Summary: Great loss, a small girl, and the difficult task of continuing to live. A story of misjudgement, traumas, fear, and Providence.
Rating: PG
Words:  34,600

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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:  Great thanks to Gwynne for her great help and effort in editing the story.

 

Webs of Fear

“There ain’t a body.”

“WHAT do ya mean there ain’t!”

Roy winced at the volume, shook his head and spread his hands. “I’m just as mad, Hoss. There’s a mess of tracks; a herd of buffalo couldna messed it up any worse. I left Sam to see that no one else tromps through there. I want you to go and look it over. I just cain’t tell what they did with…” Roy’s grey moustache twitched nervously as he tried to decide between the officially impersonal word ‘body’ and the intensely painful ‘him’. Eventually he left the sentence unfinished. Both knew what – who – he meant. “They mighta meant to make the mess.”

Hoss flexed his fingers, trying to get his clenched hands to relax. “Ya mean they don’t want us to find him.”

“Yep.”

“Could ya tell…” Hoss’ voice wavered briefly. “Could ya tell what they did to him?”

“There was blood,” offered Roy after a moment of disgruntled hesitation. “I found ropes, too.”

Hoss took a deeper breath. He had to know. “A noose?”

“Yep.”

A cold, heavy silence congealed in the sheriff’s office; it choked their voices and strangled rational thought. Roy sighed heavily at last, got up and checked his gun. “Let’s go, son. You’ve got younger eyes, and you’re the best darn tracker in the territory – if’n anyone finds him, it’s gonna be you.”

Outside, Hoss stopped just before mounting and asked, “What about the skunks who did this?”

“A wall of silence,” growled Roy in answer. “You woulda thought they were all blind, mute and deaf. Ain’t anyone seen anything, heard anything. Ain’t anyone even know who the man is, you’d say.”

“When you know something, you just let me know.” Hoss mounted his horse in one forceful movement, eliciting a small uncomfortable grunt from Chubb. “I’ll smash that wall to pieces and tear every tiny brick apart to look inside those block heads and find my answers; you can lock up what’s left.”

He looked at the faces of those that might have heard him, but his eyes met nothing but shame and sinking heads. There was no sign of the fear a murderer should feel at the force in that deep-felt proclamation.

“Let’s go. I don’t like the air in this murderers’ town.” Hoss sniffed the air loudly. “You can just smell the town chickens and town skunks, the worst breeds there is.”

The passers-by looked away and continued with their actions: walking by, counting money, doing shopping. In one of the houses, a small girl pulled out another piece of paper and started drawing anew.

***

Roy fingered the bloody noose. Hoss’ search only proved what they had known from the first one. Two sets of tracks could be found: one from approximately the time of lynching, the other was a primitive but quite successful attempt at wiping the tracks. There was some blood under the tree, pieces of rope stiff with blood, a thick branch that had been freshly broken away with the loosened noose attached to it. Someone must have come some time after the lynching, taken the body away and wiped the tracks.

“Roy.”

Hoss leaned against a tree, his face a mask of resignation. He’d needed a moment in private to compose himself, and Roy was just waiting for him to come back.

Hoss continued in a hoarse voice. “I found some tracks… blood and… as though someone – pulled some… thing heavy… Can’t be sure, though… Some of it’s wiped… well, quite a lot… It’s my best guess… Everything ends at the stream. We could try… up or down the stream…”

“We’ll try, boy. We’ll try everything.”

“He’s out in the wilderness somewhere, Roy. No one’s gonna hurt him any more…” Suddenly Hoss shivered, slid down to his knees and covered his face with his hands. “Oh God, Roy, I didn’t wanna believe – I didn’t wanna believe it! I don’t wanna, but they did it to him; those varmints did it!”

Roy turned away as if he wanted to escape that despairing voice, so painfully twisting in his gut like an Indian scalping knife; he grabbed his hat and threw it to the ground in a fit of anger such as the old sheriff had never before displayed. “Damn it! Damn it all!”

***

The usual, comfortably impersonal buzz of the townspeople has originally been a subdued, just audible hum that admitted the town’s feeling of guilt and shame about the case. It was rather short-lived, too, but it was mainly the evasiveness that drove Roy Coffee to distraction. The body of poor Jack Stevens, the disappearance of Ben Cartwright’s boy and the lynching were smoothly joined with could-have-beens and must-have-beens. The stories were surprisingly general and fluctuating in detail, almost as if people were anxious to form theories totally unrelated to that of their neighbour. Now, that never clearly spoken but just deeply felt buzz was conveniently dying away, and so, it seemed, were people’s memories.

Hence, Joe wasn’t very surprised when, some two weeks later, a young girl approached him after the Sunday service. Lynching or no lynching, the Cartwright money alone made the Cartwright men eligible bachelors.

He was going to roughly send her back to where she came from, and she seemed to have sensed that, for she paled some and blinked nervously. Yet, she didn’t back away. “I’ve got to talk to you, Mr Cartwright.”

Her matter-of-fact tone and attitude made Joe swallow the bitter response he was preparing.

“It’s about my little sister… You have every right to be surprised; you don’t even know me – My name is Sandra Watson; we live with our uncle and aunt – the Johnsons.” She saw recognition in his face when she mentioned the name, and went on quickly. “We came here not long ago; you can’t know me. I know it all sounds strange, but let me explain. My little sister – she’s only four – stopped speaking. It was all very sudden. We didn’t know what to do about it, and recently – recently I found some drawings she made. I sh…showed them to the doctor, and he told me…”

She caught a deeper breath, trying to calm down, as she began to nervously stumble in her speech. Joe felt Hoss behind him – Ben didn’t feel fit enough to leave the house at all. The girl didn’t seem to mind Hoss’ presence, and finished, “He told me to show them to you and tell you to help me get Annie to talking. She won’t even come out of the house, out of her room – we have to find a way for her to open up, the doctor said.”

She quickly pulled a piece of paper from a pocket in her skirts and pushed it in Joe’s hands. “I can’t talk to you now; no one knows about those drawings yet – please come and take me and Annie for a ride tomorrow. I’ll explain.”

With a nod, Joe hid the paper inside his jacket, and two seconds later she was gone in the crowd. He quietly related to Hoss what she’d told him, and they sought out Paul Martin to consult him.

“Yes, I’ve sent her to you,” he confirmed. “Come into my office.”

Inside, Joe pulled out and smoothed the paper carefully. The drawing, clearly done by a child, pictured a couple of shapes they guessed to be human. In the middle, a tree stood with a sturdy branch growing from one side. A line went down from the limb to a black and red shape. A human shape. A hung human.

Hoss suddenly choked on his breath. “Is that… what I think it is?”

“The girl stopped speaking the night he was taken. Sandy, her sister, found her in the morning crying in her room, unmercifully frightened. She wouldn’t make any kind of contact with her environment,” explained the doctor quietly. “She wouldn’t come out of her room, ate only when she was alone or with her sister. She even began treating her uncle and aunt like strangers. Yesterday, Sandy found her drawings. I have a couple more; the rest are in Annie’s room. I told her to go to you, and I’ve contacted Roy. You’ll wait by Lake Tahoe tomorrow, around three p.m. I asked Mr and Mrs Burton to suggest to Sandy’s aunt and uncle that they take Sandy and Annie for a visit to their ranch tomorrow – they have a granddaughter close to Annie in age; it will be a good excuse. They’ll drop them by the lake so you can talk to them, and you will bring them to the Burtons’ later. Point is,” Paul toned his voice further down, glancing uneasily around, “that the girl may well know who was there and what really happened. If it gets to be common knowledge, someone might want to silence her for good. We can’t even trust the Johnsons, the way Annie’s treating them.”

Joe rubbed his eyes angrily. “How can she know all that?”

“Everything points to the conclusion that she’s been there,” explained the doctor. “Since it was evening, and it happened not very far from Virginia City, she may have walked there and back without being noticed.”

He reached to his bag and pulled out some papers. “Here, here and here,” he pointed. “She keeps drawing the same situation. There is always the same number of people around. If you compare the drawings, the figures are drawn always in the same way: the one closest to the tree is the tallest one and is wearing white. Those three groups of three men each are always standing the same way, always in black. It seems that the same colours and shapes are assigned to the same people. A child’s mind works in a… colourful way, she would be making constant changes if she’d thought it up. She’s reproducing an image, something she’s seen and something that’s strongly imprinted in her mind.”

Hoss fingered the pages, frowning. “Can we – guess something more from those drawings? Do you have any other ones?”

“I’m afraid Annie holds the key to the information locked there,” Paul shrugged his shoulders. “She’s drawing the same scene over and over, obviously from the same viewing point. These are all the drawings I have here.”

“What does Roy say?”

“He’s not sure how much evidence the drawings are, from the formal point of view, but he’s burning to try it out and get all possible information that may help in the investigation. He’s feeling guilty and mad that he wasn’t able to stop it.”

Joe and Hoss exchanged looks. “Three p.m. by Lake Tahoe?”

“Three p.m. by Lake Tahoe.”

***

Ben put his hand on Chubb’s reins, held strongly in his son’s hand. “I am grateful for your thoughtfulness, but if you’re gone long, I’m going to follow you whatever it costs me.”

They nodded with understanding. Ben had been told about their meeting, but they also told him bluntly that they weren’t going to allow him to go with them. Hoss, having been on the lynching site, was more prepared for any gruesome details that might be discovered; Joe had at least seen the drawings and already knew and was partly ready for the shock arising from the clash between the subject of the pictures and the age of their author. They weren’t going to let such knowledge torment Ben and told him so in no uncertain terms.

Still hurting severely over the loss, Ben was actually deeply moved by his sons’ concern, but demanded an accurate report about the identity of the members of the lynching party, even though obtaining such information from a four-year-old promised dubious results, at best. All of them focused on finding the men responsible. Concentrating on the task helped them fight the black depression circling over their heads like a flight of vultures waiting for their prey to give up life and flesh to them.

“Try to be patient, Pa,” Hoss reminded his father. “She’s just a scared little girl; we can’t hurry her.”

“Still, let me know as quickly as possible,” insisted Ben, dark circles deepening under his determined, coal-black eyes.

“We will, Pa.” Joe shifted on Cochise. “We gotta get going if we don’t wanna be late.”

“Right.” Ben let go of Chubb’s reins and Hoss’ hand reluctantly. He dearly wanted to go with them, but Hoss’ grave obliqueness or outright silence and Joe’s darkened eyes escaping away from his whenever the drawings were mentioned made him fear any details he might learn in the process. He wasn’t certain how much more his old heart – oh, how old and tired it felt at the moment! – could endure.

Roy was already waiting for the Cartwright brothers at the lake. “The Burtons should be here any moment now.” He picked nervously at his moustache, allowing his concern and hope to surface. “I want those guys, boys. I wanna get them something awful.”

“First of all, don’t push ‘er.” Hoss seated himself on the grass, although he felt everything but relaxed. “If’n you’re tense like that, she’ll likely get more scared and lock up tighter than the safe in the Bank of Virginia City at night.”

Roy shrugged his shoulders and puffed a sigh into his moustache. “You talk to her, Hoss. I promise to keep my mouth shut.”

Their conversations stopped at the sound of a buggy approaching. Joe pulled Roy aside to tend to the horses and allow more room to Hoss and the girl.

They didn’t wait long for the Burtons to appear and stop at the site. In the buggy there sat Sandy, holding a little blond girl on her knees. Hoss’ heart melted. The girl’s eyes were red, puffy and scared. Her fists twisted the cloth of her sister’s dress into sweated little knots; her whole body pressed into that of her sister for more security. She presented a picture of utter fear, fatigue and misery.

Hoss didn’t move from his spot to help Sandy get out of the buggy – he couldn’t risk scaring the little one further into her shell of silence. He waited for them to come closer, then offered in a subdued voice, not looking away from the lake, “Would you like to sit down and look at the lake here for a while?”

Sandy accepted the invitation silently, resting on the grass with the little girl clinging to her desperately. “It’s beautiful here,” admitted Sandy quietly. “Don’t you think so, Annie?”

The girl pushed her face mutely into her sister’s side, but kept glancing at the scenery out of the corner of her eye. Sandy stroked her hair lovingly, then turned to Hoss softly. “I’ve brought the drawings, if you want to look at them. They don’t differ much from those I’d shown to the doctor.”

“Sure.” Hoss smiled at her gently and carefully tilted his head to look at Annie. “Hi, Annie.”

The girl clung strongly to her sister, suddenly more fearful.

“My name’s Hoss,” he continued in his softest voice. “Do you mind if I talk to your sister for a moment?”

Annie withdrew further behind Sandy, but she seemed calmer to Hoss. He suddenly realised she was trying to make herself as little noticeable as possible – that dictated a certain kind of strategy on his part. She didn’t want to be focused on.

He looked through the drawings: same subject, same figures, same colours. Proportions differed some, but that was understandable; in fact, she kept them remarkably similar for a child her age.

“Sandy – mind if I call you that?”

She shook her head. “Not at all, Mr Cartwright, everyone calls me that. You may want to know that I saw her draw some of those – and she cried the hardest when she drew…” She pointed quickly to the black and red shape of the hanged man. “It’s as if she felt sorry for him.”

Hoss sighed powerfully, so that Annie started. “Sorry, dear, didn’t mean to scare ya,” he apologised to her immediately with a contrite expression. “That’s important, that’s darn much important,” he muttered to himself, then softened his voice further and turned back to Annie. “You know you’ve drawn something important, baby, do you?”

Silence.

“When you do something bad, you surely get punished for that, don’t you?”

Annie caught her breath, looking terrified.

“No, no, you ain’t done nothing wrong,” Hoss hastened to reassure her. “It’s those men in your picture who did something bad, and the sheriff’s gotta punish them. But we don’t know who they were, you know?”

Annie seemed to him somewhat less frightened now that she’d been told she did nothing wrong, and she appeared to be listening quite attentively.

“Tell ya what – you tell me about them men in your picture, and I won’t tell anyone where I got it from, how’s that? We’ll have a little secret, you, Sandy and me.”

Silence.

“Are you scared of those men, Annie?”

She pushed her face back in her sister’s dress; Sandy held her closer and answered softly for her, “She is.”

“Annie – are you sorry for the man they hurt?”

They heard a quiet, choked sob.

“Annie, baby – you surely know that people go to Heaven when they… when they don’t live anymore? And in Heaven you gotta be happy, right?”

He sensed her attention on his words.

“He escaped them, Annie. He escaped them to Heaven where he isn’t hurt anymore. I’m sure he’s happy, and he’s smiling, ‘cause he’s in Heaven. You know, I got a picture of him, Annie – he’s smiling here – I’m sure he’s smiling just like that up above in the clouds. You wanna see him smile?”

Slowly, guardedly, Annie shifted her head to be able to look at the portrait with one frightened eye. She suddenly sobbed, reached out to the picture, her hand stopping in midair. She fell quiet just as suddenly.

“Up above, Annie,” Hoss’ whisper reached her on a gust of wind. “Smile at him, Annie. He loved children; he would have loved you so much…”

She reached slowly for the picture he held out to her, grasped it in a claw-like grip, brought it closer to her face, looked at it fearfully yet hungrily for a long moment. Then she looked up with a child’s utter faith in Hoss’ kind words. She sat up the tiniest bit straighter in her sister’s hold, the picture held tight in her own embrace.

Hoss shook his head gently at Joe’s questioning look from the side, where he stood with the sheriff. They couldn’t hear most of the conversation because of the distance they kept in order not to frighten the little girl.

“Annie, do you like the lake here?”

The girl looked at him. Concentration pulled her little brows together. At last, she minimally nodded. Hoss whooped inside at the success.

“Mr and Mrs Burton can bring you here whenever you want to. You and Sandy are gonna stay with them for a coupla days, all right?”

Seeing no fear arising in her at the news, he softly continued, “May I come visit you from time to time?”

She managed another minimal nod, breathing hard as though after great exertion, then fearfully glanced at the picture she held.

“You don’t have to give it back to me now,” he reassured her gently. “You’ll return it when you’re sure that he’s happy, all right?”

She nodded again, relaxing.

“Now, you wanna splash around some on the shore?” he offered. “Your sister will take you. Whaddaya say?”

Sandy carefully judged Annie’s attitude, then got up and came with her closer to the shore, so that Annie could splash her free hand in the shallow water, which she did willingly. Her eyes displayed a child’s normal joy at the simple action. Hoss took a deeper breath. It was no use trying to get her to talk right now, but he felt like he’d achieved a great success, greater than all the inventors and discoverers in the whole world. Annie reacted to him, and she reacted in a positive way. One day, she’d trust him enough to tell him who those people were. He’d only have to make sure that day wasn’t too far away.

He glanced up and smiled shakily. “You make sure you’re happy there; a little girl’s countin’ on that,” he whispered.

“Hello, Mr Cartwright.” Sandy curtsied in the doorway. “Hello, sheriff, hello, Mr Cartwright. Hello.”

She and Annie were staying at the Burtons. Paul had deemed the company of the Burtons’ granddaughter very beneficial for Annie, adding to that the advantages a quiet ranch had over the bustling town. The girls had been living with the Johnsons, for they had no other close family after the death of their parents and, recently, aunt. However much their aunt and uncle loved them, it still didn’t take Paul long to convince them that, for the time being, the girls would be better off at the Burtons’ ranch.

That was where Hoss, Joe and Ben came to visit the girls. Roy accompanied them in hopes of obtaining some more information.

“Hello, Sandy,” Hoss smiled at the girl. “This here is our Pa – he’s Mr Cartwright, I’m just Hoss and this is simply Joe. How’s Annie?”

“Pleased to meet you, Mr Cartwright,” she smiled at Ben and answered Hoss’ question, “She started doing something else.”

“What exactly?” blurted Roy, but Hoss silenced him with a gesture. Annie was solely his responsibility.

“She’s still drawing,” answered Sandy, “but… I’d best bring a picture.”

Seated comfortably in the Burtons’ living room, they waited impatiently.

“What about that poor Jack Stevens?” inquired Mrs Burton worriedly, and small wrinkles of concern appeared in her good-natured face. She hasn’t yet gone grey, and her ash blond hair formed a pale halo around her head, completing the genial impression. “Do you know anything new?”

“I’m sorry, Mrs Burton, but the investigation still isn’t finished,” Roy shrugged his shoulders. “I can’t say yet who caused the poor boy’s death. Right now I have two investigations going on, and no real help in either,” he grumbled. “Even if they thought they had the murderer, lynching is against the law!”

“Don’t shout, Roy,” Ben reminded him wearily. Right then, Sandy came back and handed a few pictures to Hoss. Again there was the solitary tree and the shapes around it, but the part with the hung man had been torn out.

“She does that with every new picture she draws,” explained the girl. “Also, I got her to tell me – uhm, show me that she doesn’t know the men she draws in groups of three. She knows the others, but she doesn’t want to answer questions. And she started tearing out the middle. She seems more… satisfied when she does that.”

“What about the portrait?” asked Hoss, going through the drawings carefully.

“She even slept with it, Mr… Hoss.”

He smiled at her. “Is she any better?”

“She seems more relaxed, less scared; she cries less, too. I saw that she tried to draw his face, but I think she wasn’t satisfied with the result. She crumpled the picture. That reminds me…” Sandy sought out Roy’s face and said quickly, “She did it earlier with another drawing, too, and that first one was a bit different from the others. I don’t know if that helps, but I remember she drew the tree and that branch was broken. That picture cost her more than the others,” she recalled. “She cried harder and destroyed it later.”

“We found the branch already broken, Miss Watson,” Roy scratched his moustache pensively. “I don’t know if that helps either.”

“It could help,” Hoss spoke up thoughtfully, “if we knew how long Annie was there… Remember there were two sets of tracks, Roy? Maybe it would help us further if we knew who broke it and what happened to the…” he hesitated briefly, “… body.”

Ben rubbed his face, tearing his eyes away from the tormenting images, their cruelty only stressed by the hand of an innocent child. “Miss Watson – Sandy, is there a chance that your sister might tell us something – anything?”

“There is such a chance, Mr Cartwright,” she answered carefully, “if it is Hoss who talks to her. I know… I mean… I understand that it’s important to you, but I must ask you not to push her. She’s tormented enough by what she’s seen. Hoss was very careful with her, and she seems to trust him – please don’t spoil it with hurry.”

“Hoss is the gentlest man on earth,” said Joe quietly. “He won’t let anyone hurt Annie.”

“Hello, Annie.”

On the sound of Hoss’ soft voice, everyone turned first to him, then to the doorway of the girls’ room. There, in a slit of the half-open door, stood the little girl, peeking out curiously. She slowly opened the door a bit further. She held a picture at her chest with one hand, and gazed intently at Hoss. He responded to the anxiety he detected in her eyes with a soft, reassuring grin.

“Wanna keep his picture for a while yet?”

She nodded, relaxing.

Joe and Roy exchanged grins, and Ben squeezed Joe’s arm, unwinding into a smile.

