{"id":7147,"date":"2004-05-07T16:06:51","date_gmt":"2004-05-07T20:06:51","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=7147"},"modified":"2025-02-27T12:08:24","modified_gmt":"2025-02-27T17:08:24","slug":"dark-pink","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=7147","title":{"rendered":"Dark Pink (by JoaniePaiute)"},"content":{"rendered":"

Summary: \u00a0<\/span>Home from college, Adam is feeling out of sorts. What dark secret haunts his dreams? Past and present collide as he and Hoss are faced with a life-and-death struggle in the desert. Originally posted on bonanzaworld.<\/p>\n

Rated:<\/span>\u00a0T \u00a0WC \u00a014,000<\/span><\/p>\n

Dark Pink<\/strong><\/p>\n

By JoaniePaiute<\/p>\n

I run.<\/p>\n

I don\u2019t know what\u2019s after me, and it doesn\u2019t matter. \u00a0Blindly, I sprint between trees, ignoring the briars that snatch at my clothes and whip across my face. A thorny branch catches my sleeve, and I jerk loose, barely registering the sound of ripping fabric. \u00a0Then a pair of strong hands grabs my arms, and I try to twist free. \u00a0The hands only tighten, though, and I buck and yell with all the fierceness I can rally, \u201cNo! No!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam!\u201d \u00a0My brother’s voice shatters the dream, and I open my eyes to see Hoss staring at me, concern in his eyes. He’s still holding my arms, having shaken me awake. \u00a0Drawing in a ragged breath, I look around at our campsite. \u00a0The fire has settled down to blood-red embers, and moonlight filters through the branches, throwing mottled patterns across the ground.<\/p>\n

Hoss lets go of my arms. \u00a0\u201cBoy, that must\u2019ve been some dream,\u201d he says, sitting back on his heels.<\/p>\n

I sit up, looking for my blanket. \u00a0It\u2019s lying in a heap, as if I threw it off in a frenzy. \u00a0\u201cYeah,\u201d I say shortly, spreading the blanket over myself and lying back down.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou want to talk about it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d \u00a0I close my eyes. \u00a0What would I say? That I dreamed something was chasing me? \u00a0Being chased by an unseen monster is a boy\u2019s dream. \u00a0Joe is ten, and I\u2019ll bet even he doesn\u2019t have dreams like this.<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam\u2026\u201d \u00a0Hoss is using the same worried tone he uses with sick or abandoned animals. \u00a0Things that need caring for. \u00a0Well, I don\u2019t need my younger brother to take care of me.<\/p>\n

Still, there\u2019s no reason to hurt his feelings. \u00a0Reluctantly, I open my eyes. \u00a0\u201cI\u2019m fine,\u201d I say, willing my voice to stay steady. \u00a0\u201cIt was just a stupid dream.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSecond one in two nights,\u201d Hoss says stubbornly.<\/p>\n

I hear my voice harden. \u00a0\u201cI said I\u2019m fine.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss studies me a long moment, working his jaw back and forth. \u00a0Finally he nods and stretches out on his own blanket, pulling a second one over himself. \u00a0\u201cAll right,\u201d he says gruffly. \u00a0\u201cYou don\u2019t have to tell me. \u00a0But if you change your mind, I\u2019ll be here.\u201d<\/p>\n

I almost smile. \u00a0Where else would he be? \u00a0We\u2019re two days from the house, it\u2019s the middle of the night, and he insisted on coming with me in the first place. \u00a0Does he think I\u2019d expect him to go home?<\/p>\n

Hoss is already breathing deeply. \u00a0Ordinarily, I\u2019d try to get back to sleep before he starts snoring like a freight train, but suddenly I\u2019m not interested in sleeping anymore. \u00a0Quietly I toss the blanket aside and ease into a sitting position with my back against a pine. \u00a0Drawing my knees up to my chest, I wrap my arms around my legs, staring at the dying embers. \u00a0A chilly breeze caresses the back of my neck, and I shudder.<\/p>\n

I suppose I could build up the fire, or I could at least retrieve my blanket. \u00a0Then again, I don\u2019t want to be warm. \u00a0If I get warm, I might fall asleep again.<\/p>\n

And I don\u2019t want to fall asleep<\/p>\n

***
\nAs it turns out, I do doze off for a while. \u00a0When I open my eyes, the sunlight has found its way into the clearing, although it\u2019s anything but warm yet. Flexing my stiff fingers, I move toward the fire that Hoss is tending. \u00a0He gives me that transparent grin of his, completely at ease, and nods toward the coffeepot. \u00a0If he remembers last night, he gives no sign.<\/p>\n

That\u2019s one good thing about Hoss: \u00a0he knows when to keep quiet. \u00a0That\u2019s why I didn\u2019t argue\u2014well, not much, anyway\u2014when he asked to come with me, although I really wanted to be by myself, completely and utterly alone. \u00a0Sometimes a man has to get away and think.<\/p>\n

Well, maybe later I can think of a reason to leave him for a while. \u00a0Maybe he can set up our next campsite while I slip away to get some small game for our supper. \u00a0Nothing tastes as good as fresh rabbit roasted over a fire.<\/p>\n

The stated reason for this little trip is to check fence lines and scout for signs of trespassers. \u00a0In the short time I\u2019ve been back home, I\u2019ve seen how the local folks\u2019 opinions of the Cartwrights have hardened. \u00a0Oh, we do have friends in Virginia City, and most of the nearby settlers respect my father, but there\u2019s an undercurrent of jealousy among a sizeable portion of the population. \u00a0Pa seems certain that over time, we\u2019ll convince people that they can trust us and rely on us. \u00a0I hope he\u2019s right, but in the meantime, I\u2019ll do whatever it takes to protect my family\u2019s interests.<\/p>\n

So that\u2019s the stated reason. The real reason is that I\u2026well, I just needed to get away. \u00a0It\u2019s different being home\u2014the Ponderosa is both larger and smaller than I remembered. \u00a0The perimeter of the yard used to look so wide, and the front porch so accommodating. \u00a0Now I\u2019m surprised at how few steps it takes me to cross either one. My bedroom is larger than my dormitory room was, but it feels cramped somehow. \u00a0The meadows seem to stretch out forever when I view them from horseback, and the sky is enormous without roof edges to get in the way\u2026and yet, Boston felt more expansive, as if I could get pleasantly lost in its streets and shops, not to mention the library at the university.<\/p>\n

And Joe\u2026he\u2019s really getting on my nerves. \u00a0I know he\u2019s only ten, but that\u2019s old enough to have a little respect for other people\u2019s property. \u00a0Two days ago, I walked into the great room and caught him trying to play my new guitar.\u00a0 What if he\u2019d nicked it against the coffee table\u2026or worse?\u00a0 Lucky for him, Pa came in at that moment and made him put it down.\u00a0 If anything had happened to it, the kid wouldn\u2019t have lived to see his eleventh birthday.\u00a0 As it was, he and I squared off, and if Pa hadn\u2019t been there, I might have killed him anyway.<\/p>\n

Later that night Hoss asked me to go out to the barn with him to check on a horse that was about to foal. \u00a0I was sitting by the fire reading\u00a0Tom Jones<\/em>, which I’d been meaning to get around to for ages, and Hoss didn\u2019t need me to help him. \u00a0Later, I realized he knew very well that he didn\u2019t need me. \u00a0He just thought I needed him. So I really shouldn\u2019t have bitten his head off.<\/p>\n

After Hoss and Joe had gone up to bed, Pa asked me straight out, \u201cWhat\u2019s bothering you, son?\u201d \u00a0I stared into the fire and finally told him I was just feeling unsettled, being home and all. \u00a0Pa was quiet for a while, and then he suggested I ride the fence lines for a few days. \u00a0The next day at breakfast, Hoss asked if he could come with me. \u00a0At first I said no, but I didn\u2019t have the heart to stick to it.<\/p>\n

Now, watching him fry two thick slabs of cured ham over the fire, I\u2019m glad I let him come along. \u00a0Sure, I\u2019d rather be alone. \u00a0But as I said, Hoss doesn\u2019t talk too much. \u00a0And if I can make amends to him for being so irritable, then I should.<\/p>\n

I stretch and pour myself a cup of coffee, my mouth watering at the smell of frying meat. \u00a0Hoss flips the slices of ham and reaches for a couple of tin plates. \u00a0After we\u2019re settled with our ham, flat bread, and coffee, he asks, \u201cSo which way are we heading today?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI thought we\u2019d follow the north fence to where it borders that arroyo near Sophie\u2019s Mill. \u00a0Pa said we\u2019ve had some cattle go missing in that area.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSounds good.\u201d \u00a0He chews thoughtfully for a minute. \u00a0\u201cHey, Adam?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah?\u201d \u00a0I glance at him suspiciously. \u00a0I figure I know what\u2019s coming.<\/p>\n

Sure enough, he says hesitantly, \u201cAbout last night\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLook, Hoss,\u201d I say abruptly. \u00a0\u201cI let you come specifically because you don\u2019t talk too much.\u201d \u00a0It\u2019s harsh, I know, but I want him to understand that I mean what I say.<\/p>\n

He looks down. \u00a0\u201cSorry,\u201d he says, and I don\u2019t answer.<\/p>\n

As we\u2019re packing up camp, a flash of pink catches my eye. \u00a0It\u2019s a flower, what Martha Greenberg called rockcress. \u00a0Martha\u2019s the wife of the stableman at school back in Boston. \u00a0She and Isaac took me under their wing while I was there, and I loved sitting in her garden while she clipped herbs and told me what she used them for.<\/p>\n

The rockcress is nestled in a clump of sharp-edged grass, its dark pink petals stark against the green. \u00a0I stare a moment, then close my eyes, suddenly angry. That color\u2026<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam?\u201d \u00a0I open my eyes to see Hoss frowning at me. \u00a0I tighten Nightshade\u2019s cinch.<\/p>\n

\u201cLet\u2019s go,\u201d I say, swinging up.<\/p>\n

***
\nAs we ride, woods give way to meadows, and the meadows gradually become less grassy and more rock-strewn. \u00a0The trees grow sparser, and by midmorning the air is already hot. \u00a0I give Nightshade his head and let him pick his way along the fenceline, figuring he knows more than I do about where to set down his hooves. \u00a0Besides, I\u2019m lost in my own wandering thoughts; in a way, I\u2019ve given my mind its head, too.<\/p>\n

I miss Martha and Isaac. Out here, sleeping in the open air last night and feeling the sun on my shoulders now, I realize that\u2019s one thing that\u2019s been bothering me. \u00a0There\u2019s a clarity that comes from being out here. \u00a0I got the same kind of clarity in Martha\u2019s garden, especially when she made me work beside her. My thoughts return to Boston, to the cottage behind the dormitory, and to the garden behind the cottage.<\/p>\n

\u201cHere, Adam. \u00a0These seedlings need transplanting.\u201d \u00a0She handed me a shallow crate, about two feet long and a foot wide, divided into three-inch sections that were filled with black, sweet-smelling soil. \u00a0I was sitting on a bench, watching her work, and I held the crate awkwardly above my lap. \u00a0She laughed. \u00a0\u201cYou\u2019re going to have to get those trousers dirty if you want to stay out here with me. \u00a0Don\u2019t worry, I\u2019ll wash them.\u201d<\/p>\n

Sheepishly, I lowered the crate to my legs. \u00a0It wasn\u2019t as if I minded getting dirty; I grew up on a ranch, after all. \u00a0But two months of classrooms, library, and chapel had lessened my \u201cdown and dirty\u201d time considerably. \u00a0Twice, my cousin Jack had taken me flyfishing, and it had been a relief to get into the woods with him and not worry about how I looked. \u00a0But right now I was wearing the clothes I\u2019d worn to class, not gardening clothes. \u00a0I\u2019d never gardened, anyway. \u00a0That was Hop Sing\u2019s territory.<\/p>\n

