"I'm coming home, Pa."
Four words. Four simple words. But my, how they made Ben Cartwright's heart soar.
As phrases go, this was only the latest that, on recollection, could make him pause and smile. One such phrase would come to him when Hoss was animated with excitement, his eyes shining with enthusiasm. Ben would see a hint of Inger in his mobile features and recall her passionate declaration, "Yes, Ben, I will marry you," which had been cried out with a warmth and exuberance to match its blue-eyed owner.
Joe's crazy laugh had been known to take Ben back to the day of his youngest's birth. He would remember pacing the hallway outside his and Marie's bedroom, back and forth, back and forth. Then everything had gone silent and Ben had stared at the door, dumbstruck with unease, before a high pitched wail pierced the air. A few moments later the doctor appeared with the kicking and clutching newborn. Raising his voice to be heard above the baby's lusty wail, the doctor had said, "It's another boy, Ben, a little fella, but strong," and handed the child to his father. He never forgot those words.
He looked at Joe who was laughing at Hoss's attempt to dampen down his flyaway hair. The 'little fella' might have been the smallest of his three boys, but the passing years and hard work had turned the boy into a man, with a hard physique to match. Joe's mop of greying hair still surprised Ben and he wondered whether Adam, who had been away for so long, would be as astonished at the change in his little brother.
Yes, the letter all those weeks ago had contained but four simple words and they warmed Ben's heart to think of them.
"I'm coming home, Pa."
Adam had been gone six long years. He had ridden out of their lives at the end of a tumultuous twelve months in which Adam's character had changed before Ben's eyes. And there had been nothing he could do about it.
During a summer of long unbroken days and sapphire blue skies, Adam had become attached to a young widow, Laura Dayton, and Ben had anticipated an imminent Cartwright wedding. But then a moment of distraction by an exhausted Adam had led to a devastating accident. He had been laid up for weeks, and spent much of that time on his back worrying he would be confined to a chair for the rest of his life. Oh, he'd put on a brave face and pretended he was confident he'd walk again. But Ben knew his son and recognised the telltale signs of feigned assurance.
He did walk again, but the damage was done. For in the time Adam was bedridden and out of sight, Laura had struggled with a secret of her own: she had fallen in love with Will Cartwright, Adam's cousin.
As Laura rode out of Adam's life, clutching tight to the arm of her new beau, Adam began to change. It was as though a broken relationship and a shattered body had unearthed truths that had lain dormant and unrecognised, and the only way Adam could fend them off was to build a barricade around him so impenetrable that no one could breach it. And, God knows, Ben had tried. Persuading Adam to open up about whatever was troubling him was like attempting to cross Lake Tahoe with a toothpick for an oar. Ben became used to seeing Adam's hunched back as, with an almost agonisingly slow gait, he would walk away from another aborted attempt to shatter his walls. And Ben despaired, because all he could do was watch as Adam was pushed and battered by whatever dark thoughts were assailing him.
Eventually, Adam proclaimed he had a growing desire to make his own way in the world; that he wanted to leave the Ponderosa and follow a path of his own making. It was a motive Ben could understand, having left home himself at a young age to pursue his dream of a life at sea. But understanding wasn't the same as accepting, and although he had suspected this day would one day come, Ben still felt as though he was losing a part of himself. As the months passed and Adam withdrew further behind his walls, he became increasingly ill-tempered and antagonistic. So when he finally announced he was leaving on the stage in a few days' time, Ben, with shame, breathed a secret sigh of relief.
Ben knew little of his boy's life after he had left. Letters, or rather, notes, had arrived from various parts of the country, but they said little. They simply wished his father and brothers a joyous season or good wishes on their birthday, or stated he was now living in New York, or Topeka, or Walla Walla. He never revealed what he did with his time; simply that he was well and missed them. Ben would always sigh when reading the latest succinct correspondence, and file it away with the others in his desk.
But now Adam was coming home. The letter announcing Adam's intentions had sent Ben running from the house to the barn where his two remaining boys were repairing a stall damaged by a spooked Buck during a recent lightning storm.
