The Tinderbox
Claire
Part
1
Midsummer:
and the normally lush, green pastures of the Ponderosa lay parched and
bleached, all the grass withered and dead, the meadow-flowers shrivelled and
the streams devoid of water, reduced to rocky channels traversing a desiccated
land. The cattle wandered fruitlessly in search of sustenance, the flesh
disappearing from their bones. There had been no rain for weeks.
Ben
Cartwright surveyed the scene and felt a helplessness leach into his body. No
matter what he did, it was not enough. No matter how many barrels of water were
drawn from the well and transported to the grazing pastures, the cows were
still thirsty and the wagonloads of fodder made little discernable impact on
the starving animals. Supplies were starting to run low and Ben knew he could
only to feed the herd for a few more days. He stared up at the cloudless blue
sky, vainly searching for a sign, the familiar anvil-shaped clouds that
heralded a rainstorm and then suppressed a curse.
“Pa?”
Adam leant forward in his saddle and surveyed his father carefully. “What are
we going to do?”
“Pray
for rain,” Ben said. “It’s the only thing that can save us now.”
“And
if it doesn’t rain?” Adam queried.
“Then
we start to shoot the herd.” Ben’s tones were bleak, he hated to even
contemplate such action but someone had to make the decision and it was as well
to be prepared. “We do what has to be done and then we start again.” In the
distance, he could see Joe unloading another barrel of water. Even from this
distance, Ben could see that the young man looked exhausted, almost as if the
spirit was draining out of him in sympathy with the land.
“Pa!”
Joe’s clear voice rang out and he beckoned frantically. Ben touched his heels
to Buck’s sides and thundered across the dry ground in answer to the urgent
appeal.
Joe
stood beside an animal that was clearly in distress. With a coat that stood
stark and hard in the brilliant sunshine, the cow’s sides were heaving in an effort
to breathe, while a dry, white tongue protruded uncomfortably from its mouth.
When he gave it a comforting pat, the beast responded with a plaintive bellow,
before collapsing to the ground, panting in distress.
“It
could be heat-stroke,” Joe suggested. “Only I’ve never seen it this bad
before.” He dropped to his knees beside the animal and ran his hand tenderly
over its flank.
“Or
it could be contagious,” Adam informed him. “We can’t risk any more disasters
right now. These cows aren’t strong enough to withstand an outbreak of
illness.” Drawing his gun, he looked briefly at his father for permission.
“Can’t
we wait until Hoss has a look at her?” Joe pleaded.
“Do
it,” Ben said bleakly. “Do it now. And let’s pray no more cows get sick.” It
was the last thing they needed right now.
Supper
was a quiet, subdued affair that evening, especially after Hoss confirmed that
two cows in the southern pasture were suffering the same symptoms.
“We
can’t just sit back and do nothing!” Joe looked around the table. “We can’t
give up without a fight.”
Adam
gave a thin smile. “Sometimes the only thing you can do is to acknowledge
defeat and give in at the right time. That way, we might be save something,
rather than losing everything.”
The
pall of gloom that settled upon the Ponderosa was only made worse by the
oppressive heat. Joe tossed and turned restlessly in his bed, unable to sleep,
his mind haunted by the memory of the cow, lying still and motionless in the
bleached grass. The room was stifling hot, without a breath of air and
eventually he gave up the struggle, pulled on a pair of pants and crept
downstairs, boots in hand.
It
was cooler on the porch and Joe felt he could breath properly again. A golden
harvest moon shone down on the yard and he revelled in the silky feel of the
night air on his bare chest. It was exactly the sort of night that was perfect
for a moonlit buggy-ride, Joe thought and then smiled as he imagined his
father’s reaction to that suggestion!
As he
walked across the yard, Joe was aware of a strange sound breaking though the
stillness – a faint crackle, an occasional rushing roar, interspersed with an
odd popping sound. It took a few moments for him to realise what was happening
and then he scanned the surroundings with a growing sense of dread. Sure
enough, off to the east he could see a dull, red glow.
“Fire!”
he yelled, at the top of his lungs, while rushing into the barn, unfettering
Cochise and vaulting onto his back in one smooth movement. There was no time to
think about a saddle or reins.
As he
rode out of the barn, Joe could see lights going on in the house and repeated
his cries of “Fire! Fire!” before galloping towards the conflagration.
Part
Two
By
Rona
In
the house, Ben, Adam and Hoss hurriedly dragged on clothes, snatched up sacks
and threw bridles onto their horses, following Joe. “Why couldn’t he wait for
us?” Ben worried as they rode into the darkness. He knew they were quite a few
minutes behind Joe, perhaps as many as ten. Who knew what could happen in ten
minutes with a big fire?
Meanwhile,
Joe raced Cochise towards the fire. As he drew closer, he realised that the
herd was in danger, too. For a moment, Joe dithered, uncertain as to his best
move. But common sense prevailed. He couldn’t herd cows when he was controlling
Cochise just with his hands and heels. His horse was perfectly safe to ride
like that, but not around the herd, which could easily panic and stampede.
As he
drew closer to the roaring flames, Joe could hear the uneasy bellows from the
herd as they milled about. Joe knew that any moment, they could start a
stampede. He faced a dilemma – should he try and get the herd moving away from
the flames, or tackle the fire. He had snatched up a sack from the barn as he
was leaving.
The
bright flames danced over the grass and Joe opted for the fire. He rode Cochise
as close to the fire as he could manage and then dropped from the pinto’s back.
There
was still some water left in the bottom of the trough and Joe soaked the sack
thoroughly before racing over and wielding it energetically. The heat was
tremendous and Joe could feel innumerable little sparks land on his bare arms
and chest, but he ignored them, beating the flames out, leaving the ground
blackened and smoking.
A
sudden breeze fanned the flames and an eddy of smoke wafted into Joe’s face and
set him coughing. His eyes streamed and he backed away and suddenly, the flames
were pursuing him!
Fleeing
the conflagration, Joe could barely see where he was going. Next moment, he
collided with a warm, hairy object that let out a started bellow. The herd had
somehow got turned around and were much nearer the flames. Joe wiped his
tearing eyes and waved his arms at the beasts. Slowly, they started to turn.
He
had just got them moving when there was a shout from out of the darkness. “Joe!
Joe, where are you?”
That
was all it needed, the herd broke into a panicked run and Joe had to dodge the
lethal horns, all the time hoping his family would hear the herd coming and get
out of the way!
“Stampede!”
he cried, but his voice was lost in all the sudden noise.
Figures
came into sight, and Joe realised that his family were safe after all.
Relieved, Joe left the herd to its own devices and returned his attention to
the fire. Once more he dipped the sack into the water and set about tackling
the flames again. Soon, he knew that Ben, Adam and Hoss would join him and
together, they would surely beat the flames!
The
blackened area that Joe had already put out was acting as a natural firebreak
for that part, so Joe turned his attention to the grass beneath the withered
trees. The smoke was still eddying in his face and Joe was coughing steadily
now.
“Quick!”
Ben urged his other sons needlessly. They slid down from the horses’ backs and
hurried to join Joe’s fire fighting efforts. Ben cast a glance at his youngest
son, but Joe seemed fine, despite a liberal coating of soot.
