Chapter 25
"I couldn't catch her. She was as desperate to save those children as I was to save them all. So I tied my bandana over my mouth and nose and I went in after her," Adam paused, gathering his emotions. "Funny thing is . . . I remember thinking 'this fire is really hot'! Can you imagine? I'm inside a burning building. I have no idea if the children are together or in different places or even . . . even alive. I don't know which way Mercy went once she was inside. And I'm having a discussion with myself about the temperature of the flames!"
Joe clamped his eyes shut trying to erase the vision of his brother in the midst of the blaze. Hoss thought of the scars on Adam's back and prayed that Adam would tell them he'd been unconscious when it happened. Ben felt the remnants of adrenaline in his own body surging as he remembered searching for Adam in the burning bunkhouse just hours ago.
"I remember calling, screaming their names. Screaming over and over until my voice abandoned me. At least, I thought it had. But it was the roar of the fire. The deafening sound of destruction. As if the inanimate objects in the room were crying out in pain as the flames consumed them."
Ben watched as Adam unknowingly gripped the blanket on the bed with his hands, his knuckles fading to white as he clutched with all his strength.
"I felt my way to the staircase, figuring that AnnaLynn would've been back long enough to have taken Danny and Mary up to bed. I'd climbed six steps. Eight more to go. Ha. Until that moment, I hadn't realized I knew there were fourteen steps. There were no flames in front of me. Just thick, stinging smoke. I started to climb faster. If the fire had started downstairs, and they were upstairs, there was a good chance that the children were still alive. I'd gone just three steps when I lost my balance. I started to fall, to tumble down the steps. I remember hitting my head, bending my arm the wrong way and feeling my ankle snap. And then I stopped falling."
Adam looked down at his hands, hands clenched so tightly that a small trickle of blood trailed from beneath his left thumb, ran past his fingers, and dripped onto the bed. He released the wrinkled, stained blanket, opened his fingers, and stared at the wound.
"Here, let me take care of that, Adam," Paul said calmly. Quickly, he cleaned and dressed the minor wound as Hoss, Joe, and Ben watched in silence.
"I don't think I lost consciousness. I remember feeling pain. Feeling . . . confused. I stood, hanging on the railing. I hopped up the stairs. My ankle must have been twisted, maybe broken. Then I heard it. Faint sounds. Sounds I had to concentrate on to hear. But I was wasting time trying to listen. I hobbled up further and finally recognized that those sounds were not the children or Mercy. They were the flames. The damned flames masquerading as voices. I moved up another step, and another. And then I found her. I hadn't lost my balance before. I'd tripped over Mercy. She was unconscious. Collapsed on the staircase."
Adam reached for the brandy carafe. He raised it an inch of so off the table, but his hand was trembling fiercely. Gently, Ben placed his hand atop Adam's. The strength from that pairing sent a welcomed surge of composure through Adam. Together, father and son expertly poured a glass of brandy.
Ben longed to take his son in his arms as he had so many times before. Times when Adam was a child and needed his father's expression of love. Times when Ben, as a father, needed young Adam's comforting hand. Too long ago, those 'times' had all but disappeared, the last being the day Adam had left the Ponderosa. As the carafe's bottom touched the tray, Ben hesitated removing his hand. Adam stared at the carafe, at his father's hand atop his. Turning, looking into Ben's eyes, Adam nodded, Ben smiled and then slowly removed his hand. In the corner of the room, Hoss allowed a slight tug on the corners of his mouth as a single tear rolled down his cheek. Adam downed the brandy, took a deep breath, and continued the story of that awful night.
"It never even crossed my mind to check for a pulse, to see if she was alive. I just somehow knew she was. I lifted her, held her close, and carried her down the stairs and out into the yard."
"But your ankle was broken! How did you-"
"I don't know, Joe. I don't remember feeling any physical pain. I just had to get Mercy out of that building and nothing was going to stop me. I laid her down next to the children, told them to stay with her, and ran back inside. I managed to get upstairs. The smoke was dense, so dense, I could feel it pressing against my every move, trying to fight me, to stop me from searching for the children. I checked everywhere. I touched everything, hoping to feel a hand or a leg . . . I tried, Pa! For God knows how long, I tried! I knew where I was, which room I mean, at all times. I even searched my own room and there was no reason they would've gone in there. But I had to, Pa, I just had to . . . I tried . . ."
Adam's body quivered as the memory faded. He coughed, his mind summoning the acrid smell of the burning wood. For Adam alone, the temperature in his Ponderosa bedroom climbed to that of the orphanage inferno. His chest felt heavy as he struggled for every breath.
