Author's Notes

Hiya everybody! :)

I'm so happy you liked the last chapter and the reunion between Adam and Madeline! I have to say, that scene has a special place in my heart and although it took a long time to write, I'm glad you guys enjoyed it. I'm sorry for leaving you all hanging for another week (hopefully, you haven't fallen off your seats and injured yourselves and I pray that all of your fingernails are intact)—I apologize for the nail-biting wait, but this is it now. I hope this lives up to all of your expectations.

Thank you guests and members for your continued support and lovely, kind words about my writing, I am very grateful to you. It means the world to me and it keeps me going.

Warning—there is explicit violence in this chapter . . . (Cue dramatic music.)

Right, go Adam, she needs you!

Chapter 31

1:15 p.m.

Adam hurried up the street, his heart urging him to run, his mind ordering him not to. When he'd climbed the fence and landed in the alleyway behind Paul's house, there had been no hesitancy—he'd raced up the narrow passage, all the way to the end of it without stopping. He hadn't run like that since the war. But now he was out in the open on C Street and anything more than a hurried walk was too big a risk. Even though it was a lot emptier than usual thanks to the rodeo, there were still eyes everywhere. And he couldn't take the chance that the wrong people would see him running in the direction of the sheriff's office.

His senses were enhanced—heightened by the adrenaline rushing through his body. He heard every little sound in the vicinity; a child skipping along the wooden floor somewhere behind him, the ring of a bell signaling that someone was leaving the general store opposite the road. His eyes darted around and ahead of him—checking people, alleys and windows. Right now, he had to consider Virginia City as enemy territory and his mind was buzzing with intense awareness and perceptiveness. Being in a state of such high alert would have most people teetering on the brink of panic, but that wasn't the case with Adam. Panic wasn't available on his emotional register at the moment. He was drawing on his past, his training and his experience as a military captain whose most crucial task it had been to stay collected in the face of threat and danger. Physically, his stamina seemed to have doubled and every muscle was hard—wound like steel springs under his skin. There was a continuous thumping in his left arm and a wetness seeping through the bandage there, but he'd deliberately blocked those sensations out.

He stepped down from the boardwalk to avoid a cluster of chattering ladies and crossed the road, intent on the street-corner up ahead.

While he was focused on getting to the sheriff, Adam was simultaneously working through everything Madeline had told him. Images, memories from the past one and a half weeks were shooting through his consciousness, like a puzzle coming together in his mind. Everything made sense now. The uneasy feeling he'd had that day Paul left, Madeline's strange behavior on the porch when he'd confronted her about her letter—the way his instincts had been telling him that something was wrong. But he'd thought that he was the problem, and he'd been too busy wallowing in self-loathing—and then grief—to put things together.

Ray Bradshaw.

He'd spoken with the man, he'd stood right next to him. His thoughts kept going back to that encounter in the saloon. That eerie chill he'd felt, and the bizarre way Barns had smiled and stared, like something was wrong with the guy. Every word Chris Barns had said—Ray Bradshaw had said.

Adam was biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood when he rounded the street corner and there it was—The International House.

At that instant, he wanted to take the law into his own hands. He wanted to go straight in there and make that animal suffer. Like Madeline had suffered, like Joe had suffered. God, he wanted to do that . . . the urge was so strong, boiling within him, pumping though his veins.

But again, he fell back to his training.

Control.

Stay in control—you're nothing without it. You're dead without it. Don't let your emotions overrule your thinking.

Those sentences he'd drilled into his men for four years, he was now repeating to himself as he continued towards Roy's office.

He needed to get Madeline away first, out to the Ponderosa where he knew she would be protected. As soon as she was safe, he would go after Ray Bradshaw. And he had absolutely no intention of staying in control when he found the man who'd hurt her.

It was nearing ten minutes since he'd left Paul's house, and now he could see the sheriff's office up ahead. He would need to be very quick in explaining the situation to Roy, so he could get back to Madeline within the twenty minutes he'd told her to wait for him.

Suddenly, his boots skidded along the boardwalk until he reached a paralyzed standstill. His heart seemed to plummet to the floor as he stared at the person standing across the street. His father.

No . . . no, no, no . . .

His pa saw him too and Adam ran across the street—cutting off a mounted cowboy who had to pull hard on the reins to avoid trampling him. With shouted profanities going off like fireworks behind him, Adam jumped up on the boardwalk.

"What are you doing here . . ."

His father looked bewildered. "That Mr. Barns didn't show up and I—"

Adam was already moving, walking backwards down the street he'd come from. "Pa, it's Madeline—she's in trouble. Barns is her husband, he has men with him and they're gonna try to take her—they beat up Joe too. Get Roy and anyone else you can and meet me at Paul's!"

Without waiting for his father to react, Adam swung around and sprinted back down the street as if the devil himself were on his tail.

xXXx

He slowed down when he neared Paul's house and he kept close to the buildings on the left side of the street—approaching the place where he knew the look-out was positioned. His dread grew tenfold when he saw that the man who'd been keeping watch over Madeline was gone.

Now sure that something was terribly wrong, Adam ran straight for the house. He bounded up the porch stairs and with one, powerful kick, he knocked the front door in while drawing his gun. The house was deathly quiet, and he held the gun ready out ahead of himself as he made his way down the hall. He threw looks first into the doctor's office on the left, then into the sitting room on the right. But everything seemed normal and tidy as always.

