Chapter 31
The posse, under Roy Coffee's directions, spread out to cover a half-mile corridor until they arrived at the California border as that was where Roy's jurisdiction ended. Then they were to meet in Carson City. Roy had already sent wires to the closest sheriffs and marshals in Nevada and California informing them of Darby Flanagan and Judd's crime—whatever the specifications about the crime were since there was nothing on the books about it. And even if it did, Roy had earlier told Ben, "They just have to plead out, probably do a few months in jail. Now you and I know that those two aren't going to go to trial—they're not fools. The only thing that they could probably be prosecuted for is extortion and that's it. That Sylvia miscarried, well, that wasn't their intent—to do harm. We're not tracking murderers."
Roy had sat straight on his horse while the men including Joe and Ben Cartwright, waited for instructions. "Now if you spot something like remnants from a camp or such, fire twice. If any of you hear the shots, head that way and assist. If you find them and can take both or even one of them safely, do it but don't go being a hero as put yourself in danger. And bring them back."
"What if we see anything that leads us to believe that they went over into California? Are we to just turn our backs on it? Ignore it?" Joe asked. He felt his usual annoyance at having to obey the letter of the law.
"I have no authority in California.," Roy explained again with impatience. "I already explained that. If you see anything, tracks or such that make you suspect they went that way, tell me and I'll wire the closest sheriff and have him look out for the two especially."
"Why can't we find them and drag their asses back across the border? Who would know? They'd be back in Nevada and we could prosecute them." A few men mumbled in agreement.
Roy sighed. ""Cause you can't do that. The law there has to take custody." Roy leaned forward in his saddle. "Now if you want to haul them into the next town in California and have the sheriff hold them until I can get custody of them, that's fine. Matter of fact, I wish you would. You'd save me a world of trouble. I hope to sleep in my own bed tonight."
"Well, they broke the law. I don't understand why we have to toe the line when…"
"Joseph," Ben said, "Roy already explained it. We don't want some lawyer to get them off on a technicality. Now let's do what we're supposed to do." Joe glowered but said nothing else.
"All right, you have your instructions, Now remember, this is a legally-sworn posse so no shooting unless there's no other way."
The men nodded before they separated and rode out. They had each been given a description of Darby and Judd but some of the men had seen them in the saloons before; some men hoped they'd find the two fugitives and some hoped they'd find no one and nothing—this was just their civic duty and they resented putting their lives in any danger for anyone, especially a Cartwright who could well afford to hire Pinkertons to track down the two former ranch hands.
Roy and Ben rode together though. They enjoyed each other's company and as the two oldest men in the posse, they felt they could well do what they liked and ride as a pair. But Joe was relieved that his father wasn't heading out alone. Joe had waited until he saw the two men ride off together and then wheeled on his horse and took off to the west.
"I wonder if we're going to find anything," Roy said. "You know, when you think about how vast this land is, how many gullies and hills and places for a man to hide, I'm always surprised when anyone is caught by a posse."
"I know—I wish we would find them first because that would mean that Adam won't. I worry about it."
"Now, Ben, of all your sons, Adam is the least likely to act like a goddamn fool. I've seen Joe lose his temper many a time, rant and stomp around and slam things—a bit like you in a fury…" Roy grinned as Ben reacted.
"Now wait a minute, Roy…"
Roy put up his hand. "I've seen Hoss too when he gets that look like he could snap a man's backbone in half—and probably would-but I haven't ever seen Adam lose control of himself no matter what."
"I know," Ben said, "but this time it's different." His brow furrowed in concern.
The two friends rode along in silence, each lost in his own thoughts as they scanned the countryside for and sign of the fugitives.
Adam and Hoss had arrived at Cooperville a few hours before dusk and asked questions even while they quickly ate. No one they spoke to in the small town remembered anyone fitting Darby and Judd's descriptions, not the bartender in the only saloon, the waitresses in the small restaurant or the mercantile until they went to the livery stable to feed and rest their horses before they headed out again.
The owner of the livery, a heavy-set man who probably couldn't see his own feet due to his belly, talked slowly as if every word took a great deal of energy. He remembered Judd and Darby.
"The blond one…yeah…he had an Irish accent. The other one…he was kinda surly—got upset when I told him the price of oats."
