SIXTEEN
Roy Coffee stopped to wipe sweat from his eyes and then looked down at his foot where it rested on the trussed hide of the last outlaw he'd roped. That made three of them.
He'd meant to go back to Ben as quickly as he could. It stuck in his craw that his old friend was in danger and that Little Joe was in need of aid. But it seemed to him that eliminating the men who could help Catterson was about as important as anything else. He didn't think there were any more. Leastways he hadn't seen or heard anyone else and he'd made a circuit of Catterson's camp at least five times.
Now that it was done he could head back and take out the others.
As he moved through the underbrush Roy shook his head. In all his years as a lawman he 'd never met anyone like the Cartwrights. They were the most determined, high-minded bunch of fellers he had ever known. Always the first to volunteer for a posse, but the first to argue against taking a man if it seemed there were any kind of 'extenuating circumstances' as the fancy lawyers in Carson City liked to say. There weren't no one fiercer when it came to protecting their own either. That Ben Cartwright was like a mother grizzly with her cubs. All of it had put them at loggerheads more times that he could count, and yet he wouldn't have chosen to have any other four men at his side when it mattered.
Kneeling, Roy checked the ropes on his captive's hands and then the man's gag, making sure it was secure. Then he rose to his feet, got his bearings, and headed back to the outlaw's camp, gun drawn.
It was time he saved his friends.
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Adam crouched in a stand of tall grasses, listening. While he didn't hear anyone in pursuit, he knew that didn't mean there was no one after him. Depending on how badly he was hurt, Burley could be on his feet and on his way. And then there was the short stocky blond man who must have run when the other man was wounded. There could be others as well – probably were – men who were loyal to Catterson who scouted the woods or maybe, had gone back to town. The man in black closed his eyes for a moment, gathering strength. He had to prioritize. The most important thing at the moment was Joe. His baby brother was out here somewhere. He was sick and out of his head. He had to find Joe and find him quick before any of Catterson's men did.
His jaw set and his path determined, Adam rose up, ready to move deeper into the woods. Before he could, something happened. Something completely unexpected. A great dark shadow loomed overhead, followed by a click and low, long hiss.
Astonished, he stopped and looked up. It couldn't be. He'd left the condor's corpse back the way he had come. There was no way it could be here. No way.
Unless...
"No," Adam breathed.
*Yes, Adam Cartwright. Yes*.
The voice was familiar. He couldn't see the man, but then the darkness cast by the bulk of the great bird still eclipsed the light.
"Many Marks?"
A man emerged from the shadows. It wasn't Many Marks. It couldn't be. The native was young – maybe thirty at most. He was dressed as the shaman in his vision had been, to resemble a Thunderbird, but it wasn't the same man.
"Sorry, no," he began again. "Who are you? What do you want?"
*Your task is not completed.*
Adam blinked. "What?"
*Justice is not done.*
He scowled. "Look, I'm out here looking for my brother, I don't have time to – "
*To save your brother, you must bring justice. Even now he is in danger.*
Adam moved forward. "If you know where Joe is, tell me!"
The shaman's dark eyes met his.
*He is in the hands of Burley Culpepper.*
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Ben Cartwright righted himself and looked back into the camp. He had followed Adam into the underbrush, diving for cover even as his son took off into the trees. What he saw was two men – the stocky blond one named Lane and Garland Frank. Frank was on his feet, though he was pale and shaking. There was blood on his left shoulder and it looked like he had been shot. The two of them were arguing.
It was no surprise. There was no more honor among outlaws than thieves.
Ben pursed his lips and drew a breath. He had no weapon, but that didn't mean he was unarmed – he had his mind and his hands and many times before that had proven more than enough. If he wanted to go after Adam and Joe, then he had to eliminate the threat of these two. Who knew how many more of Catterson's men were in the woods? Also, there was that man, Burley.
He was a born killer if he'd ever seen one.
Ben's dark eyes returned to the pair near the fire. So intent were they on each other that they paid no attention to him. He rose up from his place of concealment, ready to take them on. A hand on his arm stopped him from advancing further.
"Roy!" he exclaimed softly when he saw the lawman.
"Nobody else," his old friend said as he moved in beside him. With a nod of his head toward the fire, he asked, "Ben , you tryin' to do my job?"
"I imagined you were otherwise occupied," he replied, his jaw tight.
"You got that right. Took out three of Catterson's men. Left 'em trussed up in the woods."
"Did you see Adam or Joe?" the silver-haired man asked, hopeful.
Roy shook his head. "Sorry, Ben. Not hide nor hair."
"All right." He nodded toward the men in front of them. "We need to take them out too."
"I don't see you holding no weapon, Ben. Or wearin' a badge."
He conceded that. "You could deputize me."
Roy's eyes held understanding, but his words were unbending. "I ain't puttin' the might and right of the law in the hands of a man who has two sons missin'. That's a recipe for disaster, Ben, and you know it." The sheriff shifted forward. "Now, why don't you wait here? This will only take a minute."
Before he could say anything else, Roy rose to his feet and stepped out of the trees. The lawman lifted his gun and fired it, and then waited as the two men pivoted toward him.
"If I was you, fellers, I'd put those weapons you're holding down, nice and easy, and get them hands in the air."
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Adam headed in the direction Ainslee and Prescott Catterson had taken. If Burley Culpepper had Joe, he had to hope he wanted the auburn-haired man as well. Culpepper had made it clear that he intended to use Joe to extort their father. Catterson might get in his way. Of course, he only had the word of an Indian mystic that the big ugly man had his brother. Still... Adam glanced at the sky as he moved. Strange things were happening. While he hadn't seen the giant bird that had been Many Marks' companion, the sight and sound and smell of it had been unmistakable.
"And impossible," he muttered.
