint out of the barn and quickly mounted. With a kick he was away, riding fast and not looking back.

If Joe had looked behind him, he would have seen a very puzzled Adam standing in the yard watching him depart. Remembering Joe’s wishes from the previous day, Adam had decided to help Joe by saddling Cochise. He had finished in the barn, but had detoured into the kitchen for a quick bite when Joe had gone out the front door. Adam had moved outside just in time to see his brother kick Cochise hard and ride away in a full gallop. He stood watching the quickly departing figure of his brother, wondering where it was Joe was off to in such a hurry.

The feel of power and freedom on Cochise was exhilarating. Joe never tired of riding his pony at a full gallop, the wind in his hair and the muscular animal beneath him. It had been his first time back on a horse since being injured, and although he knew he should take it easy on his body and would pay for it later, he could not resist the feel of power and speed. He saw some logs in front of him, and once he had scanned the area to insure the footing for Cochise, he reined her towards them and jumped her with ease. He let out a whoop and a laugh, as he patted Cochise’s neck, "You’re a fine horse, Cooch! Mighty fine!" As Joe rode, he was free from thought and feeling of the Stranger. He was for a time only nineteen and enjoying the pleasures of youth.

Having stood and watched his brother ride off in such a hurry, Adam decided it would be best to follow, but at a distance. He had expected Joe to be hesitant, even delay the outing a few days and had been quite surprised to see it had not appeared to phase his brother in the slightest. As he followed, Adam had thought he would need to hold back his horse to keep from being seen, but soon realized Cochise was being held at a full gallop, and he would have to quicken his pace to not lose sight. He had mixed feelings about following Joe, knowing if his little brother knew of his presence, there would be hell to pay. But he had become convinced Joe was hiding something from them, and it had to do with Reno. He hoped to find out the secret soon, and give Joe the help he knew he needed.

Adam had seen Joe jump Cochise. It was classic Little Joe, enjoying life to the hilt. Adam began to doubt his instincts to follow, starting to believe that perhaps Joe was only out for a ride. He pulled Sport up short, as Joe slowed. He told himself he would watch Joe a while, and if everything appeared normal, he could simply ride away, his little brother none the wiser. He sat, making himself comfortable and looked on with interest.

Finally slowing Cochise, Joe arrived at his destination. A place where he believed he would be alone and free to do, as he wanted. In the past he had occasionally visited the area when he needed to think. He had several such places on the Ponderosa, and would select the appropriate one to fit his mood. This time, the selection requirements were such that it was a place where he would not scare the herd or was where his family or ranch hands could hear him. He wanted to prepare himself for the Stranger, to ready himself for battle. He tied Cochise to a tree, knowing the animal would not be spooked by what he was about to do. He had been out many times before shooting, and Cochise was used to the noise. She would not bolt at the sound of gunfire, a trait the more Joe thought about, the more he admired.

He set about making targets as he focused his mind on his prey. He thought of shooting the Stranger dead, and it began consuming him as he worked. He would be ready to kill he knew it inside. The Stranger deserved to die. He knew he had to be ready for anything, and made sure he was challenging his skill. He pulled the weapon his father had given him out of his holster, placing it on the ground by his feet. He grabbed the .45 from his waistband and looked over the weapon once more. He felt his tension rise and allowed himself to embrace his rage. He slowly stretched out his arm, lining the site with his intended target. He saw an image in his mind’s eye. He fired. The shot was off to the left, having just grazed his target. He swore aloud.

The weapon was heavy in his hand, his arm and wrist much weaker. The realization that it was going to take practice and time immediately frustrated Joe. He had not demonstrated to himself the skill he had previously known, and it angered him. He reminded himself where the fault lay, as he aimed at his second target. He fired. Again, just off target. He unloaded the remaining bullets at the second target. His rage now driving him, he screamed, "GO TO HELL, DAMN YOU!"

Watching his brother began to make Adam question the situation. He had seen Joe with two weapons, and briefly wondered where and why he had obtained the second. At first as Adam watched, he thought Joe’s practicing was not in itself all that unusual. He knew Joe liked to shoot and, from time to time, would go out and practice shooting at targets. All three boys had over the years gone out shooting together. Invariably during those times, there would be a boast or a challenge from one, and the three would soon be competing against each other. But as Adam looked on, it did not seem as if this were merely practice for Joe. Joe body language was tense and the look on his brother’s face held rage. Joe’s sole focus was whatever it was he was shooting at, and he seemed to become angrier at each pull of the trigger. It was when Adam heard Joe scream that he knew Joe was shooting at someone in his mind.

Joe quickly reloaded and was firing again. The scenario repeated itself over and over. Joe’s aim was getting worse as his arm tired, and his wrist throbbed. He would not stop though, determined to kill the Stranger so many times in his mind. He was possessed by his rage, as he screamed and swore at the image he held in front of his eyes. There were bullets flying madly, as every explosion added more fuel his rage. He had lost track of how many times he had reloaded, and as he emptied the gun once more, he walked to the makeshift targets and began violently kicking and stomping on them.

Eventually he tired and sat to regain his strength. However, the rage remained. He felt anger so deep and primal; it’s extent he had yet to fully experience. Joe sat thinking of his anger. He recalled what he had been told so many times about it. "Quick to anger, am I?" He then looked over the destruction he had committed and laughed. "Hell Joe, I think they’re right."

All he could feel was paralyzed as Adam watched. Joe’s rage was immense and there seemed to be no end to it. Adam had seen Joe furious before, but never like this - never so much. The desire to go to Joe and help him gain control was strong. It was extremely uncomfortable to watch, as it was obvious Joe had released his restraint and there was nothing there but fury. Watching Joe stop shooting and sit gave Adam no peace, either. His brother still held tightly to the gun, the look on his face radiating hate. What Adam saw next made him ill.

Joe’s attention was caught by birds overhead. He looked up to see several vultures circling a little way off. As he sat watching, he began to think, "Somethin’s dead or dying… Sick birds, eatin’ off a dead stuff, or worse yet waitin’ for it to die… Watching and waiting… Wantin’ it dead… Gonna watch it die… Just stayin’ right there, don’t care how scared the dyin’ might be, just watchin’." As Joe carried on the thoughts in his head, events became surreal. He stood and walked towards where the birds were circling. Raising the pistol, he aimed and fired. "DIE!" He screamed as the bullet hit it’s intended target. The bird fell to the ground, several feet from Joe. He walked to it, and while standing over it, he unloaded the weapon into the dead bird. With each discharge, he screamed, "DIE!" He reloaded the weapon, continuing to fire, shooting until the figure of a bird no longer remained.

Standing, looking down at the dead bird, Joe felt nothing. Slowly holstering the weapon, he turned and surveyed his carnage. The targets lay askew, no longer in the order he had placed them when he had started. He walked reluctantly back towards where he had stood shooting, his eyes on the bullet casings all around. He shook his head at the disgust that was rising inside of him, and then released a mad chuckle as an absurd thought entered his mind, "Boy, here’d be a prime time for a lecture." Joe silently stood until he could look at what he had done no longer. He reached down and grabbed the gun he had placed on the ground, ran to Cochise, untied her reins and was on her back and away.

Seeing the killing of the bird deeply disturbed Adam. Thinking over what his brother had endured, Adam had known from the beginning, Joe would have problems coming to terms with it all. But with what he had seen as he watched Joe’s behavior, he entertained for the first time, the idea something may have fundamentally changed within Joe. He wondered if his little brother had been so damaged by the torture and pain his mind could not come back without it having mutated. Was the Joe he had watched that afternoon the new Joe, left after the pain? Adam spoke to his brother as he watched him riding away. "Oh God, Joe! What’s happened to you? Oh please, don’t let this be what’s left. This can’t be you!" Adam allowed his little brother a lead, then mounted his horse and followed.
 

He usually felt completion when he returned home after a job had finished. He did not particularly care for Salt Lake, but she said it made her happy so he decided it would minimize his annoyances. He had been more uneasy this return, knowing completion was still in the future. He wanted the game to continue and chastised himself for his impatience. In time, he told himself, all in good time.

He was now to return to the family, play the role of dutiful husband and father. It was a role he tolerated; it’s cover quite useful. The son had met him as the son always did, so joyous to see him. The son’s sticky hands had soil his clean pants during the greeting. He pushed the son away to the wife and walked into a room to change his clothing. They knew not to disturb, as he unpacked his bag. He unloaded the usual clothing and toiletries. His desire, the item at the bottom of the bag, which had held his thoughts for most of the ride home - the gun - the kid’s gun. He had looked at it several times, impressed with its balance. It was obviously an expensive weapon; the fine craftsmanship apparent. He looked at the engraving, it was also obvious the gun had been a gift. "A gift from whom, Pretty Boy? Your papa, maybe? Is that what papa’s do? Give their little boys guns? I bet papa did not prepare you for me, did he Pretty Boy? No, when he gave you this gun, I bet there was laughter and all that father-son crap. Well Pretty Boy, papa should have told you of me. Maybe it wouldn’t have shaken you so when I entered your world. No, your papa would not even entertain me in your world. You’re a chosen child. Well, chosen child, we’ll see how you do. Will you make your papa proud or will you make me proud?" He let loose a wicked laugh, the thought of the kid turning to him for guidance amused him. "Oh Pretty Boy, I could be such a mentor."

He returned to his occupation of skill and precision and attempted to remain focused on his work through the days. The clocks he created, he normally took great pride in. However, since his return, he found it harder to focus. He had taken his opponent’s gun to his shop and laid it where he could easily see it. He wanted to think and remember the encounter. He spent many hours replaying the scenario, each time fantasizing the ending to come. He held the weapon, and wondered what his adversary was doing. Had this gun killed? Had the kid tasted the power? There was so much he wanted to know, and he felt anger at having to wait. He had been working at a very tedious chore, threading cogs, when he could do no more. He had to stop, his desire to continue the game filling his thoughts. He said aloud, "Tick, tock, Pretty Boy. The clock is running. Where are you?"
 

Joe rode fast and furious, with no destination in mind, his only desire to clear his head. The rage, disgust and shadow of fear inside traveled with him, unwilling to release their bonds. His fantasy had been that with every pounding hoof beat he could leave it all a little further behind. But it followed and haunted. As he rode, he moved his thoughts between what had been done to him, and what he had now done. His mind would then fleetingly travel to the murderous rage of what he desired yet to do. The desires of vengeance were firmly inside him, but were ideas he did not allow himself to dwell upon. They scared him, and if he were honest with himself, he would have to admit these thoughts were beginning to generate more fear in him than the memories. They were both repulsive and disturbing, but also seductive and alluring, bringing with them power and rage. In such thoughts, he was in complete control, and it would be another’s turn to feel the fear and beg for his life. He felt the conflict, as it increased his tension.

The road to Virginia City lay ahead, the ranch house behind. The thought of going home did not enter his mind, although it was beginning to be late afternoon. The idea of walking into the house with the torrent of emotions he was experiencing was impossible to entertain. He reined Cochise towards town, and again a conflict. Being around people brought up such anxiety, he knew a saloon would be too much. He did not want to be seen, the fear of having to engage in conversation paramount. He did not want to talk, feel, or think. He wanted it quiet, to be lost in something to the point he could simply just exist.

Joe avoided the main street of Virginia City, knowing that there he would most likely run into someone he knew. He was concerned about his appearance, but more so, he had developed the belief someone who knew him could see inside to the coldness he felt was growing. He ended up on D Street, where the more unsavory of society frequented. The saloons were beginning to come alive as the evening began; the day’s work ended. He had slowed Cochise to a walk, as he rode down the street, keeping his hat tipped down so as to cast a shadow on his face. He made his decision once he saw the building. He dismounted and tied Cochise to the rail, walked down the alley and entered the back of the building.

Following some distance behind, Adam was again taken off guard when he saw Joe turn the paint pony towards Virginia City, rather than home. He checked the sun, noting the lateness of the day. That morning he had told his father he would try and see if Joe would spend the day with him. He just hoped his father would not worry, now that day was rapidly turning to evening. "Well, can’t do anything about it now." He said to no one and turned Sport, continuing to trail his brother.

Clearing his mind from what he had witnessed in Joe was proving difficult. As Adam rode, he thought of what he could do to help. The rage he had watched seemed endless, his brother’s torment continual. He knew only too well, Joe’s tendency towards acting impulsively, and he was alarmed Joe would be in town with such demons chasing him. He knew the potential for disaster was high.

Adam saw Joe pull up Cochise, so he reined his horse up short, across the street and down a few buildings. Joe seemed oblivious to his shadow, as he headed down the alley. Adam looked to the building, knowing the alley lead to the rear entrance, and his eyebrows raised. Although he knew little brother was far from naïve, he found the place Joe had chosen to go surprising, none the less. He could not follow without being seen, so he made himself comfortable across the street, silently praying Joe could keep it all under control.

Joe entered the establishment, his senses assaulted by cheap perfume. The parlor was dark and empty, as he had hoped it would be. He moved over to a chair in the corner and sat, keeping his head down as he wrestled with his ambivalence. Did he really want to do this? He had no idea the answer, only the need to shut down his thoughts. If this would do it, then he was more than willing. The strongest desire that drove him was to have it taken all away. The idea of peace was the greatest seduction of them all.

"Joe Cartwright? Is that you hiding over here?" The voice he recognized. He closed his eyes a moment and told himself to let go and just let it happen. "Hey ya, Katie. Yeah, it’s me."

The woman stood before him in a soft pink dressing gown and robe - her hair a long flowing brown mane, her eyes, deep blue. She was attractive in the dark, no one really knowing her any other way. She could be every man’s fantasy, but no man’s love. She seductively moved over and lounged herself in Joe’s lap. She went to take off his hat, but he quickly stopped her. Without missing a beat she moved her arms round his neck and asked, "How ya been, Sweetie? I haven’t seen you in forever."

Katie had immediately noticed the bruises and swelling on Joe’s face, and could tell in his lack of eye contact, he was uncomfortable. She had seen him a few times before and enjoyed it when he would visit. He was one she almost felt guilty to take money from - almost. She seemed to have a good time with him, the encounter hardly work. She had heard through the rumor mill what he had been through recently and was somewhat surprised to see him. She guessed he wanted to escape his troubles as so many men did, and she was more than willing to oblige.

Joe put his arms around her waist, as she sat. "Oh, I’ve been, uh… okay. Got a bottle?"

"For you sweet thing, anything. You know that. Now don’t you go no where." Katie moved to another room, Joe watching her, as she walked. She returned quickly, plopping herself once more into his lap. She poured him a drink and held the glass to his lips. He went to take the glass from her. "No, now, Sweetie. Katie’ll take good care of you."

