The Polka-Dotted Cowboys

The Polka-dotted Cowboys

By: Annie K Cowgirl

Rating: PG (characters in danger)

Prologue

It was an ill-fated Spring from the beginning for ten-year-old Little Joe Cartwright. The past Winter had been a miserable affair, and for the most part, he and Hoss had been cooped up inside the ranch house for five months straight and everyone was sick of each others company. Finally, the snows had gradually grown further and further apart, until they stopped altogether. The long cold nights and slow days were over. The earth was ready to be renewed again in the endless pattern of life. The trees began to sprout their leaves, the fields became green once more; Spring had arrived at last! And with the Spring, Adam came home.

Chapter One

“Pa, I see him! There he is!” The boy shouted at the top of his lungs, nearly bursting his father's eardrums.

“Hush, Joseph! He'll get here just as fast without the screaming.” Ben grabbed his youngest's jacket collar, stopping the child from running round him in circles out of pure excitement. He hid a grin; he couldn't blame his son for releasing his joy in such a manner, but he wanted his oldest to see how grown up his brothers were. Slowly—almost reluctantly—the stage pulled to a standstill, sending a cloud of bright red dust over the Cartwright family.
In a flurry of motion, the door swung wide and a young man clad wholly in black emerged, throwing his arms about his father and dancing the older man about.
“Pa!” It was the only word the darker man could say through the growing lump in his throat. After a long embrace, he turned to the boy next in line, a shocked expression on his handsome features.
“Hoss? Is that really you, brother?”The sturdy sixteen-year-old gave his sibling a gap-toothed grin that lit up his entire face.
“Adam!” He gave the man his biggest bear hug, nearly picking his brother off of the ground in the process.
“Whoa! What has Hop Sing been feeding you? You must be at least two feet taller than the last time we were together?” Finally after a few moments of chatter between the two, he caught sight of a mop of curly brown hair and a pair of piercing green eyes peeking out at him from behind the wagon. His jaw almost hit the street as he realized who it was.
“Joe?” He nearly whispered the name and the child reluctantly took a step away from the buckboard and towards this stranger. Ben moved over to the kid's side and nudged him forward.
“Go on.” He urged gently, understanding the awkwardness of the situation. Adam knelt in the dust, opening his arms wide to receive the youngster who flew into him like a rocket.
“Adam, I missed you!”
“And I missed you too, little buddy, more than you know.” He whispered into his brother's ear before picking the tiny body up and heading over to the waiting wagon.
I'm home, he thought to himself, really and truly home!

* * *

About a week had gone by before things erupted between the two brothers. Joe's uncomfortableness around his older sibling soon faded, but he soon grew irritated with everything Adam did and said to him.

“Here, Little Joe, let me help you with that.” He said as the boy started to put his saddle on his grey gelding, Ash. He didn't need help, but the older man grasped the leather in his muscular hands and swung it easily in place. Joe had decided to let that one slide. On another occasion, he had followed the youth on a trip to his mother's grave sight, as if he wasn't old enough to go anywhere by himself. Things began to come to a head.
At breakfast the next day, Joe reached for the milk pitcher, but Adam picked it up first.
“Why don't you let me pour it for you, Little--” It was the last straw. Swiping his left hand across the table top, the ten-year-old sent his plate of pancakes clatter to the floor.
“STOP DOING THAT, ADAM!” Then without another word, he flew out the front door, slamming it shut behind him.

“JOSEPH FRANCIS CARTWRIGHT--” Ben began, but Adam cut him off.
“No, Pa. Let me handle it.” He set his napkin down and exited the ranch house, but by the time he made it out to the barn, Joe was already gone.

Chapter Two

“It's not fair!” He sat throwing stones into the wide blue expanse of Lake Tahoe, avoiding the cemetery for he knew that would be the first place they would look for him.
“I'll show him; I'm not some baby he has to do everything for!” He was just about to toss the rock into the water when he froze.
“That's it!” He bounded up from his position on the fallen log he had been using as a seat.
“I'll show him how old I've become than he'll have to stop treating me like a child!” Grabbing up Ash's reins, he pulled himself into the saddle and raced away towards the fences he and Hoss had been assigned to fix.

