SEVEN
Adam frowned as Richard Jennings was unceremoniously thrust to the floor. The older man had been abused. His face was bleeding and it was obvious he was in pain. No doubt there were other bruises that were unseen. The Jennings were society people. They'd come from the East and were unused to the harsh brutality of the West. Along with pain there was fear in the man's eyes. Most likely – knowing fathers – it was for his impish daughter more than him.
The black-haired man sucked in a breath and held it a second before expelling it slowly. What happened in the next few seconds would go a long way toward whether or not they all came out of this alive.
Adam took the initiative, even though he knew it would cost him.
"Richard. I'm so sorry Tory isn't here. That man of yours...Jenkins? He came to claim her – "
The crack of a hand against his cheek was louder than the chimes of the tall case clock that chose that precise moment to strike.
"You will keep silent!" Longwei ordered.
He would now. He'd said what he had to. It was up to Richard to figure it out.
Jennings' gaze was flying around the room. He took in the two Chinese men and their threat, and then noted Hop Sing tied in the chair by the fire. With any luck Richard saw their cook mouth, 'go along' as he did, before he turned to him. Adam pursed his lips as their eyes met and waited.
"That girl of mine," Richard said with a sigh, "I can't count on her to do anything I tell her. You'd think with your little brother here, you couldn't have pried Tory away."
There was a bit of real exasperation in his tone.
"Little Joe's not here, Richard," Adam ventured, waiting on another backhand. "He's missing. Pa and Hoss are out looking for him."
"Missing?"
"That is enough!" Da Chao declared. The tong leader went to stand before Tory's father. "Do you know of any other women in this house? Chinese women?"
Richard looked genuinely confused. "Only Ming-hua."
"Dandan and Biyu were headed here. This we know," Chao said.
"How do you know?" Adam spit out, and then added before the hand could strike him again, "If you don't mind my asking."
"Their plans were made known to us by Xiofan, whose place is also in The Dragon." The Chinese man paused. "She has been richly rewarded for her loyalty."
"Xiofan?" a light voice asked.
Adam pivoted in the chair to find Ming-hua standing in the room, tray in hand. Upon the tray were two bowls of soup and two plates laden with food.
Da Chao walked over to her. "Yes. Xiofan. One whose desire is not to leave Da Chao. Unlike Ming-hua and her sisters."
Ming-hua held her chin high. "Mister Cartwright purchased Ming-hua's freedom. Da Chao owns me no longer."
"Ah, but I do," Chao said. "I own Ming-hua's sisters. Therefore, I own you."
The girl's hands shook as she showed him the tray. "I bring sandwiches for Longwei and honorable Da Chao as ordered, and soup for Mister Adam and honorable Hop Sing."
Da Chao's eyes flicked to him and then went to Hop Sing before returning to Ming-hua. "You will not untie them."
"This one understands," she replied. "If the honorable Da Chao permit its, Ming-hua will feed both. It has been many hours since they have eaten."
The tong leader considered it and then nodded. With that, he turned back to Richard Jennings who had been watching the proceedings with interest. Thank God the man had caught on quickly! Jennings had to be worried sick about his daughter. Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do under the circumstances to bring the older man any relief.
Adam smiled at Ming-hua as she approached him bowl in hand. "That smells good."
She returned the smile as she sat beside him and dipped a spoon in the thick soup. "Chicken with dumpling," she said as she lifted it to his lips.
While he hated being spoon-fed, the black-haired man knew it was important to keep up his strength. Something had to come along soon – some opportunity to escape. Bound and trussed as he was, he was no good to this girl, Hop Sing, or to his father and brothers who might return any minute and walk through the front door straight into a trap.
Ming-hua offered him another spoonful. As he took it, Adam saw her glance toward Da Chao. He was questioning Richard Jennings again. Longwei was watching their interaction intently and not looking their way. The dark-eyed girl watched them for a moment and then caught the napkin from the tray and reached out to dab the corner of his lips on the right side. As she did, something fell from the napkin into the crease in the chair. Adam shifted a bit so he could see what it was.
A knife!
"Eat quickly, Mister Adam," Ming-hua said. "Honorable Hop Sing hungry too."
Adam nodded. Yes, of course, Hop Sing was hungry.
As hungry for escape as he was.
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"Joe? Little Joe. Hey, punkin, why don't you open your eyes and look at me? I'd sure feel a sight better if you did."
Hoss was calling him. Joe felt the touch of his brother's cool fingers on his cheek and heard the concern in his voice, but, plain and simple, he didn't have the energy to respond. Still, he had to try. Hoss sounded like he was near to tears and he didn't want the big galoot dowsing him with water again. He'd had enough water to last a lifetime!
