"Stay home with him? No way, Pa! No way!" Adam said, the undertone in his voice making it clear to his father that he was one step away from shouting. "I still have to make it up to Becky for that little prank the brat pulled after church." He glared at his fifteen-year-old baby brother who was perched on the arm of the blue leather chair.

    Joe tried to paste an innocent look on his face, and looked away guiltily when he didn't succeed.

    Ben walked over to the fireplace and patted Adam on the shoulder to try and pacify him. "Now Adam, Joseph's been punished for that already, let's just let it lie."

    "Humph," Adam scoffed, staring into the brightly burning fire. "Not nearly punished enough. If I'd had my way he'd have felt a taste of my belt across his scrawny backside!"

    Ben frowned and pulled his son around to face him. He shook his finger at Adam. "You've been warned about that, and you know it. I am his father and I'm the only one who will use a belt to discipline him," Ben said in a tone of voice to match his son's, then softened when he saw how upset Adam still was. "I know you were embarrassed," Ben held up his hand as he saw the dark-haired man about to interrupt him, "and I know, it took forever for you to get the smell of smoke out of your clothes. But Little Joe is still restricted to the ranch." Ben paused waiting for his eldest son to calm down and listen to reason. "I didn't expect to get this telegram from Sacramento. In fact, I had planned to spend some quality time alone with Joseph tomorrow to discuss a few of his more recent escapades." He looked over at Little Joe and grinned when his youngest boy rolled his eyes. "But the telegram did arrive and I have to go. Therefore, if you want to keep his punishment in place, you will have to stay home with him."

    "I'll stay with him, Pa," Hoss offered, eager to please his father. He looked over at Little Joe and saw the boy frown. "Now Joe, you know Pa don't like you staying alone with them renegade Paiutes on the loose."

    Little Joe wrinkled his nose at his bigger brother. He didn't like being treated like a baby and having one of his older brothers' stay home with him, but that wasn't the reason for his scowl. He had plans for tomorrow and the smoke bomb prank would be all for nothing if Hoss stayed home.

    "You're right about the Paiutes, son," Ben said, smiling at his self-sacrificing middle son. "but I want you to enjoy yourself in town tomorrow. I know you were looking forward to the pie-eating contest at the Ladies' Auxiliary. Besides, you stayed home with Joseph the last time." He turned to his eldest who had started to pace back and forth on the wool rug. "It's your turn."

    Judging now to be the best time to continue with his plan, Little Joe spoke up. "I know you want to see Becky tomorrow Adam, so I’ll stay with the Thompson's."

    "What make you think they'd keep an eye on you?" Adam sneered, still upset even after nearly a week. The aforementioned smoke bomb had been rolled under the seat of the surrey where he had been sitting with his latest lady friend.

    Ben stroked his chin, glad that a possible solution for his problem was in the offing. Forcing Adam to stay home with Joe when he was already angry could have unfortunate consequences. "Have you asked them?"

    "Uh, huh," Little Joe responded, fighting to keep his expression innocent and his tone neutral. He knew if he let any of his customary grin peek through or show any excitement Pa might suspect something. A wrinkle formed on his brow when a possible problem crept into his thoughts. Why would I ask the Thompsons if I could stay overnight if I didn't know about the telegram?

    Ben stared at the telegram and read it again. Strange that Fred Grandy needed to see to him urgently. "They said it’s okay?" Ben asked, looking up from the paper to study Little Joe's face.

    "Sure." Little Joe knew he was on thin ice. Yes, the Thompsons’ oldest son Jeb knew he was coming, but his parents and younger brother were blissfully unaware of the situation. A good thing, since I'm not going to be staying with them anyway.

    "Technically, you are still restricted to the Ponderosa, but if they're willing to take responsibility for you, I'm sure these two," Ben gestured toward Adam and Hoss, "would welcome a break." He pointed at Joe. "But you had better be on your best behavior young man, and if I hear of any trouble you've caused…"

    "Don't worry Pa, you'll never hear a thing," Little Joe said with a cheeky grin and then hopped off the arm of the chair.

    The next day, an unruly bunch of friends walked up the dusty street to the back entrance of the "Unlucky Penny Pub", one of Virginia City’s rowdier saloons.

    "You guys go on in," Steve Garner said as he snaked an arm around Little Joe’s shoulders. "I want to talk to Joe a minute and then we’ll join you." He waited as Sean Thornton slid his key into the lock of his uncle's saloon and opened the door. He watched as three of his friends filed in and then turned to the fourth.

    Sean jingled the keys in his hand. "C'mon, Dutch, he said to a skinny frizzy haired man. We ain't got all day."

    Dutch looked over at Steve and Joe, wondering what was going on. Little Joe was a good eight or nine years younger than the rest of the group and Dutch liked to keep a close eye on him. Most people in town felt it strange that a group of young men would let a boy hang out with them, but life in Virginia City was pretty boring until Little Joe started coming up with ideas to have fun. Dutch thought back fondly to the tadpoles in the punch at the Founder's Day picnic and wondered what Joe and Steve had up their sleeve. He frowned and raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "What're …"

    "Just you mind your own business," Steve said and pulled Little Joe over to the wall. Once he was sure Dutch had went into the saloon, he pulled a bottle filled with dark yellow liquid out of his jacket pocket. "I’m going to share a little drinking trick with you kid," he said as he unscrewed the lid and took a big swig.

    Joe watched his friend's face scrunch up at the awful taste of whatever the liquid was.

    A moment later, Steve opened his eyes and shook his head, trying to get the aftertaste out of his mouth. He handed the half-full bottle to Joe. "Here. It’s your turn."

    Joe gingerly accepted the bottle and sniffed the top, wrinkling his nose at the smell. "What is it?"

    "It’s a special blend of olive oil and Chinese herbs. Guaranteed to keep away most hangovers." Steve brushed his dark brown bangs off his forehead. "Go on, drink up."

    "Are you sure?" Joe said, visibly swallowing. He had a touchy stomach as it was and drinking some horrible tasting liquid before getting drunk for the first time seemed, even to his inexperienced mind not a good idea.

"Of course I am," Steve implored, gesturing at the boy to hurry. "Have I ever steered you wrong before?"

    Joe rolled his eyes.

    "Okay, don’t answer that." He patted the boy’s shoulder. "But I’m not wrong this time. If you don’t drink that, come tomorrow you’re going to have the worst headache of your life and if the drinking is as heavy as planned, you’re going to be sick for a couple of days." Steve ruffled Little Joe’s hair. "I know you’re supposed to be back home by then, and I don’t want you to get in trouble. So drink it—okay?"

    Joe studied Steve's face, and seeing only concern in the steady brown eyes, he did as he was told. "Allright, if you say so," Little Joe said and brought the bottle to his lips. As the first acrid taste hit, he tried to bring the bottle down. Steve grabbed him around the shoulders and tipped the bottle up, forcing the rest of the foul mixture down Joe’s throat.

    "You’ll thank me tomorrow, kid. Believe me," Steve whispered.

