Completed April 2001

Chapter 1

"Oh, yeah, this is a bad one for sure!"  Little Joe leaned across the desk to hand his brother Hoss a piece of paper.  "What do you think?  Horse thief, maybe?"

Hoss took the sheet from Joe's outstretched hand and studied it closely, brow furrowing in imitation of the scowling face drawn on the page.  "Nah, I'd say this one is probably a stagecoach robber.  He looks like the sort of a fella that'd make folks want to hand over all their valuables just by lookin' at 'em."

Joe took back the paper but did not bother scooting all the way back to his own place, instead lying atop the desk on his belly, making it easier to hand his brother another unsavory looking sketch.  "Well, what about him?  I think this one is a murderer for sure.  Probably got hung and that's why this poster is out of circulation."

Hoss nodded.  "Could be.  He sure looks mean, don't he?"

"Little Joe, you mind getting off my desk before you scatter all my paperwork from here to China?"  Roy Coffee took his place behind the sheriff's desk, shooing Hoss Cartwright out of it so he could have his chair back. 

Joe grinned at the lawman and carefully levered himself up and off the surface.  "Sorry, Roy.  We're right though, aren't we?  This was a murderer, huh?"

Roy glanced at the old Wanted poster in Joe's hand.  "That?  Why, heck no, Little Joe.  That's Titus Morgan, used to be bank president of the First National in Carson about six or eight years ago until he embezzled money from half the town and skipped out with it.  Took us about two months to catch up with him, but he's doing time now.  Only thing he ever murdered was his reputation."

Hoss guffawed.  "Yessir, little brother, you sure can spot 'em!"  He took another look at the poster, and shook his head.  "Come to think of it, though, if I had to see that face every time I went to put money in the bank I think I'd start burying my cash in the back yard."

"Sure don't look too friendly, that's for sure," Roy agreed amiably.  "You boys want to take some of these with you?  Maybe you can come up with a few more theories for me the next time you're in town."

Joe's green eyes lit up with interest.  "Could we?  You don't want to keep them around for evidence or anything like that?"

Roy scratched thoughtfully at his thinning grayish brown hair, then smiled at the eager face across from him and pushed a small stack of flyers over.  "Help yourself, son.  These are all old posters that have been out of circulation for some time now cause the fellas on them have been caught or killed.  They're just cluttering up my office where they are."

"Gee, thanks!"  Joe picked up the small sheaf and began flipping through them.  He paused when he got near the bottom of the pile, whistling at the face staring up at him from the artist's rendering.  He held it up to show to Roy and Hoss.  "Now you can't tell me that this is the face of a bank clerk!"

Roy looked surprised as he took the sheet back.  "Now, how did that get in there with those others?  This here is Dan Briggs, and he's still a wanted man."

"He sure is a nasty looking piece of business all right." Hoss peered over Roy's shoulder at the poster. "What's he wanted for, Roy?  He caused some big trouble for somebody, I'll bet."

"You got that right," Roy agreed emphatically.  "Dan Briggs is about the biggest heap of trouble there is from what I hear.  He's wanted for cattle rustling and murder.  We figure he's robbed and killed his way across a couple of states by now, but we've only got eyewitness testimony for one crime.  A while back in Monterey, Briggs hired on with a little outfit, then proceeded to rob them blind.  His boss caught him red handed moving out a small herd of steers, and Briggs just pulled out his gun and shot the man and his son down in cold blood.  Got clean away with the herd.  Only reason we know that much is that the boy didn't die right away and managed to give the sheriff a statement first."

"He ever done anything in Nevada?" Joe asked curiously.

Roy shook his head.  "Fortunately, no, but that don't mean he won't, which is why he's on Wanted posters in every town around.  He's one mean desperado, and nobody's taking any chances, least of all me."

"Can I still have the poster?" Joe's voice was hopeful, and after a moment's consideration Roy handed it back to him.  "Thanks, Sheriff.  I want to show Pa.  He'll be hiring a crew for the spring round up pretty soon and like you say, no point in taking chances. I'll bring it back next time."

"I've got me about a dozen of them posters, Little Joe," Coffee said with a smile.  "Keep it.  I'm glad to see you showing a sense of civic responsibility, but I really don't think Dan Briggs will be showing his face around here.  He's got to know he's a wanted man."

"Yeah," Hoss agreed.  "He's probably moved clear down to Texas by now.  They've got them some prime stock and a lot of wide open spaces bound to attract a fella like him."

"S'pose you're right," Joe said, his voice holding a note of disappointment.  Hoss and Roy exchanged an amused knowing look that the preoccupied teenager did not see.  "Well, we'd best be going.  Pa wanted us to pick up supplies at the mercantile before we head home."

"Nice to have you stop by, boys," the sheriff said amiably.  "Come back anytime, and tell your Pa I've still got the checkerboard set up in the back whenever he wants to get beat."

The young men chuckled and waved as they departed, calls of 'Sure thing' and 'So long, Roy,' floating behind them. 

Roy Coffee straightened up his scattered papers, grinning to himself as he thought about Little Joe's vivid imagination.  The boy had loved coming into the jailhouse to visit with the sheriff since he was shorter than the big oak desk he'd just been sprawling across.  He'd always been fascinated by the various aspects of catching 'bad guys', though Roy had no illusions of Ben Cartwright's youngest son wanting to follow his footsteps and become a lawman.  He was too firmly entrenched in the day to day life on the Ponderosa for that, but he did love to speculate and he'd been volunteering to go on every posse Roy had organized since the day they'd met.  It was only now that he'd turned 16 that anyone had even considered it.   Joe had gone on his first posse just a couple of months ago after a neighbor had been murdered.  The objective had been to find and capture the three suspects without any more blood being shed, but the outlaws had chosen not to go peaceably.  One of them had been killed before the men consented to give up, and Joe had come back far more subdued than he'd started.  Roy was frankly glad to see it.  He worried over that boy's impulsive nature sometimes.

Picking up one of the posters the Cartwright boys had been looking at earlier, the sheriff chuckled.  Joe's latest mania was trying to determine what a man was wanted for just by looking at the artist's sketch.  As many of the posters had only a name and the amount of the reward written on them, there was plenty of room for speculation.  He had so far had only slight success, but Joe was sure that he'd be able to figure it out if he tried hard enough. He'd gotten Hoss started on it not long ago, and now every chance they got, the two were poring over posters and creating fascinating scenarios to go with the pictures.  The only problem with that was that Joe was so good at filling in the blanks that he often half believed the stories himself, and naturally Hoss just drank in every word his little brother said like it was gospel truth.  Yes sir, that youngster sure could liven up a dull day.  Still smiling, Roy got up and tacked a couple of the more recent flyers to his wall.  

Chapter 2

"Hey, Hoss?  You really think that's true, what Roy said about Desperado Dan moving clean out of the territory?"  Little Joe had been thinking about nothing except that most interesting poster for the last hour, as he and his brother had gone to the store, loaded the supplies and started for home.

Hoss shrugged.  "I reckon so.  No sense in a man sticking around where he's likely to get caught is there?"

A disappointed sigh met the question.  "Suppose not.  He sure must be powerful ornery though, to just gun two men down in cold blood and get on with his business."

"Reckon so," Hoss agreed, shaking his head.  Rather than exciting him, as it did his little brother, Hoss often found himself saddened and dismayed by news of such brutality and coldness in his fellow man.  He just could not understand why anyone would want to be that way.  "Say, what'd you call that fellow, Joe?"

Joe blinked.  "Huh?  Oh, you mean 'Desperado Dan'?  I thought of that after Roy finished telling us about him.  It has a nice ring to it, don't you think?  Sounds a lot more exciting than just plain 'Briggs'."

"If you say so."  The older of the two brothers squinted up at the sky and rubbed at his belly.  "The only thing that sounds exciting to me right about now is making it home on time for supper.  Loading all them supplies has given me a real appetite."

Joe laughed.  "Aw, come on, now.  You'd have the same amount of appetite if you hadn't lifted anything heavier than your hat all day."

Hoss grinned agreeably.  "Maybe so, little brother, but you can't tell me that you ain't looking forward to that pot roast with potatoes and carrots that Hop Sing was planning when we left."

"Yeah, and that beautiful apple pie he was fixing up this morning," Joe agreed, smacking his lips.  Hop Sing liked to alternate the favorite meal of each of the four Cartwrights from week to week, ensuring that each man got his favorite at least once every month.  It made them happy and kept the compliments flowing, which in turn made Hop Sing happy.  Of course, nearly every meal was Hoss' favorite, so he made no objection to whatever appeared on the table.  Tonight, it was Little Joe's turn for the meal of honor, and the reminder of that had him urging the horses to go just a little faster as his own stomach began to growl in anticipation.

~*~*~*~*~

"So then, Desperado Dan just whips out his pistol faster than a striking rattler and guns them down in cold blood.  They say he was actually whistling as he gathered up the rest of the dead rancher's herd and moved them out of the territory."  Joe paused in his recital to lift up a heaping forkful of beef and potatoes and shovel it inside his mouth, then continued talking, unmindful of the grimaces of his family as they watched him chew and chatter at the same time.  "He's just about the meanest danged outlaw that's ever lived and Roy wanted me to be sure and show you the poster so we can keep an eye out for him come roundup time."

Hoss' face twitched slightly as he listened to his younger brother's version of their conversation with the sheriff.  This was the second time Joe had poured out the exciting tale of Dan Briggs in less than an hour, having first cornered Hop Sing as he was finishing dinner.  With each new telling, the story seemed to be gaining more hair-raising detail.  He was tempted to contradict when Joe began to reiterate a few points and the size of the stolen herd suddenly doubled, but then he dismissed the idea.  It wasn't as if it really mattered, after all.  Like Roy had said, Briggs was miles away by this time.  Might as well leave Little Joe his fantasy.

"We'll be sure and keep a sharp eye out, son," Ben said seriously, though his dark eyes did twinkle a bit as he said it.  He knew very well how his youngest son got when he had his imagination fired up by something.  "Thank you for letting us know.  Now, finish your meal so Hop Sing can start cleaning up in here, and we'll sample some of that fresh apple pie."

"Yes, sir!" A gleam filled the young man's eye at the reminder of dessert.  Joe had been a somewhat picky eater during his childhood, not eating half as much as his father thought he ought to, but ever since he'd gotten well into his adolescence, Joe had become as much of an eating machine as any average teenage boy.  Ben had been heard to remark to Adam that watching his two younger sons on opposite sides of a platter of food was like watching two young lions anticipating a kill.  Anyone else at the table had better move fast and take as much as they wanted, or they'd be going hungry.  Leftovers had become a thing of the past over the last year or so.  Hop Sing, of course, was delighted.

Little Joe managed to forget about the adventures of outlaws and thieves for a few minutes as he polished off his dinner and attacked a large slice of pie.  The minute he sat down in the living room with the rest of the family, however, he was off and running again.

"Hey, Adam, don't you want to get a look at the poster?"  Joe waved the flyer under his oldest brother's nose, earning himself a look of warning as Adam snatched the paper out of his hand. 

With greatly exaggerated care, Adam snapped the sheet a couple of times and studied it.  Then, he handed it back and said, "There, I've looked.  I'm sure that if Dan Briggs ever shows up here looking for a job we'll all be sure to recognize him right away.  Now, can we change the subject?"

Joe scowled at his patronizing tone.  Ben saw him gearing up for an argument and stepped in before it could start.  "Joseph, I'm sure we all appreciate your efforts to keep us informed, and we certainly will stay alert, but I don't think there's any point in worrying about this Briggs character right now."

"But, Pa, supposing he does show up," Joe pressed.  "Don't you think we ought to have a plan or something to capture him?  You know, for the good of the community?"

Adam snorted a laugh.  "The good of the community.  Sure, Joe, and I'll bet it'll do them a lot of good to watch you receive a reward and a medal for heroism for saving the good people of Virginia City from the clutches of the evil Desperado Dan."

Choosing to ignore the snide tone, Joe's face took on a dreamy look as he settled back into the corner of the sofa and thought over the delightful possibilities in Adam's scenario.  Adam saw it and shook his head, going back to the book he had been trying to read with a mumbled comment about fool kids.

"Tell you what, Joe."  Hoss' voice jerked Joe back from his daydreams.  "If'n we do come across him, you can be the one to ride into Virginia City and grab the sheriff.  That way he'll be sure to know you were the one who spread the word and saved everybody."

Ben smothered a chuckle as he saw his youngest son's face light up.  No doubt Joe was already picturing himself in the center of a throng of grateful citizens, modestly recalling how he'd captured the nefarious outlaw.  What he did not seem to realize was that Hoss had very neatly suggested a plan that would keep his little brother out of danger's path should his imaginings ever come to light. Knowing how quickly Joe's interests could change from week to week, Ben felt relatively certain that the boy would forget all about Dan Briggs by the time a crew was hired for roundup.  Joe came back to earth with a sigh. "I'll bet I could catch him if I really tried. I'm not afraid."

"Don't you think you have more important things to do than chase after outlaws, son?" Ben asked with a smile, used to his little boy's delusions of grandeur. "You'll be pretty busy getting ready for your first cattle drive as soon as the herd is fully rounded up."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Joe agreed cheerfully. He was quite proud to be going along on the drive this year. In his eyes it made him a man the same as his father and brothers, and he was not inclined to let anyone overlook that fact.

Silence reigned for a good ten minutes as Ben and Adam both read, and Joe and Hoss played checkers together. Then Joe's attention faded from the game as he spotted Hop Sing straightening up the dining room. An eager gleam filled his eyes as he stood from his cross legged position on the coffee table and walked toward the dining room.

"Hey, Little Joe, where you going?" Hoss blurted unhappily as Joe's motion upset the checkerboard. "I was winning!"

Joe barely paused long enough to shoot him an apologetic glance. "I'm going to see if I can get Hop Sing to give me some cookies."

Hoss forgot his ire and broke into a smile, falling into step behind his little brother. Ben shook his head, meeting Adam's amused look with an exasperated one of his own. "It's only been twenty minutes since we ate! How can those two be hungry again?"

"What are you complaining about, Pa?" Adam asked with a chuckle. "At least the prospect of food has dissuaded them from the idea of going out looking to catch rustlers in the dead of night."

Ben laughed. "Well, I'm sure something would have sooner or later. By this time tomorrow, I'm sure everyone will have forgotten all about the exploits of Desperado Dan."

Unfortunately, Ben Cartwright had underestimated both his son's stubborn will and the hand of fate.

Chapter 3

"So, what else did he do, Joe?" 

Little Joe puffed up importantly at the interested question from the ranch hand on his left.  He was sitting atop the corral fence, where he had been holding court for the last half-hour over the gathering of men his father had recently hired for roundup.  Supposedly, he was there to help them work on a new string of horses his father wanted broken and gentled in time to use for remounts on next month's cattle drive, but so far nobody was doing a whole lot of work. 

Another man spoke up.  "Yeah, Joe.  Is it true what I hear, that Desperado Dan backed down a whole posse who was on his tail and got clean away without firing a single shot?"

Joe did not recall ever having said anything of the kind, but it sounded good, just like something Dan would do, so he nodded solemnly.  "Sure is.  Why he's escaped so many gunfights and dates with the hangman by now that lawmen practically swear he's magic.  They say no mortal man could steal that many cattle and horses in a lifetime.  At least not without getting caught."

"I hear tell he's pretty slick with the ladies, too," the first cowboy, Rusty, said sagely, exchanging leering looks with the others.  "Guess he knows more than just about anyone what a gal really wants, and he ain't afraid to give it to her neither!"

The men roared with laughter over his lascivious tone, elbowing each other knowingly.  Joe laughed along with them.  He was not at all sure what Rusty was talking about, but he wasn't about to admit his ignorance by asking anyone.  They'd think he was just a wet-behind-the-ears kid if he did that!   The fact that he was exactly that did not enter into his mind at all. 

"Hey, what's going on here?"  Hoss' voice loudly interrupted the playful banter and increasingly off-color remarks the wranglers were passing back and forth.  Joe scowled at his older brother.  Pa never allowed him to hear that kind of stuff, and Hoss had gone and ruined it just as things were getting good.  Hoss knew exactly what he was doing by cutting in when he had, and showed it by giving Little Joe a scolding shake of his head.  "Ain't nobody declared no holiday around here, far as I know.  Let's get back to work!"

