The big hand inched toward twelve while its partner rested on the two. When the big hand finally completed it's journey to an upright position, the bell chimed twice. Little Joe Cartwright glared at the offending disk that stared down at him from its perch above the blackboard. The twelve-year-old considered the clock his jailer and the four walls of the Virginia City schoolhouse his prison. Five days a week, from nine o'clock in the morning to two-thirty in the afternoon he sat in the same desk and stared at the same uninspired view. Fervently hoping by some grace of God that time would move faster than physics would allow and let him escape this grown-up inspired hell.

Joe sat in his desk and twiddled his thumbs. Why is this day going so slow? In a valiant effort to keep his mind occupied, Little Joe catalogued the furnishings in his jail. The brightly-lit schoolroom had five rows of wooden school desks with seven desks of varying sizes in each row. Each desk held special memories for Little Joe, the pranks committed in this room over the past six years too numerous to count in one afternoon. A chalkboard across the front of the room dominated the wall, and Miss Larabie's desk sat directly in front of it. The lacy edged leaves of a fern hung heavily over the rim of a small flowerpot on her desk. Joe crinkled his nose every time he saw that fern. His Pa had forced him to give it to the teacher after Cochise had "accidentally" eaten her previous plant. How was I to know horses liked ferns? Well, yes it was my fault that I encouraged Cochise to stick her head through the open window, but how was I to know Miss Larabie would decide her plant needed more sun? Joe looked around and noticed that at least half of the thirty-three students were actually paying attention to the teacher. The younger ones usually felt they had to, and the older ones felt they should. Joe was glad that he had never felt the need to listen very attentively, although it did frequently cause him problems. Little Joe Cartwright once more glanced at the clock in hopes that the day would go a tiny bit faster.

It was Friday afternoon and he had big plans for the next few weeks. Miss Larabie had urgent business in San Francisco and the school would be closed until she returned. Cochise, his new pinto pony was on his mind constantly these days and she would reap the benefits of his unexpected vacation. Against the express orders of his Pa and brothers, Joe had broken her himself on the sly, and she could run like the wind. Joe closed his eyes and thought of the last wild ride they had taken up over Rocking Chair butte. Now that was fun. Of course, he had to be careful to ride her only about half speed when he was around his family or he would get into trouble, but when he and his pony were alone together Joe was the happiest.

The thought of four weeks without school stretched endlessly. Fishing in the stream on a warm early winter afternoon, possibly a carefully planned trip alone to Virginia City to scope out all the forbidden sights-the saloon, the ladies club and especially Mr. Pfizer's Emporium. Joe slid a hand down his left hip and then on to his outer thigh. A holster with a pearl handled pistol would fit just perfectly there. Although he had no hopes of acquiring one for at least a couple years, it never hurt to be ready. Joe also planned to try and convince Hoss to let him try riding one of the wild broncs that had been recently captured. This would be a much more difficult task, but hopefully his softhearted older brother would give in as he usually did after a hard-fought battle. The thought of his father or Adam's wrath if he was caught glimmered briefly, but then was gone. He had survived the tanning administered when he had broken Cochise, and felt he would deal the consequences again if and when the time came.

The boy's thoughts jumped to another subject as he crossed and uncrossed his legs, the navy blue wool pants scratching his thighs. Joe hated wearing these dressy pants, but the school board and more importantly his Pa insisted. He fidgeted in his chair and looked once again around the room hoping for something to keep his mind occupied. Sarah Ledbetter sat three rows away, her blonde ponytail bobbing up and down as she agreed to whatever Miss Larabie was saying. The happiest thoughts Joe had of that ponytail was when it was covered in ink from his inkwell the brief three hours he had sat behind her. He couldn't help it if the temptation was too hard to resist. Sarah had known he was just funning, and the only one who had really gotten mad was the teacher.

Joe straightened up in his seat and tapped his fingers on his desk. He took two pencils and let them roll down the slight incline of the desktop. Eight or nine races later, he reached into the breast pocket of his white shirt and pulled out his navy blue string tie and wrapped it around his fingers. Joe was the only boy in the classroom who didn't wear the string neatly tied in a bow beneath his collar. The minute he reached the school grounds it was off and in his pocket with his shirt unbuttoned several buttons. Little Joe didn't like to feel constricted, and besides he thought he looked tougher without it, and any way he could look tougher was worth any price. Mr. Lampe, last years teacher would have thrown a fit, but Miss Larabie didn't seem to mind. He tied the end of his tie around his pencil and started swinging it in circles in a vain attempt to keep his mind occupied.

The mid-November sunshine beckoned the boy from the many paned window on his right. The glass offered a tantalizing glimpse of freedom but it was not to be. Even though the last few days had helped to coin the phrase 'Indian Summer', Joe knew the cold winds and harsh temperatures of winter were not far behind.

A slight cough drew his attention to his friend Mitch who sat three rows over. Joe grinned across the aisle and gave him a nod. Turning his attention back to his desk, he twiddled his thumbs as he anxiously awaited the third grader's math lesson. Joe usually liked it best when Miss Larabie was teaching any grade that wasn't his, but he had other reasons today to be eager. Today would be the culmination of his plans.

The idea for this little prank had come last year, and the details had been growing in his mind ever since. When the teacher from last year, Mr. Lampe taught multiplication he followed the example in the Anderson School Math Series text book that used rabbits to explain how to teach the times tables. Although Miss Larabie was just a temporary replacement teacher he was certain she would do the same thing. So for the past two weeks, Joe had been catching rabbits. He had smuggled twenty rabbits into school during the lunch break and stored them in a large burlap sack confiscated from the Ponderosa. They were now stuffed into a large box in the cloakroom. He had been worried at first that this might hurt the rabbits, but he had asked Hoss and his older brother had assured him that no harm would come to them as long as they weren't in the bag too long.

Joe glanced at the clock again, dismayed that it didn't seem to be moving at all. Suzy Chapman turned around and smiled and he raised his eyebrows at her. She was very pretty with straight black hair and blue eyes. The purple dress she wore today had white lace all around the collar and hugged the upper part of her body quite nicely. Joe had begun to notice things like that recently. When he was old enough to go to the dances in town he was sure she would be one of the first girls he asked. Lost in thought, he was surprised when the carefully folded note dropped on his desk. With one quick swipe it was in his hand. He looked up to the front of the class and was relieved to see the flying piece of paper hadn't been noticed. He quickly unfolded the note and read it. It was short; all it said was WHEN? His friends knew that something was afoot, but he wouldn't let them in on the prank. Joe knew that when he actually let the rabbits loose he had a very good chance of talking Miss Larabie out of telling his Pa. She liked him and if his pranks weren't too outlandish, she usually let him get away with most things short of murder. But if any of his friends were in on it, they might mess things up and then he'd be in trouble.

After what seemed like hours to the squirming twelve-year old, Miss Larabie opened a textbook on her desk and turned to the third-graders. After a brief explanation of the concept of multiplication, she began to draw neat pictures of rabbits on the blackboard.

Little Joe knew this was his chance and he took it. Slipping out of his seat, he carefully crept back to the cloakroom. Once safely out of view, he poked his head past the edge of the doorframe to check that his exit had gone unnoticed. It had, at least by the one who really mattered. After a sigh of relief, he eased up the heavy wooden lid of the extra wood box that was only filled on the coldest of winter days. The heavy burlap bag that was nestled inside sat ominously still. When he had hidden it there two hours ago, it had been a wriggling bag of active rabbits. Joe carefully opened the sack and was gratified to see several pink noses twitching back at him, their normally bright eyes heavy with sleep. He was relieved to find that none were the worse for wear, the boy had grown rather attached to the rabbits in the several weeks since he had caught them and they had all grown quite tame. The line shack on the northern tip of the Ponderosa had been their haven, the shack with the easiest access to the school.

The open bag offered a tantalizing exit to one tiny black rabbit. The small creature jumped out of the sack and started hopping around the cloakroom, much to the chagrin of his jailer. Joe immediately dropped the bag and chased the small creature around the room on his hands and knees, trying to control his laughter. He had a sudden urge to call 'Here, bunny, bunny, bunny', but curbed it. The rabbit finally came to a halt near a large pair of boots and looked back at the youngster defiantly. Little Joe whispered to his new friend. "I know who you remind me of little rabbit--me. I'd like to hop right out of this old classroom too."

Joe stopped and listened a moment. Miss Larabie's words indicated she was close to leaving the blackboard so Joe had to hurry or his absence would be noticed. Picking up his friend, he gently stroked the silken body and stuffed the baby bunny down the front of his shirt. Grabbing the sack that contained the rest of the rabbits, he returned to the doorway and peeked out at the classroom. Miss Larabie still had her back to the students and was busily drawing rabbits on the blackboard. Little Joe carefully slunk back to his seat halfway up the rows of desks dragging the sack behind him. A trickle of laughter flowed through the room but when Miss Larabie turned to face the class it ceased. When her back was turned again, Joe opened the sack and chased the rabbits away from his desk. The children who were closest to him started to giggle, and as the herd of rabbits journeyed further into the small room more students noticed them and joined the laughter.

Miss Larabie turned her attention from her rabbit drawings and the multiplication tables to her classroom and was dismayed by the sight. Rabbits were everywhere. Fighting the urge to laugh, she said, "Who is responsible for this outrage!" The diminutive woman slowly walked down the aisle, her long skirt rustling against the desks on either side. Although the room had grown quiet with no answer to her question forthcoming, she felt certain she knew whom the culprit was. Things had been a little too quiet all week for something not to be up. When she reached the desk of the youngest Cartwright, she stopped and crossed her arms.

Joe smiled up at his teacher. He could tell she was trying to keep a straight face, so he matched her by putting on his most innocent one. "Yes ma'am?"

"I asked you a question Little Joseph," she said, putting her hands on her hips and tapping her shoe on the wooden planked floor. "Who is responsible for this outrage?"

Little Joe dropped his gaze to the floor. After a moment, he slowly raised his chin until his green eyes were looking into her deep brown eyes. Biting his lip to stop the laughter from boiling to the surface, he took a deep breath and was able to speak. "I guess God is ma'am."

Miss Larabie narrowed her eyes and stared at the small boy before her. He did come up with some outrageous answers. "God, Joseph?"

Little Joe noticed his friend Mitch standing behind the teacher's shoulder. The tall dark-haired boy was having such a hard time holding back the laughter that tears were flowing down his cheeks. Joe gave him a mean look and shook his head hoping to get him to stop. The sight of his friend laughing could shatter his already fragile grip on composure. Joe was relieved when Mitch slid back into his seat and he turned his attention once again to his teacher.

"I asked you a question young man and I expect an answer," Miss Larabie said, forcing a hard edge to her tone that she didn't feel.

The boy wasn't fooled. His green eyes danced as he answered her. "Yes ma'am. It was God who taught rabbits to multiply wasn't it?" he said, barely suppressing a giggle.

The older students in the classroom erupted once more into gales of laughter. Mitch fell out of his chair and landed with a thud. The younger students who had been playing with the rabbits since the critters had been unceremoniously dumped on the floor joined in, even though they had no idea what they were laughing about.

A smile played about Miss Larabie's lips, but she refused to surrender. She patted the back of her blonde hair, safely held in place by pins. "I suppose you think that's funny?"

Joe shook his head and looked at her innocently. "No, ma'am. I don't think anything about God is funny. The pastor and my Pa would be awful mad at me if I did. You know I don't like to make anybody mad Miss Larabie," he said, but couldn't contain the snicker that escaped his lips.

Mr. Elias Carter heard the laughter coming from the schoolroom and frowned. He had been concerned about Miss Cindy Larabie since she had stepped off the stage three months ago. The last teacher had moved back east at the close of the school year, and they had a devil of a time getting a replacement for the fall semester. Samuel Jenks a renowned teacher from back east would take over as the teacher for the spring semester, but had already committed himself for the fall. Carter had considered himself lucky that he was able to secure anyone at all, but had re-thought his position after seeing the results of Miss Larabie's discipline.

On this unseasonably warm November morning, Carter was showing the headmaster of McAllister's School for Boys potential students for the next year. Four boys in the class were seventeen and would be eligible to enter the secondary level of learning in the fall. Virginia City was fortunate to be able to offer the next level of schooling to boys, and in fact the school housed and taught boys from all over the territory. Carter slowly opened the door to the classroom and was shocked by what he saw. There were rabbits everywhere. A group of small children were each holding a brown furry creature and stroking the silken ears while they whispered. Rabbits sat on chairs, on desks, and there was even one on the teacher's desk nibbling on a plant. The older students were all staring and pointing as several rabbits hopped up and down the aisles, the small creatures oblivious to the laughter that engulfed the classroom.

Mr. Carter was not surprised to see the pretty blonde teacher standing before a young boy and shaking her finger at him. He could tell that Miss Larabie was having a hard time controlling her laughter and this enraged him all the more. Of course, the boy was Little Joe Cartwright, readily identifiable by the mop of golden brown curls and his small stature. Carter had run the school in Virginia City for three years, and the one person who had caused the most problems was Joe Cartwright. At twelve, he was the source of more mischief than all the older boys combined. Carter had grown accustomed to the stories from the other teachers about the youngest Cartwright's antics, but hadn't heard much from Miss Larabie. Now he knew why. The brat had her wrapped around his little finger. Well this shameful behavior wasn't going to be tolerated while he was in charge. "Miss Larabie!" He bellowed and stormed into the classroom.

Gordon Tockery, the headmaster from McAllister's followed the younger man into the room. He had known Carter for two years since his own school had opened on the outskirts of town and considered the man a friend. As had most of the residents of Virginia City, he had heard of the antics of Little Joe and was glad his retirement was soon approaching. Even with his many years of experience, he was certain he wouldn't be able to handle the curly headed youngster that was the cause of the problem today. Tockery chuckled. You had to admire the boy's sense of humor though. The crude drawings of rabbits and the lesson on the blackboard told the seasoned veteran teacher the reason for the joke. Multiplication from the Anderson School Math Series textbook he decided was behind the mischief for the day. He disguised a snicker with a cough. The lad had a devilish sense of humor, but Tockery was certain the joke would be lost on his friend Elias.

The shout caused the students and teacher to turn toward the door. The sight of Elias Carter struck terror into the hearts of most of the students, even the usually fearless Little Joe Cartwright. The middle-aged man had thinning black hair that had receded to the center of his head, and the remaining hair on the sides was streaked with gray. Little Joe had nicknamed him Caterpillar when he became dean three years ago, and it was a well-chosen moniker. Mr. Carter indeed had one black furry eyebrow that crawled across the upper portion of his face.

"What is the meaning of this, this outrage!" Carter shouted, unable to control his anger. He clenched and unclenched his fists trying to calm down. The rest of the students returned to their desks and stared straight ahead unwilling to even look in the direction of the head of the school.

Little Joe's stomach started to churn, and he paled considerably. He had tangled with Mr. Carter before and he knew there would be no winning this situation. The die was cast--he was in big trouble. The boy nervously ran a hand through his curls, hoping some inspiration would come to him.

Mr. Carter did not frighten Cindy Larabie. The willowy teacher had dealt with many men in her thirty-three years that were all bluster and had no real backbone. She believed this was the case with the Dean. She smiled down at the small boy in front of her and noticed the stirrings of fear in his eyes. However, as ghosts of the boy's past antics danced in her mind, she couldn't resist teasing him just a little.

"Did you want to tell Mr. Carter your theory about god Little Joe?" she said stifling a small smile.

Little Joe 's eyes widened and he gulped. He stared at his feet hoping to sink through the floorboards. She wouldn't do this do him. Would she?

"Stand up when I talk to you!" Carter shouted, and was gratified to see Little Joe jump.

Joe hurriedly slid out of his seat and stood between his teacher and the principal. Words escaped him so he just stood silently studying the floor.

"I would like to know the meaning of this!" Carter's face, normally pasty white was flushed a deep crimson. "Look at me boy!"

Joe's courage came in stages. He turned to look at the man, and realized that he was eye level with a sagging chest, which sat directly above a paunchy belly. He slowly raised his eyes to look in the man's face. A thought came unbidden into his mind-think about something else. Why was everyone so tall? The boy turned to look at his teacher. Even Miss Larabie was taller than he was. His gaze took in Susie Tate over by the window and he smiled at her. At least some of the girls weren't taller than he was. They didn't seem to mind his height judging by the Valentines cards that he had gotten last year, anyway. Lost once more in his mind, Joe didn't notice that Mr. Carter's anger grew.

The Dean struggled to control his composure, his mouth opening and closing involuntarily. The boy wasn't even looking at him. Mr. Carter made his decision. This was the last straw. Ben Cartwright was going to get a scathing letter outlining his youngest son's ongoing reprehensible behavior.

Joe's thoughts returned to the present and he reluctantly turned his attention to the furious man standing beside him.

"I'm waiting for an explanation boy!" Carter shouted, sliding a hand across his sweat dampened brow.

Little Joe studied the man briefly. The man's temper differed drastically from his Pa. Yelling and screaming like some old-maid woman. When his Pa was mad, his tones were even, steady and devastatingly frightening. The boy stuck his hands in his pockets before trying to explain. "Well, you see," Movement from within his shirt caused him to pause and shift slightly. "I was just trying," The gentle flicker of a soft rabbit foot against his side caused him to pause.

Carter grabbed the boy by the chin and said menacingly, "I'm still waiting."

"I was just trying.." Little Joe continued, but stopped again when the baby rabbit scrambled to the front of his shirt, the tiny feet dancing along his naked ribs. A giggle caught in his throat, but he was able to stop its progress.

The sound was not lost on Mr. Carter however. Narrowing his eyes to slits, he glared at the young boy.

Mitch had turned to watch the entertainment. He saw the movement of a dark shape beneath his friend's white shirt. At first he was unsure of what exactly was happening, but when a small foot kicked out from between the buttons he started to laugh.

An icy stare from the Dean stopped Mitch's laughter cold. Mitch shrugged his shoulders and coughed, hoping he hadn't drawn the man's anger upon himself.

He hadn't. Mr. Carter turned his attention back to the youngest Cartwright, crossed his arms and waited impatiently.

Little Joe tried to continue. "I was trying to help Miss Larabie ..." The tiny black rabbit had grown tired of small movements and decided to try and escape its cloth cell. Kicking its feet against the bony ribs that bordered its' prison to the east. Joe couldn't control himself. Always ticklish, it was one of the many ways his brothers tormented him. Doubling over, he wrapped his arms around his middle trying to stop both the laughter and the struggles of the rabbit. He failed miserably as giggles slipped past his lips and the rabbit continued the assault.

Carter could not take anymore. The sight of the small curly-haired boy totally ignoring his authority and having the audacity to laugh in his face was too much to bear. Grabbing the boy by the shoulders he shook him violently before forcing him to stand up straight.

"teach multiplication." Joe finally finished with a snicker as the furry black prisoner peeked over the top button of the boy's shirt and twitched its nose at the irate Dean.

The sight of the rabbit looking at him caused Carter to notice one more detail of the boy's insolence. He grabbed Little Joe's shirt collar with a claw-like hand and pulled him closer. "Where is your tie, boy? On top of this rabbit disgrace you have the gall to flout the dress code?" Carter drew back his free hand and prepared to slap the brat.

Little Joe flinched, unsure of the man's intent. Things were definitely not going as planned.

Carter suddenly let go of the boy's collar and stepped back. The point of no return was close and he didn't want to cross it. The last time he hadn't been able to control himself it had cost him his job in San Francisco. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. Another deep breath and he felt his heart slow it's relentless hammering against his chest. By the third breath, he felt in enough control to speak. "I'm certain your father will have a few choice words to say to you after he finds out what has happened here today," he turned his attention to Miss Larabie. "I will have a letter ready for you to deliver to the boy's father after school today. You will escort him home and deliver it personally. Is that understood?" When she nodded, he abruptly turned and left the classroom, Gordon Tockery close at his heels.

The sound of a carriage entering the front yard woke Ben Cartwright from the columns of numbers in front of him. He looked over at his two older boys, who were both lounging around the fireplace waiting for the youngest to come home. "Are either of you expecting company?"

Adam stood and stretched, then marked his place in his newest book with a silver bookmark. "Not me, Pa," he said as he looked at his younger brother who was finishing an apple. "You Hoss?"

Hoss shook his head and threw the remains of his apple into the fire. Ben stood and pushed aside the green curtains that covered the window behind his desk. When he saw the inhabitants of the buggy, he frowned and a crease appeared on his forehead. "It's your brother and Miss Larabie."

Adam looked at Hoss and mouthed the words. "Uh oh."

Hoss grimaced and nodded, certain his baby brother was in trouble again.

Ben stormed over to the door, opened it and walked outside. Adam vaulted over the couch to follow; Hoss following behind.

The sight of his father on the porch caused Little Joe 's heart to skip a beat. He pulled back on the reins slightly and brought the buggy to a halt. After setting the buggy's hand brake he gave Miss Larabie one last imploring look. Joe had tried without success to get her to change her mind about escorting him home, but deep down he knew it was Mr. Carter's doing and not hers. He took a deep breath trying to calm his nerves and act like a man, but the twelve year old boy in him took over. Seeing the anger in his father's eyes, he jumped out of the buggy and ran behind it to where his beloved pinto pony was tied. "I'll take care of Cochise," he said quickly as he untied her and turned to run into the barn.

"No you won't, boy!" Ben shouted.

Little Joe flinched and stopped dead in his tracks. No safe haven today. He turned around slowly and looked at Hoss and Adam, trying to read the expressions on their faces. Adam was of course almost impossible to read, but Hoss was signaling him that today was not a good day to be in trouble.

Adam sauntered over and helped Miss Larabie down from her carriage, his strong hands lingering an extra moment on her trim waist.

After regaining her footing on the ground, she brushed a bit of dust off her dress. Satisfied she looked her best; she smiled up at Adam and said. "Thank you. You Cartwright men have the most charming manners."

Hoss grinned and pointed at his baby brother. "Even that one ma'am?"

"Especially Little Joseph," she said and smiled at her young charge. Miss Larabie didn't want to be here any more than the boy did, but she had no choice. "Could we go inside and discuss what has brought me out here today?"

"Certainly Miss Larabie," Ben said offering her his arm. He turned and looked at his two older boys. "Hoss, Adam would you escort Little Joe into the study please."

Little Joe backed up toward the barn, but was easily caught by his brothers. "I don't suppose we can make a deal?" he pleaded.

Hoss and Adam each grabbed one of Joe's upper arms and lifted him up until his feet no longer touched the ground. "Not today, buddy. Not today," Adam said as they carried the protesting boy into the house.

Joe watched his father while Miss Larabie described the events of the day. The tall silver haired man sat behind his desk and listened intently. It was impossible to mistake Pa's mood as the rage built with each sentence, until Joe was certain he couldn't get any angrier. He hoped Pa would say something, anything that would signal Joe's finely honed instincts that the punishment wouldn't be too bad. Years of experience had taught him that when his father was quiet it was the worst.

Adam slumped in the wingback chair in front of Ben's desk, carefully keeping his hand over his mouth to conceal his grin. Turning his gaze to Hoss who stood behind Pa, he was amused to find his big brother wasn't as successful in concealing his smile. Adam shook his head. The kid certainly had a knack for pulling the most outrageous stunts.

"Joseph, please explain to me why you feel compelled to disrupt Miss Larabie's classroom?" Ben said ominously as he turned his full attention to his youngest.

Little Joe stood before the desk and shifted uncomfortably, as he clasped and re-clasped his hands behind him. The tone of Pa's voice said it all. This was going to be bad. He didn't trust his voice to speak.

"I asked you a question, Joseph and I expect an answer," Ben said, his tone a little stronger.

It took all the nerve in his twelve-year-old body to respond. He bit his lip and took a deep breath before speaking. "Well, Pa it was supposed to be funny," Joe said softly.

A smile threatened at Ben's lips but he squashed it. "Was it funny?"

Little Joe made a sweeping gaze at the occupants of the room and could see the laughter hiding behind his brothers and Miss Larabie's eyes; it made him feel a little better. He couldn't contain a smirk. "Yeah, it was Pa."

"Does it feel funny now?" Ben said intensifying his gaze at his youngest.

Little Joe shook his head, curls falling down his forehead. "Nothing seems funny right now-sir."

"I would hope not. We are going to have a long discussion about your behavior. Get up to your room now. Change into your nightshirt, I'll be up shortly to mete out your punishment," Ben said sternly.

