The Longest Hours
by
Janice Sagraves
If you have read my previous WHN for The Crucible, The Other Side, you will note that I used the same name for the sheriff of Salt Flats. This is solely for the enjoyment of Bonanza fans, and no infringement is intended.
ONE
Joe Cartwright stepped out of the Salt Flats telegraph office, and looked up at the glaring sun. A heavy breath swelled his chest as he took his hat off and riffled his dark brown thatch of curls. It had been a long day so far and – as it stood – was just half over. The clatter of a passing wagon drew his emerald gaze down but only for a moment.
In all his life he had never dreaded to send a wire any more than he had this one. He had agonized over each word. After all, it wasn’t every day that you had to tell a man that his son could be dead, and it had to be done with care.
As his head dropped into his hand, his eyes closed, yet even in the darkness he could still see the bright ball of the sun. And as he stood there, another image came to him. He could see his brother as he walked into that Eastgate saloon was it seven days ago or seven years?
“Adam, I’m sorry. I should’ve gone with you. If I had, maybe…”
He stiffened his back, and threw his head up. This wasn’t about him, this was about Adam. Adam and Pa and Hoss, and of what concern was he? He had let his brother go off alone while he indulged in hot baths, swigged cold beers and took in a trial. While he had been enjoying himself, had his brother been dying?
He put his hat back on and stepped down into the rutted, dusty street. He had ridden past a hotel on his way in. It hadn’t looked to be anything special, but it would be as good a place as any to get a room where he could wait. His brow creased. What would he say to Pa when he got there? Sorry just didn’t seem adequate enough.
He pulled the rein loose from the hitch rail and eased into the saddle. The leggy chestnut turned with a slight tug, and ambled back toward the far end of town. Joe was in no hurry to begin the waiting, but it wasn’t like he had any real choice.
O><O><O><O><O><O><O
Adam robbed and missing. Robbers sold Sport. Followed them here. Have been looking for four days. Will wait here in Salt Flats for you and Hoss. Sorry, Pa. Joe
The sheet of paper fluttered down to land against Ben Cartwright’s boots. For days he had felt a sense of foreboding, though he hadn’t known why. Now he did.
“Pa…. Pa, what is it?”
So submerged in his own world, Ben didn’t hear. His mind reeled and whirred as if in search of a way out of this.
Hoss Cartwright’s clear blue eyes trailed down to the piece of paper, and he picked it up. As they traced over each deadly word, his coloring grew more like parchment. The page crinkled as his beefy hands closed on it. Then he looked at his father.
Ben only continued to stare at the ground. “Four days. He’s been gone for four days, and I didn’t even know. Joe should have wired before this.”
Hoss reached out and grasped his father’s arm. “I’m sure Joe’s been doin’ all he can. You know this ain’t been easy on him. I think we oughtta turn in early so we can leave first thing in the morning.”
“We’re leaving right now. Go saddle the horses. I’ll have Hop Sing make up a bag of provisions for the trail.”
Hoss glanced skyward. “We won’t git very far before dark sets in.”
“We’ll get far enough to give us a head start on tomorrow. Now do as I say and get the horses ready.” Ben spun and started back inside, but stopped and turned back. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that, Hoss. You haven’t done anything to deserve it.”
“That’s all right, Pa. When somethin’ like this comes at us we sometimes say things we don’t mean.”
Ben just looked at him for a few seconds longer then went on into the house.
Hoss had wanted to reassure his father that Adam would be all right, but he couldn’t even reassure himself. And right now, the last thing Pa needed was a lot of empty platitudes.
He straightened the telegram from the ball he had crunched it into, and read only one line. Adam robbed and missing. Then he read it again, and looked up to Heaven. “Hold on, brother. We’re comin’…. We’re comin’.”
O><O><O><O><O><O><O
As he had expected, the hotel wasn’t as nice as the International House, but it would do for a few nights, and there was a big roomy bed. A lamp on the end of the dresser put out a soft orange light, and cast shadows that hugged the corners. Sounds of music and laughter from the saloon across the street floated on the night air, but it couldn’t touch the lone occupant of the room.
Joe stood at the window and looked out as night settled over the desert beyond the outskirts of this bustling hamlet. Thoughts he didn’t want to have plagued him of his brother lying dead somewhere. Shot or stabbed or… His fingers wound in the faded fabric of the draperies. Oh, please God, make it stop.
With a jerk, he turned to the bed, but it held no appeal. He doubted if he would sleep at all tonight, for he had way too much to think about. Pa and Hoss should be there in a few days, time that he wished he could be spending looking for Adam. But he wanted to be here when his family arrived. He imagined that his father was incorrigible, and that Hoss would have his hands full.
