CHAPTER FIVE

Adam loaded up on food and water before riding out of town. He was looking forward to the technical terrain, but he was no fool. Anyone caught out in the desolate scrub brush in this heat without adequate supplies, especially water, was as good as dead. As he and Sport rode farther into the wilderness, he stopped frequently to water both himself and his horse.

It wasn't a total desert out here. There were some scrubby trees and shrubs, and Adam was awed by some of the soaring rock formations. On his third day as he headed toward Signal Rock to meet Joe, he passed within inches of one large boulder—it must have been twenty feet tall and another eighteen feet across—about fifty miles from Eastgate. As he came around the other side, a man stepped from behind a bush and pointed a gun at him. His hand instinctively flew to his Remington.

"Now hold it right there, mister!" the man ordered.

"Just don't move!" another voice said from Adam's left. Adam turned his head and saw the slim man from the saloon in Eastgate, who was also aiming a gun at him. He drew his hand slowly away from his own weapon. "Drop your gun belt," the slim man demanded.

He sighed. He was outnumbered two-to-one, and if he tried to ride off, the men would shoot him. If he gave them his gun and his money, maybe they'd let him go. He liked his Remington, and he hated to lose so much money, but neither was worth his life. He pulled the end of the string that secured his gun to his leg and unbuckled the belt.

"Didn't I see you in Eastgate?" he asked the shorter man as he tossed down his gun.

"Yeah, you did," the man answered. "It's been a long trail." He stuck Adam's Remington into the waistband of his pants and tossed the gun belt aside.

"You sure took your time about making your move," Adam said as Sport stamped impatiently.

The thin man grinned snidely at him. "In our line of work, we like privacy." He sneered. "You know what we want."

Adam glared at the man for several moments. "Yeah, I'm intuitive." He reached behind him and dug his wallet out of his saddlebag. He tossed it to the shorter man, who ripped it open and grinned as he thumbed through the thick stack of bills inside.

The thin man nodded in approval and looked back up at Adam. "Now get down off that horse," he commanded.

Adam was willing to give up his gun and the money, but Sport was another matter. "You got your money." He stayed planted in the saddle.

"Get down!" the shorter man shouted from behind him.

Adam looked over his shoulder at the smaller man with his gun still trained on him. Reluctantly, he dismounted. The shorter man grabbed Sport's reins and dragged him over to his and the thin man's horses. All he could do was watch as his food and water, still attached to Sport's saddle, walked away from him.

The thin man sneered at him again. "You get to walk outta here," he said, laughing. Keeping his gun pointed at Adam, he stepped over to his own horse and mounted up.

"I'll never make it without food and water!" Adam protested. "Nobody would!" Anger burbled up in his chest. Stealing a man's horse was bad enough, but marooning him in the middle of the wilderness in the baking sun with no supplies was inhuman.

The shorter man chuckled. "Well, now, I feel real sorry for him," he said, not sounding sorry in the slightest. "Don't you, Frank?"

"Yeah, Jim," Frank replied. "I'm all shook up." They laughed.

Adam tried a new tack. "I don't want your pity. I just want a chance."

"We've given you a chance," Frank said. "We ain't killin' ya."

"Very funny."

"Ain't it?" Frank replied with a smile. He and Jim cackled again. "Ain't it?" he shouted as the two men spurred their horses and rode away with Sport—and Adam's supplies—in tow.

Heart sinking, he watched helplessly as the men disappeared over the horizon. He looked around, surveying his surroundings, and considering his situation. He could sit in the shade of the boulders until nightfall when the cool air would increase his likelihood of reaching civilization without dying of exposure and dehydration, but there was a new moon tonight. He'd get hopelessly lost stumbling around in the pitch dark. He heaved a sigh. His best chance was to set out now, while he could see where he was going. Maybe if he continued in the same direction he and Sport had been traveling, he'd find help. There was no way he could walk the fifty miles back to Eastgate.

"I should have stayed with Joe," he muttered as he tied a bandana around his neck and set off through the roasting July sun.

Progress was slow and difficult. Had he been traversing level ground, he could have covered the mileage even in the heat, but the rocky terrain he had so wanted to see now worked against him. He was soon exhausted from climbing up one crag only to have to slide down the other side and climb up the next one. His clothes caught and ripped on even the tiniest bits of protruding rock, covering him in scratches. After three hours that felt like an eternity, he realized he was no longer sweating.

"That can't be good," he thought as he wiped sand from his eyes.