The men went back to their jobs with a good-natured grumble, and Little Joe hopped down off the fence to stand beside his brother.  "What'd you have to do that for, Hoss?  We were just having a little fun."

"Well, you can just have your fun after the work gets done, Shortshanks.  What were you fellas all laughing about anyhow?"  Hoss leaned against the fence to watch the men in the corral work a bad tempered roan mare into obedience, and Joe imitated his posture, leaning forward to rest his arms across the top fence rail.

Hoss called encouragement to the rider in the stubborn roan's saddle. "At a boy, Jimmy!"

Little Joe shrilly whistled his approval as Jimmy rode the horse to a standstill, then turned back to answer his brother's question.  "Rusty was talking about Desperado Dan's way with women.  He sure is something, ain't he?  Never met a woman he couldn't charm, a poker game he couldn't win, or a man he couldn't back down with a look or a gun."

Hoss nodded admiringly.  "Yeah, he's a powerful talented feller all right.  Mean as a snake one minute and charming as an Eastern dude the next.  I sure had no idea when you first got that poster from Roy that so many folks knew all about him, or that he'd done so many things."

A small pang of discomfort stabbed at Little Joe and he absent-mindedly rubbed his stomach, vaguely supposing it to be indigestion or something.  If he had bothered to analyze the feeling closely, he might have recognized it as the scolding of his conscience, but that was a thing he had long since learned to suppress when it got in the way of a good time. 

Joe had told everyone he knew all about the exploits of Dan Briggs, blithely expanding the story with each telling, and growing more and more convincing each time due to the fact that he had begun to believe it all himself.  Those people had told other people, who had told still more, until now everyone in the whole territory seemed to know the story.  Desperado Dan had become a local legend inside of a month's time.   Little Joe could no longer remember which facts he had heard from Roy and which ones he had made up himself.  The fact that other people claimed to have heard the stories and often added new and interesting details only fueled his belief.  Everyone far and wide was caught up in the legend, including Hoss.  He seemed to have completely forgotten that he'd been with his brother the day he'd picked up that wanted poster, and was halfway convinced that he'd actually seen Briggs someplace one time, if he could only remember where it had been.  

"Do you think all that stuff they say about Dan is really real?" the boy wondered aloud.  "It seems like he's been an awful lot of places and done an awful lot of bad things for just one man."

"I dunno," Hoss said, shrugging the question off.  "If he's as crafty as they say, maybe he's got a whole gang that works with him and they just use his name to scare folks."

"Maybe."  That sounded like a good idea, so Joe automatically filed it away to add to his store of knowledge on the outlaw.  "You suppose he'll ever get one of those dime novels written about him?  Bet it would sell a million copies."

Hoss laughed.  "That's silly, Joe.  There ain't enough folks around to buy up a million copies of anything.  Besides, I think you have to be dead or near to it before they write one of them things about you."

Joe frowned.  "Why?"

"I suppose it's so you can't make a big fuss if the writer gets one of the facts wrong," Hoss decided.  That sounded like a good reason to him.  "That's enough about that for now, little brother.  Let's see you get yourself up on that chestnut and give him a try."

With a cheery grin, Joe dismissed their speculations from his mind and went to do his other most favorite thing in the world.

~*~*~*~*~

The entire hubbub over Desperado Dan would likely have died out in good time had it not been for a badly timed outbreak of rustling in the area.  The local paper had run a front-page story on the thefts, with a reprint of the wanted poster of Briggs in bold ink in the corner.  Gossip had been claiming for weeks that he had been spotted heading for Virginia City and the coincidence was too much for most people.  Ben Cartwright reminded himself sternly at least once per day that he had never even heard of Dan Briggs until his sons had mentioned him.  Still, it was hard to ignore the general opinion of his neighbors. 

"Hey, Pa!  Pa?"  Adam's voice called loudly from the front entry, bringing his father hurrying downstairs, a look of concern upon his face.

"What's the matter, son?"  There was no mistaking the urgency in Adam's call.

Adam's face was grim.  "We just did a complete survey of the south pasture, two sweeps so there'd be no mistake.  We're missing fifty head of our best cattle.  Up to now I thought Joe's theories about Dan Briggs were just so much fairy dust and nonsense, but now I'm starting to wonder."

Ben tried to be reasonable.  "Now, son, just because we've got rustlers on our hands, doesn't mean this has anything to do with Briggs."  Still Ben was not so sure.  It seemed like an awfully big coincidence, and certainly it seemed that a lot of people had heard the same stories Joe had been spouting, so surely there was some truth to them.  "We'd better go talk to Roy Coffee about this right away."

~*~*~*~*~

"Now Ben, just hold on a minute," Roy said calmly.  "You're the fifth rancher in these parts to have their cattle rustled in the last two weeks.  So far we ain't found a trace of the thieves, but we will.  There's no need to go stirring up trouble over a rumor."

Ben's heavy brows lowered unhappily.  "Roy, it was not a rumor that stole 50 head of cattle off my property this morning.  Someone is out there helping himself to our prime stock and I want it stopped!  I'm not saying that there's any truth to these rumors about Desperado Dan, or whatever fool name he calls himself, but the fact remains that he was reported to be in this area, and immediately afterward, cattle began to disappear."

"I know that Ben," Roy said, his voice calm in an effort to get his old friend to simmer down.  "I've heard all the talk, same as you have, but the fact is, that's all it's been up to now.  Talk!  I can hardly form a posse to go chasing down an outlaw nobody has actually seen.  Supposing it's somebody else who's just using all this speculation to throw off suspicion and pick your land clean while we're all off on a wild goose chase looking for this fella Briggs?"

Ben responded to the reasonability of the sheriff's argument and nodded grimly.  "You're right.  I guess I've gotten just as caught up in my youngest son's absolute certainty of the rustler's identity as everyone else has."

Roy nodded.  "Funny thing about that.  I hadn't heard anything about Briggs in a couple of months. Then Joe starts askin' me about him and pretty soon it seems like I'm not hearing anything else!"

"Timing, I guess," Ben said. "Just a coincidence."  His expression darkened for a moment as he thought about just how much of a coincidence it really was.  Then Ben abruptly dismissed his suspicions.  Not even Little Joe's imagination could run away with an entire town!

Chapter 4

"What in blazes do you two think you are doing?" 

Hoss and Little Joe froze in the doorway, identical guilty expressions on their faces as they beheld their irate father standing in the entry waiting for them; arms crossed and steam practically curling out of his ears. 

"Oh, uh, hi Pa," Hoss stammered, trying to smile.  "What are you doing up this early?"

"We were j-just in the barn, Pa," Little Joe tried, "brushing d-down the horses."

"Really?"  That one word question, spoken in an all too calm and quiet tone made both young men jump.  "And were you perhaps combing those horses at 3:30 in the morning because you'd had them out all night long searching lord only knows where for rustlers?"

Joe blinked innocently.  "Rustlers?  W-why would we do that, Pa?  You told us to leave the r-rustlers to the sheriff."

"Well, it's nice to know you were actually listening to me, Joseph," his father snapped, pinning him in place with a glare.  "It would have been even nicer if you had done as I said!"

Hoss tried to divert some of the attention from his quaking sibling, and said, "Well, Pa, it's like this.  Y'see we was just.  Uh, that is we thought that."

Ben held up a hand, cutting him off mid-word.  "Never mind what you thought.  The point is you disobeyed.  I very clearly told you, both of you, the last time you went out on one of these little odysseys of yours that I did not want you trying to do Roy's job for him!  It's very dangerous, not to mention foolhardy.  I appreciate the fact that you want to help stop the rustling, but getting yourselves killed will not accomplish anything.  If you see anything suspicious, you are to come to me or report it to the sheriff, and that is all you are to do.  Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," they mumbled in unison.

The sporadic disappearance of more cattle in the weeks since he had first gone to Roy did nothing to sweeten the disposition of Ben Cartwright or his neighbors.  By the time they had pulled together what was left of their herds, more than 200 cattle had disappeared from the area.  It was not the thought of losing money that irritated Ben the most; he had a good-sized herd and had not intended to drive more than a third of them to market at this time anyway.  It was the principal of the thing, the idea that someone could sneak in and do that much damage without a trace.  He had quite enough problems without dealing with two sons who were hell-bent on putting themselves in danger to catch the thieves.

Joe, of course, did not see it that way. He was absolutely certain he knew who had stolen the livestock. He had been secretly on the lookout ever since the first theft, and he was not ready to give up, no matter what anyone said. A posse had been organized in town to comb the area in search of any new evidence, and Joe felt it supremely unfair that he was not allowed to join the manhunt for Desperado Dan, particularly since it was his idea in the first place. Was it his fault that the last two times he had obeyed his father and pointed out suspicious behavior, the men turned out to be innocent? The fact that the second man, whom he and Hoss had captured yesterday morning, the one who had looked like a mean, ornery murdering thief for sure, had turned out to be the sheriff's own visiting nephew was not his fault either. No one had bothered to mention that Roy even HAD a nephew, much less that he was visiting! They hadn't needed to laugh when Hoss and Joe had captured the stranger lurking around the border of the Ponderosa, and had dragged him into town bound and gagged and delivered him to the sheriff. Roy's nephew had laughed louder than anybody else when he found out that he'd been mistaken for a famous outlaw, and had been very forgiving, but it was still humiliating to have been so mistaken. How was he supposed to know that Roy's own kin didn't have the sense to know which way was north and had taken the wrong fork on his way to Virginia City? Too bad Pa hadn't thought it was funny.

"I'm sorry we disobeyed, Pa," he tried, flashing his glowering father a winning smile, "but we had to go after it got dark.  I think that's when the herds are getting stolen.  I told Roy that and he said there was nothing the posse could do in the dark, but I figured if the rustlers could work at night, so could we."

Ben rubbed his forehead, as if he had a headache coming on.  "And you couldn't have explained that logic to Roy and I?  It's certainly within the reach of your persuasive powers, Joseph.  Roy's men could have staked a few places out and captured the outlaws perfectly well without your help."

"But then we wouldn't get any of the reward money!"  Joe squawked.  Hoss placed a warning hand on his arm, but it was too late.  The words were already out.

"Oh, really."  The quiet tone was back, and the Cartwright boys knew they were doomed.

~*~*~*~*~

Nearly an hour later, both Hoss and Joe slunk to their rooms, having received one of the longest lectures of their lives.  Pa's anger had not been a pretty thing to witness.  It seemed as though the more he scolded, the more hopping mad he got.  He had ranted for a solid 45 minutes, then he had ordered them both out of his sight, and had assigned them a handful of extra chores designed to keep them too busy for hunting outlaws over the next several days.  Night stalking being decidedly not on the agenda for a while, it was time to think of a new plan...

Chapter 5

"Hey, Hoss, did you hear the news?"  Joe came charging up at a full gallop to where his brother was mending fences, skidding his horse to a halt so suddenly that he kicked up a cloud of dust right in Hoss' face.

"Little Joe, how many times we told you not to do that?" Hoss demanded, spitting and waving his hands to dispel the dust.  "What's the matter with you?"

"I just came from Virginia City, and you'll never believe it!  Pa let me go into town to get the mail, even though he told us last night that he didn't want us anywhere near Roy's office for a while.  I was kind of surprised when he sent me, but I guess he didn't have time to go himself, and I think he kind of felt bad about all the yelling he did last night or something, but anyway, I was in town and I ran into Seth.  Seth had just talked to Steve, who had just come from Roy's office, and you'll never guess what they said."  Joe was talking so fast; Hoss could barely keep up.  He did not bother trying to interrupt with a guess, knowing his brother would just keep talking until he'd revealed it anyway.  He was correct.  "The posse didn't find anything, and the people are so upset about it that they held a meeting.  The reward for the capture of Desperado Dan has gone up to two THOUSAND dollars!  Did you ever hear the like?"

Hoss whistled, his blue eyes going wide as he took in the incredible sum.  "What happened, Joe?  Did somebody see him, finally?"

"I don't know, but from what I heard the ranchers are so mad about what's been going on, they demanded a raise in the bounty and put up the money themselves!"  Joe took another longing look at the now worn and crumpled wanted poster he'd just pulled out of his saddlebag.  "That sure is a lot of money.  Just think of all the things we could do with it, not to mention how impressed everyone would be if we brought him in."

"Wait a minute, there.  You just leave me out of this!"  Hoss narrowed his eyes suspiciously.  "Weren't you listening to a single word Pa said last night?  We promised him we was gonna give up this foolishness, remember?"

Joe waved his protest away.  "Aw, come on, Hoss.  This is different!  We won't have to worry about what Pa says.  He's gonna be away on the drive in two days."

Hoss blinked, uncertain he'd heard correctly.  "What about you, Little Joe?  You ain't talked about nothing else but going on your first big cattle drive since you was just a bit of a thing, and as far as I remember, Pa didn't say anything to you last night about being restricted to home.  Don't you want to go no more?"

"Well, sure I do, " he said regretfully.  "It's awful unfair that I can't be in both places at the same time, but this is more important.  I'm just gonna have to tell Pa that I've decided to stay behind and help you instead of going with him."

"And you think he'll let you do that?"  Hoss laughed.  "I'm staying home cause somebody's got to be in charge of the ranch while Pa and Adam are gone, but you ain't gonna fool Pa into thinking you've suddenly become too fond of the sight of the ranch to be away from it for a couple of weeks.  He knows how crazy you are to get the drop on that outlaw feller."

"But, Hoss!" Little Joe began, pulling out his best wheedling tone.  "You need me!"

Hoss was having none of it.  "No, I don't.  Not that bad, I don't.  The only way you're gonna convince Pa to let you stay home is if you're too sick to leave the house, and if you're that poorly you know what he'll do, don't you?  He'll send me on ahead with Adam, and stay behind to look after you.  I'm sorry, little buddy, but Desperado Dan will just have to put up with being caught by somebody other than you.  You're going on that cattle drive!"

"But Hoss, two thousand dollars!"  Joe tried again.

Hoss eyed the poster in his brother's hand with a long tempted gaze, and Little Joe's face took on an expression of hope, but then the big man shook his head and took the paper, crumpling it up into a ball and tossing it back, effectively squelching his brother's enthusiasm.  He then, very deliberately, picked up the hammer he had dropped when Joe came charging up to him, and returned to rebuilding the section of broken fence he'd been working on without another word.  Secretly, he was afraid that if he kept listening to his persuasive little brother, he'd find himself volunteering to go along with another one of his crazy schemes.  One blistering lecture in a week was enough!  Hoss had no desire for another and knew that the best thing to do now was feign disinterest.

Joe spent a few minutes watching him work, scowling darkly at his uncooperative sibling in hopes that he would see how much his traitorous behavior had wounded him.  Hoss continued to ignore him, and finally, Little Joe sighed and picked up the spare hammer lying in the grass.

Chapter 6

"Well, sir, I've been working on ranches all my life, in one place or another.  The last was the Triple J up by Placerville.  They had some hard times and had to let most of us go, and I've been looking for work ever since."  The cowboy finished his speech in a rush, shuffling warily, as though he had delivered it many times and was already prepared to be turned down and start moving again.

Ben nodded thoughtfully.  He knew of the Triple J, and knew that they had indeed fallen on hard times, just as the young drifter had said.  He had a full crew for the drive by now, but figured there might be a few jobs around the ranch that could use an extra hand.  "We might be able to use you," he said slowly.  "What did you say your name was again?"

"Daniel, sir, Daniel Freeman," the man offered eagerly, perking up a bit at the news that he might be allowed to stay.  "I can do most anything you need, Mr. Cartwright.  Rope, brand, ride fence, chop wood, anything at all!"

The hasty offer was met with an understanding smile.  Ben had found himself in this young man's shoes a few times in his life.  Willing to do anything that needed doing, so long as it was a real job and not a hand out.  "The fences out in the south pasture are in pretty bad shape.  We've been fixing them up whenever we get a little free time, but there's still a lot to do.  How about we start you out there and see how things go?"

"That'd be just fine," Freeman agreed gratefully.  "When do I start?"

