CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE

RECOVERY AND SET BACK

Amanda faded into the background as Joe bathed his father's chest. Ben had slept rather soundly for almost two hours, not long enough, but certainly a relief to his feverish system. According to Paul Martin, the infection in Ben's wound seemed contained, and though no visible sign of tetanus was apparent, Amanda worried as the fever and delirious rants continued during his waking hours. She worried as well about Hoss's younger brother and, with the passing of each hour, she saw Joe's anxiety grow with deeper concern for his father and trepidation for the events about to take place in Pioche.

"He needs a break," Amanda thought. "He'll be no good to his father if he keeps up this pace, and I know a little about how he feels. If that wire was sent by Jackson . . . then Adam, Candy, and that deputy are riding right into Jackson's territory. Oh, they are aware that it's most likely some sort of trap, but they don't know Jackson like I do. They don't know that he'll stop at nothing to get my holdings . . . and me. Oh, Hoss, I wish you were here . . . I need you, your love and your strength." Amanda turned quickly, hiding her tears should Joe look her way. Suddenly, she gasped quietly, grabbing her stomach as her baby scrunched and rolled inside of her womb. "Be still, my sweetheart. No need to fret. I will do whatever I must to protect you, and I'll do all I can to make sure no harm comes to your uncles and your grandpa."

"Amanda?" Joe said, startling her from her thoughts as he touched her shoulder lightly. "You alright?"

Amanda nodded, her voice momentarily deserting her.

"I'm worried about them, too," Joe whispered, glancing at his once again sleeping father. A gentle squeeze to Amanda's shoulder demolished her resolve and released her tears and without a second thought, Joe wrapped her in his tender embrace.

She clung to Joe, sobbing into his chest as he soothed her with hushed words and calming sounds. When the catch in her throat eased, she tried and tried, but failed again to say the words she felt most in her heart.

"It's alright, Amanda," Joe said. "You don't have to say anything." Joe felt her push away, and when she looked up into his sympathetic emerald eyes, he was taken by the honesty reflected back in hers.

"I miss him so much, Joe," she cried, "and I'm so afraid for our child and your father and now, I've opened the door for Jackson Findley to come down on you and your family and I am sorry, Joe . . . so v . . . very sorry!"

Joe pulled Amanda close. "It'll be alright, Amanda," Joe whispered. "I know my brother, and with Candy and Clem by his side, Adam will get to the bottom of this and they'll all be back safe and sound before we know it!"

"Hoss always said Adam was awfully clever," Amanda said, her voice muffled against Joe's chest.

Joe smiled. "Yeah, he is clever at that . . . for a Yankee granite-head!"

Amanda exhaled a chuckle. "Hoss told me you like to tease Adam about his Boston roots." Amanda stepped out of Joe's hug. "You're all so different, you and your brothers, but at the same time, you're so much alike."

"Yeah," Joe agreed, "I know. In fact, that's how I know Adam's going to come riding back into the yard with Candy and Clem and this whole mess with Jackson Findley will be nothing but a bad memory. One that'll fade over time."

"Oh, Joe, I hope you're right," Amanda cried. "If anything happens to Adam or Candy or . . ."

"Adam? What could be happening to Adam?"

Joe and Amanda rushed to Ben's bedside, alarmed that he'd overheard them and relieved that his words sounded clear and alert.

"Pa?" Joe said, sitting along the edge of the bed as Ben's weary eyes fought to focus. "Here, let me get you some water."

Joe turned to the table, only to be met by Amanda's hand holding a glass of freshly poured water. "Thanks," he said, smiling up at her.

"What's happened to Adam?" Ben repeated, pushing against the mattress as he tried to raise his chest.

"Nothing, Pa," Joe said, lifting his father's head and steadying the glass at his parched lips. "Here, take a little more. You've been fighting quite a fever." Joe tipped the glass and his father drank thirstily. "Amanda, would you ask Hop Sing to warm some broth? Doc Martin said we need to get food into him whenever we can."

"I don't want food, Joseph," Ben said, his voice regaining some of its power. "I want to know what's going on with Adam and Candy . . . and did you say Clem, too? What's happened? Where is Adam?"

"We promised Adam that we'd explain, Joe," Amanda said, adding a freshly plumped pillow behind Ben's back and easing him back onto its cool, crisp texture.

"Joseph, you'd best start telling me something," Ben barked, his gruff voice still a fraction of the norm, "or I'll get out of this bed and find out for myself!"

"Lie back Pa," Joe ordered, pressing Ben's shoulders into the pillows.

Amanda took her place on the other side of the bed and with a gentle hand, felt against Ben's forehead. "Looks like the fever's broken!" she said, her swollen eyes suddenly smiling.

Ben, drawn to the calming tone in her voice, searched her face, ensnared by the conflicting emotions he saw in her eyes. "Amanda, my dear, are you alright?" His eyes shot to Joe. "Maybe you'd better start from the beginning. Just what's been happening since I was hurt?"

"HILLER!" Jackson yelled, his drunken drawl carrying across the yard of the cabin. "Where are you, Hiller?"

Stirring from their own stupors, Hall and Tom staggered noisily to their feet. Once upright, Tom's stomach lurched. He tottered, swaying left and then right, and as he steadied his feet, he sped past Jackson, nearly knocking the wobbly man to the ground.

"WATCH IT!" Jackson spat. "What's wrong with . . . oh. I don't need to watch this." Jackson retreated to the cabin, stumbling through the doorway and directly into Hall.

"S . . . sorry, boss!" Hall cried as the two men shared a self-preservation embrace. "You was yellin' 'n' it was real loud! You seen Tom? H . . . he was jist right here. I think."

Jackson squinted, canvassing the room in search of his men. He was able to make out the sleeping forms of Jarvis and Flint, both lying in front of the dwindling fire. Steadying himself along the ramshackle pieces of furniture, Jackson scanned the only bedroom in the dimly lit cabin. "Tom?" he called, the sound of his own voice startling his senses. "Hiller? You two in there?"

"Tom's out here," Hall called, giggling out of control. "He's decoratin' his boots with yer whiskey, boss! Hee hee! You never could hold yer . . . yer . . . Oh, I don't feel so good."

Jackson made his way to the porch, the last whiskey bottle in his hand. Gulping heartily, he watched as Hall and Tom attempted to stand in the fresh, chilled morning air. "I don't care how you're feelin'! Find Hiller. And find him NOW!"

"You gotta pretend ta be drugged till we git to the Ponderosa, Hoss!" Hiller said, his hushed voice carrying through the hollow tunnels of the mine. "There's no way the two of us kin take those five ruthless men. Leastwise not with you bein' half-starved 'n' beaten like ya are. We gotta wait till we git ta the ranch. From what Jarvis and Flint said, that other brother of yours is back. So that'll mean yer pa, Little Joe, Candy, Adam, plus any o' the hands that're around when we git there. That's our only chance, Hoss, don'tcha see?"

Hoss swayed, the links of his shackles tingling against one another. "Other brother? Adam?" The pounding in his head made concentrating an excruciating effort. "Adam's come home? My brother . . ." The fissures on the bottoms of Hoss's feet reminded him that Hiller was right – no matter his rage at Jackson Findley and his men, Hoss was in no shape to put up a successful fight. "Alright," Hoss said, his raspy voice cracking. "We'll do it your way."

Hiller raised the canteen to Hoss's lips, tilting it slowly as Hoss guzzled more than half of its contents. "Easy, Hoss," Hiller said. "We got time. They were all asleep when I Ieft."

"Yeah," Hall said, surprising Hoss and Hiller, "well, we ain't sleepin' now!"