Disclaimer I own very little, especially not CSI NY. But I wish I did.

Notes Thank you very much indeed for all the reviews, I love to receive them. Please continue! I'm delighted you're enjoying reading this, and thanks to everyone who has let me know. Thanks to all who have made this, and me, a favourite or an alert, much appreciated :D

Many thanks to Blue Shadowdancer for reading and making suggestions.

This is Adam's chapter. Enjoy!

Where Have All the Cowboys Gone?

Chapter 6: The Boy Who Stole Your Heart

Adam:

Hangin'? They're gonna hang me? No! They can't do that… can they? What have I done? Surely it wasn't 'cause of the piece of wrapping that blew away from outta my pocket last week that I couldn't pick up, even though I tried and ran after it half way cross town? Or no, no, surely it ain't because I had thoughts about things that maybe I oughtn't to have had thoughts about when seeing Miss Novak yesterday, and other days? Mr Gerrard couldn't have found out about that, and I don't think that's a hangin' offence… Just don't know what's going on. Looked like the others didn't neither, never seen such a look of surprise on the doctor's face, or Danny Messer's; not even after I saw Miss Monroe put a kiss on his cheek as they left the store last Saturday afternoon, don't think either of 'em saw me.

Mr Gerrard don't even give me a chance to open my mouth, he's got me fast by the shoulder, and we're marching all the way across Main Street. And all the folks of the town are out, they can see me, they're all looking at me. Can't see their faces properly, it's all kinda' blurry. I hope to heaven Miss Novak don't see me like this, I'll never be able to look at her again, not ever. Mr Novak ain't never gonna want to see me again in the drugstore, if he sees me being taken across town by the sheriff and his posse. They can't hang me. They can't, surely they can't…

There's no escape. Mr Gerrard's gotten me fixed in his grip, don't know what I can do. What've I done? Must be somethin' bad, worse than playing a game o' dice in the back store cupboard with Danny Messer on Friday morning. No one's tellin' me though. They… they can't hang me, can they? No, no, they can't please, no. Not without proof or anythin'. Always gotta have proof, least that's what the Sheriff says. Remember him saying that to me when I found out about Mrs Prosser's son, said I'd found the proof he needed. They didn't hang her son though, locked him up a long time instead, 'cause of my proof.

What have I done that means they want to hang me? No way I've done anything like Rick Prosser was going to do with his arsenic. Why are Mr Flack and Sheriff Taylor lookin' so grim though? I must've done something real bad for them to look like that, real bad. But hanging, no, Mr Gerrard can't mean that, it must be his idea of humour, perhaps someone's set me up for a joke, that's gotta be it. Would they do that? Don't think Sheriff Taylor's much of a joking man. Mr Flack though, maybe, maybe it's him, maybe him and Danny Messer are playing a joke… but hangin' a man ain't much of a joke, and neither look like they're findin' this real funny. Nor am I. I've let someone down, I know I have. Somethin's happened, gone wrong, it'll be all my fault. I'm sorry, I'm real sorry…

"Get along with you boy, ain't got all day to be held up by a ground squirrel like you, move yourself. Sooner justice is served on you, and you feel hemp around your neck, the better."

Mr Gerrard's dragging me along, I'm stumblin', folks still staring, please don't look at me, please don't look…

"Sir… sir, if you'd only tell me…"

"I ain't tellin' you nothin' till I'm good and ready boy. Someone like you…"

"Justice, Stan, think that was the word you just used? Think you're being too hasty in judging Mr Ross here."

Sheriff Taylor's speakin' up for me, helps me stand up a little straighter, get my feet back together. Dirt's got kicked up onto my new trousers, Mr Novak's gonna be real unhappy about that. "We don't have all the facts yet, or evidence right in front of us. Never hang a man without evidence Stan, you oughtta know that. Hold your judgements till we know more."

What does the Sheriff mean? What facts, what evidence? Wish they'd talk to me, but they seem to have forgotten to do that.

