{"id":14887,"date":"2017-09-03T05:21:17","date_gmt":"2017-09-03T09:21:17","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=14887"},"modified":"2025-09-25T15:41:05","modified_gmt":"2025-09-25T19:41:05","slug":"out-of-the-darkness-by-sierra-girl","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=14887","title":{"rendered":"Out of the Darkness (by Sierra Girl)"},"content":{"rendered":"

Summary<\/strong>: \u00a0The murder of a friend, and the ensuing trial, lead an exhausted Adam to confront deeply buried fears and long-held guilt about events in his past. Will he come out the other side unscathed and able to face up to his father?<\/p>\n

Rating: T \u00a0 Word Count: 23,980 words<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Out of the Darkness<\/strong><\/p>\n

He would not\u2014could not\u2014open his eyes.<\/em><\/p>\n

If he did, he would see the devil.<\/em><\/p>\n

The figure lingered on the edge of his vision; a shadow that tore out of view if he moved his head and looked directly at it. It was close enough for him to know it was there, but like a dog chasing its tail, he could have turned round and round on the spot and the figure would always be a jagged presence, a blur, never in focus, forever on the threshold.<\/em><\/p>\n

The first time the figure had let him take a proper look he was so terrified at what he saw, he vowed never to open his eyes again. But he failed to keep his vow because the devil had tempted him and he had stolen a glimpse.<\/em><\/p>\n

Now it was standing in the corner of his cell, unmoving, its body turned towards him. Burying his head in his arms, he cursed himself for being weak, feeling the fear crawl over his flesh and the hairs on his arms tingling as they stood erect.<\/em><\/p>\n

No, he could not open his eyes, because if he did, he would see the devil.<\/em><\/p>\n

Unfortunately for Adam, though, smothering his vision was not enough to end the torment.<\/em><\/p>\n

For the devil had a voice.<\/em><\/p>\n

*****<\/p>\n

\u201cMr. Cartwright, please take a seat in the witness chair.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam Cartwright removed his hand from the Bible and moved to the chair the judge had indicated. He glanced around the courtroom, seeking out the familiar figures of his father and brothers seated a few rows back amongst the spectators. His father nodded, sending silent assurance across the room. Adam saw faith in his father\u2019s expression; faith that gave him strength. He took a deep breath and squeezed his lips together as he waited for the court to settle.<\/p>\n

Jacob Barley, the accused, was slouched next to his lawyer, one elbow resting on the bar separating the onlookers from the officials. He stared hard at Adam, who assumed Barley was trying to unnerve him. It did not work. Adam merely gazed back at the businessman, observing with disdain how the buttons of the man\u2019s flashy brocade vest were straining to confine the bulge of his belly.<\/p>\n

Barley\u2019s countenance was one of cool detachment. His top lip pulled up half his face into a permanent sneer; heavy eyelids hung low over sharp eyes that barely blinked as they bored into Adam. His lawyer leaned over and whispered a few words in his client\u2019s ear, and all the while Barley never stopping staring at Adam. He barked a laugh which made the flesh beneath his chin wobble as he swivelled around to share the joke with the men seated behind the bar. His words were met with scornful laughter from his assembled cohorts who threw snide looks at Adam. It was only the sound of the gavel hitting the striking board that drew Barley\u2019s attention back to proceedings and silenced the throng.<\/p>\n

Judge Farrell, the circuit judge who considered himself most misfortunate to have been assigned to one of the circuits in the barbarous country west of the Mississippi, peered over the top of his wire-rimmed spectacles at Barley\u2019s defence attorney. The implication was clear: control your client or there would be hell to pay. Having received the expected compliance, he nodded at Silas Oates, the prosecutor, to begin the questioning of Adam Cartwright.<\/p>\n

Oates placed his hands in the small of his back and took a step towards his witness.<\/p>\n

\u201cMr. Cartwright, please be so kind as to tell us what you saw on the night of Theodore Barley\u2019s death.\u201d<\/p>\n

The town\u2019s prosecuting attorney had a voice that, when he wanted, could match Ben Cartwright at full volume. It was a voice Silas Oates had assumed as a young man when it became apparent he had stopped growing at the diminutive height of five feet and four inches. And for a determined law student keen to make his way in the uncompromising world of the judicial law courts, a voice that could cut down a belligerent defendant, or could subdue an unruly crowd, was a distinct asset. Yet Silas was also skilled at the soft tone, the one he used on tearful ladies to empathise and commiserate; or, equally, to coax facts and details from witnesses desperate to keep the truth hidden. Until Silas Oates wheedled it out of them, that is. For Adam Cartwright, he chose another timbre, that of an equal, a business associate, a voice that demonstrated respect for his witness.<\/p>\n

Adam sat up straight in his chair and took a deep breath. \u201cWell, I was leaving town, riding along C Street sometime after eight o\u2019clock, when I noticed Theodore Barley on the balcony of the International House where he has some rooms.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat was he doing?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe was standing with his back to the railings, arguing with someone.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCould you see who he was arguing with?\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam turned his head towards the defendant. \u201cI could see very clearly. It was Theodore\u2019s son, Jacob Barley.\u201d<\/p>\n

The court erupted into a riot of noise as Jacob\u2019s supporters jumped to their feet, punching the air with their fists, protesting Adam Cartwright\u2019s evident lies. Their shouts were answered by Jacob\u2019s detractors who were crowded into the courtroom, eager to see the man at last receive his comeuppance. The pounding of a furious gavel, echoing through the chamber, eventually restored order. Adam had not stopped looking at Jacob during the uproar and a cold chill crept down his spine when a pair of cold-black eyes lifted to meet his.<\/p>\n

\u201cTell us what you saw,\u201d prompted Oates.<\/p>\n

Turning to the prosecutor, Adam took a long breath. \u201cWell, there was a lot of shouting on both sides. Theodore kept pointing at Jacob as though accusing him\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cObjection, Your Honour.\u201d Casper Buchanan, acting for the defendant, was on his feet in an instant. \u201cSpeculation. Mr. Cartwright can\u2019t possibly know what Theodore Barley\u2019s gesticulations meant.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI agree. Mr. Cartwright, please just state the facts without your interpretation of events.\u201d<\/p>\n

Oates bowed his head slightly towards the judge. \u201cApologies, your Honour.\u201d He returned to Adam. \u201cPlease continue, Mr. Cartwright.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, like I said, there was lots of shouting and pointing by Theodore. There was a struggle and then\u2026\u201d Adam paused. He looked towards Jacob, who was slumped back in his chair, studying the backs of his hands.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd then?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd then I saw Jacob Barley push his father off the balcony.\u201d<\/p>\n

Once more the courtroom was filled with the cries of the spectators. There were jeers from Barley\u2019s supporters, and shouts of indignation and rage from those who believed him guilty. The gavel was again forced into action.<\/p>\n

\u201cOrder! I will have order in my court.\u201d The shouts turned to mutterings and then whispered quiet. \u201cJust as I expected in uncivilised country like this; a rabble unable to keep their sentiments under control.\u201d The judge glared at the assembled throng before turning his attention back to the prosecutor. \u201cPlease continue, Mr. Oates.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMr. Cartwright, would you tell us what happened next.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam\u2019s fingers tightened on the rim of the hat resting in his lap. \u201cI jumped off my horse and ran over to Ted, uh, Theodore, but he was dead. When I looked up to where he had fallen from, Jacob was standing there looking down.\u201d<\/p>\n

Murmurs fluttered through the courtroom but a single strike on the gavel hushed the onlookers.<\/p>\n

\u201cThank you, Mr. Cartwright. No more questions, your Honour.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYour witness, Mr. Buchanan.\u201d<\/p>\n

Casper Buchanan slithered out of his chair and sidled over to Adam. A tall, thin-limbed man, Buchanan had been unhappily blessed with a protruding midsection, which, together with a pair of heavily lidded eyes, lent him the appearance of a desert iguana.<\/p>\n

\u201cMr. Cartwright, can you tell us what you were doing in Virginia City that day.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam frowned. What had this to do with the death of Theodore Barley?<\/p>\n

\u201cI, uh, came in to see Doc Martin.\u201d<\/p>\n

Buchanan blinked slowly. Adam could have sworn both the man\u2019s upper and lower lids moved like a lizard\u2019s.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you normally visit the doctor so late in the day?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t make a habit of it, no. The doctor\u2019s a family friend. I knew it wouldn\u2019t be a problem.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cUh-huh.\u201d Buchanan turned his back on Adam, looked out over the spectators and addressed Adam over his shoulder. \u201cAnd the reason for your visit to Doctor Martin?\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam turned to the judge.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs this really relevant, your Honour? I don\u2019t see what this has to do with\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYour Honour, my client is facing the gallows for allegedly murdering his father. I think as the only witness to the supposed offence, it\u2019s only fair to ascertain the reason for Mr. Cartwright\u2019s visit to the doctor.\u201d A smile edged around Buchanan\u2019s lips. \u201cMaybe he\u2019s having problems with his eyes. He could be having trouble seeing in the dark, perhaps?\u201d<\/p>\n

There was a titter of laughter in the court which was silenced by a scowl from the judge.<\/p>\n

\u201cPlease answer the question, Mr. Cartwright.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam looked towards his father who was leaning forward, clearly as puzzled by the line of questioning as he was. Adam sighed.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s a busy time on the ranch\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot uncommon for the time of year, surely?\u201d interrupted Buchanan.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo. But this round-up has been particularly strenuous. The recent drought meant our cattle strayed higher than usual looking for water, so I\u2019ve been spending long hours in the saddle.\u201d Adam shrugged. \u201cAnd then in the evenings I\u2019ve been catching up on ranch business.\u201d He turned to the judge, embarrassed at having to share his affairs with a roomful of strangers. \u201cThere\u2019s been a lot to deal with and, because of that I\u2019ve been having a few headaches and some trouble sleeping. I was hoping Doc Martin could give me something to help me sleep.\u201d<\/p>\n

A quick glance to his father showed Ben scrutinising the back of his hands, unable to look at his son. Adam recognised the stirrings of guilt in his father\u2019s manner.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo, you\u2019re tired, not sleeping well. Is that right?\u201d It was apparent from Buchanan\u2019s tone that he felt no pity for Adam\u2019s quandary.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes.\u201d The answer sounded like a question.<\/p>\n

Buchanan turned to face the jury. Rising on his toes, he clasped his hands behind his back and took a moment to look over every one of the gentlemen seated before him.<\/p>\n

\u201cLet me tell you a story, Mr. Cartwright. I once worked seventy-two hours on a case in Carson City. That too involved a man accused of murder.\u201d Buchanan peered over his shoulder casting a long look at Adam. \u201cHe was acquitted.\u201d He turned back to the jury. \u201cBut before I secured that man his freedom, I was working every hour God sent, foregoing all sleep, and I started seeing things. I was standing then, like I am now, addressing the jury, when I became certain my Great Aunt Millicent was sitting amongst the jurors. She was doing needlework.\u201d Buchanan smiled at the floor as the crowd laughed. \u201cThe brain can play tricks\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know what I saw.\u201d Adam had not intended to speak as harshly as he did. He softened his tone and faced the jury. \u201cI know what I saw. Jacob Barley pushed his own father to his death. I saw it with my own eyes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOf course. With your own eyes. That\u2019ll be all, your Honour, no further questions.\u201d<\/p>\n

*****<\/p>\n

Thirty minutes later, Adam was slumped over a beer in the Silver Dollar Saloon, his father and brothers sitting beside him. The upright stance he had managed to maintain in the stuffy courtroom had dissolved the moment he had walked out into the late September air. His head felt heavy on his neck.<\/p>\n

He took a long draught of beer and slammed the half-empty glass on the table top.<\/p>\n

\u201cThey were trying to make out as though I didn\u2019t know my own mind.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam, son, this is what defence lawyers do. If they can discredit the witness it\u2019ll put doubt into the jury\u2019s mind.\u201d Ben\u2019s logical and open-minded response caused an eyebrow to arch on Adam\u2019s tired face. \u201cThis isn\u2019t the first time you\u2019ve testified in a court of law, you know the system. Why are you so angry now?\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss had been lounging back in his chair surveying the saloon\u2019s clientele, but at his father\u2019s words, leaned in over the table.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, Adam, why\u2019re you so het up? You told the court what ya saw, they\u2019d be fools not to believe you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam breathed a long sigh and folded his hands around his beer glass.<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause Ted Barley was a kind old man who never hurt a soul in his life. He was one of those rare people who was willing to help anyone who needed it. And he seemed to know instinctively when someone needed help but was too proud or afraid to ask.\u201d His chair creaked as he sat back, his eyes fixed on the beer glass in his hands. \u201cWhen I started to develop an interest in the workings of mines, I knew nothing. But somehow, and I don’t know how he knew, he sought me out and set me in the right direction. I made good investments because of what he taught me.\u201d Adam smiled. \u201cHe knew mining like Hoss knows horses, as though he was born with an innate knowledge of how everything below ground works.\u201d\u00a0 As quickly as it had come, Adam\u2019s smile faded. \u201cBut most of all, he was my friend, who regrettably had the misfortune to spawn a rattlesnake.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam shifted his gaze to his father. Ben\u2019s eyes were sympathetic, studying his son closely. Adam knew what he was seeing, and thinking. He would be observing Adam\u2019s sluggish, tired eyes, the rounded shoulders and wilting head, and berating himself for letting Adam work himself to the bone over the last few months. He would be asking himself, as Adam was, why Theodore Barley had to go and die right in front of him. The pressure of a court case could not have come at a worst time. But no matter how physically exhausted he was, or how slow the workings of his brain had become, there was no way he was going to let the old man down. Because he was right about Jacob, a more vile, contemptible, son-of-a\u2014<\/p>\n

\u201cWho yer calling a snake, Cartwright?\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben, Hoss and Joe twisted in their seats. Standing behind them, holding his chin high and clenching his fists, stood the slight figure of Isaac Barley, the teenaged son of Jacob. Adam stayed slumped over his beer; only the slow blink of his eyes as he lifted the glass to his lips conveyed his awareness that they had company. Ben was on his feet.<\/p>\n

\u201cNow, Isaac, you know you can\u2019t be seen talking with Adam.\u201d<\/p>\n

Isaac turned narrowed eyes on Ben.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not talking to you. I\u2019m talking to your son, the tattler.\u201d The boy\u2019s hand hovered inches over his gun. Joe rose to his feet, his own hand dropping to his holster.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t do anything stupid, Isaac.\u201d<\/p>\n

Isaac\u2019s eyes shot to Joe. \u201cWhat have I got to lose, huh? My grandpappy is dead and your stinking brother is accusing my father of killing him. If he goes down for it, he\u2019ll hang. I\u2019ll have no one. All because the upright Adam Cartwright said he saw something which didn\u2019t happen. You\u2019re a liar, Cartwright, a lowdown dirty liar.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam stayed in his chair, his back to the boy. His eyes closed as Isaac finished his tirade.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou can\u2019t even face me. You won\u2019t even look me in the eye. Yer yella.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pushing past Hoss, who was starting to rise out of his seat, Isaac reached out towards Adam. The boy lunged with his fists but Adam was faster, standing so abruptly his chair skidded across the floor. He grabbed Isaac\u2019s wrists and the boy\u2019s eyes widened in shock as Adam shook him and leaned in close.<\/p>\n

\u201cI know what I saw, Isaac. Your father killed your grandpa. It\u2019s a sight I\u2019m not going to forget until my dying day. And if my testimony sends your pa to the gallows, then I\u2019m sorry for you. But I\u2019m not sorry for Jacob.\u201d He released his grip on the boy. Isaac looked down, rubbing his sore wrists, but did not move away.<\/p>\n

\u201cAin\u2019t…ain\u2019t there a chance? Are you so sure it was my father?\u2019 Isaac\u2019s eyes pleaded, hope brimming beneath raised eyebrows. Adam\u2019s brow creased momentarily as he remembered that night and the figure that had so violently pushed the old man over the railings. It was Jacob. He knew it. He had seen the two men grappling; watched Ted fall backwards over the balcony; seen Jacob standing there with his hands gripping the railings, a look of calm deliberation on his face. But Adam had taken too long in his recall and noticed the boy frown as he stared at him. Adam sat back down at the table and lifted his beer. \u201cGo home, Isaac,\u201d he said, before taking a mouthful of the now lukewarm liquid.<\/p>\n

The boy stood his ground for the length of a breath and then turned on his heel, pushing his way through the men who had gathered around to witness the scene. The crowd watched the boy depart and turned back towards the remaining participant. But Adam stayed immobile and expressionless with his beer suspended before him, and realising there was no more fun to be had, the men returned to their drinks and poker games.<\/p>\n

Adam sagged forward over the table, his eyes closed and head drooping. He could sense his father bristling beside him.<\/p>\n

