XxXxX

4

“I’ll have you ridin’ like this all the way to jail!” Joe hollered.

When the outlaws stopped and turned again, Deputy Clem Foster smiled. “Thank you, Joe,” he said softly to himself. “That’s just what I needed.” He started his slow approach, keeping to the shadows of the boulders.

“You don’t stop all that yappin’,” the younger of the two outlaws warned, “I’ll give ya’ what’cha keep askin’ for!”

Clem saw the man reach for his gun. The deputy froze, planting himself against the rocks and raising his rifle.

“Don’t be a fool,” the older of the two said, staying Clem’s hand. “He can’t die unless one of his kin sees him die. You know that. He ain’t worth nothin’ any otherwise. And neither are we.”

Relieved, at least for the moment, Clem waited, holding his rifle ready and watching the younger man’s fingers dance dangerously above his holster.

“Randy,” the older one added in a scolding tone when his partner held silent. “We need to git. We’re expected by nightfall.”

“We’ll never git nowhere at this pace. He’s slowin’ us down.”

“He’s the only reason we got anywhere to git to! Just stop listenin’ to him, why don’t ya’?”

“Let me down,” Joe interrupted, “and we’ll all ride faster!”

Clem lowered his rifle, fairly confident the immediate risk to Joe had passed. He took a few more cautious steps.

“He’s got a point,” the older man sighed. “Maybe we ought-”

“Maybe we ought’ta just knock him senseless again!”

“Then I’ll be dead weight,” Joe shouted back. “The only way to move faster is for you to let me ride!”

While the outlaws stared at each other, each considering just what they ought to do, Clem took two final steps.

“Come on, boy,” the older one said before grunting his way through a slow dismount. “Give me a hand.”

“We gonna knock him senseless?”

“Just git down from there,” the older one scoffed, clearly irritated, “and help me out.”

Clem waited, his fingers flexing, his heart pumping faster by the minute. He watched as the younger man moved his hands away from the gun, focusing his attention on climbing down off that horse of his. And then, finally, “Hold it right there!” Clem shouted. He moved out of his cover, keeping his rifle at the ready, aimed at the youngest outlaw. “Raise your hands,” he demanded. “Both of you.”

The younger man, Randy, spat at the ground.

“Do it!” Clem yelled.

“We’ll oblige you, lawman,” the older man said calmly as his lifted his arms away from his sides, “but you won’t like what happens next if we don’t deliver this boy like we’re expected to.”

“Oh? And just how are you expected to deliver him?” Clem slowly approached Randy, silently threatening him with the rifle until Randy’s hands also eased upward.

“Well now,” the older man answered. “I don’t reckon we’re much obliged to tell you that.”

“Suit yourself.” Clem grabbed Randy’s gun. He emptied the chamber, dumping the bullets on the ground and then tossing the now useless weapon behind him. “You can tell the jury instead. I have to warn you, though. Cartwrights have a lot of friends in Virginia City. Could just end up with a rope around your neck.”

“You threatenin’ me, lawman?”

“No more than you’re threatening me. Now get on over here and handcuff your friend.” He took out a pair of handcuffs he’d tucked into his belt, and held them out toward the older man.

“And if I don’t?”

“Well, I suppose shooting him would be just as effective and a whole lot less troublesome.”

“Think I care what happens to him?”

“You tell me.” Clem aimed the rifle at Randy’s head.

“H-Hank?” Randy pleaded.

Clem cocked his weapon.

“Come on, Hank! You ain’t gonna let him do it, are you?”

“What’s it gonna be?” Clem asked.

“Hank!” Randy called out desperately. “Handcuff me! Please, Hank! You got to!”

Hank sighed heavily, shaking his head. “I suppose it’d just be a waste of good ammunition.”

As he approached, Clem shifted the aim of his rifle, making it clear the older man was in no better position than his frightened, young friend. Then he grabbed the man’s gun before turning over the handcuffs. “Now put ’em on,” he demanded.

With that done, Clem went the extra step of threading rope through the cuffs and tying the outlaw around a tree. At least that way the kid wouldn’t try anything stupid while Clem focused his attentions on freeing Little Joe.

XxXxX

Joe wasn’t entirely relieved when Clem started jostling him around-well, Clem and that miserable outlaw. It was probably the outlaw’s fault that coming down hurt a whole lot worse than going up. Of course, Joe hadn’t actually been conscious when they’d first tied him to the saddle like that, but Joe didn’t bother with remembering such details. What mattered was that he didn’t want that outlaw anywhere near him, and yet he’d had to rely on that man’s strength to help Clem lift him from the saddle and get him back on solid ground. Clem had said he needed the help, and maybe he did; but it wouldn’t have mattered to Joe one bit if Clem had dropped him head first. Somehow Joe was certain that wouldn’t have bothered him nearly as much as when that old man’s hands had wrapped a rope around his throat, or when that finger that was even now fumbling with the knots binding Joe’s wrists had pulled the trigger, putting a bullet into Joe’s palm-a bullet that was still there, wedged up against the joint of Joe’s thumb.

“Hey!” Joe shouted when the man’s thumb brushed against his own, making it feel like it was being broken all over again. “Get him away from me, Clem! I swear I’m gonna kill him if you don’t get him away from me!”

“Ease up, there, Joe,” Clem said. “He’s a whole lot easier to watch when he’s doing the work and I’m holding the gun.”

“Yeah, well you won’t have to watch him if you tie him up like you did his partner.”

“If I do that, you’re going to have to wait to get the rest of those ropes off.”

“I’ll wait then.” Joe’s eyes never strayed from the old man. He didn’t dare look away.

“You sure about that?”