Martha set a double handful of seedlings on the bench beside me and showed me how to poke my finger into the soil up to the second knuckle, and then to hold my fingertip steady while moving my hand in a circle to widen the hole. \u00a0\u201cNow put in a seedling,\u201d she said, demonstrating. \u00a0\u201cCareful of the root\u2014don’t bend it. \u00a0Press the soil around it. \u00a0Gently, Adam, gently.\u201d \u00a0I felt the moist earth caking beneath my fingernails, and later I would realize that my breathing had slowed, my heartbeat had settled, and my shoulders had relaxed for the first time since I\u2019d left home.<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam,\u201d Hoss says, and I snap out of my reverie. \u00a0How long has that calf been bawling? \u00a0The mother\u2019s voice cuts through the air too, and I wonder how I could have been too distracted to notice it. \u00a0Stupid<\/em>, I berate myself, and then stop wasting energy over it. \u00a0The calf is shoulder-deep in a muddy pool, and the mother is anxiously pacing the edges. \u00a0I wonder how much of the mud is natural and how much has been churned up by the calf\u2019s thrashing.<\/p>\n

It takes us a good twenty minutes to get the calf out, with Hoss finally wading into the pool and shoving while I pull on the lariat. \u00a0Finally its legs come loose with an audible suck-and-pop, and it scrambles up onto the bank. \u00a0I lift the rope free and reach down for Hoss. \u00a0Our hands grip each other’s forearms, and I lean back to give him leverage as he climbs out.<\/p>\n

He stands there a moment, breathing hard and dripping onto the grass, and then he grins at me. \u00a0\u201cYou\u2019re almost as wet as I am,\u201d he says. \u00a0I look down at myself. \u00a0Sure enough, my shirt is damp with perspiration\u2014but only damp.<\/p>\n

\u201cNot nearly that wet,\u201d I tell him, and then I see the gleam in his eye. \u00a0\u201cOh, no,\u201d I say, backing up.<\/p>\n

For such a big kid, he\u2019s awfully quick. \u00a0His shoulder is under my ribs in a flash, and he hoists me like a sack of grain before flipping me into the water. I land on my back in a reverse belly-flop and go under. \u00a0When I get my feet under me, I feel my boots sink ankle-deep in the mud.\u00a0 I come up sputtering to see Hoss squatting on the bank, holding his sides as he laughs.<\/p>\n

My hat is floating close to the edge of the water, and Hoss scoops it up. \u00a0\u201cSorry,\u201d he says\u2014clearly not a bit sorry. \u00a0I have to laugh, too, as I reach up for him to help me out. \u00a0And of course (doesn’t he see this coming?), I yank him down to join me. \u00a0His splash is bigger than mine, and it\u2019s extremely satisfying.<\/p>\n

We lie barefoot on the bank for a while, letting our socks dry on the grass and the rest of our clothes dry on our bodies. \u00a0An intrusive thought niggles at the corner of my mind\u2014we\u2019re wasting time<\/em>\u2014but I push it away. \u00a0Hoss breaks out the bread and jerky, and we have lunch.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere next?\u201d he asks as we pull our boots on and prepare to remount. \u00a0\u201cJust keep following the fenceline?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d I tell him. \u00a0\u201cI don\u2019t think this is where the cattle are getting out. \u00a0Let\u2019s strike out to the east. \u00a0We can cut across the dry patch and reconnect with the fence on the other side.\u201d<\/p>\n

He chuckles.\u00a0 \u201cI wouldn\u2019t call that a dry patch.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat would you call it, then?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019ve been away too long, Adam. \u00a0That\u2019s desert.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019ve got water. \u00a0And we\u2019re talking about half an afternoon, not a trek across the Mojave.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, sure. \u00a0Ain\u2019t nothing wrong with doing it. \u00a0I\u2019m just saying, call it what it is.\u201d \u00a0He\u2019s still smiling, still amiable Hoss, but something in his tone gets my attention.<\/p>\n

\u201cAll right, desert,\u201d I say. \u00a0\u201cAs long as we agree on that, can we go now?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSure, Adam. \u00a0Let\u2019s go.\u201d \u00a0We turn the horses east.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

Hoss is right: this is desert. \u00a0Wide-open and desolate. \u00a0The faint path we\u2019ve been following disappears, and we keep our shadows in front of us as the afternoon wears on. \u00a0Pines and junipers fade into memory, replaced by yucca, mesquite, and sage. \u00a0A sidewinder rattlesnake thrusts its head forward and drags its body behind, leaving J-shaped patterns in the sand. \u00a0The snake is a good ten feet away from us, and I don’t notice it until Nightshade shies.<\/p>\n

Hoss halts to watch the snake a moment. \u00a0\u201cPretty, ain\u2019t it?\u201d he says softly.<\/p>\n

I give a little \u201chmph\u201d and say, \u201c\u2018Pretty\u2019 isn\u2019t the word I’d use.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I would,\u201d he insists. \u00a0\u201cLook at it, Adam. \u00a0Ain\u2019t nothing else like it on God\u2019s green earth.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOr his brown one.\u201d Suddenly uneasy, I scan the terrain. \u00a0A cliff wall rises to our right, and it flashes through my mind that those rocks and crevices could conceal all sorts of things. \u00a0\u201cLet\u2019s go,\u201d I say and nudge Nightshade forward.<\/p>\n

As we move out, I reach down and touch my gun in its holster. \u00a0Its weight on my hip settles my nerves. \u00a0I\u2019m glad I emptied it and reloaded right after my dunking. \u00a0Just knowing we have two weapons at the ready makes me feel better.<\/p>\n

Out of the blue, I suddenly remember Martha exclaiming, \u201cIsaac, you\u2019re soaked! \u00a0What happened?\u201d<\/p>\n

Isaac smiled at her, the craggy lines in his face deepening and his eyes gleaming with mock indignation. \u00a0\u201cOur boy here pushed me in the creek.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDid not,\u201d I protested. \u00a0\u201cWell, not on purpose, anyway. \u00a0If you hadn\u2019t stopped so fast to take a shot at that goose, I wouldn\u2019t have bumped into you. And it was a blind shot, Isaac, a useless\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, stop it, both of you,\u201d she interrupted, laughing. \u00a0\u201cIsaac, go take off those wet clothes before you catch your death. \u00a0Oh, goodness, your rifle!\u00a0 Is it damaged?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNah.\u201d \u00a0Confidently, he sighted down the barrel toward the floor. \u00a0\u201cYou could shoot this beauty underwater and she\u2019d still fire true. \u00a0Course, I\u2019ll have to repack some bullets tonight.\u201d \u00a0He looked meaningfully at me. \u00a0\u201cWe\u2019ll<\/em>\u00a0have to repack. \u00a0You go get us some powder and cartridges out of that cabinet while I change clothes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhich cabinet?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n

Martha said briskly, \u201cI\u2019ll show you,\u201d and led the way into the living room.<\/p>\n

She was wearing a pink dress, but not the pale pink that little girls wear. \u00a0It was dark, almost purple. \u00a0The color of Candia edges, dark pink against ivory.<\/p>\n

Now, the hot sun on my back fades from my consciousness as the names of flowers parade through my mind. \u00a0Candia<\/em>. \u00a0Jacaranda. \u00a0Bleeding heart.<\/em><\/p>\n

A shot next to me snaps me back to the present, and I yank Nightshade\u2019s reins with my left hand while my right hand goes to my pistol. \u00a0My gun is out before Nightshade\u2019s whinny becomes a snort. \u00a0He prances a moment, but Hoss\u2019 mount stands fast. \u00a0Hoss slips his pistol back into its holster and nods in the direction he\u2019s just fired. \u00a0A jackrabbit, nearly three feet long from forehead to hind feet, lies on the ground, its ears askew.<\/p>\n

I give a low whistle, hoping Hoss doesn\u2019t notice how off-guard I was taken. \u00a0What\u2019s wrong with me? \u00a0I\u2019d better start keeping my mind right here, right now. \u00a0Mistakes aren\u2019t forgiven, not out here.<\/p>\n

\u201cNice shot,\u201d I tell him.<\/p>\n

\u201cThanks.\u201d I\u2019ve heard the expression \u201cgrinning from ear to ear,\u201d but I\u2019ve never seen anyone come so close to actually doing it. \u00a0He swings down and goes to collect the jackrabbit. \u00a0Holding it up by the ears, he says proudly, \u201cGood eating tonight.\u201d<\/p>\n

I nod, and an idea comes to me. \u00a0It\u2019s getting on toward sundown, and the thin air is already cooling. \u00a0The sky to the west is beginning to take on a faint orange hue, and I\u2019m suddenly overcome with the desire to see a desert sunset. \u00a0I haven\u2019t seen one for over four years. \u00a0The colors out here will be different from sunsets over the lake or the meadows\u2014less muted, more intense.<\/p>\n

The uneasiness I felt a few moments ago has receded. \u00a0Sure, the cliffs can hide danger, but so can the forest. \u00a0So can city streets and cottage gardens. \u00a0There\u2019s no such thing as a completely safe place, is there?<\/p>\n

\u201cLet\u2019s camp here tonight,\u201d I say, expecting Hoss to resist or at least to ask why. \u00a0To my surprise, he studies me for one, two, three seconds and then nods. \u00a0Does he want to see the sunset too? \u00a0Or is he just going along with me because\u2026well, because he\u2019s Hoss?<\/p>\n

It doesn\u2019t matter. \u00a0I dismount, and we lead our horses toward the cliff and the shelter of an overhanging rock.<\/p>\n

***
\nThe desert is on fire.<\/p>\n

Not really, of course.\u00a0 Still, a good sunset makes it look that way.\u00a0 And this is beyond good.\u00a0 The sun has narrowed to a white slit on the horizon, and the earth seems to float in silhouette against the fierce red sky. \u00a0A half-circle of gold envelopes the whiteness of the sun, which slips lower and lower until only burnt orange and scarlet remain.<\/p>\n

Oh, yes. \u00a0This is what I needed.<\/p>\n

I sip my coffee and look down at Hoss, who\u2019s supposedly skinning his jackrabbit. \u00a0I\u2019m not surprised to see him sitting motionless, the half-skinned animal across his lap and his knife poised above it. \u00a0He\u2019s staring at the sunset, as lost in those colors as I am.<\/p>\n

\u201cNice, isn\u2019t it?\u201d I say.<\/p>\n

Startled, he looks up, as if he\u2019s forgotten I’m here. \u00a0Then his face relaxes into a smile, and he turns his gaze back to the western sky. \u201cNice,\u201d he agrees, and I sip my coffee.<\/p>\n

Leaning back against a boulder, I pick up a stick and poke at the fire. \u00a0I\u2019ve already unpacked the metal spit and the plates, and as Hoss finishes peeling the skin from the rabbit\u2019s glistening muscles, I wonder\u2014just for a second\u2014what it would taste like raw. \u00a0I\u2019m that hungry. \u00a0But just as Pa talks about \u201ca good kind of tired,\u201d the kind that comes after a hard day\u2019s labor, this is a good kind of \u201chungry.\u201d\u00a0 An honest, well earned hunger.<\/p>\n

The sky\u2019s colors have settled down to a dark maroon that fades to black. \u00a0I toss the stick into the fire and cross my arms, tucking my hands into my armpits. \u00a0Hoss has separated the rabbit\u2019s haunches and is spearing them onto the spit, and I feel a slow smile cross my face.<\/p>\n

