XxXxX

8

Elijah Garrett thought of everything. Absolutely everything. He planned for every contingency, including the fire he now intended to set. His men worked with the kind of efficiency that can only be derived from advance planning, and perhaps even practice. The valuables Garrett had told them to pack had been catalogued and mapped to ensure no time was wasted on items not worth the time and effort of packing and transport.

Yes, Garrett had planned for every contingency, with only one potential exception. He had never once considered Ben Cartwright might refuse to follow his commands, or worse, turn that refusal into outright rebellion.

“You still have two other sons, Ben,” he said when Ben argued against leaving the house without Adam. “Would you honestly condemn them both to die simply to save your eldest?”

“No one must die,” Ben countered. “End this. End it now, before it’s too late…before the law has no choice but to condemn you to die.”

“Do you listen to nothing I tell you? Nothing at all? None of what happens will ever lead back to me.”

But the one who wasn’t listening was Elijah Garrett, himself.

Ben’s opportunity came when all three of Garrett’s men were sent outside to prepare a carriage and buckboard. Free now of the scrutiny and brawn of Garrett’s hired brutes, Ben ran up the stairs with the recklessness of Little Joe, giving no thought to the possibility of a misstep.

“Ben!” Garrett shouted. “What are you doing? I demand you come back down here at once!”

Ben paused on the first landing, realizing he had no idea on what floor Adam had been sequestered.

“I’m warning you, Ben Cartwright! All three of your sons will be forfeit!”

Ben glanced down at the man running toward him, and then hurried up the next set of stairs, following instinct more than rational thought. Reaching the third floor, he scanned three doors until his gaze landed on the outer bolt that had been affixed to the fourth.

“They’re dead, Ben!” Garrett’s shouts were just down the hall from him now. “All of them! All three of them! Do you hear me?”

Ben threw the bolt and shouldered the door open.

“Ben Cartwright! I….” Garrett pushed past him to discover what Ben had already found. The room was empty. “What? No! This cannot be!”

After both men’s eyes moved to the open window, Garrett started toward it, but Ben did not. Instead, he grabbed hold of Garrett’s arm, swung him around and punched him right in the nose.

The man fell to the floor, gasping and grasping at the injury. “How dare you!”

“How dare I?” Ben shouted back. “How dare I? Why you miserable wretch! How dare you!” He dropped to his knees and grabbed Garrett by the shirt collar. “That was for Adam! This….” He punched him again. “Is for Little Joe. And this….” Another punch. “Is for Hoss. And let’s not forget Hop Sing, and that young girl you see fit to rule with that iron hand of yours!” And suddenly Ben lost count of the number of punches he was throwing. It was then that he realized Garrett hadn’t thrown a single punch of his own. He wasn’t fighting back. He wasn’t arguing…. He wasn’t even conscious.

Ashamed at himself, Ben lowered the man back to the ground, appalled at the bloody mess he’d made of Garrett’s face. “How dare I,” he whispered to himself.

An explosion outside moved his gaze to the window, where he glimpsed the first of the night’s fireworks. The scent of fire that followed it was wrong, somehow. The fire! Ben remembered then. Were Garrett’s men already at work setting the blaze he’d ordered? Ben pushed himself to his feet, glancing briefly at the window and praying for his oldest boy’s safety. Then he hurried back down the way he had come. He had to reach the storeroom before it was too late. He had to free Hop Sing and the girl.

XxXxX

The last thing Adam wanted to do now that he knew his little brother was safe was to leave him without fully knowing what harm had come to him. But Hop Sing’s shouts and the smell of fire were immediate concerns he could not ignore.

“I’ll be right back, Joe.” He tried to sound reassuring, even as he realized it was a promise he might not be able to keep. He had no idea yet exactly what he would be facing the moment he stepped out that door. “Joe?” he repeated when Joe didn’t respond, his hand lingering on his brother’s leg.

“Yeah.” The word came out soft, breathy, and Joe’s eyes did not open for it. “Heard you.”

The latest round of fireworks seemed to be punctuated with gunfire, and Hop Sing’s shouts grew more insistent. Still, Adam couldn’t bring himself to leave.

“Go,” Joe said. This time, he did open his eyes. He even tried to smile.

