Thanks so much to the lovely folks who have already commented at this early stage in the story. It's the reviews that make the 14 months it took to write this so very worth it!

A small note on the story going forward. I describe lots of landscape and terrain which is in the Nevada / Sierra Nevada vicinity. As of the date of writing, I've never been (it's top of my bucket list!) so I've made it all up. The original tv production filmed in all sorts of locations - at one time or another the Ponderosa consisted of lake, desert, beautiful lush rivers and green valleys, rock formations, you name it. So I've followed their example and thrown a little of everything into the mix. I think it works :-)

~8~

No one came to their assistance. Not when a bleeding Adam was pushed so roughly across the main street that he fell on his hands and knees in the dirt. Not when he was hoisted onto the back of a horse, his wrists bound and he sat with his head hanging low, swaying in the saddle. Not even when a straight-backed Johanna, Clara's hand clasped tightly within her own, was marched out of the hotel at gunpoint and made to mount up, the daughter white with fear as she was lifted up in front of her mother. Perhaps it was the heavily armed men who stood eyeing up every door and window and alley that kept the townsfolk at bay. Or perhaps it was the remuda of horses that had, minutes before, been galloped at speed down the main thoroughfare, stirring up dust...and trouble. If there was a sheriff in this tiny spa town, he was holed up in his office, too intimidated by the number of men to show his face.

Cordell ignored Adam for the rest of the day, placing him in the charge of a thickset hulk of a man known simply as Rance. His keeper was by Adam's side for the duration of the painful ride out of town to their first camp. He was always there, either leading Adam's horse on a rope held securely in his grasp, or keeping Adam from slipping sideways as his battered skull played with his ability to stay conscious. In moments of lucidity, Adam gawked at Rance's neck. It was wider than the man's head, and Adam wondered that his vest didn't split as it stretched across his back. And how his horse could stand Rance's weight was anyone's guess. Such haphazard thoughts kept Adam's mind from his pain-filled head.

On that first night out of Chia Springs, Rance hauled Adam away from the light and warmth of the campfire and tied him to a tree. With his arms forced behind him and secured with what seemed like a long and complex knot, Adam knew he was in for an agonising night. He was released once to eat a plate of beans whilst a gun was pointed at his stomach, and to take care of necessary business in nearby rocks. But the rest of the time, Adam sat in the shadow of the camp nursing his headache, and watching with his one good eye the men tuck into their meals and warm their hands at the blazing fire. The days might be growing increasingly hot as late spring drifted into summer, but the nights were still chilly, and Adam envied their proximity to the fire's heat. Johanna sat with her arm pressed tight around Clara's shoulders, stiff and unmoving, and refusing to talk to Cordell who, several times, addressed words to her. As the hours melted away, and one by one the men rolled themselves in their saddle blankets, Adam grew colder and more fidgety with discomfort. Unable to move his arms from where they were pulled back behind the tree, his muscles were soon aching, and that ache became a cold and penetrating numbness. With little sleep to be had, it was a long and dismal night.

The following day Rance dragged a shivering Adam to his feet and shoved him to nearby rocks to empty his bladder. It took a while to move his arms and shoulders without having to grit his teeth from the agony, especially when the blood started to flow into his swollen fingers and he was tormented by the thousand torturous pinpricks of his nerves firing back into life. With a hunk of bread thrust into his hand, Rance pushed Adam ahead of him towards the horses. His body was stiff, but soon loosened up as the early morning sun warmed his flesh, and his headache became a memory. Once he had drawn a leg over the saddle, his no-nonsense keeper bundled Adam's wrists together and tethered them with a rope. He was none to gentle about it and Adam grimaced as the rigid fibres bit into his flesh.

As the column resumed its journey—Rance once again leading Adam's horse—he considered slamming his heels into the animal's sides, jolting the lead rope from Rance's hand and making a run for it. But each time he looked around him, there was Nate or Cordell or another member of the gang. They would stare pointedly at him and drop a hand to one of their weapons. Adam wouldn't have got five paces before being gunned down. And there was Johanna and Clara. He couldn't abandon them.

