EIGHT

oooooooooo

The storm had not relented, but they set out anyway.

Ben Cartwright turned left and then right, eyeing his two sons who rode to either side of him, their expressions as grim as he imagined his was. Hoss and Adam had urged him to stay put. They were worried about him. In their young eyes he was an old man and they were afraid he would take a chill. Little did they know a chill had already settled on his heart. It was no secret that he and his youngest son had a special bond. Adam and Hoss accepted it without jealousy, for which he was eternally grateful. It wasn't that he loved Joseph any more than he did his two older boys, it was just that Joseph – well – needed him more. And not only because the boy was so young.

As he told Adam, Joseph's wounds went deep. At times he feared they would never heal and that the constant pain his son felt, and the anger it engendered, would drive his youngest in the wrong direction. It was why he kept the boy on as tight a leash as he could without breaking his spirit. Ben grinned, thinking of his youngest dragging in at the end of another long day of thankless jobs. He would never let on, but he often did that on purpose – gave Joe the jobs that would push him to the point of exhaustion. Each day that boy fell into bed whole and hearty was another day he gave thanks to the Lord above.

And another step on Joseph's path to manhood.

As he rode, collar up, hat down, and face into the wind and rain, the rancher considered the three sons the Lord had blessed him with. He often wondered what each of them would have become if their mothers had lived. Adam, he thought, would have been much the same – the thinker and scholar, a lover of books and all things artistic. Hoss, as well, he thought would have remained much as he was, close to nature, gentle, big-hearted and generous.

Joseph?

Joseph, with his impulsive nature, fiery temper and tendency toward self-indulgence, might have turned out to be a very different man. He had loved Marie with all his heart, but his New Orleans Bell was not like Elizabeth or Inger. Both had been mature for their age. Both, wise, well-tempered women. He had chosen them in his youth when he had been much like his third boy – when he had been the one who needed to learn restraint. In his old age, he had fallen for a beauty who had begun their relationship by almost running him down with her horse, and ended it by dying under the hooves of her own intemperate steed.

In many ways, Marie had been as much of a child as her son.

He'd watched her with Joseph. Marie loved the boy more than life and doted on him. In some ways, she spoiled Joseph as much as he spoiled her. If Marie had lived – if Joseph had grown up...entitled... Ben blew out a sigh and watched it float away as mist on the breeze. He knew young men of wealth like that.

Knew them. Didn't like them.

But then again, perhaps he was being unfair to Marie. She was a good woman – as good as it got. She had taken Adam and Hoss under her wing and treated them as if they were her own. Much of what was good in Joseph reflected what his mother had been – passionate, caring, determined and daring. He loved that boy with all of his heart.

And he knew he was in danger.

When he told Adam that, his older son had snorted. 'When isn't he?' he'd replied, affection coloring his voice and taking the edge off the remark.

It was who Joseph was – his mother's son in every way. He could only pray the Lord saw fit to take him from the Earth beforehe did Marie's boy.

"I can see a light, Pa. I think we might be gettin' close."

The rancher peered into the distance. Nothing looked familiar. The rain was falling in sheets and there was a thick mist that covered the land. Their horses were nervous and started each time the lightning struck and the thunder rolled, but they were sturdy dependable animals and they held their ground.

"We're taking a chance, Pa, ain't we?" Hoss asked. "Assuming Joe went on to Miz Bolden's, I mean."

Ben glanced at Adam. His older son met his gaze, his own troubled.

"It's a fair guess, son. And remember, it's Missus Throckmorton now. Your brother would know Lee would welcome him and that she..." He drew a breath, "That she would know how to care for any injuries he had."

"What about that other gal?"

The older man could still see the small, feminine footprints painted in blood. There was no way of knowing who the woman was – someone being held like Joseph or a cohort of the man who had taken him, though it seemed she had helped his son escape.

Sadly, he knew all too well that appearances could be deceiving.

"We'll find out when we find your brother."

The big man turned his face up into the rain. "I sure wish God had seen fit to give us a dry day for trackin'."

He did as well, but as well continued to reassure himself that there was a reason and a purpose in their delay.

Which was a good thing, because at that moment a bullet whizzed past within a hair's breadth of Ben Cartwright's white head.

Buck – as he had thought before – was a sturdy, dependable animal, but even sturdy, dependable animals can be startled.

