~CHAPTER 21~

His head hit the hard floor and the ropes pulled at his arms as he landed heavily on his right side. The sluggish thuds of several boots could be heard through the splintery boards his ear was now pressed against as his captors shuffled away. Prying his eyes open again, he saw the blurry forms of several men walking away then heard the creak and rattle of the door shutting and the lock clicked into place. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his brothers occupied the room with him, their breathing slow and steady. He had to be thankful for small blessings; at least they were leaving them alone for the time being. But where were they exactly? He turned his head to look above him, but the feeling his skull was about to split was too much for him, and he decided to not press his luck as he desperately wanted to remain conscious. Testing the ropes, he found they were attached to something behind him and realizing there was absolutely nothing for him to do, he relaxed his aching muscles and tried to clear his scattered thoughts. He heard muffled sounds from the other room and what sounded like a call at one time, but he couldn't be sure. He wished with all his might that he could get free so he could at least see how his brothers fared. The fact that he hadn't seen either one of them stir the entire time weighed heavily on his mind.

And that call... had he really heard his own name? Had he really seen Pa or had it been merely a delusion, the trick of an exhausted mind? Above all of his increasingly erratic thoughts there was one that was steadfast... he had failed them. He had failed his father... Hoss and Joe had trusted him and look where they were. Even as he drifted back into unconsciousness and couldn't say it aloud to their unhearing ears, his mind screamed I'm sorry...

Ben had feverishly worked at the ropes encircling his wrists ever since the door had closed on him, fear and desperation causing him to ignore the burns the taut ropes slowly created. After straining for what seemed like forever with still no slack in the rope, he finally stopped, willing himself to calm down and think clearly. What was he going to do? Everything had changed. He had resigned himself to his own fate long ago, but his sons... The sight of each one of them, unconscious, seriously injured for all he knew, being dragged in one at a time gnawed away at him, driving him almost to insanity over his inability to help them. After having not even a glimpse of them for months, this is the reunion he was forced to have with his boys. It was exactly what McWhorter wished to accomplish, and Ben knew it. He couldn't bear the thought of what he was planning to do, before a distant nightmare, now a terrible reality. How could a man be driven to bottle up so much hate inside of him? What kind of man had he really fought with in Illinois?

But above all of those questions, the one that drove him with a passion now was how was he going to get his sons out of this? He realized that McWhorter had just been toying with him, never really expecting to fulfill his promise to leave his sons alone, and that thought made his stomach churn. All this time the only thing that kept him going was the fact that his boys were still safe, no matter what they were put through. That was no longer true. He leaned his chin down upon his heaving chest, tears readily pooling in his eyes. 'I'm sorry.'

Travis heard Ben Cartwright's cries to his sons and then saw McWhorter with a sadistic grin close the door on him and lock it. He looked around at the rest of the men that quickly filled the barn, realizing that he should probably start looking busy instead of staring at what would've been considered 'normal' actions to any of them, but actions that now began to disturb him. It was a desperate, dangerous game McWhorter was playing, and he knew it. He had thought that game was up when the watch had been found revealing the discovery of their camp, but it only seemed to take the danger and intensity to a whole new level. Now they had all the Cartwrights!

The fact made his breath come quicker and his palms tingle with sweat. All of the exhausted men dropped down into their separate corners around him to fall asleep almost as soon as their eyes closed. Travis turned toward Ben Cartwright's door again and saw McWhorter move off into his own room in the front of the stables. Now they would all wait until the boss's next move, which he would tell them of in due time. There was really no reason to rush. No one knew where they were. No one was coming after them; the Boss made sure of that before they left the camp. While once he would have welcomed that knowledge, now it did nothing but unnerve him.

Seeing Clint's weary form start to go up into the loft for lookout duty, he hurried over to him. "Lemme do that, Clint. You've been out all night. Go get some rest."

Clint looked over at him before nodding. "Thanks, Trav," he yawned before shuffling off to his own blanket. Quickly, Travis scurried up the ladder and into the more open and, more importantly, unoccupied loft. Trying to make sense of his conflicting thoughts, he didn't stand watch as a lookout should but always stared straight ahead, periodically thumping his fist into the palm of his other hand. Why had he let Cartwright talk to him? Why was he letting that conversation get to him so much? Perhaps... perhaps he knew he was right all along. Old man Cartwright's words kept ringing true in his mind; he didn't want to be caught on McWhorter's side. In fact, the whole idea of his plan was now starting to revolt him, whether because of a fear of consequence or because the long dormant thread of conscience had been strung he didn't know. He knew the other men didn't care, though; all they wanted was the money they expected to gain from it, all of them seasoned professionals at such work, but he found himself caring less and less about that. When the Cartwrights had been brought in that night, he had watched old man Cartwright's face the whole time. He had seen the same look of anguish many times before, although never that strong; but now it tore into him like a whip. If he could ever say he saw a man age right before his eyes, it would've been then.

