THREE
Buck tossed his head, blew air out of his nose, and looked back at him.
"What?" Ben snapped – and then remembered the horse couldn't answer, at least not with words. Still, his current buckskin said plenty with those big black eyes of his.
The rancher laughed as he leaned forward to pat his friend's golden neck. "Sorry, boy. I'm not angry with you."
In truth, if he was to admit that he was angry with anyone, it would have to be God. The entire trip to bid on the horses had been a bust. He never even made it to Placerville. A series of mishaps that included a sudden downpour, the result of which was an unexpected landslide that blocked the road and marooned a pair of older women whose buggy got caught in it, had resulted in him – covered from head to toe in bracken, bruises, and mud – turning his feet toward home a day and a half early. At this moment there was nothing on the face of the earth that he wanted more, or that would be a better balm to his weary soul, than seeing the surprised and loving looks on his sons' faces when he rode into the yard. That, and sharing one of Hop Sing's hearty breakfasts with them. Most likely Little Joe wouldn't be out of bed yet. That boy could sleep! Of course, Joseph's more than healthy sleeping habits were due to the fact that the child expended more energy in an hour than the rest of them did in an entire day!
As they rounded the corner of the barn Buck snorted with what he could only describe as relief. The older man felt it too. But he felt something else. Something...
Wrong.
As he dismounted, the rancher's gaze went once again to the spot where his beloved wife had breathed her last. Ben closed his eyes and suppressed a shudder, and then opened them and chided himself for behaving like a superstitious old woman. Leading Buck past the spot to the hitching rail, he wrapped his reins around it, gave his friend a pat, and headed for the house. He was breaking one of his own rules, but he didn't care.
First he'd surprise the boys, and then he would take care of his mount.
Ben had taken no more than ten steps when a sound caused him to turn back toward the barn. Adam was standing in front of it. The boy was dressed for travel and his horse was kitted out for at least a day's journey. With a smile on his face, the rancher approached his son.
"You're up early," he said. A glance at Adam's horse revealed a rifle firmly seated in the leather holster attached to the saddle. "Are you going hunting?"
Adam gaped at him as if he were an apparition risen out of the morning mist. His lips were moving, but no sound issued forth. He wet them, swallowed, and tried again.
"Pa? Is it really you?"
A sudden terror gripped the older man's heart.
There were unspent tears in his son's eyes.
"Adam, son, what is it?"
His eldest's hazel eyes flicked to his saddle before returning to him. Ben frowned and looked again. He'd seen it before but paid no attention – a small blue and green wool bundle bound with twine and resting on the back jockey.
It was Little Joe's winter coat.
Stepping forward, he gripped the boy's arm and demanded, perhaps a bit too harshly, "Where is your brother?"
Adam looked like he might be sick. He blinked back tears and then reached into his tan coat and drew out a crumpled piece of paper.
"I'm so sorry, Pa," he said as he held it out.
If he'd had to describe that moment to anyone, he would have said he'd heard a clap of thunder. The words written on the paper deafened him. They struck him dumb and rendered him unable to move. He had no idea how long he stood there, staring at the four impossible sentences written so indifferently in ink, before he spoke.
Finally, he managed to utter, "Little Joe's...gone?"
Adam was every bit a man. He'd had to be since he was old enough to understand and carry out an order. Ben watched the teenager's jaw tighten. Then he saw him square his feet.
"It's my fault, Pa. If anything..." His son paused, cleared his throat, and continued, "I should have seen this coming.
Ben glanced at the note again.
'I have your son. Involve the law and the boy dies. Find me and we'll talk.
'And bring Marie.'
How could anyone have seen this coming?
Obviously whoever had taken Joseph knew nothing of his wife's death. Or did they? Was the request to 'bring Marie' just a cruel taunt – a way to tell him his small son was doomed to die? He opened his mouth to demand of Adam how this had happened, and then he realized it didn't matter. It had happened. If there was any wrong doing on anyone's part, there would be time to discover and deal with it later. One look at the boy told him his oldest was already punishing himself enough, whether or not there was any guilt that was actually Adam's to shoulder.
