Chapter 8, by Krystyna

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Adam Cartwright closed his eyes and waited for the medication Paul had given him to take a fuller effect. He had talked too much, his head throbbed and the pain in his leg was now aggravated by the way Paul was binding it up in the bandages. He sighed heavily and heard Joe say, as though from a long way off,

"He is going to be alright, isn't he?"

It was odd, he thought, the things that trickle through one's mind at times like this. For instance, that smell. Someone had just mentioned they could still smell it here, but they couldn't have, couldn't possibly have, not here. His brow creased slightly, or could they?

"Folly?" he cried aloud, his eyes opening wide, "Folly!"

Joe and Hoss looked at one another and then at their brother. Why, at a time like this, would Adam choose to talk to Folly. Roy Coffee pursed his lips and bristled his moustache and turned to where the girl had been standing.

"Where is she?" he asked.

"Right here -" Hoss said immediately and turned, stared at the empty space and then looked back at Roy, "She was there a minute ago."

………..

Tom at the Mercantile was not the handsomest man in the world. He was modest though, he knew his limitations. With his spectacles, greasy hair, skin prone to boils and pimples, and his stammer he knew he would never be a success with any girl, so when he heard a light tapping on the glass of the door he opened it with great delight to admit Folly.

"Miss - Fo -Folly?" he exclaimed.

"Close the door, close it, hurry now." she hissed as she hurried into the store, brushing pass him and seeking the further shadows of the room.

"Ye- yes, of c-course." Tom replied and closed the door with a sharp snap. For good measure he pulled down the blind and locked it. "Wh-what's wrong, Miss Fo-Folly?"

"I need your help, Tom." she whispered urgently, widening her eyes and looking beseechingly at him, "Oh Tom, I've seen how you've looked at me, I know you want to be my friend … don't you?" she lowered her voice so that he had to lean in towards her, and she saw his Adam's apple jerk convulsively.

"Yes, Miss Fo-Folly, but you've - I mean - you're so pretty and I -" he shivered when she placed a hand on his arm, he could feel it cold and trembling through the linen of his shirt sleeve.

"Tom, I really really need your help."

"Yes, of course. I mean, just say the word and …"

"I can rely on you, can't I?" she leaned in closer to him and he blushed, lowered his eyelids and gulped again,

"Yes, anything, Miss Fo-Folly."

She took a deep breath and turned away from him, lowered her head and pressed a hand against her lips,

"Tom, I'm in trouble. You know that tonic stuff you ordered for - for a certain person?"

"Yes, sure, I've still one jar of it left."

"Has anyone else used it at all?"

"No, I got strict instructions it was only for him. I sure got a lot lot of tr-trouble when Joe Cartwright bought some, but but it worked out alright in the end. He won't won't come near it again in a hurry." he frowned, "What's wrong, Miss Fo-Folly? Did you want to buy some?"

"No, no. It's -" she bit her bottom lip, "Tom, you know Adam Cartwright got shot this evening, don't you?"

"He did?" Tom's honest face looked horrified and he shook his head, "Sure is a fine figure of a man. That's a darn shame. Is he still - is he still alive?"

"Yes, thankfully, but for some reason he thinks the person who uses that stuff was the person who shot him. He's wrong, Tom. He's so wrong."

"Oh," Tom sighed, modest to the end he wasn't even annoyed at the realisation that she was pleading on behalf of someone else, and that there was no interest in him, not really. He frowned, "Will it mean the sher-sheriff coming here to see me?"

"Yes, it will. You mustn't tell him who uses it, Tom, you have to pretend you know nothing about it."

"I can't lie to the law, not even for him, or you." Tom replied, "I'm sorry."

"Then give me the other jar of cologne, Tom, and promise me … please, Tom … that you won't tell anyone I have it. Not even …not even 'him'."

Tom licked his lips, and then slowly nodded,

"I won't forget your help in this, Tom." she whispered, and kissed him on the cheek.

………………

Roy Coffee tugged thoughtfully at his moustache, successfully pulling out two hairs in the process, he looked at the bruised and blooded Joseph Cartwright and then at Adam who now lay with his eyes closed and a hand over his brow as though trying to stop the thudding in his temples.

"So you can't give me any better identification on the man who attacked you?"

"No," Adam replied with a sigh.

"Just a smell."

Hoss shook his head,

"Not just a smell, Roy. A real killer of a smell."

Roy narrowed his eyes and shook his head, "There's all manner of smells out there, son, and you're expecting me to be able to identify a possible killer by just one particular smell?"

"It was wafting around here a bit, until Folly left" Joe said innocently enough, and he frowned as Adam sighed again, "You alright, Adam, you ain't going to be sick again, are you?"

"No. No, I'm alright." Adam opened his eyes and looked at his younger brother, "Poor Joe, you sure took a pounding, didn't you? You should be home now - and - and being taken care of," he looked at Hoss, "No sign of Folly?"

"Nope, she kinda just slipped away. I reckon she'll be back at work, after all, she ain't going to git any pay wet nursing us, is she?" Hoss twitched his shoulders and gave an apologetic grimace.

"Well," Roy shook his head disconsolately, "If you boys don't mind my saying so, I reckon I'll just go out and have a 'sniff around.' You never know, I may just be able to find the man you're talking about."

……………

Folly was well liked in the saloon. She joined one group of card players and draped an arm around a cowboy before strolling to another table, and doing the same there. She talked to several others at the counter and then joined a group singing at the old battered piano in the corner.

By the time Roy Coffee pushed open the bat wings of the saloon there was a vague murmur of discontent trickling through the building as man after man complained about the stink that seemed to have permeated their clothes, their skin, even the air they breathed. One man lamented in a loud voice 'How'm I gonna explain this to my wife!'

Roy stood at the entrance and decided not to enter. At least he knew what the smell was now. He raised his eyes and glanced around the room until they came to rest upon Folly who was sitting demurely with a group of men in the far corner of the room. Folly ignored the lawman, she wondered what he would do next and sighed with relief when he disappeared into the darkness. She could feel the tension draining away from her, and a new feeling, one of elated relief take its place. She had done all she could to protect the man she loved. Loved? She shivered, a trickle that slithered down her spine. Loved or feared? She could no longer tell either feeling apart from the other.

……………

Two men waited for the rider to join them. One was heavy set and elderly and sat by the campfire smoking a pipe and reading a letter, the other, younger man paced the ground, back and forth, with an impatience that contrasted oddly with the other man's outer calm.

Both men paused in what they were doing when there came the sound of approaching hoof beats, and when the rider finally entered the camp they were both on their feet.

"Well, what have you to tell us?" the older man asked, no, demanded from the rider.

"Ben Cartwright's mustered his men together and headed towards town." the rider wiped sweat from his brow, "He's red hot angry, Marshal."

"Not surprised considering what's happened in town." the younger man replied dourly and looked at the Marshal as though demanding from him some action, some word, and upon receiving only silence he shook his head angrily, and looked at the newcomer, "You know Joe Cartwright was beaten up? Well, on top of all that, Adam Cartwright was shot."

"Shot?" the other man gasped, "He's not dead is he?"