The Beauty of Darkness - ELEVEN
oooooooooo
Early the next morning a little bird, winging its way joyously over the trees, remarked to itself on the unusual amount of activity in the forest. A trio of men followed the river, making their way slowly and surely – and it seemed to her, sadly – north. At the opposite end of the fast running water, near the hills where the grass was sweet and the berries thick and filling, a single man walked with his head down, as if lost in thought. What did he contemplate on such a fine morning, the bird wondered? Did he, like she, glory in the new day? Or did he, perhaps, consider the Hand that made him; the One that raised the sun and set the moon in the sky? She thought not. She was sure his thoughts were of a darker nature, for she had seen this man the night before enter one of the river caves, dragging another man behind him.
Last night he had the look of a fat fox pleased with its kill.
It took the bird little time to cover the vast area that comprised her home, tilting, flying, winging this way and that, as she sought sustenance for her fledglings. While she flew, she asked the One who held all creatures in His hands to watch over the injured man and to direct his family to him. She asked as well that the men prowling beyond her trees would not find him first. She did not like the look of these men. Like a great cat they came with teeth and claws bared. She had seen their kind before.
Their only thought was to find their prey and kill.
Weary from her journey, the little bird alighted on a branch and took to preening her feathers. As she tugged at a particularly stubborn one, a man appeared beneath her, startling her so she almost fell to the earth. He was young and had hair the color of the earth. 'This is the great cat's prey,' she thought. She did not know him, but the One who created her had created him as well, and so she called out a warning.
The man looked up at the sound and gave her a smile. "Well, hello…little one. How are you this…fine morning?"
She chirruped a hasty reply, wishing him on his way.
"I sure wish…you could loan me…your wings," the man said, breathing heavily. "If I had wings, I could fly away from…those fellers and….I could find my friend. Say, maybe you've seen him? He's a handsome devil with curly brown hair and eyes green as God's good earth."
Excited, the little bird danced on the branch. He'd described the injured man.
Had her prayer been answered so soon?
'He's here!' She sang as she rose from the branch and winged toward the hills. 'Here! In the cave!'
The young man smiled and shook his head. "Sure wish I talked bird," he muttered as he turned away.
'No!' she chirped as she rode the air back to the tree. 'This way!'
Too late.
He was gone.
With great sorrow, the little bird returned to her branch. The prowling men were moving into the trees. It would not be long before they showed their faces. Should she fly to the cave and warn the one who had been left behind, she wondered?
Would he listen?
But no, she had her own fledglings to look after. Even now the warm wind carried their hungry voices to her.
With a wing and a prayer, the bird took off.
A prayer that the One who lay within the cave would not, in the end, fatten the stomach of either the great cat or hungry fox.
oooooooooo
Danny paused to place his hands on his knees and draw in several long breaths. He'd been running hard for what seemed like hours. He'd made good his escape just after sun-down. Mudge's men – ex-prison guards, disgraced deputies, and the like – were not used to waiting. The power they wielded had made them impatient. When they shouted ad order, it was to be instantly obeyed. 'Jump!' they would bellow and a dozen men, fear in their voices, would ask, 'How high?!' No more than an hour passed before one brought out a bottle, and then another, another bottle, and they began to polish off their impatience with coffin varnish. He'd waited until they were dead drunk and then run. He'd hoped for at least a few hours lead, but it seemed one of them hadn't been quite as drunk as he thought.
That, or they had to take a piss.
Anyhow, he had youth and longer legs as well as sobriety on his side. Then again, being awakened in the middle of the night and ordered onto your horse could sober up a man mighty fast. Danny chuckled.
Whether or not one of the guards had taken a piss, they were all sure as Hell pissed at him now!
The long, lanky man straightened up and looked around. He'd done a lot of range-roaming since coming to the Cartwright spread. Of course, most of the time he'd been in the company of a thousand head of beef and it was mighty hard for a man to do any sight-seeing when he was riding herd. There was a river nearby. He could hear it rushing by. Danny turned and looked back the way he'd come, toward the tree where he and the little bird had had their conversation. Behind the tree was a range of low hills.
