TEN

oooooooooo

Hoss no longer cared whether the men holdin' them knew he had his hands free or not.

A sound had awakened him earlier and he'd reached out to touch his brother, only to find Little Joe wasn't by his side. He pert near panicked until he felt around and realized the boy had toppled over and was layin' on the cold stone floor. Picking his brother up, he'd returned Joe to his lap and begun to work on the ropes that bound the little boy's arms together. Joe woke up while he was doin' it. His brother held still as he worked the knots loose and then flung his arms about him the minute he was free and took hold like he was three stories up and afraid to fall. Little Joe was hot – really hot. Even so he'd been shiverin' to beat the band. Fearin' for him, Hoss had retrieved his vest from the floor and wrapped it around his skinny frame before pullin' him close. Joe was whimperin', so he kept talkin', tellin' the little boy he was right there and everythin' was gonna be okay.

He sure wished he believed what he said.

That had been a few hours back. He'd been waiting ever since for someone to tote in some water so's he could give his little brother a drink, but so far no one had. Since he'd been taken, it seemed there was always someone comin' and goin'. There'd be voices outside or he'd hear footsteps, and every so often a light would shine into the room and someone would open the door and come inside. He'd been in mines before with Adam and their pa. Adam said that a mine without a light was a new definition of 'black'.

He sure did miss that light.

Hoss stared out into the gloom, thinking about all the shafts and corridors that were out there and how they burrowed into the earth like a prairie dog. For the life of him, he couldn't understand why any man would want to work in a mine. If you had to do it, that was one thing, but to choose to leave the light and the air and all of God's glorious creation behind to labor in a pitch-black pit?

That was his new definition of 'crazy'!

Tiny fingers plucking at his chin brought Hoss back to the present.

"What is it, punkin?" he asked.

"I'm thirsty."

Hoss licked his lips. "I know, Little Joe. I am too, but we ain't got any water." The big teen leaned over and picked up a crust of bread. He'd been hoarding little bits over the last few meals just in case….

Well, just in case.

"I got me some bread. You want it?"

Joe's head shook against his shirt.

Hoss placed a hand on his brother's forehead. "You got yourself some fever goin' there, little brother."

"Don't you think I know that, you big lug!" Joe snapped.

It was good to hear some fire in Joe's tone.

"Are you sure we don't have any water?"

"Sorry, Little Joe. They ain't brought anythin' for a couple of hours."

"Have you looked around? Maybe there's some in the room."

"Joe, you know I can't 'look around' at nothin'," he snorted. "It's black as a winter chimney in here!"

Even as he said it, the big teen wondered why he hadn't gotten up to check out the space they occupied. He guessed it was because he didn't want to leave Little Joe behind – and he still didn't. It didn't smell of blasting powder or nothin' so he didn't think it was a storeroom. Maybe it was the foreman's office or somethin' like that. Hoss remained silent as he considered his little brother's needs. It was damp and cold in the room and Lu Lin had never brought that blanket. Maybe there was one here, or maybe there was something else like a coat or shirt hangin' on a peg that he could toss over Joe.

"You're awful quiet."

Hoss chuckled. "I was just thinkin' about how smart you are, little brother. Could be there's some things in here we could use." He paused. "I hate to put you down, but…."

"It's okay. I'll be okay."

Sure you will, he thought.

"I'm gonna scoot you off my lap and lean you against the wall."

"…okay…."

After he was sure Joe was propped real nice, Hoss unbuttoned his shirt and removed it. "I'm gonna put my shirt around you to keep you warm," he said as he lifted his brother's feverish form and began to wrap it.

"But you'll get cold!" Little Joe protested meekly.

"I got an extra shirt on 'cause I was ridin' night fence," he said. "I'll be fine."

"Don't be gone long, Hoss," Joe's small voice pleaded.

He put his hand on his brother's head and ruffled his damp curls. "I won't. I promise."

It was like bein' blind, only he didn't have no cane to feel around with. One thing Hoss found out right quick was that the room weren't very big. He hit a wall within seven steps and that put it at under twenty feet. Luckily, he didn't hit anythin' else.

"You find anything, Hoss?" Joe called out.

"Not yet, little brother. Just hold them horses of yours."

Hoss changed directions, heading left from where he'd been. A few seconds later he said, "Ouch!"

"You okay?"

"I'm fine."

