Disclaimer: I don’t own the Cartwrights or Bonanza. No copyright infringement is intended against John T. Dugan’s script. Original plot is\u00a0property of the author. This story is for entertainment and no money was made from it.<\/span><\/p>\n Reviews from the Old Library are on the last page.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n No More Games<\/strong><\/p>\n My hands grip Kane’s neck tightly closing his windpipe and lungs off to vital air. I see my knuckles turning white as my fingers hold tighter. There\u2019s a voice yelling, \u201cNo more games! No guns! No games!\u201d but I don\u2019t know whose it is. It can\u2019t be his. I\u2019m beginning to take pleasure in seeing his eyes bulge and hearing him gasp in hopes of getting a small breath.<\/p>\n Kane revealing the cache of food and precious water was the last straw in this game of survival. My mind couldn\u2019t fathom the evil delight a human being could take in seeing another deprived of such basic needs while forced to work in the bowels of the earth. As he backed away with the rifle in hand, I cling to the bag of beans and the canteen, afraid to let go for fear they were nothing but a mirage.<\/p>\n When he introduces his next game\u2014each of us would go for the rifle, the one reaching it first to kill the other\u2014the primitive animal in my mind begins asserting its control. Despite fatigue from work, hunger and thirst, I lunge for him, wrestling him to the ground with my hands around his throat.<\/p>\n As my fingers close tighter, I feel his pulse racing as his body struggles to survive. I\u2019m enjoying this power I have over him.<\/p>\n A strangled voice cries out,\u00a0Kill me! Kill me! I need to win! I win!<\/em><\/p>\n Suddenly, the primitive animal-like creature in control of my fingers is being forced back into its hiding place. My hands are again part of my body, under my command. I release my grip on the dying man. I\u2019m horrified knowing that I\u2019ve been pushed beyond the limits of my control, and I\u2019m confused\u2014I\u2019ve long insisted that no man was capable of forcing me to surrender to the primitive animal that resides within each of us. As he struggles for breath I crawl for the rifle, smashing it against a rock until it disintegrates into several unusable pieces. Staggering to my feet, I grab the canteen and sack of beans and stumble as I run like hell to get out of my tormentor’s sight only to trip over my feet and fall to the dry, dusty ground, clutching the beans and water as tightly as I had his throat.<\/p>\n A desperate cry stops me from getting to my feet and running.\u00a0You’re leaving me here to die, just like those two animals left you!<\/em>\u00a0He\u2019s right\u2014I\u2019m leaving him on foot without food or water to perish or persevere. Kane\u2019s satisfied,\u00a0I<\/em>\u00a0win, forces me wearily to my feet. If I leave Kane behind it\u2019ll mean I’ve killed him–maybe not directly with my hands or a gun, but indirectly by letting the sun, thirst, and hunger take their toll. He\u2019d like that. I don\u2019t want to but I go back to keep Kane from dying\u2014and winning.<\/p>\n I nudge him with my boot, but he seems limp. Kneeling down, I hold the canteen to his lips, allowing a small trickle of water to enter his mouth. We\u2019ll have to share what little there is as we make our way out of the desert. Means we\u2019ll have to drink sparingly to survive.<\/p>\n I’m ashamed I’ve allowed myself to be pushed so far by a man who apparently enjoys debasing other men. Back in Eastgate, I’d teased Joe, dunking him under the sudsy surface of the water as he bathed, saying he was the only man who could drive me to murder. I remember laughing as he came to the surface sputtering for air, angry at my childish display of the power that an older brother can have over a younger one. How wrong could I have been that no one could steer me to a precipice where I\u2019d lose rationality and give in to the sheer pleasure of killing a fellow man? I thought control over one’s baser side was what distinguished man from the animals, but now . . . now I\u2019m not so sure after being forced to work in hellish conditions for another man\u2019s perverse enjoyment.