With
the four of them working, the flames were soon dying back. Joe straightened
wearily and wiped an arm across his face. The noise from the flames had died
away and so it was that he heard the whoosh
as the tree he was standing under ignited.
Startled,
Joe glanced up as the flames devoured the tree in a matter of seconds. There
was a sudden, ominous creaking and Joe saw a flaming branch falling towards
him. Acting on pure instinct, Joe threw himself forwards and let out a banshee
yell of pain as he landed on his chest on the still-hot ground. Before he could
get his feet underneath him, the flaming branch crashed down, pinning his legs
to the ground!
“Joe!”
Ben stared in horrified disbelief as he saw his son pinned to the ground
beneath a burning branch. “Joe!”
Part
Three
Robin
Profrobinw@aol.com
He
rushed forward with Hoss.
"Quick!
Pull him out Pa!" Hoss bellowed . "Pull him out! "With no regard
for his own safety, the large man lifted the end of the branch as Ben pulled
Joe free. Was it too late?
Two days later:
"Mr. Cartwright. We are done digging those graves.," the lanky hand
said as Ben answered his knock at the door.
"Thanks, Shorty. " Ben said wearily. His eyes were red.
"And Sheriff Coffee just rode up," Shorty
Magee said to his boss. "He’s talking to the boys out by the corral. I
suppose he didn’t want to disturb you."
Shorty nervously turned his hat in his hands.
Ben nodded wearily. "Its all right send him up. And thanks again ,Shorty.
Tell the boys we can start the burial in an hour."
A few minutes later, Roy Coffee came to the door. "Well Ben. How are you
doing?" the sheriff asked awkwardly.
Ben shrugged. "As well as expected. We lost twenty acres of what had been
prime grazing and two dozen cows. Adam is up checking on the rest of them.
"
"Will he be back for the burial?"
"If he has time. Its not like the dead men meant anything to him,"
Ben said rubbing his eyes. "Can I offer you some breakfast or coffee?
"
"That's true. They was just strangers. No coffee, just some cold water
would be fine. Too hot for coffee," The sheriff wiped his sweaty face with
his handkerchief. " How are Hoss and Joe doing?"
As if on cue, Doc Martin came down the massive oak stair case followed by Hoss
Cartwright. The larger man had his right hand freshly bandaged. "Did I
hear you offer some coffee? I can do with a cup, especially if Hop Sing
made it and not you, Ben. "
The silver haired rancher smiled. "Hop Sing made it. He made some fresh
breakfast too?"
The doctor nodded. He had been up well before dawn and seen two patients before
he got to the Ponderosa. Jackie Carlton had a broken arm from a bar fight in
the Silver Dollar and a old man Ormsby’s gout was
flaring up again.
" What is it about that youngest boy of yours Ben? Little Joe is like that
proverbial cat with nine lives," Roy Coffee observed.
Ben smiled "I think he used up a couple of them this week though. How is
he?"
"Amazingly well, considering. " Doc Martin said. He shook his head in
amazement.
"Thank goodness!" Ben smiled.
"Most of those burns don’t amount to anything much , just his feet. And
even his feet aren’t too bad considering what he could have done to himself. It
is only that the skin on your feet is so delicate and vulnerable to infection.
I left some ointment up on his bureau. Not even a rib broken when that branch
fell on him. " the doctor still couldn’t believe how lucky all three men
were.
Ben’s
only injury was a scrape on one knee and his eyes being irritated by the smoke
and blowing dust of the fire.
"Just make sure Little Joe stays off his feet until the swelling is down
and don’t let him put on any boots for at least a week. He was trying to
negotiate with me that he could wear some of Hoss’s
boots instead of his own as his feet were so swollen. What in heaven’s name was
he thinking going out to fight a fire bare footed?" Doc Martin shook his
head. "Let him sleep for awhile. I gave him some laudanum for the pain
after I redressed his feet and Hoss’s hand."
"Don’t worry Doc. Joe will stay off them feet if we have to tie him in
bed."
Hoss promised. "And he ain’t gonna
get no boots of mine or Pa’s or Adam’s."
"Not even sox! Just make sure he soaks his feet
four times each day in cool water. No sox!"
"It was a wonder that Pa and me pulled him out as quick as we did, "
Hoss said holding up his bandaged hand. He was starving and was trying to
figure how
he
was going to manage his knife and fork to have some breakfast.
"He would have been burned to a crisp had you not," Doc Martin.
"Like those other two you found up in that pasture burned out pasture. Have
any idea who they were?"
"No, Paul. They weren’t any of my men. All the family and hands were
accounted for," Ben said as they walked into the dining room.
"That is what I wanted to talk to you about," the sheriff said as Hop
Sing brought in a bowl of oatmeal and set it down in front of Hoss.
"You eat and get better quick!" Hop Sing ordered Hoss.
"What were you saying,
"Well, those burned fellers," the sheriff started. "One of them
had this in his pocket. He pulled out a singed envelope and a singed letter.
Carefully he handed them to Ben Cartwright ."Read them allowed. Maybe Hoss
or the doc here have some ideas."
"Some of it is burned," Ben explained to the others.
"About half of it can’t be made out by me or Clem,"
"Dear Jake, "Ben started to read. "I will arrive in
"Be what, Pa?" Hoss asked.
Ben shrugged, "The rest is burned off. This was in one of the men’s
pockets?"
"What do you make of it?"
Part
IV of the chain story
by Katja
katjavdb@xs4all.nl
"I know what I make of it." Without anyone knowing Adam had returned
and had been reading over Pa's shoulder, trying to look for clues.
"There's only one Jake who would want to get you and that's
Jake Harding. He's had it in for you ever since you won that last timber
contract instead of him. I think we should have a talk with him. If he had
anything to do with this fire..." His fists were clenched and his eyes had
a fury in them that gave Paul chills. "I'll kill him. Joe could have died
out there. Would have if it hadn't been for us, for Hoss. I'll kill him,
Ben put his hand on Adam's shoulder. "I feel the same, Adam, but your
brother comes first now. And revenge never solved anything. If Jake had
anything to do with this
Adam shrugged Pa's hand off, still too much in a temper. "You know as well
as I do that this half burned note doesn't prove a thing." He stomped off
towards the door and took his gunbelt. "I'm
going to do some looking around, looking for answers. And if I find I'm
right.." He put his hat on and went through the door closing it with a
bang.
"Adam!" Ben had gotten up and was about to follow his oldest son
outside when a voice from upstairs stopped him dead in his tracks.
"Pa?" Joe was standing on top of the stairs, holding on to the
railing with all of his might. From his voice it was obvious he was in pain,
but the raised voices and arguing had penetrated his room
and he couldn't stay in his room.
With a few large steps Ben was up the stairs and lifted Joe in his arms.
"Don't have to..carry me...can walk." But
the fact that he just leaned his head against Ben's chest, letting himself
carried despite
his words, proved to Ben that his youngest realized he needed to be in bed.
"You're going straight back to bed, young man." His voice was gentle,
but firm and Joe simply nodded. "And you have breakfast and don't even
think about following your brother, Erik."
