SEVEN

ooooo

Night had fallen by the time they arrived at the Russell cabin.

Almost immediately they knew something was wrong.

While Joseph might have chosen to keep the lights low in the cabin, it was a chilly night and there was no smoke rising from the chimney. Those two things combined with the fact that the front door was standing open were enough to pull Ben from his saddle before his horse came to a full stop and send him running toward the cabin even as Adam shouted for him not to. When he stepped inside it was almost completely dark. The only light in the structure was cast by a dim moon shrouded with clouds. He felt his way around, hand over hand; moving from chair to table to stove to wall. There were two full dishes on the table, as if Joe and Julia had just been ready to sit down to eat. The fire was out, but there was a lingering scent of smoke in the air. A pan or a kettle had burned dry.

He'd reached the back door when a voice called out, "Find anything?"

It wasn't Adam. It was Ed Flanders.

"Nothing. " Ben glanced in the back room and was both relieved and disappointed to find it empty. He turned back. "There's no one in the house."

"Maybe they had to run," Ed suggested as he stepped inside.

It was at that moment that Adam cried out, his tone both desperate and urgent. "Pa! Pa, come quick!"

The rancher was through the door and out of the house in a heartbeat. Ed Flanders followed in his wake. Once in the yard he halted and called. "Adam? Son, where are you?"

"Over here, Pa!"

Ben's chocolate-brown eyes narrowed as he searched the expanse of forest surrounding the cabin. Then he saw it – a flash of white and blue. Pat Griswold had stepped out of the trees and was waving him over.

"Must have found somethin'," Ed said unnecessarily.

His nod was curt.

Ben was afraid he knew all too well what they had found.

By the time he arrived Adam had him halfway down. Joe had been stripped of most of his clothing and strung between two trees. The left side of his son's body was covered with blood. The boy was deeply unconscious, so much so that he made no sound as Adam cut the strip of rawhide that bound his right hand and Joe fell into his brother's arms.

"Bastards," Adam cursed under his breath as he laid his baby brother on the ground. A moment later he tenderly reached out to touch his face. "God! Joe…."

There was cause for alarm. There were red streaks running like rivers out of and away from the site where the bullet had penetrated his son's skin but, worse than that, someone had ground dirt and debris into the reopened wound, contaminating it further.

"I'll go to the house and fetch some water," Pat said.

Ben caught her arm as she moved past. "I didn't find Julia," he said, his tone apologetic.

"God will look out for her," she replied. "Your boy may die. We need to see to him first."

What a remarkable woman!

"Pa?"

It was Adam. He'd dribbled some water onto his brother's lips and forced him to swallow. "I got him to take a little."

"Is there any sign of consciousness?" he asked as he knelt at his sons' side.

"Nothing yet." Adam scowled. "Pa, that wound is really angry."

He was angry too. Upon closer examination he could see that some of the matter pressed into the wound was diseased. There appeared to be animal hair as well as bits and pieces of rotten vegetation. It was almost as if someone had wanted Joe to be alive when they found him – but planned on him being dead soon after.

Ben shivered from the thought – and the cold night air. "We need to get your brother inside."

Adam nodded toward the house. "Looks like Pat's got the fire going."

Smoke was rising from the chimney and there was a lantern lit and hanging just outside the door. As Ben watched, the interior was illuminated.

A truly remarkable woman.

"You want to rig something to carry him in?" Ed Flanders asked. He'd been standing to the side since Adam cut Joe down.

"No. I can – "

A hand on his shoulder stopped him. "Let me get him, Pa," Adam said.

Their eyes met and in that look was a world of unspoken regret. His demands on his eldest. The boy's need to prove himself his own man. Adam's departure. Hoss' death during his absence. Joseph – so lost, so angry – so alone.

Ben rose and stepped back. He nodded.

And watched as his eldest bore his broken and battered baby brother toward the Russells' home.

ooooo

Joe opened his eyes. He lay still for a moment before turning his head and looking around. It took him a moment to realize where he was. It wasn't the Ponderosa. This was a simple structure with a couple of rooms, made of hewn logs. There was a room with a hearth and next to the hearth was a cradle. A woman sat beside it. She was rocking it with her foot while she read. Her head was bent so he couldn't see her face, but the firelight danced in her light brown hair turning it to gold.

