The Weight of Guilt

By Kierin

The shadowed corner behind and slightly under the staircase seemed the perfect hiding spot. Little Joe had a good view of the hotel entryway, main room, and the bottom of the stairs. Now he would be able to find out exactly what went on in this place that riled so many folks. Joe smiled to himself, mighty proud of the way he’d managed to sneak away from Adam. The local unmarried girls always wanted to chat with Adam, and whenever he found himself accosted by a girl, Adam figured he had to concentrate completely on what was coming out of his mouth, lest he make a fool of himself. After Little Joe had hailed Minnie Sue and Eliza Reed from the wagon, they’d said polite hellos to the youngest Cartwright then quickly turned their attention to his older brother. With Adam otherwise occupied, Little Joe simply slipped off the wagon seat and down the boardwalk.

There were a couple rough-looking trappers drinking and swapping tall tales at a backroom table. One of the flamboyantly dressed painted women Little Joe had seen get off the stage the day the hotel opened was talking with them and seemed to find what they were saying downright hilarious, for she let out a wickedly high-pitched giggle about every half a minute. Little Joe was leaning into the room, trying to figure out what was so funny, when he felt a large hand roughly grab the back of his collar. He found himself being quickly and forcefully escorted out of the building, his feet barely scraping the floor. He didn’t have to crane his head around to see who had caught him. The pungent combined smell of whiskey, expensive cigars, and cheap shaving cream gave it away: Jack Wolf.

"No Cartwright kid is gonna get me in trouble," Jack mumbled angrily. "You ain’t welcome in here, boy."

As Jack set him forcefully onto the outside steps and gave him a small push, Little Joe’s slingshot, which he usually kept in his right back pocket, fell at Jack’s feet. Jack picked it up and turned it in his hands. "I used to have one of these when I was a kid. You ever hit anything with it?"

Joe raised himself up to his full height. "I can hit anything you want," he said proudly.

"I oughta keep this. You’re liable to put somebody’s eye out." But at the same time he said it, Jack handed the slingshot back to Little Joe. "You stay out of here, you hear me? I catch you in here again and I’ll tell your pa."

Little Joe swallowed hard. He wasn’t yet sure what went on in this building Jack called a hotel, but he knew for certain that his pa wouldn’t take kindly to discovering that his youngest son had been caught in the place Ben called a "house of ill repute."

Little Joe wandered down the street, pulling out the two bits he had in his pocket. He knew what he’d buy—licorice! He headed for the trading post.

"Adam been in here yet?" Little Joe asked as Ruth Orowitz handed him his licorice sticks.

"No, I have not seen your brother today," she replied with a gleam in her eye. "Is he lost?"

Little Joe smiled at the thought of his big brother getting lost in little ole Eagle Station. "Nah, he’s probably at the livery. I’ll wait for him outside." Blinking as he stepped out into the sun, Little Joe pulled his hat down lower on his forehead and leaned against the building to enjoy his licorice and watch for Adam.

They hated Jack Wolf. Tall, sandy-haired Seth and Charlie Meyer were powerful sure of that. Though only thirteen and sixteen years of age respectively, they considered themselves men, unquestionably old enough to stroll into Jack’s saloon, order a bottle of whiskey, and play a couple rounds of poker. Jack Wolf had other thoughts, and the night before he’d thrown them out bodily, in front of everyone. Seth and Charlie weren’t the kind to take that lightly. The boys had endured a difficult trip west with their father, a grizzled, unkempt old man who always suspected life was out to deal him a bad hand and thus didn’t figure to kill himself trying to do a lot of honest work, and like wild stallions avoiding a lariat, the boys recoiled at any attempts by anyone to tell them what they could and could not do.

When they spotted Little Joe Cartwright leaning on a support beam in front of the trading post, chewing on a piece of licorice, Seth called to him in a loud whisper, "Joe! Joe Cartwright!"

Little Joe looked over his shoulder, and the boys motioned for him to come to them. Little Joe quickly scanned the area, wondering what the Meyer boys wanted with him. A little reluctantly, he joined them in the shaded narrow passageway between the trading post and the bank.

"We saw you talking to Jack Wolf." Seth’s sinister tone made it sound more like he was accusing Little Joe of murder.

"He throw you out?" asked Charlie.

"No!" Little Joe retorted before he had time to think about it.

"He did so," rejoined Charlie. "We saw." Without asking, he grabbed a stick of Joe’s licorice and bit off a big piece. "You scared of him?" he asked with his mouth full.

Anger flashed in Little Joe’s eyes. "No."

"Your pa’s scared of him."

Little Joe scowled deeply and his body grew tense, his free hand balling into a fist. These boys were a lot bigger than he, but the strong urge to defend his pa and his licorice came naturally. Then he remembered that Adam was somewhere nearby, and if he got into a fight right here on main street, there was no way Pa wouldn’t find out. He knew he had to be careful. He stuffed his remaining licorice into his pocket in hopes of protecting it from whatever was about to go down. "My pa ain’t scared a nuthin! Say that again and I’ll pound ya."