Ben hauled back on the reins in an attempt to restrain his mount, but it did no good. With a snort and a shriek, the buckskin reared. Unprepared, Ben struck out for a handhold. Finding only the wet sodden leather of his saddle horn, his fingers failed to catch it and he was tossed to the ground. Instantly aware that death awaited him, the rancher rolled out from under his horse's thundering hooves. As he did he heard Adam shout and Hoss reply. More bullets flew. Buck reared again and backed up. Ben put up a hand as he saw a hoof coming toward him.

And then everything went black.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Everything was black.

There were no stars. There was no moon. There was nothing but mist and darkness and it ate at her soul.

Lee Bolden Throckmorton drew in a deep breath and let the curtain fall. Trock was out there somewhere. He'd insisted on checking the yard and then fanning out to make certain they were alone – that this Ahab, whoever he was, was not already in place and watching them. It frightened her that Trock was frightened. He was a strong man. She'd watched him face down Gavin, who was like a rabid dog, that first time they met and not even blink when the man threatened to kill him. Lee shuddered. Gavin was one of those men who needed no provocation to kill – he simply liked it. Trock had saved her life that night as well as Joe Cartwright's. Gavin had been a devil who had hungered to see Joe dead.

The raven-haired beauty turned and looked over her shoulder at the slender form writhing on the bed she had shared with her late husband.

"Please, God," she whispered. "Don't let Hell have it's way."

Leaving the window, Lee moved across the room and took a seat on the bed beside Joe's sweat-soaked form. Reaching out, she took his hand and held it as he thrashed from side to side. It had been nearly five years since she'd taken her late husband's medical bag out and treated the bullet wound Trock had in his shoulder. Once, about two years back, she'd gone to town and replaced a few of the items in it, making sure she had what she thought she needed on hand. Of course, she wasn't a doctor – just the late wife of a dead one. There had been certain things she couldn't replace, laudanum among them since she needed a prescription for it.

Lee's gaze went to the table beside the bed. The small blue bottle on it was empty.

There was nothing left to help Joe with the pain.

He was muttering and talking under his breath. Most of the time the words made no sense, though she caught a few that did. Joe had called for his pa and his brothers. He'd groaned and told them it 'hurt'. Once, and this had scared her the most of all, he'd spoken a few words in another language. It took her a moment, but she realized it was French. Little Joe was talking to his maman.

His maman who was dead.

It had been about that time that Trock had left. He'd assured her before he did that it was the fever talking and that Joe would be all right. 'He's young', he said, 'and strong.' Well, her Tom had been fairly young and very strong and that had meant nothing in the face of the invisible enemy that cut him down. Joe's wounds were infected and there was almost nothing she could do about it. He needed a doctor – a real doctor – and not a doctor's wife. Trock said it was too dangerous to go to town. That..Ahab...was out there somewhere. Her husband said he didn't want Joe to die, but even more he refused to let her die.

A sudden tug on her hand made her look down. Joe had pulled his legs up and turned over onto his side as if folding into himself might relieve the pain. Tears filled her eyes as she listened to him moan and felt him shudder.

"I can help," a small quiet voice said.

Lee turned to look toward the door. The girl – Hadley – had retreated to the room they'd given her and had not come out at all, not even to eat. At times, she thought she'd imagined her.

Lee glanced at Joe and then back to the girl. "What do you mean, you can help him?"

"I know how to..." She drew a breath. "I was taught how to break a man. How to bring pain and take it away, only to bring it again." Hadley bit her lip as her eyes went to Ben Cartwright's young son. "The house I worked in was run by the Chinese. There are certain places you can put pressure."

Lee hesitated. She remembered the young man's reaction before when she had touched him. " Don't you think you've...done enough?"

The girl wrapped her arms about her slight frame and moved to look out the window. Lee could see the pounding, pouring rain beyond her. "Is your husband still out there?" she asked.

"Yes. Why?"

Hadley turned to look at her. "Ahab is out there too."

"You don't know that for sure. That's what Trock went out to find – "

"He's there." She shivered. "I'm here, so he's there."

Lee rose to her feet and approached the girl. "What are you to him?"

Hadley laughed. "Me? Nothing...and everything."

"What does that mean?"

"I'm nothing to him. He would squash me like an insect underfoot – he will for what I have done." She laughed and the sound of it was bitter. "That's what I mean. I am everything because he won't stop until I'm dead." Hadley closed her eyes for a moment and then crossed over to where Joe lay. Gently, like a lover, she reached out and touched his cheek. "I chose this man over him and he will make both of us pay."

Lee followed her. "Joe is very special."

The other woman held her gaze. "He's dying. And it's because of what I did."