At that moment the door behind him opened. Seconds later Ben heard the familiar, chastising voice.
"Why you not come in? You need eat quick! Get on road. Find little boy before something happen..." Hop Sing fell silent. His next words carried softly on the rising breeze. "Mistah Cartwright. So glad to see you. God know you need come home early."
The older man closed his eyes and sighed. He'd been angry with God about all the delays. He'd thought those damn horses were so important.
They meant nothing now.
Ben read the note again and then carefully folded it and placed it in his pocket. A moment later he nodded toward Adam's horse.
"You were going after him?"
His eldest's look was determined. "It's what the kidnapper seems to want. 'Find me and we'll talk'. Only, I didn't know what to do about..."
Only he didn't know what to do about Marie. There was no way they could give this man – whoever he was – what he demanded.
And he had to be the one to tell him that.
"I'm coming with you."
He'd been riding hard and was tired. He was also hungry and filthy, but none of those things mattered.
Only Joseph mattered.
Adam was eying him and his current state. "Pa, why don't you take a moment to rest and change? I'll see to Buck." His son favored him with a wan smile. "Hop Sing's going to be really mad if someone doesn't eat his breakfast."
He'd been about to respond when he realized what Adam had said. A new fear gripped him.
"Hoss?" he asked, breathless..
"Sorry. Again." Adam frowned "Hoss is at the Devlins. He went to school and wasn't feeling up to snuff by the time it ended. Mrs. Devlin got hold of him and insisted he go home with them to rest. Said he needed a woman's touch. He ended up spending the night."
Thank God. At least he knew two of his boys were safe.
"Mistah Adam right. You come in and you eat. Hop Sing put out fresh clothes. No more smell like bog."
Ben rounded on his cook. The Chinese man was serious.
Still, what did it matter what he smelled like? Joseph had been taken.
His five year old had been kidnapped!
The older man shook his head. "No. We need to go now while the trail is fresh. There's rain on the way. I rode ahead of it." He saw Adam blanch. His son knew what that meant. A hard November rain this late in the season would wash away all signs. "I'm going in the house to get the cash in the safe. Even though he didn't demand it, we can only pray that whoever took Little Joe is after the money."
"Hop Sing go get food then. Put in bag," the cook huffed. "Get some chocolate cookies too. Send with boy's father so boy not run away when he smells him!"
The two of them watched Hop Sing depart in silence. For several long uncomfortable minutes they stood there, robbed of action by the full impact of what they were facing. Someone – a madman who had made an impossible demand they could in no way meet – had his son. Joseph's only hope might lay in escape, but the boy was so small and so inexperienced, it was unlikely he could survive a night alone in the wild.
Finally, Adam stirred. He cleared his throat and then asked, "Pa, why do you think the kidnapper wants us to bring Marie?"
Ben's fingers found the note in his pocket. It made little sense. The only thing he could think of was that the person who took Joseph was the man on William Olin's poster and that somehow – somewhere – there was a connection to Marie.
He opened his mouth to reply, but it was then he heard it.
Wagon wheels.
A moment later the vehicle appeared. Ben's heart lifted when he saw his eleven-year-old son driving it. Beside him sat John Devlin. Hoss made a kissing sound and gracefully brought the team to a halt. As he did, a smile broke out on his broad face.
"Pa! What're you doin' home?" the boy asked as he handed the reins to John and then leapt from the wagon and ran toward him. "Ain't you supposed to be in Placerville?"
When the boy reached him, Ben took him in his arms and hugged him hard – perhaps a little too hard. Hoss was a sensitive boy; as sensitive as his Swedish mother had been. Hoss looked at Adam and then those sky blue eyes of his returned to him.
"What's wrong, Pa?"
John Devlin followed hard on his heels. Noting the disheveled state he was in, his friend and neighbor asked, his tone light and jovial, "What happened, Ben? Did you decide to take on a mountain and lose?"
The rancher hesitated.