Immediately, Paul was on his feet, Hoss rose from his chair, and Ben reached for Adam's hand. In the darkened corner of the room, Joe felt himself shrink further into his chair.
As quickly as the all encompassing memories had come, they seemed to be gone, and in a moment of strength, Adam continued the story.
"I remember thinking, the kitchen. Maybe AnnaLynn and the children were in the kitchen! I hurried to the stairs and felt a stabbing pain in my ankle. I started down the steps. I was holding on to the railing because I couldn't see through the smoke. I took another step and the railing snapped. I reached for the wall but I was already free-falling sideways off of the staircase.
It took so long for me to land and when I did, I landed on the floor. It was burning. I was burning. Pain. So much pain. And I remember begging, God, please spare those children from this pain."
Adam's head was reeling, tears streamed down his face, and he rocked slowly back and forth as he stared straight ahead. Paul reminded him that he could stop and rest whenever he needed, but Adam insisted on remembering the rest of the story.
"I must have passed out and the next thing I remember is lying in the grass outside, my back burning, pain pulsing through me. I lifted my head and saw Mercy. She must have dragged me from the fire. It had to have been her. None of the children were strong enough.
"She brushed the hair on my forehead with her soft, cool hand. She smiled. Covered with dirt and soot, dress torn and singed, her hair pulled loose from its clips. She was more beautiful than anything I'd ever seen. And then . . . she was gone. I tried to scream to her, but no sound came out. She ran across the grassy yard and back into the orphanage. And she was gone."
"I went back inside after her. I had to! I somehow made it to the kitchen and then, nothing. That's all I remember. " Once again, the pain inside Adam's head grew nearly unbearable. "I remember the fire . . . the fire in the orphanage . . . No, wait. The fire was in the bunkhouse! It was here! And Pa! You were trapped inside! I went in after you. I-"
"You saved my life, Adam. You carried me from the bunkhouse. You saved my life."
Adam abruptly stood, his stance one of defense, as if Ben, Joe, Hoss, and Paul were the enemy trying to capture him. He grabbed his head and closed his eyes, attempting to shake off the confusion and shed his pain. Backing away from the rest of his family, he stumbled and nearly fell.
Ben was on his feet and his first movement toward Adam brought on an unexpected rage.
"Stop! Don't come any closer! I don't, I don't know . . . know . . ."
He looked from Hoss to Joe, his eyes admitting no recognition at all. Paul, too, was a stranger to him. And his father, halted mid-step by his son's pleas, had a face that triggered no memories at all.
Adam turned away from the desperate, pleading faces of the strangers in the room. When he opened his eyes, he was face to face with another stranger looking back at him. A mirror reflecting features, hair and clothing that meant nothing to the bewildered man staring back at them through tear-filled eyes.
"I don't know . . . " he whispered before taking several forced steps toward the image. "I . . . I woke up in the dark. The room was hot. I was on my stomach. My back! God, it hurt. And my head."
Ben started to step toward his son and immediately felt Paul's hand on his shoulder. No words were needed as the two men stole a glance at each other before returning their full attention to the other side of the room. Adam moved closer to the mirror. He watched as his reflection touched its hair, foreign yet familiar.
"I lifted my head. I was in a cell! And there were others. I tried to push myself up but my back . . . God how it hurt. I rolled to my side, my legs fell to the floor. I sat up and the room swirled and blurred . . . I vomited on the dirt floor.
"I was at the cell bars. Don't remember getting there. I hung onto them but the room kept turning against itself. I heard laughter. Men in other cells were laughing at me. The sounds, banging on the bars. The smell. Urine and waste. The place reeked of so many horrid smells. I must have passed out. I don't know how I got to the bunk. There were insects crawling on it. My God, what did I do? Why was I there?" Adam screamed as he lunged forward, smashing the hanging mirror. Before anyone could reach him he turned sharply, holding his bloodied hands, shards of glass protruding from the wounds, in front of his face.
With no resistance whatsoever, Paul and Ben guided Adam to the bed and Paul set in to treating Adam's injuries.
Hoss was angry. He looked at Joe, agreement flowing between them. The anger rising within Adam's younger brothers was sparked by the thought that someone could have treated anyone, let alone their brother, with such contemptible conditions. Before either of them could speak up, Adam revealed more of his horrible experience.
"I don't understand. Why are you helping me? I don't even know where I am or who you are. If I deserved to be in that cell with those others, why would anyone want to help me?"
Before Paul could stop him, Ben spoke up. "We don't believe you deserved to be there. We want to help you, to let you remember, and do what we can to clear all of this up and set things right. Please, tell us what you remember next."