Joe drank quickly, and Katie was attentive to refill the glass. He drank without pause, and Katie poured yet again. "Hey Joe. Relax, there. You’re all tense. I can feel it. What’s got ‘cha so worked up, huh? Tell me." As Katie asked her question, she began to gently stroke the back of his neck, playing with the curls in his hair. She moved in close to talk softly in his ear. "I heard what happened to ya. You doin’ okay?"

Katie’s mentioning Reno made Joe’s heart jump. He had hoped for a place to forget for a while, and the mention brought it all back. "Uh, yeah… I’m fine. Just don’t want to talk about it."

"Well, that’s just fine with me. So here, drink up and relax." Katie remained close to Joe’s ear and began to nibble on his neck. He closed his eyes telling himself to only think of the pretty girl on his lap and let the other go. The alcohol began to move through him, each shot bringing more distance from the Stranger and the events of the day. He lost count of the glasses and reached for her, moving her face so he was looking in her eyes. He thought how wonderful it would be to be lost in them. He pulled her mouth to his and kissing her slowly at first, but as he relaxed, his passion grew. His hands were in her hair, intertwining strands of her mane in his fingers. He began enjoying her taste and her smell - Reno was moving away.

Katie felt him begin to let go his interest more obvious. She pulled away, looking him again in the eye. She raised her eyebrows and smiled playfully. "I do believe you are relaxing." He grinned, pulling her toward him. She let her lips lightly brush his, and then she was away from him once more.

"Oh, Katie you are a tease now, aren’t you?" Joe’s focus moving more and more to the woman in front of him.

"Uh huh, that I am. And I like teasing you."

"You do, now do ya? Well better be careful. May get yourself into some trouble."

"Oh your kinda trouble I like. You know I do. And I know what you like, Joe Cartwright."

"You do now, do ya?"

"Uh huh. You like this." She said, kissing him hungrily and then backing away to playfully nibble his lip.

Joe moaned his response but was unwilling to be passive. As his desire for her grew, he wanted control. He kissed her deeply on the mouth and then allowed his kiss to drag over her chin and down the nape of her neck. His hands moved from her hair to pulling her robe and gown off her shoulder. He began kissing and nibbling her, as she ran her hands through his hair - his hat knocked off in the process - Joe forgetting why he had wanted it.

The thought of this woman, her taste, her smell, her feel, became his sole focus. He had to have her. He moved his hand inside her gown, cupping her breast, and gently squeezing. Katie threw back her head and moaned.

"Ah Katie, darlin’." Joe sighed. He could wait no more to be with her.

Suddenly, without warning, he stood placing her gently on her feet. He grabbed her by the hand and headed towards the stairs. He moved quickly, almost pulling her, as his urgency increased. He knew her room and threw open the door, pulling her inside with him. Kicking the door closed, he pushed her up against it. He was gone to his passion, nothing else in its place. He began madly kissing her, his hands to her face, her shoulders and landing on her breasts. He then began pulling at her robe, wanting to begin unwrapping his gift. Katie met his intensity and was kissing him deeply. Her hands were in his hair, the feeling so soft. She then began moving her hands to his shirt. She wanted it off of him to feel his bare skin. She ran her hands over his shoulders giving his shirt a slight tug.

He pulled away, brief flash, split second of fear.

Joe contained himself quickly, as he pulled away from her. The flash was then gone, Katie before him. He stood back for a moment, allowed himself to think of the woman in front of him. He let his eyes traveling up and down her, as if deciding where to start. He looked to the sash on the robe, pulled it hard saying, "This has got to go." The sash untied and fell to the floor. He moved the robe off her shoulders, and Katie let the garment fall away. He smiled wickedly, as he looked over what would soon be his to fully enjoy.

"You’re proud of yourself, aren’t ‘cha, cowboy?" Katie flirted.

"Uh huh, I am." Joe took on a look of cockiness. "You know these things here aren’t very sturdy. They could just break right away." He reached for a strap of her gown pulled it with a jerk and it broke. "My, my, my, what have I done?"

Katie reacted with mock irritation. "Hey, now what am I supposed to wear?"

"Oh here, I must make it even." And with that, Joe broke the other strap, the gown joining its partner on the ground. Joe’s hands were immediately on her, as he moved in close, pressing himself against her. His breath was a whisper over her lips as he softly moaned.

Katie was not to be outdone. She smiled wickedly. "Two can play at this game." With that she tore open Joe’s shirt, the buttons flying.

Joe immediately recoiled, his eyes wide in terror. The flash came again, but this time it did not leave. He could not breathe, as he was instantly in the cellar. It was all around him, the terror extreme. His ability to understand what was happening left him, his only thought survival. He appeared to be looking at her as he backed away, but his eyes did not see Katie. They saw only images best left in nightmares.

Katie stood stunned and confused. She had no idea what was happening. There had been no warning. "Joe? What’s wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?"

Joe remained unmoving, as he watched the Stranger come towards him. The Stranger reaching out and grabbing his arm, pulling him towards danger, and towards pain. The Stranger was between him and escape. He had to get out. As the Stranger touched him, he screamed "NO! GET AWAY FROM ME! DON’T TOUCH ME! NO MORE!"

Joe grabbed Katie forcefully, to move her from his path. He started to toss her away from him when a woman’s scream broke through and interrupted the nightmare. It had been a noise Joe had not expected to hear. He let go by sheer reflex, and Katie shoved him hard. Joe fell back across the bed, his head hitting on the headboard with a hard thump. Katie then began a barrage of hitting and kicking as she yelled. "You sick bastard! What the hell do you think you were tryin’ to do!" Joe cowered at her attack, putting up no resistance.

When Katie realized Joe would not fight back, she slowly calmed. "Listen here you sick bastard! I don’t know what the hell you think you were doin’ or who the hell you think I am, but I ain’t gonna let no man hit me! I don’t do no rough stuff! You got that! Now, you get the hell out!"

Nothing made sense as Joe tried to figure out what had happened. He did not move from where he lay. Katie grabbed him by his arm and started pulling. "I SAID GET OUT!"

Joe scrambled to his feet, his only thoughts to obey. He had no idea where he was, as past and present blended. All he knew was he was being ordered, and if he did not do as he was told, he would be hurt. He tried to obey. He moved to the door dazed, but stopped to look at Katie. "I’m… I… uh… I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry."

"GET OUT!" Came the reply. With that, Joe was out her door, running down the stairs. He did not slow, as he left the building and ran to his horse. He grabbed the reins, jumped on Cochise and fled.

The sun was down, the streets lively, as Adam waited for Joe. He could not relax, his thoughts continuing to return to his brother’s state of mind, and the possibilities of what it could mean. Had Joe turned into a… a… a what? What was it he had seen in his little brother? He knew the intensity of rage had been terrifying to watch. He wondered if it scared Joe, or if his brother was finding it appealing. There was so much he did not know about his youngest sibling. Was Joe capable of turning bad?

He was deep in thought when he saw Joe run from the alley and take off on Cochise. Joe’s shirt wide open and a look on his face, Adam immediately interpreted as something was terribly wrong. "Oh God, no!"

Adam was running across the street, as Joe flew passed on Cochise, not seeming to recognize his older brother. At first Adam thought of going after Joe, but as he stood momentarily stunned in the street helplessly watching Joe’s rapid departure, he had a sick feeling it might be best to know what it was Joe was running from. He continued his original course to the brothel’s back entrance. Thoughts of what might wait him trying to invade his head. "What did Joe do? Oh dear God, what did he do?"

The parlor remained dim and empty, as Adam entered. Scanning the room, he breathed a sigh of relief at not seeing anything amiss. Looking up the stairs, he saw several women at the top. They appeared to be huddled around a brunette, each asking numerous questions. He cleared his throat several times in hopes of gaining their attention, but the women remained oblivious. "Um, excuse me?" he finally interrupted.

The group turned in unison to look, their faces questioning. "Do any of you happen to uh… " Adam wondered how to put it delicately. "There was a kid just here. Um… he just left? Any of you ladies happen to… um, know him?"

Katie stepped forward, her face showing tears. "Who’re you? Why ya wanna know?"

"Um, he’s, uh, my little brother. I was wondering if there had been some kind of trouble."

"Trouble?" A red head mocked. "That kid’s crazy! Attacking Katie! He should be locked up’s what he should be!"

Adam’s heart sank. He closed his eyes a moment, as he took a deep breath. Joe had attacked a girl. What did that mean? Had he raped her? Worse yet, killed her? The fear began to build. He became as he always did to cope. He tried to focus on what needed to be done, rather than the emotion tearing at him. "Is the girl, okay? Does she need a doctor? Is she…? " Adam wanted to ask if she were still alive, but the words failed him. This was not happening.

"Now Rose, calm down. I’ll be okay." Katie addressed the red head. "Um… maybe you and I should talk. Come on up."

Relieved to see the woman speaking did not seem in immediate need of a doctor, Adam climbed the stairs and followed her into her room. "Have a seat." Katie offered as she reached down and picked up the torn gown.

Adam could not help but see the garment’s torn straps, his mind racing at the thought of what Joe may have done. He had no idea how to ask his question, so he stalled to think. "Miss, uh… I didn’t catch the name."

"It’s Katie."

"Katie… did my brother do that?" Adam asked, nodding towards the gown.

"This? Uh… yeah."

"How bad did he hurt you? Did he…?"

Katie looked to the gown, realizing what Joe’s brother was thinking. "Oh, no! Mr. Cartwright, Joe didn’t rape me. He didn’t. Scared me to death, but he didn’t rape me."

"Did he try to?" Adam had to know. The scenario was so frightening, his fears for his brother enormous. What had Joe done, and even more important could Adam save him?

"To tell you the truth, I have no idea what happened. One minute me and Joe are having a lot of fun, and the next minute he has this look on his face like he ain’t all there, ya know? And I try to see if he’s okay, and he grabs me real hard and starts to throw me down. You know that at the time I thought he wanted to hit me, like you know some fellas do? But the more I think about it, it was like he wanted me away from him. It was just all really strange. He was real into it, and then all of a sudden he was just gone."

Listening to the woman, Adam had an idea of what may have happened. It had been like the night in Joe’s bedroom when Joe had thought their father was going to hurt him. "Oh buddy. You’re so bad off." Adam said under his breath. Adam asked, "Miss, are you hurt. Did he hurt you?"

Katie looked at her wrists, seeing red marks. She then looked to Adam and saw how pained he appeared. "No, Mr. Cartwright, I’m fine. All Joe really did was scare me. I just don’t understand what happened. Your brother is a nice guy. He’s never done anything like this before."

"Joe’s been here before?" Adam again felt shock. He did not know much about his youngest brother at all.

"Gee, I guess I’m talkin’ outta school here, kinda awkward. Yeah, he has, but just a few times. Not many, I assure you. Do you know what happened to him?"

Adam did not feel comfortable discussing family business with the young woman. She seemed nice, but it all was just too much. The revelations he had experienced throughout the day had his head spinning. He wanted to protect Joe, and was concerned as to what to say. As he tried to think, Katie spoke. "I heard the rumors of what happened to your brother. They say he was tortured. Is that true?"

Adam looked at the woman and simply nodded. He had his own question. "Um Miss, right before Joe got that look… what do you think caused it? Do you have any idea?" Adam knew it was an awkward question, his intention not to pry, but rather to try and understand what had set Joe off.

"Well, um… he had uh… we were playin’ around, and he had broke the straps to my gown. Not mean like mind you. Just playin’. And I uh, told him that two could play at that game, and I tore open his shirt. It was right after that. I mean right after that, he got that look."

Adam’s mind returned to the doctor’s office, to the time he had heard his brother speak of a similar event, Joe’s statement to the sheriff. He could hear his brother say the words so vividly, as if Joe was speaking to him at that moment. "Um, that’s when my, uh, shirt was, uh, torn off." Adam then thought of the torn shirt, a mere rag with blood, his brother had to identify as his own. He now knew why Joe had done as he had with the girl. It made sense. "Miss, I think something happened between you two that reminded Joe of what he had been through when he was hurt so bad. It must have upset him to think about it."

"Oh, the poor guy. Gee, I’m sorry if it was something that I did. I kinda screamed and hollered at him after it happened. Even hit and kicked him and he just lay there. I didn’t know what was goin’ on. Gee, I feel bad for him."

The woman’s compassion was a relief to hear, and Adam believed she truly did understand Joe did not set out to hurt her. "Miss, you are incredibly understanding. Joe has just been through so much. He’s just real bad off right now."

"Well listen. I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. Believe me, I’ve been through much worse. And I hope Joe’s okay. Like I said, he’s always been real nice to me."

The conversation ended much better than Adam had dreamed it would, given his brother’s panicked face upon leaving the brothel. He was so very thankful the situation had not been worse. As he walked to his horse, he had a very troubling thought. Would he now have to go around trying to repair the damage his brother would leave in his wake? Was Joe that bad off? Adam told himself he would try to prevent Joe from doing any further harm, but if he could not stop it, he would help his brother anyway he could.

The ride home was occupied with confusion for Adam. He had no idea how best to respond to Joe. He wondered what to say to his brother about what he had seen, knowing Joe would volunteer nothing. If Joe discovered he had been followed and watched, the potential for creating such feelings of betrayal was enormous. It would be extremely difficult or impossible to repair the harm to the relationship. Adam would not have worried as much about possible damage, if Joe were more stable, feeling he could eventually get through to his brother regarding his intentions. But given Joe’s condition, Adam worried about the amount of rage the knowledge would produce, as well as the level of damage it would inflict upon Joe’s already faltering spirit.

One thing Adam was greatly unsure of was what to tell or not tell his father. He thought over how his father had responded to Joe throughout the ordeal. It was obvious Ben was hurting deeply, as he could not do more to help his son. Watching his father’s agony at trying to hold Joe’s physical and emotional pain, made Adam naturally want to shelter his father from more grief.

As Adam approached the ranch house, he made his decision. He vowed to try and bring the Joe they knew and loved back home. He wanted to give his father, his brother and himself the person who had left that day, several weeks ago to travel to Reno. The son Ben could over-protect and keep young; the little brother they could tease and kid. He had to try and find out if the Joe they all knew and loved made it through the torture, or did Baxter win and succeed at killing Little Joe.

The lantern in the barn was still burning as Adam walked his horse inside. He was relieved and surprised at what he saw - relieved Cochise was in the barn, meaning Joe was home and surprised the horse stood fully saddled, her care left unattended. Adam stabled Sport, as well as Cochise, seeming to linger and care for his brother’s horse a little longer than he might usually do. It was as if by tending to the paint pony, he could feel as if he were tending Joe. It was a small gesture, but at that moment, it was all he could do. The horses bedded down, he moved to the big house with no idea what lay inside.