The sizzling meat smells even better than this morning\u2019s ham, and it tastes as good as it smells. \u00a0Finally, with comfortably tight stomachs, we stretch out on our tarps and pull our blankets up to our shoulders. \u00a0Lacing my hands together behind my head, I stare up at the bottomless sky. \u00a0The stars look close enough to touch. \u00a0I imagine myself teetering on the edge of a dark abyss, about to fall down\u2014or up\u2014into a field of silver fireflies.<\/p>\n

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

\u201cYeah?\u201d<\/p>\n

I hear him sigh.\u00a0 It\u2019s a contented sound.\u00a0 \u201cThis is good, ain\u2019t it?\u201d<\/p>\n

I smile up into the darkness.\u00a0 \u201cYeah, Hoss. \u00a0This is good.\u201d<\/p>\n

I guess I fall asleep before he does, because I don\u2019t hear him snoring. \u00a0I don\u2019t hear anything until the unmistakable click of a rifle being cocked. \u00a0Jerking awake, I bolt up onto my elbows, meaning to roll to my feet. \u00a0My hand is on my pistol, but before I can draw, someone says, \u201cDon\u2019t do it.\u201d \u00a0The voice is low and menacing, like a dog\u2019s growl. \u00a0I look up, straight into the barrel of a Winchester.<\/p>\n

Without moving my head, I cut my eyes toward Hoss. \u00a0Like me, he\u2019s up on his elbows, staring at another man with a rifle.<\/p>\n

The man standing over me laughs softly. \u00a0\u201cWell, Jake,\u201d he drawls, \u201clooks like we got us a couple of live ones.\u201d<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

The two men take our guns and then search our pockets and saddlebags. \u00a0There isn\u2019t much there, almost nothing in the way of cash, but the first man\u2019s eyes light up when he pulls Isaac\u2019s latest letter from my vest pocket. \u00a0I\u2019ve carried it with me ever since it arrived last week, rereading parts now and then. \u00a0It takes every ounce of strength I have to keep from lunging at the man as he turns it in his grimy hands.<\/p>\n

A slow, nasty grin spreads across his face as he reads the address on the envelope. \u00a0Raising his eyes to mine, he says, \u201cYou\u2019re lucky, boy. \u00a0This is your ticket to live.\u201d<\/p>\n

I flick my eyes toward Jake, who stands a few feet away with his rifle trained on us. \u00a0\u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d I ask, glad that my voice comes out cold and steely. \u00a0Fear grips my chest, lurking just below my anger, but I can\u2019t afford to let the fear show.<\/p>\n

\u201cI mean we were just going to take your money and your horses and leave you here. \u00a0Maybe kill you, if you put up a fight.\u201d \u00a0He appraises me with eyes as hard as pebbles. \u00a0\u201cWe can still do that, so don\u2019t get any ideas. \u00a0But this letter says you\u2019re a Cartwright.\u201d\u00a0 He glances at Jake.\u00a0 \u201cThese boys\u2019 daddy will pay a nice penny to get them back safe and sound.\u201d<\/p>\n

Jake spits onto the ground.\u00a0 \u201cI reckon he will, Thatcher.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss speaks up. \u00a0His voice is a little too loud, but it\u2019s as steady as mine was. \u00a0\u201cOur pa won\u2019t deal with criminals.\u201d<\/p>\n

Thatcher laughs. \u00a0\u201cI\u2019m betting he will.\u201d \u00a0He jams Isaac\u2019s letter in his pocket and jerks his chin toward our campsite. \u00a0\u201cPack up, and be quick.\u201d<\/p>\n

I generally leave a campsite so clean it\u2019s hard to tell I\u2019ve been there. \u00a0Not this time. Thatcher lets us roll up our tarps and blankets, but the spit stays over the still-glowing embers of our fire.\u00a0 As he ties my hands in front of me, an end of rope uncoils and falls to the sand, twisting like a snake in the moonlight.\u00a0 I wish Thatcher had been a snake instead of a man. \u00a0Even if he had bitten one of us, I could have blown his head off afterward. \u00a0And a snakebite\u2014even a rattler\u2019s\u2014rarely kills a full-grown, healthy man.<\/p>\n

A man killing another man, though…that happens all the time.<\/p>\n

The full moon throws its light across the sand, making it easy to see where we\u2019re going. \u00a0Jake leads the way, and Hoss and I follow side by side, with Thatcher right behind. \u00a0When I look back over my shoulder, I see that he\u2019s replaced his rifle in the scabbard and is holding a pistol on us as we ride. \u00a0I look more closely and see that it\u2019s my Colt that he\u2019s holding. \u00a0For some reason, that makes the blood surge to my temples, and I feel my jaw clench.<\/p>\n

Thatcher raises an eyebrow and lifts the pistol slightly. \u00a0\u201cWatch yourself, boy,\u201d he growls, and I narrow my eyes at him before turning back around.<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam?\u201d Hoss says quietly.<\/p>\n

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

\u201cThis is bad, ain\u2019t it?\u201d<\/p>\n

I say nothing for a moment. \u00a0Then I tell him the truth. \u00a0\u201cYeah, Hoss. It\u2019s bad.\u201d \u00a0What I don\u2019t say is,\u00a0How many times lately have I told myself to pay attention? \u00a0Didn\u2019t I say that mistakes aren\u2019t forgiven out here?<\/em><\/p>\n

One of us should have stayed awake. \u00a0We shouldn\u2019t have been in the desert anyway. \u00a0For the sake of a sunset, we slept exposed and vulnerable.<\/p>\n

Where are we going now? \u00a0What is Thatcher planning?<\/p>\n

How can we get away?<\/p>\n

There are a hundred things I could say, a thousand things I could ask, but I keep my mouth shut. \u00a0I\u2019ve done enough stupid things over the past two days, and I don\u2019t want to say anything stupid now.<\/p>\n

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

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

\u201cIf I see a chance to jump one of \u2019em\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t do it.\u201d \u00a0My voice sounds more like Pa\u2019s than my own, sharp and commanding. \u00a0Hoss looks at me, startled.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut Adam\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo buts. \u00a0It\u2019s bad enough that I dragged you into this.\u201d \u00a0I’m about to say more, but I break off, staring at him. \u00a0He\u2019s chuckling softly, a sound as incongruous as a ship\u2019s bell would be out here. \u00a0\u201cWhat\u2019s so funny?\u201d I hiss.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou are.\u201d \u00a0He shakes his head slowly. \u00a0\u201cFor somebody so smart, you sure are dumb sometimes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat are you talking about?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou didn\u2019t drag me here, Adam. \u00a0I was bound to come.\u201d \u00a0He gives a soft snort. \u00a0\u201cYou would\u2019ve had to drag me\u00a0away<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n

Thatcher\u2019s voice interrupts. \u00a0\u201cShut up, you two. No more talking.\u201d<\/p>\n

We ride in silence for at least another hour, until we top a hill and see two small, makeshift lean-tos below us, sheltered between rockfaces. \u00a0A muddy pool lies a short distance from the lean-tos, and a firepit appears as a darker patch in the shadows. \u00a0As we pick our way down to the camp, one of the horses dislodges a small rock. \u00a0It rattles down the hill, and a woman comes out of one of the structures, pointing a rifle up the trail toward us. \u00a0Jake raises his hand and calls softly, \u201cIt\u2019s us, May.\u201d \u00a0She hesitates, but then she lowers the rifle.<\/p>\n

As we come nearer, I see that she\u2019s young, maybe twenty. \u00a0Both Jake and Thatcher are at least twice that old. \u00a0Her ash-blond hair is tied back, low against her neck, and her face is pretty but hard. \u00a0Her dress is dirty, and between the dirt and the shadows, I can\u2019t tell what color it is. \u00a0But there\u2019s no mistaking the color of the sash around her waist. \u00a0Even in the soft moonlight, it gleams pink.<\/p>\n

Dark pink.<\/p>\n

***
\nI run.<\/p>\n

Pushing off with the balls of my feet, I try to leap with each step like a jackrabbit, but I know I\u2019m not moving fast enough. \u00a0The beast behind me snarls, or purrs, or does something in between, and I choke back a scream as I run.<\/p>\n

Something hard rams into the side of my shin, and I jerk awake. \u00a0I must have fallen asleep sitting up, tied with my back against a Joshua tree. \u00a0With my wrists secured behind me, I don’t think it was necessary for Thatcher to tie my ankles as well, but he didn\u2019t ask me.<\/p>\n

Hoss is trussed up in the same way, tied to a tree beside mine. \u00a0His bound ankles didn\u2019t stop him from kicking me awake, and I wince, wishing I could rub my throbbing leg.<\/p>\n

\u201cSorry,\u201d he says. \u00a0\u201cBut you were dreaming again, and I didn\u2019t think you\u2019d want the others to hear.\u201d \u00a0Gratefully, I nod as I strain against the ropes\u2014not out of any hope of escaping, but trying to keep the blood circulating in my arms and legs.<\/p>\n

I wish I could wipe the sleep out of my eyes. \u00a0When your hands are tied, suddenly you realize how much you use them. \u00a0I\u2019d give anything just to be able to rub my face.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou gonna tell me about that dream now?\u201d Hoss asks, and for half a second, I\u2019d like to be able to use my hands to punch him. \u00a0Only half a second, though. \u00a0Maybe less.<\/p>\n

I sigh. \u00a0\u201cNo, Hoss, I\u2019m not.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou might not get another chance.\u201d<\/p>\n

It takes me a moment to realize what he means. \u00a0Then I close my eyes, rallying all my energy to put every ounce of confidence into my next words. \u00a0\u201cWe\u2019re not going to die.\u201d \u00a0I\u2019m not sure if I believe it, but I want him to.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019re all gonna die sometime.\u201d \u00a0He sounds both amused and sad.<\/p>\n

\u201cOf course we are,\u201d I snap. \u201cBut not here, not now.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAll right. \u00a0Say we get out of this. \u00a0And then you go on, night after night, dreaming that dream.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo I go on. \u00a0I can do that.\u201d \u00a0I hear the stubbornness in my voice, and I know I sound like Joe\u2014which gives me yet another bit of anger to level at myself.<\/p>\n

\u201cI reckon you can.\u201d \u00a0Now he just sounds sad. \u00a0\u201cBut you don\u2019t have to.\u00a0 It ain\u2019t like you\u2019re alone, Adam.\u201d<\/p>\n

My throat is closing up. \u00a0Gritting my teeth, I force out the words. \u00a0\u201cJoe is ten, for crying out loud.\u00a0 And you\u2014\u201d \u00a0I halt, not wanting to hurt him.<\/p>\n

\u201cI know, I\u2019m sixteen. \u00a0What about Pa?\u201d<\/p>\n

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

\u201cWhy not?\u201d he shouts.<\/p>\n

Startled, I shout back, \u201cBecause I can\u2019t!\u201d<\/p>\n

I hear movement inside one of the lean-tos, and Thatcher\u2019s head pokes out. His hair is rumpled, and he\u2019s rubbing the back of his neck. \u00a0\u201cYou two shut up,\u201d he snarls before he disappears again.<\/p>\n

The sky is beginning to lighten a little. \u00a0Black is giving way to a dustier color, not yet gray, but edging in that direction. \u00a0To the east, where the two cliff faces widen, a faint paleness gleams on the horizon. \u00a0Soon it will become a powdery pink.<\/p>\n

The silence between us grows, just like the dawn. \u00a0Unlike the dawn, it feels heavy. \u00a0Finally I speak.<\/p>\n

