by Tamara

Glory dried her tears and stood, leaving the body of Mark Burdette lying in the dirt atop Sun Mountain. She tucked a tawny lock of hair behind her ear and slowly walked over to silver-haired Ben Cartwright. "As grateful as I am for your help, I certainly didn’t expect to see Little Joe here."

Ben looked at her quizzically as he tucked his gun back into his worn leather holster. "Why not?"

She looked over at the three Cartwright brothers' who were talking together. Little Joe was easily a foot shorter than his older brothers, and it was obvious they cared deeply for one another. "The doctor let him go then?" she said as she turned back to Ben.

Ben took his hat off his head and twisted it in his hands. "Doctor? What doctor?"

Glory brushed the dust off her black lace dress and looked at the older man earnestly. "After Early Thorne and those miners beat him up, I cleaned up his face." She smiled, remembering the struggle she'd had to get Little Joe to agree to let her. "He'd barely sit still for that, but I noticed that he was in a lot of pain from his right side, even though he tried to hide it. He wouldn’t let me check and see if he had any cracked ribs, so I made him promise he’d go see the doctor."

Ben shook his head and rolled his eyes. "My baby son would never willingly go see the doctor." He turned and looked at Little Joe and chastised himself. Why didn’t I insist on checking him over myself when he came home with his face all bruised? I’ve been that boy’s father for 16 years and I should have known better. "But we’ll remedy the situation now if you’ll go along with what I have to say."

"Certainly Mr. Cartwright," Glory said with a smile, then frowned. She placed her hand on his arm. "He was in a lot of pain when we were in Mark Burdette's office, I hope the long ride home and then chasing after me didn't do him any further harm."

Ben patted her hand and looked over at his youngest, the same thoughts echoing in his mind. He looked down at the pretty blond beside him and decided to do what he could to allay her fears. "Don't you worry about it Joe's a tough boy. Short of dragging him to Doc Martin's office, there is no way you could have gotten him there."

Glory smiled and nodded. "I hope you've got a good plan, because it seems like he has a mind of his own."

Ben chuckled. "Well, he does at that. But he'll do as I say, you just watch." He turned and looked at his sons proudly. "Boys!" he bellowed.

They were son joined by Hoss, Adam and Little Joe, the latter who walked gingerly and as if in pain, Ben noticed. Why did we go over such rough terrain? Ben chastised himself as he fought the urge to pull open the boy’s shirt here and now and check him over. But he knew a difficult scene would ensue. Joe would be upset, and he would be forced to exert more parental authority than he wanted to ensure cooperation. The boy looked so pale as it was and he didn't want him in an uproar even before they reached the Doctor's office.

Ben immediately began issuing orders. "Adam, you throw the bodies over Sport." He smiled when his oldest son nodded in response. "Then you and Miss Glory can ride Cochise and Little Joe will ride with me."

Little Joe narrowed his eyes. He certainly didn’t want to ride with his father and be seen like a baby in front of the attractive blond saloon girl. "Hey Pa, I’ve got a better idea. You know Cochise doesn’t like anyone riding her but me, so why doesn’t Adam ride with you and Miss Glory and I will ride Cochise?" he asked hopefully, adding a dazzling smile for good measure.

Ben smiled down at his young son, clearly understanding Little Joe’s thought processes. "No," he said decisively. "I think Adam can more than handle Cochise, he did help you break her after all. I’d prefer you ride with me."

Little Joe scuffed his boot in the dirt. How am I going to hide my sore ribs from Pa if we're so close together? It was hard even getting on Cochise without groaning in pain, and he couldn’t control his facial expressions when he did it. Luckily he had been able to mount her well away from the others so they didn’t notice. This is not going to go well.

"What’s the matter Little Joe?" Ben asked, noting the myriad of emotions that flickered across the boy's face.

Joe eyed his father warily, unwilling to admit to any weakness or pain. "Nothing." He turned to Buck and with difficulty put his foot in the stirrup and grabbed hold of the saddle horn. By gritting his teeth and setting his jaw, he was able to mount the large horse without crying out, but he couldn’t prevent wrapping his arm around his ribs and doubling over in the saddle once he was astride.

Ben and Miss Glory exchanged concerned looks.

"Hey Little Joe, are you allright?" Adam asked with concern as he walked over to Buck. He had noticed the careful way Joe had mounted, in direct contrast to the way the boy usually just vaulted into the saddle. He patted Little Joe on the leg and eyed him warily.

Joe closed his eyes and took a shallow breath before responding. "I'm fine," he grunted.

Adam rubbed his chin warily and looked over at Ben, uncertain of what to do. If his Pa hadn't been there, he would have taken control of the situation but as it was, he deferred to his father.

Ben nodded and gave him the all-knowing look that indicated things were under control.

"Good then," Adam said walked over to Cochise. He smiled at the pretty woman and lifted her up into the saddle and then mounted. He wrapped his arms around her and picked up the reins. "Let's head to town."

"Can we go slowly?" Miss Glory asked as she shifted in the saddle. "I'm a little tired of riding." She adjusted her black lace overskirt over her legs, not used to riding astride.

Ben smiled at the blonde woman. She is playing her part well. "We sure can, Miss Glory. Mighty rough terrain out here, won't hurt us to take it slow and easy." He walked over to Buck and looked up at his young son who was fighting to stay upright.

Little Joe took a shallow breath and fought a grimace. He shifted his weight so he could scoot behind the saddle.

"No, son," Ben said as he patted the boy's leg and looked into his deep green eyes. "I prefer that you ride in front."

Joe wrinkled his nose in disgust. "But Pa.." he complained. That’s what little kids did, or if someone was injured… He looked over at Miss Glory and studied her deep blue eyes. Did she tell his Pa anything?

Miss Glory smiled back at him innocently, unwilling to give away Mr. Cartwright's plans to get the boy in the doctor's office.

Ben mounted Buck behind his son and wrapped his arms gently around the boy. He noticed a sharp intake of breath when he merely touched Joe's ribs on the right side. Assuring himself he was making the right decision, he gently pulled back on the reins.

************

Half an hour later they stopped in front of Doctor Martin's office.

Little Joe narrowed his eyes and shifted gingerly in the saddle until he could look his father in the eye. "What're we stopping here for?"

"Miss Glory was feeling a little faint before and I thought we'd make sure she's okay," Ben said a trifle guiltily. He knew if he had to fight Little Joe to get him into the doctor's office there was a chance the boy would injure himself further, and it definitely would take a lot longer. Sometimes deception was the best way. Ben threw his leg over the saddle and slid to the ground. He walked over to Miss Glory, and to keep the charade alive helped her down from Cochise. Gently placing his hand on her arm, he called to his youngest.

"Adam, Joe, let's go in," he said and guided the lady up the stairs to the doctor's office.

Little Joe scooted back in the saddle and offered his father a shaky grin. "You go ahead Pa," he looked over at Hoss who was leading Sport. "Hoss and I will take the bodies down to the Sheriff's office and meet you back at the Ponderosa."

Adam dismounted quickly and walked over to Buck. He patted the horse on the nose, mulling over the easiest way to get his little brother into the doctor's office. "Uh, Little Joe why don't you come in with us? Hoss is a big boy and can handle that job all by himself."

Joe shook his head and studied the shingle hanging outside the front door. It read "Doctor Paul Martin, M.D." After a moment, he looked down at Adam. "No, I don't like going in there." He pulled back on the reins slightly, hoping to escape the vicinity of the doctor's office.

Adam grabbed the bridle and looked over at his father. This isn't going as planned. "Pa?"

Ben nodded and took control of the situation and his young son. He let go of Glory's arm and marched to the edge of the boardwalk. "You are going in with us Joseph and that's the end of this discussion. I'm not letting you out of my sight in Virginia City again."

Joe pushed his hat further back on his head and gave his Pa his most convincing look. "Now look, Pa. I'm old enough …."

Ben held up a hand to interrupt. "Now, Joseph," he ordered.

Joe looked down at Adam, who still held Buck's bridle firmly in his grasp. He pulled back on the reins again, hoping to catch his oldest brother off-guard. When that didn't work, he tried his luck again with Pa. "Why can't I help Hoss?" he wheedled. "We’ll meet you back here later."

"Joseph, I gave you an order." Ben said as he propped his hands on his hips in exasperation. His youngest could be obstinate bordering on downright disobedient when it came to his health.