John mistook his silence for anger. He pursed his lips and shrugged. "Sorry to bring the boy by so early, Ben. It looks like you were just heading out. I was going to take Hoss to school and then bring him over this afternoon, but classes were cancelled. Miss Jones is sick now."
Of course, classes were cancelled. Anything to make this morning more difficult.
"It's all right, John. We were just heading out to...track a cat." Ben turned back to his middle boy. Hoss was shoulder-high to him, so he barely had to look down. "Hop Sing has breakfast ready, Hoss. Why don't you go inside and get something to eat?"
The inevitable question followed. "Is Little Joe awake yet? 'Cause if he ain't, I can go up and get him."
John had sensed something. His tone was tense. "Ben?"
"Pa. I think you should tell them," Adam said softly.
"Tell me what?" Hoss demanded, his tone bordering on insolent. "What is it I don't know?" Then, as it had since the moment Joseph drew breath, the inner compass Inger's son had regarding his baby brother pointed the way to trouble. "Something's happened to Little Joe, ain't it?" Hoss caught his arm in a fierce grip. "Pa? What ain't you tellin' me? Is he hurt?"
Ben drew a deep breath. The truth came out in words almost too painful to utter. "Your brother is missing."
"Missin'?" Hoss turned on Adam; his tone accusatory. "How come you didn't watch him? I bet he was makin' you mad. How come you done lost him, Adam?"
"Hoss," the rancher cautioned, "placing blame won't help us find your brother."
"How long has the boy been gone?" John asked quietly.
It took a moment for Ben to realize he had no answer. He turned to his son. "Adam?"
His older boy stumbled on his words. "I checked on him... I mean, I went into Joe's room a little after midnight. He was...gone by 3:00."
Five hours. Almost six now.
Hoss was tugging on his coat. His son's eyes were bright; his tone eager. "Pa! We gotta go after him! Now! I can track him! You know I can, Pa. I'm better than any of the hands."
Ben shook his head. "No, son, you've been sick. I don't want you –"
"I'm fit as a fiddle!" the boy declared, setting both his lower lip and his large feet. "I ain't stayin' behind. Little Joe needs me!"
"You'll do as I say," he stated flatly.
Hoss did something unusual then. He went toe to toe with him.
"Beggin' your pardon, but I won't, sir! You'll have to tie me to the bedpost to keep me from followin' you. Pa..." Tears entered his son's eyes. "It's Little Joe. I gotta..." The boy drew a steadying breath. "I just gotta go!"
The rancher ran a hand over his stubbled cheeks. He should have been used to it by now – life turning before the ink was dry.
"Ben?"
It was John Devlin. "What is it, John?" he managed to ask.
"I'll go into the settlement and let William Olin know. We'll raise a search party." His neighbor glanced toward the sky. "If we have a group of men, we can canvas the area more quickly. That way, hopefully, we'll find Little Joe before dark."
Ben's fingers brushed his pocket. He glanced at Adam and then back to Hoss. These were the moments when innocence was lost.
And there was nothing he could do about it.
"William can't know," he said.
Pulling the paper from his pocket, Ben handed it to John without a word. The other man read it quickly, and then read it again.
"Good Lord, Ben!" he remarked. "What are you going to do?"
Adam had moved over to stand by Hoss. He had his arm around his brother's shoulders. Tears streamed down the younger boy's face.
"Whoever has Little Joe, they ain't... They ain't gonna hurt him? Are they, Pa?" Hoss pleaded.
Ben took the dreaded note back from John, pocketed it, and then walked over to his sons. He placed one hand on Adam's shoulder and the other on Hoss'.
"Most likely it's money he's after," he said. "I intend to give the man all I have. If he wants more, then I'll sell the Ponderosa – all of it if need be." His fingers dug into both boy's shoulders to emphasize his words. "There is nothing more important to me than you boys. Do you hear me? Nothing!"
They stood there a moment, linked by flesh, and joined in fear, hope, and determination. Of course, Hoss would come. How could he have thought otherwise?
They were family – the four of them.
And still, so it seemed, was Marie.
