64. The Sheep 

“I should’ve thrown those bottles into the river…” Adam remarked with a half amused frown. Relaxing in the saddle, one hand on Mariah’s backend, he watched as Lilyah poured a portion of the dreaded medicine into the cup. “How come that Chai never bucks when it would be a splendid idea to do so?”

“So you’re that mean?” Lilyah gave him a sidelong glance. “Hoping my horse would dump me just so you wouldn’t have to take your medicine?”

“But of course not! Besides, you’re too good a rider to fall so easily.” Adam cocked his head. “Just enough of a little bucking to spill that stuff.”

“Adam, you’re still so pale!” She proffered the cup to him.

“You’re misinterpreting the situation. I’ve paled in horror watching you take that bottle out.”

She just smiled and held the cup a little higher. “Nice try…”

Adam chuckled and took the cup, swallowed the sour stuff and hastened to reach out for his canteen. What an irony that her obsession with the medicine bottle resembled that of his father, with both of them obviously sharing the faithful belief that this dubious liquid would somehow provide for a miraculous recovery – something that Adam had his doubts about after having been forced to consume what seemed to be the annual production of Doc Martin’s favorite snake oil supplier. Rinsing his mouth to dissolve the bad taste, he inconspicuously stretched his back. The various little reminders of his past injuries were more of a nuisance than anything else, and he couldn’t wait to finally get rid of them.

Lilyah carefully stashed the cup and the bottle away. She could well sense his impatience with his own recovery, but she also saw that he was closing in on his strength’s limits, even though he was far from admitting it and certainly wouldn’t want to hear anything about it. A fine smile played around her lips. He would get a good rest at the Ponderosa, Hop Sing would make a fine meal for him – and Ben Cartwright would probably learn a thing or two about not pestering a tired man while his wife was watching!

“What martial thoughts are now brewing in your sweet little head?” There was a distinctive chuckle in Adam’s voice.

“Ah, nothing…” She picked up her reins. “How long do we have to ride?”

“A few hours.” His hand pointed forward to the distant horizon. “You can already see the mountains. We’ll be cutting the open range at its southern edge and proceeding to the hillsides. Ponderosa land begins there.”

She strained her eyes to detect the mountains, but it took awhile until she finally made out their rugged outlines through the dustlayers wavering in the blurring heat. “We better get going…”

“Yeah.” Adam nudged his mare into a relaxed trot, once again feeling the warmth inside of him as the stallion joined and kept the pace. Side by side…

“By the way…” A mischievous smirk crossed his face. “Did it ever occur to you what an eerie resemblance there is between the words ‘martial’ and ‘marital’? In fact, they only differ by the seemingly innocuous exchange of the ‘t’ and the ‘i’. I’m not sure if this is only a linguistic accident. I’m rather positive there is a deeper meaning to it. A hidden etymologic warning even…”

“Maybe one you should heed…” She just loved the happy dimples in his cheeks that even stayed when he contorted his features to a frown of feigned, worried thoughtfulness.

“Yah.” He nodded his head. “Maybe I should join a lodge or some other of those organisations where battered husbands smoke cigars and exchange the shattering accounts of their manifold woes.”

“And this after only a few hours of marriage!” Lilyah started laughing and noticed from the corner of her eye that he had some trouble to keep his own amusement back.

“I’m just practising! I’m always trying to be prepared for the worst.” His hand reached over to get a hold of her reins and he halted both horses. “It might be a good idea for you to remind me of the good sides of marriage every now and then…”

“Ah!” She looked up into twinkling hazel eyes. “And how would I do that?”

“Hmm…” He pretended to think hard while one eyebrow climbed up. “You probably could kiss me more often.”

“I knew you had a hidden plan.”

“Sure thing.” His dimples had grown so deep that his cheeks began shining through the dust layer on his face.

Still laughing, Lilyah leaned over and closed her arms around him, kissing his all too hungry lips, feeling his hands gliding over her back. Her fingers softly caressed his temple as far as his hat allowed.

