Chapter Five: Holes in the Plan
There was no gold!
That was what Adam had said when they found him wandering in the desert, pulling a dead man's body behind him. It was the sudden recollection of his son declaring this statement that roused Ben from his restless doze. Sitting up in bed, he tilted his head, his brows furrowing with confusion. "There was no gold?" he whispered. "Gold."
Had Adam been looking for gold in the desert? Had the Eastgate Drifter been searching for it too? Was that what they had been doing together? It was the most logical explanation he could think of; still, something about it didn't make sense. The drifter had died; a fate that, stumbling around the dry landscape, Adam had come close to himself. And Adam had said he didn't remember the man. He didn't know what had brought them together, or why he had been dragging him around. He said he didn't remember the desert—something that, the intensity of his recent behavior seemed to declare untrue.
The evening of the rope-tying incident, Adam had remembered something. It had overwhelmed him swiftly, and then, just as quickly, it had been dismissed. Or... it had been hidden. After that night, he had become a terror to deal with, and then he had begun to dig holes. Searching in all the wrong places, he began his vigorous search for gold. A fool's errand to say the very least, and Adam wasn't a foolish man. Oftentimes, he was a little too smart.
Even right now, there was nothing off about Adam other than the hole-digging—his inability to begin or complete any task which stood in the way of inspecting what lay hidden beneath the land. It might seem like unstable behavior to an outside opinion, but the way Adam spoke and presented himself would lead one to think he was rational and sane. It would lead one to believe he knew exactly what he was doing; and if he knew that, then maybe he knew why.
Something had happened in the desert. Ben was just as certain of that as he was something else: there was only so long a man could suppress feelings he didn't want to deal with. They always had a way of manifesting and making themselves clearly known, even if the actions born from them were not often properly understood.
Breakfast was a quiet affair, and helped along by the powder Ben had forced him to drink, Adam slept peacefully into the late morning hours. Rising finally, he made his way downstairs and ate a solitary breakfast in the kitchen in the company of Hop Sing.
Sitting behind his desk, Ben wondered if Adam was trying to make amends with the disgruntled man over the garden he had destroyed. It would be the smart thing to do; there was no limit to the culinary tortures that could be inflicted on a member of the family who had wronged the man in charge of making his meals.
Adam emerged a time later with a cup of steaming coffee, the drink serving as physical proof of his apology to Hop Sing. Rounding the side of the desk, he looked at his father sheepishly and sat on the edge, a few mere inches from his father's chair.
"Did you apologize?" Ben asked.
"I did," Adam said. He placed the coffee in front of his father. "That's for you. Keeping up with new traditions, you might find that I've added something indiscriminate to it. Don't worry. It's not gonna put you to sleep that's for sure."
"What is it gonna do?"
"Make the conversation we're about to have a little more bearable, I hope."
Leaning back in his chair, Ben crossed his arms and appraised his son thoughtfully. "You ready to talk about gold?"
Adam shook his head. "Not really," he said.
"Then what is left for us to speak about, Adam?"
Adam smiled. "Pa, what do you reckon it is?"
"What?"
"This thing that makes you less inclined to draw attention to my misdeeds and mistakes than those of your other two sons? The reason why, when confronted by the oddness of my recent behavior, you'd rather look the other way than admit something might be wrong with my mind."
"Do I need to be worried about your mind?"
Pursing his lips, Adam shrugged.
"Are you worried about your mind?" Ben asked.
"Not particularly."
"Because you know why you're doing what you are," Ben provided.
"Not exactly."
"Explain."
"I know what started me wanting to dig holes, and I think I know what'll fix it." Adam exhaled heartily and crossed his arms, his scraped-up hands slipping beneath his armpits and becoming hidden from view. "This digging thing," he said softly, "it's compulsive. I fought the urge for a while, and now there's no controlling it. I'm going to do it whether you direct me toward another task and whether I want to or not. That's just the way things are; it's how they currently stand. I'm not saying that can't change, or that it won't."
"Then what are you saying?"
"It isn't something that can be fixed around here," Adam said, his voice low and careful. "Pa, I need to go away for a while."
"Where?"
"You're not going to like it."
Ben wanted to say he already didn't like the idea. "Tell me anyway," he said.
Hesitating, Adam looked at the map hung on the wall behind his father's chair. "The Great Ponderosa," he said. "It sure is something to be proud of. Maybe someday I'll feel that way again."
"Adam?"
"I'm going back to Eastgate, and back into the desert outside of it."
Ben's reaction was immediate. "Absolutely not," he said firmly.
Adam chuckled, seemingly genuinely entertained. "I knew you'd say that," he said. "But the thing is, I'm not asking for permission."
"Then what are you doing?"
"I'm just doing you a kindness, letting you in on the plan. You were right, Pa; I was in the need of sleep. I feel a lot better about things now." Adam nodded at the mug on the desk. "You drink that, and I'm sure you'll feel better about things too." He stood abruptly and cast his father a preoccupied gaze. "I think I'll head out tomorrow. As for the rest of today, I'm going to try to head into town and get those supplies Hop Sing wanted. If I don't come back in a reasonable amount of time, you'll know what's held me up."
It wasn't the kind of announcement that needed a reply. He strode away from the desk without waiting for one.
"Adam," Ben said, prompting his son to stop and turn back around. "Bring a pair of gloves and a shovel with you this time, no use in cutting up your hands any more than they are."
"Right."
"Son." Ben closed his mouth, suddenly so uncertain of the words he had intended to say.
"What?"
"There's no gold out there. In the desert outside of Eastgate, there was no gold."
If Adam was shocked by the statement, he showed no indication. "Yeah," he whispered sadly. "I know."
"Then why go back there?"
"Because now I know gold isn't really what I've been searching for. Like I said, you were right about getting that rest."
Turning, Adam rounded the corner, and disappeared from view. Ben sat silently until he heard the front door open and close, and then he settled his hands around the coffee mug Adam had given him.
"Damn it," he whispered.
The last thing he wanted was Adam to return to the desert outside of Eastgate, but the wisdom of the passing years had shared with him a cruel truth: there was often a difference between what was needed and wanted. He didn't want his son to go back; it was Adam who needed to revisit the past. There was nothing Ben could do to stop him from embarking on the trip. His son was a grown man who had made up his mind; there was nothing he could do to change it.
Absently, he lifted the cup to his lips, took a sip, and immediately cringed. The drink could hardly claim to be coffee, not with the generous amount of whisky Adam had added to it. It was more alcohol than anything else. This was not necessarily a bad thing, not if a man knew to expect the taste. The second sip was decidedly better than the first, and by the third any surprise the taste might stimulate had worn off completely. By the fifth sip he was feeling more at ease—just as his son had hoped he would.
Hooking his ankle over his knee, Ben leaned comfortably back in his chair and wondered what there was to be done about his hole-digging son and the desert he was intent on returning to. Adam wanted to go back seemingly to locate something he believed he had lost. And, suddenly, taking another sip of his drink, Ben thought that was just fine. He couldn't stop his son from going, but he could make the return trip drastically different from the first, because, given what happened the last time his eldest son set foot on the landscape, it was a trip he simply was not going to be allowed to take alone.
TBC