PART TWO
SIX
Jude Randolph stared at the man with gun-metal gray hair who sat opposite him. They had paused to partake of food and drink before beginning their journey around the lake. In many ways Benjamin Cartwright appeared to be a broken man. It was hard to see in him the strong, resilient seaman who had been his rescuer and savior some twenty-odd years before. But then, that was to be expected. While he did not have children of his own, his brother John did and he knew how precious they were.
And how vulnerable.
Roy Coffee had filled him in on what had occurred, the lawman's words brief and succinct. Benjamin had returned to Boston to marry Captain Stoddard's daughter. The woman had died giving birth to his first son. He had married again and that wife died as well, bleeding to death in front of his eyes, leaving him with another babe without a mother. Then had come the bride from New Orleans, a fiery woman with a temper to match, who had given his old friend his third son – the child of his old age – before she too died. The lawman had sighed and shaken his head. 'All Ben's hopes are wrapped up in that boy, and the biggest part of his heart,' he had said. 'If Little Joe don't survive, well, I ain't so sure Ben will either.'
They had parted company with the deputy and Benjamin's middle son as soon as the storm passed. The young man with the reddish-blond hair had attempted to talk his father into returning with them, but the rancher would have none of it. Wade Bosh had approximately a half day's lead as far as they could tell and he was not willing to make it more. In the end Benjamin had ordered his son to accompany Roy Coffee back to the Ponderosa. While the lawman rode on to Eagle Station to check in with the sheriff and see if anything had been reported concerning Joseph Cartwright or the man who had taken him, Hoss was instructed to ride out to where the cattle were being sequestered and to bring back as many men as he could to form a search party. After that, he was to rejoin his father.
Jude took a sip of coffee and then placed the cup on the ground near his feet. When asked what he would like to do, he had opted to remain with Benjamin. There were two reasons. First of all, he knew more about Bosh and his methods than any of them. Secondly, he was a living reminder that the seaman had neither molested nor sought to kill him while he was with him. It was his hope the same would hold true for Joseph. Sadly, the disease from which Wade Bosh suffered made the man mercurial. His greatest fear was not that Bosh would harm Benjamin's son on purpose – but by accident. Bosh was a large man and powerful. From what he had seen in England, there was a rage within him fueled by all the wrongs he believed he had suffered and he laid the majority of them at Benjamin Cartwright's feet.
In the distance there was a rumble of thunder. The storm had traveled southeast. It was beyond them now, but its fierce display still lit the night, reminding the former slave of the fireworks his adoptive father had taken him to see on a business trip to France. Jude shook his head. It was more than amazing where life had taken him. He had two men to thank for it. Benjamin Cartwright and, curiously, Wade Bosh. If Bosh had not kidnapped him and Benjamin saved him, he would no doubt have been returned at the end of their voyage to the south and slavery.
God's ways were indeed mysterious.
Benjamin had been staring at the electrical display in the sky. He sighed as he turned back to the fire. "I wonder where Joseph is."
Sadly, there was no answer that would bring his friend peace.
"You will find him," Jude said simply. "As you found me."
The former first mate of the Independence ran a finger under his eye, wiping away moisture. It might have come from the few raindrops that still fell, but most likely was tears. The rancher closed his eyes and then focused those near-black orbs on him.
"You were almost dead when I found you," the rancher said. "Another day and you would have been."
It was true. The ship's doctor told Benjamin that when he came to see him the next day. They had thought he was asleep, but he had been listening.
"You sat with me that night. Do you remember?" Jude asked softly.
Benjamin nodded. "Yes."
"Do you remember as well what you told me?"
The older man's brows peaked toward his dark gray hair. "You mean you do? It seemed you were very far away. Perhaps so far I would not be able to reach you."
He had been in a way. That night first mate Cartwright was not the only one by his bedside. His brother Samuel had been there too, offering a hand and a way out of the pain.
"Your voice...called me back," he admitted, his own choking. "There were words. Words you repeated more than once. Do you remember what they were?"
His friend shook his head. "No."
Jude smiled. "Fear thou not, for I am with thee. Be not dismayed for I am thy God. I will strengthen thee. Yea, I will help thee."