“Are your manifold woes a little easier to bear now?” She lovingly touched his cheek.

“Hmmm…” Adam pursed his lips, his brow folding. “Not quite… maybe, a little bit more here…” He pointed to his mouth.

“Oooh, you’re such a bandit!” She pulled his hat into his face. “And an insatiable one, as that!”

“Guilty on all accounts!” Grinning from ear to ear, he pushed his hat back in place and watched her nudging her horse to an extended trot. He urged his mare to a canter to catch up and ride alongside again. Her dark eyes sparkled as she met his glance and they both started laughing.

* * *

“Adam, wait!” Lilyah halted her stallion. “Shouldn’t we rest a little?”

Adam pulled up and looked back to her. “Lil, we’re already on Ponderosa land. Little more than two hours and we’ll reach the ranch house. We might be there before sunset.”

“Just a bit, for a drop of water and a bite of cheese.” Her hand made a sweeping movement around her. “And it’s a beautiful place!”

“Could be a little greener for my taste.” Adam’s eyes glided over the yellowish grass to the rather dry looking leaves hanging from the few deciduous trees. Quite a sorry sight when considering that those little gorges in the hills used to be oases of green due to the water the surrounding rocks usually held in the ground. It didn’t help to think that the open range had looked even worse. Yet he turned his mare around to cover the few yards back to where Lilyah was waiting.

“It’s greener than the dusty plains,” she remarked. “And those trees provide shadow.”

A small smile stole across his lips as he regarded her pleading look. The thought of relaxing in the shade of the trees for a while was indeed enticing. Deep inside, he admitted that the long ride had taken its toll on him and there was no doubt that she had noticed it as well. He was tired, the sweat was standing on his forehead and he was certain he felt each and every bone in his body. Worst of all was the fatigue that stuck to him like glue.

“A coffee would be good,” he finally said. “The Ponderosa won’t run away.”

Her eyes lit up. “I’ll look for firewood!”

She was about to dismount when she stopped mid-movement. Adam tensed. The ugly sounds suddenly disrupting the silence of the late evening were unmistakable.

Quite a distance away, but close enough to put Adam on alert. This was Ponderosa land.

“You stay behind me!” He hauled the mare around and kicked her into a gallop. Hearing the stallion’s hooves trailing him so close did nothing to ease his mind, but he could not possibly have told Lilyah to stay put – given the risk that whoever was on rampage in this area could well come upon her when she was alone.

The wild gallop came to an abrupt halt when they reached the end of a wide crag from which only a narrow path led down to the small valley below. It was crowded with sheep – and obviously the site of a fierce battle. Adam caught a glimpse of a chuck wagon and a group of riders hustling about, shooting all around them. The sheep ran back and forth in a panic and it was clear that they were the targets the riders shot at. From somewhere, the frantic barking of a dog could be heard. He barely had a split second to get the whole picture when Lilyah pulled up at his side, reining in her snorting stallion.

“Adam…” Her voice was aghast, her eyes glued to the scene below. “They… they are shooting the sheep! Adam, they can’t do that!!”

“Lil, no!” He reached out for her reins, but it was too late. Deaf and blind to his word, she had urged the stallion forward to jump down the small path.

“Lilyah!” Biting down a curse, Adam followed. He had recognized several men among the riders – Clem Foster, William Simmons, Bill Morley, Frank Miller, a couple of ranch hands from both the Ponderosa and the Miller ranch. Some of the cowboys belonged to Simmons, others were smaller ranchers from the area. He scowled when he spotted Billy Buckley among them. The shepherds had apparently taken cover behind their wagon. Both parties were firing. Adam could see a dead man on the ground among dozens of dead sheep and his fear erupted as he saw Lilyah storming straight into the middle of the battlefield. Forgetting every caution, he forced Mariah to take risky leaps over several boulders to shorten the way, readying his rifle at the same time.

“STOP THE SHOOTING!” He pulled up so abruptly that the mare half reared, firing several rounds in both directions, yet aiming over everybody’s heads. “STOP IT NOW!!”

