{"id":7425,"date":"2010-04-30T10:55:03","date_gmt":"2010-04-30T14:55:03","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=7425"},"modified":"2025-02-27T12:23:55","modified_gmt":"2025-02-27T17:23:55","slug":"dreamer","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=7425","title":{"rendered":"Dreamer (by southplains)"},"content":{"rendered":"

Summary: \u00a0<\/span>An unlikely alliance between two people spells deadly trouble for Joe.\u00a0 His survival depends entirely upon the strength of family bonds.<\/p>\n

Key words: SJS, ESJ, SHS, Julia Bulette, kidnap, drugs, drugged, hallucinations, indians, ropes, seduce, hurt, Joe gets hurt, Joe gets kidnapped<\/p>\n

Rated:<\/span>\u00a0K+ \u00a0WC \u00a031,400<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Story Notes:<\/b><\/em><\/p>\n

Author\u2019s note: The plant Datura plays a major part in this story. It is called Toloache by many Indian tribes, and goes by many other names as well. It is a real plant, and has been used for centuries for a variety of purposes. It is a favorite of shamans because of its ability to bring on extreme auditory and visual hallucinations. The effects seen in this story are\u00a0actual effects\u00a0experienced by users of Datura.<\/em><\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

Dreamer<\/strong><\/p>\n

“Pa, I’ll be fine.”<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

It was the last thing Joe had said to him, his voice edged with irritation as he’d hurriedly fastened his gun belt and plucked his hat from the sideboard. He’d been eager to leave; even more so than usual thanks to the hovering attention of a concerned father.<\/p>\n

Yet Ben couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in his gut he’d felt from the moment he had awakened that morning. A feeling that something was off, or wrong, or something was going to happen, and that it would surely involve his youngest.<\/p>\n

The morning passed without incident, and soon logic reared its head and effectively stifled the nervousness to a mere hum, easily ignored as Ben busied himself with his daily tasks. There was nothing to worry about, after all. Joe was just going into town for the mail; something he’d done a hundred times before. Nothing to worry about.<\/p>\n

Yet a father’s instinct is a stubborn thing, and Ben found himself surrendering to the feeling of unease as the day progressed. Adam later came upon him pacing the floor and glancing anxiously at the clock. He didn’t need to be told why his father was so agitated.<\/p>\n

“How late is he?” Adam asked quietly.<\/p>\n

“Late,” Ben replied. “He should have been back two, three hours ago.”<\/p>\n

“Pa, he’ll be fine,” Adam admonished. “Joe’s not a little kid anymore. You’ve got to stop doing this to yourself.”<\/p>\n

Ben forced a smile. “I know. Old habits die hard, don’t they?”<\/p>\n

Adam sighed. “I think I’ll head out and see if Hoss needs any help in the barn,” he said, clearly in a hurry to rid himself of the company of an over-anxious parent.<\/p>\n

Ben picked up the newspaper and tried to concentrate on the words in front of him. Adam was right, of course he was right. It was perfectly fine for a parent to worry, but not so fine to be consumed by it. Ben knew he could go on and on listing the numerous perils that could befall his son – both real and imagined – and he couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurd direction of his thoughts. He’d have to tell Joe later how silly he’d been.<\/p>\n

His amusement, however, was abruptly extinguished at the sound of the slamming door, and Adam’s urgent voice on its heels.<\/p>\n

“Pa! PA!\u00a0Come quick!”\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

The sound in Adam\u2019s voice was enough to set Ben\u2019s heart to slamming against the wall of his chest. It was Adam’s face, though, ashen and sick and full of shock, that caused Ben to lurch to his feet. The pages of his newspaper fluttered to the floor around his feet.<\/p>\n

Some part of him deep inside shrank back. He knew what caused Adam to look that way\u2014knew<\/em>\u00a0it\u2014but he made himself ask anyway. \u201cJoe?\u201d The word came out raw and raspy.<\/p>\n

Adam shook his head, a short, jerky movement, meeting and holding Ben\u2019s gaze for only a fraction of a second before spinning and running back outside.<\/p>\n

Ben followed.<\/p>\n

Out in the center of the yard, a tight knot of cowhands stood gathered, all of them staring down at something. As Ben approached, they turned slowly to look at him, expressions uneasy and sorrowful. Their circle broke apart to reveal Hoss, down on his knees and bent low over a figure sprawled brokenly on the ground.<\/p>\n

Joe.<\/p>\n

\u201cPa.\u201d Hoss looked up at him, eyes red, cheeks wet, face distorted in pain. Ben could do nothing but stare at him while his mouth worked to say what had to be said. \u201cPa, he\u2019s gone. He\u2019s\u2026he\u2019s\u00a0gone<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n

The words echoed around in his head like ricocheting bullets. Gone? What was he saying? Ben\u2019s throat closed off. Nausea curled through his belly.<\/p>\n

It was a mistake. It wasn\u2019t Joseph. Not his Joe. Ben\u2019s knees buckled; the ground rose up and hit hard against his knees. He leaned forward, trying to reach Joe, and Hoss moved aside to let him in, saying something that Ben\u2019s mind couldn\u2019t quite unscramble.<\/p>\n

No, not that. Not\u00a0gone<\/em>. No, no,\u00a0no.\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

But there was his boy, his youngest, lying on his back in the dirt. His face was peaceful despite numerous bruises, lashes a dark fringe upon whitish-gray cheeks, and Ben might have been able to convince himself that he was only unconscious or even asleep was it not for the unnatural pallor of his skin and the gash across his throat.<\/p>\n

Ben stared at the cut, something that looked as if it could be an obscene testament from Satan himself, a symbol of life lost never to be regained. The edges of the cut gaped slightly, but no new blood welled from it. Dark splotches of dried blood crusted around it and covered Joe\u2019s throat and the entire front of his shirt. Whoever had done this had done it hours ago, had done it and watched Joe die before dumping him here in the yard.<\/p>\n

Ben threaded shaking fingers through Joe\u2019s curls, feeling them twine about his hand, and a high, keening sound knifed its way up and out of his chest.<\/p>\n

His boy, his youngest, was lost to him.<\/p>\n

\u201cPa.\u201d Adam spoke to him, his hand gripping his shoulder, but Ben couldn\u2019t look at him, couldn\u2019t think, couldn\u2019t move. \u201cPa, come on.\u201d<\/p>\n

Everything he had feared had come to pass. He shuddered, shaking his head in denial.<\/p>\n

\u201cPa, it\u2019s Adam. Pa! Come on, now, wake up.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam\u2019s grip on his shoulder grew more insistent, and in the next instant Ben found himself sucking in a startled gulp of air and blinking into his oldest son\u2019s eyes. Wildly, he jerked his head around, only to find that Joe wasn\u2019t there. Indeed, they weren\u2019t in the yard in front of the house at all, none of them.<\/p>\n

The remaining vestiges of the dream grew more transparent but still persisted in overlapping with reality. Ben looked back at Adam; beyond Adam\u2019s semi-dark silhouette, pines brushed feathered tops against a canvas of cold, star-studded sky. Somewhere an owl called, and further in the distance came the\u00a0yip-yip-yip<\/em>s of coyotes brawling over a kill.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou all right?\u201d<\/p>\n

Even in the half-light given off by the scattering of stars, he could see the way concern drew Adam\u2019s brows together, and confusion between dream and reality at last dissolved; in its place was embarrassment and a pang of guilt for causing his son worry. And beneath it all was a heavy fear, lying dark and dank and cold inside him.<\/p>\n

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

\u201cYes.\u201d He cleared his raspy throat and tried again. \u201cYes, I\u2019m fine.\u201d He pushed himself into a sitting position and rubbed at his eyes with one unsteady hand, and tried with little success to shake the iciness out of his veins. \u201cI must have been dreaming.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam snorted softly. \u201cDreaming? Having a nightmare\u2019s more like it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss moved up behind his brother and nodded, his expression just as troubled as Adam\u2019s was. \u201cA doozy of one, I\u2019d say.\u201d<\/p>\n

Now fully aggravated with himself, Ben grunted. \u201cYes, well\u2026it must\u2019ve been all that rabbit we ate before turning in.\u201d He decided not to acknowledge the skeptical look that passed between his sons. It was a weak excuse; he knew it, and so did they. None of them had been up to eating much at all last night, much less enough to cause the sort of stomach upset that might be blamed for uneasy sleep. Indeed, he was surprised to find he\u2019d slept at all. He certainly hadn\u2019t expected to.<\/p>\n

He arched his back to work out the kinks, and winced. Sleeping out on the ground with only a bedroll always made him feel years older, even without the fear that was crowding him now. \u201cWhat time is it?\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss tossed a glance at the waning moon. \u201cAround four, I\u2019d reckon. Pa\u2026if it\u2019s all the same to you, Adam and I decided we would just as soon get a move on now. It ain\u2019t like any of us are goin\u2019 to get any more sleep tonight, is it?\u201d<\/p>\n

For the first time, Ben noticed that coffee burbled in the pot on the fire, and the remainder of the rabbit meat sizzled in a frying pan. The horses were tethered nearby, already saddled.<\/p>\n

He sighed regretfully. \u201cI woke you both. We stopped so late last night; you needed your rest, and I woke you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam handed him a cup of coffee. \u201cYou didn\u2019t wake us. We were already awake and getting ready to break camp when you started muttering in your sleep.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben grunted. He suspected that neither Hoss nor Adam had slept at all, but asking wouldn\u2019t get him a truthful answer.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019d planned on letting you get\u00a0your<\/em>\u00a0rest seeing as you were sleeping so hard, but then you started dreaming\u2026\u201d Adam shrugged, and hunkered down with his own coffee in his hand, sipping carefully so as not to burn his mouth on the hot tin. \u201cCare to talk about it?\u201d He let the question fall easily, keeping his eyes on the cup cradled between his palms as if to reinforce the casualness of the question.<\/p>\n

Care to talk about it?<\/em>\u00a0He\u2019d always encouraged his sons to unburden themselves by talking to him about their worries, their fears. \u201cA load shared isn\u2019t as heavy to carry.\u201d He\u2019d said that to his boys since they were very little. He frowned down at his coffee. Even after several minutes, the images he\u2019d seen still seemed so real, holding a grip on his heart that he was having a difficult time shaking free of. Could he lessen the tightness in his chest, make the dream seem less real by airing it?<\/p>\n

A flick of a knife blade stealing the lifeblood from Little Joe\u2019s body\u2026<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d Ben snapped, \u201cI do not care to talk about it. It was only a dream. It means nothing.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, it don\u2019t,\u201d Hoss agreed evenly, and held out a hunk of warm rabbit meat to him. He took it, more to give himself something to do than because he was hungry. Indeed, he doubted he could eat at all. Was it not for the watchful eyes of his sons bearing down upon him, he would\u2019ve tossed it into the bushes and skipped eating altogether. As it was, he dutifully bit off a hunk and chewed, feeling it swell inside his mouth. His stomach gave an uneasy spasm.<\/p>\n

He blinked, still trying to wipe his mind clean of the visions the nightmare had left. He had to keep a clear head. Little Joe was out there, somewhere, depending on him. Waiting for him\u2026<\/p>\n

The owl called again, closer this time.<\/p>\n

\u201cPa. We\u2019re going to find him.\u201d Hoss\u2019s voice was low and gentle, but it didn\u2019t quite hide the sound of the fear trying to get a foothold in him.<\/p>\n

Ben forced what he hoped was a reassuring smile to his lips. \u201cYes. We\u2019re going to find him. We\u2019ll find him, and we\u2019ll bring him home.\u201d He spoke the words forcefully, as if to set them in stone and make them a certainty rather than simply a hope. He chewed the last of the meat, tasteless on his tongue, and then swallowed hard to get it down. A big gulp of coffee scalded the inside of his mouth, but he had purposely not waited for it to cool before he swallowed; he was thankful for the burning, for he found the physical pain helped to draw his mind off the less tangible pain left from the nightmare. He took another big swig for good measure, grunting in hard satisfaction, and then tossed the remainder of the cup on the ground and got to his feet.<\/p>\n

\u201cLet\u2019s ride.\u201d<\/p>\n

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

The woman was uneasy, Monkota knew. The young Cartwright had been asleep for many hours now, so deep in slumber that the woman\u2019s increasingly frenzied attempts to rouse him proved fruitless. Monkota did not bother to tell her that there was no sense in trying to wake him before the effects of the Toloache seeds had worn off. White people, he had found, were as ignorant in the uses of powerful plants as they were in most everything else. Worse, they were not open to learning what they did not know.<\/p>\n

So he did not waste his breath, but only watched as she stroked the man\u2019s forehead, patted his wrist, and murmured soft words of encouragement. He knew she would eventually turn on him in suspicion, and she did.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou did something to him,\u201d she said, her eyes narrowed in accusation as she faced him. \u201cSurely he shouldn\u2019t be sleeping for so long.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know what I did,\u201d Monkota said calmly. \u201cI did as you asked.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t ask you to harm him,\u201d she said, and her voice rose in fear and agitation.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe is not harmed. The effects of the Toloache will be gone before sunset.\u201d<\/p>\n

She stared at him as though trying to determine the truth of his words and finally nodded. \u201cGood. I don\u2019t want him hurt. I only wanted\u2026I want\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou want to bind him to you. Even though he has told you he does not want to be bound. Not to you.\u201d<\/p>\n

She flushed in anger and clenched her fist, and for one amazed moment he thought she might actually have the courage to strike him. But of course she did not. \u201cHe loves me. He does. He is only\u2026confused about things. Once he has time to think about it, he\u2019ll realize he\u2019s made a mistake, and he\u2019ll remember how much he loves me.\u201d She glared at him as if daring him to contradict her.<\/p>\n

But he would no more waste his time arguing with a white woman\u2019s reasoning\u2014an\u00a0unbalanced<\/em>\u00a0white woman, he had decided\u2014than he would try to teach her about the spirit properties of plants like Toloache. Nor did she need to know he had purposely kept the boy in a sleeping state for the last three days.<\/p>\n

Any unnecessary communication was wasted effort. She was only the means to an end, this woman, as was the young white man lying asleep in the bed. Monkota watched her turn back to the man, crooning nonsense sounds in her throat to him, and he allowed himself a grim smile of satisfaction. It was Monkota\u2019s younger cousin Sawabe whom he had to thank for bringing this to pass. He must remember to reward her well when it was all over.<\/p>\n

Sawabe entered Virginia City two or three times a year with a few Paiute men and a couple of the women to trade furs and woven blankets to the mercantile, and it was on one of those recent trips that she\u2019d met this white woman whom Monkota spoke with now. Sawabe was a talkative woman, too much so; she was too curious as well, though she was quite cunning. It was due to that curiosity that she had been eavesdropping on people in the street, and so had heard the white woman arguing with a young man about the severing of their ties together. The man, who Sawabe had recognized as the youngest son of the great white land-gathering chief of Lake Tahoe, had been striding down the street as quickly as he could, and the woman had hurried along beside him until he had mounted his horse and ridden away, leaving her in angry tears.<\/p>\n

Sawabe had approached the woman, who was called Lana, for her own mercenary reasons. She had told this Lana that Monkota, great shaman of the Paiute people, had the power to help her regain her lover\u2019s heart. For a price, she had told the woman slyly, she would ask Monkota to intervene. The woman was desperate; she had agreed, and had paid Sawabe with good silver to ask for Monkota\u2019s help.<\/p>\n

So it was that Sawabe had come to him, and at first he had flatly refused the request. He would not help whites with any problem, be it large or small, for they were the enemy of the true people, and he hated all of them. He had berated Sawabe for her insolence in daring to ask such a thing of him, but Sawabe had only shrugged, uncaring. It mattered little to her whether or not the woman got what she wanted. For Sawabe, it had been strictly a business proposition. She already had a handful of silver in her possession, so as far as she was concerned, it had been a successful endeavor.<\/p>\n

Monkota had thought the matter at an end. But that very night a dream had come to him, a spirit dream. Kene, the red hawk, told him that Sawabe had carried to him an important message that must not be ignored. The youngest son of the land-gathering chief, the one called Joseph, must be taken, and he would stand in the stead of his people. He would be filled with the knowledge of the Paiute people by Monkota himself, through the use of the Toloache plant, in a ritual that would start on the first day of the new moon and would last for ten days. At the end of the ten days, when the sun was at its zenith, the boy would be sacrificed, and would go into the Land of the Dead as an emissary. He would tell his white ancestors of the trouble the whites were causing, the thievery, the lies, the destruction, and he would ask that they intervene. Because Joseph Cartwright would now be filled with the wisdom of the Paiute people, he would carry their message to his own ancestors, who would then see the shame that was being brought upon the whites for what they were doing.<\/p>\n

But the sacrifice of this young man\u2014the sacrifice would be the greatest coup. Since this Little Joe Cartwright was the son of the greatest white chief in the land of the Paiute, the spilling of his blood in a ritual ceremony would bestow great honor upon the true people. Surely such an offering would greatly appease the gods, and they would see fit to end the suffering the whites had brought upon them, even if the message he carried to his ancestors was met with indifference.<\/p>\n

It was prophecy and must be done thus, Kene the hawk said soberly, and Monkota knew it was so.<\/p>\n

The white woman Lana knew none of this, of course. She cared only about making herself Cartwright\u2019s woman.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe girl said you can make him belong to me,\u201d Lana said to him upon their first secretive meeting in a mountain clearing. She\u2019d been frightened, eyes darting around as though she\u2019d expected to be set upon at any moment, and the fact that she\u2019d agreed to come at all was indicative of how desperate she was to claim the man as hers.<\/p>\n

Monkota had nodded, and some of her fear had immediately given way to reveal suspicion. \u201cHow?\u201d she\u2019d asked sharply. \u201cHow can you possibly do that?\u201d<\/p>\n

He\u2019d shrugged and raised his hands, palms up. \u201cBy giving you his child.\u201d<\/p>\n

She\u2019d reddened, a deep flush that covered her face and throat, and for a moment he\u2019d thought she might turn and run. Whites, especially white women, were so odd in their reaction to talk of Nature. But she had not run. In fact, a look of guilt stole across her face and he realized that getting herself with child by Cartwright had already occurred to her. She had stammered, \u201cBut he won\u2019t\u2014I mean, we did, once\u2014but that was months ago\u2014and now\u2026\u201d She broke off, sudden anger giving her a look that caught him off guard. Her expression reminded him of a mad fox he\u2019d seen once. The creature\u2019s mind had been twisted, and it had no longer behaved as foxes should, but ventured out into the daylight to attack anything that moved.<\/p>\n

It was clear to him why the Cartwright son did not want to be with her. There was something within her heart that was not right, something dark and off balance. For a moment he wondered if it had been a mistake to speak to her at all, but then the mad fox expression passed from her face, and he reminded himself that it did not matter. The woman would serve a purpose; it was through her that Joseph Cartwright would be taken.<\/p>\n

\u201cI have knowledge of powerful medicine,\u201d he\u2019d told her then, \u201cmedicine that will make him want you. He will take you and he will get you with child, and then he will be bound to you.\u201d<\/p>\n

She\u2019d hesitated, but only for a moment. \u201cI have thirty dollars in silver,\u201d she\u2019d said, and thrust out her chin. \u201cIt\u2019s all I\u2019ve got, so don\u2019t be thinking you\u2019ll get another penny from me.\u201d<\/p>\n

He didn\u2019t care about the silver. The prize was the boy. The rest was merely a ruse. But he had nodded his agreement. \u201cThirty dollars.\u201d<\/p>\n

And so the plan was laid. Together they had caught the Cartwright son as he travelled home three days ago, the woman distracting him by asking to talk while Monkota snuck up and struck him from behind. It had been so easily done that Monkota knew for a certainty that he had not misinterpreted the dream. They\u2019d loaded Cartwright into the wagon and then chased his horse further down the mountain. While the woman drove the horses, Monkota had slipped the seeds of the Toloache down his throat as he lay unconscious, just enough of them to make him sleep for a long period without killing him, and they had taken him to the woman\u2019s house.<\/p>\n

And here they had been waiting since.<\/p>\n

Monkota did not enjoy being under the white woman\u2019s roof. It stunk as all white people\u2019s houses stunk, of old air and the smell of past meals and the stifling scents their women sometimes insisted on wearing. He wished the prophecy could be fulfilled out in the clean air, under the sun and stars, but the white men were crawling everywhere, and it would not be safe to do so. The woman\u2019s house was close enough to Virginia City that its wooden buildings could be seen on the horizon. Several times now, through the window, Monkota had seen large groups of riders. They galloped past the house, on their way to the mountains or the desert, and he knew they were searching for Ben Cartwright\u2019s son. He did not dare step outside during the day for fear of being seen. It was not capture that frightened him, however. It was the possibility of interference in the fulfillment of the prophecy that made him cautious.<\/p>\n

However, the final part of the ritual would be conducted out in the clean air, in a place holy to the Paiute people. It was the part of the ritual where the sacrifice would be made, and it was too sacred to contemplate doing it in the stench of a white person\u2019s dwelling, regardless of the danger of being seen. They would have to travel there at night, Monkota decided.<\/p>\n

Every time Cartwright began to show signs of waking, Monkota would send the woman off to get cool wet towels or some other useless errand, and he would slip a few Toloache seeds down the boy\u2019s throat, sending him back to sleep. But today\u2014Monkota looked out the window at the sky. Today he would be allowed to awaken, for the new moon would rise tonight.<\/p>\n

A low moan came from the bed as the white chief\u2019s son stirred, and Monkota smiled.<\/p>\n

