ELEVEN

oooooooooo

Joe Cartwright woke to the sound of voices. He shifted and attempted to move, only to find out that his hands were bound behind his back and his feet tied together. He closed his eyes for a second, gathering strength, and then tried to move his feet. He couldn't. The rope had been passed around them and then around the leg of a heavy wooden bed, before being wrapped around his ankles again and tied...again.

He wasn't going anywhere.

Rolling onto his back, Joe lay there looking at the ceiling for a full minute assessing his situation. He was in a house. A real house this time, and not a cabin. It looked...abandoned. The bed was about the only piece of furniture in the room and there were light places on the walls where pictures had been removed. The air was stale and musty as if the house had been shut up for some time. As to him, he was laying on the floor and felt like he'd been wrung out, hung up, and left to dry. As Joe ran his tongue over his dry, chafed lips, he took mental note of everything that hurt and that was...

Everything.

He still had a fever, though it was a low one, and the cuts on his skin were burning as they healed. The remnants of the first – and second – beating he had taken were still with him, but there was new pain. It took him a moment to remember, but then he did. He and Hadley had been running, and then he had run into a fist big and powerful as Hoss' and gone out.

Oh, yeah, his chin hurt too.

As he lay there, Joe began to listen. He could hear a man talking. His voice was gruff and low-pitched, so he couldn't catch the words. Every once in a while a woman would speak – well, cry out. Sometimes it sounded like she was pleading. Other times, like she was mad. But there was one thing for sure she wasn't.

And that was winning.

Suddenly, there was a loud thud. Something hit the door of the room he was in - hard. Ten seconds later it opened inward and a woman tumbled in and lay motionless on the floor. Her face was hidden by the long dark hair that fanned out around her, but he knew who she was.

It was Hadley. So that meant...

Ahab stepped over her body as if she was a pile of refuse and headed for him.

Joe planted his teeth in his lower lip and levered himself up as best he could. By the time he finished, he was half-sitting against the bedpost

Anyone would have told you he wasn't one to face death lying down.

Ahab towered over him. His eyes were cold but sparked like flint on steel with an unholy joy.

"You know what, boy?" he asked.

His reward for not answering was a kick in the thigh. Joe planted his teeth in his lip again, bore the pain, and then glared every hateful thing he could think of at his captor.

The bully snorted and then crouched before him. "High and mighty Joseph Cartwright, son of Ben, bows before no man, eh?" Ahab turned and looked at Hadley where she lay on the floor. "How's about I ask her?"

Joe winced. "Leave her alone."

"Answer my question."

"Okay." Joe spit out a little blood and then straightened up against the post. "No, I don't know 'what'. Why don't you tell me?"

"I always win."

Joe's green eyes narrowed. "Not always," he countered quietly.

The other man's yellow-gray brows danced. "No?"

"No. The Devil will when I send you to Hell."

Ahab stared at him and then he threw his head back and bellowed. A moment later his derisive laughter died away and he grew sober. "I'm gonna regret killing you, kid."

"Then why do it?" Joe paused. "Let me go. Once my pa gets me back, he'll forget about lookin' for you and you'll have the money. That's what you want, isn't it? Money?"

The big man sneered. "Most of the time, but not this time."

Joe closed his eyes against the pain that pounded behind them from both the blow to the chin he had taken and this conversation. He waited for the world to stop spinning. When he opened them again, Ahab was still there.

"You think you got it all, don't you, Joseph Francis Cartwright – looks, smarts, a family that loves you, and a rich pappy who'd make a bargain with St. Nick himself to have you back in one piece.."

Joe hesitated and then he said, wistfully, "Yeah. Yeah, I guess I do have it all."

Then he braced for another blow.

It didn't come. Ahab didn't move. He simply crouched there, studying him.

"Some of us weren't so lucky, kid. My old man deserted me before he was born. Oh, he was around, but all he ever gave me was a cuff to the head and a look that said he wished I'd never been born. But you know how it is with a kid. I made excuses. I told myself that if I ever really needed him, he'd be there for me." The big man frowned. "Goes to show how stupid kids are."

In spite of himself, he wondered. "What happened?"

"I gave him a little test. Told him I needed money or I was dead. I knew he was working for one of the biggest spreads in Nevada. All he had to do was open the safe and take it."

"You asked your father to steal for you?"

"He owed me!" Ahab snapped. "Knew it too. He agreed...then he changed his mind."

"Because he knew it was wrong."

The man's hand shot out, taking him by the collar and banging his head back into the wall.

"Because of you! Because of a rich, pretty boy who got everything that should have been mine! If it wasn't for you, I'd have my money and be halfway to Mexico and he wouldn't be dead!"

