Summary: Just when it seems like certain scars have begun to fade, a chance encounter sends Adam spiraling back into the torment that still follows him more than a year after Eastgate. A WHN for The Crucible and a part of The Scar Series (links below).
Word Count: 7,332  Rating: G

 

The Scars Series
Scars That Never Fade
Scars That Shatter Trust
Scars That Distort Reality
Scars You Can’t Ignore

Author’s note: This the final installment of the Scars series, which takes place a year after the episode “The Crucible.” While it isn’t necessary to have read the first few before reading this story, reading the first parts of the series might enhance the overall storyline a bit and make more sense of the following story. Enjoy!

 

Scars You Can’t Ignore

 

Late July 1863

His fingers twitched, his skin still burning from pressing so hard. White-knuckled thumbs had dug into the thin, suntanned flesh—that delicate scarf of skin that made up the neck.

It had been so easy, so satisfying…

His fingers remembered piercing that delicate scarf, though his mind still refused to accept it. To accept the way the blood had flowed down in thick rivers; the way his thumbs had applied enough pressure to crack the man’s trachea. He hadn’t known he’d possessed such raw strength…

No, his brain wouldn’t accept any of it—and didn’t even know, really, why his feet had him running for his life. Through the vast, dark desert. Over thick sand dunes and around jagged rocks.

Away. He just had to get away.

Away from the bleeding, choking man.

He can’t be choking. You killed him. How can he be choking?

Adam didn’t know. All he knew was that slowing to a stop would be akin to signing his own death warrant. Even when his legs burned and his lungs constricted in pa in, he would have to keep running. Keep—

“Going somewhere, Cartwright?”

The voice stopped him cold. Darkness clouded the outskirts of the desert and all he could see was a vast spread of landscape. Endless, endless landsc—

But how…?

Heart hammering so that he could hardly catch a breath, Adam whirled around, scanning the darkness like his life depended on it. Maybe it does.

A laugh echoed somewhere off to the right and he turned.

Nothing.

How…? He had seen the blood; had felt the man’s life drain away as his hands pressed down and squeezed.

“I told you,” the voice said, its familiar tone making Adam’s skin crawl, “you can’t escape me, Cartwright…”

No…

“Or yourself.“

And then, there he was, hovering inches away from Adam’s face. Kane stood tall and strong, not a trace of blood in sight.

Even through the foggy darkness, he could see that Kane was smiling… And laughing.

Closing his eyes, Adam sucked in a breath, willing the face to be gone when he opened them again.

And yet, there he was.

No matter where he turned, Kane was there.

“I’m always here, Cartwright. You might have killed me, but you’ll never get rid of me. I can promise you that.”

I didn’t kill you! I didn’t—

He wanted to shout it, to scream it in Kane’s face until his throat was raw and ragged.

Instead, he closed his eyes again and dropped to his knees.

Wake up…

He didn’t try to pinch himself, to start small like that. Like normal people. No, he went for his own neck, dragging his nails across the tender skin and down the front of his chest in a desperate attempt to escape.

The hand-shaped bruises on Kane’s neck jumped and danced as he continued to bark out that cruel, sickening laugh.

Wake up!

Wake—

—Something pulled Adam out of the dark arms of sleep, ripping him away from its claws with a jolt. He didn’t have time to feel any gratitude for the fact that he hadn’t cried out this time.

That face…

The adrenaline was already shoving him out of bed in a tangle of blankets that he quickly kicked to the side.

That face…

He had to get away, had to wake up, had to—

Stumbling, Adam braced himself against the doorframe, taking a few seconds to catch his breath.

You are awake.

Right…

Waking or sleeping, it didn’t matter much these days. That face haunted him either way.

“I don’t want to kill you, Kane, I just want to get away from you!”

A slow, cold shiver trickled down his spine.

He needed light.

In the darkness, everything looked the same. In the darkness, he couldn’t tell if his eyes were open or closed; if he was still dreaming or had managed to escape the vivid nightmare.

In the darkness, he was trapped.

The fire in the hearth cast a low glow across the living room furniture, making the shadows dance with every crackle and flicker. Easing himself down on the settee, Adam welcomed the last vestiges of light. His hands still trembled too much to have lit the lamp in his room with any kind of success, so this would have to do.

It had been more than a year since Eastgate. Don’t you think you should’ve been over this by now?

