66. Trapped 

“He – did – WHAT??” Ben Cartwright looked as if he was struck by a thunder bolt. His relief to hear that his son was spotted well and sound had not lasted very long, and his initial anger about the men showing up without any positive reports regarding the pestering sheep matter got the upper hand again. “He chased you off the land AT GUNPOINT?”

“Yes! Oh… ooh… ouch… careful, men!” William Simmons hopped along on one foot, supported by two cowboys. “My ankle!”

“William, you’re hurt?” Ben swallowed the next roar and worriedly closed in on the rancher. “What happened to you?”

“Cartwright shot at him!” Billy Buckley called out from the background.

“What??” Ben’s mouth fell open. “That’s not true…”

“He didn’t hit him, though!” Frank Miller had dismounted and tied his palomino to the post. “Mister Simmons’ horse spooked and threw him off, that’s why he sprained his ankle.”

“But he didn’t miss Prescott!” One of the men helping the groaning Prescott from his horse angrily barked out. “Almost killed him!”

Ben didn’t know where to turn first, circling around himself to be everywhere at the same time. “He SHOT at him? Bring him into the house, quick… What exactly happened? I can’t believe Adam would do that… Joe, tell Hop Sing we have wounded! … William, let me help you! … Didn’t you tell him you were after those sheep? That you were there onmy behalf?”

“Of course we did! But he wouldn’t listen!” Simmons leaned hard on Ben’s arm. “Ben, he sided up with those sheep herders! That boy of yours – he’s always had a thick skull, but this time he’s gone too far! Way too far!”

Ben stared at the wealthy rancher as the pieces slowly began to fall in place. A slight anger towards himself also crept in. He should have ridden with the men, it would have been his duty after he had initiated the order to get rid of those sheep that had been plaguing the land for so long. It had been clear they were already dangerously close to Ponderosa land at the time of his meeting with Henry Miller and William Simmons, and he should have been the one leading the men and riding in front, just like every other time when his land was in peril. Instead, and inexcusably so, he had simply left it up to Simmons and young Miller to take care of things on his behalf. He had wanted to stay home, hoping for Adam to come back, all the while wasting his time reading useless, boring Shakespeare plays just to try and make some sense of what might be going on in Adam’s stubborn head. Oh, that boy had made a real fool out of him!

“And those sheep are now on the Ponderosa?”

“Yes, they are!” Simmons drew an angry breath. “Ben, he allowed them to be there, and he turned against US! With a GUN IN HIS HANDS!”

“Didn’t you tell him about our meeting yesterday?” Ben’s anger rose with every word, his left hand wildly gesticulating about while his right supported the rancher. “And that I’ve given a clear order to…”

“Your son reversed your order!” Simmons cut in. “Just like that! He apparently thought he had the right to do that!”

Ben’s face grew dark. “Of course he had not! I don’t know what’s gotten into him, but I will find out! But come in… come on in, your ankle needs to be looked after.”

Almost the whole group poured into the great room, causing the greatest distress to Hop Sing who ran back and forth, looking after Simmons’ ankle and bandaging up Prescott’s wound which looked much worse than it actually was. Still the man kept groaning and moaning, a steady fuel to Ben’s increasing rage. Sheep on the land! Anthrax likely to spread about like wildfire! His friends and neighbors shot at! A rude affront against the Cattlemen’s Association! And to top it off, what utter disrespect towards his own father! What was wrong with that boy??

“Ououch! Careful, Hop Sing! It’s broken… I’m sure it’s broken!” William Simmons bowed over his ankle, but wasn’t in too much pain for some more spiting. “And that dark skinned woman he’s got himself, she dared threatening ME with an ARROW!”

“Told you she’s an Apache…” Buckley called out from somewhere behind.

Ben made an angry, rapid movement, accidently toppling the water bowl next to Simmons. Hop Sing jumped quick enough to save the bowl from falling, but all the water splashed out and wet Ben’s legs and boots. It didn’t help any to pacify him. He snapped around to the deputy. “Didn’t you tell him that those sheep have ANTHRAX?”

“I told him about it.” Clem Foster didn’t feel very comfortable in his skin. “He didn’t listen.”

“Not to us!” Simmons spat out before Ben could react. “He listened to that exotic oddball of his that told him those half dead critters were just fine!”

Ben stared at his old friend. All his good resolutions to somehow arrange himself with Adam’s choice when his son came back went out of the window within the wink of an eye. His face had turned red as he snapped around to Foster again. “You should have showed him that note from Lobdells to PROVE it to him!” His eyes shot flashes at the deputy, his words came much harsher than he intended, his forefinger waived through the air in front of Foster’s nose. “He’s stubborn! He won’t believe anything unless he reads it for himself!”