<\/p>\n I shake his shoulder, he still doesn’t respond. As his head rolls from side to side, I see the red marks on his neck caused by my hands. Turning my hands over, I look at them\u2014these same hands gently held both Hoss and Joe as babies, as well as women I’ve loved; these hands have also held guns used to kill men who\u2019d take from my family all that we’ve worked for; hands used to cherish life and wield death. I try to shake the image of my fingers squeezing Kane\u2019s throat.<\/p>\n How much control do I really have over that powerful, primitive inner animal that roared its pleasure as life left his body?<\/p>\n Looking around I note what can be salvaged for our trek through the desert. The poles from the shelter will do for a travois and the canvas tarp that\u2019s a roof will do for a blanket. Guess he\u2019s not going to stop playing dead. The ropes used first to hobble the mule and then to bind my hands and feet at night will hold him to the travois. Wonder if he\u2019ll protest at being tied by his pack animal.<\/p>\n I don\u2019t care.<\/p>\n I take a short drink. Got to save the water. The poles come loose easier than I thought they would. It\u2019s almost mid-day. Maybe it\u2019ll be better to wait until evening before starting out. I just want to get as far away from this hellhole as fast as possible.<\/p>\n Lashing the canvas to the poles, I hear a distant voice saying, “I’m not doing this out of any concern for you, you miserable son-of-a-bitch. I’m doing it because I am the better man, one who won’t leave you to die. You keep on playing dead so you can think you’ve won, but I know this is just another one of your games.<\/p>\n “You want me to think I’m nothing more than an animal that kills without any remorse. Well, I’m not an animal like you. A man wouldn’t have killed that mule just to keep another man under his thumb. If it gives you some sort of comfort to play dead, you keep on. At least I won’t have to listen to your taunts.”<\/p>\n That voice\u2014was it mine? It sounds so bitter and angry.<\/p>\n Finishing the travois, I take another drink and dampen my bandana before tying it around my neck. I look at Kane; seeing those red marks on his flesh makes me want to cover his throat with something.<\/p>\n I allow another trickle of water into his mouth. “Drink it. It’ll be a while before I allow you another.”<\/p>\n A little voice tells me not to gloat at being the one in control. There\u2019s a grim satisfaction, though, in having power over a man who seems sub-human.<\/p>\n I struggle to get his body situated on the travois; he\u2019s playing dead to the hilt. Water trickles from his mouth onto the dry sand, which quickly soaks it up. So this is all part of the game\u2014refusing to swallow water to make me think he\u2019s dead. Let him\u2014at some point he\u2019s gonna get greedy about wanting some. Maybe I just won\u2019t give him any, even if he pleads or begs.<\/p>\n A jolt from my conscience practically slaps me across the face for briefly letting that primitive animal out of its dark hiding place to enjoy a fellow man’s discomfort.<\/p>\n I take another short swig and swish it around my mouth. I\u2019ll have to ration it carefully if the two of us are going to make it out of here alive. If we\u2019re lucky, we\u2019ll stumble across a rare oasis or even a fellow traveler with water to share. I jam the cork back in and sling the canteen across my chest so I can control it; now Kane won\u2019t be able to play more games by drinking it dry or dumping it out.<\/p>\n That small kettle will have to be packed if we\u2019re going to cook up the beans. The fire\u2019s dead so the pot\u2019s cold. What can I carry it in? There\u2019s one of the sacks I used to haul useless rock from that filthy pit in the ground. May as well bring the plates and forks even though I don\u2019t mind eating with my hands; I just don\u2019t want to give him any reason to devise a new game.