In the beginning, the dreams hadn’t spared him even a single night of peace. Toward the middle of that long year, the night terrors had waned, though maybe that hadn’t been as good a thing as he liked to believe. He supposed that was about when he’d started hearing the voice in his head. In one way or another, Kane continued to haunt him from beyond the grave.

Adam couldn’t tell which was worse, the nightmares or the voice.

You never were that sure of yourself, were you, Cartwright?

Sucking in a sharp breath through his nose, Adam let his eyes close for just a moment. Just a single moment. Too long and he might begin to feel that familiar prickling against the back of his neck. Like someone was hovering mere inches behind his shoulder. Watching, waiting…

“Are we just supposed to stare at each other all night, then?”

“At least until I’m certain you won’t be able to escape, Cartwright.”

“Yes…” Even now, he could still feel the sting of the ropes that had once chafed his wrists every night. “… because that’s exactly what I was about to do.”

“Go right ahead. I enjoy watching you struggle.”

Chest hitching, his eyes shot open and he risked a quick glance over his shoulder.

Nothing.

Like always.

Adam took another breath, slower this time.

Did you honestly think I’d be there? After you squeezed the life out of me?

I didn’t kill you.

The voice was quiet after that, refusing to comment further, but Adam knew it was only a matter of time before it would strike again.

I didn’t…

Part of him wanted to say it out loud, clinging to the irrational thought that if he gave the words a voice, Kane’s ghost might actually hear them.

Then, maybe he would go haunt someone else.

But Adam had never believed in ghosts. He did, however, believe in the rapid deterioration of the mind, in psychological trauma, in insanity.

I’m not insane.

When you quit telling yourself lies, maybe I’ll start thinking about leaving you to rest.

Go away.

You can’t escape me, Cartwrigtht.

Adam almost laughed at the familiar words. They were the ones he heard most often. Instead, he clamped his jaw shut and pursed his lips tight.

I know.

Lest he really begin to sound insane.

I know…

For a time, he’d been able to trick himself into believing he was getting better. The dreams had been fading and the voice wasn’t so bad, really. Somehow, he had been getting better.

Hadn’t he…?

Maybe not.

He couldn’t tell if that thought sounded more like Kane or his own voice. It was getting progressively harder to tell the difference between the two.

Still, hadn’t he been getting better? Somehow…?

The last time he’d endured that particular nightmare had been at least five or six days ago. Maybe even a full week.

If that’s not progress, I don’t know what is.

That afternoon had changed everything.

Something deep inside him, the part that would have him biting his nails down to the quick with worry if he paid it any mind, had hissed in his ear the morning, whispering that maybe he should make Joe or Hoss go with Pa instead.

But he had been the one to work with his father on this contract, so it only made sense that he would be the one to meet with a potential buyer for their latest herd of cattle in Virginia City.

Adam closed his eyes and let out a slow breath, allowing them to rest shut for only a mere handful of seconds before fixing his gaze back on the dying fire. The longer he rested his eyes, the more time the face would have to materialize in the darkness, which is why sleeping might not be an option for the remainder of the night.

He would have grabbed a book if he thought he would be able to concentrate, but as it was, he couldn’t stop thinking about the trip. About Virginia City and that man. The one with the smiling eyes and the genuine manner.

The one with his name.

It shouldn’t have thrown him for such a loop, but until that moment, Adam hadn’t heard the name spoken aloud since that first week after the… incident. His family had said the name a few times, sure, and it was always bouncing around in his head, and yet, to hear it again like that… To shake hands with the man while he said it—as he spoke the short, four-lettered word—had shaken Adam’s world more than he would ever care to admit.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Cartwright. I trust your journey into town didn’t give you too much trouble.”

The fire crackled and Adam felt himself flinch.

“If you can call a leisurely ride beneath a clear blue sky ‘trouble,’ then no more than usual,” Pa had replied with a chuckle. “And please, call me Ben. This is my oldest son, Adam.”

The stranger had stuck out his hand then and grinned. “William Cain. It’s a pleasure to meet you both—and to do business with you.”

“Well,” Pa had chuckled once more, “the pleasure’s all ours, but we’ve hardly done any business yet, so what do you say we get to it?”

William Cain.

Spelling it differently in his mind like that was just one of the methods Adam had employed in his vain quest to distance himself from the situation.

It shouldn’t mean anything. It’s a common name.

For some reason, that thought sent shivers down his spine. How many more people were out there with the last name of his tormentor—or first name?

If you don’t sort yourself out, Cartwright, you’ll soon find you won’t even be able to leave the house for fear of that very thing.