The mention of his real name was enough to get Hoss to sit down and start
eating. One brother disobeying doctor's orders was enough.
Besides, he was starving.
Ben nodded and then turned around and carried his youngest son back to his
room, carefully putting him back in bed.
Joe simply lay back on the pillows, exhausted and in pain from those few steps
he'd taken. Ben sat down on the bed wishing as always when he was tending to an
injured son that his stubborn streak had not been passed on to his sons. They
made for terrible patients.
Paul had followed Ben upstairs and checked Joe's feet again, shaking his head.
"Tying him to the bed doesn't sound like such a bed idea. If he continues
like this he'll never walk. If those feet get infected..." He let the
threat hang in the air, but Ben knew exactly what he didn't want to say and as
he looked at Joe's face he knew Joe realized it too.
"Ssshhhh it's going to be all right, Joe."
He stroke the boy's hair and held onto his hand. "It's going to be all
right. Just do what the doctor and I say and all will be all right."
Joe let himself be comforted by his father's soothing voice and as the laudanum
started to do it's work he found himself drifting off into a restless sleep
filled with images of fires, dead cows and
falling branches.
"I know the way out, Ben. You just stay here." Paul quietly left the
room and went downstairs where Hop Sing had just served breakfast and coffee.
He gratefully sank down in one of the chairs and followed Hoss' example. He too
was starving and knew there were more house calls to make after this.
Upstairs Ben was watching his son fight demons in his sleep and he vowed they
would get to the bottom of all of this.
Chain
Story Chapter 5
By: Meira Bracha
Adam
tore out of the ranch yard urging Sport into his fastest gallop. But the oppressive heat and the sound of his
beloved mount’s panting persuaded the still furious man to ease up the pace,
which in turn gave him a chance to ponder the situation. He appreciated the irony that he, the
Cartwright who was always arguing for letting the law handle things, was taking
up the roll of private avenger. He tried
telling himself that arson on the range during such a dry spell was a
particularly heinous crime, and that he was just doing his civic duty in trying
to find the man who had started the fire or paid others to do his dirty work.
But
it isn’t easy to lie to oneself. Adam
knew that with Jake Harding as the prime suspect, his motive was not purely the
pursuit of justice. He had a history
with Harding that dated back to when they were both ranchers’ newly-adult sons
chafing under their fathers’ attempts to exert control over their lives.
Adam
was just back from four years of independence as a college student back east,
and he was finding it difficult to readjust to his father’s authority. He had made the difficult decision to return
to the Ponderosa with the assumption that he would be able to implement what he
had learned to modernize the running of the ranch and diversify its output from
just cattle-raising to mining and timber production.
But
his father was having none of it. He
felt that the college education was a well-earned bonus for a son who had
endured terrible hardship and heartache in his youth, but Ben believed that his
own years of experience were more than a match for his young son’s
book-acquired knowledge.
If
his father’s attitude wasn’t hard enough to bear, the assumption by the men
Adam had to work with, many of whom didn’t even know him, that he had gone soft
and citified during his time away, was a constant thorn in his side.
So,
while Adam continued to do his share of work around the ranch, he took to
spending every spare moment away from the Ponderosa with a dubious group of
associates, the most prominent of whom were the infamous Bonner brothers. Jake Harding was also part of this
assemblage.
For
the most part, they either hung around the makeshift saloons that had sprung up
in all the mining camps, or raced their horses in rugged country and engaged in
other acts of physical daring. The group
had quite a reputation for rowdiness, but other than a few accidentally
trampled gardens and the like, they never did any real damage.
No
damage, that is, until one night Harry Pederson was knocked cold in his tent
and robbed of the two hundred forty-eight dollars and sixty-two cents that he
had recently acquired as a result of a modest silver strike. Adam, Jake and the Bonners had been seen in
the vicinity the evening of the robbery, and the one witness claimed to have
seen a man leaving Pederson’s tent wearing a yellow jacket.
Adam
was the only man known to have been wearing a yellow jacket that night in the
camp. Adam figured that someone had
“borrowed” the jacket from where it hung on the back of his chair during a
heated poker game. He had been so
annoyed at himself for letting himself lose all his cash that he left without
it. He was half-way back to the
Ponderosa when he noticed the jacket was missing, but when he was spotted
returning to the camp to retrieve it, instead of finding the jacket he found a
group of self-appointed lawmen who seized him and tied him up. They threatened to drag him behind a horse if
he didn’t admit to being the thief and return Pederson’s money.
Unbeknownst
to him, the Bonners had their own suspicions.
They found Harding and beat HIM until he confessed. They then dragged him over to the tent where
Adam was being held. When Jake handed
over the money, Adam was released.
Harding never fully recovered from the punishment the miners proceeded
to give him that night.
This
incident sobered Adam up in several ways.
His betrayal by Jake Harding did not extinguish Adam’s fundamentally
generous nature, but it made him resolve to be more cautious and reserved in
dealing with other people. Having
witnessed vigilante justice, Adam became a staunch advocate for the development
of a local legal system similar to what he had seen back east. He believed in letting the law handle
criminal investigation and prosecution rather than leaving those tasks to the
crime victims and their friends. In addition,
Adam developed an aversion to rowdiness which he tried unsuccessfully to pass
on to his younger brothers, much to their dismay. Joe was particularly resistant to his older
brother’s counsel.
“Joe…,”
Adam mused, and he smiled and shook his head thinking of one of his youngest
brother’s latest escapades. The smile turned
to a frown as Adam recalled Joe’s current condition. Thoughts of his brother’s suffering made Adam
even more determined to find evidence against the man he was sure was
responsible for the fire.
An
hour later Adam was knocking on Jake Harding’s door. Harding opened it, looked his guest up and
down, and greeted him with exaggerated politeness. “To what do I owe the honor
of a visit from the high-and-mighty Adam Cartwright? I’d a’ thought you’d be too busy cleanin’ up after that Ponderosa fire to be payin’ social calls on old friends.”
Adam
didn’t move a muscle in his face. “Is
that what we are, Jake? Old friends?”
“You
got a better way of describin’ us, Cartwright?”
“Not
in words I choose to utter,” replied Adam, through his teeth.
“So
what do you want? Make it quick. I got a lot to do. Ain’t got no hired
hands to do MY ranch work.”
Adam
made sure his right hand was covering his holster as he replied. “That’s just what I thought. No hired hands. So why are there three horses in your barn?”
Harding
snorted. “This is a ranch! I got more than one horse. That ain’t so startlin’.”
Adam
continued. “And how come two of those
horses have their legs bandaged?”
“They
got caught in a thorny thicket and got real scratched up,” came the quick
reply.
Adam
knew he had him. “So you, a lone
rancher, rode one horse into a thorny thicket, brought it back to your barn and
tended to it, then rode ANOTHER horse out into the same thicket?”
Adam
didn’t wait for an answer. He pulled out
his gun and continued. “Here’s what I
think happened. You hired two men to set
a fire on the Ponderosa. Only they got
caught in the fire and died. You found
their injured horses and brought them back to your barn.”