She turned a page.

For a long time he lay there, wondering if it was a dream or a real woman he watched. Now and then she would reach down to the cradle to check its occupant. Every so often she would take hold of the coverlet and pull it up as if worried the child would catch a chill. He wondered about that. The room wasn't cold.

It was…perfect.

Finally, with a little sigh, she rose, put the book down, and crossed over to him. Still, the shadows hid her face. It was a slender face, surrounded by a mound of curls barely contained. She was wearing a calico dress edged with green piping. She stopped by his bed and reached out to turn up the lamp before sitting on its edge.

"Hello, Joe," she said. "It's been a long time. Do you remember me?"

Of course he remembered her.

It was Laura.

He nodded, even as tears entered his eyes. "How?" he asked. "Am I dead?"

He remembered the men. Brutal, evil men. He'd burst into the Russells' house after Julia screamed and found them there. It was the same pair that had waylaid him on the road only their masks were down, which told him instantly that they meant to kill them. He didn't know them, but he knew their type. Thugs who would do anything for money and who took pleasure in the chaos they created. There were only two of them and he was sure – even injured as he was – that he could have taken them, but there was Julia to consider. She'd already been struck. A frying pan lay at her feet. Apparently she had tried to take one of them out since the taller man was holding a wet kerchief to a wound on his head. The other man was holding her. His gun was leveled at her chest.

'What do you want?" he'd asked.

The shorter man had laughed. "We don't want nothin'. We're here to send a message."

He'd looked at Julia and waited until she looked back. She was scared, but she wasn't cowed. Not in the slightest.

He'd smiled to encourage her.

"You think somethin's funny, Cartwright?" the taller, wounded man asked.

"Yeah, you two," he goaded. He had to do something to get them away from Julia. Maybe if he made them mad. "You make a pretty lousy pair of kidnappers. I got away from you before."

"Oh, we wasn't trying to kidnap you. Was we, Dan? We was just trying to send a message," the shorter one said.

"Like now?" Joe countered.

Dan smirked. "Yeah, like now. Only this message is for your Pa and this one's ma." He jerked his head in Julia's direction.

"What do you want with my ma?" Julia demanded.

"You shut up!" Dan shouted and then he turned and struck her again.

That was all it took.

"Little Joe?"

He blinked. He was back in the room with the impossible Laura. "They hit her," he said.

Laura frowned. "Yes, I know."

"You know?"

She placed a hand alongside his face. "Dear Joe, I know everything. I know how hard you fought them. I know you did everything your strength would allow. I was there when you fell, when you were dragged out of the house and thrown to the ground. I…watched as that evil man took his boot and ground dirt into your wound and then hung you nearly naked between two trees." Laura's fingers moved to his hair. She ran them through it. "I was there when you died."

He blinked. "Huh?"

"Your pa and Adam discovered it when they got you into the house. You're there now. They are working over you, desperately trying to call you back." Laura looked directly into his eyes. "Will you go?"

Joe looked around the room. He recognized it now. It was the common room of the house he and his brothers had restored. The cradle was the one that had been meant to hold his son – or daughter.

"Can I stay here with you?"

"You can. The choice is yours."

"Where is…here?"

"Let not your heart be troubled. Ye believe in God, believe also in me," she quoted. "In my Father's house are many mansions. If it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you." Laura smiled. The gesture was so brilliant it lit the entire room. "This is my mansion. The life I desired with you." She looked toward the hearth. "And our child." Laura hesitated and then moved her hand to his heart. "I want you here with me, Joe. Then Paradise would be complete."

"Then I'll stay."

A tear formed in the corner of her eye. "I can't let you. It would be selfish of me. You have things to do."

Joe sat up. He took her hand in his. "I don't want to do anything but stay here with you," he said.

Laura touched his face. "What about Julia?"