    The recently refurbished Unlucky Penny Pub was closed for business on this cold evening in November. The front door was locked and the shutters latched to bar any unwelcome eyes from intruding on a private party being held within.

    "Okay, boys," Sean said eagerly as he shuffled the cards. "We're gonna play 'pyramid'!"

    Several men groaned at his choice of game. "Hey! It's my turn and I say we're gonna play 'pyramid'." Sean gestured to the bartender to bring over another bottle of whisky and several pitchers of beer.

    Little Joe leaned over to Tom and whispered loudly. "How do you play?"

    Sean had heard the boy's request and grinned broadly. "Ah, my little lad, don't you worry. The nice Irishman here will let you know exactly how to play." He turned to Steve. "Will you …"

    "Yeah, yeah, I know," Steve groaned. "Make sure everybody has a full beer and a shot of whisky in front of them," he said as he grabbed the pitcher of beer from the bartender and went around the table filling glasses.

    Sean grinned broadly at each player then lay five rows of cards down on the green felt covered table, starting with one at the top and ending at the bottom with a row of five, all neatly arranged in a triangle shape. He looked at Little Joe and began his explanation of the rules. "You see, Little Joe," he said as he dealt the remaining cards to his six friends. Sean waited until they all had a chance to pick up their cards and review their hands. "The way this works is I turn over the bottom card on the pyramid." He did so, revealing a jack of hearts. "And if one of you have a jack, then you speak up and if we believe you, your card is thrown away. If one of us doesn't believe you and calls you on it, and you were bluffing, you have to drink a shot. If you were telling the truth, we have to drink a beer."

    Little Joe nodded. The rules seemed straightforward enough, and he usually had pretty good luck with cards. "So the one who gets rid of all his cards first wins, right?"

    "Yep, and the losers have to drink as many shots as they have cards left," Sean said with a wide grin, knowing that his next phrase was the one his friends hated the most. "Of course first," Sean said with a devilish twinkle in his eye. "I get to pick one of your cards, and your ante is that many shots." He chuckled at Joe's stricken look. "Just to make it interesting, you understand." Sean flexed his fingers and turned to the man on his right, Tom Logan. "C'mon, Tommy boy, hold them cards up where I can see 'em"

    Tom groaned and hefted his two hundred pound body upright in the chair and thrust his meaty hands out further on the table. He'd had an argument with his father before he left The Lazy K ranch and hadn't eaten any lunch. His stomach growled already from hunger and he knew whisky on an empty stomach wasn't good. "Take it easy on me, will you Sean?" he implored.

    "I have no control over it, you know buddy. It's all up to lady luck," Sean said as he pulled a four of spades from the dark-haired man's grasp. He shook his head. "See, only a four. Four measly drinks to start the game."

    Tom rolled his cornflower blue eyes and grabbed the bottle of whisky. "I've done worse," he said as he poured a shot, downed it and repeated it three more times." When finished, he pushed the bottle over to Cal Simmons who sat on his right.

    Cal raked his callused hand through his cropped black hair and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He had spent all morning working at the Blacksmith's and he was tired. But this little party had been planned for several days and he didn't have the heart to just not show up. He took a deep breath, his heavily muscled chest straining the buttons on his chambray work shirt. "Okay," he said wearily and held up his cards.

    "About time, about time," Sean said gleefully. He reached over and plucked a deuce and flipped it on the table. "Aw, you're getting off easy." He glanced over at the rest of the table. "Hopefully we'll be getting some real drinking happening before long."

    After Cal did his required two shots, he handed the bottle to Jeb Thompson, a blond man in his mid-twenties. Jeb was still a little uncertain about his participation in the afternoon's activities. The Thompsons' ranch was on the western border of the Ponderosa and his little brother Aaron attended school with Little Joe. He was sure Mr. Cartwright and his own father would be most displeased if their afternoon of fun was discovered. But Joe had won the bet, and here they were.

    "Let's go!" Sean shouted, eager for the game to begin. He smiled at Jeb's sheepish look and pulled a seven of clubs from the man's hand. "Now there is a card!" He grinned at Jeb's stricken expression. "C'mon big boy, you can handle it!" he coerced.

    Jeb looked at Little Joe on his right, who was eagerly awaiting his turn. "You know if we get caught I'm going to regret this almost as much as you will," he said dryly as he grabbed the bottle and swirled the liquid around.

    "C'mon, have a little guts!" Joe admonished. "I'm not afraid, why should you be?"

    "Afraid? Ha! I'm not afraid. I just know what a whisky hangover is like, and you know how my Pa is about Sunday morning services," Jeb moaned. "I'll be sitting up front and that preacher will be spouting on and on about the dangers of …"

    "Quit your stalling and do your shot, you poor excuse for a ranch hand," Steve Garner said from his place on the opposite side of Little Joe.

    "Allright, allright, I'm drinking," Jeb said as he filled his glass and started his shots.

    Steve put his arm around Little Joe and leaned over to his ear. "I don't like this Joe, I don't think you should be here," he whispered.

    Joe elbowed him in the ribs. "But I am here, and I'm going to have some fun," he said and eagerly held his cards up for Sean to draw.

    Sean stopped, his hand poised in mid-air. "Are you sure?" he asked, directing his words more to Steve than to Little Joe.

    Joe narrowed his eyes, not liking the glances that passed between the two men. The two oldest members of the group, they tended to be a little more protective than the rest. "Look at me Sean, I'm the one playing." He waited until Sean did so. "Yes, I'm sure, so pick a card."

    Steve pushed his dark bangs off his forehead and glanced quickly at the boy's cards. He ran his forefinger down the bridge of his nose and carefully crooked his thumb to the right. A pre-arranged signal to Sean which card to select.

    Sean drew the card from the boy's hand. "Another deuce!"

    Joe grabbed the bottle, the deep amber color liquid filling the bottle only a quarter of the way. "I'd say this was about two shots, wouldn't you?" he said, directing his glance to Steve.

"Huh uh, Joe that's more like four," Steve said shaking his head.

    Joe grinned, a slow grin that caused his eyes to twinkle. "Oh well, close enough," he said as he put the bottle to his lips and upended it. The fiery liquid burned all the way down, but he managed to successfully hold off Steve who tried to snatch the bottle away from him. When the bottle was empty, he set it in the center of the table triumphantly, before succumbing to a harsh cough. "That was," he coughed again. "smooth."

    Steve smiled and patted him on the back. "Sounds like it went down real easy, little buddy."

    "Your," Joe stopped to clear his throat and swallowed again, hoping to get the taste of whisky out of his mouth. "your turn."

    Steve wrinkled his nose and reluctantly held up his hand of cards. "Five of Clubs!" Sean announced as the bartender brought over another bottle of whisky and retrieved the empty one.

    Steve exhaled sharply. "Okay, here I go," he said and slammed back five shots.

    Dutch Edwards was the last member of the group that needed to ante. He held up his cards and waited impatiently as Sean wavered on which card to draw. "C'mon, just do it!"

    Sean drew an Ace of spades and threw it down on the table. A collective groan came from the group.