Something in Ben's voice convinced Adam that he was a man to be trusted. Looking from Hoss to Joe, he realized he was safe, even though he had no idea why.
"The guard. He brought me food. Stale bread, dirty water. He talked to me. Told me he was sorry he couldn't get a doc for me. I asked him where I was, and he laughed. 'You're in prison, of course!' I begged him to tell me what I did, why I was there. He said I murdered a man, that I was found kneeling over the body with a knife in my hand," Adam said as he raised his bandaged left hand, staring at it as if it was foreign to him. "I don't remember . . ."
Adam winced, his head aching with every movement.
"I'm sorry if I hurt you," Paul said as he finished wrapping Adam's right hand.
"You did fine, sir. And thank you. It's just my head. It's pounding and . . . A newspaper! He had a newspaper. The guard, I mean. He sat in a chair at the end of the hallway. The cells were dark, but he had a lamp by the chair. Some of the others, the other prisoners, they yelled at him to be quiet, to stop reading aloud. But I heard him. He was reading an article by some reporter about a fire. His name was Andrew Williams. An orphanage fire in some nearby town. A woman, a man, and three children died in the fire. They all burned to . . . A woman, three children . . . "
Adam froze, unable to speak. Tears welled in his eyes, and his body was rocked with silent sobs.
Hoss was first on his feet, limping toward Adam's bed. Joe watched as his oldest brother, his hero, crumbled in front of his eyes.
"I listened as the guard read, and I remembered. Mercy. Why did she have to go back inside? Mary, Danny, AnnaLynn! I never found them. I tried! I tried so hard! Then everything in the cell went black. When I came to, there was someone with me. A doctor. At least, they said he was one. Said the only reason he was there was because the town wanted me to hang, not die in my cell. He asked me my name, and I couldn't remember! He kept asking. I wanted his help, for my back and my aching head, so I said the first name that came to mind. 'William'."
The tragic tale unfolded as Adam slipped pieces of the puzzle together for his family as well as himself. Some of the pieces formed solid memories, while others remained connected, but with jagged edges that seemed to fit nowhere. One section was completed when he remembered crawling through the smoky fog to the orphanage's kitchen door. Voices of children begging for help, calling out to Miss Mercy had drawn him out into the back yard and further, into the woods. The memories went blank until he awakened in the cell, burned, bleeding, and barely aware of his surroundings. The newspaper's telling of the neighboring town's fire had confirmed Adam's greatest fears: Mercy, Danny, Mary, and AnnaLynn were gone, and the agony of that realization buried Adam deep inside himself. Unable to cope with his loss, suffering with untreated burns and injuries, William was born.
For him, the circumstances of his incarceration were presented by way of verbal abuse from the guards and the prisoners. They claimed he'd stabbed a man, Andy Simmons, the loveable town drunk. Adam had, of course, denied the charges, believing himself incapable of murder. But his memory loss, 'amnesia' they'd called it, was considered a fanciful attempt at absolution by the backwoods town judge, an official who also happened to be Andy Simmons' brother-in-law. The guards kept the prisoners well-informed by passing along bits and pieces of news they deemed relevant. None of the prisoners actually knew what might be false or what could be true.
One wretched afternoon, amid sweltering heat and stagnant, foul air, the inmates heard the faint sounds of pounding mixed with excited voices in the distance. A few hours later, the hammering stopped, and although everyone knew what the sound implied, until then, no one had voiced the actual words.
"Well, well, well, William! It seems that tomorrow'll be an eventful yet short-lived day for you! What do you say fellas, a hangin's something ev'ryone looks forward to, isn't it? Ev'ryone 'cept William that is!"
"Funny, isn't it?" Adam said, staring up at his father. "I can remember what that guard said verbatim, but other things are clouded and even more is just gone!"
Paul handed Adam a glass of water, and the look on the doctor's face left no question in Adam's mind: he was to drink it.
"Thank you," Adam said as sat the empty glass on the bedside table.
"Do you remember anything else about that . . . that hell-hole?" Joe asked, anger rising in his voice.
Adam turned toward the young man who exuded an inner strength that made Adam smile. For someone of so few years and such slight stature, he was convinced that the boy was a force to be reckoned with and an ally he would be proud to fight alongside of any day.
"I do remember more. I have no idea what time of day or night it actually happened, but I was lying in my bunk, looking at the ceiling. You know how when you stare at something long enough, you sometimes see shapes in the flaws of the surface? I was staring for hours, facing the blankness of my life as it passed me by. I remember thinking 'this is wrong'. Every memory I had of my life had taken place in those few days in that filthy cell. Nothing before. Nothing! A blank canvas on that wretched ceiling, and all my mind could paint was the inside of that damned cell!"