A big smirk parted Charlie’s face. "A fighter. I like that. Now we just need to put that to good use."

Little Joe hadn’t expected this reaction. His brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Wouldn’t you like to see what’s inside Jack’s place?"

"Yeah, but…"

"And don’t you think people oughta pay for what they done?" Grasping Little Joe’s shoulders, Charlie yanked him closer. "Jack threw us outta there the other night and he ain’t got no right to do that. He needs to be taught a lesson."

"We’re gonna get even," explained Seth with the same menacing tone. "He threw you outta there, too. What right’s he got to do that?" The hardness behind Seth’s dark eyes belied his young age. Despite being only a year or so older, he towered over Little Joe, and the way he carried himself matched that of a man twice again as old. "We need your help, Joe. You in?"

Little Joe wasn’t at all that sure what they were asking him to do, but he felt pleased to be included in some kind of plan. And it was true that he wasn’t too keen on Jack Wolf. Several emotions flashed across his face as the Meyer brothers stared down at him.

"He won’t help us. He’s chicken!" spat Seth.

"I am not chicken!" Joe retorted. "I--I’ll help you."

Seth and Charlie smiled with squinty eyes and slapped Little Joe on the back. "Good. We’ll meet you behind Wolf’s place at midnight."

"But I…" Joe began then thought better of it. He wasn’t about to tell these older boys that he couldn’t get away from the watchful eyes and ears of his pa and his brothers in the middle of the night.

Charlie grabbed Joe’s vest with both hands and practically lifted him off his feet. "Oh, and Joe? Don’t tell anyone, you hear?" Little Joe gave a hint of a nod, and Charlie released him. "I like you, kid. Bring that slingshot with you tonight, got it?"

Little Joe nodded again, and after a quick look out into the street, Seth and Charlie scurried out of sight.

"Joe! Little Joe!" Joe pushed back his hat and peeked down the street to see Adam standing by their wagon, calling him. Adam’s hands were on his hips and he looked none too happy. Little Joe knew he had to think fast to get himself out of all the hot water that was bubbling up around him. With his back against the wall, he slunk toward the trading post’s front entrance, praying that Adam wouldn’t see him. Once inside, he ran up to Ruth, who was rearranging the goods on one of the shelves.

"Mrs. Orowitz! Mrs. Orowitz! Can I stay here tonight? Please? I just gotta!"

Ruth looked surprised. Little Joe usually only stayed with her and Eli if there was some kind of emergency. But she enjoyed having the spirited and adorable youngest Cartwright around—he reminded her of the son she’d lost—and she immediately thought it would be nice to have Joseph spend the night.

"Certainly, Little Joe. You’re welcome to stay with us if you want, but don’t you think you’d better ask permission from your pa?"

"I’ll ask Adam," Little Joe called over his shoulder as he darted out the door and down the boardwalk.

"Where have you been?" demanded Adam as he saw his brother approaching.

"Mrs. Orowitz invited me to spend the night at her place. Can I, Adam? Can I?"

"May I."

"May I?"

Adam took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair. His little brother was a master at throwing him for a loop. "Did you finish all your chores this morning?"

"You know I did because Pa said I had to before I could come with you."

Adam smiled at the memory of Little Joe rushing to get his chores finished in time to go to town with him. He’d thrown the feed at the chickens with such wild abandon that the resultant flurry of squawking and flapping had brought Hop Sing running out of the house to see what the ruckus was. Adam decided, "I guess it’s all right if you promise to be on your best behavior."

Little Joe held up his right hand. "I will. I promise."

"All right. Pa or Hoss will come in tomorrow to pick you up."

"Thanks Adam!"

Adam untied the reins and climbed into the wagon seat. "See you tomorrow."

Little Joe smiled to himself as he watched Adam drive away. Sometimes he was downright impressed with the way his mind worked. Even though he wasn’t completely sure what was going to happen that night, the prospect of a midnight adventure was really starting to appeal to him. Truth be told, he was a little jealous of the way the Meyer boys got to do whatever they wanted. Though he didn’t exactly admire the Meyers, they were older than he and thus held a certain allure, especially since they were so different from his brothers. Pasting an innocent look on his face, Little Joe strode back to the trading post. Now he just had to figure out how to sneak out of the Orowitzs’ guest room before the stroke of midnight.

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

Carrying his boots and jacket under his left arm, a stocking-footed Little Joe crept down the staircase inch by inch. At least at the ranch he knew where the floorboards would likely creak and potentially alert his family, but in the upper level of the trading post, he was unsure where the Little-Joe-traps might lurk. He knew Eli could sleep through a hurricane, but Ruth awoke quickly at the slightest sound, fearing that the store might be ransacked in the night and they would lose their livelihood.

Without even meaning to, Little Joe was holding his breath. His heart pounded so vehemently that he half suspected the sound of it alone would give him away. He tried to think up a tale to tell in case Ruth and Eli caught him up at this hour, fully dressed, and creeping down the stairs in the dark, but in his wound-up state nothing would come to him. He silently slipped off the bottom step and into the store and slowly let out his breath.