Yeah? And who’s fault is that?

I don’t know… Whose is it…?

Gaze trained on the fire, Adam felt an odd exhaustion wash over him as he slumped forward, burying his face in his hands.

I really don’t know anymore…

“I just really don’t know,” he whispered.

He remembered the way he had steeled himself against the rising flinch as he shook hands with Cain. William. Call him William.

He remembered the way his father had eyed him with that cautious, walking on eggshells stare Adam had come to despise in his family.

With any luck, he tried to reassure himself, recalling the way his own smile had faltered for only a second or two, you’ll never have to see the man again.

For the crime of doing absolutely nothing, Adam was ready to condemn the man to a life without his friendship or company.

Pity, Cartwright. He seemed sort of like the kind you’d enjoy sharing a drink with.

Shut up. Sucking in a breath, Adam pried his hands away from his head, needing to see again. To see every creeping shadow and find the source of every abnormal creak. Just shut up and stop pretending like you know a damn thing about me.

That laugh echoed through his mind. That taunting, barking, horrible laugh.

You still don’t get it, do you? Of course I know everything about you, Cartwright. I am you.

Someone had sucked all the oxygen out of the room, he was sure of it. That, or Adam’s lungs had taken a page out of his mind’s book and stopped obeying him; stop working properly.

He waited for air, for his lungs to fill again, but none came.

The cold night air was slapping his face before he even realized he’d stumbled outside. Hat on his head and jacket clamped between his fingers, Adam was grateful for the unconscious habit of grabbing his things before leaving the house.

The yard was cool, dark, and quiet—and it was quieter still in the barn, where Sport was waiting for him with expectant eyes.

Almost as if the animal had known he would come along eventually that night.

Without air, he readied his horse. Without air, he climbed into the saddle. Without air, he nudged Sport into the yard, making one final attempt to fill his burning lungs.

Only as he rode down the path and away from the ranch did the sweet relief of breathing wash over him. If he hadn’t been having enough difficulty telling the difference between the voice and his own thoughts before, he sure was now..

Sure?

Adam scoffed, the evening breeze whistling across the sheets of sweat that still coated his neck from the nightmare.

When was the last time you were sure about anything?

He couldn’t say—didn’t know.

With a sharp pang deep in his chest, Adam realized he didn’t know much of anything anymore.

And he hadn’t for a long time.

 

~*~*~*~

He didn’t know what he’d hoped to find in town that night.

A distraction, maybe. Enough light and noise to drown out the silence the voice had left him with since the start of his journey. Peace of mind.

Yeah. Right.

Peace had been an elusive little sprite for the last year or so, and despite riding into town more times than he could count, Adam had yet to find peace in Virginia City.

He had found a tall, cold glass of beer, however, and he brought it to his lips, resting the smooth edge of the mug against his chin as he surveyed the saloon.

Enough drunks were still milling about even at such a late hour. A man who still seemed to have half his wits about him plunked a miserable rendition of Red River Valley on the piano, flanked on either side by two painted ladies, both of whom looked like they wanted nothing more than to collapse in a soft bed.

Adam took a slow sip of his drink. Maybe he would stay there all night. Maybe he would take another ride through the hills, with only the trees and the stars to judge him.

Maybe he would…

He didn’t really know.

Just take it one minute at a time. Just one minute—

“I have to say, I didn’t expect to see a friendly face here at this hour, but it’s sort of funny…” Adam knew who it was standing there even before he glanced up. “…You were on my mind tonight, oddly enough.”

William Cain smiled down at him and suddenly, Adam knew exactly what—or who—he’d hoped to find in Virginia City that night.

Maybe it was out of pure curiosity, or a self-destructive need to fight pain with more pain, but he welcomed the opportunity to face the demons that had been gnawing at him for the past year and let them have at him.

“Mind if I join you?”

With a wordless gesture, Adam invited the older man to take a seat at the table. The bartender brought him a drink, and it was only after a few minutes of silence that Adam was able to find his voice again.

“What brings you here so late?” He forced a chuckle, fingers tightening around his mug. “Any sane person would be fast asleep in bed.”

The man’s own chuckle was filled with a genuine gaity that Adam found himself envying. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed like that.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

Adam took another drink, making a mental note to order something a little stronger on his next round. “Well, maybe I’m not sane.”

“Maybe I’m not either, Mr. Cartwright,” the man offered with a grin Adam tried to match. “After all, I’m about to buy that herd of yours for a rather outrageous price, aren’t I?”