“Hey, everyone’s happy you decided to come and see us, see?” Hoss slowly shifted to a squatting position and pulled something from inside his shirt. “I brought another picture, Annie, if you wanna look at it.”

The girl nodded again and showed no fear when Hoss came slowly closer without straightening himself. When he was less than two steps away from her, he stopped and offered the photograph to her.

Annie scanned the picture from under a bow of concentration formed by her little brows, then lit up and reached out to stroke the familiar figure. She glanced at the other people present, compared them to the remaining three men in the photo. She nodded to herself as though making some mental notes, then stroked the photo again.

Hoss watched some silent thoughts flicker through her face, then she returned quickly to her room. Aware of the questioning glances on his back, he just waved his hand for them to be silent and waited. A few seconds later the girl returned with a piece of paper crumpled in her hand. She smoothed it with charming, childish clumsiness and placed it carefully onto the Cartwright family photograph. She patted it carefully into place, and it stayed where she wanted it. Hoss carefully turned the photo to be able to see what she’d put there, and his heart constricted somewhere in his throat.

“You brought him back to his family, right?” he whispered. The piece of paper was the lacking part of her last drawings, a red and black shape of a man. She brightened up, not quite yet into a smile, but her face lit up. Struck with sudden realisation, he added softly, “And you took him away from those men, right? You don’t want them to hurt him.”

Her little face clouded, and eyes misted. Hoss reached for his handkerchief. “Blow.”

She obeyed dutifully, then gave the piece of paper a final firm pat, as though telling it to stay where it was. Sensing she was about to withdraw to her room, he asked, “May I come and see you again tomorrow?”

She nodded, then her eyes rested pensively on the picture she held, as though it presented a dilemma to her. She looked up at Hoss with a silent question in her eyes.

“You don’t have to give it back to me tomorrow.” He still had to guess at what she wanted to ask, but it seemed he’d got it right, for she relaxed. “You keep it until you’re sure he’s happy.”

She nodded and stepped back into the room, closing the door behind her.

Hoss slowly straightened and brought the other picture to the table. The clumsy drawing of the red and black man shivered with the movement, but stayed on the photo, as though following a little girl’s silent order.

“She tore him out because she wanted him out of there,” he simply said, sitting down heavily. Ben hid his eyes behind his hand, Joe looked away, then down, Roy bit his lip and shook his head. Sandy nodded to herself.

“She felt sorry for him at first,” she said softly. “I think she came to like him – as much as you can like someone you don’t really know – and she finds him handsome, too.” She smiled very gently. “I can’t blame her, he is a handsome man. In other circumstances she would be falling in love with him.”

Ben smiled involuntarily at the compliment and the thought of a little girl’s infatuation with a man who could easily be her father. Oh, he would have let her adore him with a friendly, if somewhat indulgent smile, always kind, always patient, always thoughtful. He would have made a wonderful father…

He stood up abruptly – too abruptly, he realised when he felt everyone’s eyes on him. “Excuse me, I… I think I need some fresh air. Don’t mind me,” he croaked and hurried to the door, haunted by a handsome face existing now only in pictures and memories.

Silence fell over the room with a misty veil; Joe rubbed his eyes angrily, then got up and went over to the window, with his back to the others. Sandy slowly approached him, stopped just behind him and rested her hand on his back, not requiring him to turn back and leave the privacy of his thoughts, just sending the warmth of comfort through the touch.

Mrs Burton shook her head. “I can… No, I can’t imagine what you all are going through, Hoss. It must be dreadful.”

“We must focus on Annie now,” Hoss pressed his lips into a straight, firm, thin line, unmercifully squashing down the thoughts that threatened to surface. “She needs our help – and she can help us, as well.”

“Can we be of assistance?” asked Mr Burton, his matter-of-fact tone not quite covering the fact that he was deeply upset. He was a calm, silent man whose figure showed promise of putting on weight easily. “None of my men saw anything. We were quite busy on the ranch right then. I may ask whether they’ve heard anything in town recently, though.”

“Even hearsay may bring valuable information,” agreed Roy. “Thank you, Mr Burton. I must say you’re being a great help already, Annie seems to be much better since staying here.”

“I’ve…” Mr Burton hesitated, then allowed himself a sigh. “When I met him in town for the first time, he was very friendly. He helped me load the supplies without even knowing who I was. He just said I looked like I needed a hand; there aren’t many people like that.”

“No, there aren’t,” agreed Hoss softly. And there was one less now, he thought grimly.

“Did you find the body?” he heard Mr Burton ask.

“No,” the sheriff hesitated. “We don’t know if we will.”

“He’s out in the wilderness somewhere,” Hoss spoke up softly. “Even if we never find him, he’ll be safer there than where people live. Even wild animals can be more humane than some humans I know. The wilderness will be safe for him.”

He felt Roy’s hand rest on his shoulder compassionately and smiled sadly at his friend. “I’m not going mad, Roy. I just mean I’m glad people won’t touch ‘im after what they already did to him. If nothing else, it makes me feel better.”

Annie stepped away from her door, heading towards the desk and a clean sheet of paper. She wondered, what this word ‘wilderness’ meant. But if it meant the man was safe – then it must have been a good thing.

***

Roy rested his hands on the desk and scanned the text that was to appear in the newspaper one last time. “Yeah, that should do it, Dan.”

Dan de Quille had been the editor of the “Territorial Enterprise” for a couple of years now, and, as an honest citizen, he readily agreed to Roy’s request. “If you need any other help, just call me and I’ll come running, sheriff,” he grinned briefly. Both knew that would mean a story, and a story meant higher sales. Then he became serious again, looking down at the text.

“Dang it, Roy, why did nobody say anything earlier?”

“Don’t know, maybe nobody cared enough,” answered Roy loud enough for Alexander Johnson, who had just come into the office, to hear.

“Do I hear right that you have some new evidence, sheriff?” asked Johnson in his deep voice, looking genuinely interested.

“May I quote you, Roy?” inquired Dan simultaneously, referring to Roy’s last utterance. “I can still change the text.”

“You’re welcome to it, Dan.” The sheriff turned to Johnson and nodded casually. “Mr Johnson. Yes, I have new evidence, and it seems that I can close this one investigation and take proper care of the other.”

“I thought you were investigating the death of Jack Stevens, did anything new come up?”

“According to a witness, Jack Stevens slipped and fell down. Unfortunately, he hit so hard that he cracked his head. Nobody pushed him; nobody hit him; there was no one even close enough. He died in an accident, not by someone’s hand.”

Johnson paled some under his tan. “But… but… everyone said… Are you sure, sheriff?”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Roy nodded with an un-amused smile. “You can read all about it in tomorrow’s newspaper. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I got another case which requires my attention.”

Johnson wiped his forehead with a shaky hand. “But… but…” It was clear that the sheriff’s news affected him deeply. “How can that be? Why did no one… Uh… You said, ‘Another case’? Has anything else happened to… further undermine our faith in human nature?”

Roy’s moustache moved quickly as if to swallow the snort in their brush. “Now, Mr Johnson, either this town is deaf, blind and mute, or you’re just playing dumb with me. I gotta case of a lynching to investigate. Someone’s gonna face murder charges. It’s just a matter o’ time.”

With that, he left the office, where Mr Johnson was discovering that the closed rooms of the editor’s office were suffering from a powerful heat wave.

Roy was hurrying back to his office when he noticed the unmistakable figure of Ben’s middle son, Hoss. The man noticed the sheriff, as well, and slowed his pace, so that they both got to the door at about the same time.

“Anything new?” asked Hoss briefly.

“Yup.” Roy opened the door. “Come in.”

Once inside, the sheriff opened the door to his cell block. A blond young man sat on the bunk in an unlocked cell with his head lowered and his hands clasped between his knees. To Hoss he seemed more a boy than a man. When he looked up, his eyes were red and puffy, and his expression was forlorn.

“Come on, Pete.” Roy waved the boy inside the office with a soft, yet weary attitude. “You know Hoss Cartwright?”

The boy nodded and breathed in shakily. The tears hadn’t yet dried on his face, and he looked fearful for some reason. His expression reminded Hoss of little Annie.

“Pete told me that Jack Stevens died in an accident,” said Roy simply. “Everything fits with that theory. We’ve got some additional evidence for the other case, too. Pete, repeat in some sort of orderly way what you done told me before.”

Pete heaved in a breath suspiciously similar to a sob, but forced his suddenly quivering lips to cooperate and spoke in a quiet, halting voice. “We… heard about what happened… I wanted to get ‘im down… I ain’t done helped him before, I could do as much…” He caught his breath in another sob, but continued, his voice more teary. “I heard they left him there… I went to get him down… Some others went, too… We wiped some of the tracks…” His voice quivered dangerously, climbing on a higher note. “We shouldna… We were scared, I guess… But I swear the body wasn’t there!”

Hoss glanced at Roy, who shrugged his shoulders minimally, but neither spoke up.

“I swear, sheriff… Mr Cartwright… When we went there, he wasn’t there. Someone must’ve taken him before that. We ain’t done nothing with him. He just wasn’t there. We didn’… want to touch those ropes… with them all bloody like that. We didn’t want anyone to know we were there, so we wiped the tracks…” His voice broke, and he bit his lip to stay quiet.

Hoss took a deeper breath. “So there must have been three sets of tracks.”

“Or, they took him away just after the lynching,” offered Roy.

Hoss pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Pete, who else was with ya?”

The boy licked his lips and stayed silent. Hoss exchanged glances with Roy, and the sheriff said slowly, “We’d like to know who could confirm what you’ve just said, Pete. It could be you ain’t givin’ us no names ’cause you’re lying, boy.” Watching the boy swallow convulsively in surprise, he added, “Unless there is some other reason I can’t think of?”

“I’m telling the truth, sheriff,” whispered Pete. His eyes shot from Roy’s face to Hoss’ fearfully. “I can’t… I don’t… remember…”

“Lying to the sheriff is almost as bad as lying in a court of law,” noted Roy seriously. “And I can tell you’re lying now, boy.”

Pete squirmed nervously and looked around as if for a way out. “You’re gonna lock ’em up.”

“Not necessarily,” Roy shrugged his shoulders. “For what? For being on the scene of a murder after it was committed? I hardly think that’s an offence. I can forget wiping the tracks if I get valuable information – for example, what mighta happened to the body.”

“They’re gonna know I told ya about them,” Pete still looked like a trapped animal.

“Not unless you’re gonna tell them.”

Seeing Pete’s nervous hesitation, Hoss shoved a piece of paper and a pencil to the edge of the desk where the boy stood. “You don’t have to tell us, Pete. If anyone asks, you ain’t told us nothing.”

Pete shot a quick look at Hoss, at the sheriff, at the paper and again at the men. Then he bit his lip and grabbed the pencil. Hoss and Roy exchanged quick glances over his head. Both of them has the same thought in mind – anybody Pete pointed at might have been a member of the lynching party.

Roy weighed the piece of paper in his hand. “Yeah… I think that would be the correct order,” he said. He referred to the numbers he and Hoss had just assigned to the people Pete had named. The first on the list promised to be the easiest to question, the second a little more difficult and so on down the list.

Hoss nodded, his thoughts drifting back to what Pete had told them. “Had he just said something…” He rubbed his face. “Why did he keep his dang mouth shut? It would have saved…”

His chest heaved with a painful sigh, and he didn’t dare finish.

“He told himself it wouldn’t make any difference,” Roy said quietly. The whole thing had become a tangled web of mistakes, guilt and fear. No one wanted to deal with its origin. Instead they tried to force themselves to forget, as if that could make the issue disappear.

“How’s Annie?” he inquired to change the subject. He had already taken to the little girl as though she were his grandchild. Maybe she’d come to his office to play once in a while when she was fine again…

Hoss smiled at the memory of the little chubby face. “She let me hold her yesterday, and shook hands with Joe and Pa,” he boasted. “I think she’s coming along. Maybe she’ll soon be able to tell us something.”

“That’s sure good news, Hoss. She’s still drawing?”

“Yep.” Hoss scratched his nose thoughtfully. “She’s changing them again, though. Paul says it may be a sign of healing.”

“What’s she drawing now? The men, they’re still there?” Roy was suddenly concerned Annie would forget who there was, and he was counting on her revelations greatly.

“Yeah, they are there, but he ain’t.” Hoss made a funny face, scrunching his nose and twisting his lips in a thoughtfully uncertain expression. “We’ve talked with Sandy… Ya see, she’s drawing everything as it was, but she draws more trees beside the whole group of people, and she’s started drawing him inside that… uh… forest or somethin’. And, she draws stars on the trees.”

It was Roy’s turn now to scrunch his face in uncertainty.

“We’ve talked it over with Sandy,” continued Hoss, aware of how complicated it sounded. “Sandy thinks she must have overheard me talking about him being safe in the wilderness, and she still remembers I told her he was in Heaven. So she put him in the forest and in heaven, trees and stars, right?”

Roy nodded wordlessly. The explanation fit.

“Took us a while to figure that out, though,” admitted Hoss truthfully. “I must tell ya, her drawings can say quite a lot. Shucks, if we knew who wore what that evening, we wouldn’t have to wait for her to speak up. She keeps their clothes the same colours all the time. She draws things which seem important to her – first she was drawing one single tree, but she knows there was a forest. And once she figured the other trees were important, she started drawing them, too.”

“Could she be saying she saw where they took ‘im?” Roy perked up with the sudden thought. “Come on, you’re a true detective when it comes to her drawings. Where could he be?”

Hoss sighed. “I’ve been thinking of that, Roy. She’s started drawing the other trees only recently, after I said that about the wilderness – and she’s not crying when she’s drawing that. When she drew the broken branch, Sandy says, she was crying her little heart out. Right now, it doesn’t seem like she has anything to give us about his whereabouts. If anything new comes up, I’ll let you know. Joe stayed there to help around and check whether Annie draws something else. He’ll let me know if there’s any change.”

“Hoss,” Roy stopped uncertainly, glanced at Hoss and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Do you remember who wore what that afternoon? Little chance of them changing in such a short time…”

Hoss shrugged his shoulders slowly. “Shucks, Roy, it’s dang late to ask such questions. I’ve thought about it, but all I can tell you is that I didn’t notice anyone wearing anything out of the ordinary. Who’ll remember? It’s been a month, Roy.”

The sheriff sighed and thought for a while.

“Yeah… who’ll remember?” he repeated at last, but in a tone different from Hoss’. The big man reacted to the difference and locked eyes with the sheriff.

“Women,” he offered after a minute. “They always remember such things.”

Roy considered that carefully. “If their husbands were there, they may say they don’t remember, or show us different clothing. They can always say it was so long ago that they made a mistake, if’n we prove them wrong. Drat that time!”

“Ask everyone. ‘Specially saloon girls. Maggie – the red-haired one – was kinda sweet on – him. She might wanna help,” suggested Hoss. “Ya gotta take the chance. I’ll talk to Sandy; maybe she can tell me something more specific that I won’t see in the drawings. No one’s gonna know Annie better.”

“That reminds me, ask the Burtons if the girls can continue to stay with them?” Roy looked at Hoss gravely. “I met Johnson in the Territorial Enterprise office. He asked about Jack Stevens, and I told him the truth. I reminded him that I was still investigating the lynching. He was sweating buckets when I left; looked guilty to me alright.”

“This whole town is guilty, Roy; point is – is he guilty of being there or not being there.”

“I just wanna get those who were there, Hoss.”

“Was he scared? He started sweating after you told him about Stevens or after you told him about investigating the lynching?” inquired Hoss.

“He looked shaken more’n scared… Blanched like them sheets in a Chinese laundry. Looks like he believed firmly that it was the murderer they lynched.”

“Maybe that’ll move something…” pondered Hoss.

“Whaddaya have in mind?”

“If any of them were so-called honest citizens who believed they were right in their judgement – they can have a really bad conscience when they learn how wrong they were. Some could even break down and admit being there…”

“I’ll be hoping for that, Hoss, when I question anyone. But I’m afraid they’re all gonna be scared out of their wits by what may happen to them, more than by what they did. You know, Hoss, I watched a spider once – yeah, I had a lotta time on my hands right then – and fear is like that spider. It weaves a sticky web and waits for its prey, and when the prey falls in the web, the spider ties it and gags it, and it ain’t gonna do nothing while the spider’s waiting for another prey. I tell ya, I’ve looked for those killers, asked around, checked everything I could. And all those people had their mouths gagged, their eyes blindfolded and their hands tied by simple fear. Look at that poor little Annie, what fear’s done to her. She’s too scared to even talk! No wonder if she’d seen her uncle there…” He shook his head with a heavy sigh, as if exhausted by so long a speech.

“She’ll talk to us, Roy, but you gotta give me some time with her. I cain’t push her.” Hoss rubbed his forehead wearily.

“I ain’t sure I got time, look at how much was already wasted! A month!” Roy threw his arms in the air in agitation and got up to pace to the wall and back.

“I cain’t push her,” repeated Hoss patiently.

“I know that, Hoss, I trust ya with that little gal. If anyone’s gonna get her to talk, it’s gonna be you. I’m just plain mad at myself. One of my best friends gets lynched, and I’m not enough of a sheriff to find his killers!”

“You will,” Hoss reassured him calmly, with stony conviction. “We will. He always trusted you as a sheriff and as a friend, and so do we. He always believed in you, even against the whole town. Now I’m gonna help you fight this town, if need be. We’ll find them, Roy.”

“Thanks, Hoss.” Roy sighed and stopped his pacing, leaning against the desk. “Alright, I’ll take Pete’s list and write down the clothing from Annie’s pictures. Then I’ll make a round of the town.” He reached into a drawer for one of Annie’s drawings, again the matter-of-fact sheriff of Virginia City. “I’m gonna get me some information from the people, whether they want to give it or not.”

***

Galloping into the yard and reining his horse in hard, Joe jumped down from the saddle and hurried into the house.

Ben got up from behind his desk just in time to see his youngest son dash up the stairs like a streak of green lightning. “Joe?…”

There was some noise, the door slammed, and Joe appeared again on the top of the stairs. “No time,” he threw out, already passing the landing by the end of the sentence. “Gotta catch Roy.”

“He’s been here,” Ben hurried over to stop his son. “What’s wrong?”

“Annie’s gone.” Joe caught his breath. “We’re organising a search party. She was playing outside on the porch, but when Sandy went to call her for lunch, she was already gone. I was working in the shed. I haven’t seen her at all. We’ve searched the house and the yard, but she’s nowhere to be found. When did you say Roy was here?”

“Half an hour ago, maybe,” Ben frowned. “Could someone have taken Annie?”

“Unlikely, I would have heard a horse or some noise. Has Roy got anything new?”

“He said he was getting on with the investigation. It seems he got more evidence, more testimonies. Once they learned the death of Jack Stevens was an accident, conscience started to eat at them. It’s still trickling in – a word here, a word there. But Roy judges that once started, it will pick up the pace.”

“That’s good news, Pa. Maybe we won’t have to force Annie to talk about it – once we find her, that is. Roy’s heading back to town?”

“Yes, he said he would be. What about Hoss?”

“I met him on my way here. He’s gone on to the Burtons to wait for us with Sandy.”

“Joe – take as many men as you need, son.”

“Thanks.” Joe passed Ben, throwing him a fleeting smile. “We’ll hurry, but don’t worry too much if we’re not back for dinner.”

“I’ll try not to,” Ben nodded slowly with a sad smile. He stood in the doorway to watch Joe leave at a gallop. “I’ll try not to.”

He slowly returned to the house and to his desk, to find a cup of good hot coffee waiting for him in Hop Sing’s hands.

“Mr Hoss find lil’ girl,” said the cook simply. “You no worry. Lil’ Joe go strange places alone when very small, and he fine. She fine, too.”

“Thanks, Hop Sing.” Ben sighed, taking the coffee. “I hope you’re right. Too many innocent lives – ” he stopped abruptly, shook his head in an impatient motion and sat down to look through the papers.

Hop Sing vanished soundlessly into his kingdom, where he took up the cleaver he’d left lying when he heard Little Joe coming into the yard. He returned to his chopping, imagining with dark pleasure that the carrot was a hand of one of the lynchers, preferably of the one who had made the noose…

***

Unaware of the heartache she left behind her, Annie slowly wandered through the forest, which was so close to the Burtons’ ranch house. Her pace was growing slower with every step. She was now acutely aware of the fatigue in her little legs. She stopped, for the umpteenth time since the beginning of her trek, and looked around to find some clue as to where she should go to find what – or rather who – she was searching for.

According to what she’d heard, ‘wilderness’ was the forest, or ‘a’ forest. But, since this one was closest, she naturally chose it for her search. She had utter faith in Hoss’ words about the man’s safety and place of stay. Yet – more because than in spite of that – her sense of curiosity, so active in children, enticed her to see for herself. A small boy, sent to “the spiders in the corner” for misbehaviour, will quite gladly go there to see the spiders for himself. A tiny girl, told about the prince turned into a frog, will eagerly look for the handsomest green fellow in the pond, hopefully with a golden crown on his head. All Annie wanted was to see that the man was there, safe and sound, and smiling at her like in the picture from Hoss. She wanted to tell him she was sorry that he got hurt, and happy that he was fine now.