“It sure is good to see you, Joe.” Adam squeezed Joe’s leg, reasonably certain that was one spot on his brother’s body that didn’t seem to hurt him.

“Yeah.” Joe closed his eyes again. “I’d say…the same….” His smile widened as he drew in a few, quick, panting breaths before opening his eyes again. “If ya’ had some clothes on.”

“Trust me, Joe. I wish I did.”

Adam watched his brother for a moment longer, waiting for Joe’s breathing to ease, even a small amount. But it didn’t seem like that was going to happen. And the smell of fire outside was growing more pronounced. And Hop Sing’s shouts were starting to become lost amidst a growing cacophony of other voices. And the gunfire was not abating.

“I’ll be back,” he said with a final squeeze of Joe’s leg, before pushing himself back to his bare and now bruised feet-thanks to the jump he’d had to make from Garrett’s upper window to the Henderson’s roof, and then from the roof to the ground-and stumbling out the kitchen door.

XxXxX

Flames were flickering on the roof of the Garrett house and gunshots were continuing to sound from the direction of the street, where Sheriff Coffee had gone. But Adam’s attention was drawn to the back of the house and a small crowd of perhaps ten Chinese men. He moved toward them, hopeful and anxious to enlist their aid, but, apparently, they had already been recruited. As he drew closer, his gaze landed on Hop Sing leading the young Chinese woman out the back door and motioning widely to the men surrounding him, as though telling his tiny army what to do.

Adam smiled at the girl, hoping to catch her eye and bid her a silent ‘thank you’ for enabling his escape. But she did not look toward him.

“Adam?”

His father’s voice turned his attention to a window off the kitchen. Pa’s eyes widened and his face paled, as though he thought he might be seeing a ghost.

“Pa!” Adam grinned back at him, and then stood where he was until his father could push through the crowd and reach him.

An instant later, Pa took hold of both of his arms in a grip almost firm enough to bruise, although Adam noticed one hand seemed to spasm and then loosen.

“Are you alright, son?” Pa asked, clearly concerned as his gaze moved to the bandage around Adam’s head.

“I’m fine. What about you?” He looked at his father’s right hand as another round of fireworks shot up above them, illuminating Pa’s red, bloodied knuckles.

“Oh,” Pa pulled away, seeming abashed. “I, ah, I’m afraid I got a little carried away.”

“I don’t think you’re the one who got carried away. Was Elijah Garrett really behind all of this?”

Pa nodded. “All of it. Every bit. Now if we can only get him to tell us where your brothers-”

A crash from above them was followed by a shower of sparks and a series of startled cries from amongst Hop Sing’s men. All eyes moved upwards to see that the roof had caved in. The fire was growing wilder by the minute.

“Dear God!” Pa’s face paled worse than it had a moment earlier. He looked…ashen…stricken.

“We’d better move away from here.” Adam tugged on his father’s arm, but Pa seemed rooted in place, his eyes locked on the uppermost floor of the house, a floor that was now fully engulfed in flames. “Pa?”

“Dear God!” Pa said again, his voice fading to a desperate rasp. He looked about ready to sink to his knees.

“Pa?” Adam called out, feeling desperate himself as more sparks shot down toward them. “Pa! We need to get out of here!”

When his father looked at him then, Adam’s own grip loosened, and he, too, felt about ready to collapse at what he saw in his father’s eyes. In those dark, gentle eyes, eyes that had always given him comfort, Adam saw nothing of the man whose wisdom and strength of character had been a lifelong model for his own. Instead, he saw a man haunted. He saw sheer and utter horror.

“I…I killed him!” Pa said it like it was a confession to St. Peter himself. “I killed him! I…knocked him senseless, and then just…just left him up there. I killed him, Adam!”

“Pa!” Adam gritted his teeth, feeling as though he was about to become haunted himself if he couldn’t move his father out of danger. “We can’t stay here!” As though to emphasize the urgency of Adam’s pleas, a chunk of burning wood dropped to the ground beside them.

Hop Sing’s small army spurred into action, rushing past the two men and toward the front of the house.

“Mr. Ben!” Hop Sing shouted. “Mr. Adam! You come! You come!” He grabbed hold of Ben’s arm, even as he gave Adam a quick nod and a smile Adam had difficultly matching, concerned as he was for his father.