It felt a little eerie to be in the dark, silent store all alone, and Little Joe took long steps in order to get to the backdoor quickly. He’d planned his route across the store that afternoon as he’d dusted shelves. The trading post held many things to trip on or accidentally knock off shelves or off the ceiling in the dark. The path he’d chosen was not direct, but clear, and he reached the back wall without faltering. He’d chosen the backdoor as his escape hatch because the front one not only elicited a high-pitched creak at the slightest movement, but it opened right out onto main street, where anyone could see him. With a slightly quivering hand, he slowly pushed open the slip lock and grasped the door handle. He’d checked it that afternoon and found that if he opened and closed it in one quick motion, the door wouldn’t make a sound. He yanked it open, stepped into the night air, and pulled it closed behind him. He waited.

As he pulled on his boots and coat, he heard drunken voices and the scraping of boot against board coming from the direction of Shelby’s saloon, and he could occasionally make out Shelby’s drawl above the din. He could even smell the waves of cigar smoke that rushed out of the swinging doors every time someone went in or came out.

Staying in the alley behind the main street buildings, Little Joe tiptoed toward Jack’s place. He pressed a hand against his back pocket to make sure his slingshot was still there. His heart was beating as if he’d just run twenty miles, and he silently chided himself for being such a chicken.

Suddenly someone grabbed him roughly around the neck and held a hand over his mouth. Little Joe uttered a muffled yell and struggled until Charlie’s dirty face appeared within inches of his own. "The kid came after all," Charlie stated nonchalantly. Seth released Little Joe, and Joe glared at his partners in crime.

"What’d you do that for?"

"Scared ya," said Seth with a scathing smile.

"Did not," returned Little Joe. His voice didn’t sound as casual as he’d hoped it would.

"Shut up, you two," Charlie commanded in a loud whisper. "Joe, you got plenty of rocks?" Little Joe nodded. He’d been collecting them all day. Charlie looked at his brother. "Don’t set it too close to the building. We don’t wanna light up the whole town."

Seth slipped away into the darkness.

It was then that Little Joe noticed the large wooden club in Charlie’s hand, and a new uneasiness flooded through him. He really wanted to ask Charlie what he had planned, but he couldn’t figure out a way to find out without sounding like a scared little kid. He wondered where Seth had gone. As he and Charlie lurked in the shadows outside Jack’s hotel, he got his answer.

"Fire!" The cry came from the vicinity of Shelby’s place. "Fire! Fire!" the man yelled again, flying through the doors to Jack’s hotel and then almost immediately running back out followed by Jack, a couple ladies, and several drunk, staggering men. Charlie grabbed Little Joe’s right arm, pulled him around to the back of the hotel, and pushed him through the backdoor.

"Go to work!" he yelled. "Smash everything you can. See if you can hit those bottles up on the shelf with your slingshot!"

It happened so fast that Joe had little time to think about what he was doing. The distant shouts of the firefighters intertwined with the crashing of glass and splintering of wood as Charlie swung his club like a man gone crazy. Little Joe loaded and released his slingshot over and over, taking some devilish pleasure in the destruction he was meting out with each hit. Joe’s aim was as accurate as he’d bragged it was, and he shattered ten tall glass bottles with as many stones, sending whiskey splattering down the wall behind the bar. He was aware that Seth soon joined him and Charlie, turning over tables and chairs and sending colorful cards and chips skidding haphazardly across the scuffed floor.

Little Joe had loaded his last rock when Seth bumped him and caused his shot to go haywire. It crashed into a large mirror, leaving an ugly chip and a long, crooked crack. There was something about that crack that stopped Joe dead in his tracks. He stared at it and his distorted reflection peered back at him. All the noise around him seemed to dwindle to a hush. Charlie yelled something at him. Little Joe ran.

He ran blindly until he crashed into someone on the street. It was Shelby, her face streaked with grime, hat missing, her standard blond ponytail partially undone.

"Little Joe?" Her surprise at meeting him in town at this time of night was evident. "Are you all right?"

Breathing heavily, Little Joe nodded. "Have you seen the Orowitzs?" he asked. There was a tremble in his voice. He prayed Shelby wouldn’t notice.

"Well, Ruth is right behind you."

Little Joe turned around slowly. Sure enough, Ruth was standing on the porch of the trading post in her robe and slippers with her hands on her hips. From the look on her face, Little Joe wasn’t sure if she was going to hug him or spank him. But she soon opened her arms and he stepped into her embrace. "Oh, Little Joe, where have you been? I checked your room, but you were gone. I thought, I thought, I…"

"I’m fine, Mrs. Orowitz. I just – I, um, I—wanted to see the fire."

Eli appeared on the balcony above them. "What is going on?" he asked sleepily, leaning over the edge to look down.

"There was a fire at Shelby’s," Ruth called up to him. "You slept through it as usual."