* * *

An hour had passed by before Hoss and Adam showed up to work in the north pasture, but the didn't dismount right away. The sat in stunned silence, staring at the neat row of newly strung fence posts that had appeared like a miracle. Then they turned to the tiny form digging way at another hole. Little Joe was covered in mud up to his elbows, his pants had several new rips in them about the knees and bloody scratches ran up and down each of the scrawny arms, but what amazed the two brothers the most was the smile on the youngest Cartwright's face.
Hoss was the first one to snap out of it; he climbed out of his saddle and meandered over to where the child was burrowing like a mole.

“Hey, little brother, you did all this by yerself?” Joe's grin grew even wider, but he did not stop digging.

“Yep.” Was his only reply; Hoss shook his head and glance up at Adam.
“I dunno what's gotten into him; he never works like this.” The oldest Cartwright nodded absently, before turning his sorrel horse, Beauty, around.
“I guess I'll let, Pa know where he is then.” And with that, Adam kicked his heels in the animal's sides and sped off through the tall grass towards home.

* * *

Two weeks came and went as if they'd never been and still Little Joe worked as hard as two men put together. The only times he wasn't out doing something on the ranch, he was at school. To everyone's surprise, Joe no longer was difficult to get out of bed and lately he seemed to be the first person up and about. He didn't complain about chores like cleaning out the chicken coop, or mucking the stalls in the barn. By this time Ben was wondering if there was something seriously wrong with his youngest child, but other than having to wash all the dishes after the pancake episode, Joe was on his best behavior.

On his way to the one roomed-schoolhouse, he bumped into his two buddies, Nick Huston and Teddy Winslow.
“Hey, Joe, ya wanna go fishing with me an' Nick, instead of school?” It was tempting, so very tempting and Joe could see himself sitting on the banks of the lake without a care in the world.
But Pa'll skin me alive if he finds out....
“Or are you too chicken to have some fun for a change?” That did it; Joe was never one to take an insult lying down and in that split second he decided.
“You just watch me Theodore Winslow. I'm gonna catch the biggest fish you ever did see!” And with that the three boys were off to find the perfect canes to use as fishing poles.

“Look, look, look!” Little Joe nearly fell over backwards as he held his prize fish aloft: it was a bass twelve inches long and just the right size for pan frying.
“Just pass me the string, Teddy.” The other boy glared at his friend before complying with the request. It had been a good day for fishing, but the youngest Cartwright was having all the luck.
“You sure yer not usin' no special bait there?”Nick peered into the lunch pail lid they were using to hold their bait in.
“Nothin' but worms, same as you! You just don't know where to place your line, now here let me--”
“Joe?” All three boys turned as if their heads were on one neck, to see Adam Cartwright standing there before them—arms akimbo—as if he was Moses and was about to part the Red Sea.
“H-hi, A-Adam...W-w-what brings you h-h-her?” Joe's attempt to act casual fell flat under his brother's fierce glare, and he dropped his gaze to the dirt.
“You boys get on home, your parents are probably out searching for you by now.”
“Y-y-yes Sir!” With one last look, the two kids turned and fled for their houses, leaving Joe to face his older sibling alone.
After a long pause, he thought it might be wise to try saying something.
“Uh, Adam, we just...uh--”
“Save it for Pa when we get back to the ranch.” His clipped tones brooked no argument, and without another word, Joe gathered his belongings and swung up into Ash's saddle.
No one said anything for almost an hour, and then Adam shattered the silence that had fallen between them like a glass wall.
“You know, it's a good thing school was canceled for the day or you would be in trouble with Miss Jones and Pa!” The boy's jaw dropped at the revelation.
“W-what? No school?” Adam nodded before he continued.
“Yep, no school. Seems there's an epidemic of the measles, chickenpox, and the mumps are spreading like wildfire through town, and Miss Jones thought it best to cancel classes so more children wouldn't get sick.” Joe's little brow furrowed for a second before a thought crossed his mind.
:You aren't gonna tell Pa on me are you, Adam?” He turned on the puppy dog eyes that usually got him out of trouble. The older Cartwright seemed to contimplate the question for a while before heaving a sigh.
“Oh, I guess not, seeing as you didn't have school anyway--”
“Yippy! Race ya home!” And like a flash of lightning, Joe and Ash were gone, leaving Adam in the dust.
“Boys will be boys.” He chuckled to himself before urging Beauty to a faster pace.

