67. The Standoff 

“Oh, thank you, Ruby.” Adam gave the girl an absent-minded smile as she spooned another portion of stew onto his plate. He had devoured his first like he had not eaten anything in days; not even the distinct odor of the nearby ram had spoilt his appetite. Each bite had revived his fatigued body, and the strong, black coffee had done its own to restore his tiring senses. He felt much better now – and a whole lot more able to face the encounter that lay before him. Once again his eyes glided over the darkening valley to the passage at the other side, laying in the shades of the surrounding hillsides. The last deep orange rays of the setting sun could be seen on top of the mountains, yet the moon had already begun to rise.

His attempts to listen for any unusual sounds that might betray the expected posse, however, were slightly hampered by the constant bleating. Particularly the ewe inside the wagon proved to have astonishing endurance in letting out a loud bleat every other minute, with quite a lot of the sheep outside eager to answer each one of them. Adam tried not to grimace when another such bleat exchange sounded up, trying to reassure himself that at least the dog would make himself heard.

“Eat in peace, shabaro,” Esma casually remarked while stuffing a pipe with a long, bent stem. Comfortably leaning against the dead trunk of a tree, she looked even more massive in sitting than she did in standing. Her big, golden earrings shimmered in the shine of the fireplace, evoking the image of an old gipsy woman. “Everything in this life has its own time, and everything will come as it comes without your fretting.”

“Uhm…” He drew the air through his teeth, a lop-sided, slightly exasperated grin stealing over his lips. “I’m not fretting. I’d just think we should be prepared.”

“We are prepared.” Pursing her lips, she lit her pipe, puffing up little clouds of smoke. “We’ve always been.”

Adam couldn’t help a sidelong glance at the old shotgun that leaned against one of the high wheels, well in her reach, doubtlessly ready to shoot. “Oh, I don’t think there will be any problems. My father will be with those men this time, and he owns this land. I’ll talk to him; I’m sure we can work out a good solution that will be acceptable for both sides.”

He suddenly felt a strange discomfort. Esma’s black eyes rested on him while she puffed her pipe, but she didn’t say a word. Nonetheless, it almost was as if he could hear the unspoken question. So why are you fretting?

“Thanks, Lil…” Adam took the coffee cup from Lilyah’s hands and caught a glimpse of her small face. The little worry line between her brows was telling enough and it occurred to him that she had barely spoken a word throughout the meal. She surely was exhausted, having been in the saddle all day, and the encounter with Simmons’ posse doubtless had distressed her.

“Well…” He soldiered on. “My father sure is a stubborn man, quite thick-headed at times, but he’s not unreasonable. And there’s no logical reason why those sheep shouldn’t cut through our land. No one’s ever been turned away from the Ponderosa.” He took a sip of his coffee and continued to eat, his own words echoing on in his mind, like hollow fragments thrown off the steep mountain walls. He could have made them sound a little more convincing, more reassuring…

“Where are you headed?” he asked between two bites, steering away from the subject that increasingly made him feel like he was walking on thin ice.

“Oh…” Esma let out another puff. “California perhaps, or maybe Oregon. It doesn’t really matter as long as we find good grazing grounds.”

“And free air to breathe!” Ruby chimed in. “That’s what Grandpa always said.”

“That’s right.” Esma smiled.

“And I will find the best grazing spots along the way!” Pico blurted out with his mouth full, hastily using his hand to keep bits of stew from following his words. “Because I’m a real good scout, one of the best in the world!” He puffed himself up. “I’ve found this water hole here, didn’t I, Grandma?”

“Pah!” Ruby gave him a haughty look. “You stumbled over it when you ran from those cowboys. And you’re spitting your food again, talking with your mouth full!”

“I didn’t ran from them!” the boy flew up. “I outsmarted them and led them astray, and then I doubled back and found the water. Grandpa taught me all the tricks! Didn’t he, Grandma?”

Esma chuckled. “You sure learned a lot from him. Both of you did.” Her eyes glided from one child to the other. “And he surely is so proud of you, knowing his flock is in the best of hands.”

“Oh, yes!” Both children beamed, their faces shining in the flickering light of the campfire.

“And we’ll bring Grandpa’s ram to the good lands!” Ruby spoke the words like a great vow. “Like we promised Grandpa!”