Benjamin's smile was wistful. "Yes..."
"They are words you need to hold onto now as I did then, my friend."
For a moment the other man said nothing. Benjamin's face was drawn. His jaw tight. "I have held on to them, Jude. I held onto them as I buried each of my wives. I don't..." He drew a sharp breath. "I don't know if I can hold on to them if I am forced to bury one of my sons."
Jude understood. In the darkness of the hold he had briefly lost his faith in God. He'd never known his father, who had been a skilled tradesman. The master of the plantation had sold him shortly after his birth. It was his mother and grandmother who reared him. Both were women of deep faith. He'd asked them once how they could believe in a loving and merciful Father when they had known nothing but misery and lived their entire lives enslaved.
'We're all enslaved', his mother liked to say, 'black or white, it's the same. The Lord come to bring us bread for our bodies and blood for our souls. Bread and blood, it's all we need.'
The Englishman me his friend's troubled gaze. "I lost my faith in the darkness, Benjamin. It was you who brought it back to me. If you will, I will...help you keep hold." Jude paused. "You said you wanted to know what happened to me while I was held captive. In some ways it is worse than you suspect, but in others, perhaps better. I have said it before and I do so again, I do not believe Bosh has any intent to harm your son."
Those dark eyes held his. "Like he had no 'intent' to harm you?"
It was hard to put into words. He'd been on the deck, carrying supper to the captain's cabin when Bosh took him. The ship's second mate had stolen chloroform from the sickbay and used it to subdue him, so he could carry him deep down into the belly of the ship and sequester him in a place where no one would think to look. Wade Bosh had bound his hands and feet and for a whole day he lay there, alone in the dark, his only companions the waves lapping against the hull and a constant growing hunger both for food and the sound of a human voice. When Bosh returned, bringing him stale bread, a bit of cheese, and a sip of wine, he'd eaten them eagerly, but even more eagerly he had drunk in the presence of another human being. His reprieve lasted only a few minutes. Then he was bound again and, again, left alone. This went on for days until at last he came to hunger for Wade Bosh more than he hungered for the meager food he brought him. He was ravenous for the touch of his hand on his forehead and for the words he spoke in his ear, assuring him that he was there for him. There was no one else, he said. Everyone else had abandoned him. He was nothing to them. He'd been forgotten.
Only Bosh cared.
Bosh, who had started to call himself 'Pa' when he spoke to him.
Bosh, whom he had come to call 'Pa.'
He was later to find out that God intervened to break this cycle. Such was his dependence on the man he would have done anything, said anything; gone anywhere with him. As they pulled into the harbor Captain Peak found he did not feel well. First mate Cartwright took charge of the ship, leaving Second Mate Bosh with all his duties. As the days went by and Bosh failed to reappear, Jude came to believe he had abandoned him. His hunger for the man quickly turned to hatred. With his last breath, for so he had thought it was, he cursed the man's name. He had no idea how long it was after that when the light appeared, coming toward him through the darkness. In a moment of clarity he'd realized what it was Bosh had done to him, how he had changed him from a human being into something else – into a kind of animal that begged for its master's hand even though that hand brought it harm. Then, he saw it wasn't Bosh. It was the ship's first mate. The man with the kind eyes whose name was Benjamin.
It was the last thing he said before falling into a fever that nearly took him away – that name.
"Jude?" Benjamin called softly.
He blinked, surprised to find there were tears in his eyes.
"Forgive me," he breathed.
The rancher rose to his feet. He came to his side and placed a hand on his shoulder. Then he walked on by and disappeared into the night.
To despair or to plead with his God, Jude knew not which.
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Hoss Cartwright reined his horse in and fairly leapt from the saddle to the ground. He nodded to Roy Coffee who had come with him to the house before heading into town. The deputy said he would stable the horses and tend to them. He was gonna go in and see how Adam was and inform his brother of the progress they'd made so far in the hunt for Little Joe.
Which was none.