He thumped down in the natty old rocking chair, and it creaked. His arms rested on his knees, and his fingers laced in front of him as his eyes set on the floor. He couldn’t divest his mind of the idea that he had let his brother go off with all that money alone. What had he been thinking?
“Selfish, you were just being selfish and thinking of yourself just like always.”
He leaned forward and his set gaze on the far wall. The chair began to rock to and fro, and the room filled with its thin squeaking, then it came to an abrupt stop. With a groan, Joe shot to his feet. Maybe Adam’s life hadn’t yet ebbed away, and here he was in a hotel room, sheltered against the night chill while goodness knew where his brother was.
He cursed and stalked across to the door. “I can’t stand this any more.” He took his hat and gun belt from the peg where he had hung them, put them on then dashed out into the hall.
After what amounted to five or six minutes, he returned. The hat and gun belt were again hung on the peg, and he went to flop down on the bed. His hands locked behind his head, and his feet crossed at the ankles. Being rash wasn’t going to solve anything.
Maybe if he put out the lamp and took off his boots, he could go to sleep and shut all this out. He snorted. With his penchant for nightmares, who was he trying to kid?
He puffed out a breath, and tried to let his mind wander to more pleasant memories. As he did so, however, the current situation continued its encroachment. “I think they may have killed my brother.” His words to the sheriff played over and over until he thought he could scream.
His body shuddered with a ragged inhalation, and his eyes drilled into the ceiling as if to bore a hole through it. “I’m sorry, Adam.”
O><O><O><O><O><O><O
Hoss sat on a log he had pulled up and hunched over a snapping campfire. His large hands wrapped around a tin cup as he stared into its dark contents. A sound of movement pulled his eyes up, and they went to his father who stood at the edge of the arc of light produced by the flames. They had gotten farther beyond the borders of the Ponderosa before the descent of night than he had suspected they would. Darkness, though, had forced them to stop, and Pa had argued bitterly about it. Hoss’ common sense, however, had prevailed. It had been silent as a mausoleum between them ever since.
He took a sip, and the fragrant steam rose into his face. “Pa, why don’t you set down? We was doin’ some hard ridin’ an’ you’re probably plumb wore out.”
Ben didn’t turn around. In fact, he didn’t move at all. “I’m fine right where I am.”
Hoss took another sip.
“Have you ever been to Salt Flats?”
“Nope but I have heard of it. T’ain’t a cow town or a mining town, but it gets enough drovers and miners to keep it lively. Word has it that it has nine saloons, an’ if’n it was bigger it’d have eighteen.” Hoss scrutinized his father over his cup.
Ben continued to look out into the blackness. “It’s amazing how dark it can be without a moon. It would have been foolish to try to ride in this.”
“Yeah, Pa, foolish, an’ too easy to ride over a drop off someplace.”
Ben turned, and the flicker of the fire enhanced his resemblance to a cadaver. Not enough light reached him to illuminate his coffee eyes, and lines furrowed deep into his features. Hoss guessed that the cup in his hand had long since gone cold.
Hoss raised the pot. “Want me to heat that for you?”
“No.” Ben turned back to the night. “This is all right.”
Hoss put the pot down close to the fire and sniffed. “You know, them weren’t half bad bacon an’ beans, if’n I do say so. I wish you woulda had some.”
“I just wasn’t hungry.”
The sound of his father’s voice – somber as it was – sounded good in all this emptiness, but Hoss didn’t want to push him to keep talking. He knew what had to be going through Pa’s mind right now, and maybe it was best to leave the man to his thoughts.
“You sure you don’t want some more coffee?”
“I’m sure.”
They fell into silence again.
TWO
The night had been as rough as Joe had feared it would be. He had hardly slept, and the bad dreams had come when he did. Omnipresent guilt had only exacerbated things, and the fact that he was doing nothing toward finding Adam only added to it.
His boots clipped along the boardwalk as he headed toward the sheriff’s office. He had been too torn up the day before to think about it, but now he wanted to see the men that had caused all this anguish. Nothing would do but that he had to see the ones who may have murdered his brother.
Eben Briggs had just poured himself a cup of coffee when someone came into the office. He turned. “Morning, Mr. Cartwright.” He was careful not to use the word good.
“Sheriff.”
Eben could tell by this young man’s face that it had been a long night. “Did you get your wire sent?”
“Right after I left here. My family should get here in a few days.”
Eben held his cup aloft. “Would you like some coffee?”
“No thank you. I had some with breakfast.”
“So what can I do for ya this morning?”
“You told me yesterday that those two who robbed my brother where laid out in the back. I want to know if they’re still here.”
Eben frowned. “Yeah, and they will be ‘til we put ‘em in boot hill before the day’s out. Our undertaker died last month so we havta take care o’ things ourselves. But you don’t need trouble yourself about any of that.”
“Yes, I do. I want to see them.”
“What for do ya wantta do that? They’re as dead as they’re ever gonna get and it won’t help a thing.”
