More Than Money

By

Diana Golding

“So, little brother’s courting, huh?” Adam said, glancing up from his breakfast, his intense brown eyes looking at eighteen-year-old Joe, whose cheeks were reddening at his eldest brother’s mocking tone.

“No,” retorted Joe, “I’m going calling on Victoria Maclaren. That doesn’t mean I’m courting her.” Joe’s hazel eyes sparkled with emerald green tints, as they always did when he was riled.

“Well that sounds like courtin’ to me,” Ben Cartwright’s middle son, Hoss, opined grinning.

“Maybe our baby brother doesn’t quite understand what courting a girl involves,” Adam spoke with all the authority of his thirty years, and then he leaned his elbows on the table as he looked at Hoss and winked. He turned to his father, who sat opposite him across the expanse of red and white chequered cloth, at the head of the table. “Pa, I think that you may have left a rather large gap in your youngest son’s social education.”

Ben looked round the table at his boys; three sons given to him as a precious legacy from three, very different, wives. Joe’s good looks reflected the fact that laughter lay hidden just below the surface, and girls loved him on sight. Adam was darkly handsome with a quiet demeanour that women found fascinating. Hoss, while not as obviously attractive as his brothers, had charmed his fair share of women, who were beguiled by his gentle, caring nature and honest, simple love. Ben smiled, he was used to the teasing that they would hand out to each other any time one of them showed interest in a girl, and knew it was good hearted. “Oh, I think Joseph knows what he’s doing.”

Adam shook his raven-haired head. “I don’t think so. I heard him in the kitchen, asking Hop Sing to prepare a hamper,” Adam explained. “Now, I’ve never heard him ask for a hamper just to go and mend fences. Of course, I could be wrong,” Adam’s tone said that he knew he wasn’t, “but I think he’s planning a picnic, and that’s no fun unless you’re with someone.” He raised his eyebrows as he glanced at Joe. “So I assume he’s going with Victoria; and he wants us to believe that he’s not courting her?”

“That right, Joe? You plannin’ a picnic?” asked Hoss, “That’s a mighty serious thing to be doin’ with a gal you got no interest in. The two of you, alone in the forest, who knows what might happen?” Hoss spoke dramatically. “S’pose a bear attacks you?” Hoss was, by a few inches and many muscular pounds, the biggest of the brothers and as strong as a bear himself. So when his voice went up several octaves and he clasped his hands in front of his chest, taking on the role of the threatened girl, Ben had to hide his broad grin behind his napkin. “Oh, Joe, help me, help me, the bear’s gonna get me,” Hoss pleaded, his blue eyes opening wide in mock horror.

Adam joined in, moving to stand protectively beside Hoss and putting a hand on his brother’s strong shoulder as he took Joe’s part in the drama, his voice taking on heroic overtones. “That’s all right, Ma’am, Joe Cartwright’s here to save ya.”

Hoss responded, “But Joe, it’s so big!”

“Yes, Ma’am. But no bear’s gonna get ya while I’m with ya. Just stand behind me and you’ll be safe.” Adam was laughing as he resumed his seat. “She will be safe with you, won’t she?” Adam raised a finger, and an eyebrow, “Ah yes, of course she will, you’re not courting her, are you?”

Joe’s face was smiling, but his tone said he was less than pleased. “OK, maybe I am sparkin’ her.” He appealed to his father. “But I just want to do it without any help from these two.” He jerked his thumb roughly in the direction of his brothers.

Adam held up his hands in surrender. “Heaven forbid that we should help you. But just remember what you said, when her father comes after you with a shotgun.”

“Yeah,” said Hoss, finishing a mouthful of pancake and nodding in agreement, “we’ll keep right outta your way and let him blow your head clean off.”

Adam drained his coffee and wiped his mouth on his napkin before putting the cloth beside his plate. “Well, while you’re off enjoying yourself, I have to go into Virginia City.”

Ben became serious as he thought of Adam’s errand in town. “You’re taking someone with you?”

“Yeah Pa, don’t worry. I’ll be riding in with Chet.”

“Good. That’s a lot of money you’ll be carrying.” He looked hard at his eldest son. “But remember, it’s only money, don’t take any chances.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” Adam rose, going to the sideboard by the front door to pick up his gun belt and hat. He took a step back towards the dining area. “Oh, and Joe, watch out for the bears.” He ducked out the door as Joe balled up his napkin and threw it after him.

**********

Sheriff Coffee was hurrying along the sidewalk in pursuit of his quarry, who was approaching the door of the First Bank of Virginia City. As he neared, Roy Coffee stopped, took a breath, and called out.

“Adam! Hey Adam, wait up.”

Adam paused with his hand on the door handle of the Bank, then turned and waited. Roy took in the customary head to foot black clothing and the dark, sombre gaze of Ben Cartwright’s eldest son, and wondered what would be his reaction to the bad news he was about to hear.

Adam held out his hand to the elderly sheriff. “Morning, Roy. What can I do for you?”

“More what I can do for you.” Roy took Adam’s hand and looked at him from under bushy eyebrows. “That right, you come into town with Chet Mason?”

Wondering what interest the sheriff could have in Chet, Adam frowned, but he nodded. “Yeah. We’re picking up the payroll this morning.” He gestured over his shoulder. “I was just going to meet him in the Bank.” When they arrived in town, Adam had spoken to the teller to give him time to get the money ready, and he and Chet had each gone on separate errands in the meantime.

“Well, I think you’d better come over to Doc Martin’s. Chet’s there.”

“Why, what happened?” Adam asked, falling in beside Roy as he turned and headed back up the street, towards the doctor’s house at the end of town.

“Chet’s been beaten pretty bad. Two fellas found him behind the saloon.”

