Chapter Fifty-Three

Adam sat on the tack box listening to Buster chew his hay and watching everyone else in the barn nest. He cringed as Mrs. Ralston climbed the ladder to the loft, but once there, she busied herself fluffing up the hay for her and her husband's bed. She and Ralston spoke in low voices as she worked, occasionally looking down at the stall where Adam was sitting in the shadows out of sight.

Conversation among the men and women dwindled as each couple slowly settled into their place. Mrs. Ralston, however decided to venture back down the ladder and wander aimlessly through the barn as if looking for something...or someone. She stopped at Adam's stall.

"Forgive me...Mr. Cartwright, isn't it?"

Adam nodded.

"I'm afraid sleep isn't going to come easily, so I thought I might find someone still awake to talk to. Mr. Ralston is already fast asleep." She inched by Buster, who lifted his head and watched her as she warily made her way to the back of the stall. "May I?" she asked, motioning to the tack box.

Adam had leaned back into the far corner, the solid wood of the stall side supporting his sore shoulders. "Please do."

"Billy mentioned that he thought you were one of the Cartwrights from the Ponderosa."

"I am."

"He also said he thought you were married to Isabella Whitney, whom I greatly admire. She has such a beautiful voice."

He smiled and nodded again.

"I hope I'm not being too forward, but tell me Mr. Cartwright. With a ranch as big as the Ponderosa and your wife there as well, what reason could you possibly have for being out in this storm?"

Adam knew the woman was fishing for her husband. He smiled and scratched his neck. "I have business in San Francisco that couldn't wait."

"Yes, of course," she said, smiling. "Of course, Billy had business at the bank in Virginia City. I don't think he was counting on this storm. I don't usually travel to Virginia City with him, but I thought...well, it was a childish thought."

"What thought?" asked Adam, chewing on a piece of hay.

"Well, I thought that perhaps Miss Whitney...oh, my apologies...Mrs. Cartwright might be entertaining the residents of Virginia City this winter. I had so hoped to see her."

"We don't often leave the ranch in winter. And this has been a particularly hard winter in the Sierra."

Lightly laughing, she nodded. "Oh yes, I'm afraid we've found that out the hard way." She looked around for a moment in the awkward silence, wondering how she would possibly get to the information her husband really wanted. "And aren't you partners in a mine with your wife's brother? You are a busy man, Mr. Cartwright."

There it was. Adam folded his lips and bowed his head, trying to figure out how to end the conversation without being overly rude. "I am. I'm so busy that I need to leave tomorrow at first light whether this storm," he moved his eyes upward and waved his hand at the invisible air, "decides to break or not. I think it's time we all got some rest."

She gave him a sharp nod and stood up quickly. "Yes, of course, you're right. Good night, Mr. Cartwright."

"Mrs. Ralston." He watched as she quickly walked across the barn to the ladder, and before she began to climb up, she looked back nervously one more time. Adam felt sorry for her. She was younger than Ralston and very attractive. He got the distinct impression that Ralston used her youth and beauty to obtain whatever bits of information he could leverage to increase his holdings.

The barn was quiet except for the occasional snort of a person or a horse. Adam prepared to spend his night on the tack box in the back of Buster's stall. Buster was relatively quiet. Even so, the box was only two and one-half feet across; not enough room to move from one side to another without raising up, and then rolling. Besides that, the back stall wall was the outside wall of the barn and the cold easily penetrated it. He was glad for the second blanket he had included in his bed roll. Doubling that kept the wind coming through the tiny spaces between the boards at bay.

When he sat up after a fitful sleep, it was still black as coal outside. He yawned, ran his fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp, and then noticed the steam of his breath rising in front of his eyes. He quietly chuckled to himself as he nodded, then rose to begin his day. If he started now, he could be reasonably cleaned up and still have time to give Buster a good brushing and a good meal of hay before the light he expected to be quite dim finally broke.

After moving fresh hay into the feeding trough, he quietly lifted Buster's water bucket to the tack box, then removed his shirt and splashed water on his face. He pulled out a small mirror and checked his beard, running his fingers over the stubble and deciding he'd forgo shaving this morning in favor of hot water at the next place he stopped.

Once Buster was saddled, Adam looked around the barn. Everyone was still sleeping. He grimaced, knowing that the squeak of the big barn door would awaken them, so he acted on a hunch. He opened the smaller door and looked up and across the street. Sure enough, there was a light in the window of the restaurant. Looking up at the sky, he found it to be pitch black still, so he looked at his watch...still too early for any significant light. Stepping out, he made his way over to Mamie's for hot coffee and breakfast.

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Shiloh did as Shorty asked and fired another shot into the air. Ben and Hop Sing were close enough now to know for sure what they'd heard, and knowing Shiloh and guns, Ben knew something had to be terribly wrong.

"Shorty!" she yelled. She heard nothing, so she set the gun down on the porch floor, eased back down the steps and grabbed the rope, following it into the snow.