Come to think of it, they looked kind of familiar.
He took a few steps toward the river to his right, but halted a dozen feet away from it and looked to the left. Sure enough there was a funny formation of rocks that looked like a cowpoke wearin' a hat, sittin' in whorehouse bathtub. He had a sudden flash of Joe Cartwright pointing at the rocks and making a comment that would have set steam coming out of his pa's ears. When he told him that, Joe had laughed and laughed.
Danny laughed too.
He knew where he was.
Back the way he had come – past the little bird's tree and up in those hills – were a series of caves. Most of them were shallow, though one or two were deep enough that the older Cartwright boys had been able to convince their baby brother if he kept on going long enough he'd end up eating supper with Hop Sing's family in China. He felt drawn to them. After all, a trip to China would be preferable to a trip to Hell, which was where Mudge and his men meant to send him. The problem was, the caves were the first place Travis would think to look for him. Anyhow, saving his own hide wasn't why he'd escaped. Escaping was about getting back to Joe. He meant to free his friend no matter what. Before he could, one of two things had to happen – J, Crockett Murdoch had to die or he did.
And he didn't want to die.
Danny scratched his chin. He 'd feel bad about killin' Murdoch, of course. He was the cause of Cass' death, after all, which gave Crock the right to kill him. An eye for an eye and all that. The problem was Murdoch didn't want to kill him, he wanted to kill Joe, and Joe wasn't guilty of any crime other than being his friend.
The ex-convict remained where he was for several heartbeats, considering his options, and then he started to run again – away from the river caves and the shelter they offered. After all, this wasn't about shelter.
As J. Crockett Murdoch would put it.
This was about balance.
oooooooooo
Hoss Cartwright felt a hand on his arm and then a quick tug threw him off balance and caused him stumble back into the trees.
He glared at his brother. 'Dagnabit, Adam, what -?"
Adam pressed a finger to his lips and inclined his head toward the river.
The big man looked through the fringe of leaves that partially obscured his view and frowned. Someone dressed just like the dead man he'd found the day before was standing by the water.
And he wasn't alone.
Hoss' gun left its holster as he dropped the ground beside his brother. "Mudge?"
"Think so," Adam replied tersely. "Looks to be a half-dozen men."
He counted heads. "At least. More like a dozen, maybe."
The men were watering their horses and talking among themselves.
"From the look of them horses, they've been ridin' hard," he remarked.
Adam nodded. "Hunting someone."
"Who?" Hoss looked again. He'd counted eight men and at least twice as many guns. "Little Joe, you think?"
"Could be."
The big man glanced over his shoulder. "Where do you suppose Pa is?"
They'd split up earlier after they found signs indicating someone had dragged something heavy along the ground and then up, toward the hills. Pa insisted on goin' alone to check it out. He said it would take two of them to keep up the search along the river. Truth to tell, they both thought he was just done tired of lookin' at the water where he thought his son had drowned.
"Hopefully he's well out of this." Adam shifted and his gun appeared in his hand. "We don't need him taken and held as hostage against us."
"You mean, it'd be Little Joe or him, or somethin' like that?"
"I don't know what I mean and I don't want to find out." His brother caught his wrist. "Look!"
Another man had joined the ones by the river. He was of an average height and build, with straight brown hair, and was dressed like a feller who worked in a city. There weren't nothin' remarkable about him 'ceptin' for the way he held himself like he was someone. Travis Mudge had been leanin' over the water, splashin' water in his face. When he turned and found the other man behind him, he had a 'look'.
Kind of like the ones on the faces of the prisoners he was used to bullyin'.
"You know him?" Hoss asked his brother.
Adam's lips were a tight line. "Maybe."
"Maybe?"
His brother reached inside his coat and fished around. A few seconds later, his hand reappeared with a folded paper in it. He handed it to him.
Staring back at him from the wanted poster was the face of a man; an ordinary-lookin' man 'cept for his eyes, which belonged to a jackal. The big man read the words under the sketch. The outlaw had a lot of names and was wanted for a lot of things, includin' extortion and murder.