"Tomorrow morning," Ben told him, shaking his newest employee's hand.  They spent a few minutes talking over necessary things like salary, working hours and where Daniel could stow his gear, and then Ben offered a warning he'd issued to every man on his payroll as of late.  "You should know that we've had a rash of rustling in the area lately, so if you come across anything you feel is suspicious, let one of us know right away.  Don't try to confront anyone on your own."

"No, sir, I won't," Freeman promised, tipping his hat as he grabbed his gear and went back outside to put his things in the bunkhouse.

"Hey, Pa, who was that?"  Joe had been listening to part of his father's conversation from the stair landing, and he had been checking out the new man with the same suspicious eyes with which he viewed all strangers these days. 

Ben looked up from his desk and smiled as his son approached.  "New man I just hired.  He's going to fix that line of busted fence in the south."

Joe frowned.  "Kind of late in the day to be coming looking for work, isn't it?  It's almost quitting time."

"I suppose so," Ben said, "but he seems like a good man, and he needs the work.  Now, why don't you ride out and find your brothers.  Supper will be ready in an hour."

"Okay," he agreed.  Joe stayed where he was for a moment longer, craning his neck to see what name his father had written on the payroll column, then moved out quickly when Ben raised an eyebrow at him.  "I'll just go find Hoss and Adam.  See you later, Pa."

Ben watched him go with a shake of his head.  Sometime he just didn't know about that boy.

~*~*~*~*~

"It's him, I'm telling you!"  Joe raised his hands in an imploring gesture as he trailed his two disinterested brothers into the barn.  "I got a real good look at him while Pa was hiring him on, and I'd bet my bottom dollar that it was him."

"Joe, will you come off it?" Adam demanded grumpily.  He'd had a long hard day in the saddle and was in no mood to hear his younger brother's newest selection for the role of the mysterious Desperado Dan.  "You've been seeing that outlaw behind every rock and bush for weeks now, and frankly I'm tired of it!  If Dan Briggs was going to come looking to steal any more cattle from us, do you really think he'd be stupid enough to walk right up to his intended victims in broad daylight and demand a job from them?" 

"Adam's right, Joe," Hoss told him, as he stripped the tack from his horse and began to brush the big black down.  "Ain't no more cattle disappeared in days, and now that everyone is on to him, don't you think Desperado Dan has probably moved on to fresh territory?"

"Maybe that's just what he wants us to think," Joe said, lowering his voice as though one of the horses might overhear and spread the word.  "I think Dan is just biding his time until the Ponderosa is undefended.  Pa isn't moving out more than a few hundred head this time of year and that leaves an awful lot of prime stock that's going to be easy pickings.  What better way to divert suspicion than to hire on as a new worker, especially doing something as remote as line riding?"

Adam and Hoss looked at each other, both silently asking each other if the kid could be right.  It did sound like an awfully clever plan when Joe mapped it all out that way.  Hoss laughed, but the sound was just a bit hollow. "That's silly, Joe.  This fella is probably just doing what he told Pa.  Looking for work to tide him over.  Not a lot of ranches would be hiring right now, since the roundup crews are all on board.  He just came here cause there was no place else.  Besides, you said his name was Freeman."

Though he had not fully swallowed his youngest brother's latest theory, Adam could not help chuckling over Hoss' argument.  "Well, if I was a famous outlaw and I was infiltrating someplace, I'd probably use another name, just to be safe.  I sure wouldn't walk right up to Pa and say, "Hi there, Mr. Cartwright.  My name is Dan Briggs. Perhaps you know me better as Desperado Dan?  I'm rustling cattle in the area and wondered if you'd like to make a donation."

Joe and Hoss both laughed at Adam's dead-on imitation of the solicitors who were always approaching their father hoping for charitable donations to one 'very-worthy' cause or another.

"Maybe you're right about that," Hoss conceded  "but what makes you so sure the fella Pa just hired is Dan?"

"All you gotta do is take a good look at him," Little Joe begged.  "He don't look exactly like that poster, but nobody ever does look exactly like the artist draws them.  Remember Jim Blevins?"

Adam shook his head a bit as he fed and watered both tired horses.  "I thought there must have been a mistake when I compared the man Roy arrested with that poster you'd shown me, Joe.  Worst artist's rendering I've ever seen."

"That's right, and I'm telling you, this man Freeman, is a much closer match," Joe insisted.  "All I'm asking you to do is come up with some excuse to talk to one of the men in the bunkhouse and get a look for yourselves.  If you still think I'm crazy after you've seen him, I promise I'll drop it without another word."

Adam looked closely at his little brother's earnest face and nodded slowly.  "I guess that's not too much to ask, considering what's at stake here, but you have to promise to abide by our decision.  If Hoss and I don't see the resemblance, you'll let it be.  Promise?"

Joe grinned, clapping them both on the back as they headed for the barn doors.  "I promise!"

~*~*~*~*~

"Well?" Joe demanded intently, staring at the two men sitting on the sofa from his vantagepoint atop the coffee table.  "You went out to talk to the men about the drive, so that means you had plenty of time.  Did you see him?"

Joe had been dying to ask them for their verdict all evening, but after dinner Pa had gotten into one of his rare story telling moods, where he would begin reminiscing about his youth.  Usually, the boys found those times interesting, as their father had led a very adventurous life and had many good tales to share, but sometimes the stories were pure torture.  Tonight was one of the latter; however, there was no getting away from him in those moods, so Joe had done his best to sit patiently and listen.  Finally, Ben had wound down and declared the need to get some rest.  He had gone to bed and his youngest son had pretended to do the same.  The moment he heard Pa's door close, however, Joe was out of bed and back downstairs like a shot.

Adam shifted in his seat, reluctant to answer the question.  He looked at Hoss and saw no help coming from there.  The younger man had an expectant expression on his face that was very like the one Little Joe was aiming at him.  "I suppose there is something of a resemblance," he admitted at last.

Little Joe whooped, then clapped a hand over his mouth and looked nervously toward the stairs when both of his brothers instantly shushed him.  There was no sound from upstairs to indicate that their father had been disturbed, and all three breathed sighs of relief.  Joe lowered his voice, but his eyes were shining with excitement.  "What did I tell you?"

Holding up a forbearing hand, Adam said, "Hold it.  All I said is that there's a resemblance.  I did not say that our newest ranch hand is really Desperado Dan."

"But, Adam, I saw just as plain as you did the way that feller's attention got real sharp all of a sudden when you mentioned where you wanted the rest of the cattle moved until you get back from the drive," Hoss protested.

Adam looked annoyed at Hoss' words.  Joe looked confused.  "Why did you do that, Adam?  Isn't it kinda risky to tell him exactly where to find more of our stock to steal?"

"Maybe," he said tersely, shaking his head at Hoss for revealing what he had done in front of their eagerly listening little brother.  "It was a calculated risk, designed to see if anyone took any more interest than they should."

"And Freeman did?" Joe looked back and forth between his brothers. 

Hoss grinned, ignoring Adam's sour expression.  He knew perfectly well that Adam had not wanted to add any unnecessary fuel to fire Joe's imagination, but dadburnit, the kid deserved to know!  "He sure did.  We both pretended not to notice, but he was drinking in every word we said."

Little Joe drew himself up, proud to have been the first person to notice the truth.  "So, what do we do now?  Do you think we ought to tell Pa and Roy?"

"No," Adam said, surprising both his siblings.  He saw their disbelieving looks and explained.  "Freeman hasn't done anything worse than listen to what I had to say.  He's supposed to do that, remember?  Just because he was interested in what we planned to do with those cattle doesn't make him a rustler."

"I guess not," Hoss acknowledged reluctantly.  "Come to think of it, a few of the other fellas looked pretty interested too.  Dadburn, I was sure we had Desperado Dan right where we wanted him."

Joe's mouth had dropped open as he listened to his brother talk himself out of pursuing their new information.  "Hoss, come on!  We do.  All we gotta do is stake those cattle out wherever Adam said, then keep a watch out and see if Dan takes the bait." 

"And what if he doesn't?" Adam asked him patiently.  "What if he waits until we're gone to make his move.  I know I would.  Hoss is going to be too busy to spend all his days staking out the north rim, waiting for something that may never happen.  Joe, we did as we promised.  We took a look at the drifter Pa hired, and we admitted that he does bear some similarity to that wanted poster of yours, but not enough to go making accusations that would probably just get an innocent man in trouble.  I'm sorry, Joe.  I think you're wrong about him."

"Hoss?" Joe's tone was pleading.  Surely Hoss would still be on his side!

The big man shook his head.  "Sorry, little brother.  I guess I was about to let my heart rule my head again.  Adam's right.  We can't ruin a man's life just because he looks a little bit like that poster.  I don't think it's him."

"You promised you would let this drop," Adam reminded him, when Joe began to utter more protest.  "You said that if Hoss and I didn't agree that Dan Freeman and Dan Briggs were the same man, that you would go along with our judgment and not say another word about it."

With Adam's unflinching eyes boring into him, Little Joe was forced to agree.  Unfortunately, he had said exactly that.  He slumped down, resting his chin in his palm dejectedly.  "All right.  I won't say anything else about it," he mumbled.

Adam clapped him on the shoulder, his touch revealing more sympathy than Joe had expected.  "You did the right thing by coming to us first, Joe.  Now, why don't you forget about catching Dan for a while and go get some sleep.  Go dream about all the things we'll do together on the drive instead, okay?"

Little Joe lifted his downcast eyes to Adam's face and smiled a little in response to the encouraging smile his dark-haired brother was giving him.  "Can I at least help the men move the rest of the cattle to the north rim, tomorrow?  I want to make sure it's a good safe place."

Adam chuckled.  "You don't give up, do you?  All right, you can help out, but let's let the subject of Desperado Dan drop, okay?"

The boy nodded and uncurled his legs from under him as he got off the coffee table.  "See you in the morning," he said, then turned away and trudged up the stairs to bed without another word.

Hoss waited until he heard the door to Joe's room close, then looked back at his older brother.  "Adam, do you really think there's nothing to Joe's theory about Freeman?"

"I don't know, but I think the man deserves the benefit of the doubt," Adam said reasonably.  "I'll ask Mike to help him out on those fences, though, just to keep an eye on him.  It wouldn't hurt to be careful, and those fences are more of a two-man job anyway."

Hoss was satisfied with that.  Mike was an older man who had been hiring on for roundup season for the last 15 years.  He was really too old for the long hard journey to the cattle markets now, and he had a bum leg that made riding herd hard on him, but Ben felt that he could not turn away such a loyal worker and had given him the job again anyway.  It wouldn’t be too hard to convince either man to leave Mike behind to help out, Hoss decided.  "That's a good idea.  Well, I'm for bed.  How about you?"

"Me too," Adam said, stretching as he stood.  He grinned at Hoss as he glanced up at the stairs.  "He sure does keep life interesting, doesn't he?"

There was no need to ask whom Adam meant.  Hoss laughed.  "He sure does."

Chapter 7

The hand of fate took an unexpected interest in Little Joe Cartwright the next day.  He spent all of the afternoon following his conversation with his brothers, moving cattle to a protected area low on the north rim of the Ponderosa.  It would be a good spot for them.  The animals would have water, good grazing enough for a couple of weeks and shelter from any bad weather that might arise.  Joe was therefore rather surprised to see how low the grass and water in that area were, when he and the drovers arrived with the bulk of the herd.  The area would do for a few days, but then the cattle would need to be moved again.

After a certain amount of discussion, Joe decided that the best thing to do would be to inform his brother Hoss later.  Hoss could decide where he wanted the cattle moved while the rest of the family was off on the drive.  The rest of the men seemed happy with that solution, so Joe offered to check around for any strays and get them in with the others, while the rest of the men went back to work.  It was a suggestion gratefully accepted by the busy wranglers, and Joe soon found himself alone, with lots of time to himself to lie in wait and watch for rustlers.  He did make a cursory check for strays first, but then he tied up Cochise and hunkered down on a bluff overlooking the herd to wait. 

Nervously expecting to be set upon by rustlers any second, Joe was tense and highly alert at first, but as time wore on and nothing more dangerous than ragweed came by to attack him, Joe's sharp attention wandered.  Joe stayed where he was, trying his best to keep quiet and not sneeze in case the outlaws were nearby, but soon he began to grow sleepy, finally drifting into sleep in the tall sunwarmed grass.

The sunny day grew cool and cloudy as the boy napped, and his first awareness of it came with the soaking of raindrops into his hair and clothing.  Joe blinked in confusion, then scrambled to his feet in alarm as he realized that hours had passed while he slept and that it was moving on toward dusk.  Joe untied his horse, ready to swing into the saddle and get home out of the rain.  His mind was changed very suddenly by the unexpected click of a gun hammer being pulled back directly behind his head.

"Look what we have here," a voice said coldly.  "A little spy.  Thought it was time to run home and report us to your Pa, did you, boy?"

Joe gulped and put his hands up at his sides.  His gaze strayed down to the herd and Joe nearly groaned out loud when he saw that a discernible gap had been made in their number while he, their erstwhile guard, had happily slumbered the day away.  "You won't get away with this," he said, hoping he sounded brave and menacing, but fearing that he probably sounded more like the scared kid he really was.  "I told my brothers you'd try to steal this herd and they'll come looking for me here."

A second voice laughed unpleasantly. "I doubt that, son.  I told your brother Adam that you'd volunteered to help us get those fences started.  They think you're a long way from here."

Joe spun around with a gasp, not even considering that it might be a bad idea until three more guns clicked into readiness, obviously thinking the boy had a sidearm hidden and was going to use it.  He froze, eyes going wide as he took in the unfriendly faces surrounding him.  "Mike?" he squeaked, identifying the man whom had spoken last.  "You're one of the rustlers?  But how could you be?  You've been coming to work for us ever since I can remember."  His eyes strayed to the others, his heart aching a little bit more with every recognizable face.  Frank had been coming to the Ponderosa at roundup time for nearly as many years as old Mike.  The other two, Bert and Jimmy, had been working on the Ponderosa for the last six months.  He had thought of them as loyal, hardworking men, and what was far worse, as friends.  

Frank's eyes were cold and unsympathetic as he looked at the distraught boy.  "We don't owe you or your Pa anything at all, boy.  Why should we slave for the chicken shit wage he gives us, when there's so many easier ways to make money?  You folks just provided us a nice place to stay while we took turns picking off a few of these prime beeves from all your neighbors."

Little Joe felt sick.  He understood immediately what the man meant.  The reason no one had been able to find the rustlers was that a different man would do the job each time, just a few cattle at a stretch, so that even if one of them was spotted, he would have a valid alibi the next time a herd disappeared.  "What did you do with them?" he couldn't help asking. 

Jimmy and Bert both started laughing at the question.  "You're so smart, little man.  You tell us," Jimmy said.  "We been listening to your stories about that wanted desperado for the last month, so I figure you must already know the answer."  He winked broadly at Bert.  "Course, we did sort of help you liven those stories up just a little bit to get everyone looking the other way."

The tightening in the pit of Joe's stomach got worse.  He suddenly remembered all the times he had chattered away to these men about Desperado Dan, embellishing the story over and over to make it more interesting.  When had he lost control of them and started adding in details the cowboys provided for him?  Little Joe's face went pale as he recognized the truth.  He had actually provided cover for the real rustlers to rob everyone in the area blind, by distracting his family and neighbors with what was essentially just a pack of lies!  A soft moan was his only answer, and the outlaws roared with amusement at the small stricken sound.  Joe's gaze drifted back down to what remained of the cattle and he realized that he did, in fact, have the answer to his question of a moment ago.  "You've been moving all the stolen cattle right here, haven't you?" he blurted out.  "That's why the grazing is so worn out!"

The faces of the men darkened.  It was one thing to tease this kid with the knowledge, it was another to have him piece everything together.  "What should we do with him, Mike?"  Bert asked, grabbing Joe by the shirt collar, so tight he nearly choked. 

Mike stared at Joe coldly.  "We can't ransom him back to his Pa if we want to get away with all those cattle, especially since he can identify all of us.  I can't just kill him, either.  I might be a lot of things, but a child killer, I ain't."  Little Joe relaxed a little at hearing him say that.  He had been afraid the rustlers would do exactly that to keep him quiet.  Then he tensed again as Mike said,  "I reckon we'll have to keep him with us for a while."

Frank scowled.  "I don't like it.  Kidnapping is risky, and the minute Cartwright notices his boy is gone, he ain't gonna have far to look to figure out who's missing from his pay roster."