Hoss and Joe had read the spartan note, and rejoiced at their father's wide grin and clear excitement. But, as Ben had left the barn he had paused at the sound of Hoss's voice; the tone of his son's, "so help me, Joe," drawing his brows together in a frown. There was silence from within, then the sound of a bucket of a nails being stirred. Ben shook his head, concerned perhaps his boys weren't as happy about their brother's return as they'd made out. Then Hoss spoke again, and Ben cocked his head towards the barn door.
"So help me, Joe, older brother'd better come home like he says he will, or I'm gonna hunt him down, hogtie him, throw him over the back of a horse and bring him back myself. I ain't gonna have Pa fall into the doldrums like before."
Ben relaxed as his concerns were dispelled and he smiled at hearing Hoss's worry for him. But then the frown returned, for Hoss had spoken true, and it was clear the memories of that time cut deep into his sons' consciousness. Ben had fallen into a dark mood following the departure of Adam. His lust for life had become a memory for a while until he had grown used to the empty chair at the table, or the permanently closed bedroom door, or the sight of two riders, rather than three, returning home at dusk. Ben shook his head to dismiss the recollections of those dark days. They were history, the past. His boy was coming home.
He looked down C Street to the bend in the road around which the stage would shortly be tearing in its usual breakneck manner, barely staying on four wheels as it took the turn at speed. He leaned a hand against a porch support, drumming a rhythm against the wood, unaware the smile he had worn since waking had slipped from his face. It had been so long. What if the special bond they had always shared no longer existed; what if they were strangers to each other now? And for Ben Cartwright, overjoyed though he was, he couldn't help but feel a tease of anxiety on the fringe of his excitement.
Two days earlier
Adam kicked smoothly away from the edge of the pool and floated backwards through waves of wafting steam. The natural spring water was hot against his skin, but not uncomfortably so, and he could feel weeks of bone-rattling stagecoach travel ease out of his muscles. There was a strong smell of sulphur in the air but the soothing water more than made up for the odour. He looked down his body and between his upturned feet to observe the roofs of the town in the near distance. It was an uninteresting view so Adam spun himself around to face the other way and marvelled at the vista of never-ending sagebrush, coloured copper by the new day's sunrise and edged by a low ring of rocky mountains. This was more like it: a landscape that told Adam he was days from home. The corners of his mouth rose as he relaxed. It was early, yet the sun was already warm and he had to squint against the sun's bright new rays. And as his body drifted, so too did his mind.
Adam was going home.
The Laura Dayton debacle had made Adam face up to the realities of his life: he was a man in his thirties, still living under his father's roof and living by his father's rules. He had no wife and no children, and it suddenly seemed as if he had no place. When Laura left, Adam believed his last chance of being head of his own home, his own household, had left with her. He began to feel listless, as though the wider world was calling out to him. Life on the Ponderosa was good, but was it what he really wanted? His brothers relished the life, and each other, and as they would boisterously enter the house, joshing about some incident or other that had happened that day, Adam found himself growing increasingly remote from them. He began to distance himself, armed with a cool aloofness that became colder as time passed. He knew he was hurting them, and hated himself for it, but could not help himself. And it was only later he realised, without knowing it at the time, that he had been paving his way to leave. Sever the ties. Don't give them any reason to want to have you around.
And so he had left. He travelled from great metropolises to tiny desert towns. Work was found in coastal ports where he would watch the ships arrive laden with salt, coffee and sugar, and depart with cotton and tobacco. He was never tempted to board ship and sail away, though; that would have taken him too far from home. He encountered the best and worst of humankind, but this came as no surprise to a man whose father had never hidden him from the realities of life.
His restless search for a place to call his own became more and more fruitless. No sooner had he arrived in a new town and become acquainted with one or two of the inhabitants, than the urge to move on would consume him. He did not know what he was searching for, and so never found it.
In the past year he had signed onto a cattle drive to herd thousands of beeves from Texas to Kansas. Along the way he encountered hostile Indians, and homesteaders intent on protecting their newly purchased land from a great river of cattle that destroyed everything in its path. But despite such incidents, Adam had felt exhilarated for the first time in years by his return to a world he knew so well, and a yearning began deep within him to see home again. Home, where the land could ease a restless heart; where it was as though the waters of a blue lake flowed in his veins; and where his family waited, unjudging, welcoming, with hearts as large as the Ponderosa pines.
