Synopsis: In this sequel to Decisions, Decisions, Cousin Jennifer arrives with a letter from Elizabeth written before Adam’s birth. The message contains a startling revelation.
Rating: PG
Words: 19,090
Decisions Series:
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Bad Relations
Treetops danced back and forth in the sky as the wind picked up in intensity, a sure sign of an impending storm. Adam Cartwright looked to the west, noting with irritation the position of the quickly disappearing sun, trying to think up some excuse for returning home from school late once again. At least this time it isn’t my fault, he thought with satisfaction.
“C’mon, Hoss!” He called over his shoulder. “Pa’s gonna be mad enough ‘bout your arithmetic test without us bein’ late on top of it.”
Slumped in his saddle, his younger brother looked up for probably the first time since the pair left the schoolhouse, noticing the darkening sky. “Ya think it’s gonna rain real bad?” His voice sounded hopeful. “Maybe there won’t be no school tomorrow.”
“Any school,” Adam corrected automatically. “And no, I don’t think it’s gonna rain that bad, but we better get a move on. I sure don’t feel like gettin’ caught in any storm.” He pointed to the dark storm clouds forming overhead. With that, thirteen-year-old Adam pressed his stirrups into his horse and urged him on.
Hoss’s face was drawn in a frown as he called after his brother, “But Adam, I mean if Pa don’t ask, maybe we don’t hafta tell him ‘bout that test. Right?” Hoss turned unsure blue eyes toward Adam’s all knowing hazel ones.
Guiding his horse alongside Hoss’s mount, Adam tried to look stern and said in his most grown up voice, “Ya mean you’re not gonna tell Pa about the test? Or Mr. Bucknell keepin’ ya after school?”
“Would you?” Hoss asked quietly.
Momentarily forsaking his role of big brother, Adam smiled devilishly. “Nope,” he replied, giving Hoss a wink. “I mean, what if ya lost that test while ya were ridin’ home? And once ya got busy doin’ your chores and all, a little thing like an arithmetic test would probably go clear outta your head, wouldn’t ya say?”
A slow smile spread across the eight-year-old’s face as he reached into his pocket and held the failed test in his hand. Staring at it, his conscience pricked and his grin faded. “Adam, I don’t think I can do that.”
“Oh, just give it to me.” Exasperated, Adam grabbed the test from Hoss’s hand and ripped it in half, letting the wind carry the pieces away. “There. Ya lost it, understand?”
Scratching his head, Hoss simply nodded.
“And tonight I’m gonna help ya work on those subtraction problems so ya’ll get it right tomorrow, okay?” Not waiting for Hoss’s answer, Adam headed toward the Ponderosa, trying to outrun the clouds.
– – –
Adam was already off his horse and making his way over to an unfamiliar buggy in the yard when Hoss arrived. His guilt over the ‘lost’ test forgotten for the moment, the younger boy motioned to the carriage and said, “Who do ya think that belongs to?”
Shrugging, Adam took a closer look. “It’s from the livery. Don’t think Pa or Marie was expectin’ anybody.” Walking around to the back of the buggy, Adam came to a standstill. There were four bags, two of which he recognized immediately. Looking around to make sure no one other than Hoss was watching, he scanned the other bags for identification. The leather was dusty but new, without any markings. Adam fingered the handles, flipping them over and finding what he was searching for. Engraved on a small brass plate embedded in the handles were the initials ‘JC’ – initials that made Adam blink twice to make sure he wasn’t mistaken.
“Hey,” Hoss called, “Don’t them bags belong to James?”
Adam raked his hand through his wavy hair, trying to understand why his cousin, James Cavanaugh, had returned. Four weeks ago James left the Ponderosa to return to New York City after his offer to have Adam come live with him and his mother was rejected. Although his father had finally explained about his mother’s cousin wanting to raise him since infancy, Adam felt there was something he wasn’t being told. With school starting and his duties on the ranch, he pushed the mystery into the recesses of his mind. But now, staring at the bags in the buggy, he couldn’t help but wonder what else his Pa had hidden from him and how he could get to the bottom of things.
A few drops of water fell from the sky, reminding the boys of the threatening storm.
“Best get the horses bedded down,” Adam said absently, unable to tear his eyes from the brass plate. At that moment, the door to the house swung open and Ben Cartwright strode purposefully outside, deep in thought.
Startled to see his two oldest sons, he visibly jumped. “Adam, Hoss, I didn’t know you were home.” He smiled a smile that reached nowhere near his eyes and a perceptive Adam felt his heart thump a little faster. Ben put his arm around Hoss’s broad shoulders yet never took his gaze from Adam’s face. “Hoss, would you please bring these bags into the house for me? Adam and I will tend to the horses.”
“Sure, Pa,” Hoss replied, glad that his father was distracted enough not to notice they were late in getting home. He easily hoisted up the bags and carried them all into the house in one trip.
Silently, Ben and Adam led the horses to the barn and into their respective stalls. Adam uncinched his saddle and carried it to the shelf, looking up every now and then to gauge his father’s mood. Ben kept throwing glances Adam’s way. Once or twice he began to say something, seemed to think better of it, and closed his mouth.
– – –
Ben’s mind wandered back to earlier that afternoon. He had ridden in from the southern pasture after making sure the herd made it there safely. Tired and wanting nothing more than a hot bath and a slab of Hop Sing’s apple pie, he was not pleased to see a rented carriage in the yard. Gratefully handing the reins over to Charlie to see to his horse, Ben sighed deeply, squared his shoulders and flung open the door, fully prepared to politely excuse himself and leave the company to his wife, Marie. It was not to be.
Marie jumped to her feet, her eyes wide and expressive as she tried to silently relay a message. Ben’s dark eyes focused on the figure behind her and his jaw dropped in astonishment. It wasn’t the figure of young James Cavanaugh that rendered him immobile; it was the sight of James’s mother, sitting ensconced in the blue velvet chair near the fireplace that stopped Ben dead in his tracks. Dressed entirely in widow’s black, Jennifer Cavanaugh patted a brown curl into place and gazed at him through disturbingly familiar hazel eyes.
From across the room and through weary eyes, Ben stared at an amazing likeness of his first wife, Liz, and swallowed the lump that rose to his throat. For a moment, a very brief moment, the clock turned back thirteen years and he was back in Boston sharing a life with his first love. The pain of losing two wives and the arduous journey west forgotten, the memory of his and Liz’s time together swept over him in a tidal wave of emotion.
“Ben?” Marie was at his side, fingers digging into his wrist, abruptly pulling him back to the present. He shook his head as if to clear it, and ignoring James came to stand before Jennifer, still unable to speak.
“Benjamin,” Jennifer spoke softly, holding out her hand, but he made no attempt to take it. Her eyes settled on his, and suddenly any resemblance she may have had to his beloved Elizabeth dissolved into frightful reality.
“Why are you here?” Ben asked bluntly.
“Ben,” Marie repeated, her tone now one of mild disapproval.
Jennifer’s lips curled into a mirthless smile. “Don’t worry, Marie. Benjamin and I understand each other, don’t we?”
Coming back to life, Ben replied, “We understand one another all right. Which is why I’m sure you didn’t come all this distance for a social call.”
At those words, Jennifer tilted her head back and laughed. “I see your manners haven’t improved over the years.” She gestured with her hand that he sit, but he shook his head stubbornly and remained standing. Jennifer shrugged. “Have it your way.” She smoothed an imaginary wrinkle in her black skirt. “I had been staying in San Francisco while James was visiting you…”
“James never mentioned that,” Marie interjected defensively. She linked her arm through Ben’s, instinctively knowing her husband needed the physical contact.
“He didn’t?” Jennifer asked innocently. “Well, no matter. When James left your ranch, he and I met up in San Francisco. Of course I was disappointed to hear that Adam wouldn’t be returning to New York with us – James spoke so highly of the child. In any event, after hearing James’s account of the lovely ranch you have here and your charming family, I decided to surprise you…”
“You surprised me all right,” Ben muttered.
“Good,” Jennifer responded triumphantly. “Now, when do I get to meet Elizabeth’s son?” She looked from Ben to Marie, emphasizing the word ‘Elizabeth’.
Taking a deep breath, Ben just barely held his temper. “My sons are at school.” He glanced at the tall grandfather clock over his shoulder. “They should be home shortly.”
“Wonderful.” Jennifer stood. “Now if you’ll excuse me, perhaps there is some place I could freshen up?”
“Of course,” Marie answered. “James, why don’t you take your mother to the guest room – you remember where it is.”
When James and Jennifer were finally upstairs and out of sight, Ben turned to his wife. “Don’t tell me you invited them to stay here?” Marie was silent. “After what happened? How could you?”
Nearly a head shorter than her husband, Marie was undaunted by her husband’s harsh tone. Her green eyes flashed and she retorted angrily, “And what would you have me do? They waltzed in here as if they owned the place and told me the hotel in Virginia City is full. Should I have called them both liars and shown them the door? Or perhaps you would have them sleep in the bunkhouse?”
Ben rubbed his eyes wearily. “I apologize. It’s just that no one gets under my skin like that woman does. And when I think of Adam – well, I hope once he meets her he doesn’t change his mind about going to New York.”
– – –
As Ben brushed the dust from Hoss’s mare, he wondered what was going through Adam’s mind. Surely he’d recognized James’s bags, yet he never even expressed any curiosity as to why he returned. Then again, Ben reasoned, sometimes it took a wizard to read Adam’s thoughts and over the past thirteen years, Ben had a bit of practice being that wizard. Ben cleared his throat – he couldn’t stall any longer.
“Adam,” he began, and his oldest son raised his head. “Adam, your cousin James is in the house. He…um…he brought his mother to meet you.” Ben waited for a reaction.
“How come? I thought she was in New York.” Adam placed the curry brush in the tack box and walked to his father, his expression unreadable.
“No, she was in San Francisco. As to why she’s here, well, she says she wanted to meet you, get to know you.” Ben tried to keep the worry out of his voice, but Adam was too attuned to his father’s feelings to miss it.
“She wants me to come back to New York with her,” he observed matter of factly.
For the first time that afternoon, Ben found something to chuckle about. Even after thirteen years, sometimes Adam still surprised him with his intuitiveness. “You may be right, but let’s not put the cart before the horse. Why don’t we go inside and see?”
Adam shrugged. He thrust his hands in his pockets and stared at the hay-strewn floor, his silence telling his father more than his words ever could.
Ben silently cursed Jennifer and James. Grasping Adam’s chin gently and tilting his head upwards, Ben’s expression softened at the uncharacteristic confusion on the boy’s face. “Sometimes you look just like your mother.” With those words, he wrapped his arms around the child, lightly stroking the hair that curled over his collar.
“You need a haircut,” Ben commented inanely and he could feel Adam’s head nodding in agreement against his chest.
“Pa?”
“Yes son?”
“Will ya…will ya stay with…I mean, when we go inside…” Adam stumbled over his words, not wanting his father to think he was a baby and afraid to face his cousin. But he couldn’t ignore the bad feeling brewing deep in his belly and wanted – no, needed – his father with him when he finally met Cousin Jennifer.
Ben understood his son’s discomfort immediately and gave him a little squeeze. “How about we go in together and talk with her? She and I really didn’t get much of a chance to catch up before.” He added the last part so Adam could save face and was rewarded with a relieved smile.
– – –
“Adam!” shouted the youngest Cartwright, three-year-old Joseph, as he jumped off his mother’s lap and ran full speed into Adam’s legs.
“Hey, pest!” Adam said with affection. He grabbed his baby brother under the arms and twirled him around and around, his little feet barely missing his father and various pieces of furniture.
Adam set him on his feet and a dizzy Joe teetered, squealing nonetheless, “Do it again! Do it again!”
“I think that’s enough for now,” Ben said firmly. Little Joe started to protest but Adam quickly gave him a warning shake of his head and the boy wisely kept quiet.
Placing his hand in the middle of Adam’s back, Ben propelled him toward the great room to their guests.