\u201cYoung fool,\u201d blustered Ben. \u201cHe should know better than to come in here throwing insults around.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s just words, Pa.\u201d Adam\u2019s voice was drawn out and jaded. Releasing a long nasal breath, he rested his head against a clenched fist. Before long a yawn escaped him and he felt someone tap lightly against his forearm.<\/p>\n

\u201cCome on, son. You\u2019re almost dead on your feet. Let\u2019s get you back to the ranch and to bed.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s the middle of the afternoon.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd you\u2019ve been burning the candle at both ends. Come on, your brothers can handle your chores.\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe and Hoss looked at each other. \u201cNothing new there,\u201d quipped Joe with a twinkle.<\/p>\n

*****<\/p>\n

Despite his exhaustion, Adam had spent a restless night squabbling with his blanket and punching his pillow until he had eventually succumbed to a broken sleep. His disgruntled father had glowered at him over the breakfast table when Adam proclaimed his intention of returning to see Jacob Barley\u2019s trial out to the end. \u201cYou need rest,\u201d his father had bellowed. \u201cNot to be traipsing back and forth to Virginia City.\u201d But his recalcitrant son had won out, and so it was that less than twenty hours after leaving town with his family, Adam was back, alone, this time in the Bucket of Blood, once more nursing a cool beer. With his long fingers holding the glass in front of him, he found his mind wandering back to the courtroom he had not long exited, recalling the only witness the defence was calling to the stand. Jacob Barley himself.<\/p>\n

Adam had sunk onto a bench in the back row of the court where he had a decent enough view of proceedings. At being called to the witness chair, Barley had risen sedately, and with a tug to pull his suit jacket down over an expanding belly, had walked with his chin up and a crooked smile playing on his lips. After he had taken the oath, Barley lowered himself to the seat, looking to all intents and purposes as though he was settling back in an easy chair for an evening of discourse and pleasantry. All that was missing was a cigar and a glass of pure French brandy.<\/p>\n

Casper Buchanan was proving to be worth every cent Jacob was paying him. He began by ascertaining exactly where Jacob purported to be on the night of the murder.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy father was in his parlour, that\u2019s the room which opens out onto the balcony. I was in our private dining room, alone, having my first meal of the day since God knows when.\u201d He turned unblinking eyes in the direction of Adam. \u201cMr. Cartwright is not the only one on the Comstock to work unbearably long hours.\u201d<\/p>\n

Scattered whispers echoed off the walls of the room which Buchanan quickly silenced by raising his voice to ask his next question. \u201cWas there anyone else in the rooms with you?\u201d<\/p>\n

Barley rested an elbow on the arm of the chair and lifted a hand to his brow. \u201cSadly, only my father and I were in the suite. I\u2019m afraid my,\u201d and here he sighed dramatically and paused, \u201cmy boy was not at home, despite my protestations that he spend more time with his grandfather and less with that half-breed savage he likes to call friend.\u201d<\/p>\n

Buchanan turned to face the courtroom and looked at the assembled faces as he directed his next question.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou refer to Amos Crow?\u201d<\/p>\n

A murmur trickled amongst the spectators, prompting the jarring sound of the judge\u2019s gavel to resound through the room. The crowd immediately quietened, and Adam rolled his eyes as Jacob sighed heavily once more and bowed his head as though ashamed of his son\u2019s choice of companion.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes.\u201d He then cleared his throat and shook his head, opening his eyes wide as he faced the courtroom. The man could be on stage<\/em>, thought Adam. \u201cSo, yes, I was alone with my father in the hotel that night.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam\u2019s hovering beer glass hit the table with a jolt, causing liquid to slosh over his fingers. He swore under his breath, wiped his hand down a pants\u2019 leg and then pushed the dregs of the drink away in a brief fit of temper as he remembered Jacob\u2019s performance in the dock.<\/p>\n

Buchanan had asked Jacob what happened on that fateful night.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou must understand my poor father had not been himself. I took it to be the degrading effect of old age. His mind\u2014\u201d Jacob\u2019s fingers waggled airily at the side of his head. \u201cIt hurt me, more than you can know, to see him become so…unlike himself.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam shifted in his seat. He recalled running into the old man only a couple of weeks earlier on one of his numerous and draining trips into town. Theodore had been in fine fettle, greeting Adam with exuberance. Displaying the gusto he was well-known for, he had sympathised heartily with Adam\u2019s substantial workload. Ted had promised not to hold him up for long, but when Adam had time, could they sit down over a warm brandy and talk through a new business venture he was establishing. It involved the shipping and supply of pumps to the mines in the region, and would Adam perhaps consider becoming a shareholder. They had parted with Ted Barley pumping Adam\u2019s arm up and down vigorously, slapping him several times on the back and then spotting yet another acquaintance to greet with enthusiastic volume. As far as Adam was concerned, that was not a man who was starting to lose his mind; far from it, his wits had been very much intact.<\/p>\n

Jacob\u2019s voice broke into Adam\u2019s memories. \u201cI heard my father shouting and ran to his room. His door had been locked so I tried kicking at the wood to break through. I\u2019m not a strong man, your Honour, so I ran back to my office where I knew there was a spare key. As I entered the room I saw my father was on the balcony. I think I took one step\u2026\u201d Jacob paused, the back of a clenched fist rising to his mouth. He cleared his throat and began again. \u201cI had taken one step into the room when he just fell, toppled over the edge. I couldn’t move. I couldn\u2019t believe what I\u2019d seen. I was scared of what I would see when I looked over the railings. When I was able to get my feet to move, I walked to the balcony and saw my father lying on the ground. It was horrifying, simply horrifying.\u201d<\/p>\n

The courtroom was silent.<\/p>\n

He\u2019s got this audience wrapped around his finger<\/em>.<\/p>\n

After a moment, the lawyer spoke again.<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam Cartwright maintains he saw you push your father to his death.\u201d<\/p>\n

Jacob looked down. \u201cI love…\u201d He closed his eyes briefly and shook his head. \u201cI loved my father. I would never have harmed him. I\u2019m not sure what Adam Cartwright thought he saw, but it certainly wasn\u2019t me killing my own father.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you saying Mr. Cartwright is lying?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI would never presume to say Adam Cartwright is a liar. However, he admitted, in this very courtroom, and under oath, that he has not been feeling well. I can only assume, therefore, that Mr. Cartwright did not see what he thought he had.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam had become aware of faces turning towards him, but refused to shrink before their accusing stares. He had sat up straighter and met their looks with a stern one of his own. But the first stirrings of doubt had risen in his mind. He was tired; he was not at his most alert. Had he imagined Jacob pushing Ted? Had he conjured up this murder to explain the death of his friend?<\/p>\n

The morning\u2019s session was complete, the jury having retired to decide Jacob\u2019s guilt, and here Adam was, crouched over an empty glass of beer, going over and over what he had seen that night.<\/p>\n

He became aware of a figure at his side. It was Jacob\u2019s son.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you want, Isaac?\u201d<\/p>\n

The boy had two glasses of beer in his hands.<\/p>\n

\u201cI wanted to apologise, for yesterday. I was out of order. I shouldn\u2019t have said what I said.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam\u2019s fingers slowly turned the empty glass in a circle. \u201cDon\u2019t worry about it. This isn\u2019t an easy time for anyone. Things get said.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I, I got you a beer.\u201d He placed the drink on the table. \u201cA peace offering.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam leaned back in his chair. \u201cYou know this could be seen as a bribe to get me on side.\u201d<\/p>\n

Isaac shrugged. \u201cIt\u2019s just a beer. I, uh, don\u2019t mean nothing by it.\u201d<\/p>\n

He turned away and Adam watched him take a seat in the far corner, joining his friend Amos Crow. Adam studied the fresh glass of beer and looked up to see Isaac watching him. Raising his glass, Isaac tipped it in Adam\u2019s direction. Adam acknowledged the boy by doing the same, and together they took a sip. At least this was one less thing to worry about<\/em>, he thought.<\/p>\n

*****<\/p>\n

It had been twenty-seven minutes since Isaac had placed the beer glass on the table in front of him. Twenty-seven minutes since he had taken his first sip. Had it taken him so long to drink such a small quantity of liquid? Adam realised he had been staring at the clock over the bar for some time, and shaking his head to snap himself out of his lethargy, lowered the empty glass to the table and rose to his feet. He momentarily lost his balance, reaching out to the bar to steady himself, and it struck Adam that it had been hours since he had last eaten. Two glasses of beer on a stomach devoid of food was clearly having an effect on his ability to function. With a nod to Pete, the barkeep, he hit the batwing doors with a snort and walked out into the hubbub of town.<\/p>\n

As he stepped off the sidewalk and into the road, the fresher air revived him, and he began to cross the thoroughfare, heading towards the livery stable to collect his horse. Someone called his name, but he was not in the mood for conversation so carried on without responding. The voice called to him again, and with a sigh and eyes raised to heaven, he halted and turned around. Mrs. Landis, one of Virginia City\u2019s most stalwart citizens and member of the townswomen\u2019s guild, was crossing behind him, weaving in-between the passing horses and wagons. Adam waited patiently for the woman to catch up, but she passed him by with a swift nod of acknowledgement. Adam frowned and turned in a full circle to see who had been trying to get his attention, but everybody went about their business ignoring the man peering curiously at passers-by. Well, whoever it was must have changed their mind about talking to him, so with a shrug, he headed to the sidewalk. A grunt escaped him as he almost tripped up the steps; for some reason his legs felt decidedly uncooperative.<\/p>\n

The door to the sheriff\u2019s office was open as he passed. Adam glanced in and continued on his way. But then he heard his name being called, and after a moment of considering whether to ignore the summons and carry on to the livery stable, he sighed and dropped his head, turning back to the sheriff\u2019s office.<\/p>\n

\u201cClem?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHowdy, Adam.\u201d Clem was filling his coffee mug at the stove. \u201cWhat can I do yer for?\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam was too beat for joshing. \u201cDid you want me for something, Clem?\u201d<\/p>\n

Clem\u2019s eyes widened as his eyebrows rose. \u201cNo,\u201d he dragged the word out. \u201cDidn\u2019t you want me for something?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCome on, Clem, stop fooling, you called my name as I walked by.\u201d<\/p>\n

Clem took a sip of his coffee. \u201cNo, I didn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n

There it was again. His name. A faint whisper. Adam whirled around, eager to catch the culprit who was plaguing him, but the office was empty save him and Clem. Adam strode quickly to the open door but the sidewalk immediately outside was deserted. Turning on his heel he crossed the room to the cell area. The cells were empty. He wrenched open the door to the sheriff\u2019s overnight room, eliciting an indignant exclamation from Clem. It, too, was empty. Adam stopped in the middle of the room and raised his hand to the back of his head.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou okay, Adam? You\u2019re looking a bit peaky around the gills.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI, uh\u2026\u201d Adam stopped. For some reason his heart was pounding in his chest. He looked down, convinced he would see his shirt vibrating in time to his heartbeat. He noticed the skin on the back of his hands looked flushed and he became conscious of heat rising up his neck and over his cheeks. Why was he suddenly so darned hot? With flesh that felt like it was burning and a head seeming to weigh less than a hummingbird, Adam reached out a hand to Clem\u2019s desk to steady himself, his eyes clenched shut to stop the room from spinning.<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam?\u201d<\/p>\n

An arm was around his waist and he was lowered into a chair.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll get some water.\u201d<\/p>\n

A cool glass was placed in his hand and after a tentative sip, he chugged it back, unaware until then of how thirsty he had been.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll fetch the doc\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam raised his head, quicker than he thought he would be able. \u201cNo, no doc.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut Adam, you looked like you were about to pass out.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam pushed himself out of the seat. In truth, he did feel a little better. His temperature seemed to be almost back to normal and he no longer felt as though the earth was rushing up to meet him. He smiled, trying to appease the worried deputy before him. \u201cI\u2019m fine, Clem, just tired. I should\u2019ve known better than to have a couple of beers without any food in my belly.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, if you\u2019re sure.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sure.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay.\u201d But Adam could hear the query of concern in Clem\u2019s voice.<\/p>\n

All Adam wanted was to get out of that room, out of town and back home. He must be more exhausted than he had thought, what with hearing voices and then nearly blacking out.<\/p>\n

Clem followed him to the door and Adam continued on his way, aware of the deputy\u2019s eyes boring into his back.<\/p>\n

Reaching the livery stable without any further incidents of light-headedness, he quickly put his aural misadventures out of his mind. But within moments of leading Sport from the stable and mounting up, the mysterious voice spoke again. And right in his ear this time. Adam flinched back in surprise and twisted furiously around in his saddle. He caught a glimpse of a dark figure on the periphery of his vision and pulled hard on Sport\u2019s rein, twisting the animal around to get a better look. The figure\u2014a man in black, he was sure of it\u2014moved, staying out of his line of sight. Adam whipped his head in the opposite direction, peering over his other shoulder, but could not get a proper look. Sport was beginning to prance, aware of his master\u2019s tense mood.<\/p>\n

\u201cShow yourself, come on. If you\u2019ve got something to say, come out where I can see you properly.\u201d<\/p>\n

Silence greeted him. Adam frantically twisted in his saddle to look over one shoulder and then the other, but there was no sign of his persecutor.<\/p>\n

\u201cCoward! Come out and face me!\u201d<\/p>\n

But no dark figure moved out of the shadows to stand before him. And the only people staring at Adam were those with puzzled expressions, wondering at the Cartwright who was shouting into thin air in the middle of the street.<\/p>\n

With a hard jab to his flanks, Sport bolted forward and Adam moved at speed down the main street. In his anger he was not aware of the people who scurried to move out of his way as he charged down the thoroughfare towards them.<\/p>\n

But then, the voice began to whisper his name again. Only this time it started to say more. \u201cYou know it was your fault, don\u2019t yer?\u201d it whispered. \u201cYour life ain\u2019t worth theirs.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam yanked Sport to a halt and leapt from the animal\u2019s back. \u201cFor God\u2019s sake, stop playing games with me.\u201d His tormentor had returned, staying out of Adam\u2019s field of vision, dark, not in focus. Adam spun to face him but the figure was no longer there. He froze, stilling his eyes and then, there, there he was, on the opposite side to where he had been seconds earlier.<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam?\u201d Clem was walking out of his office. \u201cWho yer talking to?\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam faced Clem with an angry look. \u201cWho d\u2019yer think?\u201d He could feel his skin reddening as heat once more raced through his body. He pointed behind him to where he could see the man in the corner of his eye. \u201cThis\u2026gentleman\u2026has been goading me since I left the saloon.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWho, Adam? There\u2019s no one there.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam closed his eyes and started to breathe heavily. \u201cDon\u2019t you play games with me too, Clem. Him!\u201d He pointed to where the figure had been lingering, but it had shifted sides again and Adam had to spin to locate him. \u201cHim! He has something to say but just won\u2019t say it!\u201d<\/p>\n

Clem walked down the wooden steps to the road and approached his friend as though he was edging towards a skittish mustang. \u201cAdam, why don\u2019t you come with me, I\u2019ll get yer a coffee and yer pa to come take yer home.\u201d<\/p>\n

If it was possible for Adam\u2019s face to blush any redder it did as he glared at Clem. His voice was barbed. \u201cI don\u2019t need you to get my father. I just need him<\/em> to leave me alone.\u201d He pointed at the figure that was hidden in a haze of darkness behind Clem. Adam squeezed his eyes closed. Damn it, why couldn\u2019t he focus, why couldn\u2019t he see who it was?<\/em><\/p>\n

Clem took a step closer, holding his hand out to him. \u201cThere\u2019s no one there, Adam, unless it\u2019s one of these folks bothering yer.\u201d He nodded at the small crowd that had started to gather. It was not every day a Cartwright started making a scene in Virginia City\u2019s main street. Adam pulled his eyes away from the dark blur and took notice, for the first time, of the onlookers watching him with blank faces, or with gleeful expressions at one of the lofty Cartwrights making a fool of himself, or with plain curiosity at what would happen next.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d He spoke through gritted teeth. \u201cI\u2019m not talking about one of them, I\u2019m talking about him!\u201d He pointed at the figure that was starting to edge closer into his vision. Adam realised if he stopped struggling to focus, the man became a little clearer. He squinted and cocked his head as he tried to identify the shape who was dressed in black from head to foot, but whose face was nothing more than a jagged blur. Why the hell couldn\u2019t he focus?<\/em><\/p>\n