“Yes!!” Pico nodded his head and turned to Adam. “It’s the best ram in the world! He’s worth more than a million dollars! And when we’re on good land, he’ll make thousands of lambs and more and we’ll have the biggest flock in the world, all happy, fat and woolly!”

Adam raised an eyebrow and gave the boy a sidelong glance. “A million dollars?”

“Sure!” Pico affirmed with great imperative. “Grandpa always said he wouldn’t sell him for a million dollars, so he must be worth much more than that. Isn’t he, Grandma?”

Esma laughed, albeit not without a trace of melancholy. “He can’t be measured in money, Pico. Nothing you love and believe in can.” Turning to Adam and Lilyah, she continued, “My Goran had dreamt for a long, long time to have such a ram, and just three years ago, he finally bred him. That ram was the apple of his eye.”

“Oh, I understand.” Lilyah smiled. “It’s just the same in horse breeding. Once you have a stallion that has it all, you wouldn’t trade him for his weight in gold. They are one in a thousand.”

“Is that more than a million, Grandma?” Pico demanded to know.

“In this case, it’s just about the same, darling. It’s the happiness that counts when big dreams fly so much higher than any numbers can ever reach.”

Adam quietly listened and continued eating, almost glad for the conversation distracting his mind from thoughts he dreaded to explore; glad for the little smile it had brought on Lilyah’s serene features. He knew so well that she was worried sick, but he also knew that there wasn’t much he could do about it. Once more he swallowed the question of what had happened to the grandfather, to not disturb the fragile atmosphere of peace and comfort hovering around the campfire, to not summon the hazards that lurked outside the pastoral scenery. He didn’t want to ask about it with the children around, as the answer was quite predictable. After all, it wasn’t very likely that they had started out with only an old woman, two grandchildren and an unfortunate drifter called Manolito – whom they had hired a mere four weeks before. Talking about it would also distress Lilyah even more. She shouldn’t worry so much… Adam bit his lip, but his brow eased when Lilyah’s hand glided on his arm, tenderly brushing over his sleeve. His gaze fell on her small fingers and the ghost of a smile stole over his face. As usual, she wore no rings, in striking contrast to her lavish array of other jewelry. The reason was most likely that she didn’t want any rings getting in the way of handling the reins while riding. He would have to take that into account when getting her his ring…

The sharp barking of the dog sounding up from the passage put an end to his thoughts. Esma let out a loud wolf-whistle and the barking stopped.

Adam swiftly put down his bowl and got to his feet. “Lil, you stay here with Esma. It’s better when I talk to him alone first.”

“Adam…” She had gotten up, as had the children and Esma.

“Please, Lil, there’s no time!” Adam curtly grasped her shoulders. “I know what I said, but there are all the other men. Just stay with Esma!” He gently squeezed her shoulders and turned around. “Esma, you have an eye on her. Mariah!”

The mare immediately trotted up to him. She was still saddled and bridled – unlike Chai whom Adam had unsaddled himself, with the unspoken intention to keep Lilyah from following him.

Lilyah unhappily watched as he fastened his loosened girth and mounted. Before she even got another word out, he had nudged the mare into a canter and dashed off.

Esma stepped next to her. “That father of his… he doesn’t approve of you, am I right?”

For one moment Lilyah didn’t react, her eyes glued to Adam who now changed the mare’s gait to a gallop, with the sheep jumping out of his way left and right. It was quite reckless to charge through the valley like this, betraying his hurry to reach the passage. But then her brow wrinkled as the words finally got through.

“How… how do you know?” She cast the old woman a bewildered look before she turned her attention to the entrance of the passage again. It was only little more than a furlong away, but the beginning twilight and the shadows of the rocks made it hard to see any details. The urge to call Chai and ride after Adam was tremendous. But, hadn’t her ignoring his word got him into trouble before? Forced him to stand up against armed men? Shouldn’t she do better now, being his devoted wife? And how would Esma react if she tried to follow him? After Adam had asked her to look after her?

“I guessed as much.” Esma bowed down to pat the dog that came limping up to her. “It’s just so often the case when a young man like this marries outside of his own kind.”

Lilyah cast her another short look, her brow furrowing. “And you think this is wrong?” There was a distinct challenge in her voice.

Esma chuckled. “My Goran was such a young man, child. And in all our 42 happy years of marriage, we never found anything wrong with it.”