Adam's hands stroked the soft water and he propelled himself farther into the centre of the small pool. He stared up at the blue sky above, breathed in the steamy air and thought back over the last six years.
That he had failed in his quest, there was no doubt. He hadn't found a place of his own, or a woman he could love, and so his tired soul conceded defeat. But that was not important to him now. Pride be damned. All Adam wanted was to be home where he could rest without worrying about the next day and the need to find a job or a bed for the night. With every creak of the stagecoach wheels towards home, he had felt rejuvenated at the prospect of seeing the familiar old ranch house, and the land where every stone and stream and blade of grass was as recognisable as the back of his hand.
"Oh!"
An unexpected voice cut into Adam's thoughts. He raised his head in its direction and lost his centre of gravity, his body dropping below the surface of the water. A woman and an adolescent girl were standing a few feet from the water's edge. They were attired in long bathing dresses, their skirts brushing against ruffle-bottomed drawers, and straw hats shielded their faces from the strengthening sun. The woman's eyes were wide and her mouth had dropped open at the sight of a semi-naked man floating before her. She quickly whirled her younger companion around to face the opposite direction and followed suit.
"Did you not see the sign?" She pointed towards a wooden board at the side of the pool. "It clearly states that between the hours of eight o'clock and midday, this pool is reserved for the use of ladies only." Her clear high voice held a strong accent. From somewhere in Europe, Adam presumed. She huffed and said something to the girl Adam could not understand. Then, after a somewhat imperious glance over her shoulder, she started to shoo the girl up the path and away from Adam.
"Wait." Adam could not stop himself from smiling at the woman's reaction. "I'll go."
The woman stopped and angled her face over her shoulder, evidently waiting for Adam to exit the pool. He swam to the water's edge and took the opportunity to observe her profile. Her face was shaded by the large straw hat but he could make out high angular cheekbones, a small straight nose and pale skin shining in the heat. She opened her mouth to speak but changed her mind and turned to look at the distant mountains. The girl next to her glanced up at her older companion and seeing the woman's gaze fixed elsewhere, peered over her shoulder to watch Adam climb out of the pool. Her face stayed expressionless as she watched him grab his shirt and roughly rub away the excess water from his chest and shoulders. Adam noticed the girl watching and immediately turned his back hiding a grin; his wet cotton under-drawers left little to the imagination. The girl's interest was soon noticed by the woman. After a sharp tug on the arm and a rapid-fire admonishment in their native language—German, Adam decided—the girl looked down at her feet. The woman threw a sharp frown at Adam before turning away.
Adam donned his shirt and pulled his trousers over the wet under-drawers. It would be uncomfortable for a while, but he had a change of clothes back at the hotel. Now, with boots pulled on, gun belt slung low on his hips and his hat positioned just so, Adam was ready to leave. He slipped past the woman and girl but stopped a few feet away, aware of the woman's eyes burning into his back.
He turned to face them. "I'm sorry I delayed your swim. The water was so tempting I couldn't help myself." He smiled at the girl, whose eyes had grown large at the sight of the man in black. But when he looked across at the woman, he was startled to see she was staring hard at his gun with eyes white with alarm. And when she wrapped her arm around the girl's shoulders and drew her closer to her side, Adam could only frown. Should he say something? Reassure her that he carried the gun for his own defence and wouldn't hurt her? He decided against it. Instead he tipped his hat with a "ma'am", and continued along the path which led back to the town. She was clearly of a nervous disposition, and he pushed all thoughts of her out of his head.
The small town of Chia Springs had not been on the stage route when Adam had passed through it six years before. Surprised to see it on the route map, and intrigued by the literature describing secret springs only the Indians had once known about, he had decided to break his journey for a day or so to take the waters. He had been on the road for ten days by then, and the prospect of a hot soak had bolstered Adam's spirits during the long, uncomfortable journey.
He soon discovered that calling Chia Springs a town was a misnomer. In reality it was nothing more than a single street comprised of a stage stop and corral, a surprisingly grand hotel, a saloon and general store. A few houses were starting to spring up in the surrounding area as travellers learned of the spa's existence, but it was a slow business. The stage had driven past several buildings in various stages of construction and Adam's interest had been sparked watching men and boys crawling over their future homes with hammer and saw.
