Chapter 12, Part 4

Despite Paul's recommendation, Hoss was not sleeping when Ben stopped in to check on him. Instead he was half-propped in bed, his large hands folded in his lap and his expression thoughtful.

Ben slapped his knee lightly under the blankets as he pulled a chair up to the bed and sat down beside him. "Paul says you're doing well. How are you feeling?"

Hoss looked indifferent. "Heck, I'm fine - jest cain't seem ta convince anybody. Ol' Doc put me back on oatmeal fer today, though - jest gettin' even, if'n you ask me."

Ben laughed in surprise. "Even! For what?"

"Fer me not followin' orders. Makes him downright ornery, and he gets back at ya in sneaky ways."

Ben shook his head. "Well, then, maybe you should just follow his orders."

Hoss shifted carefully against the pillows. "Ya cain't really mean ya think I shoulda jest stayed here in bed what with all that ruckus in Adam's room and nobody else home."

Ben sobered abruptly. "No," he agreed quietly, wincing to himself when he thought about how differently things might have ended. "No."

Hoss nodded in satisfaction. "How the heck is a man supposed to stay in bed and recover when his brothers are always gettin' themselves inta trouble and needin' bailin' out?"

Ben smiled at him with deep affection. "I don't suppose he can." He hesitated. "How are you feeling?" he asked at last. "I don't mean physically - I mean about all this. Are you still feeling - responsible?"

Hoss picked at the quilt spread over him, mulling the question. "Y'know, Pa, it's funny…"

He seemed to be trying to organize his thoughts and Ben waited.

"It's funny," he continued at last. "All this time I been thinkin' about how Red Twilight was like me - about how I'd feel if somebody did harm ta Adam er Joe, even accidental. Been thinkin' how hard it would be ta make me see reason, how mad I'd be. I bet at that moment I'd be capable of hurtin' somebody real bad."

Ben looked at him expectantly.

"And then when I saw you shoot Red Twilight, I thought about how mad you were at that second, too - how you kept on shootin' and shootin' and probably would have kept on even longer if'n you'd had the bullets…" he trailed off at the uncomfortable look on Ben's face and pushed out his lower lip thoughtfully. "I guess what I realized then is that maybe everybody is capable of that kind of thing - fer a minute anyway - if they're jest pushed hard enough. But Red Twilight…" he shook his head. "It weren't like that fer Red Twilight, I figger. He weren't crazy ta kill fer a minute cause o' some harm somebody done him - he was jest the opposite - lookin' fer somebody ta do him some harm so's he'd have an excuse ta kill. He didn't really have no cause ta shoot Adam - the first time, anyway - or hit Mary neither - he just liked ta do it. Like some ol' coyote er somethin' - jest killin' fer sport. Worse, maybe, cause a coyote is jest doin' what nature tells 'em to an Red's a man.

I ain't shur he ever cared about Willie at all - he was jest an excuse. Jest like Willie used me as an excuse ta die - never thinkin' about how it would be fer me. I don't like ta judge a man without walkin' in his shoes, Pa, but I cain't help thinkin' that Red Twilight jest weren't no good." He caught his father's gaze and smiled. "So I hope you ain't feelin' responsible either, Pa, cause you weren't no more guilty than someone what shoots a rattler that's about to strike."

Ben let Hoss hold his eyes for a moment, feeling suddenly tired but relaxed. "You're a very wise man," he said half-humorously. "Must have gotten that from your mother."

Hoss chuckled. "Reckon it's about six a' one, half dozen of the other."

"Paul felt that you should try and catch a little sleep."

"Well, maybe I can do that if'n that brother o' mine ain't fixin' ta go throw any more furniture around in the next room. Ya goin' ta check on him next?"

Ben gave him a look. These boys of his knew him much too well. "I was thinking of it."

Hoss paused, as if he wasn't quite sure how and what he wanted to say. "Tell him 'hey' fer me," he said at last.

Ben's mouth quirked into a smile. "'Hey', hm?" he stood up slowly, suddenly bone weary. "Well, I'll tell him all right." He gave Hoss a conspiratorial wink. "But I think he knows."

A peek in Adam's room showed that he was not sleeping either, so Ben pushed the door inward and entered.

Adam was propped up as well with the music box in his lap, opening and closing the lid repeatedly as if he was trying to figure something out.

Ben noticed that Hop Sing had done a good job of scrubbing up most of the blood and the room smelled freshly of soap.

"Well," Ben pulled up the rocking chair and seated himself. "I expected you'd be asleep."

Adam shook his head slightly, frowning at the music box.

"How are you feeling?"

Adam shrugged.

Ben raised his brows mildly. "Perhaps you could be a little more specific?"

Adam looked up at last, somewhat chastened. He held up his left hand to show that Paul had reduced the gauze covering enough to let the top half of his fingers protrude. "…hand a little better…arm a little…worse…lungs a little better, head…a little worse…"

"I see." Ben let his eyes drift to the broken arm, now resplinted and bound to Adam's chest to keep it immobile. "Paul made sure you couldn't use that as a weapon again, I see."

Adam looked disgusted. "Just…getting even…"

Ben was surprised into another laugh. "Now, where did you boys get this idea that Paul does these things out of spite? He's just trying to do what's best for you."

