Story Summary: A friend from Adam’s past emerges with a common foe on her tail and though the attempt is made, Adam is unable to save her and fall victim to his own grief that Ben must now save him from.
Rating and Reader Alerts: PG-13 for violence description of wounds.
Words:  15,800

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Disclaimer: The characters of “Ponderosa” do not belong to me.  They are the property of David Dortort and Beth Sullivan.

The Brandsters have included this story by this author in our project: Preserving Their Legacy. To preserve the legacy of the author, we have decided to give their work a home in the Bonanza Brand Fanfiction Library.  The author will always be the owner of this work of fanfiction, and should they wish us to remove their story, we will.

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Author’s Note: This is my first Ponderosa/Bonanza fic.  Adam has already attended college in the east, somehow, and the Ponderosa itself is more established.  I’ve been wanting to write this story before “Ponderosa” ever started—since I’ve watched the first six or so seasons of “Bonanza” and part of the rest of the seasons—but I’ve had a lot of trouble with it.  An AU by a longshot.

Die Upon a Kiss

“There is love of course.
And then there’s life, its enemy.”
-Jean Anoulih
Ardele

Reunion

 The wagon creaked to a stop in front of Mr. & Mrs. Orowitz’s general store.  A chestnut horse with a white stripe and star was tied behind it.  The wheels sunk slightly into the mud, which caked the street.  Once more, it was raining in Eagle Station, not an uncommon occurrence in these parts.  Another gray day, but still just another day.  Steady drizzle beat down on the hats of the two Cartwright brothers as they climbed out of the wagon.  The Cartwrights were the owners of a large spread outside of Eagle Station.  The small town was slowly growing, but for now it was just a trading post.  It was getting more attention than their neighboring town that had been affectionately deemed Hangtown.  The ranch was named the Ponderosa.  The Cartwrights had arrived here about nine or ten years ago.  They had come from Massachusetts, well, that’s where they had started from.  Benjamin Cartwright had started out west with his five-year-old son Adam shortly after his first wife Elizabeth had died.  She had always been weak since giving birth to their first and only son.  Of course, in that time he had fallen in love again, to a tall Scandinavian woman in Illinois.  The woman who gave him his next son, Eric.  She had died when they had progressed farther out west.  Shot while they were under attack by Indians.  Their guide had murdered one of the members of their tribe, and they had come to get their revenge on him.  She had been shot with an arrow while Adam held his infant brother in his arms, who was steadily crying though he didn’t not know he had just lost his mother.  Hoss had never known his mother, Inger, but Adam remembered her more than his own.  Next, a woman Benjamin met in New Orleans nearly seven years later.  Marie.  She had seen Ben’s dream. 

 Adam Cartwright, the oldest Cartwright boy at the age of twenty-four, found himself standing in a puddle of mud.  His black cowboy boots were used to the treatment, but he wasn’t too fond of the mud that splattered his black pants.  Ignoring that, the young man stepped upon the deck, and entered the general store with his younger brother Hoss.  The two’s appearance was in stark contrast.  Hoss was tall, easily the same height as his older brother, and he was still growing.  He had chubby, rounded features unlike his brother’s strong, angular features.  Hoss with green eyes and sandy reddish blonde hair and Adam with light blue eyes and dark brown hair that was nearly black.  Even their dress was different; Hoss donned tan pants, a white shirt, a tan vest, and a heavy tan coat.  The hat he wore was also tan, but it had a dome sort of top, unlike the norm of western apparel.  Adam dressed in black pants, a dark blue shirt, with a blue bandana they had given him for his twenty-first birthday, and a dark gray coat with black shoulders and collar.  Even his wide rimmed hat was black.  The older man wore a black leather low riding holster with a six round revolver resting in it, near his right hand.  Hoss was far too young to brandish a weapon, but about a year or so ago, Adam had won the argument with his father about why he needed to carry a sidearm.  Normally, their younger brother, Joseph would have accompanied them if their pa didn’t go, but not today. 

 “Mr. Orowitz,” Adam said nodding slightly in reply to the older man as he approached the counter.  There were two women about Hoss’ age admiring the bolts of cloth, apparently deciding on fabric for a dress.  He paid no mind to the fact Hoss had wandered off to talk to Tess Greene, a young girl he was quiet fond of.  She was with Isabella, Carlos’ sister whom Adam had previously admitted to being in love with.  Shelby Stereatt had seen it in the way he had looked at her when she was bedridden from an outbreak of cholera.  It was true; he was in love with her.  That wasn’t going to distract him from what he needed to do, though.  They needed supplies back at the ranch, for the hands, for repairs.  It had been a while since they had been able to go into town, well other than the fact Hoss and Little Joe were in school.

 “Your order is ready, Adam,” Mr. Orowitz noted as he saw Adam pull a piece of folded paper from his jacket pocket.  “Ben brought it in yesterday morning and paid for it,” he informed him as he set a large box on top of the counter filled with jars, boxes, and small sacks.

 “Thank you,” Adam said picking up the box as the shop owner set several large bags full of feed, flour, and various other things on the table.  About to tell Hoss to come and help him, he decided against it.  The way the three of them were laughing, he wasn’t about to interrupt just yet.  Walking outside with the large wooden box in his arms, he set the box on the edge of the wagon and pulled back the canvas, and set the box down. 

 As he was covering it again, he heard a commotion towards the end of town.  A moment later he saw someone sprinting down the street, running as fast as possible, and in this person’s case it was fairly fast.  The person was Indian, dressed in buckhide fringed pants, a dirty white blouse, with a necklace hanging down to mid-chest.  The Indian’s hair was long and black, loose aside from one small braid down on one side.  From the belt hung a long knife.  Adam recognized her immediately as she ran past, not even slipping as she ran through the mud and puddles of water, which was now the street.  Her skin was bronze, her features slightly angular, and more than a little attractive.

 “Hoss,” Adam called backing slowly into the shop once more.  Hoss immediately tore himself from his conversation with the two ladies.  “Finish loading up the wagon, and if I’m not back yet, go home without me.  All right?  Straight home.”

 Hoss nodded, sensing the gravity in his older brother’s voice.  “Yeah, Adam, sure,” he said as his brother jogged to his horse, grabbing the reins and swinging himself up on the horse without using the stirrups.  Turning the horse immediately, Adam kicked the horse, starting it into a gallop down the main road.  Shaking his head, Hoss was about to go back inside the store when two more horses came to a quick stop in front of Frenchy’s hardware and livery.

 “Where’d the Indian go?” the older man demanded.  Older, though not much older than Adam.  Frenchy didn’t seem too interested in telling the answer to their questions.  Opening his mouth to speak, the man cut him off, drawing his pistol and pointed it at Frenchy.  Big Dan had already rose from where he was sitting, his pistol in his hand.  “Where’s the Injun?”

 “He went that way,” Frenchy said gesturing vaguely down the road.  “Then northwest,” he informed them, and galloped off in the same direction Adam had just rode off in.

 Adam was well aware that there were two horses in close pursuit.  It wasn’t just because he could hear the thundering of hooves as they got closer, because that had to be what Red Hawk was running from.  There weren’t too many people she would run from, she could certainly fight.  The fact she didn’t have her rifle could have been the explanation.  The Cheyenne woman was about nineteen or twenty years old.  Though she was hardly reverted to the western way of life, she hadn’t been part of her tribe in at least twelve years.  Adam knew her from about that long ago.  From then and about eight more years.  For a time the two had been virtually inseparable.  For a time.  Then she had gone in search of her older brother Egdan.  That had consumed her life, because she knew for a fact he was alive.  It had run her into some trouble, namely with the Calvary, but it was the Calvary’s fault in the first place.  Blaming his country for atrocities wasn’t something he’d easily be willing to do, but there were some facts that remained.  The fact was: America had enslaved millions of Africans, and wiped out nearly two hundred thousand of the Indians living here first.  He had the idea that wasn’t going to stop any time soon.

 Of course she would go to the forest, Adam realized as he went down the narrow road surrounded by densely packed tall trees.  The Cheyenne were used to the woodlands.  Though she had spent most of her time in the west, the deserts and the plains.  Slowing, he knew she was close by.  He wasn’t sure how exactly, but it was as if he could almost sense her presence.  It wasn’t that far-fetched with all the trouble they had gotten into together, and got out of.  Actually, they had been more interested in stopping trouble than causing it.  During the time they had been in touch, she had been almost like a sister, and in realizing that his pa had let her stay around, though she did more of her share of work.  The two horses were getting closer.  Adam steered his horse off the path, and behind some trees, pulling his rifle out of the scabbard attached to the saddle.  Once the two horses were almost upon him, he kicked the horse and he trotted down in front of the two.  The horse in front reared up, neighing as it came to a stop, as did the horse behind him.

 “I suggest you turn around,” Adam said as he pointed his rifle at the man in front.  “You’re trespassing and that gives me every right to fire this rifle, Mr. Walton, and don’t think I’m not going to do it.”  He knew this man and his partner.  He knew how Red Hawk and these two were involved.  Just from what he knew about the two he wanted an excuse to pull the trigger.  To allow Red Hawk to find her brother if she hadn’t already, and not have to worry about these two.  These two men, Mark Walton and Quentin Mackenzie, were responsible for killing Red Hawk’s “adoptive family”.  Adoptive as in the white family who had taken her in when virtually her whole tribe had been annihilated.  She had only stayed with them for three years.

 “I don’t doubt it, boy,” Walton said steadying his horse.  Adam wished he was in a better position to see what Mackenzie was doing, so he lowered his left hand to his pistol.  “You keep protecting this girl, one of these days it is going to get you killed.  More than likely after we kill her, and don’t think we won’t.”

