Synopsis: This is a sequel to The Crucible, it centers on the trials Adam goes through after his encounter with Kane.
Rating:  PG-13
Words:13,200

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Shadow of a Man

Ben Cartwright stood quietly in the doorway of the hotel room he was sharing with his son, brow furrowed with concern. The drapes were drawn against the afternoon sun and Ben could just make out Adam’s burned and chapped face against the stark white pillowcase on the bed. Though sleeping, the young man moaned and twitched almost constantly, his legs shifting restlessly beneath the covers in spite of the sedative he’d been given. What kind of hell had Adam been through? In the hours since Ben and his two younger sons, Hoss and Joe, had found Adam staggering through the desert, dragging a dead man behind him, the silver-haired patriarch of the Cartwright clan had asked himself that question a dozen times. His eldest son had been delirious and parched with thirst, his clothes filthy and tattered, the soles of his boots worn through. He’d been missing for almost two weeks – all they knew was that he’d been waylaid and robbed of the five thousand dollars he’d been carrying. Everyone presumed he was dead, but his family had pressed on in their search for him in spite of the odds. Ben shuddered anew to realize how close they’d come to giving up themselves just moments before spotting Adam in a valley below them.

Tears sprang unbidden to Ben’s eyes as he recalled again how Adam had collapsed in his arms, jabbering dementedly before breaking down in dry, wracking sobs. Somehow, they’d gotten Adam up into Ben’s saddle and with Ben riding behind him to hold him in place, they’d made the trek back to Eastgate, with Joe towing the dead man’s body behind him on the makeshift travois. Ben had taken Adam immediately to the hotel and summoned the town’s doctor while Hoss and Joe transported the body to the sheriff. Though sunburned, dehydrated and suffering from heat exhaustion, Adam would be all right, the doc had assured the distraught father, but he would need a few days rest before making the journey home. He’d given Adam some laudanum and left more with Ben with instructions for its use.

Hoss and Joe, meanwhile, had discovered from the sheriff that the dead man’s name was Jedidiah Kane, a prospector who ventured into town only rarely for supplies. Since Kane’s scorched body and a lack of bullet or knife wounds suggested no foul play to the sheriff, he had instantly ruled the death an accident and had ushered Joe and Hoss on their way.

Ben turned away from the door and closed it quietly behind him. Thrusting his hands into his pockets, he walked with shoulders hunched down the hall to the room Hoss and Joe were sharing. Joe answered the door at his knock, and his troubled face betrayed his anxiety over his brother’s condition. Hoss, too, regarded Ben with worry and his concern was not allayed by the expression on his father’s face.

“Adam doing any better?” asked Joe as Ben settled himself heavily into a chair.

“The doc says that physically, he’ll be okay in a couple of days. It’s his mind I’m concerned with,” sighed Ben. He’d never seen Adam behave as he had when they’d found him, so emotionally out of control. Whatever had happened to him out there in the desert had affected him deeply, and Ben feared the real challenge in Adam’s recovery would not be his physical restoration, but his mental healing.

“You don’t think he’s crazy, Pa, do you?” Little Joe’s voice held an edge of fear.

“No, no. Not crazy,” Ben wearily waved off the suggestion. “Disturbed maybe. Tormented certainly. Even now, with the sedative the doctor left, he can’t sleep peacefully.

“Ya don’t suppose it’s jist the sun that’s got to him?” mused Hoss. He picked up a pillow and unconsciously began twisting it with his meaty fists, molding it; shaping it as he was unable to shape his brother’s recovery.

Ben pondered the words of his second son and heaved another sigh. “It’s possible, I suppose, but call it a father’s instincts; I think it goes much deeper than that.”

“Well, Pa, you know we Cartwrights stick together,” said Joe, mustering a cheerful note. “We’ll bring ol’ Adam around again. Just you wait and see.”

A tiny smile curved the corner of Ben’s mouth as he regarded Joe’s winsome face. “Yes, Son. You’re right. We’ll do all we can to help Adam. Tomorrow morning, though, I want you and Hoss to head back to the Ponderosa.” Seeing they were about to protest, Ben raised his hand to stop them and continued. “I know you want to stay, but the Ponderosa’s been without our attention for well over a week. I need you boys to go see to the affairs of the ranch for me. I imagine Adam will be sleeping for the better part of the next two days, anyway, so there’s not much you can do for him right now. As soon as he’s fit to travel, I’ll bring him home.”

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Adam slept fitfully until late that evening. Opening his eyes was an effort, and he lay with them shut for just a moment, savoring the coolness around him and wondering if he were dead. When he finally managed to blink his lids open, his first sight as he glanced around the room was of his father sitting in an armchair as a burning lamp cast a small pool of light on the pages of the book he held in his lap. Waves of emotion flooded through him as he stared in disbelief at a man he’d never expected to see again.

“Pa?” he managed to croak at last, and Ben flew to his side, the book tumbling unheeded to the floor.

“Adam. Son. How are you feeling?” Ben spoke softly, but Adam could hear the pathos in his voice and realized his father was as overcome as he was.

“’m okay, I guess. But how did I get here…how did you…where is here, anyway?”

“We’re in Eastgate. You don’t remember your brothers and me bringing you to the hotel? We found you in the desert. You were dragging the body of a man behind you.”

Adam’s face clouded and when he spoke, it was in an odd monotone. “I remember being in the desert. And I remember the man I was dragging.”

“But you have no recollection of our finding you or the ride into Eastgate?” Ben prompted.

“No,” Adam shook his head slowly.

The elder Cartwright laid his hand over Adam’s. “Don’t worry about that now, Son. It’s not important. What I would like to know, though, is where you were and what happened to you. We know you were robbed and left out there alone, but that’s all we know.”

A hard look settled over Adam’s features and he turned his head away from Ben, staring into the gloom. He struggled to find something – anything – he could tell his pa without revealing the truth of what he’d been through. A truth so dark it had changed him forever. In the end, though, he could say nothing and no amount of urging on Ben’s part could alter that.

“Never mind, Adam. I don’t want to pressure you,” Ben told him, patting his shoulder reassuringly. “Are you hungry, Boy? Do you think you could eat?”

It had been days since he’d had food, but ironically, Adam found he wasn’t hungry. “No, Pa. I’m not hungry right now. Just very tired. If you don’t mind getting me a drink of water first, I think I’ll just go back to sleep for now.”

Ben held the glass of water to Adam’s lips as he sipped at it before settling back against the pillow and closing his eyes, his long, dark lashes resting against his sunburned cheeks. For a long time after Adam had drifted once more into sleep, Ben stood staring down at him, greedy just for these moments to watch the son he thought he’d lost, but so terribly afraid for him, too.

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“NO!”

The word rang out in the small room and Ben leaped instantly from his bed, two steps taking him through the dark to Adam’s bedside. He found his son sitting bolt upright, a fine sheen of sweat covering his trembling body.

“Adam! Adam, are you all right!” he cried, grasping Adam’s shoulders and straining to see in the darkness.

“Yeah. Yes, I’m okay, Pa,” Adam assured Ben, though he was breathing heavily. “It was a dream. Just a dream. I’ll be all right now.”

“Are you sure? What was the dream about? Can you tell me?” Ben hovered anxiously, his own heart racing.

“No…I…I can’t remember,” Adam mumbled. “I’m okay, Pa. Really. Go on back to bed.”

Reluctantly, Ben returned to his bed, but not to sleep. He didn’t believe for one moment that Adam couldn’t recall his dream, and he suspected it had everything to do with whatever Adam had experienced while missing. Adam had never been particularly forthcoming with his feelings, always holding a little in reserve, but never had he so shut his father out as he had today. Again, Ben agonized over whatever it was his boy had been through, yearning to take it upon himself if only he could.

