One Little two Little Three Little Thunderbirds

by Marla Fair

A friend of Ben's comes for a visit, bringing with him his three daughters and a dark secret from his past. At first it appears the greatest danger the visit presents lies in the insanity of a trio of young females in the Cartwright household. All too soon it becomes apparent that Gil Jenkins' demons have not been laid to rest and threaten not only him, but the Cartwrights as well.

3. Part Three

SEVEN

Adam stared at the Indian shaman and then walked deliberately to the passage and stepped into it. He thought he heard the whisper of wings on stone and saw something large disappear into the pit of shadows to the right – still, he couldn't be certain. The man in black advanced a few feet into the darkness, but it was so Stygian he feared he would get lost and so he turned back. As much as he wanted to understand what was going on here, there was Joe to think about – Joe who was injured and could easily develop an infection. He had to get him out of this place, past the men who had tried to kill them, and home, where a doctor could tend him.

Thenhe would come back and figure out what the Hell was going on.

Upon his return he found their rescuer kneeling at Joe's side. The native was applying some kind of poultice to his brother's wound. Joe shifted and moaned as he did – which was a good sign – thought the sooner Joe awakened, the sooner he would be in pain and there was precious little anyone could do to alleviate it.

"What's that?" Adam asked as he came to the old man's side.

The native continued his work. "White eyes call it 'Yarrow'."

The black-haired man moved to Joe's other side and took a seat on the floor. The native had made a paste of the plant and piled it on a leaf. Yarrow was powerful. The scientists called it Achillea millefolium, after the Greek warrior Achilles.

"Yarrow? I've heard the Paiute use that for wounds. I take it the Shawnee do as well?"

The old man reached into the pot beside him, gathering more of the potent stuff in his fingers and placing it on a second leaf. He nodded but said nothing.

Adam watched him work for a moment. "Thank you again. You didn't have to help us – now or before."

The native rocked back on his heels. He studied Joe for a moment and then looked at him. "Do not thank me. Thank Mise Manito."

"Mise Manito?"

The shaman raised his arms and opened them wide as he looked up reverently. "Mise Manito."

God.

"My God and your God have different names," Adam said softly, "but they are one and the same. I do thank Him for our paths crossing, and for your kindness." The man in black paused as he studied the native's face. He read conflicting emotions there. For some reason, the Indian had helped them even though it was obvious he did not like – or maybe 'trust' was a better word – white men. He seemed to have a particular interest in Joe. Maybe that was why he had helped.

Maybe his motives weren't entirely altruistic.

Adam pursed his lips and held out his hand. "I've forgotten my manners. We haven't been introduced. My name is Adam. Adam Cartwright. This is my younger brother, Joe." He hesitated, knowing a native's name was his identity and was not readily given to strangers. "May I ask by what name you are called?"

The old man's eyes misted over. "I am no one. Long ago I was called 'Many Marks'. You may call me this if you wish."

"Thank you, Many Marks," Adam said.

As he spoke, Joe stirred and moaned. A second later his brother opened his eyes. They closed again momentarily as he winced with pain, and then reopened with a little more focus. Glancing around, Joe asked, "Adam, where are we?"

Adam gave Joe's good shoulder a little squeeze. "Safe, Joe. We're safe for the moment."

"What about... What about the shooter?"

"You took him out." He sighed. "The trouble is, you almost took yourself out too. Do you remember going over the edge into the ravine?"

His little brother's face scrunched up like it had when, as a little boy, he had tried to work a complicated sum. "Kind of..."

"Being the impulsive idiot you are, you climbed the tower and tackled him. Both of you fell. He ended up worse off than you." He paused. "I had to leave him behind once I realized you were missing."

Joe was still frowning. "Those men... They followed us...didn't they?"

"Yeah. That's how you were shot." He looked up at the native. "Many Marks found us and brought us here."

"Where's...here?" Joe asked.

Adam raised his eyebrows, inquiring of their host.

Many Marks pulled what was left of Joe's battered and torn shirt over the area of the poultice and then rose to his feet. "One of the lake caves," he said as he returned to the fire.

"I followed you down into the ravine," Adam prompted. "You came out of the cave to warn me about the men who were hunting us. Don't you remember?"

Joe was fading. He blinked languidly and fell silent for several heartbeats before murmuring. "Mmmm...no..."

"It will come back tomorrow. Now, you get some sleep. You're going to need your strength if we're going to get you back home."

Joe nodded marginally and was out like an extinguished candle.

Adam remained where he was for a moment and then rose to his feet and crossed to the fire where Many Marks knelt. He waited until the man looked up to ask, "Are we safe here tonight?"

The older man was stirring something. Maybe more medicine. "Nenimkee keeps watch," he replied. "You are safe."

The man in black glanced toward the passage. "What did I see out there? What exactly is Nenimkee?"

"He is the Thunderbird."

Right.

Adam closed his eyes and ran a hand over his face, suddenly realizing just how exhausted he was. He had no idea what time it was or whether it was day or night outside. In the depths of the cave there was no time, only darkness and silence.

"Adam Cartwright should sleep," Many Marks said without looking up. "Sleep like Fiery One. Gather strength. When Nenimkee calls you must be ready."

All he was ready for was to drop where he stood.

With a nod, Adam headed back to where Joe lay. Catching one of the blankets from the cave floor, he wrapped it about his body and then laid down, pressing up against his little brother and taking him in one arm.

Then he fell into a deep troubled sleep fraught with dark, winged shadows.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"You see anything?" a gruff voice asked.

The man who was being asked lowered the binoculars he held. They'd made it to the bottom of the ravine and he had been looking ahead, searching for the missing member of their party. He blinked once or twice and then raised his black hat. After running a hand through his iron-red hair, he turned and fixed the short stocky blond man beside him with a black stare.

"I can see plenty, Lane, but it isn't what I want to see."

"Did you find Mace?"

The redhead sighed. "Well, now, seeing as he's my baby brother and he's missing, don't you think that would be what I wanted to see?"

"Sorry, Pres."

"Sorry is no excuse for stupid," Prescott Catterson snapped as he replaced the hat, careful to anchor it over the field of white hairs sprouting above both ears. "Or for failing to follow orders. I expressly told you I did not want either of the Cartwright men killed."

"Now, Pres, you know it was dark. I meant to scare him." Lane swallowed hard. "At least I only winged him."

"Did you? He could be dead. Or halfway there due to infection."

"You don't know that."

Prescott's jaw tightened. "I do know it. Just like I know something's wrong with Mace. He should have returned by now." He looked hard at the blond man. "If anything's happened to my brother, Lane, because of your lack of discipline, you're next."