“It’ll help me. I want to see what kind of men did this, and I might even recognize them. If I do it’ll be something else I can tell my father and brother when they get here.”
Eben didn’t care for the idea, but he understood the motive behind it. “It’s a reasonable request, and in your place I’d probably do the same thing. All right, they’re in one o’ the back cells.” He sat his cup on the desk then went to the door next to the stove. “Just come with me.”
As Joe went in behind the sheriff, he could feel his insides tighten. His left hand dropped to the pistol on his hip – even though there was nothing more he could do to these men. Still, the thought of putting a few slugs into their bodies did have a certain charm.
“Here ya go.”
Joe’s breath caught as he stepped past the bars into the cell. One blanket shrouded body lay on the cot and the other in the floor by the back wall. His mouth went dry, and his pulse picked up speed. Hatred burned at the back of his head like an acid that tried to devour his brain. With a gulp, he reached down with a hand that trembled and uncovered the face of the man on the bunk. A quick rush of air ran through his teeth, and his lungs swelled with it.
“Hey, where we can a fella get a bath in this town?” Joe recalled himself ask.
“Right over there,” the smooth voice answered.
Joe swallowed hard. “This one we asked for directions in Eastgate.” His gaze trailed to the other one, and his heart hardened even more.
He covered the man’s head then moved to the other one and crouched. This time he jerked the blanket away without hesitation. His hand squeezed on the grip of the pistol, and his hate burned hotter.
“I think this one was playing cards at a table over from us in the saloon. He had to hear when my brother told me how much the sale of the cattle brought.”
“Tell me”
“Five thousand.”
Eben whistled. “No wonder they couldn’t pass it up. I bet those two never saw that much money at one time in their whole lives.”
Joe flung the cover back so he would no longer have to look upon that vile visage. He rose and went back to where the sheriff stood. “I don’t suppose they had any of it left.”
“I found a shade under two thousand dollars on ‘em. They must ‘o had themselves a real spendin’ spree before they got all loaded up on rot gut and decided to shoot things up. It’s in a top drawer of my desk.”
A nod was the extent of Joe’s answer, and he followed the sheriff back out to the office.
“It don’t surprise me how a couple drifters came by so much,” Eben said, as he slapped the money down on the desk top. “Both me and my deputy talked about it last night.”
Joe stared down at the stack of bills. For this Adam’s life may have been forfeited. His teeth gritted and his jaws knotted. He wanted no further part of this money – blood money – and he couldn’t bring himself to even touch it.
“Aren’t you gonna count it?”
The green eyes came up, livid with emerald sparks. “You can burn it for all I care.”
Eben just stood as if uncertain what to say next.
Joe stood there for a second longer then started out.
“What do you want me to do with it, Mr. Cartwright?”
Joe’s hand froze on the knob as he looked around. “If my father wants it, it’ll come back for it before we leave.”
“And if he don’t?”
“I’ll leave that up to you, sheriff. I’m sure you can find a worthy cause for it. Now thank you and good day.” Then he went out.
Joe just stood there on the other side of the door, unsure what to do next with his time. He couldn’t bring himself to go back to that dingy hotel room. The thought of a cold beer or a whisky, several whisky’s, rose in his mind. He could drink himself into a blind stupor to deaden the pain, but it hadn’t worked in the past and now wouldn’t be any different. And, at that, the pain would still be there when he sobered up, along with a head that he could only wish on his worst enemy. It simply wasn’t worth the futile effort.
Sport. He would go check on his brother’s horse. He thumped down into the hard packed dirt of the street and started across at an angle. The livery was just a good walk away, and as he moved along the urge to see the big chestnut grew.
The cool, gray interior of the stable smelled of hay and leather and stale manure. Joe saw no one else so he walked straight to the stall where Sport had been boarded. Joe ran his hand over the white stripe along the horse’s face. “Good morning, boy. I hope you passed a better night than I did.”
Sport pulled his attention away from his morning ration of oats and gave Joe a good nuzzle.
Joe patted the satiny jowl, and felt the sting behind his eyes. He blinked to clear the blur that misted his vision. The idea that he would never see Adam ride again hurt worse than any physical wound. His brother in the saddle was a pure joy to watch. When he climbed onto the back of a horse he became almost centaur-like. Some men merely rode; Adam became a part of the animal. This wasn’t to say, however, that he had never been unhorsed. Joe sniggered. In fact, when his brother and the big chestnut had met, Adam had left the saddle quite a bit.
Sport’s teeth crunched.
But a bond had been formed between the two that went beyond just a rider and horse. Trust and loyalty lay at the core of their relationship, and they had saved one another’s lives more than once.
Not this time, ran through Joe’s mind. Why did he have to think such things?