Lilyah had jumped from her horse and bowed over a dead sheep, horror on her face. “You murderers!!”

The shooting stopped.

Adam slowly lowered his rifle, his features still tense, eyes narrowed. A musky smell rose in his nose coming from the sheep. It was an odor many cattle ranchers believed to spoil feed and water for cattle, and Adam began to get a first idea of what was going on.

“Adam!” That was William Simmon’s voice. “Get that woman out of here! We’re only doing our job!”

“What job?” Adam squinted from one to another until his gaze fell on Lilyah who still stood next to the dead sheep. Apparently the ewe had two little lambs, one of which had already found refuge in Lilyah’s arms. The other one pressed itself against the folds of her robe. Adam omitted a sigh and forced his face to an unrevealing mask.

“The dirty job of killing innocent people and animals!” a deep female voice made itself heard. It sounded like a rusty fog horn.

Adam moved his head to eye the truly formidable figure that had built itself up like a brick wall, an ancient double barrel shotgun held threateningly in her hands. The lady had the proportions of a buffalo, her rather adventurous, albeit colorful outfit looked like it was composed from a rag picker’s monthly findings. Not even the giant golden earrings shimmering through shaggy grey hair beneath a polka dotted head scarf could soften the impression that she would likely be able to make a good living as a prize boxer. Or a scarecrow.

“You’ve gotten warnings enough!” Simmons snapped. “Fair warnings!”

“Sorry my sheep couldn’t fly over your land, stupid!” she retorted in a heavy accent with deeply rolled r’s. “And your so called fair warnings were nothing but mindless threats. This is a free land and we’re passing through!”

Simmons puffed himself up until the sole button on his fine vest threatened to fly off. “This land is not free for sheep! It’s cattle land!”

“It’s Ponderosa land!” Adam dryly cut in. “And with all due respect, Mister Simmons, it’s not yours to decide who can pass through it and who cannot.”

Simmons snorted. “Well, your father obviously has a different view on this!”

“I’m not my father, Mister Simmons. And for the time being, you’ll have to accept my word on the matter.”

The wealthy rancher cast him a disparaging look. “You apparently have no idea what you’re talking about! Those sheep have anthrax!”

“They don’t have anthrax!” The deep voiced woman snarled like an old grizzly bear, and yet the words came out almost bored, as if she was tired to state a simple fact to people who wouldn’t listen, anyway.

Adam scanned the sheep, not one muscle moving in his face to betray his thoughts, not the slightest flinch upon the alarming word that was dreaded by everyone dealing with livestock. The sheep did indeed not look very well; they appeared malnourished and exhausted, their fleece looked shaggy and dirtied. But this was to be expected, given the state of the drought-stricken land on which they likely were not given much chance to stay anywhere long enough to get properly fed. And it wouldn’t have been the first time that the scare of anthrax or any other much feared disease was readily seen as a most convenient reason to chase them off.

Lilyah was much more vocal. Putting down the lamb, she moved through the animals, probing a head here and a head there, looking in the animal’s eyes and nostrils, even opening their mouths. “They don’t have anthrax! I know what it looks like!” She whirled about, her eyes flaming. “They’re underfed and thirsty. That’s all!”

“Ah, come on, Adam, get her out of here!” Simmons barked. “You’re not going to take that seriously, are you?”

Adam did not look at him, his eyes rested on Lilyah who just had had a closer look on another sheep. “You’re sure, Lil?”

“I’m sure!” She turned around to him. “They lack food and water, and they’re spent and weakened, but they are not ill. Anthrax not only affects sheep and cattle, but also goats and horses. I wouldn’t let Chai stand here if I had any doubt!” She bowed down to pick up the lamb again. “And I wouldn’t touch this lamb if I had.”

“Adam!” Clem Foster nudged his horse a few steps forward, handling the reins with one hand for one of his arms was fixed in a sling. “They do have anthrax, that’s a proven fact already established by the authorities of Lobdells when they passed through that area. And we’ve got to kill them to protect the…”

“We passed through that sorry joke of Lobdells more than four weeks ago!” The snarling lady threw in, still holding her mammoth double barrel shotgun ready to shoot. “If those sheep had anthrax back then, they would be dead by now, you luminary.”