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Little Joe wiggled. There were ropes wrapped around his wrists and he didn't like them. They were scratchy and trying to get them off had made his skin red and raw. Meat was supposed to be red and raw – at least until it was cooked – but his skin wasn't supposed to be. He'd fallen one time and skinned up his knees somethin' awful and come into the house with them lookin' like raw meat and everybody had made a fuss over him. The curly-headed boy sniffed and fought back tears. He really wanted somebody to make a fuss over him now, but there was nobody to do it but the man who worked for his pa who had lied to him. At first, it had been fun. He'd heard a knock on his window. Hoss' friends did that sometimes – comin' to his window or his brother's – so he wasn't afraid. When he went to see who it was, Pa's hand was there, smilin' at him. Gabe was the one who kept him fallin' in the mud puddle before church and helped to clean up after the party, so when he asked to come in he figured it was all right. Pa trusted him, so why shouldn't he? Gabe climbed right in the window, just like he was comin' through the door, and told how he thought Adam was bein' mean because he wouldn't let him go take care of Hoss like he'd promised the doctor. Gabe told him if he would come with him, he would take him to Hoss but, when he did and they got to the ground, he grabbed him and put a cloth in his mouth and threw him on the saddle in front of him and started riding. Joe sniffed back tears. Gabe said he was his friend. He was no friend! He was a bad man. And since Gabe was a bad man, he supposed he didn't care about how much the ropes hurt or how much they made his wrists look like raw meat.
Otherwise, he wouldn't have tied him up in the first place!
Joe looked down. There were ropes around his legs too, so he couldn't run, but his legs weren't raw. His twill pants were a whole lot thicker than his cotton shirt. And he had boots on too. He'd dressed up good, only he was in a hurry 'cause he was afraid he'd get caught and he forgot his coat, which was really stupid 'cause it was rainin' and he was cold. He knew he shouldn't have gone with Gabe. Pa was sure gonna be mad! But he'd gone with Gabe because he seemed to be the only one who understood that he'd promised Doctor Martin that he would look out for Hoss and he couldn't do that if he wasn't the same place Hoss was. The little boy bit his lip as he looked around, first at the bad man sittin' by the fire eatin' beans and talkin' to himself, and then at the big red rocks rising above him that were turnin' dark brown with the rain.
If he'd of known he was goin' to end up in the desert at night, he would have thought things through better. Now, here he was, stuck smack in the middle of it with a bad man, without his coat, shivering and shaking and hungry and tired, and he knew he should be a man and be able to look out for himself just like his brothers, but...
He wanted his pa.
Bad.
Maybe, he thought, if he yelled really loud Pa would hear him all the way over there in Placerville. Adam would say it was stupid to think that, but it just might work. But, he couldn't yell. The bad man had pulled a red bandana through his teeth and tied it behind his head, twistin' some of the curls in with the knot so they pulled every time he shifted and made his eyes water. That was why he was cryin'. Not 'cause he was afraid. He wasn't afraid. Cartwrights didn't get afraid. Everyone knew that. Everyone knew not to mess with the Cartwrights. He'd heard Adam say once that their Pa was made of iron and that he'd hammer anyone who ever tried to take anything that was his.
He was his.
He sure wanted Pa to hammer the bad man so he could go home.
He sure wanted to go home.
No.
Joe bit his lip. Hard.
I...will...not...cry.
I will not...
Joe flinched as Gabe stood up abruptly and tossed the remainder of his beans into the brush. He hadn't offered him any. That was okay. He didn't think he could have kept them down and throwing up wasn't something he liked to do. Besides, the bad man might think if he threw up that he was afraid and he wasn't afraid.
A sound made him look up. He drew in a breath and held it as his eyes went from the man's brown boots to his brown pants, and on up to his brown shirt and hair.
Joe swallowed hard. Pa was gonna tan him for sure when he got home, ' cause he sure was a liar.
He was afraid.
Very afraid.