“You must be Adam!” Jennifer exclaimed, smiling brightly. “Come give your cousin a hug.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied and walked stiffly into her waiting arms. He found himself enveloped by a woman whose very presence made goose bumps appear on his flesh. He could feel the unstated tension between her and his father, so thick he could cut it with a knife. Although sometimes they butted heads, for the most part Adam respected his father’s opinions and usually found them to have merit. His logical nature warned him to be wary of this woman, but his heart yearned to accept her as a link to his own mother.
Adam squirmed a bit, not enough to be impolite but just enough to let her know he wanted to break free. She stepped back and held him at arm’s length. Staring at her face, he prayed no one could see his heart pounding through his shirt. He had seen a photograph of her before but even that did not prepare him for Jennifer’s astonishing likeness to his mother’s portrait. Jennifer seemed to sense his upset and placed a light kiss on his forehead.
“Adam, you do your mother proud,” she stated and it tore at Ben’s heart to see the flash of longing in Adam’s eyes.
“Mama’s pwoud of me too!” Little Joe asserted, unused to not being the center of attention. His innocent words broke the tension and everyone laughed. Jennifer held out her arm for Adam and he led her to the dining room table, politely pulling out her chair.
“So Adam, how’s school going?” James inquired as he helped himself to some roast beef.
Hoss fidgeted in his seat, suddenly remembering the failed arithmetic test. Adam nudged him with his foot and replied, “It’s okay.”
“Yes, James tells me you’re quite the scholar. Your mother was at the top of her class in school – always had her nose buried in a book.” Jennifer daintily sipped her wine.
“Mama likes books. She weads to me all the time,” Little Joe declared.
Ben looked up and shook his head. “No, Joseph, not your mama. Mrs. Cavanaugh is speaking about her cousin, Adam’s mother.” After he uttered the words, Ben wished he could call them back as he saw his wife wince.
“That’s right,” Jennifer agreed. “We’re speaking about Elizabeth Stoddard, Adam’s real
mother.”
“Elizabeth Cartwright,” Ben muttered fiercely, oblivious to the confused look on Little Joe’s face. Marie quickly shoveled a spoonful of mashed potatoes into the small mouth, forestalling any questions.
“Yes, my dear cousin. Did your father tell you how close your mother and I were?”
Adam shook his head slightly, pushing the food around on his plate.
“We did everything together as children, even though I was a bit older than she. We lived only a few houses from one another and shared just about everything – clothes, books, dreams – even gentlemen callers.” Jennifer looked pointedly at Ben before continuing. “Did you know she was very talented with a pencil and paper? Used to drag me down to the harbor so she could sketch the ships and water and the shops. People would pass by and beg to buy her work, but she had such a big heart that she’d just give her drawings away.”
“Really?” Adam’s mouth dropped open. His father had once told him his mother liked to draw, but hearing it from Jennifer somehow made it more real to him.
“Adam draws real good too,” Hoss boasted.
“Well, that doesn’t surprise me,” Jennifer said. “Elizabeth always dreamed of having an intelligent, handsome son, one that would attend the finest schools, travel the world, have the best of everything. She would have seen to that – after all, she usually got what she wanted.”
Ben shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Marie’s expressive eyes shot out small angry sparks. Jennifer ignored them both and continued speaking. “I have so many mementos of your mother back home, I’d love to share them with you someday.”
Ben gritted his teeth and balled his hands into tight fists at her words. Adam glanced at him and gave him the slightest of smiles.
“Someday, ma’am,” Adam responded and Ben didn’t bother to hold back a long relieved sigh.
– – –
Head aching and unable to sleep, Ben lay on his side facing away from Marie and listened to the rhythmic sound of the rain pelting the window. Normally he found the noise of a downpour soothing, but there was precious little he found soothing that night. After dinner, they’d passed the time making small talk, listening to James and Jennifer’s tales of New York and Europe. She’d alluded several times to Elizabeth, always hinting to Adam that there was so much information about his mother waiting at her home back east. Ben rubbed at the painful spot in the center of his forehead when a soft sound interrupted the night. He lay still. Again, he heard a low “Pa” followed by a slightly louder whimper. Flinging back the covers, Ben threw on his robe and hurried barefoot into the hall, his father’s sixth sense spurring him toward Adam’s room. He shoved open the door to find the boy kicking free of the confining sheets, tossing his head in the obvious throes of a nightmare.
“Adam! Adam!” Ben sat on the side of the bed and shook him.
“Pa!” Adam came awake slowly, calling his father’s name. A fine sheen of perspiration covered his smooth forehead. “The Indians…they…” Adam scanned the room, still not entirely released from his nightmare. “Mama…she was bleedin’.”
Lovingly, Ben brushed the dark hair back from his son’s face and reached for the glass of water Adam kept by his bedside. “Here. Drink this.” Adam sipped some water, blushing as he realized he’d cried out – he hadn’t done that in a while. “It was only a nightmare, son. Everything’s all right.”
Adam squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t remember the last time that particular nightmare invaded his sleep and tonight it had been so vivid, so terrifyingly real, that he instinctively called out for his father. Ben took the glass from him and straightened the bedclothes. “How about if I sit here for a while till you go back to sleep?” Ben suggested.
Thirteen year old pride prickling, Adam replied, “It’s okay, ya don’t hafta.”
Ben nodded knowingly. “I know I don’t have to. I want to.” Adam smiled sleepily, calmed by his father’s presence, and no more than two minutes passed and his breath became even and regular in a peaceful slumber. Ben rose carefully, placed a kiss on the top of Adam’s head, and left the room. He was surprised to find Jennifer standing in the hallway.
“Is something wrong?” Ben asked, trying to keep his tone civil.
She shook her head and Ben noticed how long her unpinned hair was, just like….No, he forced himself back to the present.
“I don’t think either of us is getting much sleep tonight,” she whispered. “Do you think we could talk?”
Ben nodded, cautious but curious. He followed her downstairs, lit a lantern and reached for the decanter of brandy. Handing her a glass, he waited for her to speak, his eyes carefully avoiding what her dressing gown failed to cover.
“Ben, we’ve had a lot of history, you and I…”
“Yes we have,” he replied, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. He noticed that the brandy was the same color as Adam’s eyes. He shook himself and turned toward Jennifer.
“And although you may not believe it, this is very difficult for me,” she hesitated, clearly ill at ease.
Now Ben was suspicious and he quickly downed the contents of his glass and poured another. “Why don’t you just come out and say what you’ve come here to say?”
Jennifer drew a breath. “Does Adam have nightmares often?”
Ben narrowed his eyes and answered slowly and earnestly. “Not so much now but as a child, yes. I’m sure that’s not what you came all the way out here to talk about, is it?”
Ignoring his question, Jennifer observed, “He’s had a rather unorthodox childhood, has he not? I mean, practically walking across a continent, very little schooling, three mothers…”
Ben couldn’t keep the growl from his voice. “Just say it, Jennifer. Why are you here?”
“I am here to offer Adam a better life – one in New York with me – and James, of course,” she stared him straight in the eye, trying to weigh his reaction.
Ben felt some of the tension leave his body. “We’ve been through all this with James. I offered to have Adam come visit you, even encouraged it against my better judgment. But I left the decision up to him and he refused.” He let those words sink in. “Do you understand? Adam refused.”
Jennifer glanced down at her hands then looked back up. “And what if he had no choice?”
The blood drained from Ben’s face. “What the devil’s that supposed to mean?”
Placing her glass on the table, Jennifer unconsciously took a step back. “It means I have a letter written by my cousin saying if anything ever happened to her, she wanted me to look after her child.”
“Liz wrote no such letter,” Ben’s whisper was a shout.
Jennifer’s silence spoke volumes.
“Show it to me,” he hissed.
“I can’t,” she answered.
“Because there is no letter,” Ben declared.
“Because it is with a Federal Judge at the moment.” The room suddenly began to spin and Ben gripped the edge of the table with his left hand to steady himself. “He is examining it and will be here tomorrow to let us know his decision.”
“His decision?” Ben repeated, grabbing her forearm. “There is no decision. Adam is my son. I am his father, do you understand? No one will take my son from me – not you, not some judge, no one!” His words ended in a shout. He released her roughly and strode up the stairs. Jennifer stood for a long time alone. She placed her fingers on her arm exactly where Ben had clutched her and squeezed with all her might.
– – –
The next day dawned dry but dark and dismal, much like Ben’s mood. He’d shared Jennifer’s threat with Marie and she was outraged, ready to throw both James and Jennifer off the Ponderosa. After she became rational, Ben told his wife he would accompany the boys to school and then see if his attorney, Lawrence Whitcomb, had returned from his trip to California.
“Do you really think this letter exists?” Marie asked, incredulous.
“I can’t believe Liz would have ever written such a thing, but we can’t take anything for granted at this point. I wouldn’t put it past Jennifer she’s so hell bent on revenge!”
“Just because you raised your hand to her?” The whole situation was incomprehensible to Marie. “To me, she sounded almost…almost jealous of Elizabeth.”
“I don’t understand it any more than you do,” Ben replied, massaging his throbbing forehead. “All I know is that Jennifer is very used to having her own way – not many people crossed her like I did.” He reached for his gun belt and strapped it on. “But if she thinks she’s taking my son, she’s got another thing coming to her!”
“And Adam?” Marie’s eyes filled. “What are you going to tell him? That his mother’s cousin only wants him because of some vengeful game she’s playing, or that his own mother preferred her cousin over his father? Already he senses something is wrong – when is the last time he called out for you in the night?”
Ben dragged a heavy hand over his face. “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”
– – –
The air was rife with tension late that afternoon at the Ponderosa. After the boys arrived home from school, Marie sent Hoss and Little Joe upstairs to play with strict instructions not to come down for any reason. Now she sat in the red leather chair, knitting. “Damn!” She muttered, unable to concentrate and dropping another stitch. James and Jennifer did not even glance her way they were so engrossed in their chess game. Ben seemed not to notice either as he paced back and forth before the huge stone fireplace.
Adam came in through the kitchen from his chores and hesitantly approached his father. “Pa, Charlie said ya wanted to see me?”.
Placing his hand on the boy’s shoulder, Ben nodded. “Yes, son. I need to speak to you.” Ben bit his lip, uncertain exactly how to explain what Jennifer had told him. He’d rehearsed what he was going to say several times that day, but suddenly it all went out of his mind, leaving only the bare and painful truth to be told.
“Adam, your mother’s cousin claims to have a letter from your mother…”
Three sharp raps at the door interrupted his speech and Ben looked helplessly to Marie.
“Ah, that should be Judge Sanders,” Jennifer proclaimed almost gleefully as she rose to open the door, James close behind her.
“No. The boy needs to hear it from me first!” Ben shouted.
At that moment, Jennifer opened the door and a tall, gray haired gentleman entered, removing his top hat, followed by two younger men dressed in dusty working clothes.
“Mrs. Cavanaugh,” he spoke in a deep, gravelly voice. He shook her hand first, then reached out to clasp James’s. “Mr. Cavanaugh.”
“Judge, we’re so glad you could come,” Jennifer said as she led him into the room. “This is Marie and Benjamin Cartwright and my cousin’s son, Adam.”
Ignoring the way she introduced Adam, Ben shook the Judge’s hand politely, as did Marie. Turning to the men with him, Saunders explained, “This is Marshall Jack Foster and his deputy, Reese Cutler.” The men nodded.
“May I get anyone a drink?” Marie asked.
“No, thank you.” The judge answered for them all. He then turned to Adam and said, “So, you’re Adam.”
Amos Sanders was a tall man, well over six feet, and Adam had to crane his neck to look him in the eye as his father had taught him. “Yes, sir.” Then, unable to contain himself, Adam asked, “Why are ya here?”
“Adam,” Ben automatically chastised, although there was no heat in his words.