Fulfillment of the prophecy could soon begin.<\/p>\n

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

The trail was close. He could smell it, taste it, feel it. He just couldn\u2019t see it.<\/p>\n

He\u2019d tracked Joe as he\u2019d tracked animals and men all his life\u2014by instinct. By his gut. Once he could get a trail in sight, then other skills would take over, but try as he might, signs of hoof prints, boot prints, drag marks\u2014whatever Hoss had thought he would find here, it eluded him. Frustration had him gritting his teeth as he crossed and re-crossed the wash that made up Jack\u2019s Creek, his hands rougher than usual on Chub\u2019s bit. The horse\u2019s hooves clattered against small stones, sending them to skitter across the rocky creek bed, the dry rock surface of the tributary bleached white as an old skeleton save for a narrow stream of water staining its backbone. Downriver a few yards, the creek bed took a sudden plunge, dropping into a boulder-filled crevasse; it was a roaring, seething waterfall in the wet season, but only a tame spilling of water now, the only violence in it the splattering of the narrow stream upon the hard rocks below.<\/p>\n

He headed toward the other side of the wash once more to check for some hint of a sign, some indication that Joe had indeed come through here, and sent the horse through the shallow trickle of water once more. Droplets sprayed forth from beneath the horse, sparkling brilliantly in the sunlight before falling in small, dark spots upon the white rock.<\/p>\n

Hoss pulled Chub up and watched the wet circles slowly vanish beneath the warmth of a late autumn sun. The snows would be coming soon, and months from now the spring melts and rains would begin, and then this creek would once more burst into a torrent of life. He thought about the ice and snow and water plunging down the mountain, forever wiping away all signs of Joe\u2019s passing. Maybe it would take Joe\u2019s body as well, jealously hiding it beneath rocks and sand that shifted with the passing of every winter\u2019s storms. It might sweep it all the way down to Lake Tahoe\u2019s cold, still waters to keep it with all the other secrets the lake guarded\u2026<\/p>\n

Hoss shook his head, angry with himself for allowing his thoughts to take such a turn. There was no sign that Joe was still alive, but no sign that he wasn\u2019t, either.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis is gettin\u2019 us nowhere fast,\u201d he muttered, and swung down out of the saddle. He stood listening, taking in the cacophony of noise within the forest\u2019s heavy silence\u2014Chub\u2019s soft blowing through wide nostrils; a woodpecker\u00a0tap-tap-tapping<\/em>\u00a0for bark beetles; the soft scampering of a couple of squirrels running along an alder branch overhead; the whisper of aspen leaves shivering, the noisy splash of the little stream as it poured over the falls.<\/p>\n

The long, low hoot of an owl.<\/p>\n

The fine hairs on the back of his neck rose. It wasn\u2019t all that unusual to hear an owl in the bright light of day, especially in heavily wooded areas\u2014and yet, the sound stirred something to life within him, something tense and uneasy.<\/p>\n

Chub brought his head up and nickered softly. The faint jangling of a horse mouthing a bit drifted on the breeze, and Hoss caught sight of Pa and Adam topping the ridge above him; he watched as they began to pick their way down the slope in his direction. Earlier, while they\u2019d ridden upwards to search the ridges and ravines to the north, he\u2019d stayed behind in this dried-up creek to look for whatever was causing the tickling in his gut.<\/p>\n

\u201cLet\u2019s hope they had better luck pickin\u2019 somethin\u2019 up than we did, ol\u2019 boy,\u201d he murmured, and Chub bobbed his head as if in answer. But as they neared, their expressions told Hoss everything. His own face must have mirrored theirs, for the hopeful look in Ben\u2019s eyes went out like a snuffed match as they drew up next to him.<\/p>\n

\u201cNothing?\u201d Ben asked softly.<\/p>\n

Hoss shook his head. \u201cNo. But I could\u2019ve sworn the trail\u2026\u201d He sighed. \u201cNo, nothing. No sign of anything across the ridge?\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam gave a quick negative jerk of his head and shot a quick glance at Ben, whose head was now hanging low; his entire body slumped as he stared at the ground. Hoss was suddenly aware of how much age his father was showing.<\/p>\n

He met Adam\u2019s eyes, and read what they told him.\u00a0It\u2019s not good. Three days now, no sign of Joe\u2026not good.<\/em><\/p>\n

But when Adam spoke, his voice was determined, decisive. \u201cWe\u2019ve gone over and over this side of the range. I think it\u2019s best that we head to the south and meet up with Roy and one of the search parties. Maybe cover the area straight west of Virginia City, out in the foothills. What do you think, Pa?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d Pa\u2019s voice was vague, distant. \u201cOh, yes. Of course. Join the search parties\u2026yes, that\u2019s what we\u2019ll do.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss watched him turn Buck slowly and begin down the trail, looking for all the world like an old, beaten man. As soon as Hoss was certain he was out of earshot, he turned to Adam.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe can\u2019t keep doin\u2019 this.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam raised a brow at him. \u201cNo, he can\u2019t. Thing is, who\u2019s going to tell him that? Who\u2019s going to tell him that it\u2019s getting close to time to calling it quits and accepting that something has happened to Joe that\u2026that is keeping us from finding him?\u201d The last words died out in a flat monotone, and Hoss narrowed his eyes.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou sound like you\u2019re givin\u2019 up.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam sighed and wiped a hand down hard over his face. \u201cNo. No, I\u2019m not giving up. But Hoss, we\u2019ve got nothing.\u00a0Nothing.<\/em>\u00a0No ransom note, nobody bragging around town\u2014nothing. I just don\u2019t know which way we can turn at this point.\u201d He crossed his forearms on the saddle horn in front of him and leaned hard, the weariness that was seeping into all of them showing itself plainly in the lines of his body and the planes of his face. \u201cWe\u2019re missing something. We\u2019ve got to be.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss nodded and swallowed hard, standing next to Chub and resting both his hands on the saddle. Behind him, the little rivulet of water trickled down over the rocks, whispering to him, beckoning.<\/p>\n

Here, here, here.<\/em><\/p>\n

He hardened his jaw. Nothing was here. He\u2019d fooled himself into thinking there was, but he\u2019d been wrong. He was a good tracker, but his abilities today had failed them all miserably, most of all Joe. Hoss swung into the saddle, following his brother up out of the creek bed, and as they passed a nest of boulders snuggled against the bank, he ignored the whispers in the leaves, the murmuring of the water.<\/p>\n

But he couldn\u2019t help taking one look back as they rode away. One of the boulders lay across another, both of them oblong in shape, and it occurred to him that in their haphazard positioning, they vaguely resembled a cross. He allowed himself to take comfort, small as it was, in the sight of it.<\/p>\n

Please, God. Take care of my baby brother until we can find him.<\/em><\/p>\n

Then he nudged Chub in the flanks to catch up to Adam, suddenly so bone-deep tired that he knew he\u2019d sleep tonight despite his heartache, for a body could go only so long before it shut down with or without permission. And he chose not to think on why he hadn\u2019t added the word alive to the end of his prayer.<\/p>\n

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

\u201cJoe, where are you?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

He heard his father\u2019s voice, but couldn\u2019t see him. He was in a desert, a very strange desert with sand that shimmered in a rainbow of colors: purple, blue, green. He spun around, trying to find his way to his father, but there was no trail and no prints, and he didn\u2019t know which way to go. And he was thirsty. So very thirsty.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cPa? Pa, I want to go home.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cI know, son. I\u2019m coming for you. Just hold on, Joe.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

And then he could see him after all, a blurry figure on horseback, far away on the horizon. Hoss and Adam were with him.<\/em><\/p>\n

He began to run toward them, waving his arms. \u201cPa, I\u2019m here!\u201d But the colored sand sucked at his boots, pulling him back away from his family, who began to ride in the wrong direction. He began to scream and wave his arms more wildly. \u201cLook at me, Pa! I\u2019m right here!\u201d But they were too far away from him, and growing further still.<\/em><\/p>\n

He fell, and when he looked up, his pa and brothers were gone. Distraught, he laid his cheek upon the hot blue sand. But still Pa\u2019s voice whispered in his ear.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll find you, Joe. I\u2019ll come for you.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

He nodded, and whispered, \u201cHurry, Pa.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

Water. It was the first thing that came to his mind as he came awake, his throat as dry as sandpaper. Memories of vague, strange dreams filtered through his mind, but he\u2019d been plagued by strange dreams most of his life and knew how to push them back in the dark where they belonged. He did so now, cracking an eyelid open and smiling slightly as he saw that bright sun peeked in around the curtains next to his bed. Pa had let him sleep in.<\/em><\/p>\n

Well, he\u2019d better not push his luck. He was supposed to help Hoss repair the axle on the chuck wagon today, and if he didn\u2019t hurry, he\u2019d\u2014<\/em><\/p>\n

He couldn\u2019t move. The startling confusion of it brought his eyes flying open, and within seconds he was wide awake, angry and scared. He was tied\u2014tied<\/em>\u2014to a bed in a room he didn\u2019t recognize.<\/p>\n

Fear coming in waves now, he strained hard against the ropes binding his wrists and ankles, arching his back with the effort. He hauled in a breath to try again when he suddenly realized he wasn\u2019t alone in the room. He stiffened and slowly craned his neck around.<\/p>\n

An Indian sat looking placidly back at him. A Paiute, from the clothing he wore, and an important one. A chief\u2014no, a medicine man. A shaman. The sight of him was so incongruous with the room with its floral print wallpaper that for a moment Joe simply stared at him, wondering if he was really awake after all.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou wonder if I am a dream.\u201d The Paiute spoke calmly in stilted English, and the way he seemed to read Joe\u2019s thoughts startled him still further, though he tried not to show it.<\/p>\n

\u201cI guess you\u2019re real enough,\u201d he snapped. \u201cYou\u2019re talking to me.\u201d<\/p>\n

The Indian cocked his head and let the corners of his mouth rise just enough to indicate a smile. \u201cAh, you believe that real talking does not happen in the land of dreams? You are wrong, Cartwright son. You will soon learn how real speaking dreams can be.\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe didn\u2019t understand what the Indian meant; neither did he care. The events of the afternoon\u2014it was only this afternoon, wasn\u2019t it?\u2014came flooding back to him. He\u2019d been riding back from town, and he\u2019d come upon Lana Bancroft in the road. He hadn\u2019t been happy to see her. Their last meeting had, after all, ended badly. But there she\u2019d sat in her wagon, asking to talk, and he\u2019d resigned himself to the fact that there would be no way around trying to mollify her. So he\u2019d dismounted and walked up to her wagon\u2014<\/p>\n

\u2014and then he\u2019d woken up here.<\/p>\n

He looked at the Paiute again, and in his mind\u2019s eye came the brief flash of an Indian\u2014this<\/em>\u00a0Indian\u2014raising a tomahawk. In the same moment he became aware of soreness on the right side of his skull. Instinctively, he started to raise his hand to touch the spot, but was stopped by the ropes binding his wrist.<\/p>\n

But the memory was clear. The Paiute had done it, all right. Joe scowled at him, at the same time wondering why he wasn\u2019t already scalped or being held captive in an Indian camp somewhere.<\/p>\n

He thought of Lana, and alarm for her welfare surged up. \u201cThe girl\u2014if you\u2019ve hurt her\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShe is well. She is there\u2014\u201d He jutted his chin in the direction of the next room. \u201cShe prepares hot tea for you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hot tea. What the\u2014 Joe\u2019s glance swung around the room once more, and realization began to filter in. He\u00a0did<\/em>\u00a0recognize the room. He\u2019d seen it before, though it looked different than he remembered. The one time he\u2019d been in here, there hadn\u2019t been any streams of sunlight sliding past the curtains. It had been night, and the only light had come from a low-burning lantern. He\u2019d been in this bed before, too, one moonlit night several months ago.<\/p>\n

It had been a mistake he wasn\u2019t proud of.<\/p>\n

Cold suspicion began to form in his chest. \u201cWhat is this?\u201d he asked softly.<\/p>\n

\u201cProphecy,\u201d the Paiute said simply, and smiled.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, Joe, you\u00a0are<\/em>\u00a0awake!\u201d A delighted smile on her face, Lana Bancroft rushed into the room looking as if she were welcoming visitors on her front porch rather than speaking to a man held prisoner by a Paiute shaman in her bedroom. \u201cYou\u2019ve been asleep for so long. I was growing worried. He said you would be all right, but, well, really, how far can you trust\u2014well.\u201d She broke off and aimed a derisive glance in the Paiute\u2019s direction.<\/p>\n

Joe looked at him too, but the man\u2019s expression told him nothing. He looked back at Lana, who was now fussing with his pillows and babbling something about his hair needing a trim.<\/p>\n

It was all so\u2026surreal. Lana behaving as if nothing at all was out of the ordinary while a Paiute shaman, of all things, sat here in her bedroom. It was like he\u2019d walked in on a play that was already halfway finished, he an actor who didn\u2019t know what part he was supposed to play.<\/p>\n

The shaman stood up and slipped from the room, and Joe stared at the door where he had disappeared. \u201cWhere\u2019s he going?\u201d<\/p>\n

Lana smiled. \u201cTo finish preparing the tea. It will calm you.\u201d<\/p>\n

He gritted his teeth. \u201cI don\u2019t need any damn tea, and I don\u2019t need calming. What I need is for you to untie these ropes. Hurry, before he gets back.\u201d<\/p>\n

She had the grace to look slightly ashamed. \u201cOh, Joe, I wish I could. Really I do. But Monkota\u2014that\u2019s the Indian\u2019s name, Monkota\u2014he says it\u2019s too dangerous. He says you\u2019ll try to run, and if you leave too soon it will ruin it all for us.\u201d She brightened suddenly. \u201cBut he said we should be able to untie you after you take the medicine. How soon depends on how you react to it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Medicine? What medicine? And his leaving would ruin\u00a0what?<\/em>\u00a0And how on earth had Lana Bancroft come to invite a Paiute shaman into her home, much less meet him at all? His head was spinning with the effort of trying to make sense of it all.<\/p>\n

\u201cI know how you must feel, Little Joe, after lying here all this time, but\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAll this time?\u201d He stared at her, and a different kind of dread began to climb into his throat. \u201cWhat day is it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat day? Oh, of course, you\u2019ve been asleep, so you\u2019re confused. I\u2019d imagine you\u2019ve got your days and nights all mixed up. It\u2019s the ninth of November. Friday.\u201d<\/p>\n

He\u2019d gone to town on Tuesday. The same day he\u2019d been ambushed on his way home. \u201cI\u2019ve been here for over three days?\u201d he whispered hoarsely. She nodded, and he shut his eyes, an image of his pa, anxious and fretting, rising up before him. \u201cLana. Untie me. Please.\u201d He said the words very slowly, very carefully.<\/p>\n

She sighed. \u201cI already told you, Joe, I can\u2019t.\u201d She sounded as if she were explaining something to a particularly slow-witted child.<\/p>\n

His eyes snapped open. \u201cYou mean you won\u2019t. If you and that Paiute are holding me for ransom, then I can promise you\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

A high trill of laughter cut him off. \u201cRansom? Joe, darling, think about what you\u2019re saying. Me, Lana Bancroft, holding Joe Cartwright for ransom. What a ridiculous idea.\u201d Her laughter broke off abruptly and she sobered. \u201cI want your love, Joe, not your father\u2019s money. You know that.\u201d She sat down on the bed next to him, and ran a gentle hand through his hair.<\/p>\n

He stiffened. He thought of the argument they\u2019d had the last time they\u2019d seen each other\u2014two, three weeks ago, had it been? He\u2019d done his best over the last several months to withdraw completely from her, first gently and then with increasing bluntness, but she refused to accept that there was nothing between them\u2014nothing other than one night months ago. It had been a bad decision, that night, and it had been made due to bad memories. He blamed only himself, but he knew he hadn\u2019t been thinking clearly.<\/p>\n

He wasn\u2019t thinking all that clearly now, either. There were cobwebs in his head, and he tried to brush them away as he forced himself to recall the events of that night back in May . . .<\/p>\n

It had been a year ago that night\u00a0since Julia was murdered. A year since he\u2019d knelt at her bedside, knowing her wounds were fatal but not willing to believe it. She\u2019d known too, and everything she\u2019d said to him that night was designed to release him\u2026 He wouldn\u2019t let her. He\u2019d whispered his love to her, and made promises he would\u2019ve kept if she hadn\u2019t left him.<\/p>\n

A whole year, and yet his memories of her were as sharp and cutting as ever. Tonight might be the anniversary of her death, but the citizens of Virginia City didn\u2019t remember. Life went on. It was Saturday, and there was a dance being held in the Community Hall on C Street, but he decided he wouldn\u2019t be good company there, not on this particular night. Instead, he went to the Silver Dollar. Pa and his brothers were out of town attending to a cattle deal, and he found himself glad he didn\u2019t have to try to escape from under their watchful eye. All he wanted to do, just for this one night, was to try to blank his mind out with whiskey.<\/p>\n

He did a pretty good job of it, too. Problem was, the ache in his chest was still there.<\/p>\n

At some point he realized that if he was going to get on Cochise under his own steam, he\u2019d better head for home while he still could. He bought a full bottle from Sam and staggered out of the saloon with it. But with his head and belly full of liquor, he found himself wandering on over to the dance after all, craving contact with people to ease his loneliness.<\/p>\n

He never made it inside.<\/p>\n

The young widow Bancroft was just leaving. She stopped him with a smile and asked him what he was doing.<\/p>\n

She was pretty, pretty in a way that made the pain in his heart worsen. She was some years older than he was, and she had a knowing look in her dark eyes that made him think of Julia. And when she took his hand and pulled him into the shadows in the alley and kissed him, he could almost pretend it was Julia herself he was with.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019d like some company on the drive home, Joe,\u201d she said. \u201cWould you escort me? Please?\u201d<\/p>\n

Escort the widow Bancroft home? He\u2019d heard some rumors about Lana Bancroft, and wondered if they were true. Mostly, he wondered if she could help get Julia\u2019s face out of his mind and the sting of her memory out of his heart. Just for tonight. \u201cI\u2019d be proud to escort you, ma\u2019am,\u201d he said, and gave her a small bow and flourish that was too much for his whiskey-addled head, and he ended up sprawled in the dirt at her feet.<\/p>\n

He couldn\u2019t seem to see or think straight after that. She got him up, and with some pushing and prodding, she was able to help him get up on her wagon seat, and she tied Cochise to the back of the wagon herself. The ride to her house was a blur. Mostly all he was aware of was the way she kept reaching over now and then to steady him as she drove, and the reason he especially noticed that was because of the places she put her hands. Even with the rumors he\u2019d heard, it surprised him a little.<\/p>\n

When they arrived at the house, part of him said he should do the right thing and ride away now. But every time he shut his eyes, Julia\u2019s face was there. His longing threatened to cut him in two. So when Lana Bancroft led him into her house and then into her bedroom, he willingly accepted the invitation. There was hope in the widow\u2019s bed, he thought, hope of outrunning memories that wouldn\u2019t let him go.<\/p>\n

He woke in her bed the next morning, stomach queasy and head throbbing from too much whiskey. But it was the guilt that made him feel sickest of all. This had been a mistake, coming here. He didn\u2019t blame Lana. What had happened had been his own fault. He wasn\u2019t one for taking advantage of a woman, not even a young widow like Lana\u2014even if she had proven without a doubt how very far from innocent she was.<\/p>\n

He\u2019d wronged her, and because of that he tried to make things right. At first he convinced himself that he might truly learn to love her. He courted her and took her for walks and tried as hard as he could to build something between the two of them. But Lana, he soon found out, was possessive and demanding and prone to fits of temper. Worst of all, she was jealous and impatient of the time he spent with his family, because that was time she didn\u2019t have him to herself. The more he knew of her, the more uneasy she made him. Though she spoke of marriage often, he became more aware with each passing day that he was fighting a losing battle with himself. More importantly, he was doing a disservice to her by trying to feel something he did not.<\/p>\n

He did not love Lana Bancroft.<\/p>\n

When he finally gave up and told her how sorry he was, but that he thought they shouldn\u2019t see each other any more, she was angry, just as he had expected. What he hadn\u2019t foreseen was her unwillingness to accept the fact that it was over. He took to ducking down side streets whenever he saw her coming, just to avoid her. But she\u2019d run him down those few weeks ago, first begging, then demanding he give them another chance. He\u2019d so desperately wanted to get away from her that he\u2019d left her standing on the street in angry tears, mounted Cochise and ridden out, even though he hadn\u2019t even taken care of the business Pa had sent him to town for that day.<\/p>\n

Joe sighed, thinking about it all. And now here he was, back in the same bed that had landed him in trouble in the first place. He\u2019d known that Lana was subject to unreasonable demands, wild accusations and overzealous possessiveness\u2014all traits that had quickly cooled the ardor he\u2019d had for her for one unfortunate night\u2014but kidnapping? He was still having trouble believing that even she could go this far.<\/p>\n

He shook his head slowly. \u201cSo now what? Do you want me to believe you\u2019re holding me here against my will hoping I\u2019ll change my mind about us?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell\u2026I was hoping I could make you see reason\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n

\u201cReason? Lana, for God\u2019s sake, I was hit from behind and knocked cold while talking to you, and now I\u2019m being held prisoner in your house. Does that sound like reason to you?\u201d He shifted a nervous glance toward the bedroom door. How long before the Paiute returned from the kitchen? And more importantly, what would he do when he came back? Joe strained harder against the ropes.<\/p>\n