Chapter Three

Hoss was miserable. No, miserable was too mild a word to describe how bad he was feeling, but he was too sick to try to think of a better one. It didn't help that he was given eggs for breakfast; it certainly didn't do him any good watching his brothers scarf them up. The situation was made worse by the appearance of Hop Sing, who exited the kitchen and stood by “number Two Son” screaming in Chinese for him to eat. Reluctantly, the boy picked up his fork and speared the tiniest bit of egg, but his queasy stomach would have none of it. The moment the food hit his tongue, he felt himself turning a peculiar shade of green and he rushed out the front door. Ben chose that instant to enter the dining room, a puzzled expression on his face when he noted the empty chair.

“Where's Hoss?” Oldest and youngest brothers shared a look before Adam tactfully informed their father.

“Presumably he is in the outhouse, being sick .” Ben raised a graying eyebrow at the comment, then turning headed out to see to his middle son. Only a minute passed before he was back, his face ashen.
“Adam, go get Doc Martin, now!”

* * *

“Well, Ben. It looks like I have another case of chickenpox on my hands.” Paul Martin unrolled his sleeves that had been pushed up past his elbows. Shaking his head a little, the physician couldn't help but give the ill teenager a wry smile. With three active boys, the Cartwrights were constantly visiting his office for some rhyme or reason and it didn't surprise him one bit that at least one of them had caught this disease.

“Hoss, you need to stay in bed and take some oatmeal baths. Whatever you do, DO NOT SCRATCH! Do you understand me?” The youth stared up at him, his discomfort written all over his face. Picking up his bag, Paul gestured for Ben to follow his out of the bedroom. Once the door closed behind them, he turned to the anxious father before him.

“Will he be alright?” Ben could barely force the words through his tightly constricted throat.

“Oh, there is little to worry about. As long as you keep him cool and can stop him from scratching the blisters once they start popping up like weeds, he'll be fine.” Doc Martin paused for a moment, then he continued.

“No, it's not Hoss I'm worried about. I think you should send Little Joe away for a while; let Adam take him somewhere away from here so he won't catch the pox too.”

“How long until....” Paul clapped Ben on the shoulder with a long-fingered hand.

“Oh about two weeks should do it. The incubation period for this particular illness is around that long, after that, it should be safe enough for the boys to return.” The widower nodded his head in silent agreement.

“We'll do whatever you think is best, Paul.” And with that, he walked the physician to the door, inwardly promising himself to make Joseph stay out of the ranch house for a month at least.

* * *

Ben Cartwright felt as if a mantle of sadness draped itself over his shoulders as he watched his two sons ride out of the ranch yard the next morning. As his gaze settled on his youngest, his thoughts returned to the previous day's battle of wills.

“NO!”

Inwardly, Ben cringed at the screech Little Joe emitted the moment he was told he would be living in one of the line-shacks with Adam for a while.

“But I don't wanna go away, Pa, I wanna stay here with you!” The man noted with some irritation, that his son had perfected his sad puppy dog look, but this time he was not going to give in.

“Joseph, that's enough! You are going to leave this house and you are going to obey your older brother while you are gone; do I make myself clear?” The child's head drooped in defeat before he answered in a flat tone.

“Yes sir.”

He now wished that he could take the kid into his arms and never let him go, but the distance between them had already grown too far for that possibility. So he gazed at the two retreating figures, and remained there long after they had vanished from his sight.

