A Gift of Friendship

by

Agnieszka Maria



"Hide, quickly!", Adam shoved his little brother under the bed and had only just time to hiss, "Quiet!" before the three men rushed into the house, guns aimed at the
boy by the bed. All were wearing bandannas on their faces. They somehow seemed to relax upon seeing only a ten-year-old boy in front of them.

"Where do you keep money, boy?", asked one of them, swaying his gun in a relaxed way. Adam bit his lip, stiffening in anxiety should they find Hoss... The bandit
stood in front of the boy. "So where?"

"I... don’t know," Adam hesitated. "I guess Pa took all the money as he went. I guess so." They looked at each other. "Where’s your Pa?"
"I don’t know, he only said he will be back in half an hour." Adam noticed with irritation that the rifle lay too far away to grab it. He did his best to look anxious and
shy. "He should be back any minute now."

"Damned!", the bandit looked around. "Search the house," he waved to the other two and grabbed Adam’s shirt tightly by the boy’s throat. "Let’s see how honest
were you, boy."

Hoss was still not to be heard but Adam could not trust a boy of four to keep quiet in such situation. He had to do something but what? He suddenly heard a horse
outside, undoubtedly one of theirs, but it was worth a try. With a pretendedly uncontrolled movement he tried to turn his head to the door. "Pa?", he broke off
immediately, as though in fear of the bandits’ reaction.

They startled. He heard Hoss move slightly under the bed; for God’s sake, brother, keep quiet!

"Nothing." The house was so small that they have already finished their search. "Let’s go, the owner may be back soon."

The man clenched his fingers tighter on the boy’s shirt; Adam coughed, trying to push the bandit’s hand away. "Well, boy, seems you’re the most valuable thing
here."

Adam froze for a second; then he began to struggle violently and call out loud for help. Heavy with the gun, the man’s hand fell down on the boy’s face. Adam cried
out in pain and leaned heavily backwards.

"Don’t beat the child," one of his companions caught the man’s hand. "Look what you’ve done." He checked whether the heart was still beating. "You want to kill
him?"

"His father will pay well for him," the first one shrugged his shoulders and took the boy under his arm like a bag of sand. "We’ll leave the message in the evening.
Let’s go, if his father should really come back. Seems he was telling the truth."

Hoss shrank under the bed with the little packet of money in his hands, as they walked out, taking his brother with them.

***

Upon coming home, Ben discovered angrily that nobody was there. He could usually depend on Adam, the boy had enormous sense of responsibility as for his age
– but apparently not enough for staying with Hoss for the three hours Ben spent in the city. He looked around the house and called out, not restraining his anger
anymore, "Adam! Hoss!"

In answer there came a quiet sob from under Adam’s bed and an anxious voice asked, "Pa?" "Hoss!", Ben knelt down and stared in astonishment at his youngest.
"What the heavens are you doing there?" He helped the boy out and looked in disbelief at the packet in his hands. "What is that to mean?", anger overcame him
again. "And where the hell is Adam?"

Hoss sobbed now quite audibly. "A... Adam told me to... hold it, stay... there...", he pointed to where his father had found him, "... and keep quiet. Then... then they
wanted money... and they hit Adam... and he shouted... and they took him... and I thought they might be back... and... oh, Pa, I think Adam’s hurt," big tears were
rolling freely down Hoss’ face, as he sobbed fairly loud now. Ben froze.

"Who came? Who took Adam? Where to?", he managed to ask. Hoss began crying openly. "Some men. I didn’t see them, Pa, and they didn’t see me. Then Adam
was crying for help, and then they hit him, and then he was so awfully quiet!"

Ben took the boy in his arms, terrified by the news; Adam had been kidnapped, beaten, God knows how badly, and he had no idea where to search for him!... The
clever boy managed to hide both his brother and the money, but why didn’t he hide himself? What should he do now? He couldn’t leave Hoss all alone, and maybe
somebody should help him search... "I’ll take you to the doctor," he told Hoss. "Then I’ll get help for your brother. Let’s go."

