Thanks so much for your continuing support, lovely people. I've heeded what was said after the last chapter and made this one longer, as I too felt chapter 3 was a little too short!

The desert taunted them. A shimmering ridge that looked to be only an hour's ride away would take half a day to reach. The usual rainfall for this time of year had been sadly lacking, and the watering holes were drying up fast. For the last two nights there had been distant rumblings of thunder. The weather teased them, promising downpours that didn't come. Instead the temperature got hotter, the air grew heavier, and the horses and their riders increasingly weary.

It was a couple of days later, as they approached the end of the desert and could see pale foothills in the near distance, when an unfamiliar object came into view. As they drew near, it revealed itself to be the wreck of a lone wagon. Its canvas canopy was in shreds, trembling slightly in whatever breeze the desert could conjure up. The wagon's contents were strewn across the immediate area; boxes had been forced open, a woman's dress fluttered gently from where it was trapped beneath a ransacked trunk. The men pulled their mounts to a stop. Hoss lowered himself from his saddle, feeling dog-tired after the hours they'd spent on horseback. Adam and Joe stayed where they were, forearms leaning heavily on their saddle pommels. Hoss moved slowly towards the wagon. He reached out and felt some markings in what remained of the wooden panelled sides.

"Bullet marks," he called.

His brothers watched as he roamed amongst the strewn possessions, nudging gently at boxes and crates with the tip of his boot. He disappeared out of sight behind the wagon, appearing a minute or so later with his hat held closely against his chest. He took one last look around and approached his tired brothers, his feet scuffing across the hard sand.

"Three graves." Hoss kept his head low as he stood next to his horse, his fingers toying with the rim of his hat. "Looks like the folks in this here wagon were attacked and killed." He turned and gestured vaguely in the direction of the wagon's discarded contents. "I'm guessing whoever did it took their animals, anything of value."

"And then buried them?" Joe's brow furrowed as his cheeks bunched beneath his eyes. "Doesn't sound like something a gang of robbers would do."

"They wouldn't." Adam's voice sounded resigned.

Joe pulled his eyes away from the scene in front of him to look at his older brother.

"Someone else buried them. Someone with a sense of decency."

Hoss was suddenly turning away from his horse and jamming his hat back on his head as he strode purposely over to the wagon. He grasped the top of the near most side with both hands and with a grunt, he started to pull and tug and wrench at the plank until it came away in his hands. He threw it violently to the ground.

Joe started to dismount, but a quick word from Adam froze him mid-motion and he slowly sat back in his saddle. He couldn't watch as his brother started on the next plank, ripping and tearing at the wood until his fingers were bruised and bleeding. The plank shifted but wouldn't come away. Hoss tugged one last time before he stood back, his chest heaving from his exertions. He stared at the ground, his eyes dark smouldering cauldrons of rage.

"Why?" It wasn't a question he was aiming at his brothers. "Why are there bad people in this world who want nothin' more than ta kill and take?"

Neither Adam nor Joe had a response. Joe fixed his eyes on his saddle pommel, unable to find the words that would calm Hoss's anger.

"One of them graves is smaller than the other two. Them murderin' sons o' Lucifer killed a child." Hoss's head shot up, a sudden thought lighting up his face. "Adam, maybe it was the same men who attacked us that did this." His previously tight features were instantly relaxed by the hope that had taken hold of him. "They're still out there, we may be able to track them somehow. We could—"

"Hoss!" Adam's voice was sharp. He softened. "Look around you; how long do you think this wagon has been here?"

The idea that, only moments before, had raised Hoss's hopes, faded as he took in the wind-damaged canopy of the wagon, the sand-filled boxes and trunks.

Adam threw his leg over his horse's head and jumped lightly to the ground. He moved to stand next to his brother. "There's nothing left to track. And besides," Adam's eyes filled with regret. "The men who attacked us in the gorge are all dead."

Hoss's mouth fell open. He gathered himself with a slight shake to the head. "Dead?"

Joe was immediately beside them. "Whaddya mean, dead?"

Adam looked swiftly between them. "Dead, just what I said, dead!"

Hoss grabbed Adam's arm, spinning his older brother around to face him. "And you knew this all this time and you didn't tell us?"

Adam wrenched his arm out of Hoss's grip. "It's not something I'm particularly proud of." He turned away, his hand reflexively moving to toy with his ponytail. "We tracked them to their hide-out. My people wanted revenge for the massacre of a Ute village."

Joe walked a couple of steps towards his brother. "Whaddya mean we tracked them, my people wanted revenge? Listen to yourself, Adam, you're not an Indian, though you seem to think you are."