He'd seen the bird die. It couldn't have been the condor back there. And yet something had passed overhead, smelling of sulfur, snorting like a mare and hissing like a snake. Adam closed his eyes. "It can't have been a Thunderbird," he told himself. "You're just tired. You're seeing things."
He had to be seeing things.
His world was a rational one. One maneuvered through it using common sense and empirical data. Observe, record, conclude. He'd seen the bird die, therefore, the bird could not be alive. Therefore it was something else that had flown overhead. In spite of the visionary walk Many Marks' potion had taken him on, there were no such things as Thunderbirds – and no such thing as a shaman who became a Thunderbird and spoke to lesser mortals giving them a task they had to fulfill.
Of course, if he really believed that, what was he doing going after Burley Culpepper when he had no proof the man had Joe?
Adam hesitated, noting as he did that the wind was rising. Looking up he noticed thunderclouds rolling in. It seemed a sudden storm was upon them.
Why was he not surprised?
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Joe Cartwright stumbled and nearly fell.
"Damn runt!" Burley Culpepper cursed even as Joe felt the barrel of the outlaw's gun press between his ribs, urging him forward. "The next time you stop it will be the last time," the brute promised. "I don't care how much money your old man will pay for you. It ain't worth the trouble!"
As he righted himself, Joe glanced at the man who had chased him to the ground and then drug him several hundred yards before lifting him to his feet and ordering him to walk. Burley was a big man. He could easily have carried him and made better time.
That was, if the outlaw hadn't been wounded.
Blood stained the left side of the big man's brown shirt. Joe snorted. It didn't seem to have affected the villain too much – he was still mean as a rattlesnake and strong as an ox – but it was slowing him down. Every so often Culpepper would stop to draw a breath and to gather strength, and then he would push harder and threaten even louder like he was doing now.
If he hadn't been so weak himself, he probably could have escaped. As it was Joe doubted he could win an arm wrestling match against a four year old girl. It was all he could do to put one foot in front of the other. He had no idea where Culpepper was taking him. He hoped his pa was there, and his brother, waiting for him.
He wanted to go home.
Joe stumbled again but caught himself before Burley grew mad and cuffed him. He continued on even as a bolt of lightning lit the sky and a steady rain began to fall. His head was a muddle. He had flashes of memory, but was unsure which were real and which had been caused by the fever that even now was raging in him. Joe thought he had been with Adam. But then, he remembered an Indian too, as well as a big black bird that had wrapped him in its massive wings.
No, that was crazy. That had to be from the fever.
So was Adam too?
Then there was his pa. He was sure he had heard the older man call his name, not that long ago. He'd been searching for him, looking, paying no heed to anything else when Burley had stepped out of the woods and swung at him, striking him across the temple with his gun, bringing a blessed unconsciousness that lasted only long enough to make him feel worse.
He was tired. So tired.
So tired he just wanted to give up.
But Burley wouldn't let him. Burley was taking him to his pa. Joe blinked and glanced again at the big man. Was he a friend?
No. He didn't think so.
Burley wanted to hurt his pa. That's why he had run. To save his pa.
"Pa..."
The gun intruded further into his ribcage.
"Your pa can't help you, Little Joe. I'm all you got. Keep walking."
"Where are you taking me?" he dared to ask.
The big man snorted. "Somewhere you'll be safe."
It was then Joe realized that they were walking down a deep ravine, headed for the caves by the lake. He'd been here before. This man was going to take him into one of them and leave him there and then go and get his pa and demand that he pay to get him back – and then kill him anyway and leave him to rot there alone.
Joe pivoted to look at the man with the gun.
"No," he said, planting his feet and sealing his fate. "No. I won't go."
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Adam moved with stealth through the underbrush, seeking his brother. He had no idea where to look, so he looked everywhere. Staying within a few hundred feet radius of Catterson's camp, he moved out in an ever-widening circle, sure that he would find some sign or clue. The rain was falling steadily now. Soon it would erase what he was looking for. A moment before he had spotted the first hopeful sign – tiny tight heels dug deep into the mud.
They had to belong to Ainslee.
Which meant he was getting close to Catterson. Dare he hope that meant he was close as well to Joe?
A second bolt of lightning split the sky, lighting the area that lay before him. Adam stopped as it backlit a slender female figure standing in the pouring rain. Leaving the shelter of the trees behind, he approached the woman.
"Ainslee?"
Gil's daughter turned to look at him. "Help him, Adam," she said.
"Who? Joe? Is Joe here?"
She shook her head. "Catt. Catt needs...help."
He scowled. Prescott Catterson's obsession with her father was the reason both Joe and his father were in danger. It was hard to think of 'helping' him.
"Ainslee..."
"Oh, I know he's done wrong. You have to understand, Adam, Catt's not a bad man. He's made bad choices and he'll have to pay for them."
"I should say so – "
She approached him and laid a hand on his sleeve. Rainwater ran off her blonde hair, traveling past her eyes to run down her cheeks and soak the fabric of her dress. "Adam, I think he means to kill himself."
He looked around. "Where is he?"
She nodded. "In there."
"Where?"
Ainslee indicated a distant point with a nod. "The river cave. The one the old Indian lived in."
He shouldn't have been surprised. It was where all of this had begun. Not the first, but Many Marks' second cave.
The cave where he had met the Thunderbird.
Adam gripped her hand. "You need to go back to the camp, Ainslee. With any luck Roy Coffee has found Pa and freed him. Your pa too." When she started to protest, he added, "If I am worried about you, I can't do anything for Catterson."
"I tried to talk to him," she sniffed, tears mingling with the rain. "Catt won't listen."
The man in black knew it was unlikely the man would listen to him either, but he was willing to give it a try. "Tell Pa when you see him, where I've gone, and that Burley Culpepper has Joe. I don't know why, but I think we'll find them together. Tell Pa to bring Roy. We have to find Joe before it's too late."
"All right." Ainslee began to walk away, but stopped and turned back. "Adam?"
