Please enjoy and review. By the way, almost everyone (Hop Sing, Joe, Hoss, Adam, Sam, etc...) is a real Bonanza character, so I don't own them. Only Beth, Frank Lee, and Dave are mine.
II.
Little Joe slid off his horse and raced for the door, crying, "Hop Sing! Hop Sing!"
The short Chinese cook came waddling out of the house as fast as he could, smiling. "What big hurry for, Mister Joe?" Then he noticed the pronounced scowl Joe wore and the smile slipped off of his face. What was wrong?
"Did Adam stop by?" barked Joe, not caring if he hurt Hop Sing's sensitive feelings.
"Mister Adam change horse, grab blanket and food. Then leave."
"Where'd he go?" asked Joe, not expecting an answer, but silently hoping for one, because no guilty man would tell where he was going next.
Hop Sing shook his head. "He no say."
Joe nodded slowly. "All right. Hop Sing, pack me some sandwiches or something. I'll be gone a few days, and I'll come back with Adam. I'll bet he headed for Carson City, that's the nearest…" The last sentence was directed to himself, not Hop Sing.
Hop Sing had noticed the dangerous glint in Joe's eyes, and remembered many times when an escapade that began with that look, ended in near disaster. "What Mister Adam do?"
Joe went to the barn. "He killed Pa," he said, but so softly that Hop Sing couldn't hear. And that was probably a good thing, because such an announcement would have been too much for the little man, and he probably would've gone straight back to China in such a hurry that he wouldn't have needed to stop and board a boat.
As it was, the words just drifted away on a light breeze, and Joe wished it could carry away the pain in his chest as well.
EARLIER THAT SAME DAY
Adam sat at the only empty table at the Bucket O' Blood, trying to decide whether or not he actually wanted a drink. Beth walked up to him, and he felt the need to give her the truthful compliment:
"You look beautiful."
Beth's lively brown curls were pulled up, away from her neck, and he blue satin dress matched her eyes.
"I look cheap and more than a little silly," she corrected him, but very quietly, as if she didn't really want Adam to hear her.
"Don't be ridiculous," he said. "You look fine."
Beth smiled a little and gave in, not wanting to fight over something 'silly'. How could she admit that her problem was that she could almost hear her strict, oh-so-moral mother turning over in her early grave?
"Thanks for stopping by here anyway," she told him. "Do you want to stick around town and have dinner with me tonight?"
"I'll see," said Adam, who was a little on edge today. This was odd. Adam Cartwright was very rarely anxious about anything, at least not outwardly.
"Hey, Beth!" called a man from another table. "You want a drink, or you want to stand around talking to him all night?"
"Be right there, Dave," she called back cheerfully. "I'm sure he wants me to help him cheat at cards. He'll never learn. I'll be right back," she told Adam. Buy a drink and it'll help you loosen up, she wanted to add, but didn't dare.
He nodded and waved her off. After she left, Adam sank back into his chair. He wanted a drink but wasn't really in the mood. Also, it was nice to be relaxing, but the noise of the crowded saloon might force him to leave before he could finish a beer. And the saloon was crowded indeed; every table but his was completely full.
A tall, lanky stranger entered his line of vision. Adam looked up. Pale eyes, dark skin, white teeth. His ratty cowboy hat was pulled down, and his clothes were strangely clean.
Adam jumped a little and very nearly went for his gun, utterly convinced that this man was going to shoot him down then and there. But slowly he relaxed, beginning to realize that the angry look in the man's eyes was permanent; it wasn't Adam in particular he hated.
"Mind if I sit?" asked the man. "Everywhere else is filled up."
"Go ahead. I'm leaving soon, but I'll buy you a drink."
"Thanks," said the man, sitting down, "I'll have a whiskey."
Adam nodded. "Sure. Hey Sam, whiskey, if you don't mind."
"Here you go," said Sam, the fat bartender, placing two glasses and a bottle on the counter.
Adam got up and brought it to the table. He poured the amber liquid into the glasses, and gave one to the other man. "What's your name, stranger?"
"Lee. Francis Lee, but friends call me Frank."
"You aren't from around here," stated dark-haired Adam, bringing his glass to his mouth and drinking some of it.
"That's right," grunted the man, draining his glass.
"Here on business?" asked Adam.
"Sort of," responded the man vaguely. He peered at Adam more closely. "Do you live around here?"
"Sort of," copied Adam, smiling slightly but unexplainably annoyed with this man.
Frank gave Adam an appraising look, as though trying to measure him in his mind, to see right into his brain. "Been here long?"
"Yes," said Adam warily.
"You know most of the people around here, I guess?"
"I know a good many of them," agreed Adam. "What did you say your name was again? Are you looking for someone?"
"Frank Lee." Frank looked at Adam as though he expected to hear the same old joke. But Adam wasn't much for dumb jokes, so Frank continued, "I'm not really looking for someone. I…was thinking of getting myself a job around here, and I heard the Ponderosa is just about the biggest spread in Nevada. Do you think there's work to be found for me there?"
Adam was distracted, trying to remember where he'd heard the name before. Frank Lee. The stranger stared at Adam for several seconds before the question registered in Adam's brain.
"Maybe," he said with a shrug. "Actually, I…" but then Adam stopped. Francis Lee. Frankie. He did know that name. Francis was not a ranch hand.
His face stoic despite his sudden alarm, Adam poured Frank another drink.
The angry-looking man gulped it down faster than Adam could've. "What was that?" he asked.
Adam answered, "I know the men there. Nice folks. You never know about the job." He poured another glass for Frank.
"That would be great," said Frank slowly.
Soon the ferocious look in Frank's eyes was replaced by one of dazed complacency. But the hatred couldn't quite be banished from them, even then. He took another drink. Adam hadn't even finished his first.
What a strange man he is, Adam found himself thinking.
He left Frank there. The other man didn't even notice. Adam got to his feet and started for the swinging doors, but Beth got in his way.
"Where are you going?" she asked, surprised. "I thought you were gonna wait for me."
Adam looked at her for a moment, then said, "The name Frankie 'Bulls-eye' Lee."
"What about it?" She looked blank for a moment. "It does ring a bell. Bulls-eye Lee. Wait…isn't that the bounty hunter?"
Adam shook his head. "Not just a bounty hunter. He's a jack-of-all-trades. Word has it that he's been in all sorts of shady deals, but there's no proof, witnesses, or complaints."
Beth looked at Adam as though he'd gone a little crazy. "What about him?"
"I don't know," he said under his breath. His brow creased as he looked back over his shoulder, and then he pushed through the doors and left Beth there, completely confused.
Adam walked down the street, still concerned. He wondered for just a moment if he was imagining things, due to what had happened this morning with Pa. That was making him jumpy. But no, a sketchy gunman showing up and asking about Adam's home – any way you looked at, that was suspicious.