6

Ben froze, his eyes locked on the arrow. It was close enough to make it appear it might actually have struck Joe. But Joe’s reaction was more shocked than suffering. No. He had not been hit, not again. Still, it had been close. Far too close.

Making a slow turn to see who had shot that arrow, Ben found the oldest boy, one whose name had never been made known to them, staring at him with that same cold, determined glare he’d worn all along.

Ben met his glare with one of his own. “You can’t expect me to ignore the needs of my own son!” he argued.

Setting his shoulders back in a stance every bit as defiant as Ben could expect from any angry, teenaged boy, the young Shoshoni pulled another arrow from the quiver at his back and notched it into his bow.

“No,” Ben said, as much to deny the need for such action as to ask the boy to hold off.

But, in Ben’s experience, angry, defiant teenaged boys had never been particularly inclined to do what they’re told. In fact, they were more likely to do the exact opposite. And this boy was proving he was not the exception. He raised the bow into a firing position and began to pull back on the string.

“You wouldn’t.” Ben felt himself growing cold with disbelief. And horror. “You can’t. Please.”

The boy looked at him with the arrogance of victory. “Save the life of our nat-soo-gant,” he said, as though it was something Ben had the power to do, “and I will not end the life of your son.”

“There is nothing anyone can do for your healer.” When Paul Martin’s voice called out from behind Ben, the boy turned his gaze toward the doctor, seeming to sneer at the intrusion. “You can’t stop death by murdering an innocent man,” Paul continued.

“No white man is innocent,” the boy spat.

“I know plenty of white men,” Adam’s voice added, “who would say the same about Indians.”

No, please! Ben prayed silently. Don’t anger him any more than he already is! Ben didn’t dare pull his eyes from the boy. He watched the string ease back a fraction further.

“Give us the chance to help,” Adam went on, “and we will. We can bring you medicines, food, even milk. But if you hold us here as prisoners, we can’t give you any of these things. And…if you kill my brother…well…then you might as well kill the rest of us, too, because we won’t do anything for you then. Your people will die.”

“You will save them,” the boy demanded, “or you will all die.”

“You will let us help my brother,” Adam said, “or your people will die.”

His jaw set even more rigidly than before, the boy began to take careful aim.

“Please,” Ben found himself begging. “Help us and we’ll help you. I swear to that on everything I hold sacred. Bring no further harm to any of my sons, and I will do everything I can…everything…to help your people!”

“Guyungwi’yaa!” The cry was as firm as it was surprising, drawing everyone’s attention to the wickiup where the tribe’s healer lay dying.

The bow dropped. The boy cast a nervous glance toward the structure.

“Guyungwi’yaa!”

The boy looked at Ben, seeming hesitant or confused as to what he should do. And then he moved toward the structure, shouting out commands as he went to the other boys, who began to emerge, one by one, from the surrounding trees. Each held a weapon at the ready, one of which Ben recognized as his own rifle by the swirl of silver that caught the final rays of the fading sun.

For several long moments after their leader disappeared inside, no one moved. Ben studied the boys, assessing who among them would be most likely to fire. All of them, he decided. The only question was who would fire first; the rest would follow in quick succession, and then Adam’s threat could be proved true. Ben and his sons would be killed, as would his friend, Paul Martin.

Sighing, Ben looked to Adam, grateful for the help he had provided, though he was frighteningly certain the leader of these boys would have launched that arrow at Joe if his tribe’s healer had not called to him.

Joe. Ben turned to face his youngest son, feeling…guilty, he decided. He had failed Little Joe. He had allowed Joe to suffer for all these hours, bleeding to the point of collapse, his wound most probably festering…and now…now it might all have been for nothing. They might all end up dead at the hands of boys who had known all along how to control them.

They had known, Ben realized then. How long had they been watching before they’d invaded the camp? Joe had sensed them in the woods. He must have. Ben had recognized his son’s wariness. Yet he’d done nothing. And then, when that first arrow had struck, it had targeted the only one in that small camp who might have threatened the boys’ success, the only one who had been alert enough to recognize something was wrong. If Ben had addressed Joe’s concern in the beginning, then perhaps…perhaps none of this would have happened. The boys’ plans would have failed. And…

…and their people would have died.

Sighing, Ben felt his shoulders sagging under the weight of his thoughts. Yes, Ben had failed his youngest son, but others had already been helped as a result. And when the baby started crying again, sounding much weaker than before, Ben knew there were others who still needed to be helped. How could he deny that some good had come from even his own failures? No. He could not deny that the boys’ intent had been well-placed, if tragically executed. Nor could he deny that Joe had suffered needlessly, and for far too long.