"Now that ain't fair, Pres, and it ain't gonna work. You need me – "

"I don't need anyone or anything," he replied, his tone clipped and all business. "Except the head of Gilchrist Jenkins on a platter. And to get him, I need Adam and Joe Cartwright alive."

"A...alive?" Lane stuttered. "But I talked to Mace afore he went. He said he was going to kill them."

Prescott snorted. "Mace and I had a difference of opinions. I told him to wait until we could all go, and he went ahead without orders. Obviously he failed to take either of them since we saw both Adam and Joe Cartwright go into that cave." He drew a breath and let it out slowly. "The trick is to get control of Joe. That way we control Adam."

Lane frowned. "How come?"

The redhead scowled. "Some brothers actually love each other and would do anything for each other – unlike you and Burley. Adam will do anything to keep his brother alive." Prescott Catterson looked out over the land surrounding them. "Just like I'd do anything for Mace."

"I'm sure Mace's okay, Pres," Lane assured him.

Prescott's jaw tightened. "He'd better be. If I find out one of the Cartwrights killed Mace, there'll be Hell to pay."

"You gonna kill them then?"

The redhead noted the bloodlust in Lane's eyes. He and Burley were good men, but they were quick on the trigger and they liked killing – especially Burley. He'd have to watch them if he wanted to keep Ben Cartwright's sons alive.

Lane cleared his throat. "Pres..."

"Yes?"

"Can I ask you a question?"

The redhead shrugged.

"What is your scheme?"

Prescott sighed. "I suppose you aren't going to stop asking until I tell you. Like I said, I intend to hold one or both of the Cartwrights hostage against their father's cooperation."

"I thought you said you were gonna take one of the Jenkins girls. Ain't that what Mace wanted to do?"

That plan had been suggested, but he was against it – for several reasons. "No. It's better to take one of the Cartwrights."

"Why is holding a Cartwright better than taking one of Gil Jenkins' girls? Wouldn't their pa do anything to get them back?"

Prescott scowled. "Use your head, Lane. If we kidnap one of the girls we'll have the whole of Virginia City, if not the whole of Nevada after us. Ben Cartwright can raise a posse in a heartbeat and he'll have the law backing him. There is no surer way for a man to be lynched before he has time to be hanged than by taking a woman hostage." He paused. "Instead, if we hold Adam or Joe or both, and tell Ben Cartwright that they'll die if he says anything to anyone or goes to the law, he'll persuade Jenkins for us. Therefore, there will be no posse and no law."

Lane whistled. "That's right smart, Pres. No wonder you were a teacher once."

Prescott closed his eyes. That had been long ago – before he became the man he was now. "I am right smart," he snarled. "And don't you forget it. I can think circles around you and your brother combined." As Lane blanched, Pres indicated the land before them with a nod. "Now, let's get going."

"What about Mace?"

Prescott Catterson pursed his lips and blew out a sigh. "Burley and the others are looking for Mace. They know what they're doing." He gripped his rifle tight.

"We have other things to do."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Adam opened his eyes. For a moment he was disoriented. This was not his bedroom at the Ponderosa, so where was he? A second later he felt his little brother's chest rise and fall beneath his hand and he remembered. Joe had been shot. An old Indian had helped them. They were in the cavern that was his home.

They had to get home.

Unloosing his grip on his brother, Adam sat up and stretched out the ache of sleeping on a cold stone floor. Then he stood and looked around for their host.

Many Marks was gone.

Taking advantage of the situation, the man in black explored the natural chamber that housed them, moving from one end to the other and looking at the items it contained. They were sparse. Many Marks' home had the feel of a man who either believed he deserve to be punished, or who was punishing himself. Like an aesthetic, there was nothing here that went beyond bare survival. Well, no, there was one thing. It hung on the extended part of the rack near the pallet Joe now occupied.

A colorful beaded necklace, too small for an adult but just right for a child.

As he fingered it, thinking, Joe shifted and moaned.

Dropping to his knees beside his brother, Adam placed a hand on Joe's forehead, checking for fever. It was there but it was low and, for the time, manageable. His brother's eyes worked to open, the balls rolling behind the lids a few times before they made it. He was relieved to see the look out of them was lucid.

"Welcome back," he said softly.

Joe winced. He shifted uncomfortably and then licked his lips. "Can I have some water?" he asked weakly.

Why hadn't he thought of that? Kicking himself, Adam rose quickly and crossed to the fire where Many Marks kept his pots and jars and found one that contained water. He poured a horn cup full and returned to Joe's side. Gently lifting his brother's head, he held it to his lips and then lowered him back to the rough pallet when he had finished.

"Better?"

"Mm-hm." Joe frowned again, and then tried to rise.

"Hey, you! Stay put. You've got a hole in your shoulder."

"A hole...? Oh, that's right. Someone shot me." Joe fell back. He blinked again as if clearing away a fog, and then his eyes roamed around the space they occupied. "That old Indian. He took us in."

"Yes." Adam studied his brother. Whether he was well enough or not Joe would say he was ready and able to travel when he asked him. The bullet had not gone in deep, but there had been some threads driven in with it. He'd also cleaned mud and sand from the wound. Contamination and infection were possible, if not probable. The kid had a slight fever and was pale. He'd lost a lot of blood. The best thing would be to leave Joe here and go back on his own for help. The best thing, but not the practical thing.

Joe would never stay put.

"Look, Joe," he began, "I need to get you home where the Doc can take a look at that shoulder. I did my best, but the wound isn't clean. Odds are you've got a day before some kind of infection sets in. The trouble is, we have no horses and no extra ammunition. You're wounded and we're in the middle of nowhere. Plus we have a band of outlaws on our backs looking to kill us."

Joe smiled that smile he had – the reckless 'risk is my middle name' one. "Sounds like the picnic we were planning on having today, big brother."

"Joe, this is serious."

His brother snorted. "Everything's serious with you, Adam," he muttered as his eyes closed and he slipped toward sleep.

He felt like a louse, but he couldn't let him get there.

"Joe, stay awake. Joe!" he insisted as he shook him. When Joe scowled and looked at him, he said, "We need to leave. Now. The minute it's light those men will be down in the ravine tracking us. We don't want to get cornered here. Now, come on," he said as he slipped an arm around Joe's shoulders and began to lift him.

Sometimes it surprised him how slender and light Joe was. Still, every ounce of what his baby brother was made of must have been steel because – in spite of that – he had seen him take on men twice his size in a fight and win, and watched him rope and brand steers and handle powerful horses. Joe's mother had been the same – small, determined, strong-minded.

And short-lived.

He had found Joe's gray jacket in his wandering and laid it close by. As he pulled it on over the wreck of what was left of his brother's light-colored shirt Joe cried out. Adam drew a breath. There was nothing to it but to finish.

"Hang on, Joe. I know it hurts, but it will hurt worse if those men find us here."