    Dutch cringed. "Eleven? I've got to do eleven shots?"

    Joe leaned across and patted him on his broad shoulder. "C'mon, be a man. Do it!" he admonished. The whisky had created a deliciously warm feeling in his stomach that was rapidly traveling to other parts of his body. If this is what whisky felt like, I think I'll be drinking a lot more of it.

    Dutch poured his first shot and downed it, then refilled his glass. By the fourth shot, the men were chanting " Dutch! Dutch! Dutch!" and by the time he finished his last one Dutch knew he was in trouble. Any watching over Little Joe today would have to be done by someone else.

    Twenty minutes and several beers later, Little Joe watched the saloon girls trickle down the stairs, each girl having a distinctive look of her own. The first woman was at least Adam's age so she could hardly be called a girl. Deep ebony hair cascaded down her shoulders and a few loose curls around her face accentuated her high cheekbones and brightly painted red mouth.

    Sean was waiting at the newel post and offered his hand to help the lady down the last few steps. "Gentlemen! The companionship for the evening has arrived! This lovely creature's name is Melissa and she hails from down near San Antonio." Sean looked at his friends, wondering if they were sober enough to give the ladies' the proper attention. It had been difficult convincing his uncle to close the saloon on a Saturday afternoon, but the ladies had been more than eager to give up their time to a "worthy" cause.

    Melissa caressed Sean's pale cheek and offered him a smile, then turned to look at the patrons. A group of young handsome men was just what she needed to pass the time this boring November afternoon. She sashayed over to the table and chose her target. She eased herself onto Tom's well-padded knee, gratified to see a smile light his lips. She licked her lips and stared seductively at the cowboy.

    Sean offered his hand to the next girl, an auburn haired delectable creature with riveting hazel eyes. "This gentlemen, is Sheribelle and she has a penchant for dark haired tall men," Sean announced to the room.

    Sheribelle boldly walked over to the table and knelt before Little Joe, her green and gold dress rustling seductively as she walked. "I also have a liking for almost grown boys," she said, running her recently manicured nails across Little Joe's thigh. "I've heard about you, Little Joe, you must be the one that gets Sean into all that trouble."

    "Now, ma'am," Little Joe grinned, and pasted his most innocent look on his face. "Surely you can see that I'm more the shy, retiring type that just goes along with whatever these guys happen to be doing," he said softly as he took her hand and put it over his heart. "Can't you just feel that I'm a lover, not a fighter?"

    Sheribelle licked her lips as a shiver ran down her spine. "Yes, I can feel that," she said as she slipped her hand inside his white shirt and traced a path down his lightly muscled chest. "Mmmm, smooth as silk," she murmured. "Just how I like my men."

    A large hand reached over Little Joe's shoulder and grabbed Sheribelle's arm just as it started to drop lower. Steve glanced murderously over at Sean and then down at the auburn haired woman. "I thought we agreed that Rose was for Little Joe," he whispered icily. He was a big loser in the Pyramid game and the whisky was running rampant in his bloodstream. Steve knew it wouldn't be long before he wasn't able to function at all.

    Sheribelle smiled, hoping to melt Steve's stern countenance-but not succeeding. "Well," she said as she rose and straightened her skirts. "I was kind of hoping that you'd forgotten about that by now." She grabbed the whisky bottle and turned it upside down, catching the last few drops on her fingertips and bringing them to her lips. "But I can see you need a little more to drink before you let me have my way."

    "Cal, she's yours!" Steve barked to his friend before turning back to the girl. "I'd need a lot more whisky before I'd let you teach the boy here what you have in mind," he said and looked down at Little Joe. Steve chuckled at the disdain in the kid's eyes. "You'll have plenty of fun Joe, don't worry about it. She's just a little too experienced for a fifteen-year-old. A decade or so and she'll be right up your alley."

    Little Joe shrugged and sprawled a little lower in his chair. The beer and whisky had made him feel a little light-headed and every once in a while the room shifted slightly to the left. The hazy feeling made it seem like he hadn't a care in the world, and Joe realized he was kind of partial to the sensation. He looked over at Sean, his burgundy red hair catching occasional glints of light from the lamps suspended from the ceiling. Joe squinted his eyes and looked at his friend again, the devilish glint in the piercing cobalt blue eyes even more pronounced as the day wore on. Sean often liked to tease him about what happened upstairs, and which of the girls was the best. One of the benefits of his uncle owning the saloon, he always said. As the other girls paraded down the stairs and walked over to their pre-arranged companions, Little Joe was able to tell who they were just by the vivid descriptions he remembered from Sean.

    As he watched Lila, a dark-skinned brunette swing her ample hips and walk over to Jeb, he looked up the stairs for the final time. A pair of delicate black leather slippers was the first thing his liquor-soaked gaze encountered, then a pair of shapely ankles. The cobalt blue of her skirt came into view next and his eyes traveled up her hips to her trim waist, then her generous bosom, which was encased in tight white silk. He licked his lips, she couldn't be good-looking too, he thought. A body like that and a beautiful face was just too much to ask for. A deep breath spurred him on and he looked at her face. Beautiful didn't even begin to describe the delicious creature that waited with a hand resting on the newel post. Deep black hair swirled around her shoulders, azure eyes, porcelain complexion and deep rose-colored lips just begging to be kissed. "Snow White," Joe whispered, more to himself than to his companions.

    Steve leaned over and whispered in Little Joe's ear. "Put them eyes back in your head, boy. That's the adult entertainment. "You're here to learn about drinking. So here," he mumbled and plopped another full beer down on the table, foam dribbling down the sides.

    Little Joe pushed the beer to the side and pushed back his chair. "I hate to look a gift horse in the mouth Steve, but I find that little lady a lot more interesting than anything you've got in that glass," he said as he shakily rose to his feet.

    Steve put a large hand on the boy's shoulder and pushed him roughly back down in the chair. "Hey!" Little Joe said both in disdain for being stopped from pursuing the lady and pain from his sore backside. Unfortunately, Adam hadn't been the only one who felt he deserved a tanning for the smoke bomb, his father had felt the same way.

    "Kid, there is no way you're doing what is dancing around in that head of yours, so just forget it." Steve grinned and knelt down beside Little Joe. "But if you promise to behave yourself, I might just introduce you to that little lady."

    Adam and Hoss leaned against the bar in the Silver Dollar Saloon, after a leisurely day spent pursuing their favorite things. To Hoss, naturally that was food, and a full belly and a couple of beers put him headfirst into a good mood. Adam however, had spent the day trying to charm his way back into Becky's good graces, unfortunately to no avail. The young woman had set her sights on a middle-aged bank manager and had no time to spend with anyone who had to contend with childish pranks, even if his name was Cartwright.

    "That kid," Adam exclaimed "needs a little more discipline than he's been getting or I'll be pulling him out of trouble until the day I die."

    Hoss motioned for the burly bartender to re-fill their glasses and spoke for the first time in twenty minutes. "I hate to interrupt your 'I'm feeling sorry for myself speech', but you did pretty much the same thing when you were his age."

