This story was never meant to be posted. I wrote it as an antidote to another story I have been working on, seemingly forever, which requires so much endless stopping and starting for research and so many decisions about when and where to be true to Bonanza history as opposed to American history that I was becoming hopelessly bogged down. Consequently, I wrote this one with a blissful disregard for research and historical accuracy in parts - Dr. Martin uses medical terms that were probably not coined yet and I did absolutely no research on 19th century trial procedure in the West, unless you count watching Perry Mason episodes. Also, though Roy was not actually the sheriff in this episode, to me Roy is always the sheriff, so I used him anyway. There's nothing wildly anachronistic (I have SOME standards!) but if that sort of thing drives you nuts, then close this right now and read no further. If, however, the holes in the "Vengeance" episode grate on you and you've always wanted to see them closed, read on.

It was fun to write - like taking a wild and heedless gallop after hours of meticulous dressage work. I hope it's fun to read. L.B.

WHN Vengeance

by Lissa B.

(June 2001)

This story is dedicated to Debby Warren, with many thanks for her hours of tireless beta work on my behalf. It has meant more than I can say. Special thanks also to Gwynne Logan, for HER hours of tireless editing on my behalf - and a big slob I was about the commas, too. You are amazing. And thanks, too, to the group of readers who read along just the way I wrote it - as a sort "Perils of Pauline" serial, complete with weekly cliff hangers; and who finally persuaded me that a larger audience might enjoy it, too.

You guys are the best.

Chapter 1

Ben turned slowly away from the bed, exhausted. It had taken hours to resettle Hoss after his unwise sojourn from his sickbed. The barely closed wound had begun to bleed again, and he had toyed with the idea of sending for Paul, then rejected it as they seemed to get things under control and darkness was closing in. Mary had been surprisingly knowledgeable - very helpful in adding a compress to the wound and fixing broth for Hoss to drink. A good woman. She would have made Willie a fine wife - it was a shame.  

Joseph had hovered about at loose ends, driven by the adrenaline of his fight and this alternating hope and fear over Hoss's condition. He was hopelessly underfoot, but Ben didn't have the heart to send him away. Thank God Hop Sing would be back in a few days - they could certainly use his calming, efficient presence.

He straightened carefully, easing the crick out of his back. And now one of them would have to fix dinner. And, of course, he would have to ask Miss Mary to stay. It was the least he could do; he just hoped they could scrape together something worthwhile for her to eat. 

He moved toward the door and nearly bumped into Joe, who was starting his pacing to the other side of the room for the umpteenth time.  Ben put his hands on his shoulders to bring him to a stop. "Joseph," he said firmly. "We should go and let him rest. It probably wouldn't hurt to get a little rest ourselves."       

Joe glanced anxiously over Ben's shoulder to the figure in the bed, now snoring gently. "Sure you don't want me to sit with him, Pa?" Ben looked at him hard, and Joe colored a little, remembering his last turn at sitting with Hoss. "Okay, Pa." He looked up again, desperate for anything to get rid of his excess energy. "Say, want me to fix supper?"          

"That would be very helpful. Thank you, Joseph." Ben slid an arm around his shoulders and turned him down the hall and toward the stairs. "Despite everything, you made the right decision today, Joseph. I'm proud of you."

Joe ducked his head. "Thanks, Pa. But I'm not sure I deserve it. I still might have done the wrong thing if Adam hadn't talked me out of it. I'm glad he did now that I can think a little more clearly."

"I'm glad he did, too, son. But the fact that he could shows that your heart was headed in the right direction." He paused at the foot of the stairs, wrinkling his forehead suddenly. He glanced toward the kitchen and listened for a moment to the noises coming from inside. Crossing the room, he pushed through the door. Joe followed.

Mary was bustling about, building up the stove fire and laying out provisions from the pantry. She saw them and blushed. "I hope I wasn't too presumptuous, Mr. Cartwright, but I figured you'd all be hungry and had too much on your minds to worry about cooking."

"No, no, of course not - " Ben looked past her, his frown deepening. "But you shouldn't have to cook - you've done enough for us. You should be our guest." He let his eyes sweep the room again, then opened the back door to peer out into the gathering gloom and glanced at the woodpile. "Where IS Adam?" he burst out finally. "I haven't seen him since..." he paused. He couldn't quite remember when.

Joe scratched at the back of his neck. "I don't know," he admitted. "Maybe he's putting the horses up?"

Ben harumphed. "Taking long enough."

"Or maybe he stayed to talk to the deputy."

Mary hesitated over the bowl of beans she was snapping. "He walked back with me for a ways...I lost track of him when I went to open the door for you and Hoss..."

Joe moved toward the great room. "I'll go take a look."

"Oh!" Mary dropped her beans, her hand flying to her mouth. "Oh, how could I have forgotten!"

Ben raised his brows at her. "Forgotten what?"

"Oh!" she pressed her hands over her eyes. "I should have said something sooner! But he got right up - he seemed - "

Ben felt a chill creep through his heart. "Got right up from  - where? What happened?"

"Oh, Mr. Cartwright - I'm so sorry - but he took off after Joe - he seemed fine - "

Ben's voice rose. "What - happened?" he repeated, a little shrilly.

She swallowed. "He - Red - he shot him. He - he was out when I found him, but he - "

"Red Twilight - shot - ?" Ben's voice sounded far away to his own ears, and he clenched his fists, trying to tell himself it was all right, that he had seen Adam on his feet with his own eyes. "When - ?"                  

"Right - right before Joe chased him down the stairs..."

Joe stared at her. "But - that's impossible! I would have - " he paused, a faint memory flickering behind his eyes - the sound of two gunshots, close together, the vague image in his periphery of something near the doorway. He rubbed a shaking hand over his mouth. "Pa - there was a gunshot, and Adam's head - now that I think about it - it was bleeding..."

"Well, of course I saw it was bleeding!" Ben's voice came out harshly, weighted with the sudden fear that he had succored one son only to lose another. "I assumed that there had been some kind of scuffle, not that..." he turned away from them, trying to gather his wits together. Panic wouldn't help anybody. He took a deep breath and tried to speak calmly. "How long has it been since anyone's seen him?"

Joe met his eyes, his own wide. "Got to be hours now, Pa."

"All right - well - " Ben tried to order his frenzied thoughts. He brightened suddenly. "Probably he went to his room to lie down. Joseph, will you take a look please? I'm going to take a quick look in the barn and yard, just in case. And Joseph, if you could start getting together the liniment and some bandages, too, please?"

Joe hesitated as though he wanted to say something, then nodded slowly. "Okay, Pa." He headed toward the kitchen stairs.

Ben watched him go, then leaned against the door to the great room. He hesitated. "Mary - you said you found him - ?"

"Right by the doorway near the grandfather clock, Mr. Cartwright. He was out, but he came around pretty quick after I touched him."

Ben nodded, making his way into the great room and to the credenza. He reached for his gunbelt and was fastening it when something caught his eye, and he froze with his hand on the buckle. He moved stiffly to the wall on the other side of the door and stood, staring. A starburst of bright blood splashed across the whitewashing, dripping down the wall and pooling on the floor. He squatted. A half-dried puddle seeped into the floorboards. He reached out to touch it and winced at the stickiness on his fingers, his stomach turning within him. Oh, dear God. Adam. Standing abruptly, he half ran out the door and in the direction of the barn.

He returned a short time after at a much slower pace. He stepped inside the door, letting his eyes adjust to the brightness of the room and glancing hopefully toward the stairs. Joe was sitting on the bottom step and one look at his face sent his hopes plummeting to his boots. Joe must have read his expression too, because he said tentatively, "Maybe he went into town with the deputy?"

"With a head wound? I hope not." Ben smiled a little despite the fear gathering in his heart. Not that it wouldn't be like him. "Besides, I found Sport and Cochise nibbling at straw in the barn, still tacked. Set Curly to taking care of them."

Joe rubbed his hands over his face. He had forgotten about Cochise, too? What else had he forgotten? "Where do you think he is, Pa?" he asked in a small voice.

Ben caught his tone and tried to smile reassuringly. "Well, I don't know, son - he might be confused because of the head injury - might have wandered off a little. I doubt he could have gone far, though - looks like he's lost a lot of - " his eyes wandered involuntarily to the blood stained wall.

Joe followed his eyes and swallowed hard. "Pa - " he choked.

"We'll find him, son," said Ben hastily. "We'll leave Miss Mary to keep an eye on Hoss and gather the men and find him in no time."

Joe raised anguished eyes to his. "It's mighty dark, Pa."

Ben's eyes slid away from him. "We've found things in the dark before."

"Getting cold, too."

Ben pulled his hat down over his forehead. "He was wearing his jacket."

Joe couldn't seem to stop his train of thought. "He's been gone so long, Pa - " he blurted. "I can't believe I - I can't believe - "

"Joseph!" Ben's voice was kind, but very firm. "We don't have time for this, son."

Joe hung his head. "Sorry, Pa," he said softly.

Ben reached out to squeeze his shoulder. "Why don't you tell Miss Mary what we're doing? I'll be out in the bunkhouse organizing the men. Meet me there." Joe nodded heavily and Ben gave his arm another squeeze. "We'll find him, son."

***

Wet. There was something not right about that...he shifted a little, trying to push himself up, but his arm seemed to be trapped against his chest and his body unaccountably heavy...he moved again, trying to lift his head, but try as he might he couldn't seem to remember which was up and which was down, and his eyes seemed to be sewn tight shut so that he couldn't open them and see. He sighed, letting his cheek settle back against the cold wetness. Something was chewing uncomfortably into his cheekbone, but he couldn't bring himself to care enough to do anything about it. Besides, the chill felt wonderful against that burning spot above his ear - the first relief he'd had in...well, he couldn't remember how long exactly.  A while.