Sanders motioned for everyone to sit, then chose the blue chair for himself. The Marshall and his deputy remained standing. Jennifer sat in the chair opposite the judge, with James perched awkwardly on the arm of her chair. Ben and Marie chose the settee, with Adam wedged between them. “Adam, as an Officer of the Federal Court, I am obliged to make decisions – decisions that often affect people’s lives. The government of the United States has entrusted me with this duty to see that justice, no matter how painful, is served. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“I…I guess so,” Adam replied, his right hand unconsciously moving to his father’s knee.
Judge Sanders continued, “I am here because before she died, Elizabeth Stoddard wrote a letter to her cousin, Jennifer Stoddard Cavanaugh.” He paused for a breath and Adam turned round eyes to his father. Ben placed his arm around his son’s slender shoulders.
“I’ll tell him,” Ben said, wanting Adam to hear it from him. “Jennifer claims to have a letter written by your mother. Supposedly it says that if something happened to your mother, then Jennifer…Jennifer was to raise any children your mother had.” The color left Adam’s face and he fought hard to control the churning in his stomach.
“But…but you’re my Pa,” he said, his voice trembling. “Why would my mother write a letter like that?”
“We don’t even know there is such a letter!” Marie cried, unable to remain silent.
The judge pulled a yellowed envelope from his breast pocket. “I can assure you, Mrs. Cartwright, there is such a letter.”
“May I see it?” Ben held out his hand and Sanders handed it to him. Ben opened it gingerly. It was a torn piece of paper, containing only a few lines, but there was no mistaking the clear, slanted script, nor what remained of the broken wax seal flecking the envelope’s flap. It was dated six months before Adam’s birth.
“Ben?” Marie’s voice was weak. She didn’t really need him to speak to know it was authentic – the look on his face was answer enough.
Adam strained his eyes to read what was written. It was the first time he had ever seen anything penned in his mother’s hand and the words fairly jumped off the page
“…If anything were to happen to me, dear Cousin Jennifer, I know you would raise my child as your own…”
Ben threw the letter to the floor in disgust, momentarily unable to speak.
“Pa?” There was panic in Adam’s voice now and that one word spurred Ben into life.
“This is ludicrous!” Ben boomed, jumping to his feet. “I don’t know why this letter was written, but obviously it’s worthless. The boy has a father…”
“Yes, I am aware that you’re his father,” Judge Sanders interrupted. “However, this letter is still considered legal and binding, an informal last will and testament, one might say.”
Ben’s face was almost purple as he bellowed, “I am his father. He belongs with me, no one else.”
“Mr. Cartwright, sit down,” Marshall Foster spoke for the first time, his hand on his pistol.
“Don’t threaten me in my own house!” Ben made a move toward him and Foster drew his gun.
“Ben, please!” Marie sprang up. She put her hand to her husband’s chest to calm him and led him back to the settee.
“Mr. Cartwright, let me explain something,” the Judge spoke firmly. “Under normal circumstances, you’re right – a child would remain with the living parent. However, there have been cases when the living parent has been proven…let’s say, unfit…”
Ben was on his feet again. “What the hell are you talking about?” His smoldering eyes fell on Jennifer. “You! What lies has she told you?”
Adam’s cloudy hazel eyes went from one adult to the next. His heart was slapping against his chest so loud that it echoed in his ears and he was sure everyone in the room could hear it. Adam wanted to yell at everyone to stop but no words could get past the ball of fear in his throat.
“Mr. Cartwright!” Foster shouted. “This is the last time I’m tellin’ ya ta sit down! Or do I need ta cuff ya?”
Sanders continued, “I have a statement here signed by several witnesses that says back in Boston about thirteen years ago, you struck Jennifer Stoddard Cartwright.”
“That’s a lie!” Ben protested vehemently.
The judge shrugged. “Your word against hers and that of these witnesses.”
Ben slumped against the back of the settee. “I need to consult with my lawyer, put an end to these ridiculous charges.”
“As is your right. But at the moment, my concern is for the welfare of the boy, and expediency is of the utmost importance. I believe your lawyer is in California, so let me ask you a few questions and perhaps we can settle this once and for all.”
Ben nodded brusquely. He looked down at Adam and could see the bewildered terror written on his face. “My son, does he need to be present for this?” He rubbed the back of the boy’s neck, trying to calm his fears.
“I’m afraid so. I may need to ask him some questions as well.” The judge then asked slowly and methodically, as if reciting by rote, “Now, Mr. Cartwright, is it true that you took Adam as a motherless infant on a trek across untamed country, when Mrs. Cavanaugh offered him a stable family life in civilized New York?’
“Yes. Liz and I had a dream…I promised her I’d take…”
“A simple yes or no will do,” the judge barked.
“I’m not on trial here!” Ben objected.
“I’m afraid in a way, you are. I will ask the questions and you will answer them, is that understood?” Sanders asked coolly. Marshall Foster drew his gun to underscore the judge’s meaning.
“This is a sham! Do you think you can strong-arm me into relinquishing my son to this..this…” Ben sputtered.
“Don’t you see?” Jennifer cried. “Don’t you see that he still has violent tendencies?” She stood and rolled up her sleeve to reveal several bruises on her forearm. “He did this to me just last night!” Tears rolled down her cheeks as she continued, “I came downstairs to talk to him, tell him about the letter and he…he grabbed my arm. I told him he was hurting me, begged him to stop…”
“She’s lying!” Marie didn’t for a moment believe a word of Jennifer’s story.
“Is she?” Sanders said calmly. “Did you place your hand on Mrs. Cavanaugh’s arm?”
A vein on Ben’s forehead pulsated as he confessed, “Yes, I placed my hand on her arm but I never squeezed so tightly as to bruise her.”
She held up her arm as proof and Ben looked at her in bewilderment. “Jennifer, if I hurt you in any way, I certainly didn’t mean it. I would never…”
Conspicuously silent up to this point, James’s voice was expressionless as he stated, “And I know for a fact he took a belt to Adam just a couple weeks ago.”
Adam looked up, incredulous that his cousin would even bring that episode up. “Pa tanned me ‘cause I disobeyed him. I…I deserved to be punished.”
“With a belt?” Jennifer whispered. “Elizabeth would never have chosen such a cruel and vicious punishment for a mere child – her child. Perhaps she knew of your father’s temper and that is why she entrusted you to me.” She reached out to touch his leg but Adam drew back as if scalded.
“Has your father ever beaten you before, boy?” Judge Sanders leaned in to ask.
“Beaten me?” Adam repeated. He looked to his father, whose dark eyes encouraged him, as always, to tell the truth. “My Pa punishes us when we do somethin’ wrong. That’s his job – to make us into decent men, and…and if he’s gotta take his belt to us now and then to do that, well…that’s what a good father does.”
“Um hmm.” The judge seemed to be considering his answer. Ben reached and took one of Adam’s hands in his own and squeezed, but he knew that no matter how hard the boy defended him, he was already condemned – Jennifer had seen to that. Ben’s mind raced, knowing that the solution did not lie here.
“Judge Sanders,” Ben spoke with barely concealed anger. “My attorney should be back by week’s end. I’m sure he’ll be able to straighten all this out. And in the mean time, we can telegraph Judge Samuel Horton in Sacramento. Perhaps you know him?” Ben referred to another Federal Judge who not only was a close personal friend of his, but also had more tenure on the bench than any of his constituents.
“Yes, of course I know him.” Sanders failed to keep the agitation from his tone. “However, as I said, expediency is of the utmost importance here. We are speaking of the welfare of a child…”
“I don’t wanna go with her,” Adam whined. “I wanna stay here with my Ma and Pa.”
The word ‘Ma’ flowed so naturally from his lips that only Marie jerked her head around to stare at her stepson. It was the first time he had called her that and she wished it could have been under different circumstances. But before she could speak, Jennifer pointed a long, accusatory finger to Marie.
“She is not your mother!” Jennifer shouted. “My cousin, Elizabeth, was your mother, and don’t you ever forget that!”
“Jennifer!” Ben barked.
The words shot from Jennifer’s mouth like venom from a snake. “This woman – Marie de Marigny – is not fit to be a mother. Why her indiscretions in New Orleans are well known…”
“Now wait just a minute!” Ben roared. “My wife is above reproach, both as a lady and as a mother! I’ll not have any more of your slanderous comments…”
Ben moved menacingly toward Jennifer, unable to control his rage. The Marshall stepped between them and physically restrained Ben.
“He is a dangerous man!” The widow cried. “Neither are fit to raise the boy!”
Marie regained her senses first and pulled at Ben’s sleeve, but he was immovable. Judge Sanders nodded and stood, proclaiming, “I’m afraid I must agree with Mrs. Cavanaugh. It is in the best interest of the child to remove him from this home immediately.”
“NO!” Adam shouted. He bolted to his feet, tears of confusion and fear welling in his eyes.
Marie pulled him into her arms, cradling his head to her shoulder. The judge rose to his full height, reached out a long arm and roughly pulled the boy from his stepmother’s arms. The abrupt release caused Marie to fall backwards onto the settee as Adam struggled against Sanders’ grasp. Furious at the way this supposed man of the courts manhandled his family, Ben broke loose and his fist flew into the judge’s jaw, sending him sprawling to the floor. Foster and Cutler swiftly pinned back Ben’s arms.
“You’ll rot in jail for that, Cartwright!” Sanders spat as he held his jaw. Foster’s knee came up and savagely pounded Ben’s ribs. Ben doubled over, gasping, and Foster cuffed him.
Adam ran to his father and threw his arms around him, heedless of the tears streaming down his face. “NO! Don’t hurt my Pa!”
Ben surveyed the room through pain filled eyes and seeing the futility of any more struggle, pleaded to the judge, “Please, do what you want with me, but don’t take my son from his home and his family.”
The room was silent except for Adam’s breathless hiccups. Jennifer broke the silence, “He belongs to me now. It’s over.”
“Take him away,” ordered the judge. Foster pushed Ben towards the door. Ben made one last attempt break free, but the Marshall blocked his way, hitting him with a hard left to his head and a right to his stomach.
“Wait!” Adam shouted as he fought for control. “Wait.” He turned to Jennifer. “I’ll…I’ll go with ya…”
“Adam!” Ben gasped, but his son ignored him. Ben then lost consciousness and a strange look came over Adam’s face – his tears subsided and his eyes became chillingly vacant.
“I’ll go with ya but ya gotta promise me nuthin’ happens to my Pa.”
“He assaulted a judge, boy. Your pa’s goin’ ta jail,” Foster sneered, his yellowed teeth prominent in his weather beaten face.
“I’m not goin’ anywhere till ya promise me my Pa isn’t goin’ to jail.” Adam directed his words to the judge. “Ya might be able to force me to go, but I’ll put up such a fuss ya’ll wish ya’d left me behind.” He could see the judge’s eyes flicker. “Just tryin’ to make your life easier, Judge. Let my Pa go, that’s all ya hafta do.”
Now kneeling beside her husband, a tearful Marie stared at Adam, astonished. His poise and demeanor were well beyond a thirteen-year-old boy’s and although Marie wanted to shout at him, order him to keep quiet, something in his manner stunned her into silence.
“Well, I suppose I could forget about the charges. It’s not like he hurt me with that punch of his anyhow,” Sanders conceded. “But Cutler will stay here and guard Cartwright, at least until Mrs. Cavanaugh has a chance to get the boy away. Understand?” He aimed his decision at Adam instead of the adults.
Adam took a moment to mull it over. He didn’t dare look at his father; he was afraid his resolve would crumble and any hope of protecting his father would be gone. Then he recalled something he’d heard his father say often whenever Adam accompanied him on business.
“I want that in writing.”
“What?” The Judge laughed out loud. “What are you, a lawyer?”
“I want it in writing,” Adam repeated, setting his jaw stubbornly. He stared at the judge, unblinking, arms folded across his chest. “I’m sure I could trust ya, ya bein’ a man of the law and all, but I’m not goin’ anywhere till…”
“I know, I know. Till I put it in writing.” Judge Sanders was at the end of his patience now, anxious to put as much distance between himself and this family as possible. The deputy stepped over to Ben’s desk, opened the top drawer and pulled out a piece of paper. Dipping the quill in the inkwell, he couldn’t suppress a smile.