    Adam snorted indignantly and raised his eyebrows at his younger but bigger sibling. "I certainly did not!"

    "Yeah, sure," Hoss said and grinned wryly. "You seem to have quite a selective memory older brother, but I'll let it go for now." He watched as Adam tossed a few coins on the table. "Especially since you're buying."

    "I oughta just let him fry the next time he gets into trouble." Adam smiled, the first one of the afternoon. "That's it," he said with a snap of his fingers. "The next time I hear about some mess he's gotten himself into, I'll just keep my mouth shut and let him deal with it."

    "I'm sure he'd really rather be left alone than have you try and smooth things over," Hoss interjected, interrupting Adam's self-indulgent thoughts.

    Adam ignored him, already planning how he was going to ignore Little Joe's pleas for help. The scenarios he formed in his mind slipped dangerously close to the edge of fantasy, aided by the two beers he had gulped down.

    Hoss looked over at his brother, and saw he was deep in thought. He had listened to this same speech many times, and the result was always the same. Little Joe would end up needing help and Adam always came to his rescue. A punch to his shoulder drew Hoss' attention to his left. "Say, Charlie," he said and shook hands with a heavy set man in his late forties, dressed in a plaid flannel shirt and none-too clean pants. "How's the world been treating you?"

    "Not bad, not bad, been keeping busy over at the Lazy K," Charlie said as he put another chaw of tobacco between his cheek and gum. "I was looking for Little Joe, and don't see him. I know you boys don't let him out of your sight for long, so…"

    Adam drained his beer and set it noisily back down on the scarred wooden bar. "We have the day off from babysitting duty, Charlie," Adam said cynically. "And I've decided to drown my sorrows in a few beers, make that quite a few beers."

    Charlie looked over at Adam and then back at Hoss. "I've already drowned my sorrows this afternoon in pie at the Ladies Auxiliary," Hoss interjected smoothly.

    "Another beer!" Adam yelled loudly to the bartender.

    Hoss shook his head at Charlie. "Don't pay him any attention, he's just acting up. He's only had two and I ain't going to let him have more than five. You know there ain't nothing worse than Adam with a hangover."

    Charlie smiled and nodded, accustomed to Adam's flair for the dramatic and overly vocal morning-after complaints. "Where's your Pa? Surely he's keeping an eye on the boy then? I've got a new bridle I'd like to show Joe."

    "Pa's in Sacramento and Little Joe is staying with the Thompson's until he gets back," Hoss said amiably as he finished his beer. He noticed the frown that creased Charlie's thin lips. "What's the matter?"

    "It's just that," Charlie paused, wondering how his information was going to set with the two older Cartwright boys. "I saw Little Joe's pinto down at the stable not ten minutes ago."

    Adam set his beer down loudly on the bar and leaned over Hoss' elbow to join the conversation. "You saw what?"

    Charlie spit a wad of used tobacco into the spittoon at his feet and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "You heard me, down at Edward's Livery Stable. Your brother's pony, just as plain as could be."

    Adam frowned and sobered immediately. "What's that kid up to?"

    The bartender walked over to the three men, and offered a bit of gossip. "Not that I'd want my name mentioned or anything, but I did hear that there was a private party going on at the Unlucky Penny. Doors are all locked and the shutters are closed so no one can get a look inside."

    Adam shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind. It all fit together so beautifully, why didn't I see it earlier? The Thompson's, where Little Joe's friend Jeb could be counted on to help with whatever mischief was about. Next, Cochise at the Edward's Stable, conveniently owned by Dutch, and hopefully last The Unlucky Penny, managed by yet another relative of Joe's pack of unruly friends. This little weekend of rest and relaxation for was seeming more and more like a carefully orchestrated plan by his baby brother. He grabbed his black hat and jammed it tightly on his head, and pulled his jacket on.

    Hoss hid the smirk that threatened to spring to his lips. "I thought you were going to leave him alone?"

    "I am," Adam said, tilting his hat back. "But that doesn't mean I won't keep an eye on him. You coming?"

    A wide-gap toothed smile crossed Hoss' face. "After you older brother, after you."

    Hoss and Adam carefully climbed through the upstairs window of the Unlucky Penny and poked their heads out into the hallway. When convinced the patrons were all busy downstairs, they crawled on their bellies to the edge of the balcony and watched the party below.

    "You were right, Adam," Hoss whispered. "The little rascal is up to no good." He turned and looked back the way they had just come. "How’d you know we could get in through that window?"

    Adam rolled his eyes. "Experience."

    Hoss snickered as he watched a blush creep up his brother's cheeks. "Care to shed a little more light on that?"

    Adam smirked and ran his hands down the carved banister posts. "Well, even I can get into a sticky situation once in a while," he said blushing harder at the memory. "Several months ago I was upstairs with that blond-haired gal over in the corner," he said pointing to a pretty girl in a very tight red satin dress. The dress had black lace trimming the low-cut bust line, which left little to the imagination.

    Hoss nodded and cupped his hands in front of his chest. "You mean the one with the big uh.. uh… dress?" he whispered.

    "Yeah, she’s the one. I was coming down the steps and I saw Pa come in the door with Roy Coffee. I mean I’m a grown man and all, but still…" Adam shook his head. He had felt like a kid caught by a broken window with a slingshot in his hand. "I managed to get out the window without being seen."

    "I know what you mean Adam, the sight of that silver hair and I feel like a ten year old boy again sometimes. I can’t say I’d have done anything different." Hoss blushed. "That is if I had the nerve to take one of them gals upstairs that is."

    Adam smiled at his younger sibling, then frowned as he thought of Little Joe. "I don’t think our baby brother would lack for the nerve, I’m afraid."

    Tom carefully rolled a cigarette, then licked the back of the paper and sealed it. He put it in his mouth and struck a match on the bottom of his boot, then lit the cigarette. He looked across the table at his companions and smiled. He knew several of them would be passing out shortly. He saw Little Joe trying to stack one shot glass on top of the other without much success. Rose was perched on the arm of Joe's chair, a sinewy arm draped around the boy's shoulders. Well, as long as we're introducing him to vices, I may as well add another one. "Say, Joe," Tom said. When there was no response, he spoke a little louder. "Joe!"

    "Huh?" Little Joe said and then winced as the shot glass tower toppled once more.

    Tom pulled the lit cigarette from his mouth and held it up. "Want me to roll you one?"

    Joe grinned. "No thanks," he said and returned to his task. He smiled at Rose as she grabbed his empty beer mug and set off towards the bar.

    "Why not?" Tom asked, after he watched Rose's hip swaying exit.

    Joe wrinkled his nose and debated if he should tell them. He looked around and several friends who had been on the verge of passing out had perked up. "Um… I promised Adam I wouldn't ever smoke," he said softy.

    "Why not?" Tom prodded.

    "I don't really remember, it was a long time ago. I was just a kid then," Little Joe said and scowled at the amused looks on his friends' faces. "Anyway, I promised him and I haven't smoked a cigarette and don't plan to."

    "But Joe, that's kind of silly don't you think?" Tom prodded as he inhaled deeply from his cigarette.