Entering the house, Adam looked around, unsure if he wanted to see Joe. His eyes caught the silver hair of his father, sitting by the fire, smoking his pipe. As Adam removed his gun belt and hat, placing them by the door, his father spoke, "There you are. Where have you been? I thought you’d be with Joe, but when I asked him, he acted like he didn’t know what I was talking about."

"Uh, sorry Pa to be out so late. I had some things to tend to. How’s Joe?" Adam was immediately anxious.

"He looked terrible to tell you the truth. I think he over did it. He walked into the house and headed directly for the stairs. I said hello to him, so it stopped him a minute or I think he would’ve just kept walking right upstairs without saying a word. I don’t know if it was exhaustion or what. I asked him where you were, and he mumbled something about how should he know, and he was going to bed. Hoss went on up soon after."

"When’d he get in?"

"Oh, he came in ‘bout an hour ago. The way he looked, I’m sure he’s asleep by now. I’m going to run upstairs a moment. Hop Sing kept a plate for you in the kitchen. Why don’t you go eat? I’ll be back down shortly and keep you company."

Adam could see the worry on his father’s face and knew he was going upstairs to check on Joe. Ben was resorting to something he had done over and over throughout his boys’ lives. When his boys were small, he made a nightly check on each sleeping child, like a sentry, guarding and insuring safety and peace. He had done less of it as his boys grew, but if one of his boys were hurt or troubled, the sentry reappeared. It was ingrained in him, and he could not relax until he had done his job.

The lantern burned softly, the room filled with snoring. Ben did not knock for fear of disturbing, but slowly opened the door to Joe’s room. He could not help the smile, that appeared on his face at the sound of his middle child’s snore. He stood looking at Hoss sleeping on a cot, knowing it was uncomfortable, but also knowing Hoss would have it no different. Ben felt so touched by his son’s need to watch over his little brother. He pulled the blankets up over Hoss’ shoulders and gently patted him. He then quietly moved to check on Joe. His youngest had his back to him, not moving as Ben reached out and rubbed his shoulder. It appeared to Ben as if Joe was sleeping soundly.

Joe heard his father enter his room. He had been laying, staring at the wall, and struggling to understand what he was becoming. The day assaulted his mind, as he tried to grasp why. However, the why was no longer a why aimed at the Stranger. It was now a why pointed directly at him. Why had he acted as he had? Why did the rage feel so comforting? Why could he not escape the memories? More questions, deeper more frightening questions, began to form just out of his awareness, leaving him unable to rest and yet exhausted.

As Joe listened to his father move in his room, he closed his eyes. The mere thought of looking at his father, looking into his father’s loving eyes made him cringe. He could not look at the man who raised him, knowing what he had done, and who he was becoming. The metamorphosis brought terror and rage, but now a new emotion joined in to torment - shame. The shame brought forth a need to hide, and Joe retreated, feeling unworthy to be called Ben Cartwright’s son. As his father rubbed his shoulder and whispered, "Sleep well my son" he struggled to hold back the tears. As he then heard his door close, he rolled his head into his pillow and cried.

It was some time later, the tears dried and only thoughts in their place, when Joe heard his door open once more, and someone move over to Hoss. He remained unmoving, eyes closed, as he listened. "Hoss, Hoss, wake up." It was Adam.

Hoss stirred and was awake. "Uh… wha… what?"

"Ssshhh, Hoss, don’t wake Joe. I gotta talk to you. Come on outta here. It’s important."

"Adam, it’s the middle of the night. What’s so important it can’t wait ‘til we get some sleep?"

"Will you hold it down!" Adam whispered in a harsh tome. "I’ve gotta talk to you. We’ve got a big problem, and it can’t wait. I need your help. Come on outta here. I don’t want Joe waking up."

"If there’s a problem shouldn’t we let Joe in on it?"

"Will you come on? Joe doesn’t need to hear about it."

Hoss moved out of the cot and followed behind Adam. His older brother’s behavior was very mysterious, behaving much more like Joe than himself. He followed into Adam’s room and sat down on Adam’s bed. "Okay. What’s so all fired important it can’t wait ‘til morning?"

Where to begin? Adam asked himself. "Hoss, uh… we’ve got a big problem. It’s Joe. There’s something seriously wrong with him, and I’m not sure what to do about it, but we’ve got to do something soon or Joe’s gonna end up doing something that is gonna get someone hurt or worse. Joe did some things today that were down right scary. It started late this morning…"

What neither Hoss nor Adam knew was there was a third member to the conversation, only silent, standing outside the door, listening as the events of his day were exposed. Joe’s mind raced, as he heard of his betrayal. He had been followed, and now, Adam stood telling all he had seen. The waves of rage were moving over him violently, as he began to shake.

The opening door immediately stopped the conversation. The image in the doorway, radiated fury. "Don’t stop on my account big brother. Go ahead tell Hoss everything. Just have the guts to tell it in front of me."

Adam closed his eyes in dread at the upcoming scene that would more than likely take place. A quick thought passed through his head, "This isn’t going to be good!" He tried to remain calm and keep things from escalating as he took a deep breath. "Joe, let me explain…"

Joe was not about to let Adam explain anything. "Explain what! You following me! You watching me! You tellin’ Hoss! How do you explain it! What reason could you possibly give me to explain what you did, you son of a bitch! What is it you want Hoss to know so goddamned bad! You want him to think just as bad about me as you do, don’t you! You think I’m bad, and you can’t wait to prove it! Well go right ahead and tell him, you self-righteous son of a bitch! TELL HIM ALL OF IT! TELL HIM EVERYTHING I DID! TELL HIM TO HATE ME!" Words left, as action took over. Joe was out of control. He dove at Adam his hands in fists, the punches landing before Adam or Hoss could react. Blows rained down on Adam, Joe’s response pure rage.

After the initial shock of the attack passed, Hoss joined into the fray, as he frantically tried to gather Joe off and away from his oldest brother. Adam put up his hands in defense, but resisted the urge to punch back. His guilt deciding for him, as he would not allow himself to fight back.

"What the hell is going on here!" a voice boomed.

Two of the three involved in the confusion immediately froze at the sound of their father’s voice. The third, more focused on releasing his rage, was struggling to free himself from Hoss’s grasp.

‘Uh… Pa, we were having a bit of a… disagreement. Sorry we woke you." Adam hoped he could quickly dismiss his father’s concern.

"Disagreement! Joseph! Stop that and look at me! What is all this about?"

Joe stopped moving at the sound of his name. Hoss was holding his arms tight around Joe’s chest, unwilling to give his little brother the freedom to attack. Joe looked at his father with no idea of when he had appeared in the room. He then looked to Hoss with a scowl. "Let go a me, now!"

Weighing the possibility of Joe once more attacking, Hoss deciding to position himself between his feuding brothers before he released his hold. As he let go of his little brother, Joe pulled away and moved as far from him as he could.

No one had answered the question Ben had asked, and his anger grew. "I asked a question, and I expect an answer. What’s going on here?"

Joe defiantly looked to the ceiling, Hoss looked to Adam, and Adam looked at Ben. He spoke, "Pa, it was my fault. I uh… I said some stuff to Joe I shouldn’t a said. He had every right to get upset. I picked a fight."

Joe quickly turned his head in disbelief. He had expected Adam to tell their father exactly why he was so enraged, the details of his day dissected once more. He could say nothing as he stood staring at his oldest brother.

"You’re telling me you went into Joe’s room, woke him up and picked a fight?" The situation was impossible for Ben to grasp.

"No, not quite. I wanted to talk to Hoss about something I wanted his help with. I was having a hard time sleeping, so I thought I’d just wake Hoss and talk with him about it. Joe woke up too, and when he offered to help, well I uh… said some things I shouldn’t have. I told him the job was too big for him, and well you know how that sets him off. I should a remembered, he’s not a kid anymore and included him. I should have talked to him about it." Adam hoped his father would accept the explanation and leave it at that. He also hoped Joe would hear what he was trying to tell him and understand.

The lie Adam told further shocked Joe. His brother was covering for him, but why? He had been so quick to tell Hoss about what had happened, but was hiding it from their father. It made him confused and a bit paranoid. What was going on and why?

Ben surveyed his three sons, knowing that he was being sold a bill of goods, but it was late, and it seemed the immediate crisis had passed. "Okay it’s late and I’m tired. All three of you go to bed, and we’ll discuss this in the morning."

Joe moved towards the door first, keeping his eye firmly on his oldest brother. As he walked passed Adam and into the hall, he glared and barked, "You stay away from me!"

"Joseph!" Ben reprimanded.

Joe did not stop, as he walked into his room and slammed the door. Ben gave an exasperated look towards the noise, and then turned to his two eldest. They both nodded as if to give deference and then Hoss left to follow behind Joe. As he went to enter his little brother’s room, the yell, "Get out!" echoed through the house, and Hoss was quickly back into the hallway, walking to his own room. Before enter his own room, Hoss looked once more to his father and brother, the look of hurt and concern quite evident.

Pacing the floor, Joe tried to gather himself together enough to think. His mind would travel to rage, then embarrassment, to fear then disgust. Nothing came clearly as peace and clarity could not find him. The moonlight illuminated his way, as Joe moved over his room, always in motion, his hope by keeping moving he would not linger long on any one thought or feeling.

As Joe thought of what Adam had done, the rage was instantaneous, but the more he dwelled upon it, his feelings moved to despair. "How dare he think he can follow me! Watchin’ me like I’m some kind a show or somethin’! Damn him! He saw it all! He saw it…! He saw it… Oh God, he saw it… What’s he thinkin’…? He’s gotta think I’m crazy… or somethin’. That’s what I’d think… Crazy… or bad… Bad… Evil… Oh God… Born or made… Are they born or made…? Made evil… Can I be…? Has it always been there…? What’s in me…? What’s it he sees in me…? There’s something he sees. Some reason… It’s why he won’t let me go… What… Is it him he sees… I’m becoming him… Oh God… I don’t want to… I can’t… Stop it! Just stop! Don’t do this. Don’t think of it… But, what if… " Pacing and thinking. Thinking and pacing. No peace. No quiet. Only questions. Questions with terrifying answers. Questions with unknown answers. Questions with no answers. Only questions.

His body did not have the energy of his mind, and Joe eventually felt every ache and pain. He had to give his body rest, even if his mind was far from surrender. He moved to the window and took a familiar perch, looking out to the yard below. Long ago, he had fixed his window where he could sit comfortably in it whenever the mood struck. As always upon sitting in the window at night, he looked for his mother’s star knowing it would not be there. He comforted himself by saying he was glad, as he hoped she had not seen what he had done that day. He hoped she still loved him.

The thoughts raced and disturbed, never providing comfort, only persecution. Joe looked out over the night, as he thought of the man who had turned his world to hell. He ruminated over his desires for the Stranger. Dead. The original thought only wanting the man dead, but as time passed in his thoughts, he began believing death was too good for the man. No, death ended it all. Joe knew no peace, so why should the Stranger? He focused on how he could ravage the Stranger as he had been, and for a while, he smiled. But the thoughts eventually brought fear once more, as he realized what he was doing. He was taking great pleasure in the violence, allowing his mind to think of all the ways he wanted to make the man suffer and pay. He admitted to himself that he enjoyed thoughts of revenge, the seduction like that of a beautiful woman welcoming him to her bed. However, thoughts of revenge brought forth such rage, such fury, he was soon lost in their grip and control was gone as they were soon driving him.

Joe’s mind wrestled, tumbled and turned over the events of the cellar. Next it turned to his recovery, the pain, anguish and torment of trying to fight the pull towards death. Thoughts then turned to the days after. The days he remained trapped in fear and rage. Days filled with waiting and watching for the return to the dance; the return to the man who had played with his life; the return to the man who now owned him. Joe’s final thoughts were of the bond that had developed between himself and evil, as a sleep he did not expect to appear greeted him, and he was overcome.

He stood alone in the dark, sounds distant but familiar. He waited for the one he knew would come. Waited to be joined by the man who choreographed the dance. He turned to his left, knowing the man was now there. It was time. He walked to the man and knelt before him, head bowed in supplication, begging to be worthy. The image a young squire before his king, waiting for knighthood. The man placed his hand on his apprentice’s shoulder. "Rise." He stood, though unable to look his master in the eye. "This will make you mine. Prove yourself worthy. Give him to me." He looked to where the Stranger was pointing and saw Adam, unaware of the evil that was present. He hesitated and saw the man’s displeasure. "I want him. Do you deny me? You cannot resist. You must join me. BRING HIM HERE!" He could do only as the man wanted. He walked to Adam, took him by the arm and walked him to the man. The man smiled his pleasures. "Who do you serve, Pretty Boy? Who is your king?"

He answered without hesitation. "You are, my Lord. There is only you."

"Then you know what to do." The man handed him the whip and pointed to Adam. "Make him talk, Pretty Boy. Make him mine."

He held the whip, the feeling power. He made it crack, and his power grew. He saw his brother flinch, and he paused, looked to the man, and saw the man nod. He drew back the whip and with a flick of his wrist he released it. The laughter filled the room as the man rejoiced. "You’re mine, Pretty Boy. All mine. ALL MINE! YOU’RE MINE!"

"NO!" Joe screamed and bolted upright, only to feel himself fall. He was disoriented and confused lying on the floor as the door opened Hoss quickly to him.

"Buddy? What happened? You okay?"

"Uh… uh, yeah… Help me up." Joe looked back up to the window, the realization of what must have happened hitting him. He was shaking as he moved to his feet and over to the bed.

"Wanna talk ‘bout it?"

"Naugh, just fell asleep in the window and must have moved and fell out of it. Stupid, huh?"

"Well, it’s probably safer ta sleep in your bed. Listen, why don’t I stay the rest of the night in here? I’m kinda used to that ol’ cot and I can’t get comfortable in my bed. So if you ain’t sore with me no more I’ll stay."

It was hard for Joe to stay angry with Hoss, as he felt guilt for having thrown him out of his room earlier. He knew he had not really been angry with his brother, as much as he had feared what Hoss might think of him. His brother’s quick response gave him comfort, and his look of concern gave him hope. Maybe he had not lost his brother’s respect. Maybe there was a chance he could stop the nightmare from becoming true.

The two eventually settled in once more, however Joe lay in his bed awake, the thoughts continuing. As he watched the sun rise out his bedroom window he made himself a vow. He would not allow himself to cross over and join the Stranger. He would keep it under control. If he avoided certain thoughts he could keep the rage down, he told himself. He would not give in to what he wanted to do. He would rise above it and not feel his emotions. He would will them away. He would not feel it, and it would leave. The plan made sense to him, and he breathed a sigh of relief allowing him to relax. He was in control. The morning faded away, as Joe once more slept.