“You find something amusing, Cutler?” The judge asked, grabbing the items from Reese Cutler’s hand and hastily scribbling something.
“Well, Judge, looks like ya met yer match in that youngin’,” he answered and gave the boy what he hoped was a reassuring wink. Cutler whispered so that only Adam could hear, “Don’t worry none, yer Pa’s gonna be okay.”
“Here,” Sanders thrust the paper in Adam’s face. “Let’s go.”
Adam took it and read it carefully, nodding his acceptance. He then turned and walked to the safe his father kept behind his desk. With his back to everyone, Adam was sure no one had seen him slip his mother’s letter into his pocket.
“Adam!” Marie called weakly, torn between her injured husband and her stepson.
“Don’t worry about me, Ma,” Adam told her as he opened the safe, placed the paper inside, then locked the door securely. “Tell Pa I know what I’m doin’.”
Adam worked hard not to think about why his mother had written that letter, nor why Jennifer would want him when he so obviously did not want her. He fought the mounting fear in his heart and prayed no one could see his struggle to keep his emotions in check.
James hurried down the stairs with his and Jennifer’s bags, which miraculously were already packed.
“Come, Adam,” Jennifer ordered, and he gave her a cold, hard look, one that sent a shiver down her spine. Nonsense, she thought erroneously, he’s just a child, incapable of such hatred.
“I’m goin’ upstairs to say good…good bye to my brothers.” Adam’s voice was soft but his expression was steely, daring anyone to stop him.
“We really don’t have time…” Jennifer began, but her own son interrupted her.
“Oh, let him go. What’s a few minutes going to hurt? They’re his brothers, for God sakes.” Marie heard the annoyance in James’s tone and wondered if perhaps he did not approve of his mother’s plan.
Adam climbed the stairs two at a time. At the top of the stairs stood Hoss, tears streaming down his face. Adam pulled him into the furthest bedroom and shut the door behind them.
“Adam, are ya really goin’ with James and his ma?” Hoss’s chin quivered.
“For now, but ya gotta do somethin’ for me, understand?” Hoss nodded, swiping the back of his hand across his eyes. “Now listen good, because I need your help so Pa doesn’t get in any trouble. Ya know that cave where we saw that baby cub and it’s mother?” Hoss nodded again, tears still spilling. “I want ya to meet me there tonight at midnight. And ya need to bring me a horse – not Sport or Beauty or any of the horses I usually ride.”
“Which one then?”
“Lucifer.” Adam said decisively and Hoss looked horrified.
“But Pa says we ain’t allowed to ride him.”
“Don’t worry about that. There’s no horse faster than Lucifer, so just bring him to me. Can ya do that?”
“Sure, but what are ya gonna do?” Hoss asked. Adam chewed his lip, wanting to confide in his best friend, his brother, but wasn’t sure if he should. As if reading Adam’s mind, Hoss surmised, “You’re runnin’ away, ain’t ya?”
“Uh huh, but ya can’t tell anyone – not even Pa,” Adam whispered urgently. “I’m gonna go find Mr. Whitcomb and maybe even that Judge Horton Pa knows.”
“I’ll do it, Adam. Ya can count on me.”
Adam drew Hoss into a quick embrace. “I know – I trust ya more than anyone in the world, brother.” Adam left the room quickly, as the tears he was determined to hide welled in his eyes. Glancing down the stairs, he made a quick stop in Joe’s room, where the toddler lay on his bed fast asleep. Adam placed a gentle kiss on the soft curls. “I love ya, Joe.”
– – –
Adam’s face muscles ached from keeping his jaw tense, his stony expression never wavering once on the carriage ride into town. He sat mute next to James, who also made no effort to disguise his own bad mood. Jennifer chattered on and on, until Judge Sanders pleaded a headache and courtesy demanded she keep quiet.
As Marshall Foster helped her down from the wagon, he smiled evilly. “I like a lady who gets what she wants.” He cast a glance over his shoulder at Adam. “Though I ain’t quite sure why ya’d want him.”
Jennifer grinned and whispered, “Marshall Foster, it has been my experience that nothing is quite as sweet as the taste of revenge.”
He cocked a bushy brow. “Who ya gettin’ revenge on here – the old man or the kid?”
“Both, and my cousin as well. Good evening, Marshall.” With that, she gathered up her skirts and made her way to the entrance of the hotel. As if suddenly remembering that she was not alone, she turned to Adam. “We’ll be staying here for the night. Tomorrow we shall start out for New York and your new life, the one your mother would have wanted for you.”
Unable to let that remark pass, Adam didn’t bother to mask the loathing in his voice. “My mother’s dead. It’s too bad ya didn’t die along with her.”
Instinctively, Jennifer raised her hand and slapped his left cheek. Adam didn’t flinch and she tried not to show how much that unnerved her. “Don’t you ever speak to me that way again,” she commanded. “You are coming to New York with me, as you should have thirteen years ago. You will live under my roof and be brought up properly, and that means you will give me the respect I deserve!”
Adam smirked at that. “Ma’am, I just gave ya all the respect ya deserve.” He entered the hotel, leaving her speechless, mouth agape.
– – –
A million thoughts flew through his mind as he raced in the dark of night. What if Hoss wasn’t there? What if the Deputy was wrong and his father didn’t recover from the beating he’d taken? What if they came after him and caught him before he could get to Judge Horton and Mr. Whitcomb? And perhaps the most disturbing thought of all – why didn’t his mother trust his father to raise him? For the entire ride, those same questions whirled through his head with mind-numbing intensity. He was so determined to reach his destination that Adam didn’t take the time to stop when his stomach rebelled. He merely turned his head and vomited, wishing he could empty his mind as easily as he emptied his belly.
He slowed the horse as he approached the cave and one of his worries was promptly put to rest. There on a log sat Hoss, nervously chewing his nails. Lucifer and another horse Adam didn’t recognize were tethered close behind him. Hoss jumped up as Adam neared and the look of relief on the younger boy’s face was so evident that Adam vaulted off the horse and ran to him, drawing him into a quick hug.
“I knew ya’d come!” Adam said, casting aside his earlier doubts. Pulling away from Hoss, he asked, “How’s Pa?”
“He still ain’t awake. Ma sent for Doc Martin but I don’t know if he came.” Hoss’s blue eyes were round and full as he added, “Ma’s cryin’ an awful lot, Adam.”
Adam nodded, then turned his attention to the horses. “Ya brought Lucifer like I told ya.”
Hoss brightened somewhat. “Yup. And I brung food and bedrolls and your huntin’ rifle too.”
Smiling, Adam clapped him on the back. “Good thinkin’.” He walked over to the horse who snorted mightily as he approached him. “Whoa, boy. You and me are gonna take a little trip. Easy now.” Adam patted the horse’s massive neck. He turned to Hoss and said reluctantly, “Listen, ya’d better go back now before they miss ya. Thanks for bringin’…”
“I ain’t goin’ home,” Hoss interrupted.
Pulling his head back, Adam answered with authority, “Oh yes ya are.”
Hoss shook his head and declared with conviction, “Nope. I’m goin’ with ya.”
Adam felt his heart would burst in his chest at Hoss’s statement. He slowly walked over to Hoss, trying to find the right words. As much as he wanted his younger brother with him, as much as he needed him with him, the responsibility to protect him was always foremost in his thoughts. “Listen, Hoss, I’d love for ya to come with me, but it’s too dangerous…”
“It won’t be so dangerous if there’s two of us,” Hoss reasoned.
“Maybe,” Adam answered carefully, then tried a different tactic. “But…but what about Pa and Marie? And Joe? They all need ya and…” Adam couldn’t finish his sentence – the idea of being taken away from his family was too painful and talking about them made it downright unbearable.
“The way I see it,” Hoss spoke sincerely, “is, well, Pa and Ma and Little Joe, they all got each other. But you and me is special. We ain’t been apart more’n a day in our life…” Hoss hesitated, struggling to say what he meant. “We’re brothers and brothers always stick together, ain’t that what ya always tell me?”
Adam nodded, letting the tears slip from his eyes.
“And Joe, he’s too little to help, so he’s gotta stay back.” Hoss gulped. “I ain’t gonna let
‘em take ya to New York. Just ain’t no way.”
Adam threw his arms around his brother and didn’t let go for a good long while. When he finally composed himself, Adam murmured hoarsely, “Hoss, nobody could ask for a better brother than you.”
Hoss smiled widely and asked, “So when do we leave?”
– – –
Thump, thump, thump. James pulled the pillow over his head to drown out the pounding, but it didn’t help. For a moment, he thought the noise was coming from inside his head, but then he heard a few more thumps and realized his mother was at the door.
“Adam, answer that door before she breaks it down,” James instructed his cousin, unaware he was alone in the room. The knocks became more insistent and James peered out through slitted eyes. “Adam?” He sat up slowly, wincing at the pain in his head. Noticing Adam’s bed was rumpled and his clothes were gone, his eyes slid to the open window and a small smile tugged at his lips. “Good for you, Cuz,” he murmured under his breath as he rose and opened the door, not bothering to don a robe.
“You’re not dressed yet?” Jennifer cried incredulously. “The stage will be here in less than thirty minutes.” She looked around the room. “Where’s Adam?”
James shrugged. “Thought he was with you.” He reached for his trousers. “Think I could have a little privacy?”
Ignoring her son, she made her way to the window and spun on her heel. “You had one thing to do – keep an eye on your cousin and you couldn’t even do that right!” She angrily slammed the window shut. “He’s probably home by now and his father and that woman have already hidden him away somewhere.” She picked up James’s flask, opened it, sniffed and threw it at him. He ducked and it missed.
“You know, Mother, I’m glad he got away. I’m glad he’s back with his father and mother and brothers and all the people who really love him!” His eyes, although sparking with anger, were also unmistakably sad.
Jennifer was before him in a few quick steps and she raised her hand, but he caught her wrist. “Let him be. I’m your son, not Adam.”
“You don’t understand!” she cried.
“Then make me understand,” he countered. “Tell me why you need to take him away from his family. Is it because Ben raised his hand to you so many years ago?” She looked down at the floor. “I was there, Mother. He never touched you.”
Jennifer’s chin snapped up as she met his gaze defiantly. “Then why didn’t you tell Judge Sanders that?”
It was James’s turn to look down. “Be…because I couldn’t,” he murmured softly.
“It was because you are weak, just as your father was weak.” She regained the upper hand and pointed to James’s clothes. “Get dressed. You’ve spent enough time in this God forsaken place. Do you think you’re man enough to find that boy?”
Without waiting for an answer, she flounced out of the room.
– – –
“Ben? Ben?” Marie whispered as her husband’s eyelashes fluttered on his bruised cheeks early the next morning. He raised his hand slightly. She took his in her own and squeezed gently, trying to infuse some of her strength into him.
“Marie?” he replied, blinking a few times until she came into focus.
“Oh darling, the doctor said you will be fine, you just need to rest,” she told him as she reached for a cool cloth and wiped his forehead and eyes.
He looked around, confused. “What…what happened?”
Her eyes grew in alarm. “You don’t know?”
Ben wrinkled his brow, trying to clear some of the fog from his mind and remember. He knew it was something important – something he had to do – something that cast a chill over his heart that was now beating a bit too fast.
An alarm went off in his head. “Adam!” He cried, and struggled to rise from the bed. Marie placed two hands on his chest and pushed him back despite her own exhaustion.
“No. You must listen to me! You have two cracked ribs and a slight concussion – the doctor said you must stay in bed.”
“But Adam…” There was panic in his voice.
“I sent Charlie and Jake into town as soon as they left to get Sheriff Coffee.”
“What did he say? Did he bring Adam back?” Ben fired the questions at her, but she couldn’t meet his anxious stare.
“No.” Two tears trickled down her cheeks. “He said…he said he spoke to Judge Sanders and there is nothing he can do. We have to wait for Mr. Whitcomb.”
“The hell I will!” At that, Ben threw the covers off and holding his side, rose shakily to his feet. “No one is taking my son from me – judge or no judge!”