That tickled at something in his brain, and he stirred reluctantly. He had been...he had meant to do something. Had seemed important...he sighed, sliding gently again toward blackness when a face swam briefly before his vision.  Shorty.  He tried to open his eyes again, failed. He had meant to bury Shorty...or at least wrap him in canvas and rope and get some of the men to bury him...he had started toward the supply shed...he wrinkled his forehead, gasping a little at the sudden pinch of pain it evoked, then choking weakly as the gasp forced water into his nose and mouth. He coughed, the motion slicing   through his ears like a knife blade, and he pushed again blindly at the wetness with his free hand. Something bit at his palm, and he lost his grip with a faint cry, his whole face slipping to submerge in the cold wetness this time. For a terrible moment he couldn't hear, couldn't see, couldn't breathe...then the cold roused him just enough and he managed to lever himself over onto his back. There was a distant splashing sound, and a hundred sharp points thrust their way into his back through his jacket, but he could breath again. He lay there, eyes still closed, spent. He was supposed to be doing something...the thought passed through his mind like a wisp of smoke and then was gone again. It occurred to him, in passing, that he would probably be more comfortable if he were dry...but that idea slipped through his fingers too. Too hard...better to just lie here for a bit...he would get up in just a minute...in just a minute he would remember what he'd...how he'd...the idea stood poised for a moment, then was gone again. He didn't pursue it. Later. As soon as...in just a minute...just another minute...another min...

***

"So NO one has seen him?"

Curly glanced around at the other hands who were all shaking their heads. "No, sir. Not since this mornin', anyway. Not a whole lot the last couple days since..." he closed his mouth abruptly and squinted apologetically at Ben. "What I'm sayin' is we was all out on the range, 'cept fer Shorty. Didn't see him around anywheres when we got back. Shorty either, actual. Maybe they went somewheres together?"

"Shorty?" Ben raised his brows, his eyes searching the bunkhouse for the familiar face. That was right, Shorty had been left to look after the ranch. "And no one's seen him either? Well, I can't imagine where they'd be, but at least that is some sort of - "

"Shorty's dead, Pa."

Ben's head reared up at the quiet voice in the bunkhouse doorway, and he swiveled to see Joe standing there, his face tight.

  Joe took a step into the room, avoiding the eyes of the other hands. "Adam and me found him when we rode up - that's how we knew Red Twilight was here. Adam covered the front door and I took the back window...I guess Red must have heard something though, cause..." he dropped his eyes.

Ben saw the hands slide questioning looks at each other and cleared his throat. "Because Adam was shot," he supplied. His voice was preternaturally calm.

Curly pushed his hat back on is head. "So, you're saying Shorty was killed and Adam's out there somewheres shot? What exactly is it we're standing around here waitin' fer?" A chorus of murmurs rose from the hands, and Ben held up his hands.

"I don't want anyone going off half cocked," he said firmly. "Running around in the dark tripping over each other won't help anyone - we need to organize ourselves. Now, I want everyone to split into groups of two or three. Each group needs a lantern. I want one group to sweep within a half mile of the rear of the house, one take the west side, one the east. Two men can go through the barn carefully. Two others can sweep the perimeter beyond the half-mile radius. Curly, you can come with me and Joseph  - I want you to show me where you left Shorty. The least we can do is put him in the Spring House until we can bury him decently." Joe nodded jerkily. He knew his father was right, but it went against everything in him to take care of such niceties when he could be looking for his brother. Ben watched his face carefully, then nodded his approval. "Good. We'll all check in here again in one hour. If anyone finds anything, fire your gun into the air to alert the others. Now, let's get to it." He watched them divide themselves into teams, his throat suddenly tight. "And God speed," he added softly, half to himself.

***

Joe had to try three times before successfully lighting the lantern, his hands clumsy and unsteady. He glanced up to see if anyone had noticed, but Curly was frowning out the bunkhouse door, and his father seemed deep in his own thoughts. He cleared his throat carefully before speaking, trying to dislodge some obstruction that seemed to have settled in the middle of it. "This way," he managed. He lead them to the area in front of the house where he remembered seeing Shorty before shooing Sport and Cochise out of the way and going after Red. He couldn't make out the dark lump that would indicate Shorty's body though, so he crouched down for a better look. Nothing. He moved a little further forward of the spot and then to the right and the left, increasingly puzzled. "But he was right here!" he burst out at last.

"So what you're telling me is that my son with a gunshot wound to his head wandered off, and then my dead ranch hand wandered off after him?" Ben's voice sounded flat in the darkness.   

"I'm telling you he was here - or right near here - a few hours ago! And he was dead! No way he could have..." Joe stared about him helplessly, seeing the lanterns of the other men bouncing like fireflies in the darkness, but little else.

Curly pried the lantern gently from his grip and bent down to look for himself. He rested a hand on the spot on the ground, then picked it up and studied his fingers. "Blood," he said after a minute. "Ground cover looks sorta flat, too." 

Ben knelt next to him to look for himself. "Then he was here."

Curly nodded. "Looks like." He held the lantern close to the ground, trying to see better. "Might've been drug thataway - can't see clear fer sure, but there looks to be some blood and flattening in that direction."

Joe squatted next to him, feeling a rush of relief. He had been suffering the beginnings of doubts about his own sanity.  "Maybe Adam buried him," he said suddenly. "Maybe it took him longer, on accounta he was hurt, but maybe that's where he is."

Ben was silent a moment, mulling this over. "Possible," he said at last. "Likely, even. But why on earth didn't he stop when it got dark?"

Joe closed his eyes, feeling as if his breathing was starting to right itself for the first time in days. "Wouldn't stop till he was done - you know how he is. Or maybe he sat down to take a rest and fell asleep, bein' wounded and all."

Ben's eyes lingered on the barely visible tract of ground, listening to the search parties' voices in the distance, hollering out his eldest son's name. "If so, then that should rouse him, if he's in any kind of shape to - " he pushed abruptly to his feet. "Lend me the lantern. I'm going to see if this drag mark leads anywhere. In fact, Joe - go back to the house and fetch another one, will you? Check in on Mary and Hoss, too."

Joe hesitated, wanting to protest, but even in the uncertain light of the lantern Ben's eyes looked so hollow that he stopped himself. "Okay, Pa," he said reluctantly. "But I'll be back out to help."

If Ben heard him, he gave no indication. He was trying to trace the almost invisible - possibly imaginary - drag marks. They had only gone a few feet when he shook his head and stopped. "I don't see anything more," he admitted. "In fact, I'm not sure I saw anything in the first place. " He stood up to stretch out his back and stared ahead toward a stand of pine. "Let's follow to where we feel it would logically lead, anyway. Probably a wild goose chase..." But action is better than waiting. He finished the thought silently, opening the lantern hood a little further and sweeping the light across the trees. Nothing that looked out of place. The sound of the searchers calling Adam's name continued unabated in the background, though, and he moved forward slowly, sweeping the lantern light across the ground in front of him. Curly followed close behind him, silently keeping pace.

The light glinted off a dark mound under the trees, and he quickened his steps, his heart trip-hammering in his chest.

"Look!" he pointed the mound out to Curly. "Is it - ?" He pushed the hood open to its fullest extent and played it hopefully over the indistinct lump. Then swallowed hard. A pile of sticks, that was all. Firewood or brush, probably. He let the lantern drop and swing from his hand, almost sick with disappointment. Must be brush. Wasn't good burning wood... He was only vaguely aware of Curly moving forward to look more closely, until he heard him calling his name.

"Take a look here, Mr. Cartwright."

Ben moved forward, barely able to summon the strength and interest. Curly was pulling back some of the branches to reveal...he aimed the lantern a little better. "What? - is it? - "

"Ain't long enough to be Adam." Curly pointed out calmly. "I'm thinking Shorty."

Ben stared. It was a body - carefully laid out with his hands crossed over his chest and covered with branches...to keep predators away, he realized suddenly, until Adam could - what? Dig a grave? Fetch help? If indeed it was Adam who had...he squatted by the head Curly had uncovered, noting the face was respectfully draped with a handkerchief. The kind dignity of the gesture pricked like a needle against his heart. He didn't have to look at the handkerchief monogram to know who had done this. He lifted the cloth delicately and saw that the eyes had been closed and coins placed on them to keep them closed. He dropped the corner of the handkerchief. "It's Shorty," he affirmed quietly. "Well, we know Adam was here, anyway."  He rubbed at his chest, trying to massage away the sob that suddenly rose there.

And that was all well and good - but where was Adam now?

Where was his boy?

***

He had been cold, but that was past now. Maybe somebody had come and put a quilt over him - Marie probably. She did that sometimes, late at night, but he pretended not to know about it, afraid she would stop if she knew he liked it. Like so many things that disappeared if you said aloud that you liked them. Better to keep quiet, he had learned. Things lasted longer that way.

He was distantly aware of voices calling his name but drew away from them, deeper inside himself. Must be time to get up...but he wasn't ready...not quite yet. Just a couple more minutes. Outside of the quilt he knew he would be cold again and he was tired of being cold.  In fact, he was just plain tired. Must have studied too late in bed again...Pa would be mad if he knew he was using up all that lamp oil. He'd have to see how much money he had saved - sneak out and buy some more. It's just those new math problems Mr. Reeves had given him were so absorbing - like magic, the way they answered so many of his questions. He tried to stretch a little, get ready to get up, but his body felt so heavy...wouldn't hurt to lie here just a little bit longer. Go over the math problems in his head.