They were both wet, tired, and hungry. He'd invited Deputy Roy to come in and rest a spell as well as to eat somethin' before the lawman hit the Eagle Station road. The older man was gonna go to town and raise what men he could for a search party, while he went out onto the range and gathered at least half a dozen hands. That was about all they could spare as it took most of the men to keep watch over the herd and get it settled for winter. They planned on meeting back at the house around the time supper was served. They'd eat and then head out again, picking up his pa's trail.
Deputy Roy had just entered the stable and he was steppin' onto the porch when the front door flew open and Hop Sing burst out wavin' his hands and shoutin' in Cantonese. They all knew a few of Hop Sing's words – usually the ones he used when he was shooin' them out of the kitchen or up the stairs. Hoss had heard a few of these before and he recognized one in particular. Ngai. It meant somethin' like 'in danger'.
Mostly Hop Sing used it when he was talking about Little Joe.
"Hey! Hop Sing!" Hoss shouted back, holding out his hands and waving them. "Slow down and speak English! I ain't got enough Chinese in my head to fill a slate!"
The small man drew a sharp breath. He shuddered and then blurted out, "Mistah Adam gone! No at home when Hop Sing return. Mistah Adam not in house anywhere!"
Hoss scowled. Now what would Adam be doin' headin' out when he was hurt? Pa'd told him to stay put. Maybe he decided he'd just take it on the chin and go out and look for their missing brother anyhow.
"You mean he went lookin' for Little Joe?"
Behind him he heard Deputy Coffee clear his throat. When he turned toward him, the look on the lawman's face made his heart skip a beat.
"Hoss. Your brother Adam's horse is in the stable."
Adam could have taken another horse, though he couldn't imagine why. A man and his horse, they kind of went together like a glove on the hand. Riding a horse you knew and that knew you was the surest and safest way to get back home in one piece.
"Number one son not go look for brother. Someone come in house. Someone cause trouble! Hop Sing find chair upside-down." He paused. Some of the bluster went out of his tone. "Hop Sing also find blood on floor by chair."
Roy Coffee was at his side now. "You said you found blood?"
The man from China nodded.
"Show me."
Hoss was still reeling. It wasn't possible, was it? Adam should be inside the house recovering from the bullet he took in his side. It didn't make any sense he would have left so that must mean –
He swallowed hard.
Someone had taken him as well.
The teenager felt a hand on his arm and looked up to find Deputy Coffee staring at him with understanding eyes. "Come on, son. Let's go inside. Standin' out here ain't gonna change what we find."
It was all he could do to step through the door. Just two days before everythin' had been fine. Little Joe'd been his mischievous self, playin' tricks and drivin' both him and Adam to near distraction. Joe'd rigged a bucket of mush above the stable door. Adam had been the one unlucky enough to open it. He'd tossed a coin and heads said he was on older brother's side this time and the two of them had chased the little scamp all the way back to the house. Pa'd been sittin' in his chair as they burst through the door. He'd watched them tackle one another with that look that said he'd just about had enough – and that enough wasn't ever really enough.
A house that was empty now, 'cept for him.
Standing just inside the door, Hoss watched the lawman as he crossed over to the upturned chair. Deputy Roy knelt and touched the reddish stain on the floor. He held his fingers to his nose and tasted it and then declared. "That's blood, all right. It ain't quite dry, so it ain't been too long." He looked at their cook. "How long you been home, Hop Sing?"
The man from China glanced at the tall case clock. "One hour, maybe a little bit less."
"That's about right," the deputy said as he rose. He looked toward the door with a frown. "We may find some prints, but I ain't holdin' out a lot of hope since we just rode in here and probably went right over them."
"Who you think take Mistah Adam?" Hop Sing asked.
Deputy Roy pulled at his chin. "Well, it cain't be that man what took Little Joe. He's long gone. Tell me, Hop Sing, did you find anythin' missin'?"
"Someone take food and some of Mistah Ben's liquor. Several rifles gone." He paused. "Mistah Adam gone."
"Since they didn't leave no ransom note, I'm thinkin' that ain't what we got goin' on here. Maybe they needed Adam to take them somewhere," he proposed.
Hoss had been listenin'. He'd been thinkin' too. The only thing that was different from two days ago – aside from the fact that Little Joe'd gone missin' – was the fact that they had a visitor.