He had started out. He stopped. "Yes?"
"When you find him, tell Catt that I still love him – and that I am willing to stand by him no matter what. Will you do that?"
He nodded, and then turned and disappeared into the mist that was rising and filling the ravine.
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About a quarter of an hour later Adam arrived at the cave. He hesitated for a moment outside the entrance, his inner eye reflecting the visions he had seen there, and then he plunged in calling Catterson's name. The man in black moved quickly through the lichen-lit passages and emerged some ten minutes later in the chamber where Many Marks had tended his brother. Prescott Catterson was standing by the low pallet Joe had laid on.
The auburn-haired man spoke as he entered. His voice was strong, but trembled with emotion. In his hand was a gun. At the moment, it was pointed at the floor. "I blamed the Indian, you know, for the death of my men. Thought he'd betrayed us." Catterson turned to look at him. "I ordered the men who survived to attack his village, to find him and bring him to justice no matter what it took." The broken man turned and looked at him. "They killed every one of them, women, children – Many Marks' children. There was a little girl...and two boys."
"Red Leaf and Yellow Bear," Adam said.
Catterson frowned. "I never knew their names."
Adam moved forward a few steps. As Catterson shifted, lifting the gun slightly, he halted. "Their deaths are on your conscience."
The auburn-haired man nodded. "Yes. Along with the deaths of the men in my regiment." He turned and looked at him. "Adam, I thought Many Marks betrayed them. He didn't. I did."
"No, it was Forest Walton – "
Catterson shook his head. "Forest may have betrayed me, but I betrayed the men. I thought, if I made a bold move, that it would drive the country into war. The politicians were dithering, talking about letting the Mexicans get away with their land grab. I talked to Forest and he went along with me. We made a...deal with Don Miguel. He'd lead us to the hacienda where we would take out Don Alejandro and then, when he took Alejandro's place, he would use his influence to compel Santa Ana to make a rash move and we'd be ready – we'd take them down quickly and easily and it would be over.
"But Don Miguel betrayed you."
He nodded. "So did Forest. Don Miguel had offered payment. I turned him down." Catterson raised the gun and looked at it. "I guess the idea of the money was too much for him. Walton didn't care about the war, or honor, or the country. He only cared about himself."
Adam hesitated. "That sounds a bit like the pot calling the kettle black."
"I deserve that," the auburn-haired man said.
"Except there is someone you care about more than yourself," Adam said, moving, his eyes on the gun. "Ainslee Jenkins."
He closed his eyes. The pain was evident in his face. "God...Ainslee..."
"She wants you to live. You know that, don't you? She wants to be with you still, in spite of what you have done."
Catterson raised the weapon to his temple. "No. I can't do that to her."
"But you can blow your brains out and leave her with that image burnt into her mind."
The other man swung toward him. "God! You wouldn't bring her here?"
"Try me." Adam took another step. "Look, Catterson, you've lived a selfish life and you've made a mess of things, but that doesn't mean you can't make amends. Which would Ainslee respect more, a man who went to prison and paid his debt to society, or one who took the coward's way out? Choose life, man, not death!"
The gun's barrel wavered. "I don't...know that I can."
"You can because you have the one thing that can make a man overcome anything."
Prescott Catterson frowned. "And what is that?"
"The love of a good woman."
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Pain exploded as his body hit a hard cold surface. Joe swam up from wherever he had been and opened his eyes. The entry to a cave yawned before him. Behind him was the great dark figure of a man. The rain was pounding down so hard, grains of sand leapt up in response. Above them the sky lit with another lightning bolt. Seconds later thunder rumbled in response. It took a moment, but Joe remembered. When he had refused to move, Burley had struck out with his fist and driven him into blackness. The man looming above him now was breathing hard. Apparently he had carried him in the end and, with his wound, it had almost proven too much for the outlaw.
Burley reached down and caught his arm and hauled him to his feet. "Get moving!" he ordered.
Joe looked at the big man. He was pale and sweating hard. Of course, he was too.
So that made things equal.
Haltingly, he began to move forward. Burley followed close on his heels. Joe pretended to stumble – well, half-pretended – and then he dropped and rolled, knocking the big man off of his feet. Culpepper's gun flew out of his hand and discharged as it hit the ground. The bullet ricocheted from one wall to the other, sounding like a clarion call. Joe remained where he was, laying on the floor, breathing hard – for about ten seconds. On the eleventh Burley Culpepper bellowed like a bull.
"Cartwright! You are dead!"
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Adam caught hold of Prescott Catterson's arm and removed the gun from his hand. Still holding onto him, he propelled the nearly catatonic man up and out of the chamber, hustling him along the passageway. He was going to take him back to the camp. He didn't know what else to do. If God was with him, he would run into Joe and Culpepper on the way or maybe Roy and his pa. They were three-quarters of the way back to the surface when he had heard a sound that caused him to stop. It sounded like the ricochet of a bullet on stone. Then he heard the name 'Cartwright'. That was followed by a bestial roar of anger that set his teeth on edge. Adam wasn't sure who was on the receiving end of that rage – Joe or his Pa and Roy – but he was willing to bet it was one, or maybe all of them.
"Catterson, come on!" he said. When the other man didn't move, he whirled toward him. "Didn't you hear me?"
The redhead's voice was defeated. "You don't want me with you. I destroy everything I touch."
As Adam stared at him, all of the frustration, fear and fury he felt boiled over. In one swift movement he took Catterson by the collar and hauled him up so he had to look into his eyes. "Look, that's my brother or father in danger out there. I need you help!"
"I can't help anyone..."
Disgusted, Adam released him. "No," he spat. "No, I guess you can't. And that's because, in spite of everything that has happened – in spite of the fact that a wonderful woman is willing to stand by you – you still can't think about anyone but yourself! Go ahead then. Wallow in your self-pity! Crawl back into the cave and pick up that gun and put it in your mouth and end it all! You'll be doing the world a favor!"