The sound of his name came again - louder and nearer - and he sighed inwardly. He must have fallen back asleep. Now he would be late waking up Hoss and Hoss was hard to wake, too. They'd both be late for breakfast and Pa would be mad. The problem was Hoss hated school. He couldn't imagine hating school himself - had tried to show Hoss all the wonderful things he could learn there, the wonder of the magical math problems - but Hoss had looked so confused and then so sad that he had stopped.  Maybe school just wasn't for everybody. Come to think of it, not many people did like to talk about math problems - not even Pa, and he was the smartest there was. So maybe Hoss was just normal.

Hoss...he was trying to remember something about Hoss now - something important. Something he had to get up for. He frowned in concentration and that made his head hurt. Had he hurt himself? Was he sick? Maybe that's why he felt so tired. Maybe he wasn't going to school today...but he hated to miss. If he could get himself up maybe he could talk Pa into letting him go.  Otherwise he'd be stuck home all day with Marie and Joe...Joe. He frowned again and gave a grunt of surprise at the pain that erupted this time.  Was there something he was supposed to be doing about Joe? Maybe he needed changing? But Marie usually did that when she got him ready for breakfast. And why did his head...?

...Hoss and Joe. A little alarm bell rang in his brain whenever he thought of them, but he couldn't remember why. It seemed important, but he couldn't remember. All he could remember were the math problems...the two sides of an isosceles triangle...he liked geometry best. Liked the way flat numbers and lines on paper became real live, three dimensional things...savoured the exotic sound of the Greek names and terms. He smiled just faintly, remembering trying to explain "pi" to Hoss - to explain that it wasn't a dessert made by Hop Sing...Hoss had been so disappointed.

Hoss. His smile disappeared again. What had been...what was he...he had to get up, that was all. Pa was strict about some things, like thirteen-year-old boys being able to get themselves up and ready for school without reminding. Really, he - unless he was sick. He really didn't feel very -  maybe he was. Maybe that was why he couldn't remember...the two sides of a  - no. Wait. The three sides, that was it. The three sides of an isosceles - no. Hoss. And Joe. He was supposed to...he was...his head hurt. Why did his head hurt so...? He'd better call for Pa. Pa would know what - he wouldn't be mad if he...he opened his mouth and coughed instead, found a surprising mouthful of water, an unexpected, crushing weight across his chest.  He coughed again, the pain this time filling his head with darkness and pushing back the rest of the world, leaving only the pain and the tiredness enshrouding him. He tried once more to form the words, but his lips felt stiff and clumsy...he couldn't tell if he had actually...couldn't seem to hear...and now he was cold again...Pa? I think I need... 

***

Joe paused and shook his lantern again, but the oil still sloshed alarmingly low. He had resorted to taking one from the porch - he didn't know why Pa thought there would be any left, what with the number they'd given the hands - and it was the one Adam liked to use to read by nights, so it was no wonder it was burning low.

Adam. His heart squeezed within him. He just barely felt like he had Hoss back - like maybe he was really going to be all right again and now...how did everything go so wrong? He paused his steps a moment and swallowed, brushing a hand impatiently at his eyes. Pa was right. He didn't have time for this. He needed to fill the lamp and get back to the search. For all he knew, every hour might count. He stiffened his spine and staunchly set forward again. After all, he had been almost sure Hoss was going to die and now - well, Hoss didn't look wonderful or anything, but he seemed a little better. Like he'd turned the corner or something. He'd been sleeping okay, snoring a little, just like he did when he was comfortable. So maybe Adam...he sniffed again and scrubbed savagely at his nose.  No time for that kid stuff. It was bad enough he had - he could hardly stand to think about how he had - but now Adam needed him and this time he wasn't going to let him down. He wasn't. He saw the supply shed before him and reached for the door. It swung loose, banging gently in the light wind.

Joe gave a low whistle. Boy, he'd hate to be the hand who left the shed unlatched if Adam found out. That was just the kind of carelessness that set him off on one of his lectures. He reached forward to catch the door and hang the lantern on the nail embedded on the other side. And paused. What was...? He raised the lantern a little higher to see better, then ran a finger along the door, feeling a sudden chill. Was that...? Blood. Wasn't there yesterday. It must be - 

"Adam?" he took an anxious step inside, peeling back the lantern hood and flashing it around. "Adam? It's Joe! You in here?" He paced around the small, crowded interior, scattered the light over the shelves, even though he knew they couldn't hide a six-foot-plus man. But he HAD been here. And recently - since he was hurt. Where was he now, was the question?

"ADAM?" Like shouting would help. Joe forced himself to take a deep breath. He needed to keep his head. He would refill his lantern. Go tell Pa what he had found. He glanced around at the shelves, wondering if he would be able to figure out what Adam had come looking for - if it would give him a clue as to where to find him.

Oh, Adam - where are you? Everything looked in place. Well, damn Adam anyway for always being so neat. He grabbed the jug of oil and filled the lamp, then re-lit it and shot a last look around the shed before leaving, shutting the door carefully behind him. He paused to run his hand over the bloodstain. I'll find you, Adam, he told himself firmly. I will. I promise.

The night seemed even darker and the voices and lanterns of the other searchers far away. The tree leaves rustled softly. He wondered what time it was - how long they had been looking now. Pa had said he couldn't have gone far, because - no. He wasn't going to think about that right now. It wouldn't help and he needed to - he tripped over something in the dark and swore softly. Damn! He would have said he knew every tree root around here! What - ? Hopping on one foot in irritation, he shone the lantern on the ground. A damn rope. Well, whoever had left it out here on the ground to mildew, a perfectly good rope, was REALLY going to...he saw the canvas the next minute and stopped. The picture didn't make sense to his tired brain right away, but he knew it was important, and after a minute he knelt down next to them for a better look. The rope coil was coming loose - as though somebody had just thrown it down - and the canvas was unrolling...not neat at all. He hesitated. But if Adam was trying to bury Shorty...he stroked a hand across the canvas and stood up again, moving the lantern this way and that. "Adam?" he raised his voice. "Adam! Are you here?" Only the trees rustled in answer.

Angry now, he took a step randomly, flashing his lantern. "Adam! It's Joe! Are you - ?"  The ground crumbled suddenly under his foot, and he jumped back hastily.

And there you go again, off half-cocked, just like Pa warned everybody, he told himself irritably. Not thinking about what you're doing - just letting your emotions run you until you almost find yourself head first down in the creek bed. Not like there's much water to break your fall this time of year, either.  He put the lantern down carefully beside him and squatted, letting his head hang for a moment, waiting to collect himself. All Pa needs tonight is one more injured son. He waited until he felt a little steadier, then sucked in a deep breath of the cool night air and reached again for the lantern. And stopped. What was...?

He reached out a hand delicately, sure for a minute he was imagining things, touched it gently, so as not to disturb it. That wasn't where he had slipped, was it? No - that was to his right - he could make it out from here. So maybe..."ADAM!" he stared down into the blackness of the creek bed, lay on his stomach and lowered the lantern as far as he could. Nothing. The steep, perpendicular banks of the narrow creek created deep, inky shadows that the lantern couldn't possibly penetrate from this height. "Adam!" he called again, more frantically. "Adam, it's Joe! Are you down there?"

He wasn't answering - maybe he wasn't there, or maybe he couldn't answer - well, he would find out for sure, all right - he set the lantern carefully aside and tried to picture the creek bed in his head. Banks about nine feet high, and too steep for him to slide down - maybe he could dangle and drop. He turned around to position himself, and then flinched as another piece of bank gave away.  And hesitated again. If he hurt himself getting down there, or even if he didn't and he did find Adam, how would he get them out? His eyes flickered over the rope. All well and good, but how would that help without someone on the other end? He stared into the blackness. He wanted to know now - he couldn't bear another wild goose chase - if Adam was down there he wanted to see for himself - see that he was still alive - and the sooner the better...but...he sat back on his heels, covering his face with his hands. But doing things fast, without thinking - insisting on doing things his way - had brought him nothing but trouble these past few days. Maybe...maybe this time...he should try something different. He wiped his hands on his trousers, squinting skyward for a moment, then clearing his throat. "Adam - if you're down there..." his voice came out sounding small and scared, and he tried again. "- I'm gonna get help. But I'll be back. I'm gonna get you out, Adam. I promise. You hear me? I'll be back." He forced himself to his feet before he could change his mind and turned hastily, snatching at the lantern. "I'll be back." He repeated fiercely, grinding the heel of his hand into his eyes. "I'll be back."

Chapter 2

"Adam!"

Now what?

"Adam! Adam. It's Joe!"

It's too early, Joe. Go to Marie.

"Adam..." Joe was saying something else and this time he sounded scared, so with a resigned sigh, he tried to bestir himself. Nothing happened. Everything, even his body, seemed so far away. Sorry, Joe. Go to Pa or Hoss. They'll look out for you.

Now it was quiet again and his chest lifted slightly in a shallow sigh. Good...

"ADAM."

Not again.

"Adam, wake up!"

Not Joe this time.

"ADAM."

Not - a woman. Sounded angry. Marie?

"Adam, you will not go to sleep."

Why not.

"Adam. You will stay awake!"

Go away.

"Not until you answer a few questions for me."

...Questions?

"That's right. Questions. Geometry questions."

...Not now.

"Right now."

Tired.

"I know you are, but it's important. What is the name of an angle that is less than ninety degrees?"

Don't know.

"Of course you do. That's an easy one."

Don't care.

"Of course you care. You always care. You can't help yourself. Come on, you know the answer."

Tired.

"Yes, I know - and after you answer all my questions I'm going to let you rest. Now, the name of the angle?" There was a pause, then the voice became more insistent. "Adam? The angle?"

            ...acute.