“The ladies have some good points here, wouldn’t you say so?” Adam focused on the deputy. “Who exactly established this proven fact? Was there a veterinarian in Lobdells?”

“We’ve got a telegraph from Homer Barrett!”

“Oh.” One of Adam’s eyebrows climbed up. “Barrett’s the biggest cattle rancher in the Lobdells area, am I right?”

“That’s his brother Julius!” Foster replied. “Homer’s the sheriff of Lobdells.”

“I see…”

“Why are we talking?” Simmons called out, rising in the saddle and shooting encouraging looks all about him. “We know what we’ve gotta do, men, so I’d say: get it done!” He readied his rifle. but froze in place when Adam raised his.

“Adam, you’ve got no right to…”

“Wrong!” Adam bluntly cut him off. “This is Ponderosa land and you’re not going to do any more shooting here!”

Simmons noisily drew the air through his nose. “Adam, we’re here on your father’s behalf!”

“Adam, he’s right.” Frank Miller chimed in. “Ben sent us here to get rid of those sheep once and for all before they can venture any further into Cartwright land. I’m sorry, but… you better let us do our job.”

“It’s the truth, Adam.” Foster cast an unfathomable look at the black stallion. “Your father has called on the law to get these sheep off his land with no delay. Since they refuse and just move on, putting all the Ponderosa livestock at risk, we’re legally justified to shoot them.”

Adam did not move, his face revealed no thought. “Where is my father now? And where are my brothers?”

“I saw your father and Little Joe in Virginia City this morning; guess they had some business to do,” Foster replied. “They had also stopped at the sheriff’s office to request the removal of those sheep.”

“I think they should be back on the Ponderosa by now.” Frank sought the look of Bill Morley who nodded his head, and continued, “Hoss is in the lumber camp, as far as I know.”

“I think that should answer your questions!” William Simmons was quite obviously losing his patience. “Those sheep have caused enough trouble already and it’s going to end right here!” He looked all around him once more to seek the affirmation of his peers. “Come on, men!”

A loud mechanical scratch came from the battered double barrel shotgun as the corpulent woman readied her weapon. Standing broadlegged and with her face to a fist, she looked like she was ready to take it up with the devil’s legions.

Adam met Lilyah’s eyes. She still stood there with the lamb in her arms. Her gaze was worried and a little sad. He took a deep breath. “There’ll be no more shooting!”

“Adam…” Simmons did not get any further.

“Mister Simmons.” A fleeting smile passed Adam’s lips. “I don’t want to appear impolite, but these sheep are not on your land and therefore they are not your business. And I’d appreciate it if…”

“Not my business?” The wealthy rancher nearly jumped in the saddle. “I’m a leading member of the Cattlemen’s Association, and it was ME AND your father who brought forth this decision. The vote was unanimous! And this makes it my business!”

“The Cattlemen’s Association…” Adam nodded his head in a slightly deriding manner, just enough to ruffle Simmons’ feathers even more. “Mister Simmons, I’d appreciate it if you’d put your gun away and just leave.” He raised his voice to considerable sharpness as he looked about the men. “That goes for all of you!”

“You’re throwing us off the land?” Simmons turned red in the face.

“I wouldn’t put it quite as harshly.” Adam kept his calm. “I’m merely pointing out that there is nothing left to do here for you and your… posse.”

“YOUR father…”

“My father is not here, Mister Simmons. I am here. And I’m asking you – very kindly – to leave. Now.”

A disagreeing murmur rose up and Simmons turned left and right so rapidly that his horse began dancing about. The Ponderosa hands kept themselves back, exchanging uneasy looks with each other. The Miller hands glanced at Frank Miller who sat motionless in the saddle, not looking at anything particular. The rest were seemingly riled up and just waited for the biggest and wealthiest rancher among them – William Simmons – to call them to action. Clem Foster appeared a tad overstrained in his apparent attempt to figure a solution to the brewing mess.