It was nearly dawn before Ben finally yielded himself to slumber.

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Adam was clearly delighted to see his brothers the next morning, though he still held a part of himself back, even from them. Little Joe and Hoss perched on either side of him on the bed and they couldn’t seem to get enough of seeing him and touching him; little touches, to an arm, a leg, a hand – just to reassure themselves that he was there, alive and not lost to them forever, as they’d feared. Ben brought Adam an egg and some toast, and he dutifully finished them off, though he still had no appetite to speak of. He was still pretty groggy from the sedative he’d been given and resistant to the idea of taking more, though Ben insisted that he follow the doctor’s orders to do nothing but rest for a couple of days.

It was with great reluctance that Hoss and Joe finally said good-bye to their brother and father and parted for home, but Adam was almost relieved when they were gone. As pleased as he’d been to see them, it was a strain for him now to be with them, pretending things were as they’d always been. Despite his earlier protests, he gratefully took the sedative Ben offered, surrendering to a now welcome oblivion that temporarily freed him from the thoughts beating inside his brain.

For the next day and a half, Adam spent most of his hours in a drug-induced sleep. Each time the laudanum began to wear off, however, horrible nightmares returned to plague him. Dreams of Kane and his deranged, laughing face, taunting and deriding him. Once Adam dreamed he was near perishing from hunger and thirst, and Kane offered him a full canteen of water and a plate heaped high with food. When Adam reached for them, though, they were gone. His hands closed over empty air, and Kane threw back his head and laughed his maniacal laugh. In another, Kane was cracking a whip at Adam and demanding he pick up boulders as large as a man and move them to the other side of his camp. When Adam angrily protested, Kane grew in stature to the size of a giant and lifted the boulders himself, hurling them down at a dodging Adam as though trying to squash a bug. But the dream that troubled Adam most of all was one in which Kane mocked him, crying, “It’s a game Cartwright! C’mon and win the game! Become the animal I know you are! All you have to do is kill me…Kill me!” The “dream” Adam tried to run, but Kane was always in front of him, gibing, daring Adam to take his life. At last, Adam darted into the mine, but Kane was there, too, and Adam tackled him, hands closing around his tormentor’s neck and choking him…choking him until he was broken and dead on the ground. And still the laughter sounded, only now it was the Devil himself who laughed and Adam awoke once again with a cry, heart pounding so hard he thought it would burst through his chest.

By the afternoon of the second day, Adam decided he had rested enough. The truth was, he feared sleeping any more than he had to lest he slip back into another nightmare. So, though he wobbled unsteadily, he forced himself out of the bed and dressed in the clothes Ben had purchased for him to wear home. His father had gone down to the general store to pick up tobacco and some spearmints, and Adam relished the brief time alone. Although he loved his father dearly, every moment he was awake right now, Ben seemed to be scrutinizing his every move. He hadn’t asked Adam again about what he’d been through while the search for him went on, but the question hung unspoken in the air, and Adam was certain his father would broach it again soon.

After pulling his boots on, Adam rose, stretched and walked over to the narrow window. If he’d hoped to catch a glimpse of activity, he was disappointed, for the window faced nothing more than the brick exterior of its neighbor. Even the alleyway between the two buildings was empty and quiet. With a sigh, Adam turned back to the room and regarded it restlessly. It suddenly felt entirely too much like the closed-in mine Kane had forced him to work for days, and he felt an overwhelming urge to escape its confines. Without a second thought, he made for the door and headed down the corridor to the stairs. He was uncomfortably surprised at how exhausted he felt just descending to the bottom of the steps, and was forced to cling to the newell post at the end of the banister for a moment to catch his breath.

Eastgate in the daylight was just as hot and dusty as he remembered it, and there wasn’t much activity on the street as Adam stepped out of the hotel. Flies buzzed around the heads of two horses tied to the hitching post in front of the hotel, but theirs was the only real commotion up and down the road. An old fellow was enjoying an afternoon snooze on the bench in front of the bathhouse across the street, and Adam could hear the tinkle of music and laughter emanating from the saloon a few buildings down, but all was quiet otherwise. Still gathering his strength, he stood briefly and just inhaled the desert air, savoring the freedom to do so when he had figured to be dead by now.

Though grateful to be alive, his appreciation was tempered by a grief that seemed to tear at his innermost being, even as he fought to bury it so deeply that it didn’t have to be faced. It was a grief borne of his recognition that he was not the man he’d always prided himself in being. A man in control of his emotions; a civilized man. Someone who had surpassed the baser instincts of his more primitive ancestors and developed a degree of refinement that supplanted the crude responses of the ignorant and uncultured. To have come face-to-face with a part of himself Adam had never known existed – in fact, would have sworn had no place in him – was more than he could absorb. He felt as though his entire existence to this point had been nothing but a lie. That he was a stranger even to himself shook him to his very foundation, and he wrestled with this new knowledge as Jacob had wrestled with God.

Lost in his thoughts, Adam didn’t see his father exit the General Store and start at the sight of him.

“Adam! What are you doing out of bed, Son?” Ben cried, half-running to join Adam where he stood. He took hold of Adam’s elbow as though concerned that his son might not be able to stand without support, and Adam shrugged off the hold as inoffensively as he could.

“I’m okay, Pa. I just needed to get up and moving again. It’s time I rejoined the living,” Adam insisted, though the words rang hollowly inside him. Surely there was a piece of him that had died forever and could never be resurrected.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better, Adam, but I think perhaps another day’s rest would be best for you.”

“No, Pa, really. Just moving about has rejuvenated me more than the past two day’s bed rest. If I can just get a bite to eat, I think I’d like to head on home.”

In the end, Adam consented to one more night in Eastgate. As his father pointed out, leaving that late in the day, they’d never reach the Ponderosa without having to spend the night in the wilderness. Better they get a fresh start at dawn. Pushing hard, they should be able to reach home by evening.

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The following morning, father and son rode out of town as morning’s first pink fingers crept up over the horizon. Though he held his tongue, Ben was extremely anxious over trying to make the ride back to the Ponderosa in just one day, particularly so soon after Adam’s ordeal. This most stubborn of his boys had been adamant, however, about getting back to the ranch as quickly as possible so that he could resume his work routine. Though he still had no clue about what had happened between Adam and Kane, Ben suspected his son’s urgency stemmed from a need for normalcy after whatever it was he’d been through, and he would have been surprised to discover that Adam’s real desire was to take on whatever chores kept him furthest away from contact with his family. Indeed, Adam was largely quiet throughout the long day’s journey home, and Ben’s efforts to carry on any kind of conversation with his son were usually met with polite, monosyllabic responses that effectively ended any discussion. Ben cast worried glances over at his son as they rode, but though he could see that Adam was tiring more quickly than usual, the younger man refused to consider stopping any longer than it took to occasionally water the horses, and any suggestions Ben made to tarry longer were quietly rebuffed.

By the time the two rode up into the yard in front of the Ponderosa’s main ranch house that evening, Adam’s face was drained of color and his mouth was set in a tight line that could have been from pain or fatigue, Ben wasn’t sure which. He’d long since given up asking Adam if he was all right; the answer was always the same. “I’m fine. Let’s move on.” Ben himself was feeling the effects of a prolonged day in the saddle and he swung down wearily from his horse’s back, pulling his saddle bags down as he wordlessly watched Adam ease himself slowly from his own mount. Behind them, a door creaked open and Ben swung his head to observe Little Joe and Hoss as they hastened from the house.

“Hey, Adam! Pa! We didn’t expect to see you home so soon,” called Joe as he approached. Slapping a hand on Adam’s shoulder, he added, “How ya feelin’, Big Brother. Good to see you up and around again.”