            "That's right. Very good. What about an angle that is MORE than ninety degrees, but less than one eighty?"

            Don't remember.

            "Yes, you do."

            Don't...please. So tired.

"Yes, I know. Just answer the questions and I'll let you sleep as long as you like. What is the name - "

Obtuse.

"Very good. So an angle that is exactly ninety degrees - "

Right. Finished?

"Almost. Just a couple more...let's see...what's a parallelogram with unequal adjacent sides?"

Silence.

"Adam? ADAM?" 

A long drawn sigh. ......here...

"You will NOT go to sleep!"

...not. A sudden cough rattled his chest and he waited wearily for the spell to pass. Didn't hurt...he observed thoughtfully after a second.

"No?"

Used to. Better, maybe. ...So far away...

"Adam. The parallelogram?"

Don't know.

"Certainly you do."

Don't.

"Now you're just being stubborn."

Something in her voice struck him and he frowned a little. Not Marie... Hm. Frowning didn't hurt so much any more either...didn't feel much of anything, actually...

...Rhomboid, he answered at last.

"That's my boy."

"ADAM?"

Joe again. What...?

"I'll leave you with Joe, now. Stay awake just a little longer for me?"

What...?

"Just a little longer, baby."

Who...are you?

"Adam!"

***

"Adam!" Joe leaned as far over the bank as he dared. "Adam, I'm back, just like I said. I brought Curly. We're gonna get you out!" He turned his head to where Curly was carefully fingering the indentation in the bank. "What d'ya think?"

Curly shrugged cautiously. "Sure looks like a boot heel. Ain't too old, neither. Could be anybody, o' course."

"Yeah...but there's the rope and the canvas..."

"Hell, I ain't sayin' we shouldn't look - 'bout the only place left we ain't checked. I'm just thinkin' on how."

"Lower me." Joe returned impatiently. "Then the lantern - I'll search the creek bed." Curly scratched contemplatively at his head. Joe read his hesitation and scowled. "It's got to be me, Curly. I'm lighter and you may need to haul us both up the bank. If Adam is down there and he can't answer, he's not gonna be much help." Curly still didn't reply and Joe seethed with frustration. "Darn it, Curly, he's my brother - I got a right!"

Curly sat back on his haunches. "Ain't about that, Joe," he said mildly. "'S'bout what makes the most sense and gets everybody the least hurt."

Joe felt himself flush in the darkness. He had promised himself he wasn't going to do that any more. "I know, Curly," he said after a minute. "But my plan does make the most sense."

Curly sighed. "Reckon," he admitted after a minute. "But if somethin' happens to you, too, I figger yer Pa'll have my hide, so you be careful. None o' yer stunts."

Joe let his breath out in a rush. "I will be. I promise. I just want to see if he's there."

"All right." Curly picked up the rope and began to deftly tie a lasso. "Get this tight around you, now. And go real slow. Banks about straight down - probably have to lower you for most of it."

Joe slid the rope over his head and tightened it under his arms, easing himself over the side of the bank. A chunk of earth gave way under one hand, and for a moment he was air bound before he stopped with a jerk that rattled his teeth and yanked at his shoulder muscles.

"You okay?" Curly's voice sounded surprisingly close, since he couldn't really see him.

"Fine. Just surprised me."

Curly lowered him at a smooth pace until Joe felt the creek floor just below him. "Okay. You can let go." He felt his boot heels make contact with the uneven rocks that lined the creek bed, stumbling as one shifted abruptly under his weight. He tried to catch himself, but caught his other foot under something else and sat down hard with a splash. God damn.

"Joe? Joe, you all right?"

"Yeah...just tripped over something." Curly's silence was eloquent, and he elaborated hastily, "Something. Not someone. Send down the lantern?"

He heard the lantern start its bumping descent, and Curly's disembodied voice say, "Heard a splash. Got much water in there?"

"Couple inches. Not much. Not even enough to cover most of the rocks. Unfortunately." He heard Curly's chuckle of appreciation. "Damn cold, though." He groped for the object he had tripped over, felt his hand curl around a smooth wooden cylinder. He felt down its length to the curving bowl of metal at one end. "Shovel," he whispered out loud.

"What's that?"

Joe bit his lip. "It's a shovel. That I tripped over." He ran his hand over the metal end. "No rust that I can feel. Couldn't have been here long."  There was a tense silence. "Curly - this water is freezing."

Joe knew his voice must have sounded strained, because Curly answered him with carefully measured calm. "Think the lantern just landed. Untie it and tie the shovel on and I'll bring it up."

Joe shifted himself to his knees, the sharp edges of the stones grinding into his flesh through his trousers, and felt around for the lantern. He managed to undo the knot with hands that were already shaking with the cold and immediately opened the lantern hood. The sudden burst of light made him feel better, and he was a little steadier as he tied the shovel in its place. "Ready."  He didn't wait to watch the shovel start its journey but steadied himself against the bank instead and stood up. The rocks tilted under his feet, so he kept a hand on the bank for balance as he made his way forward, training the light in either direction.

"Anything?"

"Not yet - really dark down here, though - can't see much ahead and it's slow - oh, God."

"Joe?"

Joe took an urgent step, losing his precarious foothold and falling suddenly forward to land with a resounding splash, followed by the crunching, shattering sound of the lantern landing. "Joe? "

"Oh, God." Joe hardly noticed his landing, hardly noticed the harsh chill of the water against his chest or the misery of the stones stabbing into him. He crawled frantically forward, swinging his hand in front of him, trying to make contact with what he'd seen. "Oh, God, Curly."

"Joe? Answer me, damn it! Are you all right?"

"Oh, God." Joe felt his hand brush something and twisted his fingers hard around it...a boot toe...and pulled himself forward, scrambling from his stomach to his knees, following the boot up the long length of leg, to a belt buckle, then a coat button...God, the coat was drenched...he seemed so cold...stopped when he felt the curve of a sternum under his hand.

Come on, he breathed, resting it there. Come on, damn it! He felt the icy skin stir with a thin, feeble cough and dropped his forehead on his hand, not even trying to stop the sob that crowded his throat.

"Joe? What the blazes is goin' on down there?"

Joe didn't bother to lift his head, but he turned it a little so he could be heard, fighting to get his voice under control. "He's here, Curly," he choked. He tightened his free hand in the soaked but familiar lapel and held on for all he was worth. "And he's alive."

***

"Thank God. How's he look?"

Joe lifted his head and squinted in the direction of Curly's voice. "Can't tell," he admitted sheepishly. "I dropped the lantern."

There was a short silence. "Okay. Can you get the rope around him?"

"Hang on." Joe carefully felt his way up Adam's chest to his neck, then his cheek. The cheek felt so cold he wouldn't have recognized it as flesh if it weren't for the sandpapery, late day stubble he was so familiar with there. Joe shifted himself a little so he could reach more comfortably and patted the cheek lightly. "Adam? Hey, Adam - it's Joe." Silence. Joe braced the other cheek with his other hand and patted a little harder. "Adam? Come on, Adam - wake up. It's time to go home." Still nothing. Wincing apologetically, Joe slapped harder. "C'mon, Adam - we gotta get out of here." Adam's head lolled lifelessly between his hands. Joe felt a frisson of panic in his chest. "Curly, he's really out of it. God, he's so cold."

"Can you carry him?"

"Probably, but the creek bed is uneven, and I've already fallen twice - I'm afraid of dropping him." He unconsciously rested his hand against the frigid cheek while he thought. "Can't drag him across these stones, either - tear him to shreds."

Curly's voice sounded uneasy. "So what are you suggestin'?"

"I think you better go back for help."

"I ain't leavin' you two down there alone."

"What else can we do? Curly, we've really gotta get him outta here - he's not even shivering any more. For that matter, I'm gettin' pretty cold myself."

He heard Curly's sigh all the way down the bank. "Reckon yer right. You promise me you'll sit right there and not do anythin' stupid?"

"Where the heck am I gonna go? Just hurry, okay? Bring a couple of men." He ran his hand down Adam's face and shuddered. "Better send somebody for the doc, too. And bring blankets. "

"Right."

Joe watched the bright flicker of Curly's lantern move away from the bank, and his heart shook. "Curly - " he called. The lantern paused in its progress. "Don't forget to tell Pa!"

He heard a snort of laughter in response. "Now there's somethin' I'd be likely to forget," he drawled sarcastically.  

"Right," agreed Joe meekly. "Hurry, okay?" He watched as the darkness swallowed up the last flicker of light and Curly was gone. The night was suddenly silent except for the soft whisper of the wind.

"Looks like it's just you and me, big brother," he said aloud to cut the silence. The wind made him shiver, and he slid his hand down to rest on Adam's chest again. "If that feels cold for me, what's it like for you, huh?" he mused. He fingered the sodden fabric of his brother's barn coat. "That's got to be doin' more harm than good - let's see if I can get it off you - maybe make you more comfortable." Feeling his way carefully in the dark he grasped both lapels and eased Adam into sitting position. "I'm gonna move behind you, now - you just lean back on me." He was about positive Adam couldn't hear a word he was saying, but it made him feel better to talk. He got himself positioned the way he wanted and leaned Adam back against his chest, gasping with surprise at the first contact of the sopping coat with his shirtfront. God, Adam - how are you even alive?