At that moment, the door burst open and Little Joe dashed into the room. He threw himself at his father, nearly knocking him off his feet.
“Papa! Papa!”
Ben sat on the edge of the bed and held the little boy tightly, his love for all three sons wrapped up in that one hug.
“Joseph, I want you to be a big boy now. Papa has to go away for a few days and I want you to be extra good for your Mama, do you understand?”
The little boy nodded solemnly, curls bouncing. “Are ya gonna go get Adam and Hoss? I miss ‘em.”
It took a few seconds for his words to register with his parents. “Adam and Hoss?” Ben repeated. He looked up at Marie, but she was just as baffled as he was. “Where’s Hoss?”
“Dunno,” Joe shrugged.
“He went after Adam,” Ben assumed wearily, running his hand through his already mussed hair. “I’ve got to go.” He handed Joe to Marie, but not before he gave him another long hug and a kiss.
“Can I go too?” Joe piped from his mother’s arms.
“Absolutely not!” Ben covered his face with both hands, as if that simple gesture would hold back all the anger, resentment and terror he was feeling. “I need to know that at least one of my sons is safe.”
– – –
“You’re sure this is the way to California?” Hoss asked for the third time that morning as the two boys made their way over some rough terrain. They were careful to stay close to the road but not directly on it, just in case Marshall Foster came after them.
Adam squinted up at the sky. His father first taught him how to use the stars and placement of the sun to judge time and direction when he was very young, living out of a wagon and on the trail constantly. Removing his hat and wiping the sweat from his forehead, Adam reached for his canteen and took a long drink. Hoss imitated his big brother’s every move.
“I’m sure – pretty sure anyway. Besides, this is the way the stagecoach went that time Pa took me to San Francisco with him.”
Hoss wrinkled his nose. “But ain’t Mr. Whitcomb in Sac…Sac…”
“Sacramento.” Adam finished for him. “Yeah, but I figure they’ll take the stage to San Francisco first and head to Virginia City from there.” Adam spoke with more confidence than he felt.
“We gonna eat soon?” Hoss moaned.
“We gotta keep movin’,” Adam told him as he reached into his saddlebag. He pulled out a stale biscuit and handed it to his brother. “Here. This oughtta hold ya for a while.”
Hoss eyed the biscuit dubiously, knowing that the snack wouldn’t hold him for another twenty feet, but sensibly kept that to himself.
The boys rode hard, stopping only to water the horses. Adam kept glancing at Hoss, afraid he would tire and need to rest, but Hoss never complained once about the ride – only the lack of food. Their backsides were sore when dusk fell upon them and they decided to make camp. Hoss gathered some wood for a fire while Adam’s snares ensured them two fair sized rabbits for dinner.
“Adam, ya think that mean guy is comin’ after us? I see the way ya keep lookin’ back,” Hoss said, licking what was left of his dinner from his fingers. He reached for more but Adam stopped him.
Ignoring the question, Adam instructed, “Hoss, we gotta save some for tomorrow.”
Hoss heaved a disappointed sigh and Adam handed him what was left of his own meal. “Here, I’m not hungry.” Indeed he wasn’t; his stomach was jumpy and his head was spinning. Adam knew that someone was on their trail – he could sense it more than anything. He also knew that, given the chance, Lucifer could outrun any horse, but Hoss’s mount had nowhere near the power and speed. Angry at himself for putting Hoss in danger, Adam wished not for the first time that day that he’d insisted his brother return home instead of selfishly allowing him to come along. He had to think of something, some other way of protecting his brother from whoever was after them, as well as protecting himself from Cousin Jennifer. His hand unconsciously patted his mother’s letter in his pocket.
“Hey, Hoss,” Adam said, an idea forming in mind. “Remember when we set that trap to catch Ronnie Pickens?”
“Yeah,” Hoss grinned. “And we caught Mr. Pickens instead.”
Adam frowned – that was part of the story he’d like to forget – that and the trip to the barn when his father found out what happened. “Well, at first light, I think we’re gonna rig that up near the road, just in case someone’s followin’ us.”
Hoss laughed outright. “Can we stay and watch what happens?”
Adam gave him a poke in the ribs and told him to get some sleep. They snuggled in their bedrolls, Hoss between Adam and the fire, Adam’s loaded rifle between Adam and the rest of the world.
– – –
Ben knelt a bit unsteadily, letting the loose dirt sift through his fingers.
“Well?” Reese Cutler asked from atop his horse.
“They were here all right. There were three horses – one headed back to town and the other two went that way.” Ben straightened up and pointed northwest. He glanced warily at his companion, still a bit suspicious of the deputy’s intentions.
Picking up on Ben’s ambivalent feelings, Cutler assured him, “Look, I’m gonna help ya find yer boys and bring ‘em back. That lady…well, she’s just pure evil and the Marshall, he’ll do anythin’ for a buck.”
“And Judge Sanders?” Ben queried as he climbed back on his horse.
“Well, I ain’t got that part figured out yet. I know them two came in on the stage together…real friendly like.”
Ben raised his eyebrows at that. “They know each other pretty well, don’t they?”
“Yep.” Reese spat on the ground. “Seem mighty close.”
Filing that information away in his somewhat muddled mind, Ben prodded his horse in the direction Adam and Hoss had gone, silently trying to puzzle out the situation.
– – –
“Can’t ya go any faster? Damn city slicker, shoulda left ya behind with yer mama,” Marshall Foster complained about James as the two of them tried to pick up the Cartwright boys’ trail. “Ya sure ya know these parts?”
“Oh yes,” James smiled engagingly. “I spent some time here not too long ago.”
Tired and cranky after riding all night, Foster eyed him doubtfully. “I don’t know ‘bout that. Seems like ya could barely find yer way off the Ponderosa yesterday mornin’.”
James cleared his throat. “Yes…um…well, I just got a bit turned around, that’s all. Now I’m fine.” He hoped he was convincing the Marshall, at least long enough to give Adam and Hoss a healthy head start. The two of them had ridden out to the Ponderosa to see if Adam had gone there, only to find Hoss missing and Ben and the deputy gone as well. James marveled at the situation – Hoss, young as he was, obviously trying to help his brother, and Ben, injured as he was, trying to find both sons. James slumped in the saddle a fraction. He wondered how it would feel to have so many people care so much they’d risk their own lives. “I’m sure Adam would’ve gone into the mountains – he knows them like the back of his hand. Lots of places to hide.”
“Ya don’t fool me for a second, boy. Them kids headed this way. Let’s go.” He guided his horse in the opposite direction of the mountains and James followed in silence.
When the sun was at its highest point, Marshall Foster noticed some broken branches to the left of the dusty road. Hopping down from his horse, he crouched and studied the ground intently, a smile lighting his face. “Looks like them kids ain’t so smart after all. Musta stopped here not too long ago – them tracks are fresh.” Leading his horse, he walked forward, laughing out loud at his discovery, certain he was going to surprise his prey and take them back kicking and screaming to Virginia City.
“C’mon!” He called over his shoulder to James. “They’re here somewhere. I can smell ‘em.”
He spied some rocks and burnt out kindling and he laughed again. That is, he laughed until he walked into a pile of leaves to get a closer look. “Now where the hell…”
Marshall Foster never got to finish his thought as he was suddenly flung upwards and hung upside down, secured by a thick rope tied around his ankles. This time it was James’s turn to laugh – he laughed so hard he nearly fell off his horse. Hoss and Adam were sure giving the Marshall a run for his money, he thought with glee.
“What’re ya cacklin’ about? Get me down from here!” bellowed Foster.
James held his stomach, trying unsuccessfully to keep a straight face. “Do you need some help there, Marshall?”
” ‘Course I need help!” he retorted angrily. “Now get over here and cut me down!”
“Hmm, yes, even a city slicker like me can see you’re in quite a predicament,” James tone mocked him. “I think I’d better run back and get my mama – she’ll know what to do.” With that, he clicked the reins and took off down the road to try to find Adam.
Foster’s words faded the further he rode. “I’ll get ya for this, ya….”
– – –
“Adam, are we gonna stop for lunch soon?” Hoss called out as the horses picked their way through the brush. As usual, Adam was in the lead with one eye always on the partially obscured road.
Although he didn’t want to, Adam stopped his horse and motioned to his brother to dismount, remembering Hoss was only eight and unused to such long days in the saddle. Hoss grinned with relief as he tore into his bag and shoved a piece of last night’s dinner into his mouth.
“Ya know, this rabbit tastes even better today than it did yesterday,” Hoss declared as he plopped to the ground. Adam stretched out beside him, pulling his hat over his face, rifle tucked safely under his arm.
“Ya think Pa’s gonna find us soon?” Hoss asked worriedly.
“Sure,” Adam lied, not really sure at all. As much as he wanted his father to find them, he didn’t even know if his father had recovered from Marshall Foster’s beating. Adam’s logical mind also knew that if his father could find them, so could Foster, and that would spell certain disaster.
“Wonder what Little Joe is doin’…”
Sitting bold upright, Adam put his hand over Hoss’s mouth. The younger boy’s eyes grew round as Adam mouthed the word “listen” and pointed to the nearby road. Their eyes met as they heard the clopping of a single horse not far from where they were hidden. Heart quickening, Adam turned and painstakingly picked up the rifle, ready to defend his brother and himself, yet not ready to shoot another human being. He prayed it wouldn’t come to that.
In the seconds he wrestled with those emotions, Hoss sprang to his feet and cried, “Pa!” Adam grabbed his arm but in his excitement, Hoss broke free and sprinted toward the road. Adam was close on his heels, blood pumping through his veins so hard he could hear it in his ears.
“Hoss! Hoss!” he called to no avail. Adam overtook him as they came within a few yards of the road where they both pulled up short.
Tears of frustration and disappointment filled Hoss’s eyes as he bawled, “He ain’t Pa!”
Adam leveled the rifle at the rider, willing his hands not to shake. “Ya can just turn around and go back now. We’re not goin’ with ya.”
“Put the gun down, Adam. I’m here to help.”
“Yeah, right,” Adam answered cynically, never lowering the weapon.
The rider got off his horse, rubbing the small of his back and spoke, “Listen, Cuz, I swear to you, I’m on your side. I even left that Marshall hanging upside down from a tree a ways back.” He held up both hands. “I’m alone and…and I’m sorry.”
At his last words, Adam finally lowered the rifle and studied James’s face. “Why should I believe you? It was you and your ma that started this whole thing.”
“You’re half right. It was my mother that started it and I…I got caught up in her scheme. But not anymore.” He sank to the ground, his long legs crossed at the ankles, his head in his hands. “You’ve got to understand. She’s my mother, and no matter how much I didn’t agree with her plans, I just couldn’t say no to her. I was wrong. I was weak.” He laughed ruefully, recalling his mother’s words about his father. “I can see that now. And the only way I can make that up to you…and myself…is to help you straighten this whole thing out.”
Adam stared at him through narrowed eyes. He could hear the sincerity of James’s words, as well as an underlying current of despondency, and he sat as a gesture of acceptance. James let out a relieved sigh, his conscience quieted for the moment.
“My Pa…” Adam began.
“He’s fine. Marie said he and that deputy are out looking for you two.”
Hoss slapped Adam on the back. “I knew he’d be lookin’ for us!”
Adam smiled faintly. Another worry gone. He fingered the envelope in his pocket. “Hoss, why don’t ya water our horses so we can get goin’? And no more runnin’ off, ya hear?”
“Sure.” Glad for something to do, Hoss scampered off to do his chore.
James reached out, touched Adam’s leg and said, “You want to know about that letter, don’t you?”
Brows furrowed, Adam simply nodded.
“When I traveled to Boston a few years ago, I had a long talk with Great Uncle Abel…”
“My grandfather,” Adam said in wonder.
“Yes. He told me some things…did you know that after your parents had been married awhile, your father got into trouble with some of the dock workers?” Adam shook his head. “Well, you do know that your father didn’t sail anymore once he married your mother, right?”