Little Joe squirmed in the saddle and twisted the reins nervously. He disliked disobeying his father, but even worse he hated Doc Martin’s office, even if he wasn’t the patient. "But …"

Joseph!" Ben snapped. "I wasn’t discussing your butt, however I can change that!" he said and stalked over to the boy. "I told you to come with us and I meant it!"

Joe shot a quick glance over at the girl and then down at his Pa who was fuming. Since there was really no choice, he decided to concede gracefully. "Yes, sir," he said and carefully threw his leg over the saddle and slid to the ground on the opposite side of Buck. When his feet hit the ground he half crumpled, the impact sending shock waves up into his sore chest. Joe stifled a groan and forced himself to stand up straight. When he composed himself, he slowly walked around the horse and over to his father, his disgruntled expression enough to cause Adam to smirk.

Ben put his arm gently around Joe’s shoulders and whispered into his ear. "We'll be done soon, don't worry."

Joe shifty uneasily in his father's grasp, trying to prevent any pressure on his sore ribs. He thought of the perfect side trip to make before heading back to the Ponderosa. "Can we stop at the Bucket of Blood before we head home?"

Ben shook his head grimly. "No, Joseph, and I don't want to hear another word about saloons, or miners, or." Ben smiled at the girl and raised an eyebrow. "Saloon girls from you for at least six months," Ben ordered.

"But, Pa …" Joe argued trying to meet his father's stare. "That isn't fair!"

"I'll decide what's fair when it comes to your well-being Joseph," Ben said and propelled the protesting boy up the stairs.

Adam offered his arm to Miss Glory and she took it quickly. "Your little brother certainly is stubborn isn't he?"

Adam rolled his eyes, and grinned. "I'm afraid to say you haven't seen anything yet, miss."

*****

Doctor Paul Martin's medical practice occupied a spacious building on "B" Street, the main floor consisting of a waiting area, examining room and a small infirmary with two beds. The upper floor was the doctor's home and office.

The gray-haired doctor walked into the waiting room, wiping his hands on a towel. "Well, well," Paul said as he noted the four new occupants of the room. "You're just in time, I was just about to close up for the night." He tossed the towel on the desk that dominated the small room and studied Little Joe's face taking notice of his pale complexion, black eye and wary expression. He also noticed that Joe's white shirt, which the boy usually liked to wear with several buttons undone, was buttoned to the neck. "Who is the patient and what happened?" he asked, more as a way to break the ice than a real question. Years of practice had taught him how to accurately read Little Joe Cartwright, a boy who always denied any injury. At this point in time, the boy's face was a mask of pain although a less experienced doctor would have missed it completely.

When Paul stood before Little Joe, the boy offered a smile and tried to step to the side. Ben gripped Joe's arm firmly, halting any movement.

"What've you done to yourself, Joseph?" Paul asked, plucking the hat off his patient's head and setting it on one of the chairs that lined the waiting room.

Joe shook his head quickly to dispel any question. "I'm not the patient." He pointed behind him to the blond haired woman on Adam's arm. "She is."

Glory leaned forward and kissed the boy on his smooth cheek. "No, I'm not Little Joe. I'm just fine," she said smoothly.

"But, you said …" Joe began as he turned to face the girl. He tried to ease out of his father's grip, with no success.

The girl smiled at him gently. "I know what I said." She shook his finger at him. "But you promised me that you'd go see the doctor this morning after you left Mr. Burdette's office. We both know you didn't, isn't that right?"

Joe squirmed and bit his lower lip before responding. "Yes, but that's different. There's nothing wrong with me!"

Paul took hold of Little Joe's chin and turned his face gently from side to side. "Quite a 'shiner' you've got there son. How'd you get that?"

Joe wrenched out of the doctor's grip and studied the wide planked wood floor. "Just a little fight …" he said softly.

"Humph," Glory said and put her hands on her hips. "More than a little fight, I'd say. About fifteen of those miners jumped the boy, Doctor."

Joe's head jerked up immediately and he turned quickly to face the woman. "Hey! I'm not a boy."

Adam patted Joe's shoulder reassuringly, knowing how much the kid wanted to be an adult, with all the privileges his older brothers had. "We know buddy, we know. You're all grown up. Now let the doctor take a look at you huh?"

Joe wrinkled his nose. There was no way he was willingly going to submit to an examination. As long as he was fighting them tooth and nail, the pain seemed to recede and he could concentrate on other things. "I said I'm fine. I don't need a doctor!" he said vehemently.

"I think I've done enough damage here for the day," Glory said softly as she pulled her black lace cape tighter around her milky white shoulders. "Little Joe, honey?" She waited till Joe turned around and gave her his full attention before continuing. "You come visit me down at the Bucket O' Blood anytime, you hear? The first beer's on me."

Joe's smile lit up the room. "I'll do that, ma'am," he said, already looking forward to a trip to the noisy saloon.

"Let me thank you on behalf of my son, but I'm afraid Joseph will have to decline your offer," Ben said firmly, and returned the glare that Little Joe shot at him. "He won't be going in any saloon for quite a while, and if he doesn't start showing a little more respect for his elders he won't be leaving the ranch at all."

A tinkling laugh was Glory's response. "I understand, Mr. Cartwright but all the same Joe. My offer stands. Good day, gentlemen," she said and left the Doctor's office.

Paul started to unbutton Little Joe's shirt and frowned when the boy took a step backwards. Adam smiled and stepped forward and grabbed his brother by the upper arm to hold him in place for the examination.

Little Joe struggled and looked up pleadingly, first at Adam then over at his father. "Pa, please …"

Ben smiled gently at his youngest and patted him reassuringly on the back. "I know, Precious," he said slipping and calling his son by a pet name that Little Joe hated. "But this has to be done."

Paul slowly unbuttoned the boy's shirt and pulled it apart, wincing when he saw the deep purple and black bruises that covered the lightly muscled chest. "They really worked you over." He stopped his examination to look into Little Joe's deep green eyes. "Didn't they?"

"I said I'm fine," Little Joe protested as he tried unsuccessfully to wrench his arm out of Adam's grip.

"Okay, you say you're fine," Paul said in that clipped tone Joe hated. "I say differently." He looked up at Ben to deliver a preliminary diagnosis. "Just from the bruising alone I'd guess he's got at least a couple of cracked ribs," Paul said and stepped back a few paces. "Let's get him in the examining room and up on the table. Then we'll see for sure."

Ben nodded and started to pull the boy forward. "Let's go, Joseph."

"Pa! I said …" Joe planted his feet firmly and wouldn't move.

Ben tapped him lightly on the backside, not enough to really hurt but enough to capture the boy's attention. "I said let's go, young man."

"C'mon buddy, stalling isn't going to make it any easier," Adam said and helped escort a very unwilling Little Joe into the adjoining examining room. Once inside, Paul shut the door tightly and turned to face the occupants of the room. "Okay, Little Joe strip down to your shorts and we'll take a look at you."

Adam and Ben had dropped their tight grasp on Joe once the door was shut and any avenue of escape was gone. Adam walked over to the examining table and patted it gently. "C'mon Joe."

Joe crossed his arms defiantly, and glared at each of the three men in turn. "I'm fine," he insisted, although the bruises peeked out from above and below his crossed arms.

Ben rolled his eyes, and prayed to the good lord for patience. "Joseph, either you do it, or Adam and I will do it for you. One way or another, your clothes are coming off!"

Joe sighed dramatically, then winced and doubled over from a sharp pain in his side. When he straightened up thirty seconds later, he had paled several shades.

Ben had immediately gone to his son's side at the first sign of pain, and patted him on the shoulder gently, his face a mask of concern. "You okay son?"

"I'm fine," Joe said through gritted teeth. Beads of sweat dotted his upper lip and he was breathing slowly and shallowly.

"That's enough," Paul said firmly. He didn't like the way the boy looked and this line of attack was getting them nowhere. "Joe, I want you undressed and I want it done now."

Joe crossed his arms once again and narrowed his eyes. "No! I said I'm fine. There is no reason for me to get undressed because I'm leaving." He took a step toward the door. "There's a lady at the Bucket of Blood who owes me a drink."

Adam stepped in front of his baby brother to stop his forward progress. "You aren't going anywhere little buddy."

Joe felt strong but gentle hands rest on his shoulders from behind and gave in to the inevitable--he was fighting a losing battle. "Pa, no please," he pleaded.

Ben turned Joe till he faced him and unbuckled the boy's black leather gun belt and set it on a side chair. Adam gently eased his baby brother's shirt off his shoulders, whistling when he saw the bruises that covered the right side of Joe's back. "That must hurt," he whispered, more to himself than anyone.