We've reached the Sheriff's office, crowd's built up on Main Street, oh please, oh please, not Miss Kendall, please don't let her see me like this. She won't want to be keepin' the company of a man like me anymore, a no-good criminal, if that's what they think I am. Miss Stella too, what would she think seeing me now? She'd be ashamed of me, that's what. Mr Gerrard pushes me right through the door, can't help myself falling onto the floor, gettin' more dirt on my trousers. Maybe I am a criminal, worse than an outlaw. I 'spect Sheriff Taylor and Mr Gerrard know a lot more than I do, but I sure wish they'd tell me what they know.

Mr Flack's pulled out a chair for me, pulled me up, sat me down, not too hard. Don't know what to make of the look in his eyes though. Somethin' there, looks kinda sorry for me, maybe, but angry too, ashamed. He's angry with me. I've let him and the Sheriff down, and guess that means I let everyone down. The Sheriff's watching me now, kinda stepped in front of Mr Gerrard, but he's still there, glarin' hard at me, his face kinda trembling, and blotched, hands twitchin'. Not a kind face, not at all. Bet he's picturing my neck in a noose. I don't want to picture that. No. There's a look of death in his eyes. But no, no… this ain't right.

"Mr Taylor, please, if I done something, you gotta tell me sir. Only… only I don't know what it is I'm supposed to have done. Have I hurt someone? Oh please, say that ain't the case…"

"Quit your talkin' on, boy…" Mr Gerrard roars. Mr Flack steps right up to him, almost touching his boots. Boots that ain't clean, still got the dirt of the road on 'em. Mr Flack's a lot taller than him, and stands over him. There's a real cold look in his eyes, p'raps he ain't so mad at me.

"I'm gonna ask you this nicely, Mr Gerrard. This is our town and our citizens. Mr Ross here's one of 'em, an important one, and as such, deserves a bit of your respect, and perhaps I need to remind you here, we still ain't got no sure proof of anythin' he's done wrong yet. And we got the right to question him as we see fit. Mac and I ain't gonna accept your threats and intimidating, so I suggest you back right down now."

"You threatening me, Donald? 'Cause if you are, you're threatening the wrong man, let me tell you."

"No one's threatening you, Stan. Not how we do things here. What we got to do is put all we have to Mr Ross, who'll then be able to help us with our enquiries. Far as I see it, we don't need no talk of hanging." Mr Taylor's looking right at me now, his forehead's creased up and his mouth's frowning, but it ain't the same look as Mr Gerrard has on his face. No talk of hanging. I knew Mr Taylor wouldn't be letting me down. "Mr Ross, what can you tell us about a quantity of poison goin' missing from the drugstore?"

For a moment I'm not sure what he's talkin' about, don't know what to say. I drop my eyes to the floor. There's a mouse peerin' out of it's hole at me, right behind the sheriff's desk, grey fur, boot button eyes. None of 'em have seen it. It's run back into its hole. Wish I could do the same.

"I… I don't know anything about that, Sir, didn't know we'd had any stolen, are, don't mean to be rude, but are… are you sure it really has?" Oh no, that was rude of me, shouldn't have said that, questioned the Sheriff…

"You daring to argue boy? Position you're in…"

"That's enough Stan. Mr Ross, continue."

"Only… only, it's me that keeps a real close eye on the poisons cupboard. Mr Novak has the key, but I check it's kept locked, every day. It ain't been unlocked to my knowledge since Tuesday last, just before 10 o'clock in the morning. Had a delivery of strychnine, just a few grains, to Mr Ironside for his - condition. Mr Novak locked it up after me, and I checked again when I returned at a quarter after ten. It was locked, I shook the door to make sure, like I always do."

"No one touched, or asked for anythin' else of late?"

"No, Mr Flack, no one has." His hand's kinda clenching and unclenching, his eyebrows are bushed up together, thinking I guess. My hands are clenching too, they're hot, slippery, can feel the sweat down my back as well, feels too hot in here.