He ran his hand over the coarse red mane and gave another pat. “I’ll let you finish your breakfast in peace, and I’ll come back by later.”
For a second, Joe remained motionless then he went back out into the dazzle of the sun. Things had picked up as had the bustle of the town. He took a heavy draught of the fresher air and observed the life that went on around him.
Life. He wished that he could pull himself away from the notion that that precious commodity no longer belonged to his brother. A curse rose under his breath, then he stomped off up the street.
THREE
Since they had broke camp right after breakfast, Hoss and his father had been riding hard, and he knew that if they didn’t slow up soon, the animals were going to drop.
“Pa!” Hoss gave Chubb his heels and pulled alongside his father’s buckskin. “Pa, we need to stop for a few minutes or at least slow down.”
“Not yet. Adam can’t afford for us to.”
Hoss’ expression skewed. “We can’t afford not to. If’n we don’t we’re gonna find ourselves afoot, an’ it’ll take a lot longer to git to Salt Flats. Adam for sure cain’t afford that.”
Ben looked around at him. His brow furrowed. “All right, we’ll slow down, but we have to keep moving.”
“Goodernuff.”
With little coaxing, the horses slowed and the pace became less killing. Father and son rode at a walk side-by-side to let the animals get their wind, but further words weren’t to be. All morning, Pa hadn’t said enough to fill a postage stamp. As they had prepared to head out, he had moved like a wraith and never said a thing, even when Hoss had tried to engage him in conversation. Now he felt that it would help if they talked, but he had to be careful what he said. His father was strung tight as a fiddle string, and it wouldn’t take much to snap his tension. It had to be done with subtlety.
Hoss looked up. Not a single cloud was in attendance, and one could see for miles in the crystal air. “It looks to be about noon. We’ve made good time. If’n we keep goin’ like this we’ll probably cut a good day off our travel time.”
He might as well have not said anything for all the response he got. Ben sat in the saddle like a statue, his fingers gnarled on the reins, and his eyes set straight ahead. Hoss knew what was going through his mind, in fact, it was more than likely little different from what dwelled in his own head. “I’ll bet Joe’s like a toad on a hot rock. You know how he ain’t never been real good at waiting. Patience ain’t his long suit.” He snorted. “Ol’ Adam, on the other hand, has more patience than I think anybody I ever seen. He makes me think of a cat that’ll set all day in front of a mouse hole, an’ keep comin’ back ‘til something shows up, if’n it takes a whole month.”
Hoss could see the emotion track over his father’s face. He thought he discerned a tightening of Pa’s facial muscles, and maybe his hand gripped more on the reins. Hoss’ mouth opened, but he changed his mind. It wasn’t time yet.
They went along for around another hour until Hoss couldn’t stand the rumble in his stomach any longer. “I don’t know about anybody else, but I could eat a steer, hair, hide, horns, hooves and all.” He forced a laugh. “Why I could even eat the moo.”
Ben brought Buck to a halt and those hallow, dark eyes came around. “I suppose I should eat, too, and there are a few things I need to take care of.”
“Sure, Pa. I’ve got some biscuits and jerky in my saddle bags. I figger it’d take too long to git up a fire.”
“That’s fine, son.” Ben stepped down, and ground tied his horse. “I won’t be but a few minutes.” Then he walked off, and disappeared behind some rocks.
Hoss dismounted and led both horses into the partial shade of a clump of stunted trees. Since morning some of Pa’s fire and urgency had tempered and he had no doubt that the reality of what they faced, in all its facets, had settled in. One of the most sensible men he had ever known, he knew that his father had come to grips with the situation. Pa would never give up on Adam – that he knew without doubt – but going off half cocked would cause more harm than good.
“Here ya go, Pa. I know it ain’t no steak, but it is a might better ‘n nothin’.”
Ben fastened the last button on the fly of his britches then took the strip of sun dried venison from his son’s outstretched hand. “Thank you, Hoss.”
Hoss scrounged a cloth wrapped bundle from the saddle bag, and pulled the fabric back to reveal several biscuits. “These was left over from breakfast yesterday.”
Ben just shook his head, and tore a bite from the jerky with his teeth. Hoss snared a couple of the biscuits and put the rest back.
Ben took one of three canteens from where they hung on his saddle’s horn. “We all needed the rest, but I don’t think we should stay here too long. We need to get started as soon as we can.”
“Sure enough, Pa.” Hoss took a swig of water. “We’ve come a good sight farther than I expected us to. Makin’ this pace it won’t take us long to git where we’re headed. I’ll sure be glad when we git there, an’ I know for a fact Joe will be, too.”
For the first time since before the lethal telegram had come the previous day, Ben smiled. It was tainted with sadness and it went nowhere near his eyes, but it was nonetheless a smile. “I know this is very hard on him.”
“It’s hard on us all.”
