THIRTEEN
oooooooooo
Adam glanced out of the window and acknowledged the rising light with a sigh before twisting in his chair so he could reach the bowl on the bedside table. He plunged the warmed cloth he held into the icy water and wrung it out before replacing it on his brother's feverish brow. He'd thought he'd known what 'tired' was before, but the word was starting to have a whole new definition. Pa had been around for the last few days but had ridden into settlement the night before leaving him to fend for himself. It had been all Roy Coffee could do to tear the older man from Hoss' side, but he'd managed it by reminding Pa that he had to give testimony before the judge if he wanted to see justice done.
Murder. That was the charge.
The black-haired man blew out a breath and ran a hand over his eyes. Normally Hop Sing would be here to help, but since he was in the thick of things, there was no one to left to look after his ailing brother but him.
"Adam?"
Make that 'brothers'.
"Little Joe! For goodness sake! What are you doing out of bed?" Adam demanded as he rose to his feet and headed to the door where Little Joe leaned heavily against the jamb. "And how did you even get out of bed without your crutch?" He'd been careful to put it in the closet and close the door before he left his brother's room.
The little boy glared at him and then dropped his head. Joe muttered something.
"What was that?"
"I crawled."
Adam let out a sigh. "Joe, you know what the doctor said. You're not supposed to be out of bed at all. You could undo everything you've gained by diso…." His voice trailed off as he noted the tears running down his brother's cheeks. Adam knelt before him. "Would you like to see Hoss before I take you back to bed?" he asked, his voice gentle.
Little Joe's curly head bobbed up and down like an autumn apple in a bucket of water.
"I'm going to carry you," Adam declared and then waited for the fight. It didn't come. His brother didn't protest – Joe just waited there, patiently – and that probably scared him more than anything else could. Catching the kid in his arms, the black-haired man crossed over to Hoss' bed and sat down. Once there he let Joe slip off his lap so the little boy could place a hand on the big teen's arm.
A moment later Little Joe turned his tear-streaked face toward him. "Is Hoss gonna be all right?" he asked.
"He'll be okay, buddy. He's just exhausted." Adam ruffled his brother's curls. "Like you."
And like me, he thought.
"How come he won't wake up?"
"Because he needs sleep to heal. That's why the doctor ordered you both to stay in bed."
When Joe spoke again, his voice trembled. "I don't…like to lay in bed, Adam. It's like…. Well…. I don't know if my legs work unless I'm usin' them."
Adam closed his eyes. Thank God they were working! Otherwise the little boy at his side would have been dead. Thinking of it, he pulled his brother closer.
"Hey! You're gonna smother me!"
Adam rose. He swung Joe up and into his arms and then headed for the door. "How about we let your covers do that for me?"
Little Joe fell quiet as he carried him down the hall toward his room. By the time they got there, his little brother's hands were twisted in the fabric of his shirt and Joe's curly head was firmly attached to his shoulder. Adam could feel his brother trembling and wondered what was amiss. They were home. They were safe.
It was over.
It took a moment or two to detach the little boy. After he got him in bed, Adam pulled the covers up to Joe's chin, leaned in and planted a kiss on his furrowed forehead, and headed for the door.
"Adam, will you read me a book?"
The black-haired man pivoted on his heel. He intended to refuse – after all, he was needed in Hoss' room – but the look on Joe's face stopped him. This wasn't about him reading a book, it was about his little brother not being alone.
"Sure, buddy, but it will have to be quick. With Pa and Hop Sing away, I have to take care of Hoss."
"Okay."
Book in hand, Adam crossed back to the bed and sat beside his brother. Little Joe's lower lip was thrust out and he was trembling.
"Joe?"
"Why did Pa have to go into the settlement?" he asked. "And where's Hop Sing?"
His brother didn't know about Pa leaving, or what was going on with Hop Sing, because up until a few hours ago Joe'd been no better off than Hoss. The strain of his injury, coupled with what Sebastian Stephens put him through, had left the little boy exhausted and fevered. Little Joe'd slept for nearly twenty-four hours straight. It was only after baby brother woke up and had been pronounced 'in recovery' by Paul Martin, that Pa had agreed to leave – and then, only to ride into the settlement with Roy, give his testimony, and return as quickly as possible.
Adam hesitated to tell him more. Joe was still pretty weak.