Little Joe turned sorrowful eyes to his teacher and was relieved to see a smile on her face. He knew she would do all she could to intervene with his father. They wouldn't be here if it was up to her, but the folded letter in her hand told a different story he was certain. Little Joe turned and ran up the stairs two at a time. He paused at the top of the stairs, hoping against all reason that they would find it funny and let him off the hook. One last glance at the bomb that was waiting to explode which was Ben Cartwright sent him scurrying into his room.

When the remaining occupants of the great room heard the slam of his door, they all collapsed into giggles. Miss Larabie pushed a strand of golden blond hair off her face and straightened her pink dress. "I know I shouldn't laugh, but it was so funny. The Wily twins were both on the floor petting the rabbits and one ate the plant on my desk. Even Sharon Tate the minister's daughter was laughing and you know she never laughs. If you could have seen the look on Little Joe 's face when that rabbit was crawling across his ribs," she giggled into her small hand.

After taking a few deep breaths, she continued. "I do want to tell you I would have let him get away with it if it hadn't been for Mr. Carter. He was very angry," Another thought occurred to her, and she smiled once more. "The look on Mr. Carter's face when one of the rabbits started chewing on his shoestrings," She shook her head and coughed into her hand trying to bring back some measure of propriety. "I'm sorry Mr. Carter wanted to deliver this himself, but he had a prior appointment.

Mr. Cartwright, I admit I'm more lenient than Little Joe's past teachers were, and I'm only temporary till the end of the semester. But you must understand he is a very smart boy and I personally feel you just have to put up with the mischief and realize that it is part of the boy. Mr. Carter doesn't remember what it was like to be twelve and cooped up in a schoolroom all day. I'm sure you know with an energy level like Joseph's that is no easy task."

Ben nodded as he stroked his chin. "Yes, I agree, but I'm sure you realize that I'm trying to instill a sense of discipline in the boy, and from the looks of his behavior today I'm failing miserably."

"I understand Mr. Cartwright, and I don't envy you the task trying to raise him. But he is a delightful little boy, even if he does get into a peck of trouble," Miss Larabie said as she stood. "I think I'll be heading on home. I've done enough damage for the day I believe."

Ben walked around the desk and took her hand. "Thank you for your kind words about my son, and for bringing him home. If you don't mind I'll have Hoss take you back to town, it can be dangerous for a lady out alone in the evening."

"Thank you. I'd appreciate the company." Miss Larabie said as she walked to the door, a grinning Hoss following closely behind.

Adam lounged in his chair as he waited for the question he knew his father would ask.

"What do you think son?" Ben knew he could always count on Adam's opinion when it concerned his baby brother. Adam had helped raise the boy ever since Joe was five.

Adam shrugged. "C'mon, it was a harmless prank Pa. Took a lot of planning on his part though. I wonder how long it took him to catch all of those rabbits? Maybe he is learning long-term planning and organizational skills. But to think he let them loose while she was doing multiplication tables," he snickered. "I'm sorry Pa, but it is funny anyway you look at it."

Both men chuckled with the mental picture. He picked up the letter and turned it over then sought out his oldest son's gaze. "I'll bet what this has to say we won't find nearly as funny." Ben thought briefly about the sender of the letter. Mr. Carter was a difficult man to figure. Tall in his early forties, he had been in Virginia City for four years and had served as the dean of the school for three of those years. The man was a stern disciplinarian and had to Ben's knowledge been a widower for a long time. He looked at his oldest son lounging in the chair before him and realized that Carter was an older and humorless version of his son without the zest for life that Adam kept concealed. He was a serious boy, always had been. But Adam only seemed so serious when in comparison to his younger brothers. His son's were all so different, he thought then decided to stop stalling at get to the task at hand. Ben broke the seal and pulled the letter out, glancing at his oldest before he started to read aloud.

Ben's hands tightly gripped the paper, unable to conceal his rage that coursed through his veins. His weather worn face had darkened until it was a deep red and his brown eyes appeared almost black in the shadowed room.

Adam took a deep breath and sighed. He closed his eyes and put his arms behind his head. His baby brother had just crossed the punishment line from stern lecture to severe tanning. The three biggest offenses in Ben Cartwright's book of child rearing were lying, disrespect, and outright disobedience. He was certain the letter covered the latter two quite convincingly. Although he on occasion pulled his baby brother out of trouble without saying a word of it to their father, in this instance he had no choice. He opened his eyes and looked at his father. "I hate to say it Pa, but I agree with Mr. Carter."

Ben had already come to the same conclusion. "You are right, son and so is Mr. Carter. Discipline is what that boy needs and I'm going to make sure he feels the consequences of his actions." Ben clutched the letter in his hand and stomped up the stairs to his youngest son's room.

Little Joe had been impatiently waiting in his room. As ordered he had put on his nightshirt, the white cotton fabric stretching to just past his knees. He had weighed the consequences of disobeying by keeping his pants on to offer some protection versus following and maybe lessening the punishment. He was still wondering if he had made the right decision when he heard his father coming up the stairs.

The door opened and Ben Cartwright stormed into his son's room. Little Joe was disturbed to see the letter in his father's hand, crumpled and the worse for wear. The boy backed up to the wall after catching a glimpse of his father's face, deciding quickly he had make the wrong choice-he should have kept his pants on. He quickly glanced out the window, dismayed that it offered no escape.

Ben turned and shut the door firmly behind him and walked toward his young son.

The slam of the door caused Little Joe to jump. Hearing his father's approach he kept his eyes firmly on the floor.

"Look at me Joseph," Ben said ominously.

Joe cringed but did as he was told, frightened by the expression on his father's face.

Ben looked down at his curly headed son who only stood slightly taller than his waist. Ben was a tall man as were his two older sons. He doubted his youngest would ever reach his height, but would be average. But what the boy lacked in height he more than made up for in charm and good looks. It was a combination of the two that got him out of most scrapes, but not today.

"I know you have always had a taste for mischief, boy and I see that it has gotten worse this semester." He looked at his youngest son standing before him and he fought the urge to soften. Joe had adopted the pose he usually did when he was in trouble, hands clasped behind him to offer some measure of protection to his backside. But the contents of the letter kept repeating in Ben's brain so he stood firm. "Son, I'm very angry with you," Ben said, his voice menacingly low.

Little Joe gulped. This was definitely not going well. He had some vague hope that they would find the rabbit escapade amusing, but that hope was now gone, vanished like the plans for his school vacation.

Ben continued. "I'm going to read you just a few choice sentences from this letter. 'The most important issue here is what I consider his lack of respect for authority.'"

Little Joe paled and the lump in his throat grew. Shifting nervously from one foot to the other, his anxiety increased until he was certain he couldn't handle anymore.

"Do you know how angry it makes a father to hear that about his son?"

Little Joe tried to flash his most sheepish grin but didn't succeed. "Pa.."

"If you have some explanation for your behavior that can refute the contents of this letter I suggest you give it to me now." Ben said slapping the paper with the back of his hand.

The boy forgot he was already backed up against the wall and tried to retreat even further.

Ben shook his head. He knew no answer would be forthcoming. "Let me read another sentence --'In my opinion, this little boy needs a serious trip to the woodshed.'"

Trembling slightly, Joe raised sorrowful green eyes to his father's angry brown ones.

Ben would not be swayed. "Boy, discipline is one father's duty that I've never liked to carry out, but you will get what you deserve," he placed the letter on the nightstand next to the bed and slowly unbuckled his belt. He could feel his young son's eyes on him as he pulled the thick leather strip from his belt loops and placed it on the pale blue bedspread. One glance at his son backed against the wall showed the fear running rampant in the leaf green eyes. Ben took a deep breath to strengthen his resolve. It was hard for him to discipline his youngest, but he felt he would be doing the boy an injustice to let the behavior go unpunished. He was sure his baby boy wouldn't share his opinion however.

"Papa please." It was like a whisper from across the room.

Ben remained firm. "I think you should have thought about the possible outcome of your actions before you decided to let the rabbits loose in school. Come here son," Ben said and gestured to the bed.

Little Joe tried but his feet refused to respond.

Ben walked over and grabbed Joe's arm and led him to the bed. He sat down and pulled the boy across his lap. He took both of Little Joe 's forearms and crossed them behind the boy's back and held them there out of the way with his left hand. Then he picked up his belt. Little Joe looked back at him, his eyes glistening with soon to be shed tears. Ben's resolve wavered slightly, but he held firm. "I trust this behavior will not happen again."

"No papa," Little Joe said biting his lip.

Ben raised his right hand and brought the doubled up belt sharply down on the behind of his youngest. A whimper escaped Little Joe 's lips. Ben struck five more blows in quick succession while holding on to his squirming son.

"Papa stop please!" Was torn from the boy's lips.

Ben continued with ten more blows, fighting to keep the yelping and struggling youngster on his lap. He lay the belt down on the bed and pulled his young son into his arms and held the sniffling child. After the tears had slowed, he lay the boy face down on the bed. "You are not to leave this room for three days except for meals. I'll send your supper tonight up on a tray," Ben said, and patted his young son's back.

Little Joe buried his face in his pillow and cried softly.

Ben trudged down the stairs glad that the tanning was over. Adam lounged in his favorite blue armchair in front of the fireplace and Hoss had just arrived and was hanging up his jacket by the door.

"Say Pa, that Miss Larabie is really a nice little gal. She had really good things to say about Little Joe," Hoss said with a smile.

"I wish Mr. Carter would have been a little more complimentary, then your brother wouldn't be in the position he is in now," Ben said from the landing.

"Position? What position?" Hoss said, frowning.

Adam smiled wryly. "I'm pretty sure it's face down at this point Hoss."

"Aw, Pa. You didn't," Hoss said with a grimace. "It was just a few rabbits. He didn't hurt anybody, it was just a prank."

Ben shook his head. Trust Hoss to take his baby brother's side in any case, the two were thicker than thieves. "It wasn't the rabbits that earned him a tanning Hoss. It was this," Ben said and handed his middle son the letter.

Hoss sat down on the settee and scanned the letter quickly. He swallowed visibly knowing how angry the contents would have made his father. There were definitely buttons that were pushed in Pa's brain by the words listed. "This don't sound like Little Joe, Pa," Hoss said finally, looking up into his father's deep brown eyes.

Ben ran his hands though his silver hair. "Well Mr. Carter is the dean of students and should know how his students behave. Your brother wasn't able to come up with an answer when I asked him to deny the contents of the letter, so I must believe it."

Hoss lay the letter on the table in front of him and grabbed an apple from the large bowl in the center. His little brother sure had a talent for trouble.

An hour later, Hoss pushed open the door to his baby brother's room, a supper tray in his beefy hands. He set the tray on the desk and went over to the nightshirt-clad boy who was looking out the window wistfully. Hoss put his arm around the slim shoulders and said. "How you doing little brother?"

Little Joe grinned wryly and rubbed his backside gingerly. His deep green eyes were luminous in his pale and tear-stained face. "Had a kinda rough day, Hoss," he said softly as he looked up into his older brother's eyes.

Hoss hugged him close. "I heard about it. Don't you worry none. Three days will pass fast and then you'll be outta here. Now how about you finish all the supper on your tray and that'll make Pa happy."

Joe glanced over at the tray of food then back into his big brothers kind eyes. "No thanks Hoss, I'm not hungry."

"But you gotta eat punkin," Hoss said, never understanding how Little Joe didn't enjoy food. It was one of his primary reasons for living.

"Just eat it for me will you?" Joe said returning to the window to look at the backyard where he would be spending the next two weeks unless he was helping with ranch chores. He had been planning on teaching Cochise a lot of new tricks on this unexpected vacation, but now all his plans were gone.

Hoss shook his head and ran his hand through his thinning sandy brown hair. "You know I can't do that."

Joe turned sorrowful eyes up to his beloved older brother. "Please Hoss, you know I can't eat when I'm upset."

"Well, you're gonna have to try," Hoss said firmly. "If Pa caught me eating your supper he'd be awful mad at both of us." Hoss sat down on the edge of the bed trying to think of a way out of this situation.

Little Joe walked slowly over to the bed, his eyes downcast and stood before his brother. "I don't think he can be any madder at me Hoss."

"Punkin you know Doc Martin said you got to eat more. You're too skinny as it is."

Little Joe knelt on the bed next to his brother and put his arm around his broad shoulders. "C'mon Hoss, just this once… Please?" Joe pleaded.

Hoss shook his head, but Little Joe could tell his brothers resolve was weakening. "You don't want me to get in trouble again do you?"

"No, but.." Hoss began, but he didn't like where this conversation was headed.

Little Joe put his fingers over Hoss' lips. He walked stiffly over to the desk and grabbed the plate, then put it in his older brother's hands. "Just eat half. That's all I ask," Joe said as he put the fork in Hoss' right hand. "Please."

"All right, just this one time," Hoss said as he quickly wolfed down half the meat and potatoes before handing the plate back to Little Joe. "Now you eat the rest."

"I will. Later," Joe said. He walked over to the desk and set the plate down noisily.

"I mean it. You hear me?" Hoss said as he stood and put his hands on his hips.

"Yes sir," Little Joe answered and snapped a salute.

Hoss smiled and left.

As soon as his brother shut the door, Little Joe walked over to the window and looked outside, noticing the sky was threatening rain. He slid up the window frame and knelt on the window seat, knowing it would be at least a week before the total after effects of his tanning were gone. The corral was visible in the distance, and he could hear the faint echo of laughter as the hands finished up for the night. The cold fresh air made him feel a little better, but his behind still smarted from its mistreatment earlier in the day. He swore softly. Why did Caterpillar have to be around school today of all days? It had spoiled everything. He leaned out the window and looked at the pile of rocks beneath his window. Long before Little Joe could remember the Paiutes had been running wild and had attacked the house. Where the other bedrooms had a porch beneath them and were easily defensible, his room was on the end of the house and had the rock piles beneath each of his two windows to prevent access with a ladder. He looked once again at the narrow ledge that was four feet beneath his window and ran across the side of the house to the porch. It was a support beam, but Joe was sure he could slide across it and make it to the porch roof. One of these days he'd be tall enough and have enough nerve to try it. No one would ever figure he could get out that way and then he could come and go as he pleased. Oh well, time to finish supper.

Little Joe pulled the little rabbit out from under his bed where he had placed it when he first came up to his room. Luckily, no one had noticed the sleeping animal as it rested inside his shirt when he was being lectured downstairs. Joe knelt on the floor next to his friend and gave her the vegetables from his supper plate. "I think I'll name you Spot. For no other reason than because you don't have any."

When he finished giving Spot the remains of his vegetables, Joe walked back to the window. He whistled softly out the open window and was glad to see Hoss' dog Rex, a large golden Labrador come running to the rock pile. Little Joe smiled at him from two stories up. "Hungry boy?" he said softly. The dog wagged his tail in response, glad to see his friend. Joe went to his desk and picked up the plate and dumped it out the window to the waiting dog below. "See you later boy. Now keep our secret," he said, and then pulled down the sash.

The next morning, Dr. Paul Martin sat in the great room of the Ponderosa ranch house and warmed his hands in front of the fire.

Ben took a puff from his pipe, savoring the tobacco smell in the air. "I'm glad you stopped Paul. It gets a might lonesome when the boys are off working and Joe is," Ben chuckled. "Joe is up in his room."

Paul laughed. "Again? They've only been out of school a day. What'd he do already?" Paul said, knowing how the youngest Cartwright had a knack for finding trouble in the most obscure places.

"I'm surprised it hasn't made its rounds through town by now. He let twenty or so rabbits loose in the classroom just as Miss Larabie was teaching the younger students how to multiply," Ben said with a sigh of resignation.

"Well, I haven't been in town so I wouldn't know." Paul grinned and dropped his gaze picturing the havoc in the classroom. "Coming from someone who isn't his father, you do know that it had to be hilarious don't you?"

Ben nodded and rolled his eyes. "I know, I know. The teacher even found it funny. But Elias Carter happened to be in the hallway and he had a different opinion of the entire matter."

Shaking his head to get the thoughts of a rabbit overrun schoolroom out of his mind, Paul continued. "Well, I hate to get down to business, but I did have a reason for stopping. There has been another outbreak of Kiddie Pox in the area."

"Not again. The last time was what-three years ago?" Ben asked.

"Just about that. We should know by now if anyone is exposed, but watch out for general listlessness, headaches and dizziness. The fever and red spots come a day or so later. Kiddie Pox does the most damage with the sick and weak. Now we could never describe your youngest by those two adjectives, but he is underweight and I'd be afraid what would happen if he caught it. " Paul smiled and rubbed his chin. "There is some good news, they have a new medicine called Kal-O-Yours lotion that reduces some of the itching." He straightened up slightly in his chair and took a sip from his coffee cup. "I remember having Kiddie Pox as a young boy and the itching was the absolute worst."

Ben nodded. "I still have the scars from when I when I scratched the spots when they were at their peak."

"Against doctor's orders I'm certain," Paul added.

Smiling at his friend, Ben had to respond. "Yes, of course against doctor's orders."

"You know it never ceases to amaze me that you are so surprised when your boys don't listen to my instructions when they are ill," Paul said.

Ben waved his hand to signal surrender. "Allright, allright. I never said that the boys didn't inherit at least part of their stubbornness from me."

"Part?"

"Come now Paul, Marie was much more stubborn than I am. You have to admit that," Ben said, not liking how this conversation had turned.

"Yes, that's true. We'll never have to guess why Little Joe can be so exasperating at times. The boy did get a double dose of it," Paul said with a grin.

Ben narrowed his eyes and glared at the doctor. "Exasperating is the word for disobedience now?"

"Okay, let's change the subject. You're not going to convince me that Little Joe is anything more than a little headstrong and independent." Paul took off his glasses and placed them on the table beside him. "You probably don't remember, but the last time we had an outbreak of Kiddie Pox Adam was away at college and Little Joe and Hoss were snowbound. So, the bottom line is, keep all the Cartwright boys away from town until this whole mess blows over. Shouldn't be more than a couple of weeks."

"Surely it won't affect Adam and Hoss?" Ben said, not looking forward to restricting his grown sons to the Ponderosa. Little Joe was one thing, he was still a child and would heed his father's wishes or face the consequences, but the other two could be a problem.

"It probably wouldn't bother them much, just the spots and a slight fever. But all it would take would be to come in contact with someone who was exposed. Mind you they don't have to have the disease, just been around someone who does. Then all three of your boys would be sick. We both know what terrible patients they are, so let's just avoid it shall we?"

Ben thought a moment before responding. "If you think it's necessary, I'll talk to the them," he said, more concerned for the well being of his children than any fuss they were likely to put up.

"Yes, I think it is. Joe's at the age where it can be the most deadly. The last time it came through here we lost three kids between the age of twelve and fourteen. The fever just got so high that they slipped away, there was nothing that could be done," Paul said, a crease forming on his brow. The thought of losing patients was difficult for any doctor, but losing children was the hardest.

"Allright, I'll tell them tonight," Ben said taking a sip from his cup.

Hop Sing bustled in from the kitchen with a fresh pot of coffee and a plate of oatmeal cookies, then left as silently as he came.

Paul picked up a cookie and looked at it before speaking. "I was meaning to talk to you about Joe's eating. Any luck?" he said before taking a small bite.

Ben shook his head and placed his cup on the table. "No more success than in the past. You know I can't remember a time when the boy would just sit down and eat because he was hungry. Every meal is a battle and I'm sure he wins more than I do."

Paul smiled. "That doesn't surprise me. He's a stubborn little boy." He glanced up the stairs, envisioning the youngest Cartwright. "I had high hopes that his appetite would improve after Adam got back but that just hasn't been the case has it?"

"No." Ben wondered why his youngest disliked eating so much. Even when Marie was alive there had been a daily struggle over Joe's lack of appetite. Things had really gotten worse in the last couple of years however and Ben was at a loss what to do about it.

The four Cartwright men sat at the dining room table, three of them eating the evening meal. The youngest however, was involved in a game of pushing his food around on his plate just enough to convince the others that he really was eating.

"I saw the doctor's buggy head up the road earlier today, Pa. What was that all about?" Hoss asked as he heaped his fork full of mashed potatoes.

Ben smiled, glad that Hoss had opened the door for a conversation he felt neither of his two older sons was going to like. He wiped his mouth with his napkin and glanced at Little Joe. On second thought, his youngest wasn't going to like it either. "Doctor Martin was coming back from Wellspring Flats. They've had quite an epidemic over there and he stopped here to tell me about it, and what precautions we should take to make sure no one on the Ponderosa gets sick.

"Epidemic, Pa? What have they got?" Adam said, the concern apparent in his voice.

"Kiddie Pox," Ben said softly looking at his youngest.

"Hmm," Hoss said stroking his chin. "It's been quite awhile since that went around. I wonder where it started this time?"

"Paul said there was a new student in the school at Carson City. He seems to think that she brought it with her, and you know how fast it spreads. One child gets it, then another, pretty soon it's all over the territory," Ben said.

"It's a good thing you can only catch it once or it would go around every year. Anybody die from it yet?" Adam asked taking a sip of coffee.

Ben shook his head. "No, thank God. Paul said that they had caught all the cases pretty early and treated the children quickly so there were no complications. But there were 19 cases in Wellspring Flats alone. I don't know how many kids in Carson City came down with it though. It's a pretty nasty illness."

Hoss thought for a moment before he spoke. "Is it true they treat it with doses of Quinine? I've heard that stuff tastes pretty awful."

Ben almost laughed; his middle son's thoughts usually were centered on eating and trust it to him to think about how the medicine would taste. "Only the more severe cases. And yes, I have tasted Quinine and it is bad. Very bitter. The mild cases they usually only prescribe bed rest and a new lotion made from elderberries to stop the itching. Of course the red spots look pretty silly, but the more spots you have the better off you are." Ben was secretly glad the conversation at the table was light-hearted. He hoped it would make his edict come a little easier in the eyes of his older sons. "Something else that Doc Martin reminded me of however won't sit quite as well with the three of you I don't think."

Adam picked up his coffee cup and took another sip, not liking what he saw on his father's face. "What's that Pa?"

Ben clasped his hands before him. "Paul reminded me that none of you, especially you two" he said pointing at his older sons "have never had Kiddie Pox. That means that you can still catch it. Of course Little Joe is already restricted for the little rabbit prank but, you two also are not to leave the ranch until this epidemic has run its course."

Adams eyes darkened until they were almost black. "C'mon Pa, that’s just for little kids. I mean I could see if Hoss and I were Joe's age, but.."

Little Joe glared at him. He wasn't in a good mood as it was, and sitting wasn't easy after his punishment last night but it was something his father insisted on at the table. "I am not a little kid," he started, the boy's anger quick to rise at the reference.

Ben patted his youngest's arm. "Now Joseph settle down," he said before turning his gaze to his two older sons. "Some adults can get it too, if they haven’t had it before," Ben said. "So you and Hoss will obey my instructions and stay on the Ponderosa."

"But Pa," Adam continued, seeing his freedom threatened. "The dance is Saturday night. I know Hoss has already asked Bessie Sue and I promised Jennifer."

Ben shook his head. "Not anymore. We just can’t risk it."

Adam put his fork down and steepled his fingers on the table. He pursed his lips and gave his father his most convincing look. "But Pa."

Recognizing the tone of voice and the earnest gaze that Adam gave him, Ben could see his oldest son was digging in for the long haul. He had better end this quickly. "End of discussion. Don't tell me that you are picking up Little Joe 's bad habits about not listening to me?"

"No Pa, but," Adam said not liking the way the tables had turned so quickly from a Saturday night dance to examples of poor behavior.

"You are supposed to be teaching the boy good habits, like coming home on time, and responsibility, and staying out of trouble," Ben said but glanced at his youngest as he continued his tirade and noticed that with every good habit, Joe was making a face and bobbing his head at his oldest brother.

Ben tapped Joe on the side of the head "That will be enough, boy."

Instantly contrite, once caught, Little Joe said "Yes sir," but continued to smirk at Adam. Once again, Joe regretted that his place at the table was within his father's reach.

"And while, we are on the subject of good habits, boy" he emphasized the word 'boy' as he stared at Little Joe "why aren't you eating?"

Little Joe slumped in his chair, grimacing slightly at the pain the movement caused from his punished backside. Here we go again. Why can't he just leave me alone? "But Pa, I have been eating."

"No you haven't, you've pushed that food around on your plate so many times that it must be dizzy. I want that plate clean before you leave the table. Do you understand me?" Ben said sternly.

"Yes sir," Little Joe said adding a loud sigh for good measure. He speared a small piece of roast beef with his fork and with exaggerated slowness shoved it in his mouth with distaste. From the expression on his young face you would swear he was being forced to eat rattlesnake instead of prime Ponderosa beef.