Hoss rose at his usual time, the night’s ordeal leaving him tired and sluggish. He looked over to see Joe asleep, his hair a mess, it obvious he was enthralled in a very active sleep. The blankets were strewn about Joe’s waist and cascaded onto the floor. Hoss noticed that in his sleep, his little brother had taken a firm grasp on his pillow as if holding on to something very valuable. He chuckled and pulled the blankets up on Joe once more, knowing that within minutes they would be right where Joe had previously placed them.

Descending the stairs, Hoss saw Adam and his father quietly eating breakfast. It was obvious they too were tired from the events of the night. He sat and began scooping up a healthy portion of the morning’s breakfast, when his father spoke. "You two want to tell me what was really going on last night?"

It had been the question Adam had dreaded. He looked to Hoss before he answered. "Uh, Pa. It’s like I told you last night. Joe got upset because we had excluded him. It was really nothing."

"I saw the anger in Joe, son. That was not, nothing. What did you exclude him from? Why’d you feel the need to?"

"I just wasn’t thinking more than anything. I had my mind so focused on solving a problem that I was rude to him. It was my fault. He was overly tired, and you know how he gets. Really Pa, don’t worry."

As a father, Ben did not kid himself. He believed there were issues and problems best left between the boys, and they could usually work them out with minimal bloodshed and feuding. However, since Reno, it was hard to tell if the events from the previous night were merely a problem best left for them to work out themselves, or if it were something more. Ben wanted to believe Joe was getting better. The concern and worry that Joe could not move passed what he had been through had plagued Ben’s thoughts, as late at night he lay trying to remove his son’s suffering from his own mind. He admitted to himself that he had grave concerns regarding Joe’s success at managing his own memories. He knew his son could never forget, but feared they might haunt him and hold him back. Ben prayed it would not be the case, and Joe could find peace.

Looking at his eldest, Ben was at a loss. He chose to believe what every parent wants to believe - his sons were fine, and the problem was resolved. "Well, whatever happened don’t try and aggravate him. He’s on edge as it is, and we could all just use some peace and calm for a while. Now, I’m off to town to the Cattleman’s Association meeting. I should be gone most of the day. I’ll see you boys tonight." With that Ben was away from the table and headed towards the door.

"Take care, Pa, and don’t worry. No one has a desire to get Joe upset, believe me." Adam rubbed his jaw, as he watched his father leave. Once Ben was out the door, he turned to Hoss. "Did Joe say anything else to you last night? I heard the nightmare and you goin’ in there. You guys talk?"

"No, he didn’t want to talk about it. I don’t think he’s sore at me no more, but I’m not sure you’ll fair so well. Adam, are you sure it’s as bad as you were sayin’? I just can’t imagine our Joe doin’ like you said he did."

"I’d love to think there’s another explanation, Hoss. There just isn’t. Joe’s really messed up right now, and we cannot risk him off by himself. Either you or I’ve got to be with him if he’s gonna go anywhere. And you know he’s gonna fight us on it, but we can’t let him get himself into something that could ruin his life. If you could have seen how angry he was. Hoss, Joe could really hurt someone."

"You know after Joe got so mad last night, and we all turned in, I kept layin’ in bed thinkin’ I was as mad as Joe, but I was mad at the men who did this to him. I’m so angry every time I think of what was done to him. And you know, every time I look at Joe it just ‘bout breaks my heart. He looks so much younger since this happened to him. Kinda like they took away some of his growin’. It just makes me so mad."

"I know just what you mean. It’s hard to look at him and not want to just do like we did when he was little. You know, distract him, or coddle him, or even tease him out of whatever was wrong. I wish so badly that I could take this one away from him. You don’t know how bad I want to do that. But all we can do now is help him. Even if he refuses our help, we gotta do it anyway. We gotta do it for him, and we gotta do it for Pa. It would kill Pa if Joe did something that was well… if Joe hurt someone while he was in one of those states."

"You don’t have to tell me that. I know Pa is torn up about what Joe went through, just like you and me. And you know I’ll help Joe anyway I can. I just hope we are doin’ this all for nuthin’, and Joe’s just fine."

"You and me both, Hoss, you and me both. Well, we’d best get out there and get those doors on the barn mended. I think we should stay near the house today, though. We can send some hands on out to check fence, but I’d like us to be around to talk to Joe, if he’ll let us. I’m not real hopeful of that, but I’d like to try." Hoss and Adam made their way outside to the barn, their thoughts not wandering far from their little brother.

The dreams of the morning were fuzzy and confusing. Joe woke slowly, feeling as if he had not slept. He thought of dozing off once more, but sleep would not come, and he knew he was up for the day. He was free from torture for a very few minutes, then it was back, as his head raced with thought. What he would not give for a day free from the memories. They seemed determined to stay in the forefront, reminding him how vulnerable he was, and how easy it would be for someone to take his life. He hated the thought of someone with that kind of power over him. It was terrifying to admit, so he gave himself the illusion of control. He pulled out the gun he had chosen as his savior.

He wondered if he should risk it. Should he allow himself the weapon? He promised he would not shoot it, only have it with him just in case. He rationalized that having the weapon near him would be enough. He would not let his head go to rage, but would maintain control and maintain his power. He told himself he could do it. He could stand up against his own desires. He vowed he would do it. He would no longer let Reno be of any significance. He was over it, he told himself, and his life would now go forward.

As he got up from bed, Joe felt himself more centered. He could not help but feel pride at being able to talk himself out of the fear and the memories. He dug through a pile of clothes, pulling out a pair of old black jeans. He fleetingly thought, "Pa hates these." but pulled them on anyway. He stuck the gun in his waistband and grabbing a loose shirt. He finished pulling it on and buttoning it while walking down the stairs. He looked around the room, knowing he would have to hide the gun if anyone was around, but seeing no one, he then moved to the kitchen. He was surprised Hop Sing was no where around, the kitchen door standing ajar. He went to close it, when a movement caught his eye. He looked to see one of the barn cats had wandered in and was in the corner digging at something. He stood watching the animal, trying to figure out what it was the animal had caught.

As Joe watched, he saw the cat release and re-capture a mouse several times. The animal appearing to find entertainment in repeating this maneuver. As Joe looked on, he became seduced by the game. The cat would reel in the mouse, and then release it. He began silently rooting for the mouse, as it was temporarily freed, telling it to run, to get away. Thought’s and images of how the mouse was going to be hurt started to fill his head. He knew death was the end result. He hated the game he was watching, but was helpless to stop it. He then turned his focus to the cat, as it enjoyed the hurt, seeming to prolong it, savoring the kill. The cat was sadistic; it’s joy disgusting. He hated the cat. The cat was evil. As the cat once more grabbed the mouse, Joe instantly felt fear. He wanted the cat dead. The fear was unacceptable to him. He needed it gone. He looked to the mouse. Why won’t the mouse fight back? What’s wrong with it? It just sits there waiting to die. It’s sick and pathetic. Letting it be played with. Fight back! Damn you! Fight back, you coward! You’re gonna sit there and let that damn cat do that to you? Damn you! You deserve to die!

The scenario being played out before him took him to his own torturous game, as present and passed blurred. He was being toyed with and made to beg. He was no longer in the kitchen, but the cellar. It was not a cat and a mouse, it the Stranger and him. He could not move away, and he was trapped. His rage was building, as he wanted to fight back. He would no longer take the abuse, he would make the Stranger pay.

The events occurred rapidly with Joe having no thought - only action. The feel of being touched made him attack - his thoughts to stop the abuse. He grabbed the arm of the one who touched him and quickly slammed him up against the wall. His voice was deep and guttural, as he spoke, "I told you if you didn’t kill me I’d kill you, didn’t I! You made your mistake by letting me live! I won’t make the same one! You’ll die, and I’ll watch it! You lose! The last thing you’ll see before you go straight to hell is me! Me breaking your neck!" He reached up and placed his hands around the man’s neck. "I’ve been dreaming of this!" He gave a wicked grin. As he applied pressure to the throat, he heard his name called. It did not make sense.

"JOE STOP!" He was grabbed and pulled away, but his instinct was to still struggle. He fought and cursed at whomever it was keeping him from killing the Stranger. He was all movement, his goal to get away. "JOSEPH! STOP! STOP! IT’S HOP SING JOE! STOP IT!" Joe heard Hoss’ and Adam’s voices breaking through the rage. He was coming back, and as he did, he realized Hoss was holding him, and Hop Sing was against the wall, his hands to his throat. He stopped struggling as the shock of what he had done began to hit him. He looked to Hoss and then Adam before looking back at Hop Sing. He started shaking his head, "no" as he could not fathom what he had done. Hoss released his grip on Joe, as he felt his brother’s rage disappear and something much more pitiful take its place. Once Joe felt Hoss release him, he gave a pained look to his beloved friend, as he stood for a brief second, frozen. The tears started falling down his face, and then he ran.

The open door gave Joe his escape. He had no idea where he was running to, his only desire to be away from what he had done. His thoughts were confused and irrational, the need to flee and find safety his only goal. Childhood habit took over, as Joe headed to the place where he often sought refuge when he was upset or needed to hide. He entered the barn running fast. He was quickly to the ladder and then to the loft above. He scurried over to a far corner, his goal to be hidden by the hay. He wanted to be hidden from those who had seen what he had done, but more importantly, he wanted to be hidden from himself. He sought anonymity in the quiet and darkness, as terror of who he had become overwhelmed.

In the kitchen, the scene remained one of shock. Neither Hoss nor Adam could believe what they had heard Joe say, nor the fact that he was in the middle of trying to strangle Hop Sing when they stopped him. The person they saw in the kitchen was not their brother. The voice was sinister, the look murderous rage. Adam was quick to react, as he started to take off out the door after Joe, when Hoss stopped him. "Adam, wait! Joe’s gotta gun. I saw it in his waistband. He’s not right in his head, and God knows what he could do. Be careful!"

Adam nodded to Hoss and took off after Joe. He saw Joe disappear into the barn and followed behind, but held back, knowing it was very dangerous to get close to his brother if he were still in the state he had been in when he had attacked Hop Sing. As he reached the barn door, he could hear movement above him. He immediately knew where his little brother had hidden himself. "Joe? Buddy? Can I come up?"

There was no response from the loft, as Adam moved to the ladder, slowly climbing, but ever mindful of the possibility of the gun. He was halfway up the ladder when he saw Hoss come into the barn. He motioned for Hoss to stay where he was and then continued to climb. As the loft came into view, Adam looked around, unable to see Joe. He could hear his brother’s voice muffled and very quiet, but was unable to make it out. "Joe? It’s Adam. Can I talk to you?"

No response was decipherable, whatever Joe was saying, too soft to make out.

"Buddy. I’m gonna walk over to where you are. I’m not gonna do anything to hurt you. I’m just gonna see if you’re okay." Adam moved towards Joe’s voice, keeping himself low. He could finally see his little brother, the sight tearing at him as tears formed in his eyes. "Oh buddy."

Joe was sitting in the corner, his arms wrapped around his legs, rocking back and forth. His head was down, as he softly chanted, "Oh God! Oh God!"

"Joe? Buddy? It’s Adam. Can you look at me?"

Joe did not acknowledge Adam’s presence, seeming to be unaware of anyone else in the loft. "Joe, it’s gonna be okay. Hop Sing’s just fine. You didn’t hurt him. Buddy look at me. Can you look at me?"

Joe’s mantra continued. The fear more than he could hold. He knew Adam was present, and it increased his fear. He did not trust himself nor did he trust Adam. He wanted to be alone, and yet that too brought fear. The thoughts raced through his head, the realization so very painful to accept. It had happened. He was now no different than the Stranger.

Adam heard a noise behind him and saw Hoss standing back, looking at Joe, the anguish so obvious. The two older brothers locked eyes, each seeing the other’s pain. They knew whatever was happening to Joe was far beyond their experience and knowledge. They would have only each other and instinct to try and reach through to their little brother. Both prayed it would be enough.

Adam took the lead as was habit and custom with the brothers. "Hoss, go into the house and bring me the brandy. And listen, we’re gonna help him. Don’t worry."

"Yeah, well you be careful, big brother. Joe’d never hurt ya on purpose, but he looks real bad. Real bad." Hoss lingered for a moment, looking to Joe once more. He said very quietly. "Come on little buddy. Don’t you go away from us. You come on back now."

As Hoss left, and Adam waited for his return, he watched Joe closely. Joe’s arms were wrapped around his legs in such a manner that access to the gun in his waistband would be difficult. He decided to move closer to see what Joe might do. As he traveled, he made sure not to make any sudden moves, all the while talking calmly. "Buddy, I’m just gonna move over, so I can sit down near you, then you and I can talk a little. I know this has got you scared Joe, but we’ll get through it. You’ll see. I think you’ve been trying to do too much of it yourself, and it got too big for you. I think though between you, Hoss, and me we can handle it. Don’t you? We’ve handled so much before, us three. Come on now Joe, look at me."

Joe remained rocking but had stopped speaking. He blinked slowly several times, as he stared at the ground, trying to clear his eyes from the tears that were streaming down his face. He breathed in gasps, as the adrenaline rushed his mind and body. It was all crashing down, his worse nightmare now true. He tried to pull himself together enough to speak, but words would not come. What could he say after what he had done? Adam had seen it. He had seen it all. It was way too much. The shame was too great. There were no words, only terror and shame.

Hoss was soon there once more, the brandy in his hands. He passed the decanter and a glass to Adam, as he then sat back out of the way. Adam poured a glass and spoke, "Joe, I think you’re real worked up. You need to just calm down, and we’ll talk about it. I want you to drink this now. It’ll help. Can you do that, buddy?"

"Nothing’ll help. It won’t. Don’t you know? Oh God! What am I gonna do? What am I gonna do?" The words stayed in Joe’s head, but the panic showed on his face.

Adam knew to touch Joe would be too much, but he had to try and get Joe to drink. "Here buddy. I’m gonna put this right here, and you just pick it up and drink it. I want you to drink a couple of these, and it will help. I promise it will." Adam reached out and placed the glass as close to his brother as he could. Joe raised his eyes to watch the movement; unsure if what he was seeing was a threat to him. He did not move.

"Go on, Joe. You do as I tell you now. Drink up." Adam held his breath, hoping his role as older brother would hold.

For the first time since Adam joined him in the loft, Joe looked at his brother, his eyes filled with tears, and a questioning look appeared on his face. He did not know what to do, or whom to trust.

Fighting his desire to simply go to his brother and make him drink, Adam quickly tried to think of what might get through to Joe. "Buddy, you remember when you and I talked a little while back, and you told me you would let me help you? That it would help me to help you? You remember that? Well, I need you to help me, okay. I need you to do this for me. Drink all of that in that glass okay, and that’ll help me."