 “Go,” Adam ordered.

 Then, everything happened at once.  A shot went off a moment after Red Hawk dropped from where she was perched on one of the branches, knocking both from their horses.  Adam was knocked backwards as a bullet tore its way into his shoulder, and his horse reared at the same time, knocking him off.  Previously he hadn’t realized his horse, Beauty, was gun shy, and as it ran off towards the house, he realized she was.  Landing hard on his back, his rifle fell out of his grasp.  Pain was radiating through his shoulder like something he had only felt once before.  On that occasion, it had only been a flesh wound.  This wound had surely torn straight through his shoulder.

 Red Hawk, Mackenzie, and Walton were already up and struggling.  The two men were trying to get best of the smaller woman.  The shot that struck Red Hawk he only heard, he didn’t see a weapon, but he did know it came from Walton’s direction.  Adam fired immediately, when Red Hawk faltered backwards the bullet grazing her side.  He held the rifle with is left hand, against his shoulder.  The bullet struck Walton in the side, and he fell backwards and to the ground.  Red Hawk had delivered a blow to Mackenzie’s temple, knocking him unconscious.  “Haw,” she shouted to the two horses, and they ran back down the road from which they had came.  They wouldn’t go too far, but far enough.

 The rifle slipped from his grasp, Adam couldn’t help it.  Clasping a hand to his profusely bleeding shoulder, he felt somewhat dizzy from the loss of blood.  Red Hawk was to his side for much needed support, saying nothing as she lowered him to ground as his legs became lead beneath him.  Removing his bandana, Red Hawk folded it up rather quickly and pressed it to his shoulder.  Adam flinched as pain shot through him, tensing and clenching his teeth, trying not to cry out.  Red Hawk was breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling rapidly against his as she pressed the bandana to Adam’s shoulder. 

“You’re going to be all right,” Red Hawk informed him in her heavily accented voice.  He was certainly going to be better than if Red Hawk hadn’t swooped in.  Mackenzie had been surprised and that threw his aim off.  Higher and to the right.  Previously, it probably would have hit his heart or punctured a lung.  “Can you stand?” she asked of him as Mackenzie started to stir.

 “I think so,” Adam said quietly as they rose in unison, Red Hawk supporting him.  The road made its way through the forest, a long walk from here to the house.  It was doable, but you probably wanted to run if you wanted to get home for dinner.  Running wasn’t an option at the moment.  Relief washed over him as he was Beauty standing a ways down the road.  He was loosing blood quickly despite the pressure Red Hawk was applying to the entrance wound.  Luckily, Beauty didn’t shy away from them as they approached. 

Holding onto the reins, Red Hawk directed his grasp to the horn of the saddle, glancing back to the road.  With more effort than it should have taken, Adam put his foot in the stirrup.  Groaning in pain when Red Hawk helped him into the saddle, he could only bow over, holding the horn so he wouldn’t fall off.  Never before had he felt such searing pain, or felt so incredibly weakened.  Hearing Red Hawk put the rifle in the scabbard, a moment later, she mounted the horse behind him, and the horse started off, trotting down the road towards the house.  She knew where it was, undoubtedly.  Adam was leaned forward with a hand pressing at his shoulder, barely able to keep himself up right as they trotted along.  If it wasn’t for Red Hawk’s arm around his waist, he probably would have fallen.

 When they started to converge upon the house, he heard another horse approach.  Adam was surprised when Red Hawk pulled his pistol from the holster at his right thigh.  The hammer being pulled into ready position was done even as Red Hawk took aim in one swift motion.  “Get down from the horse,” he heard Carlos direct of her.  Carlos didn’t know Red Hawk, and this certainly didn’t look good.  Then again, Red Hawk didn’t know Carlos.  From behind him, he felt Red Hawk raise the pistol.  Even as she pointed the pistol at Carlos, she held Adam up with her other arm, not concerned about her own pain.

 “Carlos, don’t,” Adam managed, barely able to raise his head.  Carlos hesitated and then returned his pistol to the holster that hung over his shoulder.  Once he did that, Red Hawk returned Adam’s pistol to his holster.

 “Help me get him inside,” Red Hawk ordered of him as she dismounted.  Not moments after Red Hawk helped Adam out of the saddle, he felt the world darken around him.  He slumped in her arms into unconsciousness.  Never before had it been so welcomed, and never before had he passed so easily into it.

 Quickening

“Perhaps our eyes need to be washed
by our tears once in a while, so that
we can see life with a clearer view again.”
-Alex Tan

 Ben Cartwright sat in a chair next to his oldest son’s bed, looking at him as he slept.  It was rare that Adam, of any of his son’s, was hurt.  Sure as a boy he had his own share of scrapes, bruises, and one or two broken bones, but he had never been seriously injured.  Hop Sing had explained the possibility of Adam not waking up for at least twenty-four hours.  Needless to say, Ben could wait.  This was, after all, his son.  Hoss had arrived home about fifteen minutes after Red Hawk had left.  He wouldn’t have known her at any rate.  More or less he had only see the young Cheyenne girl from afar, riding off with his older brother.  During the time Red Hawk was around, Adam was more likely to go off after he was finished with his obligations.  He wouldn’t spend his time reading, playing with his younger brothers, or doing schoolwork.  Nothing could get him to forsake those things except for Red Hawk.  Ben remembered when the two were almost inseparable.  Companionship found because both had lost someone(s) very dear to them, and had the same kind of passion for life.  Since Adam had never done anything to misplace Ben’s trust, he had let the boy. 

The two did a lot together.  Though Ben had previously taught Adam how to shoot a rifle, Red Hawk had made him a very good shot, being able to hit just about any target, moving or stationary.  Adam had taught her more than simply being able to read things beyond that.  She had taught him the love of music, which he really got from his mother, but Adam had shown her more about the musical world than what she had dreamed.  So many things his son had learned, things most people didn’t know existed.  Physics, history, chemistry, theology, algebra, geometry, trigonometry, calculus, biology, anatomy, physiology, astronomy, engineering, architecture, rhetoric, languages, musical notation history and composition, philosophy, literature, geography, metallurgy, and business.  Ben thought that Red Hawk had shown him the practical uses of all those things.  Right now, the son of his first wife lay on his bed with a bandage covering a gunshot wound in his right shoulder.  His bare chest was rising and falling, the covers pulled up to mid-torso.

 Though he hadn’t opened his eyes yet, Adam was conscious.  It flooded to him rather quickly as if a spinning room suddenly came into focus.  He was lying on something marginally soft, and there was a familiar smell about the room.  It must have been his bedroom, also determined by the cold air pricking the soft hairs of his chest.  A steady pain in his shoulder made him wish he had not awakened just yet.  It was a strong pain and he could feel a bandage wrapped tightly around his shoulder.  Then he remembered.  Jerking awake, Adam immediately started to sit up but was restrained by his father’s strong arms.  “Easy, Adam,” Benjamin Cartwright instructed him, as Adam hardly relaxed.

 “Red Hawk,” Adam began looking to his father.  His youngest brother Joseph also occupied the room, lingering near the foot of the bed.  Adam could see him out of his peripheral vision, could see the concern.  Ben Cartwright was a tall, broad shouldered, strong man.  Strong not just physically but in every other way also.  While he could be this, there was a gentleness about him.  A tenderness reserved for his sons, even his eldest who was already a man.

 “She left,” Ben informed him and Adam slumped back in the bed, releasing a breath, “thought it would be better.  Her being here would direct Walton and Mackenzie’s search here, and she didn’t want to get us involved.”

 “You let her leave?”  Adam asked, noting the way his pa had phrased that.

 “After I gave her a horse and made sure the flesh wound at her side was properly taken care of,” Ben offered knowing his son’s concern.  He also know that bit of information wasn’t about to satiate Adam’s concern directed to his long time friend.  Knowing his son, only finding her and seeing for himself would.  That was one of the reasons he had attempted to convince her to stay, that and they could help her against these men Walton and Mackenzie.  “She left over an hour and a half ago.  You’ve been unconscious since she and Carlos brought you in.”

 “I have to find her,” Adam said sitting up in the bed and swinging his legs over the side.  That was when the pain caught up with him.  Clutching his right arm, he took in several deep breaths.  Apparently, whatever Hop Sing had given him that supposedly had “analgesic” properties had worn off.  After he had breathed through most of the pain, he started to pull on his boots.

 “You’re not going to do any good to her like this,” Ben pointed out to him directing him gently back to the bed, but his son was currently exploring what was deemed “Cartwright stubbornness”.  That he got from his father.  Hoss and Joe got it from both sides and it showed.  Adam didn’t need as much stubbornness because the usual way their conversations went.  From hindsight and an objective perspective, they were both normally right.  “You can’t help her if you can barely stand.  I doubt she went far, she’ll want to know how you are.”

 “She told me to give you this,” Joe said moving from his previously permanent position at the foot of his bed and now to Adam’s side.  Extending his hand to Adam, he found the necklace she normally wore was there.  A golden hawk feather with streaks of red running through it, flanked by small silver and turquoise beads on either side, and tassels hanging down.  It used to be her brother’s.  Raising his left hand, he took it from Little Joe, looking down at it still as his hand rested on his leg.

 “Thanks, Little Joe. . . .  She won’t be far at all,” Adam said quietly and then looked slowly to his father.  Referring to the necklace as proof when he spoke.  “She found Egdan . . . she found her brother.”