“Uh huh. He worked in my Grandfather’s Chandlery Shop.”
“That’s right. And because of that, he had a lot of dealings with sailors and the men who loaded the supplies…lots of pretty rough and tumble characters.” James explained. He could see the wharf area so clearly in his mind and felt badly that Adam could only imagine what Boston Harbor looked like. He truly would have loved to shown his young cousin his birthplace but knew now that he couldn’t do it, at least not the way his mother had planned.
“Go on,” Adam encouraged, always anxious to hear about Boston and his parents’ short time together.
“One day, some of the men refused to load…or unload…I don’t exactly remember the whole story…just that there was trouble and your father was somehow in the middle of it. He was gone for a couple of weeks.”
“Where’d he go?” Adam asked softly, wondering why his father had never told him, wondering if James was being totally honest with him. He wasn’t sure who he could trust at this point.
“He was kidnapped.”
Adam’s amber irises nearly popped out of his head. “Kidnapped?”
“Adam! James!” Hoss was at their sides, gasping for breath. “Somebody’s comin’. I seen ‘em from the creek!”
“Foster must’ve gotten loose,” James deduced, jumping to his feet. “We’ve got to hide you two.”
The three ran deep into the woods, so intent on getting away from the Marshall that none of them remembered to cover their trail. Lying on their bellies, horses concealed by brush, James, Adam and Hoss waited, scarcely breathing. The crunch of the leaves told them that their hideout would soon be discovered. Once again, Adam cocked his rifle while James drew the small silver revolver he pulled from his boot.
“Adam! Hoss!” The voice was familiar and incredibly welcome.
“PA!” They both yelled and scrambled into his arms.
“Thank God, are you all right?” He pushed them both away slightly, examining first Hoss then Adam. Ben’s fingers lightly stroked the bruise on Adam’s face where Jennifer had struck him. “Thank God,” he repeated, and embraced them once again. He raised his eyes and caught sight of James, his expression changing from one of relief to one of rage in a split second.
“What the hell are you doing here?” He roared and James involuntarily took a step back.
“I…I…” he stammered.
“He’s helpin’ us,” Hoss explained, but that didn’t erase the thunder from Ben’s expression.
“Helping you what? Helping your brother right back into Jennifer’s arms?”
“No, sir. I’m…I was…” James wrinkled his face, his usually unflappable demeanor shaken. “I mean, I can’t do what my mother asked. It’s not right.”
“And exactly what is it your mother asked you to do?” Ben growled, his arms still around his sons.
Dropping his gaze to his feet, James swallowed hard. Deep in his heart, he wholly disagreed with his mother, knew what she was doing was cruel and vindictive. Yet, some small part of him struggled with the loyalty a son feels for his mother, even a grown son. Ben saw the emotions play across James’s face and blew out some of his anger in a deep breath.
“James,” he said, fighting to keep his voice even. “You and I both know that your mother hates me and that is her right. But we can’t let her take that hatred out on Adam. Taking him away from his home and family isn’t going to solve anything.” James lashes fluttered, but he still did not raise his head.
“Ya wouldn’t like it if somebody took ya away from your family,” Adam proclaimed.
James’s head snapped up. “I’m not sure how I’d feel.”
Hoss and Adam looked at him quizzically, but Ben merely nodded in understanding.
“You don’t know how lucky you are, Adam,” James told him. “You’ve got a father who loves you and two brothers who idolize you. You even had three mothers who all cared about you. Lord,” he laughed, “even the cook loves you. I really don’t think my mother would care if I stayed or went.”
“What about yer Pa?” Hoss asked quietly. “I mean when he was alive.”
“Yeah, I guess he loved me, but he was afraid…” James gulped and looked up, unwilling to continue. “That doesn’t matter now. What does matter is that we find your lawyer and that Judge Horton so they can straighten this whole mess out.”
“Well, that ain’t gonna happen,” sneered Marshall Foster from behind them. They all swiveled to see him standing there, gun barrel pressed up against Reese Cutler’s forehead. “Drop them guns now, or I’ll blow Cutler’s brains all over ya,” he commanded, and Ben quickly threw down his sidearm. Adam kicked the rifle away from his foot and looked at James, who had not relinquished his pistol.
“Should’ve shot you while you were hanging in that tree,” James commented, shaking his head.
The Marshall threw back his head and laughed. “Ya ain’t got the guts, boy. Now toss that sissy gun over here now.”
Cutler’s face was red with both embarrassment at being caught and pain from the hold Foster had on his arm. “Sorry, Ben.”
“Not your fault,” Ben assured him brusquely.
With the gun still pointed at Cutler’s head, Foster motioned with his chin to Adam. “Come here.”
“Leave him be,” Ben said, trying to keep the alarm from his voice.
“Get over here now, boy, or this deputy’s gonna get it.”
Adam walked as slowly as humanly possible toward Foster. When he got close enough, Foster released Cutler, pushing him to the ground, then grabbed Adam. Roughly twisting Adam’s arm back, he thrust the barrel of the gun up against his ear and cocked the trigger.
“No!” Ben hollered, desperately fighting the nausea that welled up into his throat. Hoss pressed up against his father’s leg, afraid for Adam, afraid for them all.
“Now the rest of ya get up on your horses, nice and easy like, understand? ‘Cos I’d hate for anythin’ to happen to this kid – that’d be a cryin’ shame.”
James’s eyes slid to Ben’s and he could see the unveiled fear there. “We’d better do what he says,” James advised. “There’s no telling what he’ll do.”
“That’s right. Ya’d better listen to the mama’s boy.” He wrenched Adam’s arm tighter and Adam cried out in pain. He hazel eyes locked with his father’s dark brown ones, drawing the courage and assurance he so needed.
“Foster,” Ben’s voice was tight, “if anything happens to my son, there’ll be no place you can hide – I’ll follow you to hell and back.” With that, he helped Hoss onto his horse and mounted his own, raising his eyebrows slightly when he spotted Lucifer.
Jack Foster’s eyes followed Ben’s and grinned widely when he saw the magnificent horse. “Cutler, ya can lead my horse back to Virginia City. The boy and me’ll be ridin’ this one.” He pushed Adam toward the animal, gun still trained at his head. Thrusting one foot into a stirrup, Foster swung into the saddle with practiced ease, and then motioned for Adam to mount in front of him. Adam obeyed reluctantly, knowing none of them had a chance without a weapon. The Marshall pulled a pair of rusty handcuffs from his pocket and cuffed Adam’s hands together in front of him. Foster then directed Cutler and James to lead them to the road, with Ben and Hoss next, and he and Adam last. Ben kept turning in his saddle, praying he’d catch Foster with his guard down, but every time he glanced back, Foster sneered and pressed the gun harder into the boy’s skull.
The ride seemed interminable as the day dragged on, until Hoss was first to hear the thunder of hooves approaching from the west.
“It’s the stagecoach!” he shouted, believing they would be saved.
“Get back into the brush,” Foster commanded, brows knit in anticipation. “Now!” He cocked the trigger to underscore the urgency, and the others turned their horses where they would remain hidden.
“But, Pa,” Hoss groaned. “That there’s the stage with Mr. Whitcomb and that judge fella…”
Ben turned smoldering eyes to their captor. “He’s right, you know. And once they get to Virginia City, Sheriff Coffee will hold them there along with Jennifer. It’s over, Foster. Put the gun down.”
Jack Foster chuckled and used the tip of the gun’s barrel to flick Adam’s earlobe. “Yer wrong, Cartwright. Ya see, it ain’t over till I collect my money from Mrs. Cavanaugh.”
“But…but…” James stuttered. “She’s in Virginia City and…”
“Seems like yer mama didn’t tell ya her whole plan, sonny. Once she spots that stage comin’ in and we still ain’t back, she’s headin’ over to Placerville to meet up with us. They’ll be on their way to New York and,” he pointed to Ben with his free hand, “ya’ll be in jail for assaultin’ a judge. The kid here was pretty smart havin’ the Judge write on that paper how he wasn’t gonna press charges, but that paper’s all the way back on the Ponderosa. Straightenin’ all that out’s gonna take some time, I imagine.”
Ben sat, dumbfounded. He could hear Hoss sniffling next to him and could see Adam trembling from atop Lucifer. Never before had he felt so helpless as a father. “But why? I don’t understand,” Ben half mumbled to himself.
“Ben, don’t you see? Don’t you know how my mother hates you for…”
James never got to finish his sentence. They were all so engrossed in the explanation that everyone, Foster included, paid little attention to the stage that rolled by. Although he longed to hear what James had to say, Adam felt Foster’s body slacken slightly behind him and knew now might be the only opportunity he’d have to free himself of not only Foster, but of Cousin Jennifer also. Hating to hurt the horse but seeing no other way, Adam kicked the toe of his boot brutally into the horse, wrapping his bound hands in Lucifer’s wild mane. Unused to such harsh treatment, the horse reared back on its hind legs, unseating Jack Foster who landed with a thud on his backside. Adam leaned low and urged the horse forward in pursuit of the stage, horse and boy becoming one in graceful flight.
Momentarily startled, Ben jumped from his mount to pounce on Foster, but not before the Marshall got off two shots from the rifle that tumbled to the ground in the fall as well.
– – –
“Driver! Stop this coach immediately!” Judge Samuel Horton leaned out the stage’s window to call up to the man atop the rig. Turning to his companion, he added in admiration, “Would you look at that kid ride?”
Lawrence Whitcomb peered out the window as well. Something about that rider was familiar and he adjusted his spectacles to get a better look.
“Why, that can’t be…”
His words caught in his mouth as the boy’s body jerked forward and tumbled to the ground.
“Good God!” Whitcomb shouted. “That’s Ben Cartwright’s boy!”
– – –
Determined eyes fixed on the dusty stage still one hundred yards away, Adam rode with everything in him. The reins flapped wildly as he urged the horse away from Foster and toward freedom. A gun fired once, twice. A sharp burning sensation stung just below his shoulder, thrusting his slim frame forward in the saddle. Something warm and sticky oozed down his arm and he fought in vain to restrain Lucifer. Adam tried to press his legs into the saddle, tried to hold on, tried not to fall but the world spun out of control and suddenly the road rose up to meet him.
There were so many noises– horses and running feet and shouting and even crying. Adam thought someone called his name from far away but just as he tried to open his mouth to answer, the ground swallowed him up whole and he heard nothing more.
– – –
…Adam, son…
…Pa, I can’t move… can’t open my eyes…
…went right through…missed the bone…
…Mama, wake up…please wake up…
…nasty bump on his head…could be fractured…
…where’s Hoss? Joe?…
…not now, can’t you see he’s still unconscious…
…don’t wanna go…don’t make me go…
…keep him quiet, don’t upset him…
…the Indians…Marshall Foster…
…keep her out of this room and away from my son…
…Marie…Ma …
…Cuz, you’ve got to wake up…
…gotta stop the stage…before…before…
…Ben, you must get some rest…
…Pa…Pa…
– – –
The dull ache in Adam’s arm was nothing compared to the pain radiating through his entire head. He tried to raise his hands to his head to keep it from exploding, but for some reason they wouldn’t obey him. Struggling to open his eyes, Adam’s eyelids slid open then quickly closed again. The lamp was much too bright and he could still see the orange glow through his lids even when they were shut.
“Adam,” his father whispered, his face inches from Adam’s.
The boy licked his dry lips and cautiously glanced around the room. Even that slight movement sent knives through his skull and prompted his stomach to rebel. Ben was ready with the basin and placed it under Adam’s chin. When he was done, his father gently wiped his face clean and ordered quietly, “No moving around for a while…”
“But Pa,” Adam replied softly, “I had this awful dream.” Although his voice was low, his words were rushed, as if saying them aloud would purge the scene from his mind.
“Take it easy,” Ben said as he placed his hand on Adam’s chest.