"Pa," Joe tried one last time, but fell silent when his father gave him the "look." Joe reluctantly unbuttoned his pants and slid them down over his slim hips and started to bend to pull off his boots when Paul stopped him. "Huh, uh. Let's get you up on the table, and Adam can pull your boots off. I don't want you bending over until I've checked out your ribs. "I don't want you puncturing a lung in my office."

Joe gave the doctor a look that indicated he questioned the man's competence, and Paul hid a smile.

"C'mon buddy," Adam said and eased Joe up onto the table, then stripped off the boy's boots and pants.

With his clothes off, it was readily apparent how badly the boy had been beaten. Aside from the patchwork pattern of bruises on his ribs, a large bruise decorated his upper thigh, obviously the result of contact with a boot.

Paul grabbed his stethoscope from a nearby table and put the ends in his ears. He looked at Little Joe, squirming on the table, willing to do anything short of murder to avoid an examination. Paul chuckled. Okay, maybe murder was a possibility. He put the bell of the stethoscope on his patient's chest and listened for a moment. "Okay, Little Joe take a deep breath."

"Why?" Joe implored looking up at his father to gauge the man's reaction.

"Joseph just do as he says, please," Ben said, putting his hands on his hips and rolling his eyes in exasperation

Little Joe bit his bottom lip and inhaled shallowly, hoping it was enough to appease the doctor. One look into Doctor Martin's slate gray eyes and he knew the answer. It wasn't.

Paul kept the bell on his patient's chest and waited. "I said a deep breath, Joe. I know it hurts, but I have to hear your lungs expand fully."

Joe did as he was told, and fought the urge to crumple with the added pressure on his sore ribs. "Okay, that's enough for now," Paul said as he pulled off the stethoscope. "Ben help him lie down on the table."

Joe shook his head vehemently. "I've had enough. I'm fine, and I'm going to the Bucket O' Blood for my beer," he said as he scooted to the edge of the table, carefully avoiding looking into anyone's face.

Strong yet gentle hands grabbed his upper arms and held him in place. "You aren't going anywhere Joseph," Ben Cartwright commanded. "You are going to lie down on this table and do exactly," he paused to glare at his young son who was starting to speak. "And I do mean exactly what Paul says. Is that clear?"

Joe opened his mouth to speak, but before he could Adam and Pa eased him down on the table. "I'm fine, really," he pleaded, trying to find one face out of three that gave him some hope.

"Save your breath, little buddy. The only person we're going to believe in this room is the Doctor," Adam said as he pressed Little Joe's shoulders to the padded examining table.

"Adam!" Joe implored as he started to rise again.

Paul motioned Adam out of his way and stood next to the table. "Joseph you are going to do exactly as I tell you, and I want no arguments."

Joe scowled and very carefully crossed his arms high on his chest, to both show defiance and block any further examination. If they think I'm giving in this easily they're badly mistaken.

"Let me explain something to you Little Joe," Paul said as he finger-combed his hair in exasperation. The only way you are getting out of that door is with my permission, which I'm not going to give until I get a chance to examine you thoroughly. There are three ways we can handle this. One is where you fight me at every turn, two is where you give in and let me do what I need to do …"

Not liking either option, Little Joe scowled and stared down at his toes, avoiding anyone's face. "And number three?"

Paul grabbed Little Joe's chin and forced the boy to look him in the eye. "Number three is I get a sedative and put you out. Then, I'll examine you. I really don't want to do that, but if I have to I will."

Joe looked up at Pa, desperate for escape. All I want to do is have a little fun in town. Is that so bad? "Pa?"

Ben leaned over the table and pushed the curls off Little Joe's forehead. "I'm sorry son, but Paul is right. I'd prefer that you give in and let him examine you, but if that isn't your choice I'm backing him all the way."

Little Joe closed his eyes and turned away. He thought a moment, but when no wild plan that offered escape came to his mind he gave in. "All right, go ahead," he conceded.

Paul patted his patient gently on the shoulder and then continued his examination. "Good son, we'll get this done with quickly." As he began to poke and prod, he noticed the subtle ways Little Joe managed to hide his pain: an almost indiscernible squinting of his eyes, the quivering of his bottom lip and the desperate attempts to control his breathing. "How do you manage to get into these scrapes?" Paul asked as he pressed lightly on the boy's abdomen.

"Trouble just seems to find him wherever he goes," Adam commented from his position leaning against the wall. "Then Pa usually blames me or Hoss for not watching the kid close enough and letting the trouble find him."

Joe's mouth dropped open both from the injustice of the words, and from the reference to him being a kid. "I can take care of myself!" he said and tried to push up on his elbows, but Paul held him firmly in place.

"You can, can you?" Ben admonished, as he looked down at his pale and injured son, once again exerting his independence. He shook his finger at the boy. "The very first time I let you go into town on your own and you get jumped and beaten up. Is that how you take care of yourself?" Ben knew once the words were out of his mouth how unfair they were. The same thing would have happened to Adam or Hoss, or even himself for that matter if they had been the unlucky one to go into town at that moment.

"That’s not…" Little Joe winced in pain at glared at Doctor Martin who had continued with the examination and was now pressing on his tender ribs. "Fair."

"That’s enough," Paul said as he stopped his task and glared at Ben. "I need my patient to be quiet and still and he isn’t doing either." He returned his gaze to Little Joe. "If you persist, I’ll just give you that shot I talked about earlier and you will be very cooperative, let me assure you," Paul threatened.

"But …" Little Joe huffed, jutting out his bottom lip.

Paul held up his hand to silence any further comment. "Quiet and still. Those are the two words you need to be thinking right now." When Little Joe complied, he resumed the examination.

"Umph," Joe groaned uncontrollably as Paul pressed on the area beneath the darkest bruises.

"I'm sorry Little Joe," Paul said as he continued his examination. "I know this hurts, but I've got to determine if it's a crack or a break." Joe squeezed his eyes shut and fought the urge to struggle. Paul inclined his head toward the boy, indicating to Ben and Adam they should hold Joe still.

When hands were placed on him, Joe snapped his eyes open and glared accusingly first above him at Ben, then down at the end of the bed at Adam.

"Sorry little buddy, but you've got to lie still so the Doc can do what he needs to," Adam said softly as he pressed his brother's slim hips to the table.

Another sharp pain ripped across Little Joe's lower ribs and he tried to jerk away from the painful pressure.

Paul pushed his gray hair off his forehead. This was proving to be an even more difficult examination than usual for the youngster. Paul gently grabbed Little Joe's chin and forced the boy to look him in the eye. "I'm sorry this is taking so long Little Joe, but you've got diagonal cracks on the lower three ribs on the right side. The bone is showing a little more sideways movement than it should, so it may be a diagonal fracture instead of a crack. I've got to be absolutely certain before I wrap your ribs."

Little Joe bit his lip against the pain. "I said I'm fine," he insisted.

"I know, but you always say that. I'll be through soon, but you have to stay still," Paul ordered as he resumed pressing against the boy's ribs. Progressing up the rib cage, he was gratified to discover that the broken ribs were confined to the lower right side. He pressed all along Joe's sternum and allowed a smile to cross his lips, but that turned to a frown when he reached the collarbone and started probing along the bone.

"Uh," Joe groaned, unable to control the rush of air that escaped his lips. Shifting on the table proved to be fruitless, Pa and Adam held him too tightly. He closed his eyes tightly and bit his lower lip, willing the examination to be over quickly.

It was, and soon Paul walked over to the sink and dipped his hands into a bowl of water. He scrubbed them quickly and then dried them on a waiting towel.

A knock on the door drew their attention, and Hoss poked his head in through the doorway. "Can I come in?"

"Sure, son, come on in," Ben replied and then looked warily over at Paul, waiting for a diagnosis.

"Just in time, Hoss. Ben, Adam, I'd like to talk to you outside for a minute," Paul began as he gestured to the waiting room.

Little Joe struggled to rise up on his elbows to protest. He hated people talking about him when he wasn't there to defend himself, or at least hear what was being said.

When he saw what the boy was trying to do, Paul immediately crossed the room to the examining table and gently eased Little Joe back down on the table. "Joseph, I want you to stay lying down is that clear? Absolutely no sitting up," Paul said as he pointed a long tapered finger at his young patient.

Little Joe wrinkled his nose and tried to cross his arms, drawing a warning glance form Paul. "And no crossing your arms either until I have those ribs taped--understood?"