"Deputy Roy?" he asked. "You don't think this could have anythin' to do with that there Jude Randolph, feller do you?"
Roy Coffee's pale blue eyes narrowed. "You may just have somethin' there, boy. I heard there was a disturbance in town when that English man arrived. Had somethin' to do with two of your pa's men as I remember."
"Men still talk about it in city," Hop Sing chimed in. "Two men from Ponderosa threaten Mister Jude, call him 'darky'." The Chinese man's eyes narrowed with outrage. Hoss knew why. There'd been many a time Hop Sing had been called names. "Mister Jude make fools out of men. Make very mad."
Deputy Roy was noddin' his head. "I heard it was Jake Kusky and Harold Wilmot. Them two are trouble. Maybe they come here lookin' for that English feller." He scratched his chin. "What I cain't figure is why they'd want to take Adam."
"To show them the way," Hoss suggested. "To take them to Pa and Jude."
The lawman thought that over a minute. He nodded and then let out a sigh. "Seems we got us two kidnapped Cartwrights."
Hoss let out a strangled cry.
The older man pursed his lips. "Sorry, son, I weren't thinkin'. You must feel right lost about now."
The teenager fought back tears. Little Joe was his heart. Adam, his rock. Both needed rescued.
How did he choose?
Deputy Roy walked over to him. "First thing we need to do, boy, is get some food and rest." The lawman held up a hand to silence his protests. "You and me are plumb wore out. We won't do neither of your brothers any good if we fall out of our saddles and lay snoozin' in the middle of the road." He turned to their cook. "Hop Sing, can you rustle us up some grub?" As the Chinese man nodded and went to do as he'd been asked, the older man's attention returned to him "You go get out of those wet clothes, son, and then come down and eat. When you're done, you go on out and find your pa's men and bring as many of them as you can back here to the house." The lawman lifted his hand and headed for the door. "I'm gonna ride hard and fast as I can for Eagle Station. I'll rustle up as many of the town folk as are free and meet you back here around supper time." Deputy Roy turned and pinned him with a glare. "Now you hear me, Hoss, you stay put 'til I get here. If I go losin' your pa's last son, there ain't nothin' on earth's gonna keep Ben Cartwright from hog-tyin' me and throwin' me to the wolves!"
Hoss sucked in his fear and unspent tears and nodded.
"You givin' me your word?"
He nodded again. "Yes, sir."
The deputy stared at him a moment longer and then returned to his side. He reached out again and took his shoulder in his hand.
"Son, I cain't guarantee you everythin' will come out right. You know that. It ain't in my hands. But I can tell you that if anyone can make it, it's them two brothers of yours. Adam's right smart. He can sure as heck outthink Jake and Hal. And Little Joe," Roy Coffee smiled, "I ain't never seen anyone more like an eel. That boy can slip out of anythin'!" He lifted his hand. "They'll find their way home."
"Mistah Hoss come eat. Food on table," Hop Sing said softly.
It was a joke between his brothers that there weren't nothin' could take his appetite away. He'd always joined right in, laughin' with them and tellin' them how right they was.
Hoss only hoped he'd get to see them again so's he could tell them just how wrong they'd all been about it.
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Adam Cartwright reined in his borrowed horse. He and his captors had been riding for something close to two hours and had come to the pass where he planned to take them off the road and into one of the rockier portions of the Ponderosa. There was a danger in going this way as anyone tracking him would have a hard time finding prints due to the hard-packed earth and stone. Still, it lay along the route his father and Jude had taken and he'd been able to convince Hal and Jake that the pair had veered off and headed into the hills looking for Jude's hidden stash. Fortunately for him neither Jake Kusky or Hal Wilmot was too bright. Their belts just didn't go through all the loops. He'd had hopes he could misdirect them long enough that they'd sober up and think better of what they were doing, but that hope had been dashed when Jake discovered Pa's liquor cabinet. Jake had chugged half a bottle of brandy and spent most of the time on the trail singing a rousing rendition of 'Sweet Betsy From Pike' – taking especial pleasure in the verse where Betsy shows her legs. Hal had finished the remainder of the bottle but, unlike Jake, he didn't get drunk – he just got quiet and mean.