His head throbbed, his hands, arms, chest, and back stung from scraping across the rocks, and he had to keep shaking his head to bring his vision back into focus. He finally reached a long stretch of level ground, and he broke into a relieved smile when he spotted a shimmering on the horizon.

"Water!" he whispered. "Thank God."

But after staggering several feet forward, he realized the shimmering was drawing no closer. His heart sank. It was only a mirage. For the first time he thought he might actually die out here, all alone and miles from anything.

Yet he stumbled on.

After another few hours, Adam knew he was taking his final steps. His breathing was coming too quickly and shallowly—he couldn't get enough air into his burning lungs—and despite having had nothing to eat since breakfast, he was nauseated and had to stop often to retch, though he had nothing left in his system to vomit up. Just as he was ready to collapse and let death win, he reached the edge of a mesa and looked down. There, in a small valley, was a canvas-covered lean-to with a cooking fire burning next to it and a mule standing patiently nearby. And inside the lean-to sat a man eating a meal.

Life.

The tiny camp was a good thirty feet down. Adam tried to holler to the man, but his parched throat could only croak. Painfully, he realized he would have to climb down. He lurched a few meters along the edge of the mesa until he found a break in the rock that created a rudimentary path he could slide down. He amazed himself by managing to stay upright when he hit the bottom, and he staggered toward the man in the lean-to.

"May I help you?" the man asked politely as Adam stumbled into the shade of the canvas roof. He was a tall, slim man, not unlike Adam's friend Ross, but he was clearly several years older. His limp hair was gray, and his tanned face was deeply lined.

It took Adam several attempts to respond. "Water?" he gasped, clutching a pole of the lean-to for support.

"Oh, excuse me!" the man said as he rose from his seat, grabbed his canteen, and handed it to him. "I couldn't believe my eyes at first, seeing a man alone out here on foot in the middle of nowhere."

Adam took the canteen and drank greedily. The water was warm and stale but also the sweetest he'd ever tasted. The man watched quietly as Adam polished off most of the canteen's contents and sat down heavily in the shade of the lean-to.

"My name is Kane," the man introduced himself. "Peter Kane."

Adam shook Kane's hand. "Cartwright."

"If you don't mind my asking, Mr. Cartwright, where are you headed?"

"Back–" Adam pointed the way he came as he paused to catch his breath again. "Back home. The Ponderosa." He rested his arms on his knees and dropped his head.

"The great Ponderosa," Kane mused. "I've heard of it. As, indeed, who hasn't?" He looked at Adam, whose chest was still heaving. "But you'll need food and rest. Won't you accept my humble hospitality?" He gestured around at the simple lean-to and the shaggy mule.

Adam wiped sand from his eyes. "There's nothing humble about hospitality out here, Mr. Kane."

Kane nodded. "Quite true, Mr. Cartwright."

Adam smiled and raised the precious canteen to his lips once more.

Once Adam was well along the path to rehydration, Kane handed him a plate of food. It was just beans with a little salt pork, but Adam relished every bite. Over the meal, he told Kane how he had come to be wandering the desert.

"How much money did the men take?" Kane asked.

Adam swallowed a mouthful of beans and replied, "Five thousand dollars. But that's not what rankles me."

"Five thousand dollars is a considerable sum of money," Kane sympathized. "But I've been given to understand the Ponderosa is the equivalent of an ancient empire." He grinned good-naturedly.

"Well, an empire, Mr. Kane, represents a lot of plain, hard work."

"Oh, I'm sure of that," Kane replied as he began clearing away his own dishes. "But I'm a man who's used to hard work. Mr. Cartwright, twenty years ago, I came out here from the East to stake my claim. At that time, I sold all my earthly possessions for the total sum of three thousand dollars." He chuckled ruefully as he sat down by a small bucket to wash his plate and cup.

"Don't get me wrong, Mr. Kane, I'm not making light of the five thousand dollars."

"I'm sure of that. But you said that something else rankles you."

Adam's expression darkened. "Yeah," he said bitterly. "Being left out here to die. And I suppose I would have if I hadn't stumbled into you."

"Well, I'm glad that you did, for your sake, and for mine. It gets lonely out here with only Epicene to talk to."

"Epicene?"

"My mule."

In his desperation for food and water, he'd forgotten about the mule. He turned around and took a quick look at the animal, then raised an eyebrow. "Mr. Kane, I wonder if I might borrow your mule and enough supplies to get back to civilization. I'd see that they were returned to you." He didn't much care for mules—they were stubborn, headstrong creatures—but they were surefooted on the type of terrain he had to cross, and in his present situation, he couldn't be picky.