Without warning the blur seemed to flicker and jumped so close to Adam that for a brief, heart-stopping moment he saw its face. The heat that had been flooding his body, drained in an instant. His skin paled, the hairs on his flesh prickling as his body was bathed in an icy chill. Adam stumbled back, fumbling to wrench his Colt from its holster. He could not a grip on the butt. But then it was in his hand. Only his thumb seemed too large to pull back the hammer. The figure fluttered backwards and again to the extreme edge of his vision. Adam swung around, his gun a dead weight in his grip, his legs struggling to keep him upright. There were gasps and exclamations from the crowd and a woman screamed as Adam\u2019s weapon swerved towards her. But Adam could see no one but his tormenter. He did not see the menfolk pressing their women behind them and backing away. He did not see the anxious eyes focussed on a manic man pointing aimlessly with his gun. He did not notice the weapons being drawn and levelled directly at him. Adam\u2019s world had shrunk to only him and the one who baited him.<\/p>\n

\u201cAh, Adam?\u201d Clem was inching forward, his arm outstretched before him, the other waving the crowd back as Adam spun from one side to the other with the loaded weapon. \u201cWotcha doin\u2019 there? Nobody here wants to hurt yer. Just hand me yer gun and we\u2019ll get the doc to take a look at cha.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam no longer heard Clem. Or saw him. Or saw the crowd. There was only him and the phantom that haunted him. Because what he had seen could not be real. The face was\u2026Oh God! He clamped his eyes closed, shaking his head vigorously to clear his mind of what could not be. Wobbly legs threatened to buckle beneath him and his arm felt like lead as he struggled to hold the gun steady. His vision was a haze of distorted forms and fuzzy contours as he strained to follow the pulsating apparition with his weapon.<\/p>\n

It jumped again. Adam fired. A woman screamed.<\/p>\n

For a fleeting moment Adam was back on C Street, aware of people around him. His persecutor had disappeared and Bill Hardy, a cowpoke from the Flying Eagle Ranch, was on the ground, a hand clutching the top of his arm. Adam took a stumbling step towards Clem, his eyes wide in confusion. He became aware of the gun in his hand and let it drop to the ground as though it had flared red hot. But then a sharp pain coursed up the back of his skull. His vision shattered into a thousand shards of diamond light and Adam fell, dropping hard onto his stomach. As his pain-filled head flattened against the earth and he saw several pairs of boots running towards him, his last memory before he faded was of a dark flickering shadow that hovered above him and disappeared in the blink of an eye.<\/p>\n

*****<\/p>\n

Ben Cartwright almost wrenched the door off its hinges as he thundered into the sheriff\u2019s office, Hoss and Joe hard on his heels. Clem was standing in the entrance to the cells and barely had time to move into the main office and close the door behind him before Ben was bearing down on him.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s all this tomfoolery about Adam being locked up? The man you sent said Adam was in jail and that we needed to get down here, then rode off without a bye your leave.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBen, if you\u2019d just\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know my son, Clem. You know he\u2019s no lawbreaker. I want to see him.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben took two paces towards the cells but Clem side-stepped to block his path, his hands raised to stop him.<\/p>\n

\u201cBen, there are things you need to know before I let you go in there.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben visibly swelled, growing taller as his temper threatened to get the better of him. He took another step but a hand on his arm stayed him. Angling his head, he recognised Hoss\u2019s large fingers resting gently on his sleeve. He took a deep breath.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell? What are these\u2026things\u2026I need to know?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI think you should sit down.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t want to sit down, I want to see Adam.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPa.\u201d It was Joe\u2019s soft tones. \u201cI think we should listen to what Clem has to say.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben shot a sharp look at Joe, but seeing the worry on his youngest boy\u2019s face, he sighed and took the offered seat.<\/p>\n

Clem perched on his desk. \u201cI\u2019ve been in court all week for the Theodore Barley murder case.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s that got to do with Adam being locked up?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPa.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben heard the admonition in Hoss\u2019s voice and, after a pause, looked back at Clem.<\/p>\n

\u201cGo on.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI heard what Adam said about seeing Doc Martin for headaches and not sleeping. Has he been\u2026\u201d Clem threw a glance at the three men and pursed his lips. \u201cHas Adam been acting himself lately?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you mean acting himself? Of course he\u2019s been acting himself. He\u2019s Adam. What are you talking about?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHas he been complaining of\u2026seeing things, or maybe acting a bit more\u2026confrontational?\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben rose sharply from his seat.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat are you talking about, Clem? Adam\u2019s been fine, a little tired perhaps, but…\u201d The guilt which had been gnawing at Ben\u2019s soul since Adam\u2019s admission in the courtroom, flared into denial. They had all been working so hard these last few weeks, some days they hardly exchanged two words over the dinner table. And now Clem was daring to suggest there was something amiss with Adam, something he not seen with his own eyes. Ben\u2019s guilt made him truculent. He started to move towards the cells. \u201cI want to see my son.\u201d<\/p>\n

Clem shifted off the desk.<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam went crazy in the street this afternoon, Ben. He shot Bill Hardy.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben froze, and turned to meet Clem\u2019s steady gaze.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe did what?\u201d Ben\u2019s eyes sought out those of Hoss and Joe. He saw reflected there the thoughts going through his own mind. It could not be true, there had to be some mistake. Not Adam. Not stoic, sensible Adam.<\/p>\n

\u201cJust as I said.\u201d Clem moved to stand in front of Ben. \u201cThere didn\u2019t seem any reason for it. \u2018Ceptin\u2019 he was seein\u2019 things that weren\u2019t there. He pulled his gun, fired off a shot and hit Bill.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben\u2019s eyes flickered from side to side, unable to focus, unable to think. He opened his mouth to speak but no words would form. And the same refrain repeated over and over. It can\u2019t be true, it can\u2019t be true, there had to be some mistake.<\/p>\n

Hoss\u2019s voice sounded loud in the office.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs Bill\u2026?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAh, he\u2019s fine, Hoss, it was just a flesh wound in the arm. But it was then that Cletus from the Assay Office took his chance and whacked Adam on the head with his Remington. Knocked him out cold.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben roused from his stupor. \u201cAre you telling me my son is injured?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDoc\u2019s been in, but\u2026\u201d Clem paused.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut what? What aren\u2019t you telling me?\u201d<\/p>\n

Clem sighed. \u201cI think it\u2019ll be easier to show you.\u201d<\/p>\n

He led Ben to the cells, opening the door cautiously. Joe and Hoss exchanged a look and followed.<\/p>\n

What greeted Ben was a vision of such unexpected disorder that he was brought to a halt in the doorway and had to rest a hand on the jamb for support. Facing him was a locked cell with a cot tipped over on its side and the remains of a wooden stool scattered in pieces across the floor. In the corner, sitting on the floor against the wall, squeezing his knees into his chest was Adam. His head was lowered, his face hidden from view, but there was no escaping the rivulet of blood that had trickled down his neck, or the flush on his skin. One white-knuckled hand clasped a piece of wood.<\/p>\n

Hoss and Joe moved to either side of Ben, their gazes fixed on their brother, and Ben saw the shock he felt mirrored in their faces.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat happened here?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe wasn\u2019t out long, Ben, just long enough for us to fetch him in here. He was calm at first, just lay there holding the back of his head till Doc Martin arrived. But that\u2019s when the trouble started. Doc asked him to open his eyes and then he just\u2026well you can see what happened. He took one look at the doc and went for him. Doc lost his footing, went down hard, Adam was on top. I had to get in quick to get him off but he started on me too. I got the bruises to prove it. It took both of us to get him onto his stomach and when he seemed to have calmed down, we got out as quick as we could.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd the cot?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAs soon as I pulled the door too, Adam jumped up and tried to get out. I swear, Ben, I don\u2019t know where he got the strength from. It took everything I had to hold the door shut and lock it at the same time.\u201d Clem sighed. \u201cHe was begging me to open the door but I just couldn\u2019t risk it.\u201d Clem\u2019s voice grew quiet. \u201cI never thought I\u2019d see Adam beg for anything. He then took himself into that corner, upturned the cot and broke up the stool. You can see he\u2019s holding one of the stool legs in his hand. He\u2019s not moved from there since.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben had not taken his eyes from Adam during Clem\u2019s account, and edged slowly towards the bars.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s happened to him? He was okay this morning. Yes, he was tired, but this\u2026\u201d Ben turned suddenly to Clem. \u201cWhere\u2019s Paul Martin? He should be here.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe doc left just before you arrived. He said he wanted to consult his medical books.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben looked back to Adam who had not moved from his spot in the corner. He had not acknowledged the arrival of his father or brothers. Was he even aware they were there? Ben\u2019s fingers curled around the bars and gripped them tightly.<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam? Adam, son?\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam wrapped his arms over his head, burying his head deeper into his knees.<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam, please look at me.\u201d<\/p>\n

There was no response.<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam!\u201d Ben\u2019s tone grew sharp. If gentle words would not generate a response then the voice his boys all knew so well may work. It was the voice they had known since boyhood. The voice they tried to avoid. The voice that signified displeasure, disapproval, disappointment.<\/p>\n

It only served to make Adam curl further into a ball. Ben released his grip from the cell bars.<\/p>\n

\u201cOpen the door, Clem.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBen, I\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cClem, until you\u2019re a father yourself, don\u2019t tell me I cannot be with my son. Now open the cell door.\u201d<\/p>\n

*****<\/p>\n

Pain. Tight crawling pain in his scalp. He probed, the tips of his fingers were wet. Blood. Don\u2019t move. To move caused more pain to lance, his brain to press harder against his skull. How long had he been unconscious? He remembered the street, grit on his lips as he fell, faces staring as the blackness swallowed him. There was sand glued to his cheek. And something else, another sensation against his skin. His fingers reached out. A blanket. Rough. Where was he?<\/em><\/p>\n

He called to mind something else. Something he did not want to remember. A figure. A man. Toying with him. Plaguing him. Was he real? He had thought so, until… The thing had jumped. No man moved that way. It had skipped to within inches from his face in the time it took to blink. But worse than that. He had seen its face, and, oh, the fear!\u00a0 He had not been that scared since he was a small boy.<\/em><\/p>\n

Now his eyes were closed, his hand hugging the back of his head, and it was silent. No voices.<\/em><\/p>\n

Someone touched his hand, moving it away from the wound on his scalp. They were speaking to him. Doc\u2019s voice. Then others. The room was filling with voices, and they wouldn\u2019t stop asking, pleading, begging, shouting, whispering for him to open his eyes. He didn\u2019t want to. But they were so loud. They wouldn\u2019t stop. He tried to block them out; he thrust his hands over his ears. But the voices were echoing in his head and the only way to make them stop\u2026<\/em><\/p>\n

He opened his eyes.<\/em><\/p>\n

And looked into the face of the devil.<\/em><\/p>\n

Fear crawled up his spine and bound itself around his senses. A cry crawled its way up from his gut, and he launched himself at the face staring back at him. He punched and clawed at the figure. It was real, so real. Fists connecting with solid flesh. Fingers groping for the throat. And then he was being forced back, away from his tormentor. He had had him. The figure was getting away. He turned on the one who held him but this one was stronger and he was soon overpowered. The voices returned. Saying his name over and over. And he was powerless against them.<\/em><\/p>\n

He was free. He could move his arms again. And when he looked up, his mind cleared and he saw where he was. In a cell. Clem was there. Clem, his friend. Adam scrambled to his feet and grabbed at the cell door. But Clem was pulling it shut and locking it.<\/em><\/p>\n

Locking Adam in.<\/em><\/p>\n

Then the voice spoke.<\/em><\/p>\n

He snapped his head to one side. In the corner of his eye the shadowy figure flickered. A dark shade in the dim cell. A jagged-edged blur hovering like a wraith. He turned to the door. Fingers clutched metal bars and there were shadows on the other side. And for the first time in his life, he begged. He pleaded with the shadows. Let him out. He didn\u2019t belong here. Please let him out. The figure jumped forward and he saw its face. All he could do was slide to his knees and grip the bars with all his strength. Tears began to seep from his eyes and he lost the ability to speak.<\/em><\/p>\n

The thing jumped to his side. Cold fear sucked the air from his lungs and he threw himself as far away as he could go. The corner. The cot became a barricade. The blur drew near again. He needed a weapon. The stool. He smashed it against the wall. It wasn\u2019t much, but enough.<\/em><\/p>\n

Closing his eyes, he could pretend the devil wasn\u2019t in the cell with him.<\/em><\/p>\n

If only he could shut out the voices.<\/em><\/p>\n

*****<\/p>\n

Ben glared at Clem. \u201cYou\u2019ve gotta let me in there. I need to\u2026\u201d His voice faded. What did he need? All Ben knew was his son needed him, needed his touch. \u201cI have to talk to him, without a wall of metal bars between us. Clem, please open the door.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI can\u2019t do it, Ben, you didn\u2019t see him. I can\u2019t take the risk of you getting hurt. Roy\u2019d have my hide.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s my son. I know him better than anyone. He won\u2019t hurt me.\u201d<\/p>\n

Clem hefted the ring of keys in his hand, measured their weight, and then sighed.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis goes against my better judgement.\u201d He thumbed through until he found the key he was looking for and inserted it into the lock. Pausing a moment, he looked intently at Ben. \u201cBe ready, Ben; he didn\u2019t recognise me or Paul Martin, he may not know you. So just be on your guard.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben bristled. This was Adam, his son. Not a caged wild animal that could attack without provocation. Clem turned the key and the door opened with a metallic creak.\u00a0 Moving into the cell, Ben did not see the nod Clem gave to Hoss and Joe to follow. He stepped over the cot and lowered himself to his haunches in front of his eldest boy.<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam,\u201d he whispered.<\/p>\n

Ben could see Adam tense. There was a hitch in Adam\u2019s breath and the arms clutching his legs pulled tighter around his knees.<\/p>\n

Ben laid a hesitant hand on his son\u2019s arm but Adam jerked away from the touch.<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam.\u201d Ben threw a despairing glance at Hoss and Joe.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d Adam shook his head, his voice muffled.<\/p>\n

\u201cTalk to me, son, you must\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo!\u201d Adam lifted his head and, before Ben could react, had pushed with all his might at his father. Ben fell back, stunned by his son\u2019s speed. Adam was on his feet, treading over Ben, kicking the cot aside, heading for the open cell door. But he did not account for his two younger brothers who each grabbed an arm and battled to keep their resisting sibling under control.<\/p>\n

\u201cPa, get outta here,\u201d shouted Hoss as Adam squirmed within his grasp. Ben dragged himself to his feet and shoved past his sons to the safety of the outer cells.<\/p>\n

\u201cYer ready, Joe?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYep!\u201d Joe\u2019s voice was strained from restraining a brother who seemed to have tripled in strength.<\/p>\n

\u201cNow!\u201d<\/p>\n

They both released their hold on Adam and gave him a robust push before making a sharp exit through the cell door where Clem was waiting with his key.<\/p>\n

Hoss leant back against the wall as Joe bent over, catching his breath. \u201cDadburn, but he\u2019s stronger than he looks.\u201d<\/p>\n

But Ben was not concerned with Adam\u2019s strength. His heart was breaking at the sight of his eldest boy lying stunned on the cell floor, having fallen backwards over the cot. Ben took an unwitting step back as Adam hauled himself upright and thumped against the bars, enclosing the cold metal in a white-knuckled grip.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou have to let me out.\u201d Adam threw a glance over his shoulder into the cell. As he turned back, Ben saw his son\u2019s eyes glistening with fear. \u201cPlease let me out.\u201d He spoke quickly, quietly. There was another glance over his shoulder. \u201cPlease.\u201d Ben had never heard his son beg before. All any of them could do was stare as Adam pleaded for release. But his appeals went unheeded and abruptly his tears turned to anger. With eyes spitting white-hot rage, he demanded, insisted, screamed to be let out. And using all the strength he had, he rattled the bars as if brute force could rip the door from its hinges.<\/p>\n

Ben\u2019s soul was a cauldron of bubbling despair and it was only as he reached the door to the cell area did he realise his two boys had been gently, but steadily, steering him away from Adam. Clem closed the door behind them, but Adam\u2019s angry cries could still be heard echoing from the walls, and deep into Ben\u2019s fragmented heart.<\/p>\n

*****\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

A new voice had spoken not long after he\u2019d crawled into the corner of the cell and armed himself with the shattered stool leg. A voice that made his breath catch in his throat and his lips part in hopeful anticipation. It was the voice of his father. Only, when he\u2019d looked up, all he could see was the devil in the corner and his father was nowhere to be seen.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cAdam, son.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cWhere are you, Pa?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m here, boy.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

He\u2019d peered all around him, but only the shadow spoke, and he had buried his head once more in his arms.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re not my father. You\u2019re not real.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m real, boy.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

He had lifted his face and seen the devil\u2019s shimmering feet. Jerking his head away he\u2019d quickly chanced another look around him.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cI can\u2019t see you, Pa.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cYou keep looking right at me.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cNo, you\u2019re not my…\u201d He\u2019d buried his head in his knees. \u201cWhat\u2019s happening to me?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t you realise, boy. It\u2019s your day of reckoning.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