She had been walking for what seemed like days to her tired legs, although it was really just a couple of hours – but she couldn’t find any trace of the man. She forced herself to run up to the thick tree in the distance, thinking it must be obscuring her view, but there were just more trees to see behind it. A thought occurred to her that it might be the wrong wilderness, the wrong forest to search. The thought scared her. She suddenly realised she didn’t know where she was, much less where to look for the man – and she’d thought she was nearing her goal already! After a moment of contemplating that truth, she realised an even worse one – she didn’t have any idea where the house was. She couldn’t even find the general direction in which it lay.

Giving in to the aching fatigue of her legs, she sat down on her bottom and chose the action most obvious to her distressed little head – she started crying, waiting for someone to come and help her.

Unaware of the passage of time, she didn’t know how long she’d been sitting there crying when a noise from the side startled her badly. She raised her puffy, frightened eyes to take in the dark and looming shape of a shabby man towering over her…

“It’s too dark.”

Hoss sat back on his haunches and rubbed his forehead wearily. They’d been able to find the girl’s tracks that led into the forest, but her light feet left scarcely any imprint on the dry forest floor. Light was scarce among the densely growing trees, anyway – much more so with dusk approaching.

“It’s too dark,” he repeated, admitting what he felt to be some kind of failure on his part. “We’ll have to wait till morning.”

“It’s gonna be harder to find her tracks tomorrow,” said Joe absently, running his hand through his thick, now tousled, hair.

“Yes.”

Joe glanced at Hoss. He realised from his brother’s tone just how mad Hoss was deep down. “I didn’t mean it that way, Hoss. Just… just making an observation. It ain’t your fault; you’re the best tracker of us all. We wouldna come so far without you.”

“I know ya didn’t mean it.” Hoss stood up, straightened and put his hands in the back pockets of his trousers. “Just mad at myself.”

Mr Burton approached the brothers, looking worried despite the usual calm mask he fought to maintain. “If she was anywhere around, she would have heard us calling,” he remarked with ill-disguised concern.

“Maybe she was tired and fell asleep,” offered Joe, not voicing his conviction that half of the forest had to be awake with them calling Annie. The thought led to conclusions that made him uneasy, and he fought to squash them. Hoss threw him a glance which told him the idea was ridiculous.

“Or maybe she’s afraid to come to us – I mean, she’d come to Hoss, but there are many people searching she doesn’t know,” Joe tried another idea.

Hoss shrugged his shoulders in a disheartened manner. “We gotta wait till morning. If she ain’t heard me a minute ago, and the minute before that, and before that, she ain’t gonna hear me now. Joe –” He frowned and cast a careful look around. “We’re almost on Ponderosa land. Come morning, you go straight to the pastures and ask the hands to keep their eyes peeled. They say Providence watches over little children and fools. Maybe she’ll just come out of the forest on the Ponderosa as right as rain.”

“I’ll go now; it’s still early,” suggested Joe. But Hoss shoved him lightly towards the fire the other men had begun to build.

“Don’t push your share of Providence.”

Joe resigned himself to Hoss’ decision. But he wasn’t sure it was the right one. Considering how far from sleep he felt, he would just be more tired in the morning. His heart went out to Sandy, who was anxiously awaiting news, and to Annie, possibly lost in the woods…

Morning wouldn’t come soon enough for anyone in the searching party. Hoss was up at dawn and noted with astonishment – which even overrode his concern for Annie for an instant – that Joe was up and getting ready to ride out as soon as he heard his brother move about.

“That’s a first to see you out of bed so early, and without complaint.” Hoss raised an eyebrow at his sibling, just to be rewarded with a pretty much resigned, unconvincing scowl.

“I couldn’t sleep properly, anyway.” Joe went over to his horse. “Morning, Cooch.”

“Trust you to say, ‘Morning, Cooch’ before ‘Morning, Hoss’,” grumbled the bigger man good-naturedly, squatting down by the coffee-pot. “Wait at least till I have the coffee ready. You might need it.”

“I could do with some,” agreed Joe. “I’ll try to send some hands to search through the edge of the forest. You want me to stay there or come back to you?”

Hoss scratched his neck wearily. “If’n she’s there, she’s gonna need some familiar face to look at, or she may run,” he said. “You’d better stay with’em. She knows ya.”

“Okay.” Joe nodded and reached out with the cup. “Uh – morning, Hoss.” He flashed him a smile.

“Wait till it’s hot,” Hoss admonished him softly, grinning back for a second. “You’re gonna be cold, riding fast at this time of day.”

“You mean this time of night,” yawned Joe, stretching himself. “So, the coffee ready yet?”

By the time Joe left, most of the men were up, helping themselves to the coffee and crowding close to the fire to get rid of the night’s chill, still clinging to their skin.

Hoss was impatiently pacing from one tree to another, waiting for enough light to allow them to continue the search. He didn’t like the thought of the little girl alone in the forest all night.

He wasn’t alone in thinking that way. He could hear murmurs of similar comments from others in the search party as they gathered around the fire, and later as they moved on through the forest.

“How old is she? Four?” inquired a whisper behind Hoss, when he was kneeling down by a big tree, trying to read the tracks.

“Around four, I’ve heard,” answered another whisper. “Poor girl, all alone in the woods at night…”

“She wasn’t alone.”

The whispers stopped. Hoss straightened his back, still kneeling, turned to the men and repeated, “She wasn’t alone.”

And somehow, that statement didn’t sound comforting to anyone.

Mr Burton pushed through to reach Hoss, who pointed to the ground in a silent answer to the silent question. At the base of the tree, where the tracks of little feet ended, stood out a still clear imprint of a man’s boot.

Mr Burton bit his lip and straightened, bumping into several men in the process, as everyone came closer to see the tracks.

“How do we find her now?”

Hoss rubbed his thigh absently and shrugged his shoulders. “Easy. We follow the man. Her tracks end up here and his are a bit deeper. He took her.”

“Who could he be? Someone from the Ponderosa?” asked some voices from behind.

Hoss shrugged his shoulders again. “She ain’t fought him, or so it seems. These are from yesterday, and I sure hope they spent the night in one place, ’cause the man’s got a long stride. He coulda walked quite a distance even if he ain’t got a horse tied up somewhere near.” He got up. “Let’s go.”

“What if she was too tired to fight him?” wondered one of the men.

Hoss moved on wordlessly, focusing on the tracks. He’d heard the question, but he had no answer to it. And the longer he pondered it, the more certain he was he didn’t want to ponder it.

Despite the shouts of the men calling Annie, the search party seemed to be enveloped in heavy silence. Or maybe their thoughts were so heavy with conjectures and imaginings that the atmosphere condensed around the men and stopped every unnecessary word.

Hoss forced his mind to focus on the tracks exclusively, as much as that was possible. The tracks of the man, surprisingly light-footed considering his burden and his long stride – must’ve been a tall man – showed no sign of struggle or anything of the kind; the man just carried the girl. Hoss held on fast to that thought, preparing for worse, but hoping for the best.

He knew this part of the woods – they were on the Ponderosa already – and recognised the route the man seemed to be following. But did that mean he’d been staying around long enough to get to know the woods well? Was he staying in the shack which lay straight ahead of them? Was there another explanation of how he knew of it? There were so many unanswered questions, some not even articulated in his head yet, that he subconsciously increased his pace, as if impatient to find the answers.

The tracks led, indeed, in the direction of the shack, and soon Hoss was standing at the edge of the little clearing. He eyed the free space suspiciously. No movement. No sound. The shack was silent; everything calm. The men behind him, also, fell silent with suspicions. The wind ran its long fingers through the grass and their hair. Some of the men shuddered at the cold touch on their back, uncertain whether it came from outside or inside. Some felt that the shack, suddenly so unnatural in its stillness, beckoned them to come closer with a wicked gleam of the hinges. Come, see what I have inside… a mystery… a mystery for you to uncover…

Hoss was the first to shake off the eerie feeling and start towards the shack, his eyes glued to the ground. There again were the familiar tracks of booted feet around the area: some older, some considerably fresher. There weren’t a lot. It was more like someone who preferred to go unnoticed. Nowhere could he see any imprint of a little girl’s shoes. Seemed the man had carried her up till here.

The men were still silent. If the man was inside with the girl, a charge toward the shack could have a number of consequences, and they weren’t sure they wanted to ponder the possibilities. The scarce whispers only confirmed that most of them thought that way.

Hoss, on the other hand, was quickly gaining the certainty that Annie was not in danger. Something inside told him she had received help from the stranger. He was actually disturbed by a different thought. The man’s tracks seemed strangely familiar. The fact that he had followed them for some time didn’t account for that feeling. There was a familiar way of walking about them. Even the size was similar, if not identical… He shook his head slightly, annoyed at himself. Many men could have a similarly sized foot; the way of walking wasn’t as distinctive as, for example, hobbling. Yet he had to consciously fight the memories flooding him.

Then he saw a very clear imprint of one of the boots. The right one. He coulda sworn he’d seen this indent on the heel somewhere, on a heel similarly worn…

Behind him, the men’s heads began turning right, one by one toward the sound that was coming from that side, growing louder and more distinctive with each passing moment. A horse. It was coming from the Ponderosa. Was it a message from Joe?

Indeed, it was a message in Joe’s very person. He walked the horse into the clearing and announced cheerfully, “Look who I found!”

The little bundle in his arms shifted, rubbed her two sleepy eyes with two little fists and smiled at Hoss like only a sweet, sleepy four-year-old can smile at her favourite uncle.

“We found her wandering at the edge of the forest,” explained Joe into the deafening silence. “She just smiled and came to me; you believe that?”

“Well, she didn’t have me to choose then,” declared Hoss forcefully, with a display of playfulness solely for the little girl’s sake. Annie beamed at him and practically jumped into his waiting arms, throwing her arms around his neck in a loving embrace.

“Have you any idea how worried we’ve been?” Hoss scolded her gently. She blushed, hid her face on his shoulder and tightened her hold on him, suddenly ashamed. “Have you slept at all?” asked Hoss. She nodded into his shoulder.

“And have you eaten?” A nod.

“Have ya spent the night in this here shack?” A nod, and she raised her head with a smile in her eyes again, turning expectantly towards the wooden structure.

Taking his cue from her, Hoss went with her to the door, knocked and called, “Anyone there who’d like a visit from a sweet little girl?”

Annie actually giggled, startling everyone.

The shack remained silent.

Hoss knocked once again, noting how Annie’s face fell somewhat at the lack of an answer, and opened the door to stride inside with his burden.

Mr Burton started from his trance like state and hurried over to ask Joe for his best guess about what had happened. As much as he wanted to help, Joe was only able to tell him the girl had seemed fine, had no injuries whatsoever on her and just took a nap on his horse. She had come to him willingly, not at all as shyly as she used to approach everyone before.

Joe had hardly finished warding off the multiplying questions when Hoss came out of the shack with the girl.

“Someone must have been there, fed her beans and put her to sleep on the cot.” Hoss closed the door behind him with his free hand. Annie was resting her head on his shoulder, looking a bit sleepy again. “An orderly guy. The blanket is folded as neat as can be; the remaining cans are standing in more of a row than trained soldiers. One can is open, and it’s been put in the shadow; probably to keep it from spoiling too quickly. That’s it. There’s nothing more to see.”

“What now?” Joe rubbed his pants’ leg impatiently. “We look for him?”

“There’ll be time for that,” Hoss looked questioningly at Mr Burton while speaking.

The man nodded. “The main thing is to bring Annie home and let the Johnsons know.”

“I’ll do that,” there came a few voices from among the men. Joe nodded thankfully at one of them, their neighbour Sam Beckett, who nodded back with a grin and mounted up.

“What about the guy?” asked Burton.

“He’s gone,” Hoss shrugged his shoulders.

“Gone,” confirmed Annie in a sad voice.

Everyone froze.

Silence stretched leisurely across the meadow.

Finally, Hoss cleared his throat. “A-annie?”

The little girl smiled and hugged his neck fiercely. “Love Hoss.”

***

The next day, the main room of the Cartwright house was occupied by three pensive and mostly silent men – two dwellers of the house and the sheriff of Virginia City. The conversation – often interrupted by long and pensive periods of silence – was conducted in subdued voices, as if the answers they were seeking could be spooked away by the slightest noise or sharpness of tone.

Right now, Joe was continuing his account to the sheriff. “Hoss said she wasn’t gonna talk to him about the lynching just like that. He says she’s scared.”

“Still?”

“Still.”

Roy rubbed his chin and pensively rested it in his hand. Inside, he was impatient to get all those answers, which seemed now to be lying within his hand’s reach. Joe rested his chin in both his hands, and Ben was thoughtfully tapping at his with the unlit pipe.

“Let’s get it all together,” decided Roy. “Hoss says she said she was there. She saw who did it, but she doesn’t wanna give names.”

“Keeps repeating he’s fine and smiling, and she still keeps his picture.” Joe completed the account. “That’s about it.”

“And Hoss, where is he now?”

“Gone to see about the shack and the man who helped Annie.”

“What does she say about the man? He must have asked her.”

“He wasn’t quite satisfied with what he’d learned from the girl.” Ben rejoined the conversation. “She confirmed he found her, fed her and put her to sleep. She admitted being scared of him, at least in the beginning…”

“’A little’,” quoted Joe with a small smile.

“Yes, ‘a little’ scared, as she said.” Ben corrected himself. He put the pipe’s end into his mouth, forgetting it wasn’t lit, and then took it out to make a gesture in the air with it. “I suppose she stopped being afraid because she claimed to love him.”

Roy chortled. “That gal loves everybody. ‘Love Hoss’, ‘Love Joe’…”

“The kid’s just grateful to him, Roy,” Joe shrugged with a smile. “Can’t say I ain’t myself. We just gotta wait for her to open up more, and she’ll tell us.”

“Well, I hope she will,” drawled Roy. “I gotta be going – got another possible witness on my list for today. Let me know if you have anything new. I’ll do the same,” he forestalled Ben’s answer, raising his hands in surrender against that chocolate-dark look of waking warning. “I’ll try to come over today or tomorrow to see Hoss, anyway.” He got up and waved Joe back to his chair. “I’ll see myself out.”

***

Hoss slowly approached the shack. Fresh tracks of booted feet around called for caution; high-heeled cowboy boots, again. Hoss felt a shudder trace down his spine with a cold finger. He couldn’t tell whether there was more excitement, curiosity, fear or disgust in that shudder. Who was this man who had taken care of Annie and who wore boots so similar to Adam’s? Were the boots Adam’s? If so, how did the man come to have them? The only way…

Hoss shook off the image of a grave-robber with a violent movement of the head, took a deep breath and listened. No sound came from inside the shack for a long, long moment. Possibly, no one there. Nevertheless, at least some tracks of Annie’s visit could still be there, so Hoss carefully exhaled and opened the door.

A dark shape started and turned from the table in a jump; a can fell to the floor and rolled towards Hoss, who stopped dead in his tracks. The shadow froze, too.

Hoss didn’t dare breathe or blink. The dark shape of a man stared at him unblinking, in the first instant surprised, then all of a sudden, wildly panicked. His wide eyes shot frantically to the door, the walls and back to Hoss, then traced the same route again, and again, as if looking for a way to escape.

The instant Hoss saw the panic in the dark eyes, the haggard face, the unkempt hair and beard, the worn clothes, he stopped thinking of the man in terms of danger. He saw a scared, almost defenceless creature.

“It’s all right,” he said softly on a breath.

The man started back at the sound, hit the table, staggered and choked on a breath. He was shivering with rising panic, shooting wild glances around in search of a means of escape.

“Shhh,” soothed Hoss, slowly raising his hands with the palms turned towards the man. “I’m not gonna hurt you. It’s all right; it’s all right; it’s okay…”

The man started again, less violently.

“It’s all right; it’s fine.” Hoss softened his voice to barely more than a whisper. “I’m not gonna hurt you. It’s all right. You’re safe. I’m not gonna hurt you. It’s all right. It’s all right. It’s fine. It’s all right.”

The dark eyes flew from Hoss to the door, then to Hoss, then to the walls, then to Hoss, then to the door… The man was still shivering with the tension.

“It’s all right. It’s fine. I’m not gonna hurt you. You’re safe. It’s all right. It’s fine. It’s all right. Take it easy. I’m not gonna hurt you. No one’s gonna hurt you. You’re safe. It’s all right. It’s all right.”

The nervous, shallow swallows of breath began to form a pattern with the wild glances – breath – door – breath – Hoss – breath – walls and a breath in between – breath – Hoss – breath – door – breath – Hoss – breath –

“It’s all right. There’s nothing to fear. It’s safe. You’re safe. It’s all right. It’s fine. It’s all right. I’m not gonna hurt you. It’s fine. It’s all right.”

Goodness, this was worse than calming a panicked deer. Hoss was choking on the tension in himself but didn’t dare let his voice change, didn’t dare allow himself any relief that would ruin what he had already achieved, however little it might be…

“It’s all right. It’s safe. I’m not gonna hurt you. You’re safe. No one’s gonna hurt you. It’s all right. It’s safe. It’s all right.”

The man’s eyes settled on him at last. Hurray – Hurray – Hurray.

“It’s all right. It’s fine. You’re safe. It’s all right. No one’s gonna hurt you. It’s all right. It’s fine.”

There was a brief flicker of light in the dark eyes, as if a gleam of yearning in a dark wall of panic. It set Hoss’ heart on fire – a fire of hope.

“It’s all right. It’s safe, it’s all right. You’re safe. No one’s gonna hurt you. You’re safe. It’s all right. I’m not gonna hurt you. It’s safe. It’s all right. It’s all right.”

The man swallowed, drawing a shaky breath to steady himself. The soothing seemed to have taken some effect; the shivering was subsiding.

Outside, the horse whinnied. Both men started. The dark eyes grew alarmingly wide again. Hoss swore in his thoughts as he turned slightly to the door.

“It’s all right,” he soothed. “It’s just my horse.”

Chubb snorted outside, and Hoss glanced towards the door again. He suddenly saw movement out of the corner of his eye, but before he had a chance to react, something heavy landed on the back of his neck and all darkness crashed down on his head.

The man stood over the limp heap of the big body and let the remains of the chair fall from his hands to the floor. His expression held a mixture of panic, determination, sorrow and some kind of inner struggle. Fear won, and seeing no other way out, he forcefully pulled the door open. There was no one outside. He slowly, carefully eased his way out of the shack, then towards the trees. The limp form, visible through the open door, moved a little with a long moan, and that startled the man into a run. He didn’t stop, didn’t stop, didn’t stop, then suddenly he hit something and fell down, down, down…

When the world stopped with a drunken tilt, his first thought was that he was going to be sick. Then, fear came back with a shiver and broke out with cold sweat on his body. In the tense silence, he allowed himself to lie the way he had fallen and gather his scattered thoughts. Assess the situation. Control it.

The silence turned out to be simple forest silence; he slowly realised that over the wild thumping of his heart he could hear the birds and the whispers of wind in the trees. He knew the sounds of the forest by heart, and those told him there was no danger. He had escaped.

He allowed himself a moment to relax; it was then that the sensation came, something that felt out of place. He couldn’t place it for a moment, though… he took a deep breath. Then another one. He slowly exhaled. The sensation crystallised into something more familiar. Pain. With a moment of concentration he was able to discern that his head was hurting. His carefully probing hand came away with the fingers stained by fresh blood; he started at the memory the smell brought with it. He tried to shift into some more comfortable position; his muscles were unpleasantly slack as the last of the adrenalin drained away. The world staggered drunkenly with the movement, and the sensation was there again; he recognised it, but there was something…

The direction. That was wrong. It came from the wrong direction. His head still hurt, but this pain came from his leg. He moved the limb and the pain stabbed him sharply in the ankle and lower leg. His situation looked bad all of a sudden. He was hurt, and with his leg injured, he wouldn’t be able to escape them again. He was… he was… he looked around, only to shut his eyes against the sudden assault on his senses. Once the world stopped spinning, he tried again to orient himself, this time more slowly and carefully. He was… in a deep hole. A small voice inside him whispered that they wouldn’t see him here, but there was already the coldness of fear in his gut and the dryness in his mouth. There was no way of escaping. In the shack he had at least had the door, but there was no way out of here. Except up. They were up. He couldn’t climb out if he wanted to. With a shudder of his slack and weakened body, he suddenly realized he wouldn’t be able to climb the steep, high walls. Not even stand up, although maybe then he’d be able…

He tried. Just once. He tried standing; he managed to get up to his knees before the dizziness pushed him over with its mind-numbing spell. No way out. No way out. He closed his eyes and pressed his eyelids together hard. The sickness came in waves now, and he fought it doggedly, time after time, time after time, time after time…

He didn’t allow himself to be sick, but the effort left him shivering with exhaustion. Maybe some rest would allow him to get his strength back. He closed his eyes experimentally. That felt better already. He didn’t feel like moving at all, so he stayed as he was, lying in a near-shapeless heap, listening to the sounds of the forest so he could hear danger before it approached. At some point, a drizzle began to seep through the tree tops, and he welcomed the cold, soothing touch on his aching head. Breath by breath, second by second, his breathing slowed down to a comfortable, relaxed pace.

