Alrighty here it is. The final conclusion. There is an epilogue after this though.

~CHAPTER 25~

The three occupants of the loft froze in terror when they heard the crash of a door flying from its hinges below. Travis's head jerked around, his blood running cold as he heard McWhorter's voice raised in anger. "What happened? Where are they!" Halfway to the loft door Adam started forward again, motioning Ben to follow as more voices were heard from below.

"That soft-bellied punk, Travis," a darker voice responded to the Boss's question as quick footsteps coming up the storeroom ladder to the loft were heard. Having just reached the rope, Adam turned around and saw his father, now almost out of view in the shadow-filled recesses. He was about to turn and rush back to him when Travis's hand suddenly pressed into his back, pushing him out the loft opening. He frantically reached out and grasped the rope, stopping his plummet toward the unforgiving ground with a bone-jarring jerk. His grip wasn't a good one however, and as his body swung back to slam up against the barn wall, his fingers slipped from the strain and he fell heavily to the ground. He looked back up toward the opening and realized with a sinking heart that his father was not right behind him.

Suddenly hands were on him as he heard Joe's voice in his ear. "Adam, where's Pa!" he blurted as he and Hoss helped him up. Before Adam could answer, a shot was heard from above. All three turned their heads toward the opening as Roy and the others rushed to their side.

"Hurry, inside!" Roy drew his gun and motioned them all toward the front of the barn as more shots followed the first and loud voices were raised, making their hearts sink. Guns were hastily tossed to the three brothers as they ran for the door. Crashing through it, Roy yelled to the men who were in great disarray inside, "All right, hold it!" The occupants turned in stunned disbelief at the unexpected intruders. Showing an outward calmness he honestly didn't feel, Roy motioned for the man at the top of the ladder, "Get down from there!" Time seemed to slide to a halt as both sides faced each other in a perplexing stalemate. The man on the top of the ladder with his gun drawn, ever so slowly made his way down the ladder step by step. The rest of the gang, afraid of their sure demise if they backed down, and the posse, unsure of what to do, remained motionless. Both sides had enough numbers; if there was shooting, casualties would quickly pile up on both sides, and everyone knew it.

The tension in the room was so thick one could almost see it, hazy, grotesque, clouding people's better judgment. One lone figure in the back, however, was not being led by fear, but by anger. His plans had been foiled... the one man responsible must still be upstairs; he didn't see him among the group in front of him. Since all other options were cut off to him now, McWhorter would have to make his escape by means of the loft. Seeing the open door to the sons' room directly to his left and all eyes turned to the man just now reaching the bottom of the ladder, McWhorter's heartlessness demanded he think of no one but himself; he had to get to Ben Cartwright. Putting his plan into action, he shoved Clint, who was standing in front of him, forward, and dodged into the adjoining gunshots from weapons held by fingers tight with nerves were heard from every corner. Clint lay dead a second later, but the rest ran for cover wherever they could and commenced shooting. The opposition was forced outside and to their own cover, several of the less fortunate already slumped in the threshold.

Roy and the Cartwrights took their places to the left of the main door, miraculously unharmed. As the firing continued, Hoss turned to the Sheriff. "Roy, Pa's in there. We gotta git to 'im!"

"You can't go through that, son; you'll be cut off before yuh get two feet!"

The delay caused Adam to wipe a hand across his mouth in frustration as Joe fired, the acrid smell of gun smoke already heavy in the air. Leaving his brothers and the posse, Adam ran to the other side of the barn and gazed back up at the opening. He couldn't tell what was going on up there. The posse had everyone else pinned down below; his father and Travis should've been out by now.

Travis peered around the side of a post behind which he'd taken cover. His hand was shaking, and his heart beat wildly from the close encounter that had fortunately been interrupted by the Sheriff. He hadn't expected to do any shooting, and it had unnerved him more than he thought possible. Even though things happened so quickly, he knew that Wade must've seen him push Adam Cartwright out the loft door. As he opened the gun's chamber, he noticed with horror he had but one bullet left. His end of the deal wasn't to deliver his previous cohorts to them; it was merely to get the Cartwrights to safety, and he had one more to get there. As he put his gun back in its holster, Ben Cartwright's ragged face appeared from the rear of the barn, the sound of the resumed gunfire loud downstairs. He hurried over to where Travis stood by the open door. "That shooting... my sons..."

"I'm sure they're safe, Mr. Cartwright. They were with the Sheriff the last time I saw them, and I'm sure he won't let anything happen to them." With a tired but victorious smile, he turned Ben toward the rope, "Last one... let's get you out of..."

A shot in close proximity rang in Ben's ears. Travis gasped in pain and stumbled into Ben who caught him instinctively. "Travis! Travis?" He called urgently to the young lad, whose eyes had suddenly rolled up into his head and whose body became a dead weight as Ben carefully laid him down on the floor. Blood oozed from an ugly wound in his side, but before he could tell just how badly the lad was injured, a menacing laugh sounded behind him. Turning slowly, he saw his nemesis standing a few yards away with a raised gun and satisfied smile on his face.

"Fool kid... he should've known better than to try and double-cross Jason McWhorter."

"You didn't have to shoot him. You were after me! He's just a boy!"