Chapter Four

All they did from dusk till dawn was work. Pulling cattle out of the draws, cleaning out watering holes, mending fences, checking and making repairs to the other line-shacks and a myriad of other endless tasks filled every day until the two Cartwrights were worn to a frazzle. More than once the Little Joe had fallen asleep during supper and Adam had put him in bed. Surprisingly, Ben's law seemed to be holding, for nothing happened between the two brothers for the first week.
The following Monday was a different story entirely. Everything that could possibly go wrong did; an especially stubborn calf got stuck in a mud pit formed by the late winter thaw and it took both of them three hours just to get the animal out. By that time, they were liberally daubed in the sticky mess. One of the water holes had a crafty beaver that had built another dam completely surrounded on all sides by poison ivy! When the day was finally over, the sky opened up and a downpour of heavy rain pelted the two as they headed back to the cabin. Irritated was a mild word for the emotions they were feeling.
“Joe, you can cook supper this time; I'll go get some wood and get the fire started.” Tossing his hat down, Joe glared at his older brother.

“I'm not gonna do that! I cooked last night and it's your turn to do it!” Adam had been headed for the door when his sibling's outburst of temper flared, sighing inwardly and turning as carefully as possible since his finicky back was acting up, he stared sternly at the boy in front of him.

“Pa told you to mind me, boy so whatever is going on in that stubborn head of yours, you better keep it there.” He muttered in an ominous tone that would have cowed anyone. Anyone, that is, except Joe. A blinding rage overcame the youth and without thought, he bulled head-long into his brother's midsection, driving both of them to the floor. They rolled over and over, both trying to gain the upper hand, but for the moment, the fighters were on an equal level.

“Ahem!” The noise shocked the two out of their position, and they turned as one to see a stranger standing in the doorway, his slicker dripping rainwater onto the pine flooring of the line-shack.

“I'm sorry to interrupt, but is it alright if I stay the night here with ya'll?” In an instant, the Cartwrights untangled themselves and stood facing the soaked cowboy.

“Of course!” they said in unison. The man reached behind him with his right hand and closed the door before removing his slicker and hanging it on the back of a nearby chair.

“I-I was just getting ready to start some supper. Are you hungry, Mister...?”

“Sandy Morgan's the name. Was just passin' through, though someone said there might be a job opening at the Ponderosa ranch.” Adam pulled a couple of logs out of the tinderbox and set them down beside the hearth.

“Our Pa owns the Ponderosa.” He extended a hand and after the introductions were made and the stew sizzling over the fire, all three sat down at the makeshift table to talk.

* * *

“Eric Cartwright, stop that scratching immediately!”
Ben's voice echoed in the mostly empty house, making Hoss cringe into his pillow. His poor face, arms, legs and torso were covered in tiny red blisters and it was nigh on impossible to cease touching them.

“I can't help it, Pa, they itch somethin' fierce.” The older man felt sympathy welling up inside of him for his teenage son.

“Why don't we get you into another one of those oatmeal baths, okay?” He patted the boy on the head and was just about to help him out of bed, when Hop Sing rushed into the room, gibbering something in his native Cantonese language.

“Whoa! Slow down! What's the matter?” He asked the Chinese cook.

“Man collapse in yard, have red spots on him; you come see!” The little man turned so abruptly his braid nearly hit Ben in the face as they bounded down the stairs and out the front door. The stranger lay on his stomach in the dirt, an appaloosa mare standing obediently over him. Even from the place he stood, Ben could make out the distinct crimson splotches on the limp figures face and outstretched hand.

“Hop Sing, help me get him into the house. We'll need someone to fetch Doc Martin.”

* * *

“It's a good thing you sent for me, Ben. This man doesn't have chicken pox, he has the measles.” The doctor spoke in low tones, trying not to disturb his patient who was sleeping fitfully in the guest bedroom.

“Thank you for coming out here on such short notice--” He began, but Paul waved his gratitude aside.

“Oh, no need for that, no need; a doctor has his duty to the human race, just like a preacher has his duty to the souls of his flock...” His words trailed off as the stranger moaned and opened his eyes.

“Where...?”

“Easy, man, you're on the Ponderosa.” Ben soothed and it seemed to work, until the drifter's head shot up.

“Adam? Joe...?” It was the last thing the two men were expecting.