“Yes, but Joe has been right out here.” Ben took an onerous breath. “For almost a week he’s been searching, and if I know your younger brother, each disappointment has just made him all the more dogged. I can only imagine what this waiting is doing to him.”
“I don’t think it’ll take any imagination to figger that out. Joe ain’t never been one for just settin’ idle.”
“No, he hasn’t. Now I think I will have one of those biscuits.”
Once Ben had taken one of the golden morsels, he untied Buck and climbed back aboard. “I think we’ve been here long enough, and we can finish eating on the way.”
Hoss thought to object, but decided against it. “Sure thing, Pa.”
Before Hoss could even get mounted, Ben was on the way, though not at a hard gallop as before.
Again they had fallen into silence. More to the point, Ben had. Hoss felt the need to talk, but his father wasn’t the one to go to. He would be so glad when they finally reached town and Joe.
When they had finished with their food, Ben kneed Buck into a lope, which Chubb had no trouble keeping up with. Even with the big man on his back, the stout black moved with ease and grace as his hooves thumped the ground like mallets.
As the day progressed toward evening, Ben continued to ride ahead and acknowledged his son’s presence but very little. He wasn’t going out of his way to ignore Hoss, but his mind was so filled with thoughts of Adam, of what had happened and the possible outcome that they dominated his actions. He fought hardest against the notions that they would never find his eldest son, and if they did that he would be beyond anything they could do for him. Ben’s eyes clamped tight, and his body went rigid. He tried not to think, he didn’t want to think of what his son had endured, and was maybe going through at this very moment. Even worse, he didn’t want to think, to believe that Adam may already be dead. He couldn’t let himself do that.
Hoss took notice of the place where the sun hung in the western part of the sky. Night would settle over them in three or four hours. This time of year – with its longer days – darkness came later than in winter. For this Hoss gave thanks. It would give them more time for their search. His sight fell once again onto his father’s back. Pa had gotten even quieter than before, as he always did when one of his sons was threatened. He recalled how Pa had become spring before last when Adam had fallen so ill that they were uncertain if he would live. Even the doctor had been unable to reassure them. Pa had stayed in Adam’s room and kept vigil all night. Once, when he had taken his father a cup of coffee, it had been as if he weren’t even in the room. When Pa focused on someone he loved, he was lost to the world, and everyone in it.
As the sun continued its descent, the horses interspersed periods of walking into their steady lope. This pace would spare the animals which, as Hoss had pointed out earlier, they needed to make their destination. A man afoot didn’t stand much of, if any, chance in this part of the country. They had long ago moved into the outer edge of the desert, with its dearth of water, its unforgiving nature and where the sun blazed and beat down on all living things with merciless and relentless vigor.
Night birds and coyotes – as a harbinger of the darkness that would soon envelope the land – had begun their evening song. A coyote wailed to be answered by a compadre farther away. Hills and desert growth took on a purple cast in the gathering dusk as the last rays of the departing sun painted the blue in strokes of red and orange and pink. The sent of desert sage wafted on the breeze that had begun to acquire the hint of a chill.
Hoss locked his attention on the sun as it began to sink below the horizon. If they had been in the mountains darkness would have fallen long before this as they cut out the light sooner. He looked up to the stars that glittered in the deeper part of the sky. When blackness fell, without any moonlight, they would be blind. “Pa, we’d better stop an’ set up camp before it gits too dark to see.”
After a long pause, his father answered with all the enthusiasm of a man about to be hung. “All right.”
O><O><O><O><O><O><O
Someone pounded on the piano at the saloon across the street. Whoops and laughter and the occasional pistol shot livened the night. Several drovers had blown in from a long drive about noon, and were in the process of releasing some pent up steam. To Joe, though, they were only a stark reminder. He tried to block out their revelry by wrapping his pillow around his head, but to no effect. His arms clamped it tighter to his ears, and he let his nose stick out lest he suffocate. It had been a long day, one of the longest he could recollect in recent memory, and he just wanted to call it quits for a short while. He had thought about joining them in their carousing, but he just couldn’t bring himself to. The last saloon he had been in Adam had been with him, and life had been bright before them. His arms squeezed against the sides of his head.
FOUR
Joe’s boots almost seemed to itch, not to mention the fact that he had slept no more than a couple winks the night before. The cowboys’ good time had continued on until right before dawn. He had heard every note of that blasted piano, and the first several gunshots had caused him to jump, but he had soon become inured to them. His feet clomped along the boardwalk as he headed away from the livery. This was the ninth time – or was it the tenth – that he had checked on Sport since their arrival in Salt Flats the day before yesterday. Adam’s horse was doing just fine, which was more than he could say for himself.
“Mormin’, Mr. Cartwright,” Sheriff Briggs said, as he approached. “You look a might long in the face. One of those rough nights you were tellin’ me about?”