“These sheep are threatening our existence!” a hysterical voice overpowered the increasing rumble. “They destroy the grass! They spread the disease and it will kill all our livestock!”

Everybody frantically spluttered out in agreement.

Adam’s eyes pierced the caller, a scrawny fellow who was no stranger to him. “Ah, Prescott. Since your ranch is about twenty miles from here, your livestock should be quite safe with those sheep on the Ponderosa, shouldn’t it?”

“And what about OUR livestock?” someone else shrilled. “He’s going to chase them sheep off his big fat spread the minute we turn our back and then they’ll be ALL OVER our land again!”

“Yeah! Those rich folks care nothin’ for us!”

“Men! MEN!” Simmons waved his rifle through the air. “Don’t you forget that it was Ben Cartwright, Henry Miller and me who took that matter in our hands after none of you was able to protect his land on his own! The Cattlemen’s Association stands for all of you! Adam Cartwright is NOT a member, he has NO SAY whatsoever! BEN Cartwright gave a very clear order and we will…”

“And I reverse that order!” Adam was not shouting and yet his voice cut like a knife into Simmons’ rant. His eyes had darkened, narrowed to slits. “And I suggest you better leavenow before things get real ugly!”

“We’re not leaving!” Prescott snapped. “We’re gonna rid the land of that plague right here and now!”

“Yes, men!” Simmons rode forward and readied his rifle, but pulled up in haste when Adam fired a warning shot into the air – uncomfortably close over his head. The rancher’s horse spooked and his attempts to rein in the skittish bay put a temporary stop to his belligerence. But Adam had not been the only one firing.

A thundering crash drowned out the echo of Adam’s shot when the double barrel shotgun of the snarling lady spat its load over the men’s heads. The sound was reminiscent of an exploding blunderbuss and proved too much for Simmons’ horse which reared and finally dumped its rider.

Prescott immediately began yelling, “Mister Simmons is shot!” He tore his rifle to his cheek and turned his horse to shoot, the barrel of his gun dangerously close to pointing right at the spot where Lilyah stood. He pulled the trigger.

Adam shot in a reflex, without even thinking. Yet the bullet was well aimed, merely grazing Prescott’s shoulder. The caliber of the Spencer round still was enough to throw the man off his horse, or maybe the shock made him fall since he was screaming as if he were dying from the rather harmless flesh wound.

In an instant everybody was hollering and yelling, horses reared and neighed, men were firing each other up with agitated shouts.

“It’s just him and that old hag! Let’s get ’em!”

“Put an end to this!”

“Fix’em good once and for all!”

Adam fired the last two rounds of his Spencer over the men’s heads to keep them at bay. Shoving the emptied rifle into its scabbard and getting out his revolver was the matter of a split second. He tried to get through to Lilyah, but the panicking sheep ran into Mariah’s way and nearly caused the mare to stumble. Just as he was about to call her name he saw that Lilyah was not holding the lamb anymore. Instead, she held her Indian bow, an arrow ready on the limb – and the tip of the arrow pointed straight at William Simmons who still sat on the ground.

“If anyone shoots at Adam, I’ll kill you!” Her voice cut loud and clear through the noise.

Simmons just stared and ducked when he realized how close the aggressively stomping black horse with the outlandish tack was. The hooves hammered the ground much too close for his liking. He heard the growling snorts of the agitated stallion and didn’t dare to get up.

Adam did not know whether to laugh or to curse, more leaning to the latter when he figured that he could not reach her without averting his attention from the mounting tension. One wrong step, one wrong word, even the slightest wrong movement – and all hell would break loose. He fired another shot into the air and raised his voice to a thundering loudness. “The first one who fires his gun will get a bullet!”

“That’s enough already!” Clem Foster had finally rediscovered his official authority. “Lady, please…. Adam!”

“He’s only one man!” someone blurted from behind. “He can’t get us all!”