    "I don't think so," Little Joe answered as Tom blew smoke rings in his face. "Adam took care of me when I was little and needed watching over." He grinned wryly. "I wish he realized that I've grown up, though." He blew the smoke back in the older man's face, giggling when Tom coughed. "Anyway, a promise is a promise."

    Steve smiled and tousled Little Joe's thick, wavy hair. "Don't pay any attention to him boy, you're right. I wish I had someone like your brother Adam to watch over me when I was just a youngun," he said wistfully. "Might have turned out a little better than I did."

    Joe punched the muscular man in the ribs. "Oh, shut up. Like you turned out so bad. I wouldn't mind doing the Rodeo circuit like you do."

    Steve drew the back of his hand across his forehead ceremoniously. "Oh, it's hard to be me…" he moaned and then sat down next to the boy he considered a brother. "All those women drooling over this poor, skinny body," he said as he flexed his right arm.

    "Yeah, I'd hate to be as homely as you are," Cal chuckled and tucked his dark black hair behind his ears. "And those puny muscles that you sport," he said and flexed a bicep which dwarfed Steve's. "If you pumped the bellows everyday at the Blacksmiths' like I do, you'd have some real muscles." He looked at Sheribelle who was perched on his lap. "And ladies just love muscles don't they little darlin'?"

    "We certainly do," Sheribelle said as she squeezed the proffered bicep, then looked longingly over at Little Joe. "We pretty much like any size muscles though."

    Little Joe blushed at the frank admiring gaze she gave him. Rose returned with another beer and perched on the arm of his chair, artfully arranging her skirt to show the most of her shapely legs.

    "I still don't believe that you pulled this whole thing off, Little Joe. I mean, the smoke bomb was funny, but Adam's face, whoa!" Tom said as he shook his head. "There was more smoke coming out of his ears than in that whole case of bombs you bought."

    Little Joe grinned wryly. "I know, and believe me I heard all about it." He drained his beer and motioned for another. "But he had to be mad enough to refuse to stay home with me. I think I went a little overboard there though. I didn't mean for Becky to get so mad at him."

    Cal stroked his beard and looked at the curly haired boy across from him on the table. "Well, that stuff was easy enough to set up, and the bet…well, you had no real way of knowing if you'd win that or not." He paused and took a long swallow from his mug of beer. "But, the telegram… that was pure genius. I still don't get how you convinced your Pa's friend to send that."

    Little Joe offered him a wide grin. "That's a secret, and one I'll never tell."

    Hoss had listened fondly to the cigarette story, and had noticed Adam swiping away a tear when he heard it. But the newest revelation angered the big man. "Why that little …" Hoss murmured and started to rise.

    Adam's hand on his arm stopped him. He was still a little choked up that Joe had remembered the promise about not smoking. It was in fact a promise that Adam had made to Marie, and he had shared it with Little Joe a year or so after her death. The realization that his baby brother had remembered made him a little slower to anger. "Not yet, not yet. I want to hear a little more."

    "But you heard," Hoss said shaking his head. "This has all been a set-up."

    "I know. But let's wait just a little bit longer."

    "Okay, Joe what you do is you take this beer," Tom instructed as he held a shot glass full of whisky directly over the foam-topped mug. "Then you drop the shot into it, and guzzle it quick before the glass hits the bottom." As soon as the words left his mouth, he demonstrated and emptied the mug. "Then you slam your beer mug down on the table. Last one to slam the table has to do it again. Understand?"

    Little Joe nodded and pulled his beer closer to him on the table, ready to join the festivities.

    "Okay, let's have a practice run," Sean prodded. "And the winner gets to um…" he looked around the room until his eyes found what he was searching for. He walked over to Sheribelle and whispered in her ear. She grinned broadly and returned with him to the group of drunken men. He noticed Steve's head was down on the table and he probably wouldn't protest much if Joe won anyway. Sean grabbed a handful of peanuts from a bowl on the table and sprinkled them down the front of Sheribelle's low cut dress. "The winner gets to eat some peanuts!"

    "Allright, I’ve had about enough of this," Adam said heatedly, climbing to his feet. He motioned for Hoss to do the same, and they rushed down the stairs and over to the men.

    "Just what in the Sam Hill do you think you're doing boy!" Adam shouted as he grabbed Joe by the collar and jerked him backwards, pulling the boy's face out of Sheribelle's abundant cleavage

    Little Joe chewed and swallowed before answering. "Eating some peanuts?" he answered sheepishly.

    Joe's cohorts were all concerned, if not downright scared. If they had been sober, they would have stood a chance against the two older Cartwright brothers. But in the condition they were in, there was no hope. Steve and Cal didn't even try to rise because they knew their legs wouldn't hold them upright.

    "I'll deal with you later, boy." Adam said angrily, then turned to the men. "Just what in the hell were you thinking?" he said, fixing each one of the men with an angry stare. "Joe just turned fifteen years old!" Adam glared at Jeb Thompson. "If this was your brother Aaron, what would you think?"

    Tom struggled to rise, grabbing the table when he almost fell. "Shoot, Adam. Aaron's just a little kid."

    Adam rolled his eyes and grabbed Joe by the collar "Little kid? Aaron is almost seventeen, if he's a little kid what does that make Joe?" He shook the boy roughly to punctuate his sentence.

"Adam!" Little Joe said insistently. "I'm not …"

    Adam pulled him close and whispered in Joe's ear. "You just watch yourself little brother. You'll get what's coming to you when we get home--don't you worry about it."

    Joe bit his lip, not liking Adam's stern tone. "But…" he said as he pulled away from Adam.

    "I suggest you keep your mouth shut. Or you'll be over my knee in front of all your little friends here.  And" Adam stabbed a finger into the boy's chest "you know I'll do it too."

    Little Joe crossed his hands behind him and backed up several steps. That would be a nightmare come true. To be thrashed in front of my friends when I'm trying to be so grown up.

    The fear in his little brother's eyes spurred Adam on and he advanced on Little Joe and grabbed his arm. "I mean, it won't surprise any of them that that is what is in store for you once we get home, but to have a mental picture of it to spread around town could be a definite advantage," Adam said, then looked over at Hoss. "What do you think?"

    Hoss stroked his chin and hid a smile. "Might not be a bad idea Adam. Certainly would teach the little scoundrel a lesson."

    "You wouldn't…" Little Joe looked toward the locked front door, then over to the shuttered windows. There was no escape.

    "Yes, I would. But I think I'll wait until we get tomorrow when you're a little more sober and will feel it more," Adam said forcefully and grabbed him by the arm. He turned the boy around and smacked him on the backside.

    Joe tried to twist out of Adam's grasp, with no success. He looked to Steve, but realized his friend was too drunk to help.

    Dutch noticed the pleading look in the boy's eyes and stood shakily. "Adam, I honestly don’t know what to     say …"

    "You don’t do you?" Adam mocked and curled his lip. "I’d like to know how you think any explanation at all would help?"