Joe had suffered, yes, but he was standing now, keeping the tree at his back, and though his eyes were hidden in the thickening shadows, Ben had no doubt what he would find within them: the same stubborn determination he would probably be reflecting himself, if their positions had been reversed. In pain, weak from blood loss and perhaps even feverish—Ben could not know for sure—still Joe would stand firm in the face of any challenge, even the challenge of death…a challenge his own father was responsible for allowing to happen.

XxXxX

Adam took a cautious step forward, and then watched the boys who were watching him. When none made a move, he took another step. And still another, until he reached his father. “Don’t follow me,” he said softly.

Pa’s eyes widened. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I can’t help him,” Adam explained. “You have all the supplies, so as long as you stay put, it’s possible they won’t do anything.”

“It’s possible? You’re going to risk everything on a guess?”

“I think I can read them pretty well.”

“Read them? Adam, this isn’t a poker game!”

“But it is a gamble.”

“And if you lose?”

Adam sighed. “Seems to me we’re already losing. And in this kind of game, it’s all or nothing.”

Pa held silent after that, but from the set of his jaw it was clear he was less than enthusiastic about Adam’s plan. That’s alright, Adam decided. It wouldn’t be the first disagreement they’d ever had. He could only hope it wouldn’t be the last.

When he moved forward again, Adam could see Joe studying his slow approach. He could sense everyone else watching as well. Still, nothing happened.

And then, finally, he was standing right in front of Joe. He was close enough to touch him, though he kept his hands at his sides to be safe. “How you holding up?” The question did not need an answer. He could see the strain in Joe’s eyes, and, even in the poor lighting, Joe’s color wasn’t good.

“I’m holding,” Joe said, simply. An instant later, his gaze moved outward.

“What are they doing?” With his back to his father and pointedly ignoring the boys, Adam didn’t dare turn around.

His brother’s reaction was as telling as the single word Joe provided in response. “Nothing.” Joe shook his head, just once, clearly taken back by what he was—or wasn’t—seeing.

It was enough to allow Adam to relax. “That’s what I thought.” He even smiled then. “I confused them. I did something they didn’t expect, without threatening them or their plans.”

Joe smiled, too, meeting Adam’s gaze again. “You gambled.”

“That’s what Pa said.”

“How’d you figure it?”

“I had a little experience dealing with you at that age.” His smile turned into a conspiratorial grin.

But Joe’s smile died. “I was never ready to kill anyone.”

“No. I know you weren’t. But…if you were trying to protect your family…and you were the only one who could….” Adam shrugged.

Joe didn’t seem to believe him…or maybe he just didn’t want to. “It’s getting dark. We could confuse them even more if we make a run for it, head into the trees.”

“That would confuse them, alright. Might even slow them down for a minute or two. But…I don’t think you’re going to be running any time soon. There’s also Pa to think about. And—”

“Not Pa.” Joe said it like a declaration, pulling Adam’s curiosity. “You’ve seen the way they’ve been around Pa and Doc Martin. They haven’t touched them, not like Hoss…or….” He focused briefly on Adam’s neck. “Or you.”

“Or you?”

For reasons Adam couldn’t even fathom, Joe seemed abashed, looking down at the ground like he was still a boy, one who knew he’d done something wrong. “I just…,” Joe said, “I don’t think they’ll hurt Pa.”

“Maybe not,” Adam admitted. “It’s possible they see him as a wise, old grandfather.”

Joe finally matched Adam’s grin. “You’d better not let him hear you say that.”

“I think you’re right.” Adam took a deep breath before adding in a more serious tone, “That could be his advantage, anyway.”

“What about Hoss?” Joe asked then, bridging a subject Adam had hoped to avoid. “He should have been back by now.”

“I know.”

“You think he went for help?”

“It’s…possible.” Adam looked off into the trees.

“But you don’t believe it.”

Sighing, he met Joe’s gaze once more. “No. I don’t. He wouldn’t risk it.”

When Joe looked away again, Adam could tell he knew perfectly well he had been the ‘risk.’

“The boy’s gone, too,” Adam added, “the one who’s been watching him. But it seems his friends haven’t realized it yet.”

“Or they know where he went.”

“Could be.”

“Adam, I—”

A commotion stopped Joe’s words and swiveled Adam around to see the oldest boy had emerged from the wickiup and was calling to his friends.  A moment later, three of the boys moved toward Joe and Adam. Simple instinct caused Adam to block their way, shielding his brother. But then he saw they made no obvious threats or warnings. They only looked at him, waiting.

When the leader called out again, Adam saw him waving them toward him, seeming to invite them to the structure.

Doc Martin was being ‘invited’ as well.

XxXxX

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