Joe scowled and turned away, which drew a smile from Paul. The youngest Cartwright was a notoriously bad patient and today's behavior was no exception. "Hoss, I'm trusting you to make sure he follows my orders, because I know he won't."

Hoss grinned and tucked his large hands into the pockets of his chocolate brown trousers. "Yes, sir you can count on me," he said and was gratified when the three older men left the room.

Hoss pulled out a chair and planted his left boot on top of the cane seat and watched his young brother. Little Joe was very pale and had his eyes closed, but the ghost of a scowl still lingered on his lips.

"All right, quit looking at me," Joe said as he opened his eyes and looked over at his babysitter.

"I ain't looking, I'm watching." Hoss stifled a chuckle. "I'm doing exactly what the Doc said to do, so quit your fussin'."

"I ain't fussin," Little Joe said, his voice wavering slightly. "I just don't want to be stuck here."

"Well, don't worry about it. You ain't got no control over being stuck here anyway so frettin' about it don't make any difference." A devilish gleam appeared in Hoss' clear blue eyes. "Say, Little Joe," he began, then pushed the chair back to the wall. He stuck his hands in his pockets and looked at the floor a moment, the blush starting with his neck and crept upwards to his moon-shaped face. "Did you see Miss Glory when she was riding in front of Adam? You could see her, her … knee," he finally finished then summoned the nerve to look over at Little Joe.

Little Joe smiled slowly; knowing how uncomfortable Hoss was around women. "No, I didn't have a chance to look over there. Pa kept us in front of the rest of you, I wondered why then, but I know now."

"It was a thing of pure beauty, and them fancy stockings that she wears, the ones with the squiggly lines in them…"

"Fishnet stockings, older brother. They're called fishnet stockings," Little Joe said as he shifted on the table. He bit his lower lip and stifled a groan at the movement, beads of sweat forming on his upper lip.

Hoss noticed the subtle display. "You okay, little brother?"

"Fine," Little Joe grunted, disconcerted that Hoss had noticed. "I'm gonna be better than fine later, though. While you were off delivering the bodies, Miss Glory invited me for a drink down at the saloon." He closed his eyes and paused, waiting for whoever was hammering on his ribs to stop. Blessedly, the pain lessened after a moment. He looked at the door, willing the Doctor to return and let him go. "So as soon as I get out of here, that's where I'm headed."

Hoss chuckled, his round belly threatening to overflow the waistband of his pants at any moment. "Fat chance you’ll ever taste that beer, little brother. After the Doc fixes you up, you’ll be lucky if Pa lets you out of his sight for a month of Sundays."

"Humph, wanta bet on that?"

"No, I don’t," Hoss said and pointed a beefy finger at his younger brother. "And you know how Pa feels about you betting."

Little Joe scowled up at his brother’s grinning face, wondering why his Pa and older brothers' always prevented him from doing the fun stuff he wanted to do. "We’ll see, brother, we’ll see," he said as he started to rise.

Hoss quickly walked over to the table. "Now hold on there a minute, you ain’t going anywhere while I’m watching you," he said and placed a restraining hand on the boy.

Little Joe rolled his eyes. "C'mon, Hoss. I'll let you come with me," he wheedled. "I'll bet I can convince one of Miss Glory's friends to take you upstairs …."

The door opening and Doctor Martin and Ben returning interrupted any further attempts at enticement or persuasion. The relief on Hoss' face and the frustration on Little Joe's told the new occupants that they had returned just in time.

"Well, Little Joe just what were you trying to convince Hoss of this time?" Ben asked as he walked over to the table.

"Me?" Little Joe squeaked, trying to paste an innocent expression onto his face.

"Yes, you young man," Ben said as he patted the boy's arm. "I'm very confident that there was a plan for a little 'jailbreak' running around in your head. That will not happen--understood?"

"Yes, Pa," Little Joe said as he looked away quickly. The quick movement was enough to put pressure on his broken collarbone and he winced. He took a deep breath and waited till the pain subsided then turned back to his Pa. "Can I get dressed and get out of here now?" he implored.

"No, you can't," Paul answered from his position in front of the long counter that held the medicines and bandages. He placed a stack of bandages and splints on a tray and rolled it over to the examining table. "You've got three badly fractured ribs and a broken collarbone. I've got to tape them so they'll stay in place."

Little Joe eyed the tray warily, relieved that there were no needles or medicines in sight, just bandages. He looked up at Doctor Martin, the man whose opinion his father took as gospel. "Then I can go home, right?"

Doctor Martin intentionally didn't answer the plea and looked over at Ben. "I'm going to need both you and Hoss to help here. He gently took hold of Little Joe's upper arm and motioned for Ben to do the same. "Don't try and help us, boy. I don't want you straining at all. Just let us do the work for you," he said and looked into Ben's eyes. "Let's sit him up very gently and Hoss you ease his legs off the table. I want him sitting up straight." When this task was accomplished, with a few uncontrollable gasps from the patient, Paul walked to the other side of the table so he was facing Little Joe. Doctor Martin habitually told his patients what he was going to do before he did it, but found this was a sure-fire way to get Little Joe riled up and obstinate even before the treatment began.

****

"The angle those ribs are broken leaves a high possibility of splintering, and we have a very strong risk of him puncturing a lung. So we have to keep him in bed and still. Even sitting up to eat has to be done very carefully. That's why I splinted the ribs and extended the bandages down to his hips. That boy is going nowhere for at least four days, and then only home to bed," Paul said softly as he dried his hands on a towel.

Soft grunts and groans emanated from the bed where they had moved Little Joe after Doctor Martin had completed taping the broken ribs and collarbone. About a third of the way through the procedure Little Joe had passed out from the pain, which had made the rest of the doctor's ministrations go much quicker.

After a few moments, Little Joe opened his eyes and surveyed his new surroundings. There was a bed matching the one he was in to his left, and a door that led to the outside on the other side of the bed. He tried to rise up and immediately a strong pair of hands stopped him.

"Just lie still Joseph," Ben said softly, holding him to the bed. When Little Joe stopped struggling, he stroked his bare shoulder.

"Pa?" Little Joe's deep green eyes sought out his father's. "Can we go now?"

Ben smiled and motioned for Adam to come over. "You need to drink some broth before we decide on going anywhere, son."

Adam did as asked and walked over to the bed, a white porcelain mug in his hand.

Joe surveyed the steaming mug suspiciously. The last thing he wanted to do was eat. His ribs ached and his collarbone felt like it was on fire. "I'm not hungry, Pa. I'll get something to eat at the Bucket of Blood," he said and bit his lip when he realized the last sentence was spoken out loud."

Ben put his hands on his hips and glared at his youngest son. "You will drink this broth and that is the end of this conversation. And I don't want to hear the name of that saloon out of your mouth again--is that understood? You will not be going there today, tomorrow, next week or next month. Is that clear?"

"But, Pa..." Little Joe began, his voice wavering. An opportunity to go to a saloon was rare and he wanted to take advantage of this one.

Adam sat down on the bed next to his baby brother. "C'mon little buddy. Let's just drink this and we'll discuss saloons some other time--okay?" he said and gave Joe a wink, indicating big brother would handle it.

Little Joe stared into Adam's steady brown eyes and paused contemplating his options, which were few. "Allright, I guess I'll drink it," he capitulated. "But I'm really not hungry."

"Well, you could stand a little meat on those bones anyway," Paul said as he grabbed the pillows from the other bed. "Okay men, let's lean him forward, very gently and I'll slip these behind him."

The men did as instructed, but even moving slowly and gently caused Little Joe a great deal of pain. He muffled the groans as best he could, but caught Doctor Martin watching him and knew the seasoned doctor knew how much pain he was in.

Little Joe took a tentative sip of the warm beef broth and swallowed it. It really was quite good, but he detected the slight aftertaste of a something. Little Joe narrowed his eyes and glared at Adam, who had brought the offending mixture. "What's in this besides broth?"

Paul exhaled loudly, his patience slowly wearing down. The past few hours had been difficult at best and here the boy was still fighting him. "Joseph, you need nourishment and that is why you need to drink it. Mrs. Hammerand at the café made it special for you and I'm sure she'd be offended if you turned your nose up at it."

Adam looked over towards the door to hide the smile on his lips. He hoped Little Joe hadn't noticed that Paul had very carefully avoided answering his question.

Joe sniffed at the mug once again and took another tentative sip. He'd had experience with Doctor Martin slipping him all sorts of concoctions and he really didn't want anything to interfere with his proposed trip to the Bucket of Blood. There it is again--an aftertaste. "Huh uh," Joe said as he shook his head and tried to set the mug on the nightstand. "I'm not drinking this, there's something funny in it."