When he got to the kitchen doorway, his gaze immediately went to Paul lying on his front on the floor over between the wall and kitchen table. Despite his fear for his friend, Adam forced himself to survey the rest of the kitchen properly to check for any threats. That's when he saw the window shards lying on the floor by the back door. He holstered his gun and dashed over to kneel by the doctor.

"Paul . . .?"

He turned the older man over, his pulse hammering at a furious pace when he saw the bloody gash in the middle of the doc's forehead. "Paul? Come on, Paul . . ."

Paul groaned when he shook him, and Adam's head lowered as he released the breath he'd been holding. He heard someone running down the hall, but he didn't bother turning around because he would know those steps anywhere.

"My God, Paul!" Ben exclaimed as he rushed into the kitchen and knelt down beside Adam.

They got the doctor sitting up and leaned him back against the wall. Adam put a hand on his shoulder and spoke in a voice clipped with urgency.

"Paul, where's Madeline?"

Paul's eyelids sprang open. "Lord, no! He took her!" He directed a panicked stare at Adam. "Adam, you have to help her—it's her husband, he took her!"

"Where?! Where did they go?!"

"I, I don't know I, oh, God . . . they're . . . I think they're leaving town!"

Adam faced his father, and their voices blended together to one as they said the same three words at the exact same time.

"The livery stable . . ."

Letting go of Paul's shoulder, Adam bolted up and disappeared out of the room, his boots thundering down the hallway.

The doctor groaned again, grabbing the side of his head as blood leaked down from the wound above his brows.

"Easy, Paul, take it easy now," Ben said and got up. He stepped around the broken medicine vial on the floor and went to get something that would stop the bleeding.

"Ben . . . you need to go with him, I heard something about . . ." Paul squeezed his eyes shut. "More of them . . . he'll need help."

Ben came back with a dish cloth and knelt beside him again.

"Roy will be here in a minute, I sent someone to get him," he said and lightly pushed the cloth against the wound.

"Can't . . . no, we can't wait! . . . Adam needs help now."

Ben glanced uncertainly at the doorway, torn between his injured friend and his son running into danger alone. Before he'd followed Adam to Paul's house, he had stopped a couple of cowboys strolling along the street and he'd asked them to get the sheriff and send him to doctor Martin's. But the truth was, that Ben had no way of knowing when Roy would show up. When he hesitated for too long, the doctor threw his hands up in the air.

"I'll be fine—will you just go and help him for God's sake?!"

The bark was angry and just as desperate, and it was enough to get the Cartwright standing.

"Stay here," Ben said, handing the cloth over, "Roy will be here soon."

"Just go Ben!"

He hastened out of the kitchen, already cursing himself for letting Adam run off alone. He'd just made it to the front porch when he halted, hardly able to believe his luck. Hoss and Joe were coming down the street, moving at a half-run and beside them was Sheriff Roy Coffee. They reached the bottom of the porch stairs as Ben descended.

"What's goin' on Ben?" Roy panted more than asked. "Some fellas told me you wanted—"

"Roy, I haven't got time to explain everything," Ben broke in, "Madeline has been kidnapped by some men, they're armed and about to leave town!" He turned to his sons. "Adam went after them alone—to the livery stable!"

Hoss and Joe displayed twin shocked expressions, then they shot off down the street, kicking up dirt as they went. Despite Joe's condition, he was quickly a good few feet ahead of his brother. With a hand placed firmly at the top of his hat, Roy ran after them—weaving grumbled curses in between his huffing and puffing. The three made quite a few heads turn as they raced through town and the lawman was seriously falling behind when a group of four cowboys loped up next to him.

"What's the trouble, Sheriff?"

"A woman's been kidnapped . . . the Cartwright boys need all the help they kin get!"

The men nodded at each other. "We're with ya, Sheriff."

They picked up the pace to catch up to Hoss and Joe in the distance and Roy followed, scarlet-faced, wishing he was twenty years younger just then.

xXXx

At the livery stable, Ray's men were all gathered—busy saddling horses and preparing to depart. Fortunately for them, the street just outside the stables had been empty and except for one old stable keeper, no one had given them any problems so far. Even inside the building, they could hear the animated cheers and applause from the crowd down by the rodeo. With most of the town's citizens down there, they would have a good chance of getting out of Virginia City unnoticed.

The livery stable was located next to the blacksmith and had only one wide entrance which faced out towards the street. A center aisle ran down the middle of the building to the back wall and it had rows of horse stalls along either side of it. Just inside the huge stable doors was some open floor space which allowed for easy maneuvering of buggies and horses. Off to the side stood a table and chair where the stable keeper usually sat, and where currently, a full coffee cup steamed away on the table-top. To the right side of the doors were a few bales of hay stacked next to each other and along the wall to the left was a line of parked buggies.

Ray's men had helped themselves to the bridles hanging on the faded plank walls and they'd found saddles at the back of the building. They'd just picked out whichever horses they wanted, but most of the animals hadn't taken kindly to being handled by strangers and they were putting up a fuss. Their movements were agitated as they tossed their heads and made the job of saddling them as difficult as possible. One man was having a particularly hard time with a big chestnut mustang. A fine horse for sure, strong and eye-catching, but the critter had turned out to be sharp-witted and mean-spirited too because he'd managed to land a hard kick to his would-be capturer's rump and he still refused to leave his stall.