 “That must be why Walton and Mackenzie are following so closely now.  They thought they finished the job a long time ago, but apparently not.  If she found her brother, than why isn’t he with her?  Why wouldn’t she give that necklace back to him?”  Ben asked of him, barely knowing anything about the girl except what little Adam had told her.  It was now Ben realized how much space he had given Adam with this relationship, and he wondered if it was too much.

 “Maybe she didn’t get the opportunity,” Adam suggested as he reached for the clean shirt that was sitting on the end of the bed, “maybe they were present to interfere with that too.  Red Hawk shot Walton, they probably won’t be around for a while, for that reason.”

 “Pa, there’s a man outside, said he’s looking for Adam, something about shooting a bounty hunter,” Hoss said as he burst into the room, and then saw Adam pulling on his shirt.  “I think he’s some sort of marshal.”  After relaying the message, he backed out of the room, going to keep tabs on this marshal.

 “Stay here, Adam,” Ben said rising from he sat and exiting the room.  About to argue, Adam bit of his retort when pain shot through his arm while trying to slide it into the sleeve of his gray shirt.  Joe remained at the side of his oldest brother, putting a hand gently on his arm when he saw Adam’s pain. 

 “Are you sure you’re all right, Adam?”  Joe asked of him, unable to hide his concern.

 “Yeah, Little Joe, I’m all right,” Adam said forcing a smile at his younger brother.  The concern was obvious, and Adam didn’t want Joe to be worried about him.  It was supposed to be the other way around.  He reached up and ruffled his hair, bringing a smile to Joe’s lips.

Closing the door behind him, Ben headed quickly down the hall, downstairs and then outside, also closing that door behind him.  He wasn’t surprised to see Hoss standing a fair distance from the man with his arms crossed over his broad chest.  The marshal had dismounted his horse and was fiddling with the reins in his gloved hands.  This marshal was an older man, but not the marshal from Texas they had previously encountered in relation to Carlos’ sister.  “What can I do for you, marshal?”  Ben inquired, putting his hands on his hips. 

 “Looking for your son, Mr. Cartwright,” the marshal explained.  “You see, he was accused of shootin’ a bounty hunter by the name of Walton.  Shooting him while protectin’ some murdering Injun.  I’d like him to come out of the house, and give up his friend.”

 “What for?”  Ben demanded.

 The marshal raised his eyebrows, also putting his hands on his hips as he took a step closer to Ben.  Ben let his hands drop, letting them hang easily at his sides.  “Maybe you didn’t hear me right.  He shot one of my men, while protecting a fugitive.  That doesn’t stand well.  Now, he can come out the easy way, or we can do this the hard way.”

 “As I understand it, your men were trespassing.  If this Indian was on our property, the reason for which they were shot has no bearing.  Trespassing just as you are trespassing now and I’d like you to get off my land.  Oh, and don’t you ever threaten my son again.  If you or any of your men so much as hurt one hair on my boy’s head, I will kill you,” Ben said evenly and then directed his next order to Carlos who had exited the barn with one of the hands.  “Carlos, will you please escort the marshal off the Ponderosa.”

 Carlos nodded curtly, approaching the marshal, who backed up and then mounted his horse.  “Don’t think this is over, Cartwright.  I’ll come back with a warrant if I have to, then your boy will have to answer for what he’s done,” the marshal informed him and then turned and rode off.  Quickly mounting his own horse, Carlos rode off after him.

Without a word, Ben turned and walked back into the house, with Hoss following closely behind.  He wasn’t surprised to find Adam and Joe waiting in the living room.  Adam was holding his right arm, which hung limp at his side.  “What did he want, Pa?”  Adam inquired of him.  Ben could tell his son was in pain, and weakened by all the blood he had lost.  Concerning Red Hawk, he wasn’t as rational and levelheaded as Ben had always seen in him.

 “You,” Ben said simply, “for shooting Walton and protecting a fugitive.  I told him your actions were justified because he was trespassing and I told him to leave because he was doing the same.  Wherever you’re going, I suggest you don’t.  First, you are in no condition to help Red Hawk, you don’t know where she is and I don’t think you are thinking clearly in relation to your friend.”

 “Pa, I have to help her,” Adam said pulling on his jacket, “whether she wants my help or not.  Those two are still after her, and pretty soon they are going to kill her.  Mackenzie got close today.  He would have killed me too if it wasn’t for her.  I just have to see if she is all right?”

 “And if she’s not?”  Ben inquired glancing briefly to Little Joe who stood watching the exchange.  Ben didn’t want to tell him to go upstairs, or to give them a moment, because Adam probably wouldn’t wait that long.  Joseph was old enough to hear this conversation, and Adam was in too much of a hurry to care.

 “I don’t know, Pa,” Adam said with obvious frustration in his voice.  Ben didn’t say anything, which made Adam slightly more aggravated.  He looked into his pa’s eyes, and said nothing for a moment.  When he spoke next, he seemed slightly calmer.  “What do you want me to do?” he asked quietly.

 With that, Ben changed his mind about them being able to stay.  There were certain things they could find out about their siblings, but there were certain ways Ben wanted it to happen.  An argument between father in son wasn’t one of them.  “Boys, could you excuse us,” Ben said without taking his eyes off Adam.  The two reluctantly departed.  Hoss returned outside and Little Joe went up to his bedroom.  Little Joe seemed slight angry about having to leave, but he didn’t say anything.  He knew now wasn’t the time, and Ben greatly appreciated that.  “Adam, I just feel you are rushing into this again.  You haven’t seen Red Hawk in a long time, and if she is responsible for murder—” 

 “—It’s not likely,” Adam retorted.  “Murder?  I’m sure they’ve tried that one a hundred times.  They just want to finish what they started.  The first time I didn’t help her, and I’m surprised she made it then.  That’s not going to happen now, Pa, she’s my friend, and I’m going to help her, if she murdered someone or not,” Adam said grabbing his jacket from where it was strewn across the couch, tugging it on with some effort.

 Ben stepped in his path as he headed for the side table next to the door where his hat and gun sat.  “You are going to help her unconditionally.  You think Red Hawk is always going to be in the right.  One of these days she might lead you in trouble.  She’s not infallible, Adam.  She might get you killed, are you willing to risk that?”

 “Pa, I know you don’t think I am thinking rationally about this,” Adam said simply, “but I am.  I know what I am doing, and I am willing to risk that.  I am aware Red Hawk is not infallible, but with my heart and my mind I do not believe she murdered anyone.  She’s not the type, not with all she has seen in her life, not even for revenge.  I’m going to help her, because she’s my friend, because I care about her, because I think it is the right thing to, and because more than anything, I want to help her.  Please, Pa, let me do this.  Trust me, please.”

 “I do trust you,” Ben countered, “I always have.”  Adam had grabbed his hat with his left hand and dropped it upon his head, only semi-fixing it into position.  Next, taking his pistol, he placed it in his belt with the handle pointing towards his left hand since he didn’t have a left-handed holster.  That was another thing he learned from Red Hawk, not depending so much on his dominant hand. 

“I might be gone for a couple of days, I don’t want to bring Red Hawk back here in case Walton or Mackenzie become impatient,” Adam explained to Ben tugging his hat in place.  “Please, don’t worry, Pa, and I’ll take care of everything when I get back.”

That was the least of Ben’s concerns.  After all these years of Adam doing whatever was required of him and more, he would be almost happy to carry his son’s burden for a while.  He knew how much Red Hawk meant to Adam.  “Be careful, son.”

 “I will,” Adam said nodding slightly as Ben stepped out of the path of the door.  After a moment, he walked out the house, and out to where Beauty was tied to the hitching post.  Undoing the reins, he grabbed the horn with his left hand and pulled himself up into the saddle with only a little effort.  His rifle was still in the scabbard where Red Hawk had left it.  Before he rode off, his father called his name, so he turned to look once more upon him.  “Yes, Pa?”

 “I love you,” Ben said a little quieter than he had said the previous words.  Letting the sternness slip from it, though it wasn’t such a rare occurrence.  There was hardly any reason to be stern with his son.  An occasional argument was present either with himself or Hoss and Little Joe, but there wasn’t any fighting even though Hoss was soon to out grow Adam, even though his middle son was only sixteen.  It was no surprise Adam didn’t mind, since Hoss was born, Adam loved and protected his younger brother, just as much as he had done for Little Joe.  Since Adam’s mother died a long while ago, an early amount of maturity had set into him.  Hoss hadn’t really known his mother, not until the age of five as Adam had.  Little Joe had known his mother the longest, eight years.  They hadn’t seen the reaction of their father to their mother’s death.  Their mother didn’t die a slow a painful death.  Adam had always known she was dying, but he never displayed he knew.  Ben wasn’t aware Adam knew why she had died until he was seven years old.  That was when Adam blamed himself for his mother’s death.

 The reason for his hesitance wasn’t because he didn’t feel the same.  Those weren’t words he hadn’t heard in a while, at least not too frequently.  One of those things he missed about childhood.  Such words were frequently exchanged, especially since his mother had died.  Hugs and kisses goodnight were something he never really expected to miss, but he didn’t know the last time he actually hugged his father.  Of course, he knew his father loved him, but since Adam was a man now, signs of affection such as those weren’t openly displayed.  “I love you too, Pa,” Adam said offering a slight smile and then turned his horse and galloped off.

 Where Red Hawk was, he knew from the necklace that was currently draped about his neck.  That was the point of leaving it.  She would be on the Ponderosa, a spot they frequented called Indian Leap, for various reasons.  He didn’t know where her horse Turquoise was, but the horse Pa had lent her was waiting near the base of the rocky hill.  It wore no saddle, no blanket, just a bridle.  Adam saw Red Hawk sitting on the edge of the cliff, staring out.  It was near the middle of the day, and it was mostly overcast, it had stopped raining some time ago.  She knew he was there long before he came up the rocky path, probably when he rode up and dismounted.  “Are you okay?” she asked rising and turning to face him for the first time.

