Joe lay low over Cochise's neck, urging his faithful horse to an almost suicidal pace. He was grateful, not for the first time in his ride, that the terrain was flat prairie. Not that he would go any slower if it wasn't; he had to succeed in his quest….he had to. His thoughts spun back to his brother, all alone in the bullet-ridden hotel with the blood-soaked floorboards. He swallowed even harder and urged Cochise on yet again.

BNZ BNZ BNZ

Adam watched a star begin twinkling through the window he was under. Joe had made him as comfortable as possible before leaving, still reluctant to leave Adam alone. But the older brother had insisted, even telling Joe to leave before moving the bodies out of the lobby.

Adam almost chuckled at the memory of Joe's face when he told him that. "I'm not going to make you stay here with a bunch of corpses, Adam!" The smaller man's eyes had been flashing dangerously.

"Joe, if you don't hurry, I'll be one of them." Adam had regretted using the harsh statement when Joe flinched. Adam softened his voice. "I'll be fine, Joe. Just bring that saddle bag over here and get going."

Joe had complied, but insisted on wrapping Adam's wound up properly with some bandages before going. Nothing Adam could say would change his mind. Then Joe had left, with a reaffirmation of his promise to be back before sunup.

Adam leaned against the wall, glancing down at his wound. It hadn't bled through the bandage yet, which was a good sign. Joe had been gone for almost three hours; he should be almost at the town if nothing had hindered him.

Adam finally glanced over at the fallen men. He felt a pang of remorse when he saw Jakes's body. The kid had given his life trying to protect Joe and Adam…and the oldest Cartwright couldn't figure out for the life of him why.

Adam felt nothing about the other three men, nothing except a strange, almost relieved feeling. He looked out through the window once more, staring at the darkened sky.

He let his mind wander from topic to topic, doing his best to ignore the cadavers a scarce ten feet from him and the bullet in his side. He mildly wondered if Hoss had finished helping the Widow with her harvest yet. He wondered if Pa and the hands had finished repairing the north pasture fence. He wondered if Joe's stitches were holding.

The stars began to swim in front of his eyes, spinning and turning in a celestial dance he could not comprehend. Dark clouds began to join the dance, slowly covering and intertwining with the stars. Adam could hear the melody they were dancing to, a bright, airy tune. There was laughter and a slight mummer of voices as the stars continued their ball.

Adam slowly realized he was becoming delirious. He didn't know what scared him more, being delirious or the fact he could recognize it. He looked down and saw the white bandages had turned red. The sky was lightening, and the stars were no longer dancing. They were crying, white hot tears as the sun slowly rose over the horizon. The bright airy melody had changed, changed into a slow, sad sounding song. Adam recognized it after a few bars.

It was a funeral dirge.

As the last star faded, Adam's head dropped back.

BNZ BNZ BNZ

Doctor Bronson had been sleeping soundly in his above-clinic apartment when a thunderous pounding at his door woke him. He glanced at his wall clock as he sat up. It nearly one in the morning; this would not be a social call.

"Doctor! Doctor Bronson!" A voice yelled. The kindly doctor had the door open in a moment, blinking owlishly out at his visitor. He recognized him instantly.

"Mr. Cartwright. What is wrong?"

Joe poured out the whole story in tortured, short gasps as he tried to catch his breath. The doctor's face grew graver with every word. As soon as Joe mentioned the bullet wound's location, he left the door abruptly. He was back in less than five minutes, dressed and ready to go. Joe gratefully followed the doctor as the man went into his clinic downstairs, gathering supplies.

"I just have to fetch my horse from the livery." Dr. Bronson glanced at the exhausted Cochise and the even more exhausted boy beside him.

"I am familiar with where Rusty Springs is, if you would like to stay and rest." The doctor began, but Joe cut him off.

"Absolutely not. I will just get a fresh horse from the stables; but I am coming with you." The resolve on the young man's face told the doctor not to bother protesting. A spot in the doctor's heart was warmed by the clear brotherly devotion on his companion's face.

"Very well. I will get the horses and you will get the Sheriff."

OOO

Joe was once again bent over the neck of a horse, urging it on at breakneck speeds. Unlike Cochise, this unfamiliar horse had to be urged, and it chafed Joe. He knew it was unreasonable to be annoyed with the animal; it wasn't like it knew Adam's life depended on their arriving quickly.