Ben watched his young son take three more bites of his meal and turned his gaze back to his bigger problems at the moment. He was dismayed to see that Adam had thought of some more things to say, so Ben repeated his earlier edict. "I said end of discussion. I mean it. I'll have Charlie take a note into town to Jennifer and Bessie Sue to smooth things over." Adam opened his mouth to speak again. "One more word out of you about this and I'll double your chores. You may be a grown man but I am still your father and I run this ranch. You will do as I ask. Is that clear?" Ben said in his most commanding voice.

Adam bit his lip but nodded. He hated to see his father angry with him, but this was just too much. He was twenty-five years old and Hoss was twenty for cripes sake. Adam looked at his shy brother. It had taken him three weeks to get up the courage to ask Bessie Sue, then to have something like this happen.

Relieved to see that no more arguments were forthcoming, Ben turned to Little Joe and was amazed to see the boy's plate was clean. "Good job, son," he said patting his boy on the back. "We'll turn you into a man the size of Hoss yet. You'll see."

Little Joe smiled slightly, guilt preventing his customary Joe Cartwright head-turning smile. The soggy napkin tucked in the top of his boot held the remains of his supper and he couldn't wait to dispose of it. He was grateful the argument between Pa and Adam had given him the opportunity to scoop the potatoes and meat into the napkin on his lap. Hop Sing chose that moment to bring in a tray with dessert plates each holding a slice of apple pie still steaming from the oven.

"Boy, that sure smells good, Hop Sing," Hoss said already licking his lips in anticipation, glad that the argument was over. He wasn't happy that he wouldn't be able to take Bessie Sue to the dance, but Pa had a point. There was no way he wanted to be responsible for getting his cherished baby brother sick.

The Chinese cook put a dessert plate in front of the older Cartwright's but when he stood beside Little Joe 's chair the boy stopped him. "None for me thanks, Hop Sing. I'm full from that delicious dinner you made."

Hop Sing looked at the boy's clean supper plate and narrowed his eyes at the child he loved like a son. He was certain that once again a napkin would be missing, to be found later in the dirty wash. Hop Sing shook his head at the boy, but noticing the pleading look in the emerald green eyes didn't say a word. In English anyway. He spouted a stream in Chinese however, which unbeknownst to the rest of the family Joe understood and filed away for future reference. There was a limited amount of covering up for him that Hop Sing would do.

As Hop Sing turned to walk away Ben looked at Little Joe. "What was that all about?"

Little Joe grinned sheepishly and shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, it was in Chinese."

"Well if you're not eating dessert, up to bed with you. You are still restricted to your room until the day after tomorrow. I better not catch you sneaking out to the barn either. Restricted means to the house and that is all," Ben said sternly and raised a forkful of apple pie to his lips.

"Yes sir," Joe said and gingerly slid off the chair and went upstairs. His father amazed him sometimes; of course he wouldn't be dumb enough to be caught.

Adam and Hoss were doing the evening chores, forking fresh hay into the stalls in the barn. The scent of the hay hung in the air as Cochise nickered softly wondering where her boy was.

Hoss walked over to the stall that housed the black and white pinto and gave her a reassuring pat. "Don't you worry none, Cochise. Little Joe'll be down to see you in a soon."

"I wouldn't bet that he hadn't been down to see her already. She had a blanket over her this morning that wasn't there last night. I know none of the hands would have done it, so it had to be our baby brother," Adam said with a knowing smile.

Hoss chose to ignore the implications of his brother's statement. "He sure loves her. I've never seen a boy and a horse that get along so well. 'Course Pa'd have a fit if he knew some of the tricks he's taught her already," Hoss said.

"Tricks? What tricks?" Adam said gazing intently at his younger brother. He was sure the lazy Saturday afternoon had lulled Hoss' mind into disclosing more than he meant to.

Hoss' eyes widened momentarily, wondering what to do. He shrugged. "You know Adam, kid tricks," he chuckled nervously and hoped against hope that Adam would let the matter drop.

The door to the barn opened and Charlie Owens, the oldest hand on the ranch walked in with a sheepish grin on his face and a letter in his hand. "Miss Jennifer and Miss Bessie Sue told me to give this to you."

Glad for the interruption, Hoss took the letter from the older man's hand. "Thanks Charlie. What kind of mood did the gals seem to be in when you told them?"

Charlie stammered. "I-I-Its all in that letter I would reckon. I've got to get out to the south pasture. See you fellers later," Charlie said and hurriedly left the barn. Knowing women as he did, he felt certain that the wrath he had seen was disguised with sweet words written in a feminine hand.

Hoss handed Jennifer's letter to Adam and walked over to Cochise again, thoughts of his little brother still foremost in his mind. "It's got to be killing Little Joe to be stuck up in his room for three days while he doesn't have school."

"Well, as far as I'm concerned he deserved what he got. I mean the rabbit stuff was inventive, but he shouldn't be disrupting the classroom like that." Adam took school very seriously and he felt his youngest brother should put a little more effort into his schoolwork. "Joe's a smart kid. He should be listening in that classroom, not thinking up ways to make trouble."

"But I bet it sure was funny don't you think? All them little critters hopping around that classroom." Hoss couldn't help but chuckle.

Adam leaned on the handle of the pitchfork. "Now tell me, did you know what he was planning? Or did this whole rabbit thing come as a surprise to you?"

"Well, I didn't know for sure. He had asked me if keeping them in a sack for a while would hurt them and I told him no. I also showed him how to make a trap to catch live rabbits, cause all he knew how to make was a snare. So I thought something was up, but I didn't know what. Oh yeah, I also hauled some grain up to the line shack by the north road. I figure that must be where he kept them until it was the right time." Hoss thought a moment, then continued. "But other than that, I had no idea." Hoss grinned his most innocent smile displaying the gap between his two front teeth.

"You know if Pa and I were as gullible as you are, that boy'd be running the ranch by now." Adam chuckled and shook his head. "Some days I'm not sure exactly who is running it anyway, he sure can wrap the lot of us around his little finger if he has the notion," Adam said as he tore open the letter from the girls. He read several sentences before looking at Hoss. "They want us to meet them tomorrow at that little meadow just beyond the northern border of the Ponderosa. You know, the one past the lake."

"You know we can't. We promised Pa," Hoss said decisively.

"I don't know, but Bessie Sue mentions your carriage ride with Miss Larabie. She doesn't seem to be too happy," Adam said slyly.

Hoss shook his head. "I don't care. Pa'd have a conniption fit if we met them."

"C'mon Hoss, you know you want to do it. Think how long it took you to get up the nerve to ask her," Adam said in his most convincing voice.

"No."

Adam, who had already made up his mind that he was meeting Jennifer--tried to reason with his larger brother. "C'mon, we won’t catch-I hate to even say it-Kiddie Pox from the girls."

"I forget, Adam did you have any medical training while you was away at college?" Hoss asked, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"No, but its just common sense. You know Pa always worries too much. Besides, have you ever seen Jennifer when she gets mad? I've heard about it and don't want to witness it," Adam said.

"I guess there are no long term plans for this relationship then-huh?"

"I don't know. Taming of the Shrew was one of my favorite books. We'll have to see. On the flip side, I wouldn't want to see Bessie Sue mad either. I mean, she's bigger than I am."

Hoss smiled, used to the comments about Bessie Sue's stature from the other members of his family. "Aw Adam, just because she's tall doesn't mean she riles easily."

"I've seen her mad Hoss. She punched Sam Logan in the jaw and knocked him out cold. In addition to being taller than me, I'm not ashamed to say that I think she's tougher than me too," Adam said honestly.

"Allright, allright I'll go. Seems you didn't like me being so gullible ten minutes ago."

"All depends on who's doing the convincing. I suppose," Adam laughed, glad that he would be able to make amends with Jennifer.

The three Cartwright boys had been marking trees for cutting near tip of the lake. Little Joe had finally escaped restriction his to the house as long as his older brothers accompanied him and there was work involved.

Hoss and Adam were standing next to the wagon which held the supplies, their heads so close together they were almost touching.

"Are you sure we can trust him?" whispered Hoss.

Adam turned around and his gaze sought out the small boy standing by the lake. "It’s only two hours. How much trouble can he get into?"

Hoss rolled his eyes. "Think about who you are talking about when you say that. Remember when we left him alone in Virginia City for twenty minutes last spring? He wound up in that sleazy saloon on E Street talking to all the women. Another twenty minutes and who knows what would have happened."

"I know, I know," Adam said, stroking his chin and considering re-thinking his plans. "You don't have to finish the story, Roy saw him and drug us all home to Pa." Adam looked Hoss in the eye. "You know that still makes me mad that Roy didn't trust us to go home and tell Pa about it."

Hoss hooked his thumbs in his belt before answering. "I don't know about you Adam, but I had already made up my mind not to say anything. Plus, I don't think it would have taken a lot of convincing on Little Joe 's part to get you to be quiet too."

Adam cracked a crooked grin. "Roy just knows us too well doesn't he?"

"Yep. That's why he went with us, to make sure that we told Pa. You know, I can still hear the lecture. I don't want to go through that again-ever," Hoss said grimacing as he looked over at his baby brother who was walking along the shore.

"I agree with you, younger brother. I definitely agree." Adam patted the wheel of the wagon and looked at the scenery around him. "But what can he do here? No saloons, no beer, no women, nothing to get him in trouble," Adam said in his most convincing tone. The thought of Jennifer angry was overriding the common sense that usually ruled his mind.

Little Joe chanced a look at the two co-conspirators. Something was definitely up, they were doing too much whispering. The icy cold water of the lake beckoned him, the island in the middle the one link to his mother. Joe had plans for today, he only hoped God would cooperate.

Hoss and Adam casually strolled over to where Joe was standing. Adam put his hands on his hips and spoke in that older brother tone that Little Joe had come to hate. "I want you to stay here with the wagon and eat your lunch. Hoss and I will be back in a couple of hours."

"Where are you going?" Joe turned to look his oldest brother in the eye. He had wondered why they had brought Sport and Chubb to mark trees; it hadn't made sense this morning-but now it did. His brothers had a little side trip planned.

Adam had hoped the authority in his voice would convince Little Joe that their trip was warranted. "Joe I told you what to do. Now be a good little boy and behave until we get back. Is that understood?"

"Where are you going?" Joe repeated, putting his hands on his hips in a direct imitation of Adam. He enjoyed the fact that he was making them uncomfortable.

Hoss kicked at the grass, feeling a little like he was the baby brother. "We're going to go meet Bessie Sue and Jennifer."

Adam smacked Hoss across the chest. "What'd you go and say a fool thing like that for?"

Little Joe crossed his arms across his chest. This was too good to be true, his so-called mature older brothers were sneaking off. "Where?"

"Aw, c'mon Joe quit acting this way. It ain't funny," Adam said, glaring at Hoss.

They were met with a frown and a stern look from the boy. Joe drummed his fingers on his crossed arms and waited for an answer.

"Okay, okay. Just beyond the grove of trees by Miller's crossing," Adam said shaking his head.

Little Joe furrowed his brows in his best imitation of Ben Cartwright. "Technically off the Ponderosa." The boy intensified his gaze at his oldest brother, recalling many occasions where Pa would've let a prank slide by, but was convinced otherwise by Adam protesting that he was too lenient. "Who is it that always complains that Pa lets me off with a technicality?

Hoss knelt down and grabbed his baby brother by the elbows. "Cmon, keep our secret will you?" he whined, hoping to make amends with Bessie Sue.

The small boy giggled. Seeing his large older brother reduced to whining was quite a sight. "Okay, but I'll make a you deal. The next time I'm in trouble you two stick up for me-is it a deal?" Joe said sticking his right hand out to seal the bargain.

Hoss' eagerly shook his baby brother's hand. Adam did so slowly and reluctantly.

"Now stay out of trouble-you hear?" Adam said.

"Yeah, yeah. Don't worry about it. I can take care of myself," Joe said as he turned and walked to the shore.

As soon as he saw the two horses carrying his brothers' pass over the horizon, Joe walked over to the wagon. This Bessie Sue/Jennifer situation had actually worked out very well for Little Joe. He had been trying for a couple of years to get to the lake alone, away from the prying eyes of all the watchdogs of the Ponderosa. The island had been a secret place for him and his mother and he wanted to return to try and connect with her memory. There were so many questions that he would have liked to ask her and just to remember anything would mean so much to the motherless boy.

Little Joe realized he would have a lot of explaining to do if his brothers were to return and find him soaking wet, so he decided to just take off his clothes. His black shirt was the first casualty as he threw it over the seat of the wagon, and then pulled off his boots and shucked out of his blue jeans. He hooked his thumbs in the top of his underwear, but paused. Skinny-dipping crossed his mind, but he didn't think his mama would approve of him strutting naked all over their island. Plus what if someone was there? Him in his underwear would be embarrassing enough. No, he would leave his underwear on. Joe looked at the distance to the island, and decided it was about three-quarters of a mile. Not too bad, he had swam further but Lake Tahoe was very cold year round and it was probably near freezing now. Oh, well. Take the opportunity when you get it. Joe took a deep breath to steel himself against the cold and ran to the edge of the lake. Hesitating only a moment, he dove into the icy water. When the small boy broke the surface of the lake, he shook his head several times to get the water out of his ears. Joe shivered uncontrollably. This was going to be a long cold swim, might as well get started.

Twenty minutes later, he struggled up the sandy bank, his breath coming in short bursts. It was very cold. Halfway through the swim he had started to wonder if he would make it, but determination drove him on. As he looked around the small island, the tall pine trees forming a canopy over his head, memories of his mama came flooding back. He sat on a fallen log and reminisced about his mother. The memories were never very clear when he thought about her, but somehow on the island he felt closer to her. In his thoughts he could envision the warm spring sun beating down on his face, the hint of honeysuckle in the air. Wildflowers covered every inch of the island, and there was an old cabin in disrepair that he would hide in. At her grave he could talk to her, but there was no mental image of her, just how she looked in her photograph that he carried close to his heart. The island brought her to life. He could hear her laugh. Something that he had never remembered before, and her singing. His brothers and father had told him of her beautiful voice, and how they used to sing together but he didn't really remember it. Her piano and guitar were packed away in the storage shed in the northeast corner of the yard. He never went there. It wasn't that the memories were bad, there just weren't any memories at all. To a young boy, no memories were scarier than bad ones.

Adam and Jennifer sat on a blanket underneath the branches of an oak tree, the warm sunshine making the day seem more like fall than early winter. Adam chewed on a blade of grass and looked up into the brown eyes of his latest love interest.

"Bessie Sue was sure mad when she found out that Hoss had taken Miss Larabie for a buggy ride," Jennifer said, as she pushed her long blonde hair over the shoulders of her cobalt blue dress.

Adam stretched out his long legs on the blanket and leaned against the tree. "Not exactly a buggy ride, he was just taking her home from the Ponderosa. She brought Little Joe home with quite a tale to tell Pa. By the time she finished telling it, it was starting to get dark and Pa insisted Hoss take her home."

Jennifer smiled and leaned back against Adam. "What'd he do this time?"

"Oh, nothing much. Just let about twenty or so rabbits loose in the school room."

Jennifer shook her head. "That little brother of yours sure knows how to get into trouble doesn't he?"

"No argument there."

Jennifer thought for a moment. "While we're on the subject of your baby brother," she reached into her purse and pulled out a folded piece of paper. The name Little Joe was on the front written in a definitely feminine hand.

Adam looked at her quizzically. "What?"

Her soft laughter echoed in Adam's ears. "My sister, like most of the young ladies in Virginia City is in love with your baby brother. She asked me to give this to you in hopes it would find its way to him."

Adam sat up. "Samantha? But what she's sixteen now?"

Jennifer nodded. "Almost"

A furrow creased Adam's brow. "But Little Joe is only twelve."

Jennifer smiled. Men could be so naïve sometimes. "It doesn't matter. Love knows no age barriers."

"I still don't like it. He's too young."

"I never understand how it is considered acceptable for an old man to covet a young woman, but not the other way around," Jennifer said raising her chin slightly.

Adam shook his head, knowing there was no winning this argument. "That kid just has too much charm for his own good."

"He can't help it you know. He is devilishly handsome. If I were ten years younger…" she said wickedly.

"Now wait a minute. I'm not competing for girls with my twelve year old brother," Adam said with a smile.

She laughed. "Oh c'mon Adam. They're just kids." She handed him the letter and said. "Just give it to him and that'll be the end of it."

Adam accepted the letter and turned it over in his hand. A red wax seal on the back protected the contents, and it was stamped with a heart. Yes, he would give it to his little brother allright.

Hoss and Adam slowly walked their horses over the ridge that led to the lake. "I am sure glad that Bessie Sue wasn't mad after I explained why I took Miss Larabie home. I wouldn't have wanted to argue with her," Hoss said. "How was Jennifer?"

"Well, she wasn't mad. I don’t know how, but our conversation turned to our baby brother and the girls in Virginia City. Then," Adam reached into his pocket and pulled out the letter. "She gives me this to give to the boy. Like he needs a love letter at his age."

"Samantha?" Hoss asked.

Adam nodded in return. He tucked the letter back in the pocket of his black shirt and pulled his tan coat a little closer around his chest. "It sure is getting colder."

Hoss grimaced and sheepishly pulled a letter from his own pocket. "Uh, Adam?"

"Yeah?" Adam said and turned to look at his younger brother. The letter in the other man's hands caused him to frown, especially when he saw Little Joe 's name on the front. Adam pulled back on Sport's reins and brought him to a stop. Hoss did the same.

"Which one of Bessie Sue's sisters is that from?" Adam said harshly.

Hoss swallowed loudly before answering. "Eliza."

"Eliza! But she has to be seventeen by now," Adam sputtered.

"Yessum," Hoss answered with a crooked grin.

"Damn that boy. Wait 'till I get my hands on him," Adam said, straightening up in the saddle.

Hoss placed a restraining hand on his older brother's arm. "Now just hold on a minute. It ain't his fault, them gals just chase him. The boy just can't help it."

"Leave it to you to defend him. He has no business running around with girls that much older than he is. I'm going to have a long talk with him when we get back," Adam said as he nudged Sport to resume their journey.

Little Joe was trying to button his shirt with shaking fingers when his brothers rode up. He had succeeded in swimming back from the island, but it had taken him much longer than he thought and he had been forced to float on the icy water for a few minutes while he caught his breath. This, coupled with the fact that Adam and Hoss were early returning made his swim readily apparent.

Seeing his baby brother's wet hair and shaking fingers, Hoss quickly dismounted and went to the boy. "Punkin, what've you been doing? You're plumb frozen," he said, taking the small hands in his large ones and rubbing them to bring back some warmth.

Adam grabbed a blanket from the back of the wagon and walked over to his two brothers. He rubbed Joe's dripping curls with it, and then wrapped it around the boy's thin shoulders.

Hoss knelt down and looked into his brother's eyes. "Did you fall in while we were gone?"

Little Joe shook his head, not wanting to tell what he had been doing, but not wanting to lie either.

"You didn’t swim out to Wishing Island did you?" Hoss asked gently.

Little Joe dropped his gaze, avoiding an answer. He stared at his bare feet, and thought about how cold they were and such an interesting blue color.

Hoss looked up at Adam, unable to stop the concern from filling his eyes. Adam's eyes shared the concern, but he was also angry.

"What’d you do a fool thing like that for?" Adam said as he spun the boy around to face him. "How many times you got to be told not to swim in that lake this time of the year? It’s just too blamed cold."

When he saw the anger in his oldest brother's eyes, it fired an equal response in the boy. "Doggone you Adam. Just leave me alone. I'll do what I want to do," he said, his hands clenching into fists as he stood toe to toe with his oldest brother.

Adam's eyes narrowed. In this aspect he was very like his Pa. He not only expected respect from his two younger brothers, he demanded it. He was second in charge on the Ponderosa, and if needed he would enforce his authority on his baby brother's backside. "You keep a civil tongue in your head boy, or I'll…"

Ever the peacekeeper, Hoss interrupted stepping between them. "Now wait a minute both of you." Looking at Adam he said. "We left him on his own out here and should have known better. We are as much to blame as he is." He then turned his gaze to Little Joe. "And you boy, you know better than to talk to your elders that way," he chastised.

Little Joe had calmed down somewhat but was still angry. Putting his hands on his hips he said. "Aw Hoss, its just old Adam. You know he just likes being bossy."

"That's enough of that boy. Adam is in charge of the two of us when we're together and it's a hard job. So you will behave yourself and show him the respect he deserves. Is that clear?" Hoss said staring at the boy.

Joe crossed his arms and stuck his lip out petulantly, displaying his feelings more effectively than a slew of words would have.

The boy's stance angered the easiest-going Cartwright. Joe was always a handful and needed to be disciplined frequently to keep in line, although Hoss rarely did it. "Boy you apologize right now before I get riled," Hoss said.

Joe didn't like this side of his beloved older brother. The last few months Hoss had turned from a playmate and co-conspirator to a grown up. It saddened the boy as well as frightened him. Was he going to abandon him like Adam had? Would he have to get over the loss of someone else he loved? Joe looked at his oldest brother standing next to him and shivered. He didn't know if he could forgive Adam for going away and leaving him so soon after Mama had died. Joe knew it wasn't rational thinking but he didn't care. Slowly dragging his gaze back to Hoss he looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. He didn't think he could handle it.

The depth of emotion that crossed Little Joe's face didn't go unnoticed by Hoss. He immediately put his arms around the boy and hugged him close. "What's the matter boy? You know you can tell me anything?"

Joe returned the hug and held on until he felt himself start to calm. The trip to the island had left his emotions a mess. Hoss looked at his baby brother and wiped the boy's tears away with his large hand. "Now can you tell me why you went to the island?" Hoss asked softly.

Little Joe sniffed and nodded. "It was Mama's and my special place. I just wanted to see if I could remember her there," he said as he looked to his brothers' for understanding.

Adam knelt by Little Joe and looked into his brother's eyes, his anger gone. "We’d have taken you."

Joe shook his head, droplets of water dripping from his curls. "No, I just wanted to go by myself."

Several moments passed in silence, each consumed with their own thoughts of Marie Cartwright.

A sneeze from the youngest brought their attention back to their situation.

Hoss put his hand on Little Joe 's forehead, and was briefly able to hit a moving target. "You're sure to catch a chill from this Joe."

"I'm fine. Just forget about it," Little Joe said stamping his bare foot, the anger returning once more. The only thing worse than being treated like a baby was a sick baby.

"I don't think we can just forget about it. Pa is sure going to be really mad when he finds out about this," Adam said, thinking ahead to the lecture his baby brother was going to have to face.

The anger melted and a cat-that-ate-the-canary smile sprang to Little Joe 's lips. "Well, he probably would be mad if you were going to tell him. But you're not," he said, looking up into his oldest brother's eyes.

Adam glanced at Hoss, then back at Little Joe. "We're not? Since you have already decided the path we are going to take, would you please tell me why we're not going to tell Pa that our twelve year old brother took a swim in a near-freezing lake?"

Little Joe grinned again, trying to keep his teeth from chattering. "I'll tell you why. Just where were you going to tell Pa that you two were while I took this swim?"

Adam opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. Damn, the boy had them. I hadn't thought of that. He looked at his young brother, shivering in the cold afternoon air. What were they going to do? Adam's mind raced. Damage control was the only path to take. Adam wrapped the boy in blankets to try and get him warm, and put him in the wagon for the trip home.

"No way am I letting you talk me into anything like this again," Hoss said from his place in the back of the wagon, his baby brother cradled in his arms. "I told you we shouldn't have left him alone, but no-you had better ideas."

Adam didn't need Hoss' remarks to feel guilty; the thoughts came unbidden as he thought of what could have happened to his twelve-year old brother.

After taking the hot bath his overprotective brothers had insisted upon, Little Joe sat on the edge of his bed, his two watchdogs hovering nearby.

"What do you think Adam?" Hoss asked nervously, noting the flush on his young brother's cheek.

"I'm fine I told you. Just leave me alone," Little Joe said stifling a sneeze.

Noticing his young brother was becoming agitated, Adam decided to try a different tact. He pulled the two letters from his pocket and handed them to Little Joe. "I won't leave you alone but I will change the subject. I would like an explanation why these two girls are writing you love letters?"

Relieved they had let the matter of his well-being drop, a flicker of spirit returned to the boy's soul. Little Joe lowered his gaze and then looked up at his older brother slyly. "Well heck Adam, if you don't know by now, my explaining isn't going to help much."