 “Can’t move my arm.  But yes, I am, thanks to you,” Adam replied as he closed the space between them.  Red Hawk nodded slowly, averting her gaze from his.  “What’s wrong?” he inquired of her.  Not to his surprise, she didn’t reply.  “Why are Walton and Mackenzie still following you?  Why are they accusing you of murder?”

 “Adam, I did not come to get you involved in this,” Red Hawk explained to him, raising her dark eyes to meet his.  “I’m here now only to make sure you are all right.  Since you are, I will be going, and I don’t need your help with this,” she said walking around him, and began to leave. 

 “Red Hawk,” Adam said grabbing her arm to stop her.  Once she stopped, he released her immediately, knowing she would just as soon jerk her arm from his grasp.  “Why don’t you want me to help you?  You’ve helped me plenty of times, why can’t I return the gesture?  I’m your friend.  That’s what I’m here for.”

 “I almost got you killed today,” Red Hawk pointed out to him, gesturing emphatically to his shoulder.  “One second later and you would have been dead, and it was because you were protecting me.  I’m not going to let that happen.  You have two younger brothers, who need you.  You have a family that needs you.  I found my brother, Adam, I’m not going to let you loose yours in the process.  Do you think I’m going to let them take that away?”

 “How do you expect to prevent them from doing just that?”  Adam inquired of her.  “By running?  They have horses, Red Hawk; they have guns.  If I wouldn’t have helped you, you would have been dead right now instead of sporting a flesh wound.  I have a family, let me help you ensure that you are going to have yours, at least your brother.”

 Red Hawk looked down and then away briefly.  “I appreciate what you did for me.  It is not that I don’t want your help, I do, but I have a bad feeling about this.  I know something bad is going to happen, and I would prefer if it happened to me,” Red Hawk remonstrated.  “The next bullet is probably going to kill someone.”

 Adam nodded slightly; he had heard this from his father.  “Where is Egdan?” he asked of her.  Running through the part where the other didn’t want to get the other killed was more so a formality.  They didn’t want the other person involved in dangerous things equated with their personal life, but the other was too stubborn to get anywhere in logical debate.  The conversation had occurred between them at least five times, if not more.  The last time it was Red Hawk who wanted to do the helping and not the other way around.

 Red Hawk shrugged rather uncharacteristically.  “Some place where they can’t find him,” Red Hawk explained, “incidentally, that is where I can’t find him, though I haven’t really had time to look.  Egdan promised he would return in two weeks.  That was a while ago.  I don’t know what I am supposed to do about these two, Adam.  I honestly do not know.”

 “Let’s go to this cabin on the Ponderosa.  We can get some rest, there’s food there, and we can come up with something.  They won’t be able to find us there,” Adam replied and she nodded, following Adam back down the rocky slope.  Red Hawk barely made a sound as she walked behind him, despite how steep the slope was.  Resisting the temptation to glance behind him to see if she was following, Adam continued down the slope to where their two horses were waiting.  Adam mounted Beauty with only using his left arm to hold the horn as he swung himself up.  He watched as Red Hawk mounted her horse, of course having no saddle.  Although she was used to that fact, mounting the tall horse seemed to take more effort than usual.  The bullet she took must have caused more damage than what she was letting on.

 Adam turned his horse and started off at a trot, soon Red Hawk was beside him, though saying nothing.  If it was up to her they would have made the hour and a half trip without saying a word.  Compared to Red Hawk, Adam was downright chatty.  Under normal circumstances he wouldn’t have minded the silence, but these weren’t normal circumstances.  They needed to talk and Red Hawk probably realized that, but her articulation skills had something to be desired, according to her.  Adam thought that was an excuse for not saying anything, because when Red Hawk wanted to get her point across, she had no problem doing so.  After a moment Adam interrupted the silence, knowing it was going to last a while if he didn’t say anything.

 “Red Hawk, we need to talk,” Adam pointed off after maybe ten minutes had passed.  She didn’t reply, and nor did he really expect her to do so.  “I need to know something,” he said looking over to her and after a moment, she met his gaze.

 “You want to know if I killed that man,” Red Hawk realized easily.  She looked away and then shook her head.  “No, I didn’t kill him.  He was trying to help me, believe or not, and they killed him because of it.  Did you think I did?”

 “No, I didn’t and you know that,” Adam said and Red Hawk nodded slowly.  He never doubted her.  “Have you been running from them for all this time?” asked Adam.

 Red Hawk shook her head once more.  “No, they couldn’t find me for a good four years, not until recently when I found Egdan.  I guess they were waiting for that moment, or knew I would come back here one of these days, since you’ve been back from college for a while now.”

 “Six years since the last time we’ve seen each other?”  Adam asked and Red Hawk nodded again.  He remembered the days they spent together as though they happened yesterday.  They kept in contact while Adam was in college, but it was difficult since Red Hawk didn’t stay in one place.  “Too long.  I miss that.”

 “Miss the trouble we tend to get in?”

 Adam offered a slight chuckle in reply; Red Hawk managed a small smile.  “Yeah, that and the conversations we have, everything we used to do together.  Everything I failed to mention before because I was an awkward teenager.”

 “Still an awkward teenager,” Red Hawk admitted raising her hand and Adam gave her a pained expression.  He was well aware Red Hawk was about five years younger than he was.  “I’ll be twenty in three weeks . . . I think.  You weren’t that awkward, better than most teenage boys I know.”

 “A significant other?”  Adam teased wondering if Red Hawk had ever been in a “serious” relationship.  The weddings among her people were normally arranged, so being in love with the person you were betrothed to wasn’t a requirement.  However, Red Hawk had mostly been brought up in an environment in stark contrast to her traditional Cheyenne beliefs.  While he cared about Red Hawk a great deal, it was more as he would care for a sister or a very dear friend, not in such a manner.

 “Used to be, met up with a couple friends of mine a few weeks ago,” Red Hawk countered.

“What do you mean used to be?”

“I haven’t really been in touch with him for a while.  I used to care a great deal for him and he for me, but I grew apart from him.  I didn’t feel comfortable letting him close or getting too close to him.”  The regret was evident in her voice; the regret and the sadness, which coated her voice thickly, though she tried to suppress it.

“You were afraid of losing him,” Adam concluded and Red Hawk didn’t have to reply, for he knew the answer.  “I know that you’ve lost people that you’ve cared a great deal for, but you can’t go through life not experiencing love because you’re afraid you might loose some one.  It’s always a possibility.”

Red Hawk nodded in reply; she knew that.  She knew that as well as Adam did, if not to a more extensive degree.  “What about you, Adam?  Have you found someone?”

 “I think so,” Adam replied quietly glancing over to her once more as they trotted along.  His thoughts immediately went rocketing back to Isabella.  Adam wished he could tell her personally where’d he be, and apologize for not being around, instead of his pa undoubtedly being the one to take care of that.  “I love her, but it’s . . . awkward, for lack of a better word.”

 “What’s her name?”

 “Isabella, she is Carlos Rivera deVega’s sister.  Carlos is the man who pulled a gun on you when we rode up to the house,” Adam explained and Red Hawk nodded in recollection.  “I enjoy being around her, I always think about her when we’re apart.  When I’m around her I feel like she’s the only person in the room, but everything I’ve ever wanted to say to her just becomes a jumbled mess.”

“Sounds like someone’s in love,” Red Hawk replied and then nodded in frustrated agreement.  “What’s the problem then, besides your regression into awkwardness when you’re around her?”

“That’s basically it,” Adam explained with a sigh.  “I’ve just never been in love like this before.  I’ve probably never been in love.  I courted this girl in college, but I don’t think I loved her.  I didn’t feel the same . . . I don’t know . . . connection.  It feels different; it feels right.”

 “Keep her close, tell her how you feel about her, Adam.  As you said, you have no idea when you might lose her.  Cherish the moments you have with her, today, now, not tomorrow or a week from now.  Those days might not come.”

 Awry

“The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.”
-Henry David Thoreau
Walden

 The cabin they stayed at was deep into the woods, small with only one bedroom.  It wasn’t supposed to be used for a long stay, but just getting in-between places on the large ranch.  Adam had found a reason to be grateful it was here, only a few people knew of its location, because this trail wasn’t one used a lot.  It was near an old mine, and he and Hoss found it about seven years ago, before Adam went off to college.  Adam dismounted his horse in front of the cabin.  It was already dark, and it started to get cold.  Red Hawk jumped down from her horse next to him.  After they had put their horses in the stables, they entered the small cabin.  It was small indeed, seeming actually smaller than the last time Adam had been up here.  Then, he had been significantly smaller.  A few of their hands had been through here several times since then, though.  Immediately making his way to the fireplace, Adam started a fire, hoping to bite back some of the cold that was felt. 

 “I hope you are not hungry,” Red Hawk said walking into the so-called kitchen.  In truth, it could not be designated as such because it was simply a stove and a few cabinets.  She closed the cabinet door, “there’s nothing.”

 “At least the horses have food,” Adam noted as the fire started to blaze.  “Sorry,” he said rising from where he was crouched in front of the fire.  “I guess the last time we came up here we really cleaned this place out.”

 Red Hawk didn’t seem to mind, though.  “It is all right, Adam,” she said wrapping her arms over her chest.  The white shirt she was wearing was both dirty, bloody, and torn.  “Here is probably better than your home.  Walton and Mackenzie will not let a bullet deter them.  You know how relentless they can be.”