Hoss massaged his aching neck while he carefully followed the tracks of booted feet. The facts provided more answers than he’d ever hoped for, and what answers! He had to be very cautious now, though, not to let any opportunity slip. He had to find him and nurse him back to health.

Maybe it was more a supposition on his part than a certainty, but he had taken a moment to analyse his observations made while he’d been soothing away the fear from the soft brown eyes. He had sensed the fear mounting up to the irrational degree of panic, and on the other hand, he could sense no recognition. The appearance, too, was so different: the unkempt, haggard, haunted looks… It cried out to him with the one word – ill. Whatever the ailment was, Hoss felt he had a bounden duty to help, to heal, to make all well again…

If only he could.

The tracks of a running man were always easier to follow, the way the feet hit the ground more forcefully. His headache kindly soothed by a drizzle, Hoss had no difficulty reading the tracks and following them, up until the steep drop. It was actually a hole, only partially due to a man’s work; nature has helped a lot to form it.

Hoss drew a deep breath and, securing himself with a hold on one of the tree trunks, leant over to look down.

Our Father was his first coherent thought. Hope, fear, doubt – a dozen conflicting feelings crowded his mind. Maybe it wasn’t… but if it was… His glance halted where his hand rested on the rough bark of the leaning tree. Something dark, wet and sticky – a trace of… blood? His initial thought crystallised: if it wasn’t him, or if he were lost to them after being so wondrously found, or if… There was One who knew everything, who could make it all well again.

Hoss knelt at the edge of the drop and took a moment to clasp his hands and pray for anything He was willing to give and for the strength to accept it, whatever it might be. He surrendered all his hopes and expectations to the words given by the greatest Authority. Our Father, who art…

Thy will be done. Hoss moved a few steps back to where he’s left Chubb and grabbing the rope, carefully edged his way down the slope. He tried to get to a place where the wall of the hole would be at its lowest. The now slippery ground forced him to use extra caution, and to plan a strategy that wouldn’t send them both back down the muddy slope once he got him out.

The drizzle felt cold now, and it wasn’t the pleasant cool compress from before anymore. He shifted slightly, but was chastised for thoughtlessness by his leg and head. He felt cold and weak. And vulnerable. A flash of panic surged through him, and he tried to look around, but that only left him feeling dizzy and even more vulnerable. Yet he thought he’d heard a horse coming, and images crowded in his head… horses… people… ropes… He shook his head with a yell no one heard; it exploded in his lungs and never reached beyond his vocal cords. He panicked again, unable any more to get up and run away, unable to defend himself, unable to cry for help the way he was strangling on sounds, unable to fight for himself, to push them away, to save himself, to get rid of them, to be free, to get out of there!

His memory lured him with the echo of a man’s soothing, gentle voice, and despite all the panic he felt, he cried inside himself for that very man to come and help him – save him from those people he had no more strength to fight! A part of him yelled and pulled, savage as a wild animal; it demanded he get up and run, run, run! Another part folded his hands into fists to fight. Then there was the part that laughed at him and mocked him with the weakness of his body, and the small voice crying for all of it to stop and let him rest from it at last, and a still smaller voice sobbed for someone to come and HELP him! His mind, as back then, fastened on two words, words which might have saved his life as the branch broke just as the world was going dark. He remembered and all hope revolved around them: Our Father, Our Father, Our Father… there was more but he couldn’t remember… couldn’t… Our Father… GOD, he heard someone above him; they’d FOUND HIM!!! Our Father, Our Father…!

He turned with a painful jolt to face the danger –

There stood a man. The man. He was already down in the hole, just a step away! The man. The same soothing voice; the same calm, honest eyes; this time the man squatted down to a less dangerous level. He was so close, so close… There came a whimper from somewhere, and slowly, slowly the big arms enveloped him, and with his last rational effort he fought the urge to run, to fight the man. He held with a claw-like grip to one of the big arms, sobbing in his mind, Our Father… Our Father, who art… Our Father… Help me.

Hoss stood there for a moment watching the trembling shape. The dark heap moved with a sudden jolt and burning brown eyes bit into him. What he saw there, stopped him in his tracks for a second, then he slowly sank to a squat, soothing again.

“It’s all right… it’s only me. I’m not gonna hurt you. It’s fine. It’s all right.”

He thought he could read a shadow of permission in the brown eyes, and inched his way closer. The pitiful whimper cut through his heart and he gathered the trembling shape in his arms. He was surprised when there was no outward fight; on the contrary, the thin fingers dug into his arm as though to hold him…

“Easy, brother, easy…” he whispered, stroking the dark head. He looked up and remembered his fears and thoughts on the edge of the drop, and whispered, this time overflowing with unspeakable gratitude, with a tear for every word:

“Our Father, who art in heaven…”

The man in his arms shuddered violently and the fingers dug deeper.

“… hallowed be Thy name – hallowed be Thy name…”

***

Hoss sighed deeply and rubbed his face.

Only after he had taken the hurt man – already unconscious – out of the hole and to the shack, and cared for him: undressed, washed, dressed the head wound and the swollen ankle and wrapped him in a warm blanket, did his feelings surface. Surprise, shock – feelings unnamed in their extreme power, washed over him and he fell to his knees, crying and shaking uncontrollably.

Adam never woke during that time, thus somehow allowing Hoss the needed privacy. Exhaustion had robbed him of consciousness in Hoss’ hold, and he didn’t react to being hoisted out of the hole or carried to the shack. He didn’t react to being washed or examined, either. His deep state of unconsciousness worried Hoss some, but it could be explained by exhaustion, both physical and emotional, and the slight fever he started to run.

Hoss wiped away the traces of tears and rubbed his face energetically. He was needed. Adam would need him when he woke up. Question was, what condition was he in and what kind of help would he need? Clearly, he hadn’t recognised Hoss, at least at first; the outright fear stood in a striking contrast to his usual iron control. A month had passed since the drama, and Adam had stayed alone for all that time, without any help. What injuries had been inflicted on him, and what were their consequences?

And how to shield him from any people who might appear?

He got up, his eyes searching for something to do while Adam was unconscious. He needed to busy his hands and possibly his mind. The idea that presented itself to him seemed to have only advantages… He found his razor – how glad he was he had it with him! – and prepared some warm water. Not much in the way of soap. Never mind. He washed Adam’s face again, trying to soften the dark beard. That way he was able to get busy and gaze at his miraculously found brother to his soul’s delight. Adam looked so relaxed, so calm… Hoss took his time, moving the razor slowly along the well-known contours, wiping the softened skin, watching the familiar face appear in full.

The activity couldn’t last forever. Finally the last of the beard was gone, the neck checked for any remains of rope burns that may have been hidden underneath, and Hoss decided some food would be nice. There wasn’t much in the shack, some beans, and some flour… one or two cans of meat. After a brief but thorough consideration, he left the shack, to come back soon with two rabbits. Adam hadn’t as much as stirred during that time, just as Hoss had expected.

He opted for the safer version – safer for a hungry stomach – and after some time, the shack began filling with the aroma of broth. Hoss glanced at the cot, as he had done every few minutes for the last hour or so, and met two brown, feverish eyes looking straight at him.

Adam shrunk back on the cot at Hoss’ first movement, though with effort. The soothing voice seemed to calm him down, however, and he let Hoss approach him. Hoss helped him free one hand from the folds of the blanket, and Adam gratefully used it to rub his face, looking confused at the new sensation.

“I’ve shaved you,” admitted Hoss sheepishly, if unnecessarily. “You think you can handle some broth?”

Slowly, Adam’s eyes left Hoss’ face and travelled to the fire and the pot.

“Yes,” Hoss confirmed softly. “It’s there, an’ I bet you can smell it. You want some?”

After a long moment, Adam minimally shook his head.

“Want some water?”

After a moment there was a minimal nod.

Well, this was already conversation. Hoss moved over to the fire, filled the cup with the warmed water and came back to Adam. Softening his movements to be the least threatening for his brother, he put his hand under Adam’s head and lifted it enough for him to be able to drink. Adam drank gratefully and relaxed slightly, although his fever-bright eyes still watched the other man warily.

“Would you care for some broth, now?” inquired Hoss softly after the cup’s bottom showed. Adam’s brows furrowed slightly, but he winced and closed his eyes; his head must have hurt. Hoss gently let the aching dark head rest on the cot and went back to the fire to get some broth just in case Adam managed to get some of it inside.

The dark eyes opened again wearily, reluctantly, but the first spoonful was swallowed, almost involuntarily, then the next one. Soon, though, Adam was trying to pull his head backwards, and Hoss let him rest. It took the sick man no more than a minute to fall asleep.

Hoss made himself comfortable on the floor next to the cot as a self-appointed guardian. No one would disturb his brother, or else!

***

“Hey, Joe.” Roy Coffee reined his horse alongside the pinto and eyed the young man with a trained eye of an officer of law. “You look worried. Something happened?”

Joe smiled at the sheriff, but it wasn’t his usual teeth-flashing enthusiasm. “No, not really. It’s just that Hoss isn’t back yet. He didn’t say when he’d be back, but it would be good if he could make it home tonight. You actually look quite satisfied, Roy – is there something new?”

“I might have something – but I’m not gonna repeat it twice if’n you’re gonna meet up with Hoss. He’s out in that shack?”

“Yeah, he wanted…” Joe hesitated. “He… He didn’t say when he’d be back, but…” He sighed slightly, then pushed an unconvincing smile to his lips. “Pa’s been pacing again. I don’t want him to have any more reasons to fret.”

“Pacing?”

“At night. He doesn’t sleep; he just walks about the room. He did it after… after we lost… uhm.” He cleared his throat self-consciously. “There were a couple of nights that he slept fine, and now he’s back to pacing.”

“I’m sorry.” Roy pursed his lips, his moustache bristled belligerently. What else was there to say? No one could be brought back with words… “I’ll join ya, whaddaya say?”

“Sure. Hoss will be happy to see ya, especially as you seem to have some good news. We can use some.”

Upon reaching the forest, Joe pointed to the right direction and went first. He relaxed visibly, noticing Chubb graze peacefully close to the shack’s door. After a few seconds, Hoss’ head appeared cautiously in the doorway; he spotted the newcomers, quickly put a finger to his mouth to order silence and slipped out of the shack. He gestured for them to stay where they were, at the verge of the clearing.

“Well?” Joe nodded his head towards the shack impatiently.

“I’ve found him.” Hoss rubbed his face wearily and took a moment to regain his suddenly fragile composure. “I’ve found him.”

“Who is the man?” Roy questioned him immediately. “Is he the one who helped Annie? Someone from here or a stranger? A tramp?”

“Hold your horses, Roy.” Hoss absently scratched at the back of his neck. “First of all – Joe, we’ll need food, blankets and clothes for him, as quickly as possible. – Yes, he’s the one who helped Annie, it’d seem. Uhm – do ya have anything new about the investigation?”

“Yeah, I sure do. Good news – and also bad news, I’m afraid.” Roy’s eyes shot questioningly towards the shack, but Hoss’ firm stance, which resembled a living wall, convinced him to go along with the big man’s strategy.

“Fire away.”

“Good news is, I think I’ve got the main culprit.” The sheriff’s experienced eyes carefully appraised Hoss’ posture. No change. No threat. Just the blue eyes narrowed a bit.

“Bad news is – we might not catch him afore he leaves the territory. He’s left town, mighta guessed I’d come to him. I’ve sent out telegrams everywhere, ‘specially the way he was going – south.”

The blue eyes narrowed further, then closed and remained like that for a long moment.

Something creaked back at the shack, and Hoss threw a startled glance at the wooden construction. The sound didn’t repeat itself, however, nor was there any movement. Hoss blew out the breath he’d held back for a moment, and turned to Roy again, his shoulders relaxing.

“Who.”

“Hoss, I can’t let any of you…” began Roy, but Hoss interrupted him in a flat manner.

“Roy, I’m not gonna go all up in arms and catch me the guy, I just wanna know for myself and for protection in case he ain’t left for good. I’ve got more important things on my mind.”

“The man injured?” asked Joe, although he didn’t really need confirmation; he knew Hoss’ protective nature when it surfaced.

“Don’t know how badly yet,” admitted Hoss. “He needs food and shelter to begin with. – Now, who, Roy.”

“Ike Upton,” the sheriff capitulated. Concern for injured creatures overrode everything else in Hoss’ nature. “Yep, the young bank teller,” Roy confirmed to the two surprised sets of eyes. “A born’n’bred Southerner – you know that – and a friend to Jack Stevens. Way I see it, he might not be a stranger to lynching as such.”

The wind rustled softly among the leaves of the trees, danced through the grass in the clearing and ran playfully into the bushes as if playing hide-and-seek. Then it was quiet again.

Eventually, Hoss asked, “Others?”

“Working on that, but it’s a tricky case – we’d need a witness. You think Annie… She did start talking.”

“I ain’t thought about it yet,” admitted Hoss calmly. “There’s something else, an’ I think you should know it.”

The sheriff looked at Joe, who shrugged his shoulders slightly; he had no idea what could be as important as Hoss’ voice told them.

“You might wanna change the charges.” Hoss’ hands rested on his hips in a slow, controlled gesture that betrayed the tension within him. “Remember I found the tracks of dragging fishy?”

“Yeah…” Roy nodded with a pensive frown. “Whatcha thinkin’ of?”

“Adam wasn’t dragged away,” stated Hoss. “An’ I ain’t thinkin’, I’m sure.” He shifted and pursed his lips. “He wasn’t dragged away,” he repeated firmly. “He crawled away.”

If he had swallowed a stick of dynamite with a lit fuse, he wouldn’t have stunned them any further.

After the first moment of being startled into blocks of salt, Joe began shaking his head with a painful look in his eyes, while Roy coughed a bit as if he had choked on something, then stammered out, “Are ya… suggestin’…”

“I ain’t suggestin’, I’m sayin’. Adam wasn’t dead, and he crawled away. Must’ve left him alone or something.”

Silence reigned once again over the clearing. Hoss threw a searching and impatient look towards the shack. He wanted to get back there as soon as possible.

Joe’s mind finally traced with some coherence the route of the tracks Hoss was talking about, and the new-born atom of hope died within him. “The tracks went… the stream…” he whispered hoarsely. Was it there they were supposed to have looked?

The sound of his voice started Hoss, whose thoughts had already been in the shack. “Instincts, I bet,” he provided by way of explanation, missing Joe’s meaning. “I don’t think he was in any kind of shape to act on anything else. Listen, Joe, I need those blankets. Food – good, rich, nourishing food – Hop Sing will think of whatever’s needed. And warm clothes: pants, shirts, a jacket, maybe boots as well.”

Joe shook his head, opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again, but no sound came out. Eventually, however, a Westerner’s practical mind kicked in and he switched from the aching part of his heart to the reality at hand.

“Ah… uhm… er… wwhat… what kind of clothes? I mean – yours? Big? Small? How big is he?”

“Oh, take Adam’s clothes,” answered Hoss somewhat impatiently, as if he’d been explaining the construction of a haying fork to a particularly slow student and hadn’t had much success.

“Adam’s!?”

Hoss’ big hand clamped Joe’s mouth shut immediately. “He can wake to a falling leaf, and I bet it ain’t gonna be so easy to calm him back down again,” hissed Hoss.

Joe pulled the restraining hand from his face and whispered hoarsely, “Adam’s? Adam’s!” Adam’s things were – well, not sacred, but… no one… no one could…

“Yes, Adam’s,” repeated the bigger man with some exasperation. “Can be older things, but warm – that old red shirt, the jacket…”

“Ad…” Joe choked with stupefaction, then his gaze fell on the shack and he blinked. “Ad…”

Hoss sighed impatiently. Roy watched the exchange with keen professional interest. Something didn’t fit here.

“Ad…” Joe’s eyes travelled up to Hoss’ face and his voice cracked. He searched his brother’s face, then raised a hand to his mouth. “God. Oh, God. Oh… Oh…”

Two strong arms encircled him, stifling the sobs in the soft fabric of Hoss’ cream shirt.

“Yes,” whispered Hoss, giving up his own fight with tears. “Yes, Joe.”

Now it was Roy’s turn to raise a shaking hand to his mouth with sudden realisation, moving his lips like a fish out of water.

Hoss noticed his friend’s strange behaviour and nodded towards him with a knowing smile. “He’s alive,” he confirmed softly.

Joe’s head shot up out of Hoss’ hold with a whistling gulp of breath. “I wanna see him,” he demanded. “I gotta see him.”

Hoss smiled at him shakily. “I know, Joe. But – you have to remember to be very – very – quiet… he can’t wake up… he can’t know you’re there. You can only take a peek… ya get it, Joe? Not a peep… he can’t wake up… remember…”

“I – “Joe gulped down another sharp intake of breath. “I wanna talk to him. Make sure.”

But Hoss shook his head. “He’d only get agitated, Joe… He needs his rest badly… There’ll be time… there’ll be plenty of time later… You’ll have to be very quiet now…”

Joe took a calming breath and hid his face in his hands, breathing out. “Gimme a moment,” he mumbled from behind this wall of hands.

Hoss nodded at him, then shook his head at Roy, who’d made as though he wanted to step up closer. “No, sheriff, you just gotta believe me on this one – I ain’t gonna let you close, not now. Not yet.”

“Adam’s hurt? Or is it…?” A sudden suspicion appeared in Roy’s mind.

“I’m not sure…” Hoss glanced at Joe and decided there had been enough earth-shaking news for now. “He ain’t up for guests yet,” he finished, too flatly for it to be an invitation to further discussion. “Ya ready, Joe?”

The young man took a deep breath and nodded. “Yep. Let’s go.”

They stole quietly towards the shack, hardly breathing. Hoss’ hand shook slightly when he unlatched the door, and he gestured for Joe to wait a moment. Inside the shack nothing seemed to have changed, so he waved Joe over to the slit in the doorway and let him look.

Joe’s breath caught in his throat when he saw the inert form on the cot. For one terrible moment it seemed like a strange dream or an artificial figure with a face resembling that of his brother’s in the shadow. Everything was motionless. Still. Frozen in time. Then, the man shifted slightly in his sleep, the movement so natural, so familiar, the face so relaxed, that Joe’s throat betrayed him, and it was only Hoss’ hand that stopped the involuntary inarticulate sound.

They quickly pulled back, Joe virtually strangling with the effort of remaining quiet. He only let go when they reached Roy; Hoss held his brother close, partially for comfort, partially to stifle the sound. The sheriff tactfully pretended to get busy checking on the horses to give the brothers some kind of privacy, and actually using the occasion to hide his own emotions. The boy was ALIVE. After all this time. His boy was ALIVE.

***

In a nervous movement, Joe raked his fingers through his hair, the gesture careful as if not to disturb his father. Ben wouldn’t have reacted, though, if the whole world started shaking in its foundations. He had hidden his face in his hands, utterly overpowered by shock and quickly oncoming emotion.

Joe hated what he was going to say next, but there was no way around it, and no time to lose; the bigger the joy, the nastier the blow. “Hoss says – he didn’t recognise him. I mean – Adam… Hoss.”

After a long moment, the chocolate eyes rested on him with a close, examining look. The rustle of hands against the five o’clock shadow was deafening in the silence.

Joe swallowed, then repeated in a more orderly manner, with his voice firmly under control. “Adam didn’t recognise Hoss.”

There was a moment’s silence again, before Ben eventually asked, “Sick? Injured?” His voice was hoarse; talking was visibly an effort.

“He may have amnesia or whatever you call it,” offered Joe. “Hoss says he’s had some head injury. Now he’s twisted his ankle, so he’s gotta rest anyway. Hoss says to give him time. Maybe he’ll come round. He can’t say what condition Adam’s actually in yet.”

Ben rose wearily, then straightened. His face changed together with his posture until he turned into determination personified. “Saddle my horse, Joseph.”

“He won’t let you see Adam, Pa,” said Joe softly. “He just let me have a glimpse through the door ’cause Adam was deeply asleep.”

He winced at the almost physical onslaught of his father’s angry glare, but couldn’t back down. “I think Hoss knows best, Pa.”

Ben closed his eyes for a moment, steadying himself, aware that it wasn’t Joe or Hoss he was so mad at. He then said, with his eyes still closed, “You saddle my horse, Joseph. I… I might… not see him, might not… talk to him, but – God help me, I’m gonna be there. If there is the tiniest bit of a chance to have my boy back home safe and sound, I’m gonna be there to grasp it and milk it to the full.”