"I don't…love her like I loved you."

"Are you sure? And what about your Pa? Would you leave him a broken man?"

"Pa will…."

No, he wouldn't. Pa wouldn't survive his loss, not so soon after Hoss.

"It will be painful to return," she said. "In more ways than one."

He nodded. After a moment he asked, "Why?"

"Why what?

"Why? Why did my mother have to die? Why did you?!" Joe sucked in air. "Why Hoss?"

Her hand stroked his cheek . "Dear Little Joe. Everything – everyone – dies. In death we are set free. There is no pain here, no loss. Grief is unknown."

He reached out to touch the tear that was trailing down her cheek. "Then why are you crying?"

Her smile returned.

"Love."

ooooo

"Anything, Adam?"

Pa's question was desperate. As desperate as his own attempt to pound life back into his lifeless brother. He shook his head as he bent his mouth to Joe's and breathed. More and more the medical journals were suggesting such a thing could help revive a man and call him back from the brink. He didn't understand the science.

He was doing it on faith.

It had been no more than thirty seconds since they'd realized Joe's heart wasn't beating. Thirty seconds of agony as he worked over him with Pa and Pat Griswold looking on. Pat's lips were moving in prayer. She was a practical woman and he was sure her prayers were practical as well. Wake Joe up, Lord. Make him breathe!

Start that generous heart beating again.

They knew from the last time this had happened – when Joe had been taken by a group of miners and nearly beaten to death – that they had precious little time. After a few minutes the brain began to die and even if his brother lived, there would be damage.

Adam had the fingers of one hand screwed tightly in his brother's curls. They were silver. Dear Lord! How had he stayed away long enough that his baby brother's hair was silver?! How could he have forgotten the love he had known on the Ponderosa?

How could he have forgotten…home?

"Adam."

He looked up with hope. Pa dashed it with a shake of his head. Tears were streaming down his father's face.

"Let him go."

Adam sucked in air like a drowning man. He raised a hand and brought it down on his brother's bare chest with killing force a half-dozen times, punctuating his words and his grief.

"I…will…not…let…him…go!"

Two things happened. Pa caught his hand.

And Joe coughed.

ooooo

An hour later Adam sat at his brother's bedside watching the bruises form. He felt like a heel. What he'd done might have had a hand in bringing Joe back, but it would certainly add to his brother's pain. Pat Griswold cleaned the wound out as best she could, removing all the foreign matter. They'd found alcohol and bandages – plus a bucket of soiled linens – near the bed. It was obvious that Pat's daughter had been tending Joe.

They'd found something else once they had time to think of something other than Joe. That was a note. It had been left by Julia's kidnappers. They promised they wouldn't harm her so long as he and Pa left the area and never returned – and kept their mouths shut about their suspicions. It didn't mention Joe, so obviously they thought they'd killed him. Pat was instructed to return home and await word. Pat was pretty sure whoever it was, was going to demand she get off her land in exchange for Julia's return. It was a prime piece and smack dab in the middle of all the rustling. If Joe hadn't stopped them two years before, the men who bushwhacked him would have succeeded in doing it by stealing cattle and slowly bleeding the Griswolds to death.

Adam placed a hand on his brother's arm. Joe had certainly paid a high price for his chivalry.

At his touch, his brother stirred.

The man in black shrank back into the shadows cast by the bedside lamp. He wasn't sure what effect his presence would have on Joe. He was really sick and he didn't want to agitate him. The only trouble was, he was the only one in the house. Pat was outside hanging laundry and Pa and Ed Flanders were gone. He wasn't quite sure what he thought about that. He didn't know the man well enough to trust or distrust him, but there was something about the rancher that just set wrong.

Joe's lips were moving. Adam expected the first word to come out of them would be 'Pa'. It wasn't.

It was 'Laura'.

That took him back to another time, in fact, to another world. One where he'd been a part of his brothers' daily lives. It hadn't taken him long, once he'd left, to realize that his quest for independence came at a high price. So he'd kept himself busy, sailing from place to place, taking on new and more complex jobs. In that way the years had flown by at a pace. Joe had been barely twenty when he'd proposed to Laura.

