FIELDS OF WHITE
by BeckyS
© September 2002 – December 2003, as allowable


PART 7

Joe didn't see what started the ruckus, but took full advantage of it.  He knew where the paper was now, and as everyone's attention had been drawn to Adam, he'd slowly moved backwards, one step at a time, until he was between the dining room table and the wall, and was well hidden behind Hoss and Hop Sing.  He heard his brother's final words, then there was the sound of furniture turning over, the sharp snap of a gun being fired, the wild bellow of his brother Hoss.  He shoved Hop Sing forward and ran.

On his mad, quiet dash through the kitchen, he grabbed Hop Sing's favorite carving knife in its leather scabbard from its peg on the wall next to the worktable.  He dropped the hanging loop over his head and stuffed the scabbard down the front of his jacket.  He still had his gun but no extra bullets, and as much as he shrank from the thought of using the knife on a man, he knew if it came down to Adam's life or one of those men's, he wouldn't hesitate.  And he had no illusions that they wouldn't be after him, just as soon as they figured out where he'd gone.

He knew he didn't have time to saddle Cochise, and he wasn't sure how rested his horse would be anyway.  The cold air sliced into his lungs as he frantically tried to think of a way to hold off Blake and his men as long as possible.  He needed to take the strongest, fastest horse he could find . . . his quick eye picked out the best of those tied in front of the house, a big roan one of the quiet men had been riding. He pulled out the knife and slashed through the reins of all the others, then mounted and swung his hat at the rest.  They milled uncertainly for a moment, but when he whacked a particularly skittish one on the haunch, it bolted from the yard and the others followed.  His horse bolted, too, but he encouraged the wild flight.  Snow flew at him in clumps from the herd in front, but he just ducked his head into the roan's mane and urged the animal to go faster.  When he was about a half mile from the house, he shouted at the loose horses, waving his arms until they scattered.  It was the best he could do.

He kicked his horse into as fast a gallop as was safe, and settled in for the long ride out to the line shack, working through everything he knew.  Adam had tried hard to hand him all the pieces – now it was up to him to put it all together and finish what his brother had started.  He knew Adam was in bad shape, could even die.  If this was going to be his last request, Joe would do everything in his power to make it turn out the way he wanted.

He hoped he'd understood Adam, that this deed he kept worrying over was really in the box under the cot.  How he could have gotten it there – no, he'd been on the floor by the bed.  As determined as his brother was, he could have lifted the mattress just enough to slide it in.  It wouldn't have been easy, but then if he'd ever been afraid of a difficulty, Joe had never seen it.

He eased his horse's pace a little, giving him a chance to gather his strength.  One thing about Blake, he provided good horseflesh for his men.  Joe didn't know how much of a lead he had, but Hoss would delay the men as long as he could, and Joe had the advantage of knowing the quickest route.  Of course he was leaving a trail a blind man could follow, but he knew when to rest his horse and when he could go all out.  He knew where the only unfrozen water would be and the only uncovered grass.  Most important of all, though, he needed to do this.  He had to succeed.  Adam was counting on him, and he couldn't let him down. 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

"He's dead, Pa."

Sudden, tearing grief ripped through Ben Cartwright.  He threw the man in his arms to the floor, not caring that the cowboy cried out in pain when his head cracked against one of the solid legs of the settee.  He crossed the room in just a few strides, but came up short when Hoss stood and blocked his way.

"Let me—" he began heatedly, grabbing at his son's arm to move him out of the way, but Hoss cut him off.

"I'm the only one what knew him at all, Pa; I'm gonna take care of him now." 

It dawned on him that Hoss' face – his whole attitude – was one of belligerence, not grief.  He was also standing so that it was impossible for anyone else in the room to get a good look at Adam where he lay between the hearth and the red chair, which was still on its side.  Ben's eyes narrowed, and his heart began to settle from its wild hammering as he realized Hoss was trying to tell him something.

"What do you mean, you knew him?" Blake's voice came from the floor as he wobbled to his knees.  His voice steadied as he got to his feet and focused his attention on this new target.  "You two friends or something?"

Hoss turned his fierce gaze from Ben.  "I said I knew him.  We'd share a few drinks down Genoa-way whenever we'd happen to meet up there, and whatever you say about what he done in Markleeville, he's a good man that didn't deserve what you done to him."  

Ben took a deep breath, now sure of what Hoss was doing.  He stepped in front of Blake, also not so incidentally putting another barrier between the man and his eldest.  Though he addressed the sheriff, his words were aimed square at Blake.  "Roy, I want you to arrest these men."

"What charges you want me to put down?" his friend asked calmly.

"Murder," he answered simply.

"You can't prove that!" Jesse said as Blake helped him to his feet.  He shook his head to clear it.

"That's right," Blake said with a smirk.  "You don't have any witnesses to say how that killer got shot."

Ben could feel the anger rising, but he quashed it firmly.  Adam still wasn't safe.  "I'm not talking about how he got into this condition, I'm talking about how you treated him, knowing how badly hurt he was."

