Chapter 2, by Kaatje

A man could do a lot of thinking on the road to Virginia City. Especially in the time it took to make the ride in the dark. The summer night was balmy, and both horse and rider knew the way well, but the miles still took time to cover. Aside from an awareness of all the aches and pains left over from a hard day's work, Adam had one line of thought to occupy his mind. All the trouble his brothers could get into, with the situation in town as it was now.

The population had grown all year, but now the ranks were swelled anew by newspapermen, would-be politicians, gamblers, schemers, and a fresh tide of soiled doves, all arrived in anticipation of the big event. Due to the nature of the trial there was an unpleasant undercurrent. No matter what the outcome, there was almost certain to be an uproar. It was no wonder their father preferred they wait until the excitement was over and the dust died down to seek entertainment there. Of course, Hoss and Joe hadn't seen it that way, and Pa had eventually consented, with visible reluctance. Adam hadn't missed the wishful glance that had come his way, either. If he'd gone to look after them, their father would have rested easier, but he hadn't, and now he wouldn't rest at all. In all fairness, neither would Pa. Not until he brought his brothers safely home again.

. . .

By the time he entered the third saloon, Adam had developed a sharp headache, located just above his eyes. Music from too many tinny pianos hadn't helped. He supposed the new pain went well with his aching backside and thighs, sore back and tired arms. Breaking horses was work they all did from time to time. However, a bath and dinner had not been followed by bed, but by several hours of drafting in increasingly dim light. If not for that necessity, he probably would have joined his brothers. That the project wouldn't make him any money was beside the point. A commitment to a friend was still important.

He scanned the still busy poker tables, resisting the urge to sigh when he didn't see a familiar face, much less his own brothers. Why were all these people still awake and raring to go when he was dead on his feet? Maybe he was getting old before his time, at thirty. Soon, he heard a familiar voice at his elbow.

"Like me to rub away that headache, cowboy?"

Adam smiled involuntarily as he looked down into green eyes that held a twinkle. Folly couldn't be her real name, but a lot of women in her line of work took on a false one. "How could you tell?"

"Oh, I can always tell." The petite blonde grinned as she slipped under his arm. "You look like you could do with some company."

"I'm looking for my brothers." He was firm, but gave her shoulder a soft squeeze as she pretended to pout. Folly was what most men would call a nice armful, but she'd proved to be more than that. If not for her ingenuity, Joe might have gotten his skull cracked a few months ago. She'd shown a degree of acting ability that had dissuaded a jealous miner equipped with an ax handle. Once Pa had heard the tale, his youngest had been forbidden this particular saloon. Adam was under no delusion Joe's memory about that would be a long one, though. As he felt her stiffen, he realized her acting skills weren't as fine as he'd thought. "They're here, aren't they?"

"Upstairs." She sighed. "With the doc."

His initial annoyance was replaced by alarm, as the words "with the doc" registered. Soon he was at the top of the stairs, with Folly in tow. With seeming reluctance, she directed him to the right door.

"How is he?" His entrance and quick demand got the attention of both Dr. Martin and Hoss. Where Paul nodded acknowledgment, however, Hoss offered a wide eyed stare followed by a wince and a downward glance. Adam made his way through the perfumed and cluttered boudoir, keeping Folly's hand in a firm grip. She could go after he found out what had happened.

"It's not as bad as it looks." Paul Martin stood at the washstand, wringing out a bloody cloth. "I'm only here because I happened to be on other business."

Paul's voice reached him, but he was determined to check the damage for himself. Folly succeeded in pulling her hand away, but he didn't care. Joe lay on the wide bed, his open shirt offering a view of fist sized bruises across his midsection. He turned woeful eyes to Adam's, before looking away with seeming shame. Hoss cleared his throat and stood, making access to their brother easier.

"Joe." Adam sat down and touched his brother's chin gently, turning his face to inspect the marks. A cut on the lower lip showed the source of the blood. He brushed a thumb lightly over a purpling welt beneath Joe's right eye. There was other bruising, but the color made it stand out. "Who did this to you?"

Joe blinked and swallowed. "You don't have to whisper around me. I'm not hurt that bad. Don't have to look at me like that, either."

"What happened?" Adam didn't bother denying the whisper, even though he hadn't—quite. Joe's tone hadn't been any louder, and his eyes were welling up. He knew his little brother, and didn't believe those were tears of pain. Something deeper than bruising was bothering him. Even though the doctor was there, he couldn't resist checking Joe's ribs for himself. Some small sarcastic part of him implied he was turning into Pa at that moment. Then again, their father was just what Joe needed at a time like this.

"I don't know." Joe seemed to be regaining his composure. "I didn't see 'em."

Adam gave Hoss a quick look, tightening his mouth when all he got was a shrug. "You weren't with him?"

Hoss turned a little pink, as he glanced at Folly. She was standing forgotten near the bed, and oddly enough, blushed in return. He turned back to Adam. "I was playin' poker, and Joe'd had a couple of beers. You don't go with a man when he needs ta—"

"I see." Adam didn't need to follow his middle brother's gaze back to the saloon girl. Hoss had too much delicacy to finish that sentence in front of a woman. He was right, too. Even Pa wouldn't expect them to accompany Joe when he needed to relieve himself. "How many men?"

Joe turned his head away again. "Just two."

"Two's plenty, Joe." He patted his brother's leg. At barely eighteen, the kid still believed he had to measure up, and sometimes that meant to an impossibly high standard. No man could expect to be stronger, smarter and tougher than everyone. To his embarrassment, Pa often insisted it was his eldest brother's example the younger man was trying to live up to. Adam wasn't sure he believed that. If so, Joe had some idealized view of him. More likely, he was trying to live up to their father.

"One of 'em got my arms as soon as I'd finished—" Now he blushed a little, and tried to smile. "I guess you could say they caught me with my pants down. Well, not really, but I wasn't ready to take anyone on."

"Not your fault, Joe." Adam gave him another pat. Poor kid. Still, there were questions to be asked. "Were you robbed? Did they say why they did this?"

Joe shook his head, but looked at him. "The one behind me said it was a warning, but not about what. You figure it had something to do with Pa's—?"

"Maybe." Now that he thought about it, that ugly possibility was as good as any. He turned toward Hoss. "It's not your fault either."

Hoss shook his head. "I shoulda stayed with him. Pa told me to take care of him. And besides that, we shouldn't a been here."

"Well, " Adam scratched his ear. "If not for what happened, he wouldn't need to know which saloon it was, but it'll be a little hard to keep from him now."

Joe groaned from the bed. "I think I'm hurt too bad to be moved, ain't that right, Doc?"

"Certainly not, young man." Paul chuckled and snapped his medical bag shut. "You ride home and listen to your father."

"Listen to him, he says." Joe rolled his eyes.

Hoss shuffled nervously. "Yeah, you ain't gonna be the only one listenin'. I reckon he'll be loud and clear, too."

"He tends to be." Adam added more bad news. "We're going to have to tell Roy about this."