McWhorter was becoming less a fearless leader and more a deranged tormentor in his eyes, one that provoked only fear in everyone. He hadn't yet revealed to them what his new plan was, and right now he figured the men were too tired to care, but Travis had an idea of what it would be. He recognized the glint of satisfaction and power that filled his eyes more every passing day, and it frightened him. Cartwright was right; he wasn't going to wait around for the law to capture them and undoubtedly condemn them all to the gallows; and he definitely didn't want to go down for a man like McWhorter, even though it took nothing less than a simpleton to go against McWhorter. At this point, he had nothing to lose. If he stayed, it meant the gallows, that's if McWhorter decided not to kill all of them anyway just like he had Sam. But if he helped Cartwright, it could mean a possible starting over, a new life. The prospect of that outweighed the consequences any action he might take would bring, to finally fall against McWhorter. His mouth went dry. Could he really do it? Did he have the courage to even dare try? Everywhere he went it seemed he could feel McWhorter's black eyes peer into him, exposing him for the coward he was.

He stopped by the open loft door and leaned up against it, letting the cold wind cool his flushed face. But what could he do?

"Travis!"

He practically jumped as Hank called his name and made his hair stand on end at the nape of his neck. Turning, he desperately tried to compose his shattered nerves before he hollered down the ladder. "Yeah?"

"Need more firewood."

Nodding to himself, although no one was there to see it, he hurried over and started down. He had to think. This would be the perfect opportunity to get away from the sounds of the men and the knowledge that the entire Cartwright family was under lock and key a couple of rooms away, their very fate maybe in his hands. As he descended, he glanced out the loft window and was surprised to see it had gotten considerably darker. How long had he been up there?

Once he was down, he started across the hay-littered barn and found it difficult not to run past his counterparts in his haste to get out. At any moment he feared that one of them, even McWhorter himself, might jump in his path and confront him for his very thoughts. Finally making the seemingly endless journey of about only twenty feet to the door, he flipped open the bar and stepped out before shutting it behind him and taking a great gasp of the free, chilly air of the outside world.

To his surprise, the idea of running away right then and there came to him. He knew that he couldn't be part of it any more. The Cartwrights could fend for themselves. But then he thought, "What would that accomplish?" The fear of having both the law and McWhorter after him was too much for his frazzled mind to comprehend. If he could help the Cartwrights and somehow get out of this situation with his life, then he might have a chance.

He didn't know what to do! He pushed off from the door with a grunt, wanting the indecision to pass off of him just as easily as the wind that carelessly whipped through his hair. Knowing that the lookout from the loft where he had stood a moment before could see him, he started for the deeper recesses of the woods, kneeling to pick up the thicker branches to fuel the fire, his calm actions belying the whirlwind taking place in his head. He acted mechanically, his entire being striving to solve his dilemma, to do what was right for a change. But how? How was he going to accomplish that? More out of instinct than conscious thought, he headed several yards further into the woods for another clump of branches which he saw strewn on the ground of the darkened forest floor.

As he bent to pick them up, a steel arm wrapped itself around his throat without warning, cutting off his air and causing him to choke on a gasp. Dropping the bundle of wood, he immediately reached up to pry at the hardened grip on his windpipe, but his struggling ceased at once as the blade of a knife was smoothly pressed up under his jaw, immediately followed by a whisper in his ear, "No noise."

Yes, they're all together again and now it looks like what Ben said to Travis is getting through after all, but will it be enough?

Thank you sooo much for all of the reviews!

BJ2 - Yay, dance time! Just about. I had nearly forgotten about Wavoka too. lol Glad you liked his addition.

BettyHT - Yes, McWhorter becoming a more dangerous character with each passing chapter. The stakes are quite high now. I'm glad you liked Wavoka and Roy together. A clashing of the clans so to speak, but I enjoy that in stories when two unlikely characters have to come together.

Areader - It's reviews like these that writers absolutely love, a nice lengthy read that we can sink our teeth in to and tells a story of its own. I'm so happy you like my story and my apologies for now making you wait on chapters, but I usually update fairly quickly so hopefully the wait won't be too bad. Thank you very much for the compliments. Characterization is always key for me; if it's not on it'll throw me out of the story quicker than anything else so I'm very glad to hear that you liked mine. Stay tuned for more!

AureaD - I'm glad you liked chapter 20. Still got a bit more to go, but now at least there is hope. Hang on boys!