"Why don't you tell me what you remember first, buddy," he said.
"About what happened with Mister Stephens, you mean?"
Adam nodded. Little Joe had been incredibly brave – and incredibly reckless that day.
The kid had taken ten years off his life.
"Yes," Adam replied, careful to maintain an even tone.
Little Joe frowned. Then he reached out and took his hand. Adam placed his other one over his brother's.
"He was gonna shoot me," Joe said, breathless. "If my legs hadn't started working…. If I hadn't been able to move and get out of the way…."
Adam shuddered. He could see it happening now – Sebastian Stephens pointing the barrel of his gun right between the little boy's eyes.
xxx
Smoke hung in the air along with the acrid scent of gunpowder.
Adam saw his father stiffen at the sound. He watched the older man fight the urge to turn and run for his baby. It took everything that was in him, but Pa knew whatever had happened to Little Joe had already happened. He had another son to save. Stephen's gun had more rounds in it.
Hoss was within a hair's breadth of dying.
"Adam, check on your brother," Pa breathed between clenched teeth.
Stephen's gun swung in his direction. "Move and you'll be next."
The light was rising. The place where Little Joe lay had become blanketed with leafy shadows. He couldn't see his brother. Couldn't tell if Joe was alive or…not.
"You can't win," Pa said, his voice tight. "You can't kill all of us."
"I don't need to kill all of you. Just your sons," the Easterner snarled.
"Why, Sebastian? Why? You'll end your life in prison or, even worse, at the end of a rope. Is it worth it? Harming…murdering my boys won't bring your children back." The older man's voice broke with emotion. "Clare and Ethan were adults. Old enough to live their own lives and make their own choices. The only crime Hop Sing is guilty of is having your daughter fall in love with him."
"My daughter did not love that chink! He took her from me with his potions and lies!"
"Mister Stephens wrong," Hop Sing said as he moved forward.
"Stay where you are, coolie!"
The Asian man halted. "This one tell your daughter it will not work. He beg her to remain at home. She would not listen. Missy Clare say she is a caged lark that wishes to fly free."
"You're lying!" Stephens shouted.
Adam glanced at the darkness beneath the tree again and then his gaze returned to Hoss. Stephens had his brother by the arm and held the gun against his head. The madman's hand was shaking, whether from fear or rage he had no idea.
"This unworthy one does not lie," Hop Sing continued as he took another step forward. Bending, he laid his weapon on the ground. "Let Mistah Cartwright and boys go. It is this one you want."
The Easterner glared at him. "No."
"Yes. Mister Stephens say this unworthy one kill his children. Then it only right he kill this unworthy one."
Stephens was vacillating, swinging the gun from him to Pa, and then back to Hoss. Finally, he came to decision.
He let Hoss go.
As his brother plunged to the ground, the Easterner raised the weapon, pointed it straight at Hop Sing, and cocked the trigger.
At that moment a very loud and very long 'Noooooooo!' rang out and a four-foot-four seventy-three pound missile barreled out of the trees. Little Joe was on his feet and uninjured. He ran past Hop Sing and their father and threw himself at Sebastian Stephens' knees. Stephen's gun went off but the bullet went wide, striking a distant tree. For a moment he and Hoss and Pa and Hop Sing remained where they were, stunned by the unexpected turn of events. It was only when the Easterner reached down and back-handed Little Joe, that the spell was broken. The little boy fell backwards and lay still. Sensing an opportunity, Sebastian Stephens dove for his gun.
He never made it.
One again, gun-smoke filled the air, but this time the bullet came from Hop Sing's revolver. The Asian man stared at the smoking weapon for several heartbeats before his knees turned to jelly and he and it dropped to the ground.
"Go to Hop Sing," his father said, briefly touching his shoulder. "I need to check on Hoss and Joe."
Adam glanced at the big teen on his way and was pleased to see that middle brother was awake and strong enough to give him a tight smile and a nod. Little Joe was still laying on the ground, but Pa was headed for him, so he whispered a prayer and let it go and continued on to Hop Sing.
When he got to the Asian man's side, Adam crouched beside him and reached out. "Are you all right?" he asked.
"This one does not matter."
Hop Sing's gaze was fixed on his father. Pa was standing up. He had Little Joe in his arms.