With that, Adam turned and ran for the mouth of the cave.
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"Ben!"
The older man stopped what he was doing and looked over to see what had excited Roy Coffee. They'd tended the outlaws wounds and he was binding their hands and feet. They'd decided it was best to secure the men before starting out to look for Joe and Adam, though it had taken everything that was in him to do make that choice. 'Adam will find and take care of Joe', he told himself. His oldest was no longer a boy. Adam was every bit a man and he had to remember that.
Still, even men died.
Roy had just returned from scouting the surrounding area. Gil was with him. After Roy had taken Garland and Lane into custody, Ben had crossed to where the Scotsman lay and found him coming to. His old friend had taken a bad beating, but otherwise, seemed to be all right. Once he was on his feet, Gil insisted on accompanying the lawman to see if he could locate his daughter. They'd returned a short time before empty-handed.
Ben rose to his feet. Gil was standing beside Roy, a look of cautious joy spreading across his face. The silver-haired man turned to look and saw the reason why.
Looking bedraggled as a cat dragged through a mud puddle, Ainslee Jenkins had appeared at the edge of the camp.
"Da...," she said, holding out a hand.
Gil moved fast enough. He caught her before she hit the ground.
Ben moved quickly to kneel beside them. He hated to press her, but he had to know. "Ainslee, my sons. Did you see my sons?"
The young woman blinked and drew a shuddering breath. "Adam ...Adam is with Catt in Many Marks' cave down by the lake. I don't...know about Joe." Ainslee paused, as if she didn't want to go on. "Adam thinks Burley has Joe."
"Good God!" He shot to his feet. "Roy, we have to go after them!"
"Now take it easy, Ben – "
"Take it easy. Take it easy?" His hand shot out, pointing into the dark storm-tossed night. "In Joe's condition, Burley could easily snap him in two!"
"Remember, Ben," Gil said, looking up from where he sat on the ground holding his daughter, "Burley is wounded too."
That did give him a little hope. But Joe had been so sick...
"Take a deep breath, Ben, and calm yourself down or you ain't going with me, you hear?" Roy said firmly. "You'll only put those boys in more danger if you go off half-cocked."
He stood there, breathing hard, attempting to do just that. "All right, Roy," Ben nodded. "I'm calm. Now let's go!"
The sheriff's expression told him he knew a load of bull when he smelled one. Still, all he said was, "All right, Ben. You got your gun?"
He nodded again.
"Then let's go."
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Adam threw caution to the wind and burst out of the cave into the wet windy night calling his brother's name. "Joe! Joe! Can you hear me! If you can, answer me. Joe!"
The reply came. Some distance away. He couldn't tell how far since the wind carried it. "Adam! Adam...help!"
"Joe! Where are you?"
"Over here. Adam! Over..."
"Joe?"
Nothing.
Frantic, the man in black headed in the direction Joe's shouts had come from, pressing into the wind and ignoring as best he could the pounding rain. Overhead, lightning flashed. A second later the thunder answered, booming beneath his feet and rolling over the land.
He tried again. "Joe?"
This time he heard a strangled cry, like someone had tried to answer but been silenced before they could. A second later, a man spoke.
It wasn't Joe.
"Cartwright! I've got your brother. You do what I say or I'll snap his neck."
Adam looked around frantically. He couldn't find them. "What is it you want, Burley?"
"Five thousand dollars and your guarantee that I ride out of here a free man."
The rain was running into his eyes. Adam blinked it back. "I can get you a horse. I don't have any money on me."
"Then go get it."
Adam thought furiously. Joe had to be on his last leg. It would take at least half a day for him to go to town, convince the bank to give him the cash, and make it back. It was likely his brother wouldn't last that long, not in this weather.
"How about this?" he suggested. "You let Joe go and take me. If he dies, he'll be no good to you. Pa won't pay for a corpse."
When no reply came, he felt a spark of hope. Burley was considering it.
"Burley?"
"Yeah..."
"How about it?"
Several seconds passed and then Adam noticed movement at the edge of his vision. Burley Culpepper stepped out of the dark. Joe's unconscious form was pressed tightly against his.
The big ugly man pointed his gun at him. "I have your guarantee, Cartwright, that you won't try anything?"
Adam thrust his hands forward. "You can tie me up. Just let Joe go."
There was a pause. Burley's grip tightened on Joe, his fingers moving toward his throat. "He made me awful mad."
No. Adam thought. Don't consider it.
"How about I kill him first and then take you prisoner?"
His words were quiet and fierce. "If you hurt Joe, I will pursue you to the ends of the earth, Burley. That's a promise."
"Not if you're dead too." The big man paused. "You know, I'm thinking it ain't worth it. I ain't ever gonna see that money. Why don't you come over here, Cartwright, and take your brother?"
Adam's jaw tightened. What was this? What was the outlaw thinking?
Still, if it meant he could go to Joe...
"All right."
"Drop your gun first."
He did as he was told, unbuckling his gun belt and letting it and the weapon fall to the ground. As he did, Burley moved into a beam of moonlight. Adam sucked in air when he saw how truly pitiful his brother was.
"Joe..."
"You want him. You take him!" With that, Burley thrust Joe forward. Adam dove for him, catching his limp form just as it reached the ground. From that position he looked up to find Burley Culpepper had stepped over to them and had his weapon pointed at his head.
The outlaw's lips curled in a sneer. "Night, night, Cartwright."
At that instant, two things happened. There was a rush of wind, as if something large had passed above them, and twin pinpoints of light opened in the darkness just above Burley's head. Adam gasped, certain now that he had been wrong and that it was the Thunderbird come to protect its own. Then he heard the crack of two shots. Burley Culpepper jerked, frowned, and fell to the ground.
A second later Prescott Catterson stepped out of the rising mist, a smoking gun in his hand.