Joe's head was buzzing. He couldn't think straight. In fact, he thought he might pass out. Still, he had to ask.

"How...how did he die?"

A cruel sneer lifted Ahab' upper lip as he moved in close.

"I killed him, kid. Just like I 'm going to kill you."

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Hadley had regained consciousness. She lay on the floor, fighting to keep her breathing under control as she listened to Ahab' tirade. It shamed her now that she hadn't cared before – back when Ahab told her about this job; back on that day when she had admired Joe Cartwright's rippling muscles as he chopped wood in front of his home. Then, Joe had simply been another man to be used as she had been used by other men. Employing her 'talents' had served her well in the past, taking her places and getting her the things she wanted. Now she knew there were men who were unlike any she had ever met. Adam Cartwright was one of them. The man, Trock, another.

And then there was Joe.

Since she believed God didn't hear her it had come as a surprise. After what she had...done...Joe had befriended her. Of course, he didn't remember who she was or what had happened. To him, she was a total stranger and yet, he'd been willing to risk his life to preserve hers. She would never forget him stepping in front of her in the bedroom of Lee Throckmorton's house, placing himself between her and whatever was about to step through the door – and with him injured and barely able to remain on his feet.

She might love him. Still, that didn't matter. If there was one thing she knew for certain, it was that she owed him.

Cautiously, Hadley lifted her head up an inch or so. Ahab was in front of her. He crouched, facing Joe. She couldn't see Joe's face, since it was hidden by her procurer's bulk. She could see how his body shook. Not with fear, she knew, but with fatigue and maybe rage.

"I killed him, kid," Ahab growled. "Just like I 'm going to kill you."

Hadley closed her eyes, partly to steady herself, but also in prayer. "Be careful, Joe Cartwright," she breathed. "Please don't make him mad."

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"Okay," Joe said. "So you hated your father. Maybe you even had a reason. But why do you hate me? What do I have to do with it?"

"My real name ain't Ahab."

"I kind of guessed that," Joe snorted. He watched as Ahab rose to his feet and looked down at him before asking, "So, what is it?"

"Tollivar," he said. "Malachi Tollivar."

It took a second.

"Tollivar? Like in, Dan Tollivar?" Joe swallowed hard. He felt sick. "You mean Dan took that money from my pa because of you?"

"What's the matter, kid? You think I didn't deserve it?" the brute snarled.

Joe's head was spinning. At the time he had thought it odd, if not downright incomprehensible, what Dan had done. Oh, he could understand why the old wrangler was mad at him for refusing to let him go on the drive – maybe even understood what had driven Dan to join up with Temple and Sand to hurt him – but it had never made any sense to him that Dan was willing to betray his father.

This was why. He'd done it for family.

"Look," Joe started slowly, "I'm sorry your life didn't turn out the way you wanted. I...know what it's like when you feel something's come between you and your father." Though, in truth, any separation he had ever felt had come from his own pig-headed reaction to the situation and not from the man who had given him life. "But just because Dan took the money back – "

Faster than lightning, Ahab took him by the throat again. "It was because of you! Because he loved you more than he loved me, you spoiled brat! That old man wasn't willing to let you die even when he knew that by saving you he was sealing my death warrant!"

The man's callused fingers were biting into his neck and cutting off his air. Stars exploded before Joe's eyes as his heartbeat increased, galloping apace with his heightened fear. As the air around him blackened, Joe felt a ridiculous smile curl his lips. He was going to die and not at the hands of a madman.

But at the hands of a wounded and wanting little boy.

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Joe's attention was on Ahab, so she doubted he knew she was awake. Ahab was toying with him. She'd seen it before. He'd talk quiet as anything to his victim and then reach out and snap their neck, feeding off the fear and horror that lit their eyes even as they died.

She couldn't let Joe die.

In her short span of years, Hadley Jones had done nothing for anyone other than herself. It had all been about her – about her pleasure, her ease...her survival. Joe Cartwright was something she could never have expected. He had challenged everything she thought about men – about the world. His honesty and integrity, strength and faith, had awakened something in her she had thought long dead.

He'd brought light into that forest and the butterflies were beginning to mend.

Lifting her weary body up by her hands, Hadley peered through the fringe of black hair that hung in here eyes, all but occluding her vision. Joe was pressed up against the bed post. The sounds coming from his throat were familiar and frightening ones.

Ahab was choking the life out of him.