“Right now, I’m feeling like I want to shake hands with my bedclothes,” murmured Adam, stumbling towards the house without further greeting.

Joe’s hazel eyes clouded with consternation as he and Hoss regarded their father questioningly. Ben shrugged and shook his head slowly. Once Adam was inside the house, he sighed, “I don’t know what’s gotten into him, but he’s sure not up to discussing it yet. Best we leave him alone for now to work out whatever’s bothering him. Put up the horses, won’t you boys? It’s been a long ride.”

He left his youngest sons exchanging concerned glances as he made his tired way into the house and up the stairs to his room.

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Adam’s first thought on awakening the next morning was that perhaps a full day in the saddle had hidden benefits. So exhausted was he when he tumbled into bed the night before that he’d slept soundly the entire night; a sleep untroubled by the horrific dreams that had so tormented him. Though his body ached, he felt more rested than he had since he and Joe had first left on the cattle drive to Eastgate. Sunlight streamed in through his bedroom window, a sure sign that he’d slept later than was usual for him. He peeled back his covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed, sitting still for a moment as he stared out at the crystalline sky. Presented with such a gorgeous day, he should feel energized and renewed, Adam reflected, but as the slumberous cobwebs cleared from his mind, they were replaced with the same bleak sense of loss that had overwhelmed his spirit since returning to consciousness at the hotel in Eastgate.

He dressed slowly, reluctant to face his family and their well-intentioned – but undesired – attentiveness. He briefly considered the idea of leaving the Ponderosa, at least for awhile, so that he could have the solitude his soul now craved, but he discarded that thought almost as soon as it surfaced. There was something healing about this land, and in it Adam found a measure of solace he wanted desperately to cling to. Besides, he knew that even isolation would not provide escape from the anguish clawing at his innards.

His father and brothers were just finishing their breakfasts when Adam finally made his way downstairs. There was no avoiding the worried looks they shot his way, but he couldn’t find it within himself to muster a smile to try to alleviate their concern.

“Mornin’, Adam.” Hoss was the first to speak. “Didja get some rest last night?”

“I did, Hoss. Thanks. Morning, everyone.” Adam nodded a greeting as he took his place at the table, taking an inordinate interest in the food as he deliberately scooped scrambled eggs on his plate, added a ham steak and some hash browned potatoes and set about spreading a biscuit evenly with butter.

Ben’s spirits plummeted as he recognized that coming home had failed to restore Adam to his typical behavior. While he yearned to press Adam more about what he’d experienced in the desert, he knew his eldest son well enough to realize his efforts would do nothing more than build resentment and force Adam even deeper into himself. He could only pray that, in time, the pain Adam was feeling would ease and he would feel free to discuss whatever it was that bothered him. Turning to his middle son, he spoke heartily, as though nothing were amiss. “Hoss, have you had a chance to finish up that section of fencing on the east perimeter that you were working on before we left?”

Hoss frowned and shook his head. “No, Pa, I ain’t. We had some cattle git themselves trapped down in that wash near Buffalo Bend and spent the best part of yesterday jist figgerin’ how to herd ’em out. I’ll git back on it t’day, though.”

“Uh, Hoss,” Adam broke in. “Why don’t you let me take care of that fencing job? I figure I owe you for all the extra work you took on while Joe and I were herding those cattle down to Eastgate.”

“You ain’t got to do that, Adam,” assured Hoss. “They’s plenty of work to go around.”

“Besides, Adam,” Ben added quickly. “I thought it might be a good idea if you worked close to home for a few days. Give yourself a chance to rebuild your strength and not overdo it.”

A flash of annoyance lit Adam’s eyes. “I keep telling you, Pa, I’m fine. I don’t need to be coddled. And, Hoss, I’d really like to be the one to take care of that fencing if it’s not something you had your heart set on.”

“No, Big Brother, I ain’t got my heart set on it,” chuckled Hoss. “If’n ya want to make that ride and work that hard, rocky ground, yer welcome to it.”

“It’s settled, then.” There was an edge to Adam’s voice that challenged Ben to say otherwise.

“Gee, Adam, if you’re that eager to pick up some extra work, it’s my turn to clean the barn and muck out the stalls,” teased Joe. “I’d be happy to hand that job over to you.”

“Thanks, Little Joe, but I wouldn’t want to deprive you of your fun.” It was the first glimmer of humor Adam had shown since they’d found him, and his family was faintly encouraged. Joe especially took heart from this sign that the old Adam wasn’t entirely gone. Logically, he knew he wasn’t responsible for his brother’s ordeal, but his mind kept playing the “what if” game with him and his guilt grew proportionally. What if he’d agreed to go fishing with Adam and forgo the trial in Eastgate? What if he’d gone looking for Adam sooner instead of lazing about for a couple of days? What if he’d been successful in persuading their father to give up on his search earlier? Though he and Adam came to loggerheads far more frequently than he and Hoss, he’d worshipped his eldest brother from infancy and had a tremendous amount of respect for his poise and wisdom. Having found Adam, the lost man, Joe had been devastated at the thought of still losing Adam, his brother.

“C’mon, Little Joe,” Hoss’ words woke him from his reverie. “Let’s let our sleepy-head older brother here finish his breakfast. The day’s a-wastin’ and we got work to do.”

“Sure, Hoss,” began Joe, rising. “But before we go, Adam, we’ve got something for you.”

Curious, Adam watched his two brothers hasten over to the credenza, pull open the cabinet doors and rummage around for a moment before triumphantly withdrawing their surprise. As they carried their gifts over to him, his heart began a wild pounding and a roaring filled his ears.

“The gun’s from Little Joe and the belt’s from me,” explained a beaming Hoss as they held out the items for Adam to take. “We figgered since your old ones was stolen, we’d replace ’em for ya.”

Pull yourself together,, Adam reprimanded himself. You knew you’d face this moment sooner or later. A man can’t work a ranch without a gun. His hands shook slightly as he took first the finely tooled, black leather gun belt, then the Army issue Colt revolver. The gun felt foreign in his hand, wrong somehow, and he had to fight the urge to fling it away. Carefully, he slid it into the holster and set both on the table, then, swallowing hard, he forced a conciliatory smile and met each of his brothers’ eyes.

“Thanks, Hoss…Joe. They’re real beauties. Better than the old ones.”

“Yer welcome, Adam,” Hoss responded for both. “Now, let’s get movin’, Joe. We’re losin’ daylight.”

Joe obligingly followed Hoss out the door, each grabbing his own gun and hat before exiting, but his eyes were troubled and he quickly shot out an arm to pull Hoss to a stop once the door was closed behind them.

“What’s up, little brother?” wondered Hoss, peering at Joe’s anxious face from beneath his oversized hat.

“Hoss, didn’t you notice how strange Adam acted when we gave him his gifts? Why, he didn’t even sight the gun or check the balance. Just stuck it in the holster. When have you ever known Adam not to check out a new firearm thoroughly?”

“Yeah,” ruminated Hoss. “Come to think of it, he did set ’em down mighty quick, didn’t he?” Pondering the scene for just a moment, Hoss shrugged and waved a meaty paw at Joe as though dismissing the significance of Adam’s actions. “Eh, I wouldn’t fret none, Joe. This is Adam’s first day home and I reckon he’s still tryin’ to sort things out. He’s pro’bly jist distracted, is all.”

Trailing after Hoss to the barn, Joe tried to accept his conclusion, but his instincts told him Hoss was dead wrong.

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Alone with his eldest son, Ben contemplated Adam as he hurriedly polished off his breakfast, never lifting his eyes from his plate as he ate. The new gun was pushed off to the side, tucked securely in its holster and as far from Adam’s reach as he’d been able to inconspicuously put it. The flash of panic and abrupt wash of color from his eldest son’s face when his brothers proffered their gifts had not gone unnoticed by Ben. Nor had he missed the faint tremor in Adam’s hands as he accepted the presents and quickly laid them aside. It was obvious that in spite of Adam’s protests to the contrary, he most definitely wasn’t “fine”.