“I dreamt that…that Cousin Jennifer was tryin’ to take me away and…and that my mother wrote a letter and…”
Ben listened intently and for a moment was sorely tempted to let Adam believe that it had all been only a dream. But the bump on Adam’s head and the hole in his arm attested to the disagreeable reality of the situation. Besides, Ben Cartwright had never lied to his sons and wasn’t about to start now.
“Adam, I want you to listen to me. It wasn’t a dream – Jennifer did try to take you back to New York, but you’re safe now.” Ben purposely left out the fact that Adam had nearly been killed in the process – as a father it had been horrifying to live through and he had no desire to speak of it. “When you’re feeling better, it will all be settled.”
“But…” Adam interrupted.
“No buts. Right now the only thing you have to do is rest and get well, do you understand?”
Adam started to nod, thought better of it, and muttered a reluctant, “Yes, sir.”
– – –
The following evening when the pain wasn’t quite as intense, Marie tried to spoon a little beef broth into Adam’s mouth.
“I can feed myself,” he protested weakly.
The look on her face told him she didn’t believe him at all. “Well, humor me and let me do my job.” She winked as she offered another spoonful.
He took it hesitantly, then gave her a small smile. “I guess that’s what mothers are supposed to do.”
She nodded, her face bright and beautiful. “And I can do a lot more, if you just let me.”
Ben’s tall frame entered the room as he took in the scene before him. “He’s finally eating?” Dropping into the chair next to the bed, he took the bowl and spoon from Marie. “I think Hop Sing needs you – Joseph is insisting on helping him wash dishes.”
She rose and placed a kiss above the wide bandage on Adam’s head. “Make sure he finishes that,” she instructed her husband.
“Uh…” Adam cleared his throat.
“Yes?” Marie tilted her head slightly toward him.
“Umm…thanks, Ma,” he said shyly.
Ben looked up in surprise but Marie continued as if she were used to hearing that term of address by Adam all the time.
“You’re welcome, son,” she answered, then left the room and practically skipped down the stairs.
“Pa, do ya think it’s all right if I call Marie Ma?” Adam asked tentatively.
Trying to keep his face bland, Ben concentrated on stirring the soup. “I think she’d like that.” He ladled another mouthful between Adam’s lips.
“I don’t think Mama…I mean, Inger, would mind, right?”
“No, she wouldn’t mind,” Ben replied truthfully.
“What about my mother?” Adam’s eyes, huge and sunken, searched his father’s face.
Ben placed the bowl on the table beside the bed. “Your mother would be very happy that you have Marie taking care of you.” He placed a large hand on Adam’s uninjured arm. “But I don’t think that’s what you’re talking about, is it?”
Quiet for a moment, Adam finally ventured, “Why did she write that letter?”
Ben looked away, not wanting the hurt he felt to influence Adam’s feelings toward the mother he’d never known. “I’m not sure, son.” Drawing a deep breath, he continued, “What I am sure of is that your mother and I loved each other from the moment we laid eyes on one another – and that love didn’t end with her death.”
“But the letter said…”
“I know what the letter said,” Ben declared. “And I also know that no one even heard of this letter until Jennifer got it in her head to take you from me.” Gazing at his son, Ben wondered if the anguish he saw in that young face mirrored his own. But the anguish Ben experienced wasn’t only due to Liz’s seeming betrayal – it had more to do with Adam. Every time Ben closed his eyes, the picture of Adam bleeding on the ground, near lifeless, sprang to mind and it chilled him to the bone. If only he’d let Jennifer take the boy without a fight, if only he had waited for his lawyer and Judge Horton, then perhaps Adam would have been spared injury. Ben losing Adam to Jennifer or Adam losing his life fleeing Jennifer – it was no contest.
“Pa?” Adam whispered, releasing Ben from his morbid thoughts.
Ben smiled and stroked Adam’s cheek with his hand. “Don’t you worry. Now that I know you’re better, Judge Horton and I will take care of everything. It’s time for you to rest now.”
“No,” Adam proclaimed firmly. “I deserve to know and I wanna hear what the Judge has to say.” Adam knew his voice was whiny and petulant, but he didn’t care. “I wanna see this thing through – it’s my life everybody’s talkin’ about! Why does everyone else get to decide but me? Cousin Jennifer and those judges and you – even my mother, and she’s been dead thirteen years!” His volume rose with his temper and he fought the tears of frustration that filled his exhausted eyes.
“Adam,” Ben’s voice held a warning, but it wasn’t for the display of temper. He could understand that – he even felt like shouting himself. He knew Adam had every right to yell and scream but wanted him to keep calm in order to heal properly.
“Please, Pa.” Adam let the tears fall then and his voice was a whisper as he added, “Ya understand, don’t ya?”
Ben nodded his head slowly and drew the covers back to examine the bandage on Adam’s arm. Satisfied, he pulled the blanket up and tucked it in beneath his son’s chin before he answered. “Yes, I do understand. Tell you what – if you’re feeling up to it tomorrow morning, we’ll clear this all up.” He brushed Adam’s tears away with his thumb. “But for now…”
“I know,” Adam grinned sleepily, “get some rest.”
– – –
Still practically flat on his back, Adam tried to eat breakfast that morning while Hoss brought in some chairs and arranged them around his brother’s bed.
“I sure don’t know how Joe uses his left hand to eat,” Adam observed grumpily as he carefully placed a bit of scrambled egg on a piece of toast. As he brought it to his mouth, it fell from his hand back onto the tray. “I give up,” he muttered in disgust. His stomach was too jittery to eat anyway as he eyed the chairs.
Hoss looked at him dubiously. “Ya know Ma’s gonna come in here and feed ya if ya don’t finish.”
Adam pulled a face. “Here, you eat it.” He held it out to his brother, who was happy to oblige and finish what was on the plate.
Soon after, Marie swept in and removed the tray. “You’re managing better with your left hand, I see,” she remarked and both boys avoided her eyes. “Tomorrow, I will have Hop Sing make you a cheese omelet – how does that sound?”
Hoss’s sky blue eyes darted nervously to Adam’s. Everyone knew cheese was the one food Hoss detested and Adam realized Marie was onto their scheme. She smiled innocently at them both however and motioned for Hoss to follow her downstairs.
“I’ll be up later to feed you your lunch, Adam,” she promised over her shoulder and he wondered briefly how parents knew everything.
Shortly after, Ben entered Adam’s bedroom followed by Judge Horton, Judge Sanders, Mr. Whitcomb, Jennifer, James and Doctor Paul Martin. Adam was confused when he saw the doctor, who laid an experienced hand on the top of Adam’s head.
“I’m here to make sure you don’t get overexcited and move around too much,” Doc Martin explained.
Adam wrinkled his face. “I’m fine.”
“Uh hmm,” Paul murmured. “Fine as anyone could be after getting shot and cracking his skull – of course it’s lucky you have that hard Cartwright head – just ask your father.” The doctor shot a meaningful look at Ben who ignored him completely.
Judge Horton looked at Adam kindly. “Now, son, if you feel tired or want to have this meeting another time, you just let me know, okay?”
“Yes, sir,” Adam replied meekly, suddenly overwhelmed.
“We’ve all waited to make sure you’re on the mend before we discussed this…this matter. You should know, Adam, that Marshall Foster is being held in the jail for shooting you. He’ll face trial next week. And pending today’s conversation,” Judge Horton paused, trying to find simpler words a boy might understand.
“I know what ‘pending’ means, sir,” Adam offered indignantly.
To cover his amusement, Judge Horton pretended to stroke his white moustache.
“Yes, well, I see you’re a very bright young man. Pending today’s conversation, I will decide on Reese Cutler’s fate.” He glanced around the room and asked, “Does everyone understand?”
They all nodded their assent.
“I have reviewed the evidence Mrs. Cavanaugh presented to Judge Sanders and frankly disagree with his finding. Amos,” he turned to his fellow judge, “surely you don’t mean to take this boy from his father?”
“Let’s not forget he’s whipped the child on several occasions…” Amos Sanders began.
“Oh come now,” Horton muttered incredulously. “You can’t mean to tell me that you never were on the receiving end of a belt when you were a child? I know my own father rarely spared the rod with my brothers and me.”
“I…um…I…” Sanders stammered, unable to disagree without putting himself in an unfavorable light. He decided to try a different approach. “Well…you see…based on the bruises Mr. Cartwright inflicted on Jen…Mrs. Cavanaugh, plus the eyewitnesses’ accounts of his striking her in Boston years ago, his violent tendencies made me…um…fear for the boy.”
James fidgeted in his chair, nervously clasping and unclasping his hands.
“Do you have something to add?” Judge Horton asked him.
His mother answered for him, “Of course not. He has nothing to say.”
Ben replayed the scene in Boston that took place so long ago. James had been there – to be sure, he had just been a youngster, but something made Ben speak up, “James, you were there. Do you remember seeing me strike your mother?”
Again, Jennifer answered, “Don’t be ridiculous. He was just a baby.”
“I was six,” James mumbled in a strangled voice. “I was six and I saw.”
Jennifer paled slightly, uncertain of her own son’s loyalties. James paled as well and kept his eyes downcast, unwilling to meet anyone’s gaze.
“James,” Adam spoke his cousin’s name softly. “I don’t understand – if ya saw what happened, why don’t ya just tell the truth?”
The struggle with his conscience was obvious on James’s face, but one glance at his young cousin’s face, nearly the same color as the white bandages that bound his head and arm, made honestly win out. James hissed between clenched teeth, “He never hit her.”
Everyone heard Jennifer’s sharp intake of breath.
“Adam’s father never struck my mother, Judge, and he never bruised her that night at the Ponderosa either. It was all her doing.”
“James!” Jennifer cried. “How dare you betray me after I’ve dedicated my life to you!”
“Ha!” James laughed mirthlessly. He stood and paced the room, stopping at the head of Adam’s bed. “You never dedicated yourself to me or to Father – only to yourself and your bizarre obsession with Ben Cartwright.”
“That’s enough!” Jennifer’s face flushed and unladylike sweat rimmed her upper lip. She rose and stood before her son, slapping him soundly across the face.
“Does that make you feel better, Mother? Why don’t you tell them how jealous you were of your Cousin Elizabeth – how she was smarter, prettier, more talented – why don’t you tell them that? Then you can tell them how angry you were when Ben started courting your cousin, even though you were married to a man who adored you.”
James swung around to face Ben. “Didn’t you know how much she wanted you for herself?” Ben sat slack-jawed, dumfounded. “I don’t think a day went by in my Father’s life when she didn’t remind him of how wonderful you were and how weak he was in comparison.”
“I…I had no idea,” Ben stuttered. Thinking back, Ben recalled several occasions when Jennifer’s actions might have been considered flirtatious, but he’d been so enamored with Liz that he’d never seen the signs – until now. “I promise you, I never encouraged her.”
Taking a few gulps of air, James tried to calm down. He felt a hand on his wrist and looked down to see his cousin’s small smile of what? – encouragement, strength, love?
“Of course you didn’t, I know that.” James hesitated, trying to find the inner strength to continue. “Mother thought that by taking Adam, somehow she’d get something that Cousin Elizabeth never got to have – her son. And maybe she’d get you too in the process.”
Jennifer sobbed noisily. “James, how could you? Haven’t I shown you my love by always letting you do as you pleased, giving you whatever you’ve wanted…”
“That’s not love,” Adam corrected her. “My Pa…and my Ma too…care ‘bout what I do ‘cause they love me. And givin’ things isn’t the same as givin’ love.” Still grasping James’s arm, Adam looked at his father, whose look of pride was obvious to all in the room.
“Mother,” James didn’t bother to wipe the tears that streaked his face, nor quell the tremors that shook his body. “I saw more love in the short time I spent with Adam and his family than I did in nineteen years with you. I do love you, but…but I can’t let you do this to them. I can’t do this to them.” Embarrassed and upset, he fled the room.
The room was silent except for Jennifer’s whimpers. Not knowing what else to do, Judge Sanders muddled forward, “There’s still the letter, of course, written by the boy’s own mother, stating Jennifer here…I mean Mrs. Cavanaugh…should raise him if something were to happen to her.”
