Chapter Forty-Five
"Now Adam, I've already spoken to Wasson, and we both agreed we can't send anyone short of any army to fetch Holman," said Roy as he leaned forward over his desk. Most times that was enough to settle this particular Cartwright down, but Adam's eyes glared while his lips were drawn in an angry line.
"So where's this army?" Adam blurted loudly.
Sitting down hard in his chair, Roy tossed his glasses on his desk. "There isn't one, at least not yet. Too many men know how the other two Marshals came back. Holman's got 'em all scared to death."
"And what exactly does that mean?"
Roy turned away, bristling for a moment, then calmed himself. "That means, Adam, that no one's gone back for Holman. There's a warrant for his arrest, and for the time being, that's all there is."
Spinning on his heel as he moved his hat to his head, Adam walked toward the door, but stopped when Roy called to him. "Now Adam, don't you go gettin' any ideas in that thick skull of yours about going after Holman."
Adam hadn't turned back to face Roy, but did now. "Roy, Holman's not gonna get away with this."
"And just what d'you think you're gonna do?" Roy asked, almost yelling. "I oughta lock you in a cell for your own protection."
"I'm going to Carson City to light a fire under Warren Wasson." With that, Adam walked out the door.
Roy shook his head and mumbled as he retrieved his glasses and hat. He walked out the door, looked around his town, and then promptly headed for the telegraph office.
Back at the Flying W, Micah sat in the kitchen patiently sipping coffee. He'd already had a conversation with Roy and knew how Adam's would turn out. But he'd let his brother-in-law do what he felt he needed to do. Besides, a worked-up Adam Cartwright would be less likely to take 'no' for an answer when they approached Wasson. And it gave him time to pack his saddle bags without help he didn't want or need. He heard a horse gallop into the yard and smiled. In another minute, Adam was pouring himself a cup of coffee and joining him at the table.
For a moment neither man said a word. "You ready?" asked Adam. When Micah nodded, Adam took another sip of his coffee. "Why didn't you tell me you'd already gone to Roy?"
Micah shrugged. "You'da gone anyway."
Twisting his mouth, Adam nodded. "You talk to Hank?"
"Yep. He knows what to do while we're gone, and he'll ride over to your place and let Shy know. Only thing left to do is leave."
Adam stood and took both coffee cups and the coffee pot to the basin and rinsed them. Turning back to Micah, he asked, "How do we get you up on your horse?"
As he struggled to his feet, Micah replied in a strained voice, "Gettin' up's the easy part. It's gettin' down that's hard. It either hurts like hell or is embarrassing as the dickens. Either way, it's good that nothin' much bothers Beau. He pretty much stands there and takes it."
With Micah maneuvered into his saddle with the help of a rope tied around Adam's saddle horn, the two men left. When they arrived in Carson City two hours later, they found Marshal Wasson sitting on the front porch of his office, waiting for them.
Adam dismounted, tied his horse, and before he walked over to Micah's horse, he stopped in front of the Marshal. "Don't tell me. Sheriff Coffee sent you a telegram."
Wasson merely nodded his head.
"You need to see this before you make up your mind," said Adam. Continuing on to stand next to Micah's horse, he looked up. "How do you want to do this?"
Swinging his leg over the saddle horn, Micah answered, "I'm sliding down. You think you can catch me before I land?"
Adam nodded and braced himself, and when Micah slid down, Adam was positioned so that Micah slid into his chest. Wrapping his arms tightly around Micah the instant he was vertical, Adam stopped his fall with his feet inches above the ground. He eased Micah the rest of the way down. "Hold on to the stirrup while I get the crutches."
Wasson sat watching as Adam gently lowered Micah to his feet. He watched the color drain from Micah's face indicative of extreme pain...the kind of pain he had seen only once in his life. He watched Micah's hands shake as he held onto the stirrup of his saddle, and again when he reached for the crutches.
While Micah made his way to the boardwalk, Adam opened his saddlebags and pulled out a bottle.
Standing, Wasson opened the door to his office and stepped aside as Micah and Adam slowly walked in, closing the door behind him. He motioned to two chairs on the front side of his desk, then brought three cups and a coffee pot over and sat down himself. "Do I need to send for the doctor, son?" he asked as he poured the coffee.
"No sir. I have the only thing I need right here." With that said, Micah pulled the cork out of the bottle of Laudanum, downed two gulps and followed them with coffee. He winced hard as he set the coffee cup back down on the desk.
"Mr. Whitney, ordinarily I'd tell a man in your condition to go home." Wasson leaned his chair backwards on the back two legs and propped his feet on his desk, then calmly sipped his coffee. "You were an honest range detective, and what you did to Holman and his partner was the right thing to do. But Holman's been holding this grudge against you for a long time now, and he's built himself up quite a number of men."
Adam and Micah sat patiently listening. "Roy mentioned an army," said Adam.
"The U.S. Army says they don't have the men to spare at the moment." Wasson scowled. "War and all." He took another sip of his coffee. "That means we need an army of our own, and right now, with two dead Marshals, I'm short on volunteers."