"He was man enough to defy my orders, wasn't he?" he spat at Ben, not caring whether or not he had just killed the motionless figure on the floor. Turning his full attention back to Ben, he smoothly motioned with his gun. "On your feet, Cartwright." Ben turned back to Travis whose face was starting to pale, not sure if the lad was even still breathing. "I said up!" McWhorter stepped closer. Ben heaved a great sigh and slowly stood, his right hand brushing past his boot and retrieving the knife that he had returned there after freeing his sons. He slid it imperceptibly into his sleeve as he finished standing and turned to McWhorter.

McWhorter slowly started to circle Ben. Shots and cries of pain continued to sound from below as he hissed, "You've ruined my plans for the last time, Cartwright. I'm going to enjoy this."

"And then what, McWhorter? You've lived so long with this needless hatred driving you, what will you do when it's gone?"

"Needless!" McWhorter stopped circling, his back to the open window where the light made his bulk look ten times bigger and his terrible face even more wild. "Oh, but it isn't needless. You took everything from me! My revenge will finally be over. I... I will feel complete."

"Oh, no... you'll feel empty. Empty and worthless just like the scum of the earth you are and always have been."

Instead of anger, a sadistic smile slowly flashed across McWhorter's face making his twisted scar jump grotesquely. "Oh, I don't think so... there's still your sons... Ah yes, what makes you think if after I get through killing you I won't come back for them. It'd be so easy... I could pick them off one by one. Alone in some field, a single bullet to the head... " The sound of the firing downstairs and McWhorter's heinous plans for his family seemed to meld as Ben felt his muscles become rigid and his jaw grind as he glared at the serpent in front of him.

"Enough of this!" McWhorter suddenly shouted. He raised his gun for the killing shot for which he'd waited so long. "Don't worry, Cartwright... at least you won't be there to see it... a shame." His finger started pulling the trigger... a shot was heard... but Ben felt no pain. Instead, McWhorter's left side jerked as a bullet entered his arm. He was thrown off balance suddenly, his gun hand wavering, giving Ben enough time to retrieve the knife from his sleeve and throw it before McWhorter could fire. The man's head shot back and his gun dropped from nerveless fingers as the knife imbedded itself in his upper chest. He reeled slightly, falling to the ground. Ben ran over and kicked the gun far out of his reach, but it wasn't needed. The hate-filled eyes of a moment before were now lifeless and empty, the knife having struck him in the heart. He suddenly recalled the bullet that had kept McWhorter from killing him and looked over to see Travis collapse once again to the floor, his gun sliding from his hand. Ben ran over to him and noticed with horror the back of the lad's shirt almost completely stained crimson.

"It's alright now, boy. We're gonna get you help."

Travis gazed toward the ceiling, his breathing quick and shallow as Ben rolled him onto his side slightly and pressed his neckerchief against the wound. He slowly turned his head on the hay-strewn floor and looked over at the body lying a few feet away. "I... is he d-dead?"

"Yes."

"Did I..."

"No, you didn't. It was my knife that killed him." Travis ran his tongue over his dry lips.

"I... I never k-killed anyone before..." His breathe came in gasps, his words choppy and short. Ben peeled back the cloth and grimaced to see the steady flow of blood.

"Travis I... don't really know what to say. You saved my family... my life... words don't seem to say how much I owe you and how grateful... very grateful I am."

Travis angled his head back slowly. Tears shown in the lad's eyes, but he didn't speak.

"Pa!" Ben looked behind to see Joe running toward him. In all the confusion he hadn't even realized that the firing below had ceased. It was over.

To Ben the rest was a blur, although he vaguely remembered making sure Travis would be taken to a doctor. "We're getting help for him, Pa," Joe reassured him. "Let's get you out of here." The room was suddenly full of people, some helping Travis, some coming to him, two of which were his other sons making sure that he was alright. He'd been led past the carnage in the lower room of that stable, only slightly glimpsing the lifeless figures being gathered by the posse. It wasn't until he was outside and breathing the free air that Ben's mind seemed to return to him. He beheld his good friend the Sheriff and another, more surprising one, Wavoka of the Paiutes.

"Ben, I just can't believe my eyes. Here you are raised from the dead, and prit'near lookin' like it too," Roy joked, shaking Ben's hand with vigor, his mustache twitching in a giant smile.

Ben chuckled, "I tell you, Roy, I don't care how I look as long as I am back!"

"Ain't that the truth," Hoss put in heartily.

Some distance away and unnoticed until Adam happened to turn and see them, Wavoka and his braves were starting to mount. Running over to them, he called out, "Wavoka, why do you leave now? I'd like to thank you, and I'm sure my father would like to... "

"Wavoka need nothing." He gazed back at Ben Cartwright, a great man and a leader of men. Wavoka would always respect him for that. "White friend of the Paiute need help, Paiute help. Ask for nothing."

Adam nodded in understanding of the Indian's proud ways. "Goodbye, my friend."

Wavoka nodded before gracefully swinging onto his mount's saddleless back and disappearing toward the hills with his braves. Adam gazed after them. Though their help had gone unrecognized, without it the whole course of events would've had an unthinkable end. He'd be eternally grateful to him. Wavoka wouldn't accept their thanks, but already knew he had their undying gratitude.