"Joe will be okay," he replied, praying his words were true. "I think he hit his head when he fell."
Tears streaked the Asian man's face. "Only reason he not dead is Little Joe able to walk again. When he walk, he put himself in danger! Little boy risk his life for this unworthy one."
"And for Pa and Hoss and me," he said. "That's what family does."
Hop Sing appeared stunned. He looked at him. "This one is not family."
"Of course you are!"
"No." His tone was adamant. "This unworthy one bring only shame…danger…to the house of Cartwright. He must go. Not belong here anymore."
"Nonsense."
Adam looked up to find his father standing over them. Little Joe was in his arms. The older man had thrown his coat around the little boy and held him close. Joe's fingers were stroking Pa's chin, so he was awake – and alive.
Thank God!
"Joseph risked his life to save you," Pa said. "By calling yourself 'unworthy', you demean not only his courage but his love."
Hop Sing lowered his head. "This one cannot remain. He is without honor."
"Do what you must," Pa said as he began to walk away. "But know you are always welcome at the Ponderosa."
Adam was still on his haunches. "Hop Sing?"
The Asian man looked at him.
"What is the meaning of 'honor'?" he asked. When Hop Sing said nothing, he went on. "Does it mean running from what is difficult, or facing up to it? Does it mean fleeing, going far away where no one knows what you have done, or living day to day in the face of bad choices and making them right?" Adam paused, collecting his thoughts. "It seems to me that a man who seeks to be honorable must walk many difficult roads."
Hoss appeared beside them. "Hop Sing. Pa sent me. Little Joe's cryin' and he's askin' for you. He wants to know that you're okay."
Hop Sing remained as he was for a moment and then rose slowly to his feet. His gaze moved past Hoss to the cave mouth where Sebastian Stephens' body lay.
"This one tell Little Joe he okay. Then find Deputy Coffee. Turn self in."
Adam shot to his feet. "Hop Sing, you don't have to do that. You saved our lives."
"Yeah, Hop Sing," Hoss said. "We'll tell Mister Roy it was self-defense."
The Asian man looked from him to his brother and back.
"This one thanks you, but difficult road to honor must begin with first step of truth."
xxx
Joe's grip was fierce.
"Is that all you remember?" Adam asked. "That Stephens was going to shoot you?"
Wide-eyed Little Joe nodded.
"What's the next thing you remember?"
"Pa holding me. Hop Sing saying 'goodbye'." Tears entered his brother's eyes. "Is Hop Sing ever coming back?"
Adam wasn't quite sure how to answer that. The Asian man had made no promises before climbing into the wagon and heading for the house where they met up with Roy Coffee and Lucas Painter. Their cook and housekeeper sat in the great room and admitted to shooting Sebastian Stephens with the intent to kill. There were mitigating circumstances, of course – like the fact that Stephens had kidnapped and intended to murder the three of them – and he had Pa to speak for him, but Hop Sing was Chinese and Stephens was white. He'd be lucky if a mob didn't rise up to lynch him.
Hop Sing might just have to leave.
"I can't answer that, buddy," he replied honestly. "We can only hope and pray."
"Can we do that now?"
Adam nodded. He wasn't the most comfortable praying out loud, but he could do it. As he knelt beside his brother's bed and took Joe's small hands in his own, he heard the front door open.
Joe's eyes were open too.
"Is that Pa?" his brother asked.
"I think so," he said as he rose and headed for the door. A sound alerted Adam to the fact that his little brother was climbing out of bed, ready to follow. "Whoa. Whoa!" he said turning back. "You stay right there. I'll bring Pa up to you."
"Ah, Adam…."
"'Ah, Adam', yourself. Pa will have my hide if he sees you out of bed."
Little Joe's lips curled at the ends as he settled back. "It'd be kind of funny to see you skinned."
There was a pillow conveniently close.
Joe almost ducked in time.
oooooooooo
Ben Cartwright tossed his hat on the credenza and then removed his gun belt and coiled it beside it. He was weary to the bone. The normal time to cover the twenty mile ride to the settlement was four to five hours. He'd made it both ways in a little over three. Forgoing the fire and his comfortable chair – as well as the enticing flask of brandy beside it – the rancher started up the stairs just as his eldest appeared at the top and started down.
"How are your brothers?" he asked.
"They're good, Pa. Hoss is resting and Little Joe's awake and asking for you."
