This story is rated PG-13 for adult situations and themes includingstrongsexual innuendo, abusive behavior, violence and brutality. It contains mild adult language.WARNING:this story may not be appropriate for younger or more sensitive readers.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The Real Man Smiles in Trouble

ONE

Adam Cartwright sat bolt upright in bed. Sweat rolled off his tanned skin, wetting the linens, as a tremor of fear shuddered though him. He remained where he was for several seconds, his heart hammering in his chest and his knuckles white where they gripped the scrunched bedclothes, and then shifted and tossed off the coverlet. Throwing his legs over the edge of the bed, he stood up. Unnerved, Adam walked to the window and looked out, seeking to find some order in the world of nature outside. He had a vague memory of the night terror he had awakened from, but 'vague' was the word. Only an impression remained of the desperate moment that had jolted him back to reality – someone he loved was going to die and there was nothing he could do. He wasn't sure who it was, but he thought it might have been Joe.

Adam sighed and ran a hand along the back of his neck. Of course, it was Joe – who else would he feel that protective of?

His relationship with his youngest sibling was complicated, and that complication often engendered hard feelings. They'd knocked heads more times than he cared to count from the time his little brother had been old enough to walk. The problem was, most of the time he felt more like Joe's second father than his brother. It'd been that way since he was born. Adam pursed his lips and shook his head. They'd had some knockdown drag-outs over the years, arguing and fighting over everything from Joe's penchant for swordplay to his inevitable raucous and often dangerous nights on the town.

He had to admit, though, that those were the times he enjoyed the most, the times when he pushed his little brother to the edge and watched Joe mature before his eyes, watched him make mistakes and, occasionally – just occasionally – show him how wrong he was. They were so different, the three of them, with their different mothers, and yet there was a common tie that bound them all. That was their pa, of course. Turning so he was facing into the room, Adam sat half-on and half-off the window sill. The only reason for the night terror he could come up with was that he was worried about Joe because his brother was late getting home. They had expected Joe before the sun went down and now, here it was, four o'clock in the morning and he still hadn't showed. At least, he thought he hadn't. Then again, he hadn't checked Joe's room since going to bed so there was no knowing if he had come in. For a minute Adam struggled with himself. It was hard for him to think of Joe as a man, but that's what his baby brother was – or at least was becoming. He really shouldn't go down the hall and open Joe's door to peek in and see if he was in bed. Really, he shouldn't.

Of course, he would.

After pulling his burgundy robe on over his nightshirt, Adam padded down the hall silently in his bare feet. He hesitated outside of Joe's room and considered what he would say if Joe was behind the door and awake. He wanted his brother to know that he trusted him and that he did think of him as a man, albeit a young inexperienced one. Acting like a nursemaid wasn't going to go very far toward accomplishing that goal or gaining Joe's confidence. As the black-haired man stood there, debating his course of action, he heard the front door of the ranch house open. A moment later he heard voices as well. Apparently Pa had been as concerned as him and had waited up for Joe, probably in the big blue chair by the fire. Adam laughed. That chair should have been threadbare and broken down by now considering all of the long hours their father had occupied it waiting for one or all of them to show.

When he heard footsteps on the stair, Adam backed into the shadows. He watched his brother as he appeared at the top still dressed in his work clothes. Joe was angry, he could tell. Probably because their father had waited up for him. Joe was nearing twenty and, to him, he was past the age where their pa should be tapping his toe and counting the minutes until he came in.

Adam snorted. Good luck with that one. Their pa still waited up on him!

As Joe moved slowly down the corridor toward his room, he decided to say nothing. Little brother would think he had been waiting up too, and from the look of him talking would do little, if any good. Joe's lithe form was rigid with anger. His fingers opened and closed in controlled rage. When he came to his door, he gripped the knob with force, his knuckles going white. Then, suddenly, all motion ceased. Joe just stood there. A moment later, with a sigh, his brother rested his forehead on the door.

Adam hesitated. Then, carefully and silently as he could, he edged back toward his own room. Once there he reached back and opened the door noiselessly and then closed it, making a deliberate sound.

Joe's head jerked up as Adam stepped into the light that spilled into the corridor and yawned. Blinking, he asked, "You just getting home, Joe?"

His brother turned toward him, his jaw tight. "What's it to you?"

"Whoa, boy!" Adam said, holding up a hand. "I'm just asking."

"So how come you're waiting up for me?"

"I wasn't waiting up for you," the black-haired man answered. "I was heading downstairs for something to eat. You just happened to be in corridor – fully dressed. Make's a man wonder."

Joe grimaced. "Sorry, Adam."

"Pa give you a dressing down?" he asked with a half-smile.

His brother nodded.

"May I ask what you were doing out until four o'clock in the morning?"

Joe's green eyes flashed. "It's none of your business."

"No, it's not." He shrugged. "Pardon me for showing interest in my brother."

Joe stared at him hard. "If you gotta know, I was at the Bucket of Blood playing poker with Jude and Beck."

Adam resisted the urge to say 'oh', because he knew an entire dictionary would be contained in that one word.

His little brother's jaw set. "Are you gonna tell me Jude's not the 'right' kind of company a young man should keep too?"

Adam had considered it, but quickly dismissed any such discussion as pointless. He'd been a hotheaded young man once too – though not nearly as fiery as Joe – and he knew how much good it had done for his father to tell him he did not approve of the company he was keeping.

Little to none.

Adam answered honestly. "Joe, I have to admit that Jude's not one of my favorite people."

He didn't know why. There was just something about Jude. He was a newcomer to the town and from what he had heard, had spent most of his life as a drifter. Still, so had about half of their ranch hands.

Adam's hazel eyes flicked to Joe's face. His brother's handsome countenance was marred by a frown. It seemed to him that baby brother was making deliberate choices meant to challenge what their father expected of him. It was almost as if, by befriending a man their pa disapproved of, Joe thought he was proving something.

Heaven only knew what!