\u201cHave you heard me mention Isaac Greenberg?\u201d \u00a0I ask.<\/p>\n

\u201cSure,\u201d Hoss says. \u00a0\u201cThe stable man.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes.\u201d \u00a0I fall silent again. \u00a0When Hoss doesn\u2019t press, I say, \u201cI spent a lot of time with him and his wife. \u00a0He let me help him in the stables, and one night my classmate Roland and I missed supper because we lost track of time.\u201d \u00a0I swallow; I haven\u2019t said Roland\u2019s name aloud in ages. \u00a0\u201cIsaac took us home with him, and Martha\u2014his wife\u2014fed us this incredible chicken pie.\u201d \u00a0I close my eyes, the memory so strong I can taste the buttery crust, the savory gravy, the chunks of tender dark meat. \u00a0\u201cI asked her how she seasoned it, and she answered by showing me her herb garden after supper. \u00a0After that, I spent almost as much time in that garden as in Isaac\u2019s stables.\u201d<\/p>\n

I hear the smile in Hoss\u2019 voice. \u00a0\u201cI wouldn\u2019t have taken you for a gardener.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMe neither,\u201d I admit. \u00a0\u201cBut it was fascinating. \u00a0She had all kinds of plants out there, things I\u2019d never heard of. \u00a0And she used them for all sorts of things: \u00a0cooking, medicines, and just plain beauty. \u00a0Flowers, stems, leaves, roots\u2014everything had its use, and she knew just how to use it. \u00a0Martha was like\u2026\u201d \u00a0My throat tightens.<\/p>\n

\u201cLike what?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNever mind.\u201d<\/p>\n

Behind my closed eyelids, I see a woodcut from a children\u2019s book. \u00a0A woman stands in a garden, holding a fistful of bell-shaped flowers. \u00a0My little-boy index finger traces the flowers, and I hear myself asking, \u201cWho is she, Mother?\u201d<\/p>\n

Inger answers, \u201cShe\u2019s an enchantress, sweetheart. \u00a0A wise and good enchantress.\u201d<\/p>\n

I smile up at her.\u00a0 \u201cShe\u2019s pretty, Mother.\u00a0 She\u2019s pretty like you.\u201d<\/p>\n

A soft thump jolts me back to the present, and I open my eyes to see May, the woman from last night, arranging kindling over a pile of dry tinder in the fire pit. \u00a0In no time, she has a nice blaze crackling in the growing morning light, and she lays two logs across it and starts brewing coffee. \u00a0A minute later, Jake emerges from one of the lean-tos and comes to warm his hands over the flames. \u00a0May pours coffee into two cups and hands him one. \u00a0She eyes Hoss and me speculatively and asks, \u201cYou two want some coffee?\u201d<\/p>\n

I shrug, feeling the ropes around my wrists chafe as I do so. \u00a0\u201cI wouldn\u2019t mind some,\u201d I say, adding dryly, \u201cAre you offering to hold the cups for us?\u201d<\/p>\n

Her mouth twitches, and I think she\u2019d be pretty if she smiled. \u00a0She looks questioningly at Jake, and he draws his pistol and sits down on a rock, watching us closely.\u00a0 She pours two more cups of coffee and comes over to set them beside us, then moves behind us to untie our hands. I feel her fingers working the knots, and as the rope loosens, the blood surges painfully through my fingers. \u00a0She hisses softly as she touches the raw skin on the insides of my wrists. \u00a0I jerk away.<\/p>\n

\u201cGood Lord,\u201d she mutters, then goes to Hoss. \u00a0I look down at my wrists and see angry red lines. \u00a0The skin has broken in several places, and the edges are puffy and sore. \u00a0I glance over at Hoss, who\u2019s pulled his hands in front of him and is touching his wrists gingerly. \u00a0They look about as bad as mine.<\/p>\n

May returns to the fire, giving Jake a sidelong glare as she settles herself on another rock. \u00a0\u201cDid you tie those ropes?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know I didn\u2019t.\u201d \u00a0His voice is flat.<\/p>\n

\u201cThatcher did it.\u201d \u00a0She swears under her breath, just loud enough for me to make out a couple of words.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe was just making sure they wouldn\u2019t get loose.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t you dare defend him. \u00a0He\u2019s an animal. \u00a0I don\u2019t see why we have to stay with him.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t start, May.\u201d \u00a0His voice is no louder than before, but there\u2019s an edge to it. \u00a0She bites her lip and reaches behind her for a gunnysack. \u00a0Rummaging in it for a moment, she draws out a small brown pouch. \u00a0She brings it over and kneels in front of me, loosening the drawstring on the pouch.<\/p>\n

\u201cGive me your hands,\u201d she orders, taking out an amber jar about two inches high and almost as wide. \u00a0I set my cup down and hold out my hands, and she smears a sweet-smelling brown paste on my wrists. \u00a0It stings for an instant, but then settles into a cool tingle, then a comfortable numbness. \u00a0I watch her fingers dipping into the jar and working the paste into the split skin.<\/p>\n

\u201cGoldenseal root,\u201d I say softly. \u00a0Surprised, she lifts gray eyes to mine. \u00a0I smile at her. \u00a0\u201cAnd comfrey. \u00a0And…\u201d \u00a0I sniff. \u00a0\u201cMyrrh.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow do you know that?\u201d she asks warily.<\/p>\n

I shrug.\u00a0 \u201cI just know.\u201d \u00a0She gazes at me another moment, then breaks eye contact and moves to Hoss, and I raise my coffee to my lips. \u00a0It\u2019s weak but hot, and I\u2019m grateful for the warmth that spreads through my body as I sip.<\/p>\n

Thatcher startles me when he snaps, \u201cWhat do you think you\u2019re doing, May?\u201d \u00a0I turn to see him standing in front of a lean-to, tucking his shirt into his pants.<\/p>\n

May glares at him. \u00a0\u201cWhat does it look like I\u2019m doing?\u201d she retorts, and he takes a step toward her.<\/p>\n

\u201cBack off, Thatcher.\u201d \u00a0Jake sounds more tired than angry.<\/p>\n

Turning to him, Thatcher sneers, \u201cYou aim to use that gun on me?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d Jake says evenly. \u00a0\u201cYou can see I\u2019m holding it on these two. \u00a0You\u2019ve given me no call to shoot you.\u201d \u00a0He raises an eyebrow, and I hear the unspoken word:\u00a0yet.<\/em><\/p>\n

Thatcher grunts dismissively, as if this conversation is suddenly requiring more energy than it\u2019s worth. \u00a0He goes to the fire and squats in front of it, pours his coffee, and turns his attention back to May, who\u2019s still attending to Hoss\u2019 wrists. \u201cYou planning to do any cooking today?\u201d he demands.<\/p>\n

\u201cSomething wrong with your hands?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLook, you little hussy\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll get to your breakfast when I\u2019m done repairing your damage.\u201d<\/p>\n

Thatcher\u2019s eyes narrow dangerously, and he snarls at Jake, \u201cIf she was my woman, I\u2019d teach her some respect, quick and permanent.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, she\u2019s not your woman,\u201d Jake replies, and once again, his voice takes on a hardness that belies its evenness. \u00a0His gun is still trained on Hoss and me, but his eyes are on Thatcher. \u00a0I look over at Hoss, trying to signal him with my eyes: \u00a0Maybe we can use this. \u00a0<\/em>He gives me a barely perceptible nod over May\u2019s shoulder as she finishes doctoring his wrists.<\/p>\n

Standing, she packs the jar back into the drawstring bag, then returns to the gunnysack to stow the smaller bag away. \u00a0It appears to me that she\u2019s taking her sweet time. \u00a0Finally she goes back to the fire, opens another burlap sack, and pours oats into a pot. \u00a0A bucket covered with a short board stands close by, and she removes the board and pours water into the pot, tipping the bucket to drain its contents. \u00a0She turns toward the pond, but Thatcher stands and snatches the bucket from her.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll fetch the water,\u201d he says curtly. \u00a0\u201cYou just see to my breakfast.\u201d \u00a0He stalks away, and she puts her fists on her hips, glaring at his back. \u00a0Jake stands and grabs her arm, yanking her around to face him. \u00a0Caught off guard, she almost stumbles. \u00a0She raises her eyes to his, and I\u2019m surprised to see her chin tremble.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou may not be his woman,\u201d Jake says, so low I can barely hear him, \u201cbut you\u2019re mine. \u00a0And if you ever embarrass me like that in front of him again\u2026\u201d \u00a0His fingers tighten around her arm, and she winces. \u00a0I hear Hoss shift, and I know what he wants to do, because I want to do it too. \u00a0It\u2019s hopeless, though. \u00a0Jake still holds the gun, our feet are still tied, and we wouldn\u2019t stand a chance. \u00a0I look at Hoss and see sheer anguish in his eyes. \u00a0I\u2019m pretty sure he\u2019s never seen a woman treated roughly. \u00a0I\u2019ve seen it only a few times myself. \u00a0The last time, I\u2026<\/p>\n

The image from my nightmare slams into my mind with such force that I almost cry out.<\/p>\n

Martha, eyes wide and hair coming loose, attempting to cover her bare shoulder with the torn fabric of her dress.<\/p>\n

Roland…oh, no.\u00a0 No. \u00a0No.<\/em><\/p>\n

Isaac\u2019s voice trembles with urgency. \u00a0\u201cRun, Adam. Get the doctor.\u201d \u00a0I hesitate, and he barks, eyes blazing, \u201cRun!\u201d<\/p>\n

And I run.<\/p>\n

***
\nThe sun has been climbing steadily for the past several hours, and the shadows have shrunk to almost nothing. \u00a0Hoss and I were allowed a short walk to relieve ourselves\u2014at gunpoint, of course. \u00a0(Nothing like a pistol at your back to inhibit\u00a0that<\/em>\u00a0particular process.) \u00a0Jake and Thatcher have ridden out, presumably to arrange for our ransom, and maybe to pick up some supplies.<\/p>\n

The Joshua trees cast dark images onto the sand directly below their limbs. \u00a0I lean against the trunk of the one I’m tied to, hugging its small shade. \u00a0May sits beneath a rock overhang about ten feet from us, crushing something with a mortar and pestle. \u00a0My Colt lies beside her.<\/p>\n

Sitting still for so long has made me stiff and sore, not to mention cranky. \u00a0I stretch my arms in front of me as best I can. \u00a0When Jake retied our hands in front of us, not behind, I allowed myself a fleeting moment of hope before admitting that we still can\u2019t escape. \u00a0Having my hands in front of me just means I can scratch my nose if it itches. \u00a0It would still be impossible to untie my ankles and the rope around my waist without May seeing me; I don\u2019t think a full minute\u2019s gone by without her looking at us. \u00a0As if in answer to my thought, she pauses in her work and lifts her chin, gazing at me steadily.<\/p>\n

Glancing at Hoss, I see that he\u2019s dozing with his chin on his chest. \u00a0Sweat beads cover his forehead, and a trickle of sweat runs down his jawline. \u00a0I look back at May, remembering what she said as Jake and Thatcher rode away. \u00a0Holding the pistol with two hands and leveling it at my chest, she cocked it and said, \u201cI\u2019ve bandaged your sores and given you breakfast. \u00a0But don\u2019t you mistake that for softness. \u00a0You give me a reason to shoot you, and I\u2019ll do it as quick as Thatcher would.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOr Jake?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n

She studied me, searching my face for my meaning. \u00a0\u201cOr Jake,\u201d she said finally.<\/p>\n

Hoss asked the question I was thinking.\u00a0 \u201cWhy do you stay with him, ma\u2019am?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou wouldn\u2019t understand,\u201d she said tersely and began clearing away the breakfast things.<\/p>\n

