CHAPTER SEVEN
Back at the mine, Adam's situation continued to deteriorate. Only sheer willpower kept him swinging the hammer hour after hour, and in the clanging of the star drill, he was certain he could hear Kane laughing at him. As his fury mounted, he swung the hammer harder and harder and harder, until at last he missed the drill completely and got the hammer wedged in the rock face. Enraged, he staggered out of the mine to confront Kane but tripped on a loose stone at the entrance and fell hard, ripping open several blisters on his palms as he tried to break his fall. He dragged himself to his feet and found himself once more face-to-face with the barrel of Kane's revolver.
"Cartwright," Kane said, sounding almost bored, "for shirking your duties, I'm cutting your food and water ration in half as of today."
Adam stared. He was already getting barely enough food and water to survive. How did Kane expect him to continue slaving with half that amount? Kane smiled at him with grotesque satisfaction. Adam was too exhausted to do anything but close his eyes, nod weakly, and wonder if he would ever see his family again.
Little Joe and Sport galloped into Salt Flats early the next morning, and Joe went straight into the sheriff's office.
"My name's Joe Cartwright," he told the sheriff. "I'm looking for two men: Jim Gann and a Frank something-or-other."
"Frank Preston?" the lawman asked, his face screwed up in disgust.
"Maybe. They in town?"
"What do you want them for?"
Little Joe had to take a deep breath before he could force out his next statement. "I think they may have killed my brother." It was the first time he had spoken the possibility of Adam's death aloud, and the words were poison in his mouth.
The sheriff's heart went out to the dirty, sweaty young man before him. He had clearly ridden long and hard in search of his brother, and despite the boy's outward toughness, the sheriff could tell he was inwardly crumbling. "Well," he said sympathetically, "I think you're a little bit late."
"What d'ya mean?" Joe demanded.
"They tried to shoot up the town last night, and as a result, I've got them stretched out in the back room there, both cold dead."
Little Joe called on every ounce of strength he had not to dissolve into tears in front of the sheriff. He had come so close, and now he would never know what happened to Adam. He knew what he had to do next.
"Where's your telegraph office?" he asked, his voice wavering.
"Just a couple doors west."
Joe thanked him and turned to leave.
"Mr. Cartwright?" the sheriff said. Joe turned back around. "Anything I can help you with?"
"No," Joe said sadly. "No, I'm gonna wire my family." He paused. "And try to find my brother." He nodded to the sheriff and walked out.
Josie, Hoss, and Ben had enjoyed their Independence Day together in Virginia City. Hoss had made good on his promise to buy Josie some ice cream, and Ben had waltzed with her in Adam's place. She had even danced with Simon again—just as friends—and Ben had successfully avoided the Widow Hawkins for the second year in a row.
But now it was back to work, and Josie was about to lock up the clinic in town so she could meet Sally for lunch at the International House when Morris, the telegraph operator, came dashing down the street. He was a waving a telegram and shouting Josie's name. A powerful sense of dread washed over her, but oddly, she didn't think of her father.
"What is it, Morris?"
Morris leapt onto the clinic's porch and bent over, his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. The telegraph office was several blocks away, and he had sprinted the entire distance. Finally, still panting too hard to speak, he thrust the telegram at Josie.
Reading Little Joe's telegram, Josie felt as if someone had thrust a vice through her belly, locked onto her intestines, and twisted hard. She swayed, and Morris caught her arm. For a moment she thought she would be sick, but she took a deep breath and steadied herself. She couldn't afford to fall to pieces.
"Dr. Cartwright?" Morris asked, his face brimming with concern. "Is there anything I can do?" In the nearly two years since he had arrived in Virginia City, Morris had come to know and respect all the Cartwrights, but especially Josie. His interest wasn't romantic; he simply recognized the soft kindness behind her mischievous smile and knew she was a person of worth.
Josie swallowed hard. "Yes, Morris. Please go to Dr. Martin's house and explain what's happened. Let him know I'm going home to alert my family, and I may be gone for quite some time." She drew another deep breath and forced herself to think clearly. "Then please tell Sally Cass that I won't be able to meet her for lunch. You'll find her at the International House."
"You got it!" Morris exclaimed. Before he turned to leave, he added, "Dr. Cartwright? I'll say an extra prayer for Adam."
Her eyes filled with tears that she blinked back. "Thank you," she whispered. Morris took off, and Josie called for Pip. She locked up the clinic and ran down the street to the livery stable to fetch Scout, her hound right on her heels.
Scout ran full speed all the way home with Josie praying that Hoss and Ben would be at the house. As she tore into the front yard, she saw Buck and Chubb at the hitching post.
"Oh, thank God," she said. She threw herself to the ground and flew into the house, screaming for her uncle.
Ben and Hoss were sitting at Ben's desk reviewing some financial ledgers when they heard the thundering hooves approach the house. They were about to peer out the window when Josie's frantic cries of "UNCLE BEN! UNCLE BEN!" pierced the afternoon calm. The men shot from their seats and raced for the door, nearly colliding with Josie as she raced into the house.