"He doesn't have to know it's us," Jimmy offered.  "All we need to do is stash the kid for a while and go back to the bunkhouse.  Cartwright can't afford not to start that cattle drive on time.  Even if he stays behind to search for Joe, you can just help him look in all the wrong places.  Then Bert and I can get caught drinking on the job, Adam will fire us, and we can meet you two back here, smuggle the kid out and nobody will ever be the wiser."

Mike thought it over; nodding slowly as the plan began to appeal to him.  "That just might work."

Bert repeated his earlier question a bit more forcefully.  "What do we do with him after we get away?  You don't want to kill him, you don't want to let him go, and you don't want to ransom him.  So, what does that leave?  We can't just drag him along with us from here on out!"

"Why don't you let me take care of that?" Frank said, smiling coldly at Joe.  "If he was to run away from home to try and collect the bounty on a certain notorious rustler, Little Joe just might have himself an accident.  It wouldn't be your fault if the kid was to get himself shot in a fair gunfight, now would it, Mike?"

Mike smiled.  "Guess it wouldn't, at that.  Better wait until we're far out of this territory, though.  I hear tell old Desperado Dan likes Arizona this time of year.  Reckon we can hang onto the boy for a couple of weeks?"

Frank grinned.  "Shouldn't be too tough."

Jimmy rummaged in Joe's saddlebags, coming up with an old handgun, the one his father permitted him to carry just to signal for help if need be.  Joe wished desperately that he'd had time to use it.  Though he was proficient with a sidearm, Ben Cartwright did not consider his youngest son old enough to wear a gunbelt yet, so that old pistol was all the protection he had.  Jimmy tossed the gun to Frank and pulled away the rope that had been neatly curled over Joe's saddle horn.  Little Joe was hoisted up into Cochise's saddle and the gang used the rope to tie his hands tightly to the saddle horn, looping an extra length of it beneath the horse's belly to tie Joe's feet together.  Evidently they were taking no chances.  Little Joe looked down at the four grinning faces, his heart sinking lower by the second.  Why hadn't he listened when his father told him to leave this whole mess to the law?  What was he supposed to do now?

Chapter 8

Little Joe soon found himself right where he had dreamed of being for weeks on end, the middle of the rustler's secret hideout.  Unfortunately, unlike his imaginings, where he would be triumphantly holding said rustlers bravely and single-handedly at bay until help arrived, Joe was at the thieves' mercy, and now longed to be anywhere else.  They had led his horse through a small draw at the opposite end of the meadow, a spot the boy vaguely recalled having found for himself years ago when he and his friends had come out here playing hide and seek.  With despair he remembered winning every one of those games when he had used this place to hide in, because it was so very well concealed. 

"How long are you going to keep me tied up here?" he demanded, after waiting for over an hour for something to happen.  The outlaws had stashed him in the corner of a small rock wall depression, not even deep enough to deserve the title of cave, and had left him there, trussed like a Christmas goose, while they discussed their plans in private.  "It's not like I'm gonna go anywhere with all of you standing around watching me!"

"Shut up, kid!" Jimmy's voice called back, looking up just long enough to shoot him a warning look.

Joe scowled.  His fear was still there, but it was quickly giving way to anger and irritation.  He was not supposed to be here, a victim of his own stupid overactive imagination.  How could these men have been doing something so underhanded and selfish all this time, while his family had trusted them and treated them so well?  The whole idea rankled at Joe's ingrained sense of fair play.  Clearly he had never really known any of them.  Then, a thought came to interrupt the barrage of self-recrimination that had been playing in a litany through the boy's mind.  If he did not know these men well, then perhaps they did not truly know him either.  Maybe he could use that to his advantage.  There were people in Virginia City, the ones with no sense of humor in his opinion, who were happy to tell anyone who would listen that Joe Cartwright was a trouble-maker, a spoiled rich brat, a monster with a cherub's face.  Not that he had ever done anything particularly worthy of all those titles, but play one or two pranks on the wrong person and you earned a reputation.  'If I could get the whole town believing in an outlaw no one has ever seen, then maybe I can get a few outlaws to believe in a reputation I never earned,' he mused.  'What the heck, I already know they don't plan to kill me yet.'

"Hey!" he shouted again.  "My arms are falling asleep, and I ain't had anything to eat all day!  Come on and untie me a while, huh?"

Frank came over to see him, glowering at him with a look that Joe was sure was intended to frighten him back into silence.  Instead, Joe turned his obnoxious tone up a notch.

"It's about time!  You know, even guys in prison get out of their chains once in a while, and they do get bread and water."  He scowled at the man, pleased when his empty stomach gave off with a well-timed growl at the mention of food.  "There, you see?  I'm hungry!"

The man waved a fist under his nose.  "Maybe I ought to feed this to you, boy!  Think that would do you for a while?"

Little Joe's insides quaked at the thought of the much larger cowboy beating him into pulp if he didn't shut up, but decided to push his luck just a bit.  "No, thanks.  I don't bother eating garbage."

Purple veins stood out on Frank's forehead at the insult and he reared his fist back, but before he could deliver it, the laughter of the other men brought him up short.  Mike sauntered up, a grin on his lined face.  "You got a lot of spunk, kid.  I've always said that about you.  Not a hell of a lot of sense, but a lot of spunk."  He clapped Frank on the back.  "Don't let him rile you.  Feed him, then maybe he'll give us some peace and quiet.  Jim and me are heading back to the bunkhouse.  Get him some food and water, then gag him and leave him in that cave where nobody can see him tonight, then come on back and join us.  Gotta make this look good, after all."

Joe's green eyes went wide as he took in the news that the outlaws planned to leave him here, tied up alone and helpless all night long. 

"Maybe I ought to just gag him now and save us all a lot of trouble," Frank growled, but went to get some hard tack and jerky out of a supply sack anyway.  He untied Joe's hands and handed him the food and a canteen.  "Don't get any funny ideas, kid.  I'm not about to take my eyes off of you until you're tied up tight again."

He kept his word, watching Joe like a hawk the entire time he nibbled his way through the unappetizing meal, doing his best to eat slowly and put off having his bonds restored.  The first bite of food made him realize just how hungry he truly was, and as he gnawed the stiff meat and hard bread, Little Joe thought with longing of the fried chicken and mashed potatoes Hop Sing had promised to serve for dinner back home. 

Finally, no matter how slowly he ate; Joe could not help swallowing the last few bites.  "All right, that's enough.  Hold out your hands, so I can tie you back up," Bert ordered, coming over to relieve the bored Frank, a fresh rope in his hands. 

Joe's mind scrambled to come up with a delaying tactic.  He needed to get a good look around.  It seemed to him that there was another way out of this little pocket of ground, other than the way they had come in and the more obvious way the cattle were clearly going to take out.  "Not yet!" he snapped.  "I don't know about you fellas; maybe you ain't human enough to bother, but I've gotta pee something awful, and I can't do it with my hands trussed together."  That was a lie.  He probably could do an adequate job with his hands tied, but fortunately, Bert and Frank did not test him.  They merely muttered something Joe did not understand, then Bert grabbed him by the arm and steered him a few yards away from the main campsite.  Joe frantically searched the area with his eyes, but was unable to spot the extra way in and out.  Slumping in defeat, he nearly forgot his excuse for coming out here.

"Well?" his guard demanded, when the boy merely stood there staring into the night for several minutes.  "You gotta go, or don't you?  I ain't got all night."

A startled jerk was Joe's only response as he mentally rejoined the party.  It was rather difficult to make anything happen with a fella standing right there looking at him, but with a small sigh, Joe turned his back and went about his business.  "Done," he said reluctantly a moment later.  Bert spun him back around toward camp without a word and shoved him forward.  Joe began to move, then stopped so suddenly he nearly got run over as he spotted what he had been looking for.  It was on the opposite side of the camp!  A tiny clearing, just a clump of shrubbery to the untrained eye, which Joe knew hid an old deer trail. 

Bert cursed at him and shoved him forward so hard that Joe nearly fell on his face, but managed to stumble and stay erect.  The way Joe saw it he had two choices.  It would be difficult to get to the hidden trail without being spotted while the gang was still around, but if he could talk them into leaving the ropes off for a while longer, that would make escape easier.  On the other hand, if he waited until his two remaining guards left for the night, he would have to escape the ropes, but would have a much better chance of getting help.  He would be able to get to his horse, and ride out, rather than trying to travel several miles in the dark, on foot, to get home.  Joe decided to bide his time. 

"I'm headed back," Frank grunted to his cohort, as the two came back into sight.  "We weren't supposed to be working together today so it'd probably look better if we got in separately."  Without waiting to see if his partner approved or not, the man swung up on his horse and kneed it into motion.  "Don't forget to tie him up tight, and gag him!" he shouted as he rode out. 

Bert grumbled a bit, clearly not liking having been left behind to take care of Little Joe, even for a few minutes, but he obeyed.  The captive was dragged roughly back to the rock depression and shoved down hard onto the mossy seat naturally formed in the stones.  When Joe's back hit the wall, a scattering of weeds and dust flew up at the impact.  His sinuses instantly went on the warpath and the boy began to sneeze violently.  Bert watched him, standing there with a rope in one hand and a bandanna gag in the other, clearly not sure what to do.  Joe saw his opportunity and grabbed it.  He bent forward with another sneeze, tensed his legs and charged forward, head-butting the surprised rustler in the gut as hard as he could.  Everyone in the family liked to joke about Joe having a hard head, and for once it came in handy.  Bert fell to the ground, wind completely knocked out of him and the boy snatched the rope and hog-tied him with lightning speed.  Not for nothing had Joe won the Founders Day roping and tying contest two years running!  He used the furious outlaw's own neck cloth to gag him with, then swiftly removed his gunbelt.  Unfortunately, it was made for a right-hander, but the boy simply made do, cinching the belt as tight as it would go and turning it around backward.  "That ought to hold you," he said with a huge satisfied grin.  "At least until the law can come and get you."

Little Joe ran over to retrieve his horse and grabbed the reins of Bert's horse just for good measure.  After a moment's debate, he decided not to use the hidden trail as he had planned to.  Bert could still see him from here, and if anything went wrong and it became necessary to sneak up on this camp again, it would be best to have the deer trail as a backup.  As he rode out, careful not to go too fast lest he run into Frank, a full-blown daydream flashed into Joe's mind.  He could see himself bravely leading Roy and a posse back to camp, only to find that the whole gang had come back, and was ready to shoot it out to prevent prison or the rope.  He, of course, would valiantly capture at least two outlaws himself, leaving the other two for Roy and his deputies, just so they would feel needed.  Afterward, he would tell his family and the grateful citizens of Virginia City how he had planned it this way all along, starting the rumors about Desperado Dan just to lull the real rustlers into a false sense of security.

Joe's first inkling that things might not be going his way after all came at that moment.  He passed the remainder of the herd, the ones the rustler had not had time to grab yet and pulled up short.  Hadn't there been about twice that many steers the last time he had seen them?   The click of a rifle sounded to Joe's left and he pulled his gun.  It was awkward to pull the backward pistol, but he managed to get it turned around and cocked before a shot rang out.  Joe hit the ground, and Cochise and the other horse took off toward the hills.

Chapter 9

"Where in tarnation can he be?" Hoss was the first to speak the words every member of the Cartwright family had been thinking for the last three hours.  "First he missed one of his favorite suppers, and now it's almost time to turn in and he still ain't showed up." 

"You don't suppose the little scalawag headed into town to have a last night of fun before the drive starts tomorrow, do you?"  Adam did not sound any too sure of his theory, but it was worth a try to deflect the anxious expression in his father's eyes.  "Figures he's a big man now, so he talked Sam into serving him a few beers and went to do a little bragging with his buddies."

Ben considered it, then shook his head.  "He promised he'd be home early for dinner so we could discuss all the last minute arrangements for tomorrow," he reminded them.  "As excited as he's been about this trip, I just don't see your brother doing anything to jeopardize his chances of going."

Hoss reluctantly spoke up.  "He didn't seem as keen about the drive yesterday morning, Pa.  Joe was trying to talk me into letting him stay behind and stake out the north rim looking for Desperado Dan.  I talked him out of it, though." That last was tacked on in a hurry when both Adam and Ben reared up in their seats, identical expressions of irritation stealing across their faces.

"Joe was headed up that way today to help the men move the remainder of the herd," Ben said slowly.  "You don't suppose he actually found anything dangerous, do you?"

"Of course not," Adam stated flatly.  "He just went out and had a look around while he was doing something useful, for a change.  I ran into Mike after Joe left, and he told me the kid was going up to help him and that new fella you hired get started on those busted fences after the herd was moved."

"I saw Mike ride in a little while ago when I was out in the barn," Hoss remembered.  He had made several trips out there after dinner, hoping to intercept his wayward sibling and warn him before Pa got his hands on him.  "He put up his horse and said howdy to me before he went into the bunkhouse with a couple of the others."

The three men rose as one, headed for the bunkhouse.

~*~*~*~*~

"Why no, Mr. Cartwright," Mike said, surprise clearly lacing his words.  "I figured you must've asked Little Joe to help out someplace else this afternoon.  Daniel and I went out and got started, but the boy never showed up to help.  I left Dan up there about four o'clock to finish up while I took a look at the next section that needed work.  I ain't seen hide nor hair of Joe all day.  Is something wrong?"

Ben slumped, realizing that his youngest son had quite possibly been missing for far longer than he had first suspected.  Ignoring the question, he looked around at the rest of the gathered hands and raised his voice to be heard by all of them.  "Has anyone here seen my son Joseph today, following this morning's round up of the north rim section?"

There were murmurs of dissent all over the room.  Nobody remembered seeing him after Joe had volunteered to gather those last few strays.  One of the men offered, "Maybe Daniel seen him after Mike left, and they're doing something together.  He ain't back either."

That statement seemed to catch quite a few of the men by surprise as they looked around and realized that Daniel Freeman had never made it back to the bunkhouse. 

"Desperado Dan!" Hoss exclaimed loudly, his eyes going round with alarm.  "Joe thought sure that new fella was actually Desperado Dan in disguise.  Golly, Pa, what if he was right?"

"Oh, Hoss, don't be ridiculous," Ben snapped.  He looked at Adam, expecting him to also chide his younger brother and offer up a more rational explanation.  To his surprise, Adam did nothing of the kind.  Instead he looked nervous and did not say a word.  "Adam, surely you don't believe that!"

"Well, Pa, I don't know."  Adam's voice was quietly tense.  "He asked Hoss and me to have a look and we couldn't entirely dispute that Freeman looked a lot like that poster Joe's been carrying around of Dan Briggs.  I told him it was just a coincidence, but now I'm not so sure."

Another of the men stepped forward, his face a bit pale.  "Mr. Cartwright, I thought the same thing.  You know we always like to give the new men a little razzing, just to make them feel welcome?  Well, sir, this morning I was teasing Freeman about how much he looked like Desperado Dan.  I told him to watch out or I'd turn him in for that fat reward they're offering in town.  I was only kidding, Mr. Cartwright, honest, but he got kinda mad.  Told me to shut up and mind my own business."

The din of conversation that statement caused made it impossible to make any sense of what was going on.  Apparently several of the hands had been in on the teasing, and agreed that the new hand had not taken it with as much sense of humor as they'd expected.  He had seemed downright steamed about it, and now both he and the famous outlaw's most dedicated hunter were both missing.  Three men backed stealthily away from the others to where they would not be overheard, as the Cartwrights tried to quiet the rest back down.

"Mike, is what he says true?" Frank hissed.  "Did Freeman really show up to work today or were you just saying that?  Was he riled about the teasing this morning?"

"I saw him, just like I said," Mike replied.  "I left a mite earlier than I claimed, but Freeman was still hard at work at the time.  He didn't say a thing about this morning.  Matter of fact, he didn't say anything at all, hardly."

"You don't suppose," Jimmy whispered nervously.

"No I don't!" snapped Mike.  "This is the perfect cover for us, though, don't you see that?  Maybe Dan just figured he wasn't welcome here and lit out.  Anyhow, it don't matter, cause this is better than we could've asked for.  Anyone asks us any questions, we just shift the suspicion all onto him."

"What about Bert?" Frank muttered.  "He should've been back here an hour ago.  You think something happened?"