Finally roused, Pa tried to take charge then, probably coming to realize the danger Adam faced without regard to his own well being. It didn’t matter, Adam decided, as long as he moved. Yet as they started past the neighbor’s house, Adam realized Pa wasn’t the only person he needed to worry about at that moment. Some of the burning debris must have landed on that roof as well, igniting an entirely new and equally deadly blaze.

“Joe!” he shouted an instant before the roof collapsed into the room beneath it.

XxXxX

The pain was slow to subside, but, with enough concentration, Joe was able to move himself past it, relegating it to an ache that enveloped him but did not consume him. He just could not give into it, not yet. There was too much going on outside, too many threats-to Adam, to Sheriff Coffee, even to Hop Sing and Pa-for him to ignore. Joe could not sit idle with all that shouting and all that gunfire going on just the other side of the Henderson’s kitchen door.

Carefully, gingerly, he pushed himself to his feet, taking his time to prevent the blackening of the world around him from growing beyond his peripheral vision. Then he staggered slowly toward the door. He leaned against the frame for a moment, catching what little he could of his spent breath. Finally, he pulled the latch and reached for the gun in his belt. Only then did he realize the gun was gone. Had he dropped it? Had Adam taken it?

Those moments with his brother seemed more of a dream than a reality. Whatever had happened to the gun was lost in a fog Joe could barely comprehend. All he knew was he didn’t have it now. Sighing, he decided it didn’t matter. Armed or not, he could not sit on the Henderson’s kitchen floor and wait for his family and Sheriff Coffee to bring an end to Elijah Garrett’s threats.

He slipped through the door just as a section of Garrett’s roof crashed down around him, clipping part of the Henderson’s roof and blocking Joe’s view of the back, where he’d heard Hop Sing shouting. Listening now, he heard additional voices back there, voices that seemed more calculating than desperate, though he couldn’t make out any words. It was enough to let him feel assured Hop Sing was not alone and in need of rescue…at least not for the time being.

Joe decided it would be easier for him to move toward the front of the house than the back, feeling along the Henderson’s wall and keeping most of the fire behind him. After just a few steps, his foot kicked at something on the ground, something that clattered like weighted metal. Or like a gun, he realized. Yes. A gun. It had to be the gun he’d dropped after meeting up with Adam.

He couldn’t help but smile, believing he’d been given a gentle nudge from above to proceed in that direction.

Dropping low to retrieve the gun was not easy, but, using the wall for support and holding his breath, he managed the task without reawakening the pain. Then, taking just a few steps more, he caught sight of Sheriff Coffee hunkered down in the street, in front of a buckboard. The sheriff was firing toward the front of the house as well as into the street. Joe watched the angle of Sheriff Coffee’s shots and listened to the sound of return fire until he was able to determine the general direction of the other shooters. Finally, he brought up his gun and pulled back the hammer.

But before he got off a shot of his own, a movement in the street behind the sheriff caught Joe’s eye. He saw a third outlaw grab hold of one of the horses that had not yet been hooked up to the buckboard. With a finesse that rivaled one of Joe’s expert swing mounts, the outlaw came astride that horse in one, quick jump and then brought his gun up, aiming for the sheriff’s back.

Joe shot first. He missed the outlaw, but caught the attention of the sheriff, who started firing without any hesitation at all, forcing the outlaw to spur the horse into a gallop.

Then it was Joe who didn’t hesitate. He tucked the gun back into his belt and moved quick as he could to the remaining horse.

“Joe!” Sheriff Coffee hollered at him. “Get down, boy!”

But Joe’s mind was set on one thing and one thing only. He barely realized what the sheriff was saying; instead, he studied that horse, trying to figure a way to mount it with practically his whole body protesting his every move. A moment later he climbed up onto the hitching post. Though balancing was a challenge, it wasn’t too hard to swing his leg up and over the horse’s back from there.

“Little Joe!” the sheriff shouted. “What in tarnation….”

Joe couldn’t hear anything more. The sheriff’s voice was drowned out by the pounding of the horse’s hooves and the new round of gunfire already falling into the distance behind him.

XxXxX

Ben held onto Adam as though he were clinging to the face of a cliff. He held on with all the strength he could muster, strength enough, he hoped, to save both their lives.