Ben retrieved the glass and forced it back into his son's hands. "Joseph, I've had enough of your sass. I've given you a little leeway because you are hurt and I know how much you hate the doctor, but there will be no more. I am your father and I am telling you to drink that broth, and I mean now!" Ben thundered.

Little Joe swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat as he looked into Pa's stormy dark eyes and listened to the angry words. When Pa used that tone of voice, answering back or not obeying had definite consequences. Consequences he didn't want to deal with today. Little Joe drained the cup.

Five minutes later, Little Joe slipped into sedative induced sleep. The four men gathered around watched the subtle rise and fall of the heavily bandaged chest for some time before anyone spoke.

"I don't relish the idea of telling him that he's not going home," Ben said as he watched his son sleeping peacefully on the bed. He brushed a stray curl off the boy's forehead and watched as Joe winced in pain, even in sleep. Concerned, Ben looked over at Paul. "Is he…"

"Yes, I'm sure he's still in pain, but there isn't much we can do about it at this point. I've given him all the laudanum I can. As you know the dosage is based on weight and I have to be careful to not overdose him. Laudanum inhibits breathing as well as being a pain reliever, and if he did--God forbid--puncture a lung we'd be in dire straits."

*****

Ben paced quietly back and forth in the small hospital room as he watched his youngest sleep. Joe had slept deeply the first four hours but had woken up in the middle of the night groaning in pain and unaware of his surroundings. Ben had forced Joe to drink a second dose of the sedative as Paul had instructed, but the second sleep was much shallower and punctuated by frequent grunts of pain.

The door creaked open and Paul walked in, freshly shaven and holding breakfast-for two. "How's he doing?"

Ben smiled sadly as he accepted the tray. "Not too good, I'm afraid. I can tell just by looking at him that the pain has been bad."

Paul nodded and watched Joe wince and groan even in sleep. "I figured it would be. With diagonal fractures and the heavy bandages and splints I have on him it's going to be a very painful healing process."

"He's been awake off and on, but hasn't figured out where he is yet," Ben said as he ran a hand through his sleep-rumpled silver hair. He'd taken a few catnaps on the other bed, but had been awakened each time by soft moans and groans as his youngest moved around in his sleep.

"Why don't you set that down and eat something," Paul said as he motioned to the table between the two beds. "I'm going to check him over while he's still asleep and hopefully avoid an early morning argument."

Ben chuckled. "Good luck. He's going to be madder than a wet hen when he wakes up."

A slow smile curled Doc Martin's lips. "That's why you are here, my friend. Cowering Little Joe into submission is one thing that you do very well."

Ben shook his head and grinned broadly. "It's a good thing you never had children, Paul. You'd have to learn a whole new set of words that aren't in any of your fancy medical texts." Ben took a bite of scrambled eggs, chewed quickly, then continued. "I don't 'cower him into submission', I just tell my youngest that cooperation is his only option."

Paul pulled a chair up beside Little Joe's bed. There was no one alive that could get the boy to cooperate better than Ben Cartwright. On several of the occasions when his Pa hadn't been available when Joe was injured, Paul had no other choice but to resort to a sedative. Of course, Adam was also quite capable, but still a distant second to the authority that resounded so strongly in the patriarch's voice. "I won't even try and come up with a answer to that one, Ben. I'll just chalk it up to your experience."

Ben wiped his mouth with a napkin and then drained the cup of coffee. "Wise choice, Paul. He looked over at his young son, lying still on the bed. "I think we have several days to see what it’s like to watch a bear locked up in a cage. Because it won’t be pretty."

"He’s going to be a sleeping bear," Paul said firmly. "The only way to guarantee those ribs will start to heal is to keep him still and we know the chances of Joe doing that voluntarily is none. I don’t want a fight on my hands here either, because we both know how riled Joe can get. So I have a little plan to keep young Mr. Cartwright heavily sedated for at least three days. Then, maybe I’ll let you take him home."

Joe lay on the bed, his lips set in a taut line. The tan cotton blankets, once pulled up to his neck were down at his waist clasped tightly between his grasping hands. A layer of bandages were wrapped tightly around his ribs and extended down to beneath the level of the blanket. One shoulder was bound within the muslin strips, to prevent displacement of the broken collarbone.

Paul placed a cool hand on Joe's forehead to check for fever, even though he could tell from the boy's flushed cheeks one existed.

The pressure of Paul's hand drew Joe out of his fitful sleep. He slowly opened his eyes, expecting to see the deep brown eyes of his father and the familiar walls of his room at home. He was disappointed in both aspects. "What!" he managed to utter before Paul placed his hand over Joe's lips.

"Shhh-son," Paul said, without removing his hand. "Remember last night? Two words, quiet and still."

Little Joe's eyes narrowed. I'll give you quiet and still! Grabbing Paul's hand with his left hand Joe tried to pry the fingers away as he squirmed on the bed trying to rise.

"Joseph!" Thundered through the room and Little Joe immediately stopped his struggles and lay back quietly. Ben walked over to the small bed and glared down at his son, who winced, both in pain and at the anger that danced in his Pa's eyes. He shook a finger at Joe. "I don't want to ever…ever see you fight the doctor as I just saw!" He paused, letting his words sink in. "Is that clear?"

Joe exhaled deeply and sighed before looking up at his father. "Pa, you said we'd go …"

Ben held up a hand to stop the plea even before it left his son's lips. "I didn't say we'd go anywhere last night. I said we'd do what was best for you, and that was staying here. Now I want your complete cooperation while Doctor Martin examines you." Ben raised an eyebrow. "Is that understood?"

Joe knew he was outnumbered and hadn't a ghost of a chance of escaping while both men were watching him. He did the only thing in his power. "Yes, sir."

******

Hoss lay in the bed closest to the door in the infirmary. He crossed his legs and watched the afternoon sun slide below the top of the windowsill. A sharp rap on the door drew his attention to the left and he smiled when he saw Miss Glory's face through the glass. Looking quickly at the sleeping patient, he silently eased himself to his feet and walked to the door. The door creaked softly as he pulled it inwards and he winced, hoping to keep his little brother asleep.

Glory pursed her lips and batted her eyelashes as she looked up at the large man. "Why, hello--Hoss, isn't it?"

Hoss beamed down at her and studied the way the half-moons of her breasts were trying to escape the black lace that rimmed the bodice of her dress.

"Aren’t you going to invite me in?"

"Y-y-yes ma’am."

Little Joe had heard the conversation and struggled to sit up, but Hoss hurried over and stopped him, then turned back to the lady with a smile. "I know you'll want to be talking to Joe, so why don't I …" He pulled a chair over to Joe’s bedside "at least make it comfortable for you."

Glory thanked Hoss with her eyes, then sat down in the chair and placed a hand on Little Joe's arm. "I know you won’t be able to visit me at the saloon, so I came to tell you that I’m leaving."

"Leaving?" Joe tried to sit up again, but noticed Hoss frown from the foot of the bed. His brother stood there like an eagle ready to swoop down on a defenseless rabbit. Joe narrowed his eyes as he contemplated rebellion, but then Hoss crossed his huge arms across his mammoth chest and opened his mouth to speak. Joe thought of how embarrassing it would be to have Hoss barking orders at him in front of Glory. He stopped trying to rise and tried to look submissive.

Glory covered her mouth to hide a smile and looked at Hoss.

Hoss blushed. "Sorry ma’am, Little Joe ain’t supposed to be getting excited or moving around at all. And…" he tugged at his shirt collar nervously. "He ain’t supposed to have visitors either."

"I understand—I won’t be long," Glory said and then turned back to Joe. "To answer your question, yes, I’m leaving. I’ll be on the stage Friday. I’m in need of a little change of scenery and my sister in Sacramento is expecting a baby. So I thought I’d help her out a little before I decide what I want to do."

A tinkling from the bell attached to the front door caused all the color to drain from Hoss' face. "That’ll be Doc Martin, you best get out of here ma’am."

Glory grinned at Hoss’ discomfort. "Of course," she said and leaned down and gave Little Joe a peck on the cheek. "I wish I would’ve had the opportunity to buy you that beer, Joe. But maybe the next time you’re in California you can take me up on it?"

"Please ma'am," Hoss wailed as his eyes flitted from the interior door to the lady.

Glory hurried to the door, and just before she pulled it shut behind her Doc Martin and Adam walked into the infirmary.