"I think maybe we'd best go find out as soon as everyone else goes to sleep," Mike growled.  "It's getting a little hot around here all of a sudden, and I'd just as soon make sure.  If anyone asks, we can say we got worried and went looking for the kid and Dan."  The other two smiled and rejoined the rest of the men as the talk finally died.

"Let's not jump to any conclusions," Ben ordered.  "Let's just stick with the facts.  Joseph is a few hours late and so is Mr. Freeman.  That may mean nothing more serious than that one of their horses pulled up lame and they ran into each other and are making their way back more slowly than usual.  It does not mean that Freeman is a rustler, or that Joe is in any danger."

Hoss and Adam glanced at each other.  Their father sounded as if he was trying to convince himself right along with the ranch hands.  Adam chimed in.  "My father is right!  All we came out here for was to find out if anyone had seen Little Joe, not to accuse anyone of anything. I'm sure that Joe will turn up in just a little while with a good excuse.  Now, we've still got a cattle drive to start in the morning, so I want all you men to turn in."

"What if Little Joe ain't back by first light?" The question came from Rusty, one of Joe's best friends among the hands.  "You want a couple of us to stay behind and help you look for him, Mr. Cartwright?  I'm volunteering, if you are."  It was clear that he was not expecting Ben Cartwright to ride out with the rest in the morning if his son was still missing.  The men all knew their employer far too well for that.

Ben smiled tightly.  "I'm sure he'll be back any minute, but if he's not, then I'll accept your offer.  Thank you, Rusty."

The man nodded, looking a little worried as he slowly moved back to sit on his bunk.  The rest of the men also drifted back to their places as the Cartwright family left them, whispered conversations beginning again all across the room.   The rumor mill would be working overtime that night.

~*~*~*~*~

A little after midnight, the sound of a galloping horse entering the yard caused a minor stampede.  Ben, Hoss and Adam had all, at one time or another, urged each other to turn in for the night, or expressed the intention of doing so themselves.  Nobody had moved from his chair, however.  Now, as the sound of hooves got louder, they rushed toward the door, relief, worry, and anger warring for domination in each of their hearts.

Ben flung open the door and marched outside.  The sight that met his eyes sent a cold chill through him.  It was Cochise and another horse, but no riders.  Both animals were saddled and their flanks heaved, sweat dripping off their coats in foamy droplets.  Cochise shied when Hoss tried to grab his reins, but the big man got a good hold on the halter and calmed him down.  Adam checked the saddles for blood or any other sign of trouble. There were none.

"Who was riding this other horse today?  Was it Dan Freeman?" Ben demanded.

"No, sir, it was Bert Cooper," the voice that answered the question startled the Cartwrights, as they had not heard Rusty emerge from the bunkhouse.  He shrugged when he saw their surprise at finding him still up.  "I've been waiting around, hoping Joe would make it home.  Nobody mentioned it, but I noticed a while back that Bert was gone too.  He was riding Feather today."

"So, now we have three missing people," Adam said, rubbing a hand over his hair in an agitated style.  "Joe, Dan and Bert."

"Six," Rusty corrected.  At the three questioning looks he received, the cowboy explained.  "Mike, Jim and Frank snuck out of here about twenty minutes ago.  I followed as far as the cutoff toward the north section, but they were on horseback and I wasn't, so I came back here to get you."

Silent communication passed among the Cartwrights.  Adam then nodded grimly.  "It fits Pa.  One of those four have been missing every time a string of cattle has been reported missing.  They have been providing alibis for each other an awful lot lately, too."

"And Little Joe was out in the north section alone with some prime bait," Ben said grimly.  He saw the guilty look leap into Adam's eyes, and placed a hand on his shoulder.  "It's not your fault, son.  None of us suspected a thing."

Hoss could not believe what they were saying, though he, too, had arrived at the conclusion that his father and brother had obviously reached.  "Somehow, I could buy the notion that Bert and Jim been up to no good.  I never trusted those two no how, but Frank and Mike have been with us for years."  The big man shook his head sadly.  "Pa, we gotta go out and start looking for Joe, right now.  We can't wait until the morning."

Ben hesitated for the slightest fraction of a second, realizing that all of them were possibly still jumping to conclusions and assigning blame with no solid proof, but then he said, "Let's head out to the north rim.  Adam, grab some medical supplies in case we need them.  Hoss, get some extra lanterns out of the tack room.  Rusty, you with us?"

"You bet I am," he told them firmly. 

"Good, then go saddle our three horses and one for yourself.  Go to Virginia City and get Roy Coffee and his men out here right away.  Tell them everything."  The three younger men scattered, and Ben looked up at the peacefully twinkling stars overhead.  He hoped somebody up there was looking out for his youngest.  Sending up a silent prayer, the Cartwright patriarch went inside to get his gear.

Chapter 10

Little Joe scrambled back away from the figure approaching him in the dark, eyes wild with panic.  He had not had time to get a good look at his attacker before he had felt the impact of a gunshot to his left arm.  He had dropped the reins in shock, barely able to register the wound before his horse had reared and dumped him out of the saddle.  Suddenly, it occurred to the boy that he still held the rustler's gun in his hand, his fingers having tightened into a death grip on the butt when the bullet hit.  He pointed it at the approaching shadow, pulling the hammer back with his right hand.  "Stay back!"

"Whoa, boy, you just put that down," the man ordered.  Joe held on, even though he doubted he could hit anything, the way his hands were shaking.  The other seemed to notice this too, for he added,  "You're in no shape to do me any harm with that pistol, kid, so you might as well do as I say." 

The moonlight glinted off the barrel of the rifle as it was raised to point dead straight at his head.  Joe did not need to be told that it was already cocked and ready, or that he would be a fool to try and win in a face off.  He had no choice anyway, as it turned out.  His left arm suddenly refused to support the weight of the gun anymore and flopped to the ground, causing Little Joe to whimper involuntarily at the stab of pain the abrupt motion caused. "What do you want with me?" he asked, in a voice that trembled as much as his hands had done.

The man casually lowered the rifle to his side and knelt down next to Joe, removing the gun from his hand.  He then surprised him by taking his injured arm in a strong but gentle grasp and examining the wound.  "Not bad," he commented.  "It needs a little cleaning, maybe a few stitches, but it's just a graze.  I wasn't trying to kill you, you know, just keep you from shooting me before we'd had a chance to talk like civilized folk."

Little Joe watched and listened, too shocked to say a word in the face of the conversational tone coming from a man who had just shot him.  "Talk?" he squeaked finally.

Joe's captor winked at him as he tied a bandanna around the bleeding arm.  "I wasn't expecting to see anybody out here this time of night, particularly not The Cartwright Kid.  Why you out here, Cartwright Kid?" 

Joe frowned.  It was quite clear from the way he said the name, like a title or something, that this man was making fun of him.  "You were stealing our cattle," he said hesitantly.  It just did not seem possible that there were more than one set of rustlers, but if not, where were the rest of the cattle that should have been grazing here?

"Well, now, that's a fact," he said cheerfully.  "That's what I do, you know.  Course the rest of that malarkey about gunning down innocent folks who get in my way, and all the pretty window dressings you added on aren't facts at all."

A gulp sounded audibly as Little Joe tried to bring some moisture back to a throat that had suddenly become terribly parched.  "M-Mr. Freeman," he started.

Daniel Freeman cocked an eyebrow and smiled as he finished tying off his makeshift bandage and pulled Joe up into a normal sitting position on the ground.  "Call me Dan," he suggested.  "You already know my last name ain't really Freeman, don't you?"

"Oh, uh, yeah, I g-guess I do," Joe stammered.  His heart was thundering and his thoughts were whirling too fast to keep up with. "I told my b-brothers who you were, but they didn't believe me."  Joe was not quite sure why he had volunteered that information, but he could not think of anything else to say.

"No?"  Dan's eyes narrowed.  "Funny, everyone else certainly seemed to.  I figured those fellas in the bunkhouse were only fooling when they said they knew who I was and were gonna turn me in for the reward, but they had to have got the idea from someone.  Wouldn't happen to know who that someone is, would we now, Cartwright Kid?"

"Why do you keep calling me that?" Joe asked in sudden irritation.  He was scared, tired and in pain, and beginning to fall into a state of high indignation over being kidnapped twice in the same day.  "My name ain't The Cartwright Kid.  It's just plain Joe Cartwright, or Little Joe if you'd rather."

Dan smiled at him, a wry smile with a hint of genuine humor in it.  "Well, Little Joe, you seem to be awful fond of pinning nicknames onto folks, so I figured you must have a fancy one of your own.  I really think you could've come up with something better for me, though." A pained expression crossed the man's face. "Desperado Dan?"

Joe blanched a bit at the name.  Somehow, he had not quite believed the truth of his situation until that name was spoken out loud.  "You mean, you really are?"

"All depends," the man said.  "Yes, I really am Dan Briggs, or Daniel Freeman Briggs, if you want the whole truth, and yes, I am wanted for cattle rustling.  I am not, however, a murderer.  That was just something that was pinned on me after my former partner shot a man we'd been working for.  The rancher's boy got a mite confused as to who pulled that trigger, I reckon.  I wasn't even there at the time, but I figured nobody would believe that, so I lit out.  A reputation has a way of growing if you do nothing to stop it, but mine was pretty well forgotten up until a month or two ago."

"Is that when you got to Nevada?" Joe asked in a small voice, unsure if he should feel ashamed or frightened.  In fact, he felt a little of both.

"Not long after," Briggs agreed, pulling Joe to his feet and gesturing for him to walk back the way he had come on Cochise.  There was another small bluff in that direction and the outlaw gestured for Joe to sit down when they reached it.  The boy's wobbly knees were very much in favor of that idea, so he sat and listened.  Briggs took a seat as well, rifle pointing casually toward his captive, a silent warning not to try anything.  "I find it pays to scope out a place before I make a move.  Now, just imagine my surprise when I started hearing all these wild stories about some infamous rustler named Desperado Dan, who was already terrorizing the countryside.  I figured the territory must be pretty well picked clean, judging by those stories, but I stuck around a while longer.  Imagine my further, much greater surprise, at discovering that I was Desperado Dan.  I did a little checking around, and it seems like every person who had one of those tall tales to share, had originally heard it from a little boy on a big cattle ranch outside of town."

Joe's downcast chin rose sharply at hearing himself referred to as a little boy.  His eyes flashed and it was only the answering flash of light on the pointing gun barrel that halted the sharp retort he had been about to make.

"I decided I had to meet this storyteller who managed in one month to get the price on my head raised from five hundred dollars, to two thousand."  The outlaw was no longer smiling.  In fact, his gaze had gone very hard and accusing.

A blush crept up Little Joe's neck and into his cheeks.  He supposed he had done exactly that.  "I'm sorry," he tried.  "I didn't mean for it to get out of hand like that.  I just wanted to impress my family, but the story kind of got away from me.  The next thing I knew, it seemed like everybody had heard of you and the story just kept getting bigger, until even I didn't know what parts were true.  I didn't do all of it, though!  It was the rustlers that spread it around!"

"The rustlers," Dan said flatly. 

"Yeah!"  Joe forgot to whom he was speaking for a moment, as his enthusiasm took over.  "There's four of them.  They worked for us, only it turns out they weren't really working for us at all.  They were just using the Ponderosa as a hideout while they picked the area clean.  They kidnapped me this afternoon, but I got away, and that's why I'm out here so late.  I was going to get the sheriff when you stopped me."

For a long moment, the outlaw simply stared at him, then he threw his head back and started laughing.  "Oh, kid, you are good!  For a minute there, you actually had me going!  Any more and I might have actually started believing that I had competition around here, and let you go just to divert the law's attention to those other fellas and away from me!" 

Little Joe was stunned.  "You mean you don't believe me?"

Dan chuckled.  "If you were me, would you believe a story like that?  Especially considering the source?"

Joe bristled at the insult.  "It's true!  I admit that I kind of messed things up for you, but if you hadn't been rustling cattle in the first place, you never would have had a price on your head.  If you didn't have a price on your head, there'd be no wanted poster with your face on it, and I never would have seen it to make up stories about.  It's not my fault the other gang of rustlers is smarter than you!"

"And just what do you mean by that?" Dan demanded. 

"They told me that they helped grow those stories of mine, and spread them around, so that nobody would look anywhere but you when they started stealing cattle from this area," Joe told him triumphantly.  "Until I saw them, I never would have believed that Mike and Frank could be rustlers, but I suspected you the moment I saw you."

Joe tossed his head in a gesture that very clearly added 'So there!' to his statement.  His fear of Dan Briggs was fading fast, and disappointment was quickly replacing it.  As hard as it had been to accept that four of his family's most trusted hands were no-good thieves, this was somehow worse.  As often as he had dreamed of a face to face confrontation with the notorious Desperado Dan, it was extremely hard to take that the real person was this well-spoken, personable, and apparently none-too-nefarious man sitting across from him.  Famous outlaws were simply not supposed to be so darned likable!  He did not even look mean and dangerous, not at all like his poster.

Dan, for his part, expressed surprise when Joe named the other rustlers.  "Mike?  You mean the fella I was repairing fence lines with this morning?"

"That's right," Joe grunted.  "He, Frank, Bert, and Jimmy are the ones who've been stealing cattle from all my neighbors, and from us too, I guess, though you probably swiped some of them yourself."

Briggs still looked doubtful.  "Why should I believe you?"

Joe shrugged.  "I can prove it.  I left Bert tied up back at their camp.  That was his horse I was leading when you scared Cochise.  Before you shot me!"  He was suddenly furious about that, as the pain in his arm flared up again.

"I'm sorry about that, all right?" Briggs snapped.  "Geez, kid, calm down.  It's only a scratch.  Haven't you ever seen a gunshot wound before?"

"It's the first time I've ever seen one on me!" Joe shouted.  His voice was getting higher and louder as his emotions suddenly took over. "You scared off my horse, and I'm wounded, and now I'm your prisoner, just after I finally got away from those others.  My Pa is probably worried sick, and I'm gonna miss the drive, and you'll probably kill me, and nobody will know I found the rustlers, and Mike and them will all get away Scot free, and it's all your fault!"

"My fault?" Dan exclaimed, growing a bit angry himself.  "You're the one who couldn't keep his mouth shut, and you're the one who decided to hare off looking for rustlers on his own.  Your Pa told me specifically to go get help if I saw anything suspicious, and if he told me, I know he told you!  Sorry, kid, but you dug your own grave on this one." 

Joe looked away.  Dan was right.  He hadn't obeyed his father and everything had gone wrong.  There was nobody to blame except himself.

Dan spent several long minutes looking at the boy in front of him.  Little Joe was holding on to his wounded arm, staring defiantly into the night, but even in the moonlight, Dan could see the slight wobble in that jutted out chin and the shimmer of tears in those angrily flashing eyes.  He asked, "How old are you, kid?"

"Sixteen," Joe mumbled, wondering what that had to do with anything.

A deep sigh met that answer.  "I was just your age when I rustled my first steer.  My family was going hungry and a couple of fellas told me they knew where I could get some fresh meat if I'd just do them a favor.  My Pa forbade me to go, but I wouldn't listen to him.  Thought I knew what was best.  By the time I realized what I was getting into, it was too late.  I'd been spotted along with the others.  We were being shot at and I had no choice but to run.  I couldn't go home again, so I figured I might as well stick with those fellas for a while."  He shook his head.  "Now, I wish I'd never laid eyes on them."

"You were just in the wrong place, at the wrong time?" Little Joe asked quietly.  "Like me?"

"Yep," Dan agreed,  "And I made a couple of mistakes in judgment, just like you did.  I'm going to pay for those mistakes for the rest of my life, however long that lasts.  I can't stop running, I can't settle down, and I'll never see my own family again."

A deep pang of sadness reverberated through Joe at those words.  "Will I?"

Briggs smiled and patted the teenager on the shoulder of his good arm.  "I already told you, Little Joe.  I'm a rustler, not a murderer, and I'm no kidnapper either.  You'll see your family again, but you're going to have to forget you ever saw me, or the cattle I intend to take along with me."

Joe was sorely tempted to accept, knowing somehow that Briggs would keep his word and let him go if he agreed, but Joe also knew that if he gave his word to this man, he would have to stick to it.  "I can't," he whispered.