He grit his teeth and gave himself a minute to adjust before continuing, "Now, we're just gonna slide this off your left shoulder...then the sleeve...you and those darned long arms of yours...hang on..." he leaned him carefully forward and peeled the coat away across the back, then rested him against his chest again. The shirt was almost as cold, but at least it didn't hold so much water. "Good, now the right arm..." He pushed the sleeve down as far as the elbow, then it seemed to snag on something, so he tugged at it. Adam made a small sound of protest, and he stopped in surprise. "Adam? You awake?" There was no answer, and Joe positioned the limp head in the crook of his neck so he could listen better. "Adam?" He brushed a hand over Adam's hair and shivered again as chilled rivulets of water trickled from the drenched hair down his own neck and chest. I wish I could at least get that dry. That's got to be freezing you when the wind hits it. Bet I don't have a handkerchief with me, though...he ran his hand over it again, trying to get at least some of the water out, then reached down to give the sleeve another try, feeling his way carefully. This time he felt the forearm, thick and hard as a log of wood and straining against the confines of the sleeve, and dropped his forehead against the wet black hair.

"Think you busted your arm, brother," he managed after a minute, trying to keep his voice light. "What other damage you do to yourself, huh? Sure wish I could see you." He moved the arm gently so that it lay across Adam's lap, out of the way, and sighed. "Fraid that one sleeve is gonna have to stay. Don't dare try cutting it in the dark. Maybe we should get your shirt off, though, too, huh? Least I can rip that sleeve out. Then I guess we might get rid of mine - it's not much better after that tumble I took. Pretty soon we'll be stripped down for a dip like the first day of summer..." he began to maneuver the buttons out of the button holes as he talked, gave up as his own hands began to shake with the cold and ripped the placket open instead, listening to the buttons as they flew in every direction and plinged softly into the water. "Just as well you missed that. Not the sort of thing you like." He ripped the rest of the shirt off too to avoid shifting him around any more than necessary. "All right, now mine. My jacket's not too bad - maybe I can get it around both of us..."

He pulled Adam closer to him, wrapping an arm around his chest and resting a hand over his heart to assure himself that it was still beating. Seemed slow. He settled his other arm high around his shoulders. "Sure wish you'd talk to me. I'd even settle for one of your lectures about now. On anything you like - I'd sit right through and not make a peep..." Where the heck was Curly? The rest of the men couldn't be that far away! He strained his ears for a sign of approach, but only heard the soft voices of the tree frogs. He buried his face in Adam's hair.

"And you think I do some dumb things? Least I didn't wander off with a hole in my head and drop myself down some damn creek bed and bust my arm and freeze myself half to death and scare everybody out of their minds...now I'm sitting here half frozen in this damn water and whose fault is that, huh? It's one thing for me to do this kind of thing, Adam, but I expect better from you. I expect a little more - a little more - sense, you know? A little more - consideration. Makes me so mad...maybe that's why you get so mad at me when I... But that's not the point. I EXPECT better from you." He felt Adam's chest suck in abruptly under his hand, then shake with a wet-sounding cough that turned his stomach. He held on to him with all his might until it passed, then swallowed slowly. "Sounds like maybe you breathed in some creek water, too, huh?" The chest moved again, struggling hard, then again, less certainly. Joe sat up straight, moving his right arm to cradle the docile head against his neck. "Oh, no you don't - " he said shrilly. "No, you don't - don't even think about it! You're not leavin' me here sittin' in this damn creek bed alone - this wasn't my idea! You're not goin' to leave me sittin' here to explain things to Pa when he shows up, to tell him that you - that you - and then Hoss, tomorrow mornin', after he - don't even think about it, Adam - don't even give it a thought, because as long as I got breath in my body you ain't goin' nowhere!" Adam coughed again and Joe gave him a little shake. "Darn you, you talk to me! You tell me - tell me about - about - building things - or history - or poetry - or any of those darned things you're always tryin' to tell me about - come on, Adam - I'm listenin' - now you talk to me!"

The air rattled wetly in Adam's lungs, and Joe shuddered. Sounded like he was struggling...he had some vague remembrance of Doc Martin doing something for that one time when Adam had pneumonia - some kind of clapping motion on his chest and back - and tentatively freed one hand to try it. "You keep breathing," he told him sternly. Clap. "You talk to me!" Clap. "Tell me about...those philosophers." Clap. "Or those poets." Clap. "Or those artists..." Clap. An idea came to him on the wind... "Or how about those mathematics fellas?" Clap. "You know - who's that fella..." Clap. "The Greek fella..." Clap. "The one with the theories..." Clap. "You know...all those drawings and arrows and things..." Clap. "C'mon, don't you dare quit on me..." Clap. "You tell me, now..." Clap. "C'mon, Adam..." CLAP. "Damn you, Adam - " CLAP.

Adam convulsed suddenly in his arms, coughing and spitting up something. Joe held tight to him until he was done, his left hand meticulously tracking his breathing. Adam finally went limp and settled back against him, his face coming to rest against Joe's neck.  Joe waited a few minutes, still carefully monitoring his heartbeat and breathing. Still slow, still faint, but steadier. More regular. He closed his eyes in an agony of relief, but when he spoke he tried to keep his voice sounding calm. "That feel better?"

            He felt the faintest flicker of Adam's eyelashes on his neck and the whisper of his breath on his collarbone. He frowned a little. Was that a sigh, or did he actually say something? "Adam? You tryin' to say somethin'?" He could just feel his lips moving, and the faint expulsion of air. He bent his ear as close to the struggling lips as he could get. "Adam?"

            "...tha...grus..."

"What's that?"

"....tha......gru..."

Joe shook his head, not convinced it was an attempt to communicate. "I don't..."

"....tha.....grus...." He was still again.

Joe pulled him closer, trying to force his own dwindling body warmth into him. "Sorry, Adam, but I don't..." A thought struck him, something from deep in the recesses of his mind, and he threw back his head and laughed in sudden amazement. "That's right!" he howled, pushing at a wetness on his face that had nothing to do with the creek. "That's right - now I remember! That's more like it!  Now, THAT'S my brother!"

***

"Joseph!" Joe jerked upright. He'd been so focused on Adam's breathing and on staying warm that he'd missed the sounds of men approaching. "Joseph, are you down there?"

Joe waited for Adam's heart to beat once more, just to be sure, then turned his head toward the voice. "Yeah, Pa!" he shouted back. "We're here." A sprinkling of bright lights bobbed in a staggered line above him.

There was a mixed murmur of voices, too indistinct to make out, then his father again. "We're sending some men down - just hang on." By now Joe could clearly hear the noises of men gathering at the bank - the clack and splash of someone's feet on the wet stones, the clattering of something heavy and hollow, his father's deep voice, lowered with urgency, arguing about something.

Joe rested his head on Adam's, shivering too hard himself now to tell if he had warmed him any or not. "Hear that, big brother? Help is right here. Almost home." Adam didn't answer - hadn't made a sound since that one time, but Joe kept his hand where it was so he could still feel his heart laboring away. He suddenly realized that somebody was pulling at that hand and shrank away from them, tightening his other arm protectively around Adam.

"Joe - Joe! It's Curly! You gotta let him go now!"

Joe blinked, frowning suspiciously in front of him, then squinting uncomfortably at the faint glow of light from a lantern resting nearby. "Curly?" he glared. "Where the heck did you go for help? Reno?"

Curly chuckled softly, pulling with gentle insistence at the death grip he had around Adam's chest. "Cold sure makes you cranky, huh? Joe, you're gonna have to let go so we can get you both outta here."

Now Joe realized that there was someone behind him, too, trying to help him to his feet even as Curly was trying to take Adam from him. Almost involuntarily, he clung harder.

He heard Curly's heavy sigh, felt him stop prying at his arms. "Joe, if we don't get at least one of you up on that bank pretty soon yer Pa's comin' down here, and I know you don't want that. So you gonna let go or you gonna hold on till both of you freeze ta death?" Joe eased his grip a little. "Good. Now, let ol' Frank help you and let me help Adam, and we'll all go home."

Joe let go with one arm but hesitated at removing his hand from Adam's heart. "You gotta be careful with him."

"Wouldn't have it no other way."

"I think his arm's broke - the right one."

"I'll watch fer it."

"He ain't breathin' too good neither - "

"All the more reason to move this along."

"Right." Joe dropped his other arm and was immediately hefted to his feet. He was surprised at the way his knees wobbled. Frank firmly turned him toward the bank, but he couldn't resist a backward glance and saw Curly preparing to shift Adam onto his shoulders. Well, Curly was strong. It'd be all right. It would be. It had to be. Frank was talking to him - something about blankets and wet clothes -

"We got hot coffee up there, too - reckon you'd better get some down you. Don't worry about ol' Adam - Curly'll look out fer him an' there's a whole crew waiting on the bank to heft him up..."

Joe became aware of an odd sensation under his feet and tried to see the creek bed. "What did you do with the rocks?"

"Brought some boards along to cover them...Curly said we needed a more stable surface."

"Oh. Good thinking..." he had barely finished that thought when he felt Frank force a rope under his arms and yell, "Take him up!" and his feet left the ground abruptly.  Strong hands grabbed his shoulders, then slid the rope over his head almost before he knew what had happened. Someone threw a blanket around him and handed him a steaming tin cup. It felt like heaven in his stiff palms, but the cup shimmied like it was doing a jig, and he noticed for the first time how hard he was shaking.

"Joseph!" He recognized the familiar legs that stopped in front of him, saw his fathers face, lined and drawn, even in the poor light offered by the lanterns, as he crouched before him. "You all right, son?"

He nodded, sucking down the steaming beverage. "Fine, Pa. A little c-cold. Where's - ?"

Ben seemed to know what he was trying to ask, because he glanced over his shoulder toward the bank where they could just make out the backs of three men on their knees, bent forward.

"Got his arms," one said, and he recognized the voice of one of the newer wranglers.

"Okay, easy," that was Curly. "Watch that right arm - and don't get too close to the edge - that bank ain't any too steady."

"All right - got his legs." Sounded like Clyde this time.