“You might say that. I’ve seen hands cut loose at the end of a hard drive before, but this hadta be the party to end all parties.”
“Oh, yeah, you are right across from the Gay Lady. I s’pose I shoulda put a stop to it, but when those boys come in all keyed up for a good time, after what they’ve been through, I just don’t have the heart. So I generally just leave ‘em alone as long they behave theirselves and don’t get too much outta hand.”
“I’m sure they appreciate it, but I could’ve wished to be someplace else.”
Eben’s face scrunched. “Yeah, I s’pose you did, but unless I miss my guess it didn’t have entirely everything to do with the goin’s on in the saloon.”
Joe felt like he had just been punched. This hefty, somewhat paunchy sheriff appeared to be an astute watcher of what went on in his town. Joe had said nothing to give himself away, but it appeared that this man had been observing his actions.
“I just finished my morning rounds and was on my way to my office. Maybe you’d like to come with me and have a cup o’ coffee. We could talk, and it might make the waitin’ for your pa and brother go a might faster.”
It didn’t take Joe long to make up his mind. “I think I’d like that.”
Eben slapped a large hand onto his back. “Fine. It ain’t much that I get to entertain folks that come to my town. And I figger there are still some things you’d like to talk to me about.”
The jail took no more than a short, brisk walk to reach. Even though the desert heat made its presence known early, the warmth the stove put out didn’t seem oppressive, at least not yet.
“Mr. Cartwright, this is my deputy, Drew Hurley.”
The lanky young man extended his right hand. “It’s nice to meet you, though none of us can say much for the circumstances behind it. Eben told me all about what those two yahoos did. I am right sorry. I hope you do find your brother.”
Joe thanked the man, and shook his hand.
Eben stepped to the stove and filled a cup from the battered coffee pot. “So where’re you off to?”
Drew smoothed back his bushy wheat-colored hair and put on his hat. “I’ve gotta go down to the Gay Lady. Asa found three drunken cowboys asleep in the stock room, and two casks busted into. We had us quite a time there last night, Mr. Cartwright.”
Eben handed over the cup to his guest. “He knows. He’s got a front room at the Royal.”
Drew’s face pinched. “Then I don’t havta tell you a thing. Now I’d best go. You know how Asa gets over his goods. It was good to meet you, Mr. Cartwright.” Then he went out.
“Nice fella,” Joe said, as he took a seat in a wobbly ladder-backed chair at the corner of the desk.
Eben sat down with his own cup. “I’ve known Drew since he was knee high to a yearling colt. A fine man from a fine family, though poor as church mice.” He took a sip.
Joe still hadn’t touched his. He stared into the dark liquid as if trying to see the bottom of the cup.
Eben took another slow sip and watched over the rim. “Not too hot I hope.”
Joe’s head rose with a jerk. “No, it’s fine. I guess I just don’t really want it after all.”
“You might as well go ahead and ask me what you wantta know.”
Joe snorted. “Can’t anybody keep anything from you?”
“Those who know me well enough know better, but some of ‘em keep right on trying. Now why don’t you just go ahead and say what’s on your mind?”
Joe hesitated. “Those two men, did they say anything before…?” His head dropped.
“Before I put a foot o’ daylight through ‘em? Not direct to me, but some of the patrons in the saloon said they were bragging about how smart they were. They never come out and said where the money they were pouring away like water come from, but they did say that the fella that gave it to ‘em looked mighty surprised. They thought that was particularly funny.”
Joe’s hands squeezed on the cup until his knuckles whitened. “I wish I’d been able to talk to them.”
“I know, but they most like as not wouldn’t have told you anything. Folks got the impression that they were real mean sorts.”
Joe looked up, his eyes sharp, and most of his coloring drained away. “They would’ve told me.” He fingered the butt of his pistol. “They would’ve talked.”
Eben took a sip. He had no doubt that they would have. And if he had been there, he had no doubt that he wouldn’t have tried to stop it.
O><O><O><O><O><O><O
It seemed to shimmer in the distance in the late evening sun like a magical jewel. Salt Flats – still maybe a mile or so away – sat in an even stretch with nothing to impede one’s sight of it.
Hoss came alongside the buckskin as his father reined him to a halt.
“Well, Pa, we finally made it. And they ain’t no need to be in a hurry. Even if’n we ride like a Washoe Zephyr, by the time we git there it’ll be too dark to head out.”
“I want to see Joe, and I think we should try anyway.”
“The horses is too played out, an’ so’re we.” He reached out and took his father’s arm. “You need to slow down, Pa, or you’re just gonna kill yourself, an’ that ain’t gonna do nobody no good.”
Ben frowned. “All right for tonight, but once we ride out tomorrow, we don’t stop until we find him. We’ve wasted enough time as it is.”