The ruckus that the horses were making was starting to become a problem and Frank had just told the men to get things moving when Ray came striding in through the open stable doors with Madeline and Ned.

"Get one of the buckboards ready and hurry it up!"

"Yes, sir."

Two men went to do as their boss had said and hurried over to one of the buggies. Ray took stock of his employees and was glad to see that everyone was accounted for. Six of them had been with him since Georgia where they'd worked at his iron works and sometimes, when he was feeling especially paranoid, he had used them to keep track of Madeline although she'd never known about it. Since coming to the West, he'd hired on another guy; a man with the boldest red hair-color Ray had ever seen and who called himself something as imaginative as Red.

Seven men. Ray felt good about that. If someone came after them, they would have a high chance of fighting them off.

"How long before we can leave?" he asked when Frank came over to him.

"We'll be ready to go in a couple of minutes, sir."

"Good." He addressed Ned. "You'll drive the buckboard. We'll be in the back."

Ned gave a confirming nod and Ray's attention was drawn to his wife when he felt her shudder next to him.

"We'll leave very soon, darling. Then everything will be all right again."

Madeline didn't say anything. She was incapable of standing on her own now and Ray had an arm looped around her to keep her upright. During their walk to the livery, she had almost collapsed three times which had slowed them down some, though it hadn't been her intention. Her cheeks were sticky from all her tears and the flower-clip in her hair wasn't doing its job anymore because messy strands were all over the place, framing her chalk-white face. She watched the men moving around—the whole building seemed to be moving around—and it felt like she was watching herself too, from outside her body. Trapped among strangers and the person she hated with every fiber of her being. Something was very wrong with her, she thought. There was a lack of emotion, lack of reaction. She must have crossed a whole new threshold of misery.

Her brows compressed in anguish when she saw two of Ray's men dragging the unmoving body of an elderly man into one of the empty stalls. The friendly stable keeper had been a regular breakfast-customer at the restaurant and she'd spoken with him many times. She knew that the sight of old Luke being dragged along the hay-covered ground would haunt her—like the image of her uncle lying on the kitchen floor was torturing her broken heart. It was unbearable.

"We've got the horses hitched up now Mr. Bradshaw," Frank called over to Ray. "We're ready."

"All right, Frank." Ray guided Madeline over to the buckboard. "It's time to go now, dear."

Ned placed her carpet bag under the seat of the buggy, and for the fourth time in a short while, Madeline almost crumbled to the ground, but Ray prevented that from happening. The men were getting ready to mount the skittish horses and Ray was bending to lift Madeline up into the back of the buckboard when a voice filled with command stopped all movement in the room with two words.

"Hold it!"

Everyone turned towards the wide stable doors where Adam came walking in with his gun drawn, a dark figure of cool intimidation, his face inscrutable. He stopped in the middle of the open floor, planted his feet in a wide stance and slid a slow, menacing gaze over each and every one of the men before finally settling on Ray.

"Let her go, Bradshaw."

Madeline's vision was clouding. She felt like she was going to be sick. Ray's mouth hung open as if it was no longer properly attached and the men, some of whom had feet in stirrups, stared at the Cartwright in astounded surprise.

". . . You just don't give up do you?" Ray gritted out.

"It's over. Let her go."

While Adam's sharp eyes were mainly focused on Ray, they flickered around to touch each of the men, working to calculate which of them would be the first to try for a draw. Over to the right—the redheaded guy with the itchy-looking fingers was a definite candidate . . .

With Madeline pressed to his side, Ray abandoned the buggy and approached Adam, moving like a predator about to pounce on its prey.

"Your perseverance is as irritating as it is admirable." He positioned himself about twenty feet in front of the Cartwright and without comment, his men formed a half circle around him, all of them facing Adam. "I admit that part of me wishes we would have met under different circumstances. I believe we could have had some interesting discussions."

"I don't share that sentiment," Adam said in a tone of brazen disinterest. "Get your hands off her."

A wince pinched Madeline's pale features when Ray's fingers burrowed into her hip. He produced a smile that gave the impression that it was the only thing keeping his face together.

"You must be very eager indeed to meet your demise. If you think I'm taking orders from a damn Yankee captain, you're sorely mistaken. Drop your gun."

Adam didn't lower his gun even a fraction. Instead, he took a step closer toward the group, looking the very picture of authority and he possessed such an "in-charge" presence that it actually sent a round of uneasy sideways-glances bouncing around between some of the men.

"There's no way I'm letting you take her."

His eyelids now full-on spasming, Ray glared at him. "Look around yourself, man! You're outnumbered! One word from me and you get blasted full of bullet holes. You're dead as soon as I say so!"

"Shoot me and we all are. Over half the town are just down the street—gunfire would have this place crawling in a minute." Adam paused to let the full effect of his steely intensity come through. "You'll never get away."

A disturbing chuckle rumbled up through Ray's throat, making his mustache shake. "And what on earth gave you the idea that I care more about getting away than I do about killing you?"

It was the sentence that set everything off. Whether Ray had meant it as a signal to act or not, the redheaded man took the words as a cue and went for a quick-draw.

Adam caught the movement at the edge of his sight and the man had only gotten his gun halfway out of the holster when a shot rang out and his hand was transformed into a blood-splattered disarray. Before the redheaded guy could even register what had happened and howl out his agony—Adam was spinning left again, sensing that someone else was drawing down on him. He got another hip-shot off at a man about to take aim, but then, a solid weight smacked into his side, knocking him over.