“Joe!” Adam cried out yet again. “I left him there! I thought…I thought he’d be safe! He was supposed to be safe!”

With a new surge of energy, Adam plunged forward, almost pulling out of his father’s embrace. Almost. But Ben held firm. He had to. He couldn’t bear to lose any of his sons to that fire. The very idea of Little Joe trapped in that inferno burned Ben on the inside, tearing him apart like acid on his soul. He very likely would have stepped into the flames himself, oblivious, feeling none of it, if it weren’t for Adam. No. He couldn’t bear to lose any son like that, but to lose two of them…. No. That would utterly…utterly destroy him.

“You can’t, Adam!” Ben said in as stern a voice as he could muster. He hoped it sounded stronger to Adam’s ears than it did to his own. “It’s too late! It’s too…too late.” Behind him, another crash followed by a splash of flaring embers reminded him just how late it was. He closed his eyes as tightly as he could, wishing against all hope that he could close out all awareness of that fire. He pulled Adam tighter, too. It didn’t help. It couldn’t. Nothing could. Nothing at all.

“Mr. Ben!” Hop Sing tugged at his arm. “Mr. Adam! Not stay here! Dangerous!”

“Joe!” Adam cried out.

Ben clung fiercely to his eldest son. “Yes, Hop Sing. I know. I…know.” Still, he didn’t move. Voices called toward them from the street, voices carrying words he couldn’t make sense of…Chinese words. Some part of him realized the sound of gunfire had faded, but he couldn’t bring himself to care…until…until two words reached him with intense clarity: Little Joe.

“Mr. Ben!” Hop Sing shouted now. “Mr. Adam! Little Joe alive! Not in house! Little Joe alive!”

Adam’s fingers dug into Ben’s arms. Both men looked to Hop Sing.

“What?” Adam asked, his voice choked with smoke and grief.

“Little Joe alive!” Hop Sing’s grin looked odd in the glow of the fires around them. “Sheriff Coffee say Little Joe ride away!”

“Ride away?” As Adam started to loosen his grip, Ben loosened his own; but he didn’t let go. Not yet. “How could he ride away?” Adam went on, finally pushing himself from his father and aiming his focus on Hop Sing. “He could barely stand.”

“Sheriff Coffee ride after Little Joe.”

“Where?” Ben asked. “Where did he go?”

“Little Joe chase Garrett hired man.”

“He could barely stand!” Adam shouted. He looked to his father, his face a mix of fear and grief…and anger. “Pa! He couldn’t possibly…. How could he hope to…?” Ben saw his jaw tighten. Adam took a deep breath, pulling himself taller. “He’s a fool, Pa! A stubborn fool! He’ll get himself killed out there!”

“He may be a fool,” Ben sighed. “But…Adam…he’s alive!”

For a moment, a very brief moment, both men laughed. But it wasn’t long before laughter threatened to turn to tears.

“Let’s go get your brother!” Ben squeezed Adam’s arm, and then they both moved toward the street amidst the rising sounds of townsmen shouting “fire!”

XxXxX

It wasn’t long before Joe realized he would have done better to trade places with Sheriff Coffee. He wasn’t fit enough to ride. He would probably never admit that to anyone but himself, but the fact was that horse was jostling parts of him he didn’t even know had been bruised. What it was doing to the rest of him was, frankly, stealing his breath. It didn’t help that the horse was bulkier than Cochise and far more accustomed to pulling wagons than carrying riders. Joe had to work harder to get it to understand where he wanted it to go. Since he could hardly work at anything as it was, he figured his only chance to catch that outlaw was with the gun he still carried.

The biggest problem with that was balance. He could shoot well enough with his right hand-well enough to get the job done anyway, even if he wasn’t as good as with his left. But with his left hand useless, he couldn’t fire the gun and hold onto the horse at the same time. Instead, he hunkered down low, hugging the horse’s neck so he could use it to both steady his shooting arm and keep him somewhat balanced. Finally, he positioned himself well enough to fire.

There was another problem with that horse: it wasn’t used to guns, especially guns going off so close to its ears. When the animal reared up, Joe didn’t stand a chance. He was on the ground before he even knew he was falling. And then he was out cold.

XxXxX