Fortunately, the doctor did understand and was urging his animal as fast as Joe. The Sheriff was trailing them by a good deal, but Joe frankly didn't care. The Sheriff had been reluctant to come in the first place; declaring it was none of his affair as Rusty Springs was not his town. Joe had all but left the pompous man where he stood when the Deputy stepped in and offered to come in his superior's place. Ashamed, the Sheriff had come along.

Joe glanced up at the sky as it began to lighten. They were almost there…almost there.

The last star had just faded when the doctor and Joe arrived at the hotel. Joe's throat tightened as he saw his brother was not moving. Doctor Bronson knelt beside Adam and felt for a pulse.

"Thank God." The doctor uttered reverently. "We've made it in time; but his pulse is very weak. Help me."

Joe needed no further urging to kneel beside the doctor and roll up his sleeves.

"Adam? Can you hear me?" Joe asked as Dr. Bronson began to unroll the red soaked bandages.

"The stars…they stopped dancing." Adam whispered hoarsely. Not comprehending but relieved to hear his brother's voice, Joe gave a little laugh.

"Yes, Adam. The stars stopped dancing."

"This is worse than I thought." Dr. Bronson said in a low voice to Joe. "He's lost quite a bit of blood. But if I can get the bullet out and close the wound, he may have a chance. I need you to hold him still; keep him calm. Can you do that?"

Joe swallowed as he looked at the ugly hole in his brother's side. "I can do it."

The operation was not a pretty one. Adam struggled, half delirious and unaware of his thrashing. Joe had to pin his brother's arms down so the doctor could get the bullet out, clean the wound, and stitch it as best as he could. The Sheriff had arrived sometime in the struggle, but had wisely stayed silent and out of the way.

"There." The doctor finally leaned back and rubbed his sweating brow with a bloody hand. "That is the best I can do until we get him back to Carson City."

Joe looked down at Adam, who had gone limp minutes before. "Will he…"

"I think he will be fine. He is strong; but he needs a clinic. I am loathing the idea of moving him, but we have no choice." Dr. Bronson said, slowly packing his instruments. Joe nodded, resting his hand on Adam's shoulder.

"Hey, Adam…can you hear me?" Joe asked gently. A slight grunt from Adam told Joe he could.

"We have to move you, Adam. It's going to hurt, probably. But we have to get you to Carson City. Do you think you can?"

"I'll make it, Joe." Adam said in a strong voice that almost made Joe weep. "I'll get there."

OOO

And make it there, they did. It was a long, slow, and painful ride; and often the doctor had stopped them to let Adam rest. But they made it back to Carson City. Adam recalled passing out and not awakening until the next morning.

Adam looked around the warm, sunlight clinic room he had been regulated to as soon as they made it to the doctor's office. Dr. Bronson had been checking on him constantly, as if afraid Adam's body would suddenly make up its mind to quit after its rough treatment.

Joe was almost as bad, hovering from Adam's bedside to the telegraph office to rely messages back home. He was fine, he protested whenever Adam suggested he got rest. Adam knew that wasn't entirely true; Dr. Bronson had had to restitch his shoulder again and practically forced Joe to take a painkiller. But the younger Cartwright didn't seem too worried.

"How are you feeling?" Joe's voice broke Adam's reverie. Sure enough, his brother was sitting next to his bed, perching like a curly-haired mother hen. The mental image brought a smile to Adam's lips.

"Like I've been shot and then rode all day." Adam admitted, sensing Joe wanted the truth. Joe nodded, as if he expected as much.

"Do you think someone has it in for us? Between being shot and wolves and Indians and feuding neighbors and cattle thieves…it seems like we are in trouble every week." Joe joked, but the quip fell a little flat. Adam gave it a small smile none the less.

"Pa and Hoss are on their way here." Joe said. "Telegraphed them as soon as we got into town."

Adam couldn't hide his relief. It would do both Joe and him good to see the rest of their family. Joe continued. "That fool Sheriff finally believes our story; he is taking care of all the reports and burials. Jakes is being treated like a hero."

Adam flinched slightly. "I can't figure out why he did it."

Joe looked sad. "I talked to his brother, before the Sheriff arrested him. Turns out they were orphans; all Jakes had in the world was his brother…maybe he reacted to Harvess playing us against each other. Maybe he hoped someone would do the same for him and his brother. I don't know if we will ever know."