Lilyah’s lips parted as she looked up to the old woman’s face, for one moment the ghost of a smile showed in her eyes.

“And do you know what I’ve learned in 42 years of being married to a real good man?” Esma went on.

“No…” Lilyah’s attention was more drawn to the passage again. She feared for Adam.

“Don’t listen to everything they say!”

Lilyah flew around, watching with widening eyes as Esma took her shotgun. She saw the smirk on the weathered face and her own features brightened as she flew around again.

“Chai!”

* * *

Adam rapidly pulled up his mare in the middle of the long winding passage that led up to the entrance of the gorge. He had arrived just in time, spotting two riders cantering up the slope as if they were eager to be the first ones storming into the small valley. The sound of many fast approaching hooves indicated that the rest of the posse was not far behind.

“Go, girl!” He hurriedly urged Mariah up a rocky advance from which he could overlook the whole passage and would be in a position to stop anyone trying to get through. The next moment, his voice cut loud and sharp through the air. “Hold your horses right there!”

The two riders came to a sliding halt, but left no doubt that this was not meant to be much more than a temporary pause.

“He ain’t got the right to call us off!”

“Just get past him!”

“I wouldn’t try that!” Adam had pulled his gun, making sure the barrel could be seen. The clearly audible click of the hammer being cocked also helped to greatly diminish the men’s determination to storm ahead. Visibly thrown off track, they turned in the saddle to look for their peers arriving on the scene.

“ADAM!” Ben Cartwright’s thundering voice easily drowned the noise of about two dozen horses being pulled up and scrambling to a halt. “Put your gun away and come down here!”

Adam did not move, merely his eyes narrowed. His father’s first words – a bellowed command. And how sobering to realize that deep down, he wasn’t even much surprised. Biting down the sarcastic remark that jumped on his tongue, he curbed his temper.

“I think we should talk first!”

“With a GUN in your hand?” Ben hollered back, almost standing in the stirrups, his eyes piercing through the twilight to try and get a look at his son’s face. In spite of his seething fury, his worry for his boy still got the upper hand. Adam shouldn’t be out of bed, let alone in the saddle. Inadvertently yanking the reins and causing his buckskin to dance, Ben tried to make out a path up to the crag on which Adam had taken position. But there was none, the crag fell off steeply for nearly three yards on the posse’s side. No one could get up there so easily. “You put that gun away, Adam, and you come DOWN HERE so that I can have a look at you, and THEN we can talk! In private!”

Adam curtly regarded the two riders that still were a couple of yards in front of the others, just waiting for a chance to break through. From his place on the crag he had them well in his shooting range – an advantage he would lose the minute he left that spot. His reply came loud and cutting. “I’m sorry, Pa, but that is not an option!”

Ben literally fell back in the saddle, his lips forming a sharp downward arc. Adam was apparently just fine, sitting straight on his big horse on top of that crag, above everybody else. He still held the gun in his hand, most visibly and provokingly so, as if his father’s order was of no importance for him. Ben sharply drew the air through his nose and felt his anger rising again. “ADAM! This is NOT the time and place for any games and I’m NOT going to discuss this matter in public! You do as I told you, and I’ll be willing to listen to what you’ve got to say!” Raising his voice, he thundered, “But you come down here or else there will be NO talking!”

“And then what?” Adam felt his own anger simmering inside. How often had he backed down at such a moment before, how often had he swallowed his pride and curbed his tongue? Too often… “Fighting it out with the gun?”

Ben rose in the saddle, his forefinger shooting forward. “Son, you are NOT to disobey me!!”

Adam blew a mirthless laugh, his eyes narrowed to slits. “But I am, and I will.” He raised his voice to a sharp loudness. “So I’d suggest you just calm down and talk to me man to man. Now!”

Ben’s mouth fell open, he could not trust his ears. What was wrong with that son of his, seemingly hell bent to fight against his own father? Dragging it all out in the open, instead of keeping it in the family? His gaze fell to his left where Little Joe crouched in the saddle, not looking up, awkwardly picking around in his pinto’s mane. Frank Miller on his right hand gave him a deeply sympathetic look. Clem Foster avoided his gaze and looked very much as if he wished himself far away. Ben got a glimpse of the other men’s faces, saw some of them exchanging looks with each other. He swallowed down the disappointment, the humiliation. Drawing a deep breath, he straightened his back, his eyes shooting flashes at his eldest.