“They are my sons, what about them?” Ben resisted the urge to grab the ill man by the nightshirt and shake the answer out of him; he knew it would do no good.

“Met them at the...line-shack....” It was all the father needed to hear, and mere seconds later, he was in the saddle and headed for the nearest cabin where his children were staying.

Chapter Five

His felt as if he had swallowed a bucket-full of nails. It was the day after Sandy had left and he tried to roll himself out of bed; with an effort, he managed to make it to his feet, but was nearly overcome by a wave of dizziness. Closing his eyes tightly against the nausea, he took a shuffling step forwards...and then another. The cabin door was almost within reach, when his legs gave out from under him and he crashed to the ground in a heap, knocking the tinderbox over in the process.

“Adam?” Little Joe poked his tousled head around the corner and saw his brother sprawled on the floor, sweat pouring off his trembling body.

“ADAM!” The boy rushed forwards and knelt at the older man's side.

“Go...way...Joe!” Was all the sick man was able to say through his swollen throat, but the child ignored the command.

“Adam Stoddard Cartwright, you must be out of your head if you think I'm gonna leave you here to fend for yourself!” He would have chuckled at his sibling's imitation of their father, but he didn't have the energy to waste on such a trivial thing as a laugh. Instead, he groan as Joe wrapped a scrawny arm around him, heaving him once again to his feet and over to his bunk where he flopped down on the rope frame. The ten-year-old could feel the heat radiating from his brother's body without touching his hand to his brow.

“I'll make you some broth; it'll make you better in no time, you'll see!” His voice was overly bright, but he didn't want Adam to see the fear that he knew was shining in his eyes along with the sheen of tears. Abruptly he turned his back on the sick man and poked at the smoldering coals until he had the fire crackling once more.

Dear God, don't let my brother die!

* * *

“Adam, come on, you have to drink this.” Joe pushed the bowl of broth into his brother's hands, but Adam only writhed on the bed, spilling what little of the watery substance was left onto the blanket and floor. A deep hacking cough erupted from his chest, making his entire body shake with the effort to expel the phlegm. Reaching down, Joe picked up the bowl and headed back to the hearth to replenish it, but the pot was empty. For a long moment, he stared at the bottom of the cast-iron vessel, unsure what to do next. Another moan from his sibling brought him out of his revery and Joe made his decision. He walked to the nearby corner, picking up the rifle and shells sitting there on the floor.

“Adam? Adam we're outta food, I'll be back later with something to eat.”

With one last long look over his shoulder, Joe exited the shack, closing the door behind him.

* * *


“Dadblastit!” Ben couldn't believe he had just used one of Hoss's favorite phrases, but at the moment it seemed to fit the situation. He has been moving along at a good clip, when his buckskin, Moccasin, started to favor his right foreleg. Climbing down from the saddle, he knelt in front of the animal; another curse exploded from his mouth when he felt the heat radiating from the limb. Re-gaining his feet, Ben pulled on the reins as gently as possible until the gelding was off the road and standing in the nearby creek.
“That's it, boy. Take it easy for a bit.” Even as he said the words, his mind was screaming at him.

Hang on sons, I'll be there soon!

Chapter Six


The world seemed to swirl in and out before Little Joe's eyes as he tramped through a patch of tall grass. He shook his head again and again, trying to dispel the mist that seemed to keep fogging up his brain.

“You're just tired, that's all. Nothing to worry about.” He muttered under his breath. The rifle in his left hand seemed to grow heavier and heavier the further he went from the line shack, until he was dragging it in the dirt behind him.

Is it getting late? Glancing quickly upwards, he noticed that the sun was still high above him, signaling noon.

Then why--

The thought cut off abruptly as his foot got tangled in a vine and he collapsed, his head connecting with something hard, and then everything went black.

* * *

The first thing he felt when he regained consciousness was pain. Slowly, he rolled over onto his back; white hot agony raced up his left leg, making his stomach roil. As if of their own volition, his eyes traveled the length of the aching limb until they rested on the source : his ankle was twisted in a grotesque position.