Adam waited impatiently while the man sighed, rubbed his ample chins and considered his next words. Adam reached into his pocket and pulled out two half dollars. He flipped one to the man who caught it quickly enough. "Think real hard," Adam said. "There's another half-dollar waiting if your memory serves."
The man raised a finger as if he just remembered something. "The surly one called Judd…he got shed of that Irishman—took off on his own. They had an argument…."
"Did he happen to say where he was going? The one called Judd?"
"Now let me think…"
Adam tossed the other coin and the man's hand shot out and caught it mid-air.
"They both seemed…in a hurry…scared…said somethin' about a dead woman. I know when to mind my own business…to pretend I didn't hear something…and that was one of them times."
Adam considered all the livery owner had said—practically nothing except that Darby and Judd had gone their separate ways. All he knew was that they had passed through Cooperville the previous evening and left. Adam put his hands on his hips and evenly said, "Did they say where they were going?"
There was something in Adam's tone that made the man cautious. He looked at the big man in the tall hat who waited as well and started to move toward him. The livery owner knew that no more money was forthcoming but he might be jerked up by his shirt front and shaken until the words spilled out and his eyes rolled around in his head. "Now...wait a minute," the man said. "The mean one, he did say somethin' 'bout Oregon. Yeah, he said to the other guy, the Irishman, that he thought he'd go to Oregon—not many people there, he said. He could get lost there."
"Thanks," Adam said curtly. "Appreciate it." Adam took the reins of his horse and walked out, Hoss following and leading his.
"What we gonna do?" Hoss asked.
Adam turned. "You head out after Darby and I'll go to Oregon. He'd take the usual trail because it's faster—I'm sure of it—especially this time of year with all the rains up that way."
"Oh, no, brother," Hoss said. "I ain't lettin' you face Judd alone. Or let me put it the right way—I ain't lettin' Judd face you alone."
Adam grinned. "Well, thought I'd try." They mounted up and headed in the direction of Oregon.
Sylvia rolled on her side; it was after midnight and she was still awake. She was tempted to take a dose of laudanum. Doctor Martin had told her that she could if she needed it for pain but this wouldn't be for pain—this would be to blot out her anxiety about Adam being out hunting down the two men who had abducted her; he hadn't told her that was his plan when he had left that morning but she knew it was. She kept reminding herself that Hoss was probably with him by now and that the two of them were together although she knew that didn't ensure anything. Every time she closed her eyes, she could see Adam's face and then her mind would create a scenario where he lay dying. She would have to sit up and ease her breathing, ease the panic that rose in her breast.
She was exhausted. Her eyes burned and her head throbbed. Fiona had brought Ezra to her after he had wakened from his nap just as she had asked. Initially, he was content to play on the bed while she sat up and talked to him but when he tried to crawl on her and she felt his hand on her abdomen as he tried to stand up, she had to put him off. Ezra had soon grown impatient with the limitations of playing on the bed although Sylvia played childish games with him, pointing to her nose and ears and asking him their names, singing any songs she could remember that were a bit silly or childish, playing a clapping game that she had played as a child. But Ezra soon wanted down so she helped him off the bed. She sat in a chair while he walked about the room, trying to open drawers and to find some way to entertain himself. He loudly complained when they proved too difficult for him to slide open and he walked to the closed door and tiptoed to attempt to reach the handle.
Sylvia had walked over and taking Ezra's hand, she pulled him away and opened the door, calling out to Fiona. Ezra wanted to go out to the hall and Sylvia picked him up, carried him out and was suddenly overcome with weakness and vertigo. She quickly placed Ezra down and sat heavily as he looked at her in expectation and then started to toddle away toward the stairs. Sylvia crawled on her hands and knees, her head spinning. She wished she had taken the large brass bell with her but she knew she couldn't crawl back to get it and leave Ezra alone with the stairs.
"Ezra, Ezra….come here, sweetie. Come here…" Sylvia slapped her palm on the floor, hoping to divert his attention from the staircase. "Fiona!" she called out again. "Hop Sing! Please! Anyone!" Sylvia started to cry out of frustration while Ezra looked puzzled. "Fiona!" she called out again. Then Ezra went to her and put his arms about Sylvia's neck. She held him against her, upset at her physical limits. Ezra gave Sylvia a kiss or what passed as a kiss. Ezra didn't know how to actually kiss yet—he leaned in and placed his open mouth against her cheek. It was wet and sloppy and Sylvia laughed with relief. "You little angel—you darling love," she said as she hugged him closer and kissed him until he complained.
