Chapter Three

“I can’t explain it any better than that, Roy!” Adam paced across the floor of the office, trying in vain to find the right words to explain a vague gut feeling. He was beginning to feel foolish and yet he could not let it alone. As his anger had cooled and his usual rational thought processes had come to the fore, he could not shake the sense that something did not add up. Oh sure, Joe could be a hothead, but it was more than that. In the days after Joe had left, things had settled far too quickly for his liking. As he finally stopped and reconsidered all that had happened, it seemed too co-incidental just how much of it centred on Joe.

“Roy, I know first-hand that Joe can be stubborn and he often makes an issue bigger than it needs to be because he doesn’t think it through, but there were just so many things that … well … things that made him look bad.”

Roy leaned back into his seat and watched as Adam finally stopped moving. “What do ya mean exactly?”

Adam clenched his fists in sheer frustration. “Things like Pa telling Joe to get the northern pasture fencing done which Joe said he’d done. But when we got up there two days later, the fencing was down again and lots of the stock had strayed. Pa was furious because he thought Joe had shirked on the job. When Pa confronted him on it, Joe just got mad and stormed off. He said Pa should have believed him.”

Roy watched as Adam began his pacing again and he sighed. He’d had more than one conversation with Ben in the weeks before Joe left and it seemed like history was repeating itself with Adam.

“Did you believe him?”

Adam ran a hand through his hair as he shook his head. “I’m afraid not. It just seemed that all of a sudden every time Joe opened his mouth, he was contradicting the evidence before our eyes.”

“I ain’t never known Little Joe to be a liar.” The comment was quiet and not judgemental, but Adam felt his stomach lurch as if he’d been kicked.

“Two months ago, I’d have agreed with you. A stubborn, mule-headed kid, who didn’t always see the line before he crossed it, but straight up when it mattered.”

“Your pa said the same thing.” Roy didn’t add the rest of Ben’s comments that he thought he was losing his son and he had no idea what had gone wrong between them.

Adam sank into the chair and picked up the mug of coffee that Roy had poured some time ago. It was almost cold and bitter as he swilled it in his mouth, but he was past caring.

“I don’t suppose you’ve picked anything up with your inquiries?”

“‘fraid not. Joe ain’t on any wanted posters if that’s what ya mean.” The attempt to lighten the mood fell flat as Adam stared back at him. “I’m sorry, Adam, but there’s been no sign of him anywhere I’ve checked. In one way, that’s a good thing. He’s not in any trouble ‘sfar as I know.”

Adam found himself right back at his original point. How did he explain a gut feeling that all was not right? And even worse, what did he do about it?

Nate leaned up against the railing of the corral and joined in the chorus of cheers. He really had no interest in the horse breaking on the other side of the fence, but he needed to keep things focused elsewhere and away from him. He couldn’t afford any hint of suspicion to fall his way or the plan would begin to unravel. He allowed himself a small smile to see that the one who would usually be up there on the back of that wild horse was long gone and never coming back. His body would be rotting somewhere out in the tall trees and would quite possibly have already been picked over by coyotes. The cheers quickly turned to silence as the rider came to grief and sprawled across the ground in a cloud of dirt. The black mare danced sideways as the weight of the rider disappeared and several hands grasped for the reins to pull her back in.

Hoss jumped down from the fence and hauled the rider to his feet with a hearty slap on the shoulder that almost sent him sprawling again.

“You’re gettin’ the hanga this!”

“Really?” Glen looked up in surprise as he brushed dirt from the seat of his pants. “Cos I think that horse is gonna be the death of me!”

Hoss laughed and dragged him across to where a canteen was slung on a post. “Nah! You’ll make your pa proud of you when she’s all gentled and you’re the one who done it. Drink up and wash that dust outta ya mouth. I think we’ve had enough for one day.”

Glen smiled at the compliment, but noticed the look that crossed Hoss’s face as he turned towards his horse. He knew that no matter how good a front his friend put on things, there was no missing the fact he missed his kid brother fiercely. At times, the new hand felt like he was intruding, but he could not dismiss how much he enjoyed being in the company of someone he connected to so well.