Adam looked back at the music box. "…should try not to look…so much like he's… enjoying it, then…"

Ben tried to suppress a smile. "Well, son - it's like you yourself said…a man has to find his amusement where he can."

Adam chuckled before he could stop himself and gave his father a look of rueful appreciation. Then his face changed slightly. "…they figure out where…Red's second bullet went…?"

Ben sobered, squirming a little. "Well, Adam…" he looked apologetic. "There were - um - so many bullets - it's hard to be sure just which was which."

Adam caught his expression and nodded sympathetically. "…Saved my life," he said after a minute.

"Thank God," answered Ben fervently.

"…thanks…"

"Not necessary. My motives were strictly selfish."

Adam smiled faintly, then frowned again when he saw the music box. He collapsed back against the pillows, his face to the ceiling, left hand still idly opening and closing the lid. "Had the gun…right at my forehead…"

"I know. I saw the bruise."

"…didn't…shoot me, though…"

"No," Ben hadn't thought of that before and now that he did, it perplexed him. "How did that happen?"

Adam ran his free fingertips over the lid of the music box. "…not sure. I…" His cheeks darkened suspiciously.

Ben waited, surprised and intrigued.

What was this about?

No point in hurrying Adam, though - that was a sure-fire way to clam him up. He pushed the chair into motion and rocked quietly next to him.

"Pa…" Adam turned his head to look at him. "Did my mother…know…geometry…?"

"Geometry?" Now, that wasn't what he'd been expecting at all. "I don't know how she would have, Adam."

Adam nodded and dropped his eyes, looking a little dejected.

"Then again…" Ben wrinkled his forehead thoughtfully. "She was a sailor's daughter and a sailor's wife…and incurably curious…" He gave Adam a significant look and saw one corner of his mouth twitch upward. "So I suppose she might have known a little at that. Just enough to read a sextant, say. What on earth makes you ask?"

Adam's ears darkened to scarlet. "When I was…" he paused, looking sheepish. "I'm not sure…when. Some stuff's…still fuzzy."

Ben nodded sadly. "And always will be, I suppose. You were not in a good state when we found you. Go on."

Adam turned to watch something interesting on the ceiling again. "…I was…don't know…confused. Tired…some woman…" his voice trailed off.

Ben raised his brows. "Someone you know?"

Adam flushed more deeply and Ben smiled. He was longing to know what had his unflappable first born blushing like a schoolboy.

"Thought it was…Marie, at first…"

"Oh." Ben remembered Adam's first ramblings that had so alarmed him.

"Wasn't, though…."

Now Ben was catching up with him, and he stopped rocking abruptly and studied the clean profile. "Who, then?" And when Adam didn't reply, "What was she like?"

Adam smiled just the tiniest bit. "Kind of…bossy…"

"Ah, well," Ben chuckled. "That might have been your mother, then."

"Wouldn't…let me sleep…gave me…a geometry test…"

Ben's heart squeezed within his chest until he could barely push words past it. "I see."

Adam's eyes drifted shut. "…went kind of…easy on me, though…easy questions…" His breathing deepened for a minute, then normalized again. "…seemed to…know me." He rubbed unconsciously at the music box lid. "Silly, I guess…"

Ben's voice was very quiet. "You think so?"

"And then…there was that singing…couldn't recognize it…until…" he absently flipped the lid open again. "Just before Twilight shot…I thought I heard…" He looked down at the music box. "Think he turned to…shoot at the sound…Impossible, I guess…can't figure out how…"

Ben struggled for a moment with the moisture that filled his throat. When he thought he had his voice under control he said, "Are you asking me if I think it's possible that your mother still looks out for you?"

Adam cast a quick, embarrassed look his way, then dropped his eyes again.

"Because, Adam, I not only think it's possible, I'm sure of it. I depend on it."

Adam didn't answer, settling into his pillows and staring ahead at nothing.

"You must remember me telling you as a little boy that she would never be far from you."

Adam remained silent, his fingertips blindly tracing the cherubs around the edge of the box.

Ben watched him for a moment, then said simply, "I'm glad you told me."

He eased back in his chair, rocking gently again. "You might want to try telling me things more often." He studied his hands, not looking at his son, wanting to allow Adam a little room with his discomfort. "If you're ever - I don't know - shot in the head, for example, you might want to tell me about that." He glanced up to gauge Adam's reaction, then sighed gustily at the sight of the twin crescents of thick black lash resting on his cheeks, the chest rising and falling in steady rhythm.

Asleep.

Well, that was one way to escape a conversation.

He pushed himself out of the chair and to his feet. "I was going to apologize, too," he said matter of factly, reaching over to ease the music box out of his grasp and pull the quilt higher. "Well, never mind. I'll make it up to you somehow."

He turned the music box over in his hands. It had been a sore spot, like a bruise on his heart, whenever he thought of Adam lying in that creek bed, slowly freezing to death - alone. Apparently he hadn't been alone, though….

Thank you, Liz, my love.

He wound the key at the bottom of the box and lifted the lid, letting the melody escape.

God bless you.

End of Chapter 12

TBC

Thank you, Smith! I confess, rather sheepishly, that I don't know what JPM is, though.

Just the Epilogue now.