A/N: All right, here's the next one. This one was actually written episodically, unlike the others. I call it my "meller-drammer" because it was written for my friend Debby's birthday and she was fond of angst and h/c. Consequently, they abound. I always pictured it being read serially, the way novels used to be posted in newspapers.

WHN stands for "What Happened Next". I am traveling this week, so the posting might be a little erratic.

From 2001:

This story was never meant to be posted. I wrote it as an antidote to another story I have been working on, seemingly forever, which requires so much endless stopping and starting for research and so many decisions about when and where to be true to Bonanza history as opposed to American history that I was becoming hopelessly bogged down. Consequently, I wrote this one with a blissful disregard for research and historical accuracy in parts - Dr. Martin uses medical terms that were probably not coined yet and I did absolutely no research on 19th century trial procedure in the West, unless you count watching Perry Mason episodes. Also, though Roy was not actually the sheriff in this episode, to me Roy is always the sheriff, so I used him anyway. There's nothing wildly anachronistic (I have SOME standards!) but if that sort of thing drives you nuts, then close this right now and read no further. If, however, the holes in the "Vengeance" episode grate on you and you've always wanted to see them closed, read on.

It was fun to write - like taking a wild and heedless gallop after hours of meticulous dressage work. I hope it's fun to read. L.B.

WHN Vengeance

by Lissa B.

(June 2001)

This story is dedicated to Debby Warren, with many thanks for her hours of tireless beta work on my behalf. It has meant more than I can say. Special thanks also to Gwynne Logan, for HER hours of tireless editing on my behalf - and a big slob I was about the commas, too. You are amazing. And thanks, too, to the group of readers who read along just the way I wrote it - as a sort "Perils of Pauline" serial, complete with weekly cliff hangers; and who finally persuaded me that a larger audience might enjoy it, too.

You guys are the best.

Chapter 1, Part 1

Ben turned slowly away from the bed, exhausted.

It had taken hours to resettle Hoss after his unwise sojourn from his sickbed. The barely closed wound had begun to bleed again, and he had toyed with the idea of sending for Paul, then rejected it as they seemed to get things under control and darkness was closing in.

Mary had been surprisingly knowledgeable - very helpful in adding a compress to the wound and fixing broth for Hoss to drink. A good woman. She would have made Willie a fine wife - it was a shame.

Joseph had hovered about at loose ends, driven by the adrenaline of his fight and this alternating hope and fear over Hoss's condition. He was hopelessly underfoot, but Ben didn't have the heart to send him away. Thank God Hop Sing would be back in a few days - they could certainly use his calming, efficient presence.

He straightened carefully, easing the crick out of his back. And now one of them would have to fix dinner. And, of course, he would have to ask Miss Mary to stay. It was the least he could do; he just hoped they could scrape together something worthwhile for her to eat.

He moved toward the door and nearly bumped into Joe, who was starting his pacing to the other side of the room for the umpteenth time. Ben put his hands on his shoulders to bring him to a stop.

"Joseph," he said firmly. "We should go and let him rest. It probably wouldn't hurt to get a little rest ourselves."

Joe glanced anxiously over Ben's shoulder to the figure in the bed, now snoring gently. "Sure you don't want me to sit with him, Pa?"

Ben looked at him hard, and Joe colored a little, remembering his last turn at sitting with Hoss.

"Okay, Pa." He looked up again, desperate for anything to get rid of his excess energy. "Say, want me to fix supper?"

"That would be very helpful. Thank you, Joseph." Ben slid an arm around his shoulders and turned him down the hall and toward the stairs. "Despite everything, you made the right decision today, Joseph. I'm proud of you."

Joe ducked his head. "Thanks, Pa. But I'm not sure I deserve it. I still might have done the wrong thing if Adam hadn't talked me out of it. I'm glad he did now that I can think a little more clearly."

"I'm glad he did, too, son. But the fact that he could shows that your heart was headed in the right direction." He paused at the foot of the stairs, wrinkling his forehead suddenly. He glanced toward the kitchen and listened for a moment to the noises coming from inside. Crossing the room, he pushed through the door.

Joe followed.

Mary was bustling about, building up the stove fire and laying out provisions from the pantry. She saw them and blushed. "I hope I wasn't too presumptuous, Mr. Cartwright, but I figured you'd all be hungry and had too much on your minds to worry about cooking."

"No, no, of course not - " Ben looked past her, his frown deepening. "But you shouldn't have to cook - you've done enough for us. You should be our guest."

He let his eyes sweep the room again, then opened the back door to peer out into the gathering gloom and glanced at the woodpile. "Where IS Adam?" he burst out finally. "I haven't seen him since…" he paused. He couldn't quite remember when.

Joe scratched at the back of his neck. "I don't know," he admitted. "Maybe he's putting the horses up?"

Ben harumphed. "Taking long enough."

"Or maybe he stayed to talk to the deputy."