Madeline screamed, and Adam hit the ground hard, landing on his back.

The smoking gun flew from his hand, skittered several feet away to where his hat also landed. The back of his head slammed down into the ground—bounced up again—only to meet a brutal punch that rattled his jaw.

Cursing loudly, Ray hoisted Madeline up when her legs gave out. Her eyes were dark circles of pure fear as she watched Ned straddle Adam's stomach—raining more hits down over his face and chest.

The rest of the men were trying to calm the panicked horses as the animals reared and whinnied, and the chaotic scene was shrouded in the smoke from the two gunshots. Somehow, Adam managed to get an arm up to block a right hook from Ned which would have broken his nose, no doubt. With a burst of strength, he pushed himself up and smashed a fist into Ned's cheek, propelling him backwards. Muffled grunts came from both men as they wrestled with each other and straws of hay clung to their backs.

At another time, they probably would have been pretty evenly matched; they were about the same in size and height and clearly, both knew their way around a fistfight. But as Madeline knew, and as the onlookers could see—today, Adam was at a disadvantage. The bandage around his left arm was already far more red than white and the strain of the last couple of weeks had taken its toll on him physically. He was receiving more jabs than he was giving out. Even so, Ned was having trouble gaining the upper-hand and each time he seemed to get in control, Adam turned things around.

Ray's cheeks and ears had gone a never-seen-before shade of purple-red, and his upper-lip was curled in disgust as he eyed the two men rolling over on the ground.

"Ned, just kill him!"

"No!" Madeline cried.

Ned was vehemently trying to follow his boss' instructions but out of nowhere, Adam landed a vicious strike right to his mouth. The force of the impact hurled him into immediate senselessness and he flopped onto his back—arms and legs splayed out wide.

Ray slapped a palm flat across his face and moaned, "Oh, for pity's sake . . ."

Adam wiped blood from his bottom lip and chin with the back of his hand. Then, he turned his head in Ray's direction. Ray Bradshaw wasn't a man who scared easily, but the look the dark Cartwright gave him at that moment, made the hairs by his nape stand up. Eyes trained on Ray, Adam was struggling to get from his knees to his feet when a giant of a man appeared just in front of him—raised gun level with his face.

"STOP, Frank you idiot!" Ray bellowed. "No more gunfire!"

In direct defiance of his words, a gunshot resonated through the building almost simultaneously with a metallic clink and Frank's gun whirled out of his hand and clanked to the ground.

Adam whipped his upper-body around and saw his brothers standing at the stable doors with a group of men.

"Everybody drop your guns!" Joe yelled.

Time seemed to slow. Fractions of each second seemed to drag out to separate eternities. Glances were thrown. Fingers twitched. Everyone waited.

And finally, Joe's demand was answered by a spray of bullets.

All-fired pandemonium broke out in the livery stable; Joe and Hoss dove for cover behind one of the bales of hay to their right and the cowboys with them threw themselves down behind some water barrels to the left. The horses scattered—ran towards the back of the building and Ray's men took cover wherever they could. One man ran straight into the nearest horse stall which turned out to be a mistake because that stall was occupied by a certain chestnut mustang. As a result, the man swiftly exited the stall, horizontally—without touching the ground.

The blasting gunfire deafened the men's shouts and bullets whizzed through the air in every direction, struck the walls and stable doors, sending splinters of wood flying about.

On the open floor in the middle of it all, was Adam. Staying low as guns went off all around him, he moved towards Ray who was now having trouble controlling Madeline as she fought to escape him. Adam made it halfway to them when a bash to his shoulder blades caused him to fall forwards. Quickly rolling over on his back, he saw that Ned had returned for a second round, the man's sneer missing a couple of teeth.

Over by the hay-bale, Joe was engaged in a gun fight with a man crouching behind one of the buckboards. He was worried and annoyed that Adam hadn't gotten out of the line of fire yet, but at least it looked like his older brother was winning the scuffle he was currently in. After emptying another round of bullets, still without hitting his target, Joe signaled over to the cowboys behind the water barrels and ducked back down to reload his revolver. He spoke above the gunfire to Hoss.

"There's a guy over behind the buggy on the left . . ."

"Yea I saw 'im, but I got one shootin' at me from somewhere to the right," Hoss said, his forehead lined with tension as he also reloaded. "Dang it, I told Adam to stay outta trouble dadbur—"

He was cut off when a bullet tore into the hay-bale just above his head and bits of hay poured down on him. "Dadburnit . . ."

Gun reloaded, Joe popped up again and aimed in the same direction, but before he could pull the trigger, a gunshot blasted, and a loud yelp came from somewhere behind the buckboard.

First, Joe thought that one of the cowboys by the water barrels had gotten the guy, but when he peered over at them, they just shrugged back at him, perplexed. All was explained though when they heard Roy's shout from the stable doors behind them, ordering everyone to throw down their weapons in the name of the law. Ray's men immediately turned their guns on the sheriff who made a speedy retreat back behind the doors while returning the fire. Although Roy's attempt at ending the shootout hadn't worked, Joe was glad to have him covering their backs. Now he could concentrate on making sure no one took a shot at his unarmed brother still out in the open.

