NINE

Hoss Cartwright glanced at the two men in black who were trussed up like steers waitin' for the brand. He reached up and wiped the sweat out of his eyes and then turned to his companion.

John Randolph gave him a wan smile and nodded. "I'm all right," the Englishman said.

Pa would have washed his mouth out with lye soap for a lie that bald-faced.

They'd entered the stable trailin' the three horses behind them. As soon as he got into the buildin', he'd know'd somethin' was wrong. The horses in the barn were millin' about all nervouslike, snortin' out their displeasure and stampin' their hooves on the hard packed earth. Animals was like that and if a man was wise, he paid attention to the signs.

He'd brushed up close to John and, keepin' his voice low, said, "There's someone else in here. Look sharp."

Jude's brother gave him a nod. John had just managed to get his pistol out of that fancy tooled leather holster he wore and cocked it before all Hell broke loose. Two Chinese men dropped on them. Hard as it was to believe, they must have been hangin' from the rafters. It was God's plan that the one who fell on him was lean as a desert grasshopper – though he was all muscle and meaner than a rattlesnake on a hot skillet. It should of taken him a minute to take down someone that skinny.

It took him three.

By the time he'd managed it, the ornery feller Jude was fightin' had managed to trap the Englishman in a corner of one of the stalls. Quick as a lick his hand went to his gun, but then he thought better of shootin'. There might be more of them Chinese fellers in the house or around the yard who would hear the shot and take it as a warnin'. So instead he just barreled into the bad man and used his size to drive him into the stall wall. As he stood there, staring down at his unconscious form, breathing hard, a thought had struck him. Neither one of those men in black had made a sound as they attacked.

It was kind of, well, spooky.

"Do you think there are more of them in the house," John asked.

They were still inside the stable. They'd cracked the door a bit and were lookin' out. The door to the house was standin' wide open, which didn't make the big man feel any better. He felt even worse when another man in black – him, and the two they had trussed up in the stall could of been triplets – stepped onto the porch, stared right at them, and then went back in, slammin' the door behind him.

"Damn!" Hoss muttered.

They were inside.

"I feel terrible. I've brought this upon you," John said.

Hoss looked at the Englishman sideways, not quite sure of what he meant. "Whether you did or didn't, John, ain't important right now. What is, is that them bad men is in there with my family. You and me gotta figure out some way to help."

"Of...of course. I'm sorry." John closed his eyes as if focusing and then asked, "Is there a back way in?"

"Well, there's the back kitchen door, but odds are someone would hear us if we tried that. Wait..." Could he hope Joe had been careless? Hoss' eyes went to his little brother's window above the porch. Yes! It was open.

Hoss turned to the Englishman and allowed himself a tight-lipped smile.

"God just made one."

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Dear God! How could he choose?

Khu Zhuang had allowed his father to go to Little Joe. The pair were sitting on the floor just in front of the dining room table. His father had his arms wrapped tightly around the ailing boy. He was running his fingers through Joe's curly locks and speaking soft words of encouragement.

But his eyes were fixed on him.

His father didn't need to plead. Adam knew what he wanted him to do. Pa would have gladly sacrificed himself for any one of them, but how – how could they go on without him? Especially Joe. Little Joe had looked at him too, before he had fallen so far into pain that he was nearly insensible. Those green eyes had told him the truth – if he chose their father, he would be killing them both.

Talk about a Gordian knot!

Zhuang had been generous, or so he had told him. He'd given him fifteen minutes to choose who would die and they were turning out to be the longest fifteen minutes of his life. Adam's eyes flicked to the tall case clock.

He had seven left.

The Chinese man had turned down his offer to exchange himself for Joe or his pa. It was plain as the flattened nose on the rebel tong leader's ugly face that he thrived on other's pain. His only hope was that thatwas all this was – a game to bring another man exquisite agony – and that when the clock chimed nine, his threat to kill either his father or his brother would turn out to be a fraud.

Zhuang must have seen him looking at the clock. "The arrow has been put to the string, young Cartwright. Soon it must be loosed," he said.

"Adam..."

It was Pa. The pug-nosed man shot him a look. "Tiger father may speak."

The older man cleared his throat. "Adam, you know what you have to do." Pa waited and then added, his voice rough. "Son, look at me."

He didn't want to. He knew his resolve would shatter.

"Son."

With a sigh Adam did as he was bid.

"Son, you're facing a terrible choice. These are the times that test a man's soul. I've taught you right and I know you will make the right choice." His father looked down at Joe and passed a hand over the unconscious boy's cheek. "God will guide you."