***

The blow kept Adam unconscious for some time; then, pain began to wake him up to nausea. The feeling, though, came not so much from pain as from the way he
travelled: the man just hung him over the saddle like a coat and let the horse canter freely. Adam moaned involuntarily as he felt his stomach’s contents near his throat
again. Someone shouted something and they stopped. Someone caught Adam’s shirt and belt and brought him to a sitting position in a saddle. He vaguely noticed it
was a different horse he was now sitting on. A strong hand wiped his face with a not-too-clean handkerchief and a manly voice claimed, "You treat that kid
barbarously; he’ll throw up in a moment, and besides, who’s ever heard of hitting a child that hard?" His companion shrugged his shoulders indifferently. "We don’t
have time for caresses. They’ll even pay for his body." Adam quickly fought back tears of pain, shivered at the approaching night cold and sobbed audibly enough to
be heard by the man who was holding him now. "Now you scared him," the very bandit hissed to his companion. "Money is OK, but that’s just a kid, get it? Just a
small kid." Adam paid no great attention to being insulted in that way – he was not a kid! – but did his best to sway slightly and sob a little more audibly. Suddenly
the first of the bandits leaned towards him and his open hand fell with its back on the boy’s face again. "Shut up, kid!" Adam whimpered, trying to protect his head
with his arms. Manly hands immediately pressed him to the warm chest. "Don’t you ever again touch the boy! I’ll take care of him from now on." "Would you kindly
move on?", asked the third one sarcastically. "It’s getting cold, you know."

Among the trees the bandit had to hold the reins with both hands as the horse was somewhat uneasy. Adam was sobbing quietly, looking for the first opportunity to
escape. It was dark in the woods already, the men weren’t paying much attention... Adam suddenly slipped down from the saddle, escaped the hooves and ran into
the dark wood. He heard them following and only this kept him running. "You little rascal, you...", bullets flew over his head. Something hit him on the leg, throwing
him on the ground with an involuntary cry of pain. "There he is!", it was the man who hit him twice already. Weeping, Adam crawled under some bushes, lay down in
midst of them and then choked down his tears in silence, scared to death by what they might do unto him if they should find him. Long minutes passed, and nobody
seemed to have noticed him. Slowly, he crawled away into the darkness in the direction where he supposed to find home. Upon hearing horses, he stopped and sat
down on the ground, trying to see something, weeping silently amidst the hostile forest. Were it the bandits? Did they find him? The leg and the face were hurting him
badly, he was hungry and thirsty, and exhausted, and terrified. He bravely tried to choke back tears but then it began to rain, and he soon found himself wet and very
cold, and missing home more and more.

The horses seemed to be coming nearer, so Adam got up with difficulty and limped forward, further into the darkness, smearing blood, rain and tears on his cheeks
while trying to wipe his face. Then he heard hooves behind him and a strong arm lifted him onto the horse. Adam cried out in fear; he struggled violently, and due to
the falling rain almost slipped away two or three times from the man’s arms, but at last the opponent managed to wrap him up tightly in something warm and fuzzy;
Adam found he couldn’t move anymore and wept openly now, as much from pain and fear, as from sheer exhaustion.

Unknown voices spoke an unknown language around him. The sight of Indians quietened the boy at once. He winced and strangled a sob when someone began
touching his injured leg; the man holding Adam examined his face carefully, covered the boy’s head with the fuzzy thing in protection from rain, and spoke softly,
"What is your name?" Adam stiffened in terror; former encounters with Indians taught him nothing but fear. "Winnemaka won’t hurt you," the man reassured him.
"You live in the wooden house with a man and a child; is it so?" Adam didn’t answer. They would hurt him, he was sure of that, but further fight was impossible as he
could not move in the man’s strong arms, and besides, he had no strength left to fight, not even the one coming from fear. All he could do now was to save some
dignity choking down his tears in silence. He heard the unknown language again. They moved on.