It had taken Adam under half a minute to knock Ned out again and after ensuring that the man was more soundly defeated this time, he went after Ray and Madeline. In the midst of the melee, Ray had gotten hold of a gun lying on the ground—Adam's gun—and he was pulling Madeline with him down the center aisle.

"Let go of me!" she exclaimed. "Ray stop!"

"Shut up Madeline!"

She broke lose enough to twist around and away from her husband and she saw Adam coming.

Adam's rather improvised plan at that second was to simply jump at Ray, but he didn't get the chance to. He felt just as surprised as both Madeline and Ray looked when two arms the size of boulders wrapped around him from behind and folded across his chest—effectively locking his own arms to his sides. His boots lost contact with the ground as he was lifted up into the air and instantly, the arms started to squash him. Adam kicked wildly, trying to strike his assailant's knees and the merciless pressure around his upper-body multiplied.

Still crouching behind the hay-bale, Hoss and Joe had both just realized their brother's predicament. His eyes flaming, Joe haphazardly leaped up and was halfway over the bundle of hay when a hand gripped his shirt collar and tugged him back down. Hoss held him at arms-length as Joe wiggled as efficiently as an angry kitten to get free.

"HOSS! What are you—Adam needs help!"

"Dadgummit I know! But that fella would turn ya to shreds, Joe! Stay here, dang it—and cover me!"

Adam was starting to feel strange. His legs wouldn't kick anymore, and Madeline's petrified voice grew distant until all he could hear were those repulsive, crunching sounds coming from his own chest. His head was lolling, so heavy all of a sudden, and there was something wet, a warm liquid trickling down the side of his face. Just as everything was getting dark, he heard a grunt and the arms holding him jerked and released him. Promptly, he dropped to his knees. He was out of breath and gasping for air, his head still swirling, but he could vaguely make out the polished shoe-tips on the ground before him.

Ray stepped closer, Madeline still caught in his iron-grip. He loomed over Adam, regarding him as if he were an irritating bug repeatedly escaping the sole of his shoe.

"I should have done this the first time I saw you . . ."

Madeline's worried expression morphed into one of horror when Ray pointed his gun straight at Adam.

"NO!"

Assembling all the strength she had, she ripped her arm free of Ray's grasp and pushed his hand up. The shot fired up into the hayloft above, the gun so close to her head that her left ear was ringing.

"Damned whore!" Ray slapped an open palm across her cheek, sending her to the ground with a shriek.

When he turned back to Adam, he didn't get to raise the gun again. With a deep, near ferocious growl, the Cartwright charged at him, tackling him to the ground.

Madeline sat up in a pool of ruffled lilac, holding the sting on her cheek as she stared at Adam and Ray fighting. She soon realized that it wasn't much of a fight. Because Adam did not hold back. He tore the gun from Ray's hand—tossed it aside—and pinned him to the ground as he started throwing punch after punch. His left hand was curled around Ray's silk-tie and after every strike he delivered, he yanked on the cloth to snap Ray's head back up, so he could hit him again. Snarling hatefully, Ray tried to protect his face, and scratched at Adam's front as blood ran down from his nose, tinging his mustache. His teeth glinted in a red sneer when he got a hold of his adversary's bandaged arm, and with savage brutality—he dug his fingers in as hard as he could. Adam roared in pain and Ray took advantage, swung a fist into his ribs and shoved him away.

Numbed by fright, Madeline saw her husband roll his head wildly from side to side until he spotted the gun lying just a stone's throw away. He scrambled towards it, on his hands and knees, and touched the grip of the revolver the second Adam grabbed it too. They shifted to face one another, battered and bloodied both, panting hard. From where Madeline sat, she could see the gun barrel shaking in between them, directed skyward as they each struggled to point it toward the other.

Their gazes locked. Fiery hazel to icy blue. A clash of wills. Two men so opposite, glaring at each other in mutual loathing—two minds sick with a shared hatred. Bound to the same woman. And they both knew that one of them was about to die. There was no shouting or gunfire around them anymore, but neither was aware of it. They tried it at the same time—used their last bit of energy to thrust the gun against the other's chest.

A single, echoing gun-shot cracked the silence and Madeline's hand clasped the base of her throat. Ray's eyes twitched. They didn't widen in shock, there was no surprise in them and they didn't water. They did none of the things a shot person's eyes should. They just twitched. Within a couple of seconds, his body started to sink, but he grasped Adam's shoulders to keep himself up. As if he was refusing to accept the outcome, as if being stubborn would change the fact that he was now a dead man. Adam did nothing except maintain a stony countenance.

"She's . . . mine . . ." Ray hissed out. He glanced down at the red blooming over his white shirt. Like a wine spill. He swallowed and made a weak attempt at curving his body sideways, but Adam held him in place. He would be the last thing Ray Bradshaw saw in this world. Not Madeline.

"She's . . ." Ray swallowed again, still facing Adam. ". . . Madeli . . ."

He slumped forwards, and his voice died away as he finally met a gurgling death.

Adam released him, and Ray fell to the ground.

Shaking uncontrollably, Madeline's green irises were jeweled with tears as she forced herself to look away from her husband, and at Adam instead. He stood up, breathing heavily.

The tears breached the rims of her lower eyelids and streamed down her cheeks as he staggered over and dropped down in front of her. She placed both trembling hands on either side of his bruised face.

"It's over," he said.

She choked on a sob and put her arms around his neck, rested her chin on his shoulder.

"It's over now, Madeline."