"You were right, Cartwright. It was time I thought about someone other than myself."
SEVENTEEN
As the party was ending Ben crossed over to his youngest boy. Joe sat in the big blue chair by the fire watching the festivities, but not entering in. His youngest was healing slowly. By the time they had found him and Adam, Joseph had been close to death. While Roy Coffee took Prescott Catterson into custody, Adam mounted Roy's horse and rode like the wind to Virginia City to fetch the doctor. After seeing his son off, he had checked on Joe and then, leaving Ainslee in charge of his sick boy, gone with Gil to see to the wagon. They mended the wheel, returned with it, and then the four of them had followed more slowly with Joseph in its bed while Roy and his prisoner rode behind. His old friend didn't have his doctor's bag with him but, before they left, Gil had spent a few minutes gathering native plants from which he made a poultice for Joe's wound, and a few others that he brewed into a tea and forced his son to drink. The Scotsman told him as he applied the poultice that the ministrations of Many Marks – the Indian whom Catterson had killed – most likely saved Joe's life. The Scotsman explained, however, that his and the native's treatments were both temporary measures. Joe would need white man's medicine to combat the infection and reduce his fever, and he would need them soon.
The ride back to the Ponderosa was the longest he had ever made.
Hoss and the girls met them at the door, both relieved and concerned by what they found. Even though his leg was still weak, Hoss had insisted on helping to bear Joe to the settee. From there he and Gil had carried his son to his bed and the fight had begun.
Several days later Doc Martin caught him in the hall and told him Joe would live.
Ben ran a hand over his face. He'd slept better since then, but he hadn't slept well. Joe was weak. The Doc said his youngest could easily relapse. The older man looked at his brown-haired boy and sighed. He believed it. So far Joe had been docile and obedient and that just wasn't him.
He wondered when the fire would rekindle.
"How are you feeling, Joseph?" the older man asked as he took a seat on the hearth by his son's chair.
"I'm fine, Pa."
He placed a hand on his son's knee. "Is that the truth, or what you think I want to hear?"
Joe hesitated, and then a shy smile appeared. "A little bit of both?" He shifted in his chair. "I'm just weak, Pa, that's all."
"I shouldn't have let you come down. Would you like me to help you back to bed?"
Joe shook his head. "Like Hoss said, I'm tired of looking at four walls." He nodded toward the whirling, dancing, laughing and giddy guests that filled their house. "Besides, I think it'd be a little hard to sleep with this lot having so much fun."
At that moment, Adam approached. He was carrying two glasses. Ben noted the liquid in them had a distinct color – which was not the one found in the unspiked punch bowl.
"I thought Joe might like something to drink."
His brother wasn't paying attention. Ben watched as Adam nudged him and Joes' eyes went to the punch cup. They lit up like a boy searching his stocking on Christmas and finding what he wanted. The doctor had said no liquor and Adam knew that. At least not for a while. Ben's eyebrows raised as his eyes met his oldest son's.
Adam shrugged. "Well, we can't have everyone celebrating but Joe."
Joe looked up at him.
"Just this once," the older man agreed, giving in, "until the Doc says it's all right."
His youngest took the cup. "Thanks, Pa."
"Hey, Pa," Adam began. "I wanted Joe's opinion on that new foal. Do you think it would be all right for him to come out to the stable with me?"
It was an odd request. Both boys were in their Sunday best. "I...don't know..."
"Please, Pa," Joe added. "I am getting a little tired of all the noise and action here."
Thatalone told him he should probably not let Joseph go. His eyes flicked to Adam. Something in his eldest son's face indicated whatever he had to say to his brother was important. With a sigh, the older man relented. "There's no flask in your back pocket with more 'punch' in it, is there, son?"
Adam grinned. "Unless Joe goes for the colt remedy, I think you're safe."
Ben laughed. It felt good.
"All right, but don't be long." He looked at Joe. "After that, it's bed, young man."
Joe was busy savoring a sip of the whiskey. He began to nod and then looked up with those green eyes. "Ah, Pa..."
"You heard me," the older man said as he turned away. "And be grateful you're not going there now."
"Yes, sir," Joe murmured as he rose.
Both he and Adam had to physically restrain themselves from offering a hand. Joe wobbled and then found his feet. With a reticent smile of thanks to both of them, he proceeded Adam out of the door.
Ben caught his oldest's arm. "Keep it brief, Adam. And nothing upsetting."
"We're just going to look at a foal, Pa."
"See to it that you do," he said as he released him.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
When he got to the stable, Adam found Joe standing by Cochise, stroking his horse's neck and talking softly to him. His brother had been out to visit once or twice during his recovery, but for the most part the animal had not seen him for nearly two weeks. When he heard him enter, Joe gave the Paint a treat and then turned to face him.
"What'd you want to talk about, Adam?"
"You don't think I brought you out here to see the foal?"
Joe shrugged. "I figured there was something else. Oh, thanks by the way for getting me out of the house."
The tips of Adam's mouth turned up in a tight smile. "So you noticed Fiona staring at you?"
His brother sighed. "You know, Adam, I like her, and she's right pretty..."
"But, no sparks?"
Joe nodded.
Adam glanced back at the house. "Unlike middle brother. There's nothing there but sparks."
Joe laughed. "That Hoss, if he's got Deidre on his arm, he's happy as a flea in a doghouse."
The man in black sobered. "After tonight, he'll be sad as a dog in a house of fleas."
This was the Jenkins last night at the Ponderosa. Gil and his three daughters were taking the morning stage and heading back to Philadelphia. The party was to wish them farewell.
His brother's brown brows peaked. "Just means more food for us."
As he nodded, Adam considered his little brother. There were times when Joe drove him mad, and other times when he simply made him mad, but there were still other times – like this – that were pure magic.
Thank God Joe had survived the bullet wound and the infection it brought.
"How are you feeling, Joe?" At his look he added, "That's a brother asking and not your pa."