*****<\/em><\/p>\n

Ben fell into a seat, his eyes glazed. \u201cWhat\u2019s happened to him? He was fine this morning. But, he didn\u2019t know me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDid you see his eyes?\u201d Joe\u2019s voice cut into Ben\u2019s numbness.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHis eyes. His pupils were huge.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s that about his eyes, Joe?\u201d<\/p>\n

A new voice punctured through the room. Doctor Paul Martin stood framed in the doorway, his medical bag in hand.<\/p>\n

Ben was on his feet in a second. \u201cPaul, thank God. Adam, he\u2019s, he\u2019s\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

Doctor Martin laid his bag on the table and placed a comforting hand on Ben\u2019s arm. \u201cI know, Ben. I saw him when they brought him in. I bear the bruises to prove it.\u201d His mouth curved into a wry smile.<\/p>\n

Ben lowered his head. \u201cI\u2019m sorry, Paul, you know this is not Adam. I can\u2019t…I don\u2019t understand.\u201d<\/p>\n

Paul Martin led Ben to his chair. \u201cSit down, Ben.\u201d He took in the faces of Hoss and Joe, diagnosing in an instant the shared distress, the disbelief, the evident shock that something so out of character was happening to their brother. \u201cI need you to tell me everything that\u2019s been going on with Adam recently. When I saw him yesterday he complained of trouble sleeping and headaches. Has he been acting strangely, complaining of seeing things? Talking of which, Joe, you said Adam\u2019s eyes were dilated?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThey were huge, Doc. Made his eyes look completely black.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThere are lots of reasons for the pupils to become dilated. It can signify a brain injury or that he\u2019s imbibed a medication or poison.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou think Adam\u2019s been poisoned?\u201d Ben was on his feet again, his chair skidding backwards from the impetus.<\/p>\n

The doctor\u2019s open face widened as he pinned comforting eyes on Ben. He gently grasped his friend\u2019s upper arms and steered him back into his seat. \u201cI\u2019m not saying that, Ben. At the moment, we don\u2019t know why this has happened.\u201d<\/p>\n

He looked around at the faces staring back at him. \u201cTell me about Adam.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss shifted away from where he had been leaning against the wall, arms crossed across his chest, his light blue eyes dark beneath sunken brows. \u201cI \u2018spect Adam told you he\u2019s been workin\u2019 really hard these past weeks. He\u2019s been pushin\u2019 himself too hard, in my eyes.\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe\u2019s fingers were worrying the corner of the desk. \u201cAnd the court case has been getting to him. Theodore Barley was a friend of his. He\u2019s taken his death hard, all the worse because he witnessed it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHas he spoken about it?\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe snorted. \u201cYou know Adam.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben leaned forward. \u201cAdam has never been one to share his feelings. He locks them away, hides them.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell he\u2019s not hiding them now.\u201d The doctor sighed. \u201cBefore I make a diagnosis I\u2019d like to examine my patient.\u201d<\/p>\n

Clem pushed away from his desk. \u201cWell, now, Doc, I don\u2019t know if\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t worry, Clem, I learned my lesson the last time. I\u2019ll stay on this side of the bars.\u201d<\/p>\n

*****\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cA reckoning?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cYes, boy. For what you\u2019ve done.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

What had he done that required a reckoning? He had killed, they all had, but that was the way of the West. And he\u2019d only killed to defend his family, to defend the land.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cYour mother.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

Oh God.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cIf it wasn\u2019t for you, boy, Elizabeth would still be alive.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

His heartbeat, already rapid, began to race even faster. He was hot, so hot. He tore at his shirt, tugging at the buttons. A few ripped away, pinging onto the floor. The blurry figure was too close. He staggered to hands and feet and lurched across the cell to the other side. Collapsing against the cell door, he let his head fall back. Breathe, breathe, he needed air, needed to cool down.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cYou should have died, boy, not Elizabeth.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cNo, Pa!\u201d His anguished voice reverberated around the cell. \u201cYou always said it wasn\u2019t my fault.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat I say and what I feel are as far apart as the top of the mountain and the bottom of the sea.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

His head rocked from side to side, knocking against the fist holding fast to a metal bar. If he let go he knew he would collapse to the floor. \u201cIt\u2019s not my fault.\u201d His voice was stifled against his fist.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cWhose fault is it then? You killed her, boy. She died to give <\/em>you life.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cPlease, Pa.\u201d He could feel saliva dampening the back of his hand.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cWas her life worth yours?<\/em><\/p>\n

He clenched his eyes shut to stop the tears from falling.<\/em><\/p>\n

*****<\/p>\n

Paul Martin closed the door softly behind him and with his hand still on the handle, observed his patient. It had been just over two hours since Adam had let out an ear-splitting cry and launched himself at the doc. Paul put a hand to his throat, knowing he would bear the tender flesh for days to come. Adam was calmer now, sitting with his back to the cell door, his head leaning back against the bars. Paul edged closer so he could see Adam\u2019s face. His patient\u2019s eyes were fixed on the corner of the cell, barely blinking, red and bloodshot as a result. Paul spoke his name and Adam\u2019s head moved towards him, but his eyes did not stray from the corner of the cell.<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam, it\u2019s Paul Martin.\u201d<\/p>\n

There was a rapid-fire blink and a breath hitched in Adam\u2019s throat.<\/p>\n

\u201cDoc.\u201d Adam spoke slowly and then a half-smile graced his features. \u201cAnd now it\u2019s the doc.\u201d<\/p>\n

Paul Martin lowered himself to the ground.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you know where you are, Adam?\u201d<\/p>\n

There was a sigh.<\/p>\n

\u201cJail.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you know why you\u2019re here?\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam took a hasty breath. \u201cBecause of him.\u201d<\/p>\n

Paul frowned. \u201cWho, Adam?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHim.\u201d He turned back to face the corner of the cell.<\/p>\n

It was with a heavy heart that Paul heard Adam\u2019s reply. From what Clem had told him of the incident in the street, and following his own, bruising, encounter, he had concluded Adam was suffering from hallucinations. And now, Adam was staring hard at someone\u2014or something\u2014that was not there. He took heed of one of the textbooks he had referred to when he had hurried back to his surgery. Assume a different aspect, one that enforces respect and attention from the insane. A penetrating eye will appear to search into their hearts, and arrest their thoughts as they arise. Thus, establish a dominion, which is afterwards employed as a principal agent of cure[1]<\/strong><\/a>.<\/em><\/p>\n

Easier said than done, thought Paul. Still, in for a penny, in for a pound.<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam, I want you to look at me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy? You\u2019re not there. You\u2019re just a voice.\u201d<\/p>\n

Paul frowned. \u201cI\u2019m here, Adam. Look at me, you\u2019ll see.\u201d<\/p>\n

There was a slight shake of his head. \u201cIt\u2019s a trick. He\u2019s the only one here. Everyone else\u2026just voices.\u201d<\/p>\n

As Paul had surmised, establishing a rapport with Adam in this state was not going to be easy. Well, if Adam refused to stop looking at whatever he could see, it was time to try a different approach.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do the voices say to you, Adam?\u201d<\/p>\n

There was a momentary twitch around his patient\u2019s eyes, smoothed away as quickly as it appeared.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe truth.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe truth about what?\u201d<\/p>\n

The twitch flickered again. There was a pause.<\/p>\n

\u201cMe.\u201d<\/p>\n

Paul suppressed a sigh.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd what is the truth?\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam blinked, his chest started to rise and fall rapidly. \u201cCan\u2019t say; they don\u2019t want me to say.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWho, Adam, who doesn\u2019t want\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe voices, all the voices!\u201d<\/p>\n

Another rapid-fire blink followed. Paul could see Adam was starting to get agitated so he waited a moment, allowing his patient to calm down.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s okay, Adam, it\u2019s okay.\u201d Paul risked reaching through the bars to place a comforting hand on Adam\u2019s arm, but Adam flinched away. Paul dropped his hand and sighed. He would try one last time.<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam, you really need to look at me.\u201d<\/p>\n

A furrow creased Adam\u2019s brow. \u201cI can\u2019t,\u201d he said through gritted teeth.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy?\u201d Paul asked softly.<\/p>\n

Adam took a quivering breath. \u201cIt\u2019ll move. Get too close. It says\u2026bad things.\u201d He swallowed. \u201cI need to know where it is.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe won\u2019t say anything to you, Adam, not while I\u2019m here, I promise. Please look at me.\u201d<\/p>\n

There was a brief movement of Adam\u2019s head as he turned it towards the doctor, but his eyes stayed trained on his invisible persecutor.<\/p>\n

\u201cTrust me, Adam.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam heaved in a long breath but then a pair of tired, red-rimmed eyes flicked to Paul. Huge, black pupils had stripped them of all colour.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s good, good.\u201d Paul\u2019s jubilation could be heard in his voice. He shifted forward onto one knee. \u201cJust look at me, Adam, nowhere else. Keep looking at me.\u201d<\/p>\n

But Adam\u2019s vision was only fixed on Paul for a matter of seconds before he began to focus his attention on the room behind the doctor. He squeezed his eyes closed and drew his legs up to his chest, and with his hands clasped to his ears began to murmur. \u201cAh, no, no, no, not again. Stop, stop talking, leave me alone.\u201d<\/p>\n

Only, it was not Paul whom Adam could hear, and it was with despair the doctor climbed to his feet and left his friend muttering on the cell floor.<\/p>\n

*****<\/em><\/p>\n

Nothing stopped the voices. Eyes closed. Eyes open. He heard them no matter what. <\/em><\/p>\n

The dark shade stopped moving if he stared at it for long enough. But fighting the instinct to blink brought dry, red, sore, painful eyes.\u00a0 And nothing stopped it talking. So what did it matter? Let them do what they will, say what they will. The worst had been said. His heart was already broken.<\/em><\/p>\n

His father blamed him for his mother\u2019s death. He had always known this fact. It had been buried, unspoken, deep down. But for the first time he had heard his father telling him so. Only, his father did not stop there.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you think happened to Ruth Halverson?\u201d his father\u2019s voice quietened the others.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cRuth?\u201d He had not heard her name, or thought about her, in a long while. \u201cShe went with the Shoshone.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cI know, but after, when she had been unable to save the lives of their people?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cWho\u2019s to say she didn\u2019t?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t argue, boy. She never came looking for you; the Shoshone would have seen she wasn\u2019t a spirit woman, that she was flesh and blood. She\u2019s most likely dead.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cNo!\u201d He forced himself to his knees, onto legs that did not want to hold his weight, swinging his makeshift weapon in a wide arc at the shady figure. It flickered, shifted. He whipped around to face it, teeth gritted, and swung again. Once more it was gone. It hovered now near the door. He hit out with the stool leg but lost his balance, toppled, hit the ground with a groan. He lay with his head on his arms.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cMost likely dead,\u201d whispered his father\u2019s voice.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cDead.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t say that.\u201d His voice was <\/em>muffled.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cYet another woman who gave their life to save you. Are you worth so many lives?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cPlease, Pa. I loved her.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re worth nothing, boy.\u201d<\/em>\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

*****<\/p>\n

\u201cGentlemen, from what I\u2019ve witnessed, Adam appears to be suffering a form of psychosis.\u201d<\/p>\n

Paul had exited the cells to be confronted with a sea of hopeful faces. He had lowered his head, and they had known straightaway he could not tell them what they wanted to hear.<\/p>\n

Ben stood. \u201cPaul, what are you saying?\u201d<\/p>\n

Doctor Martin looked at each man in turn. \u201cSit down, Ben, boys.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben grunted and then took the chair Paul was indicating. Hoss and Joe moved to stand behind their father. Facing a wall of Cartwrights would be enough to unnerve the hardiest of doctors, but these people were his friends. He had treated their illnesses, injuries and more gunshot wounds than he could count. Beating around the bush was not an option. They needed the hard truth.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s as I feared after my earlier visit, Ben. Adam has experienced what my medical associates are now calling a psychotic event.\u201d Blank looks met his words and Paul took a deep breath. \u201cAdam is suffering from hallucinations, he\u2019s hearing voices, he\u2019s in a state of heightened emotion. He doesn\u2019t know what is real and what isn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben shook his head, his lips parting. \u201cI don\u2019t understand, Paul, how could this just happen?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThere are many reasons. Grief, disease, anxiety. Adam has been under a lot of pressure lately and not sleeping. I\u2019m inclined to believe that is the cause.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss straightened up from where he\u2019d been leaning on the desk. \u201cAre you sayin\u2019 that a lil\u2019 bit of hard work and no sleep has made Adam lose his mind?\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben turned sharply in his chair. \u201cDon\u2019t say that!\u201d Dark eyes bored into Hoss\u2019s blue ones. Ben relaxed his rigid stance. \u201cYour brother has not\u2026lost his mind. This is just temporary. Isn\u2019t it, doctor?\u201d<\/p>\n

Paul Martin sighed. \u201cIn truth, I don\u2019t know. But I\u2019ve had no experience of, or read about a patient who had one attack, and then returned to a normal life after. I\u2019m sorry, Ben, but this is only the beginning.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben\u2019s gaze turned inward. Similar looks of disbelief were painted on the faces of Hoss and Joe. Clem had dropped his head, his expression hidden. But then Ben was on his feet.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, Paul, I refuse to believe it, this is Adam we\u2019re talking about. He\u2019s been through worse than this. Remember what he experienced in the desert, we lost him for two weeks, he was broken when we found him. But he pulled through because he\u2019s strong in body. And in mind.\u201d<\/p>\n

Paul nodded. \u201cThat\u2019s true, Ben, but remember the proverb: it\u2019s the straw that will break the camel\u2019s back. Maybe Adam\u2019s been strong too long.\u201d<\/p>\n

And with those words, Ben\u2019s world came crashing down on him.<\/p>\n

*****\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

He had been staring at the devil again. His eyes were dry and sore. He had to blink. And in that infinitesimal moment when the world was dark, the devil disappeared. He stared hard, his eyes fixed on the spot where the devil had been. But it was empty. He took a chance, blinked again. Still empty. He felt such relief that a long breath quavered in his chest. Then the heels of his hands were in his eyes, rubbing away the soreness, rubbing away the redness and yet making his eyes redder. He didn\u2019t care. He could feel his eyes tearing up and the wetness was like salve on a cut, soothing and refreshing. He sighed.<\/em><\/p>\n

When he opened his eyes once more, the bars of the cell were moving. At first undulating ripples up and down the metal. He stared in wonder. It was so calming he could feel his heart slow. Then the bars began to spin. Everywhere he looked the bars were swirling into a myriad of infinite colour. He was becoming lost in a kaleidoscope of whirling patterns and sparkling hues. The fear that had gripped him faded, replaced by euphoria that warmed his body and made his flesh tingle. A grin opened his face from ear to ear and then he could no longer contain the pleasure that sought to explode from within.<\/em><\/p>\n

*****<\/p>\n

Adam was laughing.<\/p>\n

At any other time, Adam\u2019s throaty laugh would have not have sent his father and brothers running. But this was like no other time, and they burst through the door into the cell area as though being chased by an angry grizzly. They came to an abrupt halt and cautiously approached the cell.<\/p>\n

He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, his eyes wide as he gazed up at the bars. His face was lit with wonder as he laughed at what only he could see.<\/p>\n

Ben lowered himself to one knee, grasping the bars in front of him. \u201cAdam?\u201d<\/p>\n

His son did not respond.<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam, son, can you hear me?\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam looked towards the door, but his eyes were floating from one area to the next.<\/p>\n

\u201cPaul?\u201d<\/p>\n

Doctor Martin had followed them into the cell block and dropped down to Ben\u2019s level. \u201cIf I didn\u2019t know any better, Ben, I\u2019d say Adam is in a state of bliss.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben\u2019s head snapped sharply to face Paul. \u201cBut how could this be? Only moments ago he was terrified of everything and everyone, and now look at him.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBen, the way the mind works is still as much a mystery as it\u2019s ever been. They are making great advances in helping people in Adam\u2019s condition\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCondition!\u201d Ben snorted. \u201cAdam doesn\u2019t have a condition.\u201d<\/p>\n

Paul laid a gentle hand on his friend\u2019s shoulder. \u201cI\u2019m sorry, Ben. Look, this may be an opportune time to get the cell cleaned up and him on the cot. I don\u2019t think there\u2019s any worry he\u2019ll fight back.\u201d<\/p>\n

Clem had been leaning in the doorway, and after a nod from Paul, and with Hoss and Joe at the ready, unlocked the cell.<\/p>\n