It wasn't long before Adam spied Cordell a short way ahead of him. Having had no communication with his captor since the day before, he needed questions answered.

"What do you want, Cordell?"

Cordell turned in the saddle and slowed his horse to let Rance and Adam catch up. "Want?"

Adam raised an eyebrow. "From me, the woman and child?"

Cordell looked over at where Johanna rode with her arms hooked around her daughter. Even under duress, she held the reins loosely and Adam could tell she was an experienced horsewoman.

"What I want from Johanna and her daughter is of no concern to anyone but me and her husband. You, on the other hand…" He paused and looked over at Adam. "You realise your name saved your life."

Adam kept his one good eye on the path ahead of him.

"I know you would have killed me there and then if you hadn't recognised the opportunity staring you in the face."

Cordell smirked. "You're not wrong. I don't take kindly to do-gooders, especially those who punch me in the face." He put his hand up to his swollen mouth and touched the black scab on his split lip. He winced. "Still hurts." He looked over at Adam whose eye was partially closed, his cheek and eye socket a mask of vivid colours. "But you fared worse, thanks to Nate."

Adam sighed heavily. "You're wasting your time with me. My father and I aren't on good terms. It's been years since I last saw him." Adam had always had a good poker face, the ability to keep his true emotions under wraps. It made him a good liar, though he wasn't proud to admit it. "When I last saw him he told me I was dead to him. He won't pay a single dollar for my return."

Cordell didn't reply and it took all the willpower Adam had to keep looking to his front. He couldn't let Cordell know he was keen to see his reaction, so he fixed his gaze on a nearby bluff and didn't look away. It was several long moments before Cordell spoke.

"If that is so, Mr. Cartwright—and I don't believe it is for a minute—then what's to stop me from shooting you dead, right here and now?"

Adam blinked slowly as he looked over at Cordell. "Because I'm worth more to you alive than dead."

Cordell's mouth twitched as a smile flickered across his lips. "How so?"

"You said yourself my name stopped you from killing me back in Chia Springs. Well, my name can open doors."

He glanced across at Cordell who appeared to be deliberating on Adam's words, but then twisted in his saddle to face the man beside him. "Who is this count you work for, this man who pays you to pursue his wife across the country?"

"That's of no concern to you."

"Well, I'm making it my concern. It's because of him I'm wrapped up in this mess."

Cordell pursed his lips and took a long nasal breath.

"The Count Friedrich Ernst von Falkeberg," Cordell paused and looked over at Adam. "The Fourth." He shook his head. "He's a piece of work. I've never met him. As far as I'm aware he's never left Hanover, even when his wife up and left with their, as she was then, two-year old daughter in tow. I have a reputation for being able to find people and was employed ten months ago to track her down."

"You're a bounty hunter?"

Cordell frowned. "Yeah, and a damn good one at that."

Adam raised his palms in his best effort at a conciliatory gesture; not easy with his wrists bound as they were.

"So, once you've handed her over and got your big pay-out, what then? You go back to tracking thieves and murderers?"

"It's what I do."

"You don't have to. Like I said, my name can open doors."

"And why would you do that for me?"

Adam smiled. "So you don't kill me, why else?"

Cordell guffawed. "I'm starting to like you, Cartwright." He nodded. "I'll think over what you said."

And as Cordell urged his horse forward to join the lead riders, still laughing as he rode, Adam let out a long low breath. He had no idea whether Cordell would keep his father out of this—he doubted he would—but he had to try. Even if it meant lying through his teeth about helping him when all this was over. Adam knew what kind of a man he was dealing with, and he knew he would have to say, and maybe do, anything to still be breathing at the end of it.

~8~

That night as Adam was being secured to another tree, Cordell called out to Rance to stop what he was doing and bring Adam into the ring of firelight. The bull-like Rance frowned at his boss but obeyed the order, dragging Adam over to the inner circle of the camp and forcing him to the ground with one hefty press to his shoulder.

Rance had placed Adam next to Nate, but Nate took one look at Adam, shook his head and rose to his feet. Crossing to the other side of the camp, he pushed another man out of the way and took his spot. He glared at Cordell and lit a cigarette.