Adam gave a small shrug. “I don’t recall twisting your arm in any particular direction. And here, it’s just Adam.”

The man nodded, still smiling as he took a sip of his drink. “Will. Only my Ma called me William—and only when she was upset.”

“Will it is,” Adam said, managing a wry smile as the chuckle he was trying for died in his throat. “You, uh, said I was on your mind…?”

The shift in tone was thick enough that Adam could practically feel it, like a fog rolling in over the lake. Maybe, if he tried hard enough, he could get lost in it… Maybe then he wouldn’t have to think.

Will took a long drink, then he sat back and fixed his companion with the kind of stare Adam felt in his very soul.

“You know, I can’t say for sure. I was taking in the sights around town and you came to mind.” His chuckle was soft. “I honestly never expected to see you any sooner than tomorrow afternoon.”

“Well, I’d be lying if I said you hadn’t crossed my mind once or twice, as well.”

“Any reason in particular?”

“Couldn’t really say.”

Liar.

Adam hid his grimace behind another drink.

There you are…

I’ve told you, Cartwright, you can’t get rid of—

“You know, I’ve seen eyes like yours before.” Glancing up, Adam saw that a heavy contemplation had settled on Will’s face.

“Dark and ruggedly handsome?” But the lack of humor in his tone made the small attempt at a joke fall flat and Adam drowned it in another drink, only to find he’d reached the bottom of his glass.

Will’s answer sent shivers down his spine. “Haunted.”

With a flick of his hand, Adam motioned the bartender for another drink. “Whiskey,” came his hoarse request, and within minutes, he was downing the burning liquid.

The knowing look Will gave him made Adam want to order a long row of shots, far as the eye could see.

“I’m right, then… aren’t I?”

Swallowing, Adam savored the warmth of the whiskey as it flooded through his chest. “I’ve found the answer to that is rather subjective—and it changes frequently. Let’s just say you… reminded me of someone,” he added, feeling the sudden urge to explain.

Always over explaining yourself these days. Always quick to make sure everyone—

A chug of whiskey washed away the voice. For now.

Will hummed, nursing his own drink. “If I were to guess, I’d say that someone wasn’t the pretty banker’s wife you met once upon a summertime.”

Feeling his lips curve upward ever so slightly, Adam shook his head. “Unfortunately.”

Another hum. A knowing nod. Then, Will took a drink.

As Adam kept a tight grip on his glass, he found the whiskey wasn’t the only thing burning his throat.

“Where’d you see them?” he couldn’t help but ask. When Will tilted his head, Adam clarified. “The eyes.”

Will stretched, his arms coming to rest folded across his chest. “I saw them about, oh… about fifteen years ago, now. I’d been through a particularly rough patch of life and had thought enough time had passed. Thought I was fine.” A scoff as the man shook his head. “Then, I walked by the mirror on the way out of my hotel room. That’s where I saw them—and I mean really saw them—for the first time. Scared me so much, I ended up having to pay the hotel for a new mirror and the doctor for a new hand.”

His chuckle was still genuine, but this time when it rang out, it had lost some of its vigor.

“What’d you do?” Adam barred his mind, trying not to think of the last time he’d looked in a mirror…

“I kept on living, I guess,” came the humored response.

“No, I mean.” Adam took a short breath. “How did you move past it?”

“I didn’t.” Though Adam hadn’t quite known what kind of answer he’d been expecting, that certainly wasn’t it.

“Adam,” his companion said with a heavy sigh, “there’s no simply moving past the kind of thing that happened to me.” He flashed a grin that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “I won’t spare you the gory details. It sounds like you have enough demons of your own to wrangle.”

Adam gave a small snort at this, forcing a half-grin as he ignored his racing heart.

Laugh or you’ll cry. Isn’t that what they always say?

“So,” he began after downing the last of his whiskey, tone as empty as the gaping hole in his chest, “there’s no hope for any of us then, is there?”

“I didn’t say there’s no hope,” Will countered. “I just said, I never moved past it.”

Same difference.

Agree to disagree.

Adam couldn’t help but scoff. “Maybe you haven’t looked in a mirror recently, but your eyes don’t seem all that haunted to me.”

Will smiled as if he alone held the key to the world’s greatest secret. “They aren’t.”

“I think I need another drink for this because you’re not making a lick of sense.”