 “Don’t worry about it,” Adam instructed as he approached her.

 “It is hard not to worry when I know the damage they can do.”

 “I’m serious, Red Hawk, don’t worry about it.  Nothing is going to happen to them.  You’re safe here; we’re safe here.  In this cabin, there will be no worrying of any sort,” he instructed jokingly, Red Hawk smiled and Adam returned it.  “We can be kids again, not having a care in the world,” Adam said wistfully.

 “That would be nice,” Red Hawk said, “I was fond of those days.”

 “As was I.  I don’t know if I mentioned this, but I have missed you, Red Hawk,” Adam informed her.  “In taking my own advice I tried not to worry about you too much, but it was one of those things that couldn’t be helped.”

 “You do not need to worry for me.  Under normal circumstances I can take care of myself.”

 “Normal circumstances,” Adam echoed walking over to the fireplace and sitting down on the wooden framed couch.  Removing his hat, he set it on the long table behind the couch along with his gloves.  Red Hawk followed suit and sat down also, sitting cross-legged.  “What happened that wasn’t exactly normal?”

 “The situations leading up to Reilly dying,” Red Hawk offered, “Terrance Reilly was his name.  Apparently Egdan had saved his life some years before, and Terry was able to help me find him.  Walton had sent him to kill me, but he had no intention of following through on the order.”

 “Whole story, Red Hawk, you’re giving me only pieces.”

 “I’d hate to bore you with the details,” Red Hawk said sincerely, “he helped me, Walton killed him, I didn’t have any weapons or a horse against their four men, so rather uncharacteristically, I ran.  Not that I had any intention to kill either of them.”

 “Seems like you would be justified.”

 Red Hawk looked down, obviously not agreeing with that remark.  She unhooked her sheathed knife from at her belt and sat it on the couch between them.  “The only opportunity I’ve had to kill them, is in cold blood, Adam.  I’m not going to become what they are accusing me of already being.  I’m not going to be a murderer because of their actions.  If I’m going to kill them, it’s gonna be fair, and I’m gonna kill both of them.”

 Adam picked up the knife, removing it from the sheath.  The blade was razor sharp and curved slightly.  Including the hilt, it was the length of his forearm.  With Red Hawk wielding it, the blade was very deadly; Adam had seen her throw it with perfect accuracy, even at fifty feet.  “Some times it takes more courage to run, than to kill and be done with it,” he responded, and put the blade back in the sheath.  “I know you are a person of both honor and courage.”

 “Thank you.”

 “About that whole story,” Adam prompted, “if you don’t mind.”

 “No, of course not, it will be good to tell.  Then you must tell me about your own adventures.  The ones you wouldn’t write about when you were away to college,” Red Hawk said grinning at him.

 Adam smiled broadly, knowing exactly what she was talking about.  “It’s a deal.”

Adam and Red Hawk stayed for three days, giving their wounds a chance to heal, and caught up on the things they had missed in the past five or so years.  They recalled things past, talked about possibilities for taking care of Mackenzie and Walton, and shared their grieves.  Red Hawk told Adam about her brother Egdan, and Adam told her about Little Joe.  When Red Hawk had seen Joe last, he was around three or four years old, back when Marie was still alive.  Adam hadn’t come to regard Marie so much as a mother, not like he had done with Inger.  When Pa had married Marie, Adam had been around fifteen years old, and Hoss was seven.

 They really didn’t have a plan when they went into town three days later.  Before they went back to the ranch house to talk with Ben, to make sure neither Walton nor Mackenzie had been around.  Fortunately, they hadn’t, but unfortunately Ben had gone to town earlier that morning.  The bullet Walton had taken must have shown them they meant business.  The bullet hadn’t killed Walton, though.  Things would have been a lot easier if it had.  It would have been justified then, even though Adam wouldn’t have felt any better about killing someone because of “justification”.  When they entered town early that morning, Adam was aware his pa was already present.  That had to do with his horse standing outside the town hall.  His father, along with Margaret Green, Shelby Thereat, Frenchy (Mr. Deveroe), and Mr. Orowitz were members of the town council.

 The two dismounted near the general store, knowing Walton and Mackenzie, if they were still present, would probably be occupying either the saloon or the boarding house.  Eagle Station didn’t have a hotel yet, primarily because it wasn’t graced with a stagecoach.  Those rather coincided, however.  The stagecoach didn’t want to come through it if there wasn’t a hotel, but there couldn’t be a hotel if the stagecoach didn’t come through.  Once the two had dismounted, Adam spied his father coming out of the town hall with Mr. Orowitz.  Adam headed over in that direction, with Red Hawk in tow, but Walton intercepted them with Mackenzie behind him.

 “Didn’t expect to ever see you two again,” Walton said grinning from ear to ear.  “Must be my lucky day, both of you at the same time.  Two birds with one stone, unfortunately, we have to give you a trial.”

 “She’s not going anywhere without a trial,” Adam noted firmly.  “You don’t have any proof and you don’t have the authority to do so.  How did you convince that marshal that Red Hawk was the one who killed your man?  How’d he die?  With a bullet through his heart?”

 “You don’t know anything, boy,” Walton said attempting to move around Adam, but Adam stood in his way.  “Step aside, before I move you,” he said in a dangerous tone.  Walton grabbed Adam by the lapels of his jacket and slammed him against the wall of the saloon.  Before Walton could say anything more, Red Hawk broke his grasp on Adam and shoved him backwards.  “You’re gonna hang for this Injun, and you right along with her, Cartwright.  You want to protect a murderer, go ahead.”

 “Murderer?”  Adam exclaimed emphatically in disbelief.  “She doesn’t even carry a gun and we both know that.”  At times she had carried a rifle, but there was a distinct difference between a bullet wound from a rifle and a bullet wound from a pistol.

“She’s not going to get a trail,” Walton shouted to Adam as he looked to Red Hawk with cold hard eyes.  “She’s gonna be strung up and hung just like the piece of dirt she is.  Ain’t no Injun gonna get away with murder.”

 “She didn’t murder him,” Adam countered slowly before Red Hawk could say anything.  From what he knew of Red Hawk, she probably wouldn’t have said anything in her own defense.  She would say something to protect Adam, or to avoid a dangerous interaction, but not to defend herself.

 “Is that so?”  Walton said with a touch of amusement in his voice and he approached Adam.  Soon they were merely inches from each other, Adam not bothering to move even with this man in his face.  “What exactly are you gonna do about it, son?”  There was more than a hint of a challenge in his voice.

 Adam’s eyes didn’t waver from Walton’s hard glare; he wouldn’t falter because of this man.  “Before you take her, you will have to kill me,” Adam replied, “she gets a fair trial, like everyone else.  If you think differently . . .”

 “If you think you can pull that trigger fast enough, boy, then there’ll be no arguing with you,” Walton replied stepping backwards in acceptance of the metaphorical gauntlet Adam had tossed down.  “Especially after I kill you.  Measure up, boy.”

 “Walton, you’re fight is with me,” Red Hawk pointed out avidly.

 “You’re right it is,” Walton said to her as he continued to back up.  “And as soon as I get this boy out of my way, it will be again, Injun.  Don’t doubt that I’m ever going to stop until I kill you once and for all.”

 “You’re not going to do this,” Red Hawk immediately protested no longer directing her attention to Walton or Mackenzie.  They, at the moment, weren’t her immediately concern.  “You’re not going to be killed because of me.”

 “Red Hawk, I can do this,” Adam assured her as he headed a ways down the street.  People were already clearing from the streets, closing the blinds and doors of stores, and disappearing into buildings.  A scattered few lined the walkways of the buildings, sheltered from the rain.  One of this was his own father, Ben Cartwright, who was bound to put a stop to this, though he hadn’t moved yet.  “If I don’t, you’ll die and I can’t stand by and just watch that happen.  You’d do the same for me.”

 Red Hawk stood before him, looking straight at him.  “Yes, I’d die for you, Adam, but this isn’t the same.  If you die now, there is no point to it.  You don’t deserve to die, not like this, Adam.  Not in a gunfight with some bastard who’s after me.  You’re not supposed to die until years from now when you’re old and gray and you’ve had a family and a wife of your own,” Red Hawk urged him.

 “You think I’m just gonna let you stand and face them?  How else are you going to stop them?  There is no other way, right?  This isn’t in cold blood, Red Hawk, and you’re not a coward.  You are the strongest, bravest person I’ve ever met, but sometimes you have to allow yourself to be helped.” 

 “I’m not going to stand by and watch you get killed,” Red Hawk remonstrated vehemently as his pa approached from behind Red Hawk.  Adam locked his gaze with Ben’s and Red Hawk fell silent without turning to see who Adam was looking at, she already knew.  From the stern and set expression upon his father’s face, Adam would have sworn he was going to attempt to talk Adam out of this.  “Ben, please, he can’t do this,” pleaded Red Hawk when Ben stood beside her.

 “It’s his decision, Red Hawk,” Ben said not letting his gaze leave his son’s blue eyes.  “His life, and I believe Adam should be able to make it on his own.  He understands what he is doing.”  Ben knew Adam was surprised by his words.  The confused expression on his son’s features suggested Adam wanted Ben to attempt to talk him out of what he was about to do.  Maybe he should have, because Adam had never been in a gunfight before, but Ben couldn’t prevent the inevitable.  After a moment, Adam’s gaze went back to meet Red Hawk’s.  The girl was strong, having gotten this far, and was obviously able to fend for herself.  Right now, the only weapon she had with her was a hunting knife at her belt.  She seemed more unprepared than Ben had ever seen her, more needing of help.