Cordell sat himself next to his prisoner and had Adam's wrists unbound, handing him a plate to receive a dollop of beans.

Adam nodded his chin towards Nate. "Your protégé doesn't like me."

Cordell looked over at Nate who was sitting with his arms resting on drawn-up knees, taking long slow draws of his cigarette.

"He doesn't agree with my decision to bring you along. Thinks you're trouble." He turned to look at Adam. "Is he right, Cartwright? Are you trouble?" Adam said nothing and Cordell turned back to stare at Nate. "He's got a grievance with me because I slapped that damn cigarette out of his mouth back at Chia Springs. I told him he needs to concentrate on the job at hand, not parade about like some fancy riverboat gambler."

Adam's fork was halfway to his mouth. He lowered it slowly and smiled. "That's how my father used to refer to my little brother sometimes." His eyes fixed on his plate as he remembered. "Usually when he needed a haircut."

"Your father's a smart man." Cordell pointed his knife towards Nate. "Look at him with that darn cigarette. They're manufactured; the boy thinks they show off how much money he earns. Seems I pay him too much." He snorted and took another mouthful of his beans.

Johanna and her daughter sat on the opposite side of the fire, Clara huddled close to her mother. Every time Adam looked at the child through the flames of the fire, she was watching him, her eyes revealing no emotion. It was only when a portion of the stodgy mixture was spooned onto her plate that she looked away.

Cordell said nothing more until his meal was consumed and he had taken a long draw of water from his canteen.

"You said you and your old man weren't on speaking terms."

Adam chewed slowly on his food.

"What'd ya do? Steal from the family coffers? Sell one of your brothers into slavery? What?"

Adam sighed and looked down at his plate.

"My father had a woman."

There was a pause and then Cordell burst into laughter. "You got a little bit too friendly with your old man's woman?" He slapped Adam on the back. "Well, I'll be. You Cartwrights with your high standards and morals, it's all a sham. You're just as low as the rest of us."

Adam took no pleasure in lying, especially if it concerned his father. He quickly moved to change the subject.

"We've been heading west since we left Chia Springs. D'ya wanna tell me where we're going?"

Cordell's laughter faded. "You'll find out in due course."

"My guess is San Francisco, where you'll charter a ship to take you to New York, and then Johanna and her daughter will be put on a steamship back to Hamburg."

Cordell looked closely at Adam. "God damn, I'm glad I didn't kill you."

"And what'll happen to me?"

Cordell reached into an inside pocket and pulled out a small silver flask. He took a swig and offered it to Adam. After a moment's consideration, Adam took it, enjoying the warmth of the liquid as it flowed into his stomach.

"You might have played dirty with your old man's woman, but I don't believe he'd let his little boy be returned to him piece by piece. We're a few days' ride from Virginia City. I'll put out some feelers, and if you're still the apple of your papa's eye, I'll get my money, and you…well, we'll see."

Adam looked through the fire at the woman opposite. She sat stiffly on a blanket, her legs pulled in beneath her, picking at the food on her plate. Her face was a mask. Whatever emotions she might be feeling, they were locked up within. Adam wondered when those emotions would be laid bare.

"The child is what, eleven, twelve? Why would this count wait ten years before tracking them down?"

Cordell followed Adam's gaze and looked at Johanna. "His agent told me Johanna is his second wife; that he had an adult son, an heir, from his first marriage. Unfortunately the heir decided to insult the honour of a young lady whose husband took exception. There was a duel and the heir did not come out on the winning side. The Count knew Johanna and the girl have been in America all this time, but only now, when the spare heir is needed, has he made his play."

Did Johanna hear them talking, or sense two pairs of eyes on her? For she suddenly looked up and seeing both men staring, she raised her chin and stared boldly back.

"She's scared."

Cordell's brow creased. "Scared? Her? She's not scared of anyone. I should know, I've had to put up with her sticking her nose up at me for months now."

Adam laid his now-empty plate at his feet and continued to look at Johanna who had turned to gaze into the darkness. "You're not a particularly good judge of character, are you, Cordell?"