“Don’t blame Clem, Ben!” Simmons threw in. “Had it not been for Clem and young Frank here, that whole thing would have gone badly wrong. That boy of yours was out of control, he could’ve killed someone.”

Ben turned around to Frank Miller who had taken a place in the blue armchair; looking at the young man almost as if hoping Frank might come up with something that could somehow explain, maybe even excuse, Adam’s outrageous behavior. “Frank, what happened?”

“He tried to talk some sense into him!” Simmons felt it incumbent on himself to answer. “And he helped simmer everybody down before things went really out of hand!”

“It was the only thing I could do.” Frank raised his hands and let them fall again. “Ben, I’m sorry. I really tried to talk to him, just like the deputy tried, but… you know him.”

“Oh yes, I do!” Ben nodded his head, his brow furrowed, his lips a sharp line, betraying that by now he was livid with rage. How could Adam possibly dare to stand up against his own father like that? And shooting at their very own neighbors? He and Simmons had been friends for years; they had been one voice in the Cattlemen’s Association ever since it existed!

“Ben…” Frank hesitated. “I know what it means to have those sheep on your land, and I know what I promised you and Dad… I mean…” He collected himself. “Ah, forget it, you have other things on your mind now…”

“What is it, Frank?” Ben scanned him more closely. “Come on, boy, out with it!”

An almost embarrassed smile glided over Frank’s face. “I just mean… it seems that my father was a bit disappointed in me lately and it almost feels like I’ve failed him again now, when you and he have been friends for so long. It… it would be nice if you could tell him that I just did my best…”

“Aw, Frank” In spite of the fury boiling inside him, Ben placed his hand on Frank’s shoulder. “I’m sure your father is not disappointed in you. Why should he? He’s just a bit gruff at times, he’s always been that way. But I’ll talk to him, from father to father!”

“And so will I!” Simmons sounded off. “Besides, Clem and me didn’t get any further with Adam, either. And you prevented a shootout. You did the right thing!”

“Thanks…” Frank gratefully looked from one to another and then spotted Little Joe coming out of the kitchen, balancing a coffee pot and several dangerously unstable piles of cups. “Hey, Joe, let me help you!”

“Thanks, Frank.” Joe gladly accepted the help and unloaded half of the cups into Frank’s hands. Together, they began to serve coffee all around.

“Prescott!” Ben scurried over to the rancher who just had gotten his shoulder bandaged. “I cannot even start to tell you how terribly sorry I am! Please accept my sincere apologies!”

“Wasn’t your fault, Mister Cartwright.” The scrawny rancher tried to put his shirt back on and Ben carefully assisted. “That wouldn’t have happened had you been around.”

“Certainly not!” Ben’s face darkened again. To think that this man had done the neighborly thing and risked his own life to get those blasted sheep off Ponderosa land – and then received a bullet from the son of the man he had tried to help! What had Adam been thinking? Whatever reasons he might have thought he had, there just was NO excuse for that!

“What’re you going to do now, Ben?” Simmons asked. “That boy of yours seems to think he’s the boss.”

“What I’m going to do?” Ben rose to his full height, his hands thrust to his hips. “Talk some sense into that wayward son of mine and set his head straight! It seems to me he needs a reminder about who’s running this ranch! Joseph! Saddle my horse!”

“Yes, Sir…” For one moment it seemed as if Joe wanted to say something more, but one look into his father’s irate face silenced him. Uncomfortably pulling up his shoulders, he left the house.

Ben marched to the credenza and put his gun belt on, turning to the crowd in the room. “Where are those sheep now?”

“Little west of the Oxbow Creek,” Frank Miller replied. “Maybe a mile from the water hole there.”

Ben’s face clouded even more as he drew an angry breath. If those sheep got to the water hole… But Adam probably would have sense enough to prevent at least that. If he had not completely lost his mind…

“I won’t blame anyone of you who doesn’t want to ride with me now after what happened to you,” he began, but didn’t get any further as everyone hastened to assure him of their assistance. And of course it was Simmons again who was loudest.

“Of course we’ll ride with you! It’s a neighborly thing to do, and you would do the same thing for each one of us. Ain’t I right, men?”

Several voices rose in the affirmation.

“William, you better stay here, you can’t ride with your ankle.” Ben turned down Simmons’ half-hearted protest. “Bill, you stay with Mister Simmons and if he wants to go home, take the buggy and drive him! Prescott, you…”

“I can ride, Mister Cartwright! And I have a bone to pick with those sheep!”