“All right, Pa, whatever you say. But for tonight I think we could both use a good soft bed, and some food.”
Ben just gave the horse his heels. Buck shot off like the aforementioned Zephyr, and Hoss had no choice but to follow at the same speed.
O><O><O><O><O><O><O
Joe sat on the side of the bed and peeled off his boots. After a long, hot day of confinement, it always felt good to release his tired, sweaty feet from their prison. He rolled off the damp socks and flexed his toes, a holdover from when he was a child. His lungs filled with a cleansing breath as he stretched every inch of himself from the head down, and ruffled his thick hair.
He hunched his shoulders around his neck then got up and padded over to the window. Night had fallen, and light from the buildings draped over the ruts in the dark street. His gaze rose to the Gay Lady saloon. Things were a bit quieter than last night, but that piano still let its presence be known. The corners of his mouth pinched. He could almost go down there and shoot whoever was banging on it. Not enough to kill just put them out of commission for a little bit.
With a grunt and another stretch, he turned to blow out the lamp, but a knock at the door interrupted him. He wasn’t in the mood, but what else could he do?
His steps were long and lethargic and bore no semblance of enthusiasm whatsoever as he crossed to the door.
“Pa, Hoss, I didn’t expect you until tomorrow.”
“We was usually on the move before the sun was well up. We pushed through
at a good, steady pace, and stopped as little as we could manage.”
In silence, Ben entered the room and tossed his saddlebags on the bed. Hoss
and Joe just looked at one other and each could read his brother’s thoughts.
Ben hung his hat on the bedpost and turned to his sons. “Joseph, I want you to tell what you didn’t put in that wire. What can you ell me about the men who did this? Did they tell you about Adam? You did catch up to them.”
Joe’s eyes flicked to Hoss. “I caught up to them, Pa…. They’re dead. They were dead before I even got here.”
Everything seemed to drain from Ben at once, and he dropped onto the bed. He leaned forward against his legs and covered his face with his hands.
“The sheriff killed them when they got drunk and tried to shoot up the town.”
Hoss went to stand beside their father and gripped his shoulder. “You said they sold Sport.”
Joe nodded. “I found him purely by accident. I thought Cochise split a hoof, and I stopped at a blacksmith’s shack to make sure. I asked him if he had another horse I could use, and he said yes.” He leaned back against the closed door. “When he came around leading Sport I…” He ran his hand back over his hair. “When I asked him where he had gotten him, he just said that two men had ridden in and wanted to sell a horse. He showed me the bill of sale, and I got their names…. He’s the one that told me that they were headed here.”
Ben looked up and his eyes were like long, black tunnels. “You’re sure it was the right men?”
“Yeah, Pa, I’m sure. They still had some of the money on ‘em, and they bragged about how they had come by it. I told the sheriff I’d let him know if you wanted it. There wasn’t a whole lot left.”
Ben’s fingernails dug into the mattress. “I don’t want any part of it. Where’s Sport now?”
Joe was able to conjure up a faint smile. “He’s at the livery.” He sighed. “He makes me realize what an excellent horseman Adam is.” He went to stoop before his father. “Pa, we’re gonna do everything we can to find him.” He took hold of his father’s wrist. “I’ve already covered a lot of territory, and we can cover even more now…. We won’t let ourselves believe that we aren’t gonna find him.”
“That’s right, Pa.”
“I never have.” Ben’s face softened, and the light sparkled in his eyes. “I haven’t even asked about you.”
For what seemed like an eternity, the room went quiet only to be disrupted by the merriment from the Gay Lady.
One side of Joe’s mouth quirked, and he gave his father a pat then stood. “I’m all right, Pa. Now I bet both of you haven’t had enough to eat between you for half a person.” He got his boots and socks and sat in the rocking chair and started to put them on. “There’s a nice restaurant not too far away that serves some pretty good food. We should go there before we turn in.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Pa, you ain’t eat enough since we left the Ponderosa to keep a barn owl alive. Now you’re gonna need all your strength when we go lookin’ for Adam, an’ goin’ without ain’t gonna help none.”
“Listen to Hoss, Pa. Adam’s depending on us like he never has.” Joe thumped his foot into a boot. “I can just imagine what he would say to you if it was me or Hoss.”
Ben looked from one son to the other. “I guess you’re right, but let’s not stay any longer than necessary. We need to get as early a start in the morning as possible.”
“We will. But tonight this is the best we can do.”
Ben stood, and Hoss’ grip tightened on his arm to steady him. “I’m all right. Now let’s go get that food.” He gave his sons each a slap on the arm then took his hat from the bedpost, and went out into the hall.
“How was he on the way here?”
“About like you’d expect. Quiet as a graveyard most o’ the time, an’ little to say when he did talk. An’ he didn’t make the acquaintance o’ vittles too much neither.”
“Well we’ll change that.”