 “Red Hawk . . .” Adam began not knowing what he was to say to her.  “I love you.”

 Those words struck more of a cord with Ben than with Red Hawk.  Naturally, Ben knew his son loved and cared deeply for this woman, but for him to say those words in that manner . . . then Ben truly realized how much his son cared for her.  “And I love you,” Red Hawk replied in kind.  Ben took her arm and led Red Hawk off the road and in front of Frenchy’s livery stable.  Father and son exchanged one last glance and then Adam turned to face Walton.

 They both turned around, undoing the strap that held the hammer in place.  All Ben could see on his face was grim determination, not fear, not anger, just calm and resolve.  That was his son, though, not one to lose his head.  Watching as Adam released a heavy sigh, about to turn, Ben felt Red Hawk tense from next to him.  Within a second, she was gone from his side, calling out Adam’s name, and in that moment, Ben understood why.  Mackenzie, who was also standing off to the side, had drawn his gun from his holster and aimed it at Adam.  The shot was fired and Ben’s gun was from his holster in a second, drawing, aiming, and firing in one swift motion.

Red Hawk reached Adam in time to take the bullet for him, the young Indian girl knocking Adam to the ground.  Ben hadn’t seen the bullet connect with Red Hawk, but he saw no physical pain upon his son’s features.  Mackenzie dropped the gun when the bullet from Ben’s gun struck him, and dropped to his knees, clasping his hands over his heart.  Blood poured from the wound, and Mackenzie collapsed to the dirt road.

 “Red Hawk,” Adam cried as he held the young woman in his arms.  From a distance away, he heard the sound of a hammer being set into position.  Looking up from Red Hawk, Adam saw Walton pointing his gun at Red Hawk, and his father’s pistol trained on Walton.  Whatever words his pa was speaking, Adam didn’t hear, he simply directed his attention back down to Red Hawk.  Blood stained the light blue shirt Adam had given to her.  The bullet wound was through her chest, probably puncturing a lung.  “You’re going to be okay,” Adam assured her, pressing a hand over the bullet wound.  When she coughed heavily, blood came to her lips, and pain racked her body.  “No, you can’t die. . . .  Red Hawk, you’re gonna be fine.”

 “It’s all right; it’s over,” Red Hawk managed quietly, looking up to him.

They were in the middle of the road with half of the town watching them.  Adam was on one knee, the other leg extended under Red Hawk.  She lay across his lap, her hand over his—the one over the bullet wound.  Mackenzie lay dead a distance away from both and Big Dan had taken Walton’s pistol away from him.  The bullet Adam never saw coming, not from Mackenzie.  She saved his life once more, but this time it was going to be the end of her own.  The young man’s hat lay discarded, being drenched by the rain that pelted the small town, turning the dirt roads to mud around them.  That went ignored, for his best friend, a person he loved deeply was dying in his arms.  The aching throb in his arm didn’t matter, nor that her blood was seeping into his own clothing, staining his hands also.

“Now they will finally leave me and my brother alone . . .” she closed her eyes briefly in pain and squeezed his hand tightly.  Letting out a strained breath that brought more blood to her lips, she looked up once more to Adam.  “Adam, tell him that I love him, that I never stopped.”

 “I’ll tell him,” he assured her wiping the tears from her face and kissing her on the forehead.  The tears weren’t of pain or fear.  Red Hawk wasn’t afraid of dying.  The tears were because she was going to lose such a friend and to cause him pain.  From where she lay in his strong arms, she could see the pain his in sky blue eyes.

“Thank you,” Red Hawk said the relief evident in her eyes.  She took in a deep breath, but did not break eye contact with Adam, despite her pain.  “It was a honor to be your friend, Adam Cartwright.”

“Please,” Adam begged, cupping the side of her face, “please, don’t leave me.”

 “I’m sorry,” whispered Red Hawk, her eyes closed gradually, and she went limp in his arms.  Adam’s eyes widened as tears poured from them, sliding down his cheeks.  Ben watched as his oldest son clutched his best friend’s body against him, he started to move towards his son.  Blood was on Adam’s hands and on his clothing.  Rain matted his dark hair and drenched both of them, and anyone standing in the open air.  The members of the town remained silent as they saw the normally resolute Cartwright rise to his feet with the dead Indian girl in his arms.  The emotion he felt was so prevalent upon his features, the pain.

 Mourning

“If thus the young hours have fleated,
When sorrow itself looked bright;
If thus the fair hope hath cheated,
That led thee along to light;
If thus the cold world now wither
Each feeling that once was dear:-
Come, child of misfortune, come hither,
I’ll weep with thee, tear for tear.”
-Thomas Moore
Has Sorrow Thy Young days Shaded

 “Pa, when’s Adam coming back?”  Ben’s youngest son, Joseph Cartwright inquired without turning to face his father.  He was standing on the chair in the office area off the living room, looking out the small windows.  The only ones that used the desk were Adam and Ben, mostly for business in accordance with the ranch or mines.  The blossoming of the Ponderosa couldn’t have been done without the diplomacy Ben was so good at along with Adam’s ingenuity.  The two worked well together, though more often than not, they worked on separate projects.  If Adam was working on payroll for the mines, Ben would be working on selling cattle.  If Ben was working on improving the efficiency of their mines, Adam would be moving the heard to another pasture.  The Ponderosa had plenty of hands, but not those who were fully qualified to work the more important aspects of the prosperous ranch.

 Little Joe was eight years old, sixteen years younger than his oldest brother, whom he was deeply fond of.  For the past few years, Adam hadn’t been able to spend as much time with his brother because Adam had been off to college, and because of the older boy’s responsibilities.  Little Joe and Hoss had started to get along together more, doing things together, things they might have done before with Adam.  Most of the responsibilities Adam had taken upon himself, despite Ben’s constant urging for Adam to take more time for himself.  Ben doubted Adam realized he had been growing away from Joe and Hoss because of the work he was doing.  Such a situation was being stuck between a rock and a hard place, one of several.  Another situation was college; Adam had gone to school and studied architecture.  Instead of pursing that career, Adam came back to the Ponderosa to be of service, to be with his family once more.  He returned two years ago after finishing his degree.  The only use for his skill in architecture was to design the house they currently lived in.  Ben found himself depending more and more on Adam, doing more on the ranch since Adam took care of other aspects.

 “I don’t know, Little Joe,” Ben replied from where he sat in his chair near the fireplace.  He was reading a newspaper.  It was dark and Ben hadn’t felt like sleeping.  In fact, he hadn’t been able to sleep that well since Adam left two and a half days ago.  He left to bury Red Hawk, something Ben wasn’t going to prevent him from doing.  The boy said nothing as he put Red Hawk’s body on the horse Ben lent her, mounted his own and rode slowly out of town.  All he said to Ben was, “I have to go, Pa”.  It was habit that Ben referred to Adam as a boy.  Adam was twenty-four years old, having grown up too fast for his own good.  He had to.  Ben recalled having conversations with him on the trip to Nevada, as if he was talking to adult.  Adam was no boy; he was a grown man, a mature adult.  Someone who had lost his mother at the age of five, watched Hoss’ mother die in his father’s arm, and had come home from Boston after hearing Joe’s mother had been killed in an explosion. 

 “Aren’t you worried about him?”  Joe asked dropping down from the chair and walked from the office and to the couch.  Ben looked up from the newspaper and saw the way Joseph was looking at him, the concern on his features.  Setting down the newspaper on the low coffee table, Ben rose from where he sat and approached his youngest son.

 “Of course I am, Joseph,” Ben replied sitting on the couch next to Joe and drew the young boy into his lap.  “Adam lost his friend, someone he cared a lot for, and he needs some time.  To bury her in the fashion of her people, and to mourn for her, like you did for your mother.”

 Joe looked up at Ben, seeming slightly confused by the comparison.  “Adam loved Red Hawk as much as I loved Ma?”

 “In a different way.  He loved her as much as he loves you or Hoss or his own mother and the way you’d love a very dear friend,” Ben explained to his son.  “If he doesn’t come back tomorrow, I’m going to look for him. . . . You should get ready for bed, it’s past your bedtime.”

 “Yes, Pa,” Joseph replied a little more readily than what Ben normally encountered, he must have been tired.  “Good night,” he said hurrying up the stairs to his room.  Apparently, he had been somewhat comforted by Ben’s words, not worrying so much about his older brother.

 “Good night,” Ben replied quietly as he slowly looked from the stairs and back into the fireplace.  Rising when he heard the thud of heavy footsteps approaching the door, Ben started to move towards the door when Hoss burst through the heavy door.

 “Pa, come quick, it’s Adam,” Hoss blurted out, “I think he’s hurt.”

 “Where?”  Ben immediately demanded, following his middle child out of the house.  Hoss pointed down the main road, which eventually forked off in two directions.  For some reason, Hoss remained standing on the porch, while Ben jogged in the direction where he saw a figure approaching.  Then the figure came into full view; it was Adam.  He was walking slowly, stumbling along.  His eyes stared straight forward, though not seeming to see Ben as he approached.  “Adam?”  Ben shouted to him, but Adam didn’t seem to hear.

 The second thing Ben noticed about Adam was his hair was a good deal shorter and his sleeves were rolled up.  In the dark, Ben couldn’t determine why, especially on such a cold night.  “Adam,” Ben called once more as he was almost towards him.  Again, Adam made no move to look at his father, but this time he dropped to his knees.  He had used to last of his strength to get this far, and when he heard his father’s comforting voice all his strength melted away.  His arms hung limp at his sides, and Adam just stared down at the ground before him.  Dropping to his knees in front of his son, Ben grabbed him by the shoulders. 