Adam drew a breath. "Joe, I could lecture you like Pa, but I'm not going to. I'm not your father and you 're old enough to make your own choices. I just hope they're wise ones."

Joe remained silent a moment. During the interval some of the tension left his slight frame. When he spoke, it was to ask a question. "Why does Pa hate Jude so much?"

"I don't think Pa hates Jude, Joe. It's just that he doesn't know him – or the company he keeps." Adam paused. "You said Bexley was with you too?"

"Yeah, he was there."

Bexley was a friend of Jude Lowery's. "Sounds like you might be none too fond of Bexley yourself."

Joe shrugged. "He's okay. Jude likes him."

At that moment the sound of someone mounting the stairs drew their attention. Adam turned toward it to find their father approaching.

"Are you still up, young man?" the older man asked in a stern tone as he looked at Joe. "Lack of sleep will be no excuse for chores left undone."

"I'll be up with the sun, pa," his brother answered a bit sullenly.

"See that you are. I expect you to go looking for those strays bright and early." It was only then the older man noticed him. "Adam?"

"I couldn't sleep, Pa. I was heading down for some food when I ran into Joe." Adam smiled. "I'll be up bright and early too."

Their father nodded. "Remember, Adam, I need you to attend that town meeting tomorrow night since Hoss and I will be gone."

Their father and brother were heading out that day to Winnemucca to look at a batch of horses. They expected them to be gone at least a week. "Yes, sir. I'll remember."

The older man pursed his lips and then turned on Joe. "Joseph, I want you to go with your brother."

Joe looked like he'd had all of the air let out of him. "Do I have to, Pa? The Doc could bottle those meetings and make a fortune He could use them to put a man to sleep!"

"Yes, you have to. A sense of civic duty is something a man needs to cultivate. We are not islands, son. We are all connected."

"Tell you what, Joe," Adam said, "we'll go to the meeting and then head to the Bucket of Blood to sample their medicine before we head home."

"Don't encourage him, Adam."

"I won't, Pa," he said. "It will be a reward for Joe's for good behavior. Won't it, Joe?"

His brother was being stared down by their father. Joe shrugged. "What he said, Pa."

"I don't want to hear of any trouble when I come back. Is that clear to both of you?"

"We'll be innocent as doves, Pa," Adam said from his perch on the top step.

Joe nodded.

"I'll take that as a 'yes' then," he harrumphed . "Goodnight, Adam. Joe."

"Night, Pa," they said in chorus.

Adam waited until their father had closed the door to his room and Joe entered his own before moving to the stairs. As he reached the bottom a soft voice called down to him from the second floor landing. "Night, Adam. Sorry about everything."

He turned back to find Joe standing at the top of the staircase. "No problem, Joe. Go get some sleep. See you in the morning."

Joe smiled his cock-eyed smile. One eye winked and then he disappeared into the shadows.

Adam remained where he was for a moment, thinking, and then headed to the kitchen.

Hopefully he had time to raid the larder before Hop Sing woke up.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The day moved along at a breakneck pace. It started with rounding up stray cattle and passed through payroll for the hands, dealing with an argument, making lists of supplies to pick up in town and repairing tackle to early evening quicker than a wagon drawn by spooked horses. Adam stepped back and looked at his image in the mirror. Since he was representing their father at the town meeting, he felt he needed to look his best and so had chosen his Sunday clothes to wear. He was dressed now in his best white shirt and black pants and boots. A gray jacket lay on the bed that he intended to pull on before leaving the house. His gun belt also lay on the bed and there it would remain. Side arms wouldn't be necessary at the meeting and he didn't want to appear too intimidating. They had enough people in town already who resented them.

And then there was Joe again, who might start shooting just to liven things up.

As he finished tying his necktie, Adam crossed to the door. Sticking his head into the hall, he called, "Ten minute warning, Joe!"

His brother stepped out of his room dressed to the nines in the pin-striped brown suit he had that was the color of his well-controlled – well, at the moment – brown curls.

"Brother, that makes you ten minutes behind," Joe replied, raising one eyebrow while his lips curled in a smile.

Adam shook his head. It was no wonder his baby brother turned the lady's heads. Joe was a good-looking man. His mother had been a small-boned, fragile beauty who, even though she proved herself by coming to Nevada and helping to forge the Ponderosa, projected softness and a need to be taken care of. Joe had inherited both traits. Unlike their father, him, and Hoss, Joe had a slight build and a way about him that made him appear vulnerable. It was part of the reason he won so many fights. Large, muscular, and tough men looked on Joe and thought he was an easy mark – until they ran into his fists and were startled by his speed both in fighting and drawing a gun. He'd watched it happen when Joe was little. He couldn't count the times he'd been sent to the schoolhouse to retrieve his brother from the corner where his temper and impulsive nature had placed him, and found him with a black eye or split lip – or worse. The usual scenario was that some big boy had challenged him and Joe had fought back, coming close to or taking the bully out, and then the bully's friends had decided that they would take Joe out.

No wonder their father's hair was turning white.

"Adam?"

He had forgotten Joe was standing there, waiting for an answer. "Sorry. If you're ready, why don't you go down and saddle the horses? I won't be long."

"Sounds like a plan," Joe grinned.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

They left for Virginia City eight minutes later, just as the sun hit the horizon and began to cast long shadows over the land. The ride was an enjoyable one, not too cool for late fall.

The meeting was another matter. Adam nodded his head yet again in acknowledgment as one of the men that mattered filtered past him, heading for home. He would definitely not have described the evening as 'enjoyable'. Sometimes he wondered about people. You could see them on the street by themselves five minutes before they gathered in a crowd and they were sensible, likable men. But put them all together and some sort of mob mind was created. There had been arguments and heated discussions over the most inconsequential things from whose time the mule hauling bricks had died on – the mule owner's or the customer's – to what color to paint the steeple on the church, white or gray white.