A grim smile stole over Ben’s lips, but it faded when he remembered that Prescott had lost two of his hands during one of the earlier shootouts on the open range when the sheep men had first arrived in the area. “We all have.”

He put on his hat and opened the door.

* * *

“Ho!” Adam pulled up the team and sighed. Once again the bleating sheep had crossed the path of the chuck wagon, threatening to get in the horses’ way, even under the high wheels of the vehicle. Rolling his eyes, he bowed from the seat to check on the wheels to see if he had accidently hit one of the critters. The bleating did sound a lot like something was amiss, but then they had been bleating with no pause ever since they had been set in motion. At least the dog had stopped barking, somewhere behind at the end of the stretched out flock.

“Just drive on, shabaro!” Esma called from afar, her rough, loud voice carrying her laughter over the distance. “They won’t get under the hooves and they won’t get under the wheels! They’re used to it!”

“Yah.” Adam twisted his mouth and dared a slight shake of the reins. The two small horses pulled on and the chuck wagon creaked in every joint, indicating that it was badly in need of some touching up. From the corner of his eye he regarded Mariah who was tied to the outer braces of the seat, looking like she was wading through a heap of wool. Somewhere inside of him the thought rose up that there could be no more wonderful thing but to sit in the saddle and canter alongside a big herd of cattle…

A long bleat sounded up right behind him from the inside of the wagon. The children had managed to secure their wounded ewe a passage there as it was in no shape to run with the flock. Very much like himself who lastly had had difficulties to even stay on his legs without wavering. Adam grudgingly admitted that his leisure place on the driver’s seat helped a lot to ease his exhaustion.

“Well, Daisy…” Raising one eyebrow, he nudged the team to a steadier walk. “Little minds are tamed and subdued by misfortune, but great minds rise above them! Washington Irving. You should read some of his writings if you find the time.”

An even longer bleat was the sole answer.

Adam sighed again, his eyes gliding over the flock until they caught themselves on Lilyah who walked along some distance away, holding a shepherd’s crook that Esma had given her. It was almost bigger than she, yet the smile that this lovely sight brought on his lips didn’t last for long and all his attempts to lighten himself up failed.

They were going straight into a trap.

Pressing his lips together, Adam scanned across the boulders they were passing by. They seemed to come closer and closer, the nearer they got to the small valley Esma had in mind to refresh her flock. Adam knew the place well since he and his family used to water their horses there before heading out for the open range. The boulders would come closer, so close indeed that in the end there would be only a relatively small passage into the tiny gorge squashed between steep mountain slopes. Once the flock was in there, a few armed men at the passage would do to keep anyone from getting out of there again.

Adam drew a deep breath. There was no other choice. Malnourished and critically dehydrated as they were, the sheep were badly in need of the little feed and all the water the small valley could provide. They simply wouldn’t last for long enough to allow seeking out another suitable place. Adam had watched Esma butchering a few of the shot animals to save at least some of the meat, and it had been a sorry sight. After crossing the barren plains and the dried out ranges for so long, always being chased off from every chance to get sufficiently fed, there wasn’t much meat left on their bones.

Restlessly shifting on his seat, Adam once again fought down his inward nervousness. Of course one could argue with Esma’s audacity to drive her flock where ever she saw fit, but who could blame her? She would have had every right to graze them on the open range and had been driven away time and again. And it seemed she had lost a lot more on the trail than just the majority of her sheep.

Adam concentrated his attention on the team again to carefully steer the chuck wagon around a giant boulder that lay directly in the way. The sheep had come closer again, many almost being pressed against the wagon due to the narrowing passage. Their constant bleating swelled to a queer concert as they eagerly followed Esma who now walked ahead, leading a big ram along. From his high seat it actually looked like there was a sea of wool between them and he could barely make out the ground he was driving across. Somewhere from behind, the dog started barking again. The passage leading up to the small valley more and more resembled a canyon.

“Adam!” Lilyah’s call interrupted his pondering and he turned his head to watch her making her way through the sheep. The sight softened his lips, smoothed his brow that had been furrowed in thought. Yet he raised an eyebrow as he realized that she was carrying her Indian bow and the quiver of arrows over her shoulder. He had not seen it before.

“Adam, you’re alright?” She had reached the wagon and probed for a handhold to climb up to him. The big shepherd’s crook proved to be a hindrance and she seemed a bit insecure how to best wrap her robes. As elegantly as she used to handle them when mounting a horse, she couldn’t avoid stepping on a seam when trying to get up to his seat. To top it off, bow and quiver slid from her shoulder and got in the way of everything.