"You think that's him?"
"J. Crockett Murdoch." Adam breathed the name like a curse. "That's him. I'm certain of it."
"How?"
"I just am."
Hoss remembered all the things Adam had told them Jethro Murdoch. None of it was good, and all of it spelled trouble for their missing little brother.
"You're thinkin' he had somethin' to do with Little Joe goin' missin'?"
The look his brother gave him told him Adam thought that – and more.
"We need to talk to him."
Hoss frowned. He glanced off into the distance. "What about Pa?"
"We just have to hope that Pa does what he said – that he heads up into the hills to check out the caves." Adam shifted his grip. Hoss noted his brothers fingers were white-knuckled on his gun.
"What are you plannin' on doin'?"
Adam looked right at him.
"Something Pa would definitely not approve of."
oooooooooo
Crock shifted his gaze from the fleshy face of Travis Mudge to the men who traveled with him, and then to their horses. Most had a rider.
None of them were the rider he wanted to see.
Before he could ask where Danny Kidd was, Mudge started to yammer. "Crock, before you go off half-cocked, you gotta listen to me!"
One brown brow cocked toward his hairline like a trigger. "I'm listening."
"I didn't have nothin' to do with it. It was them!" Mudge thrust his arm out, pointing at the brood of miscreants he traveled with. "They all got stinkin' drunk and let him get away!"
"I see. And where were you?"
"I was in Genoa making sure everything was ready, just like I knew you would want me to."
"So…" Crock indicated Travis' men who, by now, had caught wind something was up and were watching them. "Which one of these 'stinking drunks' did you leave in charge of Danny Kidd?"
"Well..well, it's like this…." Travis stammered. "Kind of…all of them."
Crock nodded as he moved between the men who were dismounted. "All of them? How many's that? Looks to be about a dozen here. A dozen ex-prison guards and they couldn't keep hold of one prisoner?" He whirled to face Travis. "Maybe that's why they're 'ex' guards."
Mudge was watching him closely. "You don't seem mad, Crock. I thought you'd be mad."
"Mad? Me?" He stopped in front of Travis. "Heck no, I'm not mad. You see, I'm a man who believes things happen for a reason."
The piggy man eyed him warily. "What kind of…reason?"
Crock shrugged. "A bird falls so a cat can eat. A cat eats, and a dog has his supper. The dog sleeps when it's full, so it's barking doesn't wake it master." The muscle at the edge of his right eye twitched. "Don't you want to know what happens because the dog doesn't bark?"
"Okay. Sure," Travis bit. "What happens because the dog doesn't bark?"
No one saw him draw the gun, but they saw the bullet enter Travis' gut and heard the splash as his corpse broke the surface of the water. With the weapon still smoking, Crock turned to the ex-prison guard closest to him.
"Have you figured out what happened to the master when the dog didn't bark?"
The outlaw swallowed hard over his fear. "He…died?"
Crock stepped up and patted his cheek. "Smart man."
oooooooooo
Adam Cartwright looked back the way they had come. "Did you hear that?"
"Sure did. Sounds like gunfire," Hoss said. "You want I should go back and see?"
"No. It's best we stay here. It's too risky."
They'd moved to a place of shelter to wait. It was his hope that Crock would leave the other men and set out alone, so they could follow him. He was betting the outlaw had Little Joe hidden somewhere around here and would want to check on him before returning to camp. If not, they would need to capture him somewhere along the way and question him.
"I ain't so sure," Hoss countered. "I think we need to know what's happenin' back there. What if…? I mean, Little Joe could'a been with those bad men. We might just not have seen him. What if he's in the middle of all that shootin'?"
"We would have seen him," he replied, his tone grim. "One of them, Travis or Murdoch, would have been…well…."
"You mean you think they would have hurt him?"
"Sadly, yes," he admitted with a sigh. "There's more going on here than just a simple kidnapping or ransom. Lessy told me Murdoch is obsessed with the idea of balance – tit for tat, an eye for an eye, that kind of thing."