"Is it out?"

"Yep," Shelby answered. "It weren’t a bad one. Just burned up some trash out back. Saved me from having to do it. We got it out before it spread. Sobered up my customers pretty fast."

"What caused it?" asked Eli.

"Don’t rightly know," answered Shelby. "Some fool probably tossed a cigar out there or somethin’."

Ruth gave Little Joe a gentle push toward the front door of the store. "You need to get back to bed, young man."

Grateful for the directive, Little Joe nodded and headed through the store and up the stairs to the guest room. Once inside, he leaned against the closed door, shut his eyes, and breathed deeply as his mind raced.

A dreadful thought hit him and he felt in his back pocket. The slingshot was gone! He figured he’d accidentally dropped it somewhere. Little Joe heaved a rueful sigh–there was no way he could go back for it now. A streak of fear shot through him. That slingshot could connect him to the damage and the fire! All of a sudden he wished he could rewind the world, start yesterday over again. But there was no way to do that. Still fully clothed, he dropped dejectedly onto the bed and pulled the covers up over his head. Soon he’d have to face the morning.

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

"You got any little critters staying at your place that you’re looking to get rid of?" Hoss’s question was directed to Ruth Orowitz, but Little Joe knew the words were aimed at him.

"He was a very good boy, Hoss," Ruth replied, and Little Joe nearly scoffed. If only she knew. Ruth then began to detail what she knew of the events of the night before to Hoss. Jack had come into the store early that morning and told her about the damage at the hotel. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the vandal had set the fire as a distraction. Hoss shook his head mournfully as Ruth told him the story. He instinctively put a protective arm around Little Joe as he continued to question Ruth and the other folks in the store about the events of the previous night.

"He picked a good night to stay in town," Hoss told Ben when he and Little Joe arrived back at the Ponderosa. "There was a whole passel of excitement last night. Someone set a fire behind Shelby’s saloon then busted into Jack’s hotel and smashed it up pretty good."

Ben’s eyes narrowed. There was far too much crime and violence in Eagle Station for his liking. "Was anyone hurt?"

"Nope. Not that I know of."

"Any idea who might have done it?"

"A bunch of folks figure it was them no-account Meyer boys. Jack chucked them outta there a couple nights ago, and a few folks heard ‘em talk of getting even. Wouldn’t be the first time them two caused a ruckus."

Ben shook his head angrily. "If I was their father, those two boys wouldn’t sit for a month…"

Joe gulped and looked at the floor. He knew his father meant what he said. What if Seth and Charlie ratted on him? What if Jack found his slingshot? He wanted to scream, to confess the whole mess, but when he opened his mouth, no sound came out.

His father was saying, "… I may not agree with what goes on in that place, but there is no excuse for that kind of pointless destruction, especially when it’s so difficult to get decent materials shipped all the way out here."

"Trouble is their father is as bad as them," replied Hoss. "I’m glad you raised us up right, Pa."

Ben sent Hoss a cordial smile. "Well, I’m still working on Little Joe." He tousled his youngest’s hair, but Little Joe, usually so quick to smile, only stared at the floor.

"Joseph?" Ben questioned. "Do you know something about this?"

Little Joe looked suddenly horrified. "What? No! Not me. I don’t know anything, Pa." He was amazed how easily the lie came out.

"Did Little Joe just admit that he doesn’t know anything?" joked Adam as he came into the house. Hoss recounted the events in town once again, and Little Joe started to feel sick to his stomach.

"I’m gonna do my chores," he mumbled and quickly left the house.

"I done something real bad, Paint." Little Joe leaned in to speak softly to the horse as he pulled the curry brush through her coarse hair. "Real bad. Pa told me to be careful with my slingshot."

Joe thought back to the day he’d nailed Hoss with a dirt clump from Hop Sing’s garden. Hoss had been amicable about it, but Pa had given Joe a lecture on being careful where he aimed. It was far too easy to do serious damage even without meaning to, he’d said. Boy, if Pa ever found out that he’d deliberately destroyed bottle after bottle belonging to someone else, he was gonna catch it good.

That night Little Joe couldn’t sleep. He stared at the bottom of the bunk above him. Hoss snored on the top of the opposite bunk, and Joe could hear Adam’s deep breathing just across from him. Every time he closed his eyes he saw the mirror with the long, crooked crack. He’d barely eaten anything for supper¾ just the thought of food made him feel ill--and his stomach churned angrily. A strange heaviness weighed on him, like a buffalo robe in the middle of summer, but Little Joe couldn’t quite identify what the weird feeling was. He kicked off his covers and sighed audibly.

"Little Joe?" Adam’s whisper startled him, and he quickly turned his head in the direction of his brother’s bed. He could see only the outline of Adam’s body in the darkness. "Are you all right?" Adam asked.

"Yeah, Adam, I’m fine. Just can’t sleep, that’s all."

"What’s the matter?"