He scowled. "In other words, you want the honest truth."
"Uh-huh."
Joe blew out a breath. He hesitated and then said, "I feel like I need to sit down."
Adam felt like an idiot. "Here," he said, grabbing a hay bale and towing it over. After Joe was seated on it, he asked, "Better?"
His brother nodded. "I just ain't got any strength, Adam. I sure hope it comes back."
"It will," he said, taking a seat on an opposing bale. "Give it time."
Joe nodded and fell silent.
They sat for about a minute and then Adam asked, broaching the subject he had brought Joe out to talk about. "So, what did you see in Many Marks' cave that last night?"
His brother glanced at him, but quickly looked away. "Nothing."
"The truth, Joe."
The brown-haired man shrugged.
"All right, let me tell you what I saw. An Indian, wearing a feather cloak, dressed like a Thunderbird, and," he paused, "and the Thunderbird itself."
Joe looked directly at him. "You saw the Thunderbird?"
Adam nodded. "I saw a real bird, Joe, a giant bird. It was perched on a high rocky ledge and then fell dead from a gunshot."
"How big was it?"
He spread his arms wide to encompass the area of the stable they were in. "It had wings big as this room and was just about as tall as you."
Joe's countenance brightened. "I saw it too! I thought I was crazy, or maybe it was just part of the fever."
He shook his head. "The bird, at least, was real."
"What about the man you saw?"
Adam hadn't told anyone about the risk he had taken in swallowing Many Marks' potion. He was still having flashbacks from it and still seeing the shamanic figure in the feather cloak and its companion with the keen shining eyes in his dreams. He wasn't really sure how to answer Joe, since he wasn't really sure the man was real.
"I'm not certain," he answered honestly. "All I can tell you is that he told me Burley Culpepper had you and he was right."
Joe paled at the name. "He was a mean one."
"Burley was a bastard, Joe. No need to mince words." Adam paused. He needed something from Joe for his own sake. "Now, will you tell me what you saw?"
His brother drew another breath and let it out slowly. Adam felt like a louse as it seemed even talking was wearing his brother out. "I was so out of my head, Adam, I'm not sure. There was this giant bird – about the size you said – and I thought it was going to eat me." His smile was chagrinned. "It...protected me instead. I woke up with its wing was over me, keeping me warm like a baby chick. Then I followed it to you." Joe shrugged. "Like I said, I was out of my head."
"No, Joe, I don't think you were."
Joe looked surprised. "No?"
"No. I think the bird – it was a condor like they have in California – and Many Marks were companions. He thought the bird was his totem, or spirit guide, so to speak. I think the two of them went out of their way to watch over and protect us because Many Marks believed the Thunderbirds had a purpose for us."
"He said something about you bringing justice, didn't he?"
Joe must have heard that when he was half-aware. "Yes. I think that had to do with Catterson."
"You mean turning him into the law so he can be tried?"
Did he?
Adam thought a moment before answering. "That, but something more as well. Prescott Catterson is not a bad man, Joe, he just got lost. If you think about it, he meant to take one or both of us captive, but I don't think he would have really killed either of us. He thought he was fighting for justice in his own way; justice for the men he lost to treachery in the war." He paused. "He let his anger overcome him when he ordered the raid on Many Marks' village, but his order to his men was not specifically to kill – they made that choice. His only other crimes were executing Many Marks and choosing the wrong men to associate with." Adam looked at his bother sitting across from him, breathing – alive. "Prescott lost his little brother. The law will hold him accountable, but I imagine that was payment enough for his choices."
Joe acknowledged his meaning with a slight nod. As far as Catterson, he didn't look entirely convinced. "Pa says he'll be tried for murder."
"He will. But his fate will depend on the courts. Many Marks was a native. The village was an Indian village. Sad as it is to admit it, Prescott Catterson may well go free."
Joe rose and walked to the stable door. "That will make Ainslee happy."
"Maybe," Adam said as he followed. "It would be great to see her happy.'
His brother nodded. "I saw her inside, sitting with her father. She looked pretty sad."
He placed his hand on Joe's shoulder. "The problem with most people is that they place expectations on the ones they love and then fail to tell them what they are. Then, when the other person doesn't live up to them, they are disappointed and hurt. We're all just men, Joe. We're all flawed."
Joe remained silent for a moment. He looked at him, his face dead serious. "Not me. I'm perfect."
It took a second. First he laughed, then he cuffed his kid brother on the head. "You do remember what I said about boxing your ears?"
Joe ducked and slipped out of the door. A few feet into the yard he halted. "Hey, Adam?"
"Yes?" he asked as he followed.
Joe nodded toward the pen near the stable where they sometimes kept stock. There were two shadows beside the fence that surrounded it – one big and the other petite.
Hoss and Deirdre.
Adam placed an arm around his brother's shoulders. "Come, on Joe, it's time to get you inside, and probably best if we leave them alone."
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For a moment neither of them said anything, and then they both started in at once. Hoss stopped talking, pursed his lips, and then said, "Ladies first."
Deirdre was looking at the ground. "I said I'm sorry."
The big man frowned. "'Bout what?"
"When my father went with your pa and you wouldn't let us go after him. I was so mean to you."
"Pshaw! You was just worried about your pa. Ain't nothin' wrong with that."
"I guess..." She admitted. "I guess there are some things that men are better at than women."
He nodded. "Sure are." Then he added, as Deirdre's head came up and she looked at him. "But there's even more things women are good at than men."
Her eyes twinkled. "You're being sweet again."
"Adam tells me it's my middle name," he confessed. Then he added with a sigh, "I ain't sure that's such a good thing for a man."
Her hand caught his. "You're wonderful."
Hoss looked at her. They were standing by the stable yard fence. The moon was up and its silver light struck her slight form, highlighting the curves of her hip and breasts. Deirdre wore a rich wine-colored dress and had her hair swept up and held in place with several ivory combs.