He heard Joe leave with barely a sound, but didn’t move. The words stated aloud, those words full of promise, his very own words sang in his ears: that he actually might see, might talk to his boy once again, may have him back… Aloud, they tasted so stunningly, so tangibly real that it gave him sudden shivers of delight and fear alike. The world ceased existing. His Adam was alive.

***

Hoss smiled at the darker man, and touched the sunken cheek with just his fingertips while the other hand reached for the water. He could feel the tremors running up and down his brother’s spine as he supported Adam to enable him to drink. He surmised he would never know whether it was pain, fear or exhaustion making its shivery route along Adam’s body.

“Easy does it,” he murmured, miserable in his inability to help. Adam sagged against him, his head lolling to the side in an almost limp motion. Hoss let him rest on the flat excuse of a pillow they had available, covering him up in a warm gesture. Adam’s eyes remained closed, so Hoss couldn’t be sure if his gentleness had been appreciated. He didn’t care all too much about appreciation, though; he simply wanted to avoid further harm coming to that dear, wonderful, emaciated, nervous wreck of a man before him.

What was more, he needed Adam asleep to be able to get the promised supplies from home. Hopefully, Joe had brought them already to the clearing and was waiting patiently… Now, that word didn’t exactly fit his younger brother, did it?

Time in the shack gradually slowed down to the fall and rise rhythm of sleep. Hoss yawned, caught himself and moved to check on Adam. His forehead was still warm, too warm for Hoss’ liking, but he expected something like that to come. Injury, exhaustion, obvious confusion and – well, fear, were likely too much for the body to deal with all at once. Hopefully he hadn’t caught a chill from lying in the drizzle…

Since Adam woke neither to the sound nor the touch, Hoss decided it was safe to venture outside for the supplies.

Joe was indeed waiting. Clothing, food, blankets, some pans – Hoss swept it all up in his massive arms and grinned at Joe.

“He’s asleep,” he whispered. “Woke just once, but he’s still too weak to stay awake long.”

“He recognised you?”

Hoss’ face scrunched up in a thoughtful grimace.

“Didn’t fight me much. Don’t rightly know how much recognition that is.”

“But he’s alright?” a new whisper interrupted.

Hoss cleared his throat. “Uh… hi, Pa. I kinda expected you,” he gave him a half-grin over the armful he held, then grew serious. “To be honest with ya, Pa – he ain’t fine.”

Ben folded slightly into himself. No more bad news…

“But then it ain’t nothing that can’t be healed,” continued Hoss. “He’s survived for a month on his own, and now he’s gonna have help getting well.”

“When can we take him home?”

Hoss sighed into the blankets. “Not soon, Pa. I was thinking if Joe could show up here tomorrow evening – I’ll try to come out and let you know what’s going on. If Adam needs more time, Joe can come over from time to time with supplies, whaddaya say?”

“No problem,” Joe reacted before Ben even opened his mouth. “I think no one else should know about it, not yet. Pa?”

Ben rubbed his face, his hands shaking as in fever.

“That – sounds feasible,” he forced out. “Can I – see him?”

“That ain’t a good idea, Pa.”

Ben almost stepped back from the tender voice. He didn’t want comfort. He wanted to get what he came here for.

“I want to…” He broke the growing parabola of volume and finished in a quiet, controlled voice. “I need to see him.”

Hoss shook his head with a sad look that woke a tiny seed of an emotion virtually unthought-of inside Ben. Could one hate one’s own son for just a moment?

***

It was hard to say ‘no’ to his father. Hoss shook his head, closing the small chest against its bulging contents. At least he’d been quieter than Joe at the door.

He closed his eyes and shook off the memory of his father’s tear-stained face. Adam stirred on the cot, then settled again. He ought to get a proper pillow under his head, a thicker, cleaner blanket to cover him. And warm, clean clothes. And warm food. And his own bed. And…

Hoss stirred the broth, quite pleased that the aroma at least resembled the one he knew from home. Adam might be persuaded to eat more than a few spoonfuls if he recognised it.

As if on cue, just as the broth had reached its full flavour, Adam woke. He sat up with a start, and Hoss barely caught him as he swayed sideways and almost fell to the floor.

The dark eyes went wide, and the hands pushed at the living obstacle in front of him with all their might. Hoss held Adam’s wrists easily, though, and switched back to the soothing tone.

“No one’s gonna hurt you. You’re safe. It’s all right. Just relax. It’s all right. It’s okay.”

Unable to free his hands, Adam steadied slowly. Hoss judged his attitude carefully before he loosened the hold somewhat. Adam kept steady, looking hard at the other man as if trying to judge him in turn.

The unspoken communication proved successful, and Hoss finally got up to get the broth.

“You need to get some food inside you, Adam.”

His brother seemed calmer and more aware than the last time he woke; he accepted the broth silently, if warily, and though he stiffened at the touch, he didn’t fight Hoss’ support apart from a little squirming away from the foreign hand. This time – either he was more rested or due to the home-like smell – he managed almost two cups before he pushed the food away. The slight fever he’d started to run was growing and robbing him of any energy he had left. However, Hoss didn’t let him lie down yet. Instead, he started unbuttoning Adam’s shirt.

“No alarm here, Adam – you’ll just feel better for a wash.”

Adam’s cooperation in undressing was reluctant to say the least. Hoss decided not to push it and just wash the upper body. Everything had to be done in small steps.

The moment the warm sponge touched his back, Adam froze: still but alert. Much like a cat stroked by a stranger, mused Hoss. When he finished with the back, he handed the sponge to his brother.

“You can manage the front.”

At that, surprise replaced the wariness. Adam took the sponge carefully, as if he was afraid it’d bite, and continued to wash his arms and shoulders, keeping a steady eye at Hoss for all that time. Passively, he let Hoss take the sponge from his hand and refresh it from time to time, which the bigger man counted as another success.

Adam then started on his chest, his moves slow and deliberate – to Hoss a clear sign that his brother was trying to hide his tiredness. At some point the sponge fell to Adam’s lap and the sick man took a deep breath like a man emerging from deep water.

“I’ll finish here,” Hoss took the sponge. He then helped Adam lie down and covered him with the blanket. He would add another one later. “Get some rest.”

He’d wanted to give Adam the new clothes, but maybe it was a better idea to let him rest a couple of minutes. Adam looked tired again. He’d gladly have whooped with joy when Adam downed another cupful of broth several minutes later. The darker man then pulled the blanket tighter around him and closed his eyes, leaving only a small slit between the eyelashes to watch the other man. He was simply too tired to fight – though he was no less suspicious of the help – and didn’t feel quite so nauseous anymore. Yet the warmth of the broth, coupled with the throbs of his painful head and ankle, was enough to increase his fatigue. He didn’t want anymore. He just wanted to sleep. When he slept, the world turned off like a lamp, and he was safe until the dreams woke…

***

Hoss was awakened by a cold gust of wind. Or maybe something else had woken him, he wasn’t sure. He glanced automatically at the cot.

It was empty.

Hoss jumped first to the cot to get the blanket, and then immediately to the open door. Adam was bound to have got cold in the cool morning air, his shirt still hung on the chair close to the fire.

He hadn’t made but two steps outside when a dark shape caught his eye with a movement. Adam was watching him from where he sat against the wall of the shack, looking wary, his hand still absently fumbling with the top button of his trousers, trying to button up. Hoss puffed out the lungful of breath he had been holding and firmly refolded the blanket.

“You shoulda waked me up, Adam,” he said reproachfully. “You cain’t walk far on that leg o’yours, and you’re gonna be cold – if you ain’t already.”

He softly, though not very slowly, came up to his brother and put the blanket over his shoulders, taking the opportunity to touch his skin. “Goldang it, you are cold, brother!”

Adam raised his hand and rubbed his forehead, gazing still at Hoss, who shook his head. “Who’d walk out with a headache and a hurt ankle,” he mumbled, as he wrapped his unresisting brother in the blanket and moved on to the leg to check the harm done. Adam started at the pain, but then bit his lip in silence. Hoss glanced up at his face.

“Couldn’t walk back?” he guessed softly. Adam’s eyes travelled to the ground, as though he felt somewhat embarrassed; that confirmed to Hoss his guess had been right.

“You have a headache?” This was more of a statement than a question, yet Adam nodded wearily, reluctantly in answer. Strong arms lifted him off the ground – he was seized by a fist of fear deep down in his gut; he was carried back to the cot and comfortably settled. When nothing else happened, he let himself relax a little. He had to admit that, although weaker than the man, he didn’t perceive him as a danger. It was relaxing to know he had conquered the panic that used to grip him at just the sound of a human voice. He felt comfortable in the man’s company, more at ease than he could recall ever being. If only it wasn’t so hot in here…

Noticing Adam wearily wiping at his face with a look of discomfort, Hoss strode over to him from the fire and checked Adam’s forehead. Even through the dressing, he could feel the heat growing already.

“You’re hot?”

Adam glanced up at him and nodded slightly, although he didn’t feel like moving his head at all. He felt thirsty. The man’s hands began taking off the dressing on his head, and he was just as displeased with the discomfort of having his head moved as he was pleased with the prospect of cool air on his aching forehead. His discomfort grew quickly when it came to uncovering and cleaning the injury. After a moment, though, something cold rested on his forehead at last. He was told to drink… the water was soothingly cool.

The blanket was readjusted, enveloping him in tiring warmth… He blinked to wake up and looked where the man was.

The man was standing by the chair and holding a shirt in his hands. It was neither big enough to be the man’s nor was it the black one he had been wearing himself.

Hoss noticed the direction of Adam’s gaze and explained, “I got you some new clothes in the meantime. They’re warmer and cleaner than those you had. If you feel up to it, you could put them on, you’d be warmer.”

The dark eyes were hooded and wary again. Adam shifted and tried to sit up, then stiffened as Hoss went to his aid.

“I ain’t gonna bite you,” grumbled the bigger man good-naturedly, helping him up. “I had to take your shirt off when you were washing – ”

Adam nodded stiffly. He obviously remembered; it was just as clear that he’d again become wary of Hoss’ help.

“I went out while you were asleep – got some more food, blankets, and some decent clothing for you, like I told ya.” Hoss was explaining as he helped Adam get the shirt on. “Shucks, you’re weak as a kitten… Now, the other arm. Right. Can you button up?”

Adam’s fingers fumbled with the buttons, then gave up the lost fight. Patiently, Hoss did them up one by one, then helped Adam lie back down. “Pants later.”

The dark eyes shot to his face, alarmed.

Hoss wasn’t sure what had caused the alarm and decided to play it safe. “When you’re stronger, you’ll put on some clean, warm pants instead of that worn out thing on your hide.” Lengthy, detailed explanations had seemed to calm his brother down so far.

Adam watched him now, licking his lips thirstily. When he got some water down, he sighed nervously, let his head fall onto the cot, and started undoing the buttons of his trousers.

Hoss raised a brow at that. Adam was full of surprises today. “No time like the present, I see.” He gently helped his brother, covering him with a blanket to increase his comfort while he reached for a sponge and a clean pair. “There you go. No hurry and mind your ankle.”

Washing and changing seemed to have sapped all of Adam’s energy. He passively watched Hoss pull something out of the chest in the corner – The pillow earned a raised eyebrow from the sick man. He had no strength whatsoever to react and show his dismay at being handled like a defenceless child instead of handling himself. Neither did he have any intentions of showing how much better he felt clean and comfortable. Thus he remained motionless and watchful, a silent observer and only a passive participant in the actions inside the shack. He ate what was given to him, marvelling inside at how good it tasted, and rested against the pillow that cradled him – delighting inside at the incredible comfort to his back, and unaware fell asleep, calmer inside than he could remember being for a long, long time…

Another night had fallen over the shack like a dark blue veil, lulling the world in the cosy silence of a sleeper’s breath. How many nights had there been? How many days? Time trickled through his mind like through spread-out fingers. He knew that several days had passed since he wasn’t alone, but the exact number escaped him.

He realised at some point what had made the man ‘safe’ for him. It was nothing about the man – or maybe something; but most of all it was something inside himself. He needed someone to steady him, someone to moor to, a harbour, a railing which was there just in case. He wanted safety, someone to catch him at a faulty step, someone’s calming presence at his shoulder, someone to fix what he’d mess up, somebody to forgive him when he couldn’t forgive himself all those betrayals of his will!… Someone to be with him… How he hated this being alone… Someone had told him… He’d been told that, as there was God, we could never be alone… His weary, near-panicky mind held on doggedly to the rest of his logic and to the memory that the darn branch broke just when he started praying… Lord, if he were sinning, then please let him be forgiven, if there were ever any forgiveness possible for him…

If there was no forgiveness – was he sinning by asking the Lord? Was he worthy to ask? Why – why did he think to ask if he believed he couldn’t get…? Did he believe that? Where did it come from? Was there forgiveness? Was he worthy to say the Lord’s name? Was he…? Was there…? But… But… He couldn’t… a sinner like him… Who’d… who’d accept him? Who’d – love him? Could anyone? – He screamed at himself in his mind and forced his thoughts to stop and vanish for a moment. Concentrate on one harmless thing. Breathing. Will do.

He turned his head to look at the steady shape in the darkness. A steady presence. Steady breathing. It sounded nice, actually, when you listened closely in the soft silence of darkness. Like a melody of sorts. There was something pleasant about – not about the sound, but rather the feeling it evoked. Safety? His mind uttered the word with the utmost care, as if not to scare away the idea itself, so unreal did it seem to him. He listened on, letting it come to him instead of searching frantically. It wouldn’t come but by itself, anyway, he was certain of that. Such things came when they came, full stop. An unexpected snore sent a sudden, freezing shiver through his body, an ecstatic shiver of a powerful déjà vu. He closed his eyes for a moment to be able to focus better on the emanating steadiness and soon felt himself grow calmer. As far as he was from sleep, he was content just to lie there and taste the new feeling of safety and the pleasure it gave.

In the back of his mind there quickly grew an as-of-yet-subconscious certainty that the man was not a stranger. This was a powerful soothing factor, as little as he was aware of its presence, to fight his ever-growing certainty of being watched – trapped – deceived somehow. He was certain that the man had accomplices and was plotting something against him behind his back. He hadn’t caught him yet doing so, but that didn’t prove anything. They must have been careful.

He knew these feelings very well, in fact. They had been his constant companions for the last… uh… however long it had been. They had been silent after he’d met the man and realised deep within his heart that there were indeed people who could possibly help him. Armed with this new knowledge, he had held his ground against those accursed companions of his solitary trek through the unknown… so far. He feared the consequences of loss in this battle. It would be much, much harder – if possible at all – to come so far as to trust anyone again. He couldn’t let that happen; not after he’d caught the scent of normal life, of life as it had been before he could remember anything clearly. What was new and exhilarating to him, he’d detected this scent somewhere within himself. He was discovering he was potentially able to lead a normal life like everyone else did; talk to people, meet people, work, have fun, relax, worry without despairing and fear without panicking.

A new day dawned.

Hoss was up at sunup, busying himself in and out of the shack as the day went on. At some point around midday, the big man came back to the cabin and squatted by the cot. “Hey, Adam,” he began softly.

The brown eyes considered him from the familiar poker face, and the slenderer man carefully pulled himself up to a sitting position, revealing some interest in what Hoss was going to say.

“There is someone outside,” Hoss broke the news gently and waited.

The brown eyes hesitated, swung to the door, then quickly to Hoss; then Adam shifted as though trying to look outside the door without getting up from the cot.

“It’s the sheriff and the doctor,” added Hoss carefully, and his heart sank again when he read in Adam’s face the effort to proceed the information. Normally, he wouldn’t be able to read anything Adam didn’t wish to reveal; not to mention that proceeding information had never been an effort for his brother.

Eventually, Adam blinked, licked his lips and focused on Hoss.

“If you ask me, the sheriff don’t need to be here as much as the doctor does,” offered the big man with a small grin. “I’d sure like him to see you. I told him already you don’t cotton to strangers, an’ I don’t cotton to anyone hurting you.”

Entirely certain he was doing the wrong thing, Adam gave a small nod. He’d told me about his accomplices. He had decided to trust that man; he had to trust somebody.

The door revealed a plump figure, small in comparison to the big man opening the door and throwing careful glances at him.

And there it was again. Adam involuntarily pulled himself up against the wall and as far away from the man as he could and flashed a quick glance about the shack, licking his suddenly dry lips.

“It’s all right.” Hoss closed the door and smiled soothingly, approaching Adam with soft steps. “See? The door’s closed and ain’t no one else gonna come in unless we let them. Now, you take your time and then let the doc examine you, okay?” He let one of his hands stroke Adam’s shoulder with a steady grip, while the other wandered over to the top of Adam’s back to sooth the muscles there.

With the doctor’s first step, Adam’s back was flat against the wall in an instant, whereas in his mind he had scrambled as high up as the ceiling to escape the man.

“Easy does it,” soothed the voice beside him. Oh, he wanted to follow the advice, but how?!

The doctor took another step, and Adam choked on his breath and his body betrayed him in a frantic movement of escape. Strong arms anchored him in place, but the panic couldn’t be stopped once it had found a slit in the seemingly locked door.

He started to tremble in Hoss’ hold and focused on the approaching threat, focused so hard that he suddenly lost focus entirely and he could only remember the fear and something heavy holding him fast…

“It’s all right, no one’s here.” Hoss’ voice got through to his mind at last.

“No one’s here. Calm down, we’re alone, just you an’ me.”

His eyes swept through the shack. No one. Really no one. Unless hidden behind Hoss.

“Calm down.”

Calm down. Calm down. He closed his eyes to concentrate – opened them immediately to be able to watch for danger. It was difficult to move and yet he felt his body fight. Calm down. He managed to catch his breath and gritted his teeth, and tensed his muscles to make them cooperate. It seemed to work, finally; he wouldn’t be able to say if it had taken ten minutes, or fifty, though.

Eventually, he managed to calm down enough to function coherently. A weight lifted from his chest. Only now did he realise Hoss had been pinning him to the cot.

The doctor was nowhere to be seen.

He concentrated on pulling himself together; he sat up, straightened his back, took a few deep breaths. He accepted the meal prepared by Hoss. Accepted his company. Even the unnerving trembling of muscles stopped at some point. The only thing that never left was that desperate, bitter conviction that he would never be able to control his fear, think what he might.

***

He rubbed his head against the blinding headache, growing into a possessive fist just behind his eyes. Oh how he wished it could be grasped, he wished he could grab it like the ball it felt to be and throw it with all his might against the wall to smash it into thousands of tiniest pieces. He wanted to pull it out of his throat where it was working its way down nauseously, and he suddenly saw a clear barrier – the clearest so far – it would be SO easy to give in to the overwhelming fear and steal a moment of precious relaxation for his tensed muscles – he saw the barrier fear would – he would overstep and never return – if he lost it now and retched, the tension would be released only for few seconds and then suddenly mount up into hatred against his own treacherous body and once started it couldn’t be stopped –

A sound from the side, imaginary as it may have been, made him physically flail his hands against it, to scare the danger away, unable as he was to scream, succumbing in the terrified silence to the feeling of impending doom –

Who is out there?

What is out there?

The sounds were mocking him, the darkness laughed, his throat laughed soundlessly, strangling the body treacherously like a beautiful snake constricting the life out of its owner with sadistic pleasure, tears rose in his eyes, yet he grasped futilely at the possibility of crying his heart out for he wasn’t able anymore – he was never able – oh, cruelty! He couldn’t open the dam! It terrified him to think it would give way one day – how it would – but now he just couldn’t – couldn’t – get air – collect thoughts – couldn’t cry – and it – hurt – so – hurt – trying –

A sound from his left sent off sudden sparks of fear growing into monsters of flame before his eyes, and scared senseless, with a forceful, terrified cry strangled into dead silence, he threw himself bodily from the cot, scrambled on all fours and with a conscious effort reached out – oh, listen to me, you stupid hand, listen to me! –

He’s your ENEMY!!!

– reached out from the chains of his fear and – and – touched, and shook Hoss’ shoulder forcefully, shaking uncontrollably with every single breath robbed from him by powerful, panicky sobbing without a sound.

The blue eyes shot open in surprise and – thankfully – awareness. He felt strong arms encircle him, together with a strangling shawl of black despair wrapping his head – In his craving for safety, this wasn’t it! No haven! – he still strangled and fought, and cried, and sobbed, and writhed to escape – escape – something – This – SOMETHING!…

With inner terror, Hoss observed the panic personified in his older brother, the unseeing eyes and only mutely working mouth and throat. He shakily built up a fire with the one free hand, loathe to loosen his hold on Adam.