Adam swung around. "It's not easy to put aside two years of living as one of them."

"Two years? For God's sake, Adam, you were a Cartwright for thirty-odd years before that!"

"You don't understand! I locked you away!"

Adam was met with blank stares from his brothers.

"You were dead. I was told no one else survived. I couldn't live with the grief. I couldn't live with knowing I had put the idea into your heads to join the wagon train in the first place. Because of me, you died!" He paused, and a hand found its way to his forehead. He sighed heavily. "The only way I could survive was to lock the memories I had of you away," he poked sharply at his temple. "In here. I refused to think about you, I didn't let the memories surface, because if they did…" He shook his head. "The Ute accepted me as one of their own; they let me marry into their band. I was becoming more and more like them every day. All I knew was my own kind had killed my family and all those other people in the gorge. And for what? Money? Horses? To have power over another? So I turned my back on what I had once been and let myself become Ute." He paused, his eyes flicking nervously towards his brothers. "I underwent…a ceremony…to purge me of my white blood. And after that I never spoke my mother tongue again. I was different. And now…nï'ara Nuuch. I am Ute."

Hoss and Joe could do nothing but stare at the man who was once their brother. They had thought they'd got him back. Yes, he seemed different, but they had assumed, and believed, he was still Adam. But now it was clear his time apart from them had changed him more than they could ever understand. He had assimilated so deeply into the Ute culture that the old Adam was buried in a mire of Indian custom and tradition. Neither of them knew what to do or say.

Hoss's anger had diminished on hearing the men he'd dreamed of tracking down had already been dealt with. But he now felt numb at his brother's words. Hoss knew from the little Adam had shared with them that his first days with the Ute had been ones of unimaginable misery. But to discover the only way Adam could endure life was to forget his own family and to walk away from the existence he had once enjoyed...well, Hoss now understood Adam had been damaged a lot more than he was letting on. He glanced over at Joe who could only stand there staring dumbfounded at his oldest brother.

"If you've got nothing to say then I suggest we get moving." Adam squared his shoulders and swiftly moved to his mount. He pulled himself up into the saddle and reined his horse around to his brothers who hadn't moved from where he'd left them.

"You gotta understand, I did what I had to do. I am Adam Cartwright, and I am your brother. But you also have to know this. Nïnay nía Liwanu. Nï'ara Nuuch." My name is Liwanu and I am Ute. And with one last look at his brothers, Adam pressed his heels to his horse and loped back onto the trail.

XXXXXXX

No more words were exchanged that day as they continued their journey. They rode spaced out along the trail, lost in their own thoughts and unwilling to talk even when they occasionally ended up close by each other.

The terrain was slowly but dramatically changing. They moved up into the low range of foothills they'd spied hours earlier, and the never-ending hard sand and sagebrush was making way for aspen groves and isolated thickets of conifer. The three riders gathered together on a high ridge and Hoss and Joe gazed in wonderment at the southernmost tip of the vast expanse which made up the Great Salt Lake. It was so huge their own adored Lake Tahoe could have filled its watery depths ten times over with room to spare. But it was nothing more than a signpost for Adam, confirmation he was a day's ride from the high camp where his Ute family would be. He quickly reined his horse around and continued on the upland trail, leaving no time for his brothers to take in the sight before them.

That night they made camp in a small sheltered grove within spitting distance of a meandering creek. It was the first time in eight days they weren't exposed to the cold night air of the desert. The protection provided by the tall spindly trees around them kept the worst of the chill from their bones. The brothers moved amongst themselves, avoiding eye contact, waiting stiffly for one to pass by within the confined enclosures of the camp. Each man went to his duties without a word spoken. The horses were picketed, fed and watered, and a small fire built to heat up coffee and yet more beans. It was Adam who broke the silence.

"Look, if you wanna go back…to the Ponderosa…" he left the sentence hanging, unable to say the words he didn't want to say: If you wanna go home, back to your lives, I understand. I didn't look for you, and then I banished all thoughts and memories of you from my mind. I rejected everything I was, that you are…I've hurt you. You're probably better off without me…

Hoss threw down the coffee pot that only minutes before he had filled with water, spilling the contents over the ground at his feet.

"Dadburnit, Adam, would ya stop feelin' sorry for yourself for one minute!" He stomped over to Adam and roughly pushed him down onto the fallen tree trunk that was doubling as a seat. Adam looked up at him, his mouth hanging open in shock. Hoss paced the ground in front of him.