His knee had encountered something hard and now that he felt along it, he thought it was a wooden desk. It was empty of papers and pencils, and there wasn't a chair. Or at least he hadn't found one yet. Hoss almost fell when his hands encountered a dead space with nothing in it and then – thank the Almighty! – he felt something made of a heavy cloth.

He also felt a slight breeze.

"What'd you find?"

"Somethin' that'll make you feel a sight better, little brother," he answered as he moved toward the opening through which the air was pouring. It was a door – the door to their prison he imagined. He was about to test it when he heard those voices he'd been missin' – only he wasn't so happy about hearin' them now. Turning in his brother's direction, Hoss ordered, "Little Joe, you keep quiet. Someone's comin'."

A small moan told him his brother had heard.

Hoss reached up to feel the door and discovered it had a small window in it, which had been broken out at some time. He paused just to the side of it and listened. He couldn't hear much. The men weren't close, but he managed to catch a few words.

"…with them?"

"…sure. …said he'll…let us know today."

"…sick."

"…cares. …dead by sundown."

The big teen froze. He stood there, contemplatin' what he'd heard as the voices moved away. There was a few glass shards left in the window, but he didn't care. Hoss pushed his arm through it and reached down, prayin' that he could find the lock and that the key would still be in it.

All he managed to do was cut the heck out of his armpit.

"Hoss?" Joe called. "Are…you…comin' back…soon?"

Little brother's teeth was chatterin'.

Hoss turned and caught the garment off the hook. It was a heavy coat made out of wool, with a big old collar just right for turnin' up. He didn't know if it belonged to one of the men who'd brought them there, or if it belonged to whoever had used this office once upon a time, but he didn't care. For his little brother, it was big as a blanket.

Little Joe was slid partway down the wall by the time he got to him. Hoss caught his brother under the arms and lifted him up. He held the little boy to his chest while he slipped the coat around him, and then lowered Joe to the floor and sat beside him.

"Thanks, Hoss. It's…real warm," Joe said. "Did you…find a…way out too?"

Hoss laid a hand on his brother's shoulder. "I'm gonna sit with you a while and then I'm gonna go and look again. Okay?"

Joe's reply was quiet. "I was kind of hoping you were gonna find a way out."

He was glad his brother couldn't see his frown. Hoss was thinkin' about what he'd heard those men say. He didn't know what they was plannin', but whatever it was, it wasn't good. Seemed to him that whoever was holdin' them must have decided they weren't worth it, or were too much trouble, or maybe, they'd just been waitin' and meant to kill them all along. Even as that dark thought took root, hope sprung in Hoss' large heart. Maybe the bad men knew their pa was on the way! Maybe they was thinkin' they was gonna get one over on their father, but these varmints didn't know Pa. Pa would move heaven and earth to find them.

Hoss looked toward the door.

He just better do it before sundown.

oooooooooo

Ben Cartwright sat across the camp fire from his eldest son, his thoughts as black as his mood. He was tired…well, exhausted really. From the time of Little Joe's accident, he'd had very little to eat and even less sleep. His nights were plagued with dreams, the theme of which was always the same: all three of his sons were dead. In his nightmares he watched them die, or found out they were dead, or stood before three open graves watching the coffins being lowered into the ground – and the worst thing was, there was no reason. There was no one to blame.

No one but Hop Sing.

The rancher shook himself. He was a man who put faith in his good judgment and, from the moment he had met Hop Sing, he had known he was a good man. He didn't doubt him, not really, but he wished his old friend had taken him into his confidence before leaving. The system of honor held sacred by the Chinese and cultures like theirs was a worthy one. It placed others above one's self and created a world where elders and children alike were respected and truth was paramount. At the same time, it had a darker side where secrets were kept and cowardly acts committed in the dark in order to keep one's 'face'. Hop Sing had lived in America for fifteen years or more. He'd become Westernized in some ways, but in others was still a man of the East.

A man of mystery.

"Would you like more coffee, Pa?" Adam asked, breaking into his reverie.

He shook his head.

There was a pause. "Are you all right?"