“Son,” began Ben carefully. “I know I said I wouldn’t pressure you to talk about what you’ve gone through, but whatever it was you experienced seems to be having some lasting effects. I just want you to know that whenever you’re ready to discuss it, I’ll be here for you, ready to listen.”

Black brows furrowed over Adam’s dark hazel eyes, which glittered with sudden anger. Slamming his fork down on the table, Adam used both hands to push himself to his feet and leaned across the table to glower at his father.

“You know, I’m getting sick and tired of you hounding me, Pa. I said I was fine and I meant it! I don’t need you fretting over me like I was some toddler in nappies! Just back off and leave me alone!” With that he spun about on his heel and strode purposefully towards the door.

Taken aback by his son’s outburst, which seemed to Ben to be totally out of proportion to the situation, the older man nevertheless called after his son. “Adam! Aren’t you forgetting something?”

He could just see Adam’s back stiffen as it rounded the corner and he watched his boy pause for a moment, wrestling with his choices. At last, Adam turned back and with a gesture that was part defiance, part something else, snatched up the gun belt and stormed from the house, the door crashing shut behind him.

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Driving the buckboard eastward down the rutted dirt road, Adam doffed his hat and tossed it on the seat beside him, pretending he didn’t feel a sense of relief when it effectively covered the gun belt he hadn’t been able to bring himself to put on. Tipping his head back, he closed his eyes to savor the warmth of the sun on his face, the closest he’d come to pleasure in three weeks. He tried to banish the feeling of regret that niggled at his conscious over his explosion at Pa earlier. Though there were certainly times when it seemed Ben Cartwright failed to respect that Adam was a grown and capable man and treated him instead like a recalcitrant adolescent, this instance hadn’t been one of them. He’d merely expressed a legitimate concern and reiterated his availability should Adam want to talk. The young man acknowledged to himself that he’d overreacted. He resolved to apologize to his father as soon as he returned home that night.

The ride out to the east perimeter of the ranch took the better part of the morning. Time during which Adam struggled to keep his mind essentially free from thought, an act so completely out of character for him that he felt nearly exhausted with the effort of it by the time he rode up on the spot where Hoss had left off work. Plunking his hat back on his head, he rolled up his sleeves, then leaped down from the buckboard, his boots crunching on the rocky soil. From the back of the wagon, he extracted his leather work gloves, tugging them over his hands before grabbing up the wooden handles of the post-hole digger. Pacing off the distance from the last fence post Hoss had erected, Adam estimated the appropriate span and plunged the steel spoons of the digger into the hard earth, twisting at the shoulders to drive the blades in deep, his back and arm muscles bunching beneath his shirt. When the hole was deep enough and a healthy-sized pile of dirt lay to the side, he hefted one of the pre-cut fence posts from the buckboard’s bed and dropped it into the hole, driving it down as hard as he could before re-filling the hole with the dirt he’d extracted, tamping it down until the post stood solidly in place.

He worked this way for over two hours, as the high desert sun crept its way upward in the sky until the air nearly sizzled with its heat. By the time he paused for water, he was soaked through with sweat and his face was streaked with dirt. Leaning back with his hips against the buckboard, Adam stripped his sodden shirt off and tossed it carelessly onto the wagon boards, then drank deeply from his canteen. His thirst slaked, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a bandana, dampening it with water and running it over his hot face before rolling it and knotting it around his neck. Somewhat refreshed, he considered taking a break for lunch, but decided instead to work on a couple of boulders that were resting in the way of the fenceline. They were too heavy to lift as they were, so he’d break them up first, then grab a bite before using the afternoon to string wire.

Taking the heavy sledge hammer off the buckboard, Adam sauntered over to the nearest boulder. He grasped the handle of the hammer tightly with both hands and swung it easily behind him before starting the upward arc that would bring the hammer over and down with crashing intensity on the large rock before him.

The images that instantly flooded his mind were so real, he would have sworn he was living them right at that moment. He was once again in Kane’s mineshaft, the heat and stifling air closing in around him…suffocating him…swinging his mallet repeatedly against the chisel and into the granite wall…seeing Kane’s taunting face in his mind’s eye as he smashed…and smashed…and smashed again…trying to obliterate the specter as he wanted to obliterate the man.

With a strangled cry, Adam let the sledge hammer drop into the dirt behind him and collapsed to his knees, burying his face in his gloves and knocking his hat off in the process. His knuckles pressed hard against his lids as though he believed if he applied enough pressure, he might be able to push the vision from his head. He allowed his body to curl forward until he was doubled over at the waist, his elbows just grazing the ground, and he stayed that way for what seemed a very long time. When he finally raised his head, though, to blink bleary eyes at the world around him, the sun still hung in the same place in the sky and he realized dimly that only minutes must have passed.

Sucking in a deep breath, Adam rose shakily to his feet. His mouth tasted of bile and he made a face and spit, swiping the back of his hand against his lips. Shame flooded through him at the hate he still carried for Kane, and at his continued desire to inflict harm to the man…or worse. Mortification fled in the face of hot ire, creating conflict within him as he simultaneously damned the dead man to whatever hell he now faced and staggered under the remorse he felt for even having such thoughts. He scooped up his hat but left the hammer where it had fallen and stumbled back to the wagon, nearly crawling up onto the warn boards near the rolled barb wire and lying back, letting the hot sun bake into his already sun-bronzed skin.

For just a moment, he toyed with the notion of packing it in for the day and heading back to the ranch house and the sanctuary of his room. If he arrived back at the ranch early, though, it would just confirm in Pa’s mind that he’d been right about him not being ready to take on a full day’s hard labor. The very thought chafed at Adam like a pair of too tight jeans. No, whatever he did, going home was out of the question right now.

Anger rose in him again, churning his blood. Anger at his pa, anger at Kane, but most of all, anger at himself for no longer being able to handle even the most rudimentary of situations. His fury drove him once again to his feet and he stalked up to the front of the buckboard, yanking the new gun belt and revolver from their perch on the wagon seat and violently cinching them around his middle. Not allowing himself time to think about what he was doing, he stomped back across the hard, desert soil to where he’d left the hammer. The wooden handle was hot in his hands when he picked it up, baked by the scorching sun. He felt a faint tremor run through him, but refused to acknowledge the fear, deliberately keeping his mind cleared of thought. There was a whooshing sound as Adam cut the air with the sledge hammer, swinging it with shattering force down onto the boulder. Several more times, he brought the hammer back and then down until the rock split under the force, breaking into three manageable pieces. By the time he was through, his heart was pounding against his ribs, whether from exertion or the dread of another hallucination, he wasn’t sure. Nevertheless, he felt a certain exhilaration, too. He’d faced his anxiety and for once, come out the victor.

Breaking up the other boulder took short work, but Adam was ready for a rest when it was done and gladly stopped for lunch. He wasn’t particularly hungry, so the sandwich Hop Sing had packed went half-eaten and the pecan pie he didn’t touch at all. Within fifteen minutes, nervous energy drove him back to work and he spent the rest of the afternoon stringing wire. Usually, at least two men worked at this demanding task, one man pulling the wire as taut as possible while another nailed it in place. Adam was perhaps the best fencer on the Ponderosa, however, and had developed his own one-man technique that nearly rivaled a two-man job in speed. It was late when he finally stopped work on the fenceline that evening, pleased with his progress, both in laying fence and in facing his demons.