Lana bit her lip. \u201cOh, Joe, I know how all this must seem to you. I\u2019m sure you think I\u2019ve lost my mind. But darling, you\u2019ve given me no choice. If extreme measures are what it is going to take to make you realize we belong together, then I\u2019m prepared to do what must be done. It will all be worth it in the end, you\u2019ll see.\u201d<\/p>\n

He was incredulous. She was right on one count; he was sure she\u00a0had<\/em>\u00a0lost her mind. He could hear the Paiute rattling something around in the kitchen, and his panic grew. \u201cLana, I swear to you, if you\u2019ll just untie me right now, I\u2019ll see that no charges are pressed against you.\u201d Jail wouldn\u2019t help her, after all. What she needed was a sanitarium.<\/p>\n

\u201cPress charges? Don\u2019t be silly. Nobody would dare press charges against the wife of Joseph Cartwright.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe wife of\u2014what in blazes are you talking about?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t act so surprised. We\u2019ve discussed marriage many times.\u201d<\/p>\n

He set his teeth hard in frustration. \u201cYou\u2019ve<\/em>\u00a0discussed marriage. And I told you how I felt.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re determined to be obstinate about this, aren\u2019t you?\u201d She narrowed her eyes. \u201cVery well. I was hoping this could be settled in a more civilized manner, but I can see there\u2019s no dealing with you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGood. Then untie me,\u201d he said, but it was too late. The Paiute returned, and nodded at Lana.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe tea is ready,\u201d he said, and Lana stood.<\/p>\n

\u201cWonderful! The sooner you drink it, Joe, the sooner you\u2019ll\u2026feel better.\u201d She smiled brightly at him and bustled from the room.<\/p>\n

Joe turned a furious gaze on the Paiute medicine man. \u201cLook, I don\u2019t know what you\u2019re doing here or why you\u2019re doing this, but I\u2019m telling you plain\u2014if you kill me, my father will have every white soldier in the territory on your tail. You\u2019ll be hunted down and hung.\u201d<\/p>\n

The Paiute raised his chin. \u201cDo not threaten me with talk of your soldiers. I am no killer, no mad dog to be run to ground. I am Monkota, shaman of the Paiute people. I seek peace, not more killing.\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe hesitated. The Indian\u2019s eyes were unreadable. The image of the broad side of the tomahawk plunging downward flashed again in his mind. If the Paiute had wanted to kill him, he\u2019d already had the opportunity. And yet he was helping Lana hold him here. It was a very strange alliance.<\/p>\n

\u201cDid she hire you to do this?\u201d he asked softly. \u201cIs she paying you? You have to be getting something out of it.\u201d Even as he asked, he knew it couldn\u2019t possibly be the answer. If Lana had hired someone to help kidnap him, it wouldn\u2019t have been a Paiute shaman she would\u2019ve sought out.<\/p>\n

Monkota\u2019s lip curled in derision. \u201cYour white money has no meaning for me.\u201d<\/p>\n

So he\u2019d been right. It wasn\u2019t the money. \u201cThen what?\u201d Joe snapped, but the Indian only blinked at him.<\/p>\n

\u201cHere we are!\u201d Lana announced cheerily, bearing a tray with a teapot and a cup and saucer and a plate of buttered toast. \u201cI brought you a little something to eat, too. We spooned as much broth as we could get down you while you were still asleep, but you can\u2019t keep going on just that. I\u2019ll make you a sandwich in a bit.\u201d She poured the steaming, amber-colored liquid into a cup and eyed him thoughtfully. \u201cI don\u2019t suppose we could untie him just long enough to drink the tea?\u201d She directed the question to the Paiute, who responded with a negative jerk of his head.<\/p>\n

\u201cI will help him hold his head up while you feed him the tea,\u201d he directed, and moved to the head of the bed.<\/p>\n

\u201cI am\u2026not\u2026drinking\u2026your\u2026damn\u2026tea!<\/em>\u201d Joe roared.<\/p>\n

Lana put an offended hand to her throat. \u201cThere\u2019s no need for you to be so rude.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe thinks we are trying to poison him,\u201d the shaman said quietly.<\/p>\n

Yes, that was exactly what he thought. \u201cThat\u2019s how you kept me asleep for the last three days, isn\u2019t it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, no, Joe, you\u2019re wrong. We didn\u2019t feed you any tea at all while you were asleep, only broth. And I made the broth myself. There was nothing in it that would make you sleep, I promise you.\u201d<\/p>\n

He stared at her. If nothing else, Lana was transparent. She\u2019d never been good at lying, and he swore she was being truthful now. Still, something wasn\u2019t right. Blazes, what was he thinking?\u00a0Nothing<\/em>\u00a0was right here. \u201cI\u2019m not drinking the tea,\u201d he said again.<\/p>\n

Lana looked at Monkota, who shrugged. \u201cWe won\u2019t force you to drink it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Somehow, the concession didn\u2019t reassure Joe, but his dry throat nagged at him. \u201cI\u2019d drink some water, though,\u201d he blurted, and Monkota nodded at Lana, who started for the kitchen, and Joe shook his head. \u201cNo. Not from the kitchen pump. Out of the pitcher there.\u201d He jutted his chin toward the washstand.<\/p>\n

Lana sighed, then poured water from the pitcher into the teacup and brought it to him. With her help, he was able to raise his head from the pillow to drink, at least partially satisfied that the water from the pitcher was safe.<\/p>\n

Letting his head fall back upon the pillow, he glared at the two of them. \u201cYou can\u2019t hold me here forever. My pa will be looking for me.\u201d<\/p>\n

Lana glanced nervously at Monkota. \u201cHe\u2019s right, you know. His father and brothers have been tearing the countryside apart looking for him. They\u2019ve got men crawling all over the place; we\u2019ve seen them riding.\u201d She looked at Joe, fear showing in her expression, and then back at Monkota. \u201cThey\u2019re not going to give up. What if he\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

Monkota cut her off. \u201cI told you. By the time they find him, he will know his place is no longer with his father.\u201d<\/p>\n

Lana nodded, looking uncertain but determined. She took a deep breath. \u201cHis place will be with me. Do you hear me, Little Joe? Your place is with me.\u201d<\/p>\n

He barely heard her.\u00a0His father and brothers have been tearing the countryside apart looking for him.<\/em>\u00a0The words hit him like a punch to the gut. He imagined Adam, turning things over in his head, his disappearance a riddle he\u2019d puzzle over until it drove all other thought from his mind; Hoss, riding over the same territory over and over and over, leaning out of the saddle with eyes on the ground so as not to miss any trace, never smiling, not caring about anything except finding him.<\/p>\n

And Pa\u2026 Pa, weary and worn thin from days in the saddle, face gray with sick worry. He\u2019d ride himself into an early grave, because he would never give up. He\u2019d never stop looking. Not ever.<\/p>\n

Joe shut his eyes, the pain of knowing what his family was going through an actual physical ache in his belly. He had to help them find him. He had to figure out how to hang on and how to get away.<\/p>\n

Anger at his captors flared into raging hatred. They\u2019d pay for doing this to Pa. For doing this to him. He opened his eyes again. He wanted to swear at them both, but striking out in anger when he couldn\u2019t even move would do no good. No, survival was what he needed to concentrate on. He had no idea what they had in mind for him, but he was going to beat it.<\/p>\n

First off, he needed to eat. If he was going to get out of here\u2014and he was\u2014he had to keep his strength up. Certainly three days in bed had done him no favors. He looked up at Lana, and said quietly, \u201cI\u2019ll take that sandwich now, if you don\u2019t mind.\u201d<\/p>\n

She brightened. \u201cOf course. I\u2019ll be right back.\u201d<\/p>\n

Monkota started to follow her, and Joe felt a rise of panic. He didn\u2019t trust the Indian, not one bit. \u201cNot you,\u201d he snapped. \u201cStay here where I can see you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Monkota laughed out loud, a sharp, dismissive bark. \u201cYou think to give me orders even while you lie there on your back like a whipped dog? You white men\u2014you are all the same. I take no orders from you.\u201d And he was gone.<\/p>\n

When Lana returned a few minutes later with a couple of sandwiches on a plate, Monkota wasn\u2019t with her. Joe didn\u2019t know whether to be glad or nervous. He eyed the sandwiches.<\/p>\n

\u201cRoast beef,\u201d Lana informed him. \u201cI\u2019m glad you\u2019ve decided to be sensible and eat. It will do you good.\u201d She sat down on the bed, resting the plate on the coverlet beside her, and tore off a small piece of bread and meat. \u201cOpen up, darling.\u201d<\/p>\n

Still he hesitated.<\/p>\n

Her mouth thinned. \u201cReally, Joe, how long do you think you can last on broth alone?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou could come to your senses and untie me, and then we wouldn\u2019t have to wonder how long I\u2019d last, would we?\u201d<\/p>\n

She said nothing. He reminded himself again that he had to keep his strength up to see this thing through, and sighed and opened his mouth, letting her place the small bite in his mouth. He chewed slowly, carefully, concentrating on finding any hint of an odd taste, but found nothing but savory meat and fresh bread. And suddenly he was ravenous. Both sandwiches were gone in short order, and he had to admit to himself that he felt a little better for it.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere now, you see?\u201d she cooed. \u201cI\u2019d never hurt you, Joe, you know that. When we\u2019re married\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

He shut his eyes wearily. \u201cWe aren\u2019t marrying, Lana. Not now. Not ever.\u201d<\/p>\n

Silence. And then a cold splash of water, drenching both him and the bedclothes. She stood over him, the pitcher from the washstand upside down in her hands, fury on her face. Astonished, he wondered for a moment if she was going to attack him with the empty pitcher.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not good enough for you, is that it?\u201d she said, her voice rising.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, that\u2019s not\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t you love me?\u201d<\/p>\n

He took a breath. \u201cWe\u2019ve been over this, Lana. I will\u2026never\u2026love you.\u201d He spaced the words out, hard and emphatic.<\/p>\n

Her face reddened in anger. \u201cWhat about that Julia Bulette, Joe? You asked her to marry you. You\u2019d ask a slut like that to be your wife, but not me? I\u2019m not good enough, but she was?\u201d Now she was shouting, still holding the pitcher, knuckles white as they wrapped hard around the ceramic handle. \u201cOh, don\u2019t give me that look,\u201d she snapped. \u201cThe whole town knew what happened with you and Julia. What a fool you made of yourself.\u201d<\/p>\n

He was more stunned by the venom spewing from her than he\u2019d been with the sudden drenching.<\/p>\n

She laughed, a sound entirely without mirth. \u201cI wanted you then, did you know that? Even before that, I wanted you. My husband Abe and I came here to Virginia City, and I saw you, and I knew you were the man I had truly been meant to have. But you were young, and I was trapped in a marriage I didn\u2019t want. Still, it was you I watched. And when Abe took sick with the influenza and died, I thought my chance had come. But you paid me no mind, did you? No, you started carrying on with\u2014with\u2014with a\u00a0prostitute!<\/em>\u00a0A dirty, no-good\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

He felt the blood drain from his face. \u201cStop it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2014low class\u00a0whore<\/em>!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShut up.\u201d His heartbeat pounded in his ears.<\/p>\n

\u201cA woman who had been with half the men in the territory, and you\u2014\u201d Lana started to laugh. \u201c\u2014you asked her to marry you. Did she make you pay her when you bedded her, Joe?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShut\u00a0up<\/em>!\u201d He strained at his bindings, desperate now to escape.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou dirtied yourself with a piece of trash like that, but marriage to me is so distasteful to you? How dare you!\u201d The palm of her hand shot out, landing a stinging blow to his cheek, and then another. As she raised her hand for a third blow, her wrist was caught and held in midair by a strong brown fist. She turned on the shaman angrily. \u201cGet your hands off me!\u201d<\/p>\n

Monkota pinned her with narrowed eyes. \u201cYou agreed to do as I tell you. If you\u2019ve changed your mind, perhaps it is best that I leave now, if you think your way will work best.\u201d<\/p>\n

Chest heaving, she yanked her hand out of his grasp but made a visible effort to calm herself. \u201cBut you heard him, didn\u2019t you? You heard him swear he\u2019ll never love me. How do you know you can change his mind? How can I be sure all your medicine man nonsense will work?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt will work,\u201d Monkota said simply. He led her over to a chair in a corner of the room. \u201cSit. Wait. He will change his mind.\u201d He sat in another chair beside her, and she let out a \u201chumph\u201d and sat back, arms folded tightly across her chest.<\/p>\n

Joe felt the sting of her handprint on his face like a hot brand. He stared at them both as they watched him from across the room, and a wild urge to laugh came over him. They were both crazy. There would be no reasoning with either of them, that much was obvious. He\u2019d just have to wait for his family to figure out where he was, and try to be ready to grab any opportunity for escape that presented itself.<\/p>\n

He was angry and shaken, and for all that he\u2019d been sleeping for the last three days, he was suddenly tired. The sun coming through the window lay in a warm shaft across the bed, and he wiggled his fingers, fighting the heaviness of his eyelids.<\/p>\n

He grew drowsier. And then he knew what had happened. Somehow, in the water from the pitcher, perhaps in the sandwich, they had given him something, and there would be no fighting it.<\/p>\n

Stupid, stupid. He swore to himself that when he came to again, he\u2019d starve before he ate or drank anything they had to offer.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t be silly, Joe. You have to drink sometime,\u201d Lana said.<\/p>\n

Had he spoken his thoughts out loud? He looked at them both sitting there on the other side of the room. They seemed very far away.<\/p>\n

The room was quiet now save for the ticking of a clock on the mantel. Lana and Monkota were quiet now, too, observing him, studying him, like a couple of owls waiting for prey to make a dash for cover.<\/p>\n

Only he couldn\u2019t run.<\/p>\n

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

Adam had run as far as he was able. He stopped and bent over double, hands braced on his knees, air pulling into his lungs in great, wheezing gasps.<\/em><\/p>\n

Dear God, he\u2019d lost him. What was he going to tell Pa? Joe, alone and out in the woods somewhere. At most any other time, Adam would\u2019ve been only slightly worried until he caught up to him. But right now, he was beside himself. Reports had been surfacing all week of an escaped convict from the Territorial Prison, on the loose and hiding in the immediate area. Yesterday someone, most likely the escapee, had ransacked a ranch house down in the valley.<\/em><\/p>\n

The inhabitants had been murdered in cold, calculated blood.<\/em><\/p>\n

A crashing noise coming through the trees to his right announced Hoss\u2019s arrival. Hoss was breathing as hard as Adam was, face red, perspiration shining on his wide, distraught face.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cYou ain\u2019t seen him?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

Adam shook his head. \u201cSurely he can\u2019t be that far ahead of us. He\u2019s only eight years old; how fast can he possibly run?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

Hoss shot him a grim expression, chest heaving as he braced his hands on his own knees. \u201cReal fast. I told you, Adam, the boy\u2019s like a dang deer. He can run all day if he\u2019s got a mind to.\u201d Hoss shook his head. \u201cWhen Pa gets back from town\u2014\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cThe note you found tacked to the barn door. What did it say?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cI told you already.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cTell me again,\u201d Adam snapped.<\/em><\/p>\n

Hoss gave him a doubtful look and Adam sighed. Like Hoss, he didn\u2019t know what could be gained by going over the boy\u2019s scrawled note again, but he was out of ideas. Details were important when there was nothing else to hold to. \u201cJust tell me again what it said, Hoss,\u201d he said more gently.<\/em><\/p>\n

Hoss sighed and nodded. \u201cIt said maybe he couldn\u2019t beat us at checkers, but he could sure beat us at hide-and-seek. I was in the middle of readin\u2019 it, and that\u2019s when I heard him laughin\u2019 from up the slope, maybe a hundred yards off. And that\u2019s when I hollered for you.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

They\u2019d taken off after him immediately, catching a couple of glimpses of his red plaid shirt slipping through the trees at first\u2014and for the last half hour, nothing at all.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m gonna kill him,\u201d Adam said now, and Hoss gave him a sympathetic look.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe we should go back and saddle up the horses,\u201d Hoss suggested. \u201cWe could cover ground faster that way. We could\u2014\u201d He stopped mid-sentence to stare at the side of the trail ahead.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat? What is it?<\/em><\/p>\n

Hoss walked a few steps and knelt, running a hand along the ground beneath a clump of grass. He held his hand up, trembling palm outstretched toward Adam. \u201cBlood,\u201d Hoss whispered, his face stricken.<\/em><\/p>\n

Adam was running again before Hoss got the word completely out, plunging up the trail in great, leaping strides. His hand traveled down to his side, and he remembered then that he\u2019d been so intent on catching up to the boy as quickly as possible that he hadn\u2019t bothered to grab a gun when they\u2019d left the house. The dark splatters on the ground were now more frequent; he could see them easily even running as fast as he was. He could hear Hoss close behind him, running hard and breathing heavily.<\/em><\/p>\n

They rounded a mass of boulders, and Hoss let out a startled yell just as Adam slammed into a bloody corpse hanging from a tree . . .<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cJoe!\u201d His shout echoed back at him, bouncing off the walls of his own bedroom. He sat up straight in his bed, rigid and shaking, his chest heaving as he tried to get his bearings. In the next instant, the door to his room flew open; Hoss stood there in his nightshirt, eyes darting about the room and then back to Adam. His face was grim, but his body relaxed somewhat when he saw Adam sitting there in a now quiet room.<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam, you all right?\u201d he asked softly.<\/p>\n

Adam sagged back against his pillow, eyes on the ceiling overhead.\u00a0No, I\u2019m not all right. God, no.<\/em><\/p>\n

Hoss glanced out into the hall, and then shut the door carefully before settling his large frame into the chair beside Adam\u2019s bed with a sigh. \u201cI don\u2019t think you woke Pa,\u201d he said. He lit the lamp on the small table to his right, and its soft glow spilled across his face to reveal the concern in his blue eyes.<\/p>\n

Adam swallowed and nodded. \u201cGood,\u201d he managed to say. It was the first night they\u2019d come home to sleep since Joe had disappeared. His trail had grown cold, and there was nothing more to be gained by trying to catch up to whoever had taken him; they didn\u2019t know which direction to run. For lack of any better ideas, they would set out in the morning to check the northern passes again.<\/p>\n

He sat up again, slowly this time, shoving the pillows up against the headboard for support.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo what was it?\u201d Hoss asked.<\/p>\n

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

\u201cThe nightmare. What was it? Spill it, it\u2019ll just eat you up inside for the rest of the night if you hold it in. It was about Joe, wasn\u2019t it?\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam chewed his bottom lip. \u201cYeah. It was about Joe.\u201d He pressed a hand over his eyes, trying to rid himself of the images that insisted on rising in his mind. He sighed. \u201cDo you remember that day when Pa went to town, and I was supposed to be watching Joe, and he decided it would be fun to lead us on a wild goose chase? He was eight, and that killer that murdered the Brunswicks hadn\u2019t been caught yet. Remember that?\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss grimaced. \u201cHow could I forget? Scared the daylights out of both of us. And as I remember it, we were\u00a0both\u00a0<\/em>supposed to be watchin\u2019 him, not just you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam gave him a tiny smile. \u201cYeah, well, I was twenty and you were fourteen. I guess we both know who was at fault there.\u201d He shook his head. \u201cRemember how we found the blood on the trail, and we started running\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss nodded. \u201c\u2014and we ran smack into a deer carcass somebody had hung in a tree to butcher. Maybe a Paiute, maybe an outlaw on the run. Whoever it was, the two of us made so much noise running up that trail that we scared whoever it was away from their kill before they could finish the job.\u201d Hoss grinned. \u201cAnd then Joe came runnin\u2019 up behind us, took one look at your face, and ran back down the trail to home so fast we didn\u2019t see hide nor hair of him until we got there and hunted him down. Good thing, too. Traipsing back down the mountain gave you time to cool off.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam didn\u2019t return the grin. \u201cWhen we ran into that carcass, I thought\u2014I thought\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss stopped him with an upheld hand. \u201cStop it, now. I know what your first thought was, because it was mine, too. But it weren\u2019t nothin\u2019 but a half-butchered deer. That\u2019s all. There ain\u2019t no sense in draggin\u2019 up old history when everything turned out just fine. We got our own real nightmare right now, Adam. Don\u2019t be makin\u2019 new ones up in your head,\u201d he said soberly.<\/p>\n

Adam hesitated and then nodded. \u201cYou\u2019re right.\u201d He rubbed at his eyes and shrugged. \u201cMust\u2019ve been all that rabbit we ate last night.\u201d<\/p>\n

They both laughed with forced humor, remembering Pa\u2019s weak excuse for his own anxious dreaming.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m fine, Hoss. Go back to bed, and let\u2019s get some sleep. We\u2019ve got an early morning waiting for us.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss gave him a slow, thoughtful nod, and then stood, pausing to clap him lightly on the shoulder. \u201cGoodnight, older brother.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGoodnight.\u201d<\/p>\n

But Adam made no move to lie down again. There would be no more sleep for him tonight. Not with the final image of the nightmare stuck in his head.<\/p>\n

For in the dream, it hadn\u2019t been a dead deer hanging in a tree, throat slit, life drained away into the dirt.<\/p>\n

It had been Joe.<\/p>\n

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

Julia was here. It couldn\u2019t be so, yet here she stood, smiling down at him from the side of the bed. He stared up at her, drinking in the sight and the scent of her, and he felt the sudden sting of tears at his eyes.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve missed you,\u201d he whispered. \u201cI\u2019ve missed you so much.\u201d He frowned and shook his head slowly. \u201cBut you died. How can\u2014\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cShh,\u201d she interrupted, placing a silken finger against his lips. \u201cDon\u2019t think about that. Don\u2019t think about all the months we\u2019ve been apart. We\u2019re together now, and that\u2019s all that matters.\u201d The mattress creaked slightly as she lay down beside him, putting her face close to his and smiling. \u201cDo you remember those nights we spent together, Little Joe? Your father was angry about us being together and insisted on you coming home, but you refused. You stayed in town to be with me. You defied everyone, even your father, to be with me.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