"What's your hurry?" Kane asked as he finished scrubbing his dinner plate. "Why don't you stay around a few days and rest?"

"I feel pretty good now," Adam said truthfully as he rose to wash his own plate. "Besides, I'm overdue for meeting my kid brother at Signal Rock." Little Joe wouldn't panic if Adam were a bit late, but he knew that eventually the young man would set out to find him, and he didn't want to put his brother to the trouble of traversing that arduous terrain.

"Signal Rock?" Kane said, his eyebrows lifting. "That's better than thirty or forty miles south of here."

"Yeah, good, long haul on foot. And I want to catch the men who left me out here."

Kane's brow furrowed. "What are you going to do when you catch them?" he asked with interest. "Kill them?"

"No," Adam said, as he sat down next to Kane. "I'll let the law take care of them."

Kane gave him a sidelong glance. "You're a remarkable man, Mr. Cartwright, to be content with mere legal revenge. After all, they left you out here to die."

Adam considered this. "It's just a civilized process."

"Mr. Cartwright," Kane said, placing his dishes back in his wagon, "I have found in my life that most men aren't particularly civilized." He paused with his back to Adam and spoke again without turning around. "In fact, I find that men can be driven to do most anything."

An ominous sense of foreboding rang loudly in Adam's mind, and he glanced at Kane with suspicion. "Yeah," he replied slowly, "but I'm not one of them."

Kane turned around and gave Adam a penetrating stare. "Are you sure, Mr. Cartwright?"

Adam stared back, his unease increasing, but he forced himself to remain congenial. He broke the stare and looked skyward in thought. "Who was it who said 'Know thyself'?"

Kane smirked almost imperceptibly. "Exactly. Here, let me show you something." He crossed to the back of the lean-to and picked up a small rock from next to the table. He handed it to Adam and asked if he knew what it was.

Adam examined the stone. "Gold?"

Kane nodded. "Yes, the gold I've been seeking for the past twenty years." He took the rock back.

"You're a lucky man, Mr. Kane."

"Yes, indeed. So now you understand why I can't let you have my mule because I'll need her to help me work the claim."

Adam could hardly believe what he was hearing. True, this man had saved his life, but he was denying him his only avenue for returning home. What was wrong with the people in this section of the territory? When he got home, he was telling Pa to forget it, no matter how much the folks around here were willing to pay for beef.

"I'd only need the mule for a few days," he reasoned.

Kane was unmoved. "Now that I'm so close to the main vein, a few days would seem like an eternity for me." He gave Adam a patronizing smile. The two men stood in silence for several moments as each contemplated his next move. "Mr. Cartwright," Kane said at last, "I'll make you a bargain."

"Bargain?"

"Yes. If you stay here and help me work the claim for three days, I'll let you take the mule and the supplies, and you can meet your brother. The two men can wait, too. And if everything goes like I hope it will," he glanced at the entrance to his mine, "I might even join you. What do you say?"

He wanted to say "Go to Hell," but he saw no choice but to agree. He was alone with no horse, no weapon, no food, and no water. If he ever wanted to get home to his family, he'd have to accept Kane's proposal.

"You did save my life. It's a deal." He gave Kane a friendly smile and offered his hand.

"Good," Kane said, returning the smile and shaking Adam's hand. "It will be a pleasure to talk to a civilized man for a change. If you'll come with me, I'll show you what progress I've made toward the vein."

Adam followed Kane into the mine and was impressed by how much the man had been able to do alone. He said as much, and Kane seemed pleased that Adam was knowledgeable about mining and even had some experience with blasting.

Kane picked up some tools from the mine floor. "I assume you also have knowledge of the star drill and hammer," he said, handing the items to Adam.

Adam understood he was to get to work immediately. "Right," he said, accepting the tools. He lined up the drill and began hammering away at the rock.

The following afternoon, Little Joe arrived at Signal Rock—a bit early, for once. He was surprised his fastidiously punctual older brother was not already waiting for him. Joe hopped down from Cochise and secured the horse to a tree.

"Hey, Adam!" Joe called, thinking his brother may have wandered away a piece to look at something that caught his eye. He got no response. "Yo, Adam!" he called again and whistled sharply. "Adam!" When he still heard no reply, he shook his head in annoyance and walked back over to his horse. "What do you know?" he said to Cochise as he leaned against the pinto. "Big Brother says be here on time, we get here, and he's nowhere in sight. Well, Cochise, we're just gonna have to make camp and wait a while. He doesn't show up soon, we just might not tell him Obadiah got off with only five years." He smiled at his own cleverness and untied his bedroll from the back of his saddle.