<\/p>\n My arms slip easily\u2014too easily\u2014into the mule\u2019s harness. Even leaving this place I can\u2019t escape being a pack animal. First it was rock, now it\u2019s Kane. I\u2019m not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that I resent hauling him out of here. Maybe I should have fixed some of those beans. Nah, I don\u2019t want to waste the water or spend more time than necessary in this perdition.<\/p>\n Kane seems even heavier now. The afternoon sun beats down. I should have grabbed my hat. Where should we go? I really don\u2019t care\u2014just away. How many days have I been here? Too many for Joe to still be waiting at Signal Rock, I suppose. Wonder if he\u2019s looking for me. Maybe Obadiah\u2019s trial is still going on; Joe always has to know how something ends, so if a verdict hasn\u2019t been reached he\u2019s probably still there. What if the trial only took a few days and he went to Signal Rock thinking I was there? If he did go, would he still be waiting? Joe\u2019s very impatient for a man who never arrives anywhere on time. He couldn\u2019t even be on time for his own birth\u2014he came into the world early. Wonder if he waited and then went home, thinking I changed my mind about hunting and fishing. What I wouldn\u2019t give to be eating a supper of fresh trout and then listening to Hoss and Joe bicker over a game of checkers. If Joe\u2019s gone home, does Pa wonder where I am?<\/p>\n I hope those men have treated Sport decently. Leaving another man to die shows they don\u2019t care for any lives but their own. Sport is a spirited animal. I\u2019d sure hate to see that spirit broken by men who enjoy inflicting suffering on another creature. What if they turned him loose, too, and expected him to survive in the desert on his own? He\u2019s managed to make his way home when we\u2019ve been separated before. Maybe he\u2019s safe in the barn, enjoying hay and fresh water.<\/p>\n Would Pa or Hoss wonder where I was if Sport got home alone? Are they looking for me? Wait\u2014maybe they\u2019re only looking for Joe. If Sport\u2019s home, maybe they think something happened to Joe and I sent my horse as a signal. Guess they\u2019d start their search in Eastgate, since that\u2019s where we sold the cattle. I think the bartender knew I was going to Signal Rock. Maybe they\u2019d go there in hopes of finding Joe . . . and me.<\/p>\n I\u2019ve been taking care of myself since a young age; Pa probably won\u2019t even worry about me. Joe can fend for himself all right, but he\u2019s always had Pa, Hoss, me, and even Hop Sing to look after him and pull him out of trouble. Ironic that I\u2019m the one who needs help. I just wish someone knew.<\/p>\n My gut is starting to boil with anger. \u201cIf you\u2019d let me borrow the damned mule for a few days, we could\u2019ve avoided all this. You had to shoot our only means of survival, you miserable bastard. I should just leave you here, tied up, to roast in the sun like a side of beef over a fire. I\u2019ll even walk backwards so you can watch me disappear from sight, hoping I\u2019ll come back to give you a drink of water or a spoonful of beans.\u201d<\/p>\n My feet suddenly stop working, that primitive animal in my head has come outta hiding. I can\u2019t let it win, I\u2019ve got to keep it at bay. Think of something happy. Mama. She tended man and beast as we made our way across the prairie. She would have somehow won over someone as miserable as Kane. Someone\u2019s humming\u2014sounds like one of the songs Mama used to sing.<\/p>\n We start moving again. Another thought flits through my mind\u2014I\u2019m once again defenseless in the desert with no gun or knife. Kane\u2019s pistol was in pieces but it burned my hand when I touched it. No more guns\u2014they just lead to more games. If we\u2019re attacked, I\u2019ll have to use my teeth and hands. He\u2019ll probably get a perverse pleasure outta that.