Yes, he had, and he\u2019d do it all again if it meant he could stay with her. He wanted to touch her. He wanted to hold her tight against him and never let go. For the first time in well over a year, he felt whole again; the part of him that had died with Julia was back, pulsing and bright deep inside him.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cI loved you,\u201d he said simply. \u201cI still love you.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

She smiled. \u201cShow me.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

He sucked in a breath. \u2018Show me\u2019\u2014they were the same words she\u2019d used so often during all those nights in her room over the Palace. And he\u2019d done his best to show her, over and over again.<\/p>\n

Hot purpose surged through him and in its wake, a dawning, angry disappointment. \u201cI can\u2019t,\u201d he said apologetically. \u201cThey have me tied down.\u201d<\/p>\n

The warmth of her body pressed against him as she brushed velvet kisses across his lips. \u201cIt doesn\u2019t matter,\u201d she whispered. \u201cYou don\u2019t have to show me. Not this time. I\u2019ll show you.\u201d<\/p>\n

The rhythmic grinding of Monkota\u2019s mortar and pestle did not completely muffle the soft sighs and low groans coming from the next room, but the methodical business of crushing Toloache seeds helped to distract him somewhat. He’d seen the hot purpose in the Bancroft woman’s eyes as she’d gone into the room where Joseph lay, shutting the door behind her. It irked Monkota that he had to give her time with young Cartwright in order to appease her, but it was the only way to ensure her compliance. It bothered him, though, to know his young emissary to the Land of the Dead was being contaminated in such a manner. The woman had fulfilled her usefulness by helping to capture Joe Cartwright, so perhaps she was no longer needed. Perhaps he should simply kill her\u2026<\/p>\n

But no. What if Ben Cartwright or his men came to the house to ask questions? He would have to hide within and keep the boy quiet while she convinced them that she had not seen him. There was also the fact that he would need someone to take the brunt of Ben Cartwright\u2019s wrath when everything was over. If Cartwright thought the woman had murdered his son, then the Paiute people would not need to worry about taking blame.<\/p>\n

Yes, she was definitely still needed, for one purpose or another. So he would simply continue to let her believe it was for her selfish benefit that he, Monkota, worked so diligently. He shrugged and comforted himself with the knowledge that it was the boy\u2019s mind and spirit that was most important for now. Besides, his body would be purified during the final ceremony, and he would be washed free of the woman then.<\/p>\n

Monkota sifted the finely crushed Toloache seeds through his fingers, grunting in satisfaction. He\u2019d chosen the plants with great care, for only the most pure could be used for such an important purpose. He would use all parts in different ways\u2014the leaves, the blossoms, the seeds. He had infused the water in the pitcher with a tea made from the leaves in the event that Cartwright was reluctant to trust, and his preparedness and foresight had paid off well. The concoction he\u2019d put into the water hadn\u2019t been brewed with the simple intent of keeping him asleep this time, however. This mixture was stronger; it would bring visions and dreams to Cartwright.<\/p>\n

Toloache was the shaman\u2019s most powerful and useful plant, sometimes drunk in a tea, sometimes smoked. Upon occasion it was eaten, but this was so dangerous it was almost never done. For all of time it had been used to induce powerful visions. Used in one manner, it helped dull pain, or made a person sleep. Used in another, it was a potent aphrodisiac. Not the least important for his purposes with Joe Cartwright, Monkota thought, was the fact that the plant rendered the user extremely open to suggestion. It was this aspect which would make Cartwright accept the Paiute truths and reject the lies of white men. Monkota would tell him what he needed to know, and he would embrace the knowledge as his own. The message he would carry to his ancestors would be strong and undiluted.<\/p>\n

From the next room came the woman’s voice in a long, muffled squeal of pleasure, and Monkota smiled grimly at the sound of it. Toloache made an already potent lover almost inexhaustibly enthusiastic. Surely the woman would soon be fully sated and sleeping off her weariness for several hours. Monkota would use that time to open the boy\u2019s mind and fill it full.<\/p>\n

He snorted at the sound of the woman\u2019s purring voice. Fool that she was, she hadn\u2019t even realized at first that young Cartwright didn\u2019t recognize her. Monkota had cracked the door open and peeked inside shortly after she had gone in. She had been cooing a lover\u2019s words and promises, and Cartwright had been responding to her, even tied down as he was\u2014but it was his body that reacted to her touch, not his mind. His eyes looked at her but didn\u2019t see her; he spoke, but it was not to her. His mind was in another place, with another woman.<\/p>\n

Now, much later, through the walls Monkota could hear his murmuring voice, raspy and soft.<\/p>\n

\u201cJulia\u2026Julia…\u201d Apparently the Bancroft woman was too deep in her own pleasure to notice, for her own sounds of enjoyment did not lessen. It was quite clear that this Julia, whoever she was, had not had any need of a shaman\u2019s intercession or an aphrodisiac\u2019s influence to draw young Cartwright to her. He obviously belonged to her, body and soul.<\/p>\n

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

\u201cDon\u2019t go in there, Joe.\u201d Hoss was ready to plead if need be. He hated dark, close places. The thought of his younger brother crawling into that narrow tunnel was enough to freeze his blood solid.<\/em><\/p>\n

Joe stood staring at the small hole, eyes large with concern. \u201cI don\u2019t want to go in,\u201d he said softly, and the fear in his voice was easy to hear. It took Hoss by surprise to hear that Joe was afraid, for this kind of thing usually didn\u2019t bother him one bit.<\/em><\/p>\n

Well, whatever it was that had caused this unusual show of hesitancy in his brother, Hoss didn\u2019t care. He was relieved to hear it. \u201cGood,\u201d he said. \u201cThen let\u2019s go home.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cI can\u2019t. I have to go in.\u201d Joe was still standing in front of the small hole, staring at it like he expected to be swallowed whole. It yawned before them, the darkness within so intense that it made it seem bigger than it was.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019re you talkin\u2019 about? You don\u2019t have to go in. I don\u2019t want you to go in. Pa wouldn\u2019t want you to go in.\u201d Panic was beginning to creep up into Hoss\u2019s throat. \u201cJust come with me, Joe. Let\u2019s leave. Right now.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

Joe looked at him pleadingly. \u201cI want to go with you, Hoss.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cThen let\u2019s go. We can\u2014\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cI can\u2019t.\u201d Joe was staring at the hole again, throat working. \u201cThey\u2019re making me go in.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cWho? Who is makin\u2019 you go in there?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cHer. And the Paiute. A medicine man.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

And he looked at Hoss with an expression so lost and frightened that Hoss felt his heart clench.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cA medicine man?\u201d Hoss was bewildered.<\/em><\/p>\n

Joe nodded. \u201cMostly him. But she\u2019s helping him make me go.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cShe? Who, Joe?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

Before Joe could answer, a red hawk\u2019s wild cry echoed down from the sky, drawing Joe\u2019s gaze upwards. Hoss looked up too, turning to get a better look. Then the soft hoot of an owl came from behind them, and in the next moment, owl and hawk were tangled together in battle, bodies tumbling through the air, angry shrieks and tattered feathers falling all around.<\/em><\/p>\n

Hoss turned back\u2026and Joe was gone.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cJoe!\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019ve got to come get me, Hoss. I don\u2019t think I can\u2026I don\u2019t think I can get out by myself.\u201d Joe\u2019s voice came to him, faint and distant, echoing from far down inside the shaft.<\/em><\/p>\n

Hoss scrambled to the hole, throwing himself on his belly\u2014but the entry was too small. Try as he might, his shoulders wedged tight at the opening. He pulled back out and thrust in a hand, stretching his arm as far inside as he could.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cGrab my hand, Joe!\u201d he screamed. \u201cCan you see it? Grab my hand!\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cToo far\u2026it\u2019s too far\u2026\u201d Joe\u2019s voice was fainter now, almost gone. \u201cPlease, Hoss, come get me. Tell Pa. Come get me. Please.\u201d And then there was no sound at all, save for the birds chirping in the trees overhead.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cJOE!\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss drew in a breath with a harsh, grating sound, and the book in his lap landed on the floor with a loud thud. He sat still in Pa\u2019s leather chair up next to the hearth; the dropped book lay ignored. The room was quiet and still; the fire in the grate had burned down low, and the grandfather clocked ticked loudly, its hands showing the time to be near three in the morning. The only light came from the tiny flames still flickering along a piece of kindling in the fireplace and the lamp sitting on the table beside him.<\/p>\n

He dropped his face into a wide hand, trying to calm the trembling in his body. These dreams\u2026it was awful what a man\u2019s mind did to him when he was worried sick about somebody he loved. They\u2019d all been plagued by nightmares these past several days. That\u2019s why he\u2019d been reading late even though they\u2019d been out searching all day; he\u2019d hoped if he was tired enough, stayed up late enough, the dreams wouldn\u2019t come.<\/p>\n

They didn\u2019t mean anything, he told himself. It was natural for daytime worries to work their way into a person\u2019s head at night, especially when the worries were as big as theirs were now. But uneasiness tickled the back of his neck, for his dreams had grown increasingly more vivid, and this one was the most real of all.<\/p>\n

He thought about an old gypsy woman whose caravan had rolled through the Ponderosa a year ago. The woman had claimed that dreams could be a way to communicate, kind of like a telegraph line. At the time he\u2019d thought it nothing more than wild stories, but now\u2026.<\/p>\n

He sat there for a very long time before finally taking up the lamp and climbing the stairs. After pausing for a moment outside Adam\u2019s bedroom door, he carefully pushed it open.<\/p>\n

Adam was asleep. Not peaceful, but asleep, and the low lamplight didn\u2019t wake him. His head moved restlessly on his pillow, hair blending into the shadows, and he muttered something Hoss couldn\u2019t understand. Hoss settled into the chair next to the bed, not sure exactly why he had come. He watched Adam, watched him toss his head, watched him throw a hand out across the bed to\u2026what? To help someone? To ask for help? To stop something?<\/p>\n

Adam began to mumble again, and Hoss strained to make it out but couldn\u2019t. He leaned closer, watching his brother\u2019s eyes dart back and forth between closed lids. No doubt he was dreaming of Joe too, and Hoss wondered if the things he dreamed of were as realistic and troubling as his own dreams had been of late.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s ours. You can\u2019t\u2014he\u2019s ours,\u201d Adam said, and Hoss widened his eyes, for the words had been clear as a bell. And then Adam shouted something rough and angry and scared and indecipherable, and sat straight up, eyes wide open and wild. The abruptness of it made Hoss yelp in surprise even as he tried to pull back, but his forehead collided with Adam\u2019s anyway. He fell back into the chair, a hand clapped over the sore spot over his eye.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat the\u2014Hoss, what in blazes are you doing? You scared me half to death! Almost knocked me cold, too,\u201d Adam grumbled, rubbing his head. He glared at Hoss.<\/p>\n

\u201cSorry, Adam.\u201d Hoss attempted a smile, feeling more than a bit sheepish. \u201cI wanted to talk to you about somethin\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam cocked his head at him, wincing a little as he continued to prod tenderly at the spot where his forehead had connected with his brother\u2019s. \u201cWe\u2019ll be riding together all day tomorrow, Hoss,\u201d he sighed. \u201cIt couldn\u2019t wait until then?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI guess it could\u2026but I\u2019d rather get it off my mind now,” he said hopefully.<\/p>\n

Another loud sigh, followed by a yawn. And then Adam looked at him, and sympathy moved through his eyes. \u201cWell, I\u2019m awake now\u2014with a headache,\u201d he added pointedly, \u201c\u2014so I suppose you might as well. Go ahead. Shoot.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss nodded, and opened his mouth to speak\u2014and shut it again. Now that he had Adam\u2019s attention, he wasn\u2019t quite sure how to put his thoughts into words. He stared down at his hands, clasped together in his lap. Suddenly, he felt rather foolish.<\/p>\n

\u201cAh\u2026tell you what, Adam; I think it can wait after all. Weren\u2019t nothin\u2019 important,\u201d he said, and started to rise.<\/p>\n

\u201cSit down,\u201d Adam said in that sharp, clipped, big brother tone that always made Hoss instantly obey. \u201cYou came in here with something to say. Now say it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss sat. His gaze dropped back down to his lap. \u201cWell\u2026it\u2019s just that I was wonderin\u2019\u2026\u201d He looked back up at Adam. \u201cYou been dreamin\u2019 a lot about Joe, same as I have, ain\u2019t you? And Pa, too.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam\u2019s eyes were unreadable. \u201cYou know I have. And yeah, Pa, too.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I was wonderin\u2019\u2026\u201d Hoss swallowed and then continued in a rush. \u201cAdam, do you remember those gypsies that came through here last year? Do you recall that one old woman, the one who called herself a fortune teller? She said dreams could be port\u2014port\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPortents,\u201d Adam supplied. \u201cOmens. Warnings.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, that\u2019s it! She said dreams could tell a person things, things he\u2019d think he had no way of knowing. She said messages could come through dreams.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam studied his face. \u201cDo you believe that?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI ain\u2019t sure,\u201d Hoss answered slowly. \u201cDo you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d Adam snapped. \u201cNo, I do not. It\u2019s a lot of nonsense, Hoss. Dreams are our minds sorting out thoughts in a haphazard manner while we\u2019re not awake to think straight. Nothing more.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut we\u2019ve all been\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019ve all been dreaming of Joe because he\u2019s on our minds,\u201d Adam interrupted, but his tone was gentler now. \u201cWe\u2019re worried sick about him. We\u2019re trying not to think the worst, and somehow those thoughts have a way of sneaking back in. It\u2019s natural that he\u2019s in our dreams.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo\u2026so you don\u2019t think a dream can tell you nothin\u2019 at all? Not even one that seems like\u2026like it\u2019s as real as you an\u2019 me sittin\u2019 here talkin\u2019?\u201d Hoss couldn\u2019t keep the disappointment from his voice.<\/p>\n

Adam shook his head. \u201cSometimes our imaginations get away from us. That\u2019s all a particularly vivid dream is. Just our imaginations working overtime.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss hesitated. \u201cBut, Adam\u2026the dream I had tonight\u2026\u201d He dropped his gaze and studied his hands as if he might find an answer there. \u201cI don\u2019t know. It was different.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDifferent?\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss nodded and met Adam\u2019s eyes. \u201cYeah. It was like Joe was with me. I mean, really with me. Like I could hear him and see him and everything.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam kept his face still. \u201cYou were talking to him here at home?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo. We were outside in the woods somewhere, or in the desert maybe, I don\u2019t know. But we were in front of a hole\u2014a tunnel, or a mine side shaft, maybe.\u201d Hoss frowned, trying to remember the details of the place. \u201cI ain\u2019t sure exactly where it was. But Joe acted like he was being forced to go into that hole, and he was scared. Real scared. And then he disappeared into the hole, and he begged me to come find him, until\u2026until I couldn\u2019t hear him no more.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHoss.\u201d Adam\u2019s voice was careful and quiet. \u201cDon\u2019t do this to yourself.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut what if\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not. It\u2019s not anything but your imagination running wild, and most likely it\u2019s even worse because you\u2019re plain worn out. You\u2019ve got to put it out of your head as much as you can. What we have to concentrate on is what is right in front of us. What is real.\u201d Adam leaned toward him, his eyes dark with earnest entreaty. \u201cThat\u2019s the only thing that\u2019s going to help us find Joe. What we can hear and see. Not some nightmare.\u201d<\/p>\n

Deflated, Hoss nodded slowly. \u201cI guess so.\u201d But again the image of Joe as he stood in front of that mine shaft rose up before him, his face so full of pleading and fear that it made Hoss want to pick up the lamp that sat beside him and smash it against the floor in howling fury.<\/p>\n

\u201cHoss? They\u2019re just dreams,\u201d Adam said very, very softly.<\/p>\n

\u201cI know.\u201d But he knew it wasn\u2019t true. They weren\u2019t just dreams.<\/p>\n

They were torments.<\/p>\n

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

He sat tied to a kitchen chair, his hands bound behind him, head hung low. She stood a few feet behind him, studying him and admiring the hard curve of muscle in his biceps as they strained backwards. His bare torso glistened with sweat; damp hair curled darkly against the back of his neck, inviting her to press her lips against warm skin.<\/p>\n

She wanted him again. After so many days, so many hours of being with him, she shouldn\u2019t continue to feel the flush of desire burgeoning up every time she looked at him, but she did.<\/p>\n

She sighed, and turned and flipped the steak sizzling in a frying pan on top of the stove. Monkota had been adamant in his orders that Joe be kept well fed, and she supposed he was right about that. He had to eat, especially with the astounding amount of energy he\u2019d expended with her each and every day and night\u2026.<\/p>\n

Her cheeks heated at the thought, and she smiled a secret little smile. If she wasn\u2019t with child already, she soon would be. Joe\u2019s body belonged to her, and soon his heart would as well, either by his own volition or because of the child.<\/p>\n

She filled a plate with steak and potatoes and snap beans canned from the garden. As she spooned gravy onto the generous mound of potatoes, she slid a glance toward Monkota, who sat at the kitchen table, carefully rolling up leaves from those precious plants of his. She\u2019d be glad when the Indian\u2019s services were no longer required; as soon as she was certain of being able to hold Little Joe, of keeping him with her, she\u2019d pay the medicine man his thirty dollars and tell him to be on his way. She and Joe could be alone then, free to love each other whenever they wanted, without having to think about the Indian in the next room.<\/p>\n

She pulled in a resigned breath. Soon. Very soon.<\/p>\n

She carried the plate to the table, and Monkota looked up from his work with the leaves. He still sometimes slipped the seeds of the plant into Joe\u2019s drinking water or food, but often just used the smoke from the leaves, and sometimes from the blossoms, packing them into a long pipe made of some type of animal horn. Sometimes he smoked the pipe himself, sitting face to face with Joe, blowing the smoke into his face and chanting some singsong Paiute nonsense. He made Joe smoke it, too, while he, Monkota, talked continuously to him in a low monotone. She herself usually found something to do outside or in another room during the smoking sessions, because the smell of the smoke nauseated her.<\/p>\n

She\u2019d thought Joe would refuse to take in the smoke, and in the beginning he had, but now he refused to do almost nothing Monkota asked him to do. Monkota said it was the plant\u2019s effect on his mind that made him so compliant, and if done right, it was what would eventually lead him to accept the fact that he was meant to stay with her.<\/p>\n

Well, he refused to do\u00a0almost\u00a0<\/em>nothing. Two days ago Monkota had finally deemed it safe to try untying him, and Joe had surprised them both by surging to his feet and through the door to the yard outside. Monkota had been quick; he\u2019d run after him and hit him full in the backs of his knees, taking him to the ground. Then Joe had struggled so that Monkota had still been forced to knock him out so that they could drag him back into the house. Lana had shuddered to think what might have happened if riders had happened by at the wrong moment, or if Monkota had been a little slower and unable to catch Joe before he was fully underway.<\/p>\n

She moved now to stand in front of Joe, stopping to set the steaming plate of food on the table, but he showed no reaction to her presence. His head hung so low she couldn\u2019t see his face, and she thought for a moment he might be asleep.<\/p>\n

\u201cLittle Joe?\u201d She touched the side of his face with her hand, and was gratified to see him slowly lift his head. He stared at her dispassionately, his green eyes dull and lifeless. \u201cJoe, are you hungry?\u201d He gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. \u201cNonsense,\u201d she said briskly and she forked up a bit of mashed potato from the plate. \u201cOpen your mouth.\u201d<\/p>\n

He didn\u2019t argue, but did as she asked, obediently opening his mouth and accepting the food she offered him. Bite after bite, he chewed and swallowed until the food was gone. Then he let his head drift downward again, his face hidden by unkempt curls. His quiet submission troubled her.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen may we try to untie him again?\u201d she asked, frowning.<\/p>\n

Monkota stared at Joe as if considering the question. \u201cWhen he has fully accepted his new life. And you,\u201d he added, and the way he made the \u2018and you\u2019 sound like an afterthought irritated her.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou said it would only be a few days before we could let him move about freely,\u201d she accused. \u201cIt\u2019s been almost a week. Why isn\u2019t it working?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt is working.\u201d Monkota shrugged. \u201cBut his will is very strong.\u201d He frowned. \u201cHis ties to those in his life are also strong, and those will need to be broken. With some, it takes more time. But soon. Perhaps tonight we will try again.\u201d<\/p>\n

Well, that was good news, at least. Joe would feel better once he was able to move around, tend to his own needs, feed himself\u2026love her. She pulled a chair up next to him and leaned down so that she could look up into his face.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you hear that, Joe? Monkota thinks we might be able to untie you soon. But you have to promise not to run away again, all right?\u201d She got no response, and frowned. \u201cJoe, do you hear me?\u201d She tapped his cheek with a fingertip.<\/p>\n

He raised his head again, but he was looking not at her, but toward the kitchen window. \u201cAre they coming for me?\u201d he asked hopefully.<\/p>\n

\u201cWho?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMy pa. My brothers.\u201d<\/p>\n