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They'd left home as soon as they could, which put them on the road mid-morning. It was mid-afternoon now and they'd stopped to take some nourishment before moving on. Ben glanced at the two sons he had with him who sat near the small fire they had kindled. Hoss was pushing beans around on his plate while Adam sat, his food untouched, staring into the distance. His eldest's son's thoughts were his own, but he knew what they were.
Adam was carrying the weight of the world on his young shoulders.
He'd forced himself to eat, though it had been about all he could do. Fear for his young son gnawed at his gut. It bothered him immensely that no demand had been made for money. He'd brought the $5000 with him in his saddlebags anyway, but he feared this man was after something else – something less...concrete. He kicked himself now for not paying more attention to William Olin's warning. The only thing that made any sense was that this man – whoever he was – had some connection to New Orleans and to his dead wife.
Ben ran a trembling hand over his eyes. He could hear Marie, chiding him for being away from home when it happened, and pleading with him to find and save their son.
After placing his plate on the ground beside his muddy boot, Ben reached into his pocket and drew out the wanted poster. He'd pocketed it before they left, thinking somehow it might help. He stared at the sketch for the hundredth time, searching the poor rendition of the more than ordinary face. Sadly, it could have been anyone. Ben's grip tightened on the worn paper. In a way, that fact made it worse; realizing that someone so commonplace – someone you wouldn't have given a second thought – could be capable of such an abominable act as snatching a small boy from his bed for God only knew what nefarious purpose. His hands shaking, the rancher returned the poster to his pocket and drew out note Adam had found pinned to their door.
'I have your son. No law or the boy dies. Find me and we'll talk. And bring Marie.'
What did that mean? 'Bring Marie'? Why? Ben closed his eyes, trying to imagine the flesh and blood man represented in the sketch on the wanted poster. Plain. Nondescript. Someone you wouldn't notice unless they knocked you down. Brown hair, brown boots, tanned skin; a brown suit.
Ben's eyes flashed open. "Good Lord!" he exclaimed.
"Pa, you ain't supposed to take the Lord's name in vain," Hoss cautioned softly as he looked up from his half-eaten meal.
Adam unfolded his long legs and came to his side. "What is it, Pa?"
He drew the poster from his pocket again. With a quaking finger, he pointed at it. "This man. I hired him about a week back."
His son frowned. "Are you sure?"
"Yes. His name is Gabriel Eagle." He looked at his son. "You might not have met him. I sent him up to one of the camps first thing."
Adam's frown had deepened into a scowl. He held out his hand. Ben surrendered the poster and watched as his eldest son assessed the criminal's face.
"The mud puddle hero," he murmured.
"Mud puddle hero?"
Adam went to Hoss and handed him the poster. "Do you see it?" he asked.
Hoss scrunched up his nose. "Maybe."
Ben was lost. "Maybe what?"
"Sorry, Pa," Adam said. "I'm not being deliberately vague. I just don't want to make a mistake." When he continued to glower, the teenager went on. "Sunday after church Hoss and Little Joe and I stayed behind to help Maddie clean up from the dance. A couple of men joined us. One of them said he was a new hand. His name was Gabe. He caught Little Joe before the service. Saved him from stumbling into a mud puddle. And then I saw him talking to Joe at the hall." He gestured toward the sketch. "If this is Gabe, it means he was watching Joe even then. Planning to..."
He had hired this man and let him into his son's life. It would never have occurred to him that Gabriel Eagle – or anyone – would have hired on at the Ponderosa with sinister intent. Little Joe would have instinctively trusted him since...since the little boy knew his Pa had trusted the man enough to hire him.
Ben felt sick.
It was because of him that Gabriel Eagle had been able to come close enough – to learn enough about their lives and their movements – to find a perfect window of opportunity to snatch his youngest son.
"Pa, you can't blame yourself," Adam said softly.
His eldest knew him too well.
"Yes, I can. And I do! I can't believe I was taken in by this...criminal!"
"Pa, you're a good man. You tend to think other men are good too." His son sighed. "That's not a bad thing. A man grows hard if he fears all the time. Pa. Let it go. What's important right now is to find Little Joe and do whatever it takes to get him away from that madman."