“Let me take a wild guess,” Will began, that knowing smile tugging at his lips once more, “and you tell me if I’m heading in the right direction. Whatever’s haunting your eyes like that is something you’ve been trying like hell to forget. The trouble is, you can’t wrangle your demons while trying to forget they exist at the same time. Just when you find they’re starting to fade from your memory, one of them jumps up and bites you right in the chest. Sound familiar, or am I completely off track?”

“I think,” Adam said with a slow nod, “you hit the nail right on the proverbial head.”

He took a minute to look at the man. To really look at him. At those smiling eyes and sun-worn skin. At those relaxed shoulders and that confident tilt of the head.

It was an older version of the kind of man he used to see in his mirror every day before—

“The key is letting them go.”

Adam met the man’s eyes again and found himself locked in a stare he wasn’t sure he wanted to break.

Even as his throat continued to constrict, Adam tried to keep his tone casual. “That sounds an awful lot like moving on to me.”

“Oh, the demons don’t leave once you stop trying to wrangle them and let go,” Will clarified. “They keep trying to get at you as best they can. The trick is learning to live with them. Figure out what riles them up, then find a way to live with that without destroying yourself. If you stop giving them your attention, pretty soon they’ll get bored and leave. It might take a while, but I will tell you one thing: the harder you cling to them, the longer they’ll stick around.”

A scoff burned the back of his throat, but Adam couldn’t force anything past his lips but a low whisper. “I’m not clinging to my demons.”

“No?” Will shook his head. “I didn’t think I was, either, but let me ask you this: how many times a day do you find yourself thinking about whatever happened to you?” Before Adam could even open his mouth to answer, Will pressed on. “Now, I don’t mean triggers. You said I reminded you of someone, and only a few minutes after I met you this afternoon, your eyes glazed over with a handful of ghosts that have been with you ever since. Well, I suppose you can’t help what happened this afternoon, but what about since then?“

“I’m… afraid I don’t follow.”

Will rephrased his question with a calm patience Adam had felt in himself once upon a long time ago. “Since this afternoon, how many times have you dwelled on whoever it is you saw when you heard my name?”

Adam’s chuckle was dry and he kept his grip on his glass despite its empty contents. “You make it sound like I’m doing it on purpose. Like… Like I enjoy thinking about it. I can assure you, I’m not the one bringing these memories to the forefront of my mind.”

Then, who is, Cartwright?

You are.

“Maybe not.” Will gave a slight shrug. “But it sounds to me like you’re the one keeping them there.”

Spikes of pain shot through his gums as Adam clenched his jaw. It seemed like both Kanes were intent on blaming him for it all, somehow.

Maybe he shouldn’t have ventured into town after all.

Only, there wasn’t any malice in this Cain’s voice. No blame, no condemnation or judgment. Just a calm statement of fact.

“What would you have me do?” Adam asked after a sigh. “It’s not like I can just turn off the memories.”

“No.” Will’s smile began making its valiant return. “But I’ve found it’s nearly impossible to think about two separate things at once. And I mean really think about something. Go ahead, give it a try.”

Despite the concept sounding so obvious a child should have been able to figure it out, Adam found himself testing the waters. He mentally ticked through yesterday’s To-Do List while simultaneously trying to remember a poem Inger used to put to a soft lullaby and sing to him. The result was a jumbled mess that only added to the pounding headache he hadn’t even realized had started pulsing in the back of his head.

Will’s smile widened, almost as if he could tell by Adam’s face that the experiment had failed. “Now, to my point. When I released my hold on my demons all those years ago, they still stuck around, so I ignored them by thinking about something else. Something a whole lot nicer, like a memory of my mother, or the my son’s face when he won a scholarship to Harvard. And I don’t mean just a short flash of memory. I’m talking about the deepest, fullest recollection of that memory you can conjure—one that fills almost your whole mind. I think you know the kind I’m referring to.”

Adam felt himself nod, having found the air in the saloon suddenly very stale. His mind whispered that it couldn’t be true, that the solution couldn’t be that simple.

One whole year of demons and it couldn’t have always been that simple…

“On top of that,” Will went on, “there’s nothing quite so healing as telling someone you trust about it instead of stuffing everything down where you think it’ll just disappear, but let me tell you, if you stuff old papers and secret letters in a box and bury it deep beneath the ground, it’ll still be there for you or someone else to dig back up down the line.”

“I’m guessing you told someone?”

Will nodded. “After about five damn years of letting the pain chew me up from the inside out. I told my father, God rest his soul, and while doing that didn’t chase the demons away, it made dealing with them a whole lot easier.”