Adam felt his jaw tighten. "How can God let such a thing happen, Pa?" he spat in spite of himself. "Where is He now?!"

His father's eyes were on the man who threatened both him and his son. "He's here, Adam. Never believe otherwise. He will be with you all your days, even when I'm not."

Why did those sound like a dying man's last words?

Zhuang had a strange look on his face as he turned to face him.

"Four minutes."

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John Randolph dropped to the floor of Joseph Cartwright's bedroom. He remained there for a moment to catch his breath and then rose and followed Hoss to the door. The big man signaled for silence as he opened it a crack. They had no way of knowing if any of the Chinese men were on the upper floor of the ranch house. Hoss was betting they were all downstairs, but there was no guarantee. As they'd approached the house from the side, they'd encountered six horses tethered in the trees. With the pair they'd left in the barn, that left four riders unaccounted for. Ben's middle son figured they would be pretty well occupied watching his father and two brothers, Tory Jennings' father, Hop Sing, and the three women who had been in the house when they left.

If they were all still alive, that was.

Hoss had his ear to the crack. He listened for a moment and then signaled he should follow him into the hall. As he did, John mentally berated himself for bringing this trouble upon the Cartwright household. He 'd said nothing at the time, but he'd recognized one of the men in the stable who had attacked them. They belonged to Da Chao's chief rival, Khu Zhuang. Chao was the leader of the strongest tong in Vallejo, one that was dedicated to business more than the business of killing. He was a hard man and showed little or no mercy to those who crossed him, but he was far less sinister than Zhuang. He'd come to know the lesser tong leader while working at The Dragon. It would be to his eternal shame that he had become involved with the rebel tong leader.

The truth was, even if he had not needed to rescue Biyu, he would have had to leave Vallejo anyway.

A terse 'psstt' brought him out of his reverie. Hoss was signaling him to enter the shadows at the top of the stair. Pushing his own thoughts aside, John moved to join him.

"They got Adam and Mister Jennings all trussed up. Ain't no sign of the women or Hop Sing. Joe and Pa is on the floor by the table." The big man swallowed. "Joe ain't movin'."

He could hear voices. "Can you make out what they're saying?"

The big man scowled. "Sure can, but it don't make no sense. That there China man keeps tellin' Adam what time it is."

John listened. Hoss was right.

'Three minutes,' Khu Zhuang said.

The Englishman paled. "It's a countdown," he breathed.

Hoss looked at him. "A countdown to what?"

John shook his head. "It doesn't matter. We have to stop it."

"So what do we do, go in with guns blazin'?" Hoss asked, his tone dubious.

He thought of his adopted brother Jude and how noble a man he was, and how Jude's character had pleased their father so. He, on the other hand, had always been a bit of a disappointment.

The Englishman sucked in air. "Keep your gun ready and wait until I give you a signal, like this." He waggled his fingers behind his back.

The big man scowled. "What are you gonna do?"

John gave his companion a crooked little smile.

"Show myself."

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"The time has come, Adam Cartwright," Khu Zhuang announced.

Adam stared at the man, appalled. Up until this moment he had held out the hope that the pugnacious Tong leader was simply toying with him – feeding on his torment and discomfort – and that he had no intention of murdering either his father or his brother.

He'd been wrong.

"Choose."

Tears flooded Adam's eyes. He just...couldn't. Joe and Pa, they were bound together by that cord Charlotte Bronte spoke of in her novel, Jane Eyre. The words were as beautiful as they were tragic.

'I have a strange feeling with regard to you. As if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly knotted to a similar string in you. And if you were to leave I'm afraid that cord of communion would snap. And I have a notion that I'd take to bleeding inwardly.'

It didn't matter which he chose. Neither of them would survive.

"Choose or both die," Khu Zhuang warned. As he spoke, the Chinese man motioned to the henchmen who stood to either side of his family. In response both men bent down. One caught Pa by his arm and lifted him up, while the other reached for Joe. This was it, the finale.

The end.

Adam swallowed over fear as a fire ignited in his soul. If that pug-nosed bastard laid a hand on either Joe or Pa he'd –

A stranger's voice called from the top of the stair, startling him.

"Hello, Zhuang."

Adam saw surprise register on Khu Zhuang's face – just before rage narrowed his black eyes.

"Cur!" Zhuang shouted. "Son of a dog!" In an instant Joe and his Pa were forgotten as the rebel tong leader pointed at the stairs and shouted, "Take the mongrel dog! He must pay for his insult to my house!"