Judge Horton glared at Sanders through narrowed eyes.
“Amos, perhaps I could speak to you outside? I’d like to discuss a few things – your personal relationship with Mrs. Cavanaugh being at the top of the list.” His tone left no room for argument and both men got up to leave. Jennifer rushed past them and down the stairs.
“We’re done here,” Horton stated.
“Then I get to stay with my Pa?” Adam asked cautiously, trying to sort out what had just happened. His head was throbbing and he was still confused about his mother’s letter, but for now he was only concerned about one thing, and the Judge finally put that concern to rest.
“Yes, son, you’re staying right here where you belong.”
– – –
Doc Martin measured some white powder into a glass of water and made Adam drink the mixture down. The question of his mother’s letter still bothered him, but when he opened his mouth to ask his father about it, Ben shushed the boy firmly but gently. He drew the shades, promising they’d talk later. The pain in Adam’s head gradually subsided and he fell into a deep, sleep, free of the nightmares that had plagued him since Jennifer’s arrival.
It was almost noon the following day when Adam awoke to find his cousin sitting in his room, Bible in hand. It still hurt when he smiled but he did anyway – it seemed so absurd that James of all people would be reading the Good Book.
“Whatcha readin’?” Adam asked hoarsely.
Visibly jumping, James smiled at him. “What’s the matter? Hard to believe that even I read Scripture?” James closed the book and placed it on the night table.
“Well, yeah,” Adam replied honestly. “I mean, it just doesn’t seem like the kinda book you’d read.”
“Now Adam,” Ben called from the doorway, “that’s not a very nice thing to say to your cousin.” Ben entered the room with Hoss close on his heels.
“I didn’t mean to…”
James patted Adam’s leg. “Don’t worry about it – you’re right. Guess dragging me to those services while I was staying here must’ve rubbed off.”
Picking up the book, Ben opened it to where the velvet marker was placed. He scanned the page and found the quote he was looking for. “’Let he who hath no sins cast the first stone…’”
“I’ve got to go back – she’s all alone,” James explained, trying to sound convincing. “I’m going to put a little time between us, let her get to New York ahead of me, then…then…I’ll take it from there, I guess.”
“Why can’t ya stay here?” whined Hoss. “Ya could live with us!”
James reached out and grabbed the child, rumpling his hair. “I think your father has enough boys around here to take care of,” he joked. “Besides, I don’t think the West is for me. I’ve never seen anyone get shot before and believe me,” he shook his head vigorously, “I don’t ever want to see that again.”
“Yeah, ya did turn kinda green when Adam was bleedin’ and all,” Hoss stated honestly and everyone laughed.
James cleared his throat. “So I’m saying good bye.”
“No!” Adam cried. “Not yet!”
“It’s time. I’ve caused you and your family enough pain already. I’m truly sorry for everything.”
Ben placed his hand on James’s shoulder. “James, you are always welcome in our home, for however long you want to stay. I admire your loyalty to your mother and hope everything works out for you. You’re a good man.”
James stared at him for a moment or two before responding. “No one’s ever told me that before,” he said in wonder. Embarrassed, he pulled Hoss into a quick hug and shook Ben’s hand. He knelt by Adam’s bed and teased with tears in his eyes, “Now Cuz, I hope you learn to stay out of trouble. No smoking or drinking or…” he glanced over at Hoss and finished, “…or you know.” Adam knew James was referring to Miss Maddie’s, but unfortunately, so did Ben, who coughed meaningfully.
“I’ll be good – at least till the next time ya visit,” Adam grinned, avoiding his father’s eyes. “Will ya write to me?”
Not trusting his voice, James nodded. Pulling a paper from his breast pocket, he pressed it into Adam’s left hand. “That’s for you and your father.”
– – –
When James left and Hoss was shooed out of the room, Adam handed the paper to his father, who opened it with care. It was torn at the top and Ben’s eyes misted over as he realized what it was.
“Pa? It’s the rest of that letter, isn’t it?” Adam guessed, but his father didn’t answer him. He was lost in a world thirteen years prior, transported by the yellowed paper held in his trembling hands. Unbidden tears streamed down Ben Cartwright’s face and Adam wasn’t sure what to say or do.
“Pa?” He reached his hand out and Ben took it in his own.
Remembering something James had told him, Adam sensed it had something to do with this letter and asked, “Pa? Is it true you were kidnapped?”
Ben looked up then, surprise plain on his face.
“James started to tell me, but he never finished the story,” Adam explained.
“Yes. There was some trouble on the docks – the men were demanding more money and of course, the shipping companies refused to pay. We…your grandfather and I…had just received word that a rather large order had arrived from Europe for us. I went to the waterfront to make sure it had been unloaded – otherwise it might have been stolen or even tossed overboard. It was chaos that day.” Ben paused, unpleasant memories furrowing his brow. “To make a long story short, I was hit over the head and when I woke up, I found myself bound and gagged in the belly of a ship.”
Adam’s eyes couldn’t have been wider. “What did ya do?”
Ben smiled ruefully. “Well, there wasn’t much I could do, was there? All I could think of was your mother and the baby she was carrying – you – and those thoughts were all that got me through those two weeks.”
“How did ya finally escape? Did ya cut through the ropes and kill the bad guys with a sword?” The boy couldn’t keep the excitement from his voice.
Ben covered his face with both hands and laughed. “Nothing so dramatic as that. The authorities got wind of what had happened, boarded the vessel and we were freed.”
“Oh,” Adam murmured, a little disappointed.
“Upset that your Pa wasn’t a hero?” Ben asked, and Adam blushed.
“No, sir.”
“Hmmm,” Ben cocked his right eyebrow and Adam knew his father saw through his lie. “Anyway, when I arrived home, I found your mother in bed, worried sick. She almost didn’t believe it was me when I walked through that door. Scared the bejesus out of her.” He chuckled, picturing the look of shock on his wife’s face so long ago.
“What’s all that got to do with the letter?” Adam asked, still puzzled.
“This is the rest of that letter Jennifer had – the part that explained I was missing and how worried your mother was. Her first thought was for your welfare…”
“But I wasn’t even born yet,” interrupted Adam.
Smiling, Ben laid his hand over Adam’s heart. “You were first in her thoughts from the moment you were conceived.”
Adam was oddly comforted by those words.
“Would you like to read the rest of the letter, son?” Without waiting for an answer, he gave it to him.
Holding it with his left hand, Adam tried to read the words, but the crease of pain between his eyes told his father that reading was too painful. Gently, Ben pulled it from the boy’s grasp and began to read aloud.
“…I will never give up hope that my beloved Benjamin will return, but I must think of my unborn child. Although my father would certainly love and take care of his grandson (yes, I know this babe is a boy), he will certainly need a woman’s hand in raising him. You are closer to me than any sister ever could be, dear Jennifer, and I entrust my son’s care to you should Benjamin and I be unable to see him to manhood. Until my dear husband returns, I shall pray night and day for his safety, and ask you to do the same.
With love,
Your cousin, Elizabeth
P.S. As I reread what I have written, I realize my husband would tell me I am being overly dramatic and pessimistic. Hopefully by the time this reaches you, I will be in my husband’s arms. I know that Benjamin and I will enjoy a long, wonderful life together, and we will give our adored firstborn many brothers and sisters.”
Silence filled the room. Ben stared at the written words, the dreams of his youth never to be realized with his first love. He’d given up questioning his Maker long ago, stopped shaking his fist toward the sky in anger and disillusionment. He had no answers – but he did have his three sons and the love of three women, so special in their own way, in his lifetime. How many men are that lucky, he rationalized.
Adam’s throat was dry and his eyes were wet as he stared into nothingness. His heart literally ached with each word his father read, not quite understanding how he could so love someone he’d never known. Despite his youth, he was well acquainted with death and the emptiness it leaves behind, and like his father, no longer asked why. It just was. Adam coped by not opening his heart easily – the pain was too great to live any other way.
“Papa! Papa!” cried Little Joe as he pushed open Adam’s door and raced into the room.
“What did I tell you about knocking, young man?” Ben tried to sound stern, but couldn’t help smiling at the ball of energy climbing onto his lap. He quickly put Liz’s letter in his pocket. “And how did you get so dirty?”
Disregarding his father’s questions, the little boy used the flat of his hands to wipe away the tears from his father’s face, leaving a streak of dirt on each cheek. “Why you sad, Papa?”
Ben held the child close, peeking over his head to his oldest son, wishing he could take Adam in his lap too and comfort him. Still holding Joe, Ben rose, then rested on the edge of the bed, running his hand up and down Adam’s arm.
“Adam’s boo boo huwt?” Joe asked, reaching out to pat his big brother.
“Yeah, a little,” Adam answered as he stroked the baby’s unruly curls.
Never one to sit still for long, Joe squirmed a bit, felt something stiff in his father’s shirt pocket and made a grab for it. His father was too fast for him and snatched his hand.
“What’s that?” Joe asked.
“It’s a letter, and it belongs to your brother, not you.” Ben answered. He caught Adam’s eye and gave a slight nod. Adam smiled then – he could add that keepsake of his mother to the music box and her picture – somehow it made him feel closer to her.
“I gots a letta too,” Joe declared importantly, and this time both Ben and Adam grinned. Little Joe had a way of brightening everyone’s day and the two of them were glad to have something to smile about.
“Yeah, where is it?” Adam teased.
“Wight in my pocket,” he answered seriously, thrusting his tiny hand into his pants and pulling out a torn, filthy piece of paper.
“See?” He held it up proudly. “The wind blowed it and I catched it.”
“Well, are you going to read it to us?” Ben inquired, marveling at just how dirty his youngest son could get.
“It says…uh…Joe is a good boy.” Joe pretended to read.
Ben and Adam burst out laughing, knowing Joe was seldom a ‘good’ boy.
Insulted, he slid off his father’s lap. “I’m tellin’ Mama!” He announced and ran from the room.
Ben bent down to pick up the scrap of paper Joe dropped in his haste. “I’d better save this. Don’t think I’ll be getting too many letters when he goes to school saying he’s a good boy.”
“I don’t think you’ll be gettin’ any letters sayin’ that,” Adam added, grinning. His grin began to fade, however, as his father’s expression went from amusement to confusion to displeasure.
“What is it?” He was curious and tried to rise to see.
Ben pushed him back gently. “You’re supposed to be still.” He scanned the paper once again, then frowned. “Looks like an arithmetic test.”
Adam sunk lower into the bed, praying it wasn’t the half of Hoss’s test with the big fat red “F” on it.
“A failed arithmetic test,” Ben continued.
“Oh,” Adam mumbled.
“With your brother’s name on it.”
“Oh,” Adam repeated.
“Did you know about this or perhaps how it came to be ripped in half?”
“Ya know, Pa, my head’s really hurtin’ and Doc Martin said I need lots of rest,” Adam hedged the question, hoping to evoke some sympathy.
“I’m sure,” Ben replied, unimpressed. He stood and straightened the blankets. “You take a nap now. There’ll be plenty of time to talk about this when you’re up and around. Give you something to think about while your laying there.”
Adam gulped.
“And don’t think I’ve forgotten the fact that you ran away, stole Lucifer – a horse you’ve been forbidden to ride – and allowed your younger brother to be put in danger,” Ben rattled off Adam’s offenses.
“Gee,” Adam defended himself, “I got that Judge not to press charges against ya – doesn’t that count for anything?” Not waiting for an answer, Adam pushed his point. “Besides, ya always say that fightin’ is no way to settle things, and hittin’ a judge…”
Ben held up his hands in surrender and laughed. “All right. I get the point. I think Sanders was right – maybe you should be a lawyer.”
“Maybe I will, this way I could keep ya outta jail.”
Trying to look stern, Ben wagged a finger at his son. “Don’t press your luck. You might be laid up for a while, but remember, I have a very long memory.”
“Yes, Pa,” Adam tried to sound contrite, but failed miserably.
The End
This is a delightful story!
This is a very nice cute story. Poor Adam so much misery. Good thing Pa was there for him as usual. Thanks