She sat back, exasperated. \u201cNo, they are not coming. And you don\u2019t want them to come, Joe. You want to stay here with me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMy pa says he\u2019ll come,\u201d Joe insisted, still watching the window.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat are you talking about? He won\u2019t come. He doesn\u2019t know where you are,\u201d she said resolutely. \u201cAnd he\u2019s not going to find out. By the time he does, you\u2019ll tell him you and I are going to be married.\u201d Monkota had told her it was important to repeat often that they would be husband and wife in order that the truth of it sink into his mind, and she did so at every opportunity.<\/p>\n

He looked at her then, and she was taken aback by the show of mockery in his expression. \u201cYou aren\u2019t Julia,\u201d he said, and she stiffened at the disdain in his tone.<\/p>\n

Anger flooded through her. \u201cNo, I am\u00a0not<\/em>\u00a0Julia, and I am sick of hearing that name. You won\u2019t speak of her again, do you hear?\u201d Her voice had risen to a shout, and she didn\u2019t care that Monkota was present to witness her loss of control. It wasn\u2019t right. She had done all this, even inviting a dirty Indian into her own home, just to ensure that she and Joe would be given a chance at the life they deserved. He would thank her later, she knew, but for now she was sick of hearing him speak of the whore he\u2019d taken up with two years ago. She wouldn\u2019t stand for it. No, she wouldn\u2019t.<\/p>\n

But Joe only gave her a single scathing glance and dropped his head once more.<\/p>\n

It was time to play her trump card, she thought. She struggled to gain control over her temper and took a breath. \u201cJoe, I\u2019m going to have your baby,\u201d she said, sure to keep her voice sweet and even. \u201cDid you know that? Perhaps it\u2019s already growing inside me, even as we speak. You\u2019d never leave your own child, would you?\u201d<\/p>\n

His head came up quickly at that, and she laughed at the confusion in his eyes.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, come now. You can\u2019t be surprised. A man and woman can\u2019t\u2026do what we\u2019ve done for the past week and not expect consequences from it. Did you not think of that? And if it hasn\u2019t happened yet, it will soon enough. Really, now. What did you think?\u201d<\/p>\n

He stared at her, jaw working. \u201cI thought\u2026I thought\u2026\u201d And then a sharp, short moment of clarity crystallized in his eyes. \u201cI thought you were Julia,\u201d he said softly.<\/p>\n

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

Ben was weary as he\u2019d never been before\u2014weary in his body, weary in his mind, weary in his soul. His boy had been missing for eight days now, and they hadn\u2019t been able to come up with a solitary shred of evidence as to where he might have gone.<\/p>\n

He leaned on the scarred wooden surface of Roy Coffee\u2019s desk and tried to concentrate on the sheriff\u2019s questions.<\/p>\n

\u201cI know we\u2019ve been through all this before, Ben,\u201d Roy said, his voice gentle. \u201cBut I\u2019m goin\u2019 on nothin\u2019 here. I just want to go over everything again, just to make sure there\u2019s nothin\u2019 we mighta missed.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben nodded. \u201cYes, of course.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe need to list all the people Joe might possibly have had contact with during the last few weeks.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss scowled. \u201cLike who, Roy? You know everybody Joe knows, same as we do.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, maybe somebody overheard a conversation he mighta had with a drifter comin\u2019 through town. Or maybe he was involved in a disagreement over a poker game. Or maybe\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019ll make the list, Roy,\u201d Adam said quietly.<\/p>\n

Over the next hour they strained their memories for anyone Joe had mentioned speaking to, or even seeing. It was Hoss who hesitantly brought up Lana Bancroft\u2019s name.<\/p>\n

\u201cJoe mentioned they\u2019d had words on the street. It was that same old story,\u201d he said uncomfortably to Ben and Adam. \u201cHer tellin\u2019 him she had feelings for him, and him wantin\u2019 no part of it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben shook his head. Joe had told him all about the argument. \u201cWe talked to Lana Bancroft right away. The first day he went missing, in fact. She said she hadn\u2019t seen him in days, remember?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know, Pa, but Miss Lana, she\u2026well, she loves Joe, or thinks she does, whether she\u2019s the right woman for him or not. Seems to me she\u2019s been payin\u2019 more attention to him than anybody else.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBeen driving him up the wall with all her \u2018attention\u2019,\u201d Adam said drily.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, well I think it\u2019s worth askin\u2019 if she mighta seen or heard anything that might tell us somethin\u2019. I know we already talked to her, but maybe if we ask her if she noticed Joe talkin\u2019 to a drifter or stranger or somebody, it might jog her memory.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben sighed. Truth be told, he felt a bit sorry for the girl. The way she looked at his youngest son with such desperation wasn\u2019t a happy thing to witness. Lana had seemed genuinely distressed at news of Joe\u2019s disappearance. And when they\u2019d ridden to her house that first day, she\u2019d been forthright with them, telling them that she and Joe had argued back in September, and Joe had ridden out of town immediately afterwards, and that she hadn\u2019t spoken to him since. It all fell right in line with what Joe had told them himself.<\/p>\n

\u201cI can\u2019t see how Lana would know any more than what she\u2019s already told us,\u201d he began, but Roy held up a hand.<\/p>\n

\u201cNow, Ben, I think Hoss has a good point. Sometimes folks know more than they even realize. If there\u2019s just one tiny detail she could give us, it could be the very one we need. Besides, what\u2019s it gonna hurt to ride out there and talk to her again?\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam sighed. \u201cI don\u2019t think there\u2019s anything she can tell us, either, Pa, but it\u2019s not like we\u2019ve got any idea of which way to turn otherwise. Why don\u2019t we start with her, and then we\u2019ll just make the rounds again, talk to every single person one by one, all over again? Roy\u2019s right; somebody\u2019s bound to know something.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben stared at him. His oldest was purposely infusing his voice with brisk purposefulness and energetic hope, but the dark circles under his eyes told the extent of how false that energy was. Both Adam and Hoss were exhausted, just as he himself was. And it was no wonder, what with riding from first light to after sunset every day, and getting little sleep when they did stop\u2026<\/p>\n

So much time. It was passing with every sunrise, every sweep of moon across sky. With every beat of his heart, Joe was being drawn further away from him. Ben could feel it, could feel him leaving.<\/p>\n

\u201cVery well,\u201d he muttered. \u201cWe\u2019ll talk to everyone again. Lana Bancroft too.\u201d And he wanted to roar with frustration at the futility of it, the thought of the wasted time as his youngest boy slipped away.<\/p>\n

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

Pa was here, right in front of him, talking to him. He had come.<\/em><\/p>\n

So why, then, was he still scared?<\/p>\n

\u201cYou have to listen to what I\u2019m telling you, Joe. You have to listen and remember every word. It\u2019s important.\u201d<\/p>\n

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

\u201cRid yourself of everything I\u2019ve ever taught you. None of it is true. All lies\u2014that\u2019s what I\u2019ve given you from the day of your birth. My words to you now\u2014those are truth. Joe, do you hear me? Joe?\u201d<\/p>\n

He heard, but didn\u2019t want to. The thought of Pa lying to him was so confusing it made his head throb. He\u2019d rather ignore what Monkota\u2014no, Pa\u2014 was saying, and instead think of more pleasant things. Like Julia. Julia had been here earlier. She\u2019d drawn him into the warm darkness of her bedroom and closed the door against the world, just as she used to do\u2026<\/p>\n

\u201cJoe\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2026and he\u2019d gladly given himself over to her, letting his mind drift away and his body take over. When he was with her, he wasn\u2019t so scared\u2026<\/p>\n

\u201cJoe\u2026son, answer me. You must accept that all I have told to you up to this point in your life has been a lie. Can you do that?\u201d<\/p>\n

No.<\/p>\n

\u201cJoe? I\u2019ve lied to you. Always. Now I\u2019m going to tell you the truths you must know, and you must listen and hold on to each one and keep it next to your heart.\u201d<\/p>\n

Next to his heart. How could he keep anything next to his heart when his heart felt like it was breaking? He stared at Pa, trying to hold onto his image even though Monkota\u2019s face kept getting in the way.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou lied to me?\u201d His voice was small, shaky.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes. I\u2019ve told you the lies all white men tell their sons, and you must forget them all. You must empty your mind of them so there will be room for only truth.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pa had lied to him. All his life, if what he was saying now was true. Joe felt as if he might crumble under the weight of it, just disintegrate into dust like the crushed dried plant Pa kept brewing into tea for him to drink. He didn\u2019t like it\u2014not the taste of the tea nor the words Pa demanded he listen to.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut I will not lie to you ever again, Joe. There are things you need to know, and I will tell you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat kind of things?\u201d he whispered. Was Pa lying about this, too? It hit him that he\u2019d never be able to fully believe what his father said, not ever again. He might accept what he had to say\u2014but he wouldn\u2019t believe it without question. Not any more.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat the whites must lay down their weapons and leave the land of the Paiute. That they must be punished for what they have done. I will tell you all, and you must carry the message to your ancestors. Can you do that?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMy ancestors?\u201d He frowned.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes. You will be going on a journey very soon, and when you reach your destination, your ancestors will be there. You must give them the message.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA journey\u2026home?\u201d If he could just get home, everything would be all right.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, son. Home. But before you reach home, you must stop at a special place for prayer. I will take you there myself.\u201d<\/p>\n

He didn\u2019t much feel like going to church right now, but if Pa said he\u2019d be there to lead him, he\u2019d go, especially if it was on his way home.<\/p>\n

The kitchen door banged open, and Julia ran in. No, not Julia\u2014Lana. He scowled, wishing she\u2019d leave.<\/p>\n

She was breathing hard. \u201cRiders. Coming this way. Hurry, let\u2019s get him into the bedroom. You stay with him and keep him quiet. I\u2019ll get rid of them as soon as I can.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pa jumped to his feet. \u201cCome with me, Joe. Quickly.\u201d He cut the ropes binding Joe\u2019s wrists and pulled at him.<\/p>\n

Joe had wanted those ropes off for so long now. There was something important he\u2019d wanted to do once his hands were free, but what was it? He couldn\u2019t remember. Pa kept one hand tight on his arm; with the other hand, he gathered up the little pile of dried plants he\u2019d been working with and tossed them along with his pipe into a bowl. He shoved Joe toward the bedroom, picking the bowl up and carrying it with him, and hissed at Joe to hurry. Joe stumbled a little as Pa pushed him into the bedroom and shut the door behind them.<\/p>\n

Pa set the bowl of weeds on the nightstand, and looked at him. \u201cYou won\u2019t run from me, will you, Joe? I\u2019m your Pa. You\u2019re safe with me. It\u2019s very important that you don\u2019t run.\u201d<\/p>\n

Run? Why would he run from his pa? \u201cNo, Pa. I won\u2019t run.\u201d<\/p>\n

Outside, he could hear voices coming from the porch. Familiar voices that he couldn\u2019t quite place. His attention wandering, Joe reached out and picked up one of the blossoms from the bowl, bringing it close to his face to study it. It was dried and brownish in color, but he recognized it as a flower he\u2019d seen often in the desert. When in bloom, it was a trumpet-shaped white flower, sometimes with purplish tinges.<\/p>\n

\u201cAngel\u2019s Trumpet,\u201d Joe murmured to himself. \u201cBut some people call it Devil\u2019s Weed.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes. Whites give it those names,\u201d Pa whispered. \u201cNow, my son, you must be quiet.\u201d His gaze kept straying toward the door, toward the voices.<\/p>\n

Another voice outside, this one very deep and tired. Joe\u2019s head came up. \u201cPa?\u201d Confusion swirled in his head like a river trying to climb out of its banks. How could he hear Pa outside when he was standing right here with him?<\/p>\n

\u201cNo. Not there. Here,\u201d said the Pa in the bedroom with him. \u201c Shh.\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe\u2019s head stayed cocked as he twirled the brittle little flower around in front of his eyes. \u201cAngel\u2019s Trumpet or Devil\u2019s Weed,\u201d he said thoughtfully. \u201cI wonder which name is the right one? Did you lie to me about that, Pa? About what this is called? Angel or devil, right or wrong, good or bad; I don\u2019t think I know which is which anymore.\u201d<\/p>\n

The deep, tired voice on the porch drifted into the room even though the windows were closed. \u201c\u2026since Little Joe has been gone\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe dropped the flower back into the bowl, listening. And then he moved for the door, but Pa stopped him.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, Joe. You must stay here and remain quiet. The men on the porch want to kill you,\u201d he said in a very quiet whisper.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut I\u2026I need to talk to them. Please, I need to see them.\u201d He pushed hard at Pa\u2019s restraining arm.<\/p>\n

Pa held up the little flower to him. \u201cDo you see this? This is truth. Will you smoke some of it with me, son? It will show you right from wrong.\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe shook his head. He\u2019d tried taking in the smoke from the flowers for the last two days simply because Pa had asked him to, but it made his head ache. \u201cI don\u2019t want to smoke any more.\u201d<\/p>\n

The voice came again from the porch, softer this time. Joe pushed at Pa again in an attempt to open the bedroom door. Pa held him by the shoulders and looked him in the eye. \u201cIf you\u2019ll only smoke a little, I promise I will take you out to talk to these men. Just a little, Joe.\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe hesitated. It seemed terribly important that he could talk to the men outside; if it meant he would be allowed to do that, then, yes, he\u2019d smoke. He nodded curtly, and watched Pa light the pipe and draw quickly on it a few times. When Pa held the pipe out to him, Joe took it and inhaled. When he tried to hand the pipe back, Pa looked toward the voices, and then shook his head and pushed the pipe back toward Joe.<\/p>\n

\u201cMore. Deeply, my son.\u201d<\/p>\n

So Joe inhaled deeply, letting his eyes fall shut. A blue haze drifted over him, a shimmering dark light. The bed beckoned to him, and he fell down upon it, sinking into its softness. Voices spoke to him. Julia\u2019s voice. Hoss. Adam. And Pa, sounding like he was so close\u2026<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2026you understand, Lana. This not knowing\u2026it\u2019s\u2026hard to take\u2026\u201d And then Pa\u2019s voice cracking, breaking\u2026and Hoss and Adam murmuring now, speaking in comforting tones\u2026<\/p>\n

Joe stopped breathing. His pa was hurting, hurting bad, and it was because of him. His head snapped up, and he stared at the man in front of him\u2026and saw Monkota staring back, watching him carefully.<\/p>\n

This was not his pa. Pa was outside; he could hear him talking to Lana.<\/p>\n

He opened his mouth to shout, but Monkota was on him, pushing him into the mattress, one hand held like a vise over his mouth. He struggled, and was rewarded by a deep grunt from the Indian as his fist connected with the Indian\u2019s jaw. But Monkota was fast; in the next instant he had straddled Joe, pinning his arms in place with his knees, and he was pushing something into his mouth.<\/p>\n

It was dry and crumbly. More of the plant. Joe spat it out, but it was pushed right back in again, and then a rag was stuffed in as well and tied roughly behind his head. Joe screamed until his throat was raw, but what little sound came through the gag was quickly muffled by Monkota\u2019s hand.<\/p>\n

And very soon, it didn\u2019t matter. Inside his mouth, the dried Angel\u2019s Trumpet mixed with his saliva and melted into him, into his body, into his blood, into his mind. His arms and legs, rigid and straining a moment ago, now went limp. He stopped fighting the gag. And when Monkota whispered into his ear that he was his true father, the one who would tell him the truth, unlike the man outside, Joe thought it must be so. How could it not be? The hand that stroked his head felt just as Pa\u2019s always had whenever he was hurt or frightened.<\/p>\n

Only the hand on his head didn\u2019t seem to be taking the fear away this time.<\/p>\n

The dark tunnel was just ahead of him now, a tunnel shaped like an Angel\u2019s Trumpet blossom, spun of sand and dark stars and deep rivers. He\u2019d been led into this place many times now, and it always made him feel confused and lost. He trembled with dread, for every time he entered it, it was more difficult to find his way out again.<\/p>\n

His fear made him open his eyes again, and he made one last effort to come up off the bed. But Monkota\u2014and in a glimmer of fleeting clarity, Joe knew it was Monkota\u2014 held him down and forced him toward the tunnel\u2019s entrance.<\/p>\n

The last thing Joe knew before sinking down into it was the sound of his own voice screaming for help from his pa, his real pa, but the gag and Monkota\u2019s hard hand soaked up every word.<\/p>\n

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

Wretched dreams. Wretched, vile, loathsome dreams. Ben shuddered as he swung his feet to the floor and sat up on the side of his bed and tried to slow his breathing.<\/p>\n

The images his sleeping mind had produced tonight were worse than they\u2019d ever been. He supposed it was to be expected after today\u2019s fruitless questioning of everyone they could think of\u2014for the second time, or even the third for some. The stress of not knowing what had become of his son was beginning to prey on his mind. At one point, as they\u2019d ridden away from Lana Bancroft\u2019s house, he\u2019d even sworn he\u2019d heard Joe\u2019s voice calling to him, going so far as to rein Buck around and listen hard before he\u2019d had to admit he\u2019d imagined it.<\/p>\n

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

Adam stood in the doorway of his bedroom, fully dressed despite the fact that the darkness of the sky outside the window said it was still at least a couple of hours before sunrise.<\/p>\n

Ben blinked to clear the sleep from his eyes. \u201cMorning, Adam. I\u2019ll, uh\u2026I\u2019ll be down in just a minute to help you with the horses,\u201d Ben said, reaching for the clothing Hop Sing had placed over the back of the chair near the bed.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe horses are saddled already. Pa,\u201d Adam began, and looked distinctly uncomfortable, \u201cwe thought maybe Hoss and I could go out and you could stay in today, get rested up, and then tomorrow\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

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

The frustration on Adam\u2019s face mingled with concern. \u201cPa, you can\u2019t keep going like this. You\u2019re wearing yourself to the bone. One day of you getting some rest isn\u2019t going to make any\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d The word came out louder and sharper than he\u2019d intended, and he forced a small smile to his lips as he placed a hand on Adam\u2019s arm. \u201cAdam, even if I was to stay, which I can\u2019t, do you honestly think I\u2019d get any rest?\u201d He shook his head. \u201cEven when I do manage to fall asleep, these dreams\u2026\u201d He paused. The troubled expression that had passed over Adam\u2019s face in that moment spoke of more than concern over his lack of sleep. \u201cAdam? What is it?\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam seemed to shake himself, and then stepped back, as if removing himself from Ben\u2019s reach could give him more control over his own thoughts and emotions.<\/p>\n

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

Adam shook his head. \u201cNothing. It\u2019s nothing.\u201d For just the barest moment he looked as though his thoughts were a hundred miles away. Then the moment was gone, and he sighed in resignation. \u201cAll right. If you\u2019re absolutely determined to do this, I\u2019ll go bring the horses around.\u201d<\/p>\n

He disappeared through the doorway, and Ben was left staring after him, wondering what it was the boy wasn\u2019t telling him.<\/p>\n

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

\u201cI don\u2019t understand.\u201d The Bancroft woman pushed her lower lip out in an unhappy pout. \u201cWhy must we take him up into the mountains? We\u2019re safe here. Nobody knows where he is.\u201d<\/p>\n

Monkota grimaced inwardly. He really was desperately weary of the woman\u2019s company. Again he was tempted to just get her out of the way now. But no, he couldn\u2019t, not yet, for she was still necessary, as much as it pained him to admit it. Today was the ninth day of the ritual. According to Kene the final part of the ritual, the sacrifice, must take place on the tenth day. And it must be done on sacred ground, a place they must travel to tonight in order to remain under the cover of darkness as they left the house. The woman would drive the wagon while young Cartwright lay beneath blankets in the back. In the event someone came across them, he would hide with Cartwright, and the woman would say she was going to visit a sick friend. If that did not work, Monkota would simply kill the interlopers with the guns that would be primed and loaded underneath the blankets. They would be armed, for whatever happened, nothing could be allowed to interfere with the prophecy. And in the end, if all went well\u2014and it must\u2014then the woman could be left to take the blame.<\/p>\n

And if things did not go perfectly, and he himself should die in the effort, that was acceptable, too. His own death would be a good one as long as he managed to carry out Kene\u2019s prophecy.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt is necessary for us to take him there,\u201d he explained for the third time, but the woman narrowed her eyes at him.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs it? I\u2019m afraid I don\u2019t agree.\u201d Her face hardened in determination. \u201cAs a matter of fact, Mr. Monkota, I do not believe Joe and I are in any further need of your services.\u201d She strode to a kitchen cupboard and drew down a tin canister, brought it to him, pried off the lid, and emptied a few silver coins into his palm. \u201cThirty dollars in silver,\u201d she announced. \u201cNow I\u2019ll thank you to take your things and go.\u201d<\/p>\n

He regarded her steadily. \u201cYou are this close to possessing the man you want, and now you want to give up?\u201d<\/p>\n

She snorted. \u201cI\u2019m giving up nothing. He belongs to me already. He\u2019ll stay, I know he will.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd why do you believe this is so?\u201d<\/p>\n

She smiled a self-satisfied smile. \u201cDo I really need to tell you? He loves me. It\u2019s obvious.\u201d<\/p>\n

He raised a brow. \u201cOh?\u201d<\/p>\n

The smile left her face. She glared at him. \u201cYou\u2019ve stuck to this house like glue, even during those times when Joe and I\u2026when we retreated to the bedroom,\u201d she hissed. \u201cYou pay attention to everything that goes on where he\u2019s concerned. Did you think I hadn\u2019t noticed that? I know you\u2019ve stood on the other side of that door, listening to the things we do together.\u201d She lifted her chin, looking at him as if he gave off some vile smell that sickened her. \u201cYou\u2019ve even watched us. I\u2019ve seen you, more than once.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI did so only because I could not trust you not to harm him,\u201d he said calmly. \u201cAny wrong word from him could be enough to loose your fury upon his head. You have no control over either your emotions or your actions. Your mind is like that of a rabid animal\u2014normal one moment and unbalanced the next. I could not risk his safety with you by leaving you entirely alone with him.\u201d He raised a hand to catch her wrist as she swung at his face.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow dare you!\u201d Her voice was shrill, her face mottled red and white. She swung her other fist at him, and he caught that one as he had done the first. \u201cGet your hands off me, you filthy Indian!\u201d Her breath caught, and a spasm of fear passed over her face; he saw that she realized she might have pushed him too far.<\/p>\n