Ben looked at Adam – really looked at him. Though he was a man – at twenty-two – to him, his son seemed little more than a boy. Only six short years ago he had been Hoss' age. A child really, in the greater scope of things. Though he'd sailed away from everything he knew at a younger age and thought himself grown and worldy-wise, in reality, he had known nothing. His had been a fairly happy childhood and adolescence. Though he and his father fought, he'd known the older man loved him dearer than his own life. His parents cared for him – protected him – just as he had done with his boys. In Hoss and Little Joe that had bred a sense of safety and a willingness to trust. Perhaps a little too much so. Adam, on the other hand, had seen his fair share of the dark underbelly of life on the journey west and come away from it guarded and wary.

He just hoped the boywas wary enough to keep from falling prey to the same men who had taken his brothers.

Ben stretched and leaned back against the bole of the pine tree he was sitting under. They'd made camp in a small grove with one of Roy's deputies and about a dozen other men.

"I'm worried about your brothers." The rancher paused. "And you."

Adam grinned. "They'd have to be some pretty bold kidnappers to snatch me out from under the eye of all these armed men."

"They took you brother out of his bedroom while we were in the house."

His eldest sobered quickly. "Yeah. I have to admit, that's pretty bold."

"Thank you, son, for playing it safe. I know it chafes at you to be watched over."

"It's okay, Pa. I…. I remember when I was a little kid. The wagon train was a pretty dangerous place, but I never worried about it. I knew you were there, keeping watch."

As best he could.

"So, what's the plan for tomorrow?" Adam asked.

The day had fled. His youngest sons had been missing for over twenty-four hours now. Ben glanced at the lawman who was traveling with them; a good solid man of middle years whose name was Lucas Painter. "I can't help feeling we are going about this the wrong way. I know it was my idea to begin the search, but something keeps calling me back home."

"You think Hop Sing's the answer."

He nodded. "The best one we have."

"Do you want to go back and find him, Pa?"

He did, but he didn't want to leave Adam alone.

"I'll be okay," his son said, reading his mind. "I'll stick to the group and not go anywhere alone, I promise."

Ben frowned. Adam was a man. He could trust him to look out for himself.

Or, at least that's what he kept telling himself.

"Are you going to leave now or in the morning?"

The rancher placed his cup on the ground. "Now. There's plenty of light with the moon so full."

"Then go, Pa. If there's one thing I've learned in my life, it's to trust your intuitions. You're seldom wrong.

Ben looked at his boy. He raised on eyebrow. "Can I have that in writing?"

Adam laughed. "Sure. I can always claim it's a forgery."

He rose to his feet and his son did as well. "Have I told you lately how much I love you, son?" he asked.

"That depends on your definition of 'lately'." Adam grinned. "I think it might have been twelve hours ago."

"Too long." Ben touched his son's cheek. "I love you. Take care of yourself. I'll be back as soon as I can."

oooooooooo

Adam Cartwright woke after only a few fitful hours of sleep. He sat up and blinked, and then stretched and yawned before rising to his feet. For a second, it had taken him by surprise not to find his father and brothers sleeping beside him. Then it all came crashing back – Little Joe's accident and kidnapping, Hoss' disappearance; his father leaving the night before. Adam gazed in the direction his pa had gone and wondered how far the older man had made it by his moon and starlight before he had to stop. Knowing his father – and Pa's determination – he was probably pulling up in front of the house right about now.

"Mornin', Adam."

The black-haired man turned to find Deputy Lucas Painter approaching. Painter was around Roy Coffee's age and had been a sheriff when he was young. The sandy-haired man said his shoulders got smaller the older he became and they weren't big enough to carry all that responsibility any more. He was lean and tough as a month old piece of jerky, with a shock of mustard yellow hair and crisp blue eyes.

"Good morning, Lucas," Adam replied as he bent to pick up his bed roll.

"I haven't see your father around. Did he go missin' too?"

He shook his head. "Pa decided to go home. He felt he could accomplish more there."

Lucas' brows met in the center. He was silent a moment and then he asked, "So what do you two know that I don't?"

"What do you mean?"

Lucas shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "I wasn't born yesterday, son, and I know your father well. The fact that you're still here indicates that we need to keep searchin' for your brothers. Otherwise, he would have taken you with him." Lucas was looking straight at him. "Look, Adam. Everyone in the Nevada territory knows how your pa is about you boys. He'd turn Heaven and Earth upside down and march straight into Hell to find one of you if you went missin', and make the men who took you pay. So, why did your father leave?"

He said nothing.