"Help you?" Came a very soft voice.

"Yeah, Joe. Help me by drinking that right now."

"‘Kay." Came the response. Joe reached out and lifted the glass, but as he tried to move it, the violent shaking of his body made the liquid spill. Joe looked to Adam, terror in his eyes. He was immediately afraid, as he dropped the glass, pulled himself back and cowered. "I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry." Joe’s retreat made it obvious he expected to be hit for his mistake.

"It’s okay, Joe. It’s okay. We got plenty here. No one’s going to hurt you. Let’s just try it again." Adam kept talking to Joe, as he refilled the glass. "You know when you were little, I don’t think we made it through a meal without you knocking over your glass. Most of the time it seemed to head straight for me too. We made it through that, and we’ll make it through this. Now try again Buddy. Just take it slow. I won’t fill it as full, but don’t worry about spilling it."

Adam’s words kept Joe’s attention, as he watched the glass set down once more. He sat still, waiting to see if it were truly safe. Eventually, seeing no one was going to move towards him, Joe decided to try for the glass once more. He took hold, and as the glass shook in his hand, he looked to Adam. Adam gave an encouraging nod, and Joe continued. Some of the liquid spilled, but much made it to Joe, and he drank quickly. The warmth and taste made Joe cough - the alcohol strong in his mouth.

"Easy there. I’m not sure this is the best stuff to drink real quick, but here, lets have you do a couple more, and then we’ll talk."

Joe did not speak but did as he was told. As he drank, he remained seated with his legs drawn up, cautious of those around him. He kept his eyes on Adam, watching his brother with concern. It was difficult to remain present in the barn as terror took his mind. He had no idea who to trust, or what to do. His mind wanted to protect him from hurt and pain, to escape the hell it was in. That meant he was left with only doubt and caution. His mind believing his own survival at stake - he did not want to die. He had fought hard before, his survival instinct so strong. He would fight once again, but what it was he was fighting, he did not understand.

Activity stopped as Adam waited for the effects of the alcohol to take over his little brother. He hoped he had given Joe an amount that would have him calm so it might allow them to help. He prayed Joe could be reached; that his idea would work. He looked to Hoss and saw him watching Joe. They all had so very much to lose - their own fear enormous. "Buddy, can we talk?"

Joe nodded his head slowly. He looked behind Adam to Hoss, and then back to Adam. He felt shame at the thought of the two seeing him as he was, but his emotions were starting to deaden some from the brandy. Things were become less sharp, less focused. The fear was there, but it was as if someone had thrown a thick warm blanket over it, allowing it to be covered. He was not sure he liked the new feeling, as now it seemed he had lost some of his control and ability to protect himself. He told himself he would try and remain cautious.

"Tell us what happened in the kitchen. What happened with Hop Sing? Do you remember?"

"Kitchen?"

"Yeah, buddy. What happened in the kitchen?"

"A mouse."

"A mouse?" Joe statement made no sense, and Adam felt himself grow more nervous. "What about a mouse, Joe?"

"The mouse wouldn’t fight back. It was gonna die. It deserved to die Adam. It should die cause it won’t fight the damn cat. The damn cat won’t leave him alone. It likes to hurt, but the mouse is worse. The mouse just lives to be killed by the cat. The mouse won’t fight back! It has to fight back. I have to fight and kill him! He has to die! It is the only way I can ever get away from him! Don’t you see, Adam! Don’t you know! I have no choice ‘cause the cat won’t let me go unless I kill it! I have to kill it!"

"Joe, I don’t understand. I don’t know about the cat and the mouse. Tell me what happened when you walked into the kitchen. Tell me about that." Adam’s heart was breaking, as Joe’s words made no sense to him.

Adam’s redirect stopped Joe. He looked at his older brother confused. "You don’t understand ‘cause a him. It’s ‘cause he’s in me, and now it’s all bad. You’ve always been right ‘bout me, Adam. You’ve known all along. You saw it, just like he did. You’ve always known."

"Joe, help me here, buddy. What did I see? And who is he?"

Joe’s shaking was increasing as the thoughts confused in his head. "It’s all jumbled up in my head. It’s hard to figure out... What did you want to know...? Oh uh... the kitchen. The door was open. The cat, that gray one was in the kitchen. It had a mouse... it kept hurting the mouse, over and over... I couldn’t stop it from happening... I hurt Hop Sing."

What Joe was saying finally made sense to Adam. The cat and mouse, so symbolic of Joe’s own torture, had taken him back to his pain and fear. "Joe, when you attacked Hop Sing, who was he? Who were you hurting?"

"I didn’t mean to hurt him, Adam. I didn’t. I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop it. I didn’t know it was him. Honest I didn’t."

"He’s okay. You didn’t really hurt him. Is this what happened with Katie, Joe? Did this happen before?"

"Katie...?" Joe’s embarrassment showed. "You know about Katie...? I uh... yeah it happened." Joe could do nothing but lower his head and wipe his eyes.

"Katie’s okay too, Joe. You haven’t hurt anyone. Everyone’s okay. Can you tell me what happened inside of you when you attacked Hop Sing? Do you feel it happening?"

"I don’t know. It just happens."

"Think real hard, Joe. Tell me how it happens. Tell me all you can remember."

"I don’t know. I don’t wanna think about it, Adam. I can’t do this."

"Yeah you can. Hoss and I are gonna help you now. You need to try."

"NO! I don’t want to ‘cause it’s bad. It’s really bad, and I don’t want to do this in front of you. Not you."

"I can help you. I want to help. Please Joe?"

"You never have anything wrong with you. You’re so perfect and know everything, and I am so messed up. I can’t do this in front of you. It’ll just make it all worse. You got your proof I’m bad, so there’s nothing else you need. Just go away."

Joe’s words hurt Adam deeply. Was this how his brother viewed him, so judgmental and harsh? "Buddy, no! You’ve got it all wrong. I don’t think you’re bad, not at all. I understand you more than you think. There are things that happen, things you see or feel that make the memories take over. Don’t they? You’re fighting so hard to keep it all under control. I know that. I see that. When I followed you, it wasn’t to embarrass you. It was to make sure you were okay. Joe, you’re so angry and hurt over all of this. You’re not bad, just hurt."

"Why do I have to tell you about it? Why do I have to show you more? You saw how I can be? You saw what’s in me. I know what you think of people who can’t control themselves. I’ve heard you talk about it. I’m every thing you hate. I know what you think of me."

"No. No you have it all wrong, buddy. I love you. I’ve not told you enough I guess, but I am so very proud to have you as my brother. I need you to talk to me, Joe. I need it for us, you and me. We gotta do this together. I can’t sleep knowing what you’ve been through. It’s all I can do to get a day’s work done. No buddy, I don’t hate you, and you are so far from bad. Face it. We need each other. Tell me about it, Joe. Do you feel it happening to you?"

Joe put his head down, unable to look at Adam. "Sometimes… I see stuff. Like I’m there and it’s happening, but then it’s in my head and it ain’t really there. I didn’t know I was hurting Hop Sing."

"I know that. Who were you hurting, Joe? Who is it you talk about when you say, he?"

Joe looked up quickly, his face pale. "I… uh… I… just those guys… you know. I don’t want to talk about this anymore."

"Joe, I know you’re hiding something. Tell me what it is."

"I’m not. No… I’m not hidin’ anything. Just don’t want to talk about it."

"Yes, you are. Who is it you keep talking about? Who is the he?"

"I can’t. Don’t do this Adam. Don’t. Just go away, please?" Joe was becoming more fearful, as Adam pushed. His shaking was more noticeable, his eyes wide with fear. "Please go away?"

"Adam, maybe you should leave him alone." Hoss could not stand to see Joe so afraid. "Joe don’t have to talk if he don’t want to."

"Hoss, he does. There is something that is making all this worse for him. Something he won’t tell us. Joe, look at me. Hoss and I will make sure nothing bad happens. We’ll take care of you. Tell me what it is."

"I CAN’T!" Tears were falling hard, as Joe screamed.

"Why Joe? Why can’t you tell me?"

"You’re just like him! You won’t leave me alone! You keep askin’ and askin’, and I can’t tell you! You want me to do something I can’t! You’re just gonna keep comin’ back and askin’, and I won’t tell you. You just keep askin’ and hurtin’ me ‘cause I won’t!"

"Joe, who am I? Who are you talking to?"

"You think you’re gonna win. You’re not! You won’t! I told you you’d never get what you want for me! Adam’d do it for me! He’d do it for me, you son of a bitch!"

"Tell me, Joe. Who am I?"

The tension was thick in the barn, as Adam pushed Joe to reveal his secret. He knew it was a gamble, as he looked at his brother and saw the look on Joe’s face-so primal, so enraged.

"I WON’T TELL YOU! I WON’T!"

Adam knew whomever Joe was shouting to was the key. He had to find out how to get Joe to talk to him about it. It was obvious Joe was wrestling his mind, his grasp on the present very tentative. Adam asked himself when was it Joe had left them. He soon realized it was when he had asked something similar to what had been asked of Joe in the cellar. He had asked his brother to reveal a secret. He decided he would try a different angle. "Joe, tell me what you see. It’s Adam, buddy. Tell me who’s there with you? Tell me, and I’ll make him go away."

"I can’t tell. I won’t tell. He’ll hurt you. He’ll kill you. No… won’t do it."

"Joe, this is different. You don’t have to tell me who is there. Just tell me yes or no, okay; just yes or no, buddy. Listen is it Doyle? Is Doyle there?"

Joe shook his head no.

"Is it, uh… is it Wells?"

Again a shake of the head, no.

Adam and Hoss looked at each other, both wondering if Joe had understood what he had been asked. "Joe, is someone else there besides Doyle and Wells? Is there another person?"

Joe did not answer. The rocking started again, as he tried to calm the fear. Adam thought he had his answer. "The third person Joe, he’s the one you’re so afraid of isn’t he? He hurt you didn’t he?"

Joe looked to his brothers so confused as to what it was he needed. He wanted to answer Adam, to tell him everything, but his confusion made it such that he thought to tell his brother of the Stranger, would be the same as telling the Stranger of his brother. His instinct was to fight and hold back, to not give in no matter the fear or the pain. He believed he was waiting to die. "I won’t tell you! I won’t! NO!"

The fear in Joe was difficult to watch. Neither Hoss nor Adam had seen anything like what they were witnessing except in hurt animals. It was so difficult to keep their distance, as every instinct told them to go and hold Joe to stop the shaking and take away the fear. "Joe, the man hurt you. I know he did. But he can’t hurt you anymore. I promise."

"NO! No one hurt me! Leave me alone! Go away! I won’t tell you. I won’t!"

"Joe, I know what happened. I know the man hurt you really bad."

"No! No he didn’t! No! He didn’t! No one hurt me!" Joe’s agitation was growing noticeably, and Adam pulled back, unsure if he should push further.

"Buddy, it’s okay. Let’s just take it easy and calm down some. You look cold. Are you cold?" Adam noticed Joe did not have his boots on and only a light shirt with his jeans. It was still quite cool out, and he knew Joe had to be cold. He took off his jacket as he spoke, " Joe, here I want you to put on my jacket. You’re shivering, and it’s cold in here. I’m just gonna move over and put this around you, okay?"

"NO! Don’t touch me! Leave me alone!"

"I’m not gonna touch you. I’m just going to put this around you. See, you can watch me the whole time." Adam kept moving as he talked, all the while keeping his eyes on the gun in Joe’s waistband. It seemed to Adam, Joe had forgotten the weapon was there. He prayed there would be no sudden realization. As he placed the jacket around Joe, his little brother cowered away from him, but allowed the coat to be placed on his shoulders. Having completed the task, Adam moved back and away once more. "Go on buddy and pull it around you. It’s cold in here."

Joe did as instructed wrapping the coat around him. He held the sleeves in his hands giving the illusion the coat were hugging him. It gave Joe some comfort to feel the warmth and be able to smell his brother near him. He continued to rock, ever mindful of Adam and Hoss’ presence.

"Joe, is that better? Does that help?" Adam kept his voice calm and steady trying to get Joe to reconnect with him.

Joe nodded slowly and pulled the coat a little tighter. He remembered the cold of the cellar, how much he had wanted something to keep him warm. It was a relief to have the coat, and he held on to it, fearful it would be stripped away.

Adam saw Joe seemed to quiet, the coat had been the right move. He knew he had to get Joe to talk, to share whom it was he was protecting. He feared Joe could not get better unless he told them of the secret. He knew he would have to once more approach the subject. "Buddy, I know there was another man there. Someone you haven’t told us about wasn’t there? I can understand why you are so afraid, Joe, ‘cause I know he hurt you bad."

No! No! You don’t! You don’t! You don’t see his eyes! He doesn’t hit you! He doesn’t watch you with those eyes! He watches! All the time he’s watching me! He watches it hurt! OH GOD!"

Hoss could stand it no longer. He had to get to Joe and make it better. Seeing his little brother so distraught was simply too much for him to bear. Joe saw the sudden movement and only knew it meant danger. He let go a blood-curdling scream, as he moved himself as far into the corner, as he was physically able. Adam reacted without thought, grabbing Hoss before he could make it to Joe. "Hoss! No! Don’t! You can’t do that right now!"

Both men looked to their brother whimpering in the corner. He was trying to catch his breath, the fear overwhelming. He began once more a quiet mantra, "No, don’t! No, don’t!"

"Ssshhh… Joe, look, it’s just Hoss ‘n me. No one else is here, and no one’s gonna hurt you. Remember? Were gonna help with all of this. You’re not alone in it anymore. Hoss ‘n me will keep you safe. I promise you that."

As Adam’s voice calmed and soothed, Joe once more began to settle. He tried to get his breathing under control, but it came out in gasps. He so much wanted to believe his older brothers could protect him, but it had been so easy for the Stranger to get to him before, he doubted their ability. "You c-c-can’t. He’s gonna… gonna… get me… S’only matter a time."

"No one can get you here, Joe, no one. We won’t let ‘em. Will we Hoss?"

"Adam’s right, Joe. There is no way someone is gonna get to you and hurt you. We’d kill ‘em before they could try."

It was obvious to both Joe wanted to believe. He sat studying them, when his face suddenly took on a questioning look. "You can’t. You can’t kill him."

"We’d do it in a heartbeat if we had to, Joe." Hoss answered.

"No you can’t. You don’t gotta gun. Neither of ya got one. I gotta gun." Adam and Hoss pulled back, as Joe reached down and took the weapon from his waistband. He casually waved the gun around as if it were a toy. "I can kill him. It’s why I’ve got this. I’m waitin’ for him."