Really mean.
Adam reached up and touched his jaw. He'd failed to respond to a question quickly enough for Hal's liking and nearly been knocked out of the saddle when the man backhanded him. As it was, the jolt had set his side to throbbing. He was feeling slightly nauseous and was fairly certain he was bleeding again.
At least there was no sign of a fever – yet.
The black-haired man's hazel eyes lifted to the ridge above them. He and his brothers had covered every inch of the Ponderosa and had trails of their own. Some of them Pa knew about, others he didn't because they were, well, dangerous to say the least. Like this one. For a while it followed the edge of a low hill, but then, slowly, began to climb up the ridge, winding until it came out on the top. He'd chosen this path because it was special. To the casual eye there appeared to be only one way down, but there were actually two. Off to the side, hidden within a clump of wizened trees and bushes, there was a narrow chute known as Diaz's Dodge. The shaft plummeted down at a nearly perpendicular angle. Anyone unfortunate enough to stumble into it would be dumped out at the bottom of the ravine. Adam's lips curled with a fond but frightening memory. They'd been at the top of the ridge when Little Joe had one of his fits of temper. Youngest brother had stomped off into the trees. He and Hoss set about making camp and settling in, knowing the rascal would come back on his own when it got dark. Just about the time Hoss struck a match to light the fire, they heard a yelp and a few choice words that neither one of them were aware Little Joe knew.
Then there was one they knew all too well.
Help!
Joe'd stumbled into the chute and ridden its rough sides all the way to the bottom. To this day he and Hoss debated whether or not their little brother had landed head-first.
If he had, it would explain a lot of things.
Adam glanced at his riding partners. Jake and Hal had given him an unfamiliar horse and then plastered theirs to his side making it near impossible to escape. He thought the shaft might be his only chance to do so. The problem was Little Joe was just that – little. The chute had been a tight fit in places for his brother's slender form. He had no way of knowing if it was wide enough for him to make it all the way to the bottom without getting stuck.
The black-haired man snorted. That'd be a headline for you. College age son of Benjamin Cartwright stupid enough to get wedged in Diaz's Dodge. Left dangling for days. Funeral tomorrow.
That Eastern university he attended would never live it down.
Adam blew out a breath.
"You got a problem, Cartwright?" Hal snarled. "I thought you said you knew what you were doin'?"
"I do." He touched his side with his hand. "I'm just a little tired."
"Well, ain't that too bad. You can rest once you get us where we're goin' and we find that there darky and your pa."
"The pass leads up and along the side to the top of the ridge," Adam replied. "There are a lot of caves there. My brothers and I explored them when we were kids."
"You're thinkin' that's where Randolph's got his treasure hid?" Jake asked, his eyes wide as a kid with his nose pressed up against the candy store window.
He nodded. "I'm sure of it."
Jake looked at Hal. "Well, then, what are we waitin' for? Let's get goin'!"
Hal didn't move. The grizzled man was watching him, seeming to weigh his words. "This better not be a trick, Cartwright. If it is, you're dead."
"No trick," he replied.
It was true. It wasn't a trick. He was going to lead them up the pass and along the top of the ridge like he'd said.
It was just that he was just going to take a shortcut down.
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Ben Cartwright stood near the water, gazing across Lake Tahoe to the other side. The rising sun's pale rose-gold fingers had peeled back the night, revealing a dawn worthy of a bard's description. All around the advance of winter was evident in the trees that had shed their needles, creating a blanket on the ground. The lush underbrush of the forest echoed the dawn in earthy shades of orange, yellow, and red. Above his head hawks wheeled, challenging one another, staking out their claims just as he had done when his sweat and hard labor allowed him to obtain the thousand acres he called home.
He would have traded it all for one hug from his youngest son.
The rancher drew in a breath and let it out slowly. He was glad to have Jude with him as the Englishman's knowledge regarding Wade Bosh would prove invaluable. Unfortunately, Jude had grown up and prospered in one of the most civilized cities in the world. While he had traveled by horse, the former cabin boy would be the first to admit that most of his horseback riding had been for show. Jude sat a horse well, but was not used to a grueling pace. They would be forced to move more slowly than he wanted. It was about seventy miles around the lake if a man did the entire loop. They had to cover a little over thirty to get to Meek's Bay. With Jude along, it could take two days.