I watch her now, admiring the smooth, push-and-twist motion of the pestle in her right hand. \u00a0She stops and looks into the mortar. \u00a0Apparently satisfied with what she sees, she pours the powder onto a flat rock in the sun and spreads it with her fingers. \u00a0A mound of reddish-brown pods lies beside her; she picks up a handful and puts them into the mortar.<\/p>\n

Push, twist. \u00a0Push, twist.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat are you doing?\u201d I ask.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat does it look like?\u201d she asks, her voice heavy with sarcasm. \u00a0\u201cI\u2019m getting dressed for the ball.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAh,\u201d I say. \u00a0\u201cWell, I hate to disappoint you, but it looks like we\u2019re fresh out of escorts.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah,\u201d Hoss agrees, stirring. \u00a0I wonder if he really was sleeping at all. \u201cI\u2019d take you, ma\u2019am, but it looks like I\u2019m tied up tonight.\u201d \u00a0He snorts at his own lame joke, and I can\u2019t refrain from rolling my eyes.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat was\u00a0really<\/em>\u00a0bad,\u201d I tell him. \u00a0Then, to my surprise, May laughs.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d she agrees. \u00a0\u201cI don\u2019t think I\u2019ve ever heard worse.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSorry,\u201d he says sheepishly. \u00a0\u201cI\u2019m not much for telling jokes. Besides, I\u2019m not feeling very funny right now.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, I wouldn\u2019t think so,\u201d she says, and begins grinding the pods in her mortar again.<\/p>\n

\u201cI can do that if you want,\u201d I tell her.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause I\u2019m bored out of my skull, that\u2019s why,\u201d I say, more sharply than I intended.<\/p>\n

She eyes my bound wrists a moment, then stands and brings the mortar and pestle to me. \u00a0\u201cGive it a try,\u201d she says, setting the mortar down beside me and placing the pestle in my right hand. \u00a0I lean sideways and try to mash it down onto the pods, but since I can\u2019t hold the mortar steady with my left hand, it tilts and spills its contents onto the sand. \u00a0Frustrated, I drop the pestle.<\/p>\n

May shrugs. \u201cWell, you tried.\u201d \u00a0She starts gathering up the pods.<\/p>\n

\u201cUntie my wrists,\u201d I say suddenly, and she stares at me.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019ve lost your mind,\u201d she says.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, I haven\u2019t,\u201d I tell her, \u201cnot yet. \u00a0But if I have to sit here with nothing to do for one more minute, I will. \u00a0You\u2019ll still have the gun, May, and I\u2019ll still be tied to this tree. \u00a0And my legs will still be tied. \u00a0Not to mention my brother. \u00a0Do you think I\u2019d go off and leave him?\u201d<\/p>\n

She hesitates, and I press my advantage. \u00a0\u201cMay, I give you my word. \u00a0If you untie my wrists, just for a while, I won\u2019t try to escape.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYour word.\u201d \u00a0She gives a small, bitter laugh.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d I say, fastening my eyes on hers and willing her to believe me. \u00a0\u201cMy word.\u201d<\/p>\n

Beside me, I think Hoss has stopped breathing. \u00a0May\u2019s gray eyes hold my gaze, and finally she mutters, \u201cI am a complete fool,\u201d before she stoops to untie my wrists. \u00a0When she finishes, she steps back, reaching for the Colt and swinging it up quickly. \u00a0Although she holds it two-handed, she looks comfortable with it, the way some women would look with a baby. \u00a0Leveling it at my head this time, she says, \u201cYou break that word of yours, and I\u2019ll blow your head off.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCharming,\u201d I say dryly. \u00a0\u201cYou\u2019re an angel, May.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA bit fallen, I reckon,\u201d she says without inflection. \u00a0She motions to the mortar, which still lies on its side. \u00a0\u201cGo ahead, grind some mesquite if that\u2019s what\u2019ll make you happy.\u201d \u00a0Then, to Hoss, she says, \u201cI suppose you\u2019ll want to help. \u00a0Do I have your word, too?\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss nods, and I see him trying to suppress his eagerness. \u201cYes, ma\u2019am,\u201d he says. \u201cMy solemn word: no escape attempts. \u00a0Not yet, anyway,\u201d he adds, grinning. \u00a0\u201cMaybe after supper.\u201d \u00a0I want to shake him. \u00a0But May\u2019s mouth twitches in barely concealed amusement, and I realize Hoss\u2019 instinct was true. \u00a0May\u00a0wants<\/em>\u00a0to laugh. \u00a0Any excuse will do: \u00a0a groan-worthy pun, a stupid escape joke, anything at all.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m a fool,\u201d she mutters, laying the Colt down out of my reach to untie Hoss. \u00a0\u201cA complete fool.\u201d<\/p>\n

She gives Hoss a small paring knife and a pile of mesquite roots, with instructions to peel off the outer coverings and slice the pulpy insides into inch-long strips. \u00a0I work on imitating her push-twist motions, enjoying the way the pestle becomes an extension of my hand. \u00a0The nightmare images have receded again, although I know they\u2019re lurking. \u00a0Right now, I push them aside and try to concentrate on our current situation.<\/p>\n

I could hurl this granite pestle at May\u2019s head.\u00a0 If I throw it hard and fast and straight, she\u2019ll be out like a light. \u00a0Hoss and I could be miles away before Jake and Thatcher return.<\/p>\n

A blow like that could kill her.<\/p>\n

I gave my word.<\/p>\n

Under duress, I gave my word. \u00a0Does that count?<\/p>\n

Hoss has a paring knife. \u00a0No, that\u2019s no good. \u00a0She has a Colt. I pause in my work, watching her mend a jacket that belongs to one of the men. \u00a0She must feel my eyes on her, because she lifts hers to mine again.<\/p>\n

Her eyes are the most unusual gray. \u00a0Like storm clouds, but harder. \u00a0Their hardness keeps them from being beautiful.<\/p>\n

For a moment, May and I are the only two people in the desert. \u00a0Then Hoss interrupts. \u00a0\u201cWhy do you stay with Jake?\u201d he asks.<\/p>\n

May frowns, then glances at me.\u00a0 \u201cYour brother\u2019s awful nosy, isn\u2019t he?\u201d she says.<\/p>\n

I give Hoss a pointed look.\u00a0 \u201cNot usually.\u00a0 But the last couple of days, he seems to have found his curiosity.\u201d<\/p>\n

She turns her attention back to the jacket. \u00a0Finishing the seam she\u2019s on, she ties off the thread and breaks it with her teeth. \u00a0Then she leans back against the cliff face and says slowly, \u201cI guess I\u2019m with Jake for the same reason he\u2019s with Thatcher.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhich is?\u201d<\/p>\n

She gives Hoss an appraising look. \u00a0\u201cI don\u2019t suppose you\u2019ve ever been beholden to anyone. \u00a0Those clothes, that fine horse you\u2019re riding, your firearms\u2014you were born with everything you\u2019ll ever need, and then some.\u201d<\/p>\n

I set my pestle down on the ground beside me and close my eyes so she won\u2019t see the anger in them. \u00a0I get tired of this. \u00a0\u201cYou rich Cartwrights, you spoiled Cartwrights,\u201d as if we never had to work for anything we have. \u00a0I remember those days of trekking across the country…Pa looking desperate and depressed when he ran out of money and I had a fever. \u00a0Pa taking a menial job in a saloon and accepting a homemade remedy from a woman he\u2019d only just met. \u00a0Pa kneeling over Inger\u2019s lifeless body as the blood seeped through the back of her dress around the arrow shaft.<\/p>\n

No, we\u2019ve never suffered.<\/p>\n

Hoss sounds puzzled. \u00a0\u201cYou stay with Jake \u2019cause you\u2019re beholden to him?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s more than that.\u201d \u00a0She shakes her head. \u00a0\u201cYou wouldn\u2019t understand.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou keep saying that, ma\u2019am. \u00a0But you don\u2019t know it.\u201d<\/p>\n

She doesn\u2019t answer, and I open my eyes, expecting to see her concentrating on her mending again. \u00a0But she\u2019s sitting still, gazing at Hoss\u2014or rather, through Hoss. Her eyes are open, but she doesn\u2019t seem to see anything. \u00a0Finally she says, \u201cI love him.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh.\u201d \u00a0Hoss is quiet. \u00a0Then, \u201cWhere are you going? \u00a0I mean, are you just drifting? \u00a0Or do you have a plan?\u201d<\/p>\n

Her eyes brighten, and for a second, they\u2019re beautiful. \u00a0\u201cWe\u2019re heading for San Francisco. I\u2019m going to open a shop\u2014an emporium, with all sorts of healing remedies.\u00a0 I\u2019m good at that. \u00a0And I hear in San Francisco, the Chinese have such things. \u00a0I\u2019m hoping one of them will teach me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot likely,\u201d I say flatly. \u00a0I know it\u2019s mean, but I\u2019m still angry about the assumptions she made about us. \u00a0\u201cNo Chinese doctor will take on a\u00a0Fan Guay\u00a0<\/em>woman.\u201d<\/p>\n

Her brow furrows. \u00a0\u201cA what?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFan Guay<\/em>. \u00a0White ghost. \u00a0It\u2019s what they call us.\u201d \u00a0Not quite knowing why, I add, \u201cIt\u2019s just another word for \u2018Other.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss puts in hopefully, \u201cHop Sing\u2014that\u2019s our cook\u2014has relatives in San Francisco. \u00a0I think he\u2019s got a cousin or an uncle or something that\u2019s a doctor. \u00a0I bet he\u2019d take you on as a student.\u201d<\/p>\n

May laughs, sounding genuinely amused. \u00a0\u201cSure. \u00a0Your Chinese cook will ask his uncle to teach the wife of one of your kidnappers. \u00a0You\u2019re as big a fool as I am.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell\u2026\u201d \u00a0Hoss hesitates, but then he plunges ahead, speaking quickly. \u00a0\u201cI\u2019m not the brightest one in my family, ma\u2019am. \u00a0But it seems to me that this thing ain\u2019t gone so far it can\u2019t be undone. \u00a0If you was to talk to Jake\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d \u00a0There\u2019s no trace of laughter in her voice now.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut ma\u2019am\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cForget it.\u201d<\/p>\n

A sound from the top of the cliff makes us all look up. \u00a0Jake and Thatcher are riding down the path, and May nervously puts a hand to her throat. \u00a0They enter the camp and dismount.\u00a0 Thatcher takes in the scene: \u00a0May with her mending, Hoss with his paring knife, me with my mortar and pestle. \u00a0He snorts.<\/p>\n

\u201cI knew she was stupid,\u201d he tells Jake, \u201cbut I didn\u2019t think she was a complete idiot.\u201d<\/p>\n

When Jake reties our hands, he pulls the ropes as tight as Thatcher did last night. \u00a0May\u2019s bandages keep them from cutting into my flesh, but I\u2019m certain there won\u2019t be any circulation left by suppertime.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

No one unties us, not even for supper. \u00a0I quickly give up trying to use a fork and settle for dried meat and hardtack, no beans. \u00a0No one talks much, and our three captors turn in early. \u00a0I wonder what they\u2019ve done about demanding ransom. \u00a0How will they collect it? \u00a0When and where will they turn us over to someone? \u00a0Will it be to Pa or someone else?
\nWill it happen at all?<\/p>\n

There\u2019s no desert sunset to admire tonight, not for us. \u00a0The western sky is blocked by the cliff faces, and darkness descends quickly. \u00a0A day of inactivity, not to mention high anxiety, has left me too keyed-up to sleep. \u00a0It\u2019s just as well. \u00a0Until this morning, my memory of what happened to Martha and Roland was like recalling a scene in a book. \u00a0If necessary, I could have recited the facts, including some minor details, but I wouldn\u2019t have\u00a0been<\/em>\u00a0there.<\/p>\n