He choked on his fear, and by now even the fire wasn’t helping with its sudden light and warmth. He knew they were around him, and every sound mocked his inability to defend himself, and he retracted further from the mocking laughter in his ears and the noose just in front of his face. He stiffened in the confining embrace; he kicked out at the floor to kick them off – away – to escape himself, and it suddenly reminded him of the way a hung man’s feet were kicking, and he panicked, trying to kick it off further in a sudden frenzy, his feet accelerating out of their own volition, and his shoulders were imprisoned in an iron hold again, he couldn’t defend himself, and he choked, and choked –

His legs were suddenly pulled up with a power he couldn’t contradict even in his frenzied condition, and he couldn’t move, just stayed in the half-embryonic position the ties were holding him in –

— Easy. Easy. —

NO! NO! NOOOOO!

He heard a hoarse whimper, chopped off by lack of breath – his breath – He wanted to fight, escape, fight, escape, fight, escape! – The tense muscles tensed up further, beyond the ability to move, and he stiffened in his brother’s arms with horrifying stillness.

At least he stopped fighting. Hoss let out the breath he had been holding and concentrated on keeping Adam in one position and one place. His brother’s enormous strength in this state was to be admired, he admitted grimly. Was that what it had looked like for Adam in the last month? Was this moment of panic one of many, or just one and only?

He was aware that today’s happenings, the visit, might well have triggered that, and he blamed himself for even having thought about it. Adam wasn’t ready for people just yet.

“Easy does it,” he crooned. “Easy. Easy. Everything’s fine. I’ve got you. It’s fine. Easy. Easy does it.”

Only silence answered him. Adam wasn’t looking at him; he had turned his face away, his head turned at an uncomfortable angle. Hoss was aware of the tension in his brother; Adam probably wasn’t conscious enough to realize the discomfort.

Hoss’ head shot up with a half-conscious, “Easy. Easy does it.”

Adam settled once again in his arms. He had flinched in Hoss’ hold with a faint sound, which woke his brother, and was still once again.

Hoss cursed his body for betraying him for the few minutes; it couldn’t have been more than that. He knew his hold on Adam was as strong as in the beginning, although his arms were dreadfully tired by now. He was afraid of letting go, though, for no one could foresee Adam’s reaction. He was tired and sleepy, and must have closed his eyes for a few seconds too long.

He estimated they had been sitting there in one position for at least two, three hours. Adam was still very much awake and tense. The fire had almost gone out by now, and Hoss felt a cold shudder on his back. And a very much aching back, it was.

He waited patiently, trying to ignore the rising pain in his spine. Adam was still, and had been so for the last however-long-it-had-been. Maybe this was his chance.

Or maybe he should wait. Look what happened when you were overeager to help him back to people. Just take a deep breath and settle back. There ain’t no hurry like with a dang mountain cat. Jist wait.

At least he couldn’t fall asleep anymore. Hoss caught himself just as he was trying to shift, and had to admit he was on the verge of collapse. He had to move.

“Adam?” He ever – ever so carefully let go of Adam’s legs and turned his brother’s face towards him. The scared, unseeing eyes gave him shivers. “Adam, I’m going to let you go for a second – I gotta move – I’m still gonna hold you close, ya hear me?”

If Adam did, he gave no indication whatsoever. Then, as Hoss shifted him with the utmost care in his lap, Adam suddenly blinked and shifted, letting some tension escape from his muscles, and allowing Hoss the much needed movement. With a blank face, only eyes indicating the deep down fear, he waited for Hoss to settle down more comfortably. Despite the movement, one of the strong arms never left his back and shoulders. He was then pulled into the tight embrace again, where he curled up in a foetal position, with his head against Hoss’ shoulder. The tension was still there, unnerving, and he dearly wanted to get rid of it, but for now he contended himself with the feeble control he had over his body as long as he kept still in the warm embrace.

A part of his brain registered the feeling of safety, as faint as it was, and he realized that he was in a sort of safe haven after all. It wasn’t enough to take away the fear, but he felt a tiny anchor against the tide.

***

The morning was glistening merrily, golden rays of light fingering the trees, the grass and the walls of the shack.

Adam was staring mutely at the wall, just as awake as he had been all night. Hoss was snoring ever so softly in one of the countless short naps he’d taken during the night. It was still cold, but Adam was enjoying the warmth of his brother’s embrace. He was tired, dreadfully tired, but the tension was still there in every muscle. Normally, he’d run straight ahead to outrun his fear until he collapsed in utter exhaustion and – let panic overcome him in his defenceless state. He had to admit it; he either fainted in his run or panicked when he was unable to run anymore.

This was better. It didn’t take the tension away, but it was better.

He shuddered at the memory a sudden quiet sound awoke; or was it the cold seeping slowly from the floor? Then the bulk beside him shifted, and he allowed Hoss to stretch comfortably. One of the big hands touched his cheek, and he shuddered away from the touch. The hand drew back immediately, a stricken look in the blue eyes.

His muscles screamed at the slightest movement, and he let Hoss support him back to the cot. His first step faltered, for he had forgotten the sprained ankle – Easy, soothed Hoss – but he managed it to the cot. He suddenly loathed losing the physical contact, but kept invariably quiet. The pain seemed to have roused him more, and he watched Hoss’ moving around with detached interest.

He moved with sudden anxiety when Hoss turned to the door.

“I’m just going out for a second – I gotta, Adam,” explained the big man immediately. “It’s all right, I’ll be right back.”

After Hoss left the shack, Adam pulled his knees up, looking apprehensively at the now closed door. He felt so alone he wanted to scream. His memory and imagination needled the fear inside him; he remembered people stepping inside the shack yesterday. Maybe it would be the same this time? Or maybe – Maybe this time Hoss wouldn’t be there?

He pulled his knees closer to his chest and grimly refused to ponder those possibilities, desperate to fight his fears this time.

The creaking of the opening door almost made him choke on his breath.

Stepping back into the shack, Hoss was startled by the renewed fear in Adam’s eyes and his foetal position on the cot.

“Gosh, Adam,” he whispered softly, closing the door and approaching his brother. “Ain’t no one here but you and me, I promise ya.”

He wrapped Adam’s shoulders in a blanket and was delightedly surprised when his brother responded by leaning gratefully into him, relaxing. He sat down by Adam’s side, holding him close for a moment. Adam’s head rested on his chest. Right there and then, Hoss wanted nothing else than to just stay like that for the rest of his life.

Yet his stomach had a different idea of satisfaction from life.

“Adam,” he reluctantly loosened his hold. “Ain’t ya hungry?”

The dark head moved against his chest in a negating motion. Hoss’ stomach rumbled in answer, and Adam’s shoulders suddenly shook.

“What is it?” Hoss raised Adam’s head to look at him and was surprised to see a nervous yet impish grin on his brother’s face. Adam grinned wider at Hoss’ expression, then he straightened to rest against the wall without Hoss’ support and motioned gently at his brother to ‘go on’.

He didn’t want anything to eat, but got in a few bites at Hoss’ prodding. Then he waited for Hoss to join him on the cot – and again leaned against his brother.

He listened to the deep voice telling him random stories from ranch life, and from Virginia City, Joe’s antics and schemes from long ago… He didn’t even attempt to grasp the facts, just listened to the flow of the voice and felt himself relaxing into the warm embrace. Once or twice he started out of a nap, surprised with the sleep more than with the awakening.

It was much later that he sluggishly let Hoss’ gentle hands persuade him to lie down, the blanket’s warm weight around him, and he closed his eyes. The conscious part of his mind urged him to use this moment of relaxation to the fullest, as long as he felt the need to sleep…

Hoss stretched slightly, but otherwise remained at Adam’s side, gazing with enormous relief at the familiar face, eventually relaxed in deep, exhausted sleep. The afternoon’s warm air carried with it the sluggishness of sleepiness. Hoss rubbed his face and, reluctant to take his eyes off Adam, slowly moved over to the fire to prepare some food, for he was very hungry by now – he hadn’t gotten as much as a bite of food since breakfast, because of Adam. Not that he held it against his brother.

Maybe, just maybe, he would be able to get a quick shut-eye, too, after eating and after a quick grateful word with the One above.

It had been a week since Hoss’ attempt to reintroduce Adam to the world. Hoss was still relying on Hop Sing’s supplies, although it became increasingly difficult to get them. Adam was much more alert and became anxious at the mere thought of being left alone. The ankle bothered him much less now, as did the head. Yet he hardly ever ventured out of the shack, and when forced by necessity, he never went further than five steps from the door. Hoss started counting them at some point. Every morning Adam woke nervous and tense. He didn’t always sleep through the night. Hoss found him at his side on the floor two or three times in the mornings.

“This can’t go on.” He was holding Adam’s hands gently while squatting by the cot in front of his brother. “You will have to go out at some point.”

Adam glanced fearfully at the door and grimaced uncomfortably. As far as Hoss could tell, he was happy with the arrangements the way they were and would gladly leave it at that. “Adam…”

At this very point, Hoss’ stomach chose to growl for some fuel. Adam’s lips twitched despite his will, and a dimple showed in his left cheek, effectively discharging the heavy atmosphere.

“Bet you’re growling for sunshine just like my belly is for some lunch,” grumbled Hoss good-naturedly. Adam’s eyes twinkled merrily, and his lips twitched again.

Hoss heaved a powerful sigh to release some tension, and shook Adam’s hands gently, preparing to get up.

“Do you at least know who I am?” he thought aloud, surprising himself when the words slipped out.

“Hoss.”

Later, neither would be able to say which one of them was more surprised at the hoarse sound of his name. Right now, Hoss was squatting there with his mouth half open, while Adam blinked, his brown eyes wide, cleared his throat experimentally and croaked in a voice even worse than before:

“Hoss.”

***

Joe rubbed his neck nervously and with growing impatience, while Ben was trying to reason with Hoss.

All of them were apprehensive of what it might do to Adam if they acted too quickly. Yet there were rustlers on the Ponderosa and every man counted; there was also the possibility that they might appear in the vicinity of the shack. Roy, too, in his investigation, would have to reveal the fact that Adam had not died at the lynching site. He hadn’t said anything so far, but all kinds of rumours were liable to be circulating around Virginia City by now, and Ben was particularly concerned that, coming to the conclusion that Adam might be still alive, someone might want to finish the job to get rid of the key witness.

All of that convinced Ben that it was high time for Adam to come back home, to the ranch house, where he would be safer and where there was always someone to help and, if need be, defend him. Now, he was using his arguments as ammunition against Hoss’ barrier.

The younger man’s only, yet powerful, shield was Adam’s condition. They might be doing him no favours in hurrying the healing process, and so Hoss said in no uncertain terms.

“Son, I am aware of that,” Ben stopped for a moment to rephrase his arguments once again without raising his voice. The last thing they wanted was to startle Adam with foreign voices. Foreign. Ben would have never thought that his voice might be that of a stranger to one of his own sons.

“I have told you already why I think this is the best for Adam. I’m only thinking about his safety.”

“And I’m thinking about what it may to do him – he may go back to that dark place inside him, Pa, an’ I have no idea if I – if anybody can get him back from there once agin.”

“And what will it do to him if someone comes to get him here?” Joe spoke up suddenly. He could see his question had shaken Hoss, or rather its implications had.

Hoss sighed, rubbed his face and admitted eventually, defeat clear in his voice, “I don’t know if he trusts me enough.”

“Isn’t there…” Joe suddenly stopped, then pushed out in a hushed whisper, “He’s watching us.”

Hoss turned around, startled, in time to notice the slit of the door slightly widening and narrowing within a second.

“He – He’s taken to watching me,” he said softly, reluctantly turning back to his family. “I don’t know quite why. He watches me when I’m inside, an’ the moment I step outside, he’s off the cot and at the door, watching me if I’m prayin’, standin’, sittin’ or whatever I’m doin’.”

Ben took a deep breath. “Then – he’s seen us.”

“Yes.” Hoss took a deep breath and shook his head. “No time like the present,” he mumbled and squared his shoulders.

“Pa, I’m gonna go back to him – see how he’s takin’ it all. If – You wait here. I’ll stay inside as long as he needs me to, and then I’m gonna step out and either nod at you that he’ll go, or shake my head, an’ that’ll mean he won’t. If’n he will – you just come here tomorrow with – uhmm…” He pondered it for a few seconds. “With a wagon for him. He’s still not quite well, an’ it’ll be easier to control him if something goes wrong. Now if he won’t,” he shrugged his shoulders helplessly. “If he won’t, he won’t. I’m gonna go to him now, an’ you wait here.”

“Son,” Ben’s hand rested on the broad shoulder for a briefest moment. “Whatever happens, we trust your judgment and we’re right with you on everything.”

Hoss gave him a quick smile. “I know, Pa – but it feels good to hear ya say that, too.”

He turned and approached the shack with trepidation. He could soon see Adam’s eyes clearly; not much more was to be seen in the slit. The door moved to admit him inside – and remained open behind him. Adam stood half-hidden behind the doorway, but was looking towards the two figures at the edge of the clearing.

They were able to see his face at last, after such a long time, and were aware that he was looking at them. Ben couldn’t help a shaky sigh under the scrutiny, too soft for Adam to hear, and Joe moved a shaky hand through his hair in a nervous gesture. Then the door closed softly, slowly.

Inside, Hoss gave Adam a close, long, inspecting look, and announced softly, “We’re going home, you an’ me.”

The brown eyes flashed angrily, defiantly.

“No.”

“Adam, I ain’t askin’.”

“No.”

The cloth of the red shirt moved more quickly over the suddenly heaving chest. Adam looked nervously around, and when Hoss took just one step towards him, he flung the door open and stood in it as if to escape. He froze at the sight of Ben and Joe – he’d forgotten about them for a second – but didn’t close the door, didn’t step back yet, torn between escape outside and escape inside.

The two Cartwrights caught their breath. Adam’s face had a desperate look on it, and they could only guess how Hoss was handling the case. Then the bulk of the younger brother appeared behind the older one, and Hoss gently took the door handle out of Adam’s hand. The older brother jerked himself frantically when Hoss’ arm snaked around him to prevent him from escaping, and he turned to his assailant, as now his tortured mind viewed Hoss. The door had closed behind him softly without him even noticing.

In a hurry born of rising fear, he struck out at Hoss for the first time since he’d been found. Almost immediately, two iron hands imprisoned his wrists in a steady hold, and thus he was denied even the possibility of fighting his way out.

Finally, seeing something break at last in his brother, Hoss let go of his wrists; Adam slid limply down the wall and hid his frightened face in his hands.

“No,” he moaned pleadingly.

“We’re going tomorrow, Adam.”

“No!”

Ben started at the anguished cry from inside the shack. Yet, he’d actually heard Adam speak – torn inside, he surrounded his youngest son’s shoulders with his arm, offering much needed support. Joe was no less shaken by suddenly hearing his until now silent brother. And was that quarrel – for it seemed to be nothing else – a good sign, or a bad one?

Adam gave Hoss a hard, mutinous glare as the younger man approached and kneeled in front of him. He then regarded Hoss’ arms as they opened and let himself be pulled in the warm embrace, a gesture so very much unlike himself.

“It’s gotta be, Adam.” Hoss patted the broad back. “There are some people here in the hills, they might – might hurt you… I’m takin’ ya to a safer place, somewhere we’ll be able to stay forever, if need be.”

Adam’s arms had snaked around his brother’s shoulders and back, and held on tight to the cloth in an uncharacteristic gesture, his face hidden on Hoss’ shoulder, all muscles tense.

“There’s no one there who could hurt you… Pa an’ Joe, an’ me will never let anything happen… We won’t let you down again, brother.”

A mumbled sound came from Adam; his grip loosened, and the older man raised his head and repeated persuasively, with a weary note stealing into his voice, “No…”

Hoss recognised it for what it was – denial of the idea that they’d abandoned him when the lynching happened.

“We shoulda been there for ya, Adam… Maybe… all this wouldna happened… Shh, hush,” he pulled his brother back to rest against him and rubbed his back a little, unsettled by the teary sheen of Adam’s eyes. “We’ll talk later… Ya just relax for now…”

Was it an hour? An eternity? Ben rubbed a hand over his face for the tenth time during the last four minutes or so, when suddenly Joe caught his arm.

With strange, almost discouraging weariness, Hoss stepped out of the shack – not much further than the doorway – and nodded at them. Then he withdrew to the shack.

Ben patted Joe’s shoulder with suddenly impassive face.

“We gotta prepare the wagon for tomorrow,” he said hoarsely.

Joe wordlessly walked over to his horse, mounted and followed his father towards the ranch. All words had been said for that day.

***

Hoss resignedly accepted another mutinous glare from Adam as he was prodding his elder brother towards the wagon. Once the waiting was over and action had to be taken, Adam showed enough good will to just about cooperate. He was determined, though, to show his displeasure with the course of events from time to time.

Ben was waiting in the back of the wagon, Joe at the reins. Both were nearly overcome with the sight of their lost family member walking towards them steadily, if slowly, and not always willingly.

Adam shot another look at the two figures at the wagon, familiar yet not enough to silence his fears, and his legs suddenly turned to jelly. He stopped, breathing hard, then turned to search Hoss’ face and steal a longing glance at the shack.

“No, Adam, an’ that’s if I gotta carry ya.”

He shook suddenly with overwhelming fear and pushed at Hoss’ chest to get him out of the way.

“No, an’ I’ll carry you over to that wagon if need be.”

He caught his breath, steadied himself, clamped his teeth hard against the turmoil inside him, and forcefully pushed away the one big hand which was already close to his knees.

“No,” he hissed forcefully. “Myself.”

He caught another steadying breath, straightened and turned back towards the wagon. He set his shoulders – closed his eyes – accepted a slight push from Hoss almost with gratitude.

“Myself,” he maintained, nevertheless, and true to his words, took another step towards the wagon, then another. And another. And the rest of them, one by one.

Hoss helped him climb the wagon and rest against the pile of blankets. When the wagon moved, he cast a startled, fearful glance towards the shack; then he felt Hoss’ supportive arm around his shoulders, holding him close, and a blanket was draped over him.

For the first time able to take a good look at his son, and far less aware of Adam’s recent battles than Hoss, Ben watched his oldest son with suffocating heartache. Gone was the confident individual he’d known not so long ago. In front of him there sat a man reduced to a shaky, fearful creature, not much stronger in spirit than a beaten stray dog.

They were passing familiar sights, familiar land, and Hoss was glancing hopefully at his brother from time to time. Once they’d lost the shack from sight, Adam seemed to calm down. But he showed no kind of initiative to loosen Hoss’ protective hold, or as much as glance at the other two men. He didn’t even look at Hoss. At some point, however, he looked around with a glint of interest in his eyes.

From that very point of the way, one could see the lake shimmering in the sun, even if it was only from afar. Adam’s eyes travelled to the deep-blue surface and remained there for a long moment, as if mesmerized by the richness of the jewels the lake seemed to be wearing in the sun’s golden presence.

He then threw the blanket away, freed himself from Hoss’ hold and stood up. Joe halted the team immediately, uncertain what was going on and scared his brother might do further harm to himself by falling from the wagon.

Adam confidently put his right leg over the driver’s seat, then his left, and seated himself comfortably beside his younger brother. He glanced defiantly at Hoss, but the latter answered him with a merry grin. Adam turned his attention to the front again, and became interested in the reins. This time, however, Hoss intervened and stopped his hands from reaching Joe’s.

“No, you don’t.” At a furious scowl from his brother, he added firmly, “No, just in case you take a sudden notion to turn back.”

Clearly displeased, Adam nonetheless let go of the subject and just contented himself with sitting in the front. He had decided at some point that he didn’t like the thought of being taken anywhere like a sack of grain. If he was going to meet his doom, as his gut kept telling him, then he would at least retain some of his pride and dignity as a man.

Ben exchanged watery glances with Hoss, who mutely shook his head behind Adam’s back, not to let his father get his hopes up yet. Adam could make a confident move one moment, and cower from whatever demons he held within himself the next. His behaviour was uneven, to say the least – yet even Hoss felt a surge of hope.

Joe was unable to look backwards at the rest of his family, for he had to watch the road, the horses – and now Adam. Thus, unaware of the silent communication behind his and Adam’s backs, he stole a glance at the tall figure sitting just beside him. Another glance – and he couldn’t help himself anymore. Gathering the reins with his left hand, he reached out with the right to take and gently squeeze one of Adam’s hands.

The hand in his jerked; a shiver went through the whole body of the man beside him, and the blank brown eyes turned to him with a strangely intensive look. Joe suddenly remembered Adam’s current emotional condition and felt a shudder of fear: had he just made it worse? He found an unexpected, inviting smile from somewhere deep inside, just for his elder brother.

Adam watched him for a long, uncomfortable moment, then turned his eyes back to the road. His hand remained where it was; Joe’s too. After a while, with a clear, conscious effort, Adam’s thumb moved to touch the back of Joe’s right hand, still holding his, and rubbed it just a little.

Joe felt sudden, hot tears run down his face. He wanted to yell for the whole world to hear that he had got his older brother back.

He looked over at Adam and found another surprising, heroic smile for him. “Yeah, we’re going home, brother,” he whispered. Adam glanced at him, then concentrated on the road ahead. From this one, seemingly blank glance, Joe knew he had heard, and acknowledged.