Mary hesitated over the bowl of beans she was snapping. "He walked back with me for a ways…I lost track of him when I went to open the door for you and Hoss…"

Joe moved toward the great room. "I'll go take a look."

"Oh!" Mary dropped her beans, her hand flying to her mouth. "Oh, how could I have forgotten!"

Ben raised his brows at her. "Forgotten what?"

"Oh!" she pressed her hands over her eyes. "I should have said something sooner! But he got right up - he seemed - "

Ben felt a chill creep through his heart. "Got right up from - where? What happened?"

"Oh, Mr. Cartwright - I'm so sorry - but he took off after Joe - he seemed fine - "

Ben's voice rose. "What - happened?" he repeated, a little shrilly.

She swallowed. "He - Red - he shot him. He - he was out when I found him, but he - "

"Red Twilight - shot - ?" Ben's voice sounded far away to his own ears, and he clenched his fists, trying to tell himself it was all right, that he had seen Adam on his feet with his own eyes. "When - ?"

"Right - right before Joe chased him down the stairs…"

Joe stared at her. "But - that's impossible! I would have - " he paused, a faint memory flickering behind his eyes - the sound of two gunshots, close together, the vague image in his periphery of something near the doorway...

He rubbed a shaking hand over his mouth. "Pa - there was a gunshot, and Adam's head - now that I think about it - it was bleeding…"

"Well, of course I saw it was bleeding!" Ben's voice came out harshly, weighted with the sudden fear that he had succored one son only to lose another. "I assumed that there had been some kind of scuffle, not that…"

He turned away from them, trying to gather his wits together. Panic wouldn't help anybody. He took a deep breath and tried to speak calmly. "How long has it been since anyone's seen him?"

Joe met his eyes, his own wide. "Got to be hours now, Pa."

"All right - well - " Ben tried to order his frenzied thoughts. He brightened suddenly. "Probably he went to his room to lie down. Joseph, will you take a look please? I'm going to take a quick look in the barn and yard, just in case. And Joseph, if you could start getting together the liniment and some bandages, too, please?"

Joe hesitated as though he wanted to say something, then nodded slowly. "Okay, Pa." He headed toward the kitchen stairs.

Ben watched him go, then leaned against the door to the great room. He hesitated. "Mary - you said you found him - ?"

"Right by the doorway near the grandfather clock, Mr. Cartwright. He was out, but he came around pretty quick after I touched him."

Ben nodded, making his way into the great room and to the credenza. He reached for his gunbelt and was fastening it when something caught his eye, and he froze with his hand on the buckle. He moved stiffly to the wall on the other side of the door and stood, staring.

A starburst of bright blood splashed across the whitewashing, dripping down the wall and pooling on the floor. He squatted. A half-dried puddle seeped into the floorboards. He reached out to touch it and winced at the stickiness on his fingers, his stomach turning within him.

Oh, dear God. Adam.

Standing abruptly, he half ran out the door and in the direction of the barn.

He returned a short time after at a much slower pace. He stepped inside the door, letting his eyes adjust to the brightness of the room and glancing hopefully toward the stairs. Joe was sitting on the bottom step and one look at his face sent his hopes plummeting to his boots.

Joe must have read his expression too, because he said tentatively, "Maybe he went into town with the deputy?"

"With a head wound? I hope not." Ben smiled a little despite the fear gathering in his heart. Not that it wouldn't be like him. "Besides, I found Sport and Cochise nibbling at straw in the barn, still tacked. Set Curly to taking care of them."

Joe rubbed his hands over his face. He had forgotten about Cochise, too? What else had he forgotten? "Where do you think he is, Pa?" he asked in a small voice.

Ben caught his tone and tried to smile reassuringly. "Well, I don't know, son - he might be confused because of the head injury - might have wandered off a little. I doubt he could have gone far, though - looks like he's lost a lot of - " his eyes wandered involuntarily to the blood stained wall.

Joe followed his eyes and swallowed hard. "Pa - " he choked.

"We'll find him, son," said Ben hastily. "We'll leave Miss Mary to keep an eye on Hoss and gather the men and find him in no time."

Joe raised anguished eyes to his. "It's mighty dark, Pa."

Ben's eyes slid away from him. "We've found things in the dark before."

"Getting cold, too."

Ben pulled his hat down over his forehead. "He was wearing his jacket."

Joe couldn't seem to stop his train of thought. "He's been gone so long, Pa - " he blurted. "I can't believe I - I can't believe - "

"Joseph!" Ben's voice was kind, but very firm. "We don't have time for this, son."

Joe hung his head. "Sorry, Pa," he said softly.

Ben reached out to squeeze his shoulder. "Why don't you tell Miss Mary what we're doing? I'll be out in the bunkhouse organizing the men. Meet me there."

Joe nodded heavily and Ben gave his arm another squeeze. "We'll find him, son."

TBC