    "Um …" Dutch fought to come up with any excuse that would help out his friend. He looked over at Little Joe, who was shifting nervously from one foot to the other. Not as gracefully as normal, but the boy didn’t look that worse for wear. An impulse to lie fluttered inside his skull, the only problem was he didn’t know how they had been watched. No, better to come clean. "All right, Adam. I admit it. We shouldn’t have let the boy in here," Dutch started.

    "Well we agree on something about Little Joe's well-being anyway," Adam said angrily. "What prompted this little party?"

    "I had to pay Little Joe back for him winning a bet," Tom interjected from his place beside Little Joe. "Ow!" he yelled as Joe's boot connected with his shin. "What d’you do that for?"

    Joe scowled at his friend. "Just shut up!" he hissed.

    Adam pulled his little brother away from Tom, but didn’t release his grip. "You were saying?" he said as he stared into the man’s eyes.

    Tom gulped. He didn’t have the nerve nor the will to stand up to Adam Cartwright, especially when he was in a bad mood, and bad mood didn’t even begin to describe the temper Adam was in today. "Um…"

    Adam rolled his eyes and loudly addressed the room in general. "Can one of you scholars answer a question without starting with um …" He then returned his stare to Tom. "Well?"

    Tom looked over at Little Joe and grimaced. They hadn’t intended to get their young friend in trouble, and even worse if or when his own father found out he had let the kid break Dynamite there would be hell to pay at his house too. So, prompted by Adam’s scathing remarks he came up with the most brilliant response his alcohol-clouded mind had at the moment. "Uhhh…"

    Adam nodded his head sharply and shook his little brother. "Smart group of friends you decide to hook up with, boy!" He pulled Little Joe around and grabbed his other arm, forcing the boy to face him.

    Little Joe studied the silver buttons on Adam’s black shirt as he tried to clear his thoughts. The whisky and beer had dulled his senses, but not enough to be unconcerned in the face of his big brother’s anger.

    "Look at me!" Adam hissed when he realized that he had lost Joe’s attention.

    Little Joe looked up quickly to Adam’s face and he winced at the intensity that smoldered behind the deep brown eyes. He involuntarily took a step backward, but Adam pulled him back close.

    "What bet?" Adam said as he stared down at the boy.

    Frantically searching for something to say that didn’t start with ‘uh’ or ‘um’, Little Joe lapsed into silence.

    "He just rode one of them broken down excuses for horses that Tom keeps at the Lazy K," Steve said as he finally had the strength to raise his head from the table. The short nap had sobered him a little, and he knew he had to help Joe if he could. The tall man gripped the edge of the table for support and rose shakily.

A    dam wheeled on his new target. "Glad to see you can still talk Steve," he said icily. "I'd like the answer to one more question--would that be rode or broke?"

    Steve stretched, his muscular chest straining at the buttons of his tight black shirt. He hadn't been present when the bet was made and would have put a stop to it if he had. "Well, I suppose that'd be …" he glanced over at Joe. "Sorry, kid." Then returned his gaze to Adam. "broke."

    Adam turned to his baby brother. "You broke one of the Logan's horses?" he asked skeptically. He had been over at the Lazy K and tried to break a few of the wilder horses himself, with no luck. They were a herd of the orneriest animals he had ever seen, and a few were unbreakable.

    Little Joe’s eyes narrowed and he glared up at his oldest brother. Pride reared its head and self-preservation fled in the face of Adam’s disbelief. "Yes, I did!"

    "Let me get this straight," Adam said slowly and carefully so he could outline the events in his mind. "Knowing full well that you aren’t supposed to ride any horse without Pa's permission …" He tightened his grip on Little Joe’s upper arms when he sensed a possible escape attempt.

    Little Joe realized too late that he’d been tricked. It wasn't disbelief he’d heard in Adam’s voice, it was guile. He swallowed deeply and swore to himself before responding. "Well, you see …"

    "Yes, help me see," Adam said icily. "You deliberately disobeyed the instructions Pa and I gave you about breaking horses." He noticed that Hoss and come up behind Little Joe, so satisfied the boy wasn’t going anywhere he turned him loose. Adam paused a moment, marshaling his thoughts. "So the bet was whether you could break this horse, and if you could you got to join their little party—wasn't it?"

    Little Joe nodded, not trusting his voice at the moment. It had a habit of cracking at the most inopportune moment, making him sound like a little kid instead of the man he was.

    "Which horse?"

    Little Joe bit his lip, not wanting to reveal the truth. He backed up several steps until he bumped into a wall, which he correctly assumed was his brother Hoss. "Well," he began. Dynamite had gotten quite a reputation in the past month as being unbreakable, and he knew if Adam found out which horse he had broken his older brother would be livid. He decided to be intentionally and forcefully--vague. "Just some old horse they had Adam," Little Joe said, hoping against all rational odds that his pig-headed oldest brother would just let it go.

    Adam could write a book on his little brother’s mannerisms when Joe was trying to hide something. The signs were all there, Joe was staring at the floor, and he was nonchalantly drumming his fingers on the table like he hadn’t a care in the world. The horse breaking was already out in the open—what more could the boy be looking to hide? The thoughts of a big bay stallion and being dumped several times in the dirt entered his mind instantly. "You didn’t …" Realization dawned in Adam’s dark eyes. "Don’t tell me you even tried to ride Dynamite," he said shaking his head forcefully.

    Joe almost sighed in relief. A straw, he’s just given me straw to grasp. "No, I didn’t try," he said quietly, his gaze never leaving the tabletop. Please, God let him leave it at that.

    Adam was accustomed to this tactic. "Let me rephrase the question. Did you or did you not," Adam paused, trying to broaden the horizons of his question. "Climb on Dynamite’s back?"

    Little Joe hung his head. I’m sunk. I can’t lie to a direct question. "Technically …" he paused, knowing Adam was going to explode. He backed up a couple of steps, chagrined when Adam advanced the same number of steps until he stood nose to nose, or more accurately nose to chest, since Joe was a foot shorter than his older brother. "I guess the answer is yes."

    Adam was so stunned he couldn’t speak. He slowly clenched and unclenched his hands, contemplating his next move.

    Several minutes later, when Adam still hadn't spoken, Little Joe couldn't stand the suspense any longer. "Is that it? Is that all you’re going to say?" he asked.

    "I’ll have quite a few more things to say when you’re sober enough to listen. In the meantime, Hoss and I are going to explain to your friends that this is not an appropriate place for a fifteen year old boy to be."

    Hoss grinned and massaged his right hand. "A dozen black eyes ought to do the trick nicely don't you think? They'll definitely have some explaining to do around town."

    "Sounds good to me," Adam said as they advanced on the drunken group of men.

    Once he realized what they were going to do, Joe tried to stop them. "No!" he yelled and grabbed Hoss' elbow. Unfortunately, he grabbed it when Hoss was bringing it back from punching Steve in the face, and the elbow smacked into the boy's eye. Joe sprawled on the floor, unconscious. Hoss dropped Steve on the ground next to his brother.

    Hoss looked over at Adam and grinned wryly. "I guess it's a baker's dozen then."