Hop Sing watched the wagon come into the empty yard. The Cartwrights had taken great care that there would be no one around when Adam came home.

Adam was thinner than Hop Sing remembered him. He was sitting beside Joe in the front, looking rather pale, but collected.

The wagon stopped. Hoss and Ben got off the back of the wagon, whilst Joe jumped down from his seat and hurried over to assist Adam. His brother looked around almost lethargically, then reached down to let Joe help him. Once on the solid ground, he leaned on Joe, keeping an arm around his brother’s shoulders while he was walking towards the house. The gesture seemed to have squeezed a rush of tears from the younger man’s eyes…

Hop Sing watched the father rest his hand on the oldest son’s back. Adam stopped, looked at him, put the other arm around his father’s shoulders with strange caution, then they all headed to the house. Hoss brought up the rear, wiping openly at his face with his sleeve.

When the door opened, Hop Sing was already there, waiting. For the first time in long years, he allowed himself to be overwhelmed into utter spontaneity, and without a single word hugged Adam tightly around the ribcage.

He felt the bigger man stiffen – hesitate – then one arm rested on Hop Sing’s back, followed by the other, and Adam returned the hug carefully.

“Food ready, Mr Adam,” Hop Sing forced out, moved almost into speechlessness.

Adam looked back at Hoss uncertainly.

“Hungry?” offered the big man with a huge, relieved grin.

Adam sighed involuntarily, still looking uncertain.

“Tired,” he mumbled eventually.

“Grab a bite or two and then you’ll go to your room to rest,” suggested Hoss.

Adam thought about eating, but food didn’t seem enticing to him. “Tired,” he repeated more firmly.

“Hop Sing do all favourites,” offered the little man quickly. He so wanted to make Adam happy.

Adam must have sensed that. If he had been more aware of what was going on inside him, he would have noted that it was about the only thing that would turn his thoughts in a different direction. His fatigue was already sneaking towards dislike, and even hatred of the mere thought of food. He knew how easy it would be for him to work himself up in a condition when he’d start retching at the faintest smell. Yet, it was enough to think of Hop Sing’s disappointment, and look at his hopeful face, and he couldn’t say no to “a bite or two”, as tired and nervous as he was. If he stopped thinking about being nervous, it might abate. He’d eat and then he’d go to bed and sleep.

***

“He still in bed?”

Hoss nodded and dug into his lunch. He was truly hungry. He’d accomplished most his chores for today in half the usual time to be able to stay with Adam a bit longer.

For the last week, since coming home, Adam had been staying in bed all day. He either didn’t have the strength, or energy to get up. Conversation with him was still one-sided for the most part. He was most talkative towards Hoss, which meant he’d utter one or two monosyllables a day to him.

This lethargy was so different from what he had showed on the day of homecoming that it concerned Ben greatly, not to mention the heartache at the thought of his son wasting away in the darkened room. Hoss would only shake his head and shrug his shoulders.

“He’s come a long way,” he’d point out. “You ain’t seen him when I first found him. And I done told you he was uneven.”

Now, he gulped down the rest of his lunch, yawned, stretched and curtly apologized.

“Maybe you take too much on yourself?” enquired Ben worriedly. Hoss seemed tired again.

“Nah,” Hoss hesitated. “Adam just wakes sometimes at night and comes to me,” he admitted somewhat sheepishly. “Last night something woke him again and… He doesn’t need to be alone,” he added defensively.

“I could sit with him,” offered Ben, but Hoss shook his head.

“Point is, Pa – with all due respect – he will only come to me. He got used to it back at the shack, I think.”

He rose and stretched once again. “Now, let me just take this tray up to him – I’ll try to get him to get down some more than at breakfast.”

“His lack of appetite worries me, son.”

“He’ll come out of it, Pa, give him time,” answered Hoss with a confidence he didn’t feel, and took the tray upstairs.

Adam’s room was dark, due to the drapes being pulled close. It had been like that for the last week. Although his eyes were open, Adam didn’t react to Hoss entering the room; neither did he show any interest in the food. He just lay there, as he had done for the last week. He didn’t feel like getting up. He didn’t feel like eating.

A bit too tired to mind Adam’s moods much today, Hoss put the tray on the chair by the bed, opened the drapes all the way, pulled the quilt off Adam and hauled his brother’s legs off the bed.

Adam was startled by the action and regarded Hoss with surprise, but still without a sound. He was pulled into a sitting position; the moment Hoss turned away, however, Adam lay back down on the bed. He didn’t feel like getting up.

Quite unexpectedly for both of them, Hoss’ patience wore thin. He was tired, sleepy and hadn’t even eaten properly to be able to sit with Adam, and his brother was easily undoing all his efforts just like that.

Adam felt himself pulled roughly into a sitting position, and the tray landed in his lap. “Eat.”

He didn’t feel like eating. He pushed the food around some then offered the tray to Hoss, clearly finished. He wanted to get back to bed.

“You will eat.” Hoss stood over him, making no move to take the tray away from him. Adam grimaced and pushed the food around some more.

“Eat it, Adam, doggone it!”

With dismay, Hoss saw Adam cower at the tone then look at him with soulful eyes. Against himself, he – or rather something in him continued:

“You stay in bed all day like you were an invalid, don’t let me sleep at night and won’t even take what others made for you with all the care they have! What kind of man are you?”

The brown eyes closed against the verbal onslaught, then opened slowly with such a wounded and shameful look that Hoss wanted nothing else than for the earth to open up and swallow him. A lone tear – a tear – the old Adam never cried – raced down his brother’s face, and Hoss saw Adam’s efforts to stop the next ones from flowing.

“Doggone it,” he muttered and turned to the door.

“Stay,” reacted Adam hastily. No, don’t leave me alone now, his mind screamed. He glanced over the tray, trying to find something to wake his interest. “Ah… I’ll eat,” he offered nervously, wiping quickly at his face.

The hope in his voice was almost undoing.

Hoss wordlessly, lest he explode one way or another, with fatigue or shame, went over to Adam’s side, sat down on the bed and waited.

Adam looked at the tray again; painfully aware he wasn’t able to swallow anything right now. Yet he couldn’t face Hoss’ anger again, so rare and painful, especially as he knew Hoss had been right. After a long minute, though, he had to honestly admit:

“Can’t eat.”

He reached for the cup, however. One of Hop Sing’s teas. Sipping, he hopefully glanced at Hoss over the brim of the cup.

“Truce,” the younger brother raised his hands palms up. “For now.”

Adam relaxed. Finishing the tea, he put the plate with some pie over on his nightstand. “Coffee?” he asked, handing the tray shyly away.

Hoss beamed. “Sure. You want some company?”

“Not much of a company,” he sighed nervously. A whole string of words, wow.

“I’m just gonna sit there and whittle something,” offered Hoss, understanding Adam meant himself. He didn’t expect a lively conversation out of his brother yet.

“Okay.”

Downstairs, Ben stopped Hoss with a questioning look in the dark eyes.

“I heard some raised voices.”

“You mean my raised voice,” specified Hoss matter-of-factly then sighed heavily. “I’s just tired and – and I yelled at him. I think I startled him badly.” At the pressure on his arm, he hastened to reassure his father, “It mighta been what he needed, he offered to eat something, and I got a whole phrase at once outta him. Still feels bad, though,” he added softly.

“I trust in you, son.” Ben patted the strong arm, only to have Hoss shake his head.

“Pa, I’m so nervous right now I might just yell at you if’n you stroke my shoulder or anything. I guess I know now what Adam feels at times,” he realised.

“Do you think I should go upstairs to stay with him for awhile?” asked Ben. It hurt the father to be excluded from his eldest son’s world.

“Nah, I promised I’d come to him once I get him the coffee he asked for,” explained Hoss. Catching a hurt look in Ben’s eyes, he added, “He’s emotional today, and I think he’d hate for ya to see him like that.”

“There’s nothing my sons should hide from…”

“Pa, ya know Adam. I’ve seen him – back at the shack, and he knows I’ll understand. He’ll be afraid of hurtin’ ya,” he forestalled the protest, which came anyway.

“You think I won’t understand my own son?”

“Pa,” Hoss sighed. This was difficult. “I understand what you feel, Pa, but what a father feels is different from what a brother does. I do care for my dear hard-headed oldest brother with all my heart, Pa, but it’s… it’s…”

“You’ll always feel stronger about Adam and each of us, than we do about ourselves, and that’s the way it is,” offered Joe from the doorway. Hoss glanced at him gratefully.

“Adam’s had enough emotions for a while,” he supported his brother’s argument.

Ben took a deep breath – and let it out on a sigh. “When did you two get so clever?”

They could recognise surrender when they saw it. “We’ve learned from the best,” quipped Joe merrily then became more serious. “How’s Adam?”

“Talkative as I ain’t heard him for awhile,” answered Hoss. “He managed half a sentence at once. He’s gonna be fine. I’ll bring him some coffee and sit with him some.”

Joe whistled. It was good news. He’d heard just enough of the conversation to support Hoss’ argument, but not enough to know what had transpired just moments ago. With a quick grin at his father, he bounced upstairs. Passing Adam’s door, he paused. It had sounded as though Adam was sociable today…

“Hey, Adam,” he stuck his head inside the room. It was surprisingly full of sun, and Adam was sitting in his robe in a chair by the window. The older man started at the voice then advised curtly, “Knock.”

Obediently, Joe pulled his head back, knocked at the door, and put his head back in the room. “May I now?”

“Hoss?”

“Coming.” Joe entered the room fully. “I hear you got real talkative today. Gosh, even I got whole two words from you since coming in.”

Adam glanced back out of the window. Hearing Hoss’ steps downstairs, Joe decided it was time to leave, and so he said simply what he thought:

“It’s good to hear your voice again, Adam.”

He was half out of the door when that longed-for voice stopped him.

“Joe?”

He turned back immediately.

Adam hesitated and offered a boyish, lop-sided smile. Joe beamed at him in answer.

The elder brother cleared his throat. “Come over sometime,” he suggested a bit hoarsely.

“Sure.” Suddenly, Joe was at a loss for words. “Sure.”

Hoss entered the room with the coffee. He threw a startled and slightly angry look at Joe, then raised his eyebrows at Adam, indicating the chair with his chin.

Adam shrugged his shoulders in answer. He got up. Nothing more to it. He nodded at Joe, who left walking on clouds.

“Sorry for what I said, I had no cause,” Hoss offered simply after a minute.

“Sorry for giving you cause,” Adam acknowledged his guilt.

Another storm was over, and the air seemed clearer and lighter. The sun was visiting a room it hadn’t seen for a week with a truly royal flood of gold. Silence sat down on the bed and embraced the two brothers amiably.

For the next two weeks Adam was making constant progress. A lot still depended on his mood and well-being on a given day, but he became a bit more communicative and definitely more sociable. He not only came downstairs for meals but also stayed in the sitting room with a book in the afternoons. He invariably sailed away with Moby Dick then, making steady progress in his way through the volume – so he wasn’t just pretending to read.

That new custom of his caused the other Cartwrights to start dealing with any business partners, visitors, even hands, outside the house if it was possible, or at least delay anyone coming into the house long enough to let Adam escape upstairs. So far, only Roy and Paul Martin knew Adam was alive, and the doc was adamant that Adam needed strict peace and quiet, and what he didn’t need was too much attention.

Thankfully, Roy was the most common visitor to the ranch – thankfully, as he understood the situation and no explanations were needed or expected. Just like today.

“Roy,” Ben hurried outside to greet his friend. “Good to see you. Do you have any news?”

“Hi, Ben. No, still not more than some guesses,” admitted the sheriff. “Uh – Adam home?”

Ben frowned in confusion, then replied, “He’s downstairs. Oh.” He realised what Roy was asking about.

“As if he was likely to leave,” Roy shook his head, displeased with his inaccurate question. “Sorry, Ben – I meant to ask…”

“… if he is downstairs. He is.”

“And uh… how is he today?”

“Sitting in his chair and reading. He – seems to be coming back to himself slowly. Very slowly,” he stressed.

“Still ain’t likely to take to having guests.”

“No, not yet.” Ben invariably felt awkward, standing outside like that and unable to ask his friend to come in, but Roy understood… they couldn’t take risks. So he stood there like a living barrier, determined to protect his son from any harm.

“Well, it was worth a try,” Roy grinned. “Why don’t we sit here on the porch, it’s a lovely day today…”

The door opened again, and Roy swallowed the rest of his sentence in utter surprise. For a moment, Adam just leaned against the doorframe with the inseparable book in his hand, then said in a voice tinged with displeasure:

“I’m not contagious or anything.”

With that, he tore himself away from the doorframe and went back into the house, leaving the door open.

Ben went in after him, followed closely by the sheriff, and said, “I wasn’t sure if you’d like…”

Already seated, Adam raised his eyes from the book. “Pa.” They couldn’t tell if this was an expression of displeasure or a plea to leave it alone.

Behind Ben, the sheriff scratched his ear, tugged at one end of his moustache, then said softly. “Hiya there, Adam.”

The man glanced up again and nodded at the guest, then buried his nose back in the book.

“Uh… It’s not that I’m unfeeling, Adam, but… uh… could I ask you ‘bout…”

“No.” The answer was firm and so quick that it almost sounded of fear.

“’S all right,” Roy reacted almost as quickly. “I understand. Will we disturb you if I talk to your father for a moment?”

A nervous sigh escaped Adam, and he glanced up once again. “No, you won’t be disturbing me… I’m just not very talkative today, Roy, so just act as if I’m not here, all right?”

“Sure.” Roy seated himself softly on the sofa and stared at the young man.

After a moment, Adam raised his eyes at him questioningly.

“Sorry, Adam, I was…” Roy scratched his ear again in embarrassment. “I guess I couldn’t really believe it till I saw ya for myself.”

The dark eyes lowered back to the pages, the answer obviously accepted.

“And I say, you are a sight for sore eyes,” added Roy with obvious pleasure.

At that, Adam actually smiled a little, glancing at him briefly before coming back to the book.

The sheriff realised that was as much as he would get, so he turned back to Ben and pulled out some envelopes. “I brought ya the mail.”

“Thanks, Roy.”

“I talked to the mayor yesterday,” Roy shifted on the sofa and pulled at his moustache a little. “Cain’t say he was all too friendly.”

“Why, what happened?” Ben put away the letters, intrigued by the sheriff’s words. “Any trouble at the school board meeting?”

“No, not that.”

“The Cattlemen Association?”

“No, not that either.”

“Well, then I’m obviously behind with the news,” Ben frowned. “I can’t think of any reason why he should worry.”

“Worry!” Roy snorted. “If he’s worried, it’s about his position and good name and nothing else.” Before Ben could say anything, the sheriff continued, “People are leaving in large numbers – larger than ever in such a short time. He obviously blames it all on me.”

“On you?” Ben shook his head in astonishment. “I somehow can’t imagine you driving people away or throwing them out of their homes.”

There came a snort from the direction of Adam’s chair, although the dark head never moved up.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, son,” Roy’s voice was half-tart, half-grateful. “Really, Ben,” he returned to his former interlocutor. “A couple of people left already, whole families among them; the Johnsons are fixing to go, the Waltons, the Bissets…”

“The Bissets! Now that’s going to be a terrible blow for our city to lose them,” grumbled Ben caustically. “Give me one reason why he should be worried about their leaving.”

“They add to the number,” Roy rubbed his cheek wearily. “The mayor blames it all on me.”

“I still can’t see the relation.”

Roy tapped at his nose with his index finger. “He thinks I’m being too nosy. Now, he didn’t say it in so many words, but what he said amounted to that sense, more or less. Something about scaring people away with my constant questions – he didn’t say that so clearly, either, but it wus clear ta me.”

Ben shook his head. “I can’t believe that.”

“And he’d be ‘most glad’ if I finally stopped that darned investigation, speaking plainly.”

Adam rose from his chair, putting the book away. “More coffee, Roy?”

The sheriff’s face changed, as if he had just realised something. He glanced at the younger man’s expression, found what he sought, then nodded slowly, resignedly. “Thanks, son.”

He waited until Adam disappeared in the kitchen then hit his thigh with a fist. “Darn it!”

“What is it, Roy?”

The sheriff shook his head as if angry, started to say something, halted, then looked pensive for a moment.

“Ben,” he started at last, lowering his voice. “People are running away ‘cause I’m asking ‘bout the lynching.”

“But…”

“’Cause they’re guilty, Ben. No, not all of them, but they’re taking away the husbands, the sons, the brothers who were there. That’s what I think. In that sense, I am guilty of driving them away.”

Answering Ben’s clearly confused look, he added even softer, “Adam realised what I was talking about; that’s why he went to get the coffee.” After a moment, he said, “He didn’t want ta listen.”

“What do you… but… how?…”

“He must’ve reacted to the names; that’s the only plausible explanation. That’s the only thing that binds them together.”

“But then… he knew…?” Ben shook his head as if to shake off the cloud of confusion that had settled on his forehead.

“That’s the only way I can explain that.” Roy waited patiently for Ben to look at him. “He must know and remember who was there. He saw them, and he knows the names.”

“Oh, Lord.” It was the first time that Ben actually considered the possibility of Adam knowing and remembering who had… attacked him.

“He couldna told me more if’n he was testifying nice and proper-like,” said the sheriff softly, but with the matter-of-fact, professional attitude again. “And that makes it all the more difficult…”

“Speak plainly, Roy,” Ben frowned authoritatively, more his own self at the moment.

“There are rumours in the city – quiet and uncertain, but still – that you brought Adam back home resurrected, or you brought him back dead. Everything’s very much uncertain to everybody, and most people don’t believe any of it. But could be someone has seen Adam here, or saw you bring him home, or maybe heard one of you talking – maybe one of your hands drank one too many and started rambling about the house being closed ta them. Fact is, I don’t know where it came from and what it could cause. One of the reasons I came here was to ask you to keep Adam home and away from curious eyes.”

“It’s not likely that he’s going to leave the house in the near future, anyway.” Although appalled at the last news, Ben was already back to reasonable thinking. “The hands don’t know anything – even Adam’s name isn’t pronounced outside the house.”

“Keep him hidden away from anyone outside the family, Ben – from hands, from guests, from anyone. If anybody actually sees him alive, the rumours will spread like a landslide and nobody’s gonna be able to control it all. Now if they realise he saw them, and they get to know he’s alive…”

“Don’t finish.” Ben hid his eyes behind his hand for a moment, then, composed again, lowered his hand and rubbed his chin, stating firmly, “We’ll keep him home. Anyone who comes in will have to walk through us three to get as much as a glimpse of him. How long do you expect that to last?”

Roy sighed uneasily. “Frankly speaking – I’ve no idea. At some point I, or you, will have to tell them about Adam. You won’t be able to keep it a secret forever, or he’ll never be able to leave the house. I’d personally wait until most of them are gone from the city, whatever the mayor says. Maybe Adam will become more helpful and it will be easier to decide how safe it actually is. Has he seen the doctor yet?”

Ben shook his head. “No, not really. You’re the first person outside of the family that he’s come in contact with after coming back home. He let Hoss and later Hop Sing examine him. I know that’s not much,” he waved his hand at Roy’s expression, “but that was the best we could get under the circumstances. It’s been two months, Roy, if anything was wrong, it would have come out already.”

“I guess so.” The sheriff rubbed his neck and glanced back at Ben. “So it’s settled. You keep Adam home, and I go on with the investigation.”

“Yes, that’s settled. I’ll tell my boys.”

“I guess we ought ta tell Adam, too.” At Ben’s nod, Roy turned and called towards the kitchen, “Adam, you’re grinding the coffee or what?”

After a longer moment, Adam emerged from the kitchen with the coffee jug and set it on the table. “Sort of.”

“Adam, I’ve got a favour to ask of you.”

The younger man hesitated then nodded slowly. “Yeah?”

“I thought it would be best for the investigation I’m leading if nobody knew you were home. Maybe I’m asking a lot, but I’d be real grateful if you could stay in the house for the next few days – I hope it’s just a few – and not see anyone but your family.”

“That can be arranged,” said Adam dryly. “You’re the only person beside them who’s seen me so far. And Doc Martin caught a glance at the cabin,” he recalled.

“I know, and I’d like ta keep it that way for a while yet. I just want ta keep you safe, son.”

Adam nodded. “I know. I appreciate that, Roy.”

The sheriff nodded, too, then admitted, “It’s wonderful to be able to talk to you again, son. I’ve missed you.” Then he cleared his throat self-consciously and said energetically, “Well, I’m off to do my rounds. Was nice seeing you, Ben – Adam.”

He was clearly delighted when Adam shook his hand without any sign of withdrawing.

After seeing Roy to the door, Ben found his son still standing in the same place, with a pensive look on his face.

“You’re all right, son?”

“Yes.” Adam hesitated. “Don’t wake me up in the morning, will ya? I, uh… I think I’ll stay around my room.”