"There must be something – or someone – back at the Ponderosa who knows somethin' I don't." Lucas pinned him with that 'look' lawmen got, when they were just about to use the power of the badge. "Somethin' I don't that I should."

He considered it a moment. The lawman was right. If it had been anyone other than Hop Sing, they would have gone straight to the law with the information they had – sketchy as it was.

But it was Hop Sing.

Adam bit the inside of his lip. "Lucas, really, Pa just felt we might have missed something. He was feeling…frustrated that we haven't made any progress. He wanted to start at point A and move back through B to C." He cleared his throat. "He'll rejoin us later."

Lucas continued to stare at him. Then he nodded his head. "Okay. We'll go with that for now. If there's one thing the Cartwrights are known for, it's their honesty. I'll take you at your word."

The lawman really knew how to turn the screw.

"Thank you, Lucas. If Pa finds out anything, we will certainly share it."

"You do that. That's the way we'll keep your brothers alive."

And with that, he turned and walked away.

Adam let out a sigh as he watched the man go. Lucas was right. He should have told him about Hop Sing. It was just, well, Hop Sing was family, and if one of his family was suspected of something – something that had not been proven – he would keep it close and not tell anyone until and unless he had to. It was all too easy for men to misinterpret words. He'd seen lynch mobs formed over a rumor. And if word got out that a man from China was suspected in the disappearance of two white boys, well….

He shuddered.

"Hey, Cartwright! We're gonna be heading out soon. You better get moving."

He turned to find one of the men who had volunteered to help in the search for Hoss and Joe waving at him. He didn't know him, so he presumed he'd come from the settlement. He was a big man and kind of looked like an older version of Hoss. Adam lifted his hand and waved back. The man was right. Half the camp was ready to roll and he was still standing in the middle of it holding his bed roll.

"Be ready in a minute," he responded as he finished rolling it up.

It didn't take long to gather his things and secure them to his horse's saddle. That left only a few things to do before mounting up. First, Adam returned to the fire where he downed the last of his slightly stale coffee and ate a stick of jerky skinny as Lucas. Then he went to the stream that bubbled nearby and splashed some water in his face. Finally, the black-haired man headed into the trees to take care of business. He'd finished and was ready to return to camp when something stopped him.

That 'something' being the barrel of a gun pressed into his ribs.

"Make a sound and you won't ever make one again," a familiar voice warned.

Adam glanced over his shoulder. He wasn't surprised to find it was Bush Sears who held the gun on him.

"Might I ask what you're doing?" he inquired.

Bush snorted. "And here I thought you were the smart Cartwright."

"Well, I will admit that I am a bit puzzled. There's a lawman and about a dozen other armed men on the other side of these trees. If your intention is to rob me, you might have chosen a more opportune moment. All I have to do is call out."

"Rob you?" Sears scoffed. "I get paid good, Cartwright. I'm not robbing you. I'm gonna take you to see your little brothers. Isn't that what you want?"

Adam stiffened. He and Pa had suspected Sears, but to hear him admit it….

"Hoss and Little Joe," he demanded. "You better tell me they're all right."

"That big one, he's okay. The little one ain't feelin' too good."

"What have you done to Little Joe?"

"I ain't done nothin'. The kid was sick when we took him."

"Out of his bedroom," he snarled.

"Yeah. It was kind of dumb, leaving a window open like that." The barrel pushed more deeply into his ribs. "Doesn't your Pa know the night air ain't good for little boys?"

"So I take it you're kidnapping me as well?"

"Yeah. You come nice and quiet, Cartwright, and no one back there in the camp needs to get hurt. There's more of us in the search party. You yell and there'll be a bloodbath."

Adam drew a breath and held it. With Lucas and the other men so close, he could probably get away.

But did he want to?

Hoss had to be terrified. He was alone with Little Joe, who was sick – and who knew how sick? No one knew where his brothers were and this man was going to lead him to them.

"Sorry, Pa."

"What's that?" his kidnapper asked.

Adam sighed. He'd made his father a promise and he'd just made the choice to break it.