"And how are you going to prove we knew any such thing?" Jesse inserted.  "Your word against mine in a court of law."

Roy rubbed at his moustache.  "Happen a local jury'd likely believe the Cartwrights before they'd take on what some stranger gunman from down south said."

Blake frowned, and Ben had a sudden suspicion he'd been caught off guard.

"Local?"  The posse leader jerked his head in the direction of the floor where Hoss Cartwright was once more bent over the body of the man he knew as Stoddard.  "He was wanted in Markleeville, not here."

"Don't much matter, now," Roy said.  "Man's dead, and died in my territory.  I'll just send a messenger to Sheriff Watson, let him know he can tear up them wanted posters.  You fellers, though; that's something different.  And even if you was right and you didn't mean to kill him, fact is that you was responsible."

"Pa?" Hoss inserted quietly.  "It ain't right to just leave him lyin' on the floor like this."

Ben spared a look at him, careful to let nothing more than regret show on his face.  "Take him upstairs, then; lay him out in the first bedroom."  He searched the room.  "Hop Sing?"

The little Chinese cook stepped forward from where he'd taken cover in the kitchen.  "Yes, Mistah Cartlight?"

"Help Hoss get Stoddard upstairs, then get some cloths and water and such to clean him up a bit, do a proper laying out."

Hop Sing nodded, and Ben moved out of the way so the little cook could join Hoss.  Two of the other three posse members climbed to their feet, but the man Ben had flung to the floor just groaned in quiet agony.  The others maintained a respectful silence while Hoss and Hop Sing made their way upstairs with their burden, but as soon as they'd disappeared from sight, Blake started up again.

"Sheriff, you have no cause to hold us.  We're only trying to recover some stolen property."

His righteous tone infuriated Ben, and again, he had to hold his temper on tight rein.  "And just what property might that be?" he asked through a clenched jaw.

"Some papers he took from the poor widow-lady he killed." 

Widow?  Did he mean Isabella?  And by Adam's hand?  No, surely not!

Blake stepped forward, a conciliatory smile on his face that made Ben want to shake his teeth loose.  "You won't mind if I search the body."

"Of all the sanctimonious—" Ben started to sputter.

"Hold off, Ben," said Roy, raising one hand.  "It's a reasonable request."

Ben turned on him.  "You can't mean you'd let this . . . butcher . . . anywhere near—"

Roy cut him off again.  "You just settle down a bit."  He turned to Blake.  "An' you, too.  Jest stay put right where you are.  I ain't sayin' you ain't got some kinda legal claim to be dealt with, but I'm the sheriff around here and it's gonna be handled my way."

"Roy—"

"Ben, I ain't gonna tell you again.  I know you got a powerful lot of reasons to be upset with these fellas, seein' as how they went and killed a man in your house, but I gotta respect their legal rights, too.  This has got to be done right, and you know it."

Ben took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.  Yes, Roy was right.  For what they'd done to Adam, they would pay . . . and he wouldn't allow his self-righteous desire for revenge to create loopholes a lawyer could let them slip through.

Roy turned to Blake.  "Now, what are these papers, and what's your interest in them?"

"None of your business, lawman," spat Jesse. 

"Well, now, I say that it is.  After all, a man got kilt in my district over them, so I'd say that pretty much makes it my business."

Blake held a hand out to calm the gunman.  "It's all right, Jesse.  I'm sure the sheriff, when he knows all the facts, will see we have the right to take those papers back to Markleeville."  He stroked his chin.  "Fact is, sheriff, we aren't exactly sure what they are.  Jesse saw Stoddard arguing with that poor widow-lady, waving them around in the air.  One of them had "deed" written on it plain as could be, but before Jesse could get to her to help out, Stoddard shot her and took off with them.  He came to me with the story, and, well, all these good men rode along with us.  Now all we want to do is get the papers back to the lawyers in Markleeville for proper disposition."

Even if his son hadn't been involved, Ben would have known they were hiding something.  "Just five philanthropists," he said, his voice low and venomous.

Jesse and the two cowboys who were still standing looked confused, but Blake's expression lightened.  "That's right.  Just like you're a leading citizen up here, I try to do my best for my community."

"Roy," Ben said with steel in his voice, "I'll allow you to go upstairs and search Stoddard's body, but these men are staying down here with me."

Roy rubbed at his moustache.  "All right, but I'll be taking everyone's guns before I go."

Blake and the two cowboys gave theirs up readily enough, Blake because he knew the sheriff wouldn't do the search until he got them and the cowboys out of sheer confusion and a wish to stay on the side of the law, but Jesse hesitated.  "Give it over," Blake said while Roy waited patiently.  Jesse scowled, but handed it to Roy. 

The sheriff scooped up the gun that Hoss had knocked flying and put all of the weapons in Ben's gun cabinet.  He held his hand out for the key and Ben handed it over reluctantly.  The entire situation was too unstable for him to be happy not having access to his gun.

Roy locked the drawer and pocketed the key.  "That's fine, then.  And there'll be no funny business while I'm upstairs, either, y'hear?" he warned.  "I won't be that far from the top of the steps, an' that's a fine view for shootin' folks what get outta line."