"Think I can get my hands under his back. Lordy, he's like ice." Deever.

"Just go slow. He don't need to drop down this bank twice today."   

A dark bundle appeared balanced between them, just above the bank, and they stood in careful unison and backed away. Joe jumped to his feet to run over and see for himself - or meant to. To his surprise, he found he was still sitting in the same spot, his legs shaky and lead-like. Ben stood and turned in one quick motion, not noticing that Joe wasn't behind him. Joe felt a heavy hand on his shoulder and twisted his head to follow it up to a face.

Frank returned his look with an understanding grin. "Muscles just won't cooperate right away, huh?" Joe shook his head, his eyes seeking out the huddled shapes a few yards away. "We'll get you up and walking back to the house in a bit - it'll help a lot." He followed Joe's gaze. "We'll get him back, too."

Curly's voice drifted up from the creek bed. "Hey, somebody want ta haul ME up now?" Joe and Frank looked at each other and laughed in spite of themselves.

"Comin' Curly, keep yer shirt on." Deever called, leaving the indistinct circle of shadows and striding toward the bank.

"Yeah, keep it on, Curly," another voice added. "I've seen ya without it. Believe me, it's better that way!" A chorus of chuckles greeted this sally.

"Very funny." Curly dragged himself back on the bank edge, pulling the rope off over his head and straightening his jacket. "Few of you witty boys think you can stop crackin' jokes long enough to put together some kind o' stretcher fer Adam?"

Two more shadows peeled away from the huddle and came to join him. He pointed them to what was left of the blankets and walked over to where Ben and Clyde remained bent over Adam's prone form and crouched down next to them. "Think we oughta try cuttin' that jacket off'n his arm first? Cain't be doin' him no good."

Clyde studied it without touching. "Maybe cut around the sleeve. Don't wanna touch that sleeve till we got more light to work by - no tellin' how bad it's broke." He glanced at Ben for his thoughts, but Ben didn't seem to hear, intent on stroking the damp hair away from Adam's face. Clyde and Curly exchanged a speaking glance, and Clyde pulled his knife out of his boot. "I'll cut the jacket, anyway. Help keep 'em dry." He sawed briskly at the uncooperative fabric, trying not to jostle the arm , pausing with his hand on Adam's bicep to give a low whistle. "Just get a load o' how rigid that muscle is. Better go check on yer stretcher boys - even this little bit a wind is stealing heat from 'em, an' he cain't afford it. Needs ta be inside." He slashed away the last of the jacket, throwing it aside, and folded the blankets back over him. 

"Right." Curly lumbered to his feet. "Mr. Cartwright, I'm just gonna go over there, check an see if them boys got that stretcher ready...if you'll just stick here with him in just another minute we're gonna be movin' him out, okay?" Ben didn't give any indication he had heard, and Curly and Clyde exchanged another uncomfortable glance. "All right, sir. We'll be back in just a minute."

"I'll go with you - see if we cain't hurry things along." Clyde stood, dusting his hands on his pants and studying Ben thoughtfully. Curly raised his brows at him in silent question, and he shrugged in return and followed.

"All right, so what you boys doin' over here - havin' a slow contest?"

The hands looked up from their handiwork.

"No," returned Deever with some asperity, "but you shoulda knowed most o' the wood out this way was too soft ta make good stretcher poles - shoulda brought somethin' with us."

Curly rubbed at the back of his neck. "Well, the supply shed is just a bit from here - you think of goin' there for them poles we use in winter ta check snow banks fer cows?" There was a brief silence, and Curly shook his head. "Lucky thing nobody pays you fellas fer yer thinkin'. You - go to the shed. Deever, you go with him. See if you cain't show me a little speed here. Now, where'd Joe get off to?"

"Frank's keepin' an eye on him."

"Good." Curly half-turned. "Mr. Cartwright, we'll be just another minute here - somebody went fer the doc?"

"Lem set out - he's quick."

"Good. Mr. Cartwright - " he stopped, his mouth dropping open. "Mr. Cartwright - what the blazes you think yer doin'?"

Heedless of the conversation going on nearby, Ben had wrapped the blankets tightly around Adam and gathered him into his arms like a child.

"Mr. Cartwright, you cain't carry him!" The look Ben gave him was withering even in the uncertain light and froze Curly for a moment, but as Ben started to walk away he came to himself and took a determined step after him. "Mr. Cartwright - "

Clyde's hand on his arm stopped him. "Leave him go."

Curly yanked his arm away. "Are you crazy? That boy ain't no sack of feathers, and Mr. Cartwright ain't as young as he was, no matter what he thinks!"

Clyde watched the broad retreating back for a moment, then he reached down and grasped a lantern handle.  "You clean up here. I'll walk with him."

Curly shook his head. "Well, that's just fine. He ain't in bad enough shape? What if he drops him?"

Clyde gave his arm an absent-minded pat, his face pensive. "He won't drop him," he said at last with quiet certainty. "See ya at the house."

Chapter 3

Joe pulled the belt of his robe more tightly around him and bundled his wet trousers into a corner. He'd deal with those later. Right now he had more urgent things to see to.

Walking had helped - Frank had been right about that. Joe had hurried along beside him, feeling stiff-legged and sluggish, but a little more like himself with every passing minute.  Frank had kept up some kind of a steady line of chatter, but despite the fact the sound was comforting, Joe honestly couldn't have said what it was about.  He had clutched at his blanket, feeling an automatic lightening of heart with the first glimpse of the ranch house through the trees. Home. Now everything would be all right.

But everything wasn't all right - not quite. Not yet. He padded out the door and down the hall. Adam's door was ajar, and he put his hand on it to enter and paused. He could just make out his father, talking quietly. His voice sounded - unlike any he had ever heard him use before, at least when talking to Adam - he sounded like he was talking to a little boy. It made an unexpected lump rise in his throat, and suddenly feeling like an intruder, he took a step away, hovering awkwardly in the hall. He wouldn't go in there - not just yet. But surely there was something - ? His eyes fell on Hoss's door. That was it. He'd check on Hoss.

He slipped into the dimly lit room and peered hopefully at Hoss's pillow. To his surprise, Hoss opened one eye and grunted a hello. Cheered, Joe pulled up a rocking chair and dropped into it. "Hey, big brother. Expected you'd be asleep."

Hoss shifted carefully. "Well, I was, till all that dang ruckus started next door. What's goin' on?"

Joe looked innocent. "Goin' on? What makes you think somethin's goin' on?"

Hoss narrowed his eyes at him. "Well, unless Adam's havin' a party in his room, which don't seem likely any time but even less in the middle of the night, then somethin's sure goin' on."

Joe cleared his throat. "Oh. Yeah - well. Nothin' for you to worry about. How you feelin'?"

Hoss snorted. "Joe, if you ain't the dang worst liar. To tell the truth, I feel like that Rip Van Winkle feller Adam used ta read at us about, so why don't you bring me up to date? What's goin' on in Adam's room?"

Joe sighed. "Nothin'. Just - you know. Waitin' for the doctor."

Hoss frowned. "The doctor. What happened?"

Joe grimaced. "Y'know, Hoss, last time I sat here and told you stuff I got you all worked up, so - "

"Joe," Hoss interrupted, his voice sounding a little stronger, "you ain't seen worked up until you see me if you don't come clean with me. What's goin' on? You tellin' me the doc ain't comin' ta see me?"

Joe bit his lip. "Well. I'm sure he'll see you too..."

"But...?"

"But - he's comin' ta see ta Adam."

Hoss shifted carefully, with a grimace of pain. "Because...?"

"Because..." Joe cleared his throat reluctantly. "Because Adam was shot." Hoss stared at him. "Red Twilight." Joe admitted.

Hoss scowled. "Red Twilight? What's he want ta go shooting Adam fer? He didn't have nothin' ta do with this. I'm the one what killed Willie."

"Well, you really didn't," protested Joe impatiently. "Willie kinda used you to kill himself - but I think Red Twilight just likes killin' people. I think he just used Willie as an excuse. I think he just used all kinds of people..." he frowned deeply.

Hoss nudged himself into a slightly more comfortable position. "Somethin' you wanna talk about?"

Joe looked at him. "You're supposed to be resting."

"I wasn't askin' fer a dance, Joe - I was askin' if ya wanted ta talk."

Joe dropped his head, picking at the trim on his robe. "I don't know..." he said at last, softly.

Hoss settled in. "Well, I ain't goin' nowhere."

Joe studied the belt of his robe intently. "I almost made a big mistake, Hoss. I almost played right into Red Twilight's hands, and then, in a way, he would have killed me too."

"But you didn't." Hoss pointed out.

Joe wrinkled his forehead. "But I might have, Hoss. If Adam hadn't come - and then you. It was real close, Hoss."

Hoss sighed, rubbing a hand at the stiffness in his chest. "Almost don't count fer nothin', Joe. Ya didn't. Fer my ownself, I don't think ya woulda done it - no matter what." 

  Joe shook his head slowly. "I'm not so sure. You don't know how I felt."

Hoss yawned. "Maybe not. But I know how you are. Better'n you, maybe. Don't think you would have, Joe. Not at the end.  Just don't think you got it in you."

Joe pushed out with his foot and set the rocker in motion. "Sure'd like to believe that."

Hoss smiled a little. "Then do." He glanced at the opposite wall and frowned again. "Tell me about Adam. Where's he shot?"

Joe looked away. "Head..."

Hoss closed his eyes. "Oh. Yeah. I remember him bleedin'."

Joe stared at him. "You remember that?"

"Yeah...seemed okay, though."

"Yeah. Yeah, he did."

Hoss made a face. "Sure seems like a long time ago - couldn't you find the doc?"