It took a moment, but he nodded. "You're right, son."
"There's another thing, Pa."
"Oh?"
"I've been thinking... It seems, well, like you said, I don't think this man took Little Joe for the money. After all, there was only one demand – that we 'bring Marie'." When he said nothing, Adam went on. "Do you think you could have known him from before?" Adam hesitated. "Or maybe Marie did? Maybe he's holding something against her and he took Little Joe to get back at her, or to make her pay attention?"
Ben felt a tug on his sleeve. He looked down. He had forgotten about Hoss.
The boy had tears in his eyes.
"What is Adam sayin' about mama?"
Yes.
What about Marie?
His third wife had been a devastatingly beautiful woman. She had been generous, loving, spirited, and every bit as willful as her child. And like her child, when young, she had been prone to believe in people; to open herself up to them. If they returned that love, they would never have a truer friend. If they did not – if they wounded her or someone she cared about – they became the enemy. There had been many men in Marie's life before he married her. In the time he was in New Orleans, he had encountered at least a dozen. They were drawn to her like moths to flame and spent their time vying for her attention. Could Gabriel Eagle have been among them?
And if he had been, dear God in Heaven, what did he want with Marie's son?
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When they got far enough into the desert, the bad man took the gag out of Joe's mouth and offered him some water. He wanted to spit it back in his face but he was too thirsty, so he drank it and just thought about what kind of fun it would be to spit. Closing his eyes, the little boy imagined the spit and water mixin' and drippin' down the bad man's cheek until it settled in his brown mustache, makin' the ends turn down. That made Joe smile at first, but after a second or two it made him think about the bad man frowning. Gabe frowning wasn't a good thing.
He'd done that after he caught him when tried to run away.
It hadn't been very long ago. He'd begged and begged for the bad man to take the ropes off his feet and let him go pee. When he had, he'd taken off faster than a cut cat. He almost made it too, but Gabe had longer legs than he did and even though he had a good start, he couldn't run fast enough to get away. The bad man picked him up and threw him down at the foot of a big rock and wound the ropes around his ankles again so tight they hurt. Then he frowned.
And then he hit him.
"You're nothing but trouble, you know that, boy?" Gabe snarled. "What am I going to do with you?"
It was probably stupid, but the bad man had asked. "Let me go?" Joe replied in a small voice.
Gabe stared at him a moment more and then he shook his head. "No. I can't do that. I owe her. And Gabriel Eagle is a man who makes good his debts." Bending down, the bad man placed the canteen against his lips. "Now, drink up, boy. We got us a ways to go and it's gonna be hot."
Joe didn't want to take anything from the bad man, but he knew he'd die if he didn't drink, so he did. He took a long drink of water and held it in his mouth and rolled it around before swallowing, just like Adam had taught him. Gabe wasn't lying. The day was what Hoss called 'a scorcher'. The sun was beating down on them and everywhere around them was dry sand and rock. In the distance Joe could see that big old bunch of rocks the Indians thought looked like it a stairway goin' straight up from the earth to Heaven; the one Pa said the Spanish called 'Eagles Promontory'.
"I wonder if she's up there," he said without knowing it.
"What's that, boy?"
Joe bristled. "My name's 'Joe'. Stop callin' me 'boy'!"
The bad man turned toward him. A sneer lifted the corner of one lip. "You're hers, all right. Same eyes, same look – same mouth. Now, what did you say?"
Joe clamped his lips shut and shook his head.
The bad man held up the bandana. "If you aren't going to talk, I might as well put this back where it belongs."
Joe wet his lips. He'd do just about anything to keep that old dirty red bandana out of his mouth. "I said, 'I wonder if she's up there?'" He nodded toward the ridge. "It looks like I could climb right up to Heaven. I thought...well, maybe..." It was stupid, he knew. "Maybe if I climbed it, I could find her."
Gabe frowned. He turned and eyed the cliff. When he turned back, the sneer had made it to his brown eyes.
"You ain't gonna need no stairway to get to Heaven, boy. That's what I'm here for."