Hadley knew she didn't have much time, so she climbed to her feet and began to move, careful not to make a sound. There was very little furniture in the room. There was, however, a broken coat rack sitting just about in the middle. As she reached the rack, she glanced at Ahab again. He was in his own world; a world where lust for power and the joy of killing intermingled with loneliness and despair to produce a monster willing to murder.

Taking hold of the rack and lifting it, Hadley Jones – Malachi Tollivar's 'Jezebel' – brought it down on Ahab's head, splintering the wood.

Stunned, the man who owned her – who had owned her – fell to the floor. Blood dripped from his ear and eye. She stood over Ahab, thinking of all that he had done to her – and forced her to do – in her short time with him and then she took her foot and kicked him – and kept kicking him.

She wanted him dead.

"Hadley...no," Joe breathed as he fought for air and struggled to right himself. "That's not...the way."

"He deserves to die!"

"Yes...he does." Joe swallowed. Talking was obviously hard for him. "But not...at your hands. Forget...him. Help me...get away..."

Hadley glared at him – and then at Ahab. It was her choice. The first one she had made since she was free.

Stepping over Ahab's prone form, she knelt beside Joe Cartwright and began to unfasten his bonds.

She only hoped she didn't live to regret it.

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Five minutes later they were stumbling through the trees and headed back toward Lee's. It might not be the smartest or safest destination, but it was the only one his addled brain would let him think of. There was nothing in either direction for miles and though he hated to admit it, he needed help.

So did Hadley.

He was leaning heavily on her. He didn't want to, but he didn't have much of a choice. His injuries were not all that bad – he'd had worse – but the cumulative nature of them was enough to take him down. The fever he had fought off earlier had returned and was licking at the edge of his senses. He knew from the myriad lectures Doc Martin had given him over the years that something as simple as a paper cut could take a man down if the infection got too much of a head start. He needed alcohol to cleanse his wounds and he needed rest.

Lots of rest.

Hadley needed rest too. Though she projected a hard shell, he could tell that on the inside she was a very frightened young woman who had been driven to the brink of exhaustion. He recalled now how he had hesitated to touch her – had been, in fact, repelled by that touch. The memory of whatever it was she had done remained locked in his subconscious. It didn't matter anymore. She'd just saved his life at the risk of her own. If she needed forgiveness, that went a long way toward paying whatever debt it was she owed him.

If it was important enough, one day, God would let him know.

They were both nearly exhausted. Still, though they had left Ahab trussed up as tightly as the vile man had tied him, he wasn't taking any chances. They couldn't stop. He needed to get them to Lee's and then – most of all – he needed what Lee kept in that old medical bag of her husband's.

That, or a doctor.

Hadley came to an abrupt stop and looked back. "I heard him," she breathed, her voice robbed of strength by an all too familiar fear. "I heard Ahab."

"No. It...can't be," he told her. "He can't have...gotten free so...fast."

"He's a devil! I told you!" she countered, and then added in a whisper, "And the Devil takes care of his own."

They hadn't searched him. He supposed the villain could have had a knife in his boot or...something.

"It doesn't...matter," he said. "We have to keep moving no matter what. Lee's place...is a good..." Joe sucked in air. "A good...eight miles from here. We can make it...by sundown if we keep going. We –"

Hadley stiffened and her eyes went wide. She was trembling from head to foot. She reached a hand out toward him and then went limp. As he caught her and lowered her to the ground, he felt something impact his shoulder. He reached for it and when he brought his hand before his face, Joe saw that it was covered in blood.

"I told you, Cartwright," a familiar voice snarled even as he realized he had been knifed.

"I always win."

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Ben Cartwright stopped and held out his hand, halting his middle son in his tracks.

"Did you hear that?" he asked.

They had been on the trail since sunrise and were, he thought, about two miles out from the Kelly's.

"I sure did, Pa. What you suppose it is?"

"I'm not sure," he answered, lowering his tone. "Someone moving through the underbrush. Coming toward us."

Hoss nodded. "That's what I thought too."

"We'd best get out of sight."

The light was going and so the sight that confronted them, while shocking, carried none of the horror it would only minutes later. A large man was walking, leading a horse. Thrown over the saddle was a body. Behind the horse – actually tethered to it by a line leading to his neck – was a bedraggled young man.

A bedraggled young man with a head of chestnut curls.

"Joe!" Hoss exclaimed.

Ben gripped his son's arm as he raised a finger to his lips. He gave his head a quick shake. Hoss' jaw tightened but he nodded, understanding.

The closer the small party came, the more Ben could make out. The man leading the horse was a broad man, not tall but big and powerfully built. His hair was a grizzled yellow-gray and there was something familiar about the way he moved.