Joe was silent a moment. "There were - problems. I'll tell you all about it sometime. You're lookin' tired - think you should rest."

Hoss yawned again. "I'm okay. Sure'd like to stick my head in - see fer myself."

Joe gave him a reproving look. "You get outta that bed again and Pa'll about kill you himself. As it is he's probably tryin' to decide right now which one of us he's maddest at."

Hoss looked indignant. "What's he mad at me fer? I've been in this here bed the whole - oh."

"Yeah," agreed Joe. "Oh."

Hoss scowled. "Well, I only got up ta look out fer you."

"Yup. That's why he's mad at me."

"Huh." Hoss winced in agreement. "Well, then, what the heck's he mad at Adam fer?"

"Getting' up with that head wound. In fact, I figger once you and Adam are back on your feet we might want to pool our resources and light out on our own. Avoid Pa all together."

Hoss reflected ruefully on this. "Sounds good. You got any money?"

"Not much. That's why we gotta wait for Adam - he's always got some."

Hoss nodded solemnly. "Good idea. You tell Adam?"

Joe grew suddenly serious. "Not - not yet." He turned his head and looked toward the window, even though there was nothing to see there but darkness. "Hoss - I - "

Hoss waited.

"When Adam was shot..." he swallowed slowly. "I - I ran right by him, Hoss. I didn't really - but I must have. He was on the floor, and..." his eyes filled.

Hoss gave him a minute, then said quietly, "Why was ya runnin', Joe?"

"Huh?"

"You said you run by him. Why was you runnin'?"

Joe frowned. "After Red Twilight."

"On accounta he'd just shot Adam?"

"Well - I don't think I realized that just then - but I knew he was tryin' to kill you, and he'd killed Shorty - "

"Wait a minute - Shorty. Shorty's dead?"

Joe nodded forlornly.  "Red Twilight shot him, too."

Hoss let his breath out thorough his teeth. "Land," he said softly. "Feel kinda like I started this whole thing."

"You didn't. Wasn't your fault."  Joe was indignant.

"Mebbe." Hoss was quiet now, thinking. "Joe, you say it ain't my fault on accounta Willie wanted me ta make him die, right?"

Joe nodded.

"And that Red just liked killin' people, right?"

Joe nodded again.

"And that when you went after him, you thought he was gonna kill more people, right?"

Joe rubbed at his neck. "I guess. Mostly I think I just wanted to kill him."

"Guess what I'm sayin' Joe is that if you stopped ta help Adam, well, maybe Red would have had a chance ta kill you too - and then Adam anyway. And me."

Joe looked at him.

"Just somethin' ta think about."

Joe sighed heavily. "I see what you're sayin', Hoss, it's just next time - " he hesitated. "Next time I'd like to know I made that choice, you know? Instead of bein' so mad I'm not even sure what's goin' on around me."

"NEXT time?" Hoss started to jerk upright, then stopped with a muffled yelp and settled back instead. "Next time! Lord a mighty, Shortshanks, I cain't speak fer you but this time was more'en enough fer me - I ain't lookin' fer no repeaters!"

Joe chuckled in spite of himself, then scrambled to his feet at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. "The doc!"

Hoss watched him enviously as he moved toward the door. "You find out an' report back ta me - ya hear? The real truth, too - none of yer half truths."

"I will. If you're awake. I'm not waking you up if you're asleep - Pa and the doc would both kill me."

Hoss shifted and winced a little. "I'll be awake. You jest mind you come back."

Joe was quick enough to intercept Dr. Martin at the top of the stairs. "Doc! Good to see you!"

"Joe." Dr. Martin gave a tired nod. "Good to see you, too. Just wouldn't be an evening without a call at the Ponderosa. Nice to see you're still on your feet anyway."

"Yeah - I'm fine. Pa's with Adam - "

"Yes, so I understand from Lem. Never mind, Joe - trust me, I know the way." He shouldered aside the partly open door and swept the room with a practiced eye.

"Well." He said after a minute, dropping his bag on a nearby chair. "Well."

Joe, for his part, picked the bag up and sat down abruptly in its place, cradling it in his lap. It was his first opportunity to see Adam in the light, and for a minute he was afraid he was going to be sick. "Pa - is he - ?"

No one seemed to hear him, but Dr. Martin reached over and felt Adam's neck, then peeled back an eyelid and reached behind him for his bag. Joe figured he wouldn't be needing his bag if Adam was already dead, so he swallowed hard and handed it over. He certainly looked dead.  His face was almost colorless, his lips an eerie grey blue with a deep gash surrounded by a livid bruise opened over his right cheekbone. Hard as he stared, Joe couldn't make out a rise and fall in the blanket over his chest.

Dr. Martin took Adam's chin in his hand to get a better look at the gash and the bullet wound, then folded back the blanket that covered him. He noticed the right arm resting on a pillow now free of the confining sleeve and eyeballed it closely, but didn't touch it. Instead he examined the fingers of the left hand and noted a slash across the palm before bending over and putting an ear to his chest.

"Aspirated some water?" He asked after listening a minute.

Joe furrowed his brows.

"Breathed it in. Some water."

"Oh." Joe nodded. "Yeah. He was in the creek."

"Mm hm. Any idea how long?"

Joe flushed. "No." he muttered.

Dr. Martin pulled the blankets up from the bottom of the bed and examined Adam's feet, paying special attention to his toes. When he was done, he tucked the blankets carefully back over them and straightened. "Well," he said again, rubbing unconsciously at the bridge of his nose. He brushed a hand across a stone hot water bottle wrapped in flannel and nestled among the blankets. "Who did this? A good job, that."

"Miss Mary filled them for me - Hop Sing always keeps them on hand - for colds and aches and pains..." Ben rested a hand on Adam's hair. "Do you want to set his arm?"

"Hm? No." He looked around again for his bag, picked it up. "Not until he's warmed up some - no telling what that pulling might do in his current state. I'd like to take a closer look at the bullet wound, though. Good news is the cold water stopped any bleeding."

Ben watched him keenly. "And the bad news...?" he asked after a minute.

Paul glanced up at him, moving to the other side of the bed for better access. "Well, I think you can see the bad news for yourself."

Ben took a step back out of the way, flinching a little as Paul probed the furrow the bullet had left a couple of inches over Adam's ear. "But he'll be all right?" he persisted.

Paul sighed, his eyes on what he was doing. "I'll know more once he's warmed up a little." He caught a glimpse of Ben's face as he reached for some gauze and selected a bottle from his collection. "Ben, I'm not being evasive - I just don't know. I'm afraid we're in a waiting game - how will he respond as he warms up? Then how will he respond to the fluid in his lungs? I have a few tricks I want to try to help dry them out, by the way. See if we can avoid pneumonia - or at least, secondary drowning. My best diagnosis right now is 'we'll see'. But if either of you would like to be useful you can take this gauze and this bottle and clean out that cut on his hand - get it ready for bandaging."

Seeing his father was just standing with his brows furrowed and his eyes fixed on Adam's face, Joe jumped from the chair. "I got it, Doc." He picked up the long, lifeless hand and shuddered a little at its absence of warmth, dabbing at the sliced palm.

"No skull fracture that I can feel."

Joe looked up and watched as Dr. Martin layered the wound with gauze. "He seemed okay. He got up and walked around and everything - sounded just like himself."

Dr. Martin nodded. "Head wounds are funny things. Unpredictable." He leaned over to check Joe's work. "Good. You know how to bandage, right? If you'll take care of that one I'll finish here and see what I can do about that cheek."

Joe layered gauze in the hand and picked up a piece of long cloth to tie it in place. Surreptitiously, he slid his fingers down and rested them on Adam's pulse for a minute. Still slow. But it was there. He tied off his bandage and lay the hand carefully back under the blanket, leaving his own resting lightly on top of it. "Say, " he said suddenly. "What if we put him in a hot bath? Wouldn't that warm him up faster?"

"Probably too fast," warned Dr. Martin, dabbing at the cheek wound. "System's kind of fragile right now. Any fast change could send him into shock - cardiac arrest - any of a number of things."

"Oh." Joe looked crestfallen, then uneasy. "Say...what if you did that - that thing - you know, that thumping thing you did to him that time he had pneumonia...?"

Paul paused, rubbing at his face and tossing Joe a quizzical look. "Thumping. What thumping...?"

Joe shifted. "You know - when you sort of cupped your hand and hit him on the chest...and on his back...?"

"Oh." The doctor shrugged. "Well, I don't see why I would. Nothing to shake loose. Why?"

"I don't know...what if he was sort of - having trouble breathing or something...maybe if he'd...almost stopped breathing..."

Paul looked from Adam to Joe. "What are you telling me, Joe? Did he stop breathing?"

Joe squirmed. "Almost. I thought he was. So I - I did that thing - "

"You percussed his chest?"

"I guess so. I thought he was dying. It seemed to help!" he finished weakly.

The doctor stared again from Joe to Adam, then suddenly he laughed. "Well. It might not be what I would have recommended but...there's no denying he's still breathing. You Cartwrights. You're a tough lot, there's no doubt about it."

"So I didn't hurt him more?"

"No. No, I don't think so. Of course, if you did it on top of those bruises on his back his first inclination when he opens his eyes may not be to thank you. "

"And he's gonna open his eyes?"

The doctor shot him an irritated glance. "I'm not a swami, Joe. I don't read fortunes, either."

Joe nodded, chastened, but tightened his grip under the blanket.

Ben's gaze drifted to the window, and he seemed to shake himself. "It must be late. You'd better not drive back tonight, Paul - eat with us and stay the night. I'll make up one of the guestrooms. I have to make one up for Miss Mary anyway."