“Adam, look at me,” he ordered frantically.  Adam didn’t respond and Ben could now see that his hair was cut unevenly and there were lacerations on his arms.  Deep cuts maybe four on each arm.  Blood stained his dirty gray shirt he had been wearing for the past three days.  Ben recalled the cutting of hair, and cutting ones arms was a traditional method of mourning for the dead.  A Cheyenne tradition, and Red Hawk was Cheyenne.

Quickly Ben checked Adam for any other wounds, not knowing if the blood on his shirt was his own or Red Hawk’s.  Pulling up his shirt, Ben found only that Adam’s shoulder was bleeding again.  There were a few scratches, which had no depth.  He didn’t understand what was wrong with him, as Ben knelt before his oldest boy.  “Adam,” Ben repeated raising his head to force Adam to look at him.  His eyes seemed darker, though it didn’t seem as if he had been crying.  When his eyes raised slightly, though not meeting Ben’s; Ben saw tears fill his son’s eyes immediately.

 “Oh, Pa,” Adam managed, his voice cracking.  “They took her.  I couldn’t—I couldn’t do anything, I couldn’t save her, I couldn’t stop her . . . I couldn’t . . . she died in my arms . . . she never knew—O God, Pa, she’s really gone.” 

Adam sunk into Ben’s arm, clutching his father’s shirt and sobbed.  His tears seeped into Ben’s shirt as Adam buried his face against Ben’s chest.  Holding him tightly as Adam continued to cry in his arms, Ben knew it had been a long time since his son had cried.  Since Inger died sixteen years ago.  Adam shook as he cried, trembling from a combination of the cold and the emotions that overwhelmed him.  His skin was cold and slightly clammy to the touch.  How long had passed until Adam composed himself slightly, Ben didn’t know, but Adam could take as long as he wanted.  He was exhausted, not even having the strength to rise to his feet or to move from his father’s embrace. 

“She was right,” Adam said almost at a whisper.  “I should have listened to her. . . .  She said the next bullet was going to kill someone.  If I just would have listened to her—it wouldn’t have happened.”

 “Ssh, Adam, ssh,” Ben said rocking him as if he was a small boy.  “It’s not your fault.”

 Moments later, Ben slipped an arm around Adam’s shoulders, the other under his knees and picked his son up, holding him tightly against him.  With ease, he lifted Adam, despite the fact he had grown to his father’s height.  In spite of that, Adam wasn’t built the same way as Ben, a good deal lighter than Ben, or his younger brother Hoss, who was already taller than he was.  Ben carried Adam back to the house.  Hoss already put Adam’s horse up, which wandered to the barn during this time, and the horse tethered to it which had borne Red Hawk’s body.  “What do you want me to do, Pa?”  Hoss inquired when Ben reached the door with Adam in his arms.  He was trying to appear strong, but he couldn’t, not went Adam was like this.

 “Get me some bandages, hot water, and a bottle of alcohol or liquor of some sort,” Ben explained walking past Hoss and into the house.  He could feel that Adam was still crying, though controlled this time and without making a sound.  Joe was standing in his nightshirt, tears welling in his eyes when he saw his oldest brother in his Pa’s arms.  Adam’s head was resting against Ben’s shoulder and Little Joe probably couldn’t see that his eyes were, in fact, open.  He could see the blood that covered his brother’s shirt. 

Carrying Adam up the stairs, Ben took him to the end of the hall where his bedroom was and lay him on his bed.  Adam didn’t move, but stayed in semi-fetal position, his eyes staring straight forward.  Ben took of Adam’s boots and sock, setting them next to the bed.  Next Ben undid Adam’s gun belt, and the thin strap that tied around the thigh to hold down the holster; the pistol still was in its placed, never removed and never fired.  Wrapping the belt around the holster, Ben set it on the table next to Adam’s bed.

By that time, Hoss entered the room carrying a basin of water, a cloth draped over his arm, and a roll of bandages under his arm along with a bottle of some sort of alcohol, grain alcohol—clear, and stronger than most.  “Need some help, Pa?”  Hoss asked gently after he sat the basin of water on the bedside table.  Ben had taken the bandages, towel, and bottle from Hoss and set them down on the bed next to Adam.  He hadn’t taken his eyes from Adam’s trembling form. 

 “No, thank you, Hoss,” Ben assured him and Hoss hesitantly left the room, closing the door behind him.  Looking down to his son, who still had tears streaming down his cheeks, Ben stroked the side of his face gently.  “Adam, it’s going to be all right, son, it’s going to be all right.”

 Ben unbuttoned Adam’s shirt, Adam moving slightly to assist when Ben took it off him.  He wore the necklace that belonged to Red Hawk about his neck, the tip of the feather coming down almost to his navel.  “Come on, Adam, sit up,” Ben directed gently, “we need to get you fixed up.”  Ben put an arm around his son’s waist and helped him to sit up.  He remained in an upright position under his own power, but still he said nothing.  Glancing briefly to his son, Ben picked up the cloth and dipped it in the basin of water Hoss had brought.  Ben wiped the blood from his arms.  When Ben doused the lacerations with alcohol, Adam didn’t flinch despite the burning sensation he must have felt.  The bleeding had already stopped despite the depth of the lacerations.  The bandages were simply for protection from possible infection.  After re-bandaging the old bullet wound, Ben lifted his son once more to have him lay under the covers.  Once more Adam lay on his side with his knees pulled slightly to his chest.

 After gathering the used bandages, the cloth, and the half-empty bottle, Ben kissed Adam gently on his temple, starting to rise from where he sat next to Adam on the bed.  He was stopped, however, when Adam spoke.  “Pa.”  Adam’s voice was quite and strained; Ben could barely hear what he said, but the fact that he spoke got Ben’s attention.

 “Yes, Adam,” Ben said resting his hand on Adam’s.  This time Adam raised his eyes to meet Ben’s, turning his hand slightly so he could hold his pa’s.  Something he hadn’t done since he was very young, younger than Little Joe.  There was so much hurt in his eyes, desperation in his voice when he spoke to his father.  Everything he was feeling now was primarily do to with the loss of Red Hawk, but it was also a combination of everything he hadn’t wept over in the last sixteen years, everything he didn’t let go, everything he didn’t let himself completely feel or deal with.  He didn’t have to speak any more; Ben knew what Adam wanted to say.  Squeezing Adam’s hand tightly, Ben offered his reply, “I’ll be right here, Adam.”

 It took a long while until Adam fell asleep.  When he did, he slept fitfully, despite his exhaustion.  Ben wanted to wake Adam from whatever nightmare that was haunting him, to comfort him with whatever emotional turmoil, but to stop them was to take them away, and that was something he couldn’t do.  Finally, Adam slept soundly, sleeping through most of the next day.  Ben cut his hair to an even length, a good inch to an inch and a half shorter than its previous slightly longish style.  It was now close-cropped.  Adam said nothing during that time, nor did he say anything when Ben changed the bandages on his arms.  Then he went back to sleep. 

Ben assured Little Joe and Hoss that he was all right.  They wanted to see their brother, but he doubted that was the best idea at the time.  The next morning Ben awoke early, needing to complete Adam’s chores, which hadn’t been done for the past three days.  Before he went downstairs, he went to check on Adam.  He was surprised to see Adam’s bed was already made, and he was gone from it.  Going downstairs, Adam wasn’t down here either and both Hoss and Little Joe were still sleeping.  Adam’s hat and jacket still hung from the pegs near the wall, and his gun belt sat on the table against the wall in the foyer next to Ben’s.  Donning his tan jacket and hat, Ben exited, gently closing the door behind him and heard the sound of wood being cut.

 Towards the end of the house, Adam was chopping wood.  A large pile of it had already been cut.  He was dressed in all black, though he didn’t wear a jacket, his gun belt, or his hat.  Placing the log on the chopping block, Adam hefted the axe and brought it down swiftly on the log, chopping it in two.  Once more Adam placed another log and cleaved it in half.  That’s when he looked up while Ben approached.  “You’re up early,” Ben noted, knowing Adam might be uncomfortable with the occurrence of the past several days.

 “I have a lot to catch up on,” Adam replied picking up half of the pile of wood, walking over and transferred it to the wood rack against the wall.  “Probably a lot of things to do at the mines also, and our timber operations.”

 “I took care of everything at the mines and with the timber,” Ben informed him, knowing Adam was ready to throw himself back into his work.  Maybe he thought that would help, or maybe he didn’t want to dwell on what happened.  “Did you eat breakfast?”  Ben inquired as Adam dumped the last of the firewood on the rack.

 Adam shook his head slightly.  “Wasn’t hungry,” he replied returning the axe to the shed.  When he returned he stopped and looked only briefly to his pa.  He opened his mouth to speak, but it took a while for words to actually come out.  “I—I wanted to thank you, for everything.  And I wanted to apologize—”

 “—Adam, you know that’s not necessary, you’re my son,” Ben responded immediately, stepping closer to him.  Adam inclined his head, as if his boots held some fascination for him.  “Take it easy, you don’t have to rush back into things.”

 Adam nodded slightly.  “I know, but what else am I supposed to do?”

 “You lost someone you cared about.  It’s all right, it’s okay to mourn.”

 “I mourned,” Adam replied, “I mourned, I buried her.  I lost my best friend, I can handle it now, but I don’t want to stop what I normally do.  I just want to go on with the way things were, is there anything wrong with that?”

