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"Adam?"

"Hmm?" Adam turned and fixed Hoss with a distracted glance.

"I asked if you knew what Hop Sing's makin' fer supper tonight." Hoss repeated, frowning.

"Sorry, Hoss. No, I don't know." Adam dipped his head to blot out the sun with the brim of his hat and peered out across the land. He'd zoned out again, going over the conversation he'd have with Joe as soon as they returned home. Hoss heaved an exaggerated sigh and fell into a comfortable silence, letting Adam's thoughts revert back to his imaginary discussion with his youngest brother.

Only now he couldn't concentrate. His contemplations slipped from the tight net he'd tried to corral them into, bursting out into the afternoon sun and wandering unchecked off over the horizon. He disliked the afternoon for that reason. The morning always flew past and was gone before he had a chance to notice it, but the afternoon stretched on forever. In the lazy hours after lunch, on his days off or when he had little to do besides sit outside and stare at the clouds, the afternoons never ended. It was then that his mind wandered, having nothing else to occupy itself with, and scattered out to wrap itself about ideas that he would otherwise have no time to worry about. It was in the afternoons, when he had hours to waste before he would have to reel his mind in again and set it on important affairs, that he realized just how confusing life was. There was nothing to do in the afternoon but think, and if he did it too often, he came away feeling depressed and withdrawn. If life was more like a morning, quick and sweet and time-consuming, Adam had a feeling that he would have less headaches.

Joe was like a morning, he found himself thinking. Bright and full of promise, standing fearlessly before the oncoming day, daring it to come at him. Hoss was like the evening, calmly waiting for the world to slow down and notice it. It seemed like such a small space between afternoon and night, but it was there, content to just observe, like Hoss was.

Adam shook his head and allowed a quick smile to tug at his lips. He often felt poetic in the afternoon, when all he had to do was think. Many a poem had come as a result of his thoughtful moods in the endless hours between lunch and supper, though he'd never compared his brothers to times of day before. He'd have to remember to write that down when he got home.

When he got home. They'd be there soon, he noted, looking up at the sky. It was just beginning to fade from careless light blue to gray, tinted with the pale pink of sunset. He hadn't realized how late it had gotten, or how sore he suddenly felt at having been in the saddle most of the day. He stretched, wincing as his ribs reminded him of the fall he'd taken.

"You alright?" Hoss asked, noticing his movement.

"Sure, I'm fine," Adam smiled. "Just a bit sore."

"Me, too," Hoss rumbled. He copied his brother's actions, leaning back in the saddle and twisting to crack his back. "'N I'm hungry, too."

Adam laughed. "I'm sure Hop Sing will have something good whipped up for us when we get back."

"I hope so." Hoss sighed and pushed the brim of his hat back so he could see more of the sky. "It's gettin' late."

Adam blinked into the sun and smiled as he caught sight of the little dark blob that was the ranch house. He threw a quick glance at Hoss and grinned. "Race you home," he said impulsively.

Hoss looked at him in surprise. "Y'sure yer up to it?"

A slight twinge in his ribs told him he wasn't, but Adam didn't care. He was sick of all of the responsibility that he'd shouldered lately. He wanted to do something spontaneous and childish for once, and Hoss was the perfect companion for it. "Race you home!" he repeated, kicking Chaucer into a gallop. He shot away from Hoss, grabbing his hat with one hand as the wind snatched the brim and threw it up. He heard Hoss shout something after him as he spurred his own horse forward, but he didn't stop to listen.

Adam smiled, even though each step Chaucer took jarred his ribs painfully. The dark feeling that had gripped him in Kensington's office was gone, chased away by the quiet breaths and the loud pounding hoof beats of the horses. He felt optimistic, and for the first time that day didn't worry about what to say to Joe. He would fix it. Maybe tomorrow he could even take Hoss and Joe fishing. They didn't really have that much work to do, and a nice diversion might be enough for Joe to accept his brother's apology for leaving him behind.

As they approached the yard, Adam pulled up gently on the reins and let Hoss canter past him, reaching the house first. Hoss dismounted and threw a glare at him. "You did that on purpose! You were winning."

Adam lowered himself gingerly from the saddle, smiling. "But I had a head start. I was just compensating for that."

Hoss' stern look melted, but he tried to appear grumpy anyway. "It ain't fair."

"Ah, but it is, little brother," Adam patted Chaucer's neck approvingly and led him toward the barn. "You won, fair and square."

Hoss followed him. "What do I win?"

"You win…" Adam looked around the barn as he led Chaucer to his stall, wondering what his brother's prize could be. "You win a-"

Adam broke off abruptly and froze so suddenly that Hoss stepped heavily on the back of his heel. "Adam?" Hoss asked, concern lacing his words. "Adam, what's wrong?"

Chaucer's reins dropped from Adam's hand. "Adam?" Hoss repeated, his voice sharp and outlined with fear.

"He's gone," Adam whispered.

"Who is?" Hoss stepped around him, peering into the shadows. The fading light drifted in from the window, casting abstract highlights on the leftover pieces of hay that covered the floor. It took Hoss' mind, semi-panicked with its worry for Adam, a moment to register the sight. "Oh."

The stall belonging Joe's pony was empty.

"Hoss," Adam said sharply. He spun around so quickly that Chaucer shied away, snorting nervously. "Check in the house. I'll take a quick look around." He climbed up onto Chaucer while he spoke and kicked the horse forward, his body automatically swaying with the horse as it leaped out into the yard. "Don't leave," he added over his shoulder.

Chaucer broke out into the evening, his hoofs landing lightly on the ground and kicking away in the same heartbeat. The sun was sinking behind a line of trees to the west, bathing the sky in an airy red, like a pale watercolor wash. Adam scanned the ground for any sign of Joe's passage, slowing Chaucer to a trot.

How long had Joe been gone? Had he followed them to Carson City when they had stopped to get Chaucer? Or had he left before that? A dull pounding behind his eyes made Adam want to squeeze them shut, but he forced himself to keep them open. The gnawing feeling was back. Something was wrong.

"Joe!" Adam yelled. He paused, waiting for a reply, but there was none. "Joe!" The silence mocked him, throwing his voice out into the air and letting it hang there without a response. Adam cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted again. "Joe!"

The scuff of a horse's step sounded off to his right, and Adam tugged at the reins to stop. "Joe!" he snapped, relieved. "Why didn't you answer-" The words died on his lips, cut off by the sight of the horse that approached him.

It was his. The one that had thrown him when they'd found the robbers. It nickered almost apologetically, but Adam wasn't sure if it was sorry for throwing him or for not being Joe. He glanced around, as if his youngest brother would suddenly ride up out of the sunset, but the world was still. Adam sighed and dismounted, taking the reins of his other horse gently and leading him back to Chaucer. "He's not here," Adam told his horses dejectedly. "I shouldn't have left him alone. Heaven only knows where that boy's gone now."

Slowly, his movements painful and defeated, Adam climbed back into Chaucer's saddle and continued his search.