"I don’t know. Nuthin."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

Little Joe heard Adam roll over. He wished he could tell his big brother what he’d done. Adam always seemed to know how to make things right. He was really helpful that way. But what if Adam told Pa? Joe decided he’d try one ambiguous question.

"Adam?" Joe whispered into the darkness.

"Hmm?"

"What happens when a kid breaks the law?"

"What do you mean?" Adam sounded sleepy.

"Well, they don’t send kids to jail, right?"

"Sometimes they do."

Little Joe swallowed slowly. That was not the answer he’d wanted to hear. "But what if they did something bad, but not like murder or anything, more like—like what Seth and Charlie did?"

"In a case like that, usually the law leaves it up to the parents to deal with. Most times the parents have to pay for the damage."

Little Joe winced. He knew how tight money was in the Cartwright family. He also knew how his father would deal with him, especially since he’d already lied about his involvement: Pa’d send a clear message of disapproval to the seat of Joe’s pants. Pa might even consider this offense great enough to warrant the use of one of the leather straps that hung on the barn wall, and Little Joe dreaded the sting of that strap across his backside. But at least he knew that pain would go away. He wasn’t sure he could say the same for this heavy, queasy feeling that had taken hold of him. But no! There was no way he was going to rat on himself. He solemnly promised himself that as he rolled over onto his stomach. After all, surly Jack Wolf deserved what he’d gotten, right? Joe figured it was probably just watered-down whiskey he’d sent streaming down the wall. Nonetheless, he sent up a silent prayer that no one would find his slingshot.

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

At supper three days later Ben shared the news he’d learned in Eagle Station. Seth and Charlie Meyer had bragged around town that they were the ones responsible for the fire and the demolition at Jack’s hotel, confirming everyone’s suspicions. To Little Joe’s immense relief and, admittedly, surprise, it seemed they’d said nothing of his involvement, but still he kept his eyes squarely on his plate as Pa told the story. A very angry Jack had summoned the circuit court judge, and the judge had fined Mr. Meyer two hundred dollars for his sons’ crimes.

Hoss stopped eating long enough to say, "John Meyer ain’t got two dollars to rub together, let alone two hundred."

"Jack made it pretty clear he thinks the town council fund should pay the cost," Ben replied.

"Jack’s got more money than half the population in these parts put together," Adam stated.

In any event, Ben went on to say, the arrival of a cattle buyer from Chicago had distracted the town’s attention, and the incidents of the night Little Joe had spent in Eagle Station were mostly forgotten.

"So Seth and Charlie get off scot-free?" Hoss asked.

"Well, son, I believe that sooner or later they’ll pay for what they did, one way or another."

Little Joe didn’t hear the rest of the conversation. His mind was plagued by other thoughts.

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

"I hate cleaning!" Little Joe complained loudly to nobody in particular as he raised a swirl of dust from the porch with a mighty sweep of the homemade broom.

"I….hate…swee…ping. I…hate…swee…ping," he moaned in rhythm with each brushstroke. He heard the rooster crow from its favorite perch in the chicken coop. "Stupid rooster," he spat with disdain. "The sun came up hours ago. Don’t ya know anything? You’re lucky the coyotes don’t eat you."

Little Joe knew he sounded foolish. He didn’t care. He was miserable. For several days now he’d felt tired and sick and angry and sad and confused all at once. And it was wearing on him.

Little Joe could not forget.

It had been a week since his infamous night in Eagle Station, and still no one knew he’d been involved. This morning Pa and Hoss had taken the wagon over to the Greene ranch to see how the ladies were getting along, and Adam was out working on the new fencing the Cartwrights were building near the north pond. Pa had left Little Joe with a couple of chores to do and the mandate to stay on the Ponderosa. There was little need for that latter directive, thought Joe, for none of his normal free-time activities held any interest for him these days.

Joe dropped the broom and stretched out on his back across the flat seat of the rough wooden bench on the porch. He placed his hat over his face and just lay there, thinking.

He wasn’t sure how long he lounged on the bench, but during that time the angel and devil sides of his conscience waged all-out war inside Joe’s head. After a while he’d pretty much decided what he was going to do, but first he wanted to have a talk with Adam. He needed his older brother’s counsel. He’d just have to be careful to keep the conversation as obscure as possible. Adam had an uncanny way of knowing what his little brother was thinking.

Adam stood straight and stretched when he saw Little Joe approaching. "What’s wrong?"

"I came to help you!" Little Joe replied a little too eagerly.

"What’s the catch?" his immediately suspicious older brother asked.

"Nuthin," returned Little Joe. "Just thought you might want some help."

Adam quickly tried to erase the surprised expression from his face. He replaced it with a jesting smile. "First you admitted that you don’t know anything and now you’re offering to work. Something is definitely not right."

Little Joe just gazed at the unfinished fence, not daring to look at Adam for fear he’d discover his crimes in his eyes.

Now a bit worried, Adam changed his tone. "I’d like the help, Little Joe," he said, handing his brother a pair of gloves.