Ben nodded. "And how are you?"
"Me, Pa? I'm fine."
They both had a chuckle over that.
Adam looked beyond him. "Where's Hop Sing? Is he with you?"
"No. He's still at the jail speaking with the judge. I wanted to get home. I'm…worried about your brothers."
"Is he…." Adam paused. "Are they going to hold him?"
Ben shook his head. "I honestly don't know. I spoke up for him. I told the judge what Stephens had done to you and your brothers. I assured him we were all in mortal peril and Hop Sing took that shot to save us."
"But…."
He sighed. "Hop Sing is his own worst enemy. He said he shot Stephens deliberately. What the judge is trying to determine is, first of all, the course of events and, secondly, the motive behind the shooting. They were waiting on Roy. At the last minute he was called away."
"Little Joe's pretty upset."
The older man eyed his eldest son. "Does he remember everything that happened?"
"No. Just Stephens pointing the gun at him and then you holding him. I guess that knock on the head took the rest of it. But that's not what he's upset about. He's worried Hop Sing is not coming back."
Ben nodded. His youngest had a deep-seated fear of abandonment brought on by the loss of his mother at such a tender age. When Marie died and he lost his way, for a time Adam became his brother's rock. Then, Adam left. Joseph had been crushed when his eldest went to college. The boy had wept for weeks on end and experienced nightmares nearly every night. It had been Hop Sing, with his quiet spirit and soothing ways, who had stepped in to fill the void and brought both behaviors to an end.
He had no idea what it would do to his youngest child if Hop Sing left as well.
"I'll go up and check in on Hoss, and then I'll talk to Joe."
Once upstairs the rancher stopped at his middle boy's door to listen. He could hear Hoss snoring away. Opening the door he went inside and crossed to the bed where he laid a hand on the boy's forehead to check for fever. It was there but much lower than when he'd left, for which he whispered a quick prayer of thanks before moving on to his youngest's room. Ben was a bit surprised not to be greeted as he opened the door. That was before he realized Joseph had cried himself to sleep. The boy's pillow was soaked, so he lifted him up by the shoulders and held him as he turned and repositioned it. Then he sat down in the chair beside bed. There were moments when it seemed a dream, having all three of his boys back safe and fairly sound. There were moments as well when he wanted to blame Hop Sing for what had happened – for keeping secrets – but they were brief. Every man, each woman, had things in their past that were not to be spoken of, even to the people they were the closest with. He knew what grief he had suffered with the death of each of the women he had loved.
He couldn't imagine losing one of them at the end of a gun.
Lowering his head, Ben closed his eyes, clasped his hands together, and began to pray.
oooooooooo
The next thing the rancher knew, the sun was creeping in the window. Ben blinked and sat up and put a hand to his aching back. Sleeping in a chair at his age – no matter how comfortable – was less than desirable. He stretched before glancing at his youngest son's bed. For a moment, he couldn't find the boy and he was sure he'd been disobeyed yet again, but then he realized Little Joe was cocooned in bed linens from head to toe. Only a few wisps of chestnut-brown hair showed at the top. Taking hold of the covers Ben pulled them down to make sure the boy could breathe; then he left the room and headed downstairs for a cup of coffee to clear away the cobwebs.
Adam was already seated at the table. His son had a newspaper in his hand, which he quickly put down when he caught sight of him. Ben smiled. He had a rule about not reading at the table.
As he took his seat and reached for the coffee pot, the rancher asked, "Anything interesting?"
Adam made a face. "There's another article about the Foreign Miner's License Tax. Do they think anybody is really fooled? It's just another way to oppress the Chinese." His son's disgust with the politicians was clear. "If I live to be one hundred, I will never understand why people hate a man just because of the color of his skin."
"People fear what is different, what they don't understand, son."
"Well, then, why don't they learn to understand? Instead of chasing someone like Hop Sing away, why don't they get to know him? Invite him to dinner or something?"
Ben hid his smile. Adam was young and impassioned as he once had been. Perhaps, in time, young men like him would make a difference.
His son grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, Pa."
"Never apologize for compassion, son."
Adam nodded. "Are you hungry? I've got some hotcakes on the griddle."
"Sounds wonderful. I'll just…." Ben's voice trailed off. He frowned. "Was that a wagon?"