"The problem's this, Mr Ross." Mr Taylor speaks after pulling up a chair himself, and sittin' opposite me. Mr Flack sits on the edge of the desk, Mr Gerrard stays standin' right where he is, fists held out in front of him. "Seems that a small quantity of potassium cyanide from the drugstore is unaccounted for. When Don went along to speak to Mr Novak, he went to check the poisons cupboard, found it unlocked, and a quantity missing. Enough, he reckons, to kill several men stone dead. We came to ask you if you could tell us any more on the matter, as the last time the cupboard was opened was for your delivery, and it seems that you're the only other person who'd have access. Have to tell you, Mr Ross, that Mr Novak was most hesitant to even think you'd have committed any misdemeanour, but we gotta ask some questions now, and you're most likely the one man who might be able to help us."

Don't quite know what to think about that. Mr Taylor don't sound any more like he wants to hang me, nor Mr Flack, not so sure about Mr Gerrard. But suddenly, something comes back into my mind, I'd most nearly forgotten about it after all this, think it could be important though.

"Don't… don't know if this is what you're lookin' for sirs, but, but, yesterday we had a man come into the store, and he weren't in truth a gentleman, real disrespectful to Miss Novak, and he carried a knife on his person, just outta sight tucked into his belt, and I tell you this 'cause it was the same kind of knife that Doctor Hawkes and Mr Hammerback found on the deceased gentleman, was telling them about it right before you, uh came in. He hung around the store for a while too long, and he was, I recall, askin' us what kind of poisons we kept."

"What did you tell him?"

"As little as I could, sir, told him we kept what was usual, and that we kept them locked away. Seemed kinda angry about that, then he pushed his way out."

There's silence for a few minutes, and everyone looks at everyone else. Not at me, though, I'm glad, gives me a moment to cool my face, feels like it's burnin' up.

"Thank you, Mr Ross, you've been real helpful, and I can say to you now, there'll be no more talk of hangin'. Far as I see it, you've done nothing wrong."

Mr Taylor stands and holds his hand out to me, like a gentleman. Have to wipe my palm on my trousers before I can take it. Daren't look at Mr Gerrard, don't want him changing his mind.

"What now, Mac?"

Mr Taylor nods at me before turning to his deputy, "Well Don, I'd say we still got ourselves a thief to find."

"Think this is Hammerback's thief too?"

"More than sure of it. I gotta feeling these events are connected, and we're on our way to finding out just where these connections lead. Mr Ross, Adam, I think you'd be real useful to us if you could take us on over to the drugstore and tell us if you see anything not the way it should be, we're looking for clues as to who this man is."

Helpful, that's better than hanging, a whole sight better.

"Happy to do that sir, more than happy. Come right on over."

We leave, and this time, it's me who's leading them across the street, and this time I can hold my head up high.

Walking past Mr Hammerback's establishment, we hear a shout from inside, and Danny Messer comes busting out the door. Gives me a quick grin and a punch on the arm as he faces up to Mr Taylor.

"Sheriff, Flack, Adam, got something real interestin' that I reckon you're gonna wanna hear about."

Mr Gerrard's got a bright red colour to his cheeks, and I can see him about to fire a sentence or two back out, but Mr Taylor beats him to it, holds a hand up to him, "I'm listening, Mr Messer."

"The knives, patterns carved into the handles you recall, well, we matched them up to the paper Mr Hammerback found on his missing customer. Designs go together, and we been considerin' that they show some kind of a map, pointin' to somewhere in this area. Reckon that's what someone's been after." He stops for a moment, kind of draws in a deep breath and gazes round at all of us, "Reckon we got ourselves a treasure map, reckon there could be gold in these here hills, Sheriff."

I couldn't have let Adam be hanged! Hope you enjoyed this one, please review and let me know what you think. Next chapter up in a couple of days. Lily x