Adam wanted to nod, to snatch up the shiny lure of hope before Will yanked it away; to dare to believe that things could get better.

Instead, he heard a bitter laugh escape his lips. “Funny, I thought you were trying to tell me to move past it, not relive it.”

“Not move past it,” Will clarified. “You’re not listening. I said, learn to live with it. You can’t do that until you acknowledge that whatever it is actually happened, how it hurt you, and why you can’t seem to let it go. There’s no better way to do that than by telling someone.”

For the first time that night, Adam didn’t have anything to say; couldn’t find an argument to shoot back at the man sitting oh-so calmly across from him.

“It’s not going to be easy, I can tell you that right now,” Will said after a moment. “But, over the years, I’ve found that the things that are the most worthwhile in life rarely are. In the end, the choice is up to you. I can only tell you what my own experience taught me and let you go from there.”

Slowly, Adam felt himself begin to nod, lips pursed in a tight line.

You’re not actually thinking something like that will work, are you? That familiar, haunting laugh echoed through the back of his mind. You tell someone and they’ll see my side of it, Cartwright. They’ll realize how crazy you really are.

Shut up.

Another peel of laughter.

I’d have thought you would’ve known by now, that doesn’t work on me—

Shut up.

Rather than give into the shiver that was threatening his spine, Adam blinked, brows dipping ever so slightly. That wasn’t Kane’s voice, or his own…

“Just shut up for a minute, will you, Adam?”

It was Joe’s.

Leaning into the memory, Adam saw a thirteen-year-old Joe shove him lightly onto the settee.

“You’re not the only one who knows how to get stuff done around here, so just sit down and shut up, okay?”

“Yeah,” Hoss chimed in with a grin. “You get some rest and let us handle things for a while.”

The longer he dwelled on the mental image, the harder he tried to recall what had gotten him feeling so poorly at that time. Pa had been gone on business in San Francisco and… maybe Adam had caught some sort of twenty-four hour bug? He couldn’t remember. All he knew was that he’d pushed himself to the limit and his brothers—bless them—had taken over his work load.

Only when Adam blinked Will’s smiling face back into focus did he realize a small grin was tugging at the corners of his own lips.

“What?” he felt the sudden, self-conscious need to ask.

“I told you it works, didn’t I?” Before Adam could even ask how he could possibly have known what had just happened, Will gave a short nod. “Your eyes are a little less haunted already.”

At a loss for how to respond, Adam heard a low chuckle gradually bubble in his throat. Motioning to the bartender one last time, he ordered two more drinks, sliding the second across the table.

“You’re a guest in my hometown, you’re about to buy a large chunk of my father’s livestock, and…” Adam chuckled once more. “…I think you might have just saved my life. The least I can do is buy you a drink.”

Will took the offering with a smile and a nod. “Many thanks.”

“I think I should be the one thanking you.“

At this, the man shrugged. “What’s the use of surviving a hardship if we don’t use it to help pull our fellow man out of the same dark pit?”

Adam raised his glass. “I’ll drink to that, Mr. Cain.” Even the simple act of uttering the name aloud felt liberating and his grin widened. “I’ll drink to that.“

 

~*~*~*~

 

The ride back to the ranch that night was quiet, and for the first time in over a year, Adam found himself enjoying the silence. The voice would return, he had no doubt of that, but for now, he would take it one minute at a time.

“I look forward to seeing that ranch of yours,” William had said, shaking Adam’s hands as they parted ways.

The great Ponderosa. Yes, I’ve heard of it… Who hasn’t?

Adam had buried the memory with Inger’s poetic lullaby and the voice had been silent ever since.

The house was just as still and quiet as he’d left it hours earlier, though the grandfather clock told him it wouldn’t stay that way for very long. That was just as well. Maybe he could catch his father for a moment before his brothers came down.

Before he lost his nerve; before the resolve burning inside him faded to ashes…

The book on the coffee table was as good a companion as any while he waited and Adam settled into his favorite chair by the fireplace. He almost didn’t hear the telltale creak of the first stair, and when he glanced up, there was Pa, concern sparking in his aging eyes at the sight of his son.

“Couldn’t sleep?” His father was trying to be conversational and Adam could tell it was taking no small amount of effort to keep his tone nonchalant.

Adam flashed him a slight grin. “Not really, but I’ll live.” Pa’s attempt at a smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “How’re you?”

His father gave a short nod and adjusted the cuff of his right sleeve. “Good.”