Joe held the logs in place as Adam secured them tightly. As he worked, Adam noticed that Joe was repeatedly glancing at him out of the corners of his eyes. He could tell the boy wanted to ask him something, and judging by the melancholy way Joe had been acting lately, it had to be something pretty important. But there was no rushing Little Joe when he had his mind set, so Adam just waited. Finally, it came out.

"Um, Adam?"

"Yeah?"

"I gotta ask you something."

Adam tried to keep his voice casual. "All right."

"Have you…has Pa ever…given you a tanning?"

Adam studied Joe’s face, trying to read where this conversation was going. "Why do you ask?"

Joe was incessant. "Has he?"

Adam sighed. He wasn’t going to get out of answering this question. "Yes he has. More than once. Don’t you remember?"

"Not really. I remember when Hoss got one for swearing."

Adam clearly remembered that day, too. "Yeah, he was just a little older than you are now. Picked up a few choice words on our trip west. Worst part was he used them to backtalk Pa. Hoss never got many tannings, but he sure did that day. You notice that he doesn’t swear anymore."

Joe gave a little smile. "Comes close sometimes."

"Yeah, but he never actually does it."

After a moment of thought, Little Joe continued quietly, "When Pa tanned you, did it hurt?"

Adam felt a familiar twinge—the same one he usually felt when he was in trouble with Pa. "You’ve been on the receiving end of your share of Pa’s necessary talking-to’s, buddy. I think you know the answer to that question."

Joe sighed. "Yeah." When Pa determined that physical punishment was necessary, he administered it thoroughly. Joe lifted the log a little higher. Adam waited for Joe’s next question, still wondering about the reasons behind this conversation. When silence followed, he glanced at his baby brother. The boy’s brow was furrowed and he was biting his lower lip, sure signs of distress.

Shrewd Adam remembered the recent events in town and Joe’s nighttime questions and suddenly had a pretty good idea what this was about.

"Joe?" he asked quietly. "Have you done something to earn a tanning?"

Little Joe didn’t say anything, but Adam got his answer from the tears that came into his brother’s eyes. Joe blinked them quickly away, but not fast enough to escape detection by his older brother. Adam stood straight, took off his gloves, and ran a hand through his hair. He pointed to the ground. "Why don’t we rest for a minute?"

Without making eye contact with Adam, Little Joe set his end of the log on the ground, sat down cross-legged, and leaned against it. Adam sat down next to him and began, "I remember this one time not too long after Pa married Marie."

Joe finally looked at him, his eyes full of wonder. He liked Adam’s stories.

"Hoss and I begged Pa to show us his collection of things he picked up during his sailing days. He finally did, and one of the items was this little rectangular box with two marbles in it. There were two small slots on each side of the box, and the goal was to try to get one marble into each slot. It was made out of this beautifully etched cedar and had a glass panel on top. Pa let Hoss and I try it, but we couldn’t figure out how to get those marbles to stay on opposite sides of the box. I begged Pa to keep it out so we could keep trying, but he said it was special to him and put it back in the trunk with the rest of the stuff, reminding Hoss and me that we should never touch the items without his permission because they were delicate and irreplaceable. Well, I just couldn’t stop thinking about that marble game. I knew that if Pa would just let me hold onto it awhile longer, I could figure it out. One night when he and Marie weren’t home and I was supposed to be watching Hoss, I snuck into their room, broke open the lock on the trunk, and got out the marble game. Hoss, of course, came looking for me. He peeked around the door of Ma and Pa’s room and yelled ‘Adam!’ He made me jump so bad that the box flew out of my hands. The glass top shattered and the marbles shot across the floor. I looked and looked but I could only find one of the marbles. I cleaned up all the glass, buried the remaining pieces of the game back in Pa’s trunk, replaced the lock, and made Hoss swear on his life that he wouldn’t tell."

When Adam paused to catch his breath, Little Joe looked up at him. "Did Pa find out?"

"I honestly felt like what I’d done was written all over me, but I must have hid it well enough because Pa didn’t suspect anything. But boy did I feel guilty. I couldn’t sleep or eat or concentrate on anything. I knew that at any time Pa could open that trunk, find the broken pieces, and I’d be in big trouble. On top of that, I’d never figured out the solution to the game."

"So what happened?"

"About a week later, Hoss was playing in Ma and Pa’s room, and he found the missing marble. When Pa saw it in his hand, he asked Hoss about it, and Hoss stammered out some answer that Pa immediately knew wasn’t the truth. That brother of ours can’t lie to save his life. Pa then asked me. I didn’t know what else to do so I told him that I had no idea where the marble had come from. But Pa recognized that marble. He looked in the trunk and found the broken game. His voice got really low and he got that scary look on his face, you know the one he gets when he’s really mad about something? I could tell that Hoss was about three seconds away from getting the spanking I deserved. I couldn’t take it anymore. I took Pa aside and poured out the whole sad story."

Little Joe’s eyes were wide with concern. "What did he do?"