Adam was gently raised to his feet and the cot righted and quickly made up. Ben swiftly gathered what was left of the broken stool and tossed them out the door. And all the while, Adam gazed in open-faced joy at the space around them. Joe tried to take the stool leg which Adam still held in his hand, but his grip was too tight and the attempt was soon abandoned. After being lowered to the cot, Paul finally had a chance to check his head wound\u2014\u201cit\u2019s just a scratch. Scalp injuries can sometimes seem worse than they are. I\u2019ve told you before about that thick Cartwright skull,\u201d\u2014and take a good look at his eyes.<\/p>\n

\u201cIncredible. I\u2019ve seen dilated pupils before but never to this extent.\u201d Paul rose to his feet. \u201cJust what is going on in that mind of his?\u201d He shook his head, dismissing the thought.<\/p>\n

\u201cCan you give him something, Paul? Perhaps if he could sleep?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019d rather not do that, Ben. I don\u2019t know what affect a sleeping powder, or laudanum, would have on his already tangled mind.\u201d He looked down at Adam. \u201cLift his legs, we\u2019ll lay him down. He may fall asleep on his own.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam let the two men arrange him onto his side, but moments later he had shifted onto his back, his eyes still open and now staring at the ceiling.<\/p>\n

One by one the men filed out into the office, Ben turning at the door to give his son a final look. It was with a heavy sigh that he pulled the door too behind him.<\/p>\n

*****<\/p>\n

A sheaf of papers fluttered to the ground, sending Silas Oates into a flustered flurry, snatching to retrieve them before passing boots and hooves trod them underfoot. With his recovered wad of notes clutched close to his chest, the prosecutor hurried on his way, shouldering into hapless pedestrians as he scurried down the sidewalk. He burst into the sheriff\u2019s office with such violence that five faces turned to him in stunned amazement. Silas held out an appeasing arm as he spied Little Joe Cartwright instantly draw his six-shooter halfway out of its holster. Shoving away from the wall, Hoss Cartwright\u2019s lowered brows cast his eyes into shadow and Silas had an instant impression of an angry she-bear moving forward to protect her cubs. Ben Cartwright twisted in his seat, black eyes blazing as his conversation with Doctor Martin was so rudely interrupted. The only man who did not move was Clem. He was clearly used to people bursting through his office door at all hours of the day and night.<\/p>\n

\u201cGentlemen, please, I did not mean to make such an entrance.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you want, Oates?\u201d Ben thundered.<\/p>\n

Silas flinched at the volume. He was used to dealing with crabby old judges from all territories, and having abuse flung at him by those he was prosecuting and their families, but even Silas Oates quailed at the forcefulness inherent in a furious Ben Cartwright.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve just this minute left the courthouse and was accosted by that drunkard Colly Ruthers who, after breathing his foul whisky breath all over me, said that Adam Cartwright had shot up the town and been locked up.\u201d<\/p>\n

Observation was the key to Silas\u2019s success; being able to read the faces of witnesses and defendants. He had sent more than one miscreant to the gallows on the strength of a fleeting glance towards a spectator, or the look that said you can\u2019t touch me, but which only served to make Silas work harder to prove their guilt. The faces arrayed before him showed him everything he needed to know, and his heart sank. Hoss and Joe fired meaningful glances at each other and turned away. Ben\u2019s lips pursed as he rose to his feet and Clem was an open book as he scratched at his temple. Only Doc Martin\u2019s face remained inscrutable. He would make a great poker player, thought Silas.<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam did not shoot up the town, what nonsense.\u201d Ben bristled. \u201cThere was an incident\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBill Hardy was shot.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben fixed a cool gaze on Silas. \u201cIt was an accident.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cColly said he was seeing things, pointing his gun at nothing.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cColly Ruthers is a drunk who spends too much time wearing his boots out on brass rails.\u201d Ben took a step towards the door. \u201cNow, if you don\u2019t mind\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo, you\u2019re telling me Adam is not locked up in a cell back there?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m telling you it\u2019s none of your business,\u201d Ben gripped Silas\u2019s arm and steered him towards the door. \u201cNow, if you would kindly leave\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

A laugh echoed through the office. Adam\u2019s laugh. Ben froze. Silas watched his shoulders lower, as though in defeat, and saw him catch the eye of Hoss and Joe.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s Adam,\u201d said Silas, pulling out of Ben\u2019s grasp and moving towards Clem. \u201cSo it is true. That\u2019s my chief witness you\u2019ve got locked up back there. Without him the whole case will collapse.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben bore down on Silas in one long stride. He grabbed the little man by the collar, lifting him up onto the tips of his toes.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you think I care about your court case? My son is\u2026\u201d Ben released him, allowing Silas to squirm out of his reach. \u201cMy son\u2026\u201d Ben\u2019s voice trembled as he collapsed back into a chair, his face a mask of anguish. \u201cPlease, just go,\u201d he said, shielding his eyes with a hand.<\/p>\n

Silas\u2019s eyes narrowed. \u201cI don\u2019t understand. Is Adam hurt?\u201d He turned to the doc. \u201cIf he\u2019s hurt, why aren\u2019t you tending to him?\u201d He saw the stricken faces. \u201cWhat aren\u2019t you telling me?\u201d He was met with silence. \u201cIf Adam is discredited in any way, then Jacob Barley will go free.\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe took a slow step towards him, his hand dropping to his revolver. \u201cYou heard my father, go.\u201d<\/p>\n

The implicit threat was not lost on the lawyer. He quickly gathered together his bundle of papers, collected his bag and with a last look at the huddle of men, backed out of the office.<\/p>\n

*****\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

He had slept. But it was a sleep beset with horrors.<\/em><\/p>\n

He was on a wagon journeying ever westward, his father smiling down at him by his side. A round-brimmed hat shaded his eyes from the sun. Looking out across the wide-open prairies, he had gazed with wonder at a landscape of never-ending verdant grass dotted lilac with Blazing Star. A smile of delight had transformed his solemn face, lighting up his eyes at the beauty of the world before him. He had turned back to share his pleasure with his father, but it was no longer his protector sitting beside him, but a figure in black, a creature with a human shape, distorted and jagged. With eyes that bulged with terror, he looked up at the figure\u2019s face, but what he saw filled him with such fear that he jumped from the moving wagon, jarring his outstretched hands as he hit the hard ground. He ran, ran as fast as his small legs could carry him. And when he turned, the wagon was gone and he was alone. In every direction there was nothing but barren desert, parched rocks as far as the eye could see. Where was his pa? \u201cPa?\u201d His voice was weak, his words stuck in his throat. Swallowing back the saliva that soaked his tongue he cried out for his father. But his cries echoed back from the rocks and his pa didn\u2019t come. He turned round and round, not knowing where to go, what to do. And then he understood he was alone in the world, and sank to his knees and cried.<\/em><\/p>\n

*****<\/p>\n

Joe had no idea what time it was, just that it was early evening sometime; the lanterns had been lit an hour since as night drew in early this time of year. Adam was quiet. He had been since their pa and Doc Martin had laid him down, praying he would find relief in sleep from his torments. And he might be sleeping, but none of them wanted him to be alone. An hour earlier Joe had shooed his father out of the cell area, under duress, but he knew that Ben would be pacing the office outside, unable to sit, unable to settle, his mind trying to make sense of the affliction that had taken over his son. The doc had returned to his surgery; there was nothing more he could do at the sheriff\u2019s office for now. And not long after the lawyer had left, Hoss had left too. After a few quiet words with his pa, Hoss had run out, a determined look darkening his face.<\/p>\n

Spinning the chair round that his pa had vacated, Joe straddled the seat, resting his arms on the chair back. He observed the back of his brother\u2019s shoulder rise and fall with every slow breath. When Adam was still, Joe would lower his head upon his arms. He dropped off on a few occasions; coming too with a start when his arms slipped off the chair back. Once he had awoken to find a blanket draped over him. He had smiled, knowing without being told that his father had been unable to stay away. But Joe was not kidding himself that his brother was in a dreamless sleep, for Adam would grow restless, muttering indecipherable words, his shoulder twitching as he dreamed. And that is when Joe would raise his head and lean forward over the chair and wonder what had caused his brother to lose his mind so abruptly.<\/p>\n

Lose your mind. How could that be? Adam had the cleverest brain of the lot of them, what with all that studying and poetry. Heck, Pa must have been right: education did mess with your thinking. A grimace of a smile graced Joe\u2019s lips and he raised his eyes at that thought. This was no laughing matter. From what the doc said earlier, if Adam stayed in this state, he might end up in a lunatic asylum. Joe buried his face in his arms, tears dampening the sleeves of his shirt. A lunatic asylum! How could they have woken up that morning, and not known, just not known Adam was sick, that his mind was teetering on the edge of insanity? There must have been signs. How did they miss them? Adam had been working all hours. Joe had lost track of the number of times he had gone to bed and Adam and his pa had still been poring over a wordy contract or ploughing through figures. And when he had arrived at the breakfast table, Adam was already saddling up and ready to ride out, impatient to get going. He had been bad-tempered and grouchy. Was that a sign? Gee, if it was, then Adam had been about to blow since the day Joe was born.<\/p>\n

Joe slipped off the chair and sat on the floor outside the cell. Adam\u2019s face was hidden, curled into the blanket and all Joe could see was his head of thick black hair. But Joe was closer to him, and that\u2019s all that mattered.<\/p>\n

\u201cCome on, Big Brother,\u201d he whispered, \u201cthis ain\u2019t you.\u201d<\/p>\n

He reached a hand through the bars and tentatively touched Adam\u2019s head. There was no reaction to Joe\u2019s touch, but Adam was growing twitchier as dreams once more started to assail him.<\/p>\n

And then Joe\u2019s heart broke, because Adam began to weep as he slept. \u201cOh, Adam,\u201d slipped from Joe\u2019s lips. He could count on one hand the number of times he had seen his brother cry. The last time had been after the incident in the desert when Adam had fallen into his father\u2019s arms, heaving great sobs. This was different. This was quiet; a low broken moan, muffled as Adam wept into his blanket, and with shoulders that shook gently. Joe stroked his brother\u2019s hair, hoping his touch would soothe him. But Adam continued to weep, unaware of the cell, or Joe, or the rough blanket beneath his cheek. He was lost in a dream world, and Joe could not even begin to guess what was making his brother cry with such raw intensity.<\/p>\n

*****\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

He cried until there were no more tears left, and with shoulders slumped and his head curled into his chest, he whimpered and sniffed. He was alone. Abandoned.<\/em><\/p>\n

Unwanted.<\/em><\/p>\n

But then a shadow darkened the ground, and with a surge of joy he knew his pa had found him. His eyes lit up as he lifted his head. But the smile illuminating his face swiftly faded, his skin lost its colour and his chin began to tremble. For it wasn\u2019t his pa standing there, but the thing he had so desperately run from. He was frozen to the ground, the hair on his body spiking in fear.<\/em><\/p>\n

The figure shimmered before him, a black streak with indefinable edges. Yet the more he stared, the clearer the figure became. When he saw its face, he found his voice and let out a cry, scrambling to his feet. He turned, but the figure was suddenly in front of him. He moved in another direction but it was there. Everywhere he went, the figure hovered before him.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cGo away,\u201d he cried. \u201cLeave me alone.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

But the figure only drifted closer.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cHow can I go away,\u201d it said, \u201cwhen I am inside you.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

He was too small, too young to understand.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cI am you, I am inside you. Free me, and I will go.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

He cried out, scared, wanting his pa.<\/em><\/p>\n

But then he understood. To be free of it, he had to let the devil inside him out. He looked down at his thin arms and began to claw at his skin.<\/em><\/p>\n

*****<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cPa! Pa!\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe\u2019s urgent cry brought Ben running.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe gotta get in there, Pa, he\u2019s hurting himself.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben followed where Joe was pointing to see Adam sitting on the bunk, using the splintered end of the stool leg to cut into his arm. Blood dripped onto his leg and onto his blanket, but he paid it no mind, only kept digging into the fresh wound.<\/p>\n

An anguished look to Clem and the deputy did not hesitate. He thrust the key into the lock, turned it with a sharp twist of his wrist, and then Ben was pushing past him, grabbing the makeshift tool from Adam\u2019s hand.<\/p>\n

There was no reaction. Adam merely sat slumped on the bed, his palms turned up, and his head lowered. Fingers moved to pick at his wound, but Ben gently moved his hand away.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s wrong with him?\u201d muttered Clem from his place in the doorway.<\/p>\n

Joe ran a hand through his hair. \u201cI dunno, one minute he was lying on the bed\u2026\u201d He paused and glanced quickly at Clem. The deputy had been with them since the beginning of Adam\u2019s ordeal, but he could not bring himself to reveal Adam\u2019s tears. \u201cNext he just sat up and started on his arm with the stool leg.\u201d Joe lowered himself to the bunk next to Adam. \u201cPa, I think Adam\u2019s still asleep. I think he\u2019s dreamin\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben dropped to his haunches and gently raised Adam\u2019s head so he could see his face. Adam\u2019s eyeballs were twitching behind closed lids.<\/p>\n

\u201cI think you\u2019re right, son.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben held Adam\u2019s face in his palm, keeping it upraised so he could gaze upon his boy\u2019s sleeping visage. With his other hand he pushed Adam\u2019s damp hair from his brow, observing the silent repose. It was not fair. Adam was suffering in his waking hours and even whilst he slept. Was there to be no escape from the tricks his mind was playing on him?<\/p>\n

Adam looked as he always did; it was the same face Ben had gazed upon every day as the boy had grown into a man. It was a face he had grown to depend on. His right-hand man: steadfast, resilient, robust in body and in mind. In mind? Was that no longer true? Had Adam been harbouring a weakness quietly within; waiting for his defences to be at their lowest before breaking him? Or had he done this to him? Had he worked him too hard, depended on him too heavily? Ben shook his head. No, it was not that. Adam had been afforded plenty of opportunity to fly the nest. And he always came back because no matter how strenuous, how arduous the work could be, the Ponderosa, the land, it was in his blood. So, why? Why? The word repeated itself like a mantra in his mind as he looked upon Adam and ran his hand down the side of his boy\u2019s face.<\/p>\n

He became aware of a voice saying his name. It was Joe.<\/p>\n

\u201cHis arm, Pa, we can bandage his arm.\u201d<\/p>\n

With a clean dressing on Adam\u2019s wound, he was laid back onto his side, and Ben prayed his dreams would be silent ones.<\/p>\n

*****<\/p>\n

Silas Oates had travelled the length of two blocks when a voice called out to him and he turned to see Hoss Cartwright running up the sidewalk.<\/p>\n

\u201cMr. Oates\u2026Mr. Oates!\u201d He came to a lumbering stop, towering over the small lawyer. \u201cIs there somewhere we can talk quietly?\u201d Silas looked at the big man breathing hard, bowing slightly with his exertions, or was it a different weight he was carrying on his shoulders, wondered Silas.<\/p>\n

\u201cOf course, my office is just a few minutes away.\u201d<\/p>\n

They walked in silence to the office of Oates, Fremont and Eyre, Attorneys and Counsellors at Law, where Silas bade Hoss take a seat whilst he signalled to an assistant to furnish them with coffee.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy pa knows I\u2019m here, Mr. Oates. I told him we oughta let you in on what\u2019s happenin\u2019 \u2018cause, I tell you, somethin\u2019s stickin\u2019 in my craw about the whole business.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMr. Cartwright, Hoss, you\u2019ll need to start at the beginning so I can understand what you\u2019re trying to tell me.\u201d<\/p>\n

There was a knock on the door, and two fresh cups of coffee were delivered into the office. Hoss took the dainty cup in his large fingers and held it for a few moments before placing it on the desk untouched.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy brother, Adam, he\u2019s always been the strong one. The one with the answers. Whenever me, or Little Joe, was in trouble, he\u2019d be the one to get us outta trouble.\u201d Hoss quirked a smile. \u201cMore often we\u2019d go to him, rather than Pa. It\u2019s not that he wouldn\u2019t give us a whippin\u2019 over whatever we\u2019d done, but he was our brother, ya know, he\u2019d see things as we did, and the whippin\u2019 wouldn\u2019t be so hard.\u201d He stood, too restless to stay cooped up in the small hard chair, and paced across the room. \u201cAnd my brother Adam, he\u2019s been through it. He\u2019d had to deal with more than me or Joe ever had to by the time he was only five years old. He lost his own mama, then mine, and he\u2019d seen things no little fella should ever see.\u201d<\/p>\n

Silas shifted in his chair. \u201cWhy are you telling me this, Hoss?\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss gripped the back of his chair and leaned forward. \u201cWell, sir, I reckon what Adam had to go through as a young un\u2019 has made him like he is today, sorta reserved, seemin\u2019 unfriendly even. But he ain\u2019t like that, no sir, not once you know him. I know some folks think he don\u2019t have no feelings, but that ain\u2019t true, he just chooses not to show \u2018em, not unless he\u2019s real riled up.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd?\u201d Silas\u2019s eyebrows arched upwards.<\/p>\n