"Sounds like it."
He rose to his feet. "You get the hotcakes. I'll get the door."
By the time the rancher got there someone was knocking. It was early for anyone to be out and about. If they'd come from the settlement, they would have to have left before the sun was up. Ben glanced at his gun, wondering if he should pick it up. After a moment he decided he was being overly-cautious and, instead, opened the door.
Roy Coffee tipped his hat. "Mornin', Ben."
His gaze went past the lawman. Hop Sing was seated in the wagon.
"Roy? What is this about?"
The lawman turned and gestured. "Hop Sing, you get over here!"
At first, the Asian man didn't move. Then he began a slow dismount.
"I brung him back to you. Ben. He was ready to light out of town."
"Did the judge let him go?"
Roy nodded. "One of Stephens' men came forward. Seems to me he might have been one of yours too. Goes by the name of Pratt Shade?"
Ben nodded. He'd wondered what had become of Pratt. The dead body Hop Sing had stumbled over was his partner, Bush Sears. From what Adam had told him about the pair and their actions, he was more than happy to see the back of both of them!
"Shade told the judge how Stephens paid him and Sears to kidnap your young'uns and then ordered them to kill 'em. He said Stephens killed Sears for not doin' what he told him to, so that makes him a murderer." Roy looked at his housekeeper, who by this time had made it to their side. "Seems Hop Sing here did the settlement a service getting' rid of him."
Ben's eyes were on the Asian man. "And there were no repercussions?"
Roy pushed his hat back. "Not so's you can say, but I think it'd be smart to keep Hop Sing on the Ponderosa until everythin' dies down. Sad to say, some people ain't too fond of the Chinese and there's folks spreadin' rumors that everythin' he said is a lie."
"Hop Sing tell nothing but the truth," the Asian man said.
"That you did, Hop Sing, and I'm right proud of you for it. Tellin' the truth shows a man who respects the law." Roy took a step toward the wagon. "I gotta get goin', Ben, but afore I do I wanted to ask after your boys. How are they? How's Hoss and Little Joe?"
Ben noticed how closely Hop Sing listened. "Recovering. Given time, they'll both be all right."
"Glad to hear it." The deputy turned to the other man. "Now, you listen to me, Hop Sing. You stay put for your own good. I don't want to see you in the settlement 'til next spring!"
"Hop Sing not hide."
"I ain't askin' you too. I'm askin' you to take it careful. We wouldn't want anythin' happenin' to you." Roy shot him a look. "Now would we, Ben?"
He held his old friend's gaze. "No, we wouldn't."
As Ben closed the door behind Hop Sing, Adam came out of the kitchen, hotcakes in hand. They – and his son – looked a little…singed…around the edges. At almost the same instant there was a shout and an exclamation from the top of the stairs. Hoss was there. He was wearing his green check night shirt and grinning like a fool. The big teen had his little brother in hand – or he did until Joseph broke loose and bolted down the stairs. The little boy's legs were wobbly at best and he stumbled about halfway down and would have fallen the rest of the way if not for the fact that Hop Sing practically flew up the steps to catch him.
"Such foolishment!" the Asian man declared as he gathered Little Joe in his arms and turned to look at Hoss. "What little boys do out of bed?! Little boys sick, Hop Sing have to take care of them and he have no time! Many days away! Have many things to do!" His next target was Adam, who was standing by the sofa table snickering. "What number one son laugh at? What you do in kitchen? Boy not know how to cook!. He burn house down!" Ben stifled a laugh as his eldest stuttered an apology and began to back out of the room.
But Hop Sing was not done.
The finger pointed at him next.
"Why Mistah Ben laugh? Dark rivers run under eyes. He look like old man. Where you sleep last night?!"
Ben cleared his throat. "In a chair…."
"In chair like baby." The finger wagged. "Not baby. Old man! You sleep in bed tonight!"
"Hop Sing?"
The Asian man looked down at the little boy in his arms. "What number three son want?"
Without warning, his youngest son threw his arms around the Asian man's neck. "Nobody can yell like you! It's great to have you home!"
Ben wondered what Hop Sing would do. He was worse than Adam when it came to a show of affection. To his surprise, the Asian man responded by pulling his small son into a tighter embrace.
Then he looked at him.
"Hop Sing happy to be home as well."
oooooooooo