Adam had to think fast. He had to get the gun away from Joe in a way that would not further increase the danger they were now in. The fear that Joe could mistake one of them for the man that had hurt him permeated his thinking. He told himself not to panic. To think logically about the situation and come up with an idea. "Uh, Joe. Listen. I want to talk some more to you, and we need a look out. Why don’t we give the gun to Hoss, and let him cover us. You and I aren’t done talking yet, and I think I’d feel better if Hoss was protecting us. Wouldn’t you?"

"Hoss? But it’s mine."

"I know it is, and he’ll use it to cover us and then give it back to you later. You know kinda like when you borrow my good rifle ‘cause it has the sites you say are so true. Well, it looks like that gun you have is a good one, and Hoss will need it to protect us. How ‘bout it?"

"Hoss? You’d shoot him? Kill him? You’d do it and not go soft? You shoot him dead? You’d make him die?"

"Faster than you could say - this is for my little brother." Hoss reassured.

"’Kay… here. But you gotta kill him. Promise me Hoss, promise me!"

"I promise you, buddy. No one gets up here to you. You have my word."

Joe reached out, placed the gun on the hay, and then moved back away. His fear remained the strongest feeling, making it hard for him to venture away from where he felt the greatest safety. He looked at Adam, his eyes seeming to need reassurance once more. He felt so silly, so young and afraid. Why was this happening to him? Why could he not just make it leave?

"Joe?" Adam questioned. "I want to know more about the man who hurt you. Can you tell me more? Did you see him? Do you know what he looks like?"

Joe nodded his reply. Somehow to speak his confession out loud was threatening, far too risky.

"Would you recognize him if you saw him again?"

Again, another nod.

"Have you ever seen him before? Do you know his name?"

"His name?" Joe asked himself. "I could think of a lot of names for him." He shook his head, no.

The thought that there was another that had hurt Joe was difficult for Adam to comprehend, however it made so much sense once he reviewed Joe’s behavior. As he thought over Joe’s reactions throughout his struggle to recover, Adam understood why the terror was so strong, so relentless. Joe could not relax and even begin to think of moving forward in his life, because there was still a threat, still a danger. As Adam watched Joe and thought of the past weeks, he had another glimpse of understanding, but it made his own fear increase. "Joe, the livery, who was in the livery? Why were you so afraid? He was there, wasn’t he?"

Adam’s question brought it all back, the livery and the Stranger. He heard the voice and the threat echoing in his head. Now Pretty Boy, you’ve done a right fine job of keeping that mouth of yours shut. I can trust you more than that ol’ Doyle fella. He just had to have his neck stretched because he was weak. Now you stay strong, and you’ll do just fine. If you feel weak though and have the need to talk, here, use this, and you’ll keep it shut, I’m sure. The Stranger’s threat was real. He had killed Doyle and Baxter and how many more? How many more? "I can’t do this, Adam. I can’t. You don’t know what you’re askin’. I’ve said too much. I’m not supposed to talk to you. Not supposed to talk." Joe started shaking his head. "He told me not to. I can’t talk about it. It didn’t happen, Adam. Okay? Nothing happened. Don’t ask no more."

"Joe, no. Don’t do this. It did happen to you. The man is a monster. He was just trying to get you not to talk and identify him. It’s over. You can tell us all about it, and nothing is going to happen to you."

The fury was immediate. "NO! NO! IT DID NOT HAPPEN! IT DIDN’T! IF I DON’T WANT IT TO BE, IT’S NOT!"

"Buddy, look at your wrists. Look at them. You can’t deny that. What about your back? You were whipped. You want this man to go free? After what he did to you?"

"That’s right, Adam he did it to me! TO ME! I DECIDE WHAT HAPPENED TO ME! I DECIDE! IT DIDN’T HAPPEN! IT DIDN’T!"

Listening to Joe’s protests, Adam knew his brother was trying to cope with his hurt and anger as best he could by trying to make it all just go away. It was so painful to hear him trying and rewrite history in order to relieve his suffering. "Joe, you want to forget, I know it. But you know you can’t do it. It’s hurting you to keep trying to deal with this the way you have. You have to talk about it. You have to get it all out."

"I don’t have to! I don’t! What? You gonna make me talk, Adam! You gonna tie me up and hit me ‘til I tell you! You gonna whip me ‘til I talk! What do you know! What! YOU KNOW NOTHING! DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO BE WHIPPED? NO, YOU DON’T BIG BROTHER! LET ME TELL YOU! IT TEARS WHEN IT HITS YOU, YOU KNOW! IT CUTS IN! YOU CAN’T BREATHE, ‘CAUSE YOUR ARMS ARE OVER YOUR HEAD, AND YOU’VE BEEN HANGIN’ FOR HOURS! THE SOUND IT MAKES IS NOTHIN’ TO HOW IT FEELS! WHY DON’T YOU TRY IT, ADAM! WHY DON’T YOU LET SOMEONE DO THAT TO YOU! AND THEN, HEY, COME TELL ME ALL ABOUT IT! TALK ABOUT IT LIKE IT’S NOTHIN’! TELL ALL ABOUT WHO DID IT, SO THEY CAN JUST COME BACK AND DO IT AGAIN! YOU DO THAT, AND I’LL TELL YOU ALL ABOUT IT! I’LL TELL YOU, AND WE’LL COMPARE THE EXPERIENCE!"

Standing near the entrance to the loft, protecting his little brother from the unknown, Hoss could not help but be deeply affected with what he was hearing. Joe’s emotional pain was so difficult to listen to and not act upon. The rage in Hoss increased to match that of his brother’s and he struggled to contain it. He thought to himself, "We’re gonna get him, Joe. We’re gonna find him and kill him for what he did to you. I promise you!"

Adam remained focused on Joe, trying to help his brother move passed the wall he was trying to create with his anger. He had to get Joe to talk about what he had endured. However, he knew this went against his brother’s natural inclination, and the battle might be fierce. "Stop it, Joe! Stop! I’m not the enemy! You’re not mad at me! You know you gotta do this. The man you keep fighting, the man who hurt you, he’s the enemy, not me!"

Joe sat shaking his head, glaring at his older brother. He ran through a gamut of thoughts, all focused on protecting himself from further pain and exposure. Adam did not understand - he had not seen the eyes, nor faced the pain. What was it he was supposed to do? What did Adam want from him? The emotions were so raw, so exposed, the alcohol doing little to numb them now. Joe wanted relief, and escape sounded wonderful, but he saw his brother a threat and knew no other way to manage it. "What is it, Adam? What? I don’t know what you want from me!"

"We want to help, that’s all. That’s all I want from you. You have to tell us about this man, Joe. He’s still out there."

A maniacal laugh rose from Joe. "You think you’re tellin’ me somethin’ I don’t know! You don’t think I, of all people, don’t live with that knowledge every day! Really Adam, I’d a thought you were smarter than that. I live with that fact dear brother, and I will keep livin’ with it. I live with, and I see it every day in a thousand different ways. Sleepin’ brings really a fun time. You know, gettin’ to have that son of a bitch visit me every night is a special treat. And oh, another wonderful experience is when I’m trying to forget, to just relax and be like any other person, I get the lovely experience of another visit. I look crazy to everyone. Maybe I am. I sure as hell’ve never seen what’s happenin’ to me. I’ve never seen none of it before…

"You know what it’s like to look into the face of evil? I mean real evil? You know that feeling? Hell, no you don’t, do ya? You have NO idea!" The laugh continued. "Well, you want to know so damn bad, let me tell you. You look in his eyes, and it just takes everything out of you. It takes your life, it takes your breath, it takes… You have to look at him. You can’t help but look. It’s like you’re drawn to him and at the same time you want to run away screaming. He’s not a man, he’s a… a… God, I don’t know what he is! You don’t know Adam and don’t pretend you do."

"But Joe, we can help you. We can help get this guy."

"NO! NO! YOU AND HOSS STAY OUTTA IT!"

"We want to make this guy pay. Just like you do. We’re so angry at what he did to you Joe, and we want to help you handle all of it."

"YOU AND HOSS STAY OUTTA IT! JUST STAY AWAY!" Joe felt terror at the fact that the Stranger could contaminate his brothers. He viewed himself as damaged, already ruined, a part of evil. To have his brothers exposed was more than he could bear. He would not allow it, and would stop them anyway he could.

Adam could see Joe again on the verge of hysteria. The whole situation was so frustrating. He knew where he needed to get his little brother, and yet he no idea how to get there. Joe blocked him at every turn. "We can help you. You don’t have to do this alone."

"NO I SAID! NO! YOU ‘N HOSS CAN’T! YOU CAN’T! NO! OH GOD NO! STAY AWAY!" Joe was beyond panic, as he thought of the Stranger harming one of his brothers. The look on Joe’s face pleaded with his brother, begging for their safety.

"Buddy, no one is gonna hurt us. We won’t let it happen. We can keep you safe and ourselves. No one is a match for all three Cartwright brothers. You know that!"

"NO! YOU CAN’T! NO!" The tears were falling hard, as Joe could do nothing but beg.

"Calm down now, Joe. Calm down. We’re not gonna do anything right now. You don’t need to be so worked up. It’s okay."

"NO! NO IT AIN’T! YOU CAN’T NEVER GO AFTER HIM! PROMISE ME! PROMISE! IT’S BAD! IT’S SO BAD AND YOU’LL BE BAD. YOU’LL BE LIKE ME! NO! NEVER! PROMISE NEVER!"

"It’s okay, Joe. We aren’t gonna do anything right now, nothing. It’s okay. Just calm down."

The terror had taken Joe to a place where calm could not reach. Everything was feeling as if it was closing in once more, and it was hard to breathe. Thoughts rushed and bombarded, making understanding impossible. He wanted away from the thoughts, away from the feelings and away from his brothers. "NO! I CAN’T! YOU CAN’T! NO! IT’S ALL BAD, ADAM! IT’S BAD! GO AWAY! PLEASE GO AWAY! LEAVE ME ALONE!" Joe was gasping out the words, as he tried to make it stop, make them leave him alone.

Adam knew that there was no more talking. He had to somehow get Joe calm and keep him there. His little brother was too far-gone to his fear and panic to tolerate any further discussion. Adam looked to his feet and saw the decanter. He made his decision. He wanted Joe calm, and knew a way to get him there. "Buddy, you know how I wanted you to drink the brandy before? Let’s do it again, okay? I want you to drink everything I give you. Can you do that?"

Joe wanted relief, escape more like it, and did not care from where it came. Adam handed him the glass several more times, and he drank, not tasting the substance, only feeling it burn and hoping it would stop the onslaught of emotion. Fear was rushing over him, the alcohol yet to calm. The rocking started once more, as he put his head down, trying to will it all away. He focused on breathing, as the gasping took him to the cellar. It was flooding back. He was watching the Stranger, he was feeling the pain, and he was there, and could not leave.

The moaning started as Adam looked on. Nothing had ever felt more helpless to him, as he wanted to go to Joe and give comfort. He felt at a loss to make the memories stop and silently prayed the brandy would work and stop Joe’s mind from further abusing him. He listened to Joe mumble, only hearing a few words or phrases, but what he heard was so painful, the damage to Joe so apparent. He looked to Hoss, unsure what they should do. He saw Hoss had tears running down his face and knew the pain in the loft was felt by each of them.

Time stood still, Joe trapped in the nightmare. Hoss and Adam trapped having to watch. No one moved as they waited. Joe waited for the Stranger to finish the dance, as his brothers waited for the brandy to take hold. The waiting seemed endless, as Joe recounted his torture for them. He screamed and cried out, but eventually the words became quite slurred, the rocking all but stopped. Joe was intoxicated.

Adam eventually risked talking. "Buddy? You okay?"

"Uh… n’uh huh. I’m ‘kay. It don’t wanna stop. It just keeps s’on."

"Is it still there? Is it still bad?"

"I’m scared, ya know. Scared lots a times. Scared’s bad, real bad. Not supposed ta be scared after you’re grown. Supposed ta be brave and not let nuthin’ bother you. I’m a coward. I get scared… You know it just all keeps on in my head. I saw it ‘gain. It s’real bad. Don’t want it ta happen to ya, Adam. Not ta you, not ta Hoss, just me. Just me, Adam. I’ve got it all in me, and it don’t matter no more. It don’t matter what I do, Adam. I’ve got it all in me... I d‘serve it."

It was obvious Joe was drunk, as his body finally relaxed. He let go of his legs and leaned back against the wall. He felt so tired all of a sudden, the need to sleep most important. His eyes began to grow heavy, as he was able to finally be free of torment. It sounded so good to him to close his eyes and rest.

Adam and Hoss watched Joe begin to fade. They let loose a collective sigh, neither realizing he had held his breath. Hoss spoke, "We need to get him into the house. He needs his own bed."

Adam only nodded, knowing it would indeed help Joe to be in his own room. The brothers moved without speaking, to help the youngest. They had done it so many times before, lovingly tending to Joe. They were afraid to touch him, unsure what he would do. As they moved towards him, Hoss talked softly, "Little buddy? We need to get you inside. You can go to sleep once we get you to your room. Here, let me help you stand up." Hoss once more held his breath, as he touched Joe. Joe did not protest, but rather leaned into his big brother, as he was lifted. He held tight to Adam’s jacket, not wanting to part from it. It gave him a security and safety that went far beyond words.

Getting Joe down the ladder proved awkward, but with two to assist, he made it to the ground below. Hoss held a firm grasp, but felt Joe pulling away, moving towards the horses. Hoss moved with him. "Joe, we’re not gonna go for a ride. Remember, we’re gonna go inside the house."

"Wait. I just gotta do somethin’." Joe walked to Cochise and stood looking at the paint pony. He then took her halter in his hand and moved her head so they were looking at each other. "You’re a fine horse, Cochise -the best - Better than the best. You’re most best." He stood petting his horse, as he moved in close to her. "Cooch, you ‘n me gonna go for a ride." Joe began to move towards his saddle, in his drunken state, his movements making sense to him.

"Oh no, little buddy, lets go in the house. You can go for a ride later." Hoss coaxed. He did not want to use sudden movements, nor much force to move Joe along.

"But, I… Cooch wants to… Don’t you see it in her face?"

"Joe, Cochise is tired right now. So are you. Let’s go get you some sleep, and then you can come out and ride if you still feel up to it. Cooch has gotta rest too."

"Oh… ‘kay. I could just sleep right here with her. I’ll do that." Joe started to sit down, but Hoss stopped his descent.

"No you don’t. Let’s go, buddy." Hoss started to lead Joe away from the horse.

"Wait… gotta say g’night. Cooch, sleep good… Don’t let that ol’ Chub rub off on ya now." Joe started to giggle uncontrollably. He went to kiss his horse, and Hoss decided enough was enough. He placed his arm around Joe’s shoulders and steered him out of the barn.

"Hoss?" Joe asked.