Chapter 11

Hoss knelt in the dirt, holding a lamp aloft in one hand as he softly ran his hand along the sparse blades of grass growing along the hillside where he, his father and brother had stopped.  "They definitely came this way, Pa," he said decidedly.  "The grass in this area is bent over and crunched down from the tracks of at least three horses riding fast.  Looks like Rusty was right about where they were headed."

"Let's go," Ben ordered.  The even tone of his voice did very little to mask the tension, and fear for his youngest boy, that rode just beneath the surface.

"He'll be all right, Pa," Adam said, his tone firm with reassurance for himself as much as the others.  "Little Joe might be an expert at getting into trouble, but he's just as talented at wiggling out of it again.  You know that."

Hoss remounted and added his two cents worth.  "That's right, Pa.  Why, I wouldn't be surprised if Joe's got all four of them fellas rounded up and tied, and begging for mercy by now.  Especially if he's making all of them listen to some of his tall tales."

Ben smiled at them, appreciating their efforts.  "Let's go find him and see if he needs a little help anyway, all right?"

Without bothering to answer, the two younger men nudged their horses into motion and all three rode straight for the north rim, moving fast but still keeping their eyes busy scanning the darkness around them for any sign of ambush or secret hideouts. 

~*~*~*~*~

"Damn it, Bert, how could you let that kid get the drop on you?" Mike demanded; swearing as he worked to untie the knots Little Joe had used.  No doubt about it, the boy knew how to truss a man up to where he wasn't getting away.  Impatiently, Jimmy reached over and whipped a razor sharp knife through the ropes, freeing his cohort in a matter of seconds.  "I just don't get it.  You had a gun trained on him, you could see his every move, and yet you still managed to let a sixteen year old kid the best of you."

"I know, I know, don't rub it in," Bert growled.  He rubbed his wrists, trying to restore the circulation, and shrugged at the three pairs of accusing eyes that were trained on him.  "I don't know how he did it.  I was gonna tie him up, but then he started sneezing like his head was gonna come off, and the next thing I know I'm on the ground trying to breathe and he's tying me up with my own rope!  I don't know!"

Frank blew out a disgusted breath.  "I knew I should've shot the little wretch when I had the chance.  If we'd just done that in the first place and stashed the body, the Cartwrights wouldn't have been any the wiser and we could've got away with all of it.  The way things stand now; we'll be lucky to make it out of here with the shirts on our backs.  No way we can go back to the bunk house now."

"Why not?" Jimmy asked.  "Nobody knows we're gone."

"Because, stupid," Frank snapped. "Joe is probably home by now, or will be soon, spilling the whole story to his old man.  You know what Cartwright is going to do when he hears it, don't you?"

Bert wrapped a hand around his own throat and made gagging noises.  Jimmy went a bit pale.  He had been rather hesitant about this plan when Frank and Mike had first proposed it; unsure if he wanted to risk his new job and maybe even his life for this, but they had made it all seem so easy.  Bert had been a little unsure as well, having never done any dishonest work before, but both of them had been lured by the temptation of easy pickings and fast money.  Up until a few hours ago, everything had seemed to be running smooth as silk.  Then Little Joe had gotten involved.  Jimmy had been glad when Mike had not been willing to kill the boy, but Frank's eagerness to do the job had made him nervous.  Now, there looked to be no choice.  He had just turned into a wanted man, and there was no choice but to stick with the gang and ride it out.

Mike cast a long look at the softly lowing herd of rustled cattle beyond the camp, and shook his head.  "Sure do wish we dared to take this bunch of beauties with us.  They'd fetch a damn fine price."  He sighed regretfully.  "No use, though.  It'll be hard enough to stay ahead of the posse as it is, without letting them slow us down."

"So we get nothing to show for our efforts at all," Frank spat.  "All that work just gone, and all because of that damned kid.  If I ever run into him again, I'll make him regret the day he was ever born!"

"Aw, calm down," Bert told him.  "Blaming Little Joe ain't gonna do no good.  It might just as well have been one of the others.  What matters now is getting out of here while our skins are still in one piece."

"He's right," Mike said, interrupting the retort he could see Frank beginning to make.  "Let's just get on our horses and ride before somebody notices we're gone."

"Uh."  The sound was hesitant, and a trifle embarrassed.  Mike, Frank and Jimmy all turned to look at the man who'd made it.  He shuffled in place.  "The kid took my horse when he rode out."

Frank gave him a cold look.  "Well, then I guess you'll just have to find yourself another one or start walking, Bert.  I sure as hell ain't risking my neck letting you ride double with me!"

Bert's mouth dropped open in surprise.  Surely they would not just leave him here to be captured!  Frank twisted his horse's head around and started moving, Mike sneered at him and did the same.  Jimmy hesitated for a moment, then gave him a look of apology.  "I wish I could, Bert, but it's every man for himself now."  He too, turned and rode away.

The sound of rifles clicking interrupted the protest Bert was about to voice.  Ben Cartwright's distinctive voice shouted, "Drop your weapons!"

Not about to go down without a fight, the mounted outlaws turned and fired up at the rocks as they rode back into the canyon, amid a hail of answering gunshots.  Bert ducked back into the safety of the rocks where he had held the youngest Cartwright captive only a few hours earlier.  It was a well-lit night; the earlier rain clouds having cleared off to allow the nearly full moon to emerge big and bright above them. Still, even the brightest of moonlight could not compete with the light of day, and the others managed to get off their horses and under cover without getting shot. 

"There's only two ways in or out of this draw, men," Adam called down,  "And we've got them both covered.  Now let my brother go and come on out."

The outlaws looked at each other in surprise.  "They don't know the kid got away," Mike said, a gleam filling his eye.  He yelled up toward the voice he'd heard.  "We ain't letting him out of our sight until you give us all safe passage out of here!  We'll take him out a few miles just to make sure you don't try anything foolish, then let him go.  If you don't, I'll just shoot him right here and now.  We got nothing to lose, Ben!"

~*~*~*~*~

From the safety of the high end of the draw, Ben Cartwright heard the words and slumped.  The man was right.  They had nothing to lose, while he most certainly did.  Unfortunately, it was all but impossible to see the outlaws from the top of the bluff, hidden in the nighttime shadows as they were.  They could all too easily kill Joseph before he or his other two sons could make a single move to stop them.  A thought occurred to him, and Ben rose up a bit, signaling Hoss with a single wave of his light colored hat.  Hoss gave an answering wave and popped his head up, keeping well back out of sight of the men below.  Hoping his son could see him clearly, Ben moved his hand in a half-circle, then pointed to his eyes and back to his son, indicating that he wanted Hoss to move from his position and circle the low end of the bluff.  It was a risk, but Hoss was the only one at a vantage point to possibly get a look at Joe and determine where he was being held without being detected.  If they could find him, then perhaps they could figure out a way to rescue him without getting anyone killed. 

"We're not letting you go," Ben called, "but I'm willing to talk this over, maybe strike a deal.  Just don't hurt my son."  Ben hoped to keep the gang distracted and talking long enough for Hoss to complete his mission.

~*~*~*~*~

From inside his rock cover, Bert licked his lips nervously.  After what had happened a moment ago, he had no illusions that the deal his cohort was trying to make included him.  He was still in the same fix as before; no horse and no gun.  Realizing that the other three men were not watching him, and that the Cartwright family would not shoot him if he were to come out with hands up, Bert decided to take his chance on escaping. 

Creeping out of his hiding place, he was halfway to the same exit that Little Joe had taken earlier when Jimmy spotted movement and shouted.  Suddenly, gunfire erupted everywhere, from behind him as Frank recognized his escape attempt, and from above as the Cartwrights responded to the sounds of shooting by firing back.  Bert dropped to the ground and scurried frantically toward the opening, just as Hoss appeared. 

It took the big man all of a quarter second to determine the greater threat.  He grabbed the scrambling outlaw in one huge paw and fired a round of shots at the remaining men.  Bert grunted in pain as a bullet made contact with his thigh and Hoss heard somebody else scream.  He took a fast, frantic look around the camp, but there was no sign of Little Joe, nor could he see anyone else.  With a curse, Hoss hauled his captive back out of the canyon and made his way up to Ben, praying that the yelp of agony he had heard had not been Little Joe's death cry.

Chapter 12

Half a mile away from where his family was creeping up on the band of rustlers, Little Joe was having problems of his own. "But if you give yourself up to Sheriff Coffee, I promise I'll try and talk him into going easy on you," he was begging. "If what you told me is true and you never killed anybody, then it won't be so bad."

Dan Briggs groaned and slapped his hat down across his knee in frustration, reaching a hand up to scrub at the long, lank waves of his dark hair. "Little Joe, I swear, talking to you is like trying to talk to a brick wall. I've told you already, I am not going to surrender to the sheriff. Just because I never killed anyone doesn't mean that I'm not going to get my neck stretched by the good citizens of Virginia City, once they find out I'm your Desperado Dan. All the sweet words and fast talk in the world aren't going to help me then. All they'll care about is that I've been rustling cattle, theirs or someone else's. That's still a hanging offense, you know."

"They don't have to know about that part," Joe insisted. "I'll have to tell them about the cattle if they ask, but nobody has to know who you really are except the sheriff and my Pa. They won't tell if they know it means your life, especially after I talk to them. You didn't actually steal any of our cattle yet, right?"

Dan could feel Joe's persuasive powers working on him, hard as he tried to stop them, and found himself shaking his head. "Not from you, but I've stolen a couple dozen from other places over the years."

"A couple dozen," Joe's voice was filled with disbelief and unmistakable disappointment. "That's all? In ten years you've only rustled a couple dozen head?"

Dan gave him a sour look. "It's seven years, thank you very much, and yes. I stole around a dozen on my first job, and I've picked off one or two here and there, when I couldn't find any work to keep from going hungry. I figured that what I was going to take from you would be enough to set me up for quite some time." His tone was defensive.

"Okay, I'm sorry," Joe said grumpily. This was getting worse all the time, from the standpoint of all of his cherished daydreams. "That's kind of good for you, though. If you haven't rustled all that many, then maybe you'll get a lighter sentence than hanging. Especially if I go to court and explain things for you."

"You keep saying that!" Briggs was practically shouting. "Why should your word hold so much weight with everyone? Why are they going to believe some kid who likes to spin tall tales, when he goes to tell them that an outlaw he's run into really isn't such a bad guy after all, so they shouldn't hang him?"

"I'm a Cartwright," the boy said simply. "That means something to most of the people around here, and they'll believe me because I'll tell everyone that I made a mistake about you, and that Desperado Dan isn't really a real person."

Briggs studied the serious childish face in front of him. The boy was clearly willing to tell the truth, no matter what the embarrassment and cost to his own reputation, if it would help undo the wrong he had done to another. Despite himself, Dan was touched. "I believe you, Little Joe, and that's damned decent of you, but I'm afraid I can't accept the offer. You believe in what you're saying, that's plain enough, but I just can't risk my life to see whether or not you're right. I'm sorry."

The young rustler rose and moved to recover his horse from a small stand of trees nearby, where he had left the animal tied. Placing his rifle back in its scabbard, Dan trained his pistol on Little Joe and ordered him to his feet. Joe never took his eyes off the cocked gun as he slowly obeyed the order. He had become comfortable in the other's presence as they talked and had forgotten that he was still in great danger. It was clear that Dan Briggs, no matter how nice he seemed, still held his own hide a lot dearer than his captive's, and that he would, if he had to, be willing to make a necessary sacrifice to retain his freedom. "What do you figure on doing with me?" he asked quietly.

"You and I are going to get up on this horse and ride for a few miles," Dan told him calmly. "When I figure we're far enough that you can't go running for help right away, I'm going to let you off, give you this extra canteen on my saddle, and you can just walk yourself on home. You seem like a smart kid, so I have no doubt you know how to get along on your own for a day or two, and find your way back home. By the time you get there, I'll be long gone."

He gestured with the gun for Joe to get up on the horse, keeping the reins in a tight grip so that the boy would not try anything. Little Joe inched slowly over to him, searching his face for any sign that he might be willing to change his mind about turning himself in. There was none. Reluctantly, Joe climbed aboard the horse and Dan swiftly mounted up behind him.

Holding the gun against the boy's ribs while still handling the reins could not have been an easy task, but Briggs seemed to be managing with unfortunate ease. They headed for a small turnoff, just before the canyon where the stolen cattle were being held, that led to one of the back roads of the Ponderosa. Joe's heart sank; realizing that if they went that way, they could very easily go undetected by anyone searching for them. Clearly, his captor had studied the layout of the ranch well before coming here.

Telling himself that he had to be ready for any lapse in concentration, or any useful distraction, Joe held himself tense and nervous in the saddle. Dan seemed to think nothing of it, but then of course, he was the one holding the gun, so perhaps it was to be expected. Joe's chance came along a lot sooner than he had hoped for. Multiple gunshots suddenly rang through the quiet night, from the direction of the bluff.

Startled, Dan automatically turned his own gun toward the sound, taking his attention away from Little Joe.

Joe did not waste any time. Snatching the slackened reins in his left hand, Joe half-turned and drove his elbow straight back into Dan's ribs as hard as he could, at the same time tensing his legs around the body of the horse and jerking the reins. Dan had been given Twilight to ride that morning. She was one of the horses Joe himself had gentled, and he knew just how this particular animal would react to what he was doing. On cue, Twilight reared straight up. Prepared for the movement, Joe leaned forward and held on tight. Dan, busy with the pain of a very sharp elbow thrust, was not prepared at all, and went flying backward. He landed hard on the ground, and Joe drove his heels into the horse's flanks with a wild yell, turning her head toward the canyon.

With a curse, Dan jumped up and leveled his gun toward the retreating figure. He took careful aim, then put the gun down, shaking his head. "You're something else, kid," he muttered, rubbing ruefully at what he was almost sure was a cracked rib.

~*~*~*~*~

Adam had been methodically covering the area below with shots from a variety of angles, none aimed too close, since he did not know exactly where either of his younger brothers might be. The idea had been to give the false impression that there were several gunmen waiting for the outlaws, rather than just himself and Ben. When Hoss appeared, hauling an obviously wounded man under his arm, Adam's heart skipped a beat, momentarily mistaking the other figure for Joe. Disappointment and anger flowed through him when he got a good look and recognized Bert Cooper instead.

Hoss tossed his captive none too gently on the ground before Ben. Adam made his way closer, still keeping an eye out for any sign of activity below, but wanting to hear. Ben grabbed Bert by the neck cloth around his throat and hoisted him up several inches. The outlaw gulped as his former employer thundered, "Where is my son? By heaven, if you've hurt so much as one hair on that boy's head, hanging is going to seem like a welcome relief to you!"

"Pa, let him down," Adam said sharply. He echoed his father's sentiments precisely, but it was clear from the way he was being held that Cooper would not be able to say a word if he wanted to. "He can't tell us what we need to know like this."

With great effort, Ben forcibly checked his temper. He had not intended to react so strongly, but all the terrible images that had been assaulting his mind since he'd first discovered that Joe was missing had come to the fore. He let go and waited.

Bert looked up at the three hostile faces above him, wondering if throwing himself on the Cartwrights' mercy had been such a good idea after all. "He's not hurt," he offered hastily, and was rewarded by a slight lessening of the menacing tension in the air. "Or at least he wasn't."

Perceiving the words as a threat to his baby brother, Adam stepped closer, his eyes blazing. "What do you mean by that? What are they planning to do to him?"

"No!" Bert cried swiftly, realizing his mistake. "What I mean is, he wasn't hurt the last time I saw him! Little Joe escaped."

"Escaped?" Hoss asked blankly. He looked at Adam and Ben, seeing equal bewilderment in their eyes. "Are you saying that my little brother ain't down there at all?"

"That's right," the rustler said eagerly. "We did have him. Joe snuck up on us while we were grabbing some of those steers you pastured around here, and we had to grab him to keep you from finding out, but he got away."

Adam demanded, "How?" just as Ben barked, "When?"

Bert tried to answer both questions at once. "The fellas left me to watch him a couple hours ago and he got the drop on me. Tied me up and escaped with my horse."

Narrowing his eyes suspiciously, Adam asked, "Why are you telling us this? Why didn't you try and bluff us like the others were doing?"