"What's Little Joe got to do with that?"
"In Murdoch's mind Joe's friendship with Danny has made him a viable target. Lessy explained his method of operation. Crock would have watched the Ponderosa for some time before hatching his scheme. He would have seen how close Joe and Danny were. When he saw that, he decided to use Joe to get Danny to do what he wanted."
"What does he want? I just ain't gettin' it. Wouldn't Murdoch want Danny dead?"
The man in black pursed his lips.
Would that evil was so simple.
"To be honest, Hoss, I don't have an answer. All I know is, we have to talk to him. If anyone knows what's happened to Joe, I'd place my money on it being Jethro Crockett Murdoch."
The big man growled. "If that varmint has hurt Little Joe, I'll break him in two!"
That was another thing Pa would not approve of.
If Murdoch had hurt – or killed – Little Joe.
He'd sit back and watch.
oooooooooo
Ben Cartwright halted to push his hat back and look at the sky. The sun was low on the horizon. The light it cast was meager; its shadows, long and lean.
And hungry.
He'd hated to leave his sons behind, but what he said was true – it would take more than one of them to search the river bank and its surrounds. He'd spent the last day and a half doing just that and, to tell the truth, even the sound of the running water made him heartsick. Here in the hills, Little Joe had a chance. If he found his son here, he might be wounded or sick or both. Joe might even be…dead. But he wouldn't be drowned. The rancher passed a hand over his eyes. He'd seen drowned men before and, as the search continued, the image of his brilliant, vibrant, and ebullient son had given way to one of Joe's bloated corpse floating face-up in brackish water, silent and still.
In other words, he was a coward.
While he traveled, first on horseback and then on foot, the worried father had carried on one of his 'conversations' with God. While the temptation was to rail against fate and to beg and plead for his son's safe return, he resisted. Instead, he thanked his Heavenly father for his life, for the three wives with whom he'd been blessed, and for the sons each had given him. He offered praise for his land and his life, and for all of the blessings that had been heaped upon him. Then, and only then, did he ask his Father in Heaven for what he wanted. 'Surrender' was a word that was hard for a man like him to stomach, but that was what a Godly man was meant to do. He had to yield; to give up control of everything.
Did he want his son's safe return? Did he want to find Joseph hale and whole and blessedly alive?
Yes.
But did he have to…?
If he'd been able to answer that question with a 'no' when he was young, he would not have become the bitter, hardened man his eldest son remembered from his childhood.
A man who had given his child scars of his own to overcome.
Did he have to find Joseph alive – did his faith in God rely upon it?
The rancher puffed out a breath. The answer was, perhaps, not as sure and resounding a 'no' as the Almighty might have liked, but it was 'no' nonetheless.
"Still," Ben breathed as he lifted his eyes to the heavens. "Maybe just this time, I can have what I want?"
His journey had brought him to the base of the first of the river caves. There were a series of them strung out along the water's route. They'd been favorite haunts of his sons when they were young. A few of them were deep and frightened him, but he'd trusted Adam well enough to know he wouldn't lead his younger brothers into peril. If there was one blessing in his life, perhaps even greater than his three sons, it was his sons' love for one another. All that had occurred this last six months had driven them apart for a time, but he knew now there was nothing that could keep them apart.
Like that bundle of sticks he showed his boys, their family was stronger because of what they'd overcome.
The rancher halted again, this time to get his bearings. The light was almost gone. It would be useless, as well as dangerous, to continue the hunt after dark and he needed to look for shelter. The entrance to the cave was somewhere close by, most likely hidden by underbrush. On impulse, Ben put his hands to his mouth and shouted.
"Joseph? Joseph, are you here? It's Pa!" The anxious father waited, his heart in his throat. "Little Joe?"
To his surprise, he heard a sound. It was bestial – almost feral – in nature.
Ben took a few steps forward and called out again. "Joseph? Are you here, boy?"
This time, there were words.
"Here. Over…here."