Hoss's mouth fell open as John shot him an apologetic look and then bolted past him into the upstairs hall. He waggled his fingers as he did. Fortunately, the big man understood the signal. Hoss stepped into the concealing shadows and remained there, waiting for Zhuang's men. He dropped the first one who turned the corner with a swift blow to the back of his head. The second came hard on his heels and the big man found himself in an awkward position – so it took Hoss a minute longer to take him out. By the time Ben Cartwright's middle son had subdued both men, Khu Zhuang was shouting, obviously irritated and ready to take off someone's head.

"Kunlun! Chongkun! Report!"

It took a second for him to catch his breath. "It's not over," he said, coming alongside Hoss. "Khu Zhuang is a madman. We have to do something more or he'll kill your family."

The big man pursed his lips and nodded. As Zhuang yelled again, Hoss edged forward toward the stair. He peered around the corner into the great room.

And grinned.

"Looks to me like what we gotta do is mop up."

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It had happened so fast it made his head spin. Adam was staring at Hop Sing, who stood before him, as if their cook was something that had risen up out of a dream. The Chinese man spoke softly as he untied the ropes that bound him. His words didn't register.

His eyes were on the scene unfolding on the floor.

Their father was talking to Joe, trying to rouse his brother from wherever injury and suffering had taken him. Khu Zhuang lay silent on the oriental rug near his pa's feet, having been taken out by one swift strike to his head with a very heavy cast iron skillet wielded by their rather irate cook. Hoss was coming down the stairs, dragging two black-clad bodies behind him, while the stranger – who had drawn Khu Zhuang's attention to the top of the stairs – had descended to the great room and collapsed into the Pa's favorite chair.

Across from him, still bound to his chair, was Richard Jennings. The poor man had passed out.

He had his sympathies.

Adam groaned as his hands came free. He pulled them to the front and began to run them to return the circulation.

"Thank you, Hop Sing," he said and meant it.

"Hop Sing see if Mistah Adam's father need help with Little Joe," their faithful friend answered. "Send Ming-hua to get hot towels for number one son's hands."

"That's kind of you, but I'm fine," the black-haired man replied as he pushed out of the chair and rose to his feet. After watching Hoss drag the two men out the door, he glanced at Ming-hua, who had accompanied their cook from the kitchen. She hovered near his father and youngest brother. "You had a man watching the two of you, didn't you?" he asked Hop Sing. "How did you manage to get away?"

"All time men hungry. Offer to feed one who keep watch." The man from China grinned. "Ming-hua put sleeping powder left from last time Little Joe sick in gravy on beef!"

Adam returned his smile. "That was quick thinking, Hop Sing. Thank you again!" He looked out the door and then asked, "Did Hoss know you were free?"

"Didn't know no such thing, big brother," Hoss said as he reappeared. "We figured Hop Sing was trussed up in here with you and everyone else." The big man paused as he looked at Ming-hua. "Where's the other wimmen?"

"Gone," he replied. "It's a long story." Adam's gaze went to his father and brother. "How's Little Joe?"

"He's awful sick, Adam." Hoss made a face. "Didn't help him none to come home to men what took over his house."

And you don't know the half of it, Adam thought.

Their father had placed one arm around Joe's chest and the other under his knees and was rising with their baby brother in his arms.

"Hop Sing, will you and Ming-hua please go ahead of me and ready Joseph's room?" The older man turned a weary face toward him and his brother as he came abreast them. "One of you needs to go for Doc Martin."

Hoss was bending down, taking hold of Zhuang's feet. The evil man was still unconscious. "I'll do it, Pa. I need to get these men to the sheriff."

"Yes." His father looked disgusted. "I want that man and the vile men who work for him off my land now!"

"Already done, Pa," Hoss said as he dragged the Chinese man toward the door. "I got them other two in the wagon. I'll get this one out there and tie him up good and then head out."

"I'll go with him," Richard Jennings said as he roused and rose shakily to his feet. The older man's voice quivered with both exhaustion and relief. "I need to get home to my wife. She has to be worried sick about Tory and me."

"Hop Sing send girls into town," their cook said, interrupting. "Tory go to Mrs. Riley. She safe."

"Good thinking, Hop Sing," Adam said. "No one would think to look for them there."

The man from China nodded and then bustled up the stairs after Ming-hua. Adam caught his father's arm as the older man followed in his wake. He looked into his little brother's face and shuddered at what he saw. Joe's cheeks were red and his skin was pale. The sheen of sweat coating it made it look like wax. His brother's breathing was shallow and Joe moaned as he tossed from side to side.

"How is he?" he asked, concerned.

"I can't be sure, but I'm afraid your brother has developed pneumonia, Adam. After that drenching he took and what with not being able to rest..."