He stroked her back and let his eyes fall closed. But only for a moment. Still holding her, he aimed a look straight ahead to where all the others stood near the stable doors and he called to his brothers.

"You two all right?"

"Yea, Adam," Joe replied, holding a gun pointed at Ray's men as the cowboys and Roy tied their hands.

Hoss looked a little worse for wear and wiped a sleeve over his face to mop up the blood and sweat. "Don't ya worry none, Adam," he said, standing over the giant-man who lay unconscious at his feet. "We got everythin' under control here."

Adam exhaled in relief. The older brother in him had been panicking when his siblings had shown up and the fray started. But Madeline had needed him more, and he'd trusted and hoped that they could take care of themselves and each other. They'd done that and more, he realized. They had looked out for him too.

He sensed Madeline begin to shift, but before he looked down at her, he caught a glimpse of his father and Paul standing to the left of the stable doors, watching them.

Madeline drew back, her palms resting on his chest as she peered up at him through lashes that were wet and clogged together.

"Adam . . ." she sniffled, her voice vulnerable and squeaky. "Uncle Paul . . .?"

He watched her calmly for a second, then inclined his head forwards, indicating the stable doors behind her. She turned in his arms and when she saw Paul, her hand went up to cover her lips as a tiny whimper broke free.

Adam helped her to stand up and wound his arm around her waist to hold her securely against him. As they wobbled down the center passageway towards the others, he kept her on his left side, shielding her from the sight of her dead husband lying on the hay-scattered ground.

Paul and Ben watched them approach and when they got close enough, the doctor lowered the cloth from his forehead and stepped free of his friend's supporting hand under his arm.

"Uncle Paul . . .!" Madeline whispered from behind her hand.

Adam let go of her so Paul could take her.

"I'm all right, my little Belle," he mumbled against her hair, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm just fine."

He hugged her to him, his hand gently cupping the back of her head as she cried into his vest. Then the doctor's eyes met Adam's in a long, profound eye-contact. The muscles in his throat contracted as he mouthed the words, "Thank you."

Adam nodded back at him. Nothing more needed to be said.

Concern etched deep into his face, Ben moved forwards and settled a hand on his eldest's shoulder.

"Are you all right, son?"

Adam felt his body react instinctively to the familiarity of the gesture, and his shoulders and back suddenly sagged. He hadn't even realized it until then, that his mind had still been in that intensified alert state. It was over—he'd just said it himself. Ray Bradshaw was dead. Madeline was safe, Joe and Hoss were all right and Paul was all right. And now his father was standing next to him asking if he was all right and he was acutely aware of the way his heart was beating just a bit too fast to be okay. He couldn't comprehend it, but apparently his father did. Understanding poured out of the coffee gaze, and the hand on his shoulder gave a squeeze and started massaging the tension in his muscles away. He hadn't intended to, but Adam found himself leaning sideways, just slightly, towards the strong, steady presence beside him.

"Yea . . ." he finally said. "Yea, I'm all right, Pa."

"Madeline?"

Paul's worried tone made father and son turn to him. He looked at them in distress as Madeline started to slide down his front. "She's fainting . . ."

Adam was there at once.

"I've got her."

He eased her out of Paul's embrace and lifted her up into his arms, holding her under her knees and shoulders. Her eyes were closed, her head lying against his chest and Paul brushed the tangled tendrils of hair out of her face to get a proper look. One of her cheeks was the color of ivory while the other bore a hand-print of faded crimson. The sight rekindled the anger in Adam as he felt himself grow hot. He noticed that something dark and fierce swept over Paul's features and there was an abrupt shift in his father's demeanor too. None of them said anything out loud although they were thinking the same malevolent things about the man lying on the ground behind them.

They all had questions, Paul especially, and there was a lot to talk about and explain. But it would have to wait. Paul withdrew his hand from Madeline's face and spoke quietly, as if not to disturb her.

"The shock and exhaustion must have caught up with her, . . . let's . . . let's just get her home."

Ben's eyes were riveted on Madeline, the wrinkle between his eyebrows bulging. "Paul, I think it would be best if she came out to the Ponderosa and stayed with us for a while. And I think you should too." He glanced at the doctor, awaiting some kind of response, and it was a good thing he did because Paul suddenly swayed, and Ben caught his arm just in time. "In fact, I insist on it."

"Yes, we . . ." Paul raised the cloth to his forehead. "Thank you, Ben."

Keeping his hand on the doctor's arm, Ben turned to his firstborn, but he could tell that Adam was intent on Madeline now. He surveyed the rest of the building to see where Joe and Hoss were at.

There were a lot more people in the livery stable now—Deputy Andrew had arrived along with a bunch of other men who were eager to help in any way they could. Roy's voice was a constant boom going off every other second as he put everyone to work, gradually restoring order in the chaos. A few of the men were still trying to settle the spooked horses enough to unsaddle them and old Luke the stable keeper was sitting on a bale of hay, holding someone's shirt to the back of his head. Down by the aisle between the stalls, Ray's body had been moved to the side and covered with a wool blanket. Not one of Ray's men had come away from the shootout unscathed, but their injuries were mostly minor flesh wounds. They sat on the ground, all oddly subdued, watching the blanket covering their boss as though they were waiting for him to get up and give orders.

Ben's eyes finally caught on the two people he was searching for, and he waved at his younger sons.

"Boys, over here!"