Now wakefulness is my last defense.<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam?\u201d \u00a0Hoss\u2019 voice sounds small in the darkness.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d \u00a0Please, please don\u2019t ask me about the dreams again.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you reckon Pa\u2019s doing right now?\u201d<\/p>\n

The question is both easier and harder to deal with than the one I\u2019d expected. \u00a0I consider. \u00a0\u201cAssuming that Pa\u2019s gotten some kind of ransom demand, I guess he\u2019s\u2026\u201d \u00a0I don\u2019t know how to finish the sentence. \u00a0What\u00a0would<\/em>\u00a0Pa be doing now? \u00a0Has he gone to Virginia City to withdraw cash from the bank? \u00a0How much have Jake and Thatcher demanded? \u00a0Will Pa refuse to deal with them, as Hoss predicted? \u00a0No, I\u2019m sure he\u2019ll deal. \u00a0Or will he just pretend to comply?<\/p>\n

Has he gone for Sheriff Coffee? \u00a0Gathered his own informal posse? \u00a0A friend or two, a couple of trusted hands?<\/p>\n

Is he looking for us?<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam?\u201d \u00a0Apparently Hoss is waiting for an answer.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d I admit. \u00a0\u201cWhat do you think?\u201d<\/p>\n

Silence.\u00a0 Then, \u201cI think he\u2019s looking for us.\u00a0 With this full moon, if he\u2019s found our campsite, we won\u2019t be hard to track.\u201d<\/p>\n

That\u2019s a mighty big \u201cif,\u201d\u00a0<\/em>I think, but I don\u2019t say it.<\/p>\n

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

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

\u201cHow\u2019d you know what was in that salve May put on our wrists?\u201d<\/p>\n

I\u2019d forgotten all about that. \u00a0\u201cIt was partly a lucky guess. \u00a0Goldenroot and comfrey are good for open sores. \u00a0And the color was right.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou said myrrh too, didn\u2019t you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes. \u00a0That has a distinct smell. \u00a0I\u2019m surprised May has something like that, though. \u00a0It\u2019s expensive stuff.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe really don\u2019t know anything about her.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, we don\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n

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

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

\u201cYou were good with that mortar and pestle. \u00a0Did Martha teach you that?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, Hoss.\u201d \u00a0I really don\u2019t want to talk about Martha, but I figure Hoss will ask more. \u00a0I\u2019m wrong. \u00a0He says nothing, and the silence grows\u2026and grows\u2026and suddenly I hear my voice rising and falling on the cold, thin air.<\/p>\n

But I\u2019m not telling him about Martha, or even Isaac. \u00a0I\u2019m talking about Roland, about how funny he was, how energetic and full of life. \u00a0Always ready to cut class, to sneak out of the dormitory and go down to the river after dark. \u00a0A little arrogant, but in a charming way. \u00a0Red hair, roguish grin, a smooth way with the ladies.<\/p>\n

He teased me about spending so much time with the Greenbergs. \u00a0\u201cThe peasants,\u201d he called them once, but he backed off when he saw the fury in my eyes. \u00a0And I forgave him, because\u2026well, because he was Roland, and he was harmless. \u00a0Just unthinking sometimes.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe wasn\u2019t a bad person,\u201d I say softly, and my voice breaks.<\/p>\n

Hoss says nothing. \u00a0And in the silence, I continue.<\/p>\n

We were down by the river with our rifles, near the place where Isaac had fallen in. \u00a0I\u2019d told Roland that if I bagged a goose, Martha would fix us a meal like he\u2019d never had. \u00a0He\u2019d rolled his eyes but had come along.<\/p>\n

If Roland and I hadn\u2019t split up, things would have turned out differently. \u00a0Neither of us expected to see anyone else on the river. \u00a0Certainly not Martha, and certainly not alone. \u00a0Certainly not with her shoes and stockings off, and her skirts tied up around her waist, wading like a little girl. \u00a0Alone.<\/p>\n

\u201cRoland wasn\u2019t a bad person,\u201d I say again, and Hoss says nothing.<\/p>\n

The rest of it I say in a cold, clinical voice, reciting the facts that are, after all, a matter of public record. \u00a0When I finish, Hoss knows everything Pa knows: \u00a0the blast of Isaac\u2019s rifle, the stricken look on his face as he crashed through the bushes behind me, Martha\u2019s collapse on the bank. \u00a0Roland face down in the red water. \u00a0Red fading to pink as his blood spread and feathered on its way downstream.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s so dark I don\u2019t even need to close my eyes. \u00a0I hear Isaac: \u00a0\u201cRun, Adam. Get the doctor. \u00a0Run!\u201d<\/p>\n

Isaac\u2019s voice fades, and once again there\u2019s silence when I finish.<\/p>\n

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

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

\u201cAre you going to tell me the rest?\u201d<\/p>\n

I freeze. \u00a0\u201cWhat rest?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhatever it is you can\u2019t tell Pa.\u201d<\/p>\n

Silence again, and this time Hoss isn\u2019t the one who breaks it. \u00a0From inside the lean-to, we hear voices. \u00a0They murmur at first, but they gradually grow louder. \u00a0I can\u2019t make out every word, but from Thatcher I hear, \u201c\u2026they can identify…\u201d and \u201c\u2026safer that way.\u201d \u00a0Jake seems to be arguing with him, and every once in a while May\u2019s voice breaks in.<\/p>\n

Suddenly she wails, \u201cYou promised, Jake! \u00a0You gave me your word!\u201d<\/p>\n

Thatcher\u2019s harsh laugh cuts the night air. \u00a0\u201cHis word! \u00a0You really thought you\u2019d run a shop in San Francisco? \u00a0You see yourself as some sort of magic fairy, don\u2019t you?\u201d \u00a0In a high falsetto, he taunts, \u201cGet your potions and lotions from Magical May!\u201d<\/p>\n

Now, along with May\u2019s choked sobs, we hear Jake\u2019s voice. \u00a0It\u2019s low and urgent, and the words \u201cmining,\u201d and \u201cjust for a little while\u201d stand out. \u00a0After a while, May\u2019s sobs grow quieter, and Jake stops talking. \u00a0Thatcher steps out of the lean-to and walks to the edge of the campsite. \u00a0He takes a pouch out of his vest and dips his thumb and forefinger into it, then pokes a wad of chewing tobacco into his mouth.<\/p>\n

\u201cThatcher,\u201d Hoss says suddenly, and I jump. \u00a0What could Hoss possibly have to say to him?<\/p>\n

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

\u201cJust to tell you\u2026\u201d\u00a0 Hoss draws in a breath.\u00a0 \u201cMay was right about you. \u00a0You\u2019re an animal.\u201d<\/p>\n

Thatcher stands motionless a moment.\u00a0 Then slowly, he walks over to Hoss and stoops down, eye to eye. \u00a0The whites of Thatcher\u2019s eyes gleam in the moonlight. \u00a0Then his lips pull back in a wolf-like grin. \u00a0I smell his tobacco, and I think he\u2019s about to spit in Hoss\u2019 face.<\/p>\n

But without warning, he backhands him, hard. \u00a0Reflexively, I strain against my ropes, but it\u2019s no good. \u00a0Hoss\u2019 head snaps to the side, but he recovers quickly, straightening up to meet Thatcher\u2019s stare again.<\/p>\n

Thatcher is still grinning.\u00a0 \u201cYeah, boy,\u201d he says softly. \u00a0\u201cI\u2019m an animal. \u00a0And don\u2019t you forget it.\u201d<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

\u201cNot smart,\u201d I whisper to Hoss after Thatcher has gone back inside. \u00a0I shouldn\u2019t say it; I\u2019m sure Hoss knows that provoking Thatcher was foolhardy, and I shouldn\u2019t rub it in. \u00a0But I want to make sure he understands, so he won\u2019t do it again.<\/p>\n

\u201cI know,\u201d he says ruefully, twisting against his ropes as if trying to get comfortable. \u00a0\u201cI couldn\u2019t help it, Adam. \u00a0I was just so mad.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou couldn\u2019t help it? \u00a0That\u2019s something Joe would say.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry, Adam.\u201d \u00a0I remind myself that he\u2019s sixteen, after all. \u00a0It\u2019s just that he\u2019s usually so levelheaded and even-tempered that this took me by surprise. \u00a0I chalk it up to being confined all day, feeling helpless and overwhelmed\u2014and of course, wishing he could protect May.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t worry about it,\u201d I tell him. \u00a0\u201cNo harm done.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah? \u00a0You didn\u2019t catch his backfist.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you all right?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSure.\u201d<\/p>\n

I wonder if he\u2019s telling the truth, but I don\u2019t push it. \u00a0My mind is going back over the snatches of argument we overheard. \u00a0Thatcher\u2019s voice: \u201c\u2026kill them if they\u2026\u201d and \u201c\u2026safer that way.\u201d<\/p>\n

We\u2019ve spent twenty-four hours with these people. \u00a0They can\u2019t just meet up with Pa, exchange us for the money then and there, and expect to ride away. \u00a0Maybe they\u2019ve arranged for the ransom to be in one place, and they\u2019ll leave us in another place for Pa to find, but they\u2019re bound to know that a posse will be after them as soon as we\u2019re in safe hands. \u00a0And with Hoss and me to identify them\u2026<\/p>\n

I feel sick. \u00a0Our chances of getting out of this alive are dwindling by the moment.<\/p>\n

\u201cHoss,\u201d I whisper.<\/p>\n

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

\u201cI need you to think. \u00a0Think hard. \u00a0We\u2019ve got to figure a way out of this.\u201d \u00a0Why didn\u2019t I throw that pestle at May earlier? \u00a0Was it some sort of misplaced chivalry? \u00a0Just one more reason to be angry with myself\u2026but that won\u2019t do any good now.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m thinking, Adam.\u201d \u00a0Is that despair I hear?<\/p>\n

The anxiety of the day is beginning to catch up with me. \u00a0Earlier I was too keyed up to sleep, but suddenly I can\u2019t keep my eyes open. \u00a0I hope I\u2019m too exhausted to dream, because I know I won\u2019t be able to stay awake much longer.<\/p>\n

That\u2019s the last thought I remember until two low murmurs wake me up. \u00a0The moon is high, peeking over the western cliff.\u00a0 I must have slept for a couple of hours.<\/p>\n

May is sitting facing Hoss, whispering, \u201cHow do you know it\u2019s a filly?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know how I know. \u00a0I just do.\u201d<\/p>\n

It takes me a minute to figure out what they\u2019re talking about. \u00a0Then I remember the mare that we thought was going to foal a few days ago, the one Hoss asked me to help him check on. \u00a0She didn\u2019t go into labor that night, nor by the time we left the next day. \u00a0Presumably, she\u2019s had her foal by now. \u00a0But I\u2019m with May: \u00a0what makes Hoss so sure it\u2019s a filly?<\/p>\n

May surprises me with her teasing tone. \u00a0\u201cYou must have been drinking eyebright tea.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s that?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cEyebright? \u00a0The flower looks a little like a Lady\u2019s Slipper on top, light purple. \u00a0Almost pink, but not quite. \u00a0The bottom petals are white with some yellow near the stamen.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt sounds pretty.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt is. \u00a0And it\u2019s very useful. \u00a0Every part of it can be used\u2014roots, stem, leaves, flower.\u201d \u00a0Her voice is quietly passionate. \u00a0\u201cSome people say it gives the second sight.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSecond sight?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cKnowing things you can\u2019t possibly know. \u00a0Like whether your mare\u2019s going to have a colt or a filly.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh.\u201d \u00a0He laughs softly. \u00a0\u201cI don\u2019t reckon I need eyebright for that. \u00a0I just generally know.\u201d<\/p>\n