“Two men!!” a thin voice called out from the chuck wagon and Adam noticed a little raggedy boy jumping up, a small squirrel gun resolutely pressed to his cheek.

The lady gave a sound that resembled a gruff bark and the boy disappeared as quickly as lightning.

She pointed her double barrel shotgun at the men. “This little darling here has a wide range!” she declared calmly, but loud enough for anyone to hear. “It might not kill you all, but it will surely beautify all your sorry mugs!”

“Everybody calm down now!” Clem Foster nudged his horse to the front. “Adam, you’ve been away for quite some time and you just don’t know what’s been going on in the area. Those sheep pose a serious risk, and a risk to the Ponderosa, as well! Your father saw all of that very clearly!”

“I don’t see a risk,” Adam retorted. “I’m a Cartwright. I allow these sheep to be on the Ponderosa and I’m willing to stand up for it. You’re the deputy, Clem. You know as well as I do that if any of you go against me now, I have every right to defend myself and shoot any of you for trespassing.”

“Oh, come on! Enough of that wishy-washy already!” someone yelled in the background. “Let’s get’im out of the way!”

Several voices rose in the affirmation.

“Men… men!” Frank Miller raised his voice and maneuvered his palomino close to Adam. “Men, listen to me! Adam’s right on this! He’s a Cartwright, we can’t fight him on his own land!”

Adam raised an eyebrow. Even though he couldn’t really tell why, Frank’s reaction surprised him. Yet he had little time to study the young Miller’s face when he had to rein in Mariah who suddenly started stomping. Still holding his gun ready, he assuringly patted her with his left hand. As calm as she had been all through the ruckus, the heated tension of the dangerous situation finally seemed to have gotten to her. “Easy, girl…” he murmured.

Mariah shook her mane, but she relaxed and stood still again.

“Frank, what are you talking about?” William Simmons still sat on the ground, his hands clasped around his ankle, eyes darting back and forth between young Miller and the tip of the arrow that was pointed at him. “You know what Ben Cartwright said. You’ve told him you’d be looking after this when we had our meeting! Heck, you’ve told your OWN father you’d look after this, that you’d take care of this, that he could rely on you!”

“I know,” Frank replied. “But the situation’s obviously changed. We cannot fight a Cartwright on his own land. If Adam insists on us leaving, we have to leave – anything else would be against the law and we can’t do that!”

“He’s right, men!” Foster cast a look in the round. “We’ll have to see what Ben Cartwright has to say to this. There’s nothing we can do right now.”

An angry murmur rose up, but Adam could feel that the biggest danger was over. The men shot sinister looks at him, but they lowered their guns, and some of them were already stashing them away. He saw the relief on both Bill Morley’s and Clem Foster’s faces.

“Oh, tell her to put that down! Adam!” Simmons still sat on his behind, looking as if he were on the verge of exploding, his face glowing red with anger.

Adam caught Lilyah’s gaze and nodded his head, noticing with some relief that she lowered the bow.

“You know, Adam,” Frank Miller began. “I’d change my mind if I were you.”

“Yah.” Adam turned his head to him. “Thanks anyway, Frank.”

“Any time!”

The posse began to withdraw which didn’t go too smoothly, as it turned out that William Simmons had sprained or broken his ankle when falling from his horse. It took three men to heave the wealthy rancher onto his saddle and all the while he kept on ranting.

“I’ll talk to your FATHER about this, boy, and we’ll see what HE’LL have to say! You’ve just ruined our chance to clean up this mess once and for all, and you’ve done us ALL a great disservice! You’ll see what it’ll get you!”

“And we’ll be on guard where they’ll be going!” someone close to Prescott swore.

Adam did not even react, he merely watched the men turning their horses and ride off one after one. He had uncocked his gun, but still held it in his hand, ready to slightly raise the barrel whenever someone stopped to consider a change of mind. Only after the last rider had disappeared between the dry trees, and the sound of hoofbeats had vanished in the distance, did he exhale a deep breath and stashed his gun away.

* * *