The rancher's heart pounded against his breast bone. "Where? Son, where are you?" he called out as he began to run. The cry had come from his right. Just as a cave mouth yawned before him, he heard it again.
"Here… Please…."
Ben sensed movement to his left, in the brush beside the cave. He carried a lantern, but had not kindled it for fear of being seen. He did so now and lifted it high above his head. With his free hand, the rancher parted the waist-high grasses.
"Joseph, boy, I'm –"
The sound of a cocked trigger made him tagger back.
The gun in it was pointed straight at him.
"Sorry, old man," Bob Stevens said as he emerged from the cover of the leaves. "You'll have to settle for…me."
oooooooooo
Travis Mudge was dead. So were his men.
J. Crockett Murdoch kicked the boot of the corpse closest to him. Then he sneered.
Miscreants, the lot of them. All a waste of space.
His own men had come along shortly after he'd dumped Mudge in the muddy waters. He'd known they were coming, of course. One of them brought word before he confronted the men on the beach. Together, they'd made short work of the slaughter.
Now, it was time to find Danny Kidd.
The ex-con was close by, he knew it. There was no way Kidd would desert Joe Cartwright. He wouldn't even need tracks to follow. The ex-con was an animal, bred by the system. All he needed was his wits and the keen sense of survival one developed and honed to razor sharpness behind bars. The thing he had to decide, was how and where the confrontation was gonna occur. He could wait here for Kidd to find him, or he could go back to where he'd left Joe. If God was on his side, the next time he and his brother's killer locked eyes, it would be over Cartwright's rotting corpse.
Balance.
Crock sneered.
The Almighty had the best sense of it of all.
"Crock?"
He turned to find Asa Teller coming up behind him. He was one of his now. Teller's hatred of Mudge had grown after Bob Stevens' disappearance. Asa was sure one of Travis' men killed his pal.
"Yeah?"
"What do you want we should do with the bodies?"
He wanted to feed them to the fishes, but figured a dozen bodies floating downstream might just attract attention.
"Something funny, Crock?"
"Bury them deep somewhere where no one will find them." He kicked one of the corpses again. "I'd help, but I gotta go."
"Go where? If you're going after Danny Kidd, I'm comin' with you."
Crock blinked. "Says who?"
"Says me! If it hadn't been for that convict, Bob would still be breathing. He's gotta pay!"
Teller had changed. He was no longer the milksop he'd been in Stevens' shadow.
He wasn't sure he liked it.
"Kidd is mine. I got prior claim."
The cowboy sneered. "Okay by me. All I ask is that you let me watch."
J. Crockett Murdoch chortled, and then placed a hand on the other man's shoulder. "If you ask nice, I might even let you toss in the first handful of dirt."
oooooooooo
Danny Kidd was on his way back to the river. Halfway to the camp, he'd rethought his decision. The last time he'd seen Joe Cartwright, the cowboy had been unconscious; beaten senseless and dangling from a tree. There was no way out – no hope of escape.
But this was Joe Cartwright.
Joe would have found a way, and if Joe found a way, he would have had to head somewhere safe. On that trip they took to the river, Joe had stopped and pointed up to one of caves. 'It's be a great place to hide,' he'd said. 'No one would find you there."
Joe was there now.
He was sure of it.
The light was gone by the time the hills came into view. Danny had just jogged passed the little bird's tree when he heard a familiar sound – hoof beats. A lot of hoof beats. He ducked down behind a bush just in time to avoid a group of nine or ten men. He recognized them as they passed. They were the men who traveled with Crock; the ones who'd been in the camp.
Joe wasn't with them.
What that meant and what it didn't, he wasn't sure. The only thing the ex-convict was sure of, was that he'd made the right choice. It looked like Joe had escaped and the men were hunting him – here, near the caves.
Once the party had passed, Danny rose to his feet and stepped onto the path. As he did, a small bird took flight. Winging overhead, she chittered and chirruped and then headed up into the hills.
This time he was gonna follow her.
"Hang on, Joe," Danny said as he began to climb. "Hang on, friend. I'm on my way."
oooooooooo
To be continued…..