Her death had broken his brother's heart.

Joe said the name again as his feverish eyes searched the semi-darkness. "Laura?"

Adam sighed and leaned forward. "Laura's not here, Joe."

His brother blinked and turned his head toward him. He studied him a moment and then asked, "I came…back…didn't I?"

"Back from where, Joe?"

Joe looked puzzled. "Are you dead too?"

Adam chuckled. "No. I am very much alive and so are you."

His brother leaned his head back and closed his eyes. For a moment, Adam thought he'd fallen asleep, but then he said, "She's still here."

"Who?"

"Laura."

"Joe, Laura's not here. She's…dead. She died nearly ten years ago."

A smile curled his brother's lips. "Shows what you know," he said just before drifting off.

"He's bound to be confused," Pat Griswold remarked as she stopped at his side. He looked up and saw the wash basket in her hands. "I've got fresh linens. I'll get that bandage changed."

"Thank you. Thank you for what you are doing for my brother, and for what you did before."

She looked down at him. Pat Griswold was a handsome woman, not tall but not short, with golden-blonde hair tending toward red that she wore pulled back in a bun as severe as she pretended to be. She had a no-nonsense way and a competency about her that made him think of the stories his pa had told him about his own mother. Pat had made it quite clear that she was not to be pitied or treated with kid gloves. 'The good Lord is about His business, so I need to be about mine,' she'd said as she cared for Joe – for all of them, in fact. It was the lot of a woman to be left behind, but he'd wondered more than once if Pa would have been better off taking Pat with him instead of the enigmatic Ed.

"Like I told your Pa back when your brother was bushwhacked, one hand washes the other."

"We'll find Julia," he stated as he moved out of her way. He intended to join his father and Ed on the hunt as soon as he knew Joe was out of danger.

Pat removed the soiled bandage from Joe's shoulder and dropped it in the bucket by the bed. Quickly and efficiently, she replaced it with a clean one. As she straightened up, the older woman paused. She linked her hands in her lap and looked at him.

"Your Pa tells me you've been gone some time."

"Nearly a decade."

"Why'd you leave?"

He shrugged. "A young man's fancy that he had to find himself."

"And did you? Find yourself?"

Adam considered her question. "I found I could function outside my father's shadow. Pa's a strong man with a strong presence. I'm sure you've noticed." As she nodded, he went on. "I felt stifled on the Ponderosa. I felt…no one took me seriously. I would always be my father's son. I went where I could just be me."

"And now you're back."

"For a visit."

Pat nodded. "Mister Cartwright – "

"Adam."

"Adam then. Your pa tells me you never had a mother."

"I had a step-mother. Joe's mother." His smile was wistful. "Five years with Marie more than made up for twelve without my own."

"She loved you."

"Yes."

"Did you love her?"

Did he? "I believe I did. Our relationship was…rocky."

"Adam, there's something God gives a mother to do. It's different from a father. Only He knows why sometimes He takes it away. Most like, it's to give a man something to overcome." She shifted so she was facing him. "A mother loves a child in the way no one else can. There's no need to measure up, no shoes to fill. No…shadow to step out of. A mother draws her child close and lets them know they are accepted as they are. There's no need to strive."

"You're saying I missed out on that?"

"I'm saying that what you've been looking for has been inside you all along. You've no need to wander." Pat turned to Joe and placed her hand over his. "You have a father and brother who love you and who need you."

"Don't let Joe hear you say that."

She brushed a curl back from his brother's sweaty forehead. "He knows it. But that's how you men are, stubborn and thick as flour paste. All I'm saying, Adam, is that once this is over you need to look to your heart and not your head . Maybe then you'll know what's important and it will bring that ship you've been sailing to its berth."

With that, she rose and returned to the stove.

Adam sat for sometime at Joe's side, recalling both their battles and victories, and then he rose and walked to the door. Stepping out, the man in black drew in a deep breath of air, nosing the scent of pine.

And of home.

ooooo

To be continued…

ooooo