"I didn't want to get killed," he said frankly. "Mike and them were willing to leave me behind to take my chances, so I figured, why get myself shot for them? If I help you, maybe I got a chance of getting out of this whole mess alive."

"Makes sense," Hoss grunted, the contempt in his eyes in no way lessened by the man's self serving confession. "What happened to Joe after he got the drop on you?"

"Like I said, he took my horse and his own, and lit out of here. Opposite of the way you must have come in by, if you didn't see him. The kid is probably home by now." Bert grimaced as pain ripped through his wounded leg. "You ain't gonna let me sit here and bleed to death, are you?"

"We ought to do just that," Adam grunted, defying his words by pulling out a handkerchief and using it to make a pressure bandage against the wound. "I want you alive to meet the judge, though, so it's your lucky day."

Leaving his sons to watch the prisoner, Ben moved back to his former position against the rocks. He could not see anything below, but knowing that if Bert were telling the truth, then Little Joe was out of danger, Ben knew he no longer had to be as careful about where he aimed if he should spot something. All they had to do now was wait for Roy and his men to show up, then they could go back home and make sure Joe was all right. Ben prayed that his youngest would have the good sense to stay where he was once he reached the safety of home.

~*~*~*~*~

Unaware of his father's fervent wish, or of his position not fifty yards away, Little Joe carefully tied up Twilight and crept closer. He had heard shouting as he drew near, and recognized his father's voice bouncing off the canyon walls. It had been impossible to determine exactly where it was coming from, then everything had gone eerily silent after the last barrage of gunfire. Joe was terribly worried that the outlaws had captured or killed one or more of his family. He had to get close enough to find out.

Finding the deer trail in the dark was not easy, but knowing where to look had helped a great deal. Little Joe crept forward a few inches at a time, careful not to disturb so much as a single branch or twig that might give away his location. He could hear voices just ahead, as he reached the far end of the hidden trail, and left his hiding spot, keeping to the shadows where he knew he would not be seen.

"How bad is it?" a pain-laced voice asked. Joe thought it sounded like Mike.

"Pretty bad," Jimmy's distinctive higher pitch answered worriedly. "I can't get the bleeding to stop. He got you dead straight in the gut. There ain't nothing I can do, Mike, even if I knew how."

A muffled shout of pain, followed by a curse and heavy breathing, floated clearly through the night air. "God, it hurts," Mike's voice gasped. "All this planning, all this time, giving up twenty years of an honest reputation for an easy score, and look what it gets me. A belly wound and a slow death." He tried to laugh, but it came out a horrid choking sound. "Guess I should've stuck with being poor and honest, huh?"

Joe slunk back, feeling sick to his stomach as he listened to the terrible noises coming from the dying man, and the panicked whispers of Jimmy as he tried to ease the other man's suffering. He made it back to the deer trail and waited, chewing his lip as he tried to decide what to do next. Where might his family be?

A dislodged pebble suddenly clattered down the side of the canyon, drawing Little Joe's attention up to the top of the rim. In the moonlight, he could make out the glint of his father's silver hair reflected in the bright moonlight and Joe's heart soared. If he could make it back up the trail and circle around without being seen, he would be safe with his family and everything would be all right. Just as he began to pull back, Joe's eye caught a second reflected glint just a few feet in front of him. It was a rifle barrel, and it was aimed straight at Pa's head!

With no thought for his own possible danger, or anything else except preventing the tragedy that was about to occur, Joe launched himself out of his hiding place and dove for the knees of the shooter. Frank grunted at the impact and his shot went wild, missing Ben by a long distance. He went down, but was up again almost instantly, an ugly scowl filling his face when he set eyes on Little Joe. Joe grabbed for the rifle in Frank's hand and wrestled him for it, desperation and panic giving him strength beyond what he should have had. He got a grip on the stock and tried his best to get it away, but even the adrenaline pumping through his blood was not enough to best the much larger and stronger man. Frank kept hold of the gun and slammed a punch into the boy's jaw. Joe saw stars, but was determined to hang on. The outlaw wrenched the rifle out of Joe's grasp and took aim.

Little Joe froze, knowing he was out of tricks. There was no doubt in his mind that the rustler intended to kill him, and the boy instinctively shut his eyes, not wanting to see it coming. He jerked as his ears caught the distinctive roar of rifle fire, then his eyes flew open in shock when a heavy weight dropped down on top of him. It was Frank, and he was dead. Shouting in wordless revulsion, Joe heaved the body away from him and scrambled back crab-style, his eyes wild. Dan Briggs stepped from the shadows of the hidden deer trail; rifle still pointed at the dead man. He kicked the corpse, assuring himself that the man was dead, then lowered the gun and held out his hand to Joe. Raising an eyebrow to the unmoving boy, he spoke, his voice filled with irony. "You win, Cartwright Kid."

~*~*~*~*~

Hoss had just finished tying up Bert for the second time that evening, when the sound of two rifle shots crashed up from the canyon. All three Cartwrights retook their positions of defense, waiting anxiously for the remaining outlaws to make another move. Ben tried calling down to them again. Hoss had told him about hearing someone shout as though hit, and he decided they might be willing to end the conflict. "You down there! We've got Bert and we know one of you is injured. Bert told us everything, so there's no use trying to bluff your way out. Give yourselves up!"

An unexpected voice answered his call. "Mr. Cartwright? I've got Little Joe here with me, and he's a little shaken up, but all right. Frank and Mike are dead, and Jimmy is sitting right here looking up the barrel of my rifle."

Ben looked at his sons, perplexed. He had completely forgotten that there had been another absence from the bunkhouse. "Freeman, is that you?"

"Yes, sir," the voice called back. "You think you could come down and give me a hand?"

"Let's go," Ben said. The order was not really necessary, as Hoss had already started moving toward the trail down.

Adam stayed where he was. "I'll stay and keep an eye on our friend, here, Pa. Roy should be here any minute, and I'll join you then."

With a nod, Ben followed his middle son down. The sound of cattle, shifting and mooing nervously as gunfire crashed around them, had been clearly audible for some time, but Ben was still shocked by the sheer number of animals that greeted his eyes as he descended to the canyon floor. Bert had told him that the four rustlers had been holding their stolen prizes in the north rim section, but knowing a couple hundred cattle were missing, and seeing them with ones own eyes were two different things. It was only through sheerest dumb luck that the outlaws had not been discovered before this.

Ben did not have time to notice anything else. His attention was entirely diverted as Little Joe suddenly appeared and launched himself into his father's arms with a joyful cry of, "Pa!" Ben held his son tightly for a minute, then tried to push him back to get a good look at him. To his surprise, Joe would not let go. Ben could feel the trembling in the thin body in his arms, and tightened his embrace, making calming sounds. At last, Little Joe allowed himself to let go. "Sorry, Pa. I didn't think I was ever going to see you again for a while there. Frank was gonna shoot you and I stopped him, but I couldn't get his gun away. If Dan hadn't showed up when he did, Frank would've killed me!"

Ben was appalled. He turned to Dan, who was helping Hoss secure Jimmy in a tight rope, and said. "I want to hear the whole story of this when we get back to the ranch, but it sounds like I owe you a tremendous debt of gratitude."

"We sure do," Hoss agreed, slapping the other man on the back heartily, "all of us, and Little Joe here deserves an apology. I'm sorry Adam and me didn't listen to you about them rustlers, little brother. You was right all along about them bein' somewhere close, even if they didn't turn out to be ol' Desperado Dan."

Joe shared a wordless exchange with the young cowboy who had saved his life, and Dan nodded. In a small voice, Joe said, "Pa, there's something I gotta tell you."

Ben tried to tell him that everything could wait until later, but Little Joe was determined. In a breathless rush, he poured out the whole story. He told how he had invented the notorious outlaw, how he had found the rustlers by accident, how he had gotten away only to be recaptured by Dan, who was and yet was not Desperado Dan. Then he told Dan's entire troubled back story, and how he had escaped from Dan, only to come back here because he'd heard the shots and Ben's voice, and finally all about his fight with, and near-death rescue from, Frank.

Hoss and Ben looked at each other, gaping in pure astonishment, neither sure if they should be proud of the boy or angrier than they had ever been with him.  As Joe's wild story wound to a close, neither of them knew what to say. Suddenly, a cloud that had been obscuring the light of the moon cleared away, and in the renewed brightness, Ben saw the blood saturating his son's left sleeve. "Joseph, you're bleeding!"

"I'm afraid that's my fault," Dan told them. "He came barreling up on me after he escaped these guys, gun in hand, and I grazed him before I figured out he wasn't planning to shoot me. Here, kid, let me tie that back up for you."

Everyone moved forward, concerned voices chattering all at once, to take a look and help bind the wound. Little Joe looked down at his arm. Somehow, in all the excitement and the retelling of his story, he had forgotten all about having been shot. His rough fight with Frank had caused the bandanna bandage to fall away, and the wound to reopen. As if the reminder was all it had taken, the wound began to pulse with fiery pain. That, combined with the sight of fresh blood, brought the reality of the entire ordeal crashing in on him, and Little Joe surprised himself by bursting into tears.

Ben's muddled emotions cleared. If his current fussing was any way to judge, then Dan was clearly contrite over having injured Little Joe, and if Joe's story was to be believed, then he was contrite about a lot of other things as well. It looked as though Dan Briggs and Joe Cartwright had both been in the wrong place, at the wrong time, and they had both learned a hard lesson from it. As Ben watched his youngest son trying vainly to stop the tears suddenly flooding down his grimy face, snuffling as he wiped his runny nose on his bloody sleeve, he was reminded just how young and inexperienced in the harsher realities of life Joe really was. He was just a kid who'd got in over his head. Ben silently thanked his maker that Little Joe had not paid for his mistake with his life.

Hoss saw his younger brother's tears, and moved closer to wrap his arm around the boy. Little Joe responded to the comforting embrace at once, burying his face in his brother's broad shoulder and giving up all pretenses at being a grown-up for the moment. Hoss slid his hand under Joe's left arm and held it aloft for the other two men to work on, as he wrapped his other arm around the sobbing youngster, assuring him that everything was going to be all right.

Chapter 13

By the time Adam came down to the canyon floor, followed by Roy Coffee, Rusty and a couple of deputies, Little Joe had managed to get himself somewhat under control, though he still dashed at his eyes and nose now and again.  He felt embarrassed to have broken down in front of so many witnesses, but now that it was over he was almost too tired to care.  Hoss seemed to sense his exhaustion and stayed close, keeping one arm protectively around the younger boy's shoulders, for which Joe was grateful.

Adam came straight over to his brothers, while Ben did his best to explain the evening's events to the sheriff.  He reached out, placing his hands gently on either side of Little Joe's face, fingers automatically stroking away a few remaining tears from the boy's cheeks.  He tilted Joe's face up to get a good look at him in the moonlight, then smiled and ruffled his tumbled curls.  Both of his brothers were surprised when Adam spoke without a hint of the accusation or stern disapproval they were expecting. "You've had yourself quite a night, haven't you?"  Joe nodded mutely, trying to smile a little.  There was a question in his eyes that Adam did not need to hear to answer.  "I heard most of what you told Pa from up above.  Sound carries pretty well up these canyon walls."

"You're not mad at me?" Little Joe asked hopefully.

"I'm just glad you're okay," Adam told him.  "There were a couple of times when I thought we'd lost you for sure.  I can't say that I approve of all the trouble you caused with your tall tales, but I don't figure it was your fault you got kidnapped."

"Twice," Joe added glumly.

Adam chuckled.  "Either time, but it took a lot of brains and a lot of guts to do everything else you did tonight.  You've got a lot to make up for, but I'm proud of you, little brother."

"That goes double for me," Hoss said with a grin.

"Thanks," Little Joe mumbled, ducking his head with a shy smile.  Normally, comments like those from his two brothers would have puffed him up with pride, but right now the whole situation was too close to allow for anything more than simple gratitude.  His eyes drifted to where the sheriff, his father and Dan Briggs were locked in a serious, whispered discussion. "What do you think is going to happen to Dan now?"

Adam followed his gaze.  "I don't know.  I expect Roy will have no choice but to put him in jail with the others for awhile."

"But, he's a good man, Adam," Joe protested.  "I know he's done some wrong things, but he saved my life tonight.  He could've just followed me to where I tied up Twilight and left me here to fend for myself, but he didn't. He risked everything he's got, his freedom, his life, and everything, just to help me."

"I'm sure Roy and the judge will take that into account," Adam reassured him, "but the fact remains that Dan is still a wanted rustler, and the law doesn't have any choice but to take him in.  Don't worry, Joe.  I'm sure everything will work out all right in the end."

"I sure hope so," the boy sighed.

~*~*~*~*~

A little over an hour later, Roy Coffee finished locking up the three rustlers in his small jail in Virginia City.  Rusty and one of the deputies had voluntarily stayed behind to guard the stolen cattle until they could be counted and sorted back to their proper owners.  The dead men had been thrown over the backs of their horses and taken by his second deputy to the undertaker's office.  The Cartwrights had helped the sheriff escort the prisoners into town, and then had gone straight over to Dr. Martin's office to have Little Joe's wounded arm properly tended to.

A painful yelp greeted the sheriff as he entered Paul Martin's outer office and he followed the sound straight back to the treatment area.  Little Joe was sitting atop the examining table; his bloody shirt clutched tightly in his right hand as the doctor patiently stitched up his injury.  "Are there many more, Doc?" the boy asked tremulously.

"Just a couple more stitches and a little alcohol, and we'll bind it right up," the physician promised, his voice automatically taking on the soothing tone it always carried when dealing with overwrought patients and their families.

One look at the boy's unhappy expression was all it took to tell the watching lawman that Little Joe had had enough of being brave and uncomplaining for one night.  He was pouting like a little child and offering pitiful exclamations and whimpers with every touch of the doctor's needle and thread.  Roy smiled at him.  "Looks like you're just about fixed up, son."

Ben, Hoss and Adam turned at the sound of his voice.  They had all been watching Little Joe and had not heard the sheriff come in.  "Hello, Roy," Ben greeted him.  "Everything squared away over at the jail?"

"Just about," he returned.  "I just need to get a statement about all this from Little Joe, if he's up to it.  How about it, Joe?  Think you can go through it all again for me?"

"I guess so," Joe answered reluctantly. 

Ben looked at his son's pale, tired face and said,  "Roy, I think the statement can wait until tomorrow, don't you?"

Roy took a good look at Joe and nodded, smiling as he gave the boy's shoulder a gentle pat.  "I reckon it can.  You come on over before you leave town tomorrow and we'll do 'er then."

"'Kay," Joe mumbled, glad he wouldn't have to tell the story for a third time that night.  He watched critically as Dr. Martin dabbed a final stinging swipe of alcohol on his arm and bound it with a clean white bandage. 

"That should do it," the doctor said.  "Keep it clean and dry, no heavy lifting for a couple of days, and change the bandage twice a day.  Come see me in about ten days and I'll take those stitches out for you."

Ben paid the doctor for his services and thanked him.  Roy spoke up.  "Oh, Doc, there are a couple more patients for you over at the jail.  A gunshot to the thigh on one fella, and a busted up rib on another."

Paul gathered his bag and put on his coat.  "The ribs I can take care of right away, but I'll have to bring the other man over here.  You or one of your deputies can escort him."

"All righty," Roy agreed easily.  He tipped his hat to the Cartwrights. "I'll see you folks in the morning."

Roy and Dr. Martin left the office, and Joe started to put on his shirt.  He paused, looking distastefully at the filthy, bloody garment, reluctant to put it back on.  Adam saw the look and removed the jacket he had been wearing.  "Here, little buddy, wear this for now."

Joe accepted the coat with a smile.  "Thanks, Adam."

"Boys, why don't you go see if you can get us a room at the hotel," Ben suggested, wrapping an arm around his youngest son as the boy hopped down from the examining table.  "We've still got to get that cattle drive started.  I told Rusty to ride to the Ponderosa and let Hop Sing and the men know that what's happened and that we'll be starting a day later than originally planned."

Hoss tried to change his mind.  "There's no need of that, Pa.  Since Joe ain't going, something tells me you ain't either, so I figured on going with the men.  We'll be a little short-handed now, but we can still get going on time."