"Is that Ahab?" he asked his son. Hoss had seen the man at the cabin. He had not. He'd been in the back room looking for Joe.

His son nodded. "If'n I didn't know better, Pa, I'd o sworn it was old Dan."

Ben looked again. Yes, he could see it, even in the dim light. So this was Dan Tollivar's degenerate son, Malachi. The man who went by Ahab. Ben's near-black eyes went to the body slung over the saddle. It was a woman – a slender young woman, he thought.

"What're we gonna do, Pa? We gotta save Joe!"

"Wait until they pass. We can come up from behind – nearer your brother." He frowned as he watched the trio's rocky progress. "I don't want him caught in the crossfire."

Suddenly and without warning, the man leading the forlorn band drew to a halt. His head moved from side to side and his narrowed eyes darted about.

"Who's out there?" he called as he reached into his coat.

"Daggone it!" Hoss breathed. "He must of heard us!"

Ahab was on the move, headed back toward Joseph; a gun in his hand.

Ben's eyes went to his son. Joe's head was down. He seemed unaware of his surroundings. The boy made no move to back away or struggle at Malachi Tollivar's approach.

That, more than anything else, set his heart flying fast.

"What's wrong with Joe, Pa? How come he ain't fightin'?" his middle son asked.

"He's hurt. Maybe worse than we can tell. Joe –" Ben stopped. A slight chuckle escaped him in spite of the dire moment. As Malachi came abreast him, Joseph had exploded into life, nearly but not quite knocking the other man off his feet.

Unfortunately, now Joseph was in the villain' arms with the business end of his weapon pushed into those glorious brown curls.

"Whoever you are, come out! Come out now or I blow his brains out!"

Hoss was looking at him. "Pa?"

"Stay here," he whispered. "Maybe he doesn't know there's two of us." As his son nodded, Ben sucked in a breath and called out, "Don't harm him! I'm coming!"

Then he stepped out of the trees and into harm's way.

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'Pa, no!' Joe's lips formed the words but no sound came out.

Malachi's hand was around his throat again. The free one – the one that wasn't pushing a gun against his head. All it would take was for the powerfully built man to constrict his fingers and pull that trigger and he'd be dead. Still, that would have been all right if it meant the rest of his family was okay. But his family wasn't okay. Hi pa was standing right in front of him.

Pa, the man Dan's son hated more than he did him for being everything Dan hadn't been.

"So, the great Benjamin Cartwright at last," his captor sneered. "The man my father admired and betrayed."

"Your father made a mistake, just as have you," Pa replied.

Pa's dark brown gaze sought and found his as he spoke. Joe knew those eyes and knew what they were telling him – 'Hold on, son. Your Pa's here. Everything is going to be all right.'

Joe swallowed as Ahab's fingers tightened on his already bruised throat and the stars burst back into view. He closed his eyes, blocking out his father's concern and fear.

'I don't care if I die, jut save my pa,' he prayed feverishly. "Please God, save my pa."

"Don't make another one, Malachi. Let my son go."

"What, and end this charming family gathering?" the brute countered. "Aren't you going to invite your companion to join us?"

Joe saw disappointment flash in his father's eyes even as the man who held him tightened his grip. Who else was here? Adam? Or no, it made more sense that it was Hoss. Adam was at Lee's.

"Come out, Hoss," his father called, his tone defeated.

As his giant of a brother emerged from the trees, Malachi ordered, "Toss your guns down and kick them my way. And then put your hands up. Both of you!"

Hoss complied and then he shot a look his way. In spite of the darkness that was closing around them, he could see his brother clearly and heard him warn, "You hurt Little Joe and I don't care how far you run, Tollivar, I'll find you and break you in half!"

"Not if I shoot you first," Ahab replied, shifting the gun away from his head to point it at his brother.

Two things happened at that moment. Joe didn't know how he did it, but he gripped his captor's arm and wrenched it away from his throat. It had been his intent to spin around and take the man out, but it didn't happen. The fresh wound in his shoulder screamed and instead, he gasped in air and stumbled and landed on his knees.

It was a good thing too because at that moment a shot rang out, taking Malachi Tollivar in the throat.

From his position on the ground, Joe had just enough wherewithal to turn and look at his Pa and brother. Their guns were still on the ground and they both looked as shocked as he felt. He pivoted then, to look behind, meaning to check and see if someone else had stepped out of the trees but the sudden movement – coupled with three days of injuries and the fever he was fighting – was too much.

The last thing Joe saw was his father's face hanging above him.

The last thing he knew, was that he was safe.

