The buckboard rocked in another rut in the road and Ben reached out automatically to steady himself against the side, his other hand stretching downward to stabilize the upper arm lying near his knee. Not the best for Adam's injured shoulder, probably, to travel with his head in his father's lap, but at least it would provide some cushion against the unforgiving buckboard floor and stop him from sliding about the wagon bed. All things considered, it seemed like the better choice for him. Ben knew it was certainly the better choice for himself.
Blissfully unconscious, Adam could neither withdraw or retreat, and though he handled his son as delicately as if he were made of blown glass, Ben at least could touch him now - feel the blood and warmth that meant life pulsing under his skin. He frowned slightly, shifting his hand to rest it gingerly on the pale forehead in his lap, trying to avoid putting pressure on any cuts or bruises. A little too much warmth, actually. But though Adam's face was flushed and hot, he still shivered uncontrollably. Ben had dug a quilt out of an old blanket chest in the hall of the Fairchild house to wrap around him. Now, with Adam's tapestry of injuries covered and his face quiet in repose, Ben felt a small sense of normalcy for the first time in days. If he kept from looking at the spot where blood had seeped through the quilt, he could almost pretend that Adam was just asleep. He sighed. Almost.
He glanced over his shoulder at the broad back occupying the driver's seat. After locating a bench on the porch and settling Adam there as comfortably as possible, Hoss had abandoned him to Ben's tender mercies and left without comment to explore some of the out buildings. He had returned a short while later leading a sturdy horse hitched to a buckboard. Silently, he had drawn a tarp from the wagon bed and wrapped Fairchild's body in it, then turned to Roy, who seemed almost as much at a loss as Ben. Well, no wonder, really. Ben smiled a little ruefully as he remembered Amelia Fairchild twined around Roy, making those inhuman, wounded noises.
Hoss had pushed his hat back on his head. "I figger ta put the body on yer horse, Roy," he explained. "Thought you could ride Chubb - he's the biggest, an' he'll hold both you an Miss 'Melia back ta town…"
"Hoss - " Ben was still distressed by Hoss's abrupt method of dispatching with their problem and a little shocked at how calm, almost apathetic, he seemed, and had hoped to talk to him about it.
But Hoss hadn't seemed to hear Ben, had kept his gaze intently on the dead body he was bundling meticulously and swinging onto the saddle of Roy's roan. "I'll drive the wagon on over ta the Ponderosa - Pa can sit in back with Adam."
Ben had leaned over to touch his arm and get his attention, but, unnoticing, Hoss had moved out of his reach, carefully finishing the knots that fastened the body to the saddle. Ben had watched him in some exasperation, repeating, "Hoss!"
Hoss had walked away as if Ben hadn't spoken, fetched Buck from where he was tethered and brought him around to the wagon tailgate. "We better get started afore it gets any later if'n we wanna be home by dark. Reckon Joe'll have Doc there by that time, if'n he's lucky and finds him in."
Roy had stood watching Hoss too, his face curious and speculative. "Sounds like you got it all figgered out," he remarked pleasantly. "Reckon maybe you'd better send Paul 'round to the jail when he's done with Adam - think he might need to take a look at Miss Amelia, too." He glanced at the woman clinging mindlessly to him and patted her back absently.
Hoss nodded, fussing with securing Buck to the tailgate.
"Hoss." Ben had actually touched him then, kept his hand on his sleeve, tried to get a look at his face. Hoss finally lifted his eyes.
Ben shivered all over again, remembering the naked suffering he'd seen coiled there. He had let his hand drop from Hoss's arm, suddenly cold and tired inside, unsure of what to say. "I need you to help me lift your brother," he forced out finally.
Hoss had nodded, dropping his eyes again. "Yeah," he agreed after a minute. "Yeah. Don't worry. I got 'em."
They hadn't said much to each other after that.
Ben squeezed his eyes shut at the memory, tightening his grip on the quilt over Adam. The wagon wheel hit another furrow and Ben tried to brace himself and Adam against the jump of the wagon floor. Adam's eyelids shifted and he muttered something. Ben couldn't make it out, but he patted soothingly at the uninjured shoulder on his knee anyway. Adam shuddered, twisting away from him and whispering unintelligibly. Then he was still.
Ben stared at his hands, wondering what to do with them.
By nature Adam was not a physically demonstrative man, but Ben couldn't remember a time in his life when his father's touch had been anything but comforting to him. Little things, of course - an arm about the shoulders, a hand resting on his back - small, but important, he had always thought. An anchoring of their quiet, but profound bond. The loss of that physical link amplified his sense of strangeness and separation and for a moment he felt more keenly distant from his child than he had as he'd watched them throw clods of earth onto the lid of the polished pecan coffin. That thought frightened him so much that he had to look away - at the sky, at the trees, at the uneventful passing scenery - anywhere but down in his lap. After a minute, he twisted his hands in the quilt again, careful to avoid any direct skin-to-skin contact. Adam remained quiet. They were making good time, he reassured himself, even with the wagon. They should be home soon.
It hadn't taken them long to get on the road, not with Hoss blindly and efficiently taking care of the details. Hoss had insisted on loading Adam into the wagon without help. The combination of his distant behavior and Adam's resistance to touch made Ben feel curiously alone - left out. He had climbed meekly into the wagon and tried to get comfortable in one corner, then stared down at Adam's face, bruises stark and livid in the late afternoon sun. He couldn't help himself. He had gathered the heavy head into his lap and cradled it there. Adam had been too deeply unconscious to know the difference. Ben smiled grimly at the memory. Hoss had a good, strong right. Now, if only it would last.
He smiled a little more, remembering how Roy had stared helplessly at the girl in his arms as if unsure of what to do with her, knowing that doing something couldn't be put off any longer. He had squinted thoughtfully up at Chubb's saddle, then seemed to decide. He hefted Amelia into the saddle, trying to center her and keep her upright. She had drooped forward over the horn.
"Hoss," he said at last, after struggling for a minute. "Kin you steady her long enough fer me ta climb on behind?"
Hoss had nodded, braced his hands around Amelia's waist as if she was a stack of fence poles he was preparing to lift. He almost lost his grip when Amelia straightened suddenly, lifting her head and blinking about.
"Why, Sheriff Coffey," she purred, tilting her chin coquettishly. "How nice of you to help me! But where on earth are we goin'?"
Roy looked startled, but had touched his hat politely. "Why, inta town, Miss Amelia. You said as how you needed a ride."
"Oh," Amelia seemed surprised, but accepting. "Well, that's very obliging of you, I must say." She patted at her hair. "I do have some shopping I have to do." She leaned down, almost overbalancing herself out of the saddle, stopped from falling only by Hoss's grip. She didn't appear to notice. She put her face so close to Roy's that for a moment it seemed as though she was going to kiss him, but instead she whispered, "Can you keep a secret?"
Roy stared at her like a rabbit hypnotized by a snake. "I - I reckon, ma'am."
She smiled, dropping her lashes. "I wouldn't tell just anyone…but you bein' such a close friend of the family…" She moved her face closer, so that Roy flinched, settled her mouth next to his ear. "Adam and me are gonna be married. I'm goin' into town to have a dress made. I know he'll want you to be at the wedding, but for now, ssshhhhhh…" Roy shuddered at the hiss of breath against his ear. "Our secret."
Roy glanced over at Ben, caught his eyes. Then he turned back to Amelia, touching his hat again. "Yes'm. Guess we'd better get goin', then." He had pulled himself up and behind her. As soon as he had hold of her, Hoss dropped his hands and walked away.