Hoss hid a snicker behind his hand. The boy had a little too much sass for his own good. Hoss knew that Pa didn't catch Joe at half the mischief he did, and hoped that with Adam home his little brother would get an extra dose of discipline. As much as he would have liked to, Hoss knew he couldn't provide it on a regular basis. Joe had him wrapped around his little finger and they both knew it.

Adam was furious, he flushed and grabbed Joe by the arm and jerked him to his feet. "I'm not fooling Joe. I don't want you around those girls. You'll get into trouble."

Little Joe jerked his arm away and glared up at his older brother. "I know what I'm doing. You have no right to tell me what to do. Besides, girls my age are just kids."

"What do you think you are boy?" Hoss said unable to keep quiet any longer.

Joe opened his mouth to answer but quickly turned as his nose twitched and he stifled a sneeze.

"I don't want to hear anymore. Hoss and I know best. You are to stay away from them-is that clear?" Adam said decisively. "End of discussion."

Little Joe stamped his foot in response. "Adam it's none of your business what I do."

"I'm making it my business. Besides, what do you think Pa would say if I told him about it? You're not even old enough to go to the dances in town, and you have all these girls crawling all over you!" Adam said leaning over his baby brother and poking him in the chest with a finger.

Little Joe pushed Adam's hand away and crossed his arms across his chest. Uncertain of what to do next, he narrowed his eyes and pushed out his bottom lip as a symbol of defiance.

Adam wondered if Pa had had the father/son talk with his baby brother yet. He doubted it. Adam remembered his had been when he was fifteen and Little Joe was only twelve.

Hoss was wondering the same thing. He knew when he sixteen he had gone to Adam with his questions about girls and his older brother had explained everything. Hoss had expected Little Joe to come to him at some point in the future. But knowing how grown-up the boy thought he was, maybe now was the time to explain. Hoss took his young brother by the hand and led him to the bed. They both sat down on the edge. Hoss looked up at Adam who was standing by the window with his arms folded across his chest. Turning his attention to the boy beside him, he patted his hand and said. "You know Little Joe, when you get a little older, boys and girls, well they…"

Joe rolled his eyes. "I know Hoss, you don't have to explain. I know all about the birds and the bees."

Adam frowned. "How do you know?" he said softly, hoping a change in tactics would get an answer out of his baby brother.

Little Joe shrugged, not fooled. "I just know."

Adam crossed the room and crouched before his baby brother. He looked up into the leaf green eyes and was certain the boy did know. "Who told you? Pa?"

Joe shook his head, not liking where the conversation was heading. How was he going to get out of this? "I just know," he said again, hoping they would let it slide by.

"I asked you a question and I expect an answer. Who told you?" Adam said icily.

Joe glanced over at Hoss and thought a moment. His head was pounding and his chest felt tight, he just didn't have the energy to try and cover his tracks. After a heavy sigh he said. "Angelia told me."

Adam opened his eyes wide and looked at Hoss. "Angelia Duncan?"

Little Joe nodded in return and brushed his still-damp curls out of his eyes.

"When did she tell you?" Adam asked.

"Before she left for Paris last summer." Noticing the anger forming on his brothers face, he added "It wasn't her fault Adam, I asked her."

Adam patted the thin shoulder. "Allright, we'll let it slide for now. But I want you to get in that bed and take a nap. We'll wake you for supper." He held up a hand to stop the protest already forming on the boy's lips. "I mean now."

Too tired to argue further, Little Joe did as he was told.

Adam patted his stomach after another one of Hop Sing's excellent meals. "I think I'm going to take a little walk and exercise off some of that beef stew," he said as he climbed to his feet.

Hoss stood up quickly. "I'll go with you. I'm so bored sitting around the fire these last couple of days. I really would like to go to Virginia City for a couple of beers," Hoss said throwing a questioning look at his father. The expression on Ben's face told Hoss to let it drop, so he did.

Little Joe scraped his chair back and stood up. "I'll go with you," he said wiping his mouth and setting the napkin on the table.

Hoss and Adam looked at each other then glanced over at Pa. Ben's eyebrows were knit together, not a good sign.

"While my older boys may do what they wish after supper, I expect my little boy to ask permission," Ben said fixing his youngest with a stare.

"Whoops, sorry Pa-just wasn't thinking, I guess. May I go with Adam and Hoss for a walk?" Little Joe said. How could he have forgotten. Few things set his father off like not asking permission. He shook his head to clear it. Why did his brain feel so fuzzy all of a sudden? He really needed that fresh air.

Ben thought a moment before answering. The boy was technically still restricted to the house and yard, but a little fresh air wouldn't hurt him. "Allright. But Little Joe I want you back here by 8:00. Understood?"

"Yes, Pa." Little Joe said quickly starting toward the door.

"Adam, Hoss-you see he's back here by eight."

"Sure, don't worry about it Pa. We'll take good care of him," Hoss said as he put a beefy arm around his baby brother and escorted him out the front door.

The three boys circled around the house and leisurely walked down toward the corral to see the new horses. The youngest Cartwright's fast thinking mind belied his pace. He had information to gain. "Adam tell me about when you started breaking horses," Joe asked, hoping to gain some insight on how best to broach the subject of him starting to learn the bronc-busting side of ranch business.

Adam smiled and looked down at his little brother walking beside him. Tousling the golden brown curls he decided to indulge him. Adam felt guilty about the swim this afternoon and was relieved that his brother looked none the worse for wear.

"Allright. I was seventeen. We didn't break very many horses at that time, just enough to keep the hands mounted and to have a few extra on hand for emergencies. We usually had Steve Larson from the Circle K break them but he was laid up that spring. That was the year that we hired on several new hands and really needed ten new horses broken. So I decided that I should be the one to do it. Of course some of the new hires had experience doing that sort of thing, but I was stubborn. I had ridden some of the gentled horses but I was bound and determined to show them that I could do it all. So there was this big black stallion-tougher than nails. The wranglers finally got him cornered and I hopped on his back thinking this is going to be easy. Ten seconds after they turn him loose; I'm on the ground, not feeling quite so smart. But I broke him. It took six tries before I could finally get him to settle down enough to sit a rider and then another full day before he was gentle enough to have someone else do the training. It was worth it though. There's nothing like the feeling of taking a wild animal, bending him to your will and making a useful ranch horse out of him."

Hoss looked down at his baby brother staring up wistfully at Adam's tale. Being the gentle man he was, Hoss couldn't contemplate breaking the will of any animal although he knew it had to be done. The gleam in Little Joe 's eyes was very bright and that worried Hoss. He didn't think Adam should be filling the boy's head with stories like this, especially when Joe was so young. Hoss thought that Ben would have a very hard time letting his youngest boy break horses considering how Marie had died.

Joe pressed for more details. Adam opened his mouth to continue but Hoss put a hand on his arm. "Why don't you tell him what happened after you broke that black."

Adam had warmed to the story and was already forming the next words he was going to say, but Hoss' interruption stopped him. "What do you mean after?"

Cocking his head in Little Joe 's direction Hoss continued. "When Pa found out you'd broken that black without his permission."

Adam flushed. "Oh that," Guiltily Adam realized he had been painting an exciting picture of breaking horses to a twelve-year-old who was already itching to try the experience. He knelt before Joe so he was eye level with his brother. "When Pa found out.."

Little Joe shook his head. "I don't want to hear that part Adam. Tell me some more about how you handled the horse. Did you lock your legs tight around him, or did you kind of keep them loose to try and gauge which direction he was going to spin?" Joe asked, his eyes dancing, his agile mind looking for any detail that would help him in the future.

A light went on in Adam's mind. His little brother was pumping him for tricks on how to break a horse. The kid was a little more up to the snuff than he thought. Grabbing the boy's upper arms he forced him to look into his eyes. "When Pa found out he gave me the lecture of my life. He told me how dangerous it was and how I could have been killed. I should have worked my way up to a wild horse by starting on the gentler ones first. And I got a tanning that I still remember to this day." Adam grimaced.

Hoss had to laugh at the expression on his older brother's face. He also remembered the incident vividly. Hoss had felt very adult sitting in the great room in front of the fireplace, sipping a cup of hot chocolate. Adam had been acting very smug that whole week, lording the five-year age difference between them over Hoss' head. The yelps that he had heard coming from Adam's room had done much to convince Hoss that his Pa didn't consider his older brother very adult.

"You found that incident to be very funny I do recall," Adam said evenly as he looked up at Hoss.

Hoss gently shoved Adam out of the way and knelt down before Joe. "You should have seen him Joe. Couldn't sit for a week and a half. Pa and I would sit down to eat supper and Adam would have two pillows on the chair and still he'd eat as fast as he could. Couldn't get away from that table quick enough."

Joe laughed. It was a strange mental picture-Adam in trouble. Joe couldn't remember many times at all when Adam had been yelled at even, let alone genuinely in trouble. "Why don't I remember it?"

"Come to think of it, I think you and your Mama might have been in San Francisco. You were only four and I think she was showing you off to some of Pa's friends at some wedding," Hoss said.

Adam nodded. "That's right. She didn't trust leaving him here with us when we were so busy so she took you with," Adam snickered. "Remember that little green suit that she had made for him?"

Hoss chuckled with the memory. "Sure the velvet one with the short pants and the jacket. It had them little silver buttons going down the front and the white shirt. Even had a matching green velvet string tie," Hoss looked at his baby brother. "You looked so cute just like a little angel."

"I think we called him a leprechaun didn't we?" Adam said. "We knew even then he was headed for mischief."

Joe scrunched up his nose. Although the memory of the San Francisco trip had left his mind, vivid images of the hated green suit remained. Even worse was the response he had gotten wearing it. Women of all ages complimenting him on what a cute baby he was and comparing him to dolls and angels and stuff. Not a comparison Joe liked even at four.

"Remember how angry Marie was when they got back and the suit was missing? She about tore those suitcases apart looking for that thing. Wanted him to wear it to church every Sunday or something like that," Adam said comparing the toddler wearing the suit to the young boy before him. Had it really been eight years?

Hoss nodded. "She sure was mad. We never did find it," he happened to look at Joe at that instant and saw a smug expression on the boy's face.

Joe crossed his arms across his chest and thrust out his lower lip. "I'll tell you where that blasted old suit went. It went out the window into the bay that's where it went. No way was I wearing that thing back here. All my friends would have made fun of me."

Adam patted the boy on the shoulder and gave a knowing wink to Hoss. Adam had figured the demise of the green suit lay at the hands of his baby brother but had never been sure. "C'mon lets head over to the corral…, I mean the bunkhouse. See what's going on over there."

Hoss nodded at Adam glad that the talk of horse breaking was over. Looking down at the small boy who walked between them he was certain it wouldn't be too many years before they had a repeat of the horse-breaking incident. However, the aftermath of Marie's death at the hands of a too wild horse was sure to have an impact on the way Pa viewed Joe's plans to be a champion bronc-buster.

The grandfather clock struck nine. Ben was seated in his favorite tufted leather armchair by the fire, reading. "Nine o'clock," he said aloud to the room. He looked around and noticed that his sons weren't back from their walk yet. Little Joe should have been in bed an hour ago. Where are those boys? He slid his bookmark between the well-worn pages and closed the leather bound bible he had been reading. He stood and stretched, then walked over to his desk and put his pipe down on the ashtray. It had been a long day. A new herd of wild horses had been brought in and he'd had his hands full trying to keep Little Joe away from them. The boy was usually at school when most of the horse breaking occurred but today he'd gotten an eyeful. It was a good thing his baby son was still feeling the after effects of the rabbit escapade or there would have been even more trouble keeping Joe off the broncs. Ben walked to the door and slid on his coat, dismayed that Little Joe 's slate blue jacket was hanging on the peg. Didn't that boy have a lick of sense to even put his coat on? He turned the handle on the front door and walked out into the still night air. Now where could they be? He could smell the sweet scent of the pines and it worked like a tonic on his mood, envisioning three boys off enjoying the scenery.

The wooden walls of the bunkhouse barely contained the shouts from within. Hoss was alternately winning and losing an arm wrestling match with Clyde Hoffer, the ranch hand closest to him in size. After a few shots of whisky, Adam was even betting on the outcome of the match. Sweat glistened on the forearms of the two competitors who had been wrestling for twenty minutes with no end in sight. They seemed too evenly matched to end the battle quickly. Adam looked for his baby brother, relieved to see him sitting behind Sam at the poker table. Pa wouldn't be pleased that Joe was watching them play poker, but he'd never know. A shadow crossed Adam's thoughts as he knew Marie would have been angry with him for letting the boy watch, but the whisky also dulled his conscience enough to let him turn his attention back to the arm wrestling match.

If Adam had been slightly more sober, or watching closer, he would have noticed that even though Joe was perched on the top of a chair behind Sam, he was actually playing poker. Ever since he had watched the first game played, it held a fascination for him. He was able to sneak out to the bunkhouse a couple of times a month, and had devised this method of covering his back, or backside. If his father walked in he was simply watching the game. His father would be upset at that of course, but not as angry as if he found out his son actually knew how to play and did so regularly. The hand was dealt and Sam picked up the cards in front of him and held them over his shoulder so Joe could see. Joe stroked his chin not happy with what he saw. A pair of deuces, a king, a jack and a four, all a mixture of red and black. The boy pointed to the four and the jack and Sam set them face down on the table.

The two cards he drew didn't amount to much, so reluctantly Little Joe signaled Sam to fold. He then heard a shout from the match in the corner. Joe leapt out of his chair and joined the cheering as his brother was slowly pushing the arm of his opponent to the table.

Adam took another swig from the bottle of whiskey in his hand and yelled. "C'mon Hoss you can do it!"

Little Joe clapped Adam on the back and shouted, "Finish him!"

Adam raised the bottle to his lips and glanced over at the doorway, a mouthful of whiskey filling his cheeks. He swallowed loudly and said. "Hi Pa," then quickly hid the bottle behind his back.

Hoss was an inch from winning the match. But the "Hi Pa" that Adam had muttered broke his concentration and Clyde easily pushed his arm over and pressed Hoss' to the table, winning quickly.

The cheers from the winners and the swearing from the losers echoed through the bunkhouse. However, when the hands noticed their new visitor, the sound level dropped to zero. Ben's tone dripped ice. "I would like to see all three of my son's outside for a moment if you please," he said, then jerked his thumb toward the door.

Reluctantly, all three boys trouped out the door and stood in a line outside, not one brave enough to look at their father. Ben paced up and down in front of them. "What you two do on your own time is your business," he said directing his gaze to his two older sons. Noticing their eyes were all glued on their boots, he shouted. "Look at me, all of you!" Three heads jerked up, instinctively responding to the authority in their father's voice. "But I put you in charge of Little Joe. Both of you know this is not an appropriate place for a twelve-year-old, with the drinking, swearing and gambling going on. Plus, it's past the boy's bedtime."

"Ah, Pa," Little Joe said his hands clenched to fists. His anger at being treated like a child in front of the hands had overridden his basic survival instinct. "I'm not a baby."

Ben strode over to his youngest son and stared down at the boy. Joe cringed. Why couldn't he just keep his mouth shut?

"I suggest you keep a civil tongue in your head or you'll get another dose of discipline from my belt. Is that understood?"

"Yes sir," Joe answered meekly.

"Get home right now, young man." Ben said and pointed toward the house. "I want you changed and in bed in ten minutes is that understood?"

"Yes sir," Joe said and gave his brothers a sympathetic look before turning and jogging toward the house.

"I trust you two will respect my wishes concerning your baby brother in the future?" Ben said sternly.

Adam and Hoss looked at each other and nodded.

"Sorry Pa. I guess we just weren't thinking," Adam said sheepishly, the whiskey bottle still safely hidden behind his back.

"I should say not," Ben said and stomped after his youngest to the house.

The next morning, Hoss and Adam leaned against the tall split rail fence that surrounded the corral, nursing their headaches. Hoss absentmindedly scratched his arm. "I'm glad you're not breaking any horses today Adam. If you feel as bad as I do you probably couldn't even climb on a horse."

Adam nodded. "I don't recall having a worse hangover, I only had 3 or 4 shots of whisky. I sure feel terrible for not drinking much."

A wildly bucking horse coming near sent them both scrambling up and over the fence to safety on the other side. Adam glanced over at Little Joe who was standing by the side of the fence and hadn't moved at the horses' approach. The boy wasn't his usual laughing, talking self this morning. He realized that Joe hadn't once asked him to let him try breaking the horses. Adam reviewed the breakfast meal in his mind and realized this morning the kid hadn't said much of anything.

Adam's thoughts were interrupted as Hoss walked over to Joe. "Hey Little Joe you can't see anything down there," Hoss said as he picked the boy up and placed him on the top row of the fence. He looked into the boy's eyes and said, "You feeling okay punkin?"

"I'm fine Hoss, and thanks," Joe said meekly. He tried to summon up the energy to grin but didn't have it, so he turned to watch the next horse being loaded into the chute.

When his bigger brother returned and stood beside him, Adam said. "What’s going on with Little Joe? He’s being awfully quiet."

"I don’t know. Being cooped up is probably wearing on him too. He hasn’t been allowed to leave the yard except with us for five days. Plus he probably got a lecture after Pa chased him out of the bunkhouse last night." Hoss slowly rubbed his temples trying to chase away the headache that had settled there. A thought occurred to him and he looked at his older brother. "You don't think he got a hold of any of that whisky last night do you?"

Adam scratched his arm. "No, I was watching him." Adam flushed in response to the hard look Hoss gave him. "Okay, I was sort of watching him. Plus the hands wouldn't have given him any whiskey. You know they keep as close an eye on him as we do."

"Well, we don't keep a good enough eye on him according to Pa," Hoss said grimly.

Adam sighed. "As much as I hate to admit it, Pa was right last night. We should have sent him back to the house as soon as we started drinking and betting on your match. The boy's too young to be involved in stuff like that."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right. I'm going to check on him again though," Hoss said.

Little Joe had been struggling to stay conscious since Hoss had lifted him up on top of the fence. His head was swimming and his chest felt tight. He didn’t know what was going on but he didn’t like it.

Hoss walked over and stood before Little Joe. The boy didn't even seem to notice him. "Hey baby brother," Hoss said and poked him in the chest with a brawny finger.

The combination of the dizziness and the shock of the contact caused Little Joe to fall backwards off the fence. As he hit the ground a moan escaped his lips and then he lay still in the grass. Hoss and Adam quickly climbed over the split-rail fence and knelt beside the boy.

Joe hadn't moved. Hoss brushed the curls off his baby brother's forehead and noticed how hot he was.

"Little Joe," Adam said softly as he patted the boy's cheeks. "Wake up little buddy." The eldest Cartwright brother was dismayed when there was no response.

Hoss noted the shallow rise and fall of the small chest with concern. "We'd better get him up to the house and send someone for the Doctor."

The horse-breaking had stopped when Joe had fallen off the fence, and the hands huddled around the unconscious boy. Charlie said "I saw Doc Martin’s carriage head up to the main house about twenty minutes ago. Let's carry him up there."

Adam nodded and carefully picked up his baby brother and held him tight to his chest. He curbed the instinct to run; thinking it would do more harm than good. Forcing his footsteps to be even, he slowly carried Little Joe toward the house.

Doctor Paul Martin and Ben were sitting in front of the fireplace drinking coffee and discussing the coming Winter when the front door was thrown open. Both men looked up and were surprised to see Adam rush in, carrying Little Joe in his arms.

Ben was instantly on his feet. "What happened?" he asked as he ran to his eldest son.

"I don’t rightly know Pa," Hoss said scratching his head. "We were at the corral and Little Joe just didn’t seem like himself. Not talking or anything. He didn’t even get up on the fence to watch like he usually does. So I put him up there so he wouldn’t get underfoot. The boy just seemed to be just watching but I went over later and tapped him and he fell right off the fence."

"Charlie get my bag out of my buggy will you?" Paul said rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt. He motioned to Adam. "Put him on the settee, I don’t want him jostled around too much till I look him over."

Adam nodded and eased his precious cargo onto the settee, gently laying the boy's head on the striped fabric before backing away.

Doc Martin knelt quickly by his patient. "Did he hit is head on anything?" he said as he checked his patient for obvious lumps.

"Well, he did hit the ground pretty hard, but it’s all grass there. No rocks or nothing. But it is about a six foot drop," Hoss said, worry evident in every syllable.

"I don’t feel damage to his head, but, " Paul lay his hand across Little Joe’s forehead. "He’s awful hot," he said looking over at Ben.

Charlie came in and handed a black leather bag to the Doctor. Paul unbuttoned Little Joe's white shirt and gave him a quick once-over. "Well I think we’re lucky. Nothing appears to be broken but I bet he’s going to have quite a few bruises on his back from where he hit the ground. I'll need to examine him thoroughly upstairs though." Paul pushed the curls off Little Joe’s forehead and checked him for fever once again. "No, I definitely think the problem here is going to be where this fever came from." He pulled a stethoscope from his bag and put the two knobs in his ears, then placed the disc on his young patient's chest and listened. "Hmm," he said as removed the stethoscope and placed it on the table beside him. I don’t like the sound of that.

Hop Sing bustled in with a basin of cold water. Paul dipped a cloth into the basin and wrung out the excess. He then gently sponged Little Joe 's face. After a few moments, the boy shifted slightly on the sofa, and his eyes fluttered trying to return to consciousness. When he opened his eyes he saw the face of the person he feared most in Virginia City. Doctor Paul Martin. Joe couldn’t be certain he wasn’t dreaming though, so he closed his eyes and took a deep breath before chancing another glimpse.

Paul chuckled knowing what was going on. "No, you’re not dreaming. It’s your favorite doctor right here," he said smiling "How do you feel?"

The kindly middle-aged doctor got the same response that he always got whether Joe Cartwright was perfectly healthy or bleeding profusely.

"I'm fine," Little Joe said and started to rise.

Ben leaned over the settee and placed his large hand on Joe's chest, and gently pushed his son back down. "You’re not going anywhere boy, so just lie there and let the Doctor finish," Ben said softly. One glance at Little Joe and he knew that the boy didn't have the strength to get up anyway. He noticed the dark circles under his son’s eyes. They hadn’t been there this morning, he was sure of it. Ben looked over at his two older sons. Hoss was sitting on the table next to Paul, and Adam had pulled over a chair and sat behind Joe's head. Neither of them looked particularly well either.

The sound of Doc Martin’s voice brought him back to the settee. "Ben, he hasn’t been off the ranch since this epidemic started has he?"

Ben shook his head, but knowing how well Joe followed orders even under the best of circumstances, he added. "But just to make sure we better ask the patient here," Ben said looking at Paul as he leaned over the settee to look at his baby son. "Joseph did you leave the Ponderosa without my permission?"

Little Joe looked up at the concerned face of his father, glad that he wasn't at fault for once. "No, sir," Little Joe said as he shook his head. Unfortunately the quick movement brought the headache back full force and he slowly rubbed his eyes.

Paul stroked his chin. "Well if he hasn’t been off the ranch, it can’t be Kiddie Pox. In fact I think that’s all over. The last child that came down with it was Samantha Clemens, and that was three days ago."

Doctor Martin glanced over at Adam. Rumor had it that he was dating Samantha's older sister Jenny. Paul raised an eyebrow as he noticed that Adam was absentmindedly scratching his arms. He also realized that he had seen both older boys scratching several times since he got here. Well maybe Little Joe hadn’t been off the Ponderosa, but he bet some other Cartwright's had sneaked off without permission. Paul reached out and grabbed Adam’s arm.

"Huh?" Adam said surprised, but unable to detach himself from the Doctor's firm grip.

Paul pushed up the black sleeve and noticed the first signs of Kiddie Pox, the telltale dry patches on the skin. "Where have you been Adam?"

Adam looked at Hoss briefly, and then dropped his glance to the floor. He hadn't expected to get caught. He felt like a little kid.

Ben narrowed his eyes, not liking the way the situation was enfolding. "I believe the doctor asked you a question boy!"

Little Joe jumped, his eyes wild with fright. Ben glanced down at his youngest. "Not you son. I'm talking to Adam right now," he said and patted the small arm.

Little Joe 's eyes were closing he was so tired. "Don't yell at him papa. He's in love and can't help it," he said, before he closed his eyes and fell back into an exhausted sleep.

Ben pushed the curls off the sweat-dampened forehead and made sure his baby son was asleep before turning his gaze to his two older sons. "Get over by my desk. Now!" he whispered with more venom than even a shout would hold.

Hoss and Adam did as they were told, reluctantly following their father to his study.

Ben crossed his arms across his broad chest. "Do you mean to tell me you two deliberately disobeyed me and left the Ponderosa?"

Hoss took a deep breath. "Well you see.."