 “You don’t have to be strong for everyone.  You’re human, just like everyone else.  Your brothers know that, I know that, Red Hawk knew that, and everyone in town knows it.  The question is, do you?  You can allow yourself to feel emotions without feeling bad about it.  Without feeling because you did so you let someone down.”

 “I know I’m human, Pa.  Otherwise I’d have a lot easier time with this.  I have to do this, not just for anyone, but for myself.  If I don’t, I’ll be the way I was yesterday; I won’t be able to do anything.  When Red Hawk died, I felt as if I couldn’t breathe, as if my heart was being torn out of my chest.  I remember when Ma died—my mother, Elizabeth—I remember . . . is it supposed to hurt this much?  Is love supposed to be this painful?”

 “It is that painful,” Ben informed him, “if you remember when Elizabeth died, you probably remember how I reacted.  That your grandparents took care of you for weeks afterwards and I barely saw you because I felt as if a part of me had died with Elizabeth.  I didn’t go on like you have, I let my grief overwhelm me.  Pushing it away can be almost as bad as dwelling in it, Adam.  You have to deal with it.  Come to terms with Red Hawk’s death.”

 Adam nodded slightly as he pulled off his black gloves and stuck them in his belt.  “Thanks, Pa,” he responded quietly.

 Despite that conversation, Ben wasn’t surprised when Adam didn’t return for lunch.  Such a thing wasn’t unusual for him to forget if Hoss wasn’t with him, or Little Joe, for that matter.  He returned later that afternoon after finishing most of what he had to take care of.  After he completed the chores he had in the barns, Adam fetched his hat, gun belt, and jacket from inside the house.  Ben watched him as he did this.  Ben watched Adam in his brief interaction with his brother as they unloaded a wagon full of hay into the barn.  A bale of hay was hooked to a pulley; he and Carlos would heft the bale up to the loft of the barn where Hoss would store it inside.  Whatever conversation had been broached didn’t involve Adam, no matter how hard they tried.  Hoss had even instructed Little Joe not to attempt to speak with Adam yet, in fear of his feelings getting hurt.  The conversation he and Adam previously had either didn’t help, or sent Adam into some deep thinking.  His mind wasn’t on what he was doing, though since he had performed such chores so frequently, he didn’t really need to think about them.

 A particular incident set Ben to wondering if he should force Adam to take another day of rest.  After Adam finished hanging up the harnesses of the workhorses who pulled the wagon filled with bales of hay, Hoss noted the blood, which stained the white bandages that bound his right forearm.  While noting this, he reached out to touch Adam, to see if he was all right as he looked down to the blood on his arms.  Adam knocked his hand away the moment Hoss touched his arm, reeling backwards, looking at his younger brother for a moment as if he wasn’t sure who he was.  Despite the fact Hoss was significantly bigger than Adam, he looked slightly frightened by the harshness of Adam’s reaction.  Thankfully, Adam noticed the same after he forced himself to calm down, apologized and disappeared into the house.  Ben doubted Hoss had seen him since.  Undoubtedly he had been out busting horses, checking figures from the mine or their timber operations, working on the payroll or something along that line.

 “Where are you going?”  Ben asked as Adam exited the house once more, walking over to his horse tied to the hitching post.  Ben leaned against it, tightening the bridle to Little Joe’s horse Paint.

 “Town,” Adam replied concisely.

 “Hop Sing and Joseph left for town to get the supplies we need,” Ben informed him, but then understood his reasoning, though supplies would have been a sound excuse.  “If you kill Walton out of revenge, you’re never going to forgive yourself.”

 “I’m never going to forgive myself if I don’t.  I want her brother, I want Egdan to be able to mourn for his sister and I want him to know that her death was avenged,” Adam retorted, mounting his horse without using the stirrups.  Ben shook his head as Adam rode of in the direction of town, not going very quickly, no faster than a trot.  He was twenty-four years old; Ben had to remind himself.  He was a man and knew how to live with the consequences of his actions.  He wondered if Adam was going to be able to deal with his little brother watching him kill a man.  It wouldn’t be in cold blood, Adam would probably go about it the same way he was going to five days ago.  Isabella and Tess had gone into town with Hop Sing and Little Joe.  Isabella was Carlos’ sister whom Adam loved very much, though not yet to the same degree he loved Red Hawk.

 As Adam entered the town, several of the members of the town watched him as he trotted into town.  That wasn’t too surprising considering the last time they had saw him he had rode of to bury Red Hawk.  When they had last seen him, his hair was slightly longer, and he was wearing another color aside from black.  It didn’t make a difference to him, though.  He saw the wagon Hop Sing and Little Joe undoubtedly took sitting outside the Orowitz’s store, where this all started about a week ago.  A buggy was stationed in front of it, probably belonging to Tess Greene.  He dismounted in front of the livery stable, not for any particular reason, but wandered over to the saloon after tying Beauty to one of many hitching posts along the main road.

 “Howdy, Adam,” Shelby Thereat offered with a broad smile when Adam entered the saloon.  Shelby hadn’t seen Adam in the saloon to actually purchase a drink, as far as she knew, the boy had never drank whiskey before.  “What can I do for you?” she inquired, expecting him to want help of some kind or her opinion on something.  Adam was a nice young man, quite possibly the brightest person in town.  She hadn’t seen him since his Indian friend had died taking a bullet for him about five days ago.

 “Whiskey,” Adam replied leaning against the counter and dropping a dime upon the table.  The saloon wasn’t that crowded, though it soon would be picking up.  Adam did notice as he entered that Mark Walton was sitting at the back of the saloon with some man.  Quentin Mackenzie died from the bullet his pa had put through him. 

 Shelby had to admit she wasn’t expecting that request.  She hesitated, but then flipped over a shot glass, pouring it halfway full of whiskey.  Watching as Adam picked up the glass and drained the contents, she was surprise when he displayed no reaction to it.  Not to the harshness of the substance, or any expression of disgust.  He set the glass back down, not looking up as Walton rose from where was sitting towards the back of the saloon.  “Wanna another?”  Shelby asked, though she didn’t want to serve this boy any more.  It was his own choice, since he was around twenty-four years old.  Ben Cartwright might not have been too pleased to learn about Adam drinking whiskey.

 “Sure,” Adam replied, and downed the next shot with the same ease, setting the shot glass back on the counter.  He remained standing there, though this time Shelby doubted he wanted anymore.  She wasn’t going to let Adam get drunk, no matter if he was a paying customer or not.  She knew under normal circumstances he wouldn’t even consider taking a drink, much less two.

 “Trying to drown away some of your sorrows, boy?”  Walton inquired as he approached, leaning against the counter next to Adam. 

 “Shut up, Walton,” Shelby directed, because she knew Adam wasn’t going to tell him to do so.  The young man had directed his attention to the empty shot glass in front of him.  He was rotating it on the rim in a circle on the counter, it occasionally catching a beam of light and reflecting it in Walton’s direction.  Shelby noticed, every time he did so, the beam of light struck him straight in the chest, near his rib cage, just where his friend had shot the Indian girl.  Since his gaze was directed downwards, Shelby guessed Adam hadn’t noticed it.

 “You stay out of this,” Walton ordered, moving around Adam, so his back was towards the door, baring Adam’s path as he leaned once more against the counter.  This time he was closer to Adam.  “Thinking about that Injun girl Quentin killed?  I got to thinking about it too as soon as you came in here.  Rememberin’ how she bled to death in your arms, saving your life.  Why’d you like her so much?  She’s just a dirty Injun.  What’d she do, give herself to you?  That all she’s good for?”

 Shelby actually jumped when Adam lashed out, backhanding Walton so hard across the face the man went tumbling backwards.  Walton fell through the doors of the saloon, and landed hard on his back.  Upon him immediately, Adam hauled the older man to his feet, slamming him against the support post of the saloon.  Again he and Walton had the attention of most of the town.  Fights were normally cheered upon, but not with this Cartwright.  This was the Cartwright who read, broke up fights, kept a level head, and was generally the sensible one.  The one who assisted Isabella DeVega in testifying against the man who raped her, to free herself of the charge of murder and his pa from aiding and abetting a wanted felon.  Needless to say, because of that, Shelby wasn’t aware Adam could hit that hard.  Walton’s jaw was bleeding from where Adam struck him.

 “You say one more word, Walton . . .”

 “Or what?”  Walton demanded.  “You want to finish what we started?”

 Adam released him, backing up and into the street.  Walton grinned as he walked in the opposite direction, never taking his eyes off Adam.  Shelby watched as the girl Adam confessed to loving, Isabella, walked out of the general store with Tess Greene, Little Joe Cartwright, and Hop Sing.  They stood back under Big Dan’s direction.  Everyone cleared the street, and the two waited for whoever wanted to get out of harm’s way to do so.  They undid the hitch on their holsters.  Shelby watched Adam, his hand near his gun, unwavering.  His second gun fight, but this time he was actually going to have to draw and pull the trigger.

 And he did.  Once Walton made his move, Adam whipped the pistol from its holster in the blink of an eye.  One shot rang out and for a moment no one in the town moved.  For once, all was quite in Eagle Station.  Then Walton dropped his gun.  It had only been raised high enough to shoot Adam in the leg, had he pulled the trigger.  Walton’s hands clasped over his heart, and he stumbled backwards, falling to the ground once more.  Without saying anything, without waiting for Walton’s dying breath, Adam turned around, walked to his horse.  Those who knew Adam the best watched as Adam mounted his horse and rode off in the opposite direction of the Ponderosa.  The rest of the people in town watched as Mark Walton breathed his last, going limp quite near the place where Red Hawk died.

THE END