~8~

Adam awoke on the second morning stiff and bruised, but it had been a more comfortable night than the one before. He had been allowed to stay with the rest of the group by the fire, albeit with his wrists and ankles bound together, but at least he could stretch out his long limbs and feel the heat from the flames.

Rising at dawn, they were on the move before the sun had even warmed the air, their shadows stretching like tentacles out before them. Cordell avoided the main thoroughfares, moving them in a north-westerly direction: a large group of armed men, three captives and an impressive remuda of horses. The terrain had changed from flat rocky desert to folds of granite ridges like the spines of giant creatures which had laid down and died millennia ago. Adam could see they were heading for a stretch of green hills in the near distance.

He found himself riding near Johanna which gave him his first opportunity to speak to her properly. It wasn't Adam, however, who started the conversation.

"He's taken a liking to you, Mr. Cartwright. Don't be fooled by his apparent camaraderie."

Adam's face softened as a gentle smile dimpled his cheeks. "I've been duped a few times in my life, mostly by women." He glanced at her but her expression remained stern. He raised an eyebrow at her lack of humour. "But I've met his type before. Money is his driving force. And looking around at the number of men who work for him, I'd say power is a factor too. I've known men like him all my life. I know how to play them."

"Your father is rich, yes? Is he one of these men you speak about with such knowledge?"

Adam twisted his wrists within the binds that restrained them and grimaced when the rope chafed against his sore skin. "My father is wealthy, yes, but that was never his goal in life. He dreamed of a ranch in the wilderness, somewhere that would be a safe, warm home for his family, and his dream became a reality. But it was through back-breaking hard work and years of toil and hardship. The comfort he lives in now was not gained through kidnapping women and children."

Adam's voice was bitter and drew a long look from Johanna. She opened her mouth as though to say something but instead looked out over the dry landscape. Clara was asleep in the saddle, her head bouncing from side to side in tune with the horse's gait. Adam lowered his voice.

"You're scared of your husband?"

"I'm not scared." Her voice was sharp. She closed her eyes and took a breath. "I'm not scared for me, but for her." She angled her head to check Clara was still asleep and then dropped her voice. "My husband is a cruel man, Mr. Cartwright. I could endure the beatings and the humiliation; I had no choice, I had nowhere to go. But when he twisted Clara's arm as punishment for crying in church; or when he sent her to bed without food for pulling the petals off his precious roses; or when he beat her for playing with the gardener's son..." Johanna's voice had grown steadily louder but then she stopped and took a shaky breath. "She was just a baby. I knew I had to escape. For her."

"How did you get away?"

"I had help. Our housekeeper was a kind woman. I confided in her and she arranged a coach one night. I fled with Clara to Hamburg where we boarded a ship to America." Johanna looked down. "I dread to think what happened to Elsa when Friedrich discovered she had helped us."

Adam frowned. "He didn't try to stop you?"

"Of course he did. My husband is very rich and also very proud. My leaving him would have been a slight to his family name. I saw his men at the docks in Hamburg, but they were too late. We were already pushing away into the river."

"You were very brave."

"Not brave. I did what I had to do. We were happy, Clara and I, until he found me." She turned a pair of cold eyes on Cordell who was leading the group up ahead. "We had to run and have been running ever since."

"I'm sorry."

Johanna turned her gaze on him.

"When I saw you at the pool and I saw your gun, I thought you were one of his men. I apologise for my rudeness."

Adam smiled. "No need. My habit of wearing black often gives people the wrong idea about me."

"Then why do you? Wear black?"

Adam caught her eye. "Because it gives people the wrong idea about me." Johanna's eyes widened a little but when Adam laughed, she smiled, and her face was transformed as a momentary sparkle brightened her features.

But then Johanna studied his half-closed eye and the confection of colours that mottled the side of his face, and her smile faded. "Why did you get involved, Mr. Cartwright? This was none of your affair."

"Because I'm a Cartwright."

"What does that mean?"

The side of Adam's face quirked upwards and he let out a gentle snort. "It's what we do."