She was beautiful beyond words.
"Do you gotta go?" he asked.
The brunette nodded. "Da needs me. Fiona's too young and Ainslee," she hesitated, "well, Ainslee has her own healing to do. There will be the trial to get through. Da will have to testify and most likely, Ainslee as well. I can't desert them now."
He nodded slowly. "I know'd that. Just like I know – well, I think – I love you, Miss Deid."
There was a pained look on her face. He wasn't sure why until a tear trailed down her cheek. "I love you too, Hoss," she said. "Maybe after the trial, maybe then I can come back. Would you like that?"
He squeezed her tiny little fingers with his big ones. "I sure would Miss..." At her look he amended it to, "Deidre."
Then he bent his head and kissed her on the lips.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Joe and Adam had reached the house. While they paused on the porch to speak for a moment more the door opened and Fiona stepped out.
"Oh!" she said, obviously distressed. "I'm sorry. I was looking for Deid."
Adam nodded toward the stable. "She's with Hoss."
The redhead looked and then blushed a deeper pink. "Sorry to have bothered you then. I'll just go back – "
"Adam?"
It was Joe.
"Yeah?"
"I'd like to talk to Fiona for a minute." He turned toward the girl, "That is, if it's okay with you."
It took a second but she nodded.
"Adam? Will you go inside and tell Pa I'll be right in?"
His brother looked at Gil's youngest, as if trying to judge from her reaction to his invitation whether they would have a new casualty if he did as he asked. Finally Adam said, "Okay, but make it quick. If you aren't in the house in a few minutes I imagine Pa will come looking."
Joe nodded his thanks to his big brother and then turned to the young woman standing before him. Fiona was beautiful. He'd been so caught up in trying to stay away from the girls, and then in the events of the first week of their visit, that he hadn't really looked at her or gotten to know her as a person. The moonlight caught in her spiraling red hair and shimmered in the silken threads of her lavender dress, turning it to silver.
He looked at her a moment more and then thrust out his hand. "Friends?"
Fiona frowned. "What?"
"Well," he said, his lips curling in a smile, "if we're friends, friends write each other and come to visit. I'm hoping you'll do both, write me, and come back to visit. Maybe the next time we can take a buggy ride and I can show you around the Ponderosa."
Her aspect brightened. "You want to write to me?"
"Yeah, but I want you to write to me too. Tell me about Philadelphia. The only big city I've seen is San Francisco."
She took his hand. "Maybe you could come visit us sometime? You and Hoss."
"We'd sure like to," he said softly. Then he laughed. "If Pa ever gives us time away from roping, breaking, and branding."
Fiona laughed. "I'll have my Da talk to your pa."
He squeezed her fingers. "You do that." As he released her hand, Joe added, "I have something I would like to give you before you go."
The redhead's eyes were bright like a little girl's. "A present for me? What is it?"
Joe reached out with his hand and caught her chin in his fingers and then bent in and brushed her lips with his.
"A goodbye kiss."
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Ben Cartwright had opened the door to the ranch house. He was anxious about Joe. Of course, when he opened it he saw that perhaps the spark was coming back into his son.
"Ahem," he said, clearing his throat.
Joe and Fiona started and parted guiltily. His son looked at him and smiled. "We were just saying 'goodbye', Pa."
"So I see, Joseph. Since you'll be going to bed and the Jenkins leave early in the morning, I want you to make sure you say goodbye to Gil too," he paused and added dryly, "though I would suggest a handshake."
Fiona glanced at her toes as Joe shuffled his feet. "Will do, Pa."
"Now why don't you escort Fiona to her father. He and Ainslee are on the settee."
Joe nodded and held his arm out. As Fiona took it, the pair headed for the door. Once they were inside, Ben sat on the edge of the wooden table as he had that first day, waiting for Gil to arrive. Inside, the party was winding down. Their guests would soon depart. It had been a wonderful evening full of dance, drink, and song, but he was ready for it to end. He hated to see Gil and the girls leave, but in a way he was ready for that to end too. He was ready for life to return to normal for him and his three sons and the spread.
As he sat there, thinking about the events of two weeks before, he heard the clop of horses' hooves sounding in the dark. A moment later two riders appeared and headed into the yard. The first was Roy Coffee.
The second was Prescott Catterson.
Catterson was mounted on a roan horse. His hands rested on the saddle horn before him. His body was bent forward as if it labored under a heavy weight and he averted his eyes, as if ashamed.
Roy dismounted and came to his side. "Ben," the lawman said as he tipped his hat, "you enjoying the night out under the stars?"
He indicated the house that was still blazing with light and filled with laughter. "It got a little loud inside."
"Party still goin' then?"
Ben's eyes were on Catterson. Obviously Roy didn't consider him a flight risk as his hands were free. "It's beginning to break up."
Roy glanced at the house. "How's Joe?"
How was Joe? Weak. Weary. "Healing."
The lawman nodded. "And Gil?"
Ben sighed. "Healing too." His old friend had lived under a burden of guilt for so long and under the threat of Catterson's reprisal, that the Scotsman found it hard to believe he was free.
Roy cocked his head toward his prisoner. "This one's got a long way to go. Maybe he'll get there if he don't hang."
"Is there to be a military tribunal?"
"Nope. Talked them into a civilian trial. All he's accused of is killing an Indian and raiding that village since both you and Gil dropped charges."
There was definite hint of disapproval in the sheriff's tone.
There were many reasons he and Gil had chosen not to seek justice for the wrong done to them through the law. The greatest was Ainslee.
"We didn't want to put Gil's girl through anything more than we had to – "
"Mister Cartwright?"
It was Catterson.
Ben turned, surprised. "Yes?"
The auburn-haired man straightened a bit in the saddle. "May I see Ainslee?"
He remembered the young woman sitting inside by her father, and the forlorn, hopeless look on her face.