Ben stepped down off Buck first, ran up the steps and opened the front door, calling out for Shiloh. When he got no answer, he turned and found the gun, then noticed the rope tied to the rail of the steps.

He and Hop Sing tied their horses to a post, and Ben pointed toward the barn, starting to follow the rope, but Hop Sing pulled his sleeve to stop, and ran back up the steps. He moved an armload of firewood to the edge of the porch, then came down the steps with another armload. Leaning into Ben, he yelled, "Drop log. Find way back."

The two men struggled through the snow that blew up off the lake and over the ridge where the house sat, settling and drifting in the wind between the house and barn. Ben had been able to see the trees along the side of the road, but the wind on this hill made visibility almost nothing.

"Shiloh!" Ben yelled, thankfully close enough for Shiloh to hear.

"Pa, we're over here!" and with that, Shorty shot his gun into the air.

Hop Sing took the logs Ben was carrying and continued to drop them as they made their way toward the gunshot. When they saw the three gray images struggling through the snow, it was evident something was, indeed, wrong. Shiloh was easy to distinguish from the other two. Her shawl had blown away, leaving her with her dress flapping in the wind. She and Shorty had hold of Ming Lin's arms, and he was limping badly.

Without delay, Hop Sing took the arm Shiloh was supporting, and Ben lifted Shiloh into his arms, leading the way with the logs making a clear trail.

Taking them in through the front door, both Ming Lin and Shiloh were deposited on the hearth while Ben ran to get blankets and Hop Sing ran to the kitchen to heat water.

Hop Sing pulled Ming Lin's coat off and wrapped a blanket around him at the same time Ben wrapped a blanket around Shiloh and rubbed her hands.

"What were you thinking?" he said with just a slight edge in his voice.

Her teeth were chattering and her hands and feet were completely numb, her hands having had no cover and her feet covered only in her slippers. "I-I w-w-was thinking M-Ming Lin w-w-was in t-trouble...and then Sh-Shorty."

"Hop Sing, how is he?" asked Ben.

"He too cold. But good for ankle. Ankle broken."

Shorty brought the bucket of hot water into the living area along with some cloth. Moving his hands to his hips, he scolded Shiloh. "I told you to stay up on that porch. The house breaks the wind coming up off that ridge."

"I'm s-sorry, Shorty. I th-thought you m-might n-n-need help."

"Shorty's right. You had no business going out there, especially without a coat or your boots." Ben dipped a cloth in the water and wrapped Shiloh's feet.

"I had my sh-shawl. It b-blew away."

"Women! They all think they can save the world," Shorty complained. "Mr. Cartwright I'll go take care of the horses and tie another rope to the barn. We'll have to build a windbreak between the barn and the house when this storm's over."

Ben looked back over his shoulder. "Thank you, Shorty. Come back in the house when you're done. No one is leaving this house until this storm breaks."

"Shorty, w-wait. Was there anything at the t-telegraph office?"

"Oh, yes'm," he answered, digging into his pocket. "It's from Mr. Adam."

Taking the telegram from him, Shiloh held it in her trembling hands and closed her eyes, trying to warn off her tears.

Realizing how worried she'd been, Ben touched her shoulder, then asked for the telegram. He wrapped her hands in a warm wet cloth. "Would you like me to read it?"

She looked up with round, moist eyes and nodded.

"Shiloh Cartwright. Ponderosa Ranch. Johnson's Pass impassable. Took Hope Valley. Stopping at Grizzly Flat. Buster sends love. As do I. Adam."

Bowing her head, she let her tears flow. Oh, how she wished he was home.

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Dr. Freeman stood in front of Captain Fletcher's desk with his head bowed and his hands clasped in front of him. "I done what I could, but he need someone to watch over 'im. He gonna need help eatin' and drinkin'. He got a nasty cut on his head that need the bandage changed regular."

"Is he awake?"

"No sir. I don't 'spect 'im to be for awhile. He beat up real bad."

Fletcher's head jerked up. "Are you accusing me of allowing him to be beaten?"

"No sir. I jest sayin' what he look like."

"Freeman, you are not to discuss Mr. Cartwright's condition with anyone, is that clear?"

"Yessir. I be back in the mornin' to change 'is bandage."

"Never mind about that. I'll send for you if you're needed again."

"Yessir. My fee come to two dollar."

Looking up from his paperwork, he gave Dr. Freeman a disgusted scowl, then reached into a side drawer and drew out a coin, tossing it over the desk to the floor.

Freeman took his time bending and picking it up, first returning a sad look. Little did Fletcher know the look was more of pity. Besides that, Dr. Freeman had another reason for prolonging his visit with the captain. He had to stay as long as possible because he knew Fletcher would be standing at the front window the minute he left the office, watching until Freeman disappeared down the street in the direction of the black quarter.

And while Dr. Freeman was occupying the captain, Dr. Stephenson was rolling Hoss off the camp grounds in a laundry cart.