The two cowboys still on their feet looked less and less like they wanted any part of Jesse and Blake.  The taller of the two hunkered down by the man on the floor and pressed his kerchief against a bloody gash on his friend's forehead, who groaned in misery.  "You won't get any trouble from us, sheriff."

Jesse shot a glance of fury at him, but Blake calmed him with a touch on his arm and a soft word. 

Ben desperately wanted to follow Roy up the staircase, but he knew it was essential they keep to the story that Stoddard was dead.  It seemed a long time before Roy returned, Hoss only a step or two behind him.  He searched Hoss's face, and relaxed infinitesimally when he could detect no further grief.  Roy's announcement, though, brought him back to the present with a thump.

"Ain't no papers on him. Not even so much as a letter."  He looked at Blake hard.  "I dunno what you thought you was chasin' but you sure ain't found it."

Ben expected Blake to demand to search the body himself, but instead, Jesse spoke up.  "Where's the boy?"

They all looked around the room, and only now did Ben realize he hadn't seen Joseph since Adam's collapse.  "He must have run when the fighting started," he said, trying to divert their attention from what was obvious to him.  "He's still young—" he added in false justification.

"He ran, all right," said Jesse grimly.  "Ran off to get them papers.  Stoddard musta told him something when they were together."

"Sheriff, Mr. Cartwright," Blake said, "we'll be taking our guns now and leaving you in peace."

"No," Ben breathed as he stepped forward. 

Roy shook his head.  "They got the right to leave, Ben.  'Course I don't have to give them back their weapons, seein' as how they already committed violence in my territory."

"I got a rifle on my horse that'll do me just fine," Jesse said as he stalked to the door and slammed outside.  Ben sighed in relief that he was gone.  One less threat to his eldest.

"All right," said Blake.  "You other men, let's get going."

But the man who'd been kneeling on the floor shook his head and said, "I don't think so, Blake.  Soon as Johnny, here, feels a mite better, we're headed into town for a good meal, then back to Markleeville.  This whole setup smells, and we don't want no part of it no more."

"Fine," Blake growled.  "We'll go after that young upstart on our own." He strode to the door and jerked it open, then slammed it so hard that it bounced open again.

"Roy, they're going after Joe."

Hoss closed the door after peering outside and turned to his father.  "Not right away, they ain't," he grinned.

"What?"

"Ain't no horses out there to go after anyone on.  Just some loose reins hangin' off the hitchin' posts."

Roy had the gun rack unlocked.  "Any horses in your barn, boy?"  At Hoss's sudden look of understanding, Roy tossed a rifle to him, which he caught in one hand.  "Best go protect your property from horse-thieves."

Hoss was across the room in three strides.  "I'll just do that, sheriff."

The two cowboys had finally gotten their friend on his feet.  "We'll back you up on that," the tall one said, "this has gone too far." They followed Hoss outside.

"Ben," Roy said softly to his friend, "you gonna stay here with Adam or go with me?"

"Adam," Ben felt like he was caught in a whirlwind, "—how is he?"

"Ain't too good, but it ain't hopeless neither, from what Hop Sing says.  What those fellers told me when they was in town about Adam –  not knowin' who he was o' course –  well, it was enough that I sent a message on over to the Doc.  He'll be along any time now, an' between him an' Hop Sing, they'll take good care of him." 

Hearing that the doctor was on his way made Ben's decision much easier.  Sudden anger blossomed.  "I am not letting those two men shoot another one of my sons.  Hoss can watch over things here, help Hop Sing until Paul gets here."

"Grab your coat then, an' let's get on our way."

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Blake and Jesse were enraged to discover their horses gone and three guns protecting the mounts in the barn, but with cold determination Jesse managed to catch Blake's buckskin and a big black for himself, both still with rifles tucked in their scabbards.  Then they lost more time, finding enough reins that weren't cut or were at least long enough to use.  When they finally headed out, they were both furious.

Ben and Roy didn't get out immediately, either.  Although Buck and Chubb were ready, Ben found he couldn't leave without seeing for himself that Adam was still alive.  He stayed only a moment, long enough to feel the feverheat radiating from his son's body and to catch a glimpse of the ugly, swollen wound as Hop Sing cleaned it.  That Adam didn't protest, wasn't even aware enough to flinch at what should have been excruciating, told Ben how bad it was. 

Roy spent those few minutes shortening the stirrups on Chubb.  His own horse had been released with the posse members, but he didn't mind – Hoss's horse was fresh and strong. 

When Ben came out of the ranchhouse, he offered the ex-posse members beds in the bunkhouse as he prepared to mount.  The tall man took him up on the offer on behalf of his two partners, but said he'd be going after the horses.  Once he'd gathered a few, he'd follow them to the line shack to back them up.  "It's the least I can do," he muttered.

Ben nodded once in acceptance, then climbed up into his saddle and booted his horse to gallop.  Roy took precious moments to carry the cowboy out to where the horses were scattered, then he took off after his friend.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~
to be continued