"Yeah?"

"Hoss?"

"What is it?"

Hoss, you gonna stay with me? You gonna be near?"

"Sure am, buddy. Gonna stay right next to ya."

"’Kay… Good… Hoss?"

"Yeah, Joe?"

"I can’t feel my feet."

"I know, Bud, lets get you in the house and upstairs."

Adam had stood back, watching Hoss manage Joe. Seeing Joe away from the memories was a relief, and watching his little brother drunk was rather amusing. However, it was difficult to remain amused, as it was far too easy to think of the reason why Joe was in his current state.

Adam followed behind as they entered the house and went up the stairs. Joe tried to detour several times, but Hoss remained firmly on course. Once in Joe’s room, Hoss moved him to the bed. Joe plopped down, allowing his body to simply fall back. Hoss then moved him so he was lying comfortably and picked up the quilt off the floor. "Hey buddy. You wanna give me that coat, and I’ll put the blanket on you?"

"No, I need it. You stay too, Hoss. You stay. Oh boy, the room’s spinnin’." Joe was fading off to sleep, as he rolled away.

Hoss gently placed the blanket on his little brother and then settled in onto a chair to watch over and protect. The role so familiar, one he never tired of taking on for his baby brother.
 

Evening was settling in as Joe’s bedroom door quietly opened. Adam peered in, his eyes falling on Hoss dosing in the chair, and Joe still asleep in bed. He hated to do it, but he knew he would need to talk to Hoss before their father arrived home. Flashbacks to the disaster that occurred last time he had tried to talk with Hoss passed through his mind, and he double-checked Joe to make sure he was really asleep. As he watched, it was obvious Joe was dreaming, so he decided to risk it. Adam moved over to where Hoss sat and shook his shoulder. The large man woke with a start, unsure where he was at the moment. "Wa? What?"

"Sorry Hoss, but we need to talk before Pa gets home. We’ve gotta decide what to tell him."

Both men looked to the one who slept so unaware and innocent. Joe looked so much younger, his vulnerability never more evident, as it was just then. He was the one they both wanted to protect as they always had, however, both were realizing for the very first time they feared him, and the demons which were haunting him. Hoss had so lovingly placed his little brother in bed, and then had sat back and watched Joe fade so quickly away. He breathed a sigh of relief as Joe was finally at peace, his mind gone from the fear, the anger, and the person who had hurt him. Hoss had sat looking at his baby brother, wondering what had happened. Joe had always been so hard to tame, yet so wonderful to be around. But what he had seen was so foreign - the rage, the hurt - he had to ask himself was his best friend gone? Was his little brother, the one he felt such a need to protect actually the one he needed to guard against? Hoss would never accept this, even as he questioned. His baby brother was still good. He had to be. He was Little Joe. Hoss would insure it by protection. He would insure it by love. He would never turn his back on his little brother. He had known from the day Joe had been born that they were bonded, the tiny baby looking up at him with love. Something happened that day, and Hoss never questioned it. He told himself he would not question now. Joe was hurting and needing him so very much. He would protect the little boy he always protected, and he would believe in his brother. He vowed as well he would kill - kill the man who hurt his baby brother. He would make it right for Joe if he could. He knew there were no limits to his love. Hoss fell asleep thinking of his brother, and the events in the loft. He would never let Joe be exposed again to evil if he could help it. He would protect, and he would guard.

Adam as well had spent the hours since Joe had been placed in bed, thinking and rethinking what had happened inside his little brother, and more importantly, what they need to do to best handle the situation. In his thoughts, Adam returned over and over to the reason Joe had been harmed. It came back to him each time, as he could not escape his guilt. His little brother had been hurt because of his need to take out Baxter. He made only one conclusion each time, it was his responsibility, his fault. Joe was damaged, somehow changed. He sat quietly praying it was not an irreversible change. He was unsure he could bear to see his brother continue in the agony he had witnessed and needed to believe Joe could overcome his problems with his help. It has been Joe’s haphazard naiveté that had bothered him so much in the past, the tendency of his little brother to living life with reckless abandon. But he knew had never wanted the naiveté and careless abandon stripped away so unmercifully. He would never want his little brother jaded and distrusting, so full of a rage that was unrelenting and dangerous. He would never have wished this on Joe, or his family. As he sat thinking, he decided he would do just that. He would take Joe’s place in any predicament. He would run interference with their father, and do whatever it took to help Joe manage his demons. He wanted to believe he could get Joe through it, but after what he had witnessed in the loft, he wondered if he had the ability or relationship to reach him.

Both men moved to the hallway, leaving the bedroom door ajar. Adam placed himself in the corridor such that he could see his brother’s sleeping form, unwilling to risk Joe overhearing the conversation. "I talked to Hop Sing." Adam whispered. "He’s shook up, but I think he’ll be fine. He doesn’t want Pa to know what happened, and the more I think about it, I agree. I don’t think we should tell Pa, either. I know it’ll upset him, but I’m more concerned what it would do to Joe. He seems to not be able to handle much right now and having to talk about it more may just do more harm than good. I just don’t know. It seems he couldn’t handle it."

"But what if when Joe wakes up he ain’t no better? Pa needs ta know ‘bout Joe bein’ so bad off."

"I know we’ve gotta tell him something, I just don’t think we need to tell him about the part about attacking Hop Sing. You and I are just gonna keep a VERY close eye on Joe and make sure he can’t hurt anyone else. I think Joe’ll agree to that pretty easily, ‘cause he’s really scared right now. But even if he doesn’t, he’ll do it anyway. The risk is just too high. I’ll deal with Joe if he balks, and I’ll talk to Pa. Hoss, you just keep doing with Joe like you’ve been doing. He needs you."

"Well I ain’t changin’ how I deal with him, but Adam, can I ask you somethin’? Is Joe ever gonna get back to our Joe? And if he don’t, you think he’ll even want us to help or to even… to be… his family? What if… "

"Hoss, we’re not gonna worry about that, because we are his family, and we’re not going to let him go. Joe’s our brother, and he’s gonna be just fine, because we’re going to make it that way. If we can find out who this man is and have him put away, maybe Joe can go on. Maybe that’s all he needs. This man is still out there and has had at least one other contact with Joe we know of. I think Joe’s in a lot of danger, and we gotta make sure he’s safe. I’ve been trying to figure out why this man would allow Joe to just walk around being able to identify him, and it makes no sense. I think he’ll try to get to Joe. We can’t let it happen."

"But Joe ain’t tellin’ us much ‘bout him. We don’t know who he is or nuthin’. We have no description, no idea who he is or where he is. Why you reckon Joe’s protectin’ him? He knows we’d help him, don’t he?"

"I think its just Joe’s afraid. He’s trying to protect us, and he’s the one needing the protecting. I think I’m gonna try and find out some things from Reno, like if anyone noticed anyone else with Wells and Doyle, and if they did, maybe they know who the man was, or at least could give us a description. I don’t think Joe’ll tell us much, but listen, if you get him talking, see if you can’t get him to open up some. You and he can talk about a lot of things, so maybe he’ll tell you more."

"I’ll try, but in all likelihood he’ll just get upset. Joe’ll talk to me ‘bout some stuff, but there are some things he don’t talk to no one about. And don’t you let him know you’re snoopin’ ‘round Reno. He’ll flip for sure."

The men stopped talking when they heard the downstairs’ door close. Both move to the top of the stairs in time to see their father placing his hat and gun belt on the credenza. Adam took a deep breath, as he descended the stairs. "Hey, Pa. Have a good meeting?"

"Fine, just fine." Ben smiled at his eldest. He then looked behind Adam to see Hoss with a worried look. "Hoss, you okay? Something wrong?"

"Oh, uh… It’s just… uh…" Hoss had not expected his father’s question and was at a loss as to how to answer.

Adam was quickly to the rescue. "Pa, everything’s okay. No need to worry. Joe just had a rough day today, and Hoss was up making sure he was okay. He’s sleeping now, which is exactly what he needed to do. I think he was overly tired after not sleeping much last night."

Ben was immediately worried. "What do you mean a bad day? What happened?"

"Pa, lets go sit down, and I’ll fill you in." Adam felt a twinge of guilt for not telling all that had occurred. However, the ordeal in the loft returned to his mind instantly, and he knew he could not express what had happened in a way that would not alarm his father. He also admitted to himself, he had no idea how his father would react to hearing of the attack and did not want things worse. He told himself he had made his decision and he needed to do what he thought was best. It seemed to make sense to him, as he encouraged himself to continue on with his plan.

Ben, Adam, and Hoss moved over towards the fireplace as Adam filled in his father. "Pa, don’t worry. Joe’s okay. He just got pretty upset today, and well, I gave him some brandy to calm him down. It made him sleepy, so he’s upstairs."

"But what upset him?"

"He had one of those memories like he does. He said he saw something that reminded him of what he went through, and it bothered him real bad. He told us that much, but most of it was just him talking about what he went through, but it was that talk like when he’s not really there, you know. He was in a bad way, so we gave him some brandy. That’s about it."

Ben realized his own guilt at not having been home when he felt Joe had needed him. He was struggling to understand what was happening inside his child. So many questions filled his head: Why was it Joe was unable to leave it behind? Why did his son’s mind seem to keep it so fresh and vivid? It did not seem fair to him that Joseph would endure the incredible amount of pain he had gone through, only to be continually haunted by it. It angered Ben that his boy had little relief. It angered him and scared him. How could he help his boy? "He’s sleeping? I’m going to go up and check on him. How long has he been asleep?"

Adam looked to Hoss, and they both shrugged. "Oh, uh at least three hours." Adam replied. "He was still asleep just a minute ago. Pa, you look worried. Joe’ll be okay. He was just tired."

"I’m going to go check on him." Ben did not wait for a reply, but was up and to the stairs. He entered his son’s room, something he had done so many times over his boy’s life. The lighting was dim, so he moved close to check on Joseph. He saw a sight that brought memories. Joe was sleeping soundly, his arm turned so it was on his pillow, his hand resting inches from his face. Ben thought back to years ago, when his son’s thumb would have been tucked securely in his mouth as he slept, a habit Ben had worked hard to break. He wished he were back there once more, looking down on a small boy with small boy problems. "My boy." Ben thought. "Joseph, you’re hurting so bad, son. I wish I’d been here today. What can I do to help?"

Ben stood, the minutes passing, as he watched his child sleep. It never ceased to amaze him each time he thought of his boys and how they were each a product of him. He saw Joe’s face crease in sleep and then ease, it very apparent his son was dreaming. "I want you to be as peaceful as you look right now. You’ve been through so much, Joseph. So much." Ben could not help but reached out and touch his boy. He caressed his child’s arm, hoping his son knew how much he was loved. He wanted Joe at peace, the horrid memories gone. He felt his frustration, as he gently and lovingly moved his hand to Joe’s face. He moved the hair from Joe’s forehead thinking he needed a haircut, but knowing it was such a trivial matter between father and son.

Joe felt the contact through sleep and moved towards it. It was familiar and friendly, something he had felt many times before. His eyes opened and closed several times, the draw back to sleep strong, the light harsh in his eyes. He immediately knew from the touch who was there and tried to wake himself. "Mmm… uh… Pa? Pa." Joe said in a relieved tone, his father’s presence calming the fear that seemed to arise as he woke.

"Joseph, how are you son?" He had not meant to wake his child, but upon seeing Joe stirring, he felt a certain relief his son was awake, and he could make sure he was all right.

The memories of the loft were slow in coming to Joe. He was confused, his head hurt, and he was trying to figure out why his father would be so concerned. Nothing was clear for a few seconds, and then it hit. "Oh no! Oh God! Oh Pa! I’m sorry. I’m sorry! What am I gonna do? Oh God!"

Ben saw that in his son’s face was panic, nothing but sheer panic. "Ssshhh… It’s okay, son. Ssshhh… calm down now. It’s okay. You’re okay. Adam told me you had an, uh… you had one of those spells. Look at me, Joseph. How are you feeling, really?"

Joe looked to his father, and then to the figure in the doorway. He saw Adam standing there, trying to get his attention. As he watched, his brother gave him a sign - one from long ago - but the memory came. He was to say nothing, and it would be okay. It was a sign the three had worked out many years before, and they had agreed upon the significance. It meant their father was not to be told more than he had to know, and it would be taken care of, usually by Adam. "I, uh… Pa, I’m sorry."

"Hey, nothing to apologize for. I just want to know if you’re okay right now. I didn’t mean to wake you, and if you need to sleep you tell me."

Joe’s eyes diverted once more to Adam and then returned to his father. He did not like lying, but the shame of what he did was strong. "I’m okay, Pa. I’ll be just fine. I promise you that Pa… I promise I’ll not be… um…" Joe knew he no longer believed himself good. He was tainted and damaged, so he asked himself how could he promise not to be bad? He was bad already. He was flustered and confused. He could promise nothing.

"Joseph, son, you needn’t promise me anything. I just want to know if you’re okay. Look at me. Are you really okay?"

Joe waited to answer, wanting to blurt out "No Papa, something is bad wrong!" but felt himself foolish and chastised himself for wanting to be a child. His father had been so wise and omniscient then, so able to fix everything. Where had that man gone? He wanted him there desperately. He asked himself why was it so hard to be grown? "Pa, I’ll be fine. I always am. You know that."

Ben sat looking at Joe, wondering how much was false bravado and how much was true. He knew Joe would hide from him, and although it was frustrating, he had to let his son do as he needed. He told himself he would be there when it fell apart, when Joe could no longer hold it all in. He knew his son would reach out eventually, and he told himself to be ready to act. Joe could hide from him for a while, but he knew his boy. He would eventually need someone there, and Ben would be looking for it. However, Ben had no way of knowing Joe had already revealed his need, revealed the secret of fear in the loft. He had not counted on his sons bearing the burden of the parent, so aware of the secret and acting upon it to care for Joe. Ben had no reason to believe he had been excluded from helping. He was hoping for something that had already occurred. He was the one left out, the one left to wait in the unknown. "I wish you’d tell me when it’s bad, Joseph. I’d like to help you with it."

"Oh Pa, you’re so good. You don’t know what I really am." Joe thought to himself. He said, "Pa, I’m okay. Uh… what time is it anyway?"

The question resulted in Ben shifting focus. "It’s near dinner time. As a matter of fact, dinner’s probably on the table. You want a tray sent up, or do you want to join us. You do what you need to, son. I know you were sleeping and I woke you, and if you need more rest tell me."

Joe was touched deeply by his father’s compassion. He loved the man before him so very much. He wanted his father not to worry, to be okay with him. He told himself to fix it, Pa was worried and that was never right. He wanted his father to be okay, it seemed more important than himself. "Pa, I wanna go downstairs." Joe threw back the blankets, ready to ease his father’s mind. The mention of food brought on a feeling of nausea given the hangover he was beginning to experience, but he told himself he could no longer upset those around him. He had to make it all right for everyone. He would force himself to fix it.

