The first things that Adam saw when he opened his eyes were his boots. They weren't under his chair where he normally put them when sleeping, but at his eye level. And they were on the floor which meant he too was on the floor. Why was he on the floor and not in his bed? And then he remembered. The events of the previous days came back to him in a rush: the attack in the gorge, the travois, the pain, Hoss… Adam turned his head slowly. He had been lying on his back and his neck ached from being in one position too long. He grimaced when his stiff neck muscles protested against the movement. Moving his head with care he took in his surroundings. He was alone in a tepee. He could make out the sloping poles coming together above his head where a hole was drawing the smoke from a small fire that burned in the centre of the floor. The décor was sparse: plain animal hides were stretched between the poles to create an inner barrier against the elements and he was lying on a bed of fur. Other than that, the tepee was bare. Light slanted through an open entrance way illuminating the floor. It was the light that had woken him.

Adam saw that he was no longer wearing his own clothes. His feet were bare; he was wearing soft hide leggings and a plain shirt. He took stock of the condition of his body. The pain in his leg seemed to have lessened in its intensity. Gone was the burning and heat, instead it had been replaced with a constant dull throb. He reached up to the back of his head, and fingered a bump and what felt like a long scab on his scalp, but the pain had vanished. His body still ached though. He tugged up his shirt and saw a myriad of colours on his torso and sides. He gingerly touched his bruises and scrapes and noticed that most of his cuts had been cleaned up and were healing well.

Adam felt helpless, and confused. Ever since he had first encountered the Paiutes as a child, he had considered them to be his friends, albeit friends who could turn to foes in the blink of an eye. As a youth he had ridden hard and joyously with a young Paiute of his own age, Young Wolf. Together they had torn through the flat lands and traversed the hills on their horses, until they'd collapse on the soft grass and laugh together with the pure delight of being alive. But time and circumstance had ripped their friendship from them until Young Wolf could only see Adam as a white man - an enemy - standing before him. He had died in a senseless skirmish, another victim in a world where Indians and settlers struggled to live peaceably side by side. Adam had been on the wrong side of the Shoshone and Apache before. And as a result he had developed a very healthy respect for any Indian he encountered. More often than not it wouldn't be a friendly meeting but one that generally ended up with blood being spilled. So Adam was wary, his history made him so. But what was apparent was that this Indian had brought him to his village to help him heal. His wounds had been tended to; he had been washed and given clean clothes. These were not the actions of someone who intended to kill him.

Adam heaved himself up onto his elbows, rolled his weight onto one hip and pushed up with one hand. His head had the wooziness of someone who has been lying down for too long, and he was weak from his injuries. He stayed leaning on his outstretched arm, unmoving for a few moments, eyes firmly closed as his head acclimatised to no longer being flat on the ground. He decided he needed to stand. Keeping his bad leg straight, he drew his other leg up under him and attempted to drive himself into a standing position by pushing against his palms which were flat on the ground, keeping as much weight on his good leg as he could. He managed to hoist himself up to a hopping standing position. It proved to be a mistake. His dizziness returned with a vengeance and he found himself toppling forward. He cried out as his thigh hit the hard packed earth. Adam lay prone on the ground, clutching his leg as the throbbing intensified into spasms of pain. He knew he would have attracted attention but what he didn't expect to see was a young boy appear suddenly in the entranceway. The lad took in the scene before him, turned on his heel and sped away before Adam could reach out his arm and plead for help.

Moments later Adam heard voices approaching. An adult frame filled the entrance blocking out the light. It was Cameahwait, followed closely by a woman carrying a basket and the boy who crouched in the entry way.

"Fool of a white man," muttered Cameahwait as he hauled Adam over onto his back. With Cameahwait's help, Adam was able to shuffle back to his bed. The woman started to pull at Adam's leggings to take a closer look at his wound. Adam may have been dazed and hurting again, but he had enough awareness about him to push the woman's hands away and hang on to the top of his pants.

"It's okay, I'm okay, I just banged my leg when I fell," Adam muttered, still hanging on to his leggings as if his life depended on it.

"Adam Cartwright, don't be foolish, she has looked after you all the time you have been in my village." Cameahwait softened his tone. "Let her look at your leg." He pointed at Adam's thigh. "There is blood."