Adam threw Joe a look intended to say, 'I need that drink more than you do and we will get the Hell out of here as quickly as we can'. Joe didn't get it. He was sitting in the corner with his hat pulled down over his eyes either asleep or pretending to be.

"You tell that father of yours when he gets back that I need to see him!" one of their closest neighbors insisted as he came abreast him and pointed a finger at his chest. "Couldn't Ben have waited until the meeting was over to go look at those horses?"

Adam stifled a sigh and then told a lie. "The man with the horses was moving on day after tomorrow. Pa had no choice." While it was true the man was moving on, his horses weren't. Pa could have stayed for the meeting and then headed out.

After sitting through it, he knew why his father had bolted.

The other man grunted his disapproval as he headed for the door. Adam was just about to call Joe and tell him he was ready to leave for the saloon when he spotted yet another irate neighbor making a beeline for him.

It was the man who owned the mule.

"Joe!" Adam called loudly before he could be bowled over. "Joe!"

His brother started and then stirred. A second later Little Joe lifted his hat and looked at him.

The little traitor – he had been asleep!

"What is it, Adam?" his brother asked as dropped the chair legs to the floor and rose.

"Looks like I am about to get cornered again. Why don't you go to the saloon and get a table and order two beers? I'll follow as soon as possible."

Joe looked down at his suit and then looked up with a lop-sided grin. "I'm gonna feel awful silly stepping into the saloon when I'm the only one dressed prettier than a city slicker."

"So take your coat off and fall in the mud."

His brother blinked. Then he laughed. "I might just do that. But don't you forget to do the same before you come in. I can't have the girls looking at you because you're prettier."

Adam waved him off. Then, as Joe headed for the door, that father instinct rose in him. "Joe?"

His brother turned back, the smile gone. "I know, don't get into any trouble."

That had been what he was going to say, but he amended it. "That too. I was actually going to tell you to order two beers each." He glanced at the mule-owning neighbor who had nearly made his way through the crowd to his side.

"I think I am going to need it."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Joe Cartwright halted outside the Bucket of Blood. He glanced again at his attire. While he was dressed fine for the hotel or one of the palaces, the Bucket of Blood was a haven of hard-living and harder drinking coal miners and cowboys. There were men, from time to time, who came in wearing suits, but it always caused heads to turn. The man with the curly brown hair grinned. Of course, that could be a good thing when it was the saloon girls' heads that did the turning. There were a couple of younger ones who were pretty as a fine filly. He'd been working on the one named Phoebe for a while. He remembered from his schooling that she was named after Phoebe, the Greek goddess of brilliance.

Her parents had got it right.

Phoebe Bird Howath was nearly as tall as him, with a slim little waist a man could circle with two hands. She had curly golden-red hair the color of the sunrise and pale, perfect skin with rose petal lips and pale pink cheeks. Her eyes were the most extraordinary blue, like a mountain pool reflecting a cloudless sky. Not surprisingly, Phoebe's favorite color was sapphire blue and she usually wore it when working.

He hoped she was working tonight.

With a last glance at the town hall to see if Adam had emerged yet, Joe stepped up on the wooden deck and passed through the swinging doors and into the saloon. He raised the barkeep's eyebrows by ordering four beers and then went to sit at a corner table in the gaming room. Catching the eye of one of the saloon girls, Joe asked her to send Adam his way when she saw him. The Bucket was ripping and roaring since it was a Saturday night and most of the mines and spreads paid their men on Friday or Saturday morning. He usually enjoyed all the noise and chatter, but he was tired tonight after having had only a few hours of sleep. After taking a swig of beer Joe shoved his chair against the wall and leaned his head back and waited for Adam's arrival.

Sometime later the sound of a chair being drawn back from the table woke him up. "Did I miss the wedding, Cartwright?" a man asked, his tone jovial.

Joe opened his eyes and blinked several times in an attempt to clear the sleep away. He found Bexley Lanahan seated across from him.

"Beck, hey." Joe frowned as he pulled at his brown coat. "You mean this? Pa made Adam and me go to the town hall meeting. We had to dress the part of the 'spoiled' Cartwright boys."

Bexley eyed one of Adam's mugs. "Mind if I do?"

Joe shook his head. "I don't know what's keeping older brother, but he's long overdue. I'll order him a new one. Say," he nodded toward the main room, "have you seen Phoebe tonight?"

The other man frowned. "Which one's Phoebe? That old one with the missing teeth?"

He snorted. "The pretty redhead who wears dark blue most of the time."

"Golden red hair? Curly?"

"Yep."

"I think she's working the late shift for some reason. Should make an appearance any time." Bexley took another sip. "It looks good."

Joe frowned. "What looks good?"

"The suit. It's the first time I've seen you in anything but work clothes. You're a handsome man, Joe Cartwright."

With his brows furrowed, Joe responded. "Thanks. I think."

Bexley laughed. "I didn't mean anything by it, other than you'll have no trouble bringing Phoebe – or any of the other pretty girls for that matter – to the table."

"No problem," he replied.

"You sound a little bit jealous, Bexley," his brother Adam said, startling them as he pulled out a chair and sat down.

"Nah. I don't like the ones he likes anyhow." Bexley looked at Joe and smiled. "I'm gonna go join in the poker game out front. You coming?"

Adam shook his head. "Joe, no."

"Is Jude coming?" his brother asked Bexley.

"Yeah."

Joe faced him. In his brother's eyes Adam read an unspoken plea – 'Please don't make me look like a baby who has to ask permission'.

"Then I'm staying."

Adam stifled a sigh. "Joe, we have to be up bright and early tomorrow. Those steers won't round themselves up."

"I won't stay long, Adam. Promise. Anyway, I don't have that much money so I should be home by midnight."

The black-haired man rose. He did his best to use his 'brother' and not his 'second father' tone. "See that you are."

The two of them followed him into the main room. Bexley went to sit at the poker table while Joe trailed him to the door.

"Thanks, Adam."

He drew a deep breath. "Don't make me regret it. Pa will skin me if you get into trouble on my watch."