Gathering what little strength he had, Joe worked his lips to open them. "Hoss..."
His brother blew out his relief. "Yeah, short-shanks it's me. You dang near scared me to death, you been so quiet for so long."
Joe felt a cough roll up in his chest, seeking to escape. He managed to hold it captive.
Just.
"Ain't you and brother Adam...always tellin' me to keep quiet?"
He heard his brother snort. "I ain't never gonna say that again, Little Joe. I done promise you that!"
Promise.
Someone had made him a promise. About his brothers.
About them bein' safe.
"Are you...okay, Hoss?" Joe asked as he fought a battle with his eyes. They wanted to close.
"Sure am. Pa's fine too. He's over talking to John."
That took a moment. "John. He..." Joe sucked in a breath again, still fighting that cough. "Saved me."
Hoss was silent a moment. "Little Joe, I sure am sorry for what happened – for Butch hittin' you and tossin' you in the river like you weren't nothin'."
Joe's hand found his brother's shirt and twisted the fabric. "It's not your fault. I...could of walked away."
"From Butch? That ain't likely. That boy's gonna end up in prison one day." Hoss actually growled. "Maybe one day soon."
"...Tory?" he asked.
"Still thinkin' of girls, eh?" middle brother chuckled. "She's fine. She's at the house."
Joe twisted a bit to look at their father. His pa was kneeling on the ground, turning over one of the Chinese men who had attacked them.
"Why?" he asked.
"We ain't sure. That there China man lived for a bit, though we ain't sure how. That knife got him good. He said Zhuang was comin' and we'd best be ready."
"Ready for...what?"
Hoss shrugged. "Ain't sure. He up and died afore we could ask him anythin' else."
More awake now, Joe drew in a breath and signaled to his brother to help him sit up.
"You sure you wanna do that, Joe?"
He nodded. Hoss hesitated and then caught him under the arms and lifted him up. Then the big man slipped in behind him and propped him against his body. As he lay back against his brother's massive form a calm descended on Joe and he thanked God for the love he and his father and brothers had for one another. Hoss' arm circled his waist and he knew his older brother was thinkin' the same thing.
"You sure are hot, Little Joe."
That was funny. He felt cold. "I got a fever."
"Sure enough do. You're hot enough, little brother, to fry griddle cakes on."
Joe giggled and then, in spite of his efforts, erupted into a coughing fit. He coughed until he was heaving – his brother holding him all the time, one arm wrapped around his waist and the other holding his head. When he was done, the exhausted boy sank back again against his giant of a brother. Tears streaked Joe's face and it was only when he heard his name being called that he found the strength to look up.
It was Pa.
His father's worried gaze went past him to his brother. "Hoss, will you go and see to it that man is buried? We can't leave him for he animals to find."
His brother nodded. "How's John?"
"Sleeping." Pa paused as his eyes shifted from Hoss to him. "As you should be, young man."
"I just...want to go home...Pa," he managed without coughing.
His father placed a hand on his forehead. The older man wasn't quick enough to hide his fear.
Joe swallowed over his own. "Am I gonna die?"
"Aw, shucks, short-shanks. Don't you go sayin' such things."
"Hoss, here. Hand him over to me," his pa said. Joe was tilted forward as his big brother relinquished his place and Pa took it. Once the older man was seated, he drew him in close. For a moment Pa said nothing and then, as Hoss moved away, began to speak. "Joseph, do you remember when you had the measles? You were just a little boy."
Joe frowned. He did, kind of. He'd been five, maybe six, and real sick – so sick the doctor wasn't sure he'd make it. For days he'd been out of his head, raving about all kinds of things, but mostly callin' for his mama.
"A little," he admitted.
"You were so ill. I was afraid you would die. You kept calling for your mother and I couldn't bring her to you. I felt...hopeless."
"Not...your fault," he managed.
"No. It wasn't. But, since your mother's death, well, it was the first time I wasn't enough."
"Sorry."
His father squeezed his arm. "Don't be. You know how I've told you that troubles are sent to us by the Almighty?"
He didn't really understand it, but he remembered. Joe nodded.
"I sat at your bedside and wrestled with the Lord just as surely as Jacob did. It was so soon after your mother died, I couldn't bear the thought that you would too. I fought harder than I have ever fought, demanding God see things my way. 'My will', I shouted, 'not thine!' " His pa halted to take a breath. "And you only grew sicker."
Joe said nothing, but waited.