Adam glanced down and saw the bright red flash of fresh blood staining his leggings. Relinquishing what dignity he had, he sighed, lay back and let the woman carefully pull his leggings down to tend to his wound. He kept his eyes averted, feeling his cheeks redden with embarrassment. But the woman was careful to protect his modesty, taking a blanket and laying it across his middle until she had finished applying a paste to his newly torn wound. He winced at her touch, gritting his teeth to combat the pain which once more enveloped his leg. When she had finished bandaging his thigh she started to pull his leggings back up but Adam was quick to take over, leaving the woman staring with a bemused expression on her face. She said something to Cameahwait then gathered up her basket, rocked back on her heels and rose to her feet. She left the dwelling, shooing the boy out with her as she went.

"What did she say?" asked Adam.

"She said you are not so shy when you sleep."

Adam reddened again.

Cameahwait looked at Adam with amusement in his calm eyes. "You must rest, Adam Cartwright, you are like a new-born foal, legs not strong." He moved to rise to his feet when Adam grabbed his arm.

"How long…?" Adam's voice trailed off.

The Indian paused before he spoke. "Eight days."

Adam let go of Cameahwait's arm and fell back. Eight days!

"You have been ill for many days and nights. You burn with fever. The bad spirits are no longer in your body."

Eight days! Adam's eyes flicked from side to side as the realisation of what Cameahwait had said sunk into his tired mind. He grabbed Cameahwait's arm again.

"Cameahwait, why did you bring me here? Where are my family? Did your people bring my brothers and father here?" Adam's eyes pleaded with Cameahwait for answers. "I don't understand…"

Cameahwait gently removed Adam's hand from his arm and moved it to rest on Adam's stomach. A fleeting look of pity once more flashed across his dark eyes.

"Tomorrow, Adam Cartwright, you get answers," he rose to his feet, "but today, you eat, tonight, you sleep, get strong."

Cameahwait rose with a last look at Adam, then ducking his head as he left the low doorway, he flipped a piece of hide into place, shutting out the light, and left Adam alone with his questions.

XXXXX

The following day Adam did feel stronger. After Cameahwait had left him the day before he had been left alone in the tepee. He had lain there with his mind going over and over the same questions for which he had no answers until eventually he had fallen into a deep sleep. When he woke later it was fully dark outside and the small fire made long shadows dance against the hide walls. Next to him he had found a little meat and some seeds and a bladder of water. In the morning he awoke to find that his pain was bearable. When he tentatively sat up, his dizziness was almost gone, but Adam had a new concern. The water he had drunk the night before had travelled through his system and now Adam had a very pressing urge to relieve himself. Fortuitously, it was not long before Cameahwait arrived, flipping back the hide to let in the morning light. Adam relayed his predicament to the Ute who quickly helped him to his feet and with one arm around Adam's waist and Adam's arm over his shoulder, helped him limp to the door and out into the late summer air.

This was the first time that Adam had seen the Ute village. He had caught glimpses of movement and colour when the hide flap had been raised but not enough to build a picture in his mind of where he was. He blinked and squinted against the bright light and peered around him. His tepee was one of a number placed in a small clearing amongst a forest of pinyon-juniper trees. The clearing was on a wide flat plateau overlooking a panoramic view of low rocky hills carpeted in fields of mountain broom and tufts of wheatgrass. He could see distant pockets of juniper groves nuzzling into low valleys. And behind him towered a range of high mountainous peaks, as yet untouched by snow. The forest covered much of the plateau until the trees started to climb steeply up to the tree line when they abruptly stopped. Where the plateau gave way to the lower slopes, Adam could hear a rushing stream and see rows of willows which he presumed must line the waterway that was hidden from view.

But Adam had more pressing needs. As Cameahwait helped him limp away from the village and into the nearby trees, he could feel the curious stares of the villagers boring into his back. As the two men made their way back to Adam's dwelling, he was able to take a better look at the encampment and its residents. He counted about a dozen tepees so it wasn't a large village by any means. But the quantity of people, of all ages, and the bustling activity going on around him implied that each tepee housed a large family. Groups of women sat in front of their homes preparing food over fires or quietly repairing torn clothing. They eyed Adam inquisitively as he passed. He heard giggling from a group of young girls which was quickly hushed with a sharp word from one of the elder women. He noticed a handful of women repairing their shelters, sewing up tears in the hide exteriors. Children of all ages ran around the clearing, down to the creek, amongst the trees. Adam could hear games being played, laughter and the constant chatter of energetic youth. A group of what Adam presumed were village elders sat cross legged in the distance in front of a larger lodge than the rest. He couldn't see any young men amongst the people, so assumed they were hunting or fishing.

Cameahwait moved to take Adam back into his tepee but Adam stopped him, asking whether he could instead sit outside in the sun. His strength was returning and he still had unanswered questions. Cameahwait helped him to the ground and when Adam asked if he would stay the Ute dropped to the ground besides him.