Jake
snarled, “That’s some story. You can’t
prove any of it!”
“Maybe
not,” Adam answered, “but you and I are going to ride into
A
satisfied smile appeared on Jake’s face.
Adam heard a woman’s voice at the same time as he felt a rifle barrel pushed
hard against the back of his neck.
“My
son ain’t goin’ nowhere
with you, Adam Cartwright. Drop yer gun!”
Karen
faye_dreaming@yahoo.com
Part 6
It was morning at the Ponderosa and breakfast was being
eaten by Ben and Hoss at the table. Hoss eyes kelp wondering toward the door
and thoughts of what could have happened with Adam not leaving him alone.
"Pa," he finally spoke up. "I think I should
go after Adam. It's been all night and he still ain't
back. I've got a bad feeling that something is wrong." Hoss studied his
father's face and waited for a
reply.
Ben looked up from his coffee cup and nodded, "I was
thinking about going after him myself this morning, but one of us needs to stay
here with your brother."
"Then let me go, Joe would rather it be you here with
him anyway."
Getting to his feet, Hoss headed for the door stopping to get
his hat and gun. "I'll be real careful." He added knowing what his
father was going to say.
Getting to his feet as well, Ben walked over to his son.
"Take care and find your brother. If you think you are going to need help
in anyway don't hesitate to get me or got to
"I will," Hoss gave his father a quick smile
before leaving the house and heading for the barn to mount up his horse.
*****
At the Harding Ranch, Adam sat in a corner of one of the
room stiff from being tied hand and feet and left sitting on the cold floor. He
mentally berated himself for being so stupid as to come here alone and even
more for doing something that he hardly ever did, go off half cocked, something
that his youngest brother usually did.
His thoughts went to his brother and wondered how he was
holding up. He knew that Joe was in a
lot of pain the day before and from experience from burns himself he knew how
bad they could hurt the next day. He wanted to take back the night before in
wanted more to have away out of this mess sooner rather than later. He had
tried over and over until his wiste bleed to get them
untied, but Harding knew that he was doing and the binds that held him were
very tight.
Hearing someone outside of the room he was in he waited to
see what this day was going to bring him. Finally the door opened and Jake
Harding entered with a plate of food in his hands.
"It's against my better judgment to feed you, but my pa
said that I had to. Eat while you can, because it just might be the last meal
that you get."
"Are you going to untie my hands so that I can
eat?" Adam asked his anger toward the man growing more and more by the
minute.
Thinking for a minute Jake nodded pulling his gun out first
then untying his prisoner's hands. You try anything I'll shoot first and ask
questions later."
Adam at his breakfast and soon found his hands tied again.
He watched Harding leave the room and heard the key being turned in the door
locking him in again. It wasn't more than half an hour later
that he heard a horse enter the yard and heard voices coming
from down stairs. Listening carefully he noticed that once of the voices was
coming from his brother Hoss.
"Hoss!!! Hoss!!!" He shouted out and waited to see
what would happen and hoped that his brother heard him.
Part
Seven
By
Lori H.
fccw@comcast.net
Not
waiting to see if Hoss had heard his cries for help, Adam rolled onto his side
then awkwardly made his way toward the only window in the small room. With much effort, he finally managed to stand
up. The single pane of glass was cloudy
and coated with a layer of oily dirt and cobwebs. Adam couldn=t see a thing. He loudly called out to Hoss again, a
desperate ring to his voice.
Frantically, his eyes searched the small room for something he could use
to break the window.
The
room was bare except for a pile of old rags.
Adam swore and gritted his teeth.
He had no choice but to use his shoulder to smash the glass. Hopefully, he wouldn=t get himself cut up too badly. He was willing to suffer a few cuts if it
meant his freedom.
Adam
could still hear Hoss=s voice outside and it sounded like he was
about to leave. He wished his feet were
not tied, it would have made it a lot easier to get a running start before he
slammed his shoulder into the pane of glass.
Quickly,
he positioned himself sideways beside the window. Holding his breath, he turned his head away
from the window and drove his shoulder toward the glass with all his
might. The aged glass and the weathered
frame groaned in protest. AAgain!@Adam thought as he smashed his shoulder
into the window for the second time.
This time the glass broke, jagged shards dropping onto the roof below
and onto the floor in the room.
Adam=s shoulder and collarbone stung from the
impact as well as a piece of glass which had imbedded itself in his arm, just
below the shoulder socket. Ignoring the
pain and the warm trickle of blood crawling down his arm, Adam shouted out the
window. AHoss!
Hoss! It=s me, Adam! Help....!
Suddenly,
the door to the room burst open. Adam didn=t hear it; he too was focused on getting
his brother=s attention. He spun around when he sensed someone
standing behind him.
A
gruff voice shouted, AShut yer mouth!@ as the butt end of a rifle slammed into the
side of his face. The hard wood glanced
off his cheekbone, breaking the skin and viciously snapping his head to the
side. His knees buckled and he dropped
to the floor. Adam lay still for a
moment, barely conscious, as a hot searing pain blazed through his face and
jaw. A veil of darkness rippled before
his eyes, threatening to overwhelm him.
He rolled onto his back and moaned softly, his bound hands cupping the
injured side of his face.
Outside,
Hoss suddenly cocked his head and held up a hand to silence Jake. He could have sworn he heard glass shatter
and Adam=s voice calling for help. He frowned and drew his gun. Distrustful of Jake, he slowly backed off the
dilapidated porch, his blue eyes warily scanning his surroundings.
Inside
the house, Adam struggled to clear his cloudy mind. Through the haze, he saw a pair of legs and
the barrel of a shotgun coming toward him.
Fearing for his life, he instinctively, rolled to the side and kicked
out his feet at his assailant
The
force from Adam=s boots caused Willard, Jake=s pa, to stumble and drop the shotgun,
causing the weapon to discharge.
Jake
stiffened when he heard Adam=s voice calling out to his brother. When he saw the suspicious look on Hoss=s face, he quickly reached behind the door
and grabbed his rifle.
The
blast upstairs from the shotgun galvanized Jake into action. He raised his rifle to his shoulder and took
aim at Hoss.
Hoss=s guardian angel must have been looking
out for him, for Hoss suddenly looked back at the house. When he saw the rifle aimed at him, he dove
to the side and fired his weapon at Jake.
Hoss=s bullet went wide, barely missing Jake as
it buried itself in the ancient rotted wood of the door frame.
The
bullet from Jake=s rifle would have killed Hoss if he hadn=t moved when he did. Instead, the bullet ripped through Hoss=s shirt, creasing the rock-solid muscle in
his upper arm.
More
gunfire erupted from the house, kicking up small clouds of dirt all around Hoss
as he ran for cover behind a watering trough.
Hoss
lay still for a moment, breathing heavy, his face pinched in a grimace. He glanced down at his left arm to see how
bad he had been hit. Although it stung
like hell, he was relieved to see the wound wasn=t too serious.
His
arm forgotten for the time being, Hoss chanced a peak around the edge of the
trough. A bullet whizzed by, just inches
from his head.
