Howdy! I recently received a request to repost my BZ story 'Chance'. Originally seen on Bonanza World (a site now dark), I've only now found the time to update it. This story is complete but instead of posting it as a one-shot, I'm breaking it up in order to appease those who'd like to be reacquainted with it and allow me the time to make sure it's ready to be reposted.
This story was put together using prompts (which is a really great way to work a story and I mean that seriously). Those will be seen as chapter titles or added as a note at the end of that chapter if they don't work or make sense or I push 2 chapters together.
So, all explanations complete, let's get going. :-D
Onward ~
Chance
by Susan Dietz (Calim1 or Calim11)
Rating: PG-13 for Western-style violence
Category: DRA, H/C
Story Summary: Adam's stage is attacked and he's left for dead – mangled and burned – will he live until the rest of his family gets to him.
© November 2009 - Updated: April 2013
Author's Note: I want to thank my mom and dad for always telling me that I could do anything I set my mind too; and to my grandmother, also my muse, for keeping me in line in regard to the Cartwrights. Thank you all for your love and help.
(This story came together using prompts supplied during Bonanza Bits on the new defunct Bonanza World website.)
Feedback is appreciated
Disclaimer: The characters and general situations in this story are the property of Bonanza Ventures, Inc., however I reserve the rights to the specific details. It is not my intention to infringe upon their rights; this story is purely for the enjoyment of fans. Please do not redistribute in any form
Day 1
Chapter 1 - The Weather
Adam Cartwright looked up into the blazing sun and figured he would never see or taste water again. Apparently nothing around here had ever seen or tasted water since not a tree or shrub could be found for as far as his vision took him. Propped up like he was against a boulder gave him a clear vantage point just in case anyone came to call. And by anyone he meant coyotes, snakes, scorpions or Indians (friendly, of course). Why his hopes even let him imagine that Hoss was coming when he saw what appeared to be a large hat floating on the horizon but chalked it up to a mirage that merged with the images of water floating at the edge of the horrendously blue sky that met the vast amount of beige stretching before him.
"Sand," he mumbled thinking he'd seen enough of it to last a lifetime.
That thought made him chuckle because his lifetime was quickly diminishing by the second, draining from him as the sun beat down in its relentless fury frying his skin and burning his brain. He'd given up looking for his own hat long ago realizing he probably couldn't get to it anyway before he turned into a dry husk blown to the four winds by the hot breezes traveling through leaving nothing behind for anyone to find in case they happened by.
Raising a brow over such final thoughts, he tried to think on other things like how he'd come to be in this mess. There was the long crawl from the burning stagecoach to safety in the rocks away from the fire and the bandits who'd chased them until the horses collapsed. How he'd tried to find shade after they left only to realize there wasn't any. They'd only been a few miles from Chance where Hoss waited and the fleeting thought that came and went of trying to make it there on foot and knowing he couldn't on his mangled leg.
"Well that was depressing," he muttered lazily blinking then leaning his head against the boulder at his back wishing night would come so he could freeze to death instead of feeling his skin bake on his bones.
Closing burning eyes he claimed a moment or so trying to force his mind to think of the cool breezes that struck his face as both he and Sport rode through the tall pines back home. Something loud popped his eyes open to scan around him, making him think that the sun seemed lower in the sky than before.
How long?
Carefully rubbing his eyes he tried to think back on what had awakened him. It was a . . . a . . .
Wait! There it is again. An echo? Of what?
He squinted out across the expanse and that vision of a large hat still met gritty eyes.
"Coyote," came his creaking voice. "Must be a coyote."
A burned hand strayed to his gun and hoisted it onto his lap, wondering when it had gotten so heavy, and checked the chamber.
One bullet left. One bullet?
Then it came back to him with frightening clarity. The horses screaming, splitting wood and him firing off five shots before his world turned upside down, literally. Well, he could take at least one coyote down before they decided he was worth eating. The thought provoked a half smile at his bravura. Oh, others would call it determination to go out fighting but he knew it was more than that. It was the Cartwright mantra – 'never give up no matter the odds'; 'fight until there's no fight left and then fight some more'; 'don't ever have to face God with the excuse that you just gave up'.
That last bit came to him in his father's voice making him snort as eyes slid shut again. Like he could put up a fight with a pack of whatevers coming out of the desert be it animal or human since the pain from his leg was agony and his ribs weren't much better. But it was the burns on various parts of his body that were mind numbing especially when the wind kicked up and covered him with sand bits that ground into charred skin. Maybe he should've stayed with the stage, let them find him with the others all burned and unrecognizable – another victim of the uncivilized West.
Never give up!
"Oh stop it, Pa," Adam sighed at the remnants of his father's voice swirling around him, once again opening burning eyes, feeling waves of heat pushing against him and, no doubt, blistering everything in sight.
Except Hoss's hat, of course.