He didn’t return the question. Hoss and Joe had learned early on not to direct that particular morning greeting at their oldest brother, and Pa had soon followed, all of them giving up in that area.

Closing his book, Adam sighed and leaned back into his chair, savoring the look of pure surprise on his father’s face when he said, “Me too.”

It became very clear very fast that Pa didn’t know how to respond, or maybe he couldn’t find a way past his shock, so Adam gestured toward the settee.

“If you have a minute, there’s something I’d like to tell you.” As his father took a seat, Adam huffed. “Something I probably should’ve told you long before now, but I… I didn’t know how.”

The way his father was looking at him so patiently, so intently, made him feel like he held the secret to world peace.

“And…” Pa began, his voice gentle. “You do now?”

A small smile tugged at Adam’s lips and he shook his head. “No. But I’m still going to try.“

Pa stayed silent, settling in and waiting for him to continue. Adam took a breath. He could already feel the tension building in his chest; the familiar ache of his heart beginning to hammer against his ribcage.

Another breath had him closing his eyes, but only for the briefest of moments. If he could be done hiding from this, maybe he could move on. If he could get at least part of the story out in the open, maybe he could… no, not move on… learn to live with it.

Somehow, he would learn to live with it.

After all, nothing truly worthwhile is ever going to be easy…

Right.

He let himself steal one more stalling breath before prying open the floodgates.

“I won’t waste time on the earlier details,” Adam began slowly, choosing his words with more care and deliberation than ever before. “It’s probably better if I just jump right into the thick of it, anyway. I guess… Well, I guess it all really started when he shot the mule. She was our only real way out of there…”

He didn’t clarify anything, didn’t start the story by setting up the scene and the key players, yet somehow, Adam knew that his father knew. Knew what he was talking about, knew how it was killing him just to talk about it.

At several points in the story, Adam felt his tongue dry up. There were times he couldn’t manage to squeeze any words out of his tightening throat or think past the thick fog trying to cloud his brain.

And somehow, he managed. Pa was patient. More so than you deserve for waiting so damn long to do this.

Adam ignored the thought, shoving it away as he pressed on. If he didn’t tell it now—all of it—then he knew he never would. The tightness in his chest didn’t go away, and yet, as he got further into his telling of the tragedy, he felt… lighter.

And the voice remained silent.

When he choked on his words one final time, his throat and chest constricting until he was certain he would suffocate like Kane—

—hedidn’tsuffocatebecauseyoudidn’tkillhim—

—Adam felt a pair of strong, familiar arms wrap around him and almost immediately, he melted into his father’s embrace.

“Thank you, Adam. I’m so proud of you,” Pa whispered, voice barely audible. Yet, Adam heard it.

He heard every word.

For more than a year, he hadn’t felt like the kind of son that would make a father want to utter those precious words, and he still wasn’t sure how long it would be until he felt worthy of hearing them, but in that moment, Adam savored the declaration, holding onto it with every fiber of his being.

Finding his reservoir of words suddenly empty—he’d used them all up on his story—he sucked in a steadying breath and gripped Pa tighter. His year of turmoil hadn’t come to an end, he knew all too well that the voice would be back soon enough, but he had decided then and there that he was done going through it all alone.

 

~*~*~*~

 

Joe’s stone flew out of his hand, skipping across the lake with a soft plunk, plunk, plop.

“Sometimes, I wonder what would’ve happened if I’d gone with you that day.”

Stiffening only for a moment, Adam forced himself to relax again as he glanced up from his book. “Now, how many times has Pa told us not to dwell on the things we can’t change?”

That put a guilty little smirk on his brother’s face and Joe shot him a look. “Then I guess we’re all just hypocrites because Pa does it, too. I’ve seen him, deep in thought with his brows creased when he thinks no one’s looking.”

They were talking about it these days.

Adam heaved a small sigh and leaned back against the fallen log that had served as his couch for the better part of the afternoon. Hoss and Pa were off a ways, engaged in a game of horseshoe, their lunch all but abandoned. The impromptu Sunday picnic had been Hoss’ idea. Adam hadn’t realized how much they all had needed something like this.

A quiet afternoon of togetherness.

Pulling a leg up to his chest, Adam rested an arm atop it and studied Joe. His youngest brother’s shoulders were relaxed, but Adam could sense the tension that still wrapped his soul.

“Still,” Joe said, reaching for another stone to skip, “I wish I would’ve gone with you instead of sticking around for that stupid trial.”

