Chapter 25

Fiona walked behind Ezra as he toddled around the yard after a ball, picking it up and then throwing it further, chortling with exultation while he practically quivered with delight at his accomplishment. Then, when the ball was too far in one direction, Fiona would pick it up and toss it back towards the center of the yard again. Ben Cartwright sat on the porch watching, a rifle balanced across his thighs. It was almost noon and Ben's thoughts were with his sons and their searches. He had been hesitant to let Ezra play outside but the child was fussy and kept going to the front door and trying to reach the latch so Ben agreed with Fiona that the fresh air and activity would help with the child's pent-up energy. And it pleased him to watch how Ezra had grown and what a bright child he was. So much like Adam—so beautiful and intelligent.

But Fiona's mind was in turmoil. Earlier that morning, Ben had told her quietly about Mrs. Cartwright's disappearance in the night, she was obviously carried off, and the ransom note left it the rose tree. Therefore, Fiona was not to go out alone with Ezra or even by herself; the men may still be lurking on the property, looking for a chance to up the ante by snatching one or both of them. The idea that whoever it was who took Sylvia might have instead spirited away his grandson made his bowels turn to water. That would have been unbearable.

Earlier that morning about two hours after Adam and Hoss had left, not only Joe, but about six other men came riding into the yard and Ben and Hop Sing went out to meet them. One of them, Fiona discovered as she stood in the open threshold holding Ezra, was the sheriff of Virginia City.

"What direction did Hoss and Adam head?" Sheriff Coffee asked.

"North," Ben replied. "Last night we saw an area in the dirt that indicated a struggle so that's where Hoss started trailing this morning and it led to north of the Ponderosa. Be careful, Roy-please. Remember what the note said. We weren't to call in the law."

"Now I been doing this for a long time, Ben." Roy adjusted himself in the saddle, his horse eager to go. "You and Adam did the right thing by bringing me in. And don't worry—we aren't the cavalry blowing a bugle to say we're coming."

"I know. Just…good luck."

Roy and his posse headed off but Joe hung back. "It'll be okay, Pa. We'll bring Sylvia home all right." Joe winked with assurance and Ben weakly smiled. The Joe kicked his horse and took off.

Ben and Hop Sing stood together and watched the last of the posse's dust settle.

"You come in now, Mr. Cartwright. You not eat breakfast. Must eat something. You come in and Hop Sing fix eggs and you eat. Come in."

Ben sighed and gave Hop Sing a weak smile. Hop Sing wanted him to eat; at least some things stayed the same in any crisis and Hop Sing was an anchor to reality, someone who always sent the message that life must go on and people must survive. And so Ben went in to breakfast. After all, Ben knew that Hop Sing had faced many hardships in his life—famine and near-starvation in China as well as droughts and floods and the loss of many family members before he finally managed passage to America. The small, bandy-legged Chinaman had also survived the trip over in the bowels of a ship while so many of his fellow Chinese had died due to flux among other maladies, their bodies tossed over the side, some before they even took their last breath. If anyone knew about suffering, it was Hop Sing. And if anyone knew about surviving, it was Hop Sing.

"Hellfire," Hoss said as he sat on his horse. He looked out over the stretch of land that had been grazed by cattle just the day before. It contained only scrub and grass. "They come cross here and there ain't no way to find their tracks with all them other tracks here. They're either smart or lucky."

Adam cursed under his breath. Up to that point, although the two riders hadn't been easy to track, they hadn't been impossible to track—until now. "What if we circle around the area and look for tracks going out?"

Hoss looked at his brother. He knew that Adam was upset but that didn't account for his sudden lack of logic and sense. "Adam, them cattle were strung out near a mile. Now how're you gonna find any tracks?"

Adam sat on his horse and pondered the situation. He looked up at the sky. It was about 11:00 in the morning and the tracking had been tedious, Hoss needing to dismount every so often to search through brush for clues as to what direction they had gone. Adam would become impatient, the fear rising in him and the only way he could tamp it down was by going, by doing. He fought the urge to just ride over Hoss and go. But the worst was when he thought about Sylvia and how frightened she must be. Was she wondering why he hadn't found her yet or if he was even looking? Was she even aware that she was being held for a price?

"Hoss," Adam said as they looked out at the vast area, "where do you think they would head? Let's just assume they're familiar with this area—maybe not completely familiar but they had to have a plan as to where to hide out. I mean what's out this way? Two men and a woman, a woman they've abducted. Where would they go?"

Hoss thought. "I s'pose they wouldn't be campin'—they wouldn't want to be out in the open." Suddenly Hoss' head snapped up. "The Morris place. That place's been deserted near 'bout four years now. It's out a little to the east."