“Busted.” The voice and the word both sounding foreign to his ears. And suddenly, he was shivering which was odd, for he had been terribly hot only moments ago. Dread curled up inside of him.

“Adam!”

I must get back!

* * *

“Adam...?” He was floating in a sea of nothingness.

“Adam...?” He moaned softly, wanting the insistent voice to leave him alone, let him remain in this wonderfully peaceful place away from the pain.
It wouldn't.

“Adam, son...can you hear me?” It sounded like Pa, but he shook the thought away.

Pa's at home with Hoss, he reasoned with himself. An icy hand touched his cheek, forcing his eyes to open from the shock the contact produced. Someone was leaning over him, but his vision was so blurry, it took him a moment before he could make out who it was.

“Paaaaa...?” The word seemed to drain all the energy out of him, but the smile it brought to his father's face was worth it. He was so tired; his entire body ached and itched, the inside of his mouth burning with fire. His eyelids began to drift downwards, when a thought struck him like an uppercut.

“Joe...Paaaaaa..where's—” The sentence ended abruptly as the front door slammed open and the boy in question stood there. His face the color of clay, Joe limped a few steps into the cabin, the rifle butt propped under his left armpit in a make-shift crutch.

“Pa...you're here...” He murmured. With a sigh, he pitched forward onto his face and moved no more!

Chapter Seven

The minute Joe's body hit the floor, Ben was kneeling over him, pressing a shaky hand to the boy's brow.

“Oh, God, please help me!” He jerked the limb back from the child's super-heated skin, terror creeping into his heart.
It took him only a moment to settle Joe into the other bed in the line shack and drawing a chair between both bunks, he began the arduous task of keeping his sons cool...and alive.

* * *

“ADAM!” Ben jerked away from his eldest as Joe twisted, writhing in his bedsheets and knocking half of them onto the floor.

“JOSEPH! Ssshhh...It's okay, everything is okay—”

“N-NO! ADAM, must g-g-get back...” Joe was almost out of bed before Ben caught a handful of the boy's nightshirt and dragged him under the covers once more.

“NO, A-ADA-M-M-M! HE NEEDS ME!” His voice turned into an earsplitting screech that rattled the windowpanes.

“JOSEPH! CALM DOWN, ADAM IS RIGHT HERE!” Ben's nerves were starting to fray at the edges, so instead of whispering the words in the child's ear, they came out in a bellow.

“J-Joeeee...” Adam thrashed about, muttering unintelligible phrases interspersed with his cries for his baby brother.

“God, please...Help me!” His children were breaking his heart. Again, Joe tried to climb out from under the multitude of quilts that swathed him round, but this time Ben scooped him up. Carrying him over to his other son's cot, he gently laid Joe down and miraculously, they both calmed.

* * *

Something rustled near his elbow and he cracked open one eye.

“Pa?” His voice sounded strange even to his own ears, but the words brought a smile to the older man's face.

“Adam.” A cool hand rested on his forehead for a brief moment before coming to rest on his right shoulder.

“Well the fever seems to be almost gone.” Adam gave him a half grin before a thought hit him like a load of bricks, knocking the air from his lungs.

“Joe...Pa, where's—“

“Right beside you.”

All traces of happiness fled Ben's face and his gaze landed once again on his youngest's flushed cheeks. The boy's chest rose and fell in rapid, shallow breaths, his orbs racing in a fevered dream beneath his eyelids.

“He'll be alright, Pa.” Adam barely managed to choke the phrase out,yet he finished the statement in his brain.

He just has to be!

* * *

He was lying in a green field with flowers all about him; butterflies—in every color imaginable— flitted from blossom to blossom, resting on the petals of one for an instant before taking to the air in search of another plant.

“Mon cheri, wake up!” The voice floated above him and he opened his eyes to gaze into a pair of orbs the exact shade of emerald as his.

No, it can't be! But there she stood, her honey blonde tresses falling in waves down her slender back, her crooked smile...and the eyes.

“Mama!”

Chapter Eight

“Mama!”

Both Adam and Ben started at the word that escaped Joe's mouth and a sense of alarm flooded through them. The child began to convulse, jerking this way and that until he almost toppled from his place on the bed.