"What happened to his leg?" Adam asked, noting the blood on his brother's torn pants' leg.

"I'm not sure." His father's jaw tightened as he turned toward the door. His black eyes blazed. "If I wasn't' a Christian man, I would go out to that barn and take my son's pain out on that man's hide!"

"Bed ready for number three son, Mistah Ben," Hop Sing spoke softly from the head of the stairs bringing his father's attention back where it belonged – to his youngest son.

Adam didn't release him immediately. "Once you get Joe settled Pa, we need to talk. There's more going on here than you know."

His father's eyes narrowed. "More?"

He nodded. "A lot more."

The older man's brows leapt up and he sighed. "Great. Just, great."

"Go on and take Joe upstairs, Pa. I'll check on Hoss." He hesitated and then indicated the slumped figure in the chair before the fire. "Er, do I need to see to our guest?"

"Let John sleep, Adam. He was wounded defending your brother." He nodded toward the door. "I think those two in the barn had something to do with it."

Adam shook his head. "They couldn't have, Pa. At least, I don't think they could have. They've been here for quite a while."

He watched fear enter his father's eyes. "Just what is it we are in the middle of?" the older man asked, his voice hushed with conjecture. Before he could answer, Pa went on. "Let me get Joseph to his bed. Once I've made sure he's resting as best he can, I'll come back down."

As his father headed up the stairs, Adam turned and headed for the door. He wanted a word with Hoss before the big man went to town. He'd made it about halfway to the barn when he realized something was wrong.

It was too quiet.

As he continued on, Adam's hand went for his gun. As it came up empty, he remembered he wasn't wearing one. Pa didn't like them to in the house. When he reached the barn door, he found it partially open. Adam hesitated a moment and then entered.

The scene that confronted him stunned him into inaction.

The wagon Hoss had been prepared to take the Chinese criminals into town was empty. Richard Jennings lay on the ground beside it, a knife protruding from his back.

Hoss was nowhere to be seen.

Seized with fear Adam called out, "Hoss! Hoss! Where are you? Hoss?"

His answer came in the form of a groan from somewhere near the back of the barn.

The black-haired man crossed the dirt and hay-strewn floor swiftly, looking into the stalls on either side as he moved. In the last one, crumpled in the corner, he caught a glimpse of a leather vest and brown pants.

Dropping beside his brother, Adam placed at hand on his shoulder. "Are you hurt?"

"Dang it!" the big man growled. "I let them get the drop on me!"

"Them?"

Hoss groaned as his hand went to his forehead, which was bleeding. "Them China men in black. I ain't no more than got that fancy-dressed one in the wagon then they jumped me. Richard..." Hoss looked sick. "He ain't...?"

"I'm not sure." Adam pursed his lips as he glanced back at the prone man. "But from the looks of things, I'd say he's dead."

"Damn. He tried to help me. Took on one of them wild men all on his own."

"How many were there?" he asked as he turned back.

The big man shook his head. "Two, maybe three. Them fellers moved faster than chain lightnin' with a link snapped!"

Adam placed a hand under his brother's arm and helped him to rise and then they both walked to where Richard Jennings had fallen. He knelt and checked for a pulse. Looking up, he shook his head.

"Double damn," Hoss said softly. "He was a nice man."

Adam acknowledged that truth with a weary nod and then rose and dragged himself over to stare at the ranch house. So much had happened in such a short time – Butch attacking Joe, his brother's disappearance and the desperate search to find him, the arrival of Biyu and Dandan, Da Chao's appearance and then, hard upon that, Khu Zhuang's. Added to all of that, of course, was Joe's precarious condition, Richard Jennings' unnecessary death, and the presence of a complete stranger in the great room who had collapsed into his favorite chair.

He really wanted to collapse into his favorite chair.

Adam leaned his head against the barn wall. As Hoss would put it, he was wearin' down faster than a two dollar watch.

Without warning a strong arm circled his shoulders, "Come on, older brother, it ain't that long since you were sick. You lean on me. We gotta go tell Pa what happened and then I gotta go get the Doc." The big man glanced over his shoulder. "Guess I'll be takin' Mister Jennings to the undertaker 'stead of those bad men to the sheriff." He whistled low. "I sure hate to think of tellin' his wife he went and got hisself killed on account of me."

Adam struggled for words of comfort. "He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Hoss blew out a short sigh. "Ain't that the truth."

Gently, he disengaged himself from his brother's arm and straightened up. "I'm okay, really. I can make it on my on. Come on, I want to see how Joe is."