This is news to me, but I\u2019m not surprised that Hoss has never mentioned it. \u00a0It\u2019s not something I\u2019d talk about either.<\/p>\n

\u201cMa\u2019am?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI wish you wouldn\u2019t call me that. \u00a0I\u2019m not that much older than you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAll right\u2026May. \u00a0You know they\u2019re probably gonna kill us, don\u2019t you?\u201d<\/p>\n

I hold my breath. \u00a0Every second that passes seems like ten. \u00a0Then she says, \u201cNo, Hoss, they\u2019re not.\u201d \u00a0She stands, and her posture is determined, as if she\u2019s suddenly decided something and there\u2019s no turning back. \u00a0Quickly and deliberately, she steps forward and kneels beside him, and I see something flash in the moonlight. \u00a0The next thing I know, Hoss is staring at his hands as the rope that was around his wrists drops into his lap.<\/p>\n

May stands again, and now she\u2019s untying the dark pink sash around her waist. \u00a0Leaning forward, she loops it around Hoss\u2019 neck. \u00a0\u201cYou\u2019re a sweet boy,\u201d she says softly, and kisses him on the forehead. \u00a0His lips part as he gazes at her, wide-eyed like the boy she\u2019s just called him. \u00a0She closes her eyes a moment before straightening up and handing him the knife. Then she turns to me.<\/p>\n

I look up at her, having given up any pretense of being asleep. \u00a0She smiles slightly\u2014a sad smile. \u00a0Reaching into her coat, she pulls out my Colt and lays it on the ground beside me. Then she turns and walks toward the lean-to. \u00a0She goes inside, and she doesn\u2019t look back.<\/p>\n

***
\nHoss quickly slices through his ropes and then mine. \u00a0Our legs wobble when we stand, and I flex my ankles as I slip the Colt into my holster. \u00a0Its weight settles against my hip, and I breathe a silent\u00a0Thank you<\/em>. \u00a0I wish Hoss had his pistol too, but one weapon is better than none.<\/p>\n

The horses are tethered by the pond, and Hoss turns in that direction. \u00a0I grab his arm.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019ll go on foot,\u201d I whisper.<\/p>\n

His eyes widen. \u201cWe can\u2019t leave our horses.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe have to.\u00a0 We\u2019ll never get them up that path without making any noise.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe could set their horses loose, and then take ours.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d\u00a0 I don\u2019t have time to explain it to him, but there are only two ways out of this camp, and the horses can\u2019t navigate either one quietly.\u00a0 It doesn\u2019t matter if we\u2019re leading them, riding them, or sending them on their way with a slap on the hindquarters; they\u2019re bound to wake up Jake and Thatcher.\u00a0 The thought of leaving Nightshade sends a stab of agony through me, but I steel myself.<\/p>\n

Hoping I sound more confident than I feel, I whisper, \u201cIf we hike fast, we\u2019ll make the northeast pasture by daybreak. \u00a0Once we\u2019re home, Pa and the sheriff will organize a posse, and we\u2019ll get our horses back.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd we\u2019ll see Jake and Thatcher in jail,\u201d he whispers back. \u00a0I nod reassuringly and turn toward the path, but now it\u2019s his turn to grab my arm. \u00a0Impatiently, I look back at him. \u00a0He stares at me as if something alarming has just occurred to him. \u00a0\u201cWhat about May?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat about her?\u201d \u00a0I know what\u2019s coming, just as sure as I know my name is Adam Stoddard Cartwright. \u00a0Oh, Lord. \u00a0Please let me be wrong.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cWe can\u2019t leave her, Adam. \u00a0When they find out what she\u2019s done\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHoss.\u201d \u00a0I turn to face him, gripping his arms with both my hands, and I squeeze hard, hoping to squeeze some sense into him. \u00a0\u201cShe made her choice. \u00a0She could have come with us, but she went back to Jake.\u201d<\/p>\n

He works his jaw back and forth. \u00a0Oh, this is bad. \u00a0He\u2019s got that stubborn-mule look on his face, and we can\u2019t stand here in the moonlight arguing in whispers forever.<\/p>\n

\u201cI won\u2019t leave her, Adam.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou have to!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou go. \u00a0I\u2019ll hide here and keep an eye on her while you go for that posse.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s stupid. \u00a0We stay together.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThis is\u00a0my<\/em>\u00a0choice, Adam. \u00a0I won\u2019t drag you into it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Suddenly I feel the corners of my mouth begin to twitch, and I have to cover my mouth with one hand to keep from laughing out loud. \u00a0Hoss stares at me, and I manage to compose myself. \u00a0I drop my hand, still smiling, and I have the sensation that the pins in a tumbler lock have dropped into place. \u00a0Somewhere inside me, there\u2019s a satisfying \u201cclick\u201d as everything fits together.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s so funny?\u201d Hoss hisses.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou are,\u201d I tell him as solemnly as I can, but I know I\u2019m giving him that crooked smile he and Joe tease me about. \u00a0\u201cYou aren\u2019t dragging me anywhere. \u00a0You\u2019d have to drag me\u00a0away<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

It\u2019s perfect; I\u2019ve always loved the symmetry of poetic justice.\u00a0 And it\u2019s simple. \u00a0I\u2019ve been trying to make everything complicated, but it doesn\u2019t need to be. \u00a0The scripture \u201cDo unto others\u201d pops into my head, but it comes out distorted: \u00a0\u201cDo unto others as they\u2019ve done to you.\u201d \u00a0I slam my mind shut against any ethical qualms I might have; this is not the time for debate. \u00a0Later, sitting safely by the fireplace in the ranch house, that will be the time. \u00a0Goethe\u2019s words race through my mind:<\/p>\n

Words have been interchanged enough;
\nLet me at last see action too.<\/em><\/p>\n

There\u2019s more, isn\u2019t there? Yes\u2026<\/p>\n

With resolution seize the possible straightway,
\nBy forelock and with quick, courageous trust.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cBy forelock,\u201d I murmur, flexing my fingers, and Hoss furrows his brow.<\/p>\n

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

\u201cNever mind. \u00a0Come on.\u201d Quickly and quietly, I lead him to the second lean-to where Thatcher sleeps. \u00a0The first order of business is to get Hoss a weapon, and I know Thatcher\u2019s rifle is in there. \u00a0I\u2019m hoping we can get it without waking him.<\/p>\n

He\u2019s sleeping sprawled out on a pile of dirty blankets, a flask lying close to his left hand. \u00a0My pent-up nerves threaten to make me laugh again, but I bite the inside of my cheek to quell the urge. \u00a0Thatcher\u2019s stupidity is our gain, and with any luck, Jake is in the same state.\u00a0 I suppose that\u2019s why he didn\u2019t miss May when she was talking with Hoss.<\/p>\n

Glancing at Hoss, I nod toward the rifle standing in the corner, and he steps gingerly under the shelter of the lean-to.\u00a0 But either he makes a noise I don\u2019t hear, or Thatcher isn\u2019t as inebriated as I assumed, because suddenly his eyes are wide open and his hand is hovering over the pistol on his hip.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t do it,\u201d I say softly, drawing back the hammer of my Colt. \u00a0But part of me hopes he does do it.\u00a0 Part of me remembers how hard he hit my younger brother, who was tied to a tree at the time. \u00a0It’s that part of me that thinks,\u00a0Go ahead, Thatcher.\u00a0 Give me a reason to shoot you.<\/em><\/p>\n

For a moment, his eyes are confused, but now they clear, and his lips draw back over his teeth in that canine smile of his. \u00a0\u201cBe careful with that gun, boy,\u201d he says. \u00a0\u201cIt\u2019s a terrible thing to kill a man.\u201d \u00a0He gets to one knee, his right hand twitching over his pistol, and I keep mine pointed at his chest. \u00a0His grin widens. \u00a0\u201cCourse, you wouldn’t know that.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know it,\u201d I say shortly. \u00a0In my peripheral vision, I see that Hoss has the rifle now and is pointing it at Thatcher.<\/p>\n

\u201cGive your gun to Hoss,\u201d I order. \u00a0Thatcher slides his pistol from the holster and dangles it above the ground. Dropping it, he stands up.<\/p>\n

\u201cIf he wants it, he can come get it,\u201d he sneers.<\/p>\n

Hoss steps forward, but I say, \u201cLeave it,\u201d and motion Thatcher out of the lean-to. Once Thatcher is outside, I tell Hoss, \u201cGet it now,\u201d and he does. \u00a0I keep my eyes on Thatcher, feeling fully alert for the first time in days. \u00a0Every nerve in my body tingles. \u00a0A cool breeze dries the sweat on the back of my neck, carrying the sharp scent of mesquite from our earlier supper fire. \u00a0A desert toad makes a creaking croak of a sound, and a coyote\u2019s yip elongates into a yowl. \u00a0Everything\u2019s alive.<\/p>\n

I\u2019m<\/em>\u00a0alive.<\/p>\n

I march Thatcher to stand in front of the other lean-to, and Hoss glances at me. I barely nod, and he steps toward the opening. \u00a0We don\u2019t need words, and that\u2019s part of the rightness, the aliveness of all this. \u00a0Hoss and I are pins in the tumbler, and we\u2019ve slid into place. \u00a0Thatcher starts to turn around, but I move forward and jam my pistol between his shoulder blades. \u00a0\u201cDon\u2019t move,\u201d I say grimly, and he freezes.<\/p>\n

When Hoss levels the Winchester at Jake, I have the strangest sensation of watching something that\u2019s already happened to me. \u00a0I hear the unmistakable click of the rifle being cocked as Jake bolts up on his elbows, staring straight into the barrel of the gun. \u00a0Fleetingly, I wonder: \u00a0Can anything ever happen that hasn\u2019t happened before?<\/p>\n

May is up on her elbows too, gazing first at Hoss and then at me in utter disbelief. \u00a0\u201cNo,\u201d she says softly, then louder, \u201cNo!\u201d \u00a0Is that anger on her face? \u00a0Oh, yes. \u00a0\u201cNo!\u201d she yells as she and Jake get to their feet.<\/p>\n

Hoss looks uncertain, and suddenly I realize I\u2019ve made a serious error. \u00a0Hoss should have been holding Thatcher; I should be the one pointing the rifle at Jake. \u00a0Praying that I\u2019m the only one who sees this, I snap, \u201cMay! Take Jake\u2019s gun and drop it.\u201d \u00a0When she hesitates, I bark, \u201cNow!\u201d \u00a0Jake holds his hands up, palms out, and she takes his pistol and drops it on the blankets. \u00a0Jake is glaring a hole through Hoss\u2014or rather, through the dark pink sash around his neck.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou,\u201d Jake snarls, but he isn\u2019t talking to Hoss. \u00a0His eyes are flicking from the sash to May and back again. \u00a0\u201cYou little tramp.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, Jake,\u201d she protests. \u00a0\u201cIt\u2019s not like that.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGet outside,\u201d I order, before this can go any farther. \u00a0The feeling of rightness is fast unraveling, and I wish I could go back in time and try again to convince Hoss to make our escape. \u00a0This was a mistake. \u00a0I was right the first time: \u00a0May doesn\u2019t want to be rescued, and we should have left her here. \u00a0Too late now. \u00a0The only way out of this is to plow on through. \u00a0\u201cLet\u2019s go,\u201d I tell them, prodding Thatcher with my pistol. \u00a0Hoss steps back to let May and Jake pass, and I motion them toward the Joshua trees.<\/p>\n