“We can try.”
“Joe, Hoss, let’s go.”
The brothers just looked at each other then Joe got his hat and gun belt from the peg, and they went out.
O><O><O><O><O><O><O
The bed, spacious as it was, was hardly big enough when one of the men who slept in it was Hoss Cartwright. And a room could never be silent with him in it. His snores punctuated the stillness within the walls like the chugging of a steam engine. Joe flopped over, and his arm dangled off the other side of the mattress, but he never awoke. It wasn’t like him to be able to sleep through his brother’s snoring, but tonight he seemed impervious to it.
Ben looked around from where he stood at the window and mustered a slim smile. Exhausted though he was in mind as well as body, he still couldn’t sleep.
The coffee eyes, which would have been one with the darkness if not for the faint light that entered from outside, turned back to the window. Music and gaiety and laughter rose from the saloon, and Ben wondered what anyone could have to laugh about. His life had been shattered, and the idea of even a titter he found foreign and distant.
“Pa,” followed by a light touch on his shoulder made him look around.
“You should come back to bed. This isn’t helping anything.”
“It’s a waste of time. I’m too wound up for sleep. You go lay back down.” He gripped his son’s arm. “I’m all right, Joseph, and I’m better off right here.”
“No you aren’t, none of us are. We’re all thinking about Adam.” Joe glanced back to the bed. “Except maybe for Hoss right now.”
Ben turned back to the window. “He’s out there, probably alone, maybe hurt, maybe even…”
“Pa, we can’t think that way, not about Adam. We can’t let ourselves believe we’re not gonna find him until we’re forced to. Now come back to bed.”
“No, Joseph, really I feel better right here. You go lay back down and try not to let Hoss squash you.”
“I think I should stay up with you.”
“No, Joe, I’m fine, and I’d like to be alone. A man can think better that way, and sometimes he just needs to be. You go on.” He gave Joe a nudge toward the bed.
“Only if you’re sure.”
“I am.”
“We’ll find him, Pa.” Then Joe went and lay back down with his brother.
Ben once again set his eyes on the saloon. What could anyone possibly have to laugh about?
EPILOGUE
The nicker of a horse was the only thing to disturb the hush in the stable as the Cartwright men prepared to ride out. So concentrated on their task were they that they seemed to take no notice of anything around them. Even when the owner of the livery came through leading a harness horse, he could have been a wisp of smoke for all the attention they gave him.
Joe gave his cinch a yank a tad too hard, and Sport’s head came around. Joe, however, didn’t catch what he had done. His fingers worked with the leather strap and buckle like they had many thousands of times before. It had become as commonplace as breathing, and he took it in his stride in the same fashion. It was simply another part of living that one didn’t question. His head fell then rose with a jolt. He felt he had let Adam down in more ways than one. A sharp breath rasped into him. His actions grew jerkier as he struggled against his self blame. If Adam were dead, could her ever forgive himself?
Hoss brought the fender down from the saddle’s seat and let it drop with the weight of the stirrup. He then took his saddlebags from one of the stall dividers and slapped them over Chubb’s back. He tied them down with the buckskin ties as he always did to hold them in place. There were things in them that he couldn’t afford to lose. He froze for a second. There were many things in life one couldn’t afford to lose. His eyes set on his fingers as he wondered if he had already lost something far more precious than anything in one of those pouches.
Ben moved like a man much older than his actual years, and his actions lagged his sons. He swung the saddle onto Buck’s sturdy back and went about fastening it into place. His mind, though, wasn’t on what he was doing as it would be most times. It was occupied with something much more important. Where was his oldest son? His eyes clenched together as his movement stopped for a brief interval. He tried not to think what he considered wrong thoughts, but the images came anyway. He could see Adam lying dead in a spreading pool of his own blood, the victim of a robber’s bullet, or breathing his last as he died of thirst. His mind shouted at him to stop. Adam would never give up, and he couldn’t either.
“We’re all ready, Pa.”
Ben finished and looked at his sons with only a nod.
Eben Briggs stepped to his office window – a cup in hand – and watched as the Cartwright’s rode past. The three horses moved at a hurried walk as they headed out of town. He could make out the lines etched deep in the men’s faces, most of all the one Eben knew to be the father. Having never had children of his own, he had been spared the living death of something like this, and for that he was grateful. But that didn’t mean it couldn’t touch him to see it in another man. He had heard many say that the worst tragedy a parent could experience was the loss of a child, and he knew it to be true for he was seeing it now.
“Good luck. I sure hope you find what you’re looking for.”
Eben worked on his coffee as he watched them continue on. He wished he could go with them, but Drew had ridden out the night before, and he didn’t want to leave his town undefended. He took a sip. Since he had nothing pressing that he needed to get to with any urgency he would stand there until they rode from sight. That much he could do.
THE END