Ben held up a hand. "A simple yes or no will suffice."

"Yes sir," Hoss answered.

"Of all the lamebrained idiotic things to do. I expect this behavior from a twelve-year-old, but not at your age. I suppose you two snuck off to see Bessie Sue and Jenny?" He was not surprised to see two nods. "I told you how all three of you could catch it, but do you listen to me. No, you think you know better than I do. Now look at the lot of you. Scratching all over and I won't get a lick of work out of you for weeks."

"Weeks? What are you talking about Pa?" Adam said with a hint of concern in his voice.

Paul Martin joined them at the desk. "Too bad you didn't take a few courses in medicine when you were at Harvard, Adam. Kiddie Pox usually takes a couple weeks to run its course. You both will have to stay in bed 'till it's over."

Hoss grimaced and put his hands in his pockets. "A couple of weeks. Now Pa, that just ain't going to happen. I feel fine."

"I'm sure you do Hoss. Now. But even though cases are rare and usually mild at your age, we can't take any chances," Paul said. He looked over at his youngest patient lying on the couch before continuing. "I'm concerned about Little Joe, Ben. As you know Kiddie Pox can be very dangerous for children. But he has a few other symptoms that I can't explain. His breathing is very raspy, and he seems to have the beginnings of a very bad cold. Has he been outside without a coat on lately?"

Adam ran his hand through his raven black hair, guilt in every syllable he uttered. "Pa we've got something else to tell you."

"What?" Ben asked preoccupied with his youngest son's health.

"Well," Adam started rubbing his temples. "When we went to see the girls, we left Little Joe by the lake with the wagon. We were only gone a couple of hours, but when we got back he was just putting his clothes back on."

"You mean he went swimming in that freezing lake-alone?" Ben said horrified.

Hoss took over. "Yes, sir. He said the island was his and his mama's secret place and he always wanted to go there."

Ben's jaw tightened and furrows lined his forehead. He had forbidden Marie to go to the island also, now he remembered that she had snuck there with Joseph on more than one occasion. With the wild streak his youngest had inherited from his mother, it was a wonder that Little Joe obeyed at all.

"Well Ben, this isn't getting us anywhere. Let's get the boys-and I mean all three of you-up to bed. I want to finish examining Little Joe and then I'll check over the other two. See what kind of shape they're in," Paul said.

"But Pa.." Adam began.

"Adam," Ben said evenly, his anger thinly veiled beneath the surface. "I am not in a very good mood right now. First you outright disobey me about leaving the ranch, and then as if that isn't bad enough you don't tell me about Little Joe 's swim in freezing water, no doubt to cover your own tracks. If you want to use that college education of yours I suggest you go to your room and get into bed. Because you both will be there for a while."

Ben walked to the settee and picked Little Joe up in his arms. He cradled him against his chest like a baby and followed the Doctor up the stairs.

Paul pushed the door open and stepped to the side, shutting it behind Ben and Joe. He walked over to the bed and pulled the blankets down as Ben placed his unconscious son on the bed. They both undressed the boy, Ben starting with his shirt and Paul taking the other end and pulling off the boots and trousers. When finished, Paul pulled the blankets up to the boy's slim waist. Joe hadn't stirred while they completed their tasks.

Paul carefully checked over Little Joe again then said. "He seems to be about a day behind the other two with respect to the symptoms. That'd be about right considering the others were exposed first." He looked down at Joe and noted the easily visible ribs. "I tell you Ben, once we get this whole Kiddie Pox business cleaned up the first thing we are going to do is get some meat on this boy's bones. He's just too skinny."

Ben nodded, running his fingers through his son's curls. "I just don't know what to do about it though. We've tried just about everything haven't we?"

Nodding, Paul said. "We'll just have to come up with something new. I'd like to know where he gets his energy though. Whether his body just burns off whatever he eats and doesn't store anything or what-I don't know. But we have to do something," Paul tapped the stethoscope in his hands. "Why don't you lift him up and I'll check his lungs?"

Easing his youngest son forward on the bed, Ben couldn't help but notice how light the boy seemed. It was easy to see how frail Joe looked when he was still like this, but Ben rarely saw him still.

Placing the disc of the stethoscope on Joe's back, Doc Martin listened for a moment, then moved to the boy's chest and placed it there. When finished, he looked up at his friend. "Why don't you go tell Hop Sing we'll need some thick cotton strips about a eighteen inches wide and a yard long. Oh, and a bowl of hot water. While you're gone I'll take his temperature and then we'll know how to proceed."

"He's going to be alright. Isn't he?" Ben asked, reluctant to leave his baby.

"Just do as I ask Ben. We'll know soon."

Five minutes later, Ben and Hop Sing returned with the requested items.

"How is he?" Ben said as he stroked the boy's cheek. It was very hot to the touch and the curls that had fallen on the pale forehead were damp.

Paul removed his glasses and cleaned the lenses on a towel. "Well he's a pretty sick little boy. His temperature is 101 degrees, slightly higher than I expected it to be, but within the accepted limits," Paul paused and turned to look at his old friend. "Frankly it's his lungs that concern me."

"Pneumonia? From that cold water?" Ben said quickly.

Patting Ben's arm, Paul continued. "I wish it was that simple. Pneumonia is something we know how to treat, although not always successfully. The thing is Ben, in the severest cases of Kiddie Pox the patient's lungs also fill up with mucus but that's where the similarity to pneumonia ends. This is a heavy tar-like mucus that adheres to the walls of the lungs and can't be cleared up with drugs."

Ben shook his head uncertainly. "What is the course of treatment then?"

Taking a deep breath, Paul gave them the bad news. "Let me make myself clear-I'm not saying that Joe is to this point yet. Just that he may be headed in this direction. The treatment is kind of trial and error. Sometimes plasters of horseradish help and that's what we're going to start on now. Hopefully that will clear up his symptoms."

Hop Sing looked at the small boy he had helped raise on the bed and said the words his employer was afraid to. "And if it doesn't?"

Paul tousled Little Joe 's curls. "If it doesn't there is one other thing to try called the Braeburn method. This is going to sound cruel but you pound on the child's back and chest to force the mucus off the walls of the lungs. It's very painful, but it works in about half of the cases." Paul smiled wearily. "Let's hope it doesn't get to that point gentlemen."

Hop Sing unrolled the bandages on the bed as Doctor Martin lifted the heavy jar of horseradish paste from his bag and set it on the nightstand. "I'll be glad when I don't have to carry this around anymore. Weighs my bag down like you wouldn't believe." Paul sat down on the bed next to his patient and took the boy's wrist and counted his pulse. "Ben help me sit him up will you?"

Ben sat on the bed and leaned the boy forward until Joe's cheek rested against his Pa's chest. Ben couldn't help stroking the soft curls while the doctor started the treatment.

The doctor spread the wide cotton strip on the bed, then grabbed the horseradish mixture. As he unscrewed the lid he cautioned the other occupants of the room. "I'm warning you-this smells awful. It won't be so bad after we wrap the bandages around him, but it's awful. You do get used to it though…after a while…." Paul took a hesitant sniff. "a long while…" He dipped his fingers into the wide-mouth jar, scooped out a generous portion and smeared the thick grainy paste on Joe's exposed back."

Ben's eyes watered as the fumes reached his face, and he coughed deeply. "God Paul...that's bad." Ben looked over at Hop Sing who was holding his nose.

Little Joe shifted in Ben's arms trying to escape the doctor's ministrations, but Ben held him firmly. "Shhh baby, just stay still. Pa's here," he whispered into his son's ear.

Paul finished with the boy's back. "Okay Ben, lie him down and make sure you keep him centered on that cloth."

Ben eased his son down, then brushed the soft curls off the fevered forehead.

"I need to sit on the other side to do his chest. Let's switch places." Paul stood up and crossed to the other side of the bed as Ben did the same. Paul sat down next to his patient and got another fist full of salve from the jar. He had just started smearing the paste on the boy's chest when he woke up."

"What is that stuff?" Joe said through barely open eyes.

"Just some stuff to make you better son," Paul said as he continued his work.

Joe feebly tried to push the doctor's hands away. "Smells awful."

Paul smiled but didn't stop. As his fingertips glided over the boy's chest the bumpy ridges of the exposed ribs caused him to wonder. Was the boy strong enough to fight this illness? He was so thin.

"Now son, it's not that bad," Ben said softly.

Joe shook his head to clear the fog from his brain, then glared at his father who stood beside the bed. "Not to you it doesn't, you're way up there. You ought to smell it down here."

Paul finished with the salve and pulled the bandage tightly across Joe's chest. "Now take a deep breath son."

Joe did as instructed but wrinkled his nose in distaste. "That smells awful." He rubbed his chest through the bandage. "It's starting to get hot, too."

Doctor Martin wiped his hands on a cloth. "That's good. It means it's working. Now you keep breathing real deep and before long you'll be asleep."

"Sleep? I don't want to sleep! I just woke up!" Joe started to sit up but two pairs of hands forced him back down.

Ben hid a smile. "No arguments. Doctor Martin is doing this for your own good and I don't want to hear any complaints. Is that understood?"

Little Joe crossed his arms and shook his head. "But Pa, it's awful!"

"No arguments. Close your eyes and do as the doctor said."

Ben sat down in the rocker and Paul pulled a chair close to the bed. Several minutes passed as they watched Joe slip into sleep.

Ben asked, "What'll this horseradish plaster do?"

"Two things, it'll help his lungs to clear by breathing in the fumes, and the heat from the plaster itself will penetrate his chest and hopefully make his lungs a little less hospitable for the mucus to cling to," Paul said as he rubbed his knuckles.

Ben nodded. "He just looks so weak lying there."

"It's going to be a long couple of days Ben," Paul said.

Ben watched the first light of the dawn trace patterns on the wall from his place at his youngest son's bedside. Aside from a brief nap he had been here all night, afraid to leave lest his youngest wake and call for him. Joe shifted slightly on the large bed and his eyes fluttered.

"Pa," Little Joe said softly, more a statement than a question. He knew that if he were sick his Pa would be beside him.

Ben moved to the bed and sat beside his ill son. "Yes, precious I'm here."

Little Joe licked his lips as he opened fever-dulled eyes. "Thirsty."

Ben poured a glass of water from the pitcher on the nightstand, and helped his boy to sit up slightly. "Here you go. Drink slowly now."

The cool water helped clear the fog from Little Joe 's brain. He looked around the room for a moment before returning his gaze to his father. "How long have I been asleep?" he whispered.

"Two days, off and on. You've been a very sick boy," Ben said, rubbing Little Joe's shoulder.

"I'm better now. I need to go see Cochise," Joe said softly but made no effort to rise.

Ben smiled. His boy had a one-track mind. "When you're feeling better you can go see her. Until then you are going to lay in this nice soft bed and rest."

Little Joe yawned. "But I'm not tired," he said, his eyes already closed as he succumbed to the weakness that washed over his young body.

Paul poked his head through the doorway. "Did he wake up?"

"Just for a minute," Ben chuckled as he turned to look at his friend. "Said he wasn't sick and wanted to go see his horse."

"Well at least he's talking like his normal self," Paul said as he walked to the bed. He put on his stethoscope and listened briefly to his young patient's lungs. "Unfortunately he's not breathing normally."

"I know." Ben patted the boy's hot cheek, then rose and walked over to the window and looked outside. He bit his knuckle and his voice hitched slightly before he continued. "It's hard listening to him try to breathe. It's like he has to fight for every bit of air he takes into his lungs."

"Well, at least we know he is a fighter. I've had patients who didn't even try. Just gave up." Paul sat down in the chair by the bed that Ben had recently vacated. "I'm sure you don't want to hear this, but if he isn't significantly better by tomorrow we're going to have to try the Braeburn method."

Ben turned and looked at his small son on the bed, then at the doctor. "I thought so. He's not getting better is he?"

"Well, he appears to be improving somewhat, but not fast enough. This whole sickness is wearing him down and I'm afraid if his lungs don't clear soon they never will," Paul said softly.

"Adam, I told you to stop scratching those spots. You are going to get them all infected," Doctor Martin said.

"Easy for you to say Paul. These spots are driving me crazy," Adam said as he raked his nails over his right forearm.

Paul could see the evidence of his claim on the young man's body. Deep scratches that stopped just short of drawing blood crisscrossed the well-muscled chest. Paul pulled the bottle with the pink lotion in it out of his bag.

Adam stared at the bottle before looking into the older man's eyes. "That doesn't help much."

"It's all medical science has to offer at this point, boy. Plus, you really only have yourself to blame," Paul said gently.

Adam looked away guiltily. "I know." His baby brother had been on his mind constantly. He was supposed to protect the small child he often viewed as a son more than a brother and Adam couldn't forgive himself for bringing this sickness home to Little Joe. " How's the boy?"

Paul paused as he unscrewed the lid. "Not good. I don’t want to worry you while you're sick, but the combination of the cold water and the Kiddie Pox have really taken their toll on him."

Adam nodded. The imposed bedrest had given him the time to read about Kiddie Pox in one of his college textbooks, and he didn't like what he had found. I was so stupid. I should have done the smart thing and looked through the medical book before I insisted there was no danger. Why did I insist on going to see Jennifer? "Are his lungs filling up?"

"I'm afraid so," Paul said, glad to have the chance to discuss the proposed course of treatment with someone other than Ben.

"What're you going to try?" Adam asked, steeling himself for the answer he knew would come.

"Well, I started with the horseradish plasters two days ago. They've helped a little. But if I don't see a drastic change by tomorrow I'm going to have to try the Braeburn method."

Adam flinched.

Paul raised his eyebrows and looked at the dark haired young man. "You've read about it I see."

"The book didn't mention success rates. What are his chances?" Adam asked calmly, trying to suppress the wild beating of his heart.

Paul clenched and unclenched his hands nervously. "I've only done it twice. One child survived and the other…didn't."

Adam patted the older man's hand. He knew this was hard for the doctor, Paul had delivered Little Joe in the big bedroom down the hall.

"It's just so painful for the individual. It's difficult to do," Paul said, unable to disguise his apprehension.

"There may be no alternative."

Paul rubbed his hands together. "I know. I just don't want to have to put Little Joe through that torture."

"If it works, it will have been worth it. And if it doesn't," Adam paused, not even able to let the thought enter his mind "we want to have tried everything we can to save him. You have to focus on that."

Paul nodded, grateful to let his fears show to someone. He took a deep breath and it helped him somewhat. "Okay, now back to where we were. I'm the doctor and you're the patient. Stop that scratching."

Adam held his hands up as if to defend himself. "Okay, okay. I'll try."

Ben watched the sun come up from the rocking chair beside his youngest boy's bed. The dry hacking cough had gradually gone, replaced by a raspy sound with each inhale. The majority of his night had been spent in prayer as he contemplated what the day ahead would hold.

Ben leaned back in the comfortable old wooden rocker. He had rocked his newborn cranky son to sleep in this very room in this chair. Of course the adorable lambs and bunnies that Marie had lovingly decorated with were all gone, replaced now with pictures of Pinto ponies, Indian headdresses, and other things young boys admire. But the rocker remained. He looked down at his hands as if he could still feel the weight of his tiny son, born over a month early and weighing less than five pounds. Little Joe was a beautiful baby, with a full head of curls and bright green eyes that had never faded. Paul Martin had told him that day that his son was a fighter, and he had been right.

The small boy struggling for every breath that lay before him didn't look like a fighter anymore. The blankets that never seemed to remain in place on his child hadn't moved for days. The boy just didn't have the energy to kick them off like usual. Ben's tired mind drifted back to his beloved Marie. She had told him even before Joe was born that their baby was a bundle of energy and she had been right. Little Joe had kept up that high energy level ever since--until now. Thoughts of Marie and his gravely ill child caused the tears to fall, and Ben buried his head in his hands. After several moments, he wiped his eyes promising himself a good private cry when this was all over. Ben thought of his two other sons down the hall, and longed for the day he would see his youngest again running across the pasture, his two older brothers giving chase.

A light tread on the stairs drew his attention and the urgency in the step told him it was Doctor Martin. Ben stood and stretched, his back stiff from the long night.

Paul pushed open the door and walked through, long years of experience telling him that Ben would be here, by his sick son's side. After glancing at the pale boy on the bed he extended his hand.

Ben shook the outstretched hand with as much energy as he could muster. "Glad to see you Paul."

Doctor Martin rolled up his sleeves, having made his diagnosis on the boy's condition from one quick glance. "I take it the cough is gone, but his breathing is worse?"

Ben nodded, then walked to the foot of the bed and leaned heavily on the corner post.

Paul sat on the side of the bed and put a hand on Little Joe's forehead. Fever seems about the same. After pulling the blankets down to Joe's waist, Doctor Martin watched the rhythmic rise and fall of his patient's chest. Too fast. He reached for his bag and retrieved his stethoscope, then listened to several inhales and exhales and shook his head. He stroked the boy's arm hoping for some response. "Little Joe-can you hear me boy?"

Joe groaned softly, and his eyelids fluttered but he didn't wake.

Paul gently took Little Joe's hand and turned it over, inspecting the fingernails. Damn-the telltale blue nail beds indicating lack of oxygen. I've got to go through with it. Paul looked at Ben at the foot of the bed. Was he strong enough to help do this, and was Little Joe strong enough to have it done? "Old friend come here and sit in the rocker. We need to talk."

Ben did as requested, and sank his weary body into the rocker and faced the doctor. He fought back the fear that gripped his heart. Little Joe just had to be allright. No other outcome was acceptable. They would do all that they could and it would be enough. "Okay Paul. Tell me. I'm ready," he said, determination audible in every word.

"Ben, like I told you the other day in the severest cases of Kiddie Pox, a heavy tar-like mucus builds up and adheres to the walls of the lungs and basically limits how much air the patient can take in. Little Joe will suffocate if we don't break it loose. That's why he's breathing so fast, he's trying to get in more air."

Ben nodded, dreading what would come next. "So what do we do?"

Paul put his hands between his knees. I'm warning you, it's going to be very unpleasant, but at this point there is no choice. Help me sit him up."

The white-haired man moved to the bed and did as he was told. "What next?"

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Paul drew the unconscious boy across his lap until Joe's chest was directly across his knees. "Okay Ben, I want you to crouch down by his head and hold his arms so he can't move. I don't think he's awake enough to try and struggle, but just in case. I need to make sure I place my strokes exactly on the lobes of the lungs, so I can't have him thrashing around."

Dropping a kiss on his boy's head, Ben held Joe's arms still and watched the Doctor do his work.

Paul closed his eyes and hastily whispered a prayer. "Okay Ben, this is going to be hard both on him and us. I'm warning you--we're probably going to crack several ribs here. "

Ben looked up in horror. He was expected to help inflict this amount of pain on his already weak and sick child? How could a father do such a thing?

Doctor Martin cupped his hand and brought it down sharply on the right side of Little Joe's back. A groan escaped the boy and he shook his head. Paul struck him again several times in succession, then moved to the left side and continued the treatment.

Little Joe coughed and struggled, the intense pain dragging him unwillingly back to consciousness. Pulling on his arms had no effect so he tried to raise his head but was just too weak. "Stop," he said weakly.

"Joe?" Ben whispered in the boy's ear. "I'm sorry son, but this has to be done. The doctor is doing all he can to make you better."

"No-it hurts." Joe was unable to stop the deep cough that coursed through him. "Papa please," he pleaded.

Paul continued his rhythmic pounding, wincing twice when he heard ribs crack. Looking at Ben, he wasn't surprised to see the tears sliding down his friend's face. "Almost done Joe, just a little more."

Paul helped Ben lay his son back down. "Why don't we get Hop Sing to sit with him for a couple hours? We both need to get some rest."

"I'm not leaving him," Ben said firmly.

Placing his hand on Ben's shoulder, Paul said. "I know you don't want to leave him. But we need to be well rested when we do this again. It's not the physical part, it's the mental anguish of inflicting pain like this on a child. Doctor's orders Ben. You need to get some sleep or you won't be able to handle the next treatment."

Tears ran down Ben's face as he nodded his agreement.

Several hours later Ben sat next to his son and watched the boy sleep. He was curled up on his left side, the sheet clutched tightly in his hand. Ben lightly traced the pattern of bruises on Little Joe's back knowing he had helped to put them there. The boy coughed in his sleep, ever alert Ben listened for the dry hacking sound, relieved when it didn't occur.

Paul entered the room, both relieved and disappointed that Little Joe was awake. It was a good sign for the boy's general health that he was conscious, but it would make the treatment much more difficult.

"Hi there son, how are you feeling?" Paul said, taking in the feverish glaze to the boy's green eyes.

Little Joe's eyes narrowed at the visitor. "Like I told Pa, I'm fine. Just leave me alone."

Ben was glad his son still showed some spirit, even as sick as he was. "You keep a civil tongue in your head boy, or we'll have a little discussion that I'm certain you won't enjoy," he said, shaking his finger at the boy on the bed.

Closing his eyes, Little Joe coughed. "Yes sir."

Paul looked at Ben, dreading what they would have to do. "Are you ready?"

Nodding, Ben answered. "As ready as I'll ever be."

Joe pushed himself up on his elbows, certain he wasn't going to like what they were planning. "Ready for what?"

"Your lungs are filled up with mucus son, that's why it's so hard to take a breath. What we're going to do is try and knock some of it loose. It's called the Braeburn Method and it seems to really work," Paul said as he tucked the sheets tightly around Little Joe's legs to prevent movement.

Joe shook his head as he gasped for air. "I told you." He closed his eyes and frantically sucked in another breath. "That I'm fine. Leave me alone."

"Sorry, I can't do that boy. This is the only way you are going to get better," Paul said as he motioned for Ben to hold the boy's arms.

Ben took his sons wrists and quickly pulled them up over his head, leaving the boy's chest fully exposed. Paul got on the bed and straddled Joe's legs, the pressure halting any struggle the youngster could attempt.

Joe looked up at his Pa, his leaf-green eyes filled with dread. "Papa-No!" he said as he rolled his head from side to side.

Cupping his hand as he had done earlier, Paul forcefully pounded the boy's chest in quick strokes, starting with the upper right side, progressing to the left then down to the lower portions of the rib cage. Joe frantically struggled but was unable to free himself. Paul paused only when his patient was unable to take a breath at all.

"Slow, deep breaths son. Don't try to talk-just breathe," Paul said trying to calm the frightened boy.

Joe panted, trying to fill his screaming lungs with air. "Are you done?" he gasped.

Paul shook his head and continued the measured pounding of the boy's chest, wincing first when he heard the sound of cracking ribs, and again when he heard a scream from his young patient. The Doctor glanced at Ben, not surprised to see tears running down the man's face as he held onto his young son.

Ben's mouth was set in a grim line, barely able to control himself. The sound of another cracking rib caused him to throw caution to the winds. "How much more Paul? He can't stand it."

The Doctor struck the boy's chest twice more before responding. "That's enough for now," Paul said as he struggled to get off the bed. He walked over to the nightstand and soaked a cloth with the glycerin nitrate and returned to the bed.

Joe looked at the doctor and then up at his Pa who still hadn't released his arms.

"Precious I'm sorry but this has to be done," Ben said, fervently wishing for a free hand to wipe away his own tears.

Paul held the struggling boy's head still as he forced the cloth over his nose and mouth. Searing pain shot through Joe as the fumes reached his lungs and burned like alcohol on an open wound. He increased his struggles, but he wasn't strong enough to fight his two captors.

Tears dripped down his cheeks as he glared at them with hurt and accusing eyes. Every intake of breath was like fire burned into his soul. In his weakened state, there was a limit to how long he could fight. Joe gave up and lay still, willing the torture to end.

Several minutes later, Paul took the cloth away from Joe's mouth, motioning to Ben to release the boy's arms.

Little Joe pushed the Doctor's hands away and coughed which caused more pain in his chest. He turned pleading eyes on his father. "Please-no more."

Ben patted the small hand. "We'll have to see what Doctor Martin says later baby. You just rest now."

Adam and Hoss stood in the hallway listening to their baby brother gasp for air. The boy's screams had caused them to dash from their beds but they went no further than Joe's door, instinctively knowing there was nothing they could do. They could their father's soothing words through the doorframe.

An exhausted Paul Martin opened the door, not surprised to find Hoss and Adam in the hallway.

"How is he?" Hoss asked, running his hand through his sandy brown hair.

Paul patted Hoss on the shoulder. "He's holding his own. If he continues to improve we may be out of the woods. But we'll have to wait."

"Can we see him?" Adam said hopefully, needing the sight of his brother to reassure him.