"Now, we know you've had it tough, older brother, but it's about time you stopped stewin' in your own juices and listened to a few home truths. To begin with, me and Joe and Pa, we didn't die in that cursed attack. Yes, we were hurt bad, but we all pulled outta it. I'm standin' here in front of you, Joe's over there." He pointed to where Joe had sat down with an astonished smile tickling the edge of his lips; happy to sit back and watch his middle brother in action. "We're alive. So you need to get all those thoughts of us dyin' outta your head. And for the love of all things holy, would ya stop feelin' guilty for something that wasn't your fault. We all decided to join that wagon train, we didn't need no persuadin'. We were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. And I know you're feelin' guilty about puttin' us outta ya head an all, but," Hoss sighed, "you're not the only one who's gone done somethin' like that so's they could get through. We've all had to do things we didn't like in order ta…carry on. That's life, is all."

Hoss stopped his pacing and stared down at Adam who hadn't been able to take his eyes off his brother during the entire rant. Hoss quickly turned and bent over to retrieve the coffee pot.

"I'm goin' to the stream to fill up again." He stomped out of the camp, but then stopped and plodded back in. "And another thing. If we was to let you go on alone, Pa would string up our hides from here to doomsday." He nodded firmly at Adam and then turned to nod at Joe as well. This time when he left, it really was to fill the coffee pot.

Adam was speechless. He followed his brother's departing figure before drawing his gaze back to the camp, his face blank. The sound of Joe rising from his seat distracted him and he looked up to see a look of amusement on Joe's face. Joe headed over to the fire to stir the beans which had begun to burn on the bottom of the pan.

"Still want us to leave, brother?" Joe said with a smile, and shaking his head with mirth, he walked out of the camp to visit a nearby tree, slapping his brother on the shoulder as he went.

XXXXXXX

Adam wasn't aware of it, but this wasn't the first time he had journeyed along this trail. Two years earlier, he had been tied onto a travois and dragged behind the pony ridden by his Ute rescuer. Cameahwait had stood at the same high ridge overlooking the Great Salt Lake and thanked the Great Spirit that he was within a day of his home and family; and a day away from help for the gravely injured white man he had found. Adam had no memory of this route—his fever having taken such a hold that he was delirious for most of the journey—so instead he used one of the distant high mountains as a way marker. There was one particular peak; a windblown rocky pinnacle that stood like a guardian overlooking the Ute's summer camp. The mountain was almost a perfect triangle, except for the very apex which tilted over as though a large thumb had squashed it to one side. As long as he and his brothers headed straight for that peak, they should reach the Ute village.

Adam knew he had to stay patient. The urge to gallop crazily up the trail in the direction of the village was overwhelming; his wife and his child were there, oblivious to his homecoming, unaware he was so close he could almost smell the food cooking on the wood fires. But for three white men to ride at speed into an Indian village, albeit one Adam had called home, would be akin to suicide. So he reined in his zeal—although he couldn't stop his heart beating rapidly in his chest—and maintained an illusion of stoic composure.

Vague memories began to flit through Adam's mind as they ascended steadily over rocky hills dotted with clusters of mountain broom whose sunny yellow flowers were starting to shrivel and drop; the brush was giving away to increasingly thick forests of pinyon-juniper woodland, and it appeared the higher they travelled, the taller the trees became. It struck Adam that, in all the time he'd lived in the high summer village, he'd never followed this particular trail except for that one pain-filled time. And yet, fleeting memories were starting to stir. The strongest recollection was the motion, how his body had been jolted from side to side as he was dragged over the uneven trail. Most of the time he had been insensible to his surroundings, but he was struck with a memory of coming to and being blinded by the sunlight as it sparkled through the pine branches looming overhead. Another memory registered; one of relief that the constant movement and jarring of the journey had ceased; and of blinking open his eyes, turning his head with effort and observing a blurry figure filling bladders at a nearby stream. The figure had his back to Adam and he now distinctly remembered the unease and fear as the figure had turned to approach and Adam had realised the man was an Indian. But in his delirium he had been unable to do more than struggle weakly against his bindings as the man had knelt by his side, lifted his head and poured sweet fresh water down his throat. Adam recalled a brief sensation of surprise before the infection in his leg claimed him once again and he had succumbed to a fevered dream world.