He had been the only traveller to alight, and after taking a room in the hotel, had stepped onto the hard-packed earth of the road, watched the stage rattle on its way, and been greeted with absolute silence. After days of snoring fellow passengers, the rackety clattering stage, and the constant jangle of harnessed horses, Adam had breathed in the hushed air. He had an afternoon to kill so snatched a towel from his room and searched out the natural pools for a long leisurely wallow. The pools had been deserted, like much of the town appeared to be, and he saw a mere handful of inhabitants going about their business. In the restaurant that evening, he was the only diner.
The following morning, Adam had not intended on taking a dip in the waters so early in the day. But, as was his habit he had woken early, and a walk before breakfast had led him to the springs. The sight of the morning sun hovering over the far horizon, and golden light bouncing off the steaming waters, had drawn Adam into the first pool he came to. He had not expected to be interrupted.
It was early evening before Adam next encountered the woman and child. He was seated alone by the window in the hotel restaurant when she swept in with her head held high. The girl, who Adam presumed to be her daughter, trailed in her wake. She paused momentarily at the sight of Adam who nodded in her direction. But the woman merely raised her chin, gathered the girl closer to her side and moved to the centre of the room where she waited to be noticed; a not difficult feat considering the sparsity of clientele. Adam raised an eyebrow and resumed his consumption of a surprisingly good steak and greens. After a few moments the waitress appeared from a back room, and with an unhurried air took the woman's order. As it was laboriously written down on the waitress's pad, Adam rose to his feet, his napkin between his fingers.
"Would you and the child care to join me for dinner?" He looked at the empty tables which surrounded him. "We are the only people here, and it would be agreeable to have some company."
The woman's arm moved around the girl's shoulders and if it was possible for her to raise her chin any higher, then she did.
"I do not know you, sir." Her strong German accent carried across the empty room. "And we do not eat with strangers." She looked back at the waitress. "We will take our meal in our room."
Adam shrugged. "As you wish." He sat back down and dug his fork into the pile of greens. The woman was plainly troubled by Adam's presence in the restaurant. Hell, she was concerned about his presence in the whole town. Adam determined to stay clear of her. If she was worried about him so much, then he would give her no cause for concern.
The sound of a half dozen horses in the road outside drew his attention. A group of men had ridden in and were dismounting across the street. One man stood out as the leader. His long white duster flapped around his calves as he lowered himself to the ground, one eye scanning the small spa town as he did. A flash of metal from the watch chain he wore across his vest caught Adam's eye, as did the low-slung gun belt resting comfortably on the man's hip. Too comfortably for Adam's liking. He watched the man signal to his men who then dispersed, heading towards the saloon and mercantile.
The long-coated leader headed towards Adam's hotel, followed by a younger man who lit a cigarette as he crossed the street. As they reached the sidewalk, Adam was surprised to see the leader turn and smack the cigarette from the young fella's lips. The older man was angry, gesticulating at the town, the hotel and waggling a finger in the youngster's face. Adam couldn't hear what was said, but as the leader turned to open the hotel door, Adam could not miss the contempt in the younger man's expression. His eyes burned into the back of the duster and Adam wondered that the leader did not feel the heat.
Adam shifted in his seat and positioned the reassuring weight of his six-shooter on his thigh. With his fork transferred to his left hand, and an elbow planted on the table, he bent over his meal and let his gun hand fall below the table.
He lost sight of the two men as they entered the hotel lobby, but a moment later the white-coated man appeared in the archway to the restaurant. The man paused, framing himself beneath the apex of the arch, and a smile started to play around his lips as he observed the woman and child. Adam watched as he then studied the room, taking in the largely empty space and the serving girl. As the man's gaze moved towards the lone diner by the window, Adam quickly looked down at his meal, placing a portion of meat into his mouth. Only when the man looked back towards the woman did Adam raise his gaze again. He saw narrow eyes in a long face and was immediately reminded of a dispassionate cougar scrutinising its next meal. The man didn't take his eyes off the woman as he moved easily across the room. His younger companion hovered by the entrance, his hand picking at the rawhide flap over his holster. The woman had not moved from the centre of the room but she had pulled herself up to her fullest height and she fixed her stare on the opposite wall.
"Johanna."
The woman turned her head away.
The man smiled and licked his lips as he momentarily looked down at his boots.