"Let's try it." Adam kicked his horse into a lope and he and Hoss headed across the pasture land toward the old long-abandoned house.

The ride to the line shack seemed interminable to Sylvia. Being thrown over the saddle and the motion of the horse made her dizzy and nauseated and when the horse trotted, the pressure against her ribs and abdomen caused her pain. Finally they arrived at a small shack; she had raised her head once the horse had stopped. Judd had climbed down and roughly pulled Sylvia off the saddle and she landed on her feet but her knees buckled underneath her and she would have hit the ground but Judd grabbed her by an arm and pulled her upright.

"Put her inside," Judd told Darby. "Light a fire—it's one of the Cartwright's line shacks so no one should get suspicious with the smoke comin' out of the chimney even if they see us. For all anyone knows, we still work for the Ponderosa."

Sylvia found herself inside a small, well-kept and well-stocked line shack, the canned goods and canisters of coffee, flour, sugar and salt lined up neatly on a shelf to protect the contents from insects and vermin. Sylvia had heard Adam and his father and brothers mention the line shacks, he had even stayed out at them a few nights on occasion, and Adam had explained that since the property was so large, ranch hands checking line would have to stay in one of the line shacks at night since they were so far from the bunkhouse. Once every two months, one of them made the rounds with groceries and restocked the foodstuffs.

Darby had carried her in and placed her on the bottom of the two bunk-beds, rolling her over so that she lay on her stomach, her wrists and ankles still tied. Judd came in and nodded in approval.

"Go take care of the horse, Darby. Don't unsaddle 'em though and keep the bridles on their necks—we may have to leave quickly. I'll start the stove and make some coffee and cook us up a bit of grub."

"Please," Sylvia begged, "will you untie me? I won't run away or anything but my hands are going numb and my wrists hurt—they ache terribly. Please. I don't feel too well. My stomach hurts as well."

"Maybe we should loosen the ropes or somethin'," Darby said.

Judd had walked to the small stove. "Darby, you're a goddamn fool if you believe anything that bitch says. Women are liars—every last blessed one of them from Eve on down. Now go take care of the horses." Darby left and Judd addressed himself to Sylvia as she lay on the bunk. "You may as well relax. We're askin' money for you so if that husband of yours and his family don't pay, for some reason decide you ain't worth it, we may have a little fun with you and it'll be a lot easier if you're tied up." He grinned and then laughed at her expression of fear.

Judd was heating up beans from a can he had opened with a knife when Darby walked in. He looked over at Sylvia who had opened her eyes when the door opened. She was pale—almost as white as the sheet on the bunk.

"Please…," she said, "I really don't…oh, please." She grimaced and tried to roll over to her side but with her arms pulled behind her, she couldn't. She groaned. "God help me…please untie me."

"She been like this the whole time I been gone?" Darby asked. He was worried about her and was glad they hadn't snatched the child; he couldn't have dealt with a fussy child and Judd would have had less patience that he.

Darby walked over to her and bent down. "Now what's this trickery you're pulling on us? Eh?"

"It's not…oh, please. I hurt." She rolled slightly from side to side, breathing oddly.

Judd had walked over as well. "Maybe we should untie her, at least for a bit. We can always tie her to the bed overnight. What do you think?"

Darby stood back up. It was only the second time that Judd had asked his opinion. The first time was when he had told Judd that the Cartwright infant may not be the best choice and he had suggested Adam Cartwright's wife. Judd had then asked him how he thought they could grab the woman. And now Judd was asking his opinion again. He rubbed his chin, contemplating the situation. "I think we should. If you want, I'll do it. Just hand me that knife." Judd handed the big knife he had used to open the can to Darby who used it to cut the ropes on her wrists. He was about to cut the rope on her ankles but she rolled over, groaning, and curled up and he saw the blood that had soaked through her skirt and into the mattress.

"Holy Mother, Darby said. "She's bleedin' like a stuck pig!"

"Damn it all!" Judd was furious—just like a woman to spoil everything for him.

"Maybe it's her time, you know, the bloody time that women have."

Judd shook his head. "No. There's too much blood and too much pain. This is something else." He looked at Darby who was obviously terrified at the sight of the woman, moaning and groaning in pain and rocking herself on the bloody mattress. Each moment that passed, more blood soaked the spot under her and it spread. "She might be dying and I'm not going to hang for it. Pack up our things. I'll go ready the horses. We need to leave—not just the Ponderosa but Nevada. Now hurry!"

Less than ten minutes later, Darby and Judd were gone and Sylvia lay alone on the cot in the line shack, crying out at the intense pains that ripped at her gut, certain that she was going to die alone in the small wooden structure with the smell of burned beans and over-boiled coffee in the air.