ADadburnit!@ he said aloud. ALooks like they=ve got me pinned down good.@
Staying
low, Hoss turned himself around and scrambled to the other end of the watering
trough so he could look for his horse.
Chubb was gone, spooked when hot lead began flying through the air.
ADadburn, horse!@ Hoss swore, again.. AGuess I=ll have to figure another way outta here.@ He
didn=t have to ponder his dilemma for too long
because suddenly he heard a voice behind him.
ADrop yer gun and
stand up real slow like!@
Hoss
loosened his grip on his revolver and let it fall from his hand. Without turning around, he slowly climbed to
his feet. He felt a sharp poke in the
back from a rifle barrel as the voice issued another command. AGit yer hands in
the air, right now or I=ll fill yer hide
so full of holes it wouldn=t hold hay!@
Hoss
obeyed but was only able to raise his right arm, his wounded left arm remained
down and by his side.
The
rifle barrel jabbed him in the back again.
AI said both hands!@
The
voiced sounded female so Hoss replied, AI can=t raise my left arm, ma=am.
I=ve been shot.@
Jake=s ma mulled over Hoss=s words then decided one arm up was good
enough. AGit into the house, boy. I=ll see if=n I can fix ya
up.@
Hoss
winced from the stinging pain in his arm.
AThank you, ma=am.@
Jake
raced upstairs, rifle at the ready, his booted feet making a hollow pounding
sound on the stairs. Afraid his pa may
have shot Adam, he burst into the room where they were holding Adam
captive. Expecting the worst, he was
relieved when he saw Adam lying on the floor, vainly trying to protect himself
from the vicious beating being administered by Willard Harding.
AYou try anything like that again, boy and
I swear I=ll kill ya fur
sure!@ yelled Jake=s pa.
AStop it, Pa!@ shouted Jake, peeling his father off of
Adam and flinging him across the room. AYou=re gonna kill
him and then what will we do? I need him
alive!@
Willard
climbed to his feet and glared at his son.
Without saying a word, he stomped over to where his shotgun had fallen
on the floor, picked it up, then stormed down the stairs.
CHAPTER Eight
by: Blue Velvet
Vlvtblue@webtv.net
The old woman held
her rifle against Hoss' broad, straight back and nudged him hard with it.
"Best get inside, big boy, if you know what's
good for you. And don't try anything or I'll surely blow your arm off!"
She made a big mistake by picking up the revolver from
the ground and tucking it into the waistband of her apron. Hoss stepped inside
the shack but turned around sharply. He loomed over the old woman casting a
long, black shadow on the wall. His clear, blue eyes went cold as steel; his
jaw clenched taut.
" My Pa taught me to be respectful of ladies and
never raise my hand against them..."
The woman poked Hoss' creased left arm with the rifle
staring up at his hardened face.
"...but there's
always a first time for everything , I'd be much obliged, ma'am, if you'll just
hand me those guns and take a seat somewhere. You and your boy are no threat to
me. I can throw you both into the next county.
And if you don't believe I won't take you,
just be foolish enough not to do as I say." Hoss' hefty arms bulged as he
tensed his solid biceps. The rifle pressed against his flesh jerked out
of the woman's hands. "Now, just hand over those guns and sit a
spell." his voice became a low, rasping growl.
"Jake, come down here, son!" the
woman cried as she backed away from the big man.
Upstairs there were
scuffling sounds.
"Hoss! Hoss! Be careful!" Adam's warning was
silenced by Willard's hands.
Jake ran down the steps
with his weapon raised at the ready. Hoss jumped in front of him blocking his
path. He aimed squarely at Jake's head.
"Slow and easy, boy," he hissed "over
there." Hoss squeezed the trigger of the
Woman, tear that apron in strips and be quick about
it!"
Hoss held his weapon steady against Harding and pushed him
forcibly towards the boy's mother.
In the filthy room above
Willard held his fist against Adam's mouth strangling him nearly breathless.
The older Harding lurked like a tarantula for its prey; the floorboards creaked
hauntingly.
Hoss tied the old woman and her son together with the torn
strips hastily.
"You won't get out of
here alive, fat man, " Jake grinned mockingly "we'll see to that for
sure."
Hoss met the woman and boy's jeering glares
with cool, steady contempt.
"Not long ago a man went bear hunting with me and we
came upon this big ole grizzly, sure enough. Now this feller shot the
grizzly no less than five times and the bear just kept coming and coming and
coming and killed the man with one swipe although that bear was shot a dozen
times...I'm exactly like that grizzly." Hoss tightened the stays that
bound mother and son together. Looking at them
dead on Hoss dropped his chin "Nothing will stop me
from getting to my brother! Nothing!"
That old woman and Jake Harding were going nowhere.
Hoss held his rifle ready to fire as he bound up the steps
three at a time, nearly falling through the rotten floor.
The door slammed open where
Willard crouched ready to spring spiderlike from a
web. Hoss fired a round hitting Harding in the neck.
Willard fell backwards, flailing his arms as he stumbled and
fell through the broken window.
"Adam," Hoss ran towards his brother and
fell to his knees next to him. He lifted Adam's bloodied head gingerly.
"Adam!" Hoss patted his swollen face.
The glass in his brother's arm made Hoss gasp audibly.
"Damn," he clenched his jaw. Hoss' mind
raced, his heart skipped a beat.
"Adam, you'll have to stay still. If I try to
take the glass out of your arm it'll tear you to shreds and you'll lose your
arm. I can't do much to help you but I'll try anything. Can you hold on to
me?"
"yes" moaned Adam
"I need to get you to the kitchen to cauterize
that wound."
The elder Cartwright brother was limp as the big man
gently lifted his brother to his feet. Slowly they crept down stairs.
Old woman Harding and her son jumped in their seats,
straining against the ties that bound them.
"Cartwright, you'll die for this!" she
screamed "You're dead men" Jake spat
Hoss laid his brother tenderly on the kitchen table.
He rushed to the sink and flooded a pot with water. Frantically he rumaged for a tool. He found a knife and heated it red hot.
His right hand quivering as he approached Adam he
said sadly,
"Adam, I'm sorry. This is gonna
hurt like a mother giving birth." "Do it" Adam rasped faintly.
Hoss drew a deep breath as he raised the red hot knife. "Lord, help
me"
Blue Velvet
Chapter Nine
Claire
claire@goneill303.fsnet.co.uk
Adam closed his eyes and gritted his teeth against the pain
he knew was certain to come, his good hand clenched tight between his knees,
which were shaking uncontrollably.
"Do it, Hoss! Just do it!" he implored. What was
taking so long? Didn't his brother know this dreadful anticipation was almost
more than he could bear? Every muscle in his body was trembling violently,
making him shake uncontrollably. He just hoped Hoss had a steady hand.
There was a sudden crash and Adam's eyes flew open to
discover his brother lying prostrate on the floor, like a mighty oak felled in
a storm. Blood was oozing from a wound to his skull, while Jake Harding stood
wielding a shovel, with a triumphant grin on his face.
"Darn stupid thing to do, turning your back on a man
like that!" he said smugly, kicking Hoss cruelly in the ribs. He was out
cold, Adam realised, for despite the force of the blows, his brother did not
move at all.