"Josephine!" Ben cried in alarm. He saw the blue slip of paper in his niece's hand and knew she had come to tell him that his younger brother was dead. He wasn't prepared for the telegram's actual message:
"Adam missing STOP Come to Salt Flats immediately STOP Joe"
"Oh, dear God," Ben said, handing the telegram to Hoss and clutching the sideboard for support. Hoss stiffened as he read the telegram.
"It's all right, Pa," he said, placing a hand on his father's shoulder. "We're gonna find him." He reached out and pulled Josie into his arms. "You, too, Little Sister. We'll find him."
Josie nodded against Hoss's chest and forced herself not to cry. She had to remain calm if she were going to help Adam.
"You're right, Hoss," Ben said, collecting himself. "We'll find him. Gather up some supplies. We'll need plenty of food and water for that country. We leave in an hour." He turned to Josie, who was still clinging to Hoss. He patted her shoulder. "Don't you worry. Hoss and Joe and I will bring Adam home."
Josie peeled herself off Hoss and turned to her uncle. "Me, too," she said.
"I don't understand what you mean," Ben replied.
Josie's hazel eyes flashed. "I'm coming with you."
Ben glanced uncertainly at Hoss. "Oh, Josie, that's not a good idea. We're going to be riding through some rough country, and-"
"I'm coming with you," Josie interrupted, glaring directly into her uncle's eyes. "If Adam is missing, that means he's either hurt or in trouble. If he's hurt, he'll need a doctor, and if he's in trouble, you'll need my gun. I'm coming with you."
Ben stared at his niece. He saw in her eyes a steeliness he often saw in Adam's when he wouldn't be swayed from his position. The resemblance stabbed him like a knife, and he glanced up again at Hoss.
"She's right, Pa. And she's got just as much right to look for Adam as we do."
Ben sighed. "All right. Get your things together."
Josie dashed to her room and changed into a pair of jeans. She dug through her medical bag to make sure she had everything she might need: chloroform, iodine, quinine, catgut, needles, syringes, morphine, opium pills, laudanum, and surgical tools. Her stomach lurched at the thought of having to use any of them on Adam, but she had to be prepared. She rolled up a change of clothes into a blanket to tie to her saddle and headed down the hall. As she passed Adam's door, an idea struck her, and she ducked into his room. She raided his wardrobe and chest of drawers. The familiar, musky scent of his aftershave hung in the air, and her throat tightened. She got out of there as quickly as she could, stopped in Little Joe's room for clean clothes for him, too, and hurried back downstairs.
Ben saw the clothes Josie had brought down for Adam and Little Joe and complimented her on her good thinking. Bringing her along was the right decision. "Clearheaded in a crisis, just like Adam," he thought sadly.
Within thirty minutes, the three Cartwrights had secured their bedrolls and rifle scabbards to their saddles, loaded their saddlebags with food, and hung two canteens apiece from their saddle horns. Hop Sing came out to the front yard to bid them farewell.
"Tell Baxter he's in charge while we're away," Ben instructed the cook. Hop Sing nodded his acknowledgement.
"You bling Mr. Adam home," he said, his eyes brimming with tears.
"We will," Hoss said.
"C'mon Pip!" Josie said. "Let's find Adam!" She, Ben, and Hoss spurred their horses and took off with Pip coursing smoothly behind them.
They reached Salt Flats the following evening and found Little Joe in the lobby of town's dingy hotel. At the sight of his father, Little Joe dissolved into tears. Ben gathered his son in his arms and held him close.
"It's all right, Joe," Ben said. "Just tell me what happened."
Little Joe related the story of his and Adam's arrival in Eastgate, their plans to meet up at Signal Rock, how he had come across Sport, and his conversation with Salt Flats' sheriff.
"Oh, Pa!" Joe cried. "It's all my fault! I never should have let Adam go off alone. I'm so sorry I lost him!" He broke into sobs again.
"It's not your fault, Joseph," Ben said, stepping back and forcing his son to make eye contact. "Adam wanted to go off on his own, and there was nothing you could have done to stop him."
"I should have gone with him."
"Then we'd be lookin' for both of you," Hoss said.
"Hoss is right," Ben said. "Those men could just as easily have jumped you both, and then we wouldn't even know where to start looking. Your brother has a better chance at survival because you stayed behind."
Little Joe nodded and gazed balefully over at Josie. "Josie, I'm so sorry," he croaked. "Please don't hate me."
Josie's eyes filled. Joe was covered in sweat and dirt, now cut through with rivulets from his tears. How could he think she would be angry with him? She pulled him into a tight embrace.
"I could never hate you," she whispered in his ear. "You did everything you could. We'll find him."
Joe hugged her back. "Okay," he said.
"Come on," Hoss said, laying a comforting hand on his brother's shoulder, "tell us where you've been lookin'."
That night, Adam lay curled on the ground under a scratchy wool blanket and tried to sleep. The nights were as cold as the days were hot, and he shivered in the frigid air. He couldn't go on much longer on the meager rations Kane provided. If he was going to make his move, he had better do it. He'd probably die trying to walk the thirty miles through the desert to the nearest town, but better to die a free man than the prisoner of a lunatic. The moon was now full, and he could see Kane's tall figure stretched out under a blanket in the lean-to.