“Alright! Alright, if you wish so, let’s talk! Did you shoot at our neighbors and chase them off our land at gunpoint? Even after knowing that they were there on MY BEHALF?”

Adam sighed, half shaking his head. He knew that routine all too well. His father didn’t ask those questions to get any answers, but merely to get the respondent to admit that he’d done something wrong. “Pa…”

“DID YOU or did you NOT?” Ben propped out his chin, his eyes glowering. “And did you shoot at Mister Prescott here who volunteered to HELP US get those sheep off our land? An honest, hardworking man who sacrificed his spare time to do the neighborly thing and help prevent further damage being done to OUR land? And you SHOT at him? DID YOU?”

“Methinks you’re already in on all the gory details.” Adam couldn’t prevent his sarcasm tainting his words; and yet he preferred his sarcasm to shine through rather than his hurt at realizing that his father was still not seeing him as an equal – but merely as a disobedient boy that had to be put in his place. “So I’d say we skip that part and get to the core of the matter.”

Ben’s eyes nearly bulged from their sockets. “How dare you? How DARE you talk to me like that?” His forefinger stabbed forward, waving through the air to accentuate every word. “Now you listen to me, young man, and you listen good! I’m still your father, you’re still my son, and when I ask you a question, I expect you to answer it! AND I’m NOT putting up with that disrespect of yours ANY LONGER!”

“So what are you going to do? Tan me?” Adam tried what he could to keep his growing anger at bay, to not lose his temper. Leaning forward in the saddle, he went on before his father had a chance to shoot off a reply, “Now let me ask you a question for a change. Would you just tell me why on earth you’re sending a mob of triggerhappy dimwits after a harmless flock of sheep?”

“A… MOB?” Ben’s hands clutched the reins as he stared at his eldest son. “You have the IMPERTINENCE to call OUR friends and neighbors a MOB??”

“Yes, I have the impertinence to call our friends and neighbors a mob!” Adam scoffed in a biting lampoonery, his eyes had narrowed to slits. “Because that’s just what they behaved like. And that it was you on whose behalf they were acting wasn’t particularly uplifting to learn about.”

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that my order didn’t meet your approval!” Ben sarcastically shot back. “And still it wasn’t yours to go against it. NOR is it yours to call these good men ‘triggerhappy dimwits! Adam, that’s PREPOSTEROUS!! The men had every right to be there, and you should’ve asked ME before taking things in your own hands! That way you probably would’ve learned they were there for a REASON!”

“Shooting other people’s sheep?” Adam sharply asked. “I’m sorry, but I cannot see any justification for that!”

“Are you joshing me?” Ben shook his head in sheer disbelief. “Adam, haven’t you spared ONE thought of what those sheep are DOING to our land?”

“They graze on it?”

“They were trespassing!” The ironic undertone in his son’s voice drove Ben’s blood to boiling temperature, his hand went gesticulating through the air again. “Do you expect me to twiddle my thumbs and just look on while they eat our land bare?”

“Pa, you’re exaggerating – as always!”

“Exagg…” Ben nearly choked on the word. “HOW DARE YOU talk to me like THAT?”

“Oh come on!” Adam felt his own anger threatening to get the better of him. “I just dare, get over it! Maybe you try and come up with some solid arguments for a change instead of throwing around hackneyed phrases!”

Ben hissed through his teeth, nearly trembling inside. The whole situation increasingly felt like a nightmare that could not be real. He couldn’t believe it was Adam who had so brazenly taken the high ground on top of that crag, a gun in his hand, snapping at his own father in such an outrageous manner, in front of everybody listening. He couldn’t believe it had come this far. He and Adam had had arguments before, but never, not ever, had his eldest son questioned his authority like this. He tried to read his son’s face, but the twilight made it hard to see any details; and the brim of Adam’s hat shadowed his features.

“So you want arguments!” Ben shouted, his face a mask of frozen fury. “I’d never thought I would have to explain it to you, SON, but I’ll give you arguments! The Ponderosa is not open for every scavenger passing by to pillage! Maybe you think it’s alright for any sheep herder to ruin the land and then move on, but not I. Adam, not I!! I built this ranch, I cleared this land, I worked it ’til my hands cracked open and the sweat blinded my eyes, I planted that grass and with the Lord’s help it grew, and I’m not going to let any sheep turn this land to DUST! Is THAT argument enough for you?”