"You knew it was only a matter of time before I found you."
His words were greeted with silence. The woman, Johanna, tightened her grip on the child at her side who stared with large eyes at the newcomer.
"Your husband is a singularly persistent—and generous—employer. I could have strung this search out a lot longer, sent word back to him that you were continuing to elude me, and he would have continued to pay me. But I missed your…" the man paused and smiled, "…charming, warm and witty company."
Johanna's head turned sharply.
"You are a snake, Mr. Cordell, and I have told you before I am not going back to my husband."
Cordell's eyes moved to the serving girl who was rooted to the spot and obviously as aware as Adam of the tension fizzing through the room. With a sharp flick of his head, Cordell sent her packing and she scurried away to the kitchen. He turned to stand in front of the woman and leaned over her, directing his voice to her ear.
"You've given me the slip twice before, Johanna. It's not going to happen again. The Count wants his daughter. You, I'm guessing, are dispensable. But I'm instructed to take you back, so take you back I will."
"I'm not going."
The woman made to move away but Cordell wrapped his hand around the top of her arm.
"You're coming with me." With a sharp tug he yanked her towards the entrance, at the same time reaching out to clamp his long fingers over the girl's shoulder. The child shrank back, crying out "Mama!" as she shied from his touch, but no matter how much she wiggled she couldn't free herself from his grip.
A loud audible click echoed through the room. Cordell froze, his eyes turning towards the man seated by the window. The young thug by the door had his gun halfway out his holster but was stopped by Adam's voice.
"I wouldn't," said Adam, "unless you want your boss to take a slug in the stomach." Adam turned to look at Cordell. "And that's exactly where my gun is pointing right now."
Cordell nodded at the young man. "It's okay, Nate. Let's hear what this gentleman has to say."
Nate did not move, but after a few seconds had passed he loosened his grip and thrust the gun back into its holster.
Adam rose from his seat and in two paces was next to Nate and retrieving the weapon from the young man's possession. There was an indignant "hey!" which Adam ignored as he slotted the gun into the top of his pants. Keeping both men in his sights, he edged towards Cordell.
"The woman doesn't want to go with you, so I suggest you save yourself a lot of bother and release her."
Cordell sighed and looked at the woman still held fast within his grip. "There's always someone who has to play hero." He turned to Adam. "You're involving yourself in something much bigger than you, friend. If you know what's good for you, you'll let me and the lady and the girl walk away, and you'll be avoiding a whole lotta trouble for yourself."
Adam blinked slowly. "Why don't we let the lady decide?"
Johanna's mouth dropped open slightly. "I…" She looked from Adam to Cordell and opened her mouth again, but no words were forthcoming.
Cordell's eyes were hard as he stared at Adam. "As you can see, the lady knows what's best for her and the girl."
Adam ignored him.
"Ma'am, if you tell me to mind my own business, I'll go back to my table and carry on eating my dinner. But if you…" Adam paused and looked pointedly at the girl, "and your daughter don't want to go with these men, and I don't think you do, then you only have to say."
Johanna's lips grew tight and her brow furrowed as she deliberated his words. But then her daughter spoke for the first time.
"Please, Mama, he wants to help us."
Cordell tightened his grip on the girl's shoulder and she winced from the pressure. This was more than Adam was willing to endure. He raised his weapon.
"Let her go."
No one moved for what seemed like an eternity yet was nothing more than a few seconds. But then Cordell smiled and released his grip on the girl's shoulder, holding up his palms to show compliance.
Looking back, Adam was to curse himself for his laxity. All he did was lower his gun a fraction. But it was enough. With a sudden burst of speed, Cordell shoved the girl towards Adam who instinctively reached out for her. His gun clattered to the floor as he opened his hands wide, catching the girl as she fell into his arms. Sudden movement drew his attention. Nate was running across the room and Adam turned to face his foe. But it was too late. He reeled back from an explosion of pain on his temple and fell to his hands and knees, a kaleidoscope of black and white flashes careering across his vision. A nudge from a boot pushed him onto his back. He squinted up to see Nate standing over him holding Adam's own gun by the barrel, a satisfied grin cutting his face in two.
"Pick him up."