Fiona came rushing up the stairs. "Missus, I was just coming in from outside hangin' laundry and I heard you call when I walked in. What's wrong?"
"Ezra wants to play and I'm afraid I'm not as strong as I thought I was. Would you mind taking him outside for a bit?"
"No, Ma'am, not at all. Do you need help gettin' back to bed?" Fiona picked up Ezra. The Missus was pale and obviously weak.
"No, no." She closed her eyes and leaned back against the solidity of the wall. "Where's Hop Sing?"
"Pickin' beans. Do you want I should get him?"
"No, no. I would like some tea though when he's finished. Will you tell him?"
"Yes, ma'am. Are you sure you don't need me?"
Sylvia forced a smile and tried to look cheery. "I'll be fine. Take Ezra out now." Sylvia watched while Fiona took Ezra down the stairs and she finally heard the front door close. She maneuvered to her hands and knees and pulled herself with the doorframe. Then her spirits fell; a red smear of blood was on the wooden planks. The doctor had told her to rest, to stay quiet but she hadn't and this was the result. Now she would have to change her wadding and her gown and wash the spot on the floor or have it as an embarrassing sign of her womanhood and the miscarriage and have someone else wipe it up. But first, Sylvia decided, she had to lie down. Her legs didn't seem to respond so she dropped again to the ground and crawled back to the bed but instead of climbing up as she felt too sick, she lay on the rug hoping to recover before Hop Sing came in with the tea.
The rest of the afternoon served to show Sylvia how very incapable she was of taking care of Ezra until she was stronger and that knowledge weighed heavily on her. And what if she had another child, she considered. How would she manage with two small children? So she lay awake in bed, the room dark, the house still, and her worries of her inadequacies and fear for Adam and Hoss swirled around her like a black smoke and she felt almost as if she was choking.
"Come home, Adam, come home. I just want you home." Sylvia turned on the bed again and settled in. She sighed with longing to have Adam's arms around her, to hear his deep voice like warm honey. That was what she wanted, to have Adam there to take care of everything but she knew that he couldn't always, that she was now a grown woman and had to learn to handle things on her own. But, oh, she didn't want to.
It was almost midnight when all the men of the posse came together again, Joe being the last one to ride in. Their weary postures showed that they wanted nothing more than to be home and safe in their beds.
"Well, the fugitives are now under the jurisdiction of California as far as we can determine since none of you saw anything," Roy said. "Ben and me questioned just about everyone in Carson City already so we may as well head home since we don't have any leads. I'll wire the sheriffs again." Roy turned his horse and the others followed his lead. It would be quicker getting home than it had taken for them to get to Carson City.
Joe held back his horse and when his father looked about to see where he was, Joe motioned with his head. Ben dropped back so that father and son rode side by side.
"Anybody heard any news about Adam or Hoss since most of you had time to talk before I arrived?" Joe asked quietly.
"No. Nothing. I'm hoping they're home, that they've given up."
"Adam give up? You know better than that."
"He belongs at home with his family. Sylvia needs him and he just takes off. And then there's Ezra. Doesn't he think about what they'll do—what we'll do if something happens to him?"
They rode for a bit in silence. "What's the real problem, Pa? Sylvia's not alone-you asked Fiona to stay a bit longer and Hop Sing is there. We'll be home in a few hours."
"I just worry about Adam, that he's not looking past his need for revenge, to strike at those who hurt Sylvia and by that, him. What will he do if there's blood on his hands? What will happen if he commits murder? I wonder if he's even thought about the consequences."
"He'd say it was self-defense," Joe said but he knew that Adam wouldn't lie about it, that Adam would more than likely turn himself in if he committed cold-blooded murder. "All right, so he wouldn't lie but at least he'd have a sense of satisfaction, the knowledge that he'd done something. I can understand it, I know how Adam feels. I've wanted revenge like that too."
"Yes, I know," Ben said looking straight ahead. "That's what worries me. I know the feeling too."