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Joe opened his eyes on a sky gone red as blood. For a moment the sight unnerved him, but then he realized it was dawn. He was laying on the ground, wrapped in enough blankets to make a woolly worm's winter cocoon, and laying near a fire. Closing his eyes, he listened. Yes, there it was – the sound of his older brother sawing logs. Joe tried to turn his head to look for Hoss, but the movement set off a series of explosions, so the weary young man contented himself with being warm and closed his eyes again.

He must have fallen asleep, because this time when he opened his eyes the sun was cresting above the tree line and the wind felt warmer on his cheeks.

"So you decided to rejoin the living?" a soft voice asked.

The wounded man blinked and looked up. Whoever it was had the sun behind them. "What?"

A hand landed on his forehead. "Your fever is down, Are you hungry?"

He thought about it a moment. "Not really."

"Well, you should try to eat something soon. You're going to need your strength if we're going to get you home."

That did it – that fatherly you-better-do-as-I-say- or-there-will-be Hell-to-pay tone. "Adam?"

The hand lifted. "Yep."

"Where'd you...come from?" Joe frowned, seeking the memory. "You were at Lee's..."

His brother shifted from his crouching position and sat beside him. "I was. I'm not anymore." The hand rested on his arm. "I'm here with you. Let's just concentrate on that, shall we?"

"Is Lee...okay?"

Adam sighed. "I suppose I will have to fill you in before you'll quiet down?" As he nodded, his older brother sighed. "Some things never change. You always get your way."

Then he grinned.

"It's good to have you back, Joe."

"Where'd I go?"

His brother pursed his lips in that way he had. "Out, for about twelve hours."

Joe tried to sit up. "Where's Pa?"

Adam's hand pressed him back down. "Pa went with Trock to see about Lee." At his look, he added, "She was fine when Trock and I left. Just under guard."

He remembered the other time Lee had been under 'guard' and what that guard had wanted to do to her. "Do you think...she's all right."

"If Trock has anything to say about it, she will be. He's gone to rescue her." Adam leaned over. When his brother straightened up, he had a cup in his hand. "Coffee?" he asked.

Joe shook his head 'no'. His stomach was off. "Just tell me what happened."

Joe listened in amazement to the tale Adam told of arriving at just the right moment to save both Pa and Hoss and set him free. He and Trock had slipped out of the hands of the man who held them – someone named Haywood – and were making their way back when they heard the sound of Malachi Tollivar leading them through the woods.

Them.

Joe choked. "Hadley?" he asked.

Adam's look was guarded. "You didn't ask about Hoss."

That was right. He'd been there too, with Pa. But what did that have to do with Hadley? Maybe he was off somewhere...burying her.

Tears entered his eyes. "She...died for me, Adam. Ahab was gonna kill me and she..." His voice trailed off.

"Joe. Joe, look at me."

He blinked back tears and did as he was told. "Yeah?"

"Hadley isn't dead. Or, at least she wasn't when Hoss took off with her."

"He...what?"

"She needed a surgeon. Pa was afraid if Hoss tried to take both of you to town, that...well...Haywood is still out there."

Whoever Haywood was.

Joe returned his head to the blanket lying under it. He was really tired. Tears coursed down his cheeks unbidden.

"I'm glad, Adam. She...Hadley saved me...more than once." He'd happened to glance up and caught his brother's expression. It was nonplussed to say the least. "What's...wrong?"

His brother checked his forehead again and then rose to his feet. "That's something I think you and Hadley are going to have to figure out together...if she lives."

Joe raised a hand as his brother turned away. "Adam?"

He looked back. "Yeah, Joe?"

"Thanks for...staying."

He saw the look on his brother's face and knew that Adam knew what he was asking. His older brother came and knelt beside him and took his hand.

"I'll always be here when you need me, buddy," his brother replied and then added, "even if I am living somewhere else. You know that, don't you?"

"Are you gonna go away again?"

Adam's hand moved to his forehead. "I might, for a while. There's a lot of the world to see, Joe, and I'd like to see it. But..." His brother looked straight at him. "I promise you, one day I will come home to stay. After all," Adam reached up and ran a hand through his thinning black waves, "I have to see who wins that bet about making it to old age with their hair intact."

Joe snorted. "I got that one. Hands down."

His brother tousled his brown curls before standing up.

"We'll see."

Joe watched his brother walk away and then rolled over onto his side. The action took his breath away as the myriad knocks and bruises he had taken protested. When he closed his eyes, he saw Hadley. She was looking right at him – no, right through him – her eyes fastened on something he couldn't see. He saw her reach out and he moved to take her hand, but at the last minute she backed away, disappearing into a mist as if she had never been.

All that remained in sight was her hands.