"Do you think that's wise?" he asked Roy's prisoner.
"I'd like to... Well, I think I should tell her the truth."
"About?"
Catterson's dark eyes met his. "About everything."
Ben considered it. "Roy?"
The lawman shrugged. "So long as his hands are tied up, Ben, I'm okay with it. Let me do that and then you can get the girl." Roy turned to look at Catterson and then added, softly, "Honestly, Ben, I don't think he has it in him to run."
The sheriff inclined his head toward the wooden table on the porch. "After that, I'll just set me down over there for a spell then. Maybe one of your boys could bring me some punch?"
Ben nodded absentmindedly. "I'll go and get Ainslee."
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Ainslee Jenkins stopped just outside the ranch house door. She glanced at Sheriff Coffee where he sat on the table, and then stepped off the porch and went to Catt's side. He had dismounted and was standing by the roan, petting its side with his bound hands. She laid one of hers aside his and did the same. For some time neither of them said anything. Then Catt slipped his hands to the side and covered hers.
"I'm sorry, Aine," he said.
She frowned. "For what?"
"For everything. For what happened here two weeks ago, for what I tried to do to your father." He sighed. "For deserting you all those years ago."
The blonde closed her eyes against that remembered pain. Her words, when they came out, were pinched. "It...hurt, Catt. More than anything I have ever known."
He was silent a moment. "I know this won't help, Aine, or mend anything, but I did it for you. I couldn't let go of my hate for your father. I...courted you so I could get to him. So I could destroy him."
"I know," she said, drawing a breath against the emotion rising in her. "You never loved me – "
"Ainslee, no! That's what I wanted to tell you." He looked directly at her, his dark eyes pinning hers. "I loved you too much. I couldn't do that to you. I left, hoping that I would be able to let it go, but the wound only festered. When I heard Adam Cartwright mention that your father was coming for a visit, it all came to a head and..." Catt looked down. "I lost my mind."
Her hand moved to his cheek. "Have you found it now?"
Without lifting his head, he answered, "Yes, but it's too late."
Tears escaped her eyes to run down her cheeks. "What's too late? I'm here. You're here."
"Like this!" He lifted his bound hands. "Aine, I'm going to be tried. I'm going to be hanged!"
She covered his hands with her own. "Da said he would speak for you. I will too."
Catt's eyes flicked to the ranch house. "You father? After everything I did to ruin his life?"
"For me," she said softly. "He knows how much I love you."
"Still?"
She laid her cheek on their combined hands. "Still."
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Ben stepped out of the house with the punch cup in hand and gave it to Roy. As the sheriff took it, he said, "Why don't you go get some food, Roy? I'll keep watch out here."
"I gotta deputize you afore you can do that, Ben."
The older man blinked. "What?"
Roy laughed. "Just joshin', Ben. Now you keep a right good eye on those two, you hear?"
He felt odd, standing and watching two people in love say their goodbyes. It was a personal moment but then, Prescott Catterson had forfeited the right to privacy when he made the poor choices he did. Earlier, when Roy had asked him if he wanted to press charges, he had told him the man was good enough at punishing himself. After all, it wasn't Catterson who shot Joe and no harm came to Adam. And perhaps, in letting it go, no harm would come to Ainslee Jenkins in the end.
Turning a little to the side, to give Ainslee and the man she loved as much chance as he could to make their goodbyes in private, Ben settled in to await Roy's return.
EPILOGUE
Adam Cartwright descended the stair of the ranch house as quietly as he could so as not to awaken his father and brothers. A day had passed since the departure of Gil Jenkins and his daughters and normalcy had returned to the Ponderosa with the exception of Joe's recovery, which was going to be lengthy and chafing on his younger brother and, truth be told, on all of them.
Joe was not an easy colt to corral.
At the bottom of the stairs Adam turned and headed for the front door. He had gone to bed and fallen into an uneasy sleep filled with dreams he couldn't quite remember. After three hours he had awakened and been unable to fall back to sleep and so had decided to come downstairs for some milk and a snack.
Instead, something drew him to the door and the black night outside.
They were well into October now and the temperature was dropping. While the days were still hot at times, the nights were consistently chilly. He was in his robe, so he felt it. Still, the cool air was bracing and the sky overhead clear and brilliant with stars, and something about it coaxed him off of the porch and into the yard. As he came to rest about halfway between the house and the stable, Adam looked toward the south. There, over the lake, a pale sheet of lightning winked on and off, and he heard a rumble of thunder.
And a voice.
*Justice is done, Adam Cartwright. Your brother will heal and all will be well.*
Adam stiffened. He glanced from side to side. At first he found nothing – then he saw him, standing in the shadows by the stable yard – the Indian wise man wearing a feather cloak.
"Who are you?" he asked as he took a step in the shaman's direction.
*We are many men. Among us is the one known as Many Marks.*
"Many Marks is dead."
There was amusement in the answer. *Only as a white man thinks*.
Adam halted about three yards away. "Why are you here?"
*To say goodbye. Our task, as yours, is done.*
"Where will you go?"
*Back to the wind. Back to the rain and the sky. Back to guard the gates of Heaven.*
The man in black fell silent. He lifted his head and looked up, imagining the great black bird with its wings spread wide standing before gates made of pearl. He had a thousand questions but they seemed irrelevant. After all he didn't know if he was really here or still back there in his bed dreaming. In the end there was only one thing to say.
"Thank you. Thank you for saving Joe. Thank you, for bringing justice."
*We may have brought it about, Adam Cartwright, but it was you who made it real.*
As the shaman spoke a strong wind rose, blowing dust and debris through the yard and lifting the ends of his robe so they whipped about his knees. The native man who spoke disappeared into the shadows and then, almost more seen than felt, a great dark winged shadow rose from the darkness and passed overhead, blotting out the stars.
*Thank you.*