He sure hoped his shoulders were big enough.

oooooooooo

Ben topped the last rise before his home just as the dawn light broke over the mountains. With every clop of his horse's hooves he'd grown more determined to get to the bottom of whatever was happening. Obviously someone held a grudge against Hop Sing and he was certain Hop Sing knew who it was. Why else would the Asian man have vanished? Ben kept reminding himself that Hop Sing was a trusted friend and that whatever his motives were, they had to be pure. He couldn't believe the Asian man would do anything to willingly put the boys in danger. As the note said, Hop Sing did think of Adam, Hoss, and Little Joe as his 'sons'. His dear wife on her deathbed had put the boys in their housekeeper's care and Hop Sing had done everything he could to fulfill that sacred duty. He washed their clothes and fed them, tended them when they were sick, and had been there for them when he, in his grief, had abdicated his responsibilities and abandoned the three most precious things in his life.

Still, there was something Hop Sing was not telling him and he simply could not let that stand.

He'd stopped briefly in the settlement on his way back to the Ponderosa to grab a cup of coffee and inhale a piece of day old pie at Beth Riley's shop. He knew she'd be up early baking. Beth had welcomed him in and they'd chatted for a bit as he ate. When he put his hat on and headed for the door, she'd called him back. Beth explained that she'd been going home late the night before and her path – as he knew – took her past Sebastian Stephens' grand house. She'd glanced at the mansion as she walked past, and seen two people standing outside.

'Is there any reason Hop Sing would have been visiting so late?' she'd asked him innocently.

Ben's jaw clenched at the thought of the slick Easterner. He detested the man and had assumed when Hoss disappeared, that Stephens had been behind it. It was the same with Little Joe. He knew there were unscrupulous men who would stop at nothing to get what they wanted, and Sebastian was certainly one of them.

Then the note had come.

Impossible as it seemed, it appeared that the kidnapping of his sons was aimed at Hop Sing and not at him.

Could the two men be somehow connected?

Ben reined in his mount after rounding the end of the stable. Since most of the men were out looking for Hoss and Joe, the yard was deserted – with one exception. A small wagon with a team of horses was tethered to the rail in front of the house. The animals looked at him as he dismounted and approached and pawed the ground, as if anxious to be on their way. When he arrived at the wagon, Ben lifted the tarp that covered the bed and looked in. It held food and drink, enough for a long journey, but – even more surprisingly – most of Hop Sing's belongings. As he stood there, pondering what it meant, a sound caught his attention and he turned toward the front door.

Hop Sing stood there; his mouth agape. The wooden box that held his papers was in the Asian man's hands.

Ben said nothing as he dropped the tarp and crossed to where his friend stood. Hop Sing met his gaze and then dropped his head.

His jaw tight, the rancher asked, "Are you running away?"

Hop Sing's shoulders rose and fell with a sigh. He shook his head before looking up. "Hop Sing not run. Leave. He no longer belong here."

Was that a supposition of his own intent, or the intent of his friend, he wondered?

"Where?" Ben asked, his jaw tight.

"Hop Sing not know. Only know he cannot stay."

Ben thought a moment, carefully selecting his words before continuing. "Is whatever you are hiding worth abandoning my boys?"

"Hop Sing not abandon them! Hop Sing go to save them!"

Again, that statement could be taken several ways.

"Do you mean to say that your continued presence here threatens them? Or," he moved closer, "do you mean you are going to find them?"

The Asian man's knuckles were white against the brown box he held. He blinked back tears.

"Hop Sing mean both," he answered quietly

Ben placed a hand on his cook's shoulder. "Hop Sing, I know you would never willingly do anything to put Adam, Hoss, or Little Joe in jeopardy. But they are in jeopardy. Running…leaving…will solve nothing. You, old friend, hold the key to unlocking this mystery. Whoever wrote that note called my boys your 'children'. It's true. They think of you as a surrogate or second father. Part of what they are – the men they will become – is due to your loyalty and positive influence." His fingers tightened on Hop Sing's raw silk shirt. "If you truly love my sons, you owe them – and me – the truth."

Hop Sing dropped his head. "It will bring much shame upon the name of Cartwright."

"I don't care one whit about the name of Cartwright!" Ben snapped. "Whoever wrote that note has my sons! Their very lives are in peril!"

The Asian man remained silent for a dozen heartbeats before he nodded. Hop Sing placed the box on the porch. Then he reached into his jacket pocket and produced the locket from the kitchen shrine.

As he opened it and handed it to him, he said, "This is Missy Clare. Sebastian Stephens' only daughter."

"And?" Ben asked as he stared at the lovely, if haunted face within the frame.

Hop Sing sighed.

"This one killed her."

oooooooooo