He pressed his hands over his ears, wincing at the explosions which shook his body, they were so close. But the fear was worse—it paralyzed him. He had to move, to rescue the young man under his command. He crawled across the ground, ignoring a legless corpse, the man not yet dead and reaching for him. But there were other dead, their eyes staring blankly at the sky. Finally, he reached the young man—a boy actually. "Help me, Cap'n! I can't walk. Help me! I don' wanna die. Help me!" An explosion hit and blew up dirt while a horse screamed and a man cried out in pain.
He reached the young soldier and the boy stretched out his hand, his fingers searching to grip his captain's. Their hands almost touch when the air is filled with a whistle and a cannonball falls smack on the boy's chest which explodes in blood and bone and flesh; it showers down on the captain covering him with gore.
Adan sat up in bed, gasping for breath. He hated to sleep for this very reason-the dreams; they terrified him and the horrors he had experienced were ten times as terrifying in his dreams, the emotions ten times stronger than they had been in actual battle. Adam climbed out of bed, the sweat glistening on his body, leaving the sheets damp. He pulled on his robe and decided to go have a finger of whiskey—maybe more.
The house was quiet as Adam descended the stairs. The downstairs bedroom door was partially open and the lamp was still on. Hop Sing had insisted that he be the one to sit with Ben Cartwright the first night. Dr. Deakins had said that the most crucial time in Ben's recovery so Adam agreed shutting down Joe's protest and Hoss' hesitation. So Hop Sing ignored his cleaning chores in the kitchen and only left the room to talk to two of his second cousin's sons who had ridden out that evening to confirm that their "honorable uncle" was all right; it was rare that Hop Sing did not show to his sister's house on his day off to eat and then gamble for a bit and Adam, who had met the two men in the front yard as they rode in on rough-coated, ungainly horses, had fetched Hop Sing and stood on the porch while they talked. Most of the conversation had been in Chinese but Adam realized that out of politeness and sincerity, they had spoken the last few parts in English. With his generous salary, Hop Sing could be helpful to his extended family and they most appreciated his employers, the most –revered Cartwrights.
"We will offer prayers and pleasing incense to gentle and merciful Kuan Yin for Mistah Cartright's return to health," one of the young Chinese men said.
"Yes," the other said, "and I will explain why our honorable relative cannot a make it to our home for a mere meal and entertainment. Responsibilities know no holiday."
But it was late, about three in the morning and when Adam opened the door further to check on his father who slept in a laudanum fog, he smiled to see Hop Sing's head nodding as he lightly slept. Adam walked over to the bedside and lightly touched his father's head but it was cool albeit clammy. He still didn't like the paleness about his father's lips.
Adam sighed and Hop Sing sat up, quickly awake.
"Something wrong? What wrong?" He rose from his chair.
"Nothing's wrong," Adam said. "I just couldn't sleep and came to check on him. Why don't you go get some rest. I'll watch the rest of the night—you have breakfast to start in a few hours so you need the sleep. Go one."
Hop Sing reluctantly left for his bed and Adam poured himself a shot of whiskey before settling himself in the easy chair to watch his father sleep. His right hand was still stiff and so he held the glass in his left while he flexed his right. When he did, the two small splits in the skin over his first two knuckles reopened and Adam sucked on them. It had been worth it.
When Adam had arrived home after taking Uriah Sawyer in to jail, Hoss came from the house to meet him.
"How's Pa?" Adam asked as Hoss took his horse's reins.
"Sleepin'. Doc gave him some laudanum when Pa came to a bit ago. Got the bullet. Anyway, Doc Deakins fell asleep in Pa's chair waitin' for his coffee. He's still sleepin' so don't wake 'im. And Joe's sittin' with Pa while Hop Sing's buzzin' around the kitchen tryin' to keep busy."
"Good," Adam was relieved.
"How'd things go with Sawyer? You manage to take 'im in?"
"Yeah. Roy'll hold him for 24 hours and I've got bring in Hop Sing to identify him and then match the bullet."
"Good. I'll put your horse away."
"Thanks." Adam reached up and patted his horse's wet neck. He had pushed the animal to get home and the horse was still huffing.
"Damn, Adam, how'd you split your hand?"
"Oh, that." Adam pulled his hand back and flexed his knuckles again. "I tried to talk Sawyer into confessing but he was reluctant so I used a little convincing."
"Did he confess?"
"Unfortunately, no."
"Well, you best take care of that hand," Hoss said. 'And, oh, found that tin of kerosene. Someone—maybe Sawyer, maybe not, was gonna burn what's left of the barn—or somethin' else 'round here. Guess whoever it was didn't 'spect anyone to be home Sunday mornin'." Then Hoss led the horse into the corral where he proceeded to unsaddle that animal and wipe it down, murmuring to the horse the whole time.
After Dr. Deakins woke, he apologized for falling asleep. Adam and Hoss both smiled and told him that it was nothing to worry about and invited him for dinner.
"No, no," he said as he tried to rise from the chair. Adam took his upper arm and helped him up and then handed the doctor his cane. "Thank you, son. I best get home—I imagine that my granddaughter is worried. She fusses over me far too much." He stood up and tugged on his vest and straightened his jacket. As old as he was and for all the years he had been retired, he still dressed as he had for all the years he practiced medicine. "Adam, would you get my bag and take me home? That is if you don't mind?"
Adam and Hoss exchanged glances. Hoss shrugged.
"I'll be glad to. The buggy's still hitched. How much do we owe you?" Adam put his hand in his pocket for coins. He was still wearing the trousers he had worn to church and once things were back to normal, Hop Sing would chastise him for getting them soiled. Adam's black jacket also looked dusty and soiled, even having spots of blood on it. Whether it was his blood or Sawyer's, Adam didn't know or care. Hop Sing and his cousin who owned the laundry would be the only ones to fuss over the bloodstains.
"You owe me nothing. I was just glad I was able to help your father." The doctor shuffled out with Adam holding onto his arm. "Now watch him closely over the next 24 hours and keep him still—you don't want the bleeding to start again. I've cleaned the wound and stitched it except for a small place for it to drain. Switch out clean pads to absorb any oozing. If it starts to smell, come get me again or Paul Martin but get one of us quickly. In three days if all goes well, it should be infection free by then but if your pa gets worse at any time, you just come get me or Paul." Dr. Deakins stopped a moment and looked up at Adam. "Paul Martin; he's a competent doctor."
Adam repressed a smile and the two continued out to the yard. As Adam helped the old man into the buggy, his mind went to Tilda and how she would greet him when he pulled up into the yard of the Rocking G-or if she even would. And then he went to quickly saddle another horse to tie on the back of the trap for his ride home.