"I'm just going to play a few rounds of poker," Joe grinned. "What trouble can I get in?"

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The game started at eight. It was now a quarter 'til twelve. Jude Lowery had joined them around nine and had loaned him some money so he'd been able to stay in longer than he expected.

The last of that had just run out.

"That's it for me," Joe said, scooting his chair back and rising unsteadily. Between Bexley and Jude the drinks had flowed free and he had taken a little too much advantage of their generosity. He'd have to be careful or he'd fall off of Cochise on the way back to the ranch.

"Do you have to go, Little Joe? We were just getting reacquainted," a light feminine voice said as five fingers wrapped themselves around his arm.

Joe sighed as he looked at the slender girl in sapphire cloth with the golden-red hair and sky blue eyes. "Phoebe, the only thing I'd like to do more than stay here with you is live to see tomorrow. If I'm not home by one o'clock at the latest, my brother Adam will kill me."

She moved in front of him and then leaned in, pressing her lower body into his. "You're sure I can't persuade you to stay?"

Joe swallowed over a lump in his throat. He was used to being the one who made the advances. As Phoebe's hand slid down his thigh, he pulled away. Catching it in his, he lifted it and kissed the back of her fingers. Her skin was soft as silk. "It's not that I don't want to stay, Phoebe, but I made a promise and I need to keep it."

The beautiful woman smiled. "Joe Cartwright, you know just what to say to a girl." She reached up then and pulled his head toward hers and kissed him on the lips. "You come back tomorrow night, you hear, and don't promise your brother anything. I have a room upstairs."

Before he could reply, Bexley pushed his chair back and tossed his cards on the table. "I'm done too." Looking at him, the brown-haired man said, "I need to get back to the ranch. I'll ride part way with you, Joe, if that's okay."

As Joe nodded, Jude spoke up. "You want me to come along and nursemaid you two?" he asked. "I can fold now or go a few more rounds."

"You go ahead and stay," Joe said as he extricated himself from Phoebe's embrace and aimed her toward his friend. "Phoebe can keep you company."

The blond man snorted. "She's only got eyes for you, Joe."

Bexley had moved to the door. "You coming?"

Joe nodded. "On my way."

After stopping at the hotel for Beck to settle up a bill, they went to the stable for their horses and then mounted and headed for home.

The night was crisp and cool. Joe wished he'd brought his outer coat as the suit he wore did little to keep him warm. As they passed out of the town the scents of early morning drifted to him on the air – wood fires burning, bread baking in the oven, even a touch of coffee for a man rising early enough to make his destination before dawn. The road to the ranch was deserted. In the half hour or so they had traveled, they had seen no one. At first they had talked, mostly about nothing, but in the last few minutes Bexley had fallen silent. They traveled another one hundred feet or so before his companion struck out with his hand and, catching Cochise's reins, drew Joe's horse to a halt.

Before he could ask what was up Bexley held a finger to his lips and mouthed, 'I heard something.'

Joe hadn't heard it, but then that didn't mean anything. 'Where?' he asked, doing the same.

Bexley pointed to the tall stacks of rock behind them. It was called Pointer's Arch due to the fact that, sometime a long time ago, the tops of the columns had bent over and touched, creating a natural arch. It was a popular place for people to stop day and night since they would be out of the weather. The area between them was equivalent to a room in a small cabin.

Bexley drew his gun and signaled. He'd approach from the left. With a nod he indicated Joe should approach from the right.

He didn't have a gun. Their evening had been social and Adam had insisted they leave their personal firearms at home, though his brother had carried a rifle with him on Sport. He'd argued, but had no luck in changing his big brother's mind. Still, he had his fists and that was enough – especially since Beckhad a gun.

Joe nodded and dismounted. After taking a second to find his feet – it was obvious Bexley had not drunk as much as he had – the man with the curly brown hair slipped into the brush to the right of the Arch. He let Beck take the lead since he was armed. As he reached the rocky towers Joe caught a glimpse of Bexley heading for the front. Taking that as a cue Joe moved toward the back. Once there he counted to ten, knowing it would take the other man at least that amount of time to get in place. Drawing a breath Joe stepped inside.

It was empty.

Frowning, he called out, "Beck? Where'd you go? Beck are you – ?"

Pain exploded in Joe's head as something struck him hard at the base of the neck, driving him face first into the dirt. Sometime later – he had no idea how long - he heard someone moaning and then realized it was him. As he fought to regain consciousness, Joe sensed more than felt someone straddle him. Whoever it was took hold of the back of his collar and lifted his head up from the ground. They bent in close. He could feel their breath on his cheek. It reeked of alcohol.

Joe opened his eyes again to find the world was still out of focus. Fighting to stay awake he asked, his voice robbed of all strength by the attack, "Who...?"

The voice that answered was low, gruff, disguised. "Who do you think?"

Joe blinked back tears. His head was pounding so hard he could barely think. "What...what do you want?"

The man shifted his hands so they were wrapped around his throat.

"What do I want?

"I want you, pretty boy."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

TWO

Adam was roused from sleep by someone knocking on the door. He felt like his father waiting for Joe to come home, only he was on the settee instead of in the chair. He should have known better than to leave Joe at a poker game. His little brother not only had a penchant for overindulging in gambling but in just about everything else. There would have been drinks and pretty girls and -

Well, it was a recipe for disaster.

The black-haired man ran a hand over the stubble on his cheeks and glanced out the window as the knocking was repeated, more urgently this time. From the angle of the sun he thought it must be about five o'clock.

Good Lord! Joe was late by five hours.

"All right, all right," Adam said as the knocking came yet again. Lifting the latch, he opened the door to find Jude Lowery standing outside. Jude was paler than usual, which was saying quite a bit as Lowery was one of those freckle-faced blond men with pale skin who burned and didn't tan.

"How can I help you, Jude?" he asked with a frown.

The other man was nervous. As his fingers worked the edge of his hat, Jude said, "Adam, you need to come to town."