"Thinks he's so big and so smart and he literally ties
me up with my Ma's apron strings!" Jake's face contorted in anger at the
memory.
The old woman patted him gently on the shoulder. "Never
even crossed his mind that thin cotton was no match for my boy, did it? And
he's idiot enough to get me to tear the strips up myself - never figured I'd
put rips into them did he? And the stupid creature never even thought to check
and see I didn't have no weapon on me neither!"
She pulled out a wicked looking knife and spat reflectively
on the blade, before grabbing the hair at the nape of Adam's neck and pulling
his head back so that his throat was exposed. Running the blade slowly along
his flesh, she continued to taunt her captive.
"Your brother rushes in here, all fired-up and reckons
he's gonna act the hero, does he? More fool him. He's
just signed his death warrant and yours along with. Some hero he is."
Jake kicked out at Hoss again. "An' he told us he was
like a grizzly bear!!" His laughter rang around the room and Adam cringed
at the maniacal quality.
"Well, ain't that big old
grizzly caught in my trap now!" Jake cackled wildly and Adam realised the
man was totally deranged, far beyonds the bounds of
sanity.
Jake bent down, and opened up a trapdoor in the floor, then
started to pull and push Hoss towards the chasm that lurked darkly below. He
panted with the effort, the veins in his neck standing out and his face turning
scarlet. For a moment, Adam watched in horror as his brother's body teetered on
the edge, then with a final, huge effort, Jake thrust Hoss it the pit below.
There was a hollow thunk and then silence.
"Seein' as how he's such a
big fellow, it might take him a couple of months to starve to death!" he
jibed, pulling the trapdoor back into place. "Thanks to big boy there,
your Pa's gonna lose two sons instead of one!"
Held captive by the sharp blade pressing against his throat,
Adam watched as Jake advanced towards him, certain that he was about to die.
**********
"We have to do something!" Joe argued, gritting
his teeth and forcing himself to stand upright. The pain in his feet was -
fierce, but bearable. It wasn't as bad as broken bone, although it came close.
"I can ride - I'll be fine."
"You're in no fit state to do anything!" Ben said
firmly, beside himself with worry. What was happening to Adam and Hoss?
"I'm not staying here when my brothers need my help!
I'll find them if it's the last thing I do!" Joe vowed. "We have to
go, Pa - they need us.please?"
Despite his better judgement, Ben let himself be convinced.
They rode out of the Ponderosa at a gallop, hearts afire with worry.
Part 10
Rona
rona.young1@btopenworld.com
“Why
are you doing this?” Adam gasped, forcing the words out past the blade at his
throat.
“Because
we can!” Jake snarled. “Its because of you that we ain’t
been able to make a go of the ranch! You high and mighty Cartwrights! Well
you’re going to pay!”
“The
law will get you,” Adam warned. “Roy Coffee knows that we suspect you.”
“Roy
Coffee! That old goat!” scoffed Jake. They all laughed and Adam winced as the
sound dragged across his stretched nerves. “Like he can do anything! He’s past
it!”
“One
way or another, you’ll pay!” Adam vowed and winced as he felt the tip of the
knife pierce his throat.
“One
more word and this will go in all the way,” Jake promised.
Adam
kept silent. He hoped that his father was on the way to rescue him. He hoped
that Hoss wasn’t too badly hurt.
********************
“How’re
you doing?” Ben asked, as they paused to check the layout of the Harding place.
They didn’t want to go racing in heedlessly.
“I’m
fine,” Joe replied, although the pain from his feet was dreadful. He was glad
he’d found a pair of Adam’s old boots that he could squeeze his feet into.
Hoss’ had been far too big, even with the bandages. “What’s our next move?”
“Well,
we can hardly go down and knock on the door, can we?” Ben sighed.
“I
guess not,” Joe admitted, although he hadn’t thought of knocking on the door. He
had just planned on opening it up and charging in. “So what are we going to
do?”
“Wait
patiently for
“We
can’t wait that long!” Joe cried. “Adam’s been missing since yesterday and Hoss
hasn’t come back, either! Pa, they’re in trouble and we’ve got to do
something!”
Looking
at Joe’s flushed, indignant face, Ben knew his son was right. “We can’t go any
closer on the horses,” Ben mused aloud. He cast Joe another glance.
“I
can walk perfectly well,” Joe replied, as Ben had known he would. “Honest, Pa,
my feet are fine!” He crossed his fingers behind his back. His brothers were in
trouble and Joe had to help them, whatever the consequences to his feet. He
would deal with that later. “Let’s go.”
“Hold
on!” Ben cautioned. “We need to make sure we know exactly what we’re going to
do. Listen.” He began to outline his plan.
************************
Down
in the cellar, Hoss gradually began to come around. He couldn’t think what had
happened to him and for a few moments, he thought he had gone blind. His eyes
were open, yet all he could see was profound darkness.
Once
he realised where he probably was, Hoss drew in a deep calming breath. He
didn’t like the dark. He never had; as a child, he had had to have a candle
burning each night. He had grown out of it, by and large, but he avoided
situations were he was alone in darkness wherever possible.
“Don’t
panic,” he chided himself. “That ain’t gonna help.” He rubbed his head and winced at the pain. “I
gotta try an’ find a way outa here.” He began to feel
around the confines of his prison.
**********************
Creeping
up to the house, every step was agony for Joe, but he discounted the pain. He
had to save his brothers! Flattening himself against the side of the house, Joe
peered cautiously through the window.
What
he saw there made him completely forget Pa’s plan and he jumped to his feet…
Part
Eleven
By:
Karen
faye_dreaming@yahoo.com
Gun in
hand; Joe went through the front door seeing at once Jake Harding with a knife
just inches away from his brother’s throat. “Drop the gun or you’re a dead
man.” He ordered.
Putting
the knife closer to his captive, “I may die, but not before I kill your
brother, Cartwright!”
Joe
took a step toward the man that threatened to take the life out of his brother.
“You don’t want to do that. Turn yourself in before anyone else is hurt.” He
tried to reason.
A
laugh came from the other man as he took his other hand down toward Adam’s head
and started pulling the eldest son of Ben Cartwright up by the hair. “He thinks
I should give myself up,” he said with yet another laugh.
Adam
turned pain filled eyes to his brother and knew that his father had to be
around somewhere. He hoped that Joe hadn’t taking off without Ben knowing.
“He’s…right”
Joe
saw the glass in his brother arm and knew that something had to be done before
Jake did more damage than what had already been done. “Leave him alone. I’ll
put my gun away and you can do what you will with me.”
“No,”
his brother whispered. What little strength that he had left was quickly
leaving him.
Jack
looked down first at Adam and then up at Joe, “This is touching. You two are
willing to die for one another.” He nodded over to the youngest Cartwright.
“Drop the gun and come over here and I will let him go…or better yet. Bring the
gun to me and I will let him go. I think a gun will replace this knife nicely.
Adam
had searched the room wondering where the older Harding had gone. He hadn’t
seen her for quite a few minutes.