"That sounds like a good idea. Don't worry about the guest room, though - if you can fix me up I'll spend the night in here." Ben's eyes bored into him, and he continued mildly, "I'd like to keep an eye on his breathing for the night. It's really better if he's not left alone." He glanced from one to the other. "So, if one of you would volunteer to sit with him, it's about time I took a look at my other patient."

Ben's face brightened some. "Oh, I wish you would, Paul. His wound reopened when he got up - I think it's all right now but I'd feel better if you took a look at it."

"When he got UP!" Paul stared at them. "I didn't even want him sitting up yet! What was he doing up?" Joe's face reddened and he looked away. Paul waited, then shook his head. "Well, I don't know what's been going on around here, but whatever it is, I DON'T approve!"

"No," agreed Ben dryly. "Neither do I. Joseph, will you sit with Adam while we check on Hoss?"

"Sure, Pa. Um..." Joe peeked at him out of the side of his eye. "Hoss'll probably want to know about Adam if he's awake."

Ben gave him a look.  "And how does he know about Adam?"

"I told him." Joe saw his face darken and continued hastily, "Well, he asked me! C'mon, Pa - his room's right next door - he heard something goin' on - it's not like he's stupid."

Ben sighed. "I suppose you're right. Sit with your brother, then, till I get back. I'll bring you supper, now that I think of it. No one's eaten."

Paul gathered up his things. "And come get me if he has any trouble breathing. DON'T percuss his chest - " he winked at him. "Just come get me." 

***

Ben poked disinterestedly at the stew in front of him. He was thinking about a land he had heard about as a sailor where volcanic fire burned fierce and hot, creating pools of boiling water and even scathing lava beneath ground heavy with solid ice. He had always wanted to see it for himself - wondered what it was like there. Now he felt he knew because that land of fire burning under ice seemed to have taken up residence in the very center of his chest.

"Ben."

He looked up, abruptly aware that that was not the first, or even the second, time Paul had said his name.

Mary smiled at him with sad, understanding eyes. "Are you finished, Mr. Cartwright? I've made coffee if you'd like some."

"Oh. Yes." He glanced down guiltily at his full plate and tried to summon some graciousness. "It's very good, Mary, and I truly appreciate all your help - I just don't seem to have any appetite."

"No, of course not. I understand."

He took a deep breath and tried to return her smile. "I really don't know what we would have done without you today. I wish there was something I could do - "

"Please don't, Mr. Cartwright. Truly, I feel better being able to do something. Somehow, I feel a little responsible for all this..."

"Nonsense." Ben frowned. "How could you be?"

"I don't know." She dropped her eyes apologetically, clearing dishes. "I just do."

"Seems to be a rash of that," Paul mentioned, eyeing Ben pointedly. "Right, Ben?"

Ben glared back at him as Mary hurried into the kitchen.

Paul returned his look benignly. "Don't try to intimidate me, old friend - I've known you too long. Decided who you're mad at yet?"

Ben gave his attention to folding his napkin. "What makes you think I'm mad at anybody?"

Paul laughed. "Let's see now. Adam?"

Ben huffed, smoothing the napkin. "Well, what on earth was he thinking? Would it have been so difficult for him to TELL someone he'd been shot?"

Paul's eyes twinkled. "Maybe he thought you could see that." The look on Ben's face sobered him instantly, and he continued more gently, "I imagine he wasn't thinking too clearly, Ben, though he may have seemed normal enough."

Ben sighed. "I know." He threw down the napkin. "I'm not really angry with him, of course."

"No." Paul nodded. "Hoss, then?"

"Now, what was HE thinking, getting out of bed? That boy nearly died just a few days ago!"

"Why DID he get out of bed?"

"Oh, the same reason Adam got up instead of staying down the way he should have - thought Joe needed him. Which brings us to why HE couldn't listen to reason for once instead of letting that temper of his run away with him..."

"What was he up to?"

"Oh, going after Red Twilight..."

"The man who shot Hoss and Adam and killed Shorty Gillis?"

Ben grunted assent.

"So maybe he had reason to believe Red was still a danger?"

Ben was silent a moment. "I suppose."

"Having your sons do stupid things in the name of looking out for each other - well, there are worse faults." Ben snorted, but it lacked vitriol. "So you're not really mad at them."

Ben exhaled slowly. "No."

"And being mad at yourself - there's really no point to that either." Ben just looked at him. "Ben," Paul chided kindly, "Exactly what do you think you could have done differently?"

"Something. Everything."

"In hindsight, everything is manageable. As a doctor, though, I will tell you two things I know for sure - 1) accidents happen. 2) even the best doctor in the world can only look after one patient at a time. Just think about it." Ben looked unconvinced, but his expression lightened a little. "If I were you? I'd save my energies for being angry at the man who caused all this mess - Red Twilight. Now, there's an anger I can get behind."

Ben blinked at him thoughtfully, feeling the fire in his chest burn a little hotter, rising through him like steam off of the ice. "Red Twilight," he repeated quietly. "Yes. I see your point."

Mary returned with the coffeepot, and Paul pulled out his pocket watch for a look.  "Good to see Hoss doing so well, anyway. I foresee a full recovery, unless, of course, he decides to take any more unscheduled outdoor strolls."

Ben tried to stop the words, but they came out anyway. "And Adam?"

"Well, I'm going to check in a bit and see how he's warming up. If he's a little more stable, I'll set his arm and maybe try a mustard plaster on his chest - see if I can keep his lungs from congesting."

Ben smiled faintly. "I think you're just trying to get a rise out of him - you know how much he hates those."

Paul chuckled. "Well, he always said my mustard plasters could about raise the dead. Guess now we'll see."

Ben's smile faded abruptly, leaving his face looking tired "Curly cut some boards before he went to bed that should be the right size for splints. I'll have to make arrangements for a service for Shorty..." he let the rest hang, unwilling to think any further than that right now.

Paul sipped his coffee. "I'll stop by the Reverend's when I get back into town. In the meantime, I'll check out your kitchen for dried mustard. Wish Hop Sing were home - he's a God send at times like this - really knows how to keep you folks in line."

"I wish he were, too. Hoss wouldn't have had an easy time walking out of here with Hop Sing around." Of course, Ben reflected even as he said it, the way things had gone if Hop Sing were here he might have ended up shot himself. Or dead. Like Shorty.

One of his men dead. Two of his boys gravely wounded, the other almost turned killer. What a terrible wreck one man had made of his life - and for what?  Even now he didn't understand.

***

"Well, brother, looks like it's just you and me again. Told you I'd come back and get you out of there. Sorry it took so long..." Joe was starting to think that talking to Adam in the creek bed had been easier. At least there he could imagine he was listening. Here...he looked at his face again and shuddered. Adam appeared to have gone far away, casting off his body like an empty husk and leaving it behind.

Joe rested his left hand on top of Adam's heart again, just to be sure. Heartbeat. Maybe just the tiniest bit stronger, too. And maybe just a little of the blue grey color had left his skin. Or maybe it was just wishful thinking.

Joe sighed. "I know you're gonna find this hard to believe, but I'm gettin' kind of tired of doin' all the talkin', here. You can just jump in any time - help me out." He rested his chin on top of his outstretched arm, careful not to jostle the bed. "Subject doesn't matter - can be just anything."  Adam didn't so much as move, so Joe reached up tentatively and touched his uninjured cheek. Still cold, but not so hard and ice-like. He tugged the blankets a little higher over the motionless shoulders and smoothed them down.  "You were startin' to tell me about that mathematics fella - I'd even be up to listenin' to that. You remember - that Thagrus fella?" He gazed at Adam hopefully, but he didn't stir. He sighed again. "Well. Guess I could read to you, then. Say - maybe you even got a book on him in here? Maybe I'll take a look. I figure at the very least ransacking your room oughta get you up and talking. Yelling, even." He pleated the blanket absently between his fingers. "Wouldn't mind some yelling. Yelling would be..." his voice snagged somewhere in his throat, and he looked away for a minute, blinking hard. He drew in a careful breath and tried again.

"Hoss is doin' pretty well, the Doc says - thinks he's gonna be just fine. Course, he's not too happy about him gettin' up outta bed, but - " he stopped again, swallowing convulsively.  "But I guess sometimes things - even when you don't do exactly..." He scrubbed an impatient hand under his nose and looked down at the lump his other hand made beneath the blankets where it rested on top of Adam's. He cleared his throat. "Anyway, looks like I'm gonna be doin' all the work around here for a while, thanks to the two of you. Hoss sure ain't gonna be able to climb on a horse right away, and you ain't gonna be worth much either, what with one arm broke and the other hand cut. Can just see you two lazin' around, grinnin' like a couple of cats while I work. Can just imagine some of the smart things you'll have to say - just to get my dander up.  Bad enough with just one of you, but with two, well - I can just imagine. Bet within a week or so I'll be about sick to death of you and your smart sayings...always needlin' at me..." his chest heaved briefly. "Course, if you had somethin' sarcastic you felt you just had to say even now...it'd be just like you..." he knuckled crossly at his eyes. "...or maybe..." he took another breath to smother the quaver in his voice, "...if you don't feel up to talkin', if you could just sort of open your eyes for a minute...just so's I'd know...y'know, it's usually you that tells me everything is gonna be okay, and right now I - I really need to believe that, so if you could just - if you..." his shoulders shook and he rubbed his hand hard over his face. "If you..." He pushed his face into the blankets now, his hand clutching the bandaged one under his. "Adam, if you would just...talk to me..."

***

Joe awoke with a start. He couldn't remember falling asleep, and it took him a minute to understand the itch of the blanket underneath his cheek and the stiffness in his back. He pushed himself carefully onto his elbows, scratch