“No,” Adam retorted and went on before his father could explode. “With all due respect, but I’m hard pressed to see how a rather small flock of roughly 300 sheep could turn a spread the size of the Ponderosa to dust. In case you’ve forgotten, sheep are those relatively small woolly animals that go baaa, smaller even than young calves – and not the gargantuan firebreathing monsters from hell you seem to have discussed during your meetings with the Cattlemen’s Association.”

Ben grew pale with anger. “Adam, I’ve told you before and I tell you again, I’m NOT going to accept your brazen sarcasm! And I’m NOT…”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to!” Adam snapped back, forcing himself to keep his hands still – the one that still held the gun and the one cramped around his reins. Inhaling slowly and lengthily, he tried to calm down his inward tension. “And your argument falls flat in its glaring discrepancy between the number of sheep and the size of the land. You should come up with something more substantial!”

“MORE SUBSTANTIAL?? HOW D…” Ben broke off and swallowed the rest of his words, realizing that he was repeating himself, almost spitting out the same words again that had already provoked his son’s mockery before. The buckskin began stomping nervously beneath him and he angrily reined him in, unable to prevent the gelding from dancing half a circle and bumping into Joe’s pinto. At the same time he noticed with some vexation that Adam’s huge mare stood calm and proud on top of that crag, like a massive statue wrought of shimmering copper. Squinting his eyes, Ben forced himself to calm down.

“Adam, I’m NOT obliged to discuss ANY of MY decisions with you, as I’m STILL running this ranch as I see fit, and this includes what I will ALLOW on this land and what not!” His face crunched to a fist, his eyes nailed his son at the spot. “But let me recall some things for you that you’ve obviously FORGOTTEN about. There’s a DROUGHT on the land, pasture is sparse and limited, ranchers all over the Comstock are DESPERATELY fighting for SURVIVAL – and you expect us to give up our precious land to feed a herd of sheep that some unscrupulous, scavenging drifters drive wherever they see fit??”

An approving murmur came from the men around him that up to then had followed the heated exchange in silence.

“Hear, hear!” Prescott called out.

Adam did not look at the scrawny rancher, he looked at his father who now sat back in the saddle as if there was no doubt that his latest words had successfully grounded every counterargument his son could come up with.

“I’ve not forgotten about the drought,” Adam finally said, wondering inside at how calm his voice sounded. “I was reminded of it once more after cutting through the open range today…” His baritone rose in volume. “The open range where those sheep would have every legal right to graze – but cannot because your herd of 900 head of cattle, if I may borrow your overly dramatic phrasing from before, are just turning the land to dust!”

Ben’s eyes flashed in anger. “Now are we at that again?”

“Yeah, we’re at that again!” Adam shouted back. “Because it all goes together. But neither the severity of the drought nor your mismanagement of pasture capacity gives you the moral justification to destroy other people’s livestock!”

Ben pulled back as if he’d gotten a slap to his face. “You DARE accuse ME of… of MISMANAGEMENT?”

“I’m not accusing you, I’m stating a fact!” Adam sat very straight in the saddle. “You’ve overstocked with your recent cattle purchases and now it backfires. And you do have your 900 head on the open range right now, preventing any other livestock from grazing there.”

“Adam…” Frank Miller hesitantly threw in while Ben still fought for words. “Your father’s not overstocking. Sure, he bought a lot of cattle, just as my father did, but they have the land for it. It’s just normal business to go over the capacity for a little while. And no one here minds the Ponderosa herd on the open range, the land can recover from cattle. But sheep are a different matter entirely.”

Murmurs of approval sounded up in the posse.

“Frank…” Ben had to take another deep breath to fight down his temper. “Frank, I know you mean well, but this is between Adam and me!”

“Sorry, Ben.” Frank half shrugged his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to meddle, I just thought an unbiased view might help somewhat. It’s hard to watch you so at odds with each other, when you should really stand together.”

“Yes, we should…” Ben heavily nodded his head, feeling a painful stab inside. His brow darkened as he bestowed a sinister look on his eldest. “Adam, whatever your views on my ability to run this ranch, it has nothing to do with those sheep right now, and you know it!” He paused, almost as if hoping his son would retract his words. But Adam remained silent and Ben continued, even more aggravated than before, “Those critters will ruin what little is left from the land, their stench alone makes it unsuitable for cattle. AND in case you’ve forgotten about it, they have anthrax and every day they are left roaming about enhances the risk of infecting OUR livestock!”