“You don’t have to feel confined…”

“No, it’s all right,” he stopped Ben from continuing. “Roy is right, and besides I had such plans anyway. I need more time to get fit… even talking is tiresome,” he admitted, rubbing his forehead.

Ben watched his suddenly weary step with deep concern; true, Adam often sounded as if he were pushing the words out against their will, and now he was moving so sluggishly… He saw his son take the book he’d left on the table and hesitate.

“I’ll go and lie down,” Adam turned to his father. “Maybe I’ll be able to finish the book later… Call me down for dinner, will you?”

“Sure, son.” Ben watched Adam until the man disappeared in his room. He was truly glad to hear that Adam was going to spend the evening downstairs with his family again. What added to the pleasure was what he’d witnessed just a few minutes ago – Adam’s true, full conversation with Roy, but as happy as it made him, he could now clearly see the effort it had taken on his son’s part.

Damn that Ike Upton.

***

Barely two days have passed, and the Ponderosa was hosting another guest, or rather a small group of them.

Mrs Johnson was tense and seemed somehow upset, but did her best to behave courteous and lady-like.

“I know you’ve been helping Annie, Ben. I’ve thanked the Burtons already, and I feel I must thank all of you, as well. She’s again that laughing and running little dear she used to be.”

Ben smiled at her politely. “We’re glad to hear she’s fine now. Truth be told, Hoss had the most success with her of us all.”

“I know.” Mrs Johnson sighed, but smiled back, although it was clearly forced. “Sandy told me how much you’ve helped. That was why I felt obliged to come and thank you personally. The more so now, as we are going to San Francisco.”

“Not a business trip, I presume?” inquired Ben politely.

“No – we’re going to stay close to my family. My cousin lives there with her family, and they’ve got two children, a boy and a girl close to Annie’s age. That may help her open up more – she’s still a little… reserved, at times. I also felt that Sandy could benefit from living in a bigger city – don’t misunderstand me, Ben,” she apologized, but he shook his head.

“Virginia City is a miner’s town, not likely to guarantee the best conditions for bringing up a lovely young lady,” he admitted, glancing at Sandy, who blushed and modestly lowered her head. “I understand your point of view.”

“I liked living here, Ben,” she said softly. “It’s just… time for a change, time to move on.”

“There comes such a time for all of us.” Both sentences rang hollow, devoid of truthfulness.

“Alexander has already left, to prepare everything there for us. We’ve sent most our things to the new house, and the rest is coming with us tomorrow.”

“We wish you all a happy journey, then. Oh, I think that’s Hoss coming home,” Ben shifted, hearing something outside. “Joe, could you go and tell your brother we’re having guests?”

“Sure,” Joe rose from his chair to do his father’s bidding, giving a small nod at Mrs Johnson and Sandy on passing them.

Joe’s lot today was obviously fetching people, he grinned humourlessly to himself on his search for Annie. He’d brought the girl to one of the guestrooms upstairs, where he’d given her some toys – to get her out of earshot, frankly speaking – and now Mrs Johnson and Sandy were going back and the girl was needed downstairs. The little one was not in the room, however. Now, where could she have gone? Downstairs, she would have been heard by now, so maybe she went to discover the hidden mysteries of the other rooms… Drat! Joe cursed himself for not having thought of a four-year-old’s curiosity. You were just the same, he grouched in his mind. Ever seen a four-year-old sit still and mind orders?

Pa’s room – empty. Hoss’ – empty. His own – shucks, he should have made some order in the morning – but it looked empty.

“Annie?” he searched the room quickly, all hiding places more familiar to him than the pockets of his working clothes. No, she was not there. She must be in one of the other guestrooms – or asleep downstairs, he comforted himself, reaching, however, to Adam’s door handle. He’d hate to disturb –

No, he’d actually gladly disturb Adam and pull him out of bed, if he was sleeping. In fact, he was afraid that Annie might have found her way in there… Nah, she wouldn’t be scared, he cast away the thought before it had even fully crystallised in his head. She’d seen Adam alive.

But it was in the forest, when she believed him dead, and he was all dirty and unkempt.

Now, seeing a clean Adam in proper clothes in a proper room in his own house might have been a shock to her.

With trepidation, he pressed at the handle. The door was unlocked.

Steadying his breath with a mixture of resignation and anxiety for what he would find, Joe opened the door and looked first at the bed.

By the bedside he saw the broad shape of shoulders and a dark head facing the window, the body rocking in a slow hypnotic motion. His brother was sitting on the floor holding the little golden head at his shoulder, stroking it gently while two little arms were tightened trustingly around his neck. There was a hushed rustle of hot whispers and soothing murmurs to be heard.

Joe closed the door slowly and quietly, then sat down on the floor. He was relieved to find Annie, true, but Adam’s rocking motion and his natural warmth – natural for the old Adam – had something eerie in them right now, and there was that purest innocence of a child in his arms, the hushed twitter of the child’s voice, the thought of Adam’s and Annie’s shared memories, and the faceless heavy silence perched in the corner.

The door opened and Joe jumped up from where he was sitting. Adam transferred the warm burden from his arms into Joe’s embrace – hesitated a moment, then rested his hand on his brother’s shoulder briefly. Joe raised his eyes from Annie to see Adam smile at both of them, but he quickly averted his eyes from that something he saw in Adam’s. Looking down at the floor, he risked speaking.

“Adam?”

“Yeah?” His brother’s voice was soft and warm.

“Roy ain’t told them yet – he may soon, though. I thought,” Joe glanced up to meet two inquisitive eyes. “I thought you may wanna lock your door just in case.”

Adam gave him a slow, understanding smile. “You’re right, I hadn’t. I’ll remember. Thanks for the advice.”

The door closed softly, and Joe turned to carry the girl downstairs. Annie went to her sister without any protest, waving to all three Cartwrights as she left with Sandy and their aunt.

“What took you so long?” asked Hoss with mock sternness.

“She’d found Adam.”

The room fell silent.

“He brought her to me when they were done talking,” added Joe. “I’m sure she’ll be quiet about him.”

Hoss nodded pensively. “Roy won’t.” He glanced at his family. “Wonder how many visitors we’re gonna get then.”

***

True to Hoss’ predictions, after three days they got a visit from the mayor of Virginia City, which started two weeks of pilgrimages to their house. Half of the people demanded, asked or pleaded to see Adam; the other half made innocent social calls full of furtive glances around and ambiguous questions. Even the hands were clearly curious and there was often whispered displeasure that they hadn’t known about Adam being alive, although it explained the house being practically locked up for everyone for the last month.

One visitor, however, pleased the Cartwrights. Deciding that Roy’s revelations formally opened the door for him, he harnessed the horse to his buggy and set off for an official visit.

“Hello, Ben. Is the reluctant patient there?”

A deep chuckle answered him from the settee, while Ben heartily invited him inside.

“Come on in, Paul, you’re always welcome. We’ve seen you coming.”

That explained why Adam was downstairs. None of the other visitors had caught as much as a glimpse of him so far. He had now risen from the settee, where he’d been sitting with his brothers, and all three approached the doctor to shake his hand.

“Not as reluctant as recently,” Adam replied sheepishly to the doctor’s observation. “I guess I won’t escape an examination today – or is it a social call?”

“Call it what you may,” Paul informed him with a satisfied grin, already sizing his patient up and down. “The examination is long overdue anyway. I believe we can use the guestroom.”

“Right,” the younger man led the way with a resigned sigh.

The other Cartwrights returned to their places, glancing from time to time at the door to the guestroom. They were forced to be patient, however, since for more than an hour neither man emerged from the room.

“What are they doing there?” wondered Joe from over the chessboard.

“You’ve asked that forty times already,” mumbled Hoss. “Check.”

“It’s been over an hour,” insisted Joe, moving the bishop blindly.

“One hour and twenty minutes,” observed Ben. He’d been quiet for most of the time, but obviously not as engrossed in his book as he made out to be. “Considering your punctuality, Joseph, it’s a true miracle, but you’ve asked the question almost precisely every two minutes.”

Hoss guffawed, while the younger man rolled his eyes. “You sound like Adam, Pa.”

“Is that bad?” asked a familiar deep voice from behind them.

“Ain’t bad at all,” Joe answered, suddenly serious, and with such eager honesty that Adam shook his head with an almost embarrassed smile, before disappearing in the kitchen to come back with Hop Sing. Meanwhile, Doctor Martin closed the door of the room and made himself comfortable on the settee. Adam rested one of his arms on the back of his father’s armchair, the other remaining around Hop Sing’s shoulders.

“Paul?” Ben put the book away with an air of finality, examining his friend’s attitude with a close look.

“He’s healthy for the most part.”

“What do you mean, FOR THE MOST PART?”

Paul winced a little at the rising volume. “Physically, he’s healthy. A bit of exercise and his body will be completely back to normal. Now to the other part…” he hesitated, glanced at Adam, and receiving a permissive nod, he continued his thought. “You’re aware he’s suffered from melancholy for all this time.”

Ben nodded, and Hoss and Joe exchanged looks. “Ain’t that women’s ailment?” asked Hoss carefully.

“Not really, Hoss,” answered Adam. “You’d be surprised how many men suffer from it.”

“It’s just that few of them admit that,” explained Paul. “We’ve decided you ought to know. You deserve to, as Adam says, and besides, there is one more important reason, this time a medical one.”

“It comes back,” said Ben.

Paul raised a brow at him, but nodded. “You know a bit about it.”

“I knew a man on a ship I sailed with who’d had it – I didn’t know what it was then,” Ben half-smiled at his sea-time memories. “But I remember that when he got better, everyone thought it would last. Then a couple of months later it came back, but… stronger.” He frowned, then sighed. “I came close enough myself…” He rubbed his forehead. “What can we do?”

“It isn’t always stronger when it comes back,” Paul hastened to reassure his friend. “I’d rather say that it generally tends to be a recurrent condition. And you are right; this is about your help. Now, being moody or feeling down do not always mean you’re melancholic. If it lasts for days without much change, then it can turn to melancholy. I’m depending on Adam to recognise the symptoms as he knows them best…”

Adam nodded.

“… but your presence, alertness and help when he needs it will be invaluable.”

“What can we do to help, doc?” asked Joe matter-of-factly. “Is there any medicine he’s got to take?”

“No, Joe.” Paul shook his head with a smile. “Nothing I can prescribe. I am a doctor of human bodies, and this is more a condition of the soul. Do what you did so far; try to make him move about, do something, get busy, get entertained. Don’t let him wallow in the melancholic feelings. Of course, good, nourishing food won’t hurt.” At that, Adam silently squeezed the shoulders of the small cook in answer to the inquisitive look, and got a smile in return. In the meantime, Paul continued, “I will be there to help if need be, but you are the ones who have constant contact with him throughout the day.”

“Yelling will help?” asked Hoss innocently.

Adam’s eyes twinkled merrily. “Allowed only in extreme situations,” he answered.

Paul smiled as well, continuing, “Right now you don’t have to think about it too hard, he’s getting better, and it may also be that he never suffers from melancholy again. Physically, like I said, he’s healthy and can come back to work as he pleases.”

“I think my coming back to work is going to please someone else more than me,” smirked Adam, winking at his brothers. “I’m terrified at the mere thought of catching up with my neglected chores.”

Joe whistled. “*You got a point here!”

“See what I mean?” Adam laughed with all the others.

***

There was one more difficult conversation Adam had to face. The sheriff was loathe to add to the burden, but he had to question the most important witness in the case. It was more than certain that the culprits were already far away and would never get caught, sentenced and punished, but he had to do his job as well as possible, and erase any doubts the law may have about the case. Thus, he prepared his list and, in Paul Martin’s company, set out to the Ponderosa. Upon hearing Roy’s plan, the doctor told him in no uncertain terms that he was going to be there when Roy spoke to Adam. Frankly speaking, Roy didn’t mind either one more credible witness or the extra help in case Adam wasn’t ready for the conversation.

He’d entered the ranch house with all the confidence of a lawman and all the friendliness of an old foster uncle, explained the aim of his visit and finally, under the watchful, distrustful scrutiny of all the family, sat down at the table beside the stairs. Devoid of all his confidence and as nervous as ever, he sat with his eyes fixed on the paper in front of him as if he were afraid to make eye-contact with the man who came to stand by his side at the table; he asked the first question.

After a moment of oppressive silence above him, he raised his head to carefully appraise the younger man. Adam was upset – the clearly outlined jaw spoke for itself – but gave Roy a questioning look. Meanwhile, Ben was observing his son closely from the red armchair he was occupying. He saw Adam’s reaction and steeled himself for whatever was coming. He wasn’t going to let anything happen to his boy if he could help it.

“These are all that left,” explained the sheriff softly, gesturing at the list in front of him.

Adam’s finger traced the ticks next to some names, his brows furrowing.

“Those I could pinpoint as – participants,” said Roy. “And I got the main culprit.”

His own finger travelled over to the nicely handwritten “Ike”, the name followed by the letter “O.” and then “Upton”.

Adam nodded slowly, with effort, and licked his lips furtively in a nervous gesture.

Hoss noticed it; he was watching his brother closely from the hearth where he stood. His fists worked surreptitiously; he sure wasn’t going to let anything bad happen if he could only help it.

“These are all the people that left,” repeated the sheriff, then more softly, “Do you think it’d be safe for ya to go to Virginia City?”

The question met Adam’s questioning glance again, and Roy hastened to explain.

“I know some of them took part in it – what I’m asking is, have the main instigators left? Have all participants left?”

Joe was watching his brother closely from the coffee table where he was sitting. He didn’t like the interrogation one bit – he didn’t like what it was doing to Adam to remember – and in any case wasn’t going to let anything go wrong, if he could help it.

A sigh escaped Adam, then the younger man took the list and started reading carefully.

The doctor was observing his patient closely from where he was leaning against the blue chair. He wasn’t going to let anything wrong happen if he could help it. He threw an instinctive glance at his trusted black bag, as if checking that it was within hand’s reach.

Adam finished reading, put the paper back on the desk and pointed at a name. “Tick him off, too,” he said hoarsely, his voice sounding foreign even to him.

Roy did as asked and glanced hopefully at the younger man. “S’them all?”

“All the most important.” Adam’s answer was reluctant, but he seemed certain, nodding to himself and finally relaxing somewhat. “Just don’t ask me to remember more,” he forestalled Roy’s next words firmly.

“I’s just gonna thank you,” the sheriff rose to shake Adam’s hand. “I wish I’d caught them.”

Adam let that pass, feeling only great relief at the men being gone from – probably – Nevada, and glanced at the list once more.

“What I can’t quite understand is why there are names completely unconnected…”

“These are all people that left since that time,” repeated Roy. “Not a list of suspects. People left for different reasons.”

“Yeah.” Adam gave the page one final glance and they walked over to where the doctor stood with the rest of the family. “I’m not on display,” noted Adam sarcastically.

All four men shifted and exchanged questioning looks.

“You can stop watching me, I ain’t gonna collapse or anything.” He grabbed an apple and plopped heavily on the sofa, from which he could watch their suddenly embarrassed faces. He had to admit he did it with a certain pleasure.

“We were only…”

The three voices that spoke simultaneously, stopped at the same time as well. Adam gave them all an amused glance, finally resting his eyes on the figure of the, until now, silent doctor.

Doc Martin raised his palms in surrender. “I’m only doing my job.”

“And these three are mother-henning me,” finished Adam.

“They have a reason.”

“I suppose.” Adam’s voice was no meeker. “Would you care for a brandy, Roy? I’d sure like one.”

“I think we would all like one,” decided Ben for everyone. Catching his son’s raised eyebrow, he added, “We all have some right to be concerned about your welfare.”

Adam raised his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry. You do. I guess I am a bit upset – and your right to worry doesn’t make me like mother-henning any more than I already do.”

Accepting the glass, he held his father’s hand for a second with a glance at the others. “I appreciate it.”

All of them knew he wasn’t speaking about the brandy.

“Fear thou not; for I am with thee:

be not dismayed; for I am thy God;

I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee;

yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness

…………….

For I the Lord thy God will hold thy right hand

saying unto thee, Fear not; I will help thee.

Fear not, thou worm Jacob, and ye men of Israel;

I will help thee, saith the Lord, and thy redeemer…”*

He sighed, closed the book and tapped at his chin with its edge. He’d actually meant to look up the fragment for today’s service, but hadn’t gotten to it yet. The Reverend willingly gave the fragment in advance at his father’s request, as going to church meant seeing people… lots of people, and they were careful not to push him.

The back of the book rested against his chin pensively. Behind the door, he heard sounds of his family getting up, slow and lazy, the men comfortable with the awareness of a day free of work.

It was quite some time later when Ben straightened his Sunday jacket for the last time and was about to order his sons out of the house and up on their horses, when steps tapped on the stairs.

“Adam?”

“Time to get back to normal.” Striding towards them, Adam straightened his tie. “Do I look proper?”

For a moment it seemed that Ben had something stuck in his throat; whatever it was, it seemed to lower his voice, as the words finally pushed their way out.

“You look more than proper to me, son.”

“Thank you, Pa.” Adam braced himself for the hearty pat from Hoss, then met Joe’s hand and grin with his own. “Now, let’s go. We don’t want to be late, do we?”

When they reached Virginia City, the church house was already full, although the service hadn’t started yet. On entering, Adam took a sharper breath than he intended, with shivers running up and down his spine, but walked on, determined inside, calm-faced on the outside. I am with thee. I will uphold thee. They went in the usual order, Adam with Ben in the front, followed by Hoss and Joe; yet before they reached their seats in the very front amidst the shouting whispers and whispered cries, Adam found his father half a step in front of him and his brothers at his flanks.

A living fortress.

Seated at last, he rested his hands on his thighs to keep them from shaking, and focused on the pulpit.

The preacher came out and went immediately to shake his hand, enthused about him coming back to the world of the living, into the society, and most importantly – visiting the house of God. He then started the service. The room was exceptionally hot. The sermon was well-structured and eloquent, yet long. The hymns, at first shyly muted, soon took on their usual force. That was all Adam could remember from the service. He didn’t remember a word from the sermon, and didn’t feel up to singing yet. Patiently, the shaking locked up inside him, he survived until the end, although he felt like a sieve under the boring looks from behind.

None of the Cartwright was sure of people’s possible reactions after the service, but to the relief of all of them, relatively few people came over to shake Adam’s hand. The sheriff and the doctor, Reverend Seamside – this time as a private person, some of their immediate rancher neighbours, a couple of families from the business society of Virginia City. Others tipped their hats, nodded their heads or curtsied – all from a distance.

Miss Margaret Knowles, more commonly known as Maggie the Redhead, couldn’t be said to have held her distance, however. She took advantage of the fact that she was having a night shift at the saloon, and came to attend the service, staying at the back of the church. Just as the Reverend was taking his leave with the Cartwrights, she slipped through the crowd over to them and pressed a sound kiss on Adam’s lips. Surprised, he held her automatically until their lips parted.

“Miss Knowles!” The Reverend cleared his throat, reddening. “Are you aware of where you…!”

“Thank you, Maggie.” Adam interjected as if oblivious to the preacher. “That was nigh the nicest welcome I’ve yet had here.”

“I had to see you for myself.” In a modest dress and without make-up, Maggie easily managed to look timid and embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Adam, it…”

“I’m not.” He grinned at her. “Glad to see you, too.”

She laughed at that, gave him a quick peck on the cheek, and vanished into the crowd amidst the frowning looks of some of the ‘decent’ part of the society.

Usually, they stayed after church to talk to their neighbours and friends, but this time it was agreed they would head back to the Ponderosa without unnecessary delay, though in no excessive hurry, so within a quarter of an hour they decided to be on their way. On the way to their horses, Hoss scanned Adam’s face and bumped his shoulder with his own.

“You alright, brother?”

“Yes.” Adam took a deep breath and managed a small smile for his brother. “Not as bad as I’d feared.”

He looked around once more, as if to make sure he was really outside and free. The Donovans were already going, as well; the Gavins were enjoying their time with the Blumens. Brian Gills, the shop owner, looked up after saying something to his boy; his eyes met Adam’s. No one saw the clashing pain and hidden fear swishing across the churchyard within fractions of seconds.

Gills was the first one to cast his eyes down, hiding the shameful, panicked whirl inside him. Adam slowly, warily averted his eyes and closed them just for a moment, just long enough to push every unwelcome twitch of emotion under.

“You alright, brother?” Joe unwittingly echoed the question asked previously by his middle brother.

“Yeah.” Adam mounted, all cold inside, and smiled at his family. “Let’s go.”

Not yet. The sea was beckoning. He’d go for anything fluid right now, actually. A bottle of whisky would sound fine. As long as it was full. Not yet.

There would be a time when he’d go, but it should not be away to the unpeopled vastness of the ocean, but off to the adventurous new.

It’d be an escape, whatever you’d call it… just not yet…I will uphold thee, saith the Lord… not yet…

THE END