Chapter 9

Adam swore softly to himself as he stooped to pick up his saddlebags and sling them over his shoulder. That made the third thing he'd dropped. Somehow or other, his left hand just wasn't working the way it ought to.

He kneaded it firmly with his right. It was stiff and tight - wouldn't quite close into a fist. He held it up next to his right hand. Swollen, that was why. He shivered, tugging the edges of his collar together. Well, as soon as he got out of this cold he'd have a look at it. Temperature sure had changed fast.

He gave Sport a final scratch behind the ears and headed toward the house. No sign of Doc Martin yet, but no way of knowing when he'd come. No sign of anyone, really. He pushed open the front door and was met with silence. No Hop Sing either.

He hung his hat on the peg by the door and removed his gunbelt, struggling a little with the fastenings. He decided to keep his coat on. The chill wind on the road down from the mountain seemed to have settled deep in the marrow of his bones.

There was a fire roaring in the fireplace and he moved to it, lowering himself slowly onto the table in front of it and stretching out his hands to catch the warmth. That was better.

He pressed his fingers against his eyelids, trying to push the headache growing there back under control, but the fire was relaxing him a little too completely and he pulled himself hastily to his feet. It would never do for Doc Martin to come and find him asleep in front of the fire.

He strolled over to his father's desk, partly to distract himself, partly to see if there was anything he'd left undone. There was an unopened telegram lying there, addressed to him. Had the doctor been out here already? It seemed possible, though not likely - his schedule was so erratic these days.

He frowned as he picked it up and sat on the edge of the desk to read it. It was from Hoss, and his frown gradually turned to a smile as he read.

DEAR ADAM STOP

DOC THINKS THE QUARANTINE IS OVER STOP

SAYS I CAN COME HOME IF I BYPASS VIRGINIA CITY STOP

WILL START OUT TOMORROW MORNING STOP

TELL HOP SING I MISS HIS COOKING STOP

MISS ALL YOU FOLKS TOO STOP

SEE YOU SOON DON'T STOP

HOSS

Adam glanced at the transmission date. Yesterday afternoon. Hoss could be home for dinner. Now, there was news worth coming home early for.

He pushed himself away from the desk and headed for the stairs. Better check on the patients - see if the Doc had already been by. Better change for dinner, too - maybe into something warmer. Sure had gotten cold.

He massaged his temples as he made his way up the stairs. Boy, he was tired. But the worst was over now. Hoss being home would make a huge difference.

He stopped suddenly at the top of the stairs, drawing his brows together. There were voices coming from down the hall. Couldn't be Doc Martin - his rig wasn't here. He paused, leaning against the banister to listen.

"King me!"

He smiled. Joe. Maybe Hop Sing had joined him in a game of checkers.

"This game isn't over yet, young man!"

Adam raised his eyebrows. Pa. Doc must have been here if he was up. He hesitated. Well, no point in telling him about Joe now, and the doctor had said to take it slow with the rest - but what was safe and what wasn't?

He could just tell him that the ranch and the lumber camp were okay…his hand went automatically to his jaw. The swelling had gone down some, but there was no missing the jagged gash and the deep blue-black bruise that spread like a stain there. Pa would ask, and he doubted he'd accept another story about him falling. Not that he had any illusions that he'd accepted the first one.

That would take him into the whole story about Knox…and what about Hoss? If Hoss came home tonight would Pa think he'd been out on the range, or would he know about the quarantine? He blew out his breath thoughtfully.

Oh, what a tangled web we weave. Wish Doc Martin had left another note.

He lingered uncertainly in the passageway. Well, he couldn't just hang around out here forever…a burst of laughter sounded from Joe's room, along with Joe's excited voice, "I won! I won!"

"You won this game, you scalawag - I demand a rematch!"

Adam glanced at Joe's door and back at the floor. He couldn't remember the last time he'd heard Joe so happy.

Actually, he could remember - before Hoss went away and Pa got sick.

That was what he would do, then. Joe and Pa hadn't seen each other in over a week - the least he could do was give them some time - alone - without interruption. He slipped quietly into his room and pulled the door closed, shrugging out of his coat and unbuttoning his shirt.

Removing the shirt was still a slow business and the sleeve snagged on his left arm. He cursed under his breath and peeled it off carefully - it really was getting tender - then glanced down to take a look.

Well, no wonder - that scratch didn't look very good at all. He itched it - a little infected - he'd have to soak it or something. Have Doc Martin take a look on his next trip out.

But right now he was freezing and he was tired and his head ached and nobody needed him for at least a little while - maybe he'd just stretch out for a minute and close his eyes - try to decide what he was going to say to Pa.

He gave a chuckle of self-amusement. The rate his heart was beating he must really be nervous - if he had to defend his actions to his father he should be as calm as possible first.

He struggled to get his boots off and lay back on the bed, pulling his quilt around him.

God, he was tired. And cold. And - but he pushed that thought away, refusing to give it credence.

Still, a little company wouldn't be a bad thing…without opening his eyes, he reached over and pushed open the lid of the music box. Though he was already drifting, the musical chime brought the tug of a smile to his mouth.

The next best thing, he thought drowsily, as the music became a part of his dreams.

000

Adam. Adam. Adam.

Someone was calling his name, over and over, from a long way away.

ADAM.

He rolled over and away from it, trying to return to the inky womb of insensibility, but the voice had started his brain in motion and now it nagged at him, insisting on recognition. A voice he knew, but couldn't place…someone…something important he had to do…

Adam

…and now there was another voice, chattering over the first one, no words he could make out…he wished they'd either talk so he could understand them or go away and let him sleep…

ADAM

…something gripped his arm, startling him with a sudden flash of pain and he cried out, striking out. But the pain cleared his head for a minute and he remembered - there were sick people in the house - somebody must need him - he had to get up…

But somehow he was still lying there, the voices droning on and on but not making any sense.

He tried to focus on them, but his heart was beating so rapidly in his eardrums that it drowned everything else out. He tried to ask them what they wanted but gradually realized he wasn't actually making any sound.

His breathing was coming too fast – he tried to slow it down so he could talk, but it kept rushing along, faster and faster, to the beat of the little waltz that was either playing on the music box or in his head – he couldn't be sure which…

Adam

… there was some kind of hubbub - some flurry of activity - and more talking, more voices, but they didn't seem to be talking to him now and he pulled away, seeking a return to sleep…

…and now the voices were farther away, fainter and fading

…he hardly noticed when they weren't there at all anymore.

TBC

It's nice to see how many people are concerned that Ben appreciate all Adam's efforts. We'll find out in the next chapter. And we'll see if he has a new appreciation of Adam's abilities, drmweaver.