“Do you have a valid proof for this?” Adam cocked his head, no muscle moving in his face to betray his inner thoughts. “Apart from this telegraph from the sheriff of Lobdells who most likely acted in the interest of his cattle ranching family?”

“You’re putting the LAW in question?” Ben bellowed. “Without even having SEEN this telegraph?”

“I’ve seen the sheep!” Adam retorted. “And I’ve still got sense enough to smell a cock-and-bull story when I come upon one. It’s not the law I put in question, but the qualification of a sheriff to diagnose diseases in livestock. Show me a veterinarian examination report and I’m more likely to take it seriously.” He saw his father open his mouth and added with an acidic tone, “And while we’re talking about cock-and-bull stories, that rumour of sheep odor driving cattle away is ridiculous gossip.”

“That’s enough already!” Ben was fuming, fighting to keep his hands from swishing through the air, lest his buckskin would get even more skittish. “Adam, I don’t know what’s driving you to such unconscionable behaviour, causing you to take a stand against your own family, but I’m done with these fruitless discussions once and for all!” He rose in the saddle. “Those sheep are in there?”

Adam tensed. “They are in there. But, our discussion is not over yet!”

“Oh, yes, it is over!” Ben retorted. “I’m NOT going to put up with your disrespect any longer, son! Nor with your disloyalty, allowing those sheep in there when you know how important that waterhole is!” He did not let his son get a word in, shouting on even louder, “And if you don’t care about the damage done to the Ponderosa, I can’t help it, but, and the Lord is my witness, I WON’T sit idle and watch those sheep ruin the land! I’ll DO something about it!”

“You haven’t even listened to one word I said, have you?” Adam flared up. “You’re just stuck to your usual vainglorious selfrighteousness, just seeing what you want to see! You’re behaving like a stubborn, old FOOL!”

“Adam, that’s ENOUGH!” Livid with rage, Ben’s fist shot up. “Don’t you DARE raise your voice to your own FATHER like this!!”

“I DARE, so get used to it!” For one moment Adam lost his calm, had to catch his breath to force down his bitterness and anger. “And by God, I should’ve done it already five years ago!”

“Adam, I don’t know you anymore!” Ben’s voice trembled with fury as he loudly declaimed, “Honour thy father and thy mother, as the LORD thy God hath commanded thee; that thy days may be prolonged, and that it may go well with thee, in the land which the LORD thy God giveth thee.”

Adam threw up his head, letting out an exasperated hiss. “Is that all you can come up with when you’ve run out of reasonable arguments? Bible quotes?” He abruptly bent foward to eye his father. “You’d better sit down and think about what I’ve told you, then maybe it will dawn in on you that you’re in the WRONG!”

“I’M IN THE WRONG??” Ben nearly jumped in the saddle. “Now let me tell you this, boy! I OWN this land! I PROTECT this land! I will FIGHT for this land, and I have EVERY RIGHT to do so! And I’m acting WITHIN THE LAW!”

“Now what are you going to do? Storm in there and shoot the sheep?”

“I’m doing what NEEDS to be done!” Ben thundered. “And if you don’t find it inside yourself anymore to stand by your father and your family, then step aside and don’t get in my way!!”

Adam stiffened. “But I won’t step aside. And I’m standing in your way until YOU find it inside yourself to take off those blinders and start thinking about what you’re doing!”

Ben gasped, straightening out in the saddle as high as he could, his eyes glowering. “Maybe YOU should be thinking about what YOU are doing! Adam, are those sheep worth it, you fighting your own father? Standing against your own family? BETRAYING everything you’ve ever lived for?? You think about that, son!” He raised his chin and nudged his buckskin to move forward. “We’re coming through!”

It was the signal the men around him had just waited for. Everybody rode on – and came to a rapid halt again when Adam fired his gun into the air. The sound of the shot echoed from the surrounding hills.

“ADAM!” Ben reined in his horse so harshly that the gelding half-reared. “Adam, you’re SHOOTING at your own FATHER?”

“Not at you – and not at my brother.” Adam’s face had frozen to a mask. “But I’ll shoot at anyone else who tries to break through!”