Darkness had fallen by the time he pulled up to the barn. He had hoped to get the horses put up and fed and then slip quietly into the house via the kitchen door so as to avoid any contact with his family, but he should have known that his father would be listening for him to come in. He hadn’t even finished unbuckling the harnesses before Ben appeared at his side, taking in with a faint frown of disapproval the shirt Adam had put back on, but not bothered to button.

“How’d it go out there today, Son?” Ben’s tone was nonchalant, but he couldn’t quite hide the note of concern that crept into the words.

Though it was a perfectly reasonable question even under normal circumstances, Adam bristled at it now. His jaw clenched and his arms jerked at the harness buckles as he struggled for calm before answering.

“It went fine, Pa. How’d you expect it to go?” he ground out finally, not looking up from his task.

“I meant no offense, Adam,” Ben assured him in a quiet voice. “But you put in a very long day today. If it makes any difference to you, I would have asked you even if I weren’t concerned that you hadn’t given yourself enough time to rest after your ordeal.”

“And I keep telling you I’m fine,” growled Adam. “I put in a long day, but I’m fine. What else do I have to do to convince you?”

Ben lowered his head and studied the ground a moment before replying. When he looked up, his dark eyes met Adam’s squarely, sending a message of love and compassion. “I’d stand a better chance of being convinced if you were acting more yourself, Son. It’s not like you to be so angry and irritable all the time.”

“Well, I’d stand a better chance of acting more like myself if you and Hoss and Little Joe would quit treating me like I were some infant in need of constant attention!” Adam snapped. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Pa, I’ve got to get these horses put up for the night.”

With that, Adam led the team past Ben and into the barn. He was seething at his father’s continued mollycoddling. He wasn’t sick, dadburnit. Yes, he’d been through a harrowing experience, but all he wanted to do now was put it behind him…at least, as much as he could. In spite of his verbal sparring with Ben, he knew he would likely never get back to “acting himself”.

Adam took his time finishing up with the team, brushing them down and giving them fresh feed and water. It was late before he reluctantly headed up to the house, and he was relieved to find that his family had already retired for the night. He wandered into the kitchen and cut himself a hunk of the roast beef that had obviously been served for supper, then made his way tiredly up the stairs to his room.

That night, the nightmares returned, and they were worse than ever.

************************************************************************

The next several days passed in a blur for Adam. Sleep had once more become the enemy, and his face took on a drawn, haggard appearance. Nor was he eating much, so the clothes that had once defined his muscular build began to hang conspicuously loose. He continued to put in long days, choosing jobs that would keep him far away from the ranch house and contact with his family. It seemed the normal civilities were beyond him now, and any shared meal or conversation took more of a toll on him than the grueling hours he put in working each day.

Then, too, he’d suffered through two more “visions”, mental re-plays of scenes he’d experienced with Kane. One came when he found a horse down in it’s stall, suffering from colic, and with a roaring in his ears, he saw once again Kane’s mule collapsed on the ground after being shot. He didn’t know how long he stood there before he returned to his senses, scrambling to pull the horse to its feet before it died. The second episode was even more disconcerting, happening as it did during one of the infrequent meals Adam shared with his family. Watching Joe scoop stew into his bowl, Adam was eerily transported back to the camp dipping with his fingers into a plate of beans as Kane’s smug voice mocked him. When he came back to himself, Adam realized he’d been staring blankly into space, slack-jawed, as his family looked on in concern. Mumbling something about remembering a chore he’d left undone, Adam had bolted from the table and raced out to the barn, where he stood in the darkness and quaked with the fear that he was losing his mind.

It didn’t escape his attention that the worried looks on the faces of his pa and brothers grew more pronounced as time went on. Rather than reassuring them, though, he felt his anger at the situation grow increasingly and disproportionately hotter. Like the mounting pressure in a volcano, it built its way up until there was no other alternative but to blow.

It happened late one afternoon, when a tired Adam returned home after a day of clearing brush that had grown up too close to the north pasture and created a fire hazard. He’d knocked off a little earlier than had been his habit of late, no longer able to deny even to himself the weariness he felt clear to his bones.

It was still light enough to see in the barn without a lantern, but Adam would have overlooked the knife lying on the barn floor had a beam of sunlight not caught the metal when he turned. Curious, he bent to retrieve the blade and was suddenly suffused with such fury, his hands shook with the force of it.

His hunting knife. His good hunting knife, lying there in the dirt. There was only one person who could be responsible for this. Joe. How many times had Adam found the knife carelessly tossed down wherever his youngest brother finished with it after “borrowing” it without his permission? Well, he’d pay for it this time, Adam vowed to make sure of that.

As if on cue, he heard the clop of horses’ hooves, accompanied by Little Joe’s giggle and Hoss’ deep chortle. The two were just dismounting when Adam stomped outside, his eyes stormy with emotion.

“Hey, Adam,” Joe called out cheerfully. He had come to realize he wouldn’t get a corresponding greeting from Adam anymore, but he was determined to show his brother that, as far as he was concerned, things went on as normal.

Adam’s only reply was to hold up the dusty knife. “What is this?” he asked, biting off each word.

Little Joe gulped, the guilt instantly apparent on his open face. “Uh, your hunting knife?” he squeaked.

“And where do you think I found it?”

“Look, Adam, I’m real sorry. I borrowed it the other day and I must have left it in the barn. It was careless, I know, but…”

“YOU’RE DANGED RIGHT IT WAS CARELESS!” roared Adam. “YOU IGNORANT LITTLE WHELP! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH THIS COST?”

“Hey, simmer down now, Adam,” Hoss placated. “It’s just a knife, after all. I know it’s your good knife, but ain’t no need for name callin’ nevertheless.”

“You stay out of it,” warned Adam, pointing a threatening finger at his meddling brother.

“C’mon, Adam,” Joe tried. Adam’s words stung, but he figured correctly that it wasn’t the dirty knife that prompted them. “I’ll buy you a new knife. And I promise I won’t borrow it again.”

“Don’t you see? It’s not the BLASTED knife. It’s your ATTITUDE. I’m sick to death of you being so SELFISH and STUPID all the time.”

The unjust accusation and unwarranted epithet ignited Joe’s temper. “Yeah? Well, I’m sick of you treating the rest of us like we’re not even here! Avoiding us…not talking to us…glaring at us like what happened to you in the desert is somehow our fault. Ever since you got back, you seem to think you’ve cornered the market on suffering and that you can punish us for what you went through…”

His face contorted with rage, Adam struck as swiftly as any snake, pinning Joe to the barn with a forearm across his collarbone and pulling his right fist back to smash it into the younger man’s face.

“Adam!” Hoss’ sharp cry brought Adam up short, his clenched hand stopping in mid-air, scant inches from its intended target.

As he looked down into Joe’s fearful eyes, Adam realized with horror what he’d almost done and all the fight went out of him as quickly as it had come in. Shaken, he dropped the arm that held Joe captive and stepped back. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out, and he realized he wouldn’t be able to explain himself if he tried. Helplessly, he spun on his heel and staggered to the house, brushing past his startled father as Ben emerged into the yard.

The elder Cartwright’s eyes clouded as they followed his distressed son until the door slammed behind him, then he turned questioningly to his younger boys. Hoss stood protectively near Joe, who was slowly rubbing a hand against his throat. Both wore deeply troubled expressions. Heaving a sigh, Ben strode purposefully towards his sons. He had a sinking feeling he wasn’t going to like what he was about to hear.

************************************************************************

In his room, Adam flung himself across the bed and rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling with empty eyes. He was sickened by his actions, even further convinced of his deep-seated depravity. He’d almost brutalized his own brother. Worse, he had WANTED to. And why? Because Joe had committed the unthinkable sin of using his hunting knife.

What kind of monster am I? wondered Adam despairingly. He felt torn asunder by his emotions. Shame, anger, contrition, self-loathing…all jockeyed for position in his wounded psyche.