Ben reached a hesitating hand toward Adam, wanting so badly to comfort him. The movement did not go unnoticed. Adam placed his hand atop of Ben's, flashed a brief smile. "Pa."
It seemed once again, Adam was in the present.
"I started to hallucinate. At least, I thought I was. My brain brushed colorful images onto the ceiling. At the time, I had no idea what the images were. But now . . ." Adam's headache flared once again, pulsing against his temples.
Ben tightened his grip on his son's arm and called his name. The calming sound of Ben's voice washed over Adam, warming his heart and soothing his fears.
"I heard all of you calling out to me. Flashes of memory, voices from my past. At the time, they just confused me more, but at the same time, there was a familiarity and a reassurance. I stared at that ceiling and those impressions for hours, not knowing what any of it meant. I must have been lost in reflection because I didn't even hear the guard and the sheriff walk into the hallway."
Adam made his way across the bedroom to the open window. Rays of moonlight streamed in from the sky, illuminating his face as he looked out at the stars. His sudden slow, nervous laugh startled his family, and as the slight rumble of sound grew, worry fell across everyone else in the room.
"I'm sorry. It's just so ridiculous. So ridiculously unreal!"
Adam's laughter, normally contagious to his brothers and father, exploded around them in a frightening blast of alarm. Paul reached into his bag, feeling for his tranquilizing powder, ready to subdue Adam if the need arose.
"They walked up to my cell, and I just laid there on the bunk waiting to be told that it was time for a hanging and I was the main event!"
After another burst of laughter, Adam closed his eyes and enjoyed the breeze blowing across his face.
"The guard unlocked the cell door, he and the sheriff walked inside, and he said, 'William, as Sheriff of Hampton, I hereby release you and absolve you of all charges. Son, you're free to go.'
"The images on the ceiling vanished. I remember the other prisoners weighing in loudly, protesting my release.
"I remember being confused and saying, 'I don't understand! I'm free? I'm not going to be-' and then the Sheriff interrupted me. Like he had something else he needed to get to, and my questions were taking too much of his time."
"'That's right," the sheriff said. "We found the man who murdered Andy Simmons. He gave us a full confession. My apologies, son. You're free to go.'"
This time, Adam's laughter was a combination of joy and tears. Leaning against the wall for support, he continued to laugh, loudly.
"Don't you get it? It's funny. No, it's hysterical! I was free to go. To go where? I was 'William'. No past, no memories, no last name. Free to go where?" Adam blinked back his tear-filled eyes, choking down the giggling that kept escaping from deep within. If he hadn't been propped against the wall, he knew he would have fainted as the room began spinning out of control.
This time it was Hoss who was moving before Adam even realized he'd begun sliding along the wall. With his muscular arm around Adam's waist, Hoss guided him across the room and into a chair.
"Thanks, Hoss," Adam said as he looked into Hoss's kind, blue eyes.
Momentarily overcome by Adam's recognition, the only acknowledgement the big man could muster was a gentle pat on Adam's shoulder. Before Hoss was able to return to his seat, Adam continued on with the final details of the past few weeks.
"The little bit of my clothing not burned in the fire had been destroyed when I was sentenced to hang. The sheriff took pity on me and arranged for something for me to wear other than the prison clothes. My horse had been sold, and the sheriff gave me the money they'd gotten for him. They did still have my gun and my holster; at least they told me they were mine. And that was it. I was free to go. I walked out, past the other cells with their captives spouting obscenities, spitting at me and demanding their own release.
"When I stepped outside for the first time, the brightness of the cloudy day was more than my eyes could stand. I remember leaning against the wall just outside the prison door with my eyes clamped shut. It took me, maybe, ten minutes before I could open them completely. I was hungry, thirsty and exhausted. My back ached and stung as the fabric of my shirt rubbed against the raw skin. I had to find a place where I could rest, to think about what to do, where to go. I had no idea if anyone in the town would talk to me, serve me, help me in any way. So, I started walking toward the trees. They seemed to be calling me. I figured I'd find a secluded spot to rest and contemplate my immediate future."
Adam laughed, A controlled, ironic laugh.
"I walked around the building and there it was. The gallows. And I strolled right on by. I remember noticing several design flaws in the construction of the lower supports. I even wondered to myself if it would have withstood the weight of two or three full-grown men. I started laughing as I walked on. I had this mental picture of the hangman standing next to the sheriff and me, with the noose around my neck, and the whole damn thing collapsing beneath us."