"What that monster made you do –"

Her dark head shook. "You're very kind, but, no. I did it because it is what I do. Like I told you, it's what I am. What...I have always been."

"You had another life, before...didn't you? Or have you always been with...him?"

Hadley's fingers moved to Little Joe's hair, working their way into the thick, dark curls. "Once, long ago. But I turned my back on it. I wanted – I craved excitement and danger." She sighed. "Well, I found both."

"What about your parents? Have you tried to contact them?"

The girl's dark eyes flicked to her face. "I'm a whore. They're good people."

"Good people who loved their daughter?" she asked, her voice gentle.

"Loved, yes." Hadley hesitated a moment and said, "Please, sit at his side. Take his hand. Talk to him."

"What are you going to do?"

"I was a child when I was put to work. At first, there was great pain," she said as she moved to the end of the bed and sat down. "The only kindness I knew came from the older women. They had ways of taking the pain away." Hadley lifted the cover, exposing Joseph's legs. As Lee watched she took hold of his right leg, cupping his heel in her palm. Then, with her thumbs, she began to apply pressure. Again, she said, "Talk to him. He needs to think it is you and not...me. Joe needs to believe that he is in the hands of someone he trusts. There's another thing the women taught me."

Lee waited and then she asked, "And what was that?"

"That healing comes as much from within as without."

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Ben groaned back to consciousness. As he did, he became aware of a heated conversation going on not all that far away from him. Lifting his head, he turned in that direction but could see nothing other than a hide wall, suggesting he was in some kind of a tent.

"Pa? You okay?"

It took a moment. "...yes. Hoss, is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me, Pa. It's dark as midnight under a skillet in here, ain't it?"

He tried to shift and sit up, but found that he was bound in such a way that he couldn't. "And just where is 'here', son?"

"I ain't rightly sure, Pa, but I am sure I'd rather be any other place."

The rancher grunted his agreement. "What happened? Do you know?"

"Only that about a half-dozen men came out of nowhere, guns blazin'." Hoss paused. "We saw you go down under Buck's hooves, Pa. Adam and me, we sure was scared."

"Adam?" Panic seized him. "Where is your brother?"

He sensed more than saw his son nod his head. "That's him out there, puttin' up a fight."

Ben shook his head to try to clear it. "Adam is arguing with our captors?"

"I don't know how, Pa, but big brother knows 'em. At least one of 'em. He called him by name."

"Name. What name?"

"Haywood. Sanders, or maybe Sunders. That was his Christian name."

It sounded familiar, but he couldn't place it. "I can't say I know him."

"Adam sure did. Older brother went white and then red. You know how he gets when his dander's up."

"Why was your brother angry?"

Hoss sighed. "Sorry, Pa. I don't know. Adam started shoutin' and then all Hell – pardon me, sir – but all Hell done broke loose. Adam went for the man and I started swingin' and then, gol-darnit! if someone didn't swing back harder."

"And you woke up here?"

"Sure did – and I can tell you I sure was happy to see you when I did. Even if you do look a little worse for wear."

He knew his head had been bleeding. He could feel blood congealed along his scalp and the side of his face and he had one – pardon him, too! – Hell of a headache.

"You didn't see your brother – Joseph, I mean – did you?"

"Not a sight or sound, Pa. I don't think these men got him." Hoss paused. "Matter of fact, I got the impression they was after the same man we was, you know, the one who took Joe?"

"After Ahab...Malachi Tollivar?" He was still stunned to find out Dan had had a son, and even more amazed that the man was a devil.

"Yes, sir. That Haywood fellow was shoutin' right back at brother, Adam, mad as a wet hen." His son hesitated. "Pa?"

"Yes?"

"Joe ain't here, but that there Sunders feller mentioned him."

Ben was astonished. "How would he know your brother?"

"I cain't rightly say, but seemed to me – and I know this sounds crazy – that he thought Joe was somehow in cahoots with that there Ahab feller."

Ben's head was reeling. "What?"

"I told you it sounded crazy."

Ben closed his eyes to collect his thoughts. "Let me get this straight. These men – led by this Haywood – came out of nowhere shooting at us. They took us captive and then one of them got into an argument with your older brother about your younger brother?"

"Sort of, though they was yellin' afore Joe's name came up. I got me the idea that Adam thought he'd been used somehow."

The older man sighed. "Well, I suppose we will have to wait until we can talk to your older brother before we can sort it all out. Idle speculation will get us nowhere."