The daylight filtering into the room faded to gray and then deepened to darkest blue, and still Adam lay in torment on his bed, grappling with his sense of hopelessness. Fleetingly, he wondered if it might not be better for everyone concerned if he just rode out and kept riding till he was as far removed from the Ponderosa as he could be. Perhaps he could do as the aged Indians did and find a remote spot in which to simply sit and wait to die, neither eating nor drinking, just…waiting.

Suddenly, though, the realization of what he really needed to do was crystal clear. Something he’d resisted doing for weeks now. Something his pride had refused to permit. What good is pride to a dead man? he thought with irony, pushing himself to a sitting position, then rising determinedly.

He left his room and stepped quietly down the hall past his brothers’ rooms to the stairs. He’d heard both Joe and Hoss come up about an hour earlier and had no desire to alert them to his presence. Descending a couple of steps, Adam saw his father sitting in the great room, in his favorite oxblood leather chair. A book lay open on his lap, but he wasn’t reading. His eyes were staring vacantly into the dying fire, his thoughts obviously carrying him miles away.

Clearing his throat, Adam called out tentatively, “Pa?”

Ben snapped to attention, watching Adam come down the remaining steps with a wariness that cut his eldest son to the core. What did you expect? Adam asked himself. After what you tried to do to Joe. For an instant, he almost changed his mind and reversed direction, but he HAD to do this, he knew. If he didn’t, he might be lost for good.

He forced his feet to carry him across the room to the striped settee, choosing the end closest to his father on which to sit. Perching on the edge of the sofa, Adam met his father’s expectant eyes and found he couldn’t speak. His insides felt as if they were twisted within him, crowding up into his throat and effectively cutting off whatever he’d been about to say. His eyes pleaded with Ben for understanding and he could see that his pa wanted nothing more than to help him as the big man shifted in his chair and leaned earnestly towards his son. It had never been easy for him to share his feelings with others, even his family, and the depth of the agony pressing in on him made it seem near impossible now. Nevertheless, with a tremendous effort of will, Adam forced himself to try once more to say what needed to be said.

“Pa, you told me…” the words froze in his larynx and Adam noisily cleared his throat and began again. “You told me you’d be here when I was ready to…talk…about what happened in the desert.” Ben nodded, so Adam mustered his courage and continued. “I…I’m ready to…do that. After today, I can’t…I can’t…”

Adam’s face crumpled and huge wracking sobs suddenly tore through his body. A shocked Ben sprang from his chair and dropped down beside him on the settee, gathering his boy – his beloved boy – into his arms.

“Oh, Pa,” wept Adam, his dark head cradled on his father’s shoulder. “It…was…terrible. What he did…what he said…He wanted to win…to beat me…prove I wasn’t…I couldn’t…that he could make me kill…make an…animal…out of me…”

“Easy, Son,” Ben murmured, stroking his boy’s hair as he’d done when Adam was a small child, soothing him. “Just tell me what you can. No one’s going to stop you. Take your time.”

And Adam did, slowly and painfully as the minutes and hours ticked by. He revealed every sordid detail of the experience, leaving nothing out. About Kane’s cruel mind games; the hours he’d kept Adam in the mine without rest; the food, water and sleep deprivation. And how in the end, he had won, whether Adam had actually killed him or not.

“You’re wrong, Son,” Ben told him gently, laying a reassuring hand on Adam’s knee. They had long since settled against the sateen sofa back, but the father had maintained physical contact with his son. An arm around Adam’s shoulder, a thigh touching a thigh, a calming hand on a shirtsleeve or – as now – a leg. “He didn’t win.”

“But don’t you see, Pa?” an exhausted Adam protested. “He did. I’m not the same man I was…or thought I was. I don’t act the same, I don’t think the same. Look at what I almost did to Little Joe. If Hoss hadn’t stopped me, I would have beaten him to a pulp.”

“Adam,” Ben chose his words carefully. “I’ve known you your entire life. Thirty-two years. I’ve watched every step of your development, been witness to all the major events of your life. I did my best to raise you with the kind of values that would do any man proud. I’ve seen you become a man of integrity. A strong man; an intelligent, thoughtful man. Truly, a gentleman. A ‘gentle’ man. This…this Kane…what he did to you…well, it’s had an affect on you, no question. But deep down, Adam, you’re still the same man you were before. You’ve been through a terrible ordeal. One that, perhaps, you can’t…heal from…yourself.

“I want to ask you to allow me to do something. I want to talk to Paul Martin about what you’re going through, see if he has any thoughts or suggestions. I’ll do anything I can to help you, Son, as will your brothers, but I just don’t know WHAT to do. Will you let me do that, Adam? Ask Doc Martin what he thinks can be done?”

Bleakly, Adam nodded. “I doubt it will do any good, Pa, ’cause I think you’re wrong. I think perhaps I never was the man you thought I was…who I thought I was. But now that everything’s out in the open, if you feel it will bring any answers, I don’t mind you talking to Paul.”

“Good,” Ben smiled kindly at his son. “Now, why don’t you get on up to bed. You’ve had a trying day and you look like you could use the sleep.”

Obediently, Adam tramped up the stairs. It was useless for him to point out that he and sleep were barely on speaking terms. His pa knew that as well as anyone. Still, his body begged for rest and his mind was too weary to object. The only thing that buoyed him at this point was the incredible sense of relief he felt at having finally shared with someone the horror of Kane’s abuse.

************************************************************************

Dr. Paul Martin regarded the patriarch of the Cartwright clan reflectively. He’d known Ben for a long time and realized that it took a lot to frighten the burly rancher. What he was about to say, though, would likely shake his friend to the core.

“Ben, if you had come to me with this story any other time, I would have told you your only recourse would be to admit Adam to a sanitarium for awhile; for his own safety and that of your family.” Seeing the look of horror on the older man’s face, Doc raised a hand and continued. “I said, if you’d come any other time. As you may recall, Ben, I took a trip to San Francisco last month to attend a medical symposium. One of the speakers there was a brilliant young physician who has specialized in the study of the brain. He gave a fascinating discourse on illnesses of the mind. Absolutely fascinating. As it turns out, we struck up a friendship there and he will be arriving here on Monday next to spend a couple of days with me before continuing on to another speaking engagement in St. Louis.

“Ben, I think Adam should see this young fellow while he is here. His name is Jameson Larkin. I can’t guarantee that Larkin can cure him, but talking with him certainly beats the alternative. What do you say? Do you think you could persuade Adam to speak with Dr. Larkin?”

Ben sighed deeply, disheartened by Paul’s bleak outlook on Adam’s condition. He’d never considered the possibility that it was so serious, he might have to resign his son to a sanitarium. If Adam’s prognosis without help was grim, what good could possibly come of one conversation with a man he didn’t know? Still, he was willing to try anything if there was any possibility of helping his boy.

“I’ll convince him,” he finally replied.

“Good. I’ll discuss the situation with Larkin when he arrives and we’ll plan on him meeting with Adam on Tuesday. Shall we say, at around two o’clock?”

Ben agreed, but his heart was heavy as he left Paul’s office.

************************************************************************

Adam yearned to see Little Joe so that he could apologize for his behavior the night before, but the youngest Cartwright spent the day on the west range separating weanling foals from their dams, then sent word with Hoss that he was going into town for a beer or two. Determined to face him before another day passed, Adam waited up, long past the time Ben and Hoss had retired for the night. Since Joe’s mother, Marie, had died, he’d always felt a burden to care for Little Joe, and the guilt over having nearly caused him harm was almost more than he could bear.

At long last, he heard the latch turning on the door and looked up from his position on the blue velvet chair to observe Joe ease quietly into the house.