<\/p>\n A slight breeze scatters stray grains of sand across the desert floor and blows a tumble weed. I remember that moment I\u2019d heard three gunshots and thought I\u2019d heard Pa\u2019s voice carrying across the desert, calling my name\u2014that had been another of Kane\u2019s games. I was desperately climbing those rocks but he pulled me back to the hard, sandy ground. The last thing I remember was my name echoing in the otherwise still, silent desert air. Hearing Pa\u2019s voice must have been a trick. I\u2019d wanted Pa to swoop in like Beowulf to release me from this monster. Kane\u2019s voice was the only one I heard when I woke up.<\/p>\n Sun\u2019s going down behind the cliffs. The sand and rocks don\u2019t look so harsh in the faint light. Creatures of the cooler night will soon begin searching for meals and water. He let the fire burn down to embers after our evening meal\u2014when there was one\u2014so that it threw out a small amount of heat. Not enough\u2014 I was cold. There wasn\u2019t enough light to keep the night creatures away\u2014just another game to keep me from sleeping. Maybe he\u2019ll be the one kept awake tonight.<\/p>\n I find a place near some rocks for our camp. The rocks\u2019ll stay warm for hours yet, keeping the chill at bay. I shrug out of the harness. He can\u2019t make me put it back on since he\u2019 still tied up. My back and shoulders hurt. Guess I\u2019ll prop him against a rock. I hug the canteen\u2014we need water to drink but we also got to cook the beans. We\u2019ve got to have food but I don\u2019t want to waste water. Oh hell, I\u2019m hungry. I pour water into the pot and add the beans.<\/p>\n Dammit! We don\u2019t have anything to make a fire with! Damn you, Kane! How\u2019d the pot get knocked over? There\u2019s beans on the sand. I can\u2019t waste \u2018em! I\u2019ll just eat \u2018em raw. Grit scratches at the back of my throat.<\/p>\n \u201cSatisfied? Are you enjoying this? Am I animal enough for ya?\u201d<\/p>\n Who said that?<\/p>\n Anger and something else are quickly exiting my mouth. An anguished cry rings in my ears but I don\u2019t know where it\u2019s coming from.<\/p>\n I become aware of my surroundings\u2014it\u2019s dark and I\u2019m on my knees. Someone\u2019s rocking me. Maybe it\u2019s Mama. Someone else is squeezing my head. I remember Kane\u2019s gloating face as he dug up the beans and water as well as his words\u2014There\u2019s just enough there to get one of us outta here alive. I think I kicked the pot over. I must have given into the anger that feeds that primitive animal; now we don\u2019t have any food. It\u2019s just possible I\u2019ve killed us both. It\u2019ll be a tie\u2014no winner.<\/p>\n He hasn\u2019t even laughed or said anything. He\u2019s playing this game for all it\u2019s worth. His belly is as empty as mine, so at least he can\u2019t sneer in the knowledge that he\u2019s got a spoonful of beans hidden somewhere while I do without.<\/p>\n Let him play dead. He\u2019ll just have to stay tied up; I\u2019m too tired to care about his comfort.<\/p>\n I gotta sleep. With him tied tight and no guns I won\u2019t have to worry about him waking me up to play another game. The warmth coming from the rocks beckons my weary body. I lay on my back, hugging the canteen, looking at the stars. Coyotes sing their mournful songs and I hold the canteen tighter\u2014they\u2019ll have to find their own water.<\/p>\n A shooting star streaks through the inky blackness. I wish . . . I wish . . . do I get only one? Guess I\u2019d better make it a good one. My lungs fill with cool air as I breathe deeply. I wish Pa was here.<\/p>\n There\u2019s light trying to force my eyes open. I don\u2019t wanna to get up and go back into that netherworld so he can try to break me like a dry tree branch. There are hands on my throat, squeezing and crushing as I try to loosen their grip. I can\u2019t breathe! I can\u2019t get them off! There\u2019s cruel laughter echoing in my ears as the hands squeeze tighter. I don\u2019t wanna die like this! PA!<\/p>\n I gasp for air, soaking wet. The canteen\u2019s empty. I\u2019d cry if I wasn\u2019t so thirsty. I think I\u2019m as dry as the corn husks used to wrap tamales.