***

"I’m sorry, Ben, we won’t find him at night," the sheriff sighed heavily. "Come on, you know how much I like the boy. We’ll search anew in the morning, I promise."
Ben was biting his lips in anger, helplessness and outright fear that something very bad had happened to his first-born. "Maybe they left a message," the sheriff
suggested. "You said they kidnapped him for ransom. We’ll be with you in the morning and see how it looks like, all right?"

It was pitch-dark already and it rained heavily when Ben reached the empty house. He opened the door – and froze. They must have brought their horses to the
stable not to betray their presence, he thought, looking on the three Indians in front of him. The oldest of them scrutinised Ben in silence and then began, "Winnemaka
greets the white man. He came to your house to offer friendship. He brought you a gift of friendship, too," he pointed to the bed. Ben stared at it, amazed, not
trusting his own eyes: his missing eldest boy slept there ever so peacefully. The father looked up at the Indians in astonishment and turned quickly to examine his son.
He had cried, it was apparent, and – oh, God! – almost half of his face was bruised badly. "His leg is injured," said the Indian softly. "But the bullet went through and
he will be all right. You have a brave son."

Ben rose from beside the bed and looked at his unexpected guests gratefully. "How shall I ever thank you..."

Winnemaka’s grave face softened for a moment. "Do you accept Winnemaka’s gift of friendship?" Ben didn’t hesitate.

"Yes, I do, Winnemaka. I am a great debtor to you. You saved my son."

"Can Winnemaka know your names?"

"I am Ben Cartwright, my son’s name is Adam, and the younger one is Hoss."

The Indian nodded, satisfied, and put a sharp, shining knife on the bed. "Adam Cartwright will be a strong and brave warrior; he will then use Winnemaka’s gift of
friendship to him."

Suddenly, the boy shifted in the bed, opened his eyes and sat up with difficulty. His eyes brightened as he saw his father. "Pa," he smiled angelically with relief and
winced quickly, recovering momentarily from exhaustion. Then his face darkened with fear, as he saw the Indians. "Winnemaka brought you here, son," explained
Ben quickly. "He might have saved your life, you should be grateful to him."

Adam didn’t get rid of his fear at once, but then Winnemaka picked the knife up and placed in the boy’s hands. "Do you accept Winnemaka’s gift of friendship?"
Adam looked thoughtfully at the Indian for some time, then at the knife. Eventually, he said hesitatingly, "Yes." Then, more strongly, "Thank you." He looked up. "I’m
sorry."

"Your son struggled violently against an adult warrior; he will be once a brave and strong warrior himself," Winnemaka explained shortly Adam’s dubious statement
to Ben, praising the boy once more. "Winnemaka must go now, but he will come some day to meet his friends."

"You will find your friends here, Winnemaka," Ben reassured him. "I can never express my gratitude to you."

***

"He sleeps," the doctor closed the door. "He’s weak from loss of blood, and very much exhausted, but he’ll be perfectly all right in a week or two. His face should
heal nicely." He looked closely at Ben. "Now, you’d better go to bed, Mr Cartwright. You’re not much less exhausted than Adam is." "I’d better stay in one room
with boys," Ben sighed heavily. "They may be scared if I’m not there when they wake up. And Adam has had his share of fear for the next two years or so."

He bent over his son before going to bed. Adam must have really been exhausted, Ben thought, but his sleep was deep and peaceful, as though nothing ever
happened. The knife by the bedhead gleamed in moonlight.

THE END

The name of Winnemaka has been borrowed from the episode ‘The Paiute War’; I believe the historically real person’s name was either that or ~Winnemack, but
as to region and tribe, I have to trust the authors of the above mentioned episode; sorry for possible mistakes as to historical truth.


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