I make Thatcher sit with his back to the tree I\u2019ve come to think of as \u201cmine,\u201d and I tell May to tie him to it. \u00a0She yanks the ropes so tightly around his wrists that he winces, and I know he hates himself for showing even that much weakness. \u00a0Her hands are trembling, but she manages the knots all right.<\/p>\n

With Thatcher secured, I have to fight the temptation to relax a little. \u00a0I\u2019m feeling none too steady right now; I haven\u2019t slept well in days, and I know that fatigue can play with a man\u2019s mind as well as his body. \u00a0Taking a deep breath, I remind myself that Jake is every bit as dangerous as Thatcher, and May is quite the wild card at this point.<\/p>\n

\u201cTie him,\u201d I tell May, jerking my chin at Jake. \u00a0I\u2019m not really surprised when she shakes her head.<\/p>\n

The corner of Jake\u2019s mouth curls up. \u00a0\u201cDidn\u2019t count on that, did you, Cartwright? \u00a0What\u2019s your plan now?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo problem.\u201d \u00a0Don\u2019t panic. \u00a0<\/em>I take one cautious step back, the better to cover both May and Jake with my gun. \u00a0\u201cMay, sit. \u00a0Hoss, you tie him.\u201d \u00a0May starts to crouch, Hoss half-lowers his rifle, and then everything happens at lightning speed. \u00a0I see Jake\u2019s hand inside his vest for less than half a second, and I recognize the small Derringer pistol just before I hear it pop. \u00a0May lunges at Hoss\u2019 rifle, and she\u2019s between Jake and me, right in my line of fire. \u00a0Now Hoss stumbles backward with her on top of him, and I can see Jake again. \u00a0I feel the cold steel of the trigger against my index finger, hear the sharp report, and smell the acrid blue smoke as Jake goes down. \u00a0The Derringer drops from his fingers, and his vest falls open. \u00a0A deep red stain blooms on his shirt front and begins to spread. \u00a0He stares at it a moment, and then goes limp against the tree.<\/p>\n

May abandons Hoss and flies to Jake, bending over him and sobbing his name over and over. \u00a0Hoss struggles to sit up, leaving the rifle where it dropped beside him. \u00a0He gapes at me, clutching his left arm. \u00a0The pink sash falls in graceful folds across his chest, and suddenly I\u2019m back in Boston, standing dazed beside the river, staring at the pink water under Roland\u2019s body as my firearm clatters to the ground. \u00a0I hear Isaac crashing through the bushes, turn to see the horror on his face, hear myself stammering, \u201cI didn\u2019t\u2014Isaac, I couldn\u2019t\u2014oh god, oh god, oh\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

Desert camp and riverside have become one, so it doesn\u2019t seem at all strange to hear a crash behind me.\u00a0 I turn to see Pa running toward us, pistol drawn. \u00a0He reaches for Hoss, who\u2019s already gotten to his feet and is moving toward me.<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam!\u201d Hoss is yelling, but his voice sounds far away, as if I\u2019m underwater.<\/p>\n

\u201cRoland,\u201d I say hoarsely.<\/p>\n

Hoss takes me by the shoulders, the way I gripped him less than an hour ago. \u00a0\u201cAdam!\u201d he shouts in my face. \u00a0I stare at him, barely seeing him.<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam, this is\u00a0now<\/em>!\u201d Hoss says urgently, his face inches from my own. \u00a0\u201cThat\u2019s Jake, not Roland. \u00a0That\u2019s Pa, not Isaac. \u00a0This is now, Adam.\u201d \u00a0I blink, and suddenly I feel my knees buckle.\u00a0 My sixteen-year-old brother\u2019s arms come around me, supporting me as I struggle to stand up straight.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, god, Hoss,\u201d I hear myself saying.\u00a0 \u201cI killed Roland. \u00a0Not Isaac, me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know,\u201d he says simply, holding me.<\/p>\n

Taking a shuddering breath, I get my feet back under me and step away. \u00a0Hoss lets go, but his blue eyes meet mine, full of concern. \u00a0Behind him, Pa is taking all of this in: Hoss and me, Thatcher tied up and glaring, May still weeping over Jake\u2019s body. \u00a0Sheriff Coffee has appeared and is kneeling beside May.<\/p>\n

Weakly, I ask, \u201cHow did you know?\u201d<\/p>\n

He shrugs. \u00a0\u201cI don\u2019t know how. \u00a0But I\u2019ve known for a while.\u201d<\/p>\n

I shake my head, and suddenly I notice his left arm. \u00a0The sleeve is torn, and the edges of the rip are stained red. \u00a0Focusing on that, I raise one eyebrow and strive for my best big-brother voice.\u00a0 \u201cSince you know so much, do you know you\u2019ve been shot?\u201d<\/p>\n

He looks down, genuinely surprised. \u00a0\u201cI knew it a minute ago,\u201d he says, \u201cbut I reckon I forgot.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, do you reckon we should take care of that?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSure,\u201d he says, looking a little dazed. \u00a0\u201cI don\u2019t see why not.\u201d \u00a0He turns too quickly and stumbles. \u00a0Pa catches him under the elbow.<\/p>\n

\u201cEasy, son,\u201d Pa says as he lowers him to a sitting position. \u00a0\u201cLet\u2019s have a look.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, Pa?\u201d Hoss says, wincing as Pa slides the jacket off him.<\/p>\n

\u201cMm?\u201d Pa mutters, examining the flesh wound. \u00a0It looks to me like the bullet just grazed him, damaging his shirt more than his skin, and I breathe a sigh of relief.<\/p>\n

Hoss grins. \u00a0\u201cI sure am glad to see you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMe, too,\u201d I add fervently.<\/p>\n

Pa glances up at me, then turns his attention back to Hoss. \u00a0\u201cLooks to me like you boys had everything under control,\u201d he says.\u00a0 I can\u2019t tell if he\u2019s serious or not.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, Pa,\u201d I say. \u00a0\u201cNot by a long shot.\u201d \u00a0I pause. \u00a0\u201cNot for a long time.\u201d \u00a0A sob threatens to escape, but I swallow hard and keep it down. \u00a0Time enough for that later. \u00a0Later, when I tell Pa everything.<\/p>\n

Right now I just want to go home.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

It feels great to be back on Nightshade, so wonderful that it\u2019s hard for me to keep from breaking into a full gallop across the desert. \u00a0Pa and Sheriff Coffee ride in front, with May and Thatcher between them. Hoss and I come after, and I know part of the reason is so Hoss won\u2019t have to look at May\u2019s hands tied to her saddle horn. \u00a0I saw the anguish in his eyes as the sheriff tied her.<\/p>\n

One end of the pink sash has escaped from Hoss\u2019 trousers pocket, and it flaps there, shockingly bright against the dingy fabric of his pants. \u00a0I decide not to mention it. \u00a0Instead I say, \u201cWonder how Pa and the sheriff found us.\u201d<\/p>\n

He chuckles. \u00a0\u201cPa told me while you were loading the horses. \u00a0He said we left a trail wider than a stampede.\u201d<\/p>\n

I laugh, remembering how Thatcher made us leave our campsite such a mess. Sure enough, his stupidity was our gain. \u00a0And even before that, we hadn\u2019t been trying to be sneaky, so to the practiced eye, we wouldn\u2019t have been hard to follow.<\/p>\n

Hoss glances over his shoulder at Jake\u2019s horse. \u00a0The man\u2019s body, wrapped in a blanket, lies across the saddle. \u00a0Hoss shakes his head.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt don\u2019t seem fair,\u201d he mutters.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat doesn\u2019t seem fair?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cEverything. \u00a0Jake dead, Thatcher alive, May\u2026\u201d \u00a0He pauses, and I wait. \u00a0\u201cHop Sing would have helped her. \u00a0I know he would have.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, he would have.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI should have played it your way. \u00a0We should have gotten out of there and come back for her later.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThey would have killed her, Hoss. \u00a0At least, Thatcher would have. \u00a0Maybe even Jake.\u201d<\/p>\n

His voice is low and sad. \u00a0\u201cI think Jake killed her anyway.\u201d<\/p>\n

***
\nI run. \u00a0As I run, I think,\u00a0No! \u00a0I thought this was over. \u00a0Won\u2019t it ever be over?<\/em><\/p>\n

As I round a stand of trees, a man steps into my path and grabs my arms. \u00a0I try to twist away, and then I realize it\u2019s Pa. \u00a0The beast behind me snarls, and I yell, \u201cRun, Pa!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, Adam,\u201d he says evenly, and his eyes match his voice: firm, calm, and confident. \u201cTurn around, son. \u00a0I\u2019m here.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m here, too,\u201d Hoss says beside me as he touches my arm.<\/p>\n

\u201cMe, too,\u201d Joe\u2019s eager voice pipes up, and I see him peering out from behind Pa.<\/p>\n

I stare at him, aghast, and then at Pa. \u00a0\u201cHe\u2019s only ten!\u201d \u00a0I protest.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s your brother,\u201d Pa replies, and gently turns me around.<\/p>\n

Roland stands there, his freckles standing out against his pale face. \u00a0His red hair hangs dripping over his forehead, and the pink sash around his neck ripples in a nonexistent breeze. \u00a0His eyes mirror the pain I know is in mine. \u00a0I open my mouth. \u00a0There\u2019s so much I want to say, but the words freeze in my brain before they even reach my throat.<\/p>\n

He just stands there watching me, and then his mouth crooks up in a trembling, hopeful smile.<\/p>\n

I can\u2019t smile, but I nod.<\/p>\n

He chews his lip. \u00a0Then he nods, too. \u00a0Slowly, he turns and disappears into the woods.<\/p>\n

When I wake, it takes me a moment to realize where I am. \u00a0Not home yet; the Ponderosa is a big place, and Hoss and I were three days away when we stopped for that desert sunset. We\u2019ve made camp in the woods, and I roll onto my side to gaze into the fire. \u00a0Its flames are small but comforting.<\/p>\n

Roland hasn\u2019t really gone. \u00a0I know that. \u00a0He\u2019ll be with me until the day I die. \u00a0But Hoss lies snoring a few yards away, and Pa sits with his back against a tree, his rifle lying across his knees. \u00a0He sees me watching him, and he raises an eyebrow. \u00a0Pushing my blanket aside, I get up and go to sit beside him.<\/p>\n

We don\u2019t have to speak. \u00a0We just sit there, and every once in a while, one of us pokes the fire with a stick. \u00a0When we do, a knothole pops or a piece of wood shifts, sending a shower of sparks into the air. \u00a0They rise like a swarm of fireflies and fade away.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

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

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

Summary: \u00a0Home from college, Adam is feeling out of sorts. What dark secret haunts his dreams? Past and present collide as he and Hoss are faced with a life-and-death struggle in the desert. Originally posted on bonanzaworld. \u00a0<\/p>\n

Rated:\u00a0T \u00a0WC \u00a014,000<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":214,"featured_media":3775,"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":[2,23,30],"tags":[14,17],"class_list":["post-7147","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-actionadventure","category-drama","category-prequels","tag-adam-cartwright","tag-hoss","wpcat-2-id","wpcat-23-id","wpcat-30-id"],"a3_pvc":{"activated":true,"total_views":1527,"today_views":0},"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/04\/adam-hoss.jpg?fit=746%2C573&ssl=1","jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack-related-posts":[{"id":1697,"url":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=1697","url_meta":{"origin":7147,"position":0},"title":"One Special Night (by BluewindFarm)","author":"BluewindFarm","date":"December 20, 2013","format":false,"excerpt":"Summary: The Cartwrights await a VERY special delivery, leaving one of them to wonder what their future will hold. 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