The big man made a face. "He's hurtin' somethin' bad, Adam. John..." At his look, his brother added, "...that's the man sitting by the fire. He was bringin' Joe home when a couple of those men in black jumped them –"

Adam put out a hand to stop him. "Wait. More Chinese men? They attacked this man, John? Why?"

"I don't rightly know, but they took off with Joe. One of them got killed 'fore Pa found Joe, but the other got plumb got away."

"Took off with Joe?"

Adam's head was reeling. Another of his middle brother's expressions came to mind.

What in the Sam Hill was going on?

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Ben Cartwright frowned as the front door closed and he thought he heard the sound of both his older son's voices as they entered. Stepping to Joseph's bedroom door and opening it, he listened. Yes, Hoss was there too. It puzzled him since Hoss was supposed to be heading to town for the doctor, but then perhaps his son had simply forgotten something involved with the delivery of his prisoners. He heard them speaking to Ming-hua. He had just sent the girl down to get some pine needles to toss in the fire in the hope that the powerful scent would help to ease his youngest son's labored breathing.

Little Joe had been shivering hard by the time they reached his room. His first action had been to stoke the fire, and then he'd gathered as many blankets as he could find from the nearby rooms to cover the boy with. It didn't help. Joseph was still trembling.

It nearly broke his heart.

Not wanting to leave his sick boy, but knowing he needed to speak to Joseph's brothers, Ben went to the bed and leaned down to press his lips to his youngest's fevered forehead. As he turned to leave, a word softly spoken stopped him.

"Pa...?"

Sitting back down, Ben took his boy's fiery hand in one of his. With the fingers of the other, he caressed his son's sweat-soaked hair. "I'm here, Joseph. Your pa is here."

Ben waited. He wasn't sure Little Joe had heard him. The boy was tossing from side to side as if in pain and, though his eyes were open, he couldn't be sure he saw him.

"Adam...Hoss," Joe moaned. "Men going to...hurt...Adam and Hoss..." His son grew more agitated and began to fight against him. "No! Let...me go! Have to...save..." Without warning Joseph sat straight up in his bed and shouted. "Adam! Hoss!"

By the time he had the boy restrained and back on the ticking, his brothers had appeared. Both were a bit out of breath.

"Pa?" Adam asked.

"Pa?" Hoss echoed. "Is Joe okay?"

Ben took in the sight of his middle boy – the one who should have been on his way to town. Hoss' clothing was filthy and head was bandaged. A small red spot shown on the white linen strip. There was a story there, but now was not the time for it.

Turning his attention back to his youngest, he said, "Your brother's out of his head. He thinks you are both in danger."

Adam moved the most quickly. Ben released his son's hand and slipped out of the way to allow his eldest to take his place. He watched as Adam caught Little Joe's grasping hand in his and then reached out with the other to take hold of his chin.

"Joe, " his son said as he forced the sick boy's head up. "Little Joe. Look at me!"

Joseph struggled for a moment longer and then blinked, as if clearing something from his eyes. Then he looked straight at his brother. After a moment Little Joe's parched lips parted. He mumbled a few silent words and then –

"...Adam?"

"Yeah, it's me, buddy." Adam inclined his head toward the door. "Hoss is here too. We're both fine."

Joe's fevered eyes rolled over toward the door. A slight smile brightened his face as they found his big brother. A second later it turned into a frown.

"...hurt?"

Hoss reached up to touch the bandage wound around his head. "This? This ain't nothin'. I weren't watchin' what I was doin' when I reared up out there in the barn."

Ben acknowledged his son's lie with a short nod.

There was a time and place.

"Men...wanted me," Joseph began. "Said they'd...kill you both if I...didn't..." His son gasped for air and had to wait as he fought a cough. When the words came out they were more full of air than the boy's lungs. "...Zhuang's...men."

The older man heard his eldest's audible intake of breath. When Adam spoke again, his voice shook. "Be that as it may, they didn't hurt us, Joe. We're safe." He ran his fingers through his brother's tangled curls, straightening them. "You just get some sleep, little buddy, and get better."

"...stay...?" Joe asked as his eyes began to close.

Adam glanced at him, his face stricken. "I gotta...change my clothes, Joe. Hoss will sit with you for a while and then I'll come back. I promise."

Adam released his brother's hand. Joe's fingers had gone slack.

Ben watched his oldest boy rise and then turned and went into the corridor. He waited until Adam joined him and then asked again the question he had put to him before.

"Adam, what is it we've found ourselves in the middle of?"

Adam's eyes shone with something he had rarely seen in their hazel depths.

Fear.

Real fear.

"It's a war, Pa. We've found ourselves in the middle of a war."