"In the end, I fell to my knees beside your bed and whispered the words our Lord did when He was facing the cross. 'Thy will, not mine.' Shortly after that your fever broke and you began to get better." Joe felt his pa's hand on his cheek. "Since then, I have surrendered my sons to the Lord, and daily ask Him to preserve you. I believe He will, son. I don't believe today is your day to die."
Joe gripped his father's fingers and pressed them to his heart. "How come we...have to suffer, Pa?"
"Because our Lord suffered. And because God loves us. If life went according to our own wishes every moment of every day, evil would befall us. You may be a child in my eyes, Joseph, but in our Lord's eyes we are all children. No matter how much we think we do, we don't know what is best."
Joe puzzled that over for a moment. Then he said, simple as a child. "Mama died."
His father stiffened. "Yes, and God alone knows why. Maybe to make you the man you will be – the man you would not have been had your mother lived."
Joe blinked and yawned. "You'll have to figure...it out for me, Pa. I'm...too tired."
He felt his father's lips brush his forehead. "Sleep, Joe. We'll wake you when we're ready to go. After that man is buried."
Joe smiled up at the familiar face that hovered over him. "I love you, Pa."
His father brushed a stray curl off his forehead. "And I love you, you little scamp! Now, get some sleep."
Joe closed his eyes and did what he was told.
For once.
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For the most part, Da Chao and Longwei ignored them.
After questioning Richard Jennings, they'd pulled up a chair from the dining room and bound Jennings to it. Adam was seated about three feet away. He and the older man had talked a little, but since they couldn't say what they wanted to had, in the end, fallen silent for the most part. He had no way to let either Jennings or Hop Sing know about Ming-hua's daring move. He'd cut his fingers a few times, but slowly the rope binding his wrists was giving way. Another minute would see his hands free.
Then he'd have to figure out how to do the same thing with his feet – and without being seen.
Hop Sing was watching him closely, his black eyes narrowed. Adam suspected the man from China guessed what he was about. Perhaps Ming-hua had given him a knife too. As he sliced through the rope and itfell from his wrists, the black-haired man was sure of it.
Hop Sing gave him a grim smile and nodded. A second later he called out loudly. "You set Hop Sing free! Girl no know how to cook! Hop Sing and Mister Adam no can live on soup!"
Longwei and Da Chao were bent over his father's desk, looking at a map. Their heads came up at the sound and they turned toward the great room.
"Hop Sing promise he not run away. Better to cook than to wait like chicken tied to board."
Da Chao looked mildly amused while his bully boy became instantly suspicious.
"What is in the kitchen?" Longwei demanded.
Their cook eyed the man like he was an idiot. "Food! You let Hop Sing do job!"
Longwei started to speak, but the tong leader silenced him with a hand to his shoulder. Da Chao passed by him then and came to stand before Hop Sing. "My countryman, you are an honorable man. Do I have your promise that you will not try to escape?"
"Yes. Yes. Hop Sing say so already." Hop Sing sat up straight in his chair. "Wish to feed Mistah Cartwright's number one son and humble guest, as well as Da Chao and Longwei." He paused and added for good measure. "You fed well, maybe you leave!"
Adam stifled a chuckle.
Da Chao was considering it. Unlike his companion, the older man looked to be the type used to gracious living and comfort and a piece of that was probably a temptation.
"Longwei, untie Hop Sing and take him to the kitchen," the older man ordered. "See that he does not leave."
"Hop Sing give word," their cook stated, slightly miffed.
Da Chao's dark eyes took them both in. "There are words and there are words. This one has lived long. Words can mean many things."
Adam clenched and unclenched his fingers. The tong leader's caution meant one thing for sure. Longwei would go with Hop Sing into the kitchen and Da Chaowould be the only one remaining in the great room.
The odds were looking pretty good.
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The journey home was agonizingly slow.
Before they left the camp, he'd mounted Buck and had Hoss hand Joseph up to him. As his arm circled Joseph's slender waist and the boy's chestnut curls brushed his chin, he'd sent his middle son to make sure John Randolph was able to take his seat on the dead man's horse. Then with Hoss settled on Chubb, they took off.
Heat radiated from Little Joe's quiescent form as they traveled and he soon fell into a restive sleep. As they continued on, Ben offered up prayers that the boy be spared another bout of pneumonia. His son had had more than his share of illness and injury in his young life. Each time it worried him that the boy would be left weakened. The West was a harsh mistress. It had little if any sympathy for man or beast. If Joseph's strength and prowess diminished – should he not be able to do a man's work – he knew it would crush him. Little Joe already struggled with feelings of inadequacy. He was bound and determined to compare himself to the three grown men in his family. Ben wished his son could enjoy being a boy for as long as was possible but, with Joseph, he knew that wish was idle.
