The ride back to Eastgate was pure misery.
They tied the unknown dead man's body over the rear of Joe's horse and, each on their respective horses, Hoss and Ben took turns holding Adam. Two grown men riding a horse double was difficult under ideal circumstances; given Adam's current state, it was an arduous task. Whatever recognition of safety had dawned upon him minutes after being found hadn't lasted; he was either unconscious, his body heavy, limp, and in danger of falling off, or he was semi-conscious, anxious, confused, and fighting their grip.
"I want to get away from you," Adam whispered desolately, over and over again. "I just... want to… get away."
"Don't I know it, older brother," Hoss responded after Adam had repeated the statement for what felt like a hundredth time. Holding Adam's back firmly against his chest, he grimaced and spoke to him as though he was negotiating with a small child. "I'll tell you what, Adam, you quit being so wriggly, let me get a good hold on you so you don't fall, then when we get where we're goin' I'll let you go."
Hoss's words placated Adam for the rest of the journey—or maybe it was that he had grown too weary or resigned to fight anymore.
They rode long past twilight, arriving in Eastgate before sunrise. The moon cast an eerie hue on the small town as they traveled the thoroughfare, illuminating the gallows which were being built in the center of the small town.
"I thought they weren't gonna hang Obadiah Johnson," Joe said quietly. "The judge only sentenced him to five years."
Shaking his head, Ben silently dismissed the statement; he didn't know what Joe was talking about.
"Is that the trial you stayed behind to take in?" Hoss asked.
Joe looked at Adam, who was still sitting in front of Hoss. "Yeah," he said.
Ben saw immense guilt reflected on his youngest son's face and anguish shining in his green eyes; he knew Joe needed a discussion to ease the pain and guilt he felt because of what happened to Adam. But at that moment, one son's need for his father's attention surpassed another; Joe would have to wait.
Halting his horse in front of the small boarding house, Ben dismounted and moved to stand by Hoss's, raising his tired arms to steady Adam's unconscious form as he began giving orders.
"Joe, see if you can fetch the doctor, send him our way, and then go find the sheriff. Hoss, I'm going to see if I can get us a room."
Adam's face was pale, ashen against the contrast of Hoss's shirt.
"He's burnin' up, Pa," Hoss said. "Fever."
Pressing his palm against Adam's heated skin, Ben didn't need to be told how frightening of a prospect that was.
"Joe," he said as his youngest son jumped off his horse. "Hurry."
Xx
They obtained two rooms in the boarding house. When the Eastgate doctor arrived, Ben ordered his two younger sons to converse with the sheriff regarding how they had come to find Adam and the strange man's body that had been in his possession. Neither Hoss nor Joe had wanted to leave Adam; they put forth a convincing argument to be allowed to remain. Suddenly overtaken by the oddest of tempestuous feelings, a fervent need to protect his eldest's privacy, Ben wouldn't hear of them staying. Though had failed to protect Adam from whatever he had endured in the desert, he could shield him from future embarrassment.
Adam had always been such a private man, expressing pain, fear, and weakness in modest ways. He wasn't prone to overly emotional fits—save angry ones. While Hoss may have been privy to Adam's tears a handful of times in his life, Ben questioned whether Joe had. There was such a distance between their ages; it didn't seem likely Adam would have ever allowed such a thing. He had always been so careful to portray himself as inviolable in Joe's eyes with impenetrable wisdom and infallible strength. It was something Ben had always thought a little foolish, because no matter how hard a man tried to remain unbreakable, there always came an occasion when God and destiny saw fit to bring him to his knees.
Uncertain of the details, Ben was acutely aware Adam had been brought to his knees in the desert outside of Eastgate and not only had he seen the result of what had happened out there, but Hoss and Joe had too. They had heard their older brother refer to their father as "Papa", they had watched him cling to Ben and sob, and they endured his desperate cries to be let go during their return to Eastgate. They had heard and seen it all and that was more than enough.
Enough is enough, Ben had thought while he firmly ordered Hoss and Joe to vacate the room. And in this case, it was already too much.
Adam was in rough shape; suffering from dehydration and heat exhaustion, it appeared as though he had been overworked and perhaps suffered more than one beating. The damage to his face seemed superficial; the swelling of his split-lip, inflamed cheekbone, and black eye would heal, as would the scratches and bruises marring his back, arms, and hands. To Ben, these were familiar injuries, some predictable outcomes of a fight and others more disquieting. If he didn't know better, from the shapes and placement of some of the cuts and the blisters covering the insides of Adam's hands, he would have thought that his son had been digging for a prolonged period of time. This was a deduction he struggled to make sense of.
Why would Adam do such a thing? Why would it be required? And for what gain? Ben's imagination wandered ceaselessly, torturing him with theories of how or why the injuries had been sustained. What was Adam digging? A hole? A shelter? A grave?