“I’m alright.” Adam reached down to secure crook, bow and quiver and helped her up. “Tired of walking, my gallant Artemis?” A soft laughter swung in his voice, his initial discomfort upon seeing her carrying the weapon vanishing.

“No…” She barely squatted at the edge of the seat, turning around to him to worriedly look him over. “Chai’s getting restless, I think he’d better be with Mariah. And I wanted to make sure you are well.”

“I’m just fine,” he assured. “Honestly. It helped a lot to be able to rest my legs a little.”

“That’s good.” She softly brushed over his cheek and smiled when he breathed a little kiss on her lips. “You really needed some rest. And you’ll soon have a good, warm meal. Esma told me she’s got a stew that just needs warming up. And she even has sweet pie!” Her smile intensified while a visibly pleasing thought crossed her mind. “It seems all shepherds make sweet pie, no matter where they are in the world.”

Adam steered the wagon around another crag. “What exactly is sweet pie?”

“It’s mutton fat with raisins, dates, fruit peels and spices,” she explained.

“Sounds absolutely delicious…” His face betrayed the good-natured irony as he regarded her with a sidelong glance.

She gave him a playful tap. “You should taste it before you start mocking. It’s very good and very nutritious! It will give you back your strength…” She broke off, her brow crinkling. “But I don’t think they have dates here in America…”

“No.” Adam pulled a serious face. “And I think that’s a real problem here. You simply cannot make sweet pie without dates. It’s just not the same.”

“Marfa sometimes used figs…” Her eyes widened. “Oh, you! You didn’t even know what it was!”

Adam started laughing and put his arm around her shoulder. “Get a better seat, love, it’s getting a little rough now! Hep! Go, guys!” He shook the reins to urge the team across a more rocky ascent in the path which caused the creaking chuck wagon to swing and teeter like a vessel on a dark, stormy sea. Feeling Lilyah’s arm clasping at him for a hold warmed his heart.

There was another point to the small gorge – as easily as it could be sealed off from outside, it was as easily defendable from the inside. One man would be enough to protect the narrow access while everyone and everything inside would be safe from any attack. It would give him time to work out an amiable solution with his father and no overzealous gun slinger would be able to cause any harm.

“Oh, Adam, look!” Lilyah rose in her seat. “Isn’t it so wonderful to watch?”

“Yah…” Adam couldn’t quite prevent a vague notion of uneasiness as he watched the bleating flood pouring into the small valley, running for the sparse grass, running for the shallow water hole that was only a third of the size it used to be. The drought had severely diminished the fertility of the gorge and it wouldn’t carry a flock of about 300 half-starved sheep for much longer than a day or two. Adam dared not imagine what the place might look like after all those hungry bellies were filled.

“Adam?” Lilyah looked up to him, still nestled into his side, his arm around her shoulder.

“It’s nothing.” He kissed her hair, his eyes searching for hers. “You like what you see, hm?”

“Oh, yes…” A little smile played around her lips as she looked over the grazing sheep. “I think it’s a herder’s thing you never really get out of you… or maybe just a desert thing. It’s such a good feeling when you’ve found a good grazing spot and then watch the hungry animals eat.” A soft laugh broadened her smile. “Look at the little ones! They’re already checking on their mamas for milk.”

Adam smiled, one finger softly caressing her cheek. He could have spent hours just looking at her, watching her dark velvet eyes shine with so much happiness. It took him some effort to pick up the reins again to drive the vehicle to a spot at the end of the valley, opposite the entrance. Their solitude wouldn’t have lasted anyway, as the children noisily entered the wagon to provide their wounded ewe with freshly plucked grass.

“Ho, shabaro!” Esma approached the wagon as he pulled the brakes. “Not bad for a cowboy!”

Adam laughed and climbed off the seat. “You probably won’t believe me, Esma, but I’ve driven a buckboard before… one or two times or so.” He reached up to lift Lilyah from the wagon.

Esma chuckled and proceeded to unharness the team, calling over her shoulder, “Pico, you gather firewood! Ruby, you care for the fire and prepare the coffee!”

“Yes, Grandma!” The answer came in two voices from the inside of the wagon.

“I can prepare the fire!” Lilyah offered. “I’ll just unsaddle Chai… my horse.”

“Very good, child!”

Lilyah smiled and turned to Adam. “I can care for Mariah, as well. You should sit down and wait for the meal.”

“No. I’ll need to ride her in a little while so I’ll keep her under saddle for the time being. I don’t think it’ll take long for the posse to arrive now.” Adam squinted at the passage. “And I guess I better stand watch.”