Hoss and Joe waved back at him and exchanged a few words with Roy before heading over. They were having a bit of trouble maneuvering around all the men and horses, but when they saw Madeline hanging in Adam's arms they quickly battled through the commotion.

"What happened? Is she okay?" Hoss asked, his dirty forehead creasing.

Joe's eyes rounded with sudden fear. "She didn't get hit, did she?"

"No . . ." Adam murmured while his face stayed tipped down towards Madeline.

Ben recognized that Adam wasn't aware that his answer had been insufficient. When he noted that Paul was too out of it to elaborate, the father took charge.

"She's all right, she just passed out," he reassured Hoss and Joe. "But we need to get her and Paul out of here." And your brother, he thought without saying it.

He studied his two youngest boys in an appraising manner. Joe didn't seem to have any new bruises on him, and though Hoss had obviously been in a scuffle, it didn't look too bad.

"We're fine, Pa," Joe said. "What do you need us to do?"

"We need to get the buggy ready, Madeline and Paul are coming with us back to the Ponderosa."

"Right."

The brothers were off in a flash and Ben was left with the challenge of dividing his worry between Adam, Madeline and Paul. He desperately wanted to do something about the blood covering his son's left temple and now that Adam had gone to his quiet place, Ben was finding it very hard to assess his state.

Thankfully, it didn't take long for Joe and Hoss to get the buckboard hitched up because some cowboys had gone to help them straight away. Holding onto the unsteady doctor, Ben touched Adam's shoulder.

"Bring her over to the buggy, Adam. We'll make it as comfortable for her as possible."

Ben helped Paul across the room to the buckboard and Adam followed, still gazing down at Madeline. He carried her like she was the most precious thing in the world, which to him, she was. He didn't look up once and he didn't need to because everyone moved out of the way, clearing a path for him. By the time they got to the buckboard, a bed of blankets had been laid out in the back of it, added to all the pillows Joe had used on the ride to town. Adam carefully lowered Madeline onto the soft layer and Paul perched on the edge of the buggy, tucking a blanket around her. Now that Adam wasn't holding her anymore, the mess that his left arm had become was exposed. A disapproving expression enveloped Paul's face when he saw the bandage saturated with blood.

"I . . . I need to look at that," he mumbled, starting to get up.

Adam halted him by placing a hand on his chest. "It can wait. Take a look at your own head first."

"I hardly think my niece would approve if she . . . if she woke up to find that I'd let you . . . bleed out because I had a scratch in the head."

The sentence was too long, and the doctor grimaced with the strain of saying all those words.

Ben stepped in. "There will be no bleeding out from anyone."

He nudged his son to get him to sit on the buggy next to Paul. Adam gave in but moved to sit sideways so he could still see Madeline. As Ben set about unwrapping the sticky bandage, he felt Adam stiffen and when he let the piece of cloth drop to the ground with a squish, he winced on behalf of them both. It was worse than he'd expected. Quite a lot actually. The stitches were all ripped up and it looked like the injury had only just happened.

Next to him, Hoss muttered a quiet curse and handed him a canteen while Joe had already gone off in search of something clean they could wrap around the wound.

With great care, Ben started rinsing the blood away, but Adam's fists still clenched until his knuckles, bruised as they were, turned white. Realizing the extent of the damage, Paul couldn't sit idly by anymore. His manner was no-nonsense when he moved Ben's hands out of the way to take over the doctoring just as Joe came back with some handkerchiefs and a clean shirt that somebody had offered up. Ben rose to a full stand and chewed his lip as he considered their situation, the tips of his eyebrows slanting down. What he most wanted to do, was to send Joe and Hoss on ahead with Paul and Madeline while he took Adam over to doctor Higgins. But with the fixed way Adam was regarding Madeline, Ben knew there was little chance of that happening.

A sudden snort came from nearby left and Ben waited for Adam to react to the noise which he didn't for several seconds. As expected, the snort came again, more insistent this time. Adam finally faced away from Madeline and looked directly at Sport standing beside the buckboard. The horse had simply moseyed out of his stall and walked through the bustle of people and horses to get to his master.

"Hey boy . . ." Adam frowned and brought his free hand up to the bridle that half-covered, half-dangled off Sport's head at an awkward angle. "They tried to take you, huh? I bet they regretted that. . ."

He was attempting to remove the headgear using only one hand when Sport lowered his chin to nuzzle his human's chest.

Paul grumbled when a massive horse head suddenly got in the way of his work.

"Sport, if you could please . . . would you . . ."

He craned his neck to see the injury he was trying to tend to.

"Here, I'll take care of 'im, Adam."

Hoss appeared at Sport's other side and smoothly got the bridle off. The horse tossed his head, glad to be free.

After Adam's arm had been wrapped in a makeshift bandage made from the shirt Joe had produced, Paul moved up to his face. The blood that coated his temple had already crusted over and Ben passed the doctor a wet handkerchief to clean it up with.

While Paul saw to Adam, Joe sat on the seat of the buggy where he could watch Madeline and see if she made even the slightest movement. The physical exertion of sprinting down the street and straight into a shoot-out had severely taxed his strength. He felt dog-tired now and sore everywhere. And on top of that, he was worried as well as confused and trying to piece together what had actually happened over the last half an hour.

About five minutes later, the Cartwrights were getting ready to ride out. Hoss had saddled Sport and Adam was still in the same spot by the buggy, hoping that Madeline would wake up. But she lay motionless, swallowed up in the blankets like she was in a deep sleep.