Adam glared at Hoss and rushed to the door to see who their visitor had been. He just caught a glimpse of Glory's retreating back and turned to Hoss. "Damn it Hoss! Can't you be trusted for an hour alone with him?

Hoss managed to look both sheepish and offended. "You know I always take good care of Joe!" He stamped his foot.

Adam ignored Hoss' outburst and jerked his thumb in Little Joe's direction. "Did he talk you into this?"

"Nope," Hoss answered as he stuck his hands into his pockets, still miffed by Adam's accusation.

"Then why’d you let her in? You know I said no visitors," Paul said as he walked over to Joe.

"Well, I just didn’t …." Hoss backpedaled, not wanting to admit he hadn't been able to speak when the lady came in.

"Don’t be mad at him—he was just too tongue tied when she showed up to say anything. Leave poor Hoss alone," Joe said tiredly.

Paul sat on the chair Glory had recently vacated and studied his patient. "I will, Joe but only because I’m going to look over you."

Joe groaned. "Why? You’ve done enough poking and prodding to last me a lifetime." He rubbed his tired eyes and fought a yawn.

Paul pressed his hands along the bandages that encased Joe's ribs and chuckled. "Well, I'm sure one more time won't matter then."

******

Joe lay in bed trying to keep his mind occupied. He’d stared at the white plaster ceiling for days, or at least that’s what it seemed like. He shifted slightly on the bed and groaned, any movement causing his broken ribs to protest.

"Lie still," Adam said from his chair.

"I’m bored. I’ve been here forever."

"You can't be that bored, you slept all morning!" Adam countered.

Little Joe narrowed his eyes. "Not by choice." Every time Doc Martin forced a sedative on him it made him angry and he swore that it wouldn't happen again. A trill of feminine laughter could be heard from outside and Joe crooked his left elbow to try and see what was going on.

Adam sensed, rather than heard the movement. "Joe," he warned as he looked up from the newspaper. "The Doc told you to stay still."

"Yeah, I know. But I just can’t," Joe sighed irritably as he lay back down.

"You’re going to have to, little buddy," Adam said as he lay the newspaper on the nightstand and stood. He’d been reclining on the other bed, but now stood up and stretched. He looked down at Joe, lying there so pale and he could tell the boy was hurting. "You want some more of that pain medicine?"

Joe shook his head, not liking the fuzzy feeling the laudanum gave him. "I’m fine--quit pushing that stuff on me."

Adam raised an eyebrow. He took the two steps that separated the beds and rested an elbow on the nightstand. "You don’t look fine."

"Well I am!" Joe snapped and decided a change of subject was in order. "Are we going to the Bucket of Blood tonight?"

"Certainly not! You're in no shape to get out of that bed, let alone be walking around in a crowded saloon." Adam thought briefly of Pa's anger if he did take the boy in against his orders. "I value my hide too much to risk making Pa mad."

"But you said we'd go," Joe implored as he plucked at the heavy blankets that covered his torso. "You gave me that look and that's as good as a promise."

"Yes, I did and we will go to the saloon and have a beer. But not until you're better," Adam said as he leaned on the footboard of Joe's bed. "You can't be up and moving around when you have broken ribs--you know that."

Joe scowled. "I have before…" he said under his breath.

"I heard that!" Adam snapped. "And yes I know the last time you did get up when you weren't supposed to--and Doc Martin made you spend an extra week in bed when he found out--didn't he?"

Joe curled his upper lip.

"No response is necessary, baby brother. I was there," Adam declared, not even attempting to keep the superior tone out of his voice.

Adam pushed the supper tray over to the bed, taking extra care to keep the two meals separate. Except for the sedative-laced milk, they were identical--bowls of beef stew and a large slice of bread. Not exactly what he would've wanted if he'd had a choice, but he wanted to give Joe no opportunity to complain about the choice of the food.

Joe was still sulking over his dashed hopes for a trip to the saloon, but when he saw the food he scowled and glared at Adam. "I'm not hungry!"

"Yeah, yeah I know. You never are. But you're going to eat every bite of this." He pushed the table next to the bed and pulled a chair up next to it. Then he walked over to the other bed and retrieved two pillows to help Joe sit up.

Joe was tired of lying in bed all day and had really hoped to at least be allowed to get up to eat. "Can I at least..."

Adam pretended not to hear as he gently leaned Joe forward and slid the two pillows behind his back. He winced in sympathy when he saw the bruises that were visible above the thick rolls of muslin that wrapped the kid's chest. "Are you in any pain, Joe? Doc Martin said you could have some more medicine if you wanted it."

Joe endured Adam's help silently, knowing he had no real choice in the matter. Even under the best of circumstances if Joe decided to physically fight his brother he had to have room to maneuver and bandaged together and lying in this bed he had none.

Once he had Joe sitting up to his satisfaction, Adam looked the boy in the eye. "I asked you a question and I expect an answer."

"Humph," Joe scoffed as he crossed his arms gingerly across his sore chest. "You didn't answer mine!"

Adam shook his head at Joe's audacity, but the smile that sprang to his lips was a kind one. "Allright, fair enough. I'll answer your question and then you can answer mine."

"But I didn't finish asking mine!"

"Doesn't matter because I know what it was anyway." Adam crossed his arms sternly and in his best no-nonsense tone continued. "No, you can't get out of bed." He saw Joe open his mouth to argue and held up a silencing hand. "No exceptions, that's the way it is and the way it's going to be until the Doc says differently. Does that answer your question?"

Joe wrinkled his nose in disgust. "I guess."

"Good," Adam said as he picked up the food tray and placed it across Joe's lap. He picked up the spoon and placed it in the bowl of stew and then unfolded the napkin and placed it across Joe's lap. Once he had Joe set up, he sat down in the chair next to the bed. "So now I want an answer to my question--are you in any pain?"

"I'm fine," Joe said as he picked up the spoon in disgust. His appetite was sporadic at best and it deserted him completely at times like this. He decided to give Adam one more chance to keep his promise before Joe took matters into his own hands. "Are you sure we can't go to the Bucket of Blood?"

Adam fought to keep his temper under control. "You just don't give up, do you kid?"

Joe stirred his stew and waited for an opportunity to present itself.

*****

Ben and Doc Martin quietly slipped into the infirmary and over to Joe's bed.

Paul noted the almost empty tray of supper next to the bed. "Looks like he ate pretty well."

"Threats work wonders," Adam said with a smirk.

Paul nodded, knowing the lengths the Cartwrights' went to in order to assure cooperation. "No trouble with the sleeping powder in the milk?"

Adam shook his head. "No problem at all." He rubbed his razor-stubbled chin. "Kind of surprised me, but I didn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth."

"It sure put him right out." Ben said as he noticed his youngest’s even breathing.

Paul nodded and checked Joe's forehead for fever. "Yes, laudanum is really powerful, that’s why it’s so important to give the correct dosage." Paul looked over at Adam who was yawning. "Looks like you’re tired too."

"Yeah, it hit me all of a sudden. I was planning on reading that new book by Charles Dickens," Adam said as he lay down on the bed and tucked is arms behind his head. He looked at the clock and saw it was only 7:00. "Maybe I’ll take a little catnap and then read later."

Ben looked plaintively over at the doctor. "How’s Little Joe doing, Paul?"

"Well, it'll be a struggle, but if we can manage to keep him in bed for another two weeks he should be fine." Paul looked down at the sleeping boy on the bed and noticed his expression change slightly. He looked over at Ben again. "If all goes well, I think you can plan on taking him home on Friday in a padded wagon. If he starts getting cantankerous and feisty though, it might be Monday. We can’t take chances with splintered ribs—it’s just too dangerous."

Ben gently sat down on the bed next to Joe and stroked the boy’s curls. "You know it about killed me to have him ride all the way back from Sun Mountain and not know how hurt he was."

Paul stood and patted his friend's arm. "He'll be fine--as long as he follows doctor's orders."

Several hours later, Joe feigned sleep until he heard the relaxed and even breathing of his oldest brother. Cautiously he cracked open one eye, then the other. "Adam?" he inquired softly.