Hoss fell in alongside them, his clear blue eyes trained on his brother's silent form. He glanced back at Randolph, who was bringing up the rear, and then asked, "Is Joe all right, Pa?"
The hand he had placed on his son's chest drew the boy in. There was no end of satisfaction in the feeling of Joseph in his arms. A short time before they had passed the place where the boy went into the river. Everything could have ended so differently.
"I'm sure your brother will be all right. He's exhausted and I'm worried about that cut on his leg."
"You think that's what's causin' the fever?"
Ben glanced at the man who trailed them. "Sadly, no. John said Joseph was feverish before his leg was injured."
"From goin' in the water," Hoss said in defeat.
He knew his middle son blamed himself for his youngest's predicament. Ben fought an inappropriate smile. They'd all done the same at one time or another.
Joseph had given them ample opportunities.
"Hoss, your brother made his own choice to fight Butch. How many times have I told him to step away – to control that temper of his? It's that which gets him into trouble, not you, not Adam or me, but the cross God has given him to bear."
"You sayin' God made Joe a hothead?" Hoss asked, his lips quirking a bit.
Ben looked down at his youngest. Thank goodness, Little Joe was asleep. If he heard them talking about him like he wasn't there, they'd get a real show of that temper!
"God is sovereign, son. He created us for His pleasure and purpose with all our faults and flaws. They are given to us to overcome so we can be stronger; so we can be made into the image of His son."
Hoss was laughing now. "You think God takes pleasure in little brother's hijinks?"
"As a father, I believe God takes pleasure in all of this boy – his high spirits, his joy, and even in his temper. Like a sculptor chiseling marble, turning it from a formless block into a beautiful form, God is chipping away the child and making the man." Ben leaned down and planted a kiss on his son's curls. "Joe will be a fine man one day."
Little brother's nose wrinkled. A second later he sneezed and then his eyes came open.
"Huh?"
"Pa was just sayin' what a fine man you are, Little Joe," Hoss said with a wink. "You just go back to sleep."
It had been said before, by those who witnessed his youngest sleep – and had no knowledge of Joseph when awake – that his youngest son was an angel. He looked like one now as a smile touched his lips and his green eyes sought him out through a tangle of curls.
"Did you really call me a...man, Pa?"
Ben nodded. "I sure did."
"Are we almost home?" his son asked with longing.
"Almost."
Joe's eyes drifted shut. They opened again wide at a thought. "Do I have to do...my chores tonight?"
He and Hoss exchanged a worried look. It would be quite some time before the boy was able to do any work.
"Not tonight. We'll let you sleep and then we'll see about tomorrow. How's that sound?"
Only one eye was open now. "Will you do them, Hoss? I mean, 'til I'm up and movin'..."
"Sure thing, punkin."
Joe's hand waved, as if he was trying to reach his brother, and then he lapsed into sleep again.
Hoss sniffed and wiped his eye. "Dang fool kid."
Ben laughed. "Not so foolish. After all, you're doing his work."
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Da Chao had returned to the office and was paying no attention to them. Adam shifted and showed Richard Jennings that his hands were free. The older man nodded and then turned to watch Chao, who was standing with his back to them, rummaging through his father's books. Adam eyed the door. It was only a dozen feet or so to it, but it seemed miles away. Richard glanced back and seemed to sense his hesitation.
"Go," Jennings whispered, his voice tight. "Find my daughter, Adam. Please."
With that Tory's father turned back to keep watch.
Adam glanced at Da Chao. The Chinese man was engrossed in the book he had chosen. Drawing a breath, he reached forward and down and began to work on the ropes that held his ankles together. They didn't come easily, plus he had to stop two times when Richard signaled that Chao might turn and look his way. In the end, he was forced to insert the knife blade in one of the loops and pry. Finally the ropes fell away and his feet were free.
For several heartbeats the black-haired man remained where he was, considering the consequences of his actions. Adam's lips lifted in a crooked smile. His little brother would have been up and on the move already and barreling out that door, but life had taught him to be more cautious – there were always unforeseen circumstances.
A movement caught his attention. Richard Jennings was growing restless.
'Go!' the other man mouthed.
Still, Adam hesitated. If he was caught it might mean death for all of them, even though that would take away any leverage the two Chinese men had. He could be the cause of Hop Sing's death and maybe Richard Jennings' too. On the other hand if he didn't make a break for it, he was sure to be the cause of something bad happening to his family when his pa and brothers walked in.