Paul shook his head. "I'm sorry boys, but the answer is no. He's just not up to company now. Your father is in there with him and that's all the excitement he can tolerate right now. Little Joe's in a lot of pain." He paused and took a deep breath. "I cracked three more ribs with the last treatment. I only hope I don't have to do it again."

"I know this has been hard on you too, Paul," Adam said recognizing the anguish written on the older man's face.

"Yes, it has. But you two could make it easier if you went and got back in bed." Paul said, a trace of fire returning to his voice.

"But…" Hoss began.

Adam pulled on the sleeve of Hoss' nightshirt. "C'mon younger brother. Let's do as we're told for once."

The next day, Ben gently sponged his youngest son's chest hoping to bring down his fever. Joe's slight frame barely made a dent in the feather bed and he breathed shallowly, the raspy noise unsettling to his father at each inhale and exhale. Ben dipped his sponge back into the cool water and wrung out the excess. He continued with his young son's neck and face, noting that the boy was restless in his sleep even though his body had to be exhausted.

"Mama, I promise I won't tell Papa," Little Joe whispered.

Ben smiled for the first time in days. After dropping the sponge back in the bowl, he brushed a curl off the boy's forehead and thought of childhood secrets kept from him.

"Mama-Papa would be awful mad. He said we shouldn't go to the island," Little Joe said shaking his head even in sleep.

So this was behind the trip to the island. A secret trip to re-connect with his mother. But to swim there. Ben shook his head. Surely Little Joe knew he would take him anytime he wanted.

"Don't worry mama, I-I mean princess Marie. I'll save you from that mean old dragon." Joe moved his arm even in sleep.

Ben's mood brightened considerably as he imagined his three-year-old son with an imaginary magical sword defending a damsel in distress. Little Joe was probably wearing Adam's discarded old black shirt which was way too big, the sleeves rolled up eight or nine times so that the tiny tot's hands could peek out. His youngest had refused to wear anything else for about a month the summer he was three. Little Joe even slept in that shirt, and the tot's screams shook the rafters when they had to wash it. Ben shook his head. The trials this boy had put them all through. Ben could still hear the tinkling of Marie's laughter as she devised endless games to entertain their active son. With her laughter came her temper, and he could remember the terrible fight she had with Charlie when she caught him showing their four year old a card game. Ben had thought she had over reacted, but after she had told him horror stories about New Orleans and riverboat gamblers he understood her point of view. She was dead-set against gambling in any form.

Strangely enough, it was Marie who had taught their young son how to play checkers and had just started to teach him chess when she had the tragic fall from her horse. Ben hated to admit it, but his youngest was a cutthroat player. The boy often beat grown men and was the champion in the family. Roy Coffee loved to play him, even though the Sheriff seldom beat the boy. Ben had caught him a few times betting on the outcome and had dealt with him harshly. He was sure Marie would approve of that anyway. But the boy did have the darndest luck. He was sure he would have his hands full if his youngest ever learned to play poker. Ben would never be able to pry him away from the card tables.

Ben took a deep breath and sighed as he ran his fingers through his silver hair. Marie had told him that he got his first patch of silver hair the day Little Joe was born and she was probably right. Although his older boys remembered him with dark hair, he knew his youngest son didn't know him any other way. By the time the boy was three, Ben's hair was completely white. He looked at his sleeping son on the bed. Little Joe shivered and murmured softly. Ben leaned over and pulled the quilt up higher around his neck.

Dark eyelashes fluttered against pale cheeks before the boy finally opened his eyes. He blinked several times as if to clear his mind as well as his vision. He saw his father sitting beside him and noticed how tired the man looked. "Hi, Pa."

"How do you feel?" Ben said, pushing the curls off the boy's forehead.

"Just fine," Little Joe answered with a tight strained cough.

Ben smiled at the expected answer. His youngest would never admit to illness or pain. A behavior he had learned from a bout with pneumonia at the age of three. Even at that young age Little Joe was able to talk quite well, and usually chattered non-stop. After the imposed bedrest and course of treatment every question regarding his health was met with an enthusiastic 'I'm fine.' Ben patted the boy's leg though the blankets. "Were you dreaming son?"

Little Joe nodded, his curls spilling over his forehead again with the movement. "I was dreaming about Mama."

"The island was your secret place wasn't it?" A smile lit Ben's face as Joe's eye's widened in response. He stroked his son's arm. "She told me about it, but only after I caught the two of you coming back from one of your adventures." Ben sat next to his son in the big bed and put an arm around the thin shoulders.

Little Joe smiled sadly up at him "It brought back memories of her Pa, memories that I didn't know I had. We played games where she was a princess and I rescued her. I can even see the green dress she wore that day." He looked at his father and was glad to see he was smiling. "It had black braid all around the collar. We brought the sword that Adam carved for me and I wore my favorite black shirt." Little Joe sighed as the tears welled up in his eyes. "It was all so real."

"What else do you remember son?" Ben asked softly drawing his son closer in to an embrace, while being careful not to put any stress on the injured ribs.

"I remember how she used to sing. I knew she did, but on the island I could close my eyes and hear her. It was like she was right next to me. But when I opened my eyes she was gone."

Ben's eyes misted as he too remembered his wife and his baby boy singing. They both had beautiful voices. Marie had a great love for music and had taught their tiny son to play the piano and had just started with the guitar when she was killed. She said their son had a gift for music, a fact he had to believe her about because he had none. But with her death Little Joe had never sung or played again.

Ben dropped a kiss on the curly mop and cuddled his son until the boy fell asleep, relieved to hear his breathing start to sound more regular.

"I just wish his fever would go down," Ben said from his place next to his sleeping youngest son on the bed.

"It will, it will. We just have to wait until it runs its course. This crisis is over Ben, just focus on that." Paul pulled his watch out of his pocket, flipped it open and studied the time. "Almost lunchtime," he said as he looked at his friend.

Ben groaned. "I'm not looking forward to this at all."

Paul reached across the sleeping boy on the bed and patted the man's arm. "He'll be better in a couple of weeks. They all will."

Ben nodded. "I know, I know. I just hate to see my boys sick."

"As any parent does, Ben." Paul walked over to the bureau and pulled a brown bottle and a tablespoon out of his bag. He carefully measured out two tablespoons of the dark red liquid and poured them into a small glass. "Ready?"

Ben raked his fingers through his silver hair and sighed. "As ready as I'll ever be I guess." He sat on the bed next to Little Joe's head and lifted him up slightly, then slid in behind him on the bed. Little Joe was now sitting partially up and leaning against his father's chest. Ben wrapped his arms around him as tightly as he could and not affect the cracked ribs. "Joseph. Wake up."

When there was no response, Paul patted the boy's pale cheeks. "Wake up Little Joe."

Little Joe started to stir. As soon as Paul realized he was semi-conscious, he brought the medicine filled glass to the boy's lips and forced the liquid down his throat. Once Joe realized what was happening, he struggled but couldn't move in his father's tight grasp. Recognizing the futility of the situation, Joe could do nothing but swallow the bitter tasting liquid.

After Paul was certain his patient had swallowed the last drop he nodded at Ben.

Ben smiled in return, but held his son tightly a moment longer then released him.

Little Joe shut his eyes and shook his head grimacing at the taste. "That's not fair!" he yelled as loud as his weakened state would allow.

"I know son, but you have to take the medicine to get better," Ben said softly.

Little Joe raised his chin and stuck out his lower lip. "I'm not sick! And I don't need any medicine."

"There is no use arguing about it, you are going to do as Doctor Martin and I say. Is that clear?" Ben said sternly, knowing his little boy was going to be difficult.

Little Joe narrowed his eyes and glared at his tormentors, certain that they just wanted to make his life miserable. A question sprang to his lips. "Do Hoss and Adam have to take it?"

Ben and Paul looked at each other before answering. Joe caught the gaze and knew something was happening that he wasn't going to like.

Paul answered slowly. "No, they don't have to take the medicine."

Joe ran his hands through his curls before speaking. "Then why do I have to if they don't?"

Doctor Martin was used to this line of questioning. Anything the older boys didn't have to do Little Joe felt he shouldn't have to do either. "First of all, I don't owe you an explanation little boy. If I say you need to take this medicine that is the way it is going to be. If you refuse, I'll just continue to have your father hold you down and you will swallow it one way or the other. Secondly, you are sicker than your brothers are. If they were in the condition you are in, they would have to take the medicine too."

Little Joe crossed his arms across his chest, wincing at a stab of pain from his ribs. "I am not sick. I told you I am fine."

Paul stared at the boy until Joe was forced to look away. "Well I say differently and I'm the doctor. So let's just have a little cooperation out of you boy. Now about the spots-do they itch?"

"No." Joe responded angrily.

Paul glanced at Ben briefly. He loved the boy on the bed before him like a son, and thanked the good lord that He had blessed him with a large amount of patience. It always was nearly exhausted when he finished dealing with Little Joe Cartwright.

"Is that an honest answer?" Ben asked his son, trying to discern the truth.

Little Joe would never outright lie to his father, unless it concerned his health--then he considered it merely self-preservation. But avoiding the truth when you looked into your father's eyes was a hard thing to do. Little Joe dropped his gaze to the sheets. "Okay, maybe they itch a tiny bit."

Paul chuckled and shook his head. Judging by the way Hoss and Adam had scratched themselves raw; the spots itched quite a bit. If Joe was admitting that they did he was well on the road to recovery. "Well I have something that can help." Paul pulled a bottle of pink lotion from his bag and handed it to Ben. "The same as the other boys, all over the spots. This should help the itching Joe." Paul stood and stretched. "I'm going to check on those other two patients of mine to see if they're holding up as well as this one says he is."

After Paul left the room, Joe looked at the bottle of lotion and scowled. "Don't put that stuff on me Pa. It's pink."

Ben chuckled, relieved the crisis was over and they could argue about the color of a lotion. "I know it is son, but it'll help." Ben unbuttoned the boy's nightshirt and went to work.

Adam sat in bed, trying through sheer will power to not scratch the offending red spots. They covered his face, arms, upper torso and he hated to admit it but they even dotted his upper thighs. The pink salve congealed with his abundant black hair and left a mess. He pulled the sleeves of his nightshirt down to hide the offending sight. He readjusted the pillows behind his head for what seemed like the tenth time this morning and picked up his book again. I never thought I'd be tired of reading, but this is just killing me.

Adam was a very healthy man and it had been years since he had been sick enough to stay in bed for more than a couple of days. He had had suffered through the usual childhood illnesses, but that had been many years ago. The oldest Cartwright brother now understood the reason why Little Joe bitterly complained when forced to stay in bed, and Adam had to admit that he was having a hard time not succumbing to the same adolescent pouts that his youngest brother favored. The window beckoned him, the glass offering a tempting view of the outside world. It had been years since he had climbed out that window, but a few more days of this torture and he might have to make a break for it. Adam hoped Hoss was having a better time of it next door.

Little Joe slowly eased himself out of his bed and walked over to the window, his blue and white striped nightshirt flapping against his knees. He knew that he wasn't supposed to get up but he was tired of lying in that hot bed all day. Taking a seat on the bench by the window he looked at the familiar view. There was a fence that defined the perimeter of the yard and at the far corner was a storage shed. He looked at the picnic table and a memory of past meals flickered through his mind. His mama laughing, Hoss smiling and papa angry. Adam looking as serious as ever. He wondered what Adam was like as a boy. To Little Joe, his oldest brother had always been grown up. He looked outside at the position of the sun and decided it would be almost time for another battle over eating. Wiping the sweat from his brow he shifted on the window seat and leaned against the sill, his ribs causing pain whenever he moved. He slid up the frame of the window and felt the cool November air rush in. It felt good against his damp nightshirt, but he had to fight the dizziness that threatened to overcome him. He looked at the telltale red spots on his arms coated with pink lotion to stop the itching. Joe couldn't believe how tired he was all of a sudden. The walk from the bed combined with Kiddie Pox had exhausted the boy. His eyelids fluttered a few times and he fell asleep.

Three figures left the kitchen, each carrying a tray full of food in their hands. Nancy Coffee reached the stairs first, followed by Hop Sing and finally bringing up the rear, Ben Cartwright.

Hop Sing's tray was by far the heaviest, loaded down with a large steak; huge portions of mashed potatoes, gravy, vegetables and several slices of bread. This tray was reserved for the middle Cartwright son, Hoss.

Adams tray, which was being carried by Nancy, was a smaller version of the same.

Ben carried the meal for his youngest son. A bowl of beef vegetable soup, toast and a glass of milk. He knew the odds of Joseph eating willingly were none. He just hoped there wouldn't be too big of a battle this evening. Ben pushed the door open with his back as he smiled at his two friends as they went down the hallway. He had the hardest task of them all. As he entered the room he whispered a silent prayer that his son would be awake and hungry.

One look at the empty bed caused him to almost drop the tray of food. His eyes flashed around the room wildly until they rested on the sleeping form of his youngest at the window. Ben shook his head in exasperation as he set the tray down on the nightstand. That boy. He just doesn't listen. Ben noticed the chill in the room and the open window. He hurried over to his son and picked him up like a baby and carried him back to the bed, fussing all the way. As he lay him down on the bed, Little Joe 's eyes fluttered but he remained asleep. Ben pulled the covers up to his son's slim waist. Joe tried to push them down again, even though not fully awake. He squirmed in the large bed.

"I'm hot, Pa." Joe said trying to throw the blankets off his body, although his eyes never opened.

"I know you are son, that’s from the fever. But we have to keep you covered up or you'll catch a chill," Ben said gently.

Little Joe struggled back to consciousness, as his father watched the fight wage on the boy's face. After what seemed an eternity the emerald green eyes opened, although the glaze from the fever remained.

"Welcome back young man."

Little Joe smiled slightly and propped himself up on his elbows, grimacing slightly. "What time is it?"

Ben sat on the edge of the bed and fought to suppress the urge to brush the boy's hair off his forehead. "Suppertime," he said and pointed to the tray of food.

Little Joe sighed and looked at the food. He then looked his father in the eye and scowled. "I'm not hungry Pa."

Ben decided that chastising him now for getting out of bed would only make the struggle over eating worse. He would ignore it for now and mention it later. Ben leaned over the sick boy and placed his palm over the damp forehead. Hmm, about the same. He looked at the window and then glanced back at the bed. Sitting in the cold should have made him a little cooler, but the fever still burned hot. Not unexpected with Kiddie Pox according to the doctor, but disturbing all the same.

Ben stood and walked over to the bureau, retrieving two pillows along the way. He sat down again on the bed next to his son and leaned him forward and arranged the pillows against the headboard, then leaned his son back so that he was in a sitting position. Ben looked intently at the boy, dismayed that he was so pale. Unlike his older sons' whose faces were covered in spots, Joe's started at his neck and were mostly based on his chest and forearms. Ben unbuttoned the too-big nightshirt to check if he needed more salve applied. The bandages covering Little Joe's lower ribs stood out white against the pink-lotioned skin. "Well, boy after you eat I think I'll give you a sponge bath and then put on some more of that pink stuff that stops the itching."

Although the idea of a bath appealed to him, Little Joe hated being sick and in his opinion being babied. "I can take care of myself," Joe said, thrusting out his lower lip.

"Well, I'm sure you could, but I'm the designated nurse around here young man," Ben said as he placed the bed tray over the boy's lap and placed a red and white checked napkin under his chin. He couldn't resist any longer, so he ruffled the boys sweat dampened curls. "Now it's just soup and toast, you should be able to handle all of this," Ben said hopefully, forcing a smile to his lips.

Little Joe leaned his head back on the pillows and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and opened them again a couple of minutes later, only to see his father's face before him.

Ben smiled and answered the unasked question. "Yes, I'm still here and I'm not leaving until you eat all of your supper."

Little Joe shook his head weakly and sighed. "I'm just not hungry, Pa."

Ben smiled and stroked his son's arm. "Hungry doesn't matter son. You know that you have to eat to get better. I'm not happy and I know Doc Martin isn't either with how much you've been eating. So I want you to eat all of this."

"No Pa, please," Little Joe said as he looked up into his father's eyes.

Ben hated to be forceful with the pale wan boy lying before him, but he had no choice. He furrowed his brows and glared at his son sternly. "Joseph, I'll give you exactly ten seconds to pick up that spoon and start eating."

"1, 2"

Little Joe crossed his arms and glared at his father defiantly.

"3, 4"

Joe thrust out his jaw and narrowed his eyes adopting a stern expression.

"5, 6"

A big sigh escaped his lips.

"7, 8"

The boy's bottom lip quivered and his eyes clouded. Joe realized that he wasn't going to win.

"9"

Joe picked up the spoon.

"10"

He dipped it into the soup and brought the warm liquid to his lips.

Ben smiled and relaxed slightly. After the third spoonful, he got up and walked over the to the rocker. He sat down and watched his youngest son eat. His relief was premature, however because after finishing a third of the bowl, Joe announced. "I can't eat any more. I'm full."

"No, you're not. I told you to finish what is on that tray."

Little Joe shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry Pa, I don't want to make you mad, but I just can't eat any more."

Ben rose and walked over to the bed. "Son you're going to have to. There is no choice involved here. Doc Martin said you had to eat and I must insist you follow his orders."

Joe closed his eyes and sighed. "Pa?"

Ben sat on the bed and pushed the curls off Little Joe 's forehead. "Yes baby?"

"Can I go outside?"

The question caught Ben off guard and he almost answered in anger. "Why do you want to go outside precious?"

"It's so hot in here," Little Joe said, pushing up the sleeves of his nightshirt. "I just want to be comfortable again." He shifted on the bed, the tight bandages putting more pressure on his sore ribs.

"I know son. This sickness and fever will pass. I promise you'll be better before you know it. But the answer to outside is no," Ben said softly.

"What about.." Little Joe said glancing toward the closed window.

Ben shook his head. "No, I can't open the window either. I can't have you catch a chill on top of Kiddie Pox."

Joe lay his head back on the pillow and sighed dramatically.

"But," Ben began as he sat down on the bed.

Joe opened his eyes hopefully; maybe there was a chance.

"You can drink this glass of ice cold milk."

Joe grinned. "No thanks."

"Consider that an order not a request," Ben said as he picked up the glass and held it to his son's lips. Joe tried to turn away but Ben slipped his other hand behind the boy's head to keep it still. "One way or the other you are going to drink this glass of milk young man. You need your strength."

Five minutes and one half-soaked nightshirt later, the youngest and oldest Cartwright called it a draw. Ben had succeeded in forcing about half of the glass into his son, but the rest was on his nightshirt and both boy and man were exhausted by the battle.

Ben removed the tray from the bed and placed it on the floor. He picked up the napkin from Little Joe 's chest and wiped his own milk-drenched hands with it. One of them had to learn sooner or later that these "battle of wills" never really had a victor.

A rap on the door drew their attention and a head poked through the doorway, the dark gray hair perfectly in place as was a cheery smile.

Ben greeted the face of Doctor Paul Martin with a relieved smile, at the exact same time that Little Joe greeted him with a scowl. Paul chuckled as he walked through the doorway. "Well, I'm glad one of you is glad to see me." He looked down at the scarcely touched lunch tray on the floor, then at the boy in the bed. "Well I think I answered my own question-which was how is his appetite. Can you eat any more?"

Little Joe crossed his arms defiantly and gritted his teeth.

"Well, I guess we know the answer to that." Paul set his well-worn medical bag on the nightstand. He offered Ben a smile as if to say 'I know what you've been going through and now it's my turn', before continuing. "I saved my most difficult patient for last."

"I take it you've already looked at Adam and Hoss then?" Ben asked.

Paul nodded as he opened his bag.

Ben shook his head and brushed his silver hair back off his forehead. "I'm sorry, I didn't even hear you come up the stairs." He rose from his place on the bed and walked over to the bureau. The drawer creaked as he pulled it open and shuffled through the contents. Finally locating a clean gray flannel nightshirt he walked back to the bed.

"Well I'm not surprised. I could hear the argument going on in here as I walked by." Paul said with a grin. He knew if Little Joe was fighting this bad, the boy was on the road to recovery.

"How are Adam and Hoss?" Ben said as he helped Little Joe take off his milk-drenched nightshirt.

"Doing just fine, although complaining to beat all. I can't say I blame them though, lying around in bed all day can't be much fun," Paul said.

Little Joe opened his mouth to speak, but Paul silenced him with a finger. "Not a word out of you boy."

Joe fought to control the urge to stick out his tongue at the Doctor, but with Pa so close it was just too risky. Joe looked down at his chest and was disappointed that the red spots were still readily visible.

Paul noticed his young patient's gaze and looked at Ben. "You see how Little Joe's spots haven't faded at all? That, plus the placement of the spots and his high fever proves we are dealing with a much more severe case here. The other boy's spots have lightened considerably, even though they still have the fever."

Paul returned his gaze to his black bag and after rifling the contents again, came up with the object he was searching for, a thermometer. He carefully shook it down to zero and then looked at Little Joe. "Open."

Little Joe glared at him and crossed his arms across his chest once more.

Paul sat on the side of the bed next to his young patient. "I'm going to explain something to you. You are not getting out of this bed until that fever is down. The only way it is going to go down is if you eat properly and rest. Now open."

"Joseph," Ben said sternly.

Joe reluctantly turned at looked at his father. The expression on Pa's face told him that he had had all he was going to take. Knowing he was outnumbered, he looked back at the doctor and slowly opened his mouth.

Doctor Martin slipped the tip of the thermometer under the boy's tongue and pushed his mouth closed. He held his fingers over Joe's lips and looked into the boy's eyes. "No talking. Do you hear me?"

Joe's gaze hardened as he stared at the Doctor. He didn't like the way this was going and tried to protest, but Paul hadn't moved his fingers yet.

"The only answer I want out of you is a nod." Paul said.

Realizing the futility of the situation, Little Joe produced the nod although he wasn't pleased.

Adam pulled on his black shirt and pants, relieved to be out of a nightshirt for the first time in several days. I'm getting out of here if only for an hour. He walked to the door and peeked into the long narrow hallway. It had been many years since he had had to sneak out, and he was out of practice. He carried his boots in his hands and tiptoed down the hallway. He paused at Hoss' door and opened it silently. His brother was asleep on the extra-large bed, his face turned toward the door. The spots were easily visible still, and as Adam touched his own face he was certain that he looked just as silly as his brother did. But he was suffocating in the house. Adam needed to get out and he was willing to suffer any fallout that resulted because of his actions. He backed out of the room, closing the door behind him. The tall dark-haired man continued his journey down the hall and stopped outside Little Joe's room. Adam really wanted to check on his baby brother because it had been several days since he had seen him, and also because he felt responsible for the boy catching Kiddie Pox.

Little Joe plucked at his covers when he heard Adam at the top of the stairs. "Third step," he whispered aloud to the room.

Adam's stocking'd feet lightly trod on the first step, then the second. Feeling a little silly, he pulled himself up to his full height and paused. This was ridiculous, he was a grown man and he shouldn't be frightened to simply walk down the stairs. He winced at the creaking sound as he hit the third step and the grown man was gone-he was sixteen again. He shot a quick glance over the great room relieved that his Pa didn't appear to be around, then let out the breath he had been holding and continued down the stairs.

When the dark haired man hit the 6th step the creaking again echoed. Adam was dismayed to see his father quickly walking out of the kitchen with a cup of coffee in his hand. Not surprised to see a son on the stairs, Ben shouted "And just where do you think you're going young man?" Ben had to fight to control a smile when he saw the guilty expression on his oldest son's face.

"I just can't stand it any more Pa, I just can't," Adam pleaded. Realizing he looked like a child with his boots in his hands, he quickly put them behind his back.

Ben hurried over to the stairs and stood on the bottom step, effectively blocking his son's escape. "You are going to march right back upstairs and get into your bed."

Adam fought the urge to stomp his foot. The situation alone made him look enough like a child, he didn't have to add the mannerisms that his little brother sometimes resorted to. "Pa, now look-I'm twenty five, old enough to. . . "

Ben interrupted his oldest son and put his hands on his hips. "Old enough to know better. I don't have to remind you that it is your own willfulness that put you up there, so I suggest that you return to your bed without any more argument. Understood?" Ben said as he gestured toward Adam's room.

Adam looked at his father and noticed the determined expression and narrowed eyes. Resigned, he backed up slowly knowing there was no way he was getting out of the house.

Adam frowned when he reached the top step, disturbed to see his nightshirt clad baby brother standing in his doorway. He knelt down until he was on eye level with Little Joe and took the boy's hands in his. "Little buddy what are you doing out of bed?"

"Can I go too?" Little Joe said, his expressive green eyes never leaving his brother's deep brown ones.