"First he gave me a really long lecture on respecting other people’s property and honesty. He told me he was glad I’d finally told the truth, but that I shouldn’t have been in the trunk in the first place, that I shouldn’t have lied about it, and that I shouldn’t have involved Hoss in my deceit. Then he took me to my room and tanned me good. My behind was on fire before it was done, but that pain washed away all the pain and guilt in my heart. Can you understand that?"

"I…I guess so."

"Hoss and I had to do a bunch of our least favorite chores, too, and by the time we got through with them, I was pretty sure we were all squared up with Pa. That Christmas I received a little rectangular-shaped box. You know what it was?"

"The marble game?"

"Yep. Pa had someone in town fix it. He said he’d planned to give it to me all along but wanted to have an inscription put on it first. I still have it."

"Did you ever figure out how to get the marbles to stay on opposite ends?"
"Yep."

"What’s the secret?"

"Ha! I’m not telling you, little brother. You’ll have to figure it out for yourself like I did."

Once again Little Joe bit his lower lip and looked away, and Adam knew exactly how he was feeling.

"Joe?"

"What?"

"Do you need to talk to Pa about something?"

Little Joe’s eyes met Adam’s and he nodded.

"They’re probably back by now. Do you want me to give you a ride?"

"Nah, I’m gonna walk. I gotta think about what I’m gonna say."

"Go ahead then," encouraged Adam. "Send Hoss out here."

Little Joe stood up, brushed off his pants, and began the long walk back to the house.

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

After checking the barn, Little Joe found Pa and Hoss in the kitchen. "What’re you up to, Joe?" Hoss asked, snatching his brother’s hat as he entered.

"Hoss, could I talk to Pa? Adam wants you to come help him."

Hoss wasn’t sure what Little Joe had to talk to their pa about but the tombstone-grim expression on his little brother’s face proved it was something downright serious. "’Kay, Joe." Hoss glanced at his father as he grabbed his gloves. On his way out the door, he gave Little Joe’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze, as if trying to instill just a little bit of his strength into the boy.

Ben turned to his youngest. "What is it, son?"

Little Joe locked his hands behind his back and paced in front of the fireplace. "Pa…I gotta…I want…there’s something I have to tell you."

He stole a cautionary glance at his father, who waited patiently for Joe to continue. "I was…I mean…it wasn’t just Seth and Charlie who broke into Ja–Mr. Wolf’s hotel. I was with them. I snuck out of the Orowitzs’ place and met up with them that night. I didn’t know exactly what they were going to do, but once Seth started the fire and Charlie got to smashing things up, I guess I got kinda carried away and I…I broke a bunch of bottles with my slingshot, Pa. I hit the big mirror, too." Joe glanced at his father again and was surprised that he didn’t see anger or disappointment on his face, but instead something that looked oddly like relief. He stopped pacing and tried to stand tall.

Ben just looked at Little Joe for a long time, and Joe wished he would say something, anything. Finally, Pa asked, "What made you decide to tell me?"

"Adam told me about the marble game."

A confused look passed over Ben’s face, but then he remembered the story. He smiled. "You and Adam remind me of each other more than either of you probably realize."

Joe leaned back and looked up at his father. "Me ‘n’ Adam?"

Ben nodded. "You and Adam. I knew that Adam had broken the game the night he did it. I could tell someone had tampered with the lock on my trunk."

"Really? Adam doesn’t know that."

"I know. I waited a few days to see if he’d fess up. After that I was ready to confront him, but your mother reminded me that it was a chance to teach Adam an important lesson in honesty. She told me that she could practically see him sagging under the weight of the guilt. She was right, of course, and it wasn’t too long after that that Hoss found the missing marble and Adam finally confessed. I remember telling him something that I first heard from my own father: ‘The truth can hurt, but it’s never as painful as a lie.’"

Ben went into his room and returned carrying Little Joe’s slingshot. The boy’s eyes grew wide.

"Jack gave it to me in town a couple days ago."

"You mean you’ve known all along, Pa?"

"Well, I had a pretty good idea from the way you’ve been acting. Jack’s bringing me the slingshot confirmed it. It made me very angry, Joseph."

Little Joe instinctively put his hands behind his back once again. "How come you didn’t just lay into me when you found out?"

"I think you know why."

"You were waiting for me to tell you the truth?" Ben nodded, and Little Joe continued, "I reckon Grandpa Cartwright was right about lying hurtin’ and all, wasn’t he?"

A smile moved across Ben’s lips as several memories rushed through his mind. He pushed them gently away and looked down at his youngest. "Yes, he was. I’m proud of you for finally telling me, Joseph, but you’re in some pretty serious trouble, son."

Little Joe’s eyes were on his boots. "I know, Pa."

"You lied to Ruth and Eli and Jack and your brothers and me. And didn’t you and I have a conversation about this slingshot?"

Joe nodded, his eyes never leaving the floor.

"What did I tell you?"

"That I should be careful with it. But I didn’t know what Seth and Charlie had in mind, Pa. I swear I didn’t."

"Did Seth and Charlie force you to smash those bottles?"