Nate ambled back across the track to where his horse was tied and watched as Hoss slung an arm around the shoulder of the young hand who seemed to have weaseled his way into the Cartwright family. He smiled as he considered his next move in breaking down the clan that had seemed unbreakable. He climbed up into the saddle and wheeled his horse around while surreptitiously checking to see where Mac was. His brother was playing his part better than he’d hoped and so far nobody had connected the two of them as family. He figured that the less anybody knew about them, the better. Especially if anybody got nosey and started looking into sheriff’s records.

The fire had long since dwindled down, but Ben had not noticed the change in the temperature. His mind was a long way from his body and the warmth of the room was no longer his concern. He was completely oblivious as Adam watched him from the landing and only registered his presence when he settled on the table in front of him.

As Adam watched his father, he noted how he seemed to have aged. His shoulders were no longer erect as they usually were, although he covered his grief well until he thought nobody was looking. His father’s hands gripped an empty glass as if his life depended on it and when he looked up, Adam read the pain that haunted his waking hours and no doubt tormented his nights.

“Pa, I was talking to Roy yesterday.”

Ben frowned at the mention of the sheriff and stiffened as if his son was about to deliver bad news.

“I asked him to send out some wires and see if he could find out where Joe went.”

Ben stared at him; hope beginning to flicker that somebody might be able to answer at least one of his myriad of unanswered questions. As Adam shook his head, he dropped his gaze back to the fire. It held no further answers either, but somewhere in its depths he hoped to find something that would keep him going for another day.

“Pa … I know what Joe said in his letter, but …” Adam watched as his father flinched at the mention of it. “But, I’ve decided I’m going to go after him. I don’t care if he says he doesn’t belong here anymore.”

Ben looked back towards his eldest son and saw his own resolute nature reflected back at him. Adam had been the one who’d borne the brunt of whatever was eating at his youngest son and yet he was the one prepared to go after him. Holding a grudge had never been part of Adam’s makeup and Ben managed a weak smile at him.

“Bring him home, Son. I don’t care what he said. I’ll listen to anything he has to say and we’ll work this out.”

Stacey tapped at the mug of coffee and smiled. “It’s going cold. Or have you gone off my coffee now?”

“Sorry.” Joe looked contrite as he picked up the mug and drank down the lukewarm liquid. He looked up to see her smiling at him still and he forced on a smile in return. “Best in Nevada!”

“Liar,” she laughed as she turned back to preparing supper. Although the tone was light and it was clearly a joke, Joe flinched at the accusation. For some reason he could not define, the comment brought up a strange feeling and the smile slid off his face.

“So … where were you this time?” Stacey kept slicing vegetables as she looked across the room, noting the sudden change in his demeanor. It was becoming a common question as more pieces of the puzzle were slipping into place and Joe drifted off to chase rabbits down holes.

“Adam.”

Stacey managed to bite her tongue as it was the answer she expected.

“I had another dream last night and I’m still trying to figure it out.”

The frown that creased his face caused her to put down her knife and slide into the chair next to him. “Tell me about this one.” Her tone was gentle and her hand slipped into his before she had realised it. As she squeezed his hand in encouragement, she could feel his hand trembling beneath her fingers.

“I think Adam is dead … and it’s my fault.” As Joe looked up into the face of concern, he could barely hold his emotions in check. He was still not clear on just who Adam was, but he had felt a deep sense of sadness when he awoke in the middle of the night, staring into images that swirled through his mind and taunted him.

“Why do you think that?”

“Someone shot him.” The words were a whisper and Stacey squeezed at his hand again. His breathing had quickened and the colour had drained from his face. “I don’t think it was me … but it was because of me.”

Stacey watched as he slowly recovered his composure, but said nothing.

“I was screaming at him, but he couldn’t hear me.”

“Well that would explain why you keep calling out his name in your sleep, I guess.”