**************
Ben
saw the woman come out of the house through a back door and head over to the
well. Slowly he headed to where she stood, lowing the water bucket into the
deep hole. Pointing his gun at her he called out, “Where are my son’s?”
She
turned to see the man that she had grown to hate, “Well…well. What have we got
here? If it isn’t Ben Cartwright. What are you going to do, shoot an unarmed
woman?”
Ben lowered
his pistol a bit, “No, I’m not going to shoot you. I do however; want to know
where my sons are.”
“As
good as dead,” she coldly said with great joy. “And there is nothing you can do
about it.”
Ben
stared at the woman, “You had better hope that that isn’t true.”
“JAKE!”
she bellowed warning her son of the danger that now lurked on their homestead.
***************
Joe
had just given over his gun as he head the older woman shout Jakes name. He
watched as the man looked away for only a moment. That was all the distraction
that Joe needed. He threw a quick punch at the man and watched as Jake fell to
the side at the same time dropping Adam as he did so.
Joe
reached out to catch his older brother worried that the glass in his arm might
cause more harm. He didn’t notice when Jake had started to get up again. As
soon as Joe had his brother on the floor he turned to see the Jake going for
the gun that had fallen to the floor after he had been struck.
Seeing
the move Joe made a lunge for Jake and in that split second he found that he
was too late, for Jake had gotten his hand on the gun. Now the real fight began
as Jake tried to use the gun again Joe and Joe tried to get the gun away from
Jake.
From
where he laid on the floor Adam tried to get up, but found that he was just too
tired to do so. As he started to sink into the darkness he heard the gun go
off.
The Tinderbox – Conclusion
By Puchi Ann
Hearing
Mrs. Harding shout her son’s name, Ben clapped a hand over her mouth. He chided himself for not doing so
sooner. Now it was too late. Now his plan to surprise those he was
convinced held at least one of his sons was ruined. He had no time for self-recrimination,
however, for Mrs. Harding struggled in his grasp, heels and elbows flying,
kicking, jabbing. Ben still couldn’t
bring himself to do more than restrain the gray-haired woman and prevent her
crying out again, on the off chance that Jake hadn’t heard her the first
time. He had his hands full with the
feisty woman.
Jake, of course, had heard his
mother’s warning, but it had given him no advantage. Quite the contrary, and the free-for-all that
had ensued from his momentary distraction had led, instead, to his position
now, inside a burning building with two disabled, but undefeated opponents. Jake still felt he held the upper hand as he
pointed the revolver squarely between Joe’s eyes.
A slight grin lifted one side of
Joe’s mouth. “You never were any good at
arithmetic, were you, Jake?”
“Shut up!” Jake bellowed.
“It’s a simple equation, Jake,” Joe
taunted. “Even you can work it. Six minus six equals zero.”
Simple equation or not, Jake didn’t
understand what Joe was saying. Nor did
the real mathematician of the family, though Adam’s brain, numbed by pain and
bewildered by the smoky haze, wasn’t thinking of math at that moment. Only one thought penetrated the fog: Joe was
in danger; Joe needed him. He pulled
himself back from the edge of unconsciousness, lurched to his feet and charged
the man holding a gun on his little brother.
He hit Jake just below the hips, screaming out in agony as his injured
shoulder absorbed the jar of impact. He
crumpled to the floor, and the dark void claimed him once more.
The force of Adam’s blow knocked
Jake to one side and spoiled his aim just as he squeezed the trigger. A look of complete confusion then swept his
face when the empty gun replied with a click and not a bang. Even now he hadn’t figured out that six
bullets minus six shots equaled no ammunition left.
Ordinarily, Joe might have laughed
at the bad man’s befuddlement, but having seen his already injured brother
collapse again, he felt nothing but fury for the man who had caused all the
pain. With grim determination and ignoring
the protest of the pinched skin across his back where the burning branch had
singed him days earlier, he sent a powerful left fist smashing into Jake’s
jaw. Jake stumbled backward, and Joe hit
him again.
Jake careened away, falling against
the table, now engulfed in flames. They
nibbled hungrily at his shirt. With a
wild bellow of panic and pain, he reeled from side to side of the room as the
flames feasted on his filthy flesh.
“Drop and roll!” Joe yelled. When Jake didn’t, Joe almost instinctively
moved to help a fellow creature in jeopardy of his life, but stopped
short. Another man was even more
helpless in that inferno. His first duty
lay there. As the flames licked at
Adam’s boot heels, Joe limped hastily to his brother’s side, grabbed him under
the arms and began to drag him, step by agonizing step, toward the door.
Outside, two parents watched in
horror as flames devoured the frame house.
Ben’s hand dropped from Mrs. Harding’s mouth, and she screamed out her
son’s name again, in terror this time.
She struggled and broke free of Ben’s slackened grip and rushed for the
door.
Ben charged after her.
“Let me go!” she yelled as he grabbed her by both
elbows.
“You can’t go in there!” he
shouted. “I’ll get them!” He shoved her to one side and rushed for the
house himself, with no more sense than she had shown, but with the same
instinct of a parent to protect its young.
He almost collided with two of his sons in the doorway and quickly
helped Joe haul Adam outside. Stretching
Adam out on the hard, cracked earth, Ben grasped his other son by both
shoulders. “Where’s Hoss?” he demanded
imperatively.
Coughing harshly from the smoke, Joe
shook his head. “Didn’t see him,” he
finally managed to croak.
Meantime, Mrs. Harding had ripped
off her skirt and dashed into the house to beat at the flames, in an attempt to
reach her boy. Equally determined to
reach his own, though he still wasn’t sure Hoss was in there, Ben rushed back
into the house. He saw a blackened body
back in a corner and hurried toward it.
The flames belligerently beat him back.
Was it Hoss? Mrs. Harding
obviously didn’t think so. She would
never have been fighting so vigorously to save his son; she must think it was
Jake. But it didn’t matter. Whoever that body had once belonged to, its
spirit was no longer housed inside.
“It’s too late,” Ben shouted as he grabbed the woman and tried to
wrestle her outside.
She fought him again, frantic to
reach her son, and old woman or not, Ben couldn’t have held her back by
himself. Suddenly, though, there were
arms pulling both him and her out of the building, a dozen feet rushing past to
throw buckets of water on the blaze. The
posse had finally arrived. “We got it,
Ben,” Roy Coffee yelled above the commotion.
“See to your boys.”
His boys. Yes, he needed to see to his boys. Ben stumbled back toward his sons, two of
them at least. He raised a sooty palm to
his temple. Two sons. But he had three. Or had had three. How many did he have now? He turned back toward the smoking hulk and
shook his head. If Hoss was in there, he
was gone, but Ben didn’t know for certain that his middle son had ever come to
this ranch. He’d gone searching for his
older brother, but had he come here? Ben
didn’t know, but clung to the hope, slim as it might be, that Hoss had gone
elsewhere to search for Adam. He moved
quickly to the two sons who were there and in need of his care.
Cool . . . moist . . .
refreshing. Adam’s dry tongue flicked
toward the wet cloth caressing his cheeks.
“He’s coming around,” he heard someone say. A familiar voice, but he couldn’t quite place
it.