Joe was breathing hard. His teeth were firmly clamped in his lower lip and there were unspent tears in his eyes. He nodded.

"That's great, Joe. Now let's see if you can stand."

His brother wobbled a bit, but managed it.

Adam left him there, partly to see if he could stay upright and partly because he had things to do. Moving around the cave he quickly filled a leather pouch he had found with food, leaving a few dollars on a shelf to cover it. At the last moment he added a small horn cup filled with the potion Many Marks had put on Joe's shoulder wound. Unfortunately, there was nothing resembling a canteen.

They would be without water until they could find some and that was not a good thing.

After anchoring the bag across his chest, Adam returned to Joe who was still on his feet, if looking a bit peaked. As he slipped his arm around his waist and Joe looped his good one over his shoulder, he asked him, "You ready?"

Joe nodded. "Let's go home."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Once outside Adam's suspicions were confirmed. The new day had dawned. In fact, it was just past noon by the sun. Though he didn't see any sign of the men who had attacked them, he knew the outlaws had had plenty of time to backtrack and work their way down. They might arrive any minute. It was imperative that he quickly find a way up and out of the ravine that Joe could handle. Knowing Many Marks had come and gone several times in the course of the time they had spent with him, he was sure there was one close by.

"You wait here, Joe," he said as he leaned his brother against the rock wall beside the cave's entrance.

"Not even a pretty girl could make me stir," his brother replied with a forced wink.

Adam nodded. Then he sighed.

This was not going to be easy.

Leaving Joe behind, the man in black searched the area near the cave's mouth. Most of the wall that hemmed them in was rock, but there were places where an abundant and obstinate weed clung, obscuring its uneven face. Two places in particular were thick with it. Adam headed for the closest one and was rewarded by the discovery of a natural stone stair. The steps were uneven and wouldn't be particularly easy for Joe to navigate, but it could be done.

When he returned to his brother's side he found Joe sitting on the ground. Crouching before him, he reached out and pressed his palm against his forehead. Joe batted it away, but not quickly enough.

"Your fever's higher," he pronounced.

Joe scowled. "Just you stop worrying," he ordered, mustering a little fire. "And stop treating me like a baby!"

Adam pursed his lips. "Oh. I'm sorry. Is that what I'm doing?" He rose to his feet and began to walk away. "Very well. The way out is over here. I'll just wait for you at the bottom of the stair, shall I?"

The sounds he heard behind him were painful. Joe trying to rise. Joe's boots slipping on the pebbles and mud. Joe falling back to the wet earth with a grunt.

Still, he kept walking.

When he reached the bottom of the stair, Adam turned around. Joe was halfway up the rock face again, panting hard and wasting energy that he would need for the trip home.

With a shake of his head he crossed his arms, leaned back against the stone, and waited.

Haltingly, like a man too long in the desert, his little brother dragged himself across the short space to where he stood. Joe stopped and rested for a moment – filthy, bloody, ragged, breathing hard, half-dead and triumphant – then he moved past him and looked up the stair.

Adam heard him gulp.

"I thought you could go first," he said, hiding his amusement.

Joe shot him a look, uncertain whether he was still being 'babied' or whether he was trusting him to lead. A second later he began to climb.

Adam watched his determined younger brother work his way up, leaning against the rock wall and steadying himself with his good hand. Perspiration turned the back of his gray jacket black as they climbed and Joe teetered more than once on the natural stone steps before pressing on.

His brother would be annoyed if he knew. He wasn't babying him or trusting him.

He just wanted to be behind Joe to catch him when he fell.

EIGHT

Hoss stood back and stared at the triangle-shaped pile of mid-size rocks before him. He removed his hat, wiped his forehead free of perspiration, and then kept hanging onto it. With a frown, he let his eyes travel over the circle of solemn faces surrounding him and then he finished speaking.

"Lord, we don't know who this here man was that we found, but You do. We'd be right grateful if'n You know him that You'd take him to Your bosom and keep him there." The big man paused. "Would anyone else like to say anything?"

Fiona looked stricken. Ainslee shook her head. Deirdre, who was standing at his side, crossed herself. In the end, it was Hop Sing who stepped forward. The Chinese man held his arm out over the cairn and opened his hand. In it was a portion of earth.

"In China man who has died is prayed for and then ground is sprinkled over him." Hop Sing let the loose earth trickle through his fingers. It rained down on the stones they had placed over the dead man to protect his corpse from animals. "He with Ch'eng Huang now. May he be found virtuous and go to dwell with the immortals."

"It's the same here, Hop Sing." Hoss bent down. Picking up a handful of dirt, he added it to what the Chinese man had already put there. "Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust."

"Who do you think he was?" Deirdre asked. "And why was he out here?"

Hoss shook his head, though he thought he might have an idea. "I'm afraid there ain't no way of telling, Miss Deid. Not 'til we find time to go to Virginia City and ask around."

They'd found some papers in the man's pocket. One was a bill of sale. It had been signed by Mace Prescott and so that was the name Hoss had carved on the plank of wood he'd stuck in the muddy ground at the head of the grave. Looking at the makeshift headstone now, sitting there so lonely and forlorn, made his stomach sink. It could just as easily have been Joe or Adam someone found lying out here. The thought of one of his brothers dead and buried by strangers, their last resting place marked by a bit of wood that would disappear with the first snow – their fate never to be known – was enough to make him crazy.

Hoss looked up toward the hills. Where were they? Why weren't they here?

"What next, Mister Hoss?" Hop Sing asked. "We go look for Mister Adam and Little Joe?"

The big man's gaze went to the women. Without a working wagon there was no way he could get all of them back to the ranch and safety. They had Adam and Joe's horses, as well as the one that had been pulling the wagon, but then he couldn't let all of the animals go. One or both of his brothers could be hurt and an extra horse might mean the difference between life and death. Hoss scowled. If he sent two of the horses with two riders each on their backs, Hop Sing could take all the girls. The Chinese man could tell Pa what had happened and come back with the older man and a search party.

Then again, that left him – a lame man – alone on ground he couldn't really cover by hisself. There weren't much he could do on his own seeing as how he had to lean on a cane.

"A penny for your thoughts," Deirdre said softly.

"They ain't worth that much, Miss Deid, it bein' that I can't seem to make up my mind."

"About?"

He winced, knowing what he said would bring a backlash. "About you and your sisters."

She blew out a little breath. "You want to send us back to the ranch, don't you?"

"You see, that's the problem. I don't rightly want to, but I sure as shootin' think I should." Hoss shook his head. "It's just ain't safe out here."

Deirdre turned and looked at the cairn they had raised. "You're worried that man had something to do with Adam and Little Joe's disappearance, aren't you? And that there might be more like him?"

