CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

At great length, the buckboard had been transformed into a passable substitute for a bed. Adam, Hoss, Joe and Roy had transferred Ben to a make-shift stretcher and carried him gingerly to the waiting wagon. Pillows, blankets and quilts wedged Ben's body tightly in an attempt to prevent as much jostling as was possible on the trip home.

Though the undertaking of getting him home had just begun, Paul frowned at the obvious signs that the journey was already taking a toll on Ben. He leaded into the buckboard, his frustration rising as he delivered one final plea.

"Ben, I'm going to say it one more time. I'm against this. I can see that you're in pain and I've told you, you're risking opening your wound . . . ."

Ben's smile was a weak one, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm going home, Paul. It's where I need to be."

Adam took the reins, nodded to Paul and as soon as the doctor settled in beside his patient, Adam coaxed the horses into a slow gait out of Virginia City and down the long road to the Ponderosa.

Despite Adam's struggle to keep the team at a snail's pace and avoid the countless chuckholes between town and the Ponderosa, the buckboard rocked and rattled along. He cursed loudly, his eyes glaring at the landscape that was threatening to harm his father. Joe and Hoss, riding on either side of the buckboard, felt their eldest brother's frustration and longed for a smooth path to follow.

Paul kept close watch on Ben's condition, cursing under his breath at his patient and friend. Had the doctor had his way, Ben would have remained in town, under his care for several more days, but Ben had insisted that his recovery would hasten if he were in his own bed, in his own room, on his beloved ranch.

Carrie, driving the doctor's buggy and following closely behind, gasped with every tilt and righting of the wagon. She said a silent prayer for Ben's life and then focused her thoughts on how she might comfort him once he was safely settled in his own bed at home.

I have to focus on one thing: Mr. Cartwright. I can't let anything . . . or anyone else come before his recovery. Once he's stronger, out of danger . . . then I'll have to make a decision. I only pray that Stu stays true to form - drunk in Virginia City . . . and that the Cartwrights do what they always do . . . remain close to the one who needs them the most.

Knowing Paul would see to Ben's needs before returning to Virginia City, her thoughts shifted to how she might reassure Ben's sons that they'd done the right thing in moving their father – a difficult undertaking knowing full well that she and Paul both disagreed with their decision to honor their father's wishes.

"Hey, Adam!" Hoss yelled from just ahead on the road. "Watch out! On yer left, there's a mess a chuckholes in a row. Swing wide!"

Adam waved his agreement and steered the team to the right.

Carrie followed, looking over the side of the buggy at the pits and valleys along the road. Having Hoss and Joe riding along was a very smart idea. That group of holes could've easily opened Mr. Cartwright's wound. At least it isn't much further to the ranch.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Paul stepped quietly into the hallway just outside of Ben's bedroom door, pulling the door halfway shut behind him. When he turned, he was startled to find Adam and Joe standing shoulder to shoulder with Hoss close behind. "Have you three been standing out here all this time?" Paul asked.

"Now, Paul," Adam said, "just where did you expect us to go?"

Had Paul not known him so well, he would have taken offense at Adam's hostile tone of voice. But after they'd carried Ben upstairs, he'd seen the faces of the three young men as they were shooed from the bedroom. At the time, he was most concerned about Joe's state of mind, but as he and Carrie worked to settle Ben into his new surroundings, Carrie had voiced her concerns for Adam.

I guess the young lady was right. Adam's a matchstick away from an explosion!

"Adam!" Hoss admonished.

Joe couldn't wait another second for a report. Shooting a glaring look at both of his brothers, he asked the question they all wanted answered. "How's Pa?"

Paul closed the door completely before giving the anxious men an answer. "The whole ordeal of being moved exhausted him, but his stitches are still intact. Thank God no further damage was done. Right now, he's asleep, courtesy of a powder and Carrie's soothing voice. She'll stay with him whether he's asleep or awake and has promised to call for anything he might need."

Joe stepped toward the door and Paul widened his stance, blocking the young man's way.

"There's one more thing," Paul said.

Joe froze in place, his heart beating through his neck and into his ears. Adam and Hoss both held their breath, not knowing what to expect from the doctor.

Paul raised a pointed finger. "You . . . all three of you, will immediately go downstairs and let Hop Sing feed you. Next, you will quietly and calmly check on your pa and make sure Carrie has everything she needs for the night. Finally, you will go to bed and sleep. Hop Sing will stay awake through the night, as will Carrie. They have promised to summon you should the need arise. Have I made myself clear?"

"That sounds mighty fine, Doc," Hoss said, "jist as soon as we . . ."

"I'm sorry, Hoss," Paul said. "There is no room for discussion here. You either follow my orders and Carrie's to the letter or tomorrow morning, Ben goes back to my place to recover."

Grudgingly, Adam, Hoss, and Joe agreed to abide by the doctor's wishes. He followed them downstairs and to the dining table. Hop Sing entered from the kitchen, carrying the first of several bowls and plates of food. With a stern look, Paul turned them over to Hop Sing's authority.

They watched from the dining room as Paul closed the front door behind him. Hop Sing mumbled in Chinese before retreating to the kitchen for the coffee carafe.

Adam and Hoss seated themselves, reluctantly, before spooning Hop Sing's offerings onto their plates. Joe, his eyes focused sharply on the staircase in the great room, fumed as he paced the length of the dining table.

"Joe, will ya sit down and have something to eat?" Adam suggested, the edge in his voice making it more of an order.

Joe's pacing continued.

Hoss shot a glance at Adam as both men, their appetites reflecting their emotions, pushed bits and pieces of pork and potatoes from side to side on their plates.

"I don't know about you two," Joe barked, "but I'd be up in that room right this very minute . . ."

"Joe, now ya know ya can't do that," Hoss countered. "Carrie'd have your hide fer shore."

"Nah . . . I'm not worried about Carrie," Joe glowered, glancing toward the stairs.

"Well, ya should be. She could make a rattlesnake turn 'n' slither off with just a single glance," Hoss said. "I wouldn't chance it, Joe. Why, when that little gal gets angry, she even scares me . . . even more'n ole Hop Sing." Hoss nodded as he stabbed a large bite of meat and raised it to his mouth.

Tight-lipped, Adam buttered his bread and ignored his brothers' statements. He laid his knife carefully against his plate and lifted the warm slice toward his mouth. His eyes caught the stares from his brothers, and the bread never made it to his waiting lips.

"She doesn't frighten me," Adam said before biting into the sweet, crusty end-piece, ". . . much."