Ben closed his eyes at the thought of his son, noose around his neck, about to be hanged with no one there to support him. He, Joe, and Hoss failed to acknowledge the humor of the scene Adam had played out in his head. All they could grasp was how alone he must have felt.
"I'm sorry. I guess it really isn't all that funny. But at the time . . . I found a place about a mile into the woods, made myself as comfortable as I could, and after a while, I nodded off. When I woke up, I remember thinking how wonderful the air smelled. Fresh and wild, free and clean. I was so hungry and there were some blackberries nearby-"
"Adam, you don't like blackberries!" Joe interrupted.
"I know, Little Joe. But I ate them. Every last one I could find."
Joe smiled and Adam's heart skipped a beat at the sight of his little brother's eyebrows scrunching upward as the grin grew on his face.
"So, then, I walked. I had no idea where I was going or even if I was headed toward a town or just deeper into the Canadian wilderness."
Ben tilted his head in a familiar pose and Adam knew what he was thinking.
"I know, Pa. You taught me better than that. Wandering around alone in the woods . . . But William, he didn't know any better."
Ben was embarrassed that he'd reacted with a reprimand, and immediately righted his head and nodded.
"I wound up in a small logging town, found a doctor that would treat me and accept doing some chores as payment. The livery owner and I worked out a deal for mucking the stalls and grooming the horses, and I slept in his loft for three nights. I earned my meals working in the saloon repairing the staircase and doing odds and ends. Eventually, I bought a horse and moved on. After that, the places I went and things I did are all pretty fuzzy. I don't think I ever stayed in one place for very long. But I do remember that I wanted to go south. South and west. Something was drawing me this way. If only I'd been able to remember . . . "
The hectic sounds of early morning birds filtered in through the open bedroom window. The sun had not yet climbed above the horizon, but the anticipation of its warmth and glow excited the small creatures into their daily frenzy. No one in the room was sure how long ago the sweet music had begun. Adam's pause as he and the others digested the details of his experiences allowed the sounds to alert them all that daybreak was upon them.
"There are small bits and pieces of people and places. No names and no real time-frame to base things on. I just remember heading out and doing whatever I had to do to get by and keep on moving. I do remember a small town where I ran a general store while the owner recovered from a broken leg. Bison-something, I can't recall the whole name. And a town, more like a village really, located along a large lake. I lived on fish and slept on my bedroll for a quite a while. I worked in a mine there. Silver Flats was the name of the settlement, but I'm not even sure if the name was official. There was a wonderful woman. She ran a hotel. No, a boarding house. Wait, that wasn't in Silver Flats though."
Hoss and Joe exchanged knowing glances as Adam excitedly described Mrs. Baughman and her boarding house near Carson City.
"Strawberries. I remember strawberries!" Adam smiled. "I ate them on a porch outlined with lovely flowers. And I remember setting up camp along the lake."
Adam jumped to his feet and crossed toward Hoss and Joe.
"And the two of you! You were there, but . . . but I didn't know who you were, did I?"
Hoss cleared his dry throat and stole a quick look at a nodding Paul before answering.
"We were there, Adam. Only you were still thinkin' you were William."
"Well, why didn't you set me straight? Why didn't you tell me who you were? Who I am?" Adam demanded as he clenched his teeth and hands in frustration.
"Adam, we weren't sure it was you at first, and then we didn't want you takin' off if you got spooked," Hoss explained. "We figured we'd follow you 'n' let things happen sorta natural-like."
"Well, you're plan nearly got me and Pa killed in the bunkhouse fire! I can't believe none of you told me the truth!" Adam's anger rose as he closed the distance between Hoss and himself. Drawing his clenched fist tighter, he lifted his muscular arm up and back, ready to land a punch to Hoss's substantial jaw. "You lied, you son-of-a-"
"Adam!" Ben roared, the single word freezing Adam's arm in mid swing.
Slowly and deliberately, Adam lowered his arm never taking his eyes off his brother's stunned face. "Hoss? . . . Hoss, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to . . . I'm sorry."
"It's all right, Adam." Hoss reached a hand to Adam's shoulder.
Ben was on his feet and as he crossed the room, Joe stood beside his brothers.
"The important thing is that we're together now, and we'll help each other understand as much as we can from the past few years. Adam, you're home now, son."
Ben was interrupted when from the yard outside, a rooster proudly announced daybreak.
Smiling, Adam crossed his arms, scratched the back of his neck, and let out one soft giggle.
"Well, Hoss, if you aren't gonna say it, I am. It's morning, and I'm starving!"
Laughter filled the room as the tension that had been rising and falling throughout the night seemed to vanish, carried through the opened window on the fresh morning breeze.
~finis~