The way he said it made every hair on his body stand on end. It didn't take much to make the leap. "Joe?" he asked.

Jude nodded. "I was on my way home after the poker game ended and ran into Bexley on the road. There was trouble. Joe's hurt. Beck is too."

Adam's jaw was tight. "What happened?"

"They were robbed. I checked the saddlebags and everything was gone. Whoever did it knocked Beck out and beat Joe pretty badly. You know Joe," the blond said, a wan smile lifting the corner of his upper lip, "he probably put up a fight." Jude hesitated. "There's something else, Adam."

He steeled himself. "What?"

"Joe's...clothes are missing."

What he said didn't register at first. When it did, he asked, "What do you mean 'missing'?"

"Someone stripped him and took off with them."

"Why would someone do that?"

Jude shrugged. "That was a mighty fine suit."

"Who's with Joe now?" Adam asked as he reached for his hat on the hook by the door. He was still dressed in his own suit from the night before. As it had turned cooler, he headed for his tan coat next.

"Beck and Doc Martin. At least the Doc was there when I left."

"Where is there?" Adam demanded as he slipped into his coat.

"Beck couldn't find the doctor, so he took Joe to the Bucket of Blood. There's a girl at the saloon who's sweet on him and he knew she'd take care of him." At his look, Jude added, "It was too far to bring Joe home in the condition he was in."

It wasn't the most savory of places, but at least Joe was safe. He wondered if he knew the girl. "What's her name, this girl?"

"Phoebe Howath."

Adam thought a moment. "The pretty redhead who likes to wear blue?"

Jude nodded. "Second floor, second room to the right. Just knock and she'll let you in."

He was buckling on his gun. "You aren't coming?"

Jude shook his head. "I'll check in soon as I can. I need to get back to the ranch or I'm liable to get fired."

"All right. But Bexley will be there?"

"Should be. The Doc needed to look at him too. I told him I'd stop by where he works and let them know he'd be late getting back."

"Thanks for that, Jude," he said as he opened the door. "Now, come on, I need to get to town."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

As Adam flew down the road toward Virginia City, his thoughts raced and pounded as hard and fast as his horse's hooves. Robberies were not unknown on the road Joe was taking, but they were few and far between. Most happened because a stage or coach was coming to town and it was known the passengers carried something valuable. It was rare for a single man on a single horse to be attacked. Of course, Joe would have looked like the son of some rich man riding Cochise and wearing that damn brown suit. Someone could have thought he had money on him and was wearing silver or gold. From what Jude said, it sounded like Joe put up one hell of a fight.

Adam wondered what his injuries were, and how severe.

It took Adam less than an hour to reach town, riding as he was at a full gallop. Sport was breathing hard and sweating by the time they reached Virginia City. Much as he wanted to fly to his brother's side, the black-haired man took time to stable his horse and have it looked after. A few minutes later as he approached the Bucket of Blood, Adam saw a curtain in an upstairs window fall back into place. Moments later an attractive woman with spiraling golden-red hair opened the door and stepped out.

"Hello, Phoebe," he said as he drew alongside her.

"Adam," she nodded tightly.

"How's Joe?"

The redhead's eyes were misty. She shook her head.

Adam gripped her arm with more force than intended. He relented when he saw her wince. "Is my brother's life in danger?"

"The doctor said 'no', but it's bad, Adam." Phoebe shuddered. "Little Joe looks like... Well, he's been beaten near to death and... It looks like whoever did it tried to strangle him."

"Strangle him? Good God!" What sort of maniac, he thought, had his brother run into? "Take me to Joe."

Phoebe hesitated. "He's...in my room upstairs, Adam."

"It's all right, Phoebe. I appreciate what you are doing for Joe. Pa will too."

As she turned and headed for the stair the saloon girl said, "That's right. I remember now, Joe said earlier tonight that his pa was away. Will you send him word?"

Adam sighed. "As soon as I have some idea of what word to send him."

Once upstairs Phoebe led him down the corridor of the saloon's poorly lit second floor. They stopped in front of the second door on the right and she knocked three times and then, once again. He heard a key turn in the lock. A second later the door opened.

"Adam, thank God you're here!" Bexley Lanahan said. As the brown-haired man shifted out of the way, he stumbled. Adam caught his arm and it was then he saw the growing bruise on the side of his face. "Jude said you were attacked too."

"Someone pistol whipped me," the other man said. "Compared to Joe's injuries, it's nothing. I think..."

"Yes?"

"It seemed like someone wanted me out of the way."

Adam frowned. As Bexley moved aside he headed for the bed where Joe lay. Like the hall, the room was inadequately lit – women like Phoebe seldom operated in bright light – and it was hard to see his brother. Joe was also buried beneath a mountain of blankets with only the top of his head showing. He glanced at the redhead as he began to peel them back one by one.

"Little Joe's been shaking uncontrollably. I thought it best to keep him warm."

Adam nodded and then turned back to his brother, who was curled up on his side. He peeled another blanket away and finally got to Joe. Reaching out he touched his brother's bare shoulder.

"He's warm now," he said as he shoved some of the extra blankets her way.

Phoebe took them with a little smile. "Thank goodness."

Adam watched the saloon girl as she turned and placed the blankets on top of a nearby chest. She really did seem to care. Turning to Bexley who was lingering just inside the door, he said, "I'd like to sit with Joe for a bit. Can you hang around long enough to tell me what happened?"

The brown-haired man nodded. "I'll go down with Phoebe. I could use a stiff drink anyhow. Besides, the Doc will be back soon and I'd like to know for sure that Joe's going to be okay before I head back to the ranch."

Adam waited until the two had departed and then closed the door behind them. After that he went over to the lamp and extended the wick, bringing as much light to the room as possible. Drawing a deep breath, the black-haired man steeled himself and then sat on the edge of the bed and began to examine his brother's wounds.