“Hello, Little Brother,” he called softly, and Joe jumped at the sound of his voice. The look of trepidation on his face was like a lance to Adam’s heart and he hastened to reassure his brother that he posed no threat. “Did you have a good time in town?”

“Uh, yeah. I guess so,” mumbled Joe, turning to hang his hat and gun belt on the hooks near the door. “Well, good night, Adam.”

He moved to hurry across the room, but Adam’s voice restrained him. “Little Joe, I…Before you go upstairs, I just wanted to tell you how terribly sorry I am for what happened last night. I wish I could explain why it happened…why I was so angry. But I can’t. I can never make up for what I did, and I don’t expect you to forgive me. I just wanted you to know how badly I feel about it.”

Little Joe cast his hazel eyes down at the floor. In spite of the fact that he hadn’t been physically injured, he was nevertheless deeply wounded by Adam’s attack. Wounded inside, where the damage didn’t show. He didn’t recognize his brother in the man who had assaulted him, but it was Adam’s enraged face he couldn’t clear from his mind. The older sibling who had always looked out for him and protected him…and who now frightened more than a little

Finally, he raised his head and managed a half-smile. “I forgive you, Adam,” he said simply. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m pretty tired.”

Adam’s eyes followed Joe as he ascended the stairs, blinking back unbidden tears and trying desperately to swallow the grapefruit-sized lump in his throat. In spite of having persuaded himself that he was no longer the Adam of old and that it was wisest to distance himself from his family, this rift he’d created between himself and Joe pained him more than he would have believed possible.

************************************************************************

Try as Ben might to convince Adam to let him accompany him into town, his son stubbornly insisted on making the trip alone when Tuesday rolled around. So, with a great deal of trepidation, Ben watched Adam ride out of the yard without him and said a silent prayer.

When his father first told him that Dr. Martin wanted him to meet and talk with a visiting colleague, Adam had been reluctant. Had he known what alternative had been discussed, it might have increased his willingness, but Ben chose to make no mention of a sanitarium and it took a great deal of coaxing before Adam finally agreed. As his horse galloped easily towards Virginia City, though, doubts sprang up to plague him. He knew nothing about this doctor, other than that he was supposed to be quite knowledgeable in his field. It had been incredibly difficult for Adam to open up to his father about what had happened to him; to tell his tale to a stranger might require more of himself than he could give.

Tying his horse to the rail in front of Paul Martin’s office, Adam stood apprehensively at the bottom stair and gazed up at the closed office door. Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and marched up the three wooden steps and into Paul’s front office.

“Adam!” the pleasant-faced Paul Martin rose and took Adam’s hand in a hearty handshake. “Glad you could come. I’d like you to meet a friend of mine, Dr. Jameson Larkin. Dr. Larkin, this is Adam Cartwright.”

“A pleasure, Mr. Cartwright.” Adam’s first impression was one of surprise at how young Larkin was. He appeared even younger than Adam himself, and was certainly no older. A neatly trimmed cap of pale blonde hair topped a narrow, almost ascetic face and a slim build of medium height, clothed in a fine tweed suit. His handshake was firm, but it was his eyes that Adam noticed most. A clear gray, they were warm and candid, inviting trust. Instinctively, he liked this Jameson Larkin and found himself at ease with him in spite of his earlier circumspection.

“Well, I’m scheduled to drop in on Mrs. Dunlop, so I’ll leave you two to talk,” said Paul, stooping to pick up his bag and heading for the door. “After the difficulties she had with her last baby, she likes me to look in on her at least once a week.”

There was a moment of awkward silence once Doc Martin was gone, but then Larkin smiled and gestured to a chair opposite his own. “Why don’t you have a seat, Adam. Dr. Martin has told me a little about what’s been troubling you, but I’d very much like to hear the whole story from you.”

Adam took the proffered chair, but shifted restlessly, not sure how to begin. Dr. Larkin waited patiently, still smiling and Adam was encouraged once again by his calm, friendly demeanor.

Slowly, with a great many pauses, Adam began to unfold the story of how he’d been bushwhacked by two gunmen, robbed of the money he’d been carrying, as well as his horse, gun and canteen, and left to die out in the desert. He told of making his way on foot through the arid sand and rocks for hours, until he felt near to passing out from thirst and heat before stumbling upon the camp of Jedidiah Kane. His voice was full of irony when he described how civil and reasonable Kane had seemed at first, bargaining with Adam to work a couple of days mining his strike in exchange for the use of Kane’s mule to get back into town. He told Larkin about Kane’s inordinate interest in his decorum and how the miner seemed to take it as a personal challenge to prove that he, Adam, was at his core no more than a beast, subject to a baser calling; a man who could be driven to kill for no other reason than killing’s sake. Details of the subsequent abuse by Kane – the punishing hours working the mine, the minimal food and water, being forced to eat without utensils and to sleep away from the camp and close proximity to Kane’s rifle – spilled out. As did the constant verbal jabs at his manhood and his humanity.

While he spoke, Larkin poured him a glass of water as though to make up for the water he’d lacked, nodding his head occasionally in understanding as Adam’s voiced droned on. Adam appreciated the lack of pity on the doctor’s face; he maintained eye-contact with an expression that was considerate without being maudlin.

The story proceeded, Adam describing the escalating indignities heaped upon him by Kane and his decision at last to leave, whether Kane was ready for him to or not. There was a faint tremor in his speech as he told how the miner had shot and killed the mule to prevent him from going and how, from that time forward, he was treated as a virtual prisoner to Kane, as the man’s insanity manifested itself more and more. When he reached the part of the story where Kane had informed him gleefully that there was no more food or water, and he’d realized then that all hope was lost and that he would die out there in the desert anyway, Larkin could hear the despondency in Adam’s voice. Adam told of the last battle with Kane, when the madman had produced one sack of food and a canteen – enough to see one of them out of the desert – and how they had grappled for it, Adam eventually getting the best of Kane and choking him, trying to strangle the life out of him…and liking it. Kane hadn’t died then, though he had no fight left in him and Adam had had to drag him from the camp on the travois, across the barren desert, long after the food and water were truly gone and Kane was dead from exposure.

Lastly, Adam told of his struggles since then, how he felt he was no longer the man he thought he was, and couldn’t be again, no matter how much his family wanted it. He acknowledged that he felt angry all the time and wanted nothing more than to be left alone. He described the nightmares to Larkin, and his seemingly irrational fears, as well as the flashbacks he’d experienced. And he told him about his attack on Joe.

When he was finished, he sat slumped over Paul’s desk, completely drained by the exercise.

Dr. Larkin was quiet for a moment, letting Adam rest, but it was not an uncomfortable silence, and Adam felt free to take the time he needed to gather himself together, raising his eyes to meet Larkin’s when he was ready.

“Well, I guess it would be an understatement to say that you’ve been through quite a trial, Adam. You may not want to hear this yet, but you’re to be commended on your fortitude in enduring it.

“Your father told Doc Martin that you did your best to avoid talking to anyone about what happened to you and how you were feeling afterward. It felt safer, didn’t it, not to expose your thoughts to others?” When Adam reluctantly nodded, he continued. “Paradoxically, in trying to protect yourself, you may in fact have put yourself in a potentially more damaging situation. You had all of these emotions roiling around inside you: shame, confusion, despair. By denying them release, there was only one place for all that turmoil to go. Here,” he tapped his own chest for emphasis. “And so the pressure continued to build…and build…and build. That’s why you felt that anger all the time…and why you ultimately lost control with your brother, Joe.”

“What I’m trying to tell you, Adam, is that all that rage stemmed not from some deeply hidden character flaw exposed by Kane, but by your attempt to bury your thoughts and feelings.”