Settling his hat on his head, Adam rose and crept toward the lean-to, where he swiped Kane's rifle. Kane's blanket was pulled up over his head, and Adam pointed the rifle at him and contemplated pulling the trigger. He had killed in self-defense before, and while he didn't relish the experience, he could do it again if he had to. But shooting a sleeping man was hardly self-defense. He lowered the weapon, carefully removed a canteen from its peg on one of the shelter's support poles, and tiptoed away from the camp.
Just when he thought he was clear, he heard a revolver cock behind him, and he froze.
"Why don't you use the rifle, Cartwright?"
Adam turned around slowly to face Peter Kane, who was once again pointing that damn Colt at him.
"Not ready to kill yet," Kane observed.
"I don't want to kill you, Kane. I just want to get away from you!"
"You can't escape me, Cartwright. Or yourself." Kane opened his clenched left fist to reveal a handful of bullets, which Adam recognized as belonging to the rifle in his hand.
He half-smiled at Kane's cleverness—he could admit when he'd been had—though he was furious at himself for not checking that the rifle was loaded.
"Drop it right there," Kane said softly.
Adam dropped the rifle on the ground. Kane tucked the bullets into his shirt pocket and, keeping his revolver aimed at Adam, stepped over and picked it up. Adam trudged back into camp, the canteen swinging from his left hand. He threw down his hat and went to lie back down in the small hollow he had made for himself in the dirt.
"Not there! On the stool!" Kane ordered, gesturing to the small stool next to one of the lean-to's poles. Adam ambled over to the stool, sat, and looked up at Kane like a belligerent child waiting for his father to lecture him. He hugged the canteen to his chest, hoping Kane would forget he had it. Kane reached down to his own bedroll and threw back the blanket, revealing the pile of logs and rocks he had used to make it look like he was in there.
"Clever," Adam said drily and turned his face away from Kane.
Kane pulled a few short lengths of rope from where they hung on the shelter's cross-pole and showed them to Adam. "I used these ropes to hobble my mule," he said, running them through his fingers. "They'll do fine for you. Unfortunately, I'll have to tie you up every night now. You've proven yourself unworthy of trust. Therefore, you must be treated like an animal." He flung the ropes at Adam. "Tie your feet securely. I'll check it."
Adam placed the canteen next to his stool and began binding his own ankles. "Why don't you just kill me and get it over with?"
Kane seemed surprised by this question. "I'm not gonna kill you, Cartwright. I have other plans."
Adam finished tying his ankles and leaned back against the pole in resignation.
"Put your hands around that post," Kane said, waving the gun.
"Who's the animal now, huh?" Adam retorted, though he did as he was told. His jaw clenched.
Kane smirked and began lashing Adam's wrists to the post. "You're pretty good at judging others, aren't you, Cartwright? Well, I claim that same privilege for myself. In spite of your advantages of being a Cartwright, I'm as good a man as you. In fact, I'm gonna prove that I'm a better man." He emphasized this last statement by yanking hard on the ropes, cutting them deeply into Adam's flesh. He clenched his jaw again and refused to flinch. Kane picked up the canteen still at Adam's feet, removed the lid, and poured the contents out onto Adam's boots. The canteen was full of sand. Adam looked away, ashamed and furious that he had been bamboozled twice.
"We ran out of the last of the water and food today," Kane said. "Now the real test begins." He flung the canteen to the ground and sat at the table, where he stared at Adam for the rest of the night.
The next day, Kane kept his rifle trained on Adam as he dragged himself in and out of the mine. By midmorning, he could no longer stand. He hauled one last load of rocks from the worthless cave and collapsed, his face falling into the dirt. His hunger pangs had faded, but his throat still burned as his body cried out for water.
"Are you still so sure of yourself, Mr. Cartwright?" Kane asked. Adam raised his dirty face and glowered at his jailer. "Don't you want to kill me yet?"
Adam lay panting in the dirt for several long moments before forcing himself back onto his feet. He had taken two staggering steps toward Kane when a shot rang out. He looked down at his chest thinking Kane had finally decided to finish him off, but there was no blood spreading across the remnants of his shirt. A second shot rang out from somewhere on the mesa, and Kane and Adam both looked up. When he heard a third shot, his heart soared.
His family was near.
Three shots in a row had been their signal to each other for years. He just needed to reach them. He lurched toward the rock face and began to climb. Kane tore after him and grabbed his ankle. He didn't have enough strength left to hold onto the rock, and Kane threw him to the ground, knocking the wind out of him. He lay still.
A voice echoed across the desert. "ADAM!"
Gasping, Adam rolled onto his back. He'd know his father's voice anywhere.
"ADAM!" Ben's voice called again.
"Pa!" Adam thought desperately as he tried to rise. But he couldn't get his head more than a few inches off the ground before it fell back again. He was so tired. If he could just rest…
"ADAM!" a higher voice shrieked.
"Josie!" Adam screamed inside his head. His family was mere yards away, and he couldn't get to them. He tried to call out, but his throat was too choked with dust. He lay in the dirt and bit back tears of rage. Pa called his name again, but his voice was farther away now.
They were moving on.