It wasn't until he absently recalled Adam's confused statements about gold that he began to consider a mine. Although that didn't make much sense either, because the landscape on which Adam had been found had no reputation for ever containing the precious and lucrative substance. Many men had tried over the years to mine the brutal land and, as far as he knew, none had truly succeeded. Oh, there were pockets to be found here and there, but the amount of gold a man would obtain would never be enough to justify the effort he had put forth to retrieve it.
Mining had always been a bit of a pet project for Adam. He had full control over the small operation on the Ponderosa because it interested him, and he knew a lot about it. This was enough to make Ben wonder if, out in the wilderness and ensnared to a sudden fantastical notion,
Adam had decided to give the land a shot. Something about this theory seemed off, because while Ben knew searching for anything beneath the crust of the barren land was destined to be a fruitless fool's errand, Adam had too. Adam had known the land contained nothing of value, so why would he even try?
Along with all these questions there was something else to worry about. Deep, red, and angry, there were robe burns on both of Adam's wrists. Ben wasn't sure if he should attribute these injuries to men who had robbed his son, or the dead one Adam had been dragging around.
"That dead man you found with your boy, have you ever seen him before?" the doctor asked. Filling a glass with water, he mixed a white powder in, his attention never waning from Ben.
The way the man was considering him was odd, even expression and dark eyes seemingly flickering with a fortitude Ben couldn't begin to understand.
"No."
"That's fortunate for you." The doctor sat on the edge of the bed where Adam lay. "Not so fortunate for your son, I'm afraid."
"What do you mean by that?" Ben asked. "Did you know that man?"
The doctor shook his head, his attention shifting to Adam. "Hello," he said.
Eyes clouded with feverish confusion, Adam glared at him in return.
"I'm here to help you," the doctor continued, his tone even and calm. "First, I need you to drink this, so you can relax, then me and your pa are going to clean you up. You're going to fall asleep at some point while we do, and lord willing, when you wake up you won't remember any of it."
Ben thought the explanation a bit odd. He had never known a situation where a doctor took the time to explain anything to a patient who was as tired and confused as Adam was. Still, he appreciated the care the man was taking in allowing his normally poised son at least some illusion of control.
Adam, however, did not.
"Get away from me," he said, his voice tired and hoarse. Back pressed against the headboard, Adam assessed the strange man with an astounding level of hatred. He struggled to move away from him, but his exhausted limbs and bewildered mind left him weak and uncoordinated and rooted to the bed. "I-I just want to get away."
"Well, you did," the doctor countered. Extending the glass, he moved to press it to Adam's broken lips. "You got away and now you're here with us."
Struggling to push the glass away, Adam's hand was uncoordinated and slow and no match for the doctor's sturdy one as he pulled it safely out of Adam's reach.
The doctor looked at Ben. "Is he always this skeptical of the intentions of strangers?" he asked.
Sometimes, Ben thought. But not like this. Never like this.
Kneeling next to the bed, Ben placed one hand on Adam's shoulder and the other on his son's chest. "Adam," he said gently, hoping his voice would be enough to calm his son's agitation. "It's alright."
Stirring uncomfortably beneath his father's hands, Adam refused to be soothed. "I just want to get away," he said, his voice cracking as his expression crumbled again. "I-I just want to g-get a-away."
"I already told you, you did," the doctor reminded.
Ben didn't appreciate the doctor's rebuttal. "He's confused," he said, his voice carrying a bit of a dangerous edge. "Don't you understand that?"
"Oh, I understand it," the doctor assured. "As much as I'd rather not."
Ben's anger was ignited. "If you don't want to care for my son then you just say so."
The doctor was neither intimidated nor impressed. "Here," he said, handing Ben the glass. "Get as much of this into him as you can, wait for him to fall asleep and then have one of your other boys fetch me again."
"How can you—!"
"Mister Cartwright, it is damn near dawn; I have no intention of starting off this day with a fight with either you or your boy. Trust me, it'll be easier on you and less traumatic for him if I go now and come back when he's not aware of my presence."
With that, the doctor left both the room and Ben wondering what kind of doctor the man really was. Good or bad, it probably didn't make much difference, because either way Adam needed tending. The retreating doctor was the only option they had.
It took time, a lot of coaxing, and eventually a little firmer tone than Ben would have liked to use to get Adam to drink what the doctor had left. During that time, he endured his son's chaotic behavior and words. One moment his son seemed to know he was there and the next he didn't.
Ben didn't know which was more agonizing, having Adam not recognize and fight him or having his identity distinguished only to watch Adam tearfully declare that his father wasn't real and just another game.
It was Adam's persistent tears that unsettled Ben the most. For a man—and boy—who had never been quick to cry, whatever Adam had endured had been bad enough to open a well inside of him that seemed bound to never run dry.
Eventually—thankfully—Adam did fall asleep. Overcome by exhaustion, Ben did too.
Once again, he dreamed of standing on the edge of the cliff. Their ominous surroundings and Adam's bedraggled appearance had remained the same. Holding his arms out wide, he stood on the edge; back turned from the horizon and what lay on the ground below, his eyes were focused solely on his father. He looked oddly stoic, strangely detached from the danger of where he stood and concern of the man in front of him.