Hoss fell silent for a moment. "Pa?"

His head was throbbing. He had lowered it back to the ground. "Yes, son?"

"I heard that there Haywood feller mention another name. He was mighty angry when he did."

"Oh? And what name was that?"

"Throckmorton. Paul Throckmorton."

Every muscle in Ben's body tensed. He had warned Joe when he went to the territorial prison to testify on the behalf of the man who had held him hostage and nearly gotten him killed that there would be a price to pay.

Paul Throckmorton. Trock.

Lee Bolden's new husband.

He could only pray the price would not be his young son's life.

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Adam Cartwright was enraged.

No, he was outraged.

"You can't believe we had anything to do with that!" he exclaimed. "You're talking about murder!"

The man standing before him was unmoved. He was a domineering and powerful man, used to having his way or, if he couldn't have it, buying it. He didn't like him. In fact, he hadn't liked him when he had first met him, but he didn't have to like a man to work for him. Sunders Symington Haywood was the man who'd employed him in San Francisco several months before to design his new indestructible building. And now he knew why. It had nothing to do with his talent.

And everything to do with Little Joe.

"I've read the transcripts of the trial and the parole hearing, Cartwright. I know your brother was an accomplice to my son's death."

"Joe was a child when your son died!"

"Was murdered," the older man corrected, his tone sharp. "Whether or not he was present at the scene – or a cohort of my son's killer at the time – makes no difference. It was your brother's testimony that got him out of prison. Now, you explain to me why if he was not complicit!"

Adam's head was spinning. Haywood was talking about Paul Throckmorton, the former bank robber Lee Bolden had married and taken to her bed. Apparently Sunders had hired him so he could learn more about the Ponderosa and Joe. Unwittingly, he had supplied the man with a mountain of information. He didn't realize it until now – just how much he had talked about home, as if his heart was still on the ranch in Nevada.

And maybe it was.

"You never mentioned Throckmorton until now," Adam shot back. "It was always the other man, the one known as Ahab."

"Whose father was in your father's employ and, according to all accounts, one of his best friends." Haywood's muddy brown eyes narrowed. "Really, Cartwright, do you take me for a fool?"

"What possible reason could I or my father or little brother have for wanting your son dead?"

Haywood stepped closer. He was a big man, probably as tall as Hoss and half as wide. He was used to using his body as well as his money to intimidate and he tried it now.

"Don't play games with me, Cartwright. I know what men of wealth are about – I am one! I know the games they play; games of intimidation, or power." Sunders paused. "Or have you forgotten that you and I met before?"

Adam scowled. "When?"

"Most likely you don't remember. You were just a lad. Your father had come to Sacramento looking to seal a land deal that would have expanded his growing empire by half. I bid against him." The wealthy man snorted. "He lost."

"And you think my father would have harmed your son? Why? To retaliate?" Adam shook his head. "What kind of a monster would do such a thing?"

Haywood leaned in so close the man's breath brushed his day old whiskers. He tapped his own chest. "This kind of monster."

Adam took a step back. He wondered now if Ahab had been put up to taking Little Joe by this maniac. Maybe Haywood was playing both ends against the middle – using Ahab to get to not only Joe but Lee Bolden's new husband. If it was true, in fact, that Throckmorton and Dan's son had once been partners.

Somehow he imagined Haywood had no scruples about lying.

"Look," Adam said, "we both want the same thing – the truth. If Paul Throckmorton was a part of what happened to your son, then he needs to pay for it. So does this Ahab."

"And your brother?"

"I know my brother is innocent of anything other than wanting to give a man a second chance. Let's go to Lee's house together. We can talk it out – "

"And you can warn your brother."

"No! I don't... Joe doesn't need any warning. He'd done nothing wrong. Sunders, I'm sorry your son is dead, but this isn't the way to go about –"

The giant of a man reached out and caught his collar and pulled him up until he was balancing on his toes. "Don't you tell me what I'm about! I know what I'm about! Throckmorton and Tollivar killed my boy. Someone helped them to escape all those years ago and I think it was your father. He hated me for winning out over him. I've watched you Cartwrights, always doing good – always helping. Well, a man only helps himself. There has to be something in it for him! Your father sent that pueling little brother of yours to testify and get Throckmorton released, and then set him up with that woman as a reward for services rendered!" Haywood glared at him and then threw him to the ground. "And don't tell me that its a coincidence that Tollivar happens to show up at the same time!"

It was a coincidence – a terrible coincidence.

One that might get them all killed.