He nodded. "I couldn't of put it better myself, Miss Deid. And you see, with that there kind of man around, it just ain't safe for you and your sisters to be out here."

She glanced at his cane. "But it's safe for you? Alone? Or are you thinking of having Hop Sing stay?"

"No. I'll need him to escort you." At her dubious look he added, "Hear me out. It ain't only that I'm worried about three women traveling alone – though I am. Pa needs to know that Adam and Joe are missing, and I need men to help search for them. Hop Sing can ride out for the men while Pa heads this way."

Deirdre took his hand and looked up at him, those crystal clear blue eyes so wide he thought he might sink in them. "Let me stay with you," she pleaded.

"Now see here, Miss Deid, you cain't rightly do that. Without Hop Sing here, it... Well, it wouldn't be proper."

"You mean I have my reputation to worry about? Pshaw! I don't care what other people think."

"You should," he said as he placed a hand on her shoulder. "Life ain't easy for nobody, but it's right harder for women folk, what with having babies and taking care of us pigheaded men. And it ain't fair. A man can be alone with a woman and no one pays him no never mind, but the lady..."

Deirdre smiled. "You are so sweet. And such a gentleman."

"I thank you for that, Miss Deid, but that don't help me make the decision. Either you all stay, or you all go. And I guess, as I'm kind of in charge, it's up to me to decide which you do."

"Let me talk to Ainslee and Fiona and see what they think." She laughed. "You know, if we all decide to stay, I don't know that you can make any of us go."

"You cain't go traipsing all over these hills looking for Adam and Joe," he insisted, indicating her long flowing gown. "You ain't dressed for it for one."

She scowled at the ample fabric. "I guess you're right about that. Still, we can cook and keep a base camp while you and Hop Sing go looking."

"And that'd leave you ladies alone. I cain't do that," he protested. "You wouldn't have no one to protect you."

Deirdre's hands went to her hips. "I assure you, we can look out for ourselves as we have to do in the city. Do you know what Ainslee keeps tucked in the top of her corset?" she asked as if it was the most natural question in the world.

Hoss blushed right up to the top of his ears.

The brunette laughed. "Not that! She keeps a Philadelphia derringer there. You know, Hoss, we may not have reptiles that slither on the ground, but there are plenty of snakes back East."

Hoss didn't say what he was thinking – that putting one of them there tiny little snub-nosed pistols up against a Colt or a Henry rifle was kind of like a furry white bunny rabbit taking on a hungry coyote. He winced again. "You may have snakes, but we got rattlers. They strike before you can draw." He caught her hand in his and gave it a little squeeze. "And I just can't take that chance."

She was looking up at him and her lips were awful tempting.

"Mister Hoss! Mister Hoss! Come quick!"

Hoss drew himself away. "What is it, Hop Sing?"

"Missy Fiona! She go missing!"

Beside him Deirdre drew a sharp breath. She shook her head. "I should have known."

He frowned at her. "You don't think...?"

The brunette sighed. "I don't think, I know. She's gone after Little Joe."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Ainslee Jenkins stood a little ways removed from the others, watching Ben Cartwright's middle son react to the news of her youngest sister's disappearance. She should have kept a closer eye on Fiona. Her little sister had been a handful from the day she was born and had spent more hours in the corner with her nose pressed against the wall than she and Deirdre combined. Fee's personality was a fiery as her hair, and once she got a notion in her head there was very little anyone could do to dispel it. She'd mentioned earlier how worried she was about Little Joe, but it had seemed that vague sort of worry anyone has when someone has gone missing. It had never occurred to her that her sister – city born and civilization reared – would be so smitten with a cowboy that she would take off into the wilderness in pursuit of a man she barely knew. Still, it seemed the Cartwright men had that effect on women. Deirdre had obviously fallen for Hoss. It appeared she was the only one who was immune – or mostly immune. Adam was remarkably handsome and debonair. Still, she though she might flirt, she had absolutely no intention of falling in love with him or any man. She'd done that once long ago.

With the wrong man.

When their father proposed coming to Nevada she had jumped at the chance to leave the world she knew behind and go somewhere fresh and new. Though it had been many years since her brief stay at the Women's Medical College of Pennsylvania, where she had been involved with him, the East was ripe with unpleasant memories. Their romance had ended at his instigation and it had ended badly. She'd returned home to her father and sisters and never told one of them about it. The man she loved had been one of her professors, an older man with a military background. He had a less than sterling reputation which she found, in the end, to be well deserved. Just before they left Philadelphia, one of her former classmates had come for a visit and told her the truth. The man's sole purpose in courting her had been to get to her father. Apparently he blamed him for something that had happened during the war with Mexico. Her friend didn't know what, but warned her to be wary.

That was another reason she had been happy to come out West.

'Had been' being the operative phrase.

Ainslee shivered as she turned away from Deirdre and Hoss and her gaze went to the cairn they had raised. She had been dishonest with Hoss. She hadn't said anything, but she knew the man they had buried. She knew him well. The fact that Mace was here was disturbing. It meant that, most likely, his older brother was too.

The beautiful blonde woman crossed her arms and hugged herself against the truth she was afraid to face. Prescott Catterson was here – and, most likely, he had Adam and Little Joe and intended to use them in some way to force her father to do whatever it was he had wanted him to do for so long. She didn't know it for certain, of course, but it seemed too much of a coincidence – that Mace would show up and two of Ben Cartwright's sons would go missing.

"Aine!"

She started guiltily. Deirdre and Hoss were headed her way. As they drew alongside her, Deid inquired, "No sign of Fiona?"

She shrugged. "You know Fee."

"How'd she get away from you?" the big man asked.

"She went to the wagon to bring back more of the food. When she didn't return, I went looking and couldn't find her."

"You let her go to the wagon alone?" Hoss was astonished. "Whatever for, Miss Ainslee? She might of got herself kidnapped!"

"I gave her my revolver and she's a good shot," she countered, trying to convince herself as much as the big man. "Fiona can take care of herself."

Hoss looked sick.

"What is it?" Ainslee asked.

He swallowed hard. "You ain't got no idea how many times I said that about my little brother right afore he stumbled into a mess of trouble."

Hop Sing had followed close on their heels. The Chinese man pointed at Hoss and then at himself. "You and me, we go look for Missy Fiona, Mister Adam, and Little Joe?"

The big man ran a hand across his face to wipe away the worry.

The list was getting long.

Hoss thought a moment. "You and me, Hop Sing, we gotta go, but I think the girls gotta go too. We cain't leave them here alone. It's too dangerous."

"I agree," Ainslee said, "but not for your reasons. Fee is stubborn as a big city banker denying a loan. She won't listen to you, but she might listen to me." She sighed. "Typical of Fee, she wins no matter what."