That comforted him some, that he could die with the knowledge that his brother's hat was alive and well and coming for him. In some heat addled way it seemed perfectly reasonable and made him grin. It was when he felt a belly laugh coming that he thought he might be losing it. It didn't matter. He would go out with a smile on his face and happiness in his heart even though he would be missed over here by this rock when others came to look for the stage. He would just be another unknown skeleton for someone to stumble over and scratch their head in wonder.
"Probably should get back to the stage so Pa can bury something besides my hat," he muttered just as an especially harsh bolt of pain lanced through him and eyes suddenly rolled up, any remaining thoughts or strength fleeing as he slid onto the desert floor oblivious of the scorpion that waltzed past his long fingers or the coyote that watched from another set of rocks and the snake that flicked its tongue at him before moving on. The Indian, sitting peacefully a half mile away, turned his horse knowing the desert had claimed another and disappeared into the rolling sands that spread out for all to see.
And all that was left was that big white hat coming his way.
BZBZBZBZBZ
What caught Hoss Cartwright's attention first were the buzzards circling up ahead prompting him to urge Chubb on faster. Next came the squeaking of a lone stage wheel moving slightly in the hot breeze and his breath hitched, clogging up his throat and his stomach roiled as the first charred body met his gaze. He had to dismount quickly to drop to his knees and retch, trying to rid his mind's eye of the vision but knowing it would always be there.
Rising on shaky legs and sucking in a deep breath, he forced himself to move forward, to keep looking, and what he found wasn't pleasant. A hand resided over his mouth as he recognized the burned remains of a woman, her slender hand untouched by fire lying lifeless in the sand as the rest of her disappeared inside the blackened wood of the stage. Hoss pulled eyes away from the other bodies unable to decipher anything about them except they weren't his brother. Leaning over to brace hands against knees, he pulled in another shaky breath then rose to search the surroundings, sure he'd find what he was looking for.
The hand he spied, barely visible from behind a rock, caused every muscle to bunch.
Sand tossed up behind him as he ran, his brother's name leaving in a loud yell as he came into view. Falling quickly to his knees by his side, Hoss leaned in close and desperately prayed he wasn't too late, watching the sand beneath Adam's nose move ever so slightly.
"Thank you," he mumbled at the sight, shaking his head to rid it of what he'd been thinking only to look closer and wince at the sight. "Lordy, Adam. What'cha got yerself inta now."
There were burns on his brother's hands, arms and back; even his hair was singed at the neck and his clothes were charred and torn. His wandering gaze lingered on a red stain at the torn pant leg, the ripped skin and the red sand that had to be blood. It didn't take much to understand that something was broken. And that was just what Hoss could see. He was going to have to turn him over and there was no reason to turn those wounds onto the sand - that itty bitty piece of nothing that just burrowed itself into everything. Why he could feel it in his boots, his hair and his eyes. That can't be comfortable buried in a burn.
Glancing about he knew he'd have to search the stage and took another deep breath. "I'll be right back, Adam," he said rising to search through whatever was left.
Obviously someone had gone through the luggage for clothes were spread wide, ripped and torn. But something white fluttered off a broken wheel. Moving quickly toward it he flushed slightly realizing it was a petticoat but that didn't stop him from grabbing it and tearing it into pieces as he hurried back to his brother to spread it on the sand next to him.
"I'm gonna turn ya over now," he explained trying to figure out where to place his hands then just diving in to ease Adam onto the fabric.
Grimacing at the other burns found – one across his cheek mixed in with bruises and blood from various cuts and lacerations; one on his shoulder and a large gash across his chest all, of course, covered in sand. Hoss harrumphed at the sight and gently brushed back the sand crusted hair caked to Adam's forehead.
"Okay. I'm gonna find ya some shade. Don't go nowheres."
Propping his hat against Adam's head, he weighed it down with a rock then hurried back to the stage, eyes straying from burnt bodies to fall on a large piece of the chassis and door. Hauling them both back, he supported the chassis against a rock tossing a long shadow over Adam's face and upper body. The door still had the shade attached. He could work with that later. Now all he had to do was wake him.
"Come on, big brother, open them eyes," drifted to Adam on a dream. Oh, it's just the heat talking. "Come on, Adam. I know ya ain't dead so open them purty eyes of yourn." I'm not dead. At least I don't think I'm dead.
The effort to breathe, something he used to do on a regular basis, was exhausting so the idea of opening his eyes nearly made him give up. But this voice was so insistent, so filled with fear, and so familiar, he did what he always did – he tried and was rewarded with a tiny influx of something white through the slit he managed to open between lashes, his fuzzy vision attempting to settle on what looked like a hat offering him shade.
Shade? There wasn't any shade where he was? A hat? A white hat?
Curiosity won out and he opened those swollen lids a bit further to see something else - familiar blue eyes filled with concern and trepidation staring right back at him. His brow furrowed.
". . . 'oss . . ?" came out as a hoarse croak barely audible to his own ears but brought a giant gap-toothed smile to the vision before him.
"It's me, brother, in the flesh."
This was damn peculiar. How could his brother be here? That hat had only been a mirage and now he was having a hallucination, plain and simple. But it was nice just the same; nice to see his best friend one last time.