A gentle snore was the only response. "Good." Joe threw the heavy blankets off his body and wrapped an arm protectively around his ribs. Using his left arm, he eased himself up in the bed and slid his legs to the edge of the bed. "Shit!" he swore softly when his head began to swim. "Deep breaths, Joe deep breaths," he counseled. In a moment, the cloud cleared from his brain and he started to feel a little better. His midsection ached terribly and any movement at all with his right arm caused his broken collarbone to protest loudly--but he was going for his beer come hell or high-water. Gingerly he rose and padded barefoot over to the bureau, hoping his clothes would be inside. Luckily they were and Joe managed to slowly dress himself. His tan boots, however were nowhere to be found. He scowled at Adam who he was certain was behind his missing footwear. Joe looked over at the chair beside his brother's bed where a pair of black pants and red shirt were carefully folded and a black leather vest hung on the back. Joe smiled when he saw a black pair of boots neatly lined up in front of the chair. Retrieving the boots from beside his brother proved to be easy enough, but Adam rolled over when Joe rifled his black pants for money. If sixteen-year-olds could have heart attacks Joe would have, because Adam opened his eyes and looked right at him. Joe sighed in relief when Adam closed his eyes again and snuggled under the blankets. "Whew!" he uttered as he wiped a shaking hand across his sweaty brow. "That was close." He eased down into the chair next to the door and slid the black boots on. Stuffing a pillow under the covers of his bed took only a moment. Casting one last grin at the drugged form of his brother, he turned the flame down on the lamp and then he was ready.

****

It took almost all the energy Joe had to walk the five blocks to the Bucket of Blood. His feet slid around in Adam's boots because his oldest brother had feet that were at least two sizes bigger than his own. This handicap made for slow moving through the rut-covered streets of the mining town. When he finally reached the boardwalk that ran the length of the block on C Street, he leaned against the hitching post to catch his breath. The evenings in the Sierra's were usually cool and tonight was no exception. The beads of sweat that glistened on Joe's forehead were a direct contrast to the beginnings of frost that decorated the windows of the noisy saloon. He ran his hand down the back of his head nervously. "Okay, Joe you've gotten this far. Now how are you going to convince the bartender that you're old enough to drink?" Although there was no set drinking age in Virginia City, the bartenders usually didn't like to sell alcohol to anyone younger than eighteen without a father or brother along. Joe grinned wryly--that wasn't likely to happen tonight or in the near future. In fact when Glory had grabbed him yesterday and tried to convince Hoss to come into the saloon, Joe was in heaven. But things hadn't worked out then; Hoss had taken it upon himself to escort a very unwilling Little Joe out of harm and Glory's way.

Joe snapped his fingers as an idea came to his mind. "If Glory holds up her end of the deal and buys me my first beer, the bartender will think I'm old enough and sell me more on my own. And," he pulled a handful of coins from his left pocket and counted them in the dim light cast from the nearby window. "I've got Adam to thank for the financing." The thought of his oldest brother's anger caused him to pause briefly, but then the flicker of concern passed at the prospect of having a beer and rubbing shoulders with Miss Glory and her scantily-clad friends.

Wrapping an arm around his aching ribs, Joe pushed off the pine rail and stood, his fatigue causing him to waver slightly. "How can I be so tired? I've slept all day and haven't done anything but lay in that lumpy bed of Doc Martin's." Joe scowled when he remembered the sting of the needle from yesterday. "Whatever was in that damn shot has me all mixed up and ..." He rolled his eyes and swore softly when he realized what he was doing. "Talking to myself!"

High pitched feminine laughter spilled out of the swinging doors that served as the entryway to the noisy saloon. The bar was crowded, filled with rough talking miners and cowboys, all drinking heavily and playing cards.

"Well," Joe whispered to a beat-up nag that was tied on the hitching post. "Wish me luck--I'll probably need it."

******

"Aren't you just the sweetest thing, sugar!" Sylvia, a tall brunette from St. Louis exclaimed. She scanned the bar's patrons, the majority of them needing at the very least a good bath, before she gazed one more at the curly-haired Adonis who was leaning against the ancient mahogany bar.

"Now, Sylvia," Joe said as a seductive smile curled his full lips. "I bet you say that to everybody."

"Ha!" Glory scoffed. "The pickings in here are slim on the best of days, but tonight the men seem to be more interested in the booze than the women."

"I'm not too sure about that, Glory. Since Little Joe came in here and stole all the attention the customers seem to be looking this way a lot. Maybe they were just waiting for the right time."

Glory looked over at Little Joe and studied him closely. The boy was leaning casually against the bar, but his lips were set in a thin tight line. She saw Sylvia stroke his chest and Joe bent almost double in pain.

Glory frowned and said aloud the thought that had been bouncing around inside her head. "He shouldn't be here." She thought of the trouble he must have gone through to actually convince whoever was at the doctor's office with him to let him keep this appointment. Glory pushed an escaped blonde tendril back off her face as she thought of what a close knit family they were, and the reaction the middle brother had had this afternoon when she'd merely wanted to visit Joe. Would Hoss have let him come to the saloon? No, was the immediate answer, at least not alone. She thought of Adam, the eldest brother who was obviously a second father figure to the boy. She shook her head. No, he wouldn't have let him go at all, regardless of his physical condition. Mr. Ben Cartwright had voiced his opinion regarding the proposed beer quite loudly yesterday, so there was no need to even wonder if he had given permission. Glory walked the four short steps to her young friend. "Joe," she said as she placed her hand on his arm. She waited until the boy turned to look at her and then she studied him again. "How are you doing?"

Joe eyed her warily, wondering what she was thinking. He remembered that she had gone along with Pa to trick him into Doc Martin's clutches. Setting his treasured beer down on the bar, he casually slipped an arm around two of the five girls that were hovering around him. "I'm just fine Miss Glory and I'd really like to thank you for buying me a beer. Can I return the favor and offer you some champagne?"

Glory smiled and tousled his curls affectionately. "No thank you, Little Joe. Don't you think it's time you were headed back?"

Joe shook his head decisively but couldn't help wincing at the pain it caused in his broken collarbone. "No, ma'am. I don't get many chances to talk to lovely ladies like you gals and I aim to make the most of it while I have the chance."

Glory nodded. "I understand but don't you think you'd feel better if..."

Joe leaned over and planted a kiss on Sylvia's cheek then did the same to each of the girls. "I don't think I could feel any better Miss Glory."

She chuckled softly at the boy's bravado. It was obvious to her that he was in rough shape and should be in bed. "I'll be back in a couple minutes, Sylvia--you keep an eye on him." She frowned at the brunette's lust-filled eyes and thought of the woman's fondness for young virgins. "And keep him downstairs, understand?

Sylvia frowned, but nodded in response.

"Good." Glory turned and left the group, looking for someone sober enough to deliver a message.

*****

Silas Jenkins, a miner in his late forties knocked on the door to Paul Martin’s upstairs apartment. "Just a moment" was heard almost immediately. A sleep-rumpled, but fully-dressed doctor Martin appeared at the door two minutes later, yawning at his visitor.

"Can I help you?" Paul asked, after determining that his visitor appeared to be in good health.

"Yes, sir Doc. Miss Glory down at the Bucket ‘O Blood sent me to fetch you. That little Cartwright fella is down there and she said he ain’t supposed to be out of bed," Silas said quickly.

"What! That’s impossible!"

"I don’t know nothing ‘bout that, all I know is she sent me to fetch you."

"Damn fool boy," Paul muttered as he pulled the door shut behind him. "Let’s go downstairs and wake Adam, that little Cartwright fella’s older brother. Then we’ll go over and drag that young pup back here."

The two men clattered down the steps, and Paul pulled a key from his pocket and opened the back door to his office, where the Cartwright's were supposed to be asleep. Paul turned up the flame on the lamp, flooding the room with light. Two forms appeared to be asleep in the twin beds, so he walked over to the far bed and pulled the covers back, revealing pillows stuffed to resemble a sleeping body. He shook his head and turned to the other bed. "Adam," he said as he shook him. "Wake up, we need to go get that escape artist that you call a brother."

"Huh?" Adam said as he sat up in the bed. "What do you mean we need to get him. He's right over there." He gestured toward the other bed.

Paul crossed his arms and shook his head. "No, he's not."

"What do you mean he's not!" Adam demanded as he tried to clear the fog from his brain.

Paul grabbed Adam' elbow and helped him out of bed. "Are you allright?"

Adam nodded as he reached for his red shirt. "I'm fine, just a little bit groggy, that's all." He looked up into the steel blue eyes of Doctor Martin. "I don't know why, I wasn't even tired earlier in the evening, in fact I'd planned on staying awake and keeping an eye on the kid."

Paul stroked his chin as he pondered the situation. "Did you leave Joe alone in the room with your supper trays?"

"Of course not," Adam scoffed as he stifled a yawn.

"Turn your back for a minute when he was eating?"