In two days Joseph could be in Grass Valley, or even farther away.
Ben held out a hope – and it was a desperate one – that somehow his son would manage to escape from his captor. Joseph was a bright, quick-witted boy. Growing up on a ranch had made him agile and strong for his age and size. Many older boys were deceived into thinking he would be an easy mark. Ben's lips curled in a wistful smile. He could see his young son standing in the doorway, having just arrived home from school, every curl on his head awry, his knuckles bleeding, and his green eyes wide with triumph. The older man sobered quickly. Yes, his son was capable of escaping his captor, but if Joseph tried to flee and failed, he shuddered to think what retribution he would face. Jude had tried to soften his words, but it was clear Bosh had been physically harsh with him. He'd read a treatise once on the natives and their techniques for bending a captive to their will. No English was spoken to them. They were walked or run until they were exhausted and then placed in dark teepees, bound hand and foot, and left without food or water for days. In time their captors began to speak to them, uttering threats, and then promising no harm would come to them or their families if they obeyed.
Near the end of the article the physician who penned it remarked that these techniques were not unique to the red man, but were employed by men of all colors. If no ransom was demanded and money was not the object of the abduction, its object was often the possession of the one taken. He knew that was the case with Wade Bosh. The seaman blamed him for the loss of the boy he had wrongly claimed as his son.
Ben's jaw tightened.
Now, Bosh had his.
Lifting his head, Ben looked again at the sky. From the angle of the sun, it was around eight o'clock. The days were growing shorter. It would be dark before twelve hours passed. If Bosh had made it across the lake and not been slowed by the storm, he already had a six or seven hour lead. The older man pursed his lips and frowned. Yes, as great as his fear was of that, he had an even greater fear – that the seaman and his son had been slowed by the storm. That they had been in it.
That they might not have made it across.
Retreating to a boulder that jutted over the water, Ben took a seat and linked his hands together. He closed his eyes and lowered his head and began to pray, crying out to His God for the deliverance of his child. As he did, a vision flashed before his eyes. He saw himself seated beside a bed. His beautiful wife Marie lay upon it, newly delivered of a son. The baby was so tiny they feared for him, though his lusty cries seemed to belie the doctor's dire predictions. Marie took his hand and put it on their child's head which, even then, was covered with downy curls. They'd discussed a dozen names. His wish was to call the child Joseph after his father. He had let Elizabeth name Adam and, well, Inger had her own ideas. Marie hadn't argued with his choice, but neither had she agreed.
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'Well?' he asked, knowing she knew what he was about.
Marie's finger traced the baby's pert nose. "Joseph? Are you sure, mon cher, that is the name you desire for our son?"
He was puzzled. "Is there something wrong with Joseph?"
"Non." She wrinkled her nose as the baby caught her finger and began to suck on it. "But is it not a grand nom for such a miniscule?"
"A grand name?"
Her green eyes fixed him. "I remember my Bible. Do you not remember yours, Benjamin? Joseph was a special boy, so special God called him to great things. But God called him as well to pass through the fire to get there. Joseph was betrayed by his family and left to die. Thrown into prison. Betrayed again."
He understood what she was saying. He did believe, as did the ancient Jews, that names held some kind of power and, perhaps, even a prediction of the future. Reaching out, he caught his son's tiny hand in his own and said, "I remember the other part of the story, dear heart. Joseph was a man of character. Hard working, honest, and brave. It says in Genesis that 'the Lord was with Joseph so that he prospered...and the Lord gave him success in everything he did." He smiled at her. "I think that's a pretty good recipe for a remarkable man."
Marie leaned down then and kissed their child's head. "Joseph," she said, trying it out. "Mon petit Joseph." Looking up, she favored him with smile. "Like his father, Joseph will be a most remarkable man."
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Ben heard it again. Whispered close to his ear as if it were a promise.
Like his father, Joseph Francis Cartwright will be a most remarkable man.
He started and turned. There was no one there.
No one but his God.