"What do you mean?" the big man asked.

"She wanted to go look for Little Joe. Now we'll all be looking for him!"

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Whatever was wrong with everyone? How could they all stand there, talking and debating about what to do, when they knew Little Joe – and Adam too – was in trouble? Someone had to take matters into their own hands and get things rolling and she'd decided she was the one! After convincing Ainslee that they needed something they'd left behind in the wagon, she'd pretended she was headed there, but in reality had turned and traveled south in the direction Hoss was certain his brothers had gone.

Fiona glanced up as she worked her way through the rough and tumble landscape. The light was fading. In a few hours the sun would set and it would be dark. She knew she couldn't go on much further by herself, but she'd pushed hard and made it as far as she could, knowing the others would have to come after her. Hoss and Deirdre had been talking low, so they thought no one would hear. The big man was worried about his brothers, but he was even more concerned about them – and just because they were women! Well, she'd show him.

Now he'd have to let them help!

It was funny. She remembered the first time she'd seen a likeness of the Cartwright boys. Their father, Ben, had sent a daguerreotype to her father along with a letter. The image had been taken when Joe was around ten or eleven years old. At the time she'd thought he was just a skinny gawky boy and had considered Adam the fine-looking one. All of that had changed when they arrived at the ranch. Not only was Joe all grown up and handsome as handsome, but he had the most winning smile and the cutest way of scrunching up his nose when he was worried – and that curly brown hair... Fiona fanned herself, all but overcome. Maybe if she rescued him, he'd pay attention to her. Oh, he'd been polite, but Joe was either not interested or thick as a brick.

She'd certainly given him enough signals to land a clipper ship on a foggy night.

As she rounded the next pile of rocks – it seemed the land was made of them – Fiona paused to shove a cascade of red curls out of her eyes. The land before her was desolate and empty with one exception, a spiral of smoke riding the wind and rising high into the sky. It looked like whatever – and whoever – made it was maybe a half mile away. Fiona blew out a breath and chewed her lower lip. It was probably Joe and Adam. After all, who else would be out here? Maybe one of the Ponderosa ranch hands, but then, that would be okay too. Her father told her Ben only hired honorable men. From what Hoss had said earlier, she thought she might be near the cave he and Joe had holed up in – the one where the Indian man had taken them to heal. The redhead glanced at the sky again. By the time she got there, it would be dark, but if she was with Adam and Joe, she'd be safe, even if the others didn't come looking or didn't catch her up.

Fiona Jenkins gnawed her lip a few seconds more and then, with a grin of anticipation, struck out to find whoever it was who had built the fire.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

He'd been in pickles before, but if this wasn't the stickiest, darndest, flat-out most exasperating one he had ever been in, he'd eat his hat. And his hat was a big one!

Wimmen!

Hoss shot Hop Sing a hopeless look. The Chinese man nodded and let loose a long line of foreign talk that probably meant that this was the stickiest, darndest, flat-out most exasperating day he had ever had too. Since he couldn't move very fast, the two of them were trailing behind Ainslee and Deirdre who were in full feminine protection mode. Somewhere out there was their sister and they were going to move Heaven and Earth to find her. Nothing would stop them and nothing was allowed to get in their way, and that included him and Hop Sing. It made him feel kinda bad that he wasn't so hell-bent to find Joe and Adam, but then again, he knew his brothers could look out for themselves.

Somehow, though, he thought these here three sisters might just be able to do that too.

"Ainslee!" Hoss called out to the eldest of the Jenkins' girls. "Ainslee! Wait up!"

Hands on hips, the striking blonde turned to look at him – and then promptly disappeared into the trees.

"Dad blame it!" The big man looked at his companion. "Well, if that don't beat all!"

The Chinese man nodded solemnly. "Women the same no matter where or when," he said.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Mister Hoss, ancient Chinese proverb say, 'First decision woman make most intelligent, and last decision, most dangerous."

He thought it over. "Them there ancient Chinese were right smart men," Hoss sighed. "They say anything else?"

Their cook nodded again. "Curious woman capable of turning around rainbow just to see what on other side."

"And that don't say nothin' for one who's curious 'cause her little sister done run off into a territory filled with wild animals and wilder men!" The big man glanced down. "If'n it weren't for this blasted leg, I'd catch up to that oldest one and hogtie her!"

"Mister Hoss should be off of leg," Hop Sing said matter-of-factly. "Make much trouble for self later on."

He made a face. "That ain't near the trouble I'm gonna have if I gotta go back and face Pa with one or more less Jenkins' girls than I oughta!"

The Chinese man considered it. "Mister Ben mighty angry. Bellow and blow like a bull."

"You got that right, Hop Sing. Now come on, let's see if we can catch 'em before nightfall." Hoss started to limp forward, then he stopped and looked at his companion. "You got any more of those China sayings that might help?"

The cook looked after the women. " 'No zuo, no die'," he said.

"Huh?"

Hop Sing frowned. "Best translation? You no do stupid things, they no come back to bite rear in end."

For a second he didn't get it. Then Hoss let loose with a belly laugh. Clapping the Chinese man on the shoulder, he said, "Come on, Hop Sing, as my Pa always says, "When your horse is on the brink of a precipice, it's too late to pull in the reins!"

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Fiona stood motionless within a clump of thick trees, staring at the thin column of smoke rising before her. It was not coming from a cave or even an area close to one, but from the top of a ridge that fell off sharply into a deep ravine. She'd almost tumbled into it earlier. Glancing at the shambles of her burnt-orange dress, she imagine the tangled mess her copper curls must be and knew she had to resemble a scarecrow. When she found Little Joe, she was going to look more like a tomboy who'd been rolling in the dirt than a respectable woman.

Fiona's pretty lips quirked at the ends.

Hopefully Joe liked tomboys betterthan respectable women.

She knew she should move on – just walk into the camp and say 'hello' – but something held her back. The redhead had some inner sense that things might not be what they seemed, though she had no idea why she might have thought that. In the end she decided that it must be due to the fact that it made no sense for Adam and Joe to camp out here on the ridge when those who loved and were worried about them were only an hour or two away. Of course, one of them could be injured and that would explain it.

Still, she thought it best she approach the place where the smoke was rising clandestinely.

Leaving the shelter of the trees, Fiona began to move forward. She had little training in the wilderness, but she had had plenty of practice in moving with stealth. Their house in Philadelphia had been built before the Revolution and the floorboards practically talked to you when you passed over them. She had learned to do so without noise, so no one in the house would be alerted to her nocturnal wanderings. She'd loved to be out at night – and loved spooning with a boy under the face of the moon even more. No one had ever caught her, so she certainly should be able to navigate her way through a forested area without stepping on any clarion sticks or making any other sound that would give her presence away.