Ben smiled at him.  "I appreciate that son, and I had planned on asking if you'd mind changing places with me this trip, but you and Adam can't start a long drive on no sleep.  Besides, we'll need some help getting all those stolen cattle sorted out and off the Ponderosa tomorrow.  The day after will be soon enough."

Adam and Hoss nodded and went to see about the room, secretly glad they would be able to catch a little shut-eye before starting out.  Ben helped Little Joe into Adam's coat. It was too big, but it was warm and faintly carried Adam's distinctive soap and after-shave scent.  Wearing it somehow made him feel secure again.  He and Ben slowly followed the others outside.  "Guess I knew you wouldn't let me go on the drive after all the trouble I caused," the boy muttered, disappointment coloring every word.  "What are you gonna do to me, Pa?"

"Well, missing the drive is punishment in itself, I know, but I think I can find enough chores on the Ponderosa to keep you from getting into any more mischief while your brothers and the men are away," Ben told him, not bothering to hide the smile in his voice.  "I think you deserve that much for letting your imagination get the better of you, and putting yourself in such danger."

Little Joe sighed.  "Yes, sir.  I expect Doc Martin wouldn't let me go anyway until my arm is healed up, would he?"

"No, he would not, and neither would I," Ben said firmly.  "I want you to take it easy for a day or two."

"Yes, sir," Joe mumbled again.  He fell silent then, not uttering another word until they passed Roy's office, where he paused.  "Pa? Could I talk to Dan for just a minute before we go to the hotel?  I want to tell him how sorry I am just one more time."

Ben shook his head.  "Tomorrow, Joseph.  There'll be plenty of time to talk once you've gotten some rest."

Little Joe started to protest, then slumped and nodded his acceptance.  He could not remember ever feeling as tired as he did now.  Maybe morning would be soon enough.

~*~*~*~*~

It was nearly 10 o'clock the next morning when Little Joe awoke.  He opened his eyes and blinked into the sunlight pouring through the window, then jerked in embarrassment as he realized where he was.  His father was still asleep and Joe had snuggled up to him, resting his head atop Pa's shoulder, injured arm flung out to encircle his ribs. This was something he had used to do as a small child, after his mother had died and Adam had left for college.  He would often wake up scared or lonely and sneak into his father's bed for comfort, always waking up just like this.  As he tried to pull away, Joe realized that his father's left arm was draped protectively around his shoulders, effectively pinning him in place. A peek over at the other bed revealed that his brothers were no longer in the room.  Joe was glad, but wondered uneasily if they had seen his childish instinct. 

Attempting to disentangle himself without waking his father proved futile, as the motion woke the older Cartwright immediately.  Ben took in the situation at a glance and smiled as he gave the red-faced boy a hug and let him go.  "Good morning, son.  I trust you slept well?"

Little Joe sat up and rumpled his hair with a sheepish smile.  "Sorry about turning you into a pillow, Pa. You should've pushed me back to my own side."

Ben chuckled as he got out of bed and straightened his wrinkled clothing into place.  "You looked so contented, I just didn't have the heart," he said.  "I must say I am a bit surprised at myself for going back to sleep, though.  Guess I was more tired than I thought."

Glad that his father was going to let it go at that, Joe smiled and pulled on his boots, moving over to the wash stand to scrub his face and try to push his disheveled hair into place.  "Where are Hoss and Adam?"

"I'm not sure.  They were still sleeping the first time I woke," Ben told him, moving up to take his own turn at the wash basin as his son finished up.  "Perhaps they went to get some breakfast."

At the mention of food, Little Joe's stomach gave a distinct growl and both of them laughed. 

"What's so funny?"  Hoss smiled cheerfully at them as the door opened and he walked in.  Sure enough, he was carrying a well-loaded tray of breakfast foods. 

Adam followed him with a package in his hands, which he tossed to Joe. "I went over to the mercantile and bought you something."  Joe opened the package and pulled out a black cotton shirt.  He gave his brother a questioning look, then grinned at the amused twinkle in Adam's eyes, and pulled on the smaller replica of his oldest brother's favorite garment.  "Hoss and I ran into Roy on our way back.  He wanted to remind you to drop by and give him that statement before we leave town.  I also managed to hire a couple of replacement drovers for the drive tomorrow, Pa."

"Well, it certainly sounds as if you've been busy," Ben commented, smiling as he finished tying his neck cloth, and smoothing his silvery hair into place.  Except for a film of stubble on the faces of all three older Cartwrights, none of them looked any the worse for their night spent hunting outlaws.  "Joseph, would you mind leaving me a few bites?"

Little Joe looked up guiltily at his father's sharp words.  He had wasted no time tucking into the food on the tray; ravenous after having consumed nothing more in the last twenty-four hours than the small portion of jerky and hard tack the outlaws had given him.  "Sorry, Pa," he garbled around a mouthful of eggs.

Hoss had been watching his younger brother mow through breakfast with a huge grin on his round face.  He laughed at the exchange.  "Lucky me and Adam had breakfast over at the International before we came back, Pa.  I think we'd have plumb starved if we'd had to fight little brother for it."

Ben chuckled and helped himself to a couple of warm rolls and some bacon, then pushed the tray back to Little Joe, who beamed at him and quickly polished off everything else.  As he swallowed the last bite, he looked at his brothers and asked, "How long have you two been up?"

"A couple of hours," Hoss told him.  "We almost woke you up to ask if you wanted to come out with us, but you looked so cute cuddled up to Pa, that we figured we'd let you sleep."

Joe grimaced, a blush rising in his round cheeks.  "You saw that, huh?"

His brothers grinned at each other.  "Tell you what," Adam said.  "You behave yourself for the rest of the day and do everything Pa says, and we won't tell anybody, okay?"

Little Joe nodded reluctantly; feeling that his dignity had taken all the bruising it could handle for now.  "I'm ready to go see Roy now, Pa."

Ben smiled at the quick change of subject.  "Let's go, boys."

Chapter 14

"Boy, that sure is a pretty sight," Hoss sighed, smiling wearily at his equally tired older brother, as they rode into the yard of their home and saw its warm friendly lights shining out at them.  "I'm glad we decided to push on through instead of camping out one more night."

"Me too," Adam agreed fervently.  After six weeks on the trail, with only a week's layover in San Francisco to break up the monotony, he was more than ready for a hot bath; a home cooked meal, and a nice soft bed. 

The two cowboys dismounted and spent a few minutes taking care of their tired horses, then shouldered their saddlebags and headed for the house.

Little Joe looked up from his position sitting cross-legged on the coffee table, where he had been braiding a length of harness leather, in surprise when the front door opened.  An enormous grin lit up his face at the sight of his brothers and he bounced up to greet them.  "Hey, you're back a day early!  How was the drive?"

Hoss and Adam smiled back at him as they took off hats, coats and gunbelts and laid them out on the sideboard.  "It went really well," Adam said.  "I don't know if Pa read you my wire or not, but we made good time and got a great price for the herd.  How's your arm, Joe?"

"Good as new," his brother told him. "There's barely even a scar now."

Adam laughed.  "You sound kind of disappointed."

Little Joe shrugged.  In truth, he had sort of hoped for something he could show off to the guys, and more importantly, girls, in town, when they asked about his daring adventure.  He was not about to tell that to Adam, though.  "So, how come you're back early?  Decided you couldn't take another night on the trail?"

"No, it ain't that.  We're early because I missed my little brother, and things were entirely too quiet without you," Hoss declared, hoisting the surprised teenager up over his shoulder and landing a solid smack to his rear before he could dart away.  Little Joe protested, but couldn't help laughing as Hoss continued to cart him around the room like a sack of potatoes, loudly yelling, "Hey, Pa. We're home!"

"He's not here, Hoss," Joe told him.  "He went into town, but he's due back any minute.  Put me down, will ya?"

Hop Sing came into the main room in response to all the noise, his round face alight with pleasure.  "Hop Sing have notion you be back tonight.  Have water all heated for bath for Mr. Adam, and big roast in oven for Mr. Hoss."

Joe craned his neck back over Hoss' shoulder.  "What about me?"

The oriental man chuckled at the sight before him.  "Mr. Joe no worry.  Hop Sing make plenty food for everyone."

"That sure is great news," Hoss said happily.  "You're the best, Hop Sing."

"Hear, hear!" Adam agreed.  He did not know how the little man did it, but he always seemed to know what everyone needed before they did.  It was a talent that the entire family was grateful for, but in this instance he was extra grateful to hear that there was water waiting for his bath.

"Hop Sing, make Hoss put me down!"  Joe demanded, wondering if his big brother planned to let him go anytime that night. 

Hop Sing ignored him, trotting back into the kitchen to finish cooking dinner.  Hoss winked at Adam and said,  "You want me to put you down, Little Joe?"

"C'mon, Hoss," the boy pleaded.

The big man swung Joe down and hefted him around so that his arms were under Joe's back and knees, then abruptly tossed him over to Adam.  Even at sixteen, Little Joe didn't weigh much over a hundred pounds, so Adam was able to catch and hold him easily, and to toss him back to Hoss.  Joe yelped, and screeched and finally broke down into helpless giggling as his older brothers played their impromptu game of catch.   This was the sight that greeted Ben Cartwright as he walked into his home.  He laughed out loud at the sight, and held out his arms to catch Little Joe as Hoss gently pitched him over.

Ben set Joe on his feet.  The boy grinned and held onto his shoulder, saying, "Thanks, Pa.  I was starting to get a little dizzy."

"I’m glad to see you boys back," Ben commented, smiling at his two returned wanderers.

"It's good to be back, Pa," Adam told him.  He rummaged in his saddlebags and pulled out the bill of sale for the cattle.  The money had already been deposited in the Cartwright account from San Francisco.  "It was a good run.  I'll tell you all about it at dinner, but right now, Hop Sing has promised me a hot bath, so if you'll excuse me?"

"Go on," Ben waved him away indulgently, allowing his eldest to follow his usual set routine after a long trip.  "I've got some news of my own to tell you all, but it can keep a little while."

"Is it about Dan?" Little Joe asked hopefully.  Ben nodded.

Hoss looked at him in surprise.  He had been wondering about the outcome of the whole mess leading up to his going on the drive, but had not had time for much speculation.  "The judge make up his mind what to do with ol' Dan, Pa?"

Adam had paused on his way out, also very curious to know the outcome.

Ben looked at them, realizing that perhaps the news could not wait, after all.  "Let's sit down, and I'll tell you about it."

Everyone moved into the living room, Hoss and Adam taking the settee and Joe resuming his place on the coffee table, his body language easily giving away his eagerness for the news.  "So?"

"For those of you who have not been here over the last month, I'll start at the beginning," Ben said with a smile.  "Roy Coffee did some checking into Dan's story, and it seems he was telling the truth about the murder of that rancher and his son.  Apparently it had already been proved back there that Briggs could not have been in the area at the time of the killings, but since he was on the run, and still wanted for rustling the news had never gotten beyond Monterey."

"Well, that's certainly good news," Adam said, "but what about the rustling?  He never denied that he's done some of that."

"He confessed, but I spoke up for him in court," Joe cut in proudly.  "The judge was in town this week and I got called up as a character witness.  I told everyone about what Dan did for me, and about the mix-up with him being Desperado Dan and all, just like I promised I would."

Hoss looked at him, surprised that he had gone through with telling his own rather embarrassing part in the whole matter so willingly.  "What'd folks have to say about that?"

Joe looked uncomfortable.  "Well, they're a little sore at me, especially since they had to pay me the reward for capturing him."

Adam nearly choked on the coffee Hop Sing had just delivered into his hand.  "What?  You mean to tell me you collected two thousand dollars for a fictional creation?"

"He's not fictional!" Little Joe said indignantly.  "At least Dan Briggs isn't, and it's his name on the poster. Desperado Dan is just the nickname I gave him, remember?"

Adam groaned and covered his face with one hand.  Ben interjected,  "Joseph, if you're going to tell it, you might tell them the whole thing."

"Yes, Pa," he said, grinning a bit at Adam's reaction.  "See, the folks in Virginia City put up that reward of their own free will.  The fact that I started up those stories didn't have anything to do with the newspaper story or the fact that Dan didn't actually steal any of the cattle around here.  The judge decided that the reward was legal and binding, and since I was the one responsible for him getting caught, despite the reason, he figured I'd earned the money."

Hoss narrowed his eyes.  "Now, Joe, ain't that just a mite unethical?  Specially since you're supposed to be so concerned about not wanting anything bad to happen to Dan.  Collecting the price on his head ain't exactly what I'd call a friendly thing to do."

"Oh, but it is," Joe said smugly.  "See, Pa wanted me to turn down the reward, but I told him I didn't want to actually keep the money.  Pa helped me set up a special account in Dan's name.  He's promised me he won't steal any more cattle, and Pa and I believed him.  I figured if the judge lets him go he'll need something to live on.  That's why Pa went to town, to find out what the verdict was."

Hoss smiled at him.  "Now, that sounds more like my little brother.  How come you didn't go with him, though?"

The boy scowled.  "I wanted to, but Pa said I had to stay home."

"I imagine that's because the judge may have decided that, as a rustler, Dan has to face hanging," Adam said quietly.  He saw his brother's face fall and nodded, confirming that Joe had not considered that possibility.  Obviously, he thought that his testimony would be all it took to set Dan Briggs free.

"You're right, Adam," Ben confirmed.  "That is precisely why I didn't want Joseph in town, but fortunately it turns out that the law has decided to be more forgiving in this case."

Joe's mood swung right back up again at those words.  "So, Dan is free?"

"No, son, I'm afraid not," Ben told him.  "He isn't going to hang, but he is going to have to serve some prison time for his crimes.  The judge gave Dan seven years, which is considerably less than he could have gotten.  In fact, it's less than either Bert or Jimmy got.  The additional charges of kidnapping and attempted murder stretched their sentences out to twenty years apiece, but at least they won't face the gallows.  The jury recommended leniency for Dan, thanks to your testimony."

"Seven years," Joe whispered.  To him, that seemed like an enormous amount of time.  "He's going to prison for seven years, and all because he decided to help me.  Oh, Pa, he must hate me!"

"He doesn't hate you," Ben said kindly.  "I stopped by the jail to speak to him after the trial.  He asked me to give you something." 

Ben rummaged in his vest pocket and handed Joe a large piece of paper.  Little Joe unwrapped it slowly. It was a copy of the wanted poster.  He turned it around to show his family and noticed the writing on the back.  "Dear Cartwright Kid," he read aloud, smiling a little at the name.  "Your Pa told me what you did for me, the reward money and all, and I wanted to say thanks.  Don't feel too bad about me going to jail.  Like I told you that night, I've been expecting a bullet or a rope to be my end for quite awhile now, so a little prison time doesn’t sound so bad.  Write me once in a while and let me know for sure that you're not making my mistake and getting into trouble you can't get out of again.  You might not get lucky enough to have a spunky tale-spinning kid show up to bail you out, the way I did.  Take care of yourself.  -- Dan."

Joe folded the paper back up without a word.  The look on his face told his family all they needed to know.  There was sadness, pride, happiness and shame all mingled in his expressive green eyes as he thought over all that had happened. 

"I'd say you've learned a valuable lesson from all this, Joe," Adam said after a moment, as he rose from his seat, intent on resuming his course to the bathhouse.

Little Joe nodded.  "I'm sure never going to jump to conclusions about anybody again.  This has cured me forever."

He stood and headed for the stairs, smoothing the paper in his hands as he went up to find a place of honor for it on his wall.  His family watched him go, and when he was out of hearing range, Hoss said, "Pa, how long do you think that promise is gonna last?"

"I don't know, Hoss, but hopefully it will last a long, long time."

Adam picked up a newspaper from the pile of mail his father had set down on the table.  The headline read, in bold letters, 'Bank Robbery in Tyson Wells.  Perpetrator's Identity a Mystery!'  "I wouldn't count on it, Pa."

The three men looked at each other, then up the stairs, worried expressions on their faces.  Then Ben laughed.  "I'm sure there's nothing to worry about, boys.  Your brother would never get mixed up with bank robbers!"

Chuckling to themselves, the Cartwrights went to wash up for a long anticipated family dinner.

The End

Author's Note: I know there's no actual precedent for giving Joe springtime allergies, but I needed to give him a reason to start sneezing.  :-)