Adam laughed softly. "I'm not going anywhere and neither are you." Adam stood and guided the boy back through the doorway and over to his bed. He pulled the covers back and pushed the boy forward. "Now you get back in that bed and get some sleep baby boy."

Little Joe frowned, but didn't answer with his usual fire. "Don't call me that Adam."

Adam pushed the curls off his brother's forehead, and patted him on the back. "I'm sorry. I won't tease you until you're feeling better-okay?"

Little Joe smiled and crawled back into bed, the soft mattress heaven to his tired and aching body. His older brother pulled the blankets up to the boy's chin and stroked his pale cheek; glad to see Joe's eyes fluttering with sleep already.

"One more thing Adam," Joe said fighting to keep from surrendering to sleep.

Adam put a finger to his lips. "Shhh-now I want you to get some rest. You're going to get me into trouble with Pa if he catches me here."

"But it's important," Joe said softly.

Adam rolled his eyes, and decided to give in to the inevitable. "What is it little buddy?"

"The tenth step."

Adam looked at him quizzically. "Huh?"

Little Joe whispered softly. "The tenth step creaks too."

"How would you…. Never mind. I don’t want to know. Do I?"

Little Joe opened his eyes and smiled slightly before shaking his head.

"Okay, now you go to sleep." Adam dropped a kiss on the boy's forehead and walked to the door. He turned for one last look and was glad to see Little Joe 's eyes were already closed, and the even breathing of sleep.

Two days after the attempted escape of Adam Cartwright, Little Joe's thought processes were running along the same lines.

Joe lay in bed trying to find a comfortable position. Whether laying on his back or his stomach, the pressure sent shooting pains along his cracked ribs. He had tried lying on his side but that position made it harder to breathe. Joe was convinced that the only comfortable position would be standing up, but Doctor Martin wouldn't allow it. I'm tired-tired of lying in bed all day. His jailers didn't even want him to read, just lay there and rest and stuff himself with unwanted food. Joe was hungry--hungry for the wide-open spaces of the Ponderosa. To be free of the stifling heat of his bedroom and the clinging attention of his father and Doctor Martin and their band of little helpers. Little Joe looked at the painting of the Lake Tahoe on his wall--that was where he wanted to be. He wanted to saddle his horse and ride to the lake to see if more memories of his mother would return. Just how much trouble would he be in if he escaped? This was a question Joe always asked himself before he contemplated going against his father's wishes. Adam had tried it and Pa had barely even gotten mad. Just sent his oldest brother back to his room. Joe knew he could deal with that. He threw back the covers and gingerly got out of bed. Once he was upright he was dismayed to find that the ache in his ribs was now constant--even worse than when he was in the bed. He clutched his chest and doubled over, willing himself to take shallow even breaths. Okay, I was wrong about standing up being comfortable. I just hope I'm right about Pa not getting mad if I get caught.

Ben was sitting at his desk working on paperwork for the first time in days. A sharp rap on the front door and a shout drew his attention. "Mr. Cartwright?"

Recognizing the voice of his oldest ranch hand, Ben shouted "Coming, Charlie." Then he stood and walked over to the door. After he opened the door, he was dismayed to find his fully dressed youngest son standing before him, the boy's eyes staring at the floor.

Charlie had a firm grip on the boy's thin shoulder. "I found him in the barn, trying to saddle that pinto of his," Charlie said. "I hope he hasn't caught a chill, it's brisk out there."

Ben gently took his son's chin in his hand and tilted it until he could look in the boy's eyes. "Son, what do you think you are doing?"

A hint of forbidden adventure flickered in his eyes and then was gone. "I just wanted to see Cochise, that's all," Joe said, his eyes downcast.

Although Ben was glad to see the flash of life in his son, he was unhappy that disobedience had placed it there. After twelve years, Ben was used to Little Joe's tricks. "If you just wanted to see her then why were you saddling her?"

"Umm.." Joe stammered and shifted his feet nervously.

Ben held up his hand. "Don't even bother coming up with an excuse. Let me make this perfectly clear. Joseph, you are not to leave this house-is that understood?"

"Yes, Pa," Joe answered reluctantly.

After receiving the expected answer from his son, Ben turned to the ranch hand and smiled. "Thanks, Charlie. I'll try to keep a closer eye on him."

"Easier said than done. He took off running when I saw him and I barely caught him," Charlie answered with a grin. He had worked on the Ponderosa since before Little Joe was born and had watched the boy and his brothers grow. The difficulties Ben Cartwright faced raising his youngest were greeted by all that worked for them with knowing smiles.

Ben stored his son's flight for freedom away in his brain and slid his arm around the boy's shoulders and guided him toward the stairs. "Let's get you back into bed, little boy."

Little Joe tried to shrug out of his father's grip, but the older man held firm. "Can't I stay down here just a little while? I'm not tired-really," he said suppressing a yawn.

"No son. You need to get back into your bed right now. Lunch will be ready soon and I'll bring it up to you," Ben said, knowing lunch wasn't going to go well either.

"But Pa…" Little Joe protested with all the energy he could muster.

"No arguing!" Ben said sternly as he continued leading the boy toward the stairs.

When they reached the landing, Little Joe stopped and put his hands on his hips, ready to give it one last try. Ben looked at his son closely and noticed how the boy was trembling and how pale he had grown. His little boy really was exhausted. Making a quick parental decision, he leaned over and picked up his young son. Little Joe started to protest but didn't have the energy, so he slumped against his father. Ben carried his small parcel up the stairs and gently layed the boy on the bed. He tucked the covers around his son and was relieved to see that Joe had fallen asleep.

Charlie Simmons closed the door to the ranch house behind him and walked slowly toward the barn. He and the other hands sure missed the boy, and wagered it was hell keeping Little Joe cooped up and in bed all day. But he was certain Ben Cartwright was up to the task. People in the territory knew the head of the Ponderosa to be a stern disciplinarian when it came to his boys. No one in town or on the ranch for that matter had any doubts as to what punishment Little Joe would receive for his transgressions. They had watched the same thing happen to his older brothers, even though they felt the youngest Cartwright's punishments seemed to occur much more frequently. Charlie smiled, in fact he had personally witnessed several occasions when Ben hadn't even waited to return to the house to turn Little Joe over his knee and mete out his punishment. Listening to one of Ben's lectures regarding proper behavior cowered most of the ranch hands even as adults, and then to have to put up with a tanning on top-made him and the others glad they weren't children once more.

Although Charlie hated to see the boy get into trouble, he knew that when given the punishment was warranted and carried out with a firm but loving hand. He also had to admit that Ben's methods worked. Adam and Hoss were fine young men, and Little Joe was a good boy if a bit wild. The youngest Cartwright was no angel, but he was an honest and endearing child whose emotions got the better of him sometimes.

The next morning, Little Joe poked his head out in the hallway, glancing left then right to make sure the coast was clear. The silence and loneliness had gotten to be too much for him, so he was escaping again. He silently crept down the hallway to the next door which was ajar. Pushing the door open the rest of the way, he stood in the doorway, nervously shifting from one bare foot to the other, unsure of his welcome. His brothers had gotten into trouble because of him and Joe didn't know if Hoss was mad or not.

Hoss had been daydreaming about Bessie Sue, but at the creak of the door glanced up at the visitor. Noticing his baby brother he said sternly. "I thought you were supposed to be in bed."

Little Joe 's lower lip quivered, but he said what he came to say. "I was lonesome, I-I missed you."

Hoss smiled at the boy and pulled back the covers. "I missed you too, youngun. Well c'mon in then before you catch your death."

Little Joe grinned broadly as he scampered across the room and hopped into the extra-large bed.

"I've got something to show you if you promise you won't tell Pa."

A wrinkle creased Hoss' brow. "What is it?"

"You didn't promise yet."

Hoss looked intently at the boy's face and seeing no signs of trouble produced the requested promise. "Okay, I promise. But this better not get me in trouble."

Little Joe shook his head. "It might get me but not you." He reached inside his nightshirt and pulled out his friend Spot."

Hoss was taken aback, but caressed the rabbit's tiny black ears. "Where'd you keep him hidden?"

"Under my bed. I laid in a supply of grain and stuff when I brought him home. So he was perfectly happy under there when I wasn't feeling so good."

Hoss smiled. Leave it to Joe to relegate his near-death experience with Kiddie Pox to a

simple episode where he wasn't feeling good.

"Well he sure seems to be a nice little fella. Can I hold him?"

"Sure Hoss," Joe said stifling a yawn as he handled the sleeping bunny to his sibling.

Noting his baby brother's yawn Hoss was concerned. "Okay, that's enough talking. Now I want you to hunker down under these covers and try and rest a bit," Hoss said, knowing the boy was tired.

Joe did as he was told and curled up in the large man's arms and laid his head on his chest. It made him feel safe and loved, and he knew he could ask Hoss anything.

Little Joe played absently with the buttons on his big brother's nightshirt, brown chest hair peeking out through the open neck. Joe thought of his own bare chest, now swathed with bandages. "Can I ask you something Hoss?" he said, looking earnestly up at the kind face beside him.

"Sure boy-anything," Hoss said smiling down at his baby brother, wondering what the question would be today.

Joe chewed on his lower lip before asking. "Am I gonna get hair on my chest like yours and Adam's?"

Hoss smiled and answered softly. "I don't know Punkin, we'll have to wait until you …" he stopped abruptly and changed the "grow up" that was on his lips to "get a little older." Hoss knew his little brother considered himself grown up at the ripe old age of twelve.

It wasn't long before Little Joe fell asleep, and Hoss looked down at the child next to him. He thought of how glad he was to be the middle son, Little Joe was always prevented from doing the things he wanted to do and always had someone watching over him. Hoss stroked the black rabbit and thought about the Bessie Sue and Jennifer and their younger sisters. He fingered the silken golden brown curls and thought about the hearts the boy was destined to break.

An hour later, Ben pushed open the door and was not happy to see his two younger sons in bed together.

Hoss looked up guiltily and met the gaze of his father. "He was powerful lonesome, I didn't have the heart to send him away."

Ben stroked the boy's cheek and smiled indulgently at his middle son. "I understand, but don't let it happen again-do I make myself clear?"

After receiving a nod from Hoss, Ben picked Joe up and carried the sleeping boy back to his own bed. As he looked at the little boy resting quietly he promised himself that his youngest would get a stern lecture on obedience when he woke up.

Several hours later, Ben Cartwright stormed back and forth in his youngest son's bedroom, expressing his displeasure that Joe had sneaked both out of the house and then later into his older brother's room.

"I understand you're sick boy, but that is no excuse for blatant disobedience. You know you have definite orders to stay in bed until Doctor Martin tells you it is okay to get up," Ben said pausing to stare at his son.

Joe sat propped up in bed, his head hung so low his chin was almost resting on his chest. A lecture from his father was the worst way to end a day. Well almost, but Pa wouldn't resort to that when he was sick. He was feeling a trifle guilty that he had caused his father to worry, but mostly was unrepentant. Staying in bed and lying still was against his nature and he wasn't going to do it. But his father was usually able to read his mood, and Joe wasn't sure he could hide the truth. The safest way was just to avoid looking at Pa.

"You will learn that on the Ponderosa you are the lowest rung of the ladder. When I say you will do something I mean it. And while we're on the subject, if Adam, Hoss or even one of the hands for that matter gives you an order you will follow it to the letter-is that clear?"

Little Joe raised sorrowful eyes to his father and scratched his arm. "Yes sir."

"Good, I don't want a repeat of the island incident. Even though your brothers were disobeying, you should have listened to their instructions." Ben paused a moment to catch his breath. "Now I want your promise boy-you won't go into Hoss' room until I give you permission," Ben said, crossing his arms and glaring at the small boy on the bed.

A cough escaped Joe's lips, and he gritted his teeth to fight the pain. It was still there with every breath but he had learned to control it. The hated spots added to his discomfort, they itched even under the thick bandages Doctor Martin had used to wrap his cracked ribs. Joe fought back the urge to double up and clutch his chest as he coughed again. "I promise."

Ben had noticed how much the cough had pained his son and softened. He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled the covers up higher. "You know I'm doing this for your own good, don't you precious?

Little Joe nodded. "I do Pa, but why does what is good for me always wind up being the exact opposite of what I want to do? When do I get to make the decisions?"

Ben smiled and pulled the boy into an embrace. "Not for a long time yet son, a long time."

Ben entered his eldest son's room not surprised to see a book of poems lying open on the bed depends. Ben sat down on the chair next to the bed and pulled the mail out of his breast pocket.

"Anything interesting in the mail today? " Adam said, interested in any distraction that would make his day seem shorter.

"Not really, a few letters from the lawyers in San Francisco and another letter from Angelia for your baby brother. She sure dotes on that boy."

Adam stroked his unshaven chin, "Are you sure that it is healthy for him that she writes so often?"

Ben shuffled through the mail on his lap before looking up into the brown eyes of his oldest son. "Surely you're worrying about nothing, she's twice his age for god's sake. You don't think a world-traveled woman like Angelia would be romantically interested in a child Joe's age? She was his baby-sitter after all when Hoss and I visited you in Boston."

Adam wondered if he should tell his father about the 'birds and bees' conversation that Angelia had with his 12 year-old brother. Maybe he was making too much of nothing. He decided he would tell him about the letters from the other girls at least. "Well Pa, from what I learned the other day, my young brother is no slouch when it comes to the ladies. "

"I think this fever is affecting your mind boy," Ben said, as he shook his head in amazement.

Adam told his father about the letters from Bessie Sue and Jennifer's younger sisters and how Hoss had told him that many of the young girls in Virginia City were in love with Little Joe.

Ben had listened to each detail with rising alarm. Marie had told him their baby boy would be a heart breaker but he didn't think it would start this soon. "I will have to keep a closer eye on him in the future. "

Adam chuckled "I don't think we can keep a closer eye on him. At least not without standing behind him at all times and you know that isn't possible. He just moves too fast."

Ben laughed knowing what his eldest son had said was true.

Doctor Martin pulled the thermometer from Little Joe's lips and read it. 100 degrees. It had been 102.5 only yesterday. He brushed the curls off the boy's forehead and used the old-fashioned method for checking for a fever. Strange, it doesn't seem like the fever has gone down. But thermometers don't lie.

"Can I get up now?" Little Joe asked, rising up on his elbows.

Frowning, Paul answered. "Not yet, Little Joe. You're not quite well yet."

Joe scowled. "But you said when my temperature went down I could get up. You promised," he pleaded. All his work would be for nothing if the doctor didn't follow through.

"Yes, I did say that, but you will not get out of that bed until I say you can. Is that clear?"

Little Joe crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. He wouldn't dignify that question with a response.

"You don't have to answer me. Just stay in that bed," Paul said as he rose and went to check on his other patients.

Ben slouched in his favorite chair before the fireplace, the dancing flames soothing his mood. "I'm just glad they're getting better."

"Yes, I am too. But it’s odd Ben." Paul said as he took the last sip from his cup of coffee. "Hoss and Adam's temperatures are higher than Little Joe's. I just don't understand it."

"Bad boy." Hop Sing yelled, startling both men. "Little Joe tell Hop Sing ice make him feel better. Suck on ice chips right before Doctor Martin get here."

Ben was exasperated, Joe was up to his old tricks.

"Well Ben, I've been doing that boy a kindness. I think I'll teach him a lesson and take his temperature the way I do other children his age. This will be the last time he tries this on me. Trying to cloud my diagnosis," Paul said shaking his head, although a smile crossed his lips.

"Need some help?" Ben asked.

"I'm sure I will." Doctor Martin said as he wearily climbed to his feet.

The next morning, Little Joe tiptoed into Adam's room and saw his oldest brother staring out the window.

Adam turned quickly, an excuse forming instantly in his defense-but at the sight of his visitor he switched to the offense. "I thought you weren't supposed to be out of bed little boy."

Little Joe hated the baby names his brother's called him and was glad to be able to turn the tables for once. "Id say the same for you," Little Joe said, thrusting out his chin.

Adam flushed a trifle guiltily, caught in a 'Do as I say and not as I do situation.' If truth be told, Adam was glad for company, even though he knew Pa wouldn't be pleased. "Allright, allright. But at least get into bed."

"Okay, but you have to too," Little Joe said climbing into bed and leaning against the headboard.

"Allright-I will," Adam said as he sat at the foot of the bed. He put his hand out to feel Little Joe's forehead for fever but the boy pulled away. Adam put his hand behind the boy's head to hold it in place and tried again. "Either you hold still and let me do this or I'll carry you back to your room."

Looking in Adam eyes and seeing it was no idle threat, Little Joe sat still. Satisfied that the boy's fever wasn't outrageously high he decided to let him stay. "How are your ribs, Joe?"

"Fine," Little Joe said and thrust out his lower lip. He was getting very tired of people asking him how he felt all the time. He took a deep breath, grimacing slightly at the pain in his chest.

Adam noticed. "Say little buddy, what do you say we get you back to your bed huh?" He touched the boys bandaged chest gently, concerned with how tightly the injured ribs were wrapped.

Joe pushed the probing hands away; he had come in his big brother's room for a reason. "I want to hear about my Mama," he said softly.

Adam knew in his mind what he should do. He should pick up this child and take him back to his bedroom. But the wistful look on his young brother's face melted his heart. Where Little Joe was concerned, Adam's feelings sometimes took over for his brain. "Okay, but just one memory." Adam paused a moment then continued. "When this house was built we didn't have a fence out back. Pa wanted one, your Mama said no. It would ruin the architecture of the house, she said and she was sure that between the five of us we could keep an eye on one two-year-old boy. One afternoon, it was in the spring I remember because you had a big tantrum because you didn't want to wear a coat outside. Anyway, you were playing with the kittens that that old gray cat had. Remember her?"

Little Joe thought for a moment then smiled. "Mouse-She was named mouse. Hoss called her that because she had a little pink nose."

Adam looked at his baby brother, amazed at his memory. "Yes, she was." Smiling at the boy next to him, he continued his story. "Marie was only gone for two minutes but you were nowhere to be found. We looked everywhere but there was no sign of you. Twenty minutes later Charlie carries you up to the house, you kicking and fighting all the way. It seems the hands were gentling the horses down at the corral and he looked over and saw you at the pen that held the wild unbroken horses. You were sitting the top rail of the fence trying to coax the broncs to come over to you so you could pet them. Pa was so mad he could hardly talk. You know how he gets."

Little Joe snickered. "Yes I do-unfortunately."

"But Marie wouldn't let him yell at you. She just held you close and told you what a sweet baby you were, and before too long you fell asleep. That day Pa and I started building the fence. You always did have a way of creating work for me." Adam thought of the fence, five-foot high posts placed side by side, reminiscent of forts built to protect against Indian attacks. That's just what it was, a fortress built to keep an over-active two-year-old in and danger out. Adam looked at his brother and noticed the boy was shivering. "Say let's the two of us get under the covers together huh? I'm a little cold."

Little Joe smiled and scooted over to make room for him. Once under the covers, Adam pulled the blankets up higher.

After a few moments, a tear ran down Little Joe's cheek. "I miss her Adam"

Adam put his arm around him and drew him close. He dropped a kiss on the top of the curly head before answering. "I know you do little buddy. We all do."

Little Joe turned and looked up into his brother's deep brown eyes. "I missed you too Adam, I'm glad you're home."

"Me too, baby brother, me too," Adam said, cuddling the youngster. This was the boy's first real overture since he came home. He could only imagine how hard his college years had been for Little Joe. It had been difficult for him too, and he was an adult--not a lonely seven year old without a mother. Adam thought back to the days in Boston when he longed to have a baby brother to take care of-skinned knees to bandage, stories to tell. He had been much more of a father to Joe than a brother, and had missed so much of the growing up years. Thrust into the role of father/guardian he had grown to savor it, and how he had missed it. It was hard for Adam to see Joe as almost an adolescent.

He looked down and saw Little Joe had fallen asleep in his arms. Now he felt he was truly home.

Adam was dismayed to see how pale the boy was, and he took a hold of a thin wrist to check his pulse. Seemed normal. He lifted the bony arm. He pressed his lips to the golden brown curls and whispered. "We'll get some meat on them bones yet, boy you'll see. Big brother will take care of it."

An hour later, Ben found his oldest and youngest sons' asleep together, relieved that the two had made peace. He recalled once again how his youngest had followed the spoken word, and never the intent. Ben had made Little Joe promise he wouldn't crawl into bed with Hoss again, never mentioning Adam.

"Joseph, I’m tired of arguing with you about this," Ben said from his place beside his youngest son’s bed. "The only way you are going to get better is to eat." He looked at the thick beef and barley soup on the tray before Joe. The perfect food to build up strength.

The long days in bed had done its work on Joe’s mood, and he didn’t have the inclination to show the proper respect for his father. "Pa, I don’t want to argue with you either. But I’m not hungry and you can’t make me eat it," he said as he dropped the spoon and crossed his arms defiantly. Joe knew his father hated forcing him to eat and hoped that his Pa would let it slide for the day.

As if a gauntlet had been throw down, Ben warmed to the battle. He picked up the discarded spoon and sat on the bed. "Yes, I can make you eat it and I will!"

Joe clamped is mouth shut and clenched his teeth. There was no way he was going to eat. Without any exercise at all to work up an appetite, Little Joe was even less inclined to eat than usual.

Hop Sing bustled into the room, which caused both combatants to look at the visitor.

"Mr. Cartlight, Mister Hoss want to see you," Hop Sing said quickly.

"Can’t you see I’m busy right now Hop Sing?" Ben said chagrined.

"Yes sir, but Mister Hoss say right away."

Exasperated with both his sons, Ben lay the spoon down on the tray. Maybe a break was what they both needed. "I'll be right back young man, and you will eat when I return."

"I said no Hoss. Doctor Martin said you were to stay in bed. I know you're worried about Little Joe, but we have to think about your health too, boy."

Hoss lay propped up in bed and smiled evenly at his father. He slowly intertwined his beefy fingers and started to wheedle. "Now Pa, we both know that I'm fine. Yes, Doc Martin has both me and Adam staying in bed, but the person who is really sick is Little Joe. Don't you think it'd be a whole lot better if we got him to eat?"

"But, Hoss," Ben began.

Hoss held up his hand. "I know Pa, I know. Them blamed spots are still on my arms and all and my fever isn't normal. But Little Joe's powerful sick and he needs to eat more than I need to lay here. Ain't that right?"

Ben finally agreed, he found it hard to argue with his middle child when the boy was right. "Okay, but you put on your slippers on boy, and keep that robe tight around you."

"Yes sir!" Hoss gleefully responded. He threw back the patchwork quilt and slipped his large feet into the quilted red slippers on the floor by his bed. Accepting the heavy flannel robe his father handed to him, he shrugged into it quickly and tied the sash at his waist.

"Now remember what I said. You stay bundled up while you sit with him," Ben said as he led his middle son down the hallway. "And." Ben turned and looked Hoss in the eye. "If he doesn't eat it's back to bed with you right away--understood?"

Hoss nodded. "Don't you worry none Pa. Joe is gonna eat a nice meal for a change. I'll see to that."

Ben pushed open the door to Little Joe's room and said. "Well Joe, I brought you someone to keep you company while you eat."

Joe already had the words "Pa! I'm not hungry!" out of his mouth when he saw his big brother amble in behind his father. An immediate smile formed on Joe's lips.

Hoss stopped as soon as he saw his brother. Although he had only seen him a few days ago, he realized when Joe had come to see him he had the flame of mischief in his eyes. The boy lying on the large bed had none. Hoss was shocked to find that the boy was as pale as the cases of the pillows he was leaning against. He forced a smile to his lips. "Sure glad to see you baby brother. Now what's this I hear about you not eating?" Hoss said as he eased his large body into the rocker beside the bed and arranged his red and black checked robe over his knees.

"Not you too, Hoss," Joe said sulkily as he played absently with the knots on the thick quilt. He was tired of everyone complaining about his eating and trying any way to coerce him to finish a meal. Now his beloved older brother was joining the other side.

Hoss was not the greatest or the quickest thinker. But he knew how to handle his little brother in situations like this. Ben, Adam and Paul would try to convince him that he really needed to eat, then gradually turn to force. Hoss used much simpler methods-bribery. "Now Joe, the only way I can stay in here to keep you company is if you eat. You don't want me to have to go back to my lonely room do you?" Sad blue eyes and a pout took control of the large man's face as he looked at his young brother.

The boy narrowed his eyes and glared at Hoss. He knew exactly what was going on and didn't like it, but being starved for companionship that wasn't his Pa or the doctor or conversation that wasn't about his health, Joe reluctantly agreed. "Okay, but you have to stay for one whole hour after I'm done eating," Joe bargained. Two could play at this game of bribery.