"Adam," Ben tried. He watched in horror as Adam took a step back. "Stop, now."
Taking another step back, Adam refused to abide by his father's order.
"Adam!" Ben ordered as firmly as he could. "Don't take another step!"
Ignoring the command, Adam took another step back. Unable to support his weight, the thin edge of the cliff was beginning to crumble beneath the worn soles of his boots, but he didn't seem to notice. His only focus was on his father.
"Can you catch me?" Adam asked finally. His expression was suddenly eager and hopeful, making him appear younger than he had in years. "Pa, can you?"
Ben woke up with a start. Lying on an unfamiliar bed, he was momentarily disoriented, taken aback by the strange room. Emitting a painful grunt, he sat up, blinked, and then squinted his eyes against the faint sunlight filtering in from behind the lightly colored curtains. Casting his gaze upon the room, his attention focused on the bed opposite the one he occupied, and he finally recalled the events that had brought him there.
Tucked beneath a thin blanket, Adam was sleeping soundly. He appeared much cleaner than he had the last time Ben saw him. Hair slightly wet and wounds clean, he appeared to have been bathed before redressed in an unfamiliar nightshirt. He looked better, not fine but finally peaceful and relaxed.
Expelling a hearty sigh of relief, Ben's gaze shifted, and he was surprised at what he saw.
Sitting vigil on the chair next to Adam's bed was Hoss. "Hi, Pa," he greeted quietly, his face set in an indecipherable expression.
"Son?"
"Adam's doing okay." Hoss neither looked away from Adam nor did his strange expression change. "Doctor came and went. I helped tend to Adam and kept Little Joe in the room like you wanted." Tilting his head, he scoffed thickly. "Not that that was too hard, anyway. You're gonna have to talk to Joe; he's not taking what happened to Adam too well. I suppose none of us are or will."
"Where is Joe?" Ben asked.
"Saloon."
Frowning, Ben suppressed the urge to order Hoss to fetch his youngest. He didn't approve of Joe spending his time drinking away his supposed self-condemnation and lingering guilt. He didn't like it but what was the purpose of pulling Joe away from the respite of the saloon back to the stagnancy of the boarding house?
Adam was asleep; there would be no information or reassurance to be gleaned from him—at least now. Try as Ben may to sooth his youngest son's self-imposed culpability, the only person who could really do that was Adam. Ben knew Adam would never hold Joe responsible for what had happened, because, after all, according to Joe, the idea of taking a few days off had been Adam's. Adam had always been as stubborn as he was strong; once he put his mind to something there was just no stopping him. Though Joe may have thought he agreed to allow his brother to venture off alone for a few days, he hadn't really had a choice.
"It might be best if I go join Joe," Hoss said, as though privy to his father's uneasy thoughts. "Now that you're awake and able to sit with Adam. With the way Joe's feeling, there ain't no telling what he may be getting into."
"I'd appreciate that." Ben nodded at Adam. "How did the doctor fare the second time around?"
"Fine. Like I said, I helped him. Adam slept through it all. We cleaned out his wounds, gave him as good of a bath as we could manage. Doc left some sleeping powder and a salve."
"Did he say anything else?"
"We gotta keep him as cool as possible until that fever breaks, pray that the warmth of his body is due to the sun and not infection. With some of those wounds, Doc said there's just no telling what's causing Adam's body to heat. We're to keep him quiet and calm and use the sleeping powder if he keeps getting overly upset."
While it wasn't the best news, it was far from the worst. Still, Ben struggled with it. They may have been able to force Adam to sleep now but would come after his fever broke? What would happen when his confusion ebbed enough for him to become cognizant, aware of his body and words? Or worse, what if it never did? What were any of them supposed to say or do then?
Focusing his dark eyes on the bandages covering Adam's wrists, Ben was reminded of his son's wounds, the ones he had seen and the supposed others he hadn't.
"How bad were his injuries?" Ben asked. "Is there anything in particular I should know about?"
Unwilling to look at his father, Hoss didn't readily reply. "No, sir," he sighed after a few moments passed, his gaze now focused on the floorboards. "There is something else, though. Doc said that we oughta keep Adam quiet now and then later, when he starts to come out of it, we need to keep quiet about how we found him, what he said or did. He said certain experiences, certain injuries, have a way of eating away at a man if too many people are privy to them, especially his pride." He looked at Ben sadly. "That's the bit that worries me the most, Pa. You know Adam as well as I do; he don't act the way he's been since we found 'em. Whatever happened out in the desert, it hurt him. It cut him real deep."
Ben couldn't disagree. Never in Adam's life had he been witness to how his son was currently acting. No matter how sick, sad, hurt, angry, or afraid, Adam had never behaved the way he had since he'd been found.
"What's going to happen when he comes to?" Hoss asked, echoing Ben's silent fear. "What's gonna happen if he don't?"
"He'll be fine," Ben said firmly. "He always is." He wondered how many times and with how much force he would have to repeat the statement before it would be enough for either of them to truly believe it.