As the fire before her grew closer, its smoke rose high into the sky marking the site of the camp. Fiona held her breath and chewed her lip as she came to the last of the tree line. Beyond it was a flat space. She could see the fire and the two bundled-up men sitting by it. With her hand on one of the tree trunks she leaned forward to take a better look. As she did a strong wind struck her, blowing back her spiraling curls and snapping the ends of her tattered dress even as an unexpected darkness descended. It was as if something had blotted out the waning sun and the waxing moon at one and the same time. Fiona looked up just in time to see a large winged shape diving down.

It was headed toward the men and the fire.

Dashing out of the trees, Fiona cried out, "Adam! Little Joe! Look out!"

It took a second but the two men by the fire stood up. One of them reacted more quickly than the other. He drew his pistol as he rose and fired up into the blackness. She saw the flash of the powder as the gun went off and heard a shriek, as if something living had been hit. Then, within the blackness two bright lights appeared. There was another cry.

And it was gone.

Fiona stood where she was, trembling. Tears formed in her eyes and, much as she tried to keep it from happening, flowed freely down her cheeks. She hated to admit it, but she was terrified. As she stood there, trying to process what had happened, one of the men came up to her. It was almost dark and his hat was pulled low over his eyes, so she couldn't tell if it was Joe or Adam. From the man's size, she thought it must be the oldest Cartwright son.

"Oh, Adam!" she sighed. "I am so glad..."

Fiona's voice trailed off. The man had shoved his hat back and was grinning.

She didn't know him.

NINE

Ben Cartwright was a worried man.

He and Gil had started out to join his boys and Gil's girls for their picnic, but on the way had been intercepted by his foreman on the timber line. The man informed him that a dispute had broken out in the camp and he was needed. It took until sundown to track down all of the involved parties and to broker a peace. In the end he'd asked Gil if he wanted to head back to the Ponderosa instead of going on to the lake. Gil had insisted they continue on, saying his girls had expressed a wish to watch the sunset. It was a good thing he did.

They had just found the abandoned wagon at the side of the road.

Gil rose and looked at him. He kicked the wooden wheel he had been crouched beside. "Looks like it got stuck in a rut, Ben."

The silver-haired man nodded. Normally Hoss would have had no trouble lifting the wagon out and, together, he and Hop Sing could have fixed the wheel. With his leg injured, his middle son would have been unable to bear the weight. So, apparently, the entire party had headed out on foot to meet up with Joe and Adam.

Ben glanced up. It was nearly dark. Then he looked at his friend. "It seems so. The tracks here indicate they took off on foot." He ran a hand over his chin. "They've probably made camp for the night. Though," he drew in a breath, seeking to muffle the sense of unease that continued to plague him, "why Adam and Joe didn't fix the wagon, I have no idea."

"You know young people. My girls probably charmed your boys into a night in the great outdoors spent under a canopy of stars. Fiona, for one, would consider that quite romantic." Gil paused and then added with an affectionate grin. "That youngest boy of yours better watch himself. Once that girl sets her cap..."

"Oh, Joe can take care of himself." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Ben realized his hubris as visions of gunshot wounds, battered brows, and bloodied noses rose before his eyes. "With women," he added softly.

"You're worried about them, aren't you? All of them?"

He hesitated and then replied. "Gil, there's a flow to things out here. A man gets used to it. Some things are certain as the sun rising and setting. If Hoss and the others met up with Joe and Adam, this wagon would have been fixed." Ben pursed his lips and shook his head. "Something's wrong."

"Can we follow their tracks?" his old friend asked.

"For a half hour maybe. Then it will be too dark. The land out here is unpredictable as a woman's fancy and it would simply be too dangerous."

Gil shifted uneasily on his feet. "So what do we do?"

Ben shrugged. "Track them for as long as we can and then make camp. Begin again in the morning. We – "

A shrill, high-pitched scream cut off what he had been about to say. He glanced at his friend. Gil had gone white as a sheet. Crossing to him, he anchored his old friend with a hand on his arm.

"Get hold of yourself, Gil. A panicked man is little help."

The Scotsman turned a stricken face toward him. "That had to be one of the girls."

"My boys are with them. They'll protect them if...if it means their lives. Gil, you have my word!"

Gil shook himself. "I'm sorry, Ben. I never should have brought them out here. If anything happens to one of my girls or your boys because of my selfish need to escape, I will... Well, I will never forgive myself!"

Whenever this current crisis ended, he and Gil were going to have to have a long heart to heart.

"There's no time for self-recrimination now, Gil. That sound came from south of here, in the way the children went. Come on!"

Gil seemed to draw himself up. He palmed his pistol and nodded.

And they were gone.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Adam Cartwright rose from his position near Joe and looked to the north. The sound he'd heard lingered on the air. It had been unnerving – frightening even. Some of the calls of the big cats mimicked a woman's scream and he hoped that was all that it was. Their plan had been for Hoss and the Jenkins' girls to ride out that morning to join them for a picnic. They'd never showed, of course. He knew his middle brother was smart enough not to remain. The wilderness was no place for a trio of city girls. Hoss would have turned around and delivered them back to the ranch. There was absolutely no logical reason to suspect Ainslee, Deirdre, or Fiona would be anywhere nearby.

But then, since when did logic have anything to do with women?

A sound drew his attention back to his brother. Joe had fought him all day, insisting on walking under his own power, even taking the lead at times as they worked their way over the constantly rising and falling ground. The going had been tough as they had been forced to take the untrod paths in order to avoid detection. More than once they had heard voices behind them. Once time the two of them had had to squeeze into the depression in a hill under the hulk of a fallen tree trunk. He'd held onto Joe while two pair of boots passed by.

Joe's skin had been on fire. It was then he knew infection had set in.

Dogged, determined, and half-delirious his youngest sibling had continued under his own power for close to an hour after that. Then he had fallen.

So far, he hadn't gotten back up.

Returning to Joe's side, Adam knelt again and placed a hand on his brother's forehead. 'The fiery one', Many Marks had dubbed him. Well, he was fiery now. Joe was on fire. And if he didn't extinguish it soon – or get him to someone who could – he might just burn up.

"Joe," he called softly. "Joe, are you awake?"

His brother pitched and moaned. Joe blinked and his eyes opened, but he didn't see him. "Adam? Adam, get it off of me!" he shouted. "Adam!"

"Joe, shh!" He glanced around and then back. "Joe, you have to be quiet. Those outlaws are close."