Adam considered this theory for a moment before speaking. When the words came, they came deliberately, as though Adam were laboring over each one. “That may be true of the time since I’ve been home, but what about how I reacted to Kane himself? I tried to kill him…would have killed him if…” The words trailed away.

Larkin smiled kindly, taking the liberty of placing a reassuring hand on Adam’s forearm.

“That’s even easier to explain, given what you went through.” He removed his hand and reclined back in his chair. “You know, Adam, the human mind is a marvelous thing. So mysterious and complex. Really, though, we know so little about how it works. In fact, if you take what we do know compared to what we don’t know, it would be like measuring a grain of sand against a boulder. We’re just beginning to tap into any kind of understanding, although certainly the study of the mind has been going on for centuries. As a matter of fact, the Chinese have performed some, well, ‘experiments’, for lack of a better word, that I think you’d find interesting.”

“Experiments?”

“Yes. On mind control. You see, they’ve applied various techniques to political prisoners and other criminals, as well as to the indigent and infirm, in order to determine how malleable the subject becomes or how far they can be pushed before their will is broken.

“Adam, you told me that Kane deprived you of nourishment and rest, pushing you beyond your limits; all the while baiting you and suggesting you were less a man than you’d always prided yourself on being.” As he spoke, Larkin leaned forward intently. At Adam’s nod, he went on. “Well, those are among the same techniques used by the Chinese to manipulate a subject’s mind to their way of thinking. They would drive their subjects to the point of starvation or exhaustion or both, often inflicting horrific pain or other sensory torment as well. The application of certain stimuli – or the removal of others – can create a lapse or void in the brain. At that point, it is relatively simple for someone to come along, plant a thought or idea, and fill that void.

“Don’t you see, Adam? Kane didn’t unleash some monster within you. He beat you down, physically and mentally, all the while taunting you in order to build up your wrath and working his…his…verbal sorcery…on you to convince you that you were little more than an animal.”

Adam regarded the young doctor thoughtfully, trying to absorb all that he’d been told. His face was impassive, but within him beat a strong pulse of hope. How he wanted to believe what Jameson Larkin said! To know that his reactions were to be expected, could even be considered normal, under the circumstances.

“If all that you’ve said is true, when can I expect to recover from the effects of this?

Larkin sobered and the regret Adam saw in his eyes made the flicker of optimism flaring within him dim a few degrees.

“I wish I had a definitive answer for you, Adam, but the truth is, I just don’t know. Some of what you’ve been experiencing has been caused by depression brought about by your conviction that you could no longer lay claim to the identity you’d always known. You’ve taken the first step in overcoming that depression by opening up to me and to your father. I urge you to continue discussing your experience whenever it troubles you. I know from our conversation here today and from what I’ve been told by Paul that you are not a man who is comfortable in expressing his feelings. This, I suspect, will be your greatest challenge. You have a strong will, though, Adam. Else you would not have survived your ordeal with Kane. What he did to you was nothing short of torture. As for the hallucinations you’ve had, the nightmares – these may continue for a time. But time itself may be the greatest healer.

Relief flooded through Adam. The solemn look on Larkin’s face had brought a measure of dread to his heart, but he could handle this prognosis. He felt revived; restored. So taken up was he with this elevation of spirit, he almost missed Larkin’s next words.

“I’m told you’re a man of faith, Adam. As am I. I’ll tell you, had I not believed in God before I began my study of the human brain, I would most certainly have become a believer after. The potential of the mind and brain are awe-inspiring. I mean, think of all the brain does for you. It tells your heart to beat, your lungs to breath, your hand to reach, your tongue to taste, your voice to speak, your eyes to see, your ears to hear. It lets you know when you are hot, when you are cold, when to laugh and when to cry. It lets you reason, it lets you feel. And so many other things, it would take volumes to detail. Surely, such an extraordinary organ could not be the offspring of chance. Only an omnipotent creator could have designed something so intricate and effective. But I fear I digress.

“What I was going to tell you, Adam, is to lean heavily on your faith during this time. Psalms fifty-five tells us to cast our burdens on the Lord and He shall sustain us. I believe that wholeheartedly. Greater things have been accomplished with a man on his knees than with an army on horseback. I don’t mean to preach, but another favorite verse of mine is James 5:16. Confess your faults one to another, and pray one for another, that ye may be healed. The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much. Go to God in prayer, Adam. Give these trials over to Him. If you can unburden yourself to no other, at least unburden yourself to Him.”

Larkin was so earnest, Adam couldn’t take offense at his sermonizing. Truth be told, what the physician said made a great deal of sense. Adam’s relationship with the deity had been nearly non-existent of late. Perhaps it was time to renew acquaintances with his Maker.

“You’ve certainly given me much to think over,” he said at length.

“I only hope it will help ease your load somewhat. I realize that one visit can hardly answer all the issues you are dealing with, but perhaps it has given you some sense of assurance that you are stronger than you believe and that you will, in time, conquer your fears and doubts.”

“You’ve helped more than you know.” Adam smiled, the first genuine smile he’d had in weeks, and extended his hand.

Larkin took it with a smile of his own.

“Adam, would you mind if I wrote you now and again, just to see how you are doing? I confess, one reason I would like to do this is purely clinical. I very much want to follow your progress to see if some of the effects you are experiencing continue. But I also genuinely like you, Adam, and want to encourage myself that you are, in fact, healing. I hope you don’t find this request too presumptuous of me.”

Adam squirmed a bit. He didn’t much cotton to the idea of being someone’s case study. However, he appreciated Larkin’s sincerity and also liked the idea of being able to continue his communication with him.

“Of course. I’ll look forward to your correspondence.”

“Splendid!” He rose with Adam and escorted him to the door, pumping his hand again in farewell. “In spite of the circumstances, it’s been a pleasure getting to know you, Adam. I wish you well in your recovery.”

“Thank you. But the pleasure’s been mine, Dr. Larkin. Have a safe trip to St. Louis.” Adam tipped his hat and pushed open the door.

He was surprised to find Hoss and Little Joe waiting outside the office; Hoss leaning with studied casualness against the wall, Joe nervously fidgeting with the cinch on his horse’s perfectly adjusted saddle.

“What are you hooligans doing here?” he asked, his gaze sweeping over Hoss’ carefully neutral expression and settling on his youngest brother’s face, an open map of concern.

“How…how’d things go?” gulped Joe, hazel eyes anxiously searching Adam’s.

Love swelled up with such powerful force within him that Adam’s throat constricted and he had to clear it roughly. For the first time since his ordeal had begun, he believed, REALLY believed, he was going to be okay. How could he not, with these two ruffian brothers of his standing beside him and a father at home who refused to back away from any problem?

“It went well,” he replied softly. “It went very well.”

“Are you…did he…will you…” Joe stammered, unable to finish the questions that begged answering.

Adam stepped forward and rested a hand lightly on Joseph’s shoulder.

“Everything’s going to be fine…just fine,” he said with conviction. “Now, whaddaya say we get out of here?”

Both Hoss and Joe grinned and exchanged relieved glances.

“Whatever you say, Big Brother,” rumbled Hoss, pushing himself away from the wall and joining his brothers as they mounted up.

The three Cartwrights nudged their horses into an easy lope and left the town behind them, riding in companionable silence towards home. Not far into their journey, Adam pulled his sorrel back a little and let Hoss and Joe gain a few yards on him. He looked around himself at the panorama of green forest, purple mountains and azure sky, drinking in a deep breath of the cleanest air God ever created and relishing the beauty he’d been unable to appreciate for far too long.

He knew he might yet face more struggles in his efforts to come to terms with what he’d lived through in the desert, but he could face them now with a renewal of confidence. Confidence in who he was; confidence in his ability to overcome.

Yes, thought Adam, urging his mount up even with his brothers’, I believe things are going to work out.

The End