“Here, son, drink this.” The rim of a canteen touched his lips, and he
gulped the lukewarm liquid.
“Easy, that’s enough for now.” The canteen was pulled away. To search for it, Adam opened his eyes and
saw his father’s face bending over him.
“Pa,” he croaked through a raw throat.
“Yes, it’s
His brother? Panic flashed across Adam’s face as the last
image he’d seen burst through his brain: his youngest brother, locked in Jake
Harding’s gun sight. Had Harding shot him? Had Joe not made it out? As Adam rose on his elbows, though, he saw
Little Joe, just to Pa’s left, reaching out a restraining hand. Joe was all right, then. He looked beyond his brother, saw the charred
timbers of the house and suddenly remembered he’d had another companion in that
place of pain. “Hoss,” he whispered,
barely audible. “Hoss—inside.” He hugged his aching lungs as a paroxysm of
coughing shook a frame weakened by blood loss and shock.
Anguish he hadn’t felt since the
loss of his third wife surged through every cell of Ben’s body—every vein,
every artery, every throbbing nerve.
Hoss had been inside then; he’d given up too soon. Yet even as the guilty thought tormented his
heart, Ben knew he’d had no choice, no more than had Mrs. Harding, the
shrieking woman now in custody of the sheriff.
Two sons he’d been able to save; the third was beyond his help.
Little Joe buried his face in his
ashy hands. He’d failed. Maybe if he hadn’t rushed in so soon, if he’d
just waited for Pa, instead of trying to handle it on his own, Hoss might still
be alive. “Am I my brother’s
keeper?” He remembered those words from
a Bible story he’d learned as a child.
Keeper? No, he’d been no keeper
to Hoss; like Cain of old, he’d been his brother’s killer. A heart-rending sob broke from his tortured
throat, and he felt his father’s comforting arm come around him.
The spell of coughing abated, and
Adam was able to choke out a few more words.
“Inside—trapdoor—underground.”
Air supply expended, he began coughing uncontrollably again.
Hope sparking in their eyes, Ben and
Little Joe exchanged a meaningful glance and rose to their feet simultaneously,
but Ben quickly pushed Joe down. That boy had no business abusing his feet any
further, especially not on hot ash.
“Stay with Adam,” he ordered firmly.
Joe was torn, but seeing Adam in
such distress, he knelt beside him and reached for the canteen.
Ben raced toward the charred hulk,
shouting at Roy Coffee as he ran.
“Hoss—still inside!”
Thinking his friend had gone mad
from grief,
Ben rounded on him. “Hoss is here,” he insisted. His eyes dropped to the floor, blackened, but
basically intact. “There’s a trapdoor .
. . somewhere.” He kicked aside the
ashes of the table and chairs, and his foot clunked against a metal
handle. “Here!” He grabbed it, oblivious to the heat of the
metal against his bare palm, and jerked the door upward. With an agility more characteristic of his
youngest son, he dropped through the opening, scrambled to his feet and began
searching the darkness. There! In the back corner . . . an inert bulk. “Hoss!” he cried . . . but the big man didn’t
move, didn’t respond.
The downstairs guest room of the
sprawling ranch house was crowded with patients, but Dr. Martin knew better
than to argue with Cartwrights. No stubborner creatures had ever been created, and if they
were determined to stay together—and they clearly were—no power could separate
them. A good thing, the doctor
concluded, for that same determination to stay together was, no doubt, the
reason he was treating four patients . . . not three or two or one . . . or
none.
They were all affected, to varying
degrees, by smoke inhalation, of course, but that would work its way out of
their lungs in time. As for other
injuries, Adam had fared the worst, overall, primarily from the loss of
blood. His shoulder and collarbone were
badly injured, and his body bruised practically top to toe from the vicious
beating by Willard Harding. The knife
prick in his neck hadn’t done much damage, but the cut in his arm was infected
and raising a fever. That boy would be
in bed for a while. Or should be, at
least.
As should the boy sharing the big
bed with him. Dr. Martin shook his
head. He’d thought he had made it clear
the first time that Little Joe was to stay off his feet. Being a Cartwright—the most stubborn of the
bunch, in fact—he hadn’t, and exactly what the doctor had predicted had
happened. The blisters had broken open
and become infected. Joe’s fever was
higher than Adam’s, but didn’t seem dangerous.
He’d recover. Despite his best
attempt to cripple himself, the young fool would walk again.
Dr. Martin glanced toward the
chaise, brought in for Hoss to sleep on.
He’d been most worried about that boy when he first saw him. Gradually deprived of oxygen while the house
burned above him, Hoss had lost consciousness, and they’d been a long time
rousing him. The shovel blow he’d taken
to the head had been partially responsible for that, and the big man still
suffered from concussion. “Keep him
flat,” the doctor ordered, fixing a stern glance on Ben Cartwright, who had
gotten off lightest with just a mild burn across the palm of his hand. “Keep them all flat!”
“If I can,” Ben said with a weary
and, if truth be told, an indulgent smile.
“I keep them flat,” vowed a
determined voice behind the doctor.
Turning, Dr. Martin saw Hop Sing, standing with
crossed arms and unyielding visage in the doorway. No indulgence there and no lack of
strength. With Hop Sing standing guard,
the Cartwrights would be lucky to lift a finger, much less a foot from their
beds. “I’ll leave them in your capable
hands then, Hop Sing,” he announced loudly.
“I know I can trust you.” He
could, too. Hop Sing, being a Cartwright
himself, shared the familial stubbornness, but in this case it would work for
the doctor, not against him.
Plink
. . . plunk . . . plop. The sound seemed
familiar, but not having heard it in a long time, a drowsy Ben did not at first
recognize the soft pattering on the windowpane.
He rose slowly from his chair between the chaise and the bed and drew
back the drapes. In the fading twilight
he could just make out the splatter of droplets on the glass.
Behind
him, Little Joe sat up abruptly. “Hey,
it’s raining!” He swung his right leg
over the side of the bed, preparing to join his father at the window.
“You
stay flat!” roared the ever-vigilant Hop Sing.
“But
it’s raining,” Joe whined with an impatient jounce of the mattress as he drew
his leg back.
The
movement roused Adam, who stirred and started to rise.
“You
stay flat, too!” Hop Sing demanded. He
wheeled to glare at Hoss. “And you!”
Hoss’s mobile face worked into a pout. “But, Hop Sing, I ain’t
moved a muscle.”
“Keep
muscle flat,” the Cantonese insisted.
“Mr. Ben, too.”
“The
doctor didn’t mean me,” Ben protested, but the granite-faced cook merely
pointed imperiously toward the chair.
Ben raised his bandaged palm to indicate his only injury, not one
requiring confinement to bed or even a chair.
Hop Sing remained unrelenting, so there was nothing to do but sit meekly
and listen to the welcome sound of rain.
The
thirsty earth drank it in greedily, brown blades of grass soaked up the
moisture, and pine needles sighed in relief with every revitalizing splash of
rain. The drought was ended. The Ponderosa would no longer be a tinderbox. Twenty miles to the east, however, in the
heart of Mrs. Harding, now jailed in
The End