Rough hands hauled Adam up and shoved him into a chair. He felt, rather than saw, Nate retrieve his weapon from where Adam had tucked it in his pants. He rolled forward, pressing his elbows into his knees, and clutched his head. The sound of scuffling drew his blurred gaze to see Cordell haul the girl up from where she had fallen on the floor. She was thrust towards her mother who pulled her into a tight hug, one hand smoothing over the girl's hair.
"Give me his gun."
Nate handed Adam's weapon to Cordell who turned it over carefully in his hands. With a signal to Nate to keep an eye on Johanna and her daughter, Cordell crouched before a dazed Adam.
"This is an expensive piece."
Adam ignored him, too consumed by the overbearing pain that was causing his scalp to tighten. Even his hair seemed to hurt.
"What's your name?"
With nausea threatening, Adam could barely speak. He took several deep breaths.
"Cartwright," he eventually managed.
"Cartwright?" Cordell glanced up at his younger companion and back to Adam. "You one of the Ponderosa Cartwrights?"
Adam managed a nod.
"You got a big spread outside Virginia City?"
Adam refused to acknowledge the man in front of him. All he wanted to do was press his hand against his temple to stop the pain throbbing deeply in his head. A trickle of blood was warm beneath his palm. Cordell rose to his feet and stared down at Adam.
"Which one are you?"
Adam squinted up.
"Adam."
Cordell took a couple of steps away, paused and turned back. "Adam Cartwright."
The room was starting to settle down in Adam's vision and he watched the man gaze out of the window before looking down to study Adam's gun held loosely in his palm. A few moments passed and then Cordell spun towards Nate.
"Get the men and tie him up. He's going with us."
Nate frowned. "Why? He ain't nuttin but trouble. We got the girl and her ma. Another crack on the head, he'll be out for hours, time enough for us to get clean away."
Cordell stared down at Adam.
"You're not using your head, Nathaniel. This is Adam Cartwright. His father is Ben Cartwright. And old Ben Cartwright will pay big money to get his boy back unharmed."
Comprehension dawned on Nate's face. But then his brows drew close.
"But what about the Count?"
"What the Count doesn't know." Cordell looked down at Adam. "Mr. Cartwright will be a little side business of our own. We'll be paid handsomely for returning young Clara to her father, and we'll do well out of Cartwright's old man."
He might have just received a knock to the head, but Adam was not about to go without a fight. With a roar, he forced himself to his feet and lurched towards Cordell. He didn't know how he managed it, but his fist connected with Cordell's mouth. But then a hand gripped his shoulder, spun him around and he was sent sprawling with a perfectly executed blow to his cheek.
Adam lay spread-eagled on his back, staring up at the ceiling which seemed to drop to mere inches above his head and was pulsing in time to his throbbing brain. He shook his head. Bad idea. A wave of nausea washed over him and he squeezed his eyes closed. He managed to shift to his side and push himself up onto an elbow. One eye was already starting to swell and refused to open, so it was with clouded vision that he sought out Cordell.
Cordell's hand was on his lower lip, his fingers dabbling at the blood starting to seep down his chin.
"Sweet mother of…" he stopped himself. A glance at Johanna who still held her daughter close to her chest, stayed his words.
Adam met Cordell's disgruntled look and pushed himself up into a seated position. His head was spinning, and he had to balance on one arm to keep himself upright. He watched through one eye as Cordell pulled a handkerchief from a pocket and patted his split-lip. "I've heard about you Cartwrights. You stick your noses into other people's affairs. You seem to think you have a God-given right to interfere." He looked at the scarlet blood on his handkerchief. "But you might have played hero for the last time." He dabbed at his lip one more time then thrust the soiled scrap into a pocket. "Nate, get the men over here, we've got work to do." He approached Johanna and Clara who stood huddled together. "You'd better change into something suitable for sitting a horse. You've got a long ride ahead. And as for you," he turned to Adam still slumped on the floor. "This is what you get from meddling in someone else's business."
Adam was pulled to his feet by Cordell's strong grip, and had to steady himself against a nearby table. But a hard push sent him stumbling toward the archway to the lobby, and another one pitched him through the hotel's door and onto the hard surface of the road. As he struggled to pick himself off the ground, the realisation he was not going home any time soon hit Adam like a stampeding buffalo, and suddenly the place he had spent six years running from was the one place he most wanted to be.