Lilyah was about to protest, but Esma’s voice cut in. “You’d better sit down and eat, shabaro, or you won’t be able to climb up on your big horse. Titus can stand watch.”

“Esma…” Adam rolled his eyes. “Titus is a dog…”

“Hopla!” The old woman gave one of her horses a slap so it strolled off. “Now isn’t it funny? All these years we’ve believed him to be a bear. Good thing you’ve happened along, cowboy! Titus! Go and stand guard!”

Adam opened his mouth and closed it again, watching the dog eagerly limping off into the direction of the passage, as if the animal knew that this was the only spot someone could come through.

Slightly dumbfounded, he allowed Lilyah to gently usher him to where Ruby was preparing the fireplace.

* * *

“They’re gone! Mister Cartwright, they’re gone!”

“Yes, I see.” Ben pulled up his buckskin, darkly glowering over the scene in front of him. It was a depressing sight, dead sheep scattered across dried out, battered ground, dirtied white lumps in the long shadows of the surrounding rocks. There used to be some little grass in this area, but none of it was left. The drought had cracked the earth, leaving its ugly marks beneath a layer of dust. Merely a few greyish shrubs were still fighting for survival, their brittle branches clasping to the rocks and boulders as if hoping for at least some protection from the burning heat that still was baking the ground, even though the sun had almost disappeared behind the horizon.

“Told you he would chase them off!” a frantic voice snapped from somewhere in the background. “Now they’re on the open range again!”

“Nonsense!” Clem Foster had ridden ahead and turned his horse, pointing into the hills. “They’ve been this way – deeper into Ponderosa land! Tracks are clear to be seen.”

Ben looked in the given direction, noticing from the corner of his eye that Little Joe had opened his mouth and closed it again. It bristled him, incensed his anger even more. It was quite clear to him what his youngest had noticed and decided to keep back, almost as if hoping no one else would catch it.

“They’re headed for the water hole.” There was a dark growl in his voice, but also a deep resignation, the sinister acknowledgment of a man who had just realized that things have turned out much worse than he had feared. He had hoped to the last minute that Adam wouldn’t do it, wouldn’t push him that far, would not take a stand against his own father, his own family so openly, so brazenly, so impertinently.

“Maybe not.” Frank Miller had halted his horse next to Ben. “Adam knows as well as all of us how important the water hole is for both the Ponderosa and the Miller ranch. We also need the valley to keep the replacement horses there when we work on the range. I’m positive he’s made sure those sheep won’t touch it.”

Joe drew a sharp breath, for one moment a wave of anger glided over his face as he shot a reproachful look at young Miller. But then his brow rose as he contemplated the words. “Pa, he may be right. Adam could’ve made sure they swerve into the mountains. He knows this area better than anyone else!”

“Into the mountains…” Ben scoffed. “And then what?”

Joe bit his lip. He had no answer for this.

“We should burn the cadavers!” Ben raised his voice so that everyone could hear him. “That’s the only way to prevent any infections from spreading about.”

“But take care to not touch any of them with your bare hands!” Frank Miller called out. “Use cloths or branches to move them and then burn the stuff along with them!” He cast a suddenly apologetic look at Ben. “Sorry, Ben, but…”

“No, no,” Ben swiftly cut in. “You’re absolutely right. We cannot be cautious enough about it.” He gave the young man a favourable nod. “It’s good you thought of it.”

Frank returned the nod and dismounted, heading for one of the shrubs to break off a big branch with grim eagerness.

Little Joe hesitated, but then maneuvered his horse close to his father’s. “Pa, I think… I hope you’ll listen to what Adam has to say before you… uhm, I mean, just hear what’s his take on this…”

“Oh, yes, I will!” Ben stressed every single word, his voice rumbling like growling thunder. “You can be sure that I will!”

Joe inadvertently pulled in his head. It wasn’t the first time this day that he wished he had accompanied Hoss to the lumber camp up north.

“Well, young man?” A trace of mockery mingled with the rumbling. “Wouldn’t you just think it appropriate to assist the men in cleaning those cadavers from our land?”

“Yes, Sir…” Joe hastened to get off his horse.

Ben heaved a grumbling breath and dismounted, to work at the forefront of everybody else, even harder than everybody else, all the while thinking if he just had done this from the very beginning, those blasted sheep would have long been gone. All of them. But he had been slack on the reins, negligent even with his responsibilities, and this was the outcome.

And with every cadaver he dragged to the pile, his anger grew.

* * *