<\/p>\n He\u2019s still on the travois playing dead. I suppose he\u2019s enjoying this. Let him think I\u2019m nothing more than his pack animal. I won\u2019t let him win this game; I\u2019ve got to keep him alive until we reach civilization\u2014or someone finds us. Today\u2019ll be harder without water. We\u2019ll see how long it takes him to beg for a sip. How I\u2019m going to savor the look of despair on his face when I tell him there isn\u2019t any. A little voice says there\u2019s no joy in seeing another man suffer. Maybe it\u2019s right.<\/p>\n I look at the cliffs and see the sun peeking over them. The night animals have probably gone back to the safety and comfort of their shelters, bellies full from feeding. My stomach growls. Damn those beans! How long\u00a0has<\/em>\u00a0it been since I last ate? Right now, I\u2019d even settle for a pot of Hoss\u2019s mesquite beans.<\/p>\n \u201cWake up.\u201d I nudge the travois with my boot. \u201cI said wake up.\u201d He\u2019s determined to make me think he\u2019s won. Why can\u2019t he just admit he\u2019s lost?<\/p>\n I slip into the harness and begin trudging through the compact sand. The sun\u2019s cheeriness is almost unbearable. Why does it have to be so damned happy in the morning?<\/p>\n I\u2019ve gotta rest.<\/p>\n I\u2019ve gotta keep going.<\/p>\n I\u2019m hungry.<\/p>\n I\u2019m thirsty.<\/p>\n I see Joe in the water trough\u2014I shoved him under for being smart with me. That\u2019ll teach him.<\/p>\n I hear chuckling. Must be Kane.<\/p>\n This desert must stretch from one end of the world to the other. Maybe we\u2019re really dead and this is how we have to spend eternity. Didn\u2019t the gods punish someone like this? Guess I\u2019ll be dragging him forever.<\/p>\n There\u2019s a tiny breeze\u2014it feels so good. Now it\u2019s gone. Might as well start walking again. Nothing else to do. Impossible. Must be another one of Kane\u2019s games. If I stop, he wins. I won\u2019t let him. Gotta keep going.<\/p>\n Seems like he would have talked by now. He\u2019s as silent as the dead. Silent as the dead. That\u2019s funny.<\/p>\n I fall. I\u2019m outta the harness. Guess he\u2019s gonna shoot me like that mule. Have I won?<\/p>\n Is Kane laughing? Did he win?<\/p>\n Feels like strong hands pulling me up. I hear Pa yell again. Just another game. Kane\u2019s laughing.<\/p>\n I hear Joe and Hoss. Are they playing the game? They don\u2019t know the rules. Gotta be a trick.<\/p>\n \u201cThere was no gold.\u201d Kane and I are laughing. \u201cAnd no more . . . no more games.\u201d<\/p>\n Kane\u2019s not laughing. Why am I laughing?<\/p>\n Pa doesn\u2019t yell at me. Only at Joe. Sometimes Hoss. What did\u00a0I<\/em>\u00a0do?<\/p>\n Oh, God!<\/p>\n NO!<\/p>\n Please<\/em>, God!<\/p>\n NO!<\/p>\n Kane won!<\/p>\n \u201cOh, Pa.\u201d<\/p>\n Pa holds me. I want to cry.<\/p>\n You\u00a0didn\u2019t<\/em>\u00a0win, Kane. I\u00a0am<\/em>\u00a0the better man.<\/p>\n The End Thank you, Calim11, Sunjae, and Terina for agreeing to beta this story. To all three of you\u2014I truly appreciate your advice and encouragement. You have my deepest gratitude.<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n
\nI hear my name. It\u2019s Pa\u2019s voice.<\/p>\n
\nJune 2009<\/p>\n
\nDate:\u00a0<\/span>17 Jun 2012 05:27 pm\u00a0Title:\u00a0<\/span>No More Games\u00a0Wow Patina! It takes a real understanding and deep thought to write like you did here especially when it comes to a subject matter such as the torment that Adam suffered at the hands of Kane. Your story was chilling! Very good job!Author’s Response: Thank you, Anonymous, for letting me know what you enjoyed about this story! I appreciate your review.<\/i>*<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\nDate:\u00a0<\/span>17 Jun 2010 10:58 pm\u00a0Title:\u00a0<\/span>No More Games\u00a0That was right on,\u00a0gave me\u00a0chills!\u00a0 Very good!Author’s Response:<\/i><\/i>Thank you, jojay, for making the journey through the desert with Adam.*<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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