How different he felt now. The fear, the panic, the confusion were all in the past. The Indians were his friends; more than that, they were his family. He wanted to kick his heels into the belly of his horse and ride like the wind up the trail, and into the village, and into the arms of his wife and child. Only then could he even think about the choices he knew he'd have to make; decisions that would hurt the people he cared about most in this world. He put that to the back of his mind and continued steadily up the trail. The forest was quiet. If anything, it was too quiet. The sound of birdsong which had assailed them since they'd entered the wooded area hours before seemed to have faded into silence. Even the wind was no longer breathing through the branches above them. Yet he was now in recognisable territory. As they'd left the rocky hills behind them and entered the thick upward slanting forest, Adam was in a world he knew like the back of his hand. It was as familiar to him as the Ponderosa had once been. The lack of even a whisper didn't perturb him. And as he kept his eyes on the trail ahead, he could feel a calmness settling upon his shoulders and a smile teasing about his lips.

After about twenty minutes, the sound of a horse loping up behind made Adam turn his head to see Hoss reining in beside him.

"Adam," Hoss couldn't keep the tension out of his voice. "Somethin' ain't right here. My head is itching somethin' awful an' I can feel all the hairs standin' up on the back of my neck." Hoss started to scan the terrain around him. "I'm gettin' a feeling we're being watched."

Adam kept his eyes on the trail. "That's because we are being watched. They've been watching us for the last half hour or so."

Hoss peered around him, his top lip pulling up to reveal the gap between his front teeth. "You sure? I cain't see nothin' out there." He twisted in his saddle and caught Joe's eye behind him. Joe looked as perplexed as he did and could only shrug at his brother's look.

Adam smiled. "They're out there."

"Are they from the village you were livin' in?"

"I'd say so."

Joe called out from behind them.

"Then why don't they show themselves, if they know you?"

Adam reined his mount to a stop and let Joe catch up with him and Hoss.

"Because of you two. And because of this." He fingered his vest and shirt. He looked out into the trees. "They'll make themselves known soon enough."

Adam kicked his horse forward and the brothers continued on their way. Hoss and Joe couldn't hide their unease at knowing the Ute were in the forest, hidden, silently watching them, following them without being seen. It was unnerving. Yet Adam was calm, and so they followed on behind him, wary, but reassured.

XXXXXXX

It was late afternoon when the gradient of the trail became abruptly steeper. The men had to lean low over their horses' necks and gee them up to encourage the animals to climb the increasingly sharp grade. But once over the top, the path flattened out and they found themselves on a richly forested plateau. Adam breathed in deeply in anticipation as he knew they would find the Ute camp at the next clearing. He brought his Appaloosa to a halt and waited for his brothers to catch up.

"We're about a half mile from where the village should be. They'll be guarded because of you, so just follow my lead."

Hoss and Joe nodded their assent and together they followed behind Adam as he walked at an easy pace through the sun-dappled forest. This wasn't the first time that either of Adam's brothers had approached an Indian village, but Joe felt particularly anxious this time. He wasn't worried about entering the camp—although knowing there were Indians out there watching silently was making his hands clammy—but of what would happen after they'd got there and Adam had been reunited with his wife and child. He couldn't help but feel his brother would not be returning with them to the Ponderosa. He was so unlike the Adam of old, and he could tell from his brother's relaxed pose that he was buoyed at the prospect of being amongst these people again.

The question of Adam's future, however, instantly went to the back of Joe's mind as the signs of human habitation began to appear through the thinning trees. Joe could make out a corral of horses and a scattering of tepees in the clearing ahead. And as they broke through the tree cover, Joe's heart soared as he took in the beauty surrounding the small Indian encampment. The village was surrounded on three sides by forest and when Joe looked to his right he saw how the plateau was on the side of a mountain which overlooked a wide sweeping view of low, shallow hills and distant clumps of woodland. Rising above them was an impressive front of high summits, their granite peaks caressed by a cerulean-blue sky. As they'd ridden along the plateau towards the clearing, they had been accompanied by the sound of a fast-flowing stream, hidden out of sight where the mountain surged down to meet the hills he could make out below. Joe felt immensely small in this glorious landscape.

As Adam pulled his horse to a stop, Hoss and Joe followed suit. It was then Joe noticed the Ute villagers who had halted whatever they had been doing and were staring with a range of expressions at the brothers. There were looks of shock and surprise, of tentative, unsure smiles; but most of all the faces displayed bewilderment at the three men who had ridden into their midst, particularly at the sight of Adam in his western clothing and a gun at his hip. Joe saw how some of the women had to physically hold back their children who wanted to run out and greet their once-lost member. Joe shifted in his saddle, unhurriedly craning his neck to look behind him. Their silent pursuers had emerged from the woodland and without a word or signal had created a widely spaced shield behind the three interlopers. Their escape route was effectively blocked. He slowly turned to look at Hoss who shared the same nervous look. The lives were now fully in the hands of their elder brother.