His brother's hands shot into the air. "Adam! I can't see the moon! Adam, it's gonna get me! Adam, I – "

Desperate, the man in black clamped his hand over his brother's mouth to silence him and then pulled him close. "Joe," he said, his whisper fierce, "listen to me. You have to be quiet. You're having a hallucination. There's nothing after you. Joe – "

A sound caught his attention and cut his words off. He held Joe even tighter, feeling his brother tremble with the nightmare even as his tears wet his hand. 'Dear God,' he thought as he shrunk back into the shadows, 'God keep Joe quiet.' If those men found them, with Joe in the condition he was in, there would be no hope of getting his brother home alive. Like he had when Joe had been a little boy and awoken with a night terror, Adam gathered him into his arms and pressed his curly head against his chest and spoke softly, soothingly, "Joe, it's just a nightmare. You're safe. You're with me. Joe..."

Adam's head came up. The sound had been repeated. Closer this time.

Someone was coming.

"Nenimkee calls him," an aged voice said three seconds later, startling him.

Adam looked up. Then he sighed. It was Many Marks. "Good God, man! You could have called out," he spat.

The native knelt at his side. He pitched his voice low. "Bad men are close. They search for you and your brother."

Adam was instantly alert. "You've seen them?"

The shaman nodded. "They search on the other side of the hill. They will come here soon. You must go."

As if in answer to prayer, Joe had quieted. Though that frightened him too. "I can't. Joe's too sick."

Many Marks reached out. "He is not sick. His soul treads Nenimkee's world. If you do not want him to stay, you must go."

Adam had had just about as much of this Thunderbird nonsense as he could take. "Look, I know you believe in your Thunderbirds and I have no problem with that. But my brother is not walking in some other world, he's sick and he's delirious and he's' going to die if I don't find a way to help him."

The old man reached out and tenderly touched Joe's hair. "I will keep watch while you seek Nenimkee."

Adam scowled. If he could trust the old man to keep watch over Joe – and take care of him – it would present a solution to the problem. He could hike back and maybe find one of the horses and go for help. "Can I trust you to remain with him while I do? You left us before."

"I left to be with Nenimkee. He told me I am an old man and must go. You must go to him now." Many Marks pinned him with his dark eyes. "I am no longer strong. The Thunderbird is in need and he calls another to walk with him. If you want your brother to live, you must go to Nenimkee and make a bargain."

"A bargain?"

"Nenimkee needs care. I have done this for many years." The old man made a fist. "The Thunderbirds are strong. They battle the Horned One and bring justice. A man is needed to aid them."

He frowned. "And you think they want my brother?"

Many Marks nodded.

Adam pursed his lips and considered his options. Which was worse – dragging Joe, sick as he was, over the rough terrain and chancing further injury, or leaving him in the hands of a madman?

The man in black thought a moment longer, then he said, "If I leave Joe with you – if – where will you take him?"

"Nenimkee has many caves to dwell in."

So, the cave they were in was one of the network they had explored as kids. "And what is it you want me to do?" Obviously the Indian had something in mind and it was not him hightailing it back to the Ponderosa for help.

The shaman's expression grew hard. "Bring justice."

"To...?"

"To those the Thunderbird wishes," the native said, "Much evil have they done. They walk with the Horned One."

"So you want me to kill someone?" he asked, dubious.

"You must go to Nenimkee. He will tell you what you are to do."

One black eyebrow reached for his hairline. "And just how do I do that?"

The shaman shifted. He reached into the pouch he wore at his waist and produced a small earthen vial with a stopper. "Go to the Thunderbird's cave. Drink this."

Adam took the container, removed the stopper, and sniffed the liquid within. The scent of it was pungent – almost sickly sweet. "What is it?" he asked, his tone slightly skeptical.

The old man's lips curled upward in a dangerous smile. "Strong medicine, white man."

As he hesitated, considering how mad he was to even think of doing what the Indian asked, Joe stirred in his arms. His brother's movements were feeble. There was no way Joe was going to rise again under his own power and he simply couldn't carry him as far as they needed to go.

Adam looked at the vial again.

It seemed Many Marks outrageous demand might be the only game in town.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

With each minute that passed – and them finding nothing – Gilchrist Jenkins grew increasingly anxious that something had happened to one of his daughters. Though he had no reason to suspect that the day's happenings could in any way be related to the choice he had made in the past, somehow he knew that they were. He had spent more than two decades running away from the consequences of that choice – first from California and then from Edinburgh, and even more recently from Philadelphia. He had always managed to stay one step ahead of the man who pursued him, but lately, he had grown tired and begun to make mistakes. He wanted nothing more than to stop. If it hadn't been for the girls he would have simply surrendered, but he had to think of them – of what his death and the revelation of its cause would do to them. Though he believed that what he had done was right, there were those who would not understand. He could bear the disgrace, but for his children...

It had all been so long ago. At the time he had been a young man – younger than Ainslee – and the choice had seemed so clear. After all, he had taken an oath as a physician – an oath that superseded all other oaths including the one he made to his country. He still believed that the choice he made was right.

Unfortunately, there were others who did not.

The Scotsman glanced at the strong determined man at his side. Ben Cartwright was the model of what he would have liked to have been – a man who was driven to succeed. Ben had set a goal for himself and accomplished it, building a massive empire while retaining a sterling reputation. That was something few men did and this was the legacy he would leave his sons.

Gil closed his eyes and shook his head. If anything should happen to one of those boys because of his cowardice, he would never forgive himself.

"I should never have come," he breathed, unaware that he did so aloud.

"What was that, Gil?" his old friend asked.

Gil started guiltily. He altered it. "We've lost the sun."

Ben looked up. "Yes. But the moon will be up soon. We can travel by it, even if we can't see tracks. The children have been heading due south for some time. I think it is safe to assume that – " The silver-haired man fell silent. He pressed a finger to his lips and then signaled that they should move forward.

The Scotsman followed. As he did, he heard what the other man had – voices, pitched low, carrying on careful conversations.

At least one of the voices was feminine.

As Gil pressed past his friend, Ben caught his arm with his hand. He shook his head and then drew his gun. With a look, the silver-haired man indicated he should drop to the ground and wait. Feeling useless, Gil did as he was told. Ben nodded his thanks and then shifted into the trees. A minute later he returned.

"It's all right, Gil. It's them," he said before turning and calling out, "Hoss, it's your Pa. I have Gil with me. We're coming in." When he failed to move, his old friend frowned. "Gil? Is something wrong?"

Wrong? Yes, something was wrong. And it was about time he set it right.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Cradling the back of Joe's head in his hand, Adam lowered his brother onto the soft pallet of furs Many Marks had created and then covered him with the woolen blanket the native had provided. They were in yet another cave. It was stocked in much the same way as the first, so obviously the shaman used it as well on a regular basis. There was an odd smell – something that made him think there might be a sulfur springs nearby. It wasn't really unpleasant, but the scent stuck in his craw and made him cough. As he did, Joe stirred. His brother's green eyes opened with some clarity. Joe was sick, but, for the moment it seemed, not out of his head.