“I’m sure. Just…just get him away.” Angered by the telling catch in his voice, Joe clenched his jaw and kept his gaze locked on the outlaw. It was rage that stole his voice, not fear. That old man had to know that; he had to see that. But, dammit!, the look in the old man’s eyes stayed as calm as ever, like he didn’t have a care in the world. You’re going to prison, mister, Joe said in his own mind. I’d like to see you pretend you don’t care then. Oh, I’d like to see you in prison, alright. Or maybe worse. Maybe I’d like to put a rope around your neck myself.

“Come on, Hank,” Clem’s voice unlocked Joe’s jaw and allowed his burning eyes to blink. “The sooner I get you nice and snug like your buddy, Randy, over there, the better.” The hand that landed on the old man’s shoulder was dangling a strip of rope.

“Got no cause to do that,” Hank said, his gaze not yet moving from Joe. “I’m too old to run, too tired to fight.”

“I might buy that,” Clem answered, “if I hadn’t seen you high-tail it away from that livery back in Virginia City. I’m guessing you’re pretty good at poker.”

“I do alright.”

“I suppose you do.”

“If you don’t use that rope on me, I’ll take care of this boy’s hand for you.”

Joe stiffened again. He could feel his nostrils flaring, and was glad. There would be no mistaking his anger now. “You touch me and I’ll kill you.” He could swear the man smiled. It was small and quick, but it was a smile. He was sure of it.

“If you’re so willing to take care of his hand,” Clem sounded puzzled, “why didn’t you do it before now?”

“Had no cause to.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Joe said. “He’s the one who shot me.”

Hank shrugged. “Better me than some of the others. Could’a blown your hand clean off if I’d a let that one do it.” He nodded toward Randy.

“If you’re the one who did it,” Clem asked, “why would you want to fix it, now?”

“Got no cause not to.”

“I don’t know what to make of you,” Clem tugged Hank’s shoulder to turn him, and then set to work tying his hands. “But I’ve got no good reason to trust you.”

“Suit yourself. I imagine you’ve got bigger things to worry about, anyway.”

“Like what?”

Hank smiled. There was no mistaking it this time. He smiled wide and clear. “I don’t reckon I’m obliged to say.”

XxXxX

“Alright,” Ben Cartwright said coldly, “you’ve gotten what you wanted, and I’ve waited long enough. Now tell me where my sons are.”

Elijah chuckled softly and tapped his cigar with his ring finger to release the spent ashes into the street. Then he settled back into the chair on his front porch. “We’re not finished yet, Ben,” he said in a slow, matter-of-fact manner that had gone well beyond trying Ben’s patience. “How many times do I have to tell you that?”

Ben had been forced to bear the man’s company since their meeting at noon-a meeting that still had Ben’s blood running cold. Even now he could see Little Joe standing high in that loft with a rope around his neck. “I’ve given you your contract,” Ben answered, putting all of his chilled blood into his tone. “I’ve corroborated your ridiculous story with the newspaper. What more do you possibly need from me?”

“I need for you to see this through, Ben. We’ve yet to hire workers for our business venture. Once the news comes out that there’s a new silver bonanza brewing on the Ponderosa, all they’ll need is to see you and me standing together, and they will line up clear to the edge of town to sign up.”

“You won’t need me for that. That newspaper article will be enough on its own.”

“Of course, I need you, Ben. That mine is on the Ponderosa, after all. I need you right up until the silver starts flowing. Then and only then will your responsibilities have been fulfilled.”

“You can’t be serious.”

Elijah gave him a puzzled look. “I’m surprised at you. You yourself have already seen how serious I am. Young Joseph may not have met with his demise earlier today, but that doesn’t mean it can’t still happen. And then, of course, there’s Adam and Hoss.”

Ben felt every muscle in his body go tense. He wanted nothing more than to pommel this man. Somewhere deep inside him he wished he could allow himself to be as reckless with his anger as Little Joe, to just act first without thinking, without…without recognizing with sickening clarity how such a simple, heedless act could ultimately bring harm to any or even all of his sons. “You must be mad,” he hissed with barely controlled rage. “No sane man would ever go to such extremes, playing with men’s lives for the sake of a…a business deal that cannot possibly be made lucrative.”

“As long as the silver flows, it shall be quite lucrative, I assure you.”

“At a cost in lives. How many will have to die before you realize exactly how unprofitable that mine actually is?”

“As long as the silver flows, Ben. That is all that matters.”

“You really are mad.”

“A strange name, that. Hoss. I can’t imagine a sane man finding it acceptable for his child to go through life being called Hoss.”

“You have no business judging any man’s sanity.” Ben caught a glimpse of Hop Sing at the upper end of the street. He started to rise before he realized he was doing what he knew he couldn’t do: he was acting without thinking.

“Ben? I haven’t excused you, yet.”

Ben glared back at him, amazed and infuriated. “You have no right!”

Elijah shrugged, taking another deep draw of his cigar. “Right or not,” he said then, tendrils of smoke following his words, “I have your sons.”

Helpless, Ben gazed at Hop Sing long enough to see the Chinese man shake his head as though in understanding, and then he retook his seat. “What now?” he asked icily while he watched Hop Sing scurry away.

“Now, I suppose we should check in on Mr. Mullins’ progress at the newspaper. We’ll need to get out there among the people when that paper hits the streets, to show how excited we are about the news.”

“They will not get excitement from me.”

Elijah’s glare grew dangerous. “Be careful, Ben. Your sons are counting on you. Don’t you forget that, not for a minute.”

Clenching his jaw, Ben looked to the spot where Hop Sing had been a moment earlier. His sons might be counting on him, but he was counting on that Chinese cook to somehow…somehow help Roy Coffee figure out a way to end this absurd and treacherous madness.

XxXxX