“I don’t.” Adam’s confession was soft, yet firm. Confident.

Joe glanced back at him, dark eyes sharp and questioning.

“It wouldn’t have done any good, I don’t think,” Adam explained.

“You don’t know that.”

“Maybe not, but I don’t see how you being there would’ve made that much of a difference.”

Joe was silent for a moment and Adam could tell he was trying to decide whether to lash out or keep riding the wave of calm until it died.

Calm, apparently, won out in the end because Joe’s response was quiet. “I could’ve helped you.”

“Maybe.” Giving up on his book, Adam sucked in a breath. “Or, maybe he could’ve used you against me—to hurt me more than he already did.”

They were talking about it now. A few days after he’d finally caved and told his father, his brothers started finding out little bits and pieces. Now, the subject was an open book they would all close someday, but not until each of them had a chance to heal.

Adam had been a fool to convince himself that he was the only one being affected by his own mental torment. He knew that now. After all, Joe had been the one to find out first; had been the one to think his oldest brother died in the desert without even getting to say one last goodbye.

He knew that still stung Joe every so often. Joe never said anything directly, but Adam could tell.

“Maybe,” Joe whispered after a long moment. Then, he flung his stone into the lake with a little more force than necessary.

He got four skips out of that one and Adam couldn’t help but feel a little impressed—and proud. It was nice to see that all those long hours spent trying to teach a younger Joe the delicate art of skipping stones hadn’t gone to waste.

“Maybe,” Joe repeated, abandoning his search for another rock and wandering over to where Adam lounged just above the bank. “I still wish I would’ve gone with you, though,” he went on, plopping down on the ground just right of his brother. “So you wouldn’t have been alone. I don’t know… I just… Just wish I’d made a different choice, that’s all.”

Not even bothering to mark his page, Adam closed his book and gave Joe a soft smile.

He could’ve continued his lecture, using logic and reason to convince his brother that dwelling on the past never did anybody any good. Never.

Maybe we are a family of hypocrites after all, came the wry thought, but Adam couldn’t bring himself to feel condemned by it.

Because at least his inner voice sounded like his own again, not some odd mix of…

Well, he didn’t need to think about that right now.

And he didn’t have to lecture. Joe didn’t need that. Not right now…

With another breath, Adam took a second or two to let his gaze wander over the sparkling water of Lake Tahoe before fixing it on Joe.

“I’ve wondered what might’ve happened if I’d made a different decision, too. If I would’ve stayed with you in Eastgate rather than riding off on my own.” Adam paused, focusing on keeping his shoulders relaxed even as Joe’s began hunching up to his neck. “I’ve wondered that more times than I can count… We could both keep on wondering, even though we both know it won’t accomplish a single thing. Hell…” He threw in a brief chuckle to ease the tension building in his chest. “We probably will, anyway. But… I know what you’re trying to say and I appreciate the sentiment more than you know.” Smiling, Adam nudged Joe’s knee with his foot. “Thanks, Joe. I mean it.”

The tension lingered in his brother’s shoulders, but Joe returned the smile.

“Hey!” Hoss’ shout danced across the breeze. “If you two are done lazin’ about over there, we could use a couple more hands in this next game!”

“I had a feeling it’d only be a matter of time…” Adam gave an exaggerated sigh. “He knows I’m no good at that game.”

To his surprise, Joe was hitting him with a sly grin. “You wanna know what I think? I think you’re a skilled horseshoe player who just doesn’t like the game, so you don’t put in any effort.”

“Or maybe, I’m just bad at it.”

But Joe was shaking his head. “I saw you beat Ross Marquette once like it was nothing. Are you trying to tell me that was just pure luck, plain and simple?”

Adam felt his own lips turn up in a matching grin. “Well, why don’t we get over there and you can find out when I wipe the floor with you.”

“Oh no. This time, I’m on your team.”

A laugh bubbled in the air. A warm, refreshing sound that Adam was pleased to realize came from him. By the look of Joe’s face, he was surprised, too.

It had been a long time since he’d laughed like that. Since he’d let himself laugh at all.

Seconds later, Joe was joining in the laughter. Across the way, Adam caught sight of Pa out of the corner of his eye. He was more than smiling.

He was beaming.

Climbing to his feet, Joe held out a hand. When Adam took it, he noticed how secure it felt. How secure he had begun to feel these days.

He wondered, not for the first time, why he hadn’t taken his family’s outstretched hands sooner. All he had to do was reach out…

… And they would be there.

 

The End