He released her instantly, and she almost fell backward. She straightened, trembling with rage.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou tell yourself he loves you because he responds to your touch. Without the Toloache, he would turn away from you even though his body might wish otherwise. But with the Toloache, his mind is carried elsewhere and his body is set free to do as it likes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t know where his mind is,\u201d she snapped. \u201cHow do you know he isn\u2019t willingly making love to me?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIs yours the name he murmurs while in your bed? No. Over and over, it is the same name, is it not? Jul\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t say it!\u201d She clapped her hands over her ears. \u201cDo not mention that woman\u2019s name in this house.\u201d<\/p>\n

He shrugged. \u201cYou know very well you have not yet untied his heart from hers so that you may bind it to your own.\u201d He watched her struggle with the truth of it for a few seconds.<\/p>\n

\u201cAll right, fine,\u201d she said finally, and her voice was calmer and set in steely determination. \u201cThen what do we do to finish this? How do we make him forget\u2014her, and make him realize he loves me? I am tired of all this foolishness. I want it finished. Now.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat is what I have been explaining to you. The final part of the medicine will do what is necessary to drive the other woman from his heart. But it must be done in a holy place, a place sacred to Paiute shamans, in order for it to work. We must take him there to perform what must be done.\u201d<\/p>\n

She chewed her bottom lip, considering, and moved to stand in front of young Cartwright as he sat, bound once more to a kitchen chair, head bowed. She placed her hand under his chin to raise his head. He blinked at her through half-closed, glassy eyes, uncaring of the conversation flowing around him. Passive, quiet, accepting.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019ve promised other things that didn\u2019t happen,\u201d she said, and turned her head to pin him with an accusing stare. \u201cYou said we would eventually be able to untie him, and yet we haven\u2019t yet been able to trust him enough to do it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI underestimated him. He was stronger than I expected,\u201d Monkota admitted. He studied the boy thoughtfully, noting the dullness and lack of emotion in the smoky green eyes. \u201cBut I do believe we can try now, if it will help you have faith in what I am telling you.\u201d<\/p>\n

He stepped past the woman and cut Cartwright\u2019s ropes with a quick slash of his knife. The boy\u2019s arms slipped forward to hang limply at his sides. He made no move to try to leave the chair; in fact, his head lolled forward and his eyes shut once more.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere, you see?\u201d Monkota asked.<\/p>\n

She sniffed, clearly unimpressed. \u201cYou can\u2019t keep him quiet forever with that smoke of yours.\u201d Worry furrowed her brow. \u201cBesides, he\u2019s\u2026he\u2019s not\u2026he\u2019s not Joe like this. It\u2019s like the fire inside him is gone.\u201d<\/p>\n

The fire was not gone, but only banked in order to control it. But he did not say this to the woman. Instead, he said, \u201cDo not worry. Soon the Toloache will not be needed at all. Joe Cartwright will then do your bidding.\u201d<\/p>\n

She nodded doubtfully. \u201cIf we do this\u2014if we take him up to the mountains to this place you have in mind, how do I know you\u2019re right? How can I be sure it will work?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBefore you came to me, would you have thought you would have Joseph Cartwright in your bed every night for a week? My medicine has worked so far, has it not?\u201d<\/p>\n

She flushed but persisted. \u201cIf you do this final ceremony you keep talking about, can you guarantee that he\u2019ll stay with me and won\u2019t go running back to his father once it\u2019s finished? Can you promise me that?\u201d<\/p>\n

He smiled, and looked out the window at the setting sun. \u201cI can promise you with every part of my being that, once we finish the ceremony, Joe Cartwright will not go back to his family.\u201d<\/p>\n

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

\u201cShh. You must stay quiet beneath the blankets, my son.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cBut I don\u2019t\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you dare to disobey your father?\u201d<\/p>\n

The question was hard and unbending. Joe swallowed. He\u2019d made Pa angry many times in his life, doing\u2026well, he couldn\u2019t remember exactly what right now, but he knew it was true. He didn\u2019t want to make him angry now, though. When the world wasn\u2019t right, Pa was always the one stable force he could depend on to set things straight again. And the world definitely wasn\u2019t right at the moment. The few times he\u2019d dared to peek out from under the blanket, it was to see a crescent moon spreading pink moonbeams across a lavender desert at the base of the foothills. Astonishingly beautiful, but disturbing. And Pa, too, was different. Strong and stern, but not himself.<\/p>\n

\u201cJoseph? If you don\u2019t do as I say, I will have no choice but to make you sleep again. Do you want that?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, sir.\u201d He didn\u2019t want that. These days he felt like he was sleeping even when he was awake and talking. Most of the time he wasn\u2019t sure if he was awake or not. If he never slept again in his life, it would be too soon.<\/p>\n

\u201cThen you will obey me? In everything?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, sir,\u201d Joe whispered.<\/p>\n

So for the rest of the night he lay in the back of the wagon beneath the itchy wool blanket without making a sound, letting the creak and sway of the wagon comfort him as it lumbered through desert and up into the foothills.<\/p>\n

Just before the sun came up, he drifted into sleep on his own, and he dreamt of falling into Pa\u2019s arms, feeling the protective weight of them as they circled round his back, the gentle pressure of his hand on the back of his head as Joe\u2019s face burrowed into the crook of his shoulder.<\/p>\n

He screwed his eyes shut tight against Pa\u2019s shirt, not wanting to see what he knew was over his shoulder: that dark, spinning, misty tunnel that the medicine man and Lana kept sending him down into. Trip after trip he\u2019d made down there, and he\u2019d managed to fight his way back up each time. But the time would come when he wouldn\u2019t be able to find his way out again. He knew it.<\/p>\n

\u201cPlease don\u2019t let them make me go in there again, Pa. Please don\u2019t let them. Please, Pa, help me. Please\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

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

Please, Pa, help me\u2026<\/em><\/p>\n

Ben\u2019s head jerked up. He\u2019d nodded off in the saddle, something he\u2019d done more than once today, but he was wide awake now. He reined Buck to a sudden stop.<\/p>\n

\u201cDid you hear something?\u201d he asked, twisted in the saddle and scanning the horizon, his ears straining.<\/p>\n

Adam had pulled up beside him, his head cocked, listening. \u201cNo, nothing out of the ordinary. Why? What did you hear?\u201d<\/p>\n

Please, Pa, help me.<\/em><\/p>\n

Ben shook his head and nudged Buck forward again. \u201cNothing. Just the wind in the pines, I suppose.\u201d He looked around and frowned. \u201cWhere\u2019s Hoss?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe decided to head back down to Jack\u2019s Creek. Fourth time he\u2019s checked it in the last three days.\u201d Adam sighed. \u201cSaid he had a feeling in his gut and just couldn\u2019t let it go until he looked there again. Of course, he said the same thing the last three times he took a look in the same spot.\u201d He glanced sideways at Ben and cleared his throat. \u201cPa,\u201d he said hesitantly, \u201cwe\u2019re not any closer to finding Joe today than we were the day he vanished. Maybe\u2026maybe it\u2019s time we talked about the possibility that we\u2019re not going to find him.\u201d<\/p>\n

The words were low and soft, and they had cost Adam something to say them out loud. The pain of it was there to see in his eyes.<\/p>\n

Ben stopped Buck again. He sat staring at his hands resting on the saddle horn, and he felt himself nodding in slow, reluctant agreement. But he couldn\u2019t hold it; the nod wrested itself away from him and before he knew it, it had become a shake of the head. No.<\/p>\n

\u201cI can\u2019t,\u201d he said simply. The admission held a note of apology and helpless resignation.<\/p>\n

Adam down at his own hands for several moments, then nodded and looked away as if studying the mountains in the distance. \u201cAll right, then.\u201d He looked at Ben and let one corner of his mouth quirk up in a smile that held no joy. \u201cLet\u2019s get a move on, see if we can catch up to Hoss.\u201d<\/p>\n

They began riding again, side by side.<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam,\u201d Ben said slowly, \u201cif I had agreed with you just now\u2014if I had decided that continuing to look was a lost cause\u2026what would you have done?\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam kept his eyes on the trail ahead. \u201cI\u2019d have kept looking.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd why wouldn\u2019t\u00a0you<\/em>\u00a0have given up?\u201d Ben asked softly.<\/p>\n

And Adam did look at him then. \u201cI can\u2019t,\u201d he said, giving Ben\u2019s words back to him. Before Ben could be sure if the glimmer in his eyes was sunlight or tears, he had nudged Sport into a lope and surged ahead.<\/p>\n

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

\u201cStop here,\u201d Monkota directed. \u201cWe will make camp.\u201d<\/p>\n

The woman pulled the team to a stop and looked around at the dense thicket of pines and underbrush surrounding them, still dark and shadowy even though the sun was now fully risen, and she blinked in surprise. \u201cHere? This is your \u2018holy place\u2019?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo. But the ceremony may not be performed until the sun is at its highest point. We must wait, and it is safest to do so here where we are not easily seen. We do not know where Cartwright may be riding in search of his son.\u201d<\/p>\n

The woman\u2019s mouth thinned in her dislike of having to wait, but she said nothing more, and Monkota was glad. He needed to concentrate on young Cartwright now. He had no time for foolish disagreements with rabid white women.<\/p>\n

\u201cJoseph, unhitch the horses and stake them beneath those trees. Tie them well so that they do not wander. Then come sit with me.\u201d He turned to the woman. \u201cI am sure you must be tired after driving so many hours of the night. Perhaps you would like to rest while we wait?\u201d<\/p>\n

To his relief, she accepted his suggestion, climbing into the back of the wagon and pulling the blanket over her head.<\/p>\n

He spread his own blanket on the ground, the one he used for shamanistic rites, and sat cross legged upon it, his pipe and bowl and pouch of Toloache seeds and blossoms and stems sitting beside him. He drew a dried petal from the pouch and rolled it between his thumb and forefinger, letting the crushed material fall into the bowl. Carefully, he put a pinch of it into the bowl of the pipe. Toloache was powerful and useful, but also very dangerous. It could easily kill if too much was given, and the line between just enough and too much was very thin. And he did not want Joseph Cartwright to die from too much Toloache, for that was not the death that had been preordained for him. Yet Monkota had to make sure Cartwright was deep within a waking dream state by the time he was sacrificed. It was necessary so that he could easily make the transition between the land of the living and the land of the dead, and make his way to the white elders without getting lost or forgetting the message he had been chosen to deliver.<\/p>\n

Because it was so important, Monkota paid strict attention to the amount of Tolache petal he added to the pipe, not lifting his eyes from the task until it was finished. Only then did he straighten his bowed head to study Cartwright as he went about putting the horses out just as he\u2019d been told to do.<\/p>\n

The boy was strong and well-built, lean and hard. \u201cA worthy sacrifice,\u201d Monkota murmured to himself. He noted in approval the way Cartwright finished with the horses and then immediately came to him without hesitation or question, lowering himself onto the blanket to sit facing him with his legs crossed in the same manner as Monkota did.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou will smoke,\u201d Monkota said quietly, and passed the lit pipe to him, watching his face carefully. To his satisfaction, there was no hint of rebellion against the order, save for a tiny flickering of his lashes as he shut his eyes for the smallest instant before putting the pipe in his mouth and inhaling. After a few draws on the pipe, Monkota took it back from him and rested it in the wooden bowl.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou have learned a great deal these past few days, Joseph. The stories of the true people and the atrocities that have heaped upon them. The lies and the destruction the whites have wrought upon the people and upon Nature. You must remember all that I have told you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, sir.\u201d The boy\u2019s voice was soft but emotionless.<\/p>\n

Monkota nodded. \u201cVery good. In a little while we will be walking to the place I have been telling you about. Your people call it Jack\u2019s Creek. But its true name is Oho Huudu, or River of Bone. When we get there, it is important that you do exactly as I say without question, even if you are afraid. Will you promise me you will obey me in all that I ask?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, sir.\u201d<\/p>\n

No hesitation in his answer. Good. He leaned forward so that his face was close to Joseph\u2019s. \u201cI want you to repeat this after me: I am bound to carry out my father\u2019s will.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI am bound to carry out my father\u2019s will.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGood. Now say it again.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI am bound to carry out my father\u2019s will.\u201d<\/p>\n

He had Cartwright repeat the phrase several times over. Then he picked up the pipe and took a long, slow draw on it, for his own mind must be on the correct plane when, in a matter of only a few hours, the time came to offer the sacrifice. After inhaling deep lungfuls of the smoke, he handed it back to Cartwright and bade him to take more. Then they sat still for some time as Monkota meditated and Cartwright sat patient and quiet in front of him.<\/p>\n

\u201cIf you feel disobedient, or frightened, or if someone tries to turn you away from doing what I ask you to do, I want you to repeat those words and then immediately turn to carry out my orders.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, sir.\u201d<\/p>\n

Monkota nodded, and drew a knife out from the sheath at his belt. He held it close to his own face, turning it slowly and studying the way the light flashed along the sharp blade. Then he moved it until it was inches away from Cartwright\u2019s face.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo not be afraid. It will not hurt you,\u201d Monkota said. \u201cNow, I want you to run the palm of your hand along the blade.\u201d He watched as the boy put his hand out toward the blade\u2014and then stopped, blinking. \u201cJoseph, say the words.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI am bound to carry out my father\u2019s will.\u201d In a flash, Cartwright ran his hand hard along the blade, so hard that Monkota started and quickly yanked the blade back. Blood spurted, red and bright under the morning sun. Cartwright stared down at his hand in mild surprise, nothing more. Blood trickled onto the wool blanket and spread into a dark circle.<\/p>\n

Monkota took a strip of doeskin from the pouch at his belt. \u201cGive me your hand.\u201d Cartwright did so, instantly and with complete trust. Monkota smiled, and bound the bleeding hand tightly in the doeskin, as it wouldn\u2019t do to have the boy bleed to death from what was meant to be a mere test.<\/p>\n

A test that had just proven to Monkota\u2019s satisfaction that Joseph Cartwright was his.<\/p>\n

He was ready.<\/p>\n

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

It was almost high noon, but underneath the dark shadows of an ancient fir, it was cool and dark. Beneath the big tree, Hoss sat on Chub and stared down at the bald rock bed of Jack\u2019s Creek a hundred yards below, wondering what kept drawing him back here.<\/p>\n

Desperation, he supposed. Perhaps a need to believe he hadn\u2019t been so off track those first couple of days, that there was something here\u2014some tiny, invisible thing\u2014that was linked to Joe. Something that might lead them to an answer.<\/p>\n

It had\u00a0nothing<\/em>\u00a0to do, he told himself fiercely, with the fact that last night he\u2019d dreamt of Joe again, still in front of the yawning hole, still begging for help, and looking even more terrified than he had in the last dream. Adam was right. It was nothing but a worried mind and an overtired body putting together some half-baked, meaningless ideas that were too vague too show themselves in the light of day. Nor did it mean anything that he\u2019d finally recognized this spot, this dry rocky wash with the tiny trickle that was Jack\u2019s Creek when the rains came, as the place where he and Joe had been standing in the dream.<\/p>\n

If he\u2019d had any illusions that it could possibly mean something, he\u2019d quickly been set straight when he\u2019d searched up and down the banks of the creek, including the cliff face that made up the bank opposite him, for any holes or tunnels.<\/p>\n

There were none.<\/p>\n

Even the two oblong rocks whose position he\u2019d thought resembled a cross a few days ago held no promise for him today. They didn\u2019t appear the same way at all from this vantage point. The more vertical one didn\u2019t cross the horizontal one so much as support it, making the formation look more like a base holding up a long, flat tabletop than anything else.<\/p>\n

No holes, no tracks, no signs. No Joe.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, what did you expect?\u201d he asked himself, wishing he\u2019d never come. There was nothing here, just as there had been nothing last week. The mournful and disapproving hoot of an owl floated through the trees, and Hoss shuddered.<\/p>\n

Despite his insides telling him Joe was still near, the thoughts in his head that said otherwise were clamoring to get out, and he found he could no longer ignore them. He dismounted and ground-tied Chub a few yards from the steep bank. Then he returned to the big fir to sit beneath its velvety darkness and mourn his brother. For it was time to come to terms with what he knew to be true.<\/p>\n

They\u2019d lost him.<\/p>\n

Alone within the dimly shelter of the fir, the last of his hope gave way to despair. His eyes filled, and his shoulders began to shake with the sobs coming from within him. When a flicker of movement appeared among the heavy brush on the steep embankment opposite him, he at first thought it was nothing more than the tears distorting his vision. He blinked, and pulled in a harsh breath.<\/p>\n

Three people, climbing down toward the rocky base of the wash. A woman in split riding skirts. An Indian. And in front of the Indian, another man, barefooted, shirtless, and wearing trousers a shade darker than the white rocks lining the creek.<\/p>\n

\u201cJoe,\u201d Hoss whispered, rocked first by shock, then by joy so fierce and hot he thought it might leap right out of his chest. It was all he could do not to call out to his brother. Instead, he eased closer to the edge of the sharply dropping bank, taking care to remain in the shadows of the fir\u2019s branches.<\/p>\n

As the climbers moved down toward the creek bottom, they drew near enough for Hoss to recognize the woman\u2019s face. Lana Bancroft. The Indian looked to be Paiute, and from what he wore, an important one. A medicine man. The Paiute had a couple of guns, but they were slung over his back, not pointed at Joe. Most puzzling of all, and the thing that stopped Hoss\u2019s heart from beating quite so hard, was the fact that Joe didn\u2019t appear to be at all afraid. As he and the Indian reached the wash, they stopped to talk to one another, the Indian putting a hand on Joe\u2019s shoulder as he told him something, and Joe nodding in return, the lines of his body relaxed. Hoss could hear the low murmur of their voices, but couldn\u2019t make out what was said.<\/p>\n

He felt the tenseness leave his own limbs. He didn\u2019t know how or why Lana was here, but it appeared that she and this Indian must have found Joe wherever he\u2019d been trapped or held and had rescued him. Well, he\u2019d hear the whole story later, and he was sure it must be quite a tale. For now, he knew all he needed to know. Joe was alive. What\u2019s more, with the exception of a bloody rag wrapped around his left hand, he appeared healthy and unharmed. There wasn\u2019t a mark on him that Hoss could see, at least from up here.<\/p>\n

Since Joe obviously had nothing to fear from the Paiute, neither did he. On the contrary, he couldn\u2019t wait to thank the man. He grinned and stood up, moved into the bright sunshine and cupped his hands to his mouth. \u201cLittle Joe!\u201d<\/p>\n

Three heads snapped up, and Hoss was met with three different expressions\u2014astonished delight from his brother, shock and fear from Lana, and from the Indian\u2026from the Indian, absolute fury. The Paiute swung one of his rifles around and aimed; in surprise, Hoss stumbled backwards, pulling his gun from his holster as he moved. He got off two shots, but not before the blast of one of the Indian\u2019s rifles echoed against the rocks. Joe leaped against the Indian and shoved the rifle barrel down as it went off\u2014but not soon enough. The bullet slammed into Hoss\u2019s lower leg, the audible snap of bone sounding louder in his ears than the discharge of the rifle. He went down like a felled tree, hitting the ground with a heavy thud.<\/p>\n

He lay there gasping, blood pounding in his ears as he tried frantically to get his bearings. Below, he could hear the Paiute shouting angrily. Behind him, Chub\u2019s hoof beats faded into the distance, the frightened horse taking with him the rifle still in its scabbard.<\/p>\n

And all my extra ammunition,<\/em>\u00a0Hoss thought grimly. He got a better grip on his pistol. Four bullets. That\u2019s all he had to get Joe out of there. Worse, caution was needed; with all the rock, anybody down there was in danger of being hit by a ricocheting bullet. The angle was bad, what with shooting down into them from here.<\/p>\n

He rolled over onto his belly and, gritting his teeth against the pain in his right leg, clawed his way to the edge of the bank. The Paiute was furious. He pushed his face within inches of Joe\u2019s and shouted his displeasure.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou dare to defy your father?\u201d His face was contorted with rage.<\/p>\n

Joe dropped his head. \u201cI\u2019m sorry.\u201d The soft words were barely out before the Indian struck him with the butt of his rifle, dropping him to the ground. Hoss clenched his teeth together to keep from shouting out as his brother writhed slowly on the ground. But then Joe cast worried eyes up in Hoss\u2019s direction, drawing vicious kicks from the Indian. Hoss took aim. Joe would break and run, and then he\u2019d have a clear shot at the Paiute.<\/p>\n

But Joe didn\u2019t run. He responded not by fighting back as Hoss expected, but by curling into a ball and covering his head. Lana screamed and pulled at the Indian, but he shook her off and shoved her away. \u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d Joe said again and again. \u201cI\u2019m sorry.\u201d He warded off the Indian\u2019s blows as best he could with his arms over his head, but that was all he did to protect himself.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s wrong with you, Joe?\u201d Hoss whispered. He shook his head, realizing he had no choice but to make the shot. He aimed and pulled the trigger, but in his concern over shooting into the rocks and accidentally hitting Joe, he was overly cautious and the shot went wide. Instantly the Paiute returned fire, forcing him to duck back down away from the bank.<\/p>\n