Hoss turned and looked at his father who was leaning against the door. Ben sighed deeply, nodded his acquiescence and then left the room.

Two days later, the battle to keep the Cartwright boys' in bed was rapidly being lost by the doctor. Finally deciding that having a little company would keep them all quiet and still, Paul consented to having cots moved into Little Joe's room during the day so that the brothers could keep each other entertained.

Adam took a deep breath and paused. His cot that was placed at the foot of Little Joe's bed wasn't very comfortable. The spots that had covered his body were virtually gone and his temperature was almost normal. He glanced over at Hoss whose cot was alongside the bed. Hoss was about in the same shape, and Adam knew it wouldn't be long before they were off bed rest. Looking at Joe however, he knew it would be several days before his youngest brother would be allowed up. A fact that he knew wouldn't set well with Little Joe once his older siblings were allowed to escape the confines of the house.

"C'mon Adam, don't stop," Little Joe said eagerly.

Adam smiled indulgently and continued reading aloud.

Excerpt from "A Journey to the Center of the Earth" by Jules Verne published 1864

"…and then I advanced to the mouth of the central shaft. It measured about a hundred feet in diameter, which made about three hundred in circumference. I leaned over a rock which stood on its edge, and looked down. My stair stood on end, my teeth chattered, my limbs trembled, I seemed to utterly lost my center of gravity, while my head was in a sort of whirl, like that of a drunken man. There is nothing more powerful than this attraction toward an abyss. I was about to fall head-long into the gaping well, when I was drawn back by a firm and powerful hand."

Little Joe listened intently as the tale enfolded. He scooted back on the bed and leaned against the headboard. He wrapped his arms tightly around his knees and watched his oldest brother. In his opinion, Adam was the best reader and told the best stories.

Adam stopped reading. " Little Joe you promised you would lay down and rest if I read this."

"I know Adam, but it's just so exciting I can't sit still." Joe said, wincing at the pain in his side the movement caused.

Adam noticed. "I mean it, little boy. Paul will throw us both out of here if he comes in and sees you sitting up like that."

"Allright." Little Joe scowled and crawled back under the covers, just in time to see Doc Martin push open the door and walk in.

The three Cartwright boys' breathed a sigh of relief that didn't go unnoticed by Doctor Martin. He arched an eyebrow, but since they were all in bed he let any possible transgressions slide by. He pulled three thermometers from his bag and stuck one in each of his patient's mouths.

Little Joe pushed the thermometer over to his cheek with his tongue and started talking. "Adam have you ever seen a picture of a volcano?" The boy's eyes danced with the thought of world travel.

Adam nodded and pulled the thermometer from his lips. "Yes, in the library at Harvard there was a picture of Mt. Vesuvius and it told about how when it erupted it totally covered the city of Pompeii in molten lava."

Hoss grimaced. "Yuck."

"Be quiet all of you." Paul said. He received three scowls in response.

"Would you take me to see a volcano someday?" Little Joe asked wistfully.

"We'll see," Adam said indulgently.

"You know Adam, I wouldn't mind seeing one of them myself," Hoss added.

Paul was rapidly becoming frustrated. "Now look, I don’t usually use this approach unless the patient is a child," he looked sternly at Little Joe before continuing "and only one of you qualifies. But if you persist in behaving like children you’ll be treated as such. There is another place I can put that thermometer you know."

All three Cartwright boys shut up immediately.

Adam couldn't help himself. "Is that a threat or a warning?"

"Take it either way you like. But one way or the other I’m going to get an accurate temperature out of the three of you. And Little Joe knows I mean what I say don't you boy?"

Paul looked at the youngest Cartwright and wasn't surprised to see the boy immediately move the thermometer back under his tongue and lay down quietly.

Ben pushed open the door and came inside. "Need a little help?"

"A father's firm hand is always recommended with sick children, you know that Ben," Paul said smiling as he pulled a chair over next to Hoss' cot. After taking his pulse, Paul pulled the thermometer from the large man's lips and said. "99 degrees. That's almost normal." He pushed up the sleeves of Hoss' nightshirt and said. "Spots are almost gone. How do you feel son?"

"I'm fine Doc, ready to get up and out of here," Hoss said emphatically.

Paul unbuttoned the extra extra large nightshirt and looked for any deeper red spots on his patient's chest. Finding none, he said. "Well, Hoss I think you can get up tomorrow."

"Yippee!!" Hoss yelled in glee and started to rise.

Paul clamped his hands over his ears. "Tomorrow I said. Not till tomorrow."

"Yes sir, tomorrow it is," Hoss said with a wide gap-toothed grin.

Paul dragged the chair to the foot of the bed and sat down by his next patient. He pulled the thermometer from Adam's lips and read it. "98.6 that is normal. You're in even better shape than your large brother over there."

Adam arched an eyebrow. "I could have told you that."

"No smart mouth with the Doctor, Adam," Ben commanded from his place just inside the door.

Adam acquiesced quickly. "Yes sir."

Paul repeated the same procedure as he had done with Hoss and gave him the same prognosis and suspension from bed rest. Although not as vocal as Hoss had been, Adam was pleased just the same.

Doctor Martin stood and walked over to the bed. He looked down at Little Joe, knowing the boy was anticipating the same freedom on the morrow. He pulled the thermometer from Joe's lips and looked at it sadly, before shaking it down. "100.9 degrees, son."

The hope in Little Joe's eyes dimmed slightly. Paul sat on the bed and unbuttoned the boy’s nightshirt and gently eased it over his head.

"I’m fine Doc-you don’t even have to look," Little Joe said as he turned imploring eyes to his father. "Pa?"

Ben shook his head and pushed the golden brown curls off his son's forehead. "Do as the Doctor says Little Joe."

"Let’s sit you up and check out your ribs son." Paul said as he helped the boy up. He carefully unwound the bandages that wrapped his patient’s chest, dismayed to find that the bruising was still so dark.

Hoss and Adam sat up on their cots watching the examination. This was the first time they had seen the bruising and were horrified. Adam sucked in his breath imagining the pain his little brother must be in. Adam had suffered through a cracked rib once and knew the discomfort.

"See, almost gone," Little Joe said hopefully.

"Mmmm hmmm," Paul said and continued pressing on the boy's ribs..

Little Joe grimaced and bit his lips, trying to keep up a charade of health.

Paul worked his way down the lightly muscled chest until he reached the lower right quadrant. He pressed deeply and looked Little Joe in the face. "Cough for me."

Joe slid a quick glance to his father before coughing gently.

Paul shook his head, "Harder."

The boy increased the intensity slightly but had to grab the sheets to prevent him from wrapping his arms around his chest to fight the pain.

"That's good son, that's good," Paul said and continued to press on the injured ribs.

The moment Paul removed his probing hands, Little Joe said through gritted teeth. "See, all better. Can I get up now?"

Paul left the question unanswered and leaned the boy forward. The pattern of bruises on his back was slightly less dark. "Turn over and lie on your stomach."

Joe reluctantly did as he was told and eased his head onto the soft pillow. His body tensed waiting for the painful pressing he knew would follow.

Paul patted his shoulder, "Relax son, just relax."

"Easy for you to say," Joe said, dreading what was coming. As the doctor continued his methodical probing, the boy clenched his hands tightly and took shallow even breaths to control the pain.

"Okay Little Joe, you can turn back over and sit up," Paul said and looked at Ben. "Can you give me a hand here?" The doctor lifted a pile of strips of sturdy white bandages from the chair and set them on the bed.

"Sure Paul," Ben said as he helped Little Joe into a sitting position and then sat on the bed next to his son.

"Now Joe, put your hands on your Pa's shoulders and we'll get your ribs all wrapped up again." Paul instructed.

Joe took a deep breath and almost succeeded in hiding a grimace. "You don’t have to do that. They’re just fine, don’t hurt at all."

Paul smiled at his young patient, always eager to get up before his body was ready. "Although I would like to believe you, experience has taught me that I shouldn't. The bandages will keep you from moving around more than you should until your ribs are really healed."

"But I’m getting up tomorrow. I can't be trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey Little Joe said, not liking the way the conversation was headed.

"No, you’re not. You aren’t well enough to get up son," Paul said softly.

Joe's eyes darkened and he glared at the doctor as yet another case of injustice sunk in. "Why can they then?" he said, pointing at his two older brothers.

"Because they aren’t as sick as you are," Paul said glancing at Ben. This was rapidly getting out of hand.

"I’m not sick! I said I’m fine! Stop saying I’m sick!" Joe shouted as he pounded the mattress with a fist.

Ben stepped closer to the bed to handle his young son. "Joseph I suggest you calm down right now before I get angry. This is no way to behave toward the doctor. He only has your well-being at heart," he said sternly.

One glance at his father's face and Little Joe calmed down. There was no mistaking the "look" his father was giving him. "But Pa, I’m tired of laying here all day. I just want…"

Ben sat on the bed next to his son and took a small hand in his. "I know what you want boy, and it’ll come soon. But for now you will listen to what the doctor says."

When Little Joe started to protest, Ben placed a finger over his lips. "No more talking."

Deciding that Joe was just a little too worked up to hold still, Paul poured the quinine into a small glass and handed it to Ben. "You need to drink this son."

Little Joe eyed with distaste the glass filled with reddish brown liquid that his father held in his work-callused hands. "Pa!"

"You heard the doctor, now take it," Ben said evenly. He forced it to Little Joe’s lips, and the boy drank it reluctantly grimacing at the bitter taste.

As he watched the eternal battle on the bed, Paul mixed a sleeping powder into a glass of water. When Ben handed the now empty glass back, the doctor gave him another.

Ben smiled at his friend and took a deep breath before he turned to his youngest. "Now this one Little Joe."

The fire was almost gone out of him, but Little Joe couldn't concede without protest. "Pa, no!"

Ben recognized the signs of exhaustion in his son and knew it wouldn't take much to convince him to take the medicine. "I don’t want arguments, I want obedience. You are going to drink this one way or the other."

Little Joe sighed and took the proffered glass. He drained it quickly and swallowed several times to try and get rid of the gritty residue that clung to his tongue. "Pa…"

"No more talking…rest," Ben said as he patted the small arm.

"But Pa," Little Joe said rubbing his eyes.

Ben caressed the soft curls on his son's head. "Shhhh, you're a tired little boy--close your eyes and rest"

As the sleeping powder did its work and the boy succumbed to sleep, Little Joe had one thought on his mind. At least no bandages-a battle won for the present.

Hoss watched his baby brother slip into sleep and smiled. "He sure is an obstinate little cuss isn’t he?"

"I wouldn’t discount that Hoss," Paul said as he prepared once again to bandage the sleeping boy's chest. "If he wasn’t such an obstinate little cuss, he probably wouldn’t be lying in that bed right now." He turned to Ben. "Are you ready?"

Ben smiled. "Didn't we start this twenty minutes ago?"

Joe's mind was working furiously as he contemplated blatant disobedience if not outright rebellion. Pa would be furious. The long weeks of confinement caused the boy to throw caution to the winds-if Doctor Martin followed the pattern of the last couple of days it would be Thursday before he would be back. That would give him two whole days to breathe without any pain. Doctor Martin customarily tucked the trailing end of the roll of bandages in the back where his patient couldn't get a grip on it to loosen them. Joe had thought about that for days, every time he took a breath and felt the tight bandages he swore he would do something about it.

The small boy eased himself out of bed and unsteadily walked to his bureau. Quietly he slid the top drawer open and rummaged through the contents before finally pulling out the treasure he sought. A pocketknife, an intricately engraved design of a rearing stallion set in silver on the handle. He shifted to his left until he was facing the full-length mirror and looked at his reflection. A little pale perhaps, and the dark circles made him look tired. But other than that he was fine, he tried to convince himself. Setting the pocketknife on a chair, he slowly unbuttoned his nightshirt, only pausing once to steady himself on the corner of the bureau. He slid off the nightshirt and placed it on the chair. Pausing to catch his breath, he wondered if this was a good idea or if he really should listen to the doctor and his father. Why start now? Grabbing the pocketknife from the chair, he flipped it open, carefully avoiding the razor sharp edge. Exhaling deeply to gain the most room, he sliced through the top row of bandages and set the knife back down again. Joe bit his lips to fight back the pain as he carefully unwound row after row of bandages leaving them in a pile on the floor. When his ribs were finally unwrapped, he took a tentative breath and smiled. Much better. He started to bend over to pick up the bandages and groaned softly when a sharp pain shot through his rib cage. Okay, this could be a problem. Changing tactics he straightened up and squatted to retrieve the discarded linen. Nah-no problem, just avoid bending over--That's all. He tucked the bandages in his bottom drawer and laid the pocketknife on top.

After gingerly sliding the nightshirt over his head, he quickly forced the buttons through the holes. If his plan were to work he had to get back in bed and make it look like he had never left. In his haste, he moved a little too quickly and his head reeled, the dizziness threatening his consciousness. He grabbed the carved post of the bed and held on for several minutes until the dizziness eventually passed. He was even paler and sweating when he finally reached the bed and pulled the covers up to his chest. Much better. No one should notice anything different. A cough coursed up through his chest and he groaned loudly. Without the support the bandages provided, coughing hurt much worse. Okay, try to avoid coughing too. Pushing his hair out of his eyes he thought of his brothers escaping their confinement and how he had at least managed to get a little freedom for himself, if only from yards of cotton. Two whole days to figure out how to put them back on before Doctor Martin arrived for his next visit. Joe settled deeper into the soft mattress, sleep coming unbidden.

At the breakfast table the next morning, Hoss and Adam are relieved to finally be allowed to leave the confines of the house.

"What’re you going to do today Adam?" Hoss asked in-between bites of ham.

"I thought I'd ride into Virginia City to talk to Jennifer. Seems like forever since I've seen her," Adam said, looking forward to getting away from the Ponderosa.

"I'll go with you. I want to get some sweetning at the store. I sure got a hankering for it I tell you. Might get some for the boy too. Kind of for a treat," Hoss said thinking of his little brother still confined upstairs.

Ben had listened to the conversation at breakfast but had said little. He had other plans for his older boys today.

"You about ready then Hoss?" Adam said as he pushed his chair back from the table.

"I don't think so boys," Ben slowly wiped his mouth with a napkin and laid it on the table. "The two of you aren't going anywhere."

Hoss and Adam immediately turned to look at their Pa.

"Huh?" Both boys said in unison.

Ben cleared his throat. "I said the two of you aren't going anywhere until we have a little discussion about your behavior. Get over to my desk--now!" He pushed back his chair and walked over to his desk, Hoss and Adam following reluctantly behind.

Ben leaned against the front of his desk while his two sons stood before him. "Since you were sick I didn't delve into the matter of your disobedience, but since you are feeling better and are well enough to be up and around, I would like an explanation why you felt it was necessary to disregard my instructions."

Hoss looked over at his older brother, expecting him to take the lead. After several moments he realized that Adam had nothing to say.

Ben crossed his arms and tapped his foot against the floor. "I'm waiting."

Another moment passed before Hoss decided he should say something. His mind was made up, so he spoke his piece. "It was Adam's idea."

Adam's eyes narrowed as he looked up into Hoss' seemingly guileless face.

"Is that true?" Ben said sharply as he looked at his oldest son.

Adam squirmed visibly under his father's gaze. "Yes."

Ben shook his head. For several moments he couldn't speak. He paced back and forth and then pounded his fist on his desk, making the guilty culprits jump. His voice boomed in the large room. "I expect this behavior from a twelve year old schoolboy like your brother upstairs, but not from self-professed grownups. Do you realize the impact your behavior has on Little Joe? No… you didn't stop to think. You were both too distracted by a pretty face. By blatantly disregarding my instructions you give the boy the impression that it is perfectly okay to do the same. And you.." he said pointing to Adam. "When Little Joe disobeys me you insist I am too lenient and need to keep a tighter rein on him. Is that what you two want? A tighter rein?"

"No sir," Hoss said guiltily. His Pa was right. They should think of Little Joe first. The boy had a wild streak already and didn't need any encouragement from his supposedly adult brothers.

"No sir," Adam agreed. He hated having his words parroted back to him, but he knew Pa was right on all counts.

"Good," Ben said evenly. "Paul told me to have the two of you take it easy today, so you will spend it in the backyard."

Hoss scrunched up his face. "The backyard Pa? Why?"

"I didn't miss the amused looks you gave your baby brother the last time he was confined to the yard. So you two will see exactly how it feels. And tomorrow you will start doing his chores. Cleaning the chicken coop, chopping the wood, and all the nasty little house chores that you've forgotten how to do since you 'grew up'," Ben said with a flourish.

Adam groaned in distaste. "But Pa.."

"No buts. If you hadn't decided to take the little trip to see your lady friends, he wouldn't be behind in them. So you can just get him all caught up like the kind big brothers I know you are," Ben said in a tone that would brook no objections.

Two days later Little Joe was soundly sleeping when Ben gently shook him awake. "Wake up son, Doctor Martin is here to check you over."

Joe woke immediately at the words "Doctor Martin" and opened his eyes wide with fear, he was in big trouble. The bandages had been successfully hidden since the last time the doctor was here and Joe had planned to put them back on later this morning. Doctor Martin usually arrived shortly before suppertime. What was he doing here so early? Joe tried to stall. "Why don't you go check on Adam and Hoss first?"

Doctor Martin smirked. "I already did son. They are quite happily outside cleaning out the chicken coop. You're my last patient. Now open your mouth son," Paul said as he forced the thermometer between the boy's lips and then turned to talk to Ben. "They're doing fine. Now if we can just get this young fellow up on his feet we'll be in good shape."

"I'm sure it can't be soon enough for the boy. He's going stir crazy in here," Ben said with a smile.

Paul sat down on the edge of the bed and reached for the buttons on Little Joe 's nightshirt, but Joe frantically pushed the doctor's hands away.

Although he knew he was prolonging the inevitable Joe pulled the thermometer out of his mouth and dropped in on the bed, then crossed his arms across his chest. "I'm fine, you don't need to look at me. Just let me up."

Paul furrowed his brows and looked at his patient's father. Something was definitely going on here. "Young man there is no point in arguing about this. I need to examine you and I will, one way or the other."

"No!" Little Joe said decisively.

Ben sat on the opposite side of the bed from Paul. He decided to take the easy-going route to see if he could discern what the problem was. "Joseph, please tell me what's going on here?"

"Nothing is wrong. Just let me alone," Joe said, his voice cracking.

Ben reached over and took a gentle hold on his son's crossed arms and gave a tug. Joe didn't budge. "Joseph, uncross your arms and let the doctor check you over."

Little Joe clenched his jaw and shook his head.

Paul ran his hands through his thick gray hair. He knew that look. There was no way that Little Joe was going to willingly comply with anything they asked today. "Just hold him. We'll do it the hard way."

Ben nodded and took both his son's wrists and despite the boy's struggles easily pulled his arms away from his chest. "Okay, Paul--I've got him."

Joe continued to fight to free himself from his father's grasp. "Pa, No! I'm fine--just let me go," he said as he thrashed about.

Paul unbuttoned his patient's nightshirt. "I don't know what's gotten into you all of a sudden, but this is going to end right…" The shock of pale pink spots in the midst of fading bruises greeted him, as well as the complete lack of the confining bandages he had wrapped the boy in two days prior. Paul glared at the small boy on the bed, who had the grace to look sheepish.

Joe immediately stopped fighting. There was no point in continuing once his secret was out.

"I assume you took them off?" Paul said with a glare.

Little Joe bit his lip and nodded, afraid to speak.

"When?" Paul asked.

Little Joe shifted guiltily. "Right after you left the last time…"

Ben had been too busy holding Joe still to pay attention to the conversation. "Took them off? What're you talking about Paul?"

Paul picked up the discarded thermometer and reinserted it in Joe's mouth. "Your son took off the bandages that I wrapped his ribs with," he said heatedly.

Ben was stunned. He let go of Joe's arms and looked Paul in the eye. "He did what?"

"You heard me. Twenty-five years of medical practice and I have never..ever…had a patient remove the bandages." Paul took a deep breath to control the anger that was boiling to the surface. He's just a kid. Deep breath. In…Out…. He stood and walked over to the window and looked out at the backyard.

Ben shook his finger forcefully at his youngest child. "So this is the reason you didn't want a bath yesterday! Too tired my foot! Joseph Francis Cartwright if you weren't so sick I'd take you across my knee right now!"

Joe couldn't look his father in the eye. Things weren't supposed to turn out this way.

Paul returned from his place at the window, considerably calmer. He pulled the thermometer from Joe's lips and read it. "99.8 degrees." He sat back on the bed and motioned for Ben to help him remove the boy's nightshirt. "This is going to be a considerably longer and more thorough examination to determine if you've done yourself any harm from this little stunt." Paul narrowed his eyes and spoke sternly. "A stunt that if repeated I will be standing behind your father to whip the hide off your butt when he is finished! Is that clear!"

Joe nodded solemnly, still afraid to speak in the face of the anger of his father and the doctor.

As promised, the examination was long and painful--including several deep coughs called for by the doctor. Once finished, and with a new set of even tighter bandages in place around Joe's ribs Doctor Martin zipped his bag closed. "Those two days with your ribs unwrapped will tack four more onto your stay in bed."

Joe groaned. "Doc.. no!"

"I think you're getting off lightly little boy," Ben said ominously. "It wouldn't take much for me to just put this transgression on a list and give you a severe tanning after you're out of this bed."

"Yes sir," Joe gulped.

"Ben I have a few words to say to you downstairs." Paul turned and pointed at Joe. "And you stay in that bed and leave those bandages on. Is that understood?"

Joe nodded and closed his eyes. It had been a long day and it wasn't even noon yet.

As the door to his room closed, Joe heard the doctor's voice. "You're probably as tired of answering this question as I am asking it, but here it goes. How has he been eating?"

Joe rolled his eyes at the familiar words. One more battle to fight.

Ten days later, Little Joe watched his older brothers ride away from the ranch. They were going in to Virginia City to check for the mail and Joe was angry he wasn't allowed to go with them. He was tired of staying in the house all the time; he was ready to resume his normal activities. School started again in a week and he wanted some time to go fishing and teach Cochise some more tricks. The last attempt he had made to escape had been two days ago, and the threat of a tanning had been enough to tell him that his confinement was almost over.

Little Joe scowled as he saw Doctor Martin's carriage come around the side of the barn and up to the house.

Ben rose from the rocking chair on the front porch and greeted his friend warmly. "Have a seat," he said as he gestured to a chair.

"Don't mind if I do Ben," Paul said as he sat down and groaned.

Ben smiled. "Long day?"

"It sure was. I know it's hard to believe from the past several weeks, but I'm glad to be here." Paul glanced around and lowered his voice. "What's Little Joe doing?"

Little Joe shifted slightly from his perch atop the bookshelf behind his father's desk. If he was caught eavesdropping he'd be in big trouble, but he had a feeling this conversation was too important to overlook.

Ben smiled. "Last time I checked he was sound asleep."

"How long ago was that?" Paul said stroking his chin.

"About twenty minutes I guess--why?"

"Because knowing your son like I do, in twenty minutes he could be on his way to California by now."

Ben chuckled. "I know, I know. But this isn't a scheduled doctor's visit day so he'd have no reason to run, would he?"

"I guess you're right. But I do have some good news. I found a new tonic to make him eat."

Ben rubbed his forehead, then drew his palm down over his face before speaking.

"Another one? Even if this one works, how are we going to get him to take it? We didn't have much success the last time as I recall."

Paul smiled. "He still does drink a glass of milk with every meal doesn't he?"

Ben nodded. "That's one thing I've insisted on through this whole finicky eating war. Before he leaves the table he has to finish his milk."

"Good, then hopefully he won't even notice this," Paul said as he pulled out a small bag containing a white powder.

"What's it supposed to do?"

"It's an appetite stimulant. Should make him as hungry as Hoss on a diet."

Ben smiled at the mental picture. "Then we'd have to call it a 'miracle drug' wouldn't we?"

Paul leaned in to discuss his plans. "Here's what we'll do…"

Little Joe slowly climbed down from the window. If they caught him eavesdropping the threat of a tanning would be a reality. His Pa and the doctor sound like two generals planning their battle strategy. Joe reached inside his shirt and pulled out his friend Spot. The rabbit wrinkled his tiny pink nose at him, so Joe did the same. Being the youngest, Joe was used to fighting battles when he was outnumbered. The boy's eyes narrowed as the strains of laughter echoed through the window. But if it was a war they wanted, he would make sure they got one.

The End