“That would be MURDER!”

“Fine! I hope you’ll have the appropriate Bible quotation for my hanging!”

Ben clutched his reins so violently that his horse’s head was pulled back, causing the gelding to stomp backwards until he bumped into Frank Miller’s palomino. “Adam, I’ve got the LAW on my side! I can have you ARRESTED if you don’t come to your senses! I’ve got those men here to back me up! I have the RIGHT to do what I deem right! YOU have nothing! You stand ALONE!”

Adam did not get to answer as the clip-clop of a single horse drew their attention. It was Lilyah who slowly rode up to the mound of the passage, halting her unsaddled stallion in everybody’s plain sight. She held the bow in her hands, an arrow on the limb, yet the weapon was pointed downwards and not tensed. She did not say one word, she just sat there, a silent shadow in the darkness of the shaded canyon. For the split of a moment Adam closed his eyes, torn between sudden worry, anger, despair and a strange notion of pride, a flight of warmth touching his heart.

“MISS Lilyah!” Ben blew an angry breath. “You shouldn’t be here at all, this is NONE of your business!”

“Don’t you raise your voice against my wife!” Adam sharply cut in. “Lil! Go back in cover!”

She seemingly didn’t react, but nudged the black Arabian to move backwards, to slowly disappear behind the rocks again.

Adam drew a deep breath, darkly watching the shock on his father’s face who visibly had to chew on what he had heard. “What you’d find in there is an old woman and two children who will fight for their property!” He tried to keep his voice calm. “You might have the law on your side, but you don’t have the moral justification to destroy their livelihood, not for reasons as flimsy and meaningless as you cited. And neither I nor my wife will stand by and just watch!”

For long moments, Ben sat motionless on his horse, his lips pressed to a thin line, his eyes staring at the buckskin’s black mane. Only when the men around him began getting restless, his head snapped up.

“Alright, Adam!” His voice came clipped, almost as if he were short of air. “Alright! I’m under no obligation to do this, but I will make you an offer! I’m willing to pay compensation for those sheep! I’ll pay three dollars for every head that we shoot!”

Everybody around him started to murmur, snippets of sentences standing out, saying as much as that three dollars per head were far too much for sick, miserable sheep, that Ben Cartwright was under no obligation to pay anything at all, that it was an extraordinarily generous offer. Little Joe was already cautiously smiling, showing his relief, his eyes clinging to his brother on top of the crag, full of hope that this would settle it.

Adam shifted in the saddle, his gun still in his hand. “Give me the night to think it over!”

“WHAT?” Ben nearly exploded. “That’s the best offer you can get! That whole flock isn’t worth three dollars and I’m offering to pay three dollars PER HEAD!”

Adam’s eyes had narrowed. “I’m not asking for me. It will take some time for the shepherds to contemplate. Also, they have dead to mourn, and there are children present. The sheep are safely here in the gorge, the whole thing can wait until tomorrow!”

Ben squinted to read his son’s face, but in the meanwhile it had gotten so dark that he could not see anything but Adam’s shaded silhouette – and the moonlight shimmering on the barrel of his gun. A bitter taste rose in his throat and he suddenly wished for nothing more than to end this. “Alright! We’ll be back tomorrow at sunup!”

“But, Mister Cartwright!” Prescott couldn’t hold it. “They might use the night to escape!”

Ben turned his buckskin around. “We’ll leave guards to make sure the sheep stay in there! The waterhole is infected already and the gorge lost for us, so what does it matter?” He had spoken loud enough for Adam to hear him. “Come on, men! We’re leaving – for now!”

Adam watched as his father rode out without looking back, watched as the whole posse followed rather unwillingly, with the odd grumble of protest being heard here and there. The last one to leave was Little Joe who waved at his brother. Adam just nodded his head. He felt like frozen, and yet something was trembling inside him. He waited until the sound of hoofbeats had disappeared in the distance before he put his gun back in his holster and turned the mare to leave the crag.

Lilyah was waiting at the entrance of the passage, silently sitting on her stallion.

Adam halted his horse next to her, not saying a word. The mask-like coldness fell from his face as her hand softly brushed over his cheek, as she leaned forward to enclose him in her arms. He flung his arms around her and buried his face in her hair, nestling into her loving embrace for comfort, for solace, for warmth.

* * *