Little Joe looked sheepishly at the wall. "Well, no."

"Did they force you to sneak out of the trading post in the middle of the night?"

"No. They just asked me to come with them."

"If you didn’t know that the Meyer boys were trouble, why’d you sneak out? Why not just be honest about where you were going?"

Joe figured that now that he was telling the truth, he’d just as well tell all of it. He answered gloomily, "I guess I knew they were planning some kind of trouble. I just didn’t know what."

"So you knew there was going to be trouble, but you chose to participate in it willingly?"

Little Joe managed a small, reluctant nod. He could tell his father was fighting to keep calm.

"Joseph, look at me." Slowly, Joe raised his eyes to meet his father’s. "I know how you feel about Jack Wolf. He certainly is not my favorite person either, but there is absolutely no call for what you did and you only added to your offense by lying about it." Ben frowned thoughtfully. "What do you think your punishment should be?"

Joe bit his lower lip as he thought. "Well, I should pay Mr. Wolf back for all the damage I caused. But…" Joe hesitated. "…but I, uh, I don’t have much money, Pa."

"You can earn the money from me, Little Joe. I’m sure you and I can think up a great deal of extra chores."

Unsurprised, Little Joe went on, "And then, um, well, are you gonna…" Joe hesitated again. Maybe if he didn’t suggest it, Pa wouldn’t do it. Then he remembered the conclusion of Adam’s story.

"What?" Ben prompted.

"Well, um, you said that if Seth and Charlie were your sons they wouldn’t sit for a month."

Ben quickly remembered. "That’s true. I did."

"Well…I am your son."

Ben stepped forward and took his son by the arm. "Joseph, I think you and I need to take a trip out to the barn." He realized that Little Joe was well aware of the consequences of his actions and now the reaping of them would help the boy get shed of the guilt he was so obviously lugging around.

Joe swallowed hard. "Yes sir. But Pa?"

"Yes?"

"Don’t forget that I gotta ride Paint and sit at the table and in the wagon and…"

Ben had to work hard to keep his face stern as he led the boy to the barn. "I’ll keep that in mind, Joseph," he assured. This youngest son of his could make him angrier than a treed wildcat, but he could also make him laugh like no one else, and Ben sure was proud of him for having the courage to finally admit the truth and accept the consequences. Joe was definitely growing up.

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

Adam had sure been right about the weight being lifted off his conscience, but that didn’t make it any easier to sit down. Little Joe sprawled out on his stomach in front of the fireplace to write his list. He chewed on the end of his pencil as he pondered chores he could do to earn money to pay Jack.

When Adam and Hoss returned from fence building, they added suggestions. Adam managed to locate the marble game and laughed heartily at Hoss and Little Joe’s attempts to solve it. They shook, turned, and held the game in every position they could think of, but no matter what they did, they couldn’t get both marbles into their slots at once. Finally Adam had to give them a clue. "It involves spinning," he said, and he was rewarded with scenes of Joe and Hoss twirling around with the marble box in their hands.

"It ain’t working, Adam," whined Little Joe after another failed attempt. "Maybe it’s broken."

"It’s not broken," laughed Adam. "It has to spin faster. Think about it."

Little Joe suddenly had a breakthrough. "Oh, I got it!" he shouted. He placed the marble game on the floor and spun it like a top. The centrifugal force sent the two marbles straight to opposite ends of the box, where they remained stuck in their small slots. Little Joe and Hoss cheered happily, and Adam applauded them, saying, "Remind me to give you two a lesson on Newton’s laws of motion." Hoss and Joe promptly rolled their eyes.

When Ben came in for supper, Little Joe handed him the list he’d written and shifted nervously as he awaited the verdict. Ben nodded in approval as he read it. The next day Joe confessed to Jack his involvement in the vandalism and under the watchful eyes of his father apologized to both Jack and the Orowitzs. Jack estimated the cost of the damages Joe had caused, and though he thought the figure was disproportionately high, Ben gave Jack the money, reminding Little Joe that he had that amount to work off. Ruth suggested that Joe spend a few hours each week helping her in the store to earn money, as well.

Back at the ranch that evening Ben noticed that Joe was still biting his lower lip and scowling an awful lot, and Ben wondered what else could be troubling his son. Had he not told him the whole truth? Then he realized that he hadn’t hugged his youngest since administering the punishment. Just as he always had since he was very young, Little Joe needed reassurance and affection. Ben picked up Little Joe’s slingshot off the table and handed it to him.

"You sure you don’t wanna hang onto that for awhile, Pa?" Joe asked good-naturedly.

"I think you’ve learned your lesson, son. I believe you’ll be more careful with this from now on."

Little Joe stared straight into his father’s eyes. "I’m sorry, Pa." He spoke those words with intense emotion.

"I know, Joseph. You are forgiven." Pa wrapped him into a warm hug. "I love you, son."

Those few words were exactly what Little Joe needed to hear. He grinned into Pa’s shirt, and his arms tightened around his father’s waist. It was a long time before either of them let go.

The End.