Joe was out, completely. He made no response and didn't move on his own when he touched him. It didn't concern him too much as he knew that was common for a man who had taken a blow to the head strong enough to render him unconscious. Taking hold of Joe, he gently turned his head and felt for the knot such a blow to the head would have raised. It was there, just within his brother's hairline on the back, so he had probably been taken by surprise. Joe's other injuries were harder to see as most of them appeared to be bruises, including a place on the left side of his jaw where it looked like he had been struck so hard his attacker's hand had left a print. Strangest of all were the marks on his neck. He could see the distinct impressions of thumbs near Little Joe's Adam's apple, and there were other bruises. They appeared to have been left by eight fingers wrapping around his neck. It definitely looked like someone had tried to strangle him.

If there were any internal injuries, it would take the Doc to know.

Adam stared at his brother a moment and then took one of his hands in his own. Reaching out, he brushed the sweat-soaked brown curls back from Joe's forehead and called him, "Joe. Joe, it's Adam. Can you hear me?"

There was no response.

He squeezed his brother's hand a little harder. "Joe?"

This time Joe moaned. It was a pitiful sound.

He felt guilty for waking him, but he needed to know what Joe knew. Taking hold of his brother's arm, he commanded, "Listen to my voice, Joe. Reach for it."

Joe moaned again. His breathing grew rapid. His brother tensed and then, unexpectedly, began to struggle to break free. "No!" Joe shouted as he thrashed from side to side. "No! Pa!"

Adam hesitated to hold him any tighter, but he had to calm Joe down before he hurt himself. Gripping him with both hands he shouted, "Joe, it's Adam! You're safe now! Joe!"

For a moment it seemed his brother had not heard. Then Little Joe's eyes flew open. They searched the dark room wildly, seeking the man who went with the voice.

"Adam?"

He continued to hold him. "I'm here, Joe. I'm here."

Joe blinked and some of the tension fled his body. He winced as he shifted to look at him, as if everything hurt. "Adam?" he asked again.

This time it was a sigh.

Adam had to collect himself before he answered. "I'm here, Joe. Can you tell me what happened?"

Joe's breathing was fast, his heart racing. He shook his head and then turned his face into the pillows.

At that moment there was a knock on the door. It opened and Bexley Lanahan stuck his head in. "The Doc's back, Adam. I thought you would want to know." Bexley looked at Joe and seeing he was conscious, stepped into the room. "Hey, Joe, it's good to see you awake."

Adam turned back to his brother. He placed a hand on his shoulder, noting how he jumped when he did. "Joe? Is there anything you can tell me?"

His answer was a shake of the head.

It was probably too early. He just hated to lose the trail if there was one. It looked like it would be morning – if then – before Joe would be able to talk.

"All right, Joe. You sleep now," he said. Rising, Adam headed for the door. "Bexley, are you coming down with me?"

The other man shook his head. "I'll wait. The Doc said Joe shouldn't be left alone. You send Phoebe up and then I'll come down."

Adam's eyes went from the brown-haired man to Joe. "All right. It will be soon."

Bexley nodded and then went to sit in the chair by the bed. Adam stared at him for a moment. Bexley, like Jude, hadn't known Joe all that long, but the care he was showing seemed to prove him a better man than their father thought.

When he reached the bottom of the steps Doc Martin stood up to greet him.

"Good to see you, Adam. I only wish the circumstances were better."

Adam took the hand the older man offered and shook it. "It seems, sometimes, that we only see each other because of Joe," he said, his smile sad and wry.

"Now, now, you and Hoss have had your share of house calls. I seem to remember a few arrows in the leg, and time spent patching you up when you snuck out and rode that bronco before you were old enough to do so."

He had to admit it was true.

"I understand Ben and Hoss are out of town?"

"And out of communication for a few days. I'll send a rider after them to let them know what's happened." He ran a hand across his face. "That is, when I know what's happened."

"You look like a man who needs a prescription for a whiskey." The Doc turned to Phoebe and held up a hand.

She nodded. "I'll get two."

"Thank you, Phoebe," Adam said, "and – if you don't mind – could you go sit with Joe so Bexley can join us? I'd like to hear his story firsthand."

"Of course."

As the redhead headed for the bar, Adam turned back to the Doc. The older man had taken a seat at a table and gestured for him to join him. Doc Martin remained silent for several heartbeats and then asked, "Did you examine your brother's injuries?"

Adam nodded his thanks to Phoebe as he accepted the drink. "As best I could in what proved to be minimal light."

"What did you think of them? The injuries, I mean?"

He took a sip and relished the warmth as it ran from his throat down his gullet and into his stomach. "I could see Joe was beaten," he replied, biting back the anger the image of it raised. "And it looks like someone tried to strangle him."

"Did you look closely at his wrists?"

"No. Should I have?"

"You're brother was bound, Adam, hand and foot."

"Bound?" His fingers closed on the whiskey glass, his knuckles going white. "Was Joe still bound when Bexley found him?"

"You'll have to ask him to be sure, but I don't think so. Someone restrained him while they attacked him and then removed the proof that he had been restrained. His flesh, however, bears the marks – there are rope burns on his wrists and ankles." The older man paused. "I believe he was gagged as well."

Tied up? Beaten? Gagged? The mystery of what had happened to Joe was growing deeper by the minute.

"Why?"

The doctor shifted back in his chair. He shook his head. "I don't know. Obviously someone wanted him incapacitated for some reason. The chief reason, of course, would be so they could do what they wanted."

There was something in the doc's tone. "Are you telling me everything?"

Doc Martin nodded. "Yes. Everything I know."

"But not what you suspect."

The older man sighed. "Adam, once I examine Joe more closely, if I feel my suspicions have any validity, I will certainly tell you. But not before then. It just wouldn't be right."

At that moment a step creaked. Adam turned to find Bexley Lanahan had passed the landing and was descending the last few steps to the saloon floor. A moment later the brown-haired man sat down at the table and folded his hands on its surface.

"I suppose you want to hear what I told the Doc."