That was all it took. Adam was on his feet in a heartbeat and headed for the door.
Miraculously, Da Chao seemed not to notice. The tong leader had moved and was studying the map of the Ponderosa Pa kept on the wall behind his desk. With a word of whispered thanks on his lips, Adam opened the door as silently as he could and stepped outside –
Directly into the path of two more Chinese men.
The elder of the pair looked at him with surprise. The younger stepped up and bowed.
And then dropped him with an uppercut to his chin.
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They'd come to a crossroads. In one direction lay home and, in the other, Eagle Station where the only doctor in the territory sometimes took up residence. The problem was, Paul Martin could be in his office or he could be a hundred miles away.
There was no way of knowing.
Ben Cartwright permitted himself a deep, heartfelt sigh. When he'd been a young man it had seemed, well, romantic to strike out for the West, to smell the pines and breath the fresh air; to find land he could call his own where he could build an empire and create a family to possess and cherish it. Now, he wondered if he hadn't been wrong. He'd lost three wives to this land and come close to losing his sons more than once. Oh, the air was fresh all right, and the pine trees so tall they reached right up to Heaven, but if he'd made a different choice, God willing, Elizabeth would have still been alive and his sons would have been born and reared in a city where there were few dangers. Adam could have lived at home while he attended college and he could have enjoyed his son's achievements first hand instead of through a few lines penned on paper. And Joseph... He glanced a his ailing child.
Joseph would never have been. Nor Hoss.
Oh, he would have had other children with Elizabeth, but none of them would have been his gentle giant of a son or his wild and sometimes reckless youngest boy.
Would the trade-off have been worth it? Would it have been better never to know and love these two sons if it meant he didn't have to live a life filled with worry and concern?
Ben shook his head and chuckled softly to himself.
Not being able to look into those crystal clear blue eyes that contained the sum of all the care and affection a man could hold, or that pair of mischievous green ones?
No. Never.
Come what may.
"Pa?"
The rancher turned to find the possessor of those blue eyes looking at him. "You made up your mind yet?"
He was standing at the fork in the road. They'd stopped midday to let Joseph rest. The boy kept insisting he could ride the other horse they'd brought with them, but he knew better. Little Joe was only just able to keep his seat riding double with him on Buck. When they'd dismounted, he'd tried to get the boy to eat, but had barely managed to get any nourishment into him before Joseph sank into a deep sleep. He was worried. His son's coughing had diminished, which indicated his chest was tight while his fever was higher. Both things meant Joe needed medicine, and to be resting in a warm place of comfort, neither of which he could supply at the moment.
The question was, did he take him into the settlement and hope – and pray – the doctor was there, or home to Hop Sing? Hop Sing had been with them since Joseph's birth and had brought the boy through a good many illnesses with his Chinese teas, remedies, and love.
He sighed again. "I don't know why, Hoss, but I'm worried Doctor Martin won't be in."
"Did the Doc say anythin' the last time you talked with him?"
Ben frowned. Did he?
Yes.
"Come to think of it, Paul mentioned a conference in Sacramento. I'm not sure when he was leaving or due back, though. He could have been and returned already."
"Or he might still be hundreds of miles away."
The rancher fingered his chin, thinking. Then he nodded. "We go home. My inclination was toward that anyway. Once there, we'll send one of the hands to the settlement to see if Paul has come back yet." Ben's eyes strayed to his youngest who lay on the ground tossing and turning, twisting his blankets around his lean thin frame and moaning quietly. "Joseph needs to be in his own bed, in his home, and surrounded by those who love him, not in what passes for a hotel in Eagle Station or in the back room of Paul's office waiting for someone to come."
He felt his son's hand on his shoulder. "Ol' Hop Sing'll do right by Little Joe, Pa. He's pulled us all through our fair share of sickness."
Yes, and Joseph had had more than his fair share of sicknesses. Perhaps he should have fallen for a less delicate woman than Marie that last time. She had come from the ease and refinement of New Orleans and had, by her own admission, never been physically strong.
Oh, but that woman's character, now there was strength.
It was that strength, bequeathed to him by his beloved mother, that would serve to get Marie's son through this as well.
"I'd like to let your brother sleep a little while longer," he said at last. "Then we'll see if we can get some more food and water into him before setting out again. That way, we'll make the house by dark." Ben turned in the direction he knew his Ponderosa lay and let out yet a third sigh. He was tired and about on his last nerve. In his mind's eye he could see their home – their sanctuary.
The only place on the face of the Earth he wanted to be.