"Here, lemme git some water in ya."
A canteen appeared at Adam's lips. He'd forgotten what wet was, forgotten how good stale water tasted when there was nothing else.
"I'm just gonna give ya a little ta start. Don't want'cha gettin' sick afore I can even get ya back ta Chance."
Chance. That's right. I was going to meet Hoss in Chance. Could this really be him?
". . . Hoss . . ," he repeated, his barely there voice making a more coherent sound.
"Ya like the sound o' my name? Hope so 'cause I like hearin' ya say it. Had a feelin' somethin' was wrong and when I saw the smoke and them . . ." He shook his head. No use telling him about the buzzards. "I cain't tell ya what went through my head. 'Twas nothin' good I'll give ya that."
Turning from his damaged brother so his eyes wouldn't give away his worry, Hoss nodded toward the stage.
"I'm gonna leave them poor folks here 'til we get back ta town. Ain't got no shovel and don't wanna hurt them no more than they's already been hurt. I know that don't make sense but it's how I feel." He cleared his throat and turned back toward Adam. "Now I just gotta figure out how ta get you back ta Chance without hurtin' ya none. Don't figure I can do that so's we'll just havta take it slow."
That was an awful lot of words for Adam to comprehend but he figured Hoss had it under control. Wouldn't matter if he didn't. He couldn't even lift his head let alone use it to help his brother so he just laid there and listened to that voice grateful for the company and thanking the day his father met Inger and she gave him this big galoot.
The rest of the time went by in a blur, Adam's vision shifting from eddies and swirls as Hoss moved out of sight then back again dragging something with him, something he laid next to Adam. Turning his head slightly, he could make out 'Wells Far' painted across it.
"All I could find strong enough ta tote ya a ways," Hoss explained as if Adam was really able to grasp what he was saying. "I'll tie ya on this thing and Chubb and I'll take ya outta this blasted furnace. Don't know why ol' Bob takes ta livin' out here anyways. It's God awful if'n ya ask me. Surprised his Brahma's ain't already cooked on the hoof afore they get ta the flame," he said seeing something like a smile tug at one side of Adam's mouth. It wasn't the sparkling type that made his eyes twinkle but it was something all the same.
I gotta get 'im outta here quick or I'm gonna lose him. Hoss swallowed the thought and set about finding anything he could use to take his mind off things.
Rummaging through the remains of the stage made him gag but he pushed on and went right back in finally coming across a large piece of leather used to tie down extra luggage at the rear of the stage. Pulling his knife he tore a piece into strips long enough to lash Adam to the door, using a length of rope he found as a stop for his feet so he wouldn't slide off. The rest he laid across the door to provide some sort of softness then overlaid any clothing he could find to make the ride easier. Attaching it to either side of Chubb's saddle he was ready for the hard part – getting Adam onto this contraption without hurting him anymore than he had too.
"All right, brother, I'm ready. Are you?"
He peered into Adam's reddened face not able to tell the difference between a burn from the fire or the fierce sun above. Didn't matter though. They both looked like they hurt like the devil.
" . . . eady . . ." came out and Hoss nodded.
"I'm gonna hurt ya and I'm awful sorry but it cain't be helped." A slow grin appeared then and he knew his brother wouldn't hold a grudge.
The first noises were quick gasps followed by loud, sharp cries that nearly broke Hoss's heart as Adam's body tensed then grew lax in his arms. Taking no time to ponder on whether his brother still lived, he moved faster and within moments had him fastened to the wood, the impromptu shade properly in place and a rolled up jacket beneath his head and neck. Running trembling fingers along Adam's neck, Hoss bowed his head in relief then moved a shaky hand through sweaty hair.
"Please, God, don't take my brother. He's a good man, a good brother, a good son and he ain't never done nothin' ta make ya take 'im from us. We still need 'im. Ya can wait a bit longer. Ya already got his mama and mine and Joe's. Ya don't need 'im yet."
Wetting his kerchief, he dribbled water over Adam's face and across his lips then draped it over his neck. Standing, Hoss plopped on his big hat and mounted, angling Chubb back toward Chance casting a final look at the burnt remnants of the stage that could still take his brother's life.
"Don't ya worry none, older brother," Hoss called over his shoulder shrugging off the sight. "Hoss'll get ya home. Ain't never let ya down yet. Ain't gonna start now."
Adam felt movement, felt a coolness at his neck and whipping about his head was 'Hoss'll get ya home' and warmth rushed through him that had nothing to do with the weather.
Hoss. I can always depend on Hoss knowing what I need.
The heat didn't bother him now and the chill he felt later as they slowly traipsed across the sand into the deepening night didn't matter either so long as he was with his brother, hallucination or not.
Never give up!
"I won't, Pa," Adam mumbled feeling himself heading back to the darkness. "I won't."
Okay, here's the first part. I hope you enjoy it and can't wait for more! I should have a pretty regular posting schedule but don't quote me on that. I could magically be offered a job and have to go back to work earlier than expected. Well, it's nice to think about things like that. Please review. Thanks! :-D