“Dear, God, please don't take him!”

Ben gripped the writhing figure, trying desperately to hold him down, but the boy was strong and fought back with a vengeance.

“Ma—Mama! Don't leave me, Mama!” He shrieked as the fever spiked even higher than before.

“Adam! You're going to have to help me get Joe out of here, I can't do it by myself!”

The oldest Cartwright boy nodded slowly, forcing his heavy limbs to move until he was standing upright. Grasping his brother's legs, the father and son awkwardly made it out of the cabin door and down to the nearby creek. Carefully, they lowered the delirious child into the stream. Joe's body stiffened as a wail of anguish shot out of his throat when the freezing water engulfed his super-heated body, and then he went ominously silent.

* * *

“Joe?” Ben tentatively reached out a hand and touched his son's face; there was no answer.

“Joseph?” Still nothing.
“Pa...I can't....”Adam lost his grip on his brother's legs and collapsed in a heap in the swirling water. He sat there dazed, staring at his sibling's pale face.

“Oh Lord, please!” He couldn't finish the prayer. Ben crouched down cradling Little Joe to his chest, tears trailing their way down his weary-lined face.

“Joseph, oh Joseph....” He buried his face in the damp curls, sobbing openly.

* * *

“Joseph?”

Her touch was just as gentle as he remembered and he didn't want to open his eyes. She ruffled his hair with a slender white hand; she smelled of lilac, her favorite perfume that Pa had brought back for her from one of his trips to San Francisco.

“Mon cheri, you must go now.”

His eyes did open this time, staring up at her, disbelief written on his youthful features.

“B-but, I wanna stay here with you, Mama!”

A smile appeared on her face and she wiped away a single tear that escaped his control and winged its way down his cheek.

“Oh, I know that, Joseph, but your father needs you now. I don't want you to leave me either, but you must; it's not your time yet, mon pettit fils.”

Leaning forward, she kissed his forehead tenderly and then her touch turned frigid.

* * *

“Papa?” At first, Ben thought it was only his own imagination that spoke the word, but then looking downward a pair of green eyes—now clear of the dreaded fever—peered up at him.

“Jo—Joseph! Oh, thank God! Joseph!” He swept the child up in his arms. Adam slowly pulled himself over to his two family members joining in their embrace and for a long while they sat there, rejoicing.

Chapter Nine

“Well, aren't you two a sight!”

Hoss stood in the doorway, a smirk on his spotted face as his two brother's dismounted as best they could from their horses. Adam gave the sixteen-year-old a scowl before allowing a ranch hand to take Beauty's reins from him. It had been a long week as they waited until both Adam and Joe were strong enough to make it back home and all of them—including Ben—were crabby.

“Look who's talkin'.”

Restrained by a solemn command from his Pa not to scratch, Joe lashed out at his brother in an attempt to ignore the itchiness that was driving him crazy. The smile disappeared from Hoss' face, replaced by a look of irritation.

“Why ya little—”

“Hold it! That is quite enough from all of you—” Ben started to break the argument up, when Hop Sing popped out of the front door.

“Mistah Cartwright! Mistah Cartwright, is okay to eat chicken?”

The whole family glanced at each other in befuddlement before returning their gaze to the Chinese cook.

“Is there something wrong with the bird?” Ben finally managed to pick his jaw off the ground and ask the question. Muttering darkly in Cantonese, the man answered.

“Doctah say chicken have spots, no good!” Understanding hit him like a thunderclap.

“Dr. Martin meant that the boys were sick with Chickenpox, not the birds. The chickens are fine.”

After a curt nod, the Chinaman ducked back into his kitchen followed by the laughter of his employer.

“Well, come on my polka-dotted cowboys, lets get you all inside and into bed!” The four Cartwright's nodded before entering the ranch house and with a contented sigh, Ben cast one last prayer heavenward.

“Thank you, God, for saving my boys.”

-THE END

YAHOO!!!! I LOVE THIS ONE!!!!! THANKS!!!

Thank you, Sis!