“Did he say who did it?”

“He ain’t said much of anything yet.”

“That bad, hn?” Adam’s footsteps quickened as he thought of the hand, who was also his friend, falling foul of thugs.

Roy’s normal splay-footed amble turned into something closer to a run as he tried to keep up with the rancher’s longer stride. “Could be. He’s got a broken arm and is cut up pretty bad, but Doc says he’s worried about a head wound that looks serious.”

They reached the doctor’s house, where Adam didn’t knock, instead opening the door and hurrying inside, calling for his friend and physician, Paul Martin. The doctor came out of a side room, putting on his jacket and nodding a welcome as he saw his callers.

“Good morning Adam, sorry to have to get you here like this.”

“How is he?” asked Adam, peering over the shoulder of the short, stocky doctor, trying to see into the small room.

“He’s woken up, but is still groggy.” Paul turned to address the sheriff. “He can’t remember a thing about the attack, he doesn’t know how many there were, and can’t tell us a reason for it.” Paul beckoned to Roy and Adam, indicating to them that they should be quiet. They followed the doctor into the dimly lit room, where the windows had been covered to exclude the bright, morning sunlight.

When he saw the damage done to Chet, Adam’s face set hard and his eyes narrowed in anger. The burly forty-year-old was bruised about the face, a bandage swathed his head and his right arm was encased in a heavy plaster cast. Adam put a hand on Chet’s uninjured arm and called his name quietly. One eyelid fluttered open, the other being too bruised and swollen to move, then closed again.

“Hi, A’m,” Chet mumbled, “sorry ‘bout this.”

Adam spoke quietly. “Don’t worry, just let the Doc take care of you, and as soon as he says it’s OK, I’ll send someone with the buckboard to bring you back to the ranch.” Adam looked at Paul and raised an enquiring eyebrow.

The doctor scratched his chin in thought before he answered. “Good idea. That head wound isn’t as serious as I thought. The fact that he’s come round so quick is a good sign, but I don’t think he’s going to want to ride anywhere for a while. I’d still like to keep an eye on him for twenty-four hours, so tomorrow should be fine.”

Nodding in understanding, Adam turned again to Chet. “Do as you’re told and you’ll soon be back to normal.” Adam smiled. “Though I’m not sure that’s anything to look forward to.” Chet opened his eye once more and gave a weak grin. Adam patted his shoulder, “I’ll see you soon, don’t worry about a thing.”

Roy and Adam left the room when Paul indicated that he thought his patient should rest.

“Roy,” said Adam, trying to contain his anger, “have you any idea who did this?”

The sheriff shook his head. “Nope. But I sure ain’t happy to have them in my town, I’ll tell you that. Mason’s no weakling, but he looks like he got mown down by a herd of cows. Must’ve taken several of ‘em to do that to him. Maybe someone saw something, I’ll ask around, see what I can turn up.” The look on Roy’s face said that he did not expect to have much luck, but he was not a man to give up easily. He waved over his shoulder as he made his way back to his office.

Adam walked away from the doctor’s house thinking about Chet. As far as he knew, the man had no enemies who would go to such extremes, and he had no money on him to steal. Perhaps that was the answer; angered by finding no cash, the thugs had taken it out of Chet’s hide. He was still pondering on the problem as he entered the Bank to be greeted by Billy Freeman, the young cashier, who looked up from counting out several piles of small bills.

“Hi, Mr. Cartwright, I’ll be ready for you in just a minute. I’m almost finished.”

The rustle of bills and the chink of coins brought Adam’s attention to the desk and he frowned; could the payroll money have anything to do with the attack on Chet? Usually the hands were paid in Ponderosa scrip; as good as money in Virginia City, and preventing the need for large sums of cash to be held at the ranch. But at this time of year many of the men would be leaving, no longer needed, and they wanted cash to take with them, their bonuses swelling the amount to be paid out. Was it possible that someone knew when it was due to be collected?

Adam made a characteristically swift decision. “I won’t be taking the money today, Billy. Could you hold it for me until tomorrow?”

“Why sure, if that’s what you want, but I thought…”

“Yeah, so did I,” Adam mused quietly.

Hearing the brief conversation, Ernest Brewster rose from his desk. “Is there a problem, Adam? Because if so, I’m sure that we can sort it out for you.” The Cartwrights were the Bank’s best customers and the manager wanted to forestall any trouble with them.

Adam shook the well manicured hand that was held out to him. “No, there’s no problem, but I think it would be better if I come back tomorrow.” Adam saw Brewster’s raised eyebrows, so he explained. “Chet Mason came into town with me this morning. You know how my father likes two of us to collect such large sums?” Brewster nodded and Adam continued. “Somebody jumped him and he’s over at the Doc’s right now, with a broken arm and a busted head. I wonder if it’s a coincidence that this happened just when he was supposed to help me take the payroll back to the ranch.”

“Well,” said Brewster, frowning as he stuck a finger in his vest pocket and fiddled with the gold fob on the end of his watch chain, “it’s no secret that you’re letting the hands go. But do you really think that anyone would go to so much trouble?”

Adam nodded. “They might, if they thought it was worth it. They see me and Chet in town, going into the bank, and they add two and two and come up with five thousand dollars. Then they decide to lessen the odds a little.”

“I think you’ve being over cautious, Adam. Your father needs that money…”

“Yes, but not today. And I’m sure that he would rather delay for a day, than lose it all. So if you would just let me have…” Adam paused as he thought of a reasonable amount, “…three hundred to take with me now, I’ll call tomorrow for the rest.”

Taking some bills from one of the piles, Billy handed them to Adam, who pushed them into his wallet and left the Bank, collecting his horse, Sport, from the hitching rail outside. He made his way over to