Hoss sighed. \u201cAnd my brother is back in that jail cell right now, cryin\u2019 his eyes out one minute, laughin\u2019 like he\u2019s jest heard the best joke the next, terrified of somethin\u2019 only he can see, and hearin\u2019 voices only he can hear.\u201d<\/p>\n

Silas sat forward. \u201cWhat are you saying? Are you saying your brother is craz\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t say it!\u201d Hoss\u2019s fingers clenched the chair-back as he glared at Silas. \u201cDon\u2019t say that word, my brother ain\u2019t\u2026\u201d He paused. \u201cHe jest ain\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss closed his eyes and dropped his head, the strain of the last few hours too much to hold in. Silas rose to his feet and laid a hand on the big man\u2019s back, guiding him to the recently-vacated chair. He placed Hoss\u2019s coffee cup into his hand and, turning away to a nearby cabinet, returned a moment later with a bottle of whisky, a slug of which was poured into the dark liquid.<\/p>\n

\u201cDrink; you need it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Silas poured a shot of whisky into his own glass, enjoying the bitterness of the coffee and the heat of the spirit as it warmed his stomach. Hoss smiled, his eyebrows rising in appreciation, and Silas was gratified that his medicine had done the trick.<\/p>\n

\u201cDoc says Adam\u2019s having a, what did he call it, a psychotic event and once it takes a hold of someone, it don\u2019t ever really go away. A bit like Adam\u2019s pal, Ross Marquette. You weren\u2019t here when that happened, but that don\u2019t matter no how. Enough to say that Ross got sick in the head and ended up killin\u2019 his own wife before Adam had to\u2026well, he had to deal with it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss thrust the coffee cup back on the desk and rose to his feet again. \u201cBut Adam ain\u2019t Ross, and what\u2019s happenin\u2019 now, it just don\u2019t make no sense. How can a man be fine one minute, and the next be seeing things that jest ain\u2019t there?\u201d<\/p>\n

Silas sat back in his chair, watching the big man as he paced to and fro in front of his desk.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut you have a theory?\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss\u2019s eyes flashed across to meet Silas\u2019s.<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam\u2019s eyes look kinda weird, all the colour is gone, they\u2019re pretty much all black now.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHis pupils are dilated?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, I think that\u2019s what doc said. He said one of the things that can make that happen is poison. I think someone\u2019s poisoned my brother.\u201d<\/p>\n

Silas frowned. \u201cBut why?\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss came to stand in front of the desk and resting clenched fists on the table surface, leaned over the lawyer.<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause of the murder of Theodore Barley.\u201d<\/p>\n

Silas stared up into the blazing eyes of Hoss Cartwright and saw the determination to help his brother etched into every worried line on his face. When he spoke, Silas\u2019s voice was nearly a whisper.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat are you saying?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat other darned lawyer, Buchanan, made out Adam was imaginin\u2019 things; that he was too tired to think clearly, that he\u2019d been mistaken about what he saw. What if\u2026someone slipped somethin\u2019 inta Adam\u2019s food, or inta somethin\u2019 he drank, somethin\u2019 that would make it look as though he was…\u201d Hoss paused, he did not want to say the word but quickly gulped down his aversion, \u201csomething that would make him seem mad.\u201d<\/p>\n

Silas was on his feet, moving around the desk.<\/p>\n

\u201cWithout Adam we have no case; he was the sole witness to the events of that night.\u201d Silas snapped his fingers and could not stop the smile that brightened his previously gloomy countenance. \u201cThunderation, I think you\u2019re right. With Adam discredited as a reliable witness, Jacob Barley walks free. It has to have been one of Jacob\u2019s cronies and if we can prove it, we\u2019ve got them.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m more concerned about which one of those cretinous, sorry sons of\u2026\u201d Hoss stopped himself. \u201cI just wanna know which one of them did this to my brother.\u201d<\/p>\n

Silas was jubilant. There was still a chance the trial could continue. His mind whirled nineteen to the dozen, surmising the possible charges that Barley and his cohorts faced due to this new evidence. Oh, but wait, there was no evidence yet. But there would be, of that he had no doubt. So what sentence would the judge pass? Distracted, it was a few moments before Silas realised he had not responded to Hoss\u2019s pronouncement. \u201cYes, yes, I understand, but first you<\/em> must understand, we need to work out who did this. And when.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss sat back against the desk, folding his arms across his chest. \u201cHe was fine last night and this morning, so it must have happened today. He left early to get to the court house.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWas he going to see anyone before the court opened for business?\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss snorted. \u201cKnowing the mood my brother was in this mornin\u2019, it would have taken a miracle to have gotten a friendly conversation outta him. No, he would\u2019ve gone straight to the court.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo it had to have happened afterwards. The court adjourned just before midday\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd we got the message to get inta town at about 2:30, and it takes about an hour to ride out to our place.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo we have to presume it happened sometime between midday and 1:30. Your job is to find out where your brother was in that hour and thirty minutes, my boy, where he went, who he spoke to, retrace his steps.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss picked his hat up from where he\u2019d left it on a side cabinet and moved towards the door.<\/p>\n

\u201cMr. Oates, would ya do one thing for my brother?\u201d<\/p>\n

Silas frowned. \u201cOf course, Hoss.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cKeep the trial alive. I don\u2019t know how long Adam\u2019s gonna be the way he is, whether he\u2019s ever gonna be my big brother again, but if I find whoever did this to him, that\u2019d be enough, wouldn\u2019t it, to put the whole kit and caboodle behind bars?\u201d<\/p>\n

Silas pushed his shoulders back and stuck his chin in the air. \u201cYou find me the guilty party, Hoss, and I promise you, I\u2019ll throw so many charges at them, they\u2019ll need more than one neck to hang them by.\u201d<\/p>\n

*****<\/p>\n

Hoss stood on the sidewalk outside Oates\u2019s office and pondered Adam\u2019s movements of earlier that day. He gazed upon the imposing courthouse that loomed over one end of the street and upon the establishments nestled in the large building\u2019s shadow. Nothing but a hay and feed stable, a couple of lawyer\u2019s offices and sundry stores. According to Oates, and assuming Hoss\u2019s theory was right, there were only ninety minutes in which someone had to have tampered with something Adam ate or drank. With that in mind, Hoss set off towards C Street where many of the saloons could be found.<\/p>\n

The Sazerac was as rowdy as ever. Hoss elbowed through to the bar and had to shout to be heard over the raucous laughter and hoots greeting Old Ned Coombe\u2019s rendition of Root Hog or Die; the old man wobbled precariously on a chair, the contents of a glass of Fiery \u201859 splashing over the cheering onlookers. At any other time, Hoss would have joined in the merriment, but today, after the barkeep shouted in reply that Adam had not been seen in the Sazerac, a low frown settled over Hoss\u2019s face and he pushed his way to the exit.<\/p>\n

It was the same story in the Delta, Sawdust Corner and the Silver Dollar, the last of which Hoss had held out high hopes for. So it was with an optimistic demeanour that Hoss entered the last saloon he knew his brother to frequent, the Bucket of Blood.<\/p>\n

He let the batwing doors of the saloon come to an abrupt halt against his back as he stood in the doorway observing the clientele of this favourite haunt of the Cartwrights. He saw the gambling tables to one side, with the silent, slouched figures of professional gamblers and cowpokes entrenched so far into their games not even a charging bull would distract them from their cards.<\/p>\n

There were groups of men nursing beers around tables, enjoying the attention of painted ladies sashaying through with a touch here and a stroke there. A few men propped up the bar, doing what Hoss was doing, observing faces; perhaps looking for a fight or simply losing themselves in a beer after a hard day\u2019s work.<\/p>\n

Heads turned towards him, and Hoss knew they were waiting for some sort of reaction. Blue Brassington stopped as he was leaving and looked up at the big man.<\/p>\n

\u201cSorry abouts ya brother, Hoss. I never figured he\u2019d end up with nuffin beneath his hat but hair.\u201d And then he was gone, pushing through the doors, leaving Hoss with his mouth half open, ready to reply. Someone did this to him<\/em> he had been about to say. But then, perhaps it was best he did not air his suspicions too publicly, lest the culprit started running for the nearest skunk hole to hide.<\/p>\n

\u201cPete.\u201d Hoss nodded at the barkeep. \u201cI\u2019ll have a beer.\u201d He kept his eyes on the crowd of men in the saloon.<\/p>\n

Pete reached below the bar top and filled a glass with his best warm beer.<\/p>\n

\u201cHeard about Adam, Hoss.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss twisted around and, resting a boot on the foot rail, leaned heavily over the wooden surface.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs there anyone who hasn\u2019t heard about Adam?\u201d He took a long gulp of his drink.<\/p>\n

Pete ran a cloth over the spotless counter. \u201cIt\u2019s the talk of the town.\u201d<\/p>\n

The beer glass was laid to rest on the shiny surface and Hoss\u2019s brows lowered as he stared into the barkeep\u2019s eyes.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd what exactly is being said?\u201d<\/p>\n

Pete gulped slightly and pulled down the towel which had been resting on his shoulder. Already sparkling glasses were wiped over with fevered zest. \u201cUh, well, as I heard it Adam was threatening to kill Clem Foster and took Bill Hardy hostage in the street. And he was shooting at things that weren\u2019t there. Florrie Leachman told her husband Wilbur who told me Adam was seeing the ghosts of dead miners and it was them he was shootin\u2019 at.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd who did Florrie Leachman hear that from? Santa Claus?\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss swigged back another mouthful of beer, watching as Pete lowered his head and rubbed harder at the beer glass that had been shone to within an inch of its life.<\/p>\n

\u201cLook, Pete, was Adam in here earlier today?\u201d<\/p>\n

Pete heaved a sigh, his face breaking out in a relieved smile. \u201cHe sure was, sitting over there by the door.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss straightened up.<\/p>\n

\u201cWas anyone with him?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, he was alone. Drinking slow in that way he has of making one drink last all night.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss could not avoid the look of disgruntlement that crossed Pete\u2019s face. He would have smiled if circumstances had been different. But Pete\u2019s answer had not helped. Adam had been here, but alone, which means he must have been slipped something somewhere else. But where? Someone had once told Hoss there were more saloons in Virginia City than in San Francisco, Placerville and Carson City combined. There was no way he could search through every single low-down dive, flea trap and gambling house in town.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know how he does it,\u201d Pete was chattering to himself. \u201cHe takes a gulp of beer and the level on the glass just don\u2019t go down. Half an hour later, it\u2019s the same, and yet he\u2019s drinking away.\u201d He shook his head.<\/p>\n

Hoss donned his hat and nodded at the barkeep who was still rambling. \u201cI\u2019ll be seeing ya, Pete.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI guess when it comes to settlin\u2019 up, Adam\u2019s a good bet to have around; the tab wouldn\u2019t be too big at the end of a night.\u201d Pete chuckled. \u201cAnd when you got friends like Isaac Barley to buy you beers, dang, Adam\u2019s got it made.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss froze, and turned back to the bar.<\/p>\n

\u201cIsaac Barley bought him a beer?\u201d<\/p>\n

Pete was occupied with a new customer. \u201cWhat? Oh, yeah, the young Barley lad bought him a beer. He\u2019s still here, in the corner, see? A bit worse for wear but\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

But Hoss was no longer listening. A handful of long strides and he was standing over a giggling Isaac struggling to stay upright in his seat; his friend Amos Crow dribbling into his sleeves having fallen asleep across the table.<\/p>\n

In a movement that made Isaac appear as light as a sack of feathers, Hoss grabbed the boy by the collar and hoisted him to his feet. Isaac\u2019s feet dragged as he laughed drunkenly.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat did you do to my brother?\u201d<\/p>\n

His reply was nothing more than a cackle of laughter from the alcohol-soaked Isaac.<\/p>\n

\u201cTell me!\u201d<\/p>\n

Bleary eyes opened on a head that lolled from the boy\u2019s shoulders.<\/p>\n

\u201cYour\u2026broth\u2026\u201d Isaac\u2019s hands loosely gripped Hoss\u2019s. \u201cI dunno know who your brother is.\u201d Isaac giggled.<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam.\u201d A hard shake rocked the boy\u2019s head back and forth. \u201cAdam Cartwright.\u201d<\/p>\n

Isaac\u2019s head rolled back and heavy-lidded eyes opened wide. \u201cOh, the tattler.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss\u2019s temper was starting to get the better of him. \u201cWhat did you do to him? What did you give him?\u201d<\/p>\n

Isaac\u2019s smile was replaced with a scowl.<\/p>\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t do nuffin to \u2018im. Nuffin he didn\u2019t deserve.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss swung the boy around and forced him back hard against the bar.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy brother is in a jail cell not knowin\u2019 what day of the week it is, and you say he deserves that.\u201d He pushed down harder and Isaac moaned as pain penetrated through his drunken haze.<\/p>\n

The saloon had grown quiet, even the poker players had looked up from their games to watch the scene play out before them. Pete edged up one foot at a time into Hoss\u2019s field of vision.<\/p>\n

\u201cNow, Hoss, I don\u2019t want no trouble, y\u2019here.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd you won\u2019t get none, if this lowdown dirty lickspittle tells me what he did to my brother.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t do nuffin\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTell me!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI swear on my granddaddy\u2019s grave.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re lying!\u201d<\/p>\n

The boy was bent almost double over the bar. Isaac cried out again and hands were suddenly tugging at Hoss\u2019s arms and shoulders to pull him away. Hoss merely shrugged them off, spun Isaac away from the bar and lifted the boy off his feet. He shook the boy like a child\u2019s rag doll.<\/p>\n

\u201cTell me!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt wasn\u2019t me. It was Amos Crow!\u201d Isaac cried. He dropped his head to his chest, his voice becoming muffled. \u201cIt was Amos Crow gave him it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss lowered the boy\u2019s feet to the floor, and glanced over at the lad still sleeping off his beer, before drawing his gaze back to Isaac. \u201cWhy? Why\u2019d you do it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI heard the lawyer tell my pappy if Adam Cartwright really was seeing things then he\u2019d be a, a\u2026\u201d Isaac looked inwards as he sought for the term he had heard. \u201cUnreliable witness, that was it.\u201d He gulped. \u201cAnd then my father would go free.\u201d A wobbly head lifted to gaze blearily at Hoss. \u201cI was trying to help my father.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, you\u2019ve done more than help your pa. You\u2019ve done landed him a trip to the gallows and you and Amos a spell in jail.\u201d<\/p>\n

He let Isaac go, letting the boy sink to the floor. Hoss left him there whilst he lifted the out-cold Amos Crow and hoisted him over one shoulder, securing him there with one broad hand. With his other he hiked Isaac off the floor and propelled him ahead of him, out of the saloon and towards the sheriff\u2019s office. The saloon crowd followed to the sidewalk, watching this giant of a man take his two prisoners to jail. With a shake of their heads they returned to the heat and light of the saloon, fresh gossip was an excellent appetizer.<\/p>\n

*****\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

Oblivion. How sweet it was. No visions, no voices, just darkness. He was aware, so was he awake? Or was he dreaming of a blissful void of pure nothingness? His state of consciousness was a mystery, but he didn\u2019t care. The emptiness soothed him. <\/em><\/p>\n

The darkness that surrounded him began to fade, and the room was infused with light. A shiver of fear ran through him when he saw the figure was still in the corner. Only now it was defined, its blurred lines contained. The figure, a man, walked over to him and hunkered down on his haunches, cocking his head to one side as he looked at him. Adam saw the man for who he was and understood what he had been running from. Recognition blew away the last remnants of fear and the figure faded before his eyes. He blinked and listened and knew the voices had gone and he was alone at last.<\/em><\/p>\n

Sleep was reaching out to claim him so Adam laid his head back on the pillow, closed his eyes, and fell into a dreamless sleep.<\/em><\/p>\n

*****<\/p>\n

The door burst open and two bodies landed on the floor in a heap, followed by a large angry Hoss. Clem\u2019s elbow slipped off the arm of his chair in the hullaballoo and, collecting himself, he rose to his feet. Joe appeared in the doorway of Clem\u2019s overnight room, his revolver in hand, ready to face whatever had presented itself. Moments later, Ben ran into the room from where he had been sitting with his sleeping son.<\/p>\n

\u201cHoss? What\u2019s this all about?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam ain\u2019t gone mad, Pa, he drank somethin\u2019 that had been slipped in his beer by these varmints.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben took a farther step into the room. \u201cWhat are you saying?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe was drugged, Pa, so folks would believe he was seeing things and his testimony wouldn\u2019t count at Jacob Barley\u2019s trial.\u201d<\/p>\n