Adam had stood back cautiously watching, trying to assess his little brother’s current condition. Joe sounded better than he had earlier, and Adam silently prayed Joe would be back in his right mind. He was anxious to speak with Joe alone, to fill him in on what he had actually told their father, but knew he would have to wait and hope Joe would say nothing incriminating. Adam was desperately hoping he and Hoss could restore Joe to his former self and protect him from danger. If they could accomplish the task, Adam felt he would have paid back the obligation to his little brother and perhaps even bring them closer together. He did not like what he had heard regarding Joe’s assessment of their relationship, and he vowed he would work to change it. He would do what was needed to let his little brother know how he really felt and hopefully in turn, Joe could do the same.

Joe made his way out of his room and down to the evening meal. His father and Adam held back, both trying not to hover. He looked exactly as he felt, exhausted and ill, his hair and clothes messy from sleep. He continued to wear Adam’s coat, and it hung on him, several sizes too big. He looked like a ragamuffin: young and disheveled. He knew as he moved they were watching him, wanting to know if he was okay. He told himself to do it for them, to be okay and not let them see the other. He had to bury it, make it not be. Then they would not have the worried looks and have to deceive. He alone would be the keeper of it all. He vowed he would handle it all, not make them hurt anymore. He could not bear to have them hurt by him. He would not allow his impulses to do that. He would be so very careful and give them the world they needed. The world they deserved. He would not allow the Stranger to take them too. Even if it meant he would have to deceive them himself. They could never see the real him anymore. They could never experience the level of rage nor hate that lived in him now. He would give them the dutiful son, the difficult, but always okay in the end, little brother. He would do it because he loved them. He loved them and feared himself.

The family sat down for their meal, and it was quiet around the table. No one felt much like making conversation, so they ate in silence, each occupied in his own thoughts. Hop Sing served the family a fine meal, and Joe noticed it was full of his favorites. It added to his guilt, and his appetite was nonexistent. His friend, the man he had hurt, was tending to him even after he had terrorized him. Joe’s burden increased, as Hop Sing so lovingly cared for the family. He sat asking himself why everyone was acting so nice to him. Why didn’t they fear him? He knew he was dangerous. He knew they should get rid of him. He loved them and felt the need to protect them from the bad inside of him. He wished Hop Sing had never seen the bad. He had no idea how he could return to the relationship that had existed before the attack, before the Stranger.

Joe was able to sit and tolerate his own emotional conflict until Hop Sing had entered the room to clear the table. "Hop Sing, that’s a nasty bruise on your wrist. What happened? Are you okay?" Ben asked, the significance of his question lost to him.

Joe was in the middle of trying to take a bite of food when he heard his father acknowledge Hop Sing had been injured. He dropped his fork, making a loud clang on his plate. "Um, uh… s’cuse me. I uh, don’t feel real good. I’m gonna be sick, uh… I gotta get some air."

The men at the table felt helpless to watch Joe run out of the room and outside. All three were to their feet, but Adam waved then off. "Hey, he had a rough day, and we got him sorta drunk. Dinner probably got him feeling sick. Let me go check."

Once outside, Joe was immediately sick, as he thought of the bruises on Hop Sing. He soon felt a hand on his back and cringed. "Leave me alone."

"Joe, you okay?" It was Adam.

"Yeah, just fine. Leave me alone. I wanna be by myself."

"I’ll leave you be, but let me just tell you something first. Joe, I’m gonna help you with all this. You aren’t gonna have to do it alone anymore. Pa doesn’t know about the thing with Hop Sing, and he won’t know unless you tell him."

As Adam spoke, Joe tried to gather himself back together. He moved away from Adam’s touch and stood looking out into the darkness. He knew Adam had covered for him, but he asked himself if it really mattered. Could he hide the bad in him enough for it to never rear its head in front of them? "Adam, you don’t have to lie for me. I don’t need it, and Hop Sing deserves to have Pa know what I did."

"But Hop Sing doesn’t want Pa to know either. He told me…"

The two men were interrupted. "S’cuse, Mr. Adam. Hop Sing tell Little Joe what Hop Sing say. Hop Sing need to talk to Little Joe."

The ill feeling returned to Joe, as he saw Hop Sing standing next to Adam. The guilt was enormous. "Hop Sing, you don’t have to talk to me. You don’t have to have anything ever to do with me again. I’m so sorry for what I did, but it’s not enough. Tell Pa, and let him deal with me.

"Mr. Adam, may Hop Sing be alone with Little Joe? Little Joe and Hop Sing need to talk."

Adam was reluctant to leave the two alone. He feared his brother’s reactions and knew Joe was dangerous. Joe saw Adam hesitate and knew why. It had all gotten so very bad. Adam and Joe’s eyes locked, each making a decision in that moment. "Joe, I’m going to go take care of some stuff I didn’t get done in the barn. You both take all the time you need, and then I’d like to talk to you some. Is that all right?"

"Umm… Yeah, fine. Uh… Hop Sing, I’ll just stay over here, and I promise I won’t, uh… I won’t hurt you."

As Adam walked away he heard Hop Sing’s reply. "No, Little Joe. You come, sit next to Hop Sing. You do as Hop Sing say now."

Joe reluctantly moved over to where Hop Sing had directed and took a seat next to his friend. He held his head down and thoughtlessly played with the cuff on Adam’s coat. He said very softly, "I’m really, really sorry ‘bout what I did, Hop Sing. I uh… there’s something that uh… happens to me, and I didn’t know it was you. I’d never hurt you and mean it. I’m so sorry." Joe fought the tears he felt rising.

"Little Joe, Hop Sing not mad. Hop Sing worried. Little Joe very hurt inside. Little Joe have such bad thing happen. Little Joe and Hop Sing very good friends. Hop Sing know what Little Joe did was not because Little Joe bad boy. Little Joe never really bad boy."

Joe kept his head down, as he listened to his friend talk. He thought, "You don’t really know me, Hop Sing. You don’t, and you don’t want to. Believe me." He simply shook his head in response.

"Now Little Joe. Who know you more than anyone, but father and Adam and Hoss? Hop Sing. That who. I know Little Joe’s mama when she come here to live, and I know Little Joe since he a baby. Little Joe always handful, but never bad like Little Joe think he is now. Not in Little Joe’s nature. Little Joe have good mama and good papa, and they have good son. Cannot change nature. Hop Sing tell you before. In my country we have saying, rivers and mountains change more easy than man’s nature. You good boy before bad thing happened, you good boy after bad thing happen."

Listening to Hop Sing took Joe back to many prior conversations he had experienced with the cook. He had spent long hours with Hop Sing after his mother had died, and Hop Sing had shared many thoughts. But now Joe felt it had changed. He was no longer the little boy with whom his friend could be more open than with most. There was a wall between them, Joe unwilling to risk further closeness for fear of what it might bring out in him. "Please don’t do this, Hop Sing. Don’t forgive me. Just stay away from me."

The turmoil inside of Joe tore at Hop Sing. He so badly wanted to reach the young man and relieve the suffering he saw. The events of the morning had terrified Hop Sing, because he saw so clearly the depths of Joe’s difficulties. He knew Joe would have killed him had he not been stopped, but Hop Sing did not believe Joe’s actions were due to a character flaw. He knew Joe was sick - a sickness of the mind. He felt he had to reach the boy to stop what he saw him doing to himself. Hop Sing knew it would only make Joe worse if he continued down the same course. "Little Joe, Hop Sing see you as his own boy. Hop Sing not tell Little Joe this before because it disrespectful to Mr. Ben. But Hop Sing need Little Joe to listen to him now. Little Joe hurting himself by so much worry. Worry not help Little Joe get better. Little Joe need to let go worry about Hop Sing. Hop Sing just fine. Little Joe need to help self by understanding self. Need to listen to heart and head and learn how to help self. Hop Sing know the answers Little Joe look for are inside Little Joe. "

Joe was so touched by Hop Sing’s compassion, and he could hold back the tears no longer. He cried very quietly, unable to share his hurt and fear with his friend. Hop Sing respected Joe’s need and continued to talk. "Little Joe need to relearn about people. Need to relearn to trust and to be touched. Little Joe no like to be touched no more. It scare Little Joe very much to be touched. Bad men touch Little Joe and hurt him. Little Joe think every touch will hurt him. Little Joe need to know this not true. Little Joe need to understand his mind. He need to understand how it work."

The words were ones Joe heard, but they somehow felt wrong to him. He had looked inside, and all he could find was bad. He agreed he did need to know himself, but not in the manner Hop Sing was referring to. He needed to know himself better in order to hide better, and in order to protect people from his badness. "Um… Hop Sing, I’ll try. I’ll really try, but you need to know one thing about me. I’m not who you think I am, and I’ll never be that way again. I know that, but I’ll be better. I’ll make myself better for you, and Pa, and Hoss, and Adam. I won’t disappoint you again."

Hop Sing knew he had not reached Joe. His boy was still so pained and resisting all comfort. "Little Joe not let Hop Sing help. Little Joe do what Little Joe always do. He try solve problem by self. Little Joe need help. Father try help Little Joe. Mr. Adam and Mr. Hoss try help Little Joe. Hop Sing try help Little Joe. Why Little Joe not let help?"

"Hop Sing, I know Pa, and Adam, and Hoss, and you all want to help. I know that. But how can you help me really? I don’t understand what my mind does when it goes… back to uh, when I uh… see, I don’t even know what it does. How can you help when I don’t even know the problem?"

"Hop Sing think talking help Little Joe. He need to talk about bad thing that happened. He need to let family help. He too proud. Too much brave. Let family help."

"Hop Sing, I know you’re tryin’ to help, but you just need to stay away from me. I hurt you. God! I could a killed you. I really wanted to, you know. Not you, but who I thought you were… That’s bad and wrong. If Hoss hadn’t called out, oh God! I would a done it. Hop Sing, that ain’t no good person. I would a killed you! I would a!"

"Little Joe did not kill Hop Sing. He would never do something like that if he were not so bad in his head. Little Joe, Hop Sing love Little Joe like Little Joe Hop Sing’s own boy. Little Joe, good boy. Hop Sing know this. Hop Sing pray to ancestors to help Little Joe. They very wise and have helped Little Joe much in his life. They watch over Little Joe. Hop Sing tell them all about Cartwright family. They tell Hop Sing Cartwright family very good. Very good people."

"Hop Sing, you’re very good to me. You’ve done so much for me…" Joe was crying hard as he spoke. "You didn’t deserve what I did. God! I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!"

"Little Joe, Hop Sing going to give you hug. Hop Sing need to hug Little Joe." With that Hop Sing reached out and pulled Joe to him. He felt the young man’s sobs, and he held him close. It had been a while since Hop Sing had held a crying Joe, but it was familiar and so very special.

Allowing Hop Sing to comfort him felt so good to Joe, and he surrendered. He let himself release his hurt, his fear and his pain, as he wept in the cook’s arms. There was far too much he had tried to hold in, and the tears flowed endlessly. Joe’s arms wrapped firmly around the man, and he held tight to his shirt. It was in his grasp that he said so much that would not come in words. Hop Sing spoke quietly in Cantonese, the expressions he had used to comfort his boy so many times in the past. Hop Sing felt the relief of knowing Joe for a moment was letting go, and the pain was being released. Eventually Joe quieted, as the tears he shed lessened. "Oh God, Hop Sing. I don’t wanna do this."

Hop Sing wanted the moment to continue, as he knew Joe had so much more inside. "Little Joe, very brave to show Hop Sing his hurt. Little Joe not like, but it help. He have to trust Hop Sing again like he did when little boy."

Joe tried to gain his composure. He felt such a release to cry, but he viewed it as weak, his mind quickly asking him - what if? What if he let go and it went so very wrong again? What if he could not control it and it all got way from him? Even worse, what if he had his guard down, and the Stranger appeared? No. Hop Sing wanted far too much, he concluded, as he quickly pulled himself back together. He could not do this, he told himself. The risk was far too high. "Hop Sing, um… thank you for uh, not tellin’ Pa, but I can’t do this. I gotta go see what Adam wanted."

Joe stood and quickly walked away, as Hop Sing watched the back of the retreating figure. Hop Sing remained seated, his heart breaking for his boy who was in agony. He watched Joe wipe his eyes on the sleeve of the coat he wore, as he entered the barn.

The barn was brightly lit, as Joe entered. As he walked, he told himself to remain strong, to pull it back together and just be okay. "Come on Joe, no big deal. It was nothing. You don’t gotta let ‘em see it. Stay tough, and don’t let it in. Get tough." He saw Adam over by the tack arranging several items on hooks. He asked, "You wanted to talk ta me?"

"Um…yeah, I did, but first, you okay?"

Joe stood looking at Adam, the answer in his face. His eyes were red and swollen from crying, his expression appearing very sad. He replied with a nod of his head, yes.

"I don’t want to upset you further, buddy. That’s not my intention, believe me. I think though, you and I need to talk a little about what happened to you this afternoon. I just want to help make sure you’re safe, and you’re going to be okay. I mean really okay."

Adam’s words were met with silence, as Joe thought, "Me be okay. Huh, not possible. Any other fantasies you wanna share?" He said nothing.

"Come on, talk to me. Hoss and I just want to keep you safe. I think you need to be with one of us all the time for a while until we can find out who this guy is and turn him in to the law. I know you still have some ways to go to get to feeling back to your old self, and I think it would help you to just have one of us around. What do you say?"

Again Joe replied in his head, "Well, I’ll give you this older brother, you said I was crazy in a pretty nice way." He said aloud, "What ever you think."

It was very hard not to get frustrated. Adam needed Joe to confide in him if he was going to be able to really help, but Joe seemed determined to hold it inside. He felt a draw to confront his little brother and make him talk, but he feared the results might prove disastrous. He decided to give a verbal nudge and see how Joe could handle it. "Hey, um… this man who you told me about. Can you give me a description? Tell me what he looks like maybe?"

"Hell no, I ain’t sayin’ no more! Where the hell were you this afternoon? Didn’t you hear any of what I said?" Were the thoughts, but he simply shook his head, no.

"Come on, Joe. Tell me. This is very serious, and you’re in danger. We need to be able to protect you."

"You need to protect yourselves, you mean. I’ll take care of him, don’t worry ‘bout that one. You watch for a bigger danger - me." Joe thought. He shook his head again and turned to walk out. He said, "You better come on in the house. It’s late, and I need an escort."

Adam threw down the tack he held in his hand and followed a quickly retreating Joe. "How the hell do I get him to tell me?" Adam wondered, as he felt so very helpless.