"Adam...where are we?"

"Safe."

Joe's fevered gaze roamed over the cave's interior. "That old shaman?"

"He's here."

His brother smiled, a weak but sweet smile. "Sorry about...before. I was pretty out of my head...wasn't I? I thought that old Thunderbird was gonna take me away."

"No one's going to take you away, Joe," he said, a little too fiercely. "No one."

Joe's fingers wrapped around his wrist, their fevered flesh burning into his. "Am I...gonna...die, Adam?"

The man in black snorted. "Not if I can help it. Who'll do your chores?"

Joe's eyes closed and he seemed to draw away. Feeling like a louse, Adam shook him. "Joe? Joe, stay with me. I need to talk to you. We've got a choice to make. Joe?"

"There is no choice," the shaman said as he came to their side. "You must go to Nenimkee."

Adam's jaw tightened. He rose to his feet and turned on the old man. "Look, I know you mean well, but unless this Nenimkee can bear my brother on his back and fly him home, your Thunderbird is useless to me!"

"Your brother looked into Nenimkee's eyes. Their fire is in him," Many Marks insisted. "If you want to save him, you must go to the Thunderbird. Then you must do as he says."

"Good God, man! My brother has an infection caused by a bullet entering his shoulder and driving other matter in with it. Joe needs a doctor and medicine, not some ridiculous mumbo jumbo about a mythic black bird!"

'That's it, Adam', he thought to himself. 'Alienate the only person you have who is willing to help you.'

"I'm sorry," he breathed. "That was uncalled for. I appreciate all the help you have given us. I'll try... I'll try to understand."

Many Marks was silent for the moment. "Long years ago, I knew one such as you," he said at last, "a man who cared more for others than for himself. A man who became no man to save the one who walked with the Thunderbirds." The Indian paused. "I could not help him, but I would help you and your brother."

Adam pursed his lips. "Why?"

"Because, as the man said, it is right."

Adam looked down at his brother. Joe's breathing was rapid and shallow; his skin pallid and covered with a thin sheen of sweat. He had to face the truth. It was doubtful that – even if he could find his way back to the camp and if he could find one of their horses – he could make it to the Ponderosa and bring a doctor back in time to save Joe's life. Many Marks was their only hope and Many Marks had something he wanted him to do.

Adam slowly drew the earthen flask out of his pocket. He looked at the shaman and asked. "What is it I need to do?"

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Pa! If you ain't prettier than a socks on a rooster!" Hoss exclaimed as he and Gil stepped into view. His middle son was standing beside Hop Sing. The Chinese man looked tired. Hoss looked tired too.

Joe and Adam were nowhere in sight.

Before he could draw a breath to ask about his other sons, Gil's girls appeared out of the shadows and descended on their father. Both began to talk at once.

Both. Not all three.

The silver-haired man looked over their heads at his son. Hoss winced and then limped over to his side.

"Adam and Joe?" he asked as the big man arrived. He had to know.

"Ain't seen hide nor hair, Pa. I was fixin' to send the girls back with Hop Sing and go huntin' for them, when Miss Fiona up and decided we was takin' too much time going after Joe."

Ben drew a breath and let it out in a sigh. "She didn't..."

"Oh, yes, she did. That ornery little gal struck off on her own in search of little brother. Pa..." he hesitated.

"We heard it," Ben assured him. "What do you think happened?"

"Well, Pa, I don't rightly know. We ain't seen nobody, but with Adam and Joe missin', I figure there's got to be someone out here that's keepin' them from comin'. Maybe, whoever it is, they got Miss Fiona too."

"Or one of them could be hurt and they've holed up somewhere." The silver-haired man thought a moment. "Either way, we have to find the three of them, and find them now."

"Ain't much chance of that, Pa. Not 'til mornin'. It's black as pitch out here and unless you want to take a fall like I did, there ain't no goin' forward 'til light."

The silver-haired man looked up to see his old friend approaching. Each of his two remaining girls hung off of one of his arms.

"Ben, we have to go after Fiona."

He shook his head. "Look, Gil, I am as worried about Fiona as you are – and my sons – but we can't. There's no way we can navigate this land until first light."

He expected his friend to protest. Instead Gil hung his head and said, "It's all my fault, Ben. If anything happens to any of them, it's my fault!"

Puzzled, Ben exchanged a look with his middle son before asking, "How is it your fault, Gil?"

The Scotsman looked at him, his visage stricken, but it was Ainslee who answered.

"It's not my father's fault, Mister Cartwright. I wasn't honest with him, and I haven't been honest with you." She stared her father down as he began to protest. "No, Da, don't say anything." Ainslee released her father's arm and came to stand before him. "I know who has your sons, and most likely my sister, and Mister Cartwright, I know how dangerous he is."

"Who? Who are you talking about?"

The beautiful blonde shook her head and said with a sigh, "Prescott Catterson."

"Catterson? Who is that?"

This time it was Gil who answered.

"The army captain, Ben, who blames me for his ruin, and the death of his men."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Adam followed Many Marks' instructions, moving into a passage at the back of the cave and descending like Orpheus into a kind of Hell replete with swirling mist and sulfurous fumes. He stood now, looking into a chamber that had three exits – one ahead of him, and one to each side. His assumption was that one of them led back to the first cave Many Marks had sheltered them in. It seemed the old man lived down here along with his 'Thunderbird'. The shaman had explained that long ago, during the Mexican War when he had been a scout for the US army, he had been betrayed by a white man and almost died. Another white man had saved him, freeing him from the army prison and letting him run, but in the end his choice to live had led to his village being burnt to the ground and his family killed when the men who pursued him did not find him there. Somewhere in the midst of all of this Nenimkee had found him and called him to be not only his keeper, but his eyes and ears on the human world.

The Thunderbird's reason for existence, the old Indian explained, was to bring justice. The fact that Nenimkee had revealed himself to Joe was significant in Many Marks' eyes. He was old and felt he was soon to die and believed Joe had been chosen by the Thunderbird to take his place. If he did not want this, but wanted his brother to live to return to their home, then he must journey to Nenimkee's home and speak with him. He had to convince the bird to let Joe go.

Adam sighed. All of it was nonsense, of course. It had to be nonsense.

But what if it wasn't?

So, that was why he was here in the bowels of the earth, staring at the small slender vial in his hand and considering drinking whatever it was that filled it. Well, actually, that wasn't the only reason.

It was the price Many Marks' demanded to save Joe's life.

Adam closed his eyes. "God," he said, "no matter what happens to me, take care of my brother. Get him home."

Then, with eyes wide open, Adam tipped the clay vial upward and swallowed its contents whole.