Adam started to button his shirt as he thought over the evening meal he had shared with his baby brother. When he reached the top button he stopped and looked over at Paul. "He did ask me to get him some salt," Adam said wryly.

"And you took your eyes off of him didn't you?"

"Well, I guess..."

"Did your milk taste funny?"

Adam rolled his eyes. "I hate milk and I only drank it because Little Joe had to and I didn't want a fight. So to answer your question, I think milk always tastes funny."

Paul shook his head at Adam's obvious discomfort over Little Joe's escape and his avoidance of the posed question. "And you claim Hoss is gullible, that boy played you like a fiddle."

"He did not!" Adam declared indignantly

.

Paul raised a challenging eyebrow. "He didn't, huh? Then who was sleeping like a baby and who's down at the Bucket of Blood?"

"Well..."

Paul held up a silencing hand. "Don't even bother trying to defend yourself, I'm not blaming you in the least. That boy can be slipperier than a snake when he wants to be. Luckily there wasn't enough sedative in the milk to keep a man your size out for the whole night. "

Adam had finished dressing and looked for his last article of clothing. "Where are my damn boots?"

****

The room seemed to swim right before Little Joe's eyes. The beer had done little other than to make his stomach churn and although the saloon girls were a lively group, every breath was torture. He realized Doctor Martin and Adam were right, the saloon was no place for him to be right now. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to put up a front of enjoyment, he owed the girls that much.

***

Glory smiled in relief when she saw Adam and Doc Martin walk into the Bucket of Blood. She gestured them over to the far corner, to keep them out of sight of Little Joe. "I'm so glad you're here. The women are making a fuss over him."

"Like they always do," Adam grumbled.

Glory smiled, but continued. "And the crowd is getting a little stormy."

Adam looked over at the groups of miners and cowhands drinking and gambling and saw more than one mean gaze flit toward the group of girls and their young companion.

"Well, we can't have a fight at any cost," Paul said firmly. "One blow or even a fall to those splintered ribs and it's all over."

Adam stroked his chin. "Glory, is anybody in the corner room?"

Glory looked over to the northeast corner of the saloon. "I don't think so."

"Good, you drag him away from the rest of the women and tell him you want to talk to him alone about something. You get him back there and make him sit down and then we'll come back and take him back to the Doc's."

Glory smiled and placed her hand on Adam's arm. "I knew you'd come up with a plan."

Adam smiled and shook his had. "Coming up with the plan is easy. Getting Little Joe to cooperate is the hard part."

Glory sashayed past the men lined up at the bar to her real target, the boy at the end. She touched him softly on the arm and smiled when he looked at her. "Joe I hate to pry you away from all these ladies, but I'd like to talk to you about something."

Sylvia frowned and grabbed Joe around the waist possessively. "Now Glory, can't you see fit to share the wealth?" Although her tone was soft and seductive, there was underlying jealousy beneath the words. She ran her thumb down Joe's smooth cheek. "You know I don't like to let tasty morsels like this get away without educating them just a little bit."

"Yes, I'm aware of that fact, dear. Pull your claws in. Before you decide to 'teach' Joe anything, do you remember the dark haired man who was in here last week?"

Sylvia nodded and frowned. The devastatingly handsome man hadn't been interested in her advances, and when she had become miffed and asked id there were any more like him at home, he'd been outraged and told her there was, but if he ever caught her around his baby brother he'd have her run out of town. Sylvia managed to force a smile to her lips, not wanting to give Glory the idea that Adam Cartwright had upset her when he had spurned her advances. "Of course I do sugar, but what does our handsome young friend here have to do with it?" She tightened her grip around Joe's waist.

Joe groaned and fought the urge to double over. Holding onto his beer tightly with his left hand he tried to slip his right behind him to steady himself against the bar, but Glory grabbed it and held on tightly. Joe bit his lower lip to halt the cry that sprang to his lips. He took a deep breath to steady himself. This situation was too good to miss by something as embarrassing as passing out. Joe'd had plenty of girls' fight over him before, but to have two women do it and right in front of him was a novelty.

"Do you remember that handsome man's name?" Glory prodded slyly.

Sylvia scowled and pulled her arm away from Joe and propped her hands on her satin clad hips. "Of course I do!" she snapped. "What woman could forget a man who threatened to have her run out of town? His name is Adam Cartwright!"

Glory grinned at the older woman. "Did I mention that Little Joe's last name is Cartwright?"

Sylvia's hand flew to her lips in surprise. "N-No, you didn't."

"Well, now you know! And you've been sweet-talking Adam Cartwright's baby brother for forty-five minutes," Glory hissed and guided an unwilling Little Joe over to the semi-private room in the corner.

When they were hidden behind the deep green curtains that usually kept the privacy of a high-stakes poker game or a quick tryst from the eyes of casual observers, Joe voiced his objections. "Now what did you go and do a thing like that for Miss Glory?" he asked, casually leaning against the wall. "Miss Sylvia and I were just getting to know each other."

"And that's just what we were trying to prevent!" Adam replied as he stepped around the curtain, Doc Martin at his heels. Adam rested his palms on the table and leaned forward, giving his baby brother a hard-eyed stare. "Just what in the hell do you think you're doing?"

Joe bit his lower lip and fidgeted in the presence of his older brother. He hadn't really thought through his escape thoroughly and the chance that Adam might wake up from the sleeping medicine hadn't occurred to him. So he was totally unprepared to deal with his wrath now. He looked down and savored the sight of a foam-topped mug of beer in his hand and decided to try and bluff his way through. "I told you I was going to have a beer." Joe chugged the liquid down quickly before Adam had time to react. "And I did!" he declared defiantly.

Adam shook his head angrily and stalked over to his baby brother. He grabbed the boy by the left arm and pulled him over to the table.

"Gently, gently!" Paul admonished as he quickly walked over to his patient.

Adam guiltily looked over at Paul. "Sorry, Doc, but sometimes he just gets me so damn worked up!" Turning back to Joe, he noticed how badly the boy was shaking, and it wasn't from anger or fear--it was exhaustion and pain. "Sit down, Joe. We need to talk."

Joe narrowed his eyes. "I don't want to sit down and the only person I want to talk to is Miss Sylvia. And you've managed to somehow screw that up even before I got here."

Adam decided to let the reference to Sylvia go, but wished Pa was here. Where Little Joe usually deferred quickly to his father’s authority, it took longer for the boy to surrender to his older brother. "I'd think you'd better enjoy that chair, because once Pa finds out about your little trip here, it won't be nearly as comfortable."

Little Joe closed his eyes and swallowed the lump that had jumped to his throat. Adam as usual was right. Pa will be absolutely furious when he finds out about the switched milks, and the fact that I sneaked out and had a beer. "Allright," Joe acquiesced as he set his empty mug on the table. Pulling out the ladderback chair, he cautiously slid onto the cane seat and sighed.

Paul watched Little Joe for a moment and counted his respirations--which were shallow and too fast. The boy had also paled considerably and was holding his ribs tightly. He knelt before Joe and put a comforting hand on his leg. "That painkiller's wearing off, isn't it boy? Hurting pretty bad?"

Little Joe bit his lip and looked away, not wanting to give the doctor the satisfaction of knowing he was right.

Paul nodded. "I thought so. That sedative was also to keep the pain at bay while you slept, but since you avoided that too…" Paul stood and put a hand on Little Joe's arm. "C'mon son, let's get you back to bed, you know that's where you need to be."

"I'm not going," Little Joe said firmly, making a quick decision to stay regardless of the consequences. "I'm in trouble with Pa anyway, how much worse can it be?"

Paul narrowed his eyes and looked down at the obstinate boy. "Oh, it won't be worse at all. Embarrassing, maybe when I inject this," he said as he pulled a syringe out of his bag. "And then have Adam carry you out."

Little Joe swallowed quickly and stared at the needle. He hated them, always had and would do just about anything to avoid a shot. Joe opened his mouth to speak when a sharp pain ripped though his ribs. He doubled over and held on tightly until his head cleared. When he felt better he stood up and pasted a defiant expression on his face. "I'm not…"

"Yes, you are," Adam said as he gently took hold of his little brother's arm and pulled him to his feet. Joe swayed slightly and Adam held on to help him maintain his balance.

"Oww!" Little Joe exclaimed and looked behind him at the doctor, who had just finished injecting the shot. "That's not…" Joe began. His eyes began to close both from the sedative and the exhaustion that he'd been holding at bay. "fair.."

Adam picked him up gently and cradled him close to his chest. "Yes, I know little buddy. It's not fair. Better get used to it."

The End