"Cameahwait, what happened to the people I was with? My family was amongst them…" Adam's voice trailed off.

Cameahwait's calm expression didn't change. "Later, Adam Cartwright."

"Why won't you tell me?" Desperation was starting to creep into Adam's voice. And fear. Each time he had put this question to the Indian, the man had changed the subject, or walked away.

"Tonight, Adam Cartwright, the leaders of the village will meet. You will come. You will be told."

"Why can't you tell me now? You must have been there, you must know what happened?" Adam's voice rose as he reached out to grip Cameahwait's arm. The unspoken suspicions that had remained buried within Adam's mind were starting to formulate. He drove them back down to the darkest recesses of his psyche. He wouldn't entertain the idea that they were all… No, he wouldn't even think it. It was preposterous.

Some of the villagers had looked over at Adam's raised and panicked voice. Cameahwait carefully removed Adam's grip from his arm, and let Adam withdraw his hand.

Cameahwait looked away into the distance and mulled over his thoughts. He looked to the sky and knew he had to find the correct words. He brought his eyes back to rest on Adam.

"Many men attacked your people. I watched them use guns and fists." Cameahwait made a fist with his hand and held it in front of him. "I watched you fight one, two, three. You fight like a warrior, Adam Cartwright. I could see the spirits of my people in you."

Adam was transfixed by Cameahwait's words. His panic was slowly abating but he still feared what the Indian had to say.

"When the white man had gone, I walked among your people. There was no life, Adam Cartwright." Cameahwait paused. "Everyone was dead."

Adam could only stare at Cameahwait. He couldn't take in the words that the man had just said. Shaking his head slightly and with an incredulous half smile on his lips, Adam huffed out a soft breath, "No, no, that can't be right. They can't all be dead." He looked down quickly. "I saw my brother, I saw Hoss…" Adam couldn't formulate the words; it would make it too real. "But Joe, Little Joe, he's been injured more times than… he always gets over it, he can't be dead, he can't…" Adam shifted onto his knees, ignoring the jarring pain that stung through his bad leg, and grabbed Cameahwait's shirt with his hands, his voice raising. "You, you, can't have seen them all, you can't have checked them all, they can't all be…"

Cameahwait let Adam shake him. Some of the villagers were looking over in alarm at the white man gripping their fellow and shouting. Some of the older boys were starting to head over towards them. Cameahwait lifted an arm to stop their approach. Firmly but gently he pulled Adam's hands away from his clothing. He held onto Adam's wrists and looked into the dark, tormented eyes that bore into his.

"Adam Cartwright, the souls of the dead walked in that place, I could feel them as they stayed close to the bodies which had once given them life."

Adam's eyes dropped to the ground. Cameahwait continued to grasp his hands as he needed to make the white man understand.

"There was no life, Adam Cartwright, no breath, no sound. Only ghosts live in that place now. I am sorry, Adam Cartwright, your family are dead."

Adam stopping seeing. His eyes were fixed to a tiny speck of earth which he couldn't drag his vision away from and as he forgot to blink, this tiny speck became a blur. His whole body had gone cold as the blood left his skin and sped to his heart which started to race. He couldn't catch his breath and the back of his throat felt like he was breathing in freezing cold air. He tried to swallow and found his mouth was full of saliva. He couldn't stop shaking his head. It wasn't true. It wasn't true. It wasn't true. He looked up into Cameahwait's eyes and saw pity and remorse. Wrenching his wrists out of Cameahwait's hands he stumbled on his hands and knees into the tepee and with one frenzied hand pulled the hide down behind him.

Cameahwait stood and looked towards the place where the white man had retreated. He had lied to Adam and felt regret. Yes, the gorge had been full of the dead. Everyone he had touched was starting to turn cold. Blood was no longer pumping from their wounds. He could feel no heart beats, discern no movement. But he hadn't touched everyone. There were people that he hadn't approached. Life could have dwelled within. But Cameahwait was also mindful of his visions. His spirit guide had spoken to him in the desert telling of the man with many spirits, how this man would be important to his family and to his people. When he had seen Adam Cartwright fearlessly fighting the masked white men, he had seen the wolf, the coyote and the bear reflected in his eyes. He believed he'd been meant to find Adam Cartwright in the gorge and that he'd been left alive for a reason. So Cameahwait had convinced himself that no one had survived the massacre. If he believed it to be so, then it would be all the easier to convince Adam Cartwright too.