Isaac sat on the floor, his legs sprawled out in front of him. Amos Crow did not move from where he had been thrown, still out cold from drink. Joe was on top of Isaac in seconds, yanking the boy to his feet, his fist pulled back. Isaac flinched, whimpering.<\/p>\n

\u201cJoe!\u201d His father\u2019s voice cut through Joe\u2019s unseeing rage.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe did this to my brother, Pa.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben moved closer. \u201cI know, son, and he\u2019ll pay for what he did.\u201d He laid a hand on Joe\u2019s clenched fist, slowly pressing it down. Isaac crumpled to the floor.<\/p>\n

Clem had moved out from behind his desk. \u201cWe\u2019ll lock \u2018em up.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWait.\u201d Hoss\u2019s voice was sharp. \u201cShouldn\u2019t we find out what they gave Adam, and then get the doc?\u201d<\/p>\n

Clem did not need telling twice. He spooned a ladle of water from his water butt, and took pleasure in pouring it over the face of the insensible Amos Crow. The lad came to with a splutter, his head leaping from the floor with a start, and he gazed blearily up at the four angry faces staring down at him.<\/p>\n

\u201cWha\u2026? Where am I?\u201d<\/p>\n

Clem knelt beside him. \u201cYou\u2019re about to spend a night in one of Virginia City\u2019s finest establishments. A nice bed, a bucket in the corner, and protection right outside your door.\u201d He hauled him to his feet and thrust him into a chair. Amos Crow regained his wits remarkably quickly and made to rise, but a hard shove from Joe sent him squirming back into the chair.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat did you put in my son\u2019s drink, Amos?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t do nuffin.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss folded his arms across his chest, towering above the winded Isaac Barley. \u201cI\u2019m afraid your friend here has already pointed the finger right at you, boy.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben looked deep into the black eyes of the Indian. \u201cYou may as well come clean. I\u2019m sure Deputy Sheriff Foster will go easier on you if you tell us what we need to hear.\u201d<\/p>\n

Amos Crow fixed his gaze on the stove in the corner, his mouth set in a straight line.<\/p>\n

Ben straightened. \u201cClem, what charges do you think they\u2019ll bring against young Crow here?\u201d<\/p>\n

Clem leaned back against his desk and folded his arms. \u201cWell, perverting the course of justice for one, assault and battery.\u201d He pursed his lips. \u201cBeing drunk and disorderly.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019s not been disorderly!\u201d shouted Amos Crow, jumping to his feet. His chair clattered to the ground behind him.<\/p>\n

Clem looked pointedly at the chair and then at Ben. \u201cLooks disorderly to me, wouldn\u2019t you say, Ben?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI would, Clem, I would.\u201d<\/p>\n

Amos Crow glared at the two men. But then Hoss\u2019s large hand pressed him back down in the righted chair.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd what do you think would happen to him, Clem?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMy guess? Reservation.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo!\u201d The half-breed sat up straight in his chair. \u201cNo, not the reservation. They\u2019ll make me a slave. I am not one of the people to them, I am nothing.\u201d He nodded at Isaac, leaning heavily on one hand against the floor, his head dropping. \u201cI only did what he asked me.\u201d At Amos Crow\u2019s accusation Isaac climbed to his knees and grabbed the arm of the chair.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s a lie. It was his idea.\u201d<\/p>\n

Amos Crow twisted in his seat and slapped Isaac hard across the face, sending him tumbling to the floor. Quick as a flash, Hoss grabbed the young Indian and pinned him in the chair.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s enough!\u201d thundered Ben. \u201cI don\u2019t care who is to blame. Right now all I want to know is what you gave him.\u201d<\/p>\n

Amos Crow slumped back in his chair and dropped his head to his chest, his long black hair hiding his face from view. Ben straightened and sighed.<\/p>\n

\u201cToloache.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben turned. \u201cWhat did you say?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cToloache.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben cast a quick look around the room, noticing puzzled expressions that matched his own. \u201cWhat is toloache?\u201d<\/p>\n

Amos Crow crossed his arms, black eyes peering up through his straggly hair. \u201cIt does things to your head.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben\u2019s mind was immediately made up. \u201cJoe, get Doctor Martin. Hoss, Clem, lock these miscreants in a cell.\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe was already at the door, hat on his head, when Amos Crow spoke.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t need no doctor. I can tell you what you wanna know.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben considered for a moment, but then nodded at Joe who left the office running.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy do you want to help us all of a sudden?\u201d<\/p>\n

Amos Crow shrugged. \u201cI think, maybe you help me.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben and Clem exchanged a look. \u201cWell, I can\u2019t promise anything, but I can put in a word.\u201d<\/p>\n

The Indian gazed at Ben and clearly believed what he had been told. \u201cToloache, the sacred datura. You call it jimsonweed.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben gasped. \u201cJimsonweed!\u201d He flashed a glance at Hoss. \u201cWhen I was in Boston it was known as Jamestown weed. Back when Virginia was a colony a group of British soldiers ate some, thinking it was a food. Everyone thought they\u2019d gone mad.\u201d He took a step towards Amos Crow. \u201cAnd that\u2019s why you gave it to my son, to make him look like he\u2019d gone insane?\u201d<\/p>\n

Amos Crow gazed back up at him through sullen eyes. \u201cWorked, didn\u2019t it?\u201d<\/p>\n

Isaac tittered but not for long. Solid hands hoisted him to his feet and he was hauled across the office to the cell area. Hoss deposited him none to gently in the remaining cell; Clem followed with his ring of keys.<\/p>\n

Ben was alone with Amos Crow. \u201cWhat will it do to him, this weed?\u201d<\/p>\n

The boy shrugged. \u201cHe\u2019ll see into his soul.\u201d A pair of black eyes blinked up at Ben. \u201cAnd he won\u2019t like what he sees.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow much did you give him?\u201d<\/p>\n

There was a pause.<\/p>\n

\u201cEnough.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben leaned over Amos Crow, his hands tight on the wooden arms. The Indian sat up sharply, recoiling away from the large presence looming over him. Ben\u2019s voice was calm, quiet. Deadly.<\/p>\n

\u201cIf my son doesn\u2019t come out of this unscathed, unbroken, whole, I will personally see you spend the rest of your life as a slave to the Indians from whom you are so keen to escape. No more hanging around on street corners, no more leeching off others, no more saloons. I understand the Bannock people like to chop the toes off their slaves to stop them escaping.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not Bannock,\u201d stuttered Amos Crow.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t care.\u201d<\/p>\n

Fuming eyes bore into the equally dark eyes of the Indian, capturing the lad in the intensity of his glare. Ben\u2019s lips were a hard line, his nostrils flaring as he breathed. Amos Crow blinked rapidly, tearing his eyes from Ben\u2019s face.<\/p>\n

The door opened and Doctor Martin stood framed in the doorway, observing the scene before him. A frown pulled the doctor\u2019s brows together. Ben straightened and turned away from Amos Crow, aware of eyes burning into his back.<\/p>\n

\u201cBen?\u201d<\/p>\n

Paul\u2019s questioning tone pierced Ben\u2019s outrage. \u201cIt\u2019s okay, Paul.\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe squeezed in behind the doctor, a quizzical expression plying his features as his gaze travelled from his father to Paul to the quivering Amos Crow. The sight of his youngest tempered Ben\u2019s anger and brought him back to earth. This was no example to be setting. His shoulders dropped and a smile graced his lips.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s okay,\u201d repeated Ben with a reassuring look to Joe, and with a warm hand on the doctor\u2019s elbow, he steered Paul into the cell area, filling him in on what he had been told.<\/p>\n

It was not long before Amos Crow was locked up with his erstwhile friend, Isaac Barley, and with the agreement of Doctor Martin, Adam was moved out of the cell and to Clem\u2019s small overnight room.\u00a0 Ben did not want the two culprits anywhere near his eldest boy. So Adam was rocked gently into semi-consciousness and with his eyes closed and head lolling, his two brothers walked him to his new bed where he was asleep before his head even hit the pillow.<\/p>\n

Hoss became Adam\u2019s first night-watchman, squashed into a small wooden chair too narrow for his sturdy build. He soon abandoned it, choosing to sit on the floor and rest his back against the opposite wall instead. It was early for sleep, but Hoss doubted that he would have slept anyway, too concerned was he by his brother\u2019s state of mind. Adam\u2019s cot was dragged out of the cell and into the office in preparation for the long night to come. And whether they sat numb in a chair, paced the floor or tried to coax their mind to sleep, time seemed to slow to a crawl, and the night stretched out interminably before them. Only the morning would tell if their prayers had brought the resolution they prayed for.<\/p>\n

*****<\/p>\n

Adam blinked open his eyes, and looked at a brick wall. Why was\u2026where was\u2026what was going on? The outline of each brick was double-edged and fuzzy. He pressed his eyes together and opened them again. This time the bricks were less blurry. He started to turn over. Oh, that was a mistake. His head felt like a cannonball; only when he moved, his brain did not, choosing to follow in its own sweet time. A groan escaped him as he fell onto his back. But then a hand touched his shoulder and a soft voice said his name; a voice that used to bring brought comfort and warmth. A voice he had known his whole life. It had been both mother and father when he had been a child, comforted him when he had been sad, laughed with him when happy. It was a voice he had once held onto during the dark times.<\/p>\n

\u201cHelp me up, Pa.\u201d His throat felt like it was coated in grit.<\/p>\n

Firm hands held his arms and manoeuvred him up. Adam\u2019s elbows slid his onto his knees; he clutched his head, his eyes clamped shut.<\/p>\n

\u201cSon\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam cleared his throat. \u201cCan I have some water?\u201d<\/p>\n

A cup of water was pressed into his hand. He poured it down his throat before letting his head roll back down to his chest. He felt his father\u2019s hand on his forehead pushing the damp hair away from his face, but he flinched away from the touch. His father\u2019s voice had said words to him he did not want to remember, things he never wanted to think about again.<\/p>\n

\u201cSon, I just want to look at your eyes.\u201d<\/p>\n

If this was real, everything before was a nightmare. Wasn\u2019t it? Adam slowly lifted his head and prized open his eyes. His father was a cloudy blur, the shape of his body a hazy impression. Memory ignited like a spark and Adam desperately blinked, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes. When he opened them again his vision was clearer. He sighed in relief.<\/p>\n

\u201cYour pupils are still dilated, but not as much as they were.\u201d<\/p>\n

A hint of a smile edged around Adam\u2019s lips. \u201cWhen did you start talking like Doc Martin?\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben laid a warm hand on Adam\u2019s arm. \u201cSince my eldest boy decided to get drugged with jimsonweed.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam\u2019s eyes widened. He nodded his head and sighed.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you remember?\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam sucked in his lips and lowered his gaze.<\/p>\n

\u201cEverything.\u201d<\/p>\n

*****<\/p>\n

A sprinkling of overnight snow had frosted the scrubby dirt of Boot Hill. For the first time this fall, Adam noticed his breath misting as he exhaled. The weather was on the turn, winter would soon be upon them. The sound of the ice crunching under his boots prompted Adam to tug his collar up higher around his neck. Another chill shivered through his body, though Adam did not know whether it was due to the nip in the air, or the ghostly touch of the spirits who wandered Virginia City\u2019s mountain cemetery. An icy blue sky looked down in all its immensity over a sprawl of tiny buildings that crawled up the slopes of Mount Davidson and across the valleys surrounding the town. The workings of the silver mines scarred the landscape. The hills were sliced, diced and eroded, all because of man\u2019s insatiable quest for wealth. Chimneys belched out smoke next to triangular headframes that stood sentinel over the mineshafts beneath. Adam could even make out the tiny box-like cages spewing forth rows of miners, like ants dispersing from the dark depths of their nests. The distant echoes of machinery, clanging and banging, drifted towards the hilltop where Adam stood.<\/p>\n

His gaze shifted to the two graves at his feet. In a plot enclosed by elaborate metal railings, an ornate stone monolith announced the final resting place for Theodore Sherman Barley. Its unassuming epitaph read: \u2018Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.\u2019 Theodore had been prepared for when his time came, having already purchased the plot and monument several years before. Adam doubted Jacob had been ready; the man was too arrogant to assume he would be inflicted with a sudden, premature and violent death. But even if Jacob had looked beyond his mortal life, no one in town was prepared to place a monument of equal size and standing next to that of old Ted. So a wooden marker was all that indicated the grave of Jacob Barley; a marker inscribed with his name and two stark words\u2014his abiding legacy for future visitors to look at and wonder. The inscription simply read, \u2018Jacob Barley, Legally Hanged.\u2019<\/p>\n

Adam lent his elbows on the railings and hung his head. A father and son. That a son could want to kill his own pa was abhorrent to Adam. How could their relationship have got to such a point? Yet Ted had never even so much as hinted things were not right between them. Unless he had never known; unless Jacob had harboured a secret loathing for his father.<\/p>\n

Adam pulled in a breath and released it slowly. Secrets. Words unsaid. Adam was under no illusion he had the perfect relationship with his own father. As in all families, they had experienced times when they had not got along. As a youth\u2014before he came to his senses, as his father liked to put it\u2014Adam had been a handful, chasing around with tearaways and getting into all sorts of trouble. His pa had told him later that, although Adam had been impossible to live with, it had not been unexpected\u2014Adam had been rebelling, just as he had done when he was two. But they had endured. Shouting matches had evolved into measured conversations; necessary talks in the barn became a thing of the past. And as Adam matured, instead of defying his father, Adam had confided in him, sharing what was playing on his mind, or heart. These days, Adam had a tendency to keep his innermost thoughts to himself, but he knew he could always talk with his pa about anything that was troubling him.<\/p>\n

Except this.<\/p>\n

Adam wanted to talk to his pa, but he was scared, plain and simple. Scared of what his father would say if he revealed what was haunting him. Adam kicked at one of the rails. Damn this fear! He had known too much of it of late. The terror that had enveloped him when under the influence of that cursed weed plagued him in his dreams. Only hours since, Adam had snapped awake in the dark hours before dawn, his sheet pulled taut between hands clutching like claws at the material. His pillow and bed clothes were damp with sweat and his bedding bedraggled from where he had thrown himself about. But like all the nights before, he had no memory of the dream, only a sensation of immense fear, of being unable to escape the unseen horror that hounded him.<\/p>\n

In the days that followed Adam\u2019s experience at the hands of young Barley and Amos Crow, the prosecuting attorney, Silas Oates, had honoured his promise to Hoss and kept the trial alive. Amos Crow\u2019s admission of guilt had tarred Isaac, and by association, Jacob. And so, in an afternoon of high drama at the Virginia City Court House, Isaac and Amos Crow were handcuffed and removed there as new witnesses. Adam had stayed away\u2014unwilling to return to the place which conjured so many unsettling memories\u2014but his brothers attended, keen to see that the men who had hurt their older brother pay the price for their crimes.<\/p>\n

That evening, Hoss and Joe had stood warming their backs against the fire, and enthusiastically related to Ben and Adam the events of the afternoon. Hoss began with how Jacob had denied all knowledge of his son\u2019s actions; at which Joe had passionately re-enacted the moment when Isaac had jumped to his feet and called his father a dirty rotten liar and many other derogatory euphemisms hinting at carnal activities with particular farmyard animals. Isaac earned himself a new charge, and Joe a dressing-down from his outraged father. Adam smiled as he recalled Joe\u2019s face during their father\u2019s reprimand. His little brother\u2019s eyes had squinted as they had wandered the room, reacting to every boom and bellow from his father\u2019s lips. A final blast from Ben caused him to flinch and a pained look to flash across his face.<\/p>\n

But it had been no time until the animated account of the trial had been resumed. Jacob Barley had leapt to his feet at his son\u2019s insults and called him an irresponsible, bone-idle, weak-minded, deceitful little ingrate; that everything he had ever done had been for him. To which Isaac had parlayed back that Jacob was as much a disappointment as a father, and what did he expect from a man who would kill his own pa. At which Jacob screamed he had only done it for Isaac. The courtroom had erupted into uproar\u2014Hoss took great pleasure in acting out Jacob\u2019s reaction of collapsing back limply into his chair\u2014and it had taken many minutes, and much pounding of the gavel, to calm the spectators and counsels down.<\/p>\n

The remainder of the trial had determined that Jacob\u2019s motivation had been greed, nothing more. His own business endeavours were a dismal failure, and combined with a lifestyle increasingly beyond his means, led to an abortive attempt to have his aging father sign his profitable business over to the less than competent son. Unsurprisingly, that had come to nothing and in a moment of impetuosity he had seen an opportunity and taken it. He had not counted on a witness to his rash action riding home late that night. Jacob was subsequently charged with murder and sentenced to hang in seven days.<\/p>\n