Adam nodded thoughtfully. "I guess not." He glanced at Joe sharply. "Are you alright?"

Joe paused for a long moment. "I will be." He said in a strong, confidant voice, but it cracked at the end. "I'm sorry, Adam. This is all my fault."

Adam looked at Joe in surprise. "Your fault? How is this your fault?"

"If I had told you sooner…none of this would have happened. But I didn't tell you because I am a coward." Joe said with venom, clearly directed at himself. "I didn't tell you because I was scared. I cried, Adam! I cried. I begged them to stop; when Harvess said they should find their cattle brand and brand me. I didn't tell you that part…I was too ashamed. Ashamed that when I saw them get the brand out of their saddle bags, I started begging. Pines starting laughing…something in his eyes scared me; something about the way he was looking at me. Said he could brand me lots of ways. But Harvess just shook his head and held up the brand, said that would do just fine. They had the fire all built, too…if those braves hadn't come along…" Joe trailed off. "And then, when I saw them beating you…I felt that same terror again…and there was nothing I could do. And I wanted to beg him not to hurt you anymore. I'm a coward, aren't I?"

Adam looked at his brother for a long moment. "Oh, Joe…" He said quietly. Suddenly it all made sense. The thing Joe held back from him when telling his story; Joe didn't want Adam or anyone else to think he was a coward. But all the while Joe had been ripping himself apart about it. And that was causing more damage than the wounds ever could.

"You're not a coward, Joe." Adam said. "You're the farthest thing from a coward I've ever seen."

Joe looked at Adam, his face a little less clouded. The oldest Cartwright continued.

"You are not a coward because you asked for mercy. A coward would have ridden away when he saw them beating that little boy. A coward would maybe have stopped and helped them, just so they would not hurt him. But you did not. You stopped, you challenged them; you forced them to recognize the evil within themselves. It is not your fault that they could not handle seeing their own wickedness in the mirror; that they lashed out at you. A coward would have given up as soon as they cornered us. A coward would have let them kill him without a whimper. A coward would not have almost killed himself on that ride to save another man. No, Joe. You are not weak. Far from it."

Joe's eyes were no longer troubled; in fact, he looked like a burden had been removed from his shoulders. "You…you mean that, Adam?"

Adam realized that was more praise than he had ever given Joe, and he felt a pang as he recognized the caution in Joe's voice.

"Of course I mean it." Adam closed his eyes. "I am proud to be your brother."

There was a long moment of silence, then Joe spoke. "Thank you, Adam. For…everything."

There was a little laugh from the older Cartwright. "I should be thanking you; you were the one that rode like the hounds of hell were after you to save me."

"Hey, what are brothers for?" There was a definite smile in Joe's voice for the first time since he returned from Reno, and Adam laughed in spite of himself.

OOO

It had been almost three weeks since the events of Rusty Springs. All the Cartwrights had just returned from Carson City; Joe and Adam having been released from Dr, Bronson's care. The trip home had been slow due to both wounded boys and the constant fussing from Ben and Hoss. They had arrived late at night and had stumbled into bed without a further thought.

Ben Cartwright watched all three sons as they sat down to breakfast.

Hoss was acting like a mother bird; insisting on serving both his brothers, as if afraid they would tire themselves from scooping out their own syrup. Adam and Joe protested the special treatment, but Hoss silenced them with a look. The large man had been worried almost out of his mind since they got Joe's telegram…the whole ranch had been, in fact.

Ben felt himself that his heart was only now just starting to beat again, knowing his boys were safe and home. He knew they would take time to heal completely; both physically and mentally.

He watched all three sons banter back and forth. He watched the concerned look Joe shot Adam when the oldest laughed a bit too hard and winced. He saw the comforting hand Joe put on Adam's shoulder until the black-clad Cartwright could sit up straight. He watched Hoss refrain from clapping Joe on the shoulder at a joke the younger told; glossing over it naturally, not calling attention to the injuries or the ordeal they had all gone through.

He knew they would be alright. It would take time; it might take nights of crying out and days of quiet mending. But they would be alright, they had each other. No whips or fire or bullet would be able to take that away. Every drop of blood that any of them spilled was Cartwright blood, and that was stronger than any hate or fear anyone could inflict.

Morning had dawned over the Ponderosa bright and clear. Birds sang sweetly, the sun shone merrily, and the Cartwrights were together, safe and sound.

Ben took a sip of coffee and prayed for a normal day.