Whispers in Silence -- 9
by BeckyS
10 Oct 2004

Ben looked up from sipping his first cup of coffee of the day at the sound of his youngest practically bouncing down the stairs. "You certainly look better this morning than when I checked on you last night, Joseph."

Joe colored slightly, then grinned as he joined his father at the breakfast table. "Guess I was pretty tired, Pa. Those miners'll work you near to death if you give them half a chance."

That hit a little close to home for Ben, but he did his best to set it aside. They couldn't go on cringing every time something reminded them of their near-loss. He spooned some strawberry jam onto his toast. "What did you find out?"

Joe was already halfway through his eggs. "Cal says he thinks we can eventually dig our way back through the drift to tunnel three, but he thought maybe we should work number two for a while first. Says the men are still spooked by three. He wants to give them some more time to settle down. Me, I'd like to get an expert up there to check it out before we open it up again. I'd trust what Adam had to say about it, but aside of him . . ." He thought for a moment. "How about Mr. Diedesheimer? Is he around?"

"I don't know, son. He's still the superintendent at the Ophir, but he was due to take a trip to San Francisco."

"Well, there's lots of mine inspectors in Virginia City," Joe said between sips of coffee.

Ben tried to identify the niggling resistance he felt. "I'm not sure I want someone from one of the other mines poking around in there."

Hoss came downstairs in time to hear his comment. "Why's that, Pa?" he asked as he took his place at the table.

"Good morning, son," he said, half-expecting something else to happen. It was a moment before he realized he was waiting to hear the footsteps of a third son. Shaking off the sinking feeling, he tried to get his mind back on the ranch's problems. "It's the financial end of things. Adam had some concerns about the mine that he wanted to check out, and since I don't know what they were, I'm wary of tipping our hand to anyone else. We know we can trust Philip, but I just don't know any of the other supervisors well enough to hand them information on how good the mine is. We have some deals in the works that depend on financing, and the prospects of our mine will affect how the banks view our ability to pay back the loans. If there's something wrong and we happen to choose someone who can't keep their mouth shut, it'll get back to the banks before we're ready with a back-up plan."

Joe wiped his mouth with his napkin and set it by his plate. "Adam would know who we could trust."

"Yeah, but could we get him to tell us?" Hoss asked.

"The question," Ben inserted stiffly, "is not only could we, but should we." He looked at his sons. "I don't want to push too hard. His progress is encouraging, but remember what Paul said."

"We could ask," Joe offered. "He might be able to tell us something."

Ben softened. Joe was thinking with his heart, with his hopes. He hated to stifle the boy. "Tell you what. Why don't you draw up a list of men you think might be trustworthy, and we'll see about running it past your brother. We'll know with the first name if we're asking too much."

Adam felt sick again. He was heartily tired of the sensation, but that didn't seem to matter to his stomach. It was the sun on the mirror that was doing it this time, he decided, risking a peek. The light shattered into multiple brilliant dots that stabbed into the back of his head. He let out a harsh breath and turned his head to the left. No, that side was sore. The pillows were soft, but not enough to keep that spot from throbbing.

He tried turning his head to the right, but he couldn't escape the light. Rolling onto his side didn't help, either. The sun seemed determined to move with him.

He sank onto his back again. Where was everyone? It seemed like he always had more company than he could stand, but now, when he needed someone's help, no one was around. Where was his father? Why didn't he come? He called out – but realized he hadn't heard his voice. No sound? Why couldn't he hear himself?

The pain in his head forgotten, he concentrated on that one word. Deep breath. Form the word. Blow out. Pa?

Nothing.

His throat tightened and his stomach churned. What was happening? He broke out into a cold sweat and started to tremble. Pain lanced through his head and he wanted desperately to cry out in agony, but again, there was no sound. Had he gone deaf?

Desperate to hear something, anything, his gaze skittered around the room. Everything was either hazy, multiplied, or strewn with brilliant lights. The table. The table by his bed. It had things on it. He couldn't make out what they were, but right now, he didn't care. His left hand could reach them, and with one violent swipe, he cleared the surface. The shattering of glass told him his hearing was fine, and he realized he could also hear his own breathing – fast, heavy, panicked.

The door opened with a crash and his father stood on the threshold.

Pa! he tried again, his heart bleeding into the one word, but there was nothing.

No sound. No words.

"Adam?" his father asked, worry creasing his brow.

Pa— Adam choked on his tears. He'd thought he was simply too sick, that he hurt too much and didn't have the strength to respond to his family. He'd never thought that he couldn't.

His father crossed to his side in two strides. "Son, calm down."

He pulled Adam into his arms like he was a small boy, but Adam fought him. He had to tell him, had to let him know—

He felt arms surrounding him, trying to enclose him. He struck out, trying to get away, trying to get enough air.

"Adam, you must calm down. Breathe deep, son; deep and steady."

He tried, really he did, but each breath hurt and he wanted to scream out his pain, yet all he heard was the rasping of gulps of air.

Heavy hands held him in place. "Adam," said another voice, "you're gonna hurt yourself, Adam. You gotta settle down."

He pushed back a little and looked up into his father's eyes.

"What's wrong, son?"

He wanted desperately to tell him, but there were no words. He took a breath as if to speak, but nothing came out. He shook his head in frustration and fear. Pa! Oh, Pa!

What was he seeing in his father's eyes? Fear? Pity?

Understanding.

Confirmation.

His head pounded, his whole body ached, he was suddenly freezing cold, and then his stomach rebelled. He keened soundlessly in agony until finally he sank into darkness.