    "You can't ever say the kid lacks for nerve," Adam said, sprawled in the blue velvet chair in the great room of the ranch house.

    "Or ideas," Hoss added.

    Hoss looked up the stairs toward their little brother's room, where they had undressed the unconscious boy and tucked him into bed hours ago. After a moment, he looked back to Adam's steady gaze. "What're we going to do with him?" Hoss said as he scrunched up his face. He hated to see Little Joe in trouble, even though the boy usually deserved it.

    Adam stood and walked over to the fireplace. He thought a moment as he stared into the fire. "I don't relish the idea of the amount of trouble he's caused and what he's going to get when Pa gets home."

    "What d'you say we just take care of it?" Hoss asked.

    Adam steepled his fingers in front of him, and a frown creased his brow. He had helped raise his youngest brother since his stepmother Marie's death. Joe had just turned four at the time, and had been and continued to be a handful. Adam had disciplined Little Joe many times, with his father's blessing but usually left the major transgressions up to Pa to punish. "I don't think so, Hoss," Adam said shaking his head. "This is really crossing the line over what I feel I should take care of. I mean I could thrash him but then I'd still have to tell Pa and he'd get a tanning on top of what I gave him."

    "I reckon you're right," Hoss said and then a smile lit his lips. "I still can't believe he rode that blamed Dynamite."

    "I can. Did you see the bruises on the kid's backside? Landed none too gently, I imagine."

    Hoss chuckled. "I think I recall a certain other brother of mine walking a little gingerly for several days after he tried to ride that same horse."

    Adam's smile mirrored Hoss'. "Okay, I had a little trouble, but I learned my lesson and quit after the third attempt. I'll bet he tried a lot harder than I did to earn those bruises." Adam paused, thinking about the horse breaking lessons he had started giving Little Joe, and wondering if Steve Garner had been doing the same. "I have to admit he does seem to have a knack for breaking the horses though. Could be his size, and then of course he is a stubborn kid."

    The fire crackled for several minutes, the two Cartwright brothers deep in thought. Both knew their little brother desperately wanted to be grown up like they were and tried any method to prove it. The horse breaking and drinking were just the latest examples.

    "Allright," Adam finally decided. "We'll take care of it. But we'll do it my way."

    Around midday, Hoss pushed open the door to Little Joe's room and walked in, smiling when he saw the boy on the bed, clad only in a blue and white striped nightshirt. The quilts had been long ago tossed off and he was curled up on his side, the edge of the flannel sheet twisted tightly in his hand. He walked over to the bed and placed a beefy hand on the slim shoulder. "C'mon Little Joe, time to wake up," he said gently

    Little Joe for one of the few times in his young life awoke immediately. He rolled over in the bed and put a hand up to his aching right eye. The events of the previous day came back to him in a rush, and he chanced a glance up at Hoss. He blew out a silent breath, relieved that Hoss didn't look too angry. He blinked and winced again at the pain from his eye, hoping that a dose of guilt might lessen his punishment. "What did you have to go and hit me for Hoss?"

    "You never mind that now, youngun. Adam wants you downstairs right quick, he wants to …" Hoss grinned, knowing what his little brother faced. "talk to you."

    Little Joe grimaced and shifted on the bed, knowing that talk wasn't all that Adam was going to do. Little Joe took inventory of his body, yes his eye ached like the devil, but aside from that he wasn't as sick as he expected to be. Or if this is what a hangover was he would survive.

    "C'mon, c'mon. I ain't got all day," Hoss said, impatiently. Hoss didn't like Little Joe to get punished, in fact he usually did all he could to prevent it. But when the boy's safety was at stake, Hoss found himself firmly in Adam's camp. When he heard that Joe had broken Dynamite he had wanted to throttle the boy himself.

    "I'm coming, just let me get dressed," Joe said as he gingerly climbed out of bed. When his bare feet hit the cold floor he gracefully jumped over to stand on the wool rug in front of the dresser. "Now where did Hop Sing put my grey wool pants?" he mused.

    Hoss chuckled, knowing the aforementioned pants were the heaviest his little brother owned. "Huh, uh. Just c'mon the way you are."

    Little Joe turned and looked at Hoss. "I can't go down like this," he said, worry causing his voice to waver. Adam's spankings stung, and he needed some protection if he was going to survive. The blue and white striped cotton nightshirt was very thin and would be a very poor barrier between his backside and his oldest brother's callused hand.

    Hoss grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to the door. "Yes, you can, boy."

    Dragging his feet, Little Joe continued to protest. "But if Adam …"

    Hoss had had enough of his little brother's reluctance. He grabbed him around the waist and hoisted him over his shoulder, adding a smack to the boy's seat. "Not if, when he whacks your backside it's going to hurt even more." Hoss pushed open the door and walked down the stairs, nodding to Adam as he hit the last step.

    Adam gestured over to the fireplace, and Hoss walked over and deposited his brother in a heap on the floor beside the gray stone hearth.   Adam ran his fingers through his thick dark hair and stared down at the boy on the floor. "I assume you have some sort of explanation for your behavior yesterday?" he said icily.

    Little Joe bit his lip and looked up into the angry face of his oldest brother, the co-disciplinarian in the Cartwright household. "I do, but not as good a one as I'm gonna need, I have a feeling," he said earnestly.

    Hoss leaned his broad forearms on the back of the blue leather armchair and dropped his head, unable to control the smirk that popped to his lips.

    "I tend to agree with you, but out with it," Adam said as he tapped his fingertips lightly on his crossed forearms.

    "Well, you see.." Joe began.

    Adam motioned for Joe to rise. "Stand up when you talk to me."

    "Yes, sir," Joe said quickly, then mentally chastized himself. He hated to call Adam sir, it made him seem so much more, more, adult. He scrambled to his feet and pulled his nightshirt down as far as it would go, cursing inwardly at the light cotton of the material. "You see, um," Joe started, trying in vain to think of some way out of the trouble he was in, but decided the truth was the best way, but some older brother guilt could ease over a couple of the rougher spots in his story. He looked down at his barefeet for a moment, marshalling his thoughts and began to tell a slightly embellished version of the events of the day before. "You know I've always wanted to go into a saloon and have a couple of drinks with the two of you." He added a heartfelt sigh for effect. "Well, you," he paused and gave both his brothers a sad glance, then felt his black eye and winced. "You'd never take me. So when the opportunity arose, I wanted to be grown up so badly that I just went along with it." Joe ran his hand through his curls and looked up at Adam innocently, hoping to seal the story with his most endearing expression.

    A ghost of Marie passed through Adam as he looked at Little Joe. The promises I made to her, to teach her baby all he needed to know in life and introduce him the correct way. Have I been derelict in my duty to her and her son?

    Hoss, rarely the voice of reason had watched the play before him and fought to stay quiet. Adam always accused him of being gullible where Little Joe was concerned, but his oldest brother was just as likely to succumb to the boy's charms.

    Joe watched the storm of emotions that flashed across Adam's face, from righteous anger, to indecision, to finally a wistful glance to the pictures on his father's desk. The battle was almost won. Although he wasn't certain of what went on inside his oldest brother's very complicated head, the way around Adam was a skillfull two-step through the shadows of the past.