The Indian was shouting again. When Hoss looked back over the edge, all three of them were out of sight, tight against the bottom of the bank he lay on. Hoss\u2019s breath came hard as he listened to the Paiute\u2019s anger being taken out on his brother. Heavy thuds against bare flesh and grunts from Joe marked every blow.<\/p>\n

Hoss lay his head back on the ground and stared up into the fir tree as he clenched his jaw hard. Tree branches and blue sky swam together with the tears in his eyes. He thought about the three bullets he had left, and about the climb down the bank\u2014an impossible climb to make with a broken leg.<\/p>\n

There was only one thing he could think of to do.<\/p>\n

Please, God, if they haven\u2019t heard already, let them hear now.<\/em>\u00a0He raised the gun into the air and fired. Once, twice, three times. Then he tossed the gun onto the ground and lay still.<\/p>\n

For a moment there was silence. Then the Paiute laughed and called up to him. \u201cYou signal for help already, white man? You would not use three bullets if you were certain of that help. Perhaps you are out of bullets. I heard your horse run away. Do you not have more ammunition?\u201d He laughed again.<\/p>\n

When Hoss looked back down over the edge, the Indian was shoving Joe back out onto the rocky surface of the creek bed.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou have disappointed me greatly, young Cartwright,\u201d he shouted, voice still shaking in anger. \u201cHave you forgotten so quickly what I took great care to teach you? No? Then repeat to me what you learned.\u201d<\/p>\n

Slowly, Joe came to his knees in front of the Paiute, head bowed. Hoss could barely make out his words. \u201cI am bound to carry out my father\u2019s will.\u201d<\/p>\n

Carry out his father\u2019s will? What the heck did that mean? Hoss couldn\u2019t make heads or tails of it and for now he didn\u2019t have time to try. His leg was bleeding heavily, soaking the length of his pants leg. He rolled over again, away from the edge, and heaved himself into a sitting position. He gripped the fabric of his trousers in his hands and ripped until he\u2019d torn away the bottom half. He took the remnant and knotted it tightly around his leg above the knee; to his satisfaction, the ebb of blood slowed somewhat, though the pain of the broken bone made him want to retch.<\/p>\n

He would\u2019ve given in to the urge, too, was it not for the more overpowering drive to help his brother. He bit back the bile that rose in his gorge and moved back to peer over the edge of the bank. Joe was still on his knees, head still lowered. It was a position of utter submission, and it shook Hoss to see it. His mind simply couldn\u2019t connect it to the fiery little brother he knew.<\/p>\n

He could now clearly hear the raised voices from below.<\/p>\n

\u201cJoe, are you all right?\u201d Lana bent over him, peering into his face. \u201cYou hurt him,\u201d she shot back at the Indian.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe was disobedient,\u201d the Paiute said matter-of-factly, the anger seemingly gone. \u201cDisobedience must be punished. His interference just now could have ruined everything. You don\u2019t want to lose him now that all is within your grasp, do you?\u201d<\/p>\n

Lana bit her lip. \u201cMaybe you should\u2019ve had him smoke more.\u201d<\/p>\n

The Paiute shook his head. \u201cAny more would make him sleep. He must be awake for the ceremony.\u201d He looked up where Hoss lay, and Hoss jerked back, flattening himself against the ground. \u201cEven if the large one does not die up there, he is wounded badly enough that he won\u2019t trouble us. And if he could, he would be shooting at us.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt was Hoss, one of the brothers. And you never should\u2019ve done that. They\u2019re going to come after you now. And how do we know the rest of the family isn\u2019t close by? Can\u2019t we just hurry and get this over with and leave?\u201d Lana\u2019s nervousness was clear in her voice.<\/p>\n

\u201cNothing must stop what we are doing, not even his family. Once we have completed the ritual, Joseph will go along with anything you demand of him. And as I have told you, everything must be done in the proper order. If we do not do it correctly, it is all for naught. First, he must be purified. Joseph, you may rise now. Come over here, where the water spills down over the rocks.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss eased back up to the edge and watched Joe follow the Paiute to the half-dry falls, where boulders tumbled sharply downward. The water, clear and icy cold, spilled over the precipice in a stream not much more than the width of a man\u2019s body and maybe eight inches deep, splashing against only the rocks in the center of the mass of small boulders below and leaving the rest dry and hot and white.<\/p>\n

Joe did as the Paiute directed him, lying on his back lengthwise in the stream at the top of the fall, his head pointed downstream and lolling back over the edge. Lana stood to the side watching as the Paiute pulled an object from his belt, a gourd rattle, and shook it at the sky as he began to sing in his own tongue. He walked slowly around Joe as he sang and shook the rattle, and with one foot nudged each of Joe\u2019s hands and feet out away from his sides until he lay in a wide spread-eagle, a human cross in the center of the little stream. The Indian continued to sing, and the water pushed at Joe\u2019s body, splitting to run around him, against him, over him, slicking his belly and chest with shining wetness before running down over his throat and face and then spilling onto the rocks below. For Joe\u2019s part, he lay absolutely still. He didn\u2019t even look to be shivering, although Hoss knew good and well that the water was darned cold. He simply laid there, neck arched back over a rock, eyes wide open and fixed downriver, as if he found the image of the upside-down landscape too fascinating to ignore.<\/p>\n

The Indian continued to sing as he left Joe and walked over to the two oblong rocks, the ones that resembled a tabletop and its base. He laid his rattle down. When he pulled a knife with a long blade from the sheath at his side, Hoss sucked in a breath. The Indian chanted in an odd singsong voice and held the knife high in the air, both fists wrapped around the hilt, blade stabbing up at the sky.<\/p>\n

God help us. What do I do?<\/em>\u00a0Hoss’s helplessness ate at his gut like acid. He thought\u2014hoped\u2014prayed\u2014that Pa and Adam were likely near enough to have heard the shots. Something was coming to a deadly head here, though he didn\u2019t understand exactly what it was. And Joe was apparently as helpless to stop it, in a very strange way, as he himself was. His first assumption that Joe was unharmed had been grievously incorrect.<\/p>\n

There was something seriously, seriously wrong with his little brother.<\/p>\n

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

Lana cast another anxious glance up at the rocks where Hoss Cartwright had been. She hadn\u2019t seen him since he had exchanged shots with Monkota, but the timber at the top of the steep bank was heavy and thick, creating dark shadows even in the bright noon sunshine. He could be hiding. Still, she thought Monkota must be right; if he was able, he would\u2019ve already shot back at the Indian again.<\/p>\n

She sighed, wishing again that Monkota would hurry with all his strange nonsense. She had half a mind to call a halt to the whole thing, send the Indian packing, and take Joe back home. Their home, the two of them, hers and Joe\u2019s.<\/p>\n

Only\u2026she looked back up where Hoss had been. If he was still alive, he\u2019d know where to find Joe even if she took him back. He\u2019d tell the others.<\/p>\n

Well, the Cartwrights were going to figure that out sooner or later anyway. But surely the medicine man\u2019s potions and teas and magic had done enough of its work to make Joe refuse to leave her now. Look how he had responded when the Indian shot his brother, for heaven\u2019s sake. Yes, he\u2019d made an effort to prevent Hoss from being shot, but immediately after, he\u2019d fallen right back under the Indian\u2019s control again. He hadn\u2019t even insisted on climbing up to check on his brother, something she would never have believed if she hadn\u2019t seen it herself. The Cartwrights normally stuck together like ticks on a hound. For Joe to obey Monkota and not climb up there was better proof than anything else could\u2019ve been that the Indian knew what he was doing with that magic of his.<\/p>\n

With that in mind, perhaps it really would be best if she let him finish\u2026<\/p>\n

You\u2019re not Julia.<\/em>\u00a0Joe\u2019s words floated up out of her memory and came at her like a slap in the face. She tightened her mouth. Yes. The Paiute medicine man had proven his skill, and she\u2019d let him finish his work. She wanted every assurance that, before the day was out, Joe would be well and truly hers.<\/p>\n

She looked down at Joe, lying there so still in the cold, cold water. His chest rose and fell in slow, even breaths; other than that, he didn\u2019t move at all. His neck was arched sharply back; his throat and jaw was slightly dark with stubble, reminding her that she\u2019d need to shave him when they got back. Or perhaps not, she told herself, thinking of the raspy brush of his jaw against her throat as his mouth nuzzled her skin. She gave a little wriggle of restless tension and wished again that the Paiute would hurry.<\/p>\n

But the Indian was still chanting, laying different objects on that flat slab of rock, so she knew he still had more to this little \u2018ritual\u2019 of his. But he\u2019d said it would end at high noon, and it was getting close to that now, so it surely wouldn\u2019t be much longer. She could be patient for a few more minutes.<\/p>\n

She turned back to Joe, letting her gaze travel the length of his body, taking him in the way she\u2019d drink a tall, cool glass of water on a hot summer day. The soaked fabric of his trousers clung to him like a second skin, and though she\u2019d now seen him plenty of times with nothing on at all, there was something about seeing him like this\u2014covered, and yet so exposed\u2014that caused a ripple of excitement to rush through her. Her eyes moved on up to the flat, firm planes of his belly and the hard-muscled chest, where water pearled on his skin and caught the sun. Her breathing quickened still more.<\/p>\n

Heavens, he was beautiful. The thought that she would have him in her bed every night from now on hardened her resolve. Monkota was right. Nothing and nobody must interfere with her plans for him, and Hoss would\u2019ve definitely interfered. She slid a sly glance toward Monkota. In the end, she would claim she had been held hostage by the Indian, just as Joe had. She was a victim, not at all responsible for what had happened to Hoss, or for the fact that she had been forced to lie when Ben Cartwright had come to her home asking about Joe. Why, Monkota had had a gun trained on her the entire time, and if she had said one wrong word, he would\u2019ve killed her. Yes, that was it.<\/p>\n

Her plans in order, she went back to the pleasurable task of looking at the man lying at her feet.<\/p>\n

\u201cJoe? Can you hear me, darling?\u201d<\/p>\n

He didn\u2019t answer, but his throat worked up and down as he swallowed. She couldn\u2019t see his face from this angle, so she walked around to the edge of the drop-off. His eyes, wide open and unswerving from whatever he watched so intently\u2014something she knew only he could see\u2014reflected the color of the pines and junipers growing so thickly up on the high banks.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s almost over, Joe. It won\u2019t be long now. You are mine now. Do you understand?\u201d<\/p>\n

He swallowed again, and then nodded, and Lana almost clapped in delight.<\/p>\n

\u201cI want you to say it. Say, \u2018I love you, Lana\u2019. Go on now.\u201d<\/p>\n

His voice was soft and rough at the same time, like the rocks and the silken water that glided over them. \u201cI love you\u2026Lana.\u201d<\/p>\n

She sighed in triumphant satisfaction. The medicine man had done what he had promised. Hearing these words from Joe told her she had been right to trust Monkota, and she would continue to trust him to the very end. And then she would pin all blame on the Indian. Joe had realized how much he loved her while they were being held prisoner together. That\u2019s what she would have him tell his family. Yes, yes,\u00a0yes.<\/em>\u00a0It would all fall together perfectly.<\/p>\n

At last, she had exactly what she wanted. And nobody\u2014nobody\u2014would ever take it from her.<\/p>\n

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

The water was cold, but he welcomed the bite of it. It made him remember that he lived and breathed. Without the cold, he thought he might\u2019ve just slipped over the edge of the falls and become part of the little stream of water, just one more current rolling over the rocks.<\/em><\/p>\n

Or maybe he could just let go and fly, like the red hawk circling in the sky above him. He thought about it, about letting the water just nudge him off the edge so that he could float free, even raised one hand a tiny bit to let go. But then he remembered Pa, the strange new Pa who had brought him here, and he knew he had to stay where he had been told to stay. He couldn\u2019t fly until Pa released him.<\/p>\n

\u201cI want you to say it. Say, \u2018I love you, Lana\u2019. Go on now.\u201d<\/p>\n

He had to do what she demanded of him, always, just as he had to obey Pa. There was no Joe Cartwright any more; he was only what they wanted him to be, no more.<\/p>\n

\u201cI love you\u2026Lana.\u201d They were only words. He felt nothing from them, not anger, not unhappiness, not resentment. Certainly not love. He remembered what love felt like.<\/p>\n

He remembered Julia.<\/p>\n

He hadn\u2019t learned much from love in his life, he didn\u2019t think. How to lose someone, how to let go, that was mostly what he\u2019d learned from love. As far as he could tell, love was something that came along mainly to gun you down. And how could you ever hope to shoot somebody who outdrew you? That\u2019s what love was. Somebody who outdrew him, time after time.<\/p>\n

\u201cJoe? I\u2019m here with you.\u201d<\/p>\n

He could see her, just out of reach, smiling at him. Julia.<\/p>\n

\u201cI love you,\u201d he whispered, and the little stream grabbed the words and dashed them onto the rocks below.<\/p>\n

But she heard. \u201cI know,\u201d she said softly. \u201cI love you, too. But Little Joe, it\u2019s time to let me go.\u201d<\/p>\n

He felt a rush of panic. \u201cI can\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou can\u2019t hold onto me forever, darling. It\u2019s too hard. Joe, it\u2019s time to stop now.\u201d<\/p>\n

He shook his head, but in his heart, he knew she was right. She\u2019d always been right. He couldn\u2019t let go of the creek bed and fly yet, but there were some things he could let go of, even though he knew it would hurt.<\/p>\n

And so he did. He turned loose, felt her leaving, felt her drifting away from him for good, and he shuddered with the searing, raw pain of it. Something broke loose inside him and left with her, and he was glad, for it was a tiny part of him that still belonged to him and would never belong to Monkota.<\/p>\n

\u201cJoe?\u201d<\/p>\n

Monkota stood over him again. He knew it was Monkota, knew it wasn\u2019t his real pa, had known the instant he had shot at Hoss earlier, but it didn\u2019t matter. Monkota owned him.<\/p>\n

\u201cI want you to lie still. Do not move.\u201d<\/p>\n

He was already lying still. If he lay any more still, he\u2019d simply seep down into the rocks and disappear. But with his head dropped down over the rocky edge, he couldn\u2019t see much of Monkota. He lifted his head. Sun flashed in his eyes, glinting off the knife in Monkota\u2019s hand.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, just lie still,\u201d Monkota repeated, and gently pushed his head back down. \u201cDo not move until I tell you.\u201d<\/p>\n

So he let his head hang down again, letting the water pour over his throat and through his hair. He could hear Lana asking questions, her voice high and nervous. And someone yelling. A man.<\/p>\n

Hoss.<\/p>\n

His heartbeat quickened at the sound of his brother\u2019s voice. He hadn\u2019t allowed himself to think of Hoss since Monkota had shot at him, because he knew he would splinter apart if he did. But it was Hoss\u2019s voice all right, loud and angry and scared.<\/p>\n

Especially scared.<\/p>\n

He wished he could look up and find him, but he couldn\u2019t. Monkota had already had to tell him twice to lie still. He couldn\u2019t risk disobeying again.<\/p>\n

\u201cJoe, fight! You\u2019ve got to fight him! Joe, please!\u201d<\/p>\n

Poor Hoss. The pain in his voice made Joe want to do what he asked, but he couldn\u2019t. He might as well be asking him to fight the sun as it moved across the sky.<\/p>\n

A quick spear of pain stung his throat, and he blinked. Lana screamed. Hoss bellowed in rage. Fluid warmth slid up over his jaw and ran down the sides of his face; from the corner of his eye, he could see it swirl briefly, red warmth washed away by cold water.<\/p>\n

More roaring from Hoss; Joe winced at the awful pain slicing through the sound of it. And more screaming from Lana, until it abruptly broke off with a sharp bark from Monkota.<\/p>\n

\u201cStop your screeching,\u201d he snapped. \u201cI have not killed him. You see? The cut is a shallow one. It is part of the purification. The river washes away old tainted blood and leaves him clean. He is fine.\u201d<\/p>\n

A little hiccup from Lana. \u201cYou didn\u2019t tell me you were going to hurt him.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe is not hurt. Joseph, you may rise now, and come with me.\u201d<\/p>\n

He got to his feet, his body stiff. Cold water sluiced from him and puddled on the rocks at his feet. A thin trickle of blood, made more fluid by the water, ran down his chest. Above him, Hoss was shouting, his voice odd and shaky and un-Hosslike.<\/p>\n

\u201cLittle Joe!\u201d Hoss\u2019s voice rang against the rocks. \u201cJust hold on. We\u2019re comin\u2019 to get you. I can see Pa and Adam from here. They\u2019re ridin\u2019 fast. They\u2019re comin\u2019. Do you hear me, Joe?\u201d<\/p>\n

Yes, he could hear him just fine. He could see him, too, his wide face starkly white against the background of dark fir branches as he peered down over the drop-off. Joe\u2019s heart made a little leap at the thought of finally seeing Pa again\u2014his real Pa. He couldn\u2019t see him yet, though, not from down here in the bottom of the creek bed.<\/p>\n

\u201cJoseph! Listen only to me, no one else,\u201d Monkota commanded. \u201cCome here.\u201d Then he handed one of the rifles to Lana, saying, \u201cIf the large one tells the truth and the other Cartwrights do come, shoot them. We must not let them stop us. You know we will not receive another chance.\u201d<\/p>\n

Lana nodded, eyes narrowed in hard determination. \u201cYes, I know.\u201d<\/p>\n

Monkota hesitated. \u201cDo not be disturbed by anything you see. Once again, you may think I mean harm to the boy, but as you have seen, he is safe enough. Concentrate on keeping the others away. Can you do this?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d she nodded quickly. \u201cI\u2019ll keep them away. Just get it done.\u201d<\/p>\n

A ripple of worry and fear moved through Joe. They meant to harm Pa. But Monkota spoke to him again, and he had to do what he was told. He did his best to block out Hoss\u2019s voice calling to him, and followed Monkota to the flat slab of rock. A wooden bowl, Monkota\u2019s rattle, and a couple of strange objects that Joe didn\u2019t recognize were laid out along one end of the rock.<\/p>\n

\u201cClimb up and lie on your back.\u201d Monkota was speaking in a rush now, and was throwing an anxious glance around the top of the bank.<\/p>\n

The flat top of the rock was only waist-high; Joe did as Monkota told him. The heat of the sun-warmed rock radiated into the skin of his bare back, and he felt his muscles relax and turn to liquid. Standing over him, Monkota raised the wooden bowl to the sky with both hands and began to sing. Hoss was yelling again, so loud that hoarseness was beginning to creak through his voice. The little stream was burbling down over the fall, spattering on the rocks below. And Joe could hear hoof beats in the distance, light thunder growing rapidly closer.<\/p>\n

Slowly, he turned his head to the side. Several hundred yards up the creek, two horses, horses he knew, scrabbling down the steep western bank at too fast and careless a pace to be safe, their riders spurring them hard. Shouts from the riders\u2014riders he knew were Adam and Pa. Shouts from Hoss.<\/p>\n

Monkota stopped singing. Joe turned his head back to stare up at him. The Paiute now held a knife in his hand, the same knife he\u2019d used earlier on skin that still stung. The sun blazed down into Joe\u2019s eyes and onto the knife blade, making the metal sparkle and flash.<\/p>\n

\u201cSay the words I taught you,\u201d Monkota said.<\/p>\n

\u201cI am bound to carry out my father\u2019s will,\u201d Joe said. But whose will was that, exactly? This wasn\u2019t his father; his father would never have shot Hoss. Never. Monkota wasn\u2019t his pa. But it still made no difference, for Monkota held his soul in his fist.<\/p>\n

Monkota began to chant again and raised the knife high over his head, holding onto it with both hands. And Joe knew then that the blade would be coming down for him.<\/p>\n

He was going to die today. It was Monkota\u2019s will.<\/p>\n

Monkota\u2019s singing became more intense, the notes climbing higher. Joe turned his face back to the side so that he couldn\u2019t see the knife when it made that final sweeping arc down. Adam and Pa were jumping off the horses now, running toward him, drawing their guns.<\/p>\n

Lana raised the rifle and aimed, and Joe drew in a gasping breath. She was going to shoot them. She was going to shoot Adam.<\/p>\n

Shoot Pa.<\/p>\n

Panic swelled up into his throat, and he had lurched sideways before he thought about what he was doing, desperate only to get to Lana and stop her. Pain lanced across the left side of his chest, searing and hot, and he heard both Monkota and Pa roar in outrage. The knife was raised high once again. Lana\u2019s rifle rang out. Two more shots immediately followed.<\/p>\n

And something snapped in Joe, deep inside. He kicked at the shaman even as the knife plunged toward him once more. The slicing path of the blade skittered across his left shoulder, but he barely registered the pain as he threw himself off the rock.<\/p>\n

On his hands and knees, he clawed his way across the rocky surface of the creek bed, kicking out as Monkota grabbed at his legs. He struggled to his feet.<\/p>\n

And he ran.<\/p>\n

When he finally stopped running, he stood at the top of the falls. The bottom of the drop-off swayed before him. Behind him, he heard Monkota call his name, and it was as if he\u2019d been drawn up on a leash. He stilled, turned. Monkota stood a few feet away, breathing hard, but with his expression now calm. The knife he held in one hand was dark with blood.<\/p>\n

His brothers were still shouting. The words \u201cno clear shot\u201d rang out over and over again. Pa was calling out his name. And Monkota moved steadily toward him.<\/p>\n

He turned back and looked over the edge of the fall. There was release to be had there, even if Monkota did own him. If he didn\u2019t take it, he would always belong to the shaman. He took a step closer to the edge, bare feet balanced on smooth, round rocks spattered red with his blood.<\/p>\n