"Very much," Adam replied.

"There isn't much to tell." Bexley leaned back. In the brighter light of the main floor Adam could see the man had taken quite a blow to the side of the head and there were other bruises, indicating he had been mistreated as well. Though they were nothing like Joe's. "Joe and I left the saloon together," he began. "As we came to Pointer's Arch, I heard something. I thought maybe someone was laying in wait, so I stopped Joe. We dismounted and took opposite paths to see if we could find anyone. I saw Joe through the Arch and was just about to call out to him when someone hit me hard. I went down and out. I don't know for how long. It might have been an hour."

"Where did you find Joe?"

"Between the road and the rocks." Bexley's jaw tensed and he shifted as if uncomfortable. "It was strange. Joe was laying there on the ground. He'd been stripped down to his union suit and it was torn. I guess whoever attacked us wanted that fine suit of his. Joe was out like a light so I checked him over. That's when I found the knot, here," he indicated the back of his neck just above the hairline, "and knew he'd been cold-cocked too. I waited until he had roused a bit and then put him in the saddle in front of me and brought him here." Bexley sighed as he leaned back in the chair. "Since Phoebe's sweet on Joe, I figured she'd take good care of him. 'Sides, I couldn't think of anywhere else to take him. The Ponderosa was too far to go in the condition he was in."

"I'm grateful, Bexley, that you brought him here." Adam thought a moment. "Any sign of whoever perpetrated the crime?"

The brown-haired man shook his head. "I checked the saddlebags and they were empty, so it was probably a robbery. Joe looked mighty fine last night. Someone probably thought he had money on him."

It made the most sense. Still, the marks on Joe's throat and the fact that he had been bound for some crime committed while he was unconscious bothered him.

When Bexley remained silent, he said, "Anything more?"

"I'm just as in the dark as you, Adam. Maybe we'll know more tomorrow?"

Doc Martin nodded. "We certainly will,' he said.

"Doc, is Joe in any danger, of dying, I mean?" Bexley asked.

The older man shook his head. "Not unless there are internal injuries I was not able to diagnose in the quick examination I gave him. I'll do a better one before I leave tonight. Then, I need to run my rounds."

The brown-haired man rose stiffly. "Well, I had best get back to the ranch while I still have a job. I'll be in town tomorrow night for Jude's game. Can I check with you then?"

"Certainly."

Bexley took his whiskey in hand and downed the remainder of it before heading for the door. Once there, he turned and said, "I'm sorry, Adam, that I couldn't prevent what happened to Joe."

Adam nodded. "So am I, but it's not your fault. There wasn't anything you could have done."

"Yeah." Bexley swung the saloon doors open and started through. "Anyhow, see you tomorrow."

Doc Martin rose as well. "I should go now to check in on your brother. Are you coming, Adam?"

He was staring at his glass, turning it round and round in his fingers. "I will in a minute. I... I need some time to think."

Doc Martin's hand came down on his shoulder. "Amazing, isn't it? How quickly things turn? How a man can go from healthy and whole to the edge of dying in a heartbeat." The older man's face lit with a sad smile. "I guess it's the Almighty's way of keeping us humble and dependent on Him." He lifted his hand. "If Joe is awake, I'll tell him you'll be up shortly."

Adam listened to the other man's feet as they retreated up the stairs. Then he rose and walked to the door of the saloon and looked out. The sun was peeking over the horizon and the new day was about to begin. He wished he knew what it would hold. If he didn't return to the Ponderosa and issue orders soon most of the work there would grind to a halt. Still, he didn't want to leave Joe until he knew he was out of danger. He'd have to find one of the ranch hands in town and send them out with orders for the day. Then, he needed to send word to his father and brother. What did he say? Adam thought about it a moment and then decided a portion of what he knew was best. Joe had been attacked and robbed on the road home and was in bad shape. The Doc had seen him and he was holding his own. There really was little else he could say, and even less he knew, but as the day dawned the black-haired man vowed he would know more – somehow, he would know more. He'd ride out to Pointer's Arch and see the crime scene for himself, and then question everyone who had been in the saloon that night, especially Jude, Phoebe, and, once again, Bexley Lanahan.

Someone had to know something about what had happened.

He just had to figure out who.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

It was dark. Dark and cold.

He was on the move, every sense heightened, searching for something or someone.

The night was bitter. He could feel the wind cutting through the thin fabric of his dress clothes, chilling him to the bone. There was something in front of him – a formation of rocks – something with a heart of blackness beneath it. He didn't want to go in there, but he had to.

For some reason he had to.

His heart raced as he entered the darkness. Once inside he paused, uncertain.

Wasn't someone supposed to be there?

Then, without warning, pain exploded in his head. His body jolted as it hit the ground and someone straddled him like a horse. They slapped him hard and pushed his face into the dirt and then began to pull his suit coat off. He fought his attacker – fought hard, but since he was on his back he was at a disadvantage. He tried to arch his back to throw them off and was struck again. The blow set his head to spinning even as strong, relentless fingers closed around his throat, pressing in, choking off his air. Still he fought, still, tried to break free...

Tried and failed.

Tears flooded Joe's eyes and ran down his cheeks. It was his fault, whatever was happening was his fault. He should never have stayed in Virginia City. He should have left earlier or later, been smarter, faster, better. Should have been able to stop –

Someone took his hand. The contact was terrifying and he began to struggle. "No! Let me go!"

"Little Joe. Joe! It's Phoebe."

He froze. It was a woman's voice. Whoever it was, was a woman. His attacker had been a man, he was sure of that.

A hand touched his cheek sending a chill through him. "Little Joe, are you awake? Can you look at me?"

Yes, he was awake. But, no, he couldn't.

Joe felt his fingers squeezed and then the bed he lay on rose beneath him, as if the woman who had been sitting there stood up. A moment later it dipped again as someone took her place.

"Joseph?" an older man's voice asked.