    Adam looked at Joe's eye once again, swollen and painful looking. Am I in the wrong here? Should I, even against Pa's wishes, have taken the boy for his first drink? Adam had been seventeen for his first drink, and Hoss the same. But … Indecision, a foreign emotion to him, danced in his mind. Marie had said that Pa might have trouble with Little Joe, because he would be so much older when the boy reached adolescence and would need his help. Should I have …

    Hoss guffawed, earning him startled looks from both his brothers. "You know Adam, it seems to me that you always accuse me of being led down the garden path, and here you're done almost to the gate."

    "Huh?" Adam said quizzically, and glanced over at Little Joe whose innocent look had been replaced by a decidedly guilty one. "You mean .." He narrowed his eyes to slits and put his hands on his hips.

    "I'm surprised you even fell for that one, it wasn't his best. That whisky must have affected you quite a bit from yesterday boy," Hoss said still chuckling. "The 'I just went along with part', that was so unbelievable I almost thought it was going to bite your lips when it came out." He stepped out from behind the chair and walked over to the boy and stood before him.

    Joe looked up at Hoss and swallowed hard. The few times when Hoss felt the need to enlighten Adam about his antics never turned out well.

    "The whole thing was your idea wasn't it Joe?" Hoss prodded.

    "Well …" Joe took a deep breath and frantically searched for a way to escape the situation. He looked over at Adam, whose uncertainty of a moment ago had fled and was now replaced by the acting commander of the Ponderosa. One chance. "You see, I was …"

    Hoss grabbed Joe's left arm and pulled him forward and planted a hard swat on the boy's backside.

    "Ow!" Joe yelped and tried to shield himself from another blow.

    Hoss retained his grip, and his position with his hand raised. "I asked you a question, boy and I expect a truthful answer. "Was it your idea or not?"

Joe studied the floor and his barefeet. "Yes," he whispered softly. Aren't they all?

    Hoss directed a self-righteous grin at Adam. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" He pulled Little Joe away from the hearth and over to stand in front of Adam. "Now it's your turn."

    Adam crossed his arms and nodded, staring down at the boy before him. Hmph--manipulate me will you? We'll see about that. "Hoss and I have discussed your punishment for this little venture into adulthood Joseph, and it won't be pretty," Adam said as he unbuckled his black leather belt.

    Little Joe backed up, disbelief shining in his green eyes. "You can't do that! You're only supposed to use your hand. You know that. Only Pa can tan me," he said, his voice wavering with emotion.

    "Yep, we've thought about that little brother," Hoss said decisively as he stuck his hands in his pockets. "And we decided you'd get even worse if Pa was home, so if you decide to tell him about your little adventure, me n' Adam will worry about the consequences then."

    Yet another potential humiliation dawned on Joe. "Adam, you're not going to tan me in front of Hoss…" he said, looking over at his big brother.

    Adam slowly pulled his belt from the loops. "I certainly am Little Joe. After all, didn't he help me see through this little charade you just tried to pull?"

    Joe took a deep breath. "Yeah, but…"

    "   Well there you have it. You're lucky that I don't have him take a turn in whipping you," Adam said decisively.

    Little Joe covered his backside with his hands. "C'mon Adam. Cut me a little slack will you? It was just a couple of drinks."

    "Just a couple of drinks!" Adam exploded, his patience already worn thin. We caught you guzzling whiskey slammers and eating nuts out of some bargirl's cleavage! How do you think Pa would like the picture I just painted?"

    Little Joe grimaced. His oldest brother's spankings hurt like the devil, and he had only ever been spanked with his hand. How bad is this going to be?

    Adam grabbed him by the arm and dragged him over to the settee and sat down. He pulled Joe over his lap and raised the belt. "You will learn to behave, I assure you," he said sternly. The crack as belt hit backside could be heard across the room.

    "Adam! C'mon," Little Joe pleaded as the belt descended again. "Not so hard!"

    A knock at the door.

    "Go get that will you Hoss? I'm kind of busy at the moment," Adam said, his attention never leaving the struggling boy on his lap.

    Hoss did as asked and opened the door to admit Sheriff Roy Coffee.

    "Howdy boys," Roy said as he removed his hat and placed it on the credenza next to the door. He smiled at the scene on the sofa, then walked over and sat down in the burgundy leather chair.

    Adam stopped the tanning and looked up at the Sheriff. "Hi there, Roy, what brings you out to the Ponderosa? Pa's gone to Sacramento on a business trip."

    Roy chuckled and pointed to Little Joe. "So I noticed, or else the boy would be across your Pa's lap instead of yours."

    Little Joe, hoping that his tanning was over shifted on his brother's lap, but was stopped by a hand across his sore backside. "Don't even think about it Joseph. We're not finished yet."

    "Actually, Joe is the reason I've come out. The details about the party at the Unlucky Penny is all over town now." Roy paused, marshalling his thoughts. "I've been thinking that there really should be a drinking age in this town. I mean the larger cities have one, and since Virginia City has grown up I really think we should too. I was thinking eighteen unless accompanied by a family member. What do you think?

    Adam nodded and looked down at his fifteen-year-old brother. "I agree. Would keep the young ones away."

    "Glad to see you agree." Roy grinned down at Little Joe, who obviously was embarrassed at the position he found himself in. "Don't let me stop you Adam. We can finish talking after you're through disciplining the boy." Roy paused and stroked his chin. "I have a feeling he'll have a repeat lesson next week when Ben gets home though."

    Little Joe's jaw dropped and he skewed around to face Adam. "You promised you wouldn't tell."

    Adam smiled evenly. "Yes, I did. But if like Roy says the news is all around town, and we're going to have a drinking age, mostly because of your antics, I might add--I'm not going to have to tell Pa. Half the town will."

    Roy ran his hand through his thinning gray hair. "I've been toying with another new law as well. In the big cities they call it 'contributing to the delinquency of a minor', and it would prevent those other boys from getting off scott-free when they get the little fella into trouble."

    "I've heard of it Roy, and I definitely agree. Although from the shiners and hangovers they're sporting today, I'm sure Steve and the rest of the guys don't think they got off too easily," Adam said with a grin.

    Roy chuckled, well aware of the six men walking around town each with a pair of black eyes. "I'd agree with you, but who knows what they've already gotten away with? The threat of a couple of days in jail and a hefty fine should discourage any further mischief."

    Adam nodded. "I think you’ve found the solution to your problem, and now if you’ll excuse me," he said as he raised his belt to continue with Little Joe’s tanning, "I’ll finish the solution to mine."

    Roy gestured toward the black leather belt gripped tightly in Adam’s hand. He was aware of Ben’s instructions toward the discipline of his youngest boy. "Ain’t your Pa going to be mad at you for that?"

    "Yeah, I suppose he will, but the way I look at it I’ve started already, so I might as well finish it," Adam said, as he brought the belt down sharply on Joe’s already sore backside.

                                                                         The End