Death Valley – Complete Story (by MonicaSJ)

Chapter Twenty-One

Hoss Cartwright stood, churning, waiting for the stagecoach that would bring his father home early from St. Louis. His father’s response to Hoss’ telegram was a short ‘I’m on my way. Don’t let the trail get cold’. After that answer, Adam and Hoss knew one of them had to start tracking, and it was as plain to Hoss as the nose on his face which one should go and which one should wait. Adam was smaller and could move faster and right now speed was necessary. The only traces left of Joe was just about everything he carried with him. Whoever took him, took him and nothing else. It definitely wasn’t a robbery, and they definitely didn’t want anyone to identify him. It had taken weeks for his father to return and in all that time a demand for ransom never materialized.

Now, after receiving Adam’s telegram from Aurora, Hoss felt that maybe it would have been better if there had been a ransom note. If what Adam suspected was true, Joe could be in serious trouble, if not already dead, and there would be no one on the way Adam could trust to help him.

Hoss heard the unmistakable sound of the team of horses pulling the stagecoach. He craned his neck to see it coming around the corner, watching it until it stopped in front of him. Ben Cartwright barely waited for it to stop before he bolted from the coach.

“Any news?”

“Yeah, this telegram came from Adam about a week ago, Pa. It don’t sound good,” he said, handing the telegram to his father.

Ben read. “It doesn’t look like Adam’s going to get much help either except for this guide, Mike Dutton. He says the Army post down there is probably in on it.”

“Death Valley,” said Hoss, shaking his head. “There’s an Indian war goin’ on down there, and Adam’s walkin’ right in the middle of it.”

“He doesn’t seem to have much choice, Hoss. Let’s go. I want to get started as soon as we can.”

“Adam said we should bring some of the men unless we wanted to end up on one of those wagons.”

Ben and Hoss rode quickly home to the Ponderosa where they handpicked two men to ride with them, packed their gear on fresh horses, barely saying hello and goodbye to Hop Sing. Hop Sing understood. He was just as anxious for them to bring Joe and Adam home as they were. When Hoss told him his father would be on the stagecoach, Hop Sing packed enough food to carry them through the ride to Aurora.

“Thank you, Hop Sing,” said Ben.

Hop Sing could see the worry on his face. “Hop Sing be okay here. You bring Missa Joe and Missa Adam home.”

***

When Adam and Mike arrived at the Aha macave camp, most of the inhabitants were men. There were very few women and no children.

“Ask them where my mother is…Chacha wakavar,” said Mike, leaning into Adam.

“Where is Chacha wakavar?”

“She was sick and was taken to the reservation.”

When Mike heard this, she stepped in front of Adam, but he pulled her back, looking sternly at her. “Who took her there?” he asked.

“She was found and taken by the soldiers.”

Mike slumped, stepping away, and Adam followed her, standing behind her. “She would rather die than go to the reservation,” she said.

He turned back to the Aha macave. “Can we get her back?”

“No, we cannot. The soldiers are too many to fight at the reservation.” He motioned toward a small hut. “Come. Rest. We will talk at the night meal.”

Mike went to the pallet of skins at the back of the hut, dropping, bringing her knees up to her chest and covering her head. Adam sat near the opening of the hut, observing the Aha macave as they went about their daily chores. He heard Mike moving around behind him, going through the baskets. Soon, she sat next to him. He noticed she sat with one leg underneath her while the other was bent with her knee up, the tassels of her skirt covering her and recognized that she was sitting like the few Aha macave women in the camp. She had changed her whole demeanor in the presence of the Aha macave.

She sat down close to him with her head bowed, leaning into his side, grasping something in her hand and fidgeting. “My great-grandmother taught me to speak your language, but…” She held out her hand closed in a fist, and Adam held out his open hand. Her hand hovered over his for a moment, as if she was unsure if she wanted to give him whatever was there. “This came for me before you came to Aurora. I was told it is from California.” She dropped a rolled envelope into Adam’s hand, never looking at him, then drew her hand back and played with the tassels on her skirt. “My grandfather was taken by the soldiers. My grandmother said he was in the prison of the white man, and that we would not see him again. That was many years ago.”

“Your great-grandmother never taught you to read, did she?” asked Adam gently. She looked away shamefully, shaking her head. “Do you know why your grandfather was taken?”

“Because he took supplies and medicine to the Shoshoni during the big war.”

She unrolled the envelope in his hand, taking the letter out and placing it back in his hand. She glanced up at him quickly, pushing the edge of the letter with her fingertips, silently imploring him to read it.

Adam unrolled and unfolded the letter and read it to himself, sucking in a long, deep breath when he was done and looking out the opening. He looked back at her when he felt her eyes on him, pleading. He cleared his throat and read. “Miss Dutton, it is with my sincere apologies that I must inform you of the death of Michael Lewis Dutton on the evening of July 4, 1860 while incarcerated at San Quentin State Prison. Mr. Dutton died of consumption.”

Her eyes clouded, and she backed away from him, crawling back to the pallet of skins, curling into a tight ball. He’d never seen her cry. After watching her unemotional, methodical ways, he never imagined he would ever see her cry.

He backed away from the door and lay next to her on the skins. She turned her back to him, but allowed him to hold her as she sobbed.

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Author: MonicaSJ

I'm an Primary Software Engineer who writes technical manuals and was talked into writing fan fiction. I love all things outdoors, including my horses. I also love that I live in the mythical Cartwright stomping grounds and roam all the way from Virginia City to San Francisco looking for old roads, ghost towns and stagecoach stops. My favorite pastime is taking a 'no technology' weekend on horseback with a pack horse into the area around Lake Tahoe and the Desolation Wilderness. I do, however, take a GPS with me, so I don't get lost.

8 thoughts on “Death Valley – Complete Story (by MonicaSJ)

  1. This is my favorite Bonanza story!! You did a terrific job of writing and telling a story that kept me on the edge of my seat…..I couldn’t put it down. Honest!! Thank you! Keep up the great work!!

    1. Sorry this took so long, Annie. I’ve been working on a big (and bad) project since last year and have just now finished! I’m so happy you enjoyed Death Valley. That story has a special place in my heart. It was more than a story for me…more like a journey. My husband and I went to Death Valley several times, to the reservations, to Furnace Creek, to Aurora (there’s nothing left but some old crumbled rock foundations, a piece of a stamp mill, and the back of the bank building. We went to the Aha Macave spirit mountain, Avi kwame to see the petroglyphs. It was an experience.

      I’m so glad you enjoyed it.

      Thank you, Annie.

    1. Thank you, milliea. This one turned out to be very exciting to write. I got to meet some nice people and have a completely new mind’s view of Death Valley because of it.

      Monica

    1. Thank you, Larkspur. The trip to Death Valley (one of many since) to research this was incredible. It’s one of my favorite places, besides Tahoe. I’m lucky to live in the middle of everything Bonanza!

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