TEN

ooooo

"You okay?"

Joe grunted. "I told you I'm fine."

"Right." Adam reached out and pulled the blanket up around his brother's shoulders. The weather had taken a turn for the worse overnight and Joe was shivering.

"Cut that out! I'm not four anymore."

"Then I would advise you to stop acting like you are!"

Joe glared at him and then, like sunshine breaking through the clouds on a stormy day, he laughed. "Listen to us. We sound like a couple of kids."

"I was just gonna say that, but I decided discretion was the better part of valor," Pat Griswold said as she settled on the wagon seat beside him.

"I can drive," Joe said.

No.

He pouted.

"Not with that shoulder," the older woman replied as she sat beside him in the wagon and took up the reins. "It's aggravated enough."

"What about your wound?" Adam asked quietly. "And don't tell me 'pish-tosh'."

"I've been minding it." She lifted her skirt to show him. On the lower portion of Pat's leg there was a long red gash that was a deeper purple toward the middle. "The fire's gone out of it just like it has out of your brother."

Joe's fever had broken the night before. So far it had not come back. Of course, Joe should be lying in a bed sleeping it off, but that was out of the question. If he could stand on his feet, little brother was going to go after Julia Griswold. Joe said it was because he felt responsible for her.

He sensed there was more.

And so here they were getting ready to set out for God alone knew where, with Joe wrapped in a winter coat they'd found in the Russell's cedar chest, topped by two light woolen blankets – also from the cedar chest. The strong scent had made Joe sneeze. At least, that's what he said.

With little brother, you never knew.

"Let's get going, Adam. We need to find Julia."

He nodded. "Yes, but first we have to find whatever signs Pa left for us pointing the way they went."

They had several different signs they'd used over the years. One was an arrow of white rocks. That one worked when you were following the bad guys, but not when they were following you. If Pa had a hatchet, he would cut a rudimentary version of their brand into trees along the way. He'd taught them to look for that one when they were boys. There was one other and it was the hardest to find. Pa wore a lot of green kerchiefs. He would tear pieces from them and hang them off of a branch. You really had to look for that one, but then again, so did whoever you were trying to elude.

"I'm thinking it's the silk leaves," Joe said as if reading his mind.

"I agree." He'd been standing next to the big brown thoroughbred he'd chosen from the stable. Sport had been there, but they needed time to reacquaint themselves. Adam placed his foot in the stirrup and mounted. It had been years since he'd spent so much time in the saddle and he was feeling it.

His brother snorted. "I bet your rump feels like my shoulder."

"I'll admit, it's a tiny bit tender."

"Maybe you should transfer some of that cotton wadding that's between your ears to your saddle."

Pat looked at Joe and then at him. "Why do I find myself sitting here thanking the good Lord that I had a girl?"

Mention of Julia sobered them both.

"We'll find her, Pat. I promise," Joe said.

She touched his leg briefly. "I know we will. She'll keep herself safe for you, Joe."

It was Adam's turn to look from the older woman to his brother. "Is there something I should know?"

"You should know enough to turn that animal around and get moving," his brother growled.

"Okay, little buddy," he said with a grin. "You just work on keeping your seat."

It was a good thing there was nothing loose within reach.

ooooo

Ben narrowed his eyes against the rising sun and looked to the north. He was waiting outside Bridgeport's jail and post office for Sheriff Strait to emerge. The telegraph had been down in the small town, so Ed Flanders had offered to ride to the next one over to send out messages. Since then it had been fixed, and Damien was hoping a few of the answers they sought had already arrived. The first thing he'd asked Ed to do was wire the US marshals. They needed to be informed of what they'd found out and brought in before any plan of attack could be formulated. The sheriff had also alerted several trustworthy lawmen he knew of in the vicinity so they could join them. The rancher blinked and turned away from the sun. He'd sent a message to Clem Foster explaining why he was away and asking him to go to the ranch and check in with Hop Sing. Another went to the Griswolds' place. Ern was probably still there holding down the fort. He'd asked him to ride up to the Russell cabin and find out how Joseph was before joining them. Joe had been a very sick boy when he rode away. It had been hard to leave, but he'd taken comfort in the fact that he'd left his youngest in his capable older brother's hands.