Micah's eyes were fluttering, but he opened them wide then Adam touched his arm.
"How short?" asked Adam.
Wasson just shook his head.
"I can have thirty men here by tomorrow. More if you need them."
It appeared that Wasson didn't do anything quickly. He slowly raised his eyes to Adam's as if he was calling a bluff. "And just where do you think you'll find thirty men willing, considering what Holman's already done?"
"They'll come from the Ponderosa and the Flying W ranches. Most of our hands have been with us a long time, Marshal. They're loyal men, and they've seen us through bad times, even as bad as this one."
Nodding, Wasson let his chair fall back down to the floor and looked at Micah.
"Don't even try," said Micah.
"Now why would I try to talk anyone as bull-headed as Mort Williams out of anything." A slow smile formed on Wasson's face. "You look like hell, Micah. Come on back to one of the cells and let the Laudanum do its job while your friend here gathers his army." He waited for Micah to get to his feet, and without arguing, he followed Wasson to the back room. "Oh, and Mr. Cartwright," Wasson called from the back. "It would be better if you could come up with forty men."
Adam waited to leave until he heard the squeak of a cot. He lifted his hat off the desk, and left for the telegraph office.
xxxxxxxx
Ben was sitting at his desk when he heard shouting first, and then the hoof beats of a horse coming into the yard fast.
"Mr. Cartwright! Mr. Cartwright!" The lad was at the front door by the time Ben opened it. "Mr. Cartwright! This telegram came in urgent!"
Ben grabbed the envelope and tore it open, his eyes moving back and forth across the handwritten page. By now, Annie was running down the stairs, and Joe and Hoss were running into the house from the barn.
"What is it, Pa?" asked Hoss.
"It's...it's a telegram from Adam. It seems no one wants to do anything about Holman. Wasson says he'll go if we can send forty men with him to Utah Territory to arrest him."
"Forty men? That's gonna bring things to a standstill here," said Joe."
"Not if we take twenty from the Ponderosa and twenty from the Flying W," said Ben determinedly.
"Hoss, ride out to the Flying W and talk to Hank. Tell him to send twenty of his best gunmen here as quick as he can. Make sure he sends those two guards Adam took with him to San Francisco. Joe, you ride up to the camps first. Bring back Sulley, Butch, Emmet, Dutch and Levi. They know how to use their guns better than any of the others up there. Then go pull the another ten off the herd."
"What about the other five?" asked Joe.
Ben smiled. "Three, Joseph. Two of us are going. One will stay behind and take care of the ranch." Raising his brow, he answered the question on Joe's face. "I don't know yet. But don't you worry about the other three. I'll take care of that." Turning to Annie, he said, "I'll leave Shiloh to you."
"What am I supposed to tell her?"
Ben turned toward the bureau, taking his gunbelt and swinging it around his hips. "She knew where they were going. Tell her the truth."
She gave him a furious glare. "It would help if I knew the truth."
After buckling his gunbelt and tying the holster down, Ben moved his hat to his head. "The truth," he said calmly, moving his hands to Annie's arms, "is that Wasson has agreed to go after Holman with help. And we're the help."
When Ben reached town, he rode straight to the Silver Dollar Saloon. Before he stepped in, he looked first one way, and then the other down the boardwalk, then pushed through the bat wing doors. Scanning the room, he spotted the man he was looking for and strode over.
The man sitting at the table took his cigar out of his mouth and smiled. "I knew there'd come a day when you'd need me."
A wry smile took over Ben's face. "Barney, we've had our differences and disagreements. But this has nothing to do with business."
Nodding to a chair, Barney Fuller extinguished his cigar. "Which one?"
"Two," said Ben, sitting down. "Adam. And Micah Whitney."
Barney poured two glasses of whiskey. "Micah Whitney isn't your son. He's Amos' son. Too bad about Amos. He raised some fine horses."
"His daughter does, too," said Ben.
"She's a woman, Ben. She'll never be able to produce the kind of stock Amos did."
"Barney, you've been sitting in this saloon much too long. You should ride out to the Ponderosa and take a look at her stable. Amos had a good eye, and patience, but he didn't have her determination. She's outdone her father."
Barney's brows rose as he smiled. "If that had come from any other man, I'd say you'd finally lost your edge." He downed his whiskey. "Based on the fact that you're here calling in a favor, can I assume Adam and Micah have gone after Holman?"
"They have," said Ben. "But they're doing it within the law. Marshal Wasson agreed if Adam could come up with help. And he's going to need some competent help, if you know what I mean."
Barney's smile disappeared as he sat up straight. "My best three are here in town. They can ride out with you. But ah...you should probably warn Adam. He's and his brothers have tangled with them on several occasions before. I'm not sure he'll appreciate the help."
Standing, Ben took his hat off the table. "Barney, at this point, I think he'll take whatever help he can get. Just make sure your men understand this is to be done legally, and they'll take orders from Wasson. Holman will be brought in to face a judge, not to dangle from the end of a rope. Unless, of course, that's the decision of a judge," Ben finished, smiling and offering his hand.
Barney shook it and walked Ben out of the saloon. "Wait here. I'll send them over."