“I s’pose it does.” Joe scratched at his chin as he tried desperately to control the emotions welling up from the pit of his stomach. “But who is he? Why would I care?” Fear competed with anger and his mind could not make sense of what he was feeling.

As the memory and wild images swirled through his mind, Joe felt the tension creeping up his neck once again and the beginnings of another headache forming.

“I didn’t want to write it!”

Stacey stared at him as Joe rubbed circles at his temples with his thumbs. The change in the conversation caught her off-guard and she wasn’t following his train of thought.

“Write what, Joe?”

“I didn’t want to. I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have argued.” Joe dropped his head onto his forearms and groaned as if in pain.

As Joe’s tangled memories had surfaced over recent days, Stacey had listened and made suggestions as to how they might be linked together, but this new one made no sense. She slowly reached out a hand and touched his shoulder, noting how much he was shaking. She hesitated to push him, but she could feel his urgent need to find the truth.

“Joe, what didn’t you want to write?”

“It’s my fault. They shot Adam and it’s my fault.” Joe raised tear-filled eyes as he gulped out the words. “They shot my brother!”

“What?” Stacey felt the world moving underneath her seat as she struggled to find a response. “Adam is your brother?”

Joe swallowed back a sob as he nodded. “How could I forget my own brother?”

Stacey reached out a hand to caress the side of his face. The last vestiges of bruises were fading under her fingertips. “When you turned up here, you looked like you had been run down by a runaway wagon. You were bleeding badly, Joe. Your mind was scrambled from the pain and blood loss. I’m no doctor, but your wounds were days old. That hole in your shoulder was caused by a bullet, I’m sure of it. Somebody dug it out of you and judging by the mess of it, I’d guess it was you. I’ve heard tell of folks losing track of time or losing memories for less than that. It’s slowly coming back though as your body heals up.”

“I don’t think I want it to come back.” Joe squeezed his eyes closed. “They shot him, because I argued over writing that letter.” Stacey could feel the tremors of pent up tension as Joe fought to calm himself. Images flooded his mind and he finally pushed back the chair and stumbled across to the door. He barely made it to the dirt outside before his stomach rebelled. Pain flared in his head as his body convulsed with each heave of his stomach. “I don’t want to remember!”

Glen settled against the ground and gingerly leaned back onto the tree trunk behind him. His whole body hurt from being thrown too many times off the black mare he’d chosen out of the wild herd. He wondered how anybody could bust broncs for a living because every joint and muscle in his body ached. He’d tried sleeping on his bunk, but the bruises rubbed against the mattress and he found sleep eluded him. Not wanting to keep others awake with his fidgeting, he’d finally decided he needed some night air. The cold air could help soothe the aches or make it worse, but he was willing to try anything that might bring relief.

He had almost dozed off against the tree when he heard voices through the trees. He was just about to make his presence known, in case somebody was looking for him, when something made him clam up. The sound carried closer and he could make out Nate’s distinctive drawl.

“So Adam’s gone lookin’ for that brat of a kid. He ain’t gonna like what he finds.” The laugh that followed sent chills up Glen’s spine and he held his breath in the dark.

The second voice chipped in and Glen recognised it as Mac. “Assumin’ he finds anythin’ at all! Don’t ‘spect those coyotes woulda left much on that skinny little carcass o’ his.”

Glen found his breath catching under his ribs as he fought down the bile rising up his throat.

“He sure did squeal about writin’ that letter didn’t ‘e?” The laughter welled up from behind him as the voices shifted direction. “Course with my shotgun to his head, he didn’t have a whole lotta choice ’bout it.”

“Little brother, you done good! That big brother of his can ride in circles ’til Hell freezes over and meanwhile poor old Ben gets to sit here mopin’ and wonderin’ why the golden child hates him. It’ll eat him up just never knowin’ the answers.”

“I know why I hate him!” The vitriol behind the words was clear, even in the dark. Glen chewed on his lip to keep himself quiet and he waited as the voices faded away. He couldn’t make out the response to the comment, but his mind was already reeling.

Joe was dead!