Relief flooded through him. It was Pa! His pa had come to rescue him! Joe struggled to open his eyes. It took a mighty effort, but he managed it. An older man was sitting beside him. He lifted a hand, reaching for him, desperate for that beloved touch.

"Pa?"

The man's hand caught his. His palm was soft and not calloused, so it couldn't be his pa. "No, son. It's Doc Martin," he said, dashing his hopes. "How are you, Joseph?"

Tears flooded Joe's eyes and spilled over onto his cheeks. He shook his head, finding no words.

"You've been treated badly, boy," the doctor said, his voice rough with emotion. "Are you in pain?"

He was. He hurt everywhere, even in places that didn't make sense. For a second Joe considered answering the older man, but then he decided that sinking back into the blackness was easier.

The Doc shook him. "Joe? I need you to answer me. I won't leave you alone until you do."

Opening his eyes was like peeling away old horse glue. Joe ran his tongue across his lips. "Right as rain, Doc," he said with a weak smile.

"Since when do Ben Cartwright's boys lie?" The older man asked, affection in his tone. "Look, Joe, I know you're hurting." He paused. "And maybe in ways that puzzle you. Can you tell me?"

It made it hurt worse when he thought about it. "No," he replied.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

That hurt too much too. Again, he answered, "No."

The doctor sighed as he let go of his hand. "All right, Joe. It's probably too soon. What you need now is rest. I'm going to give you something to help you sleep."

Joe watched as Doc Martin leaned over to retrieve his bag. After placing it on the bed, he opened it and pulled out a small bottle. The older man uncorked the bottle, poured some of its contents into a glass of water and then placed it on the bedside table.

"I'm going to touch you, Joe, and lift you up. Is that all right?"

For some reason he was grateful he'd asked. "Yeah...sure, Doc."

After slipping his arm behind him, the older man picked up the glass and held it to his lips. "This will help you sleep, lad. Drink it down."

When he was finished the Doc returned him to the pillows and then placed the empty glass on the bedside table by the bottle.

"It won't be long now," he said. "Rest well, Joseph. We'll talk tomorrow."

Adam was still standing at the door of the saloon when Doc Martin came down the stairs. The older man crossed over to where he was and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You look tired, Adam. Have you had any sleep?"

He shook his head. "Not yet."

"You should get some soon. Doctor's orders. I don't need two of Ben's boys in my care."

"Yes, sir," he said with a pale smile. Adam sobered as he asked, "How is Joe?"

The doctor considered the question before he answered. "As well as can be expected. I gave him a dose of laudanum and he's sleeping now. I left Phoebe with him. She's competent, but I think it would do Joe good if you went to sit with him."

"Any particular reason why?" he asked.

The older man hesitated, as if choosing his words carefully. "After what's happened, what your brother needs most is family. An attack of this nature can make a man feel many things – fear, shame, guilt that he wasn't able to prevent it."

"You mean the beating?"

"Among other things." Doc Martin met his puzzled gaze. "Adam, every man, no matter how strong, has a point where he breaks. You need to be prepared. This may be Joe's."

Adam frowned. "Is there something you aren't telling me?"

The older man hesitated. "I'm not sure. I'll let you know tomorrow."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Ten minutes later Adam stood by his brother's side. Upon his arrival in Joe's room he sent Phoebe off to bed. The redhead had been true and had kept watch over Joe throughout the night and she was exhausted. The dose of laudanum Doc Martin gave his brother had put Joe out, but even in that deep drug-induced sleep he was restless. Joe tossed and turned and muttered and at times, moaned as if caught in some terror he could not escape.

The morning light was creeping in through the window and, since it hadn't disturbed or awakened Joe, Adam opened the curtains wide. He returned to the bed then and sat by his brother and set about examining his injuries more closely. He found it curious that he had to gently take hold of Joe and roll him over to see most of them. The imprint of fingers on his little brother's neck and throat showed that the attack had come from behind. Whoever tied him up must have accosted him while he was face down on the ground. There were bruises on his shoulders as well and more running down his back and onto his thighs and buttocks.

Adam sat back, puzzling over that one.

As he sat there, looking at his baby brother laying in a stranger's bed, battered, bruised, and helpless as a child, something awoke deep within him. It was more than rage, more than a need for justice or even revenge. He'd felt all of that before when Joe had been taken advantage of by the likes of John C. Reagan or Sam Wolf. This was something different and it frightened him because it roused something primal in him.

It made him want to kill whoever had done it.

The black-haired man drew a deliberate deep, steadying breath and held it for ten heartbeats before releasing it. He couldn't be certain what had happened, not until he could talk to Joe, but no matter what it was utterly inexcusable.

Whoever attacked Joe in such a brutal way deserved to be put down like the rabid animal he was.

Utterly weary, Adam leaned forward and covered his face with his hands. "God, please. Please let me find whoever did this."

It must have been his voice that woke him. Joe shifted and groaned. Fighting back tears, Adam twisted around and placed a hand on his brother's arm.

Joe nearly came off the bed.

His baby brother was slight but strong. Restraining him was tantamount to holding down an enraged mountain lion. All he could think of as he fought to keep Joe on the bed was that, in his drugged state, Joe had returned to the moment of the attack and believed he had to fight to break free. Unfortunately, even though his brother was shouting, his words were garbled and made no sense.

Whatever secret was locked within him was going to remain so for the foreseeable future.

"Joe! " Adam said firmly, "Joe, hear me! It's Adam. You're with me and you're safe!"

Joe didn't buy it. He continued to struggle as if his life depended on it and then, suddenly, stopped and became deathly silent. For several heartbeats his baby brother lay there, panting, and then with a whimper Joe curled up into a ball and began to cry.

It nearly broke his heart.

Adam straightened up. He hesitated a moment and then lifted Joe up and slipped in behind him. This time, there was no reaction. Apparently, the laudanum was in command again. Adam shifted until he was in a comfortable place and then cradled his brother against his body like he was a child – like he had done when Joe was a child.

He held him until the sun was up and the room filled with light.