That had been three weeks ago, and now Jacob Barley lay next to his father. His cohorts had melted back into the dark places they had crawled out from, and both Isaac and Amos Crow had left in the back of a prison wagon en route for a stretch in a chain gang.<\/p>\n

Ben had been needling him for days to ride into town with him, to get back to some semblance of normality, and after raised voices and an exasperated plea, Adam had finally relented, if only to get his pa off his back. Once Ben appeared sufficiently preoccupied, sorting through their post at the mail office, Adam had taken his chance and ridden out of town the mile or so to the cemetery. He noticed the curious looks from the townspeople who stopped and stared at him as he rode past. The role Isaac had played in Adam\u2019s mental collapse was common knowledge, but he knew they were watching, hoping against hope that maybe a Cartwright would create a spectacle in the streets of Virginia City once again.<\/p>\n

And now, as he looked upon the grave of his friend, Adam wondered if he would ever be the man he was before. He felt different. He was different. He had stayed quiet about what he had experienced that night, wanting to keep it buried deep within. But the emotions and memories that had been stirred went round and round in his mind until he had wanted to hit his head against a wall and knock out the thoughts that constantly harassed him.<\/p>\n

Joe had asked a day or so after returning to the Ponderosa what Adam had seen when under the influence of the jimsonweed. And Adam had paused and answered, \u2018ghouls and goblins\u2019. He knew Joe would feel he was getting the brush off, but his brother merely said, \u201cpretty scary, huh,\u201d to which Adam had nodded and the conversation had moved on. It had not been alluded to since. But it had been hard to avoid the glances and the halted conversations when he entered a room. Most difficult had been the look of hurt that would cross his father\u2019s face when they found themselves alone together, and Adam would make his excuses and walk away. He knew he was hurting his pa, but he was struggling with the ideas that had been so firmly planted in his mind, and no matter how much he acknowledged his unreasonable attitude, he could not shake off his newly unearthed guilt.<\/p>\n

The Ponderosa\u2019s silence had not helped, for it had been like thunder in his ears. He could not escape from the roar of his family\u2019s whispers or from the pounding of their boots as they trod softly around him. As they exchanged looks behind his back, it was as though a lightning bolt split his heart in two. Yet here, at Ted\u2019s grave, in the solitude of the cemetery, Adam found the peace he had been craving.<\/p>\n

The crunch of a footstep sounded behind him. Adam angled his head and recognised the solid shape of his father. He turned back to gaze at the stone grave with a slight shake of his head and his cheek dimpling.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou following me, Pa?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI saw you ride out of town, figured I\u2019d find you here.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI could have carried on going, headed up to Lake\u2019s Crossing.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou forget, I know you, better than you know yourself sometimes.\u201d<\/p>\n

A pair of gloved hands curled around the pointed rails topping the iron balustrade as Ben moved to Adam\u2019s side. Adam straightened out of his lean, his gaze fixing on nothing in particular.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen are you going to stop avoiding me, son?<\/p>\n

Adam\u2019s brow furrowed. What could he say? He could not deny it, because it was true. Adam sighed deeply and mirrored his father, gripping the rails with gloved hands. He pushed back with straight arms, letting his head drop.<\/p>\n

Do it now. Don\u2019t hide from it any more. Face it.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry, Pa.\u201d<\/p>\n

He sensed Ben looking towards him.<\/p>\n

\u201cFor what?\u201d<\/p>\n

How to say it? Straight out, just straight out.<\/p>\n

\u201cFor my mother.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFor\u2026\u201d Ben frowned. \u201cSon, I don\u2019t understand.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam raised his head but could not bring himself to look at his father.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you blame me, Pa? For my mother\u2019s death?\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben started. \u201cIs that what this is all about?\u201d He pulled Adam around to face him. \u201cAdam, son, I have never blamed you for Elizabeth\u2019s death. I never will and you know that. Why now, why after all these years?\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam removed himself gently from his father\u2019s grip and walked to where the hill began its slope down to the town.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat day, when I\u2026lost control\u2026I saw things, heard things.\u201d He paused, bringing to mind the rumbling tones of his father, \u201cyou killed her, boy. She died to give <\/em>you life.\u201d <\/em>Adam threw a glance at the sky.<\/p>\n

In a handful of strides, Ben was next to him, staring with concerned eyes at his son. \u201cWhat, Adam?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou, Pa. I heard you. You said it was my day of reckoning, that I had killed my own mother. You blamed me for Ruth, too, you remember, the woman the Shoshone thought was a spirit woman. You said these people had died for me, and asked, was I worth it.\u201d<\/p>\n

A quick glance and Adam could see cold shock on his father\u2019s face. Ben\u2019s mouth hung open and his eyes were fixed on Adam as he digested his son\u2019s words.<\/p>\n

\u201cI said this?\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam nodded. \u201cI was aware of a\u2026shape, a thing\u2026always in my sights from the very start. At first I couldn\u2019t get a clear look, but later I could see it better. A shape, like a man, only not a man.\u201d Adam shook his head quickly as he tried to make sense of his visions. \u201cIt was just\u2026there, the whole time, in the street, in the cell. In my dreams.\u201d His mouth quirked upwards, his dimple coming to life briefly. \u201cBut the voice, your voice, seemed to come from it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd it was this\u2026thing\u2026that told you about your mother, about Ruth?\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam looked at his father, and nodded again.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut you know it\u2019s not true. Son, Elizabeth\u2019s death couldn\u2019t be helped. She was not strong and giving birth to you took away the last of her strength. But it wasn\u2019t your fault. How could the innocent child she carried be to blame? And as for Ruth, how do you know she died\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShe would have come looking for me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSon,\u201d Ben gripped Adam\u2019s arms, \u201cshe went willingly to the Shoshone\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTo save my life!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam, she made that decision of her own free will. Yes to save you, but, from what you\u2019ve told me, to help the sick too.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam sucked in his lips, unknowingly wearing the same look he had worn when he had been discovered injured and feverish in Ruth\u2019s small camp. Despite the women he had known since his fleeting encounter with the white buffalo woman, his heart was still fractured from her sudden disappearance. Their love affair had been so brief. They had fallen in love, made an oath to be together always and then been wrenched apart in what seemed like only a heartbeat. Now, all he had to remember her by was the recollection of the soft sensation of her hair beneath his fingers and her sweet tender kiss. He felt his father stir beside him.<\/p>\n

\u201cTell me about the figure you saw, your vision.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam was pulled from his memories of Ruth. Walking back to the grave of Theodore Barley, he gazed across at the monument.<\/p>\n

\u201cAt first, it was a blur. It moved unnaturally.\u201d He snorted. \u201cTerrified me. I don\u2019t think I\u2019ve ever been so scared in all my life.\u201d He wrapped his arms around himself, suddenly cold.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s okay, son. You weren\u2019t\u2026yourself.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam found a smile. \u201cYou could say that again. A couple of times I saw its face properly and decided it was the devil. I was so scared, Pa.\u201d He twisted around, seeking out the reassuring presence of his father. \u201cLater, in a dream, I saw the face again, only, by then, I wasn\u2019t scared anymore.\u201d His hand unconsciously moved to the sleeve which covered a long, jagged scar on his forearm.<\/p>\n

Ben moved to stand in front of Adam and took a deep breath. \u201cWhat did\u2026the devil look like?\u201d<\/p>\n

The silence in the cemetery drew down around them like a shroud. Even the distant machinery could no longer be heard.<\/p>\n

Adam looked into his father\u2019s eyes, his voice a whisper.<\/p>\n

\u201cMe, Pa. The devil wore my face.\u201d<\/p>\n

*****<\/p>\n

Ben reined Buck to a sudden stop, prompting Adam to do the same a few strides along. Circling Sport around, he loped back to where his father was waiting, his face a quizzical mask.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s up, Pa?\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben took a long look at his son.<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam, you say when you came face to face with the devil, it was you?\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam squinted. \u201cYeah?<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd you now know what you were seeing and hearing wasn\u2019t real; it was the effects of the jimsonweed on your mind.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam\u2019s eyebrows tightened.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat are you getting at, Pa?\u201d<\/p>\n

Buck tossed his head and Ben leant down to give his mount a pat. \u201cIt seems to have taken the death of a good friend and the subsequent messing with your mind to bring a long-buried guilt to the surface.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNow, Pa\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t you \u2018now, pa\u2019 me, boy,\u201d Ben retorted sharply. \u201cYou asked me back at the cemetery whether I blamed you for your mother\u2019s death. I always thought you knew the answer to that. From the time you were old enough to understand I drummed it into you that you must never feel blame, that I never held you responsible. But now it seems that you never accepted my word. Perhaps you thought you did, but deep down\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam looked away from Ben, his temples flushing red.<\/p>\n

Ben sighed. His voice softened. \u201cYou said this devil, this creature that terrified you, looked like you. Well, what if you were seeing that which frightens you the most, your own guilt. You\u2019ve always been one to let the weight of the world settle on your shoulders. You don\u2019t face it; you bury those thoughts and feelings which will hurt the most. But that night you suddenly had to confront it, and it terrified you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam scratched his ear. \u201cWell if that\u2019s the case, why did I hear your voice, why didn\u2019t I hear my own?\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben\u2019s eyebrows rose. \u201cI never hid the truth from you about your mother\u2019s death. And I\u2019ve never blamed you, son. But it\u2019s clearly a burden you\u2019ve carried with you your whole life. You feel guilty because of me, so I think that guilt revealed itself in the only way your mind could handle, by hearing my voice.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam pouted, thinking over what his father had told him.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd what of Ruth? You never even met her.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, but it was me who stopped you going after her. I imagine you feel some lingering anger towards me for that.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, Pa, I\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s okay, Adam. It\u2019s out now. It\u2019s no longer eating away inside of you. And we will talk about this further, whether you want to or not.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam\u2019s cheek dimpled as he pictured the conversations to come.<\/p>\n

Ben wheeled his horse around so he was next to Adam and reached over to squeeze his knee.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut believe me, son, I don\u2019t hold you responsible for anything that\u2019s happened in the past, most of all Elizabeth\u2019s death. It was at the will of a being a lot more powerful than you or I, and we must not question His will.\u201d<\/p>\n

He nudged Buck out into the road and twisted around in his saddle.<\/p>\n

\u201cNow, are you coming? Or are we just going to sit out here in the middle of the road talking all day.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam smiled. \u201cComing, Pa.\u201d<\/p>\n

And as Adam followed on behind his father, he felt a sudden lightness take hold, as though a mantle that had encumbered his shoulders had been lifted and taken flight. The deeply buried guilt within him had fought its way to the surface through years of stubborn denial and was, at long last, set free. For the first time, Adam could look at his father without a powerfully veiled sense of shame masking his vision. Watching his pa\u2019s back sway from side to side ahead of him, Adam recognised his father\u2019s losses had made him who he was; they had made him stronger. The death of Elizabeth had meant Inger had come into his life, and given them the warm and sensitive Hoss. And the tragedy of Inger\u2019s killing during an Indian attack had led his father to find Marie, resulting in the passionate and boisterous Little Joe. The shutters had come off, and now Adam knew in his heart there was no time for regrets, for allowing events he had no control over to consume him. Life was good, it was to be celebrated.<\/p>\n

He kicked Sport\u2019s flanks, and whooping into the cold air, he spurred his mount into a gallop and sped by his father at speed. As he heard his father\u2019s laughter fade behind him, Adam knew they were going to be okay, more than okay. He laughed as he brought Sport to an abrupt halt, the animal rearing slightly onto its hind legs. And as Adam waited for his father to catch up, he looked out over the land that had been his parents\u2019 dream and breathed deeply. With a newly discovered peace in his heart, Adam greeted his father and they rode towards home.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

[1]<\/a> Altered text from \u2018Observations on Madness and Melancholy\u2019 by John Haslam, 1809<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Tags:\u00a0 Adam Cartwright,\u00a0Angst,\u00a0APM,\u00a0Ben Cartwright,\u00a0Hoss Cartwright,\u00a0Joe \/ Little Joe Cartwright,\u00a0Trial<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/g><\/svg><\/i> \"Loading\"<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Summary: \u00a0The murder of a friend, and the ensuing trial, lead an exhausted Adam to confront deeply buried fears and long-held guilt about events in his past. Will he come out the other side unscathed and able to face up to his father?<\/p>\n

Rating: T \u00a0 Word Count: 23,980 words<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":9862,"featured_media":14890,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"template-full-width-post.php","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_feature_clip_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[23,41],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-14887","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-drama","category-hurtcomfort","wpcat-23-id","wpcat-41-id"],"a3_pvc":{"activated":true,"total_views":2858,"today_views":0},"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/09\/TDG-1-DVS.jpg?fit=832%2C626&ssl=1","jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack-related-posts":[{"id":567,"url":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=567","url_meta":{"origin":14887,"position":0},"title":"Death’s Letter S (by Karen)","author":"Karen","date":"April 17, 2014","format":false,"excerpt":"Summary: \u00a0 Joe plays a joke on Hoss. Rated:\u00a0K (1,330 words)","rel":"","context":"In "Humor"","block_context":{"text":"Humor","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?cat=4"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/04\/Bankrun.jpg?fit=768%2C576&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/04\/Bankrun.jpg?fit=768%2C576&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/04\/Bankrun.jpg?fit=768%2C576&ssl=1&resize=525%2C300 1.5x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/04\/Bankrun.jpg?fit=768%2C576&ssl=1&resize=700%2C400 2x"},"classes":[]},{"id":6506,"url":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=6506","url_meta":{"origin":14887,"position":1},"title":"One Shot (by rh2006fan \/ HeatherF)","author":"heather","date":"May 4, 2014","format":false,"excerpt":"Summary:\u00a0\u00a0 A normal trip to the saloon turns tragic. I wrote this back in the summer, you may need some tissues with this too... Warning: Character death Rated:\u00a0 T (1,450 words)","rel":"","context":"In "Drama"","block_context":{"text":"Drama","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?cat=23"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/02\/coming-soon-9.jpg?fit=320%2C240&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200},"classes":[]},{"id":12694,"url":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=12694","url_meta":{"origin":14887,"position":2},"title":"A Bit (by Nanuk)","author":"Nanuk","date":"October 14, 2004","format":false,"excerpt":"Summary: What is it a man needs most? Just a bit, a bit of ... Rating:\u00a0 K+\u00a0 (1,100 words)","rel":"","context":"In "Drama"","block_context":{"text":"Drama","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?cat=23"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/06\/Showdown3.jpg?fit=761%2C669&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/06\/Showdown3.jpg?fit=761%2C669&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/06\/Showdown3.jpg?fit=761%2C669&ssl=1&resize=525%2C300 1.5x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/06\/Showdown3.jpg?fit=761%2C669&ssl=1&resize=700%2C400 2x"},"classes":[]},{"id":23539,"url":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=23539","url_meta":{"origin":14887,"position":3},"title":"No Way Back (by Jules)","author":"J7339 \/ Jules S","date":"September 12, 2019","format":false,"excerpt":"Summary: Joe Cartwright thinks he is coming to help someone, but finds himself needing help getting back to reality. Rating:\u00a0 G Word Count:\u00a0 1001","rel":"","context":"In "Drama"","block_context":{"text":"Drama","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?cat=23"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/12\/Joecourage.png?fit=424%2C352&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200},"classes":[]},{"id":12795,"url":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=12795","url_meta":{"origin":14887,"position":4},"title":"The Intruder (by Arien)","author":"Arien","date":"April 5, 2016","format":false,"excerpt":"Summary:\u00a0 An intruder finds his way to the Ponderosa. Rating:\u00a0 K\u00a0 (570 words)","rel":"","context":"In "Humor"","block_context":{"text":"Humor","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?cat=4"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/04\/frontporch.jpg?fit=439%2C305&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200},"classes":[]},{"id":47314,"url":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=47314","url_meta":{"origin":14887,"position":5},"title":"A Private Myth (by AMG)","author":"Preserving Their Legacy Author","date":"January 1, 2004","format":false,"excerpt":"Summary:\u00a0\u00a0A rather silly mix of Greek mythology and the Cartwrights... Rating:\u00a0 G Words:\u00a0 2,400","rel":"","context":"In "Ben \/ Adam"","block_context":{"text":"Ben \/ Adam","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?cat=1016"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2023\/03\/Preserving-Their-Legacy.png?fit=732%2C477&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2023\/03\/Preserving-Their-Legacy.png?fit=732%2C477&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2023\/03\/Preserving-Their-Legacy.png?fit=732%2C477&ssl=1&resize=525%2C300 1.5x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2023\/03\/Preserving-Their-Legacy.png?fit=732%2C477&ssl=1&resize=700%2C400 2x"},"classes":[]}],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14887","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/9862"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=14887"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14887\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/14890"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=14887"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=14887"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=14887"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}