\u201cJoseph, turn and listen to me.\u201d<\/p>\n

He didn\u2019t want to, but he had no choice. It was Monkota, after all. He turned to face him, and saw something flicker across the Indian\u2019s face. Caution. Fear.<\/p>\n

\u201cLet me come to you, Joseph. You want to escape, but the route you are thinking of is not the way. It will serve no purpose. Let me come to you, and I will set you free.\u201d His voice was soft and cajoling.<\/p>\n

He stepped closer, and Joe stepped back, dislodging a stone as he moved. It fell into the mass of boulders below, shattering into pieces when it hit.<\/p>\n

\u201cI will release you. Let me.\u201d<\/p>\n

He came closer, and closer still. Joe turned his head and looked out over the precipice, thinking of how he had earlier thought he might actually fly if he just let himself go over the edge. He could do that. Just let go and\u2026fly.<\/p>\n

\u201cBe still, my son,\u201d Monkota whispered, and raised the knife.<\/p>\n

As he brought it down, another shot boomed against the rocks, and Monkota\u2019s face changed from focused intent to wide-eyed surprise. The movement of the knife halted. And then he crumpled into a heap at Joe\u2019s feet, the knife clattering onto the rocks. Several yards away, Adam was down on one knee, smoke still drifting from the\u00a0barrel of\u00a0his rifle. And Pa\u2026Pa was running toward him.<\/p>\n

\u201cJoe! You\u2019re safe, son. Move away from the edge now.\u201d<\/p>\n

Poor Pa. He didn\u2019t know yet that he was only looking at a shell. The part of Little Joe that Pa knew was still tight within Monkota\u2019s grasp, and Joe was afraid it always would be. He was outside himself. Even the cuts on his chest and shoulder didn\u2019t hurt, though he didn\u2019t see how that could be with all the blood that was coming from them. Just as he\u2019d feared, he\u2019d sunk so deep inside Monkota\u2019s dark tunnel that he could no longer see his way out.<\/p>\n

The rocks beneath his feet shifted, forcing him to readjust his stance. More rocks went over the edge at his back. Now there\u2026there was a way out. He could just fall out into the air and he\u2019d be free of Monkota for good.<\/p>\n

\u201cJoe.\u201d<\/p>\n

He looked back at Pa, who now stood only a few feet away, his hand held out toward him, his fingers beckoning. \u201cCome to me, son.\u201d His voice was very soft, and he kept his hand outstretched even as he stepped forward with careful, deliberate movements. He stepped over Monkota\u2019s body. \u201cTake my hand. Everything\u2019s all right now.\u201d<\/p>\n

He wished he could go to him. Oh, how he wished he could. If only he wasn\u2019t so lost, he would try.<\/p>\n

An owl\u2019s lonesome call drifted on the air.<\/p>\n

Joe shut his eyes and leaned back into nothingness.<\/p>\n

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

\u201cDear God.\u201d The choked words shuddered their way out of Ben\u2019s chest as he collapsed upon the rocks with his son cradled against him. It had been so close\u2026so close. He\u2019d barely managed to grab the boy in time to keep him from falling over the edge of the falls; violent tremors moved through him now as he thought of it. \u201cDear God,\u201d he whispered again. He pressed Joe\u2019s head against his chest and held on tight, the blood from the knife wounds seeping into his own shirt.<\/p>\n

\u201cPa?\u201d Adam skidded up behind them. He took one look at the blood staining Ben\u2019s clothing and tore his own shirt off, ripping it into strips. Together, they wrapped the cloth tightly around Joe\u2019s injured shoulder and chest, staunching the flow. Through it all, Joe\u2019s body lay limp as a ragdoll in Ben\u2019s arms, eyes shut.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe girl has a shoulder wound, nothing serious,\u201d Adam told him as they worked, and then looked up at Hoss, who waved weakly from the top of the bank. \u201cSit tight, Hoss. I\u2019m coming up now.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll be right here,\u201d Hoss called drily. Then, all his worry strong in his voice, \u201cPa? What\u2019s wrong with Joe?\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben met Adam\u2019s gaze. They\u2019d all seen the same thing: the way Joe had simply laid himself down on that slab of rock, docile and patiently waiting for the Indian to stab him even while they were all shouting for him to run. The odd, vacant expression in his eyes as he\u2019d hovered there over the edge of the falls. The lack of response when Ben had begged him to take his hand\u2026.<\/p>\n

He had no answers, not for Hoss, not for himself.<\/p>\n

\u201cLet\u2019s get your brothers home, Adam.\u201d<\/p>\n

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

Roy Coffee leaned forward across his desk. \u201cI\u2019m tellin\u2019 you, Adam, if you would have told me that Joe was right there under our noses, right in Lana Bancroft\u2019s house all that time, I never would have believed it. You could\u2019ve knocked me over with a feather when I heard he had turned up safe and sound.\u201d Roy shook his head.<\/p>\n

There was a silence as Adam looked down at the desk and then up again. \u201cYeah, he\u2019s\u2026safe.\u201d Sound was another matter entirely, Adam thought. His kid brother was anything but himself. He ate, spoke, answered questions\u2026but he didn\u2019t laugh, didn\u2019t smile, and maybe most disturbing of all, he recoiled from any kind of touch. He cooperated when it was time to change the dressings on his knife wounds, but as soon as it was finished, he made it clear that he wanted to be left alone.<\/p>\n

Roy must have seen the doubt in his face. \u201cHow is he, Adam?\u201d he asked softly.<\/p>\n

Adam shook his head. \u201cWe\u2019re not sure yet. We\u2019re hoping he can shake free of it, but\u2026\u201d He shook his head. \u201cDoc says there\u2019s a good chance he\u2019ll be just fine in a few days.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut?\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam sighed. \u201cBut there\u2019s a chance he won\u2019t be, either. Apparently the effects of something like this can be long-lasting or even permanent. We just don\u2019t know yet.\u201d<\/p>\n

Roy\u2019s leathery face sagged with disappointment. \u201cGosh darn it, I was sure hopin\u2019 you\u2019d have better news than that,\u201d he sighed. \u201cAnd how about Hoss? I heard he was healin\u2019 up pretty good. He\u2019ll be all right?\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam had to smile. \u201cHis appetite isn\u2019t hurting, at least. Doc says he got lucky. The bullet didn\u2019t splinter the bone. It was a clean break.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, now, that\u2019s some good news, at least.\u201d A smile lit Roy\u2019s blue eyes up and then faded again. \u201cUh, Adam\u2026I\u2019m glad you stopped by. Can you let Ben know I need to talk to him about Lana Bancroft? She\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou can talk to me about Mrs. Bancroft. What about her?\u201d Adam knew his voice was cold and hard, but he didn\u2019t care.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell\u2026she\u2019s claimin\u2019 she did none of this on her own. Says the Indian was holding her and Joe both hostage, and forced her to shoot at you and Ben. She was afraid he\u2019d kill her if she didn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, she told us that story, too.\u201d<\/p>\n

Roy cleared his throat, and seemed to find a sudden extreme interest in his folded hands. \u201cShe also says Joe swears he loves her. Says they\u2026had relations. The whole time Joe was in her house.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam grimaced. \u201cIt wasn\u2019t\u2014it wasn\u2019t relations.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCall it what you want. I\u2019m just trying to get the story straight. You told me yourself that after you got the three of them back to the house in the wagon, you had to physically pry her loose from the boy. \u201cHe loves me, he loves me\u2014that\u2019s all she kept yellin\u2019, is what you told me earlier. Now you\u2019re tellin\u2019 me that nothin\u2019 went on between those two?\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam pressed hard on the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes. \u201cNo, I\u2019m not saying nothing went on. But it wasn\u2019t\u2014\u201d He shook his head and swallowed hard. At first they\u2019d believed her, and thought she was hysterical from the ordeal she\u2019d been through.<\/p>\n

But then later, Joe had started spilling his guts about everything that had gone on in that house. It came in fits and starts. Half of it he had told with his head clear. Some things, darker things, he held back, but it, too, came out during those periods while he was out of his head. Or maybe he wasn\u2019t holding it back on purpose. Maybe he didn\u2019t even remember a lot of it. Doc had said that was possible. Chances were he didn\u2019t even realize what he had and hadn\u2019t told them. But what he said was enough for them to know what hand Lana Bancroft had played in it all.<\/p>\n

Because he knew it had to be done, Adam repeated everything Joe had said to Roy. What Joe\u2019s days and nights had been like. How he\u2019d been kept. What had gone on in the widow\u2019s bedroom. He held Roy\u2019s gaze while he talked, because he had to keep reminding himself that Roy could be trusted with what he was being told.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, now,\u201d Roy said when it had all been said. His voice was purposely calm and matter-of-fact, but his complexion had become clammy and a shade paler in color. \u201cI guess that puts a whole different light on the story from the way Mrs. Bancroft told it. Fact is, Adam, there\u2019d be a word for something like this if it had happened to a woman hostage instead of Joe.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah,\u201d Adam said softly. \u201cThere would be a word for it.\u201d<\/p>\n

There was a long pause while Roy tapped a pen against a stack of paperwork.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat about everything Hoss heard from up there on the river bank?\u201d Adam asked abruptly. \u201cDoesn\u2019t that carry any weight?\u201d<\/p>\n

Roy shook his head. \u201cMeans nothing if she says she was forced into it all. You realize that official inquiries will have to be made. If you think she\u2019s lying\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShe\u2019s lying,\u201d Adam interrupted.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat ain\u2019t\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou didn\u2019t see the look on his face when he came to in the wagon and she was there beside him.\u201d The boy had looked as if he\u2019d been tossed into a nest of rattlers.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d Roy said slowly, \u201cI didn\u2019t. But if you think she\u2019s lying, there will need to be a trial. If you Cartwrights plan to press charges, that is.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam would be more than happy to press whatever charges he could against the woman. But he didn\u2019t say that to Roy. Instead, he said, \u201cI can\u2019t speak for Joe on that issue. I don\u2019t know what he\u2019ll want to do.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, then, it\u2019s up to him to decide to come forward and tell his side of things, ain\u2019t it? If there\u2019s no trial, and Joe ain\u2019t talkin\u2019, we got nothin\u2019 to go on but what Mrs. Bancroft says. As of now, she\u2019s considered a victim same as Joe.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam pictured Lana Bancroft again as she\u2019d been when they\u2019d pulled her, screaming, away from Joe so that they could carry him into the house. Adam had finally gotten a grip on her while Pa and Hoss eased Joe out of the wagon. He\u2019d been compelled to wrap both arms around her and hold tight to keep from being kicked or punched in the teeth. She was an average-sized woman, but she was strong, even with the bullet graze on her shoulder.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou can\u2019t keep me from him,\u201d<\/em>\u00a0she had shrieked.\u00a0\u201cI\u2019m carrying his child.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

Now hearing her words ringing in his head, Adam blanched.<\/p>\n

Roy noticed and shook his head. \u201cI\u2019m sorry, Adam. This has been a real nightmare for your family.\u201d<\/p>\n

And some nightmares extend into the waking hours<\/em>, Adam thought. Only time would tell how far this particular nightmare would reach.<\/p>\n

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

Joe lay in bed with his eyes shut, though he certainly had no intention of sleeping. He kept seeing things when he did drift off, like Monkota standing in the corner of his room, watching him.<\/p>\n

Sometimes he saw him there even while he was awake.<\/p>\n

Paul Martin and his father stood in the hallway just outside his door. Their voices were low, but he could catch little snips of the conversation if he strained his ears.<\/p>\n

\u201cDrugged state\u2026delirium\u2026hallucinations\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

Hallucinations. He knew all about hallucinations by now, enough to know you didn\u2019t always know if you were having one or not. He\u2019d been home for three days now, and he still couldn\u2019t always tell what was real and what wasn\u2019t. Sometimes he wondered if he was really home at all. Maybe\u00a0that<\/em>\u00a0was a hallucination.<\/p>\n

The first night had been the worst. He could have sworn Monkota was there in his room, knife in hand, ready to leap on him. And then he\u00a0did<\/em>\u00a0leap, and Joe had screamed his throat raw trying to fight him off, but the Indian had the strength of two men. When he finally came to himself again, out of what Doc Martin had called a \u2018waking dream\u2019, he figured out pretty quick why Monkota was so strong\u2014it was actually Pa and Adam holding him down, not Monkota at all.<\/p>\n

He\u2019d never forget the way Pa\u2019s face looked then\u2014angry and sad and scared, all at the same time.<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2026tomorrow to check on him and Hoss\u2026lots of rest\u2026\u201d Doc Martin was saying his goodbyes.<\/p>\n

In a few moments, Pa\u2019s footsteps came quietly into his room and stopped at the side of the bed. Joe could feel him looking down at him, but he kept his eyes shut in hopes that he would go away.<\/p>\n

I\u2019ve lied to you. Always.<\/em><\/p>\n

The words which had struck so deep floated through his head again, just as they had every day since he first heard them. They weren\u2019t really Pa\u2019s words, he knew that. But somehow Pa and Monkota were all mixed up in his head, and he couldn\u2019t seem to separate the two.<\/p>\n

\u201cLittle Joe?\u201d<\/p>\n

Go away, go away, go away\u2026<\/em><\/p>\n

A touch on his head\u2014Pa\u2019s hand, and he flinched away, seized by an abrupt and uncontrollable panic. He threw himself to the other side of the bed and fell to the floor, trying to scramble to his feet but snared by a tangle of bedclothes.<\/p>\n

\u201cJoe!\u201d<\/p>\n

He managed to kick free of the sheets and turned to run\u2014but there was only a wall behind him. Pa stood between him and the door, and there was no way for him to reach freedom without going through Pa. So he backed up until the wall pressed against him, and then he slid sideways along it until he reached the corner, keeping his eyes on Pa the whole time. He shook with fear and the need to flee.<\/p>\n

\u201cJoe, son\u2026\u201d Pa held out his hands toward him, and there were tears glinting in his eyes.<\/p>\n

I\u2019ve lied to you. Always.<\/em><\/p>\n

Pa walked slowly toward him, speaking in a low, soft voice, but Joe couldn\u2019t hear what he was saying. He knew only that he was trapped. As Pa came closer, his fear roared higher, blocking out all sound, consuming him like a raging fire consumed dry wood. At last, out of options, he resorted to the same action he had taken three days earlier\u2014he dropped down to the floor and huddled in a ball, arms over his head, as if warding off blows.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry, I\u2019m sorry, I\u2019m sorry,\u201d he whispered.<\/p>\n

And then Pa was pulling him up close, holding him tight, murmuring words to him that he couldn\u2019t understand. He resisted, trying to push away, only to feel Pa\u2019s grip tighten.<\/p>\n

\u201cI will not lose you.\u201d Pa\u2019s voice was fierce despite the trembling in it. \u201cNot like this. Not like this.\u201d Pa\u2019s body began to shudder, and Joe suddenly realized his father was crying\u2014deep, heaving sobs. Joe had heard him cry like that only once before, long ago, and it frightened him to hear it now, almost as much as the visions of Monkota standing in the corner of his room did.<\/p>\n

Pa\u2026poor Pa. It wasn\u2019t right that Monkota had done this to him. To them. Anger rose up in him, just as hot as the fear had been only moments ago. Monkota was dead, and he was glad. If Adam hadn\u2019t shot him, he\u2019d have gone out to hunt him down himself. He\u2019d have killed him. He\u2019d have\u2026. He sagged. It didn\u2019t matter. Monkota\u00a0was<\/em>\u00a0dead.<\/p>\n

He was\u00a0dead.<\/em>\u00a0Not here, not in his room, not watching. Dead. He struggled to hold on to that fact, to put it in his head and keep it there.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll find you, Joe. I\u2019ll come for you.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

He couldn\u2019t remember now if he\u2019d dreamed those words or really heard them. \u201cI waited for you, Pa. Every day I thought you might come. I watched for you.\u201d The words were spilling out in a rush, and he couldn\u2019t stop them. \u201cAnd then\u2026I got confused. I thought you were with me, but you weren\u2019t. I thought I could hear you sometimes. I thought\u2026I thought\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShh\u2026\u201d Pa said. \u201cShh. It\u2019s all right. It\u2019s all right.\u201d And this time, when he pulled Joe\u2019s head to his chest, Joe didn\u2019t push away.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou came for me, Pa,\u201d he mumbled into his father\u2019s shirt, and then the tears began to come. Hot, purging, purifying tears.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, I came for you,\u201d Pa whispered. \u201cI found you.\u201d<\/p>\n

They sat on the floor of Joe\u2019s room for a very long time, Joe clasped tight in his pa\u2019s embrace. And if Monkota\u2019s ghost and his words of a father\u2019s betrayal weren\u2019t completely washed from Joe\u2019s mind, he at least had hope that they someday would be. Until then, the truth of Pa\u2019s words rang out over everything, whispered over and over, there on the floor in the corner of his room.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll always find you, Joe. Always.\u201d<\/p>\n

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

 <\/p>\n

Disclaimer:\u00a0All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

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

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

Summary: \u00a0An unlikely alliance between two people spells deadly trouble for Joe.\u00a0 His survival depends entirely upon the strength of family bonds.<\/p>\n

Rated:\u00a0K+ \u00a0WC \u00a031,400<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":65,"featured_media":7327,"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_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[23,41],"tags":[14,15,17,16,22],"class_list":["post-7425","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-drama","category-hurtcomfort","tag-adam-cartwright","tag-ben","tag-hoss","tag-joe","tag-roy-coffee","wpcat-23-id","wpcat-41-id"],"a3_pvc":{"activated":true,"total_views":3176,"today_views":1},"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/05\/0686.jpg?fit=3888%2C2592&ssl=1","jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack-related-posts":[{"id":12136,"url":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=12136","url_meta":{"origin":7425,"position":0},"title":"The Rebirth of Joe Cartwright (by DebbieB)","author":"DebbieB","date":"August 1, 2003","format":false,"excerpt":"DebbieB passed away Christmas 2021. Any reader wishing to read this story should e:mail the Brandsters:\u00a0 Brandsters2020@gmail.com","rel":"","context":"In "Drama"","block_context":{"text":"Drama","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?cat=23"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/10\/feature-2.jpg?fit=338%2C338&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200},"classes":[]},{"id":12135,"url":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=12135","url_meta":{"origin":7425,"position":1},"title":"Prelude to Rebirth (by DebbieB)","author":"DebbieB","date":"August 1, 2003","format":false,"excerpt":"DebbieB passed away Christmas 2021. Any reader wishing to read this story should e:mail the Brandsters:\u00a0 Brandsters2020@gmail.com","rel":"","context":"In "Drama"","block_context":{"text":"Drama","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?cat=23"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/09\/4Cs.jpg?fit=400%2C401&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200},"classes":[]},{"id":40802,"url":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=40802","url_meta":{"origin":7425,"position":2},"title":"Meanwhile, Back at the Ranch (A Bonanza Really Short Story) by JC","author":"JC","date":"December 24, 2022","format":false,"excerpt":"The Cartwright brothers \u2013 you know them, you love them, but let\u2019s face it \u2013 after all these years things have gotten pretty predictable around the Ponderosa. It\u2019s the same old story in a nutshell... Rating: G WC: 563","rel":"","context":"In "Family"","block_context":{"text":"Family","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?cat=1008"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/11\/The-Saga-of-Annie-O-Toole.jpg?fit=600%2C472&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/11\/The-Saga-of-Annie-O-Toole.jpg?fit=600%2C472&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/11\/The-Saga-of-Annie-O-Toole.jpg?fit=600%2C472&ssl=1&resize=525%2C300 1.5x"},"classes":[]},{"id":12147,"url":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=12147","url_meta":{"origin":7425,"position":3},"title":"He Said Not To Tell (by DebbieB)","author":"DebbieB","date":"May 1, 2003","format":false,"excerpt":"The author requests those who wish to read this series contact her via eMail: DLB1234@aol.com","rel":"","context":"In "Drama"","block_context":{"text":"Drama","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?cat=23"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/11\/1-joe.jpg?fit=238%2C226&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200},"classes":[]},{"id":13630,"url":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=13630","url_meta":{"origin":7425,"position":4},"title":"A Cry for Freedom (by JennieA)","author":"JennieA","date":"January 7, 2003","format":false,"excerpt":"Summary:\u00a0 It started with Ben giving Little Joe more responsibility for the Ponderosa.\u00a0 Little did the family realize the course Ben was setting in motion. Rating:\u00a0 R\u00a0 (65,725 words) Due to subject matter contained in this series, the stories are only available via e:mail from the author -- ryjennie@comcast.net","rel":"","context":"In "Action\/Adventure"","block_context":{"text":"Action\/Adventure","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?cat=2"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/09\/4Cs.jpg?fit=400%2C401&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200},"classes":[]},{"id":13631,"url":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=13631","url_meta":{"origin":7425,"position":5},"title":"Freedom from Fear (by JennieA)","author":"JennieA","date":"January 14, 2003","format":false,"excerpt":"Summary:\u00a0 The aftermath of Joe's kidnapping and subsequent rescue. Rating:\u00a0 R\u00a0 (33,760) Due to the subject matter contained in this series, the stories are only available via e:mail from the author -- ryjennie@comcast.net","rel":"","context":"In "Drama"","block_context":{"text":"Drama","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?cat=23"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/09\/4Cs.jpg?fit=400%2C401&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200},"classes":[]}],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7425","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/65"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=7425"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7425\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/7327"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=7425"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=7425"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=7425"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}