Ben had just gotten Paul settled in the buckboard next to her when Roy came over to them with a group of cowboys following.

"These fellas are gonna ride with ya, Ben," he said, gesturing to the men.

Ben glanced at them, then back at the sheriff.

"I appreciate it Roy, but we should be all right on our own. We're riding straight for the Ponderosa."

"I'd feel a whole lot better if they went along with ya. At least for some of the way to help you get out of town. The rodeo lost practically all of its audience, everyone's just outside, tryin' to get a look at what's happening."

Ben transferred his gaze to the open stable doors and realized Roy was right. There was a wall of people there, gaping into the building and pointing fingers. Many more than when he and Paul had arrived. He faced the cowboys again, relief creeping onto his visage.

"Thank you. All of you."

The men shifted awkwardly under the weight of his honest gratitude.

"Ain't no problem, Mr. Cartwright. Anything we can do to help."

"That's settled then," Roy said. "I'm gonna have a lot of work to do here, but I'll come out to the ranch sometime tomorrow, Ben. I wanna hear the whole story about what happened today."

"I do too, Roy." Ben sighed. "I do too."

Adam was still lingering by the buggy when the sheriff approached him and held out his gun and black Stetson.

"We found these, Adam."

"Thanks . . ."

Adam took the hat and holstered his gun. He turned his back to the buckboard and stood tall as he raised his eyes to the lawman's.

"It was me or him, Roy . . . we both went for the gun, I—"

"I know. I saw it all, son." Roy peered over at Madeline. "I'm just glad ya got to her in time. Who was this Chris Barns fella anyway, do you know?"

Adam's voice was monotone and cold. "He was her husband."

"Her husband?" Roy stared in disbelief. "She was married . . .?"

"It's . . . yea, it's sort of a long story. . ."

"I reckon it must be." Roy gave Adam's shoulder a pat. "You go on home now and we'll talk about it tomorrow when I stop by."

Adam's only response was a tired nod.

As the others got ready, the sheriff shared a quick word with Paul and held out a carpet bag he'd found which the doctor confirmed belonged to Madeline—just as Roy had suspected.

It was decided that Paul and Madeline would be in the back of the buckboard while Hoss drove, and Joe sat on the seat next to him. Adam insisted that he would be all right to ride home and Ben agreed, albeit reluctantly, to give his eldest the benefit of the doubt. Everyone there knew that Adam would be under some intense scrutiny during the ride to the Ponderosa. His father would be watching him like a hawk. An overprotective one at that.

Ben and Adam were mounted next to two of the cowboys riding with them. Their horses were ahead of the buggy and Roy stood on the ground in front of them.

"I'll see you tomorrow. Take care of yourselves."

"Thanks, Roy. We will," Ben said.

The sheriff went to the stable doors and shouted out at the crowd.

"All right folks, there ain't nothin' here for ya to see—so clear out!"

An offended muttering rippled through the mob and only a few people took notice of his words. Frustrated but not surprised, Roy waved back at Ben and Adam as he stepped to the side. The two cowboys rode out of the building first, forcing people to move back. Adam and Ben followed on their horses and enough space was cleared for the buggy. Hoss lifted and snapped the reins and the team of horses lurched forward, out of the livery stable. The muttering increased, and female gasps rose up all around when the battered Cartwright brothers and an injured Doctor Martin came out into the sunlight.

Adam stayed right beside the buggy, using himself as a barrier between Madeline and the curious bystanders. He upheld a strict posture to go with his impassive attitude as his name rolled around the crowd. Two more cowboys brought up the rear and blocked the back of the buckboard from people's view. Once they'd gotten halfway down C Street, there were virtually no people around and the ride from thereon was much more relaxed.

They made a brief stop at Paul's house, so the doctor could get a few things together—his black doctor's bag was among those items. He was not happy about leaving his house with the state it was in, but he didn't have much of a choice. It would undoubtedly be best for Madeline to recover in the peace and quiet of the Ponderosa and her well-being was all that mattered right now.

A few minutes later, the town was behind them. They had moved beyond the outskirts of Virginia City when Madeline began to stir. Adam had seen her legs move under the blanket and he moved Sport closer to the side of the buggy, but Paul was leaning over her, so he couldn't see her face. Her voice was so faint that he couldn't hear what she was saying—he only got Paul's replies.

"No, just calm down, everyone is all right, my Belle . . . we're going to the Ponderosa."

She said something else and Paul answered, "Yes, he's fine . . . yes, I promise you, Madeline. Look, he's right over there . . ."

The doctor leaned back so Adam could see her and Madeline could see him. Her lashes blinked sluggishly, and he smiled gently at her. She didn't smile back at him and he hadn't really expected her to because it was obvious how drowsy and fatigued she was. She nodded as if to herself and sank back down into the blankets next to Paul as her eyes fell closed again.

Adam's smile faded the second her eyes shut, and he kept watching her.

"She'll be all right."

He looked over at Paul who continued, "It's just the shock and exhaustion that has made her ill. She'll need plenty of rest, but she'll be all right."

The doctor adjusted the blanket around her and Adam stayed near as they continued down the road.

It was a bright, sunny afternoon, the first of September. Out on the open trail a breeze swept over the land around them, creating waves in the grass, and in the distance lay the borders of the Ponderosa, beckoning them home.