Ben snorted. Hopefully they hadn't killed each other.

The rancher walked over to the chair that was propped under the post office window and sat down to wait. He'd sent one last wire for Ern to take with him. He felt Pat needed to know what they were thinking of doing. Their plan was to rescue Julia before all Hell broke loose, but plans often went awry. A rescue attempt could well prove fatal.

God willing it didn't come to that.

"We got a couple of answers," Damien said as he stepped out of the office.

"Oh?"

"This one's from the marshals."

"That was fast."

"Seems Ed ran into them in town. They were already headed this way. They should be arriving soon."

"Anything from Ern?"

The tall lanky man held out an envelope. "Yep."

Ben stared at it for a moment before working open the flap. It was like an receiving an unexpected surprise. The telegram could contain anything. Joseph could have taken a turn for the worse. The men who left him for dead could have returned. The rancher drew a breath as he drew the message out and read its contents.

His face must have given him away.

"What is it?"

"Ern went to the Russells. There was no one there."

Damien took a moment to think that through. "You think your boys are on your trail?"

He nodded. "If Joseph was well enough to climb to his feet, nothing would have stopped him from going after Julia. It's why Adam stayed behind."

The sheriff whistled. "I gotta meet this boy of yours."

"Which one?"

"Both."

Both. Two. He had two sons.

"Something wrong?"

Ben shook the nostalgia off and rose to his feet. "I should probably tell you that Ern is on his way here."

"That the hired hand at the Griswolds?"

"Yes, though he's more like a son. He and Tom were close. The boy's fiercely loyal to Pat and Julia."

"He in love with the young one?"

The rancher smiled. "Probably. She's a beautiful girl."

Damien tipped his hat back on his head and rolled his eyes.

"Ain't they all?"

ooooo

"How do you think he's doing?"

Pat shook her head. "He should be in bed, not tramping around the woods."

Joe was standing under the trees looking up, seeking the elusive silk 'leaf' they knew had to be somewhere in the vicinity.

"Well, we could try telling him that he needs to keep going, maybe then he'd insist on stopping." At her look, Adam chuckled. "No?"

She was staring at him. "You two are so different, although I'm not sure who would win at being the most stubborn."

"Oh, that would be me. Joe's nickname for me when he was a kid was 'Yankee granite head'."

Pat laughed out loud. "And what did you call him?"

"A lot of things I don't care to admit," he said with a sigh.

"How much older are you?"

"Twelve years. Sometimes thirteen."

"Not quite old enough to be his pa, but close."

"Good Lord! There's a nightmare thought for you!"

"Some folks say if there's seven years between you, it's like being firstborn."

His eyes were on Joe. He wanted to make sure he didn't wander off and out of sight. "Well then, Pa had three firstborns, or almost. There was six years between Hoss and me, and six between him and Joe."

Pat nodded. "Hoss was a good man. I haven't ever seen one so gentle. Sometimes I'd come in when he was sitting with Joe and find him patting his hand and talking to him like he could hear."

"One of Hoss' gifts was with wounded creatures," he replied. "I can't tell you how many he nursed back to health."

"How'd you hear he'd passed?"

"A colleague in Hong Kong. He just casually mentioned it one day. I suppose he thought I knew."

"Must have been a shock."

That was an understatement. He'd been on the mainland, and while he'd been away his mail had piled up. When he went to the post office to get it, there were a half-dozen letters from his father. All watered with tears. The first explained how Hoss had died and informed him that they weren't sure Joe would live. The second, which he opened so fast he tore the paper in two, told him Joe was better physically, but slipping daily into a deep depression. The third and fourth gave a report on Joe's progress. They told him how Jamie had helped to pull him out of the darkness he found himself in and how Joe was assuming the role of older brother. The last one pleaded with him to come home.

It had taken him nearly a year to arrange his affairs and do so.

"Yes. Hoss was the…glue that held us together. To tell the truth, I had no idea what reception I would get."

"From Joe?"

He nodded.

"He's still grieving," she said. "Your Pa says he blames himself for surviving."

Adam let out a sigh. "And the irony is, if Joe had died instead, I don't think Hoss would have survived."

"Hey, Adam! Come over here?"

"Brotherly duty calls," he said as he left the woman and went to his brother's side. "You find Pa's 'leaf'?"

Joe shook his head. He held out a scrap of calico fabric. "It's Julia's."

"Do you think she dropped it on purpose?" he asked as he took it and turned it over in his fingers.

"It's ripped." Joe swallowed hard. His fingers formed into fists. "If they've hurt her…."

"Think a minute. She could have ripped it herself and dropped it. Maybe she left it for you, so you could find her."

His brother took the scrap back. He stared at it a minute before saying, "Adam, I think I'm in love with Julia."

He'd heard that line so many times, his first impulse was to dismiss it. But this was a new, wiser and more mature Joe. Maybe he finally knew what he wanted.

"Pa said she's pretty."

"It's more than that. She's...a breath of fresh air. And she needs me." He looked up. "Adam, I need to be needed."

"It's a good starting point, Joe, but there's more to a relationship than that. You know that."

"My ma…needed Pa."

Marie did indeed, and that need had sustained them through the time they'd been together. But then, they'd only been married for six years.

He reached out and placed his hand on his brother's shoulder. "Does this have to do with Hoss?"

Joe glared at him. Then his look softened. "I don't know what it has to do with. I want to take care of her. Is that so wrong?"

"No. There's nothing wrong with that, so long as you love her for who she is and not who you want her to be."

"I think this is…real. I haven't felt his way since Laura." His brother frowned, and then he turned those green eyes up. They were brilliant with unshed tears. "I…saw her, Adam."

"Saw who?"

"When I was so…sick. I saw Laura." His brother drew in a breath and shuddered with it. "She said I had a choice. I could stay with her or come back to you and Pa. It was a…hard choice. It was so peaceful there."

There'd been a moment, when he was pounding on his brother's chest, that he thought they'd lost him.

Apparently they had.

"If you two are done jawing, I got some grub ready," Pat called out. Adam drew in a whiff. There was sausage and something else savory, and fresh coffee.

"Come on," he said.

"I'm not hungry."

"If you truly love Julia, you'll eat. Otherwise you won't have the strength to save her."

Joe stared at him for several heartbeats before he spoke. "I'm glad you're back, Adam. Thanks for being my brother."

Men didn't hug. They stood at a rail side by side and stared at anything but each other. They punched shoulders. They wrestled, because – in that place – touch was safe. It could be interpreted any way you wanted. Adam hesitated and then reached out and drew his little brother into an embrace.

Joe shattered as he feared he would.

He held him tightly so none of the pieces fell away.

ooooo

"I got another telegram," Damien Strait said as he came to rest beside the table where Ben was eating lunch.

Ben dropped his napkin to the table. The sheriff's jaw was tight. "It doesn't look like it's good news."

"It depends on your point of view," the lawman said as he sat down. One of the serving girls headed for them. The lawman smiled at her. "Same as always, Lucy."

She nodded and turned on her heel.

"They know you well here."

Damien laughed. "I've found if a man keeps things simple, it frees his mind up for more important matters. About the only thing that varies is whether the steak comes with one potato or two."

Ben chuckled. "So what's your news?"

The lawman reached into his pocket and dropped two telegrams on the table. "Seems we ain't the only ones trackin' down this gang of rustlers. There's a group of cattlemen out of Carson City headed this way."

He picked up the telegrams and perused them. "These are some of the men I met with at my home." Ben sighed. "I was afraid of something like this."

"I thought they might be. Seems that Sheriff you had Ed Flanders wire is with them."

"Clem? Thank God. He'll do all he can to keep the ranchers from going off half-cocked."

Damien nodded as the girl returned and sat his plate before him. He stared at it a moment and then pushed it aside. Drawing a pencil out of his pocket, the long lean man turned one of the telegrams over so the back was face-up and started to draw.

"So, here's how I see it. You and me are here," he made an X and wrote 'Bridgeport'. Flanders is on his way back, so that makes three of us. I can rustle up a half-dozen men or so in the town I trust, so that makes us – at most – a dozen strong. With luck, the sheriffs I wired will be coming this way with men of their own. Might make us fifty strong."

Ben reached over and pointed to the south. "Ern is coming from near Lone Pines. He's young. He'll probably ride straight through and get here late tonight or early tomorrow morning, unless he runs into Adam and Joe and comes in with them."

"Where do you think your sons are?"

He thought a moment. "Joe and Adam left the Russells' place before Ern. I don't know when. My guess would be this morning. Joe's injured, so they're probably traveling by wagon, which will slow them down." Ben paused. "Pat Griswold may be with them too. It's her daughter who is missing."

Damien's face twitched. "No disrespect meant, but can she hold her own?"

Ben laughed. "Oh, yes. You have no need to worry about Pat."

"All right. So, let's put your boys here." The lawman made a second mark, about halfway between Lone Pines and where they were. Then he frowned.

"What?"

Sheriff Strait pursed his lips. "I haven't been completely up-front with you, Ben. I needed to know I could trust you."

"What do you mean?"

"In spite of what you said, you could have been in with the rustlers. Trying to find out what I know and such."

Ben nodded impatiently. "What haven't you told me?"

Damien's gaze returned to the paper. He made another 'X'. This one he wrote the number 50 beside. It was placed just to the north of where he'd made the mark for Adam and Joe. "This here's your cattlemen. I'm guessing they've made it about that far." He hesitated. "They're not comin' to Bridgeport. They know about the canyon. They're heading straight there." The lawman shifted back in his seat. "I'm supposed to meet them about a mile out, come nightfall."

"And just when did you intend to tell me this?"

"I wasn't sure I was going to. My only consideration wasn't that you were an honest man. It's that you're a father whose boys are in danger. A man like that can go off half-cocked."

Ben let out a slow sigh. "In my younger days," he admitted with a wry grin. "But I am older and wiser now – as are my 'boys'."

The lawman held his gaze for a moment and then dropped his eyes to the paper. He made one final mark as he drew a box around the area representing the canyon and then wrote the number '100'.

"The rustlers?" Ben asked.

"Near as we can tell. Not that they'll all be there. It's a big operation with cattle moving all the time." Damien traced a line from where they were to the canyon, and then did the same with the cattlemen. Then he pointed to the 'X' that marked his son's location.

Joe and Adam were squarely in the middle.

"I'm afraid, Ben, those boys of yours are gonna find themselves in the middle of one hell of a war."

ooooo

Joe heard footsteps. He thought it was Adam. It was too late to pretend to be asleep, so he braced himself for another round of thoughtful older brother brotherly advice. He really was grateful Adam was back, but he was tired. He just didn't have it in him to deal with the emotions such a talk would stir up. Drawing a breath, Joe looked up and was surprised to find it wasn't Adam.

It was Pat.

She had a plate in one hand and a cup in the other. "You didn't eat much for supper," she said. "I thought you might be hungry."

Joe smiled at her. It was an effort, but she deserved it. "I don't have much of an appetite."

Pat cocked her head and looked at him. "You better let me take a look at that wound."

"It's fine," he replied, a little too quickly.

She shook her head. "Men. Not one of you knows what's good for you. Now there's two reasons a man don't eat. One's that he's ailing. The other is that he's in love."

Joe held her gaze for a moment and then dropped his head.

Right on both counts.

"Here, you eat this while I check your shoulder," she said, holding the plate out. "I won't take 'no' for an answer, so you can save your strength for another battle."

He looked at it. It held a couple of biscuits laden with butter and honey. As Pat sat beside him on the ground, she nodded toward the cup he now held in his hand. "There's butter in that too."

Joe's brows went up. He held the cup under his nose and sniffed. The scent was familiar. He laughed. "Does Adam know you're packing rum?"

Pat smiled. "Who do you think told me to bring you the toddy?" As she peeled his shirt back, she sucked in air. "Joe, didn't your mama tell you that lying was a sin?"

It was bad, he knew it. But what were they going to do about it on the road and in the middle of nowhere?

"I've had worse," he growled. Then, he felt foolish. "Of course, you know that."

"We need to get a poultice on that and get some of the fire out of it." Pat rose. "You finish your supper. I'll be back in a minute."

Joe slowly sipped the rum toddy and nibbled at the biscuits. Watching Pat made him wonder about his own ma and what it would have been like to grow up knowing her. From what Adam and Hoss had told him, Marie de Marigny Cartwright was more like Julia than her mother. A woman at church had been talking about his ma one Sunday and she'd used the word 'coquette' to describe her. He'd had to look that one up since Adam wouldn't tell him what it meant.

It was a good thing his pa had raised him to be a gentlemen otherwise he would have challenged that woman to a duel.

Of course, he'd been a kid then. He hadn't understood how the world worked. He had a wonderful pa and ma, and two amazing brothers. They loved each other, looked out for each other – truly cared for one another. Most weren't so lucky. Most people lived, like Adam used to say, in 'quiet desperation'. They'd been hurt and wounded and all they wanted to do was hurt and wound back. Pa said it took faith for a man not to be like that. Joe took a sip of the toddy and relished the warmth as it coursed through his tired and aching body. He'd paid some attention to what Pa said when he was young, but not too much. There just didn't seem to be time for things like reading the Bible and thinking about God's word, though Pa had written it so deeply on each of their hearts he knew its truths and lived by them. Now, as an older man, it seemed he needed God more. Life was a long hard coach ride with a few bright and beautiful inns and cities along the way. He'd been growing closer to God. He even had a Bible in his room. And then….

Hoss…died.

Joe sucked in air. It was still like a blow, that word. He felt like he did when he he'd been punched in the stomach, only, it was like he'd never drawn the next breath – like he'd never recovered.

"You're thinking about your brother," a soft voice said.

Joe wiped away a tear as Pat knelt by his side. He nodded.

With a glance that asked permission, Pat pulled his shirt aside and went to work. After a moment, she said, "You need to let him go about his business."

He looked at her even as he sucked in air as she applied the poultice to his wound. "Who?"

"Hoss."

He blinked. "Let him…go…what?"

"He's got business to attend to and you're keeping him here." Pat looked up and around. "I imagine he's here now."

"What are you talking about?"

The older woman finished what she was doing and pulled his shirt back into place. She sat on the ground beside him, linked her hands around her knees, and let out a little sigh. "When Tom died I grieved something awful. There's not many a woman has a man like Tom. Oh, he was a man and always wanted to roll his own hoop, but he was loving and gentle and he listened to me. The last choice was his as the Good Book says, but he always heard what I had to say and took it into account."

"He was a good man," Joe agreed. "Pa told me all he did to help him and Hoss, and…Julia has told me a little more."

"He was a good man, like your brother was a good man. Like I said, I was grieving something fierce." Pat looked straight at him. "It was hard on Julia, just like it's hard on your Pa."

He dropped his head.

"Anyhow, the preacher came all the way out from town one day to talk to me. He told me my grief was holding Tom close to the earth; that he couldn't get about his business until I let him go."

"What business was that?" Joe asked.

She laughed. "Whatever the business of Heaven is. The preacher said he had a job to do and Tom couldn't get to it until he knew I was all right. He asked me if I could let him go and I told him I could." She turned to look at him. "If you love your brother, you'll let him go, Joe. He needs to know you're all right." The older woman reached out to touch his arm. "Do you think you can do that?"

Images flashed in his mind – Hoss throwing back his head and laughing until you thought he would bust, his brother picking him up and carrying him as if he was a sack of grain – the two of them in trouble after one of his own harebrained schemes had failed….his brother stuffing him into a rabbit cage.

Joe laughed even as a tear trailed down his check.

"Well?" she asked.

"I…don't know," he replied honestly. "I can try."

Pat touched his cheek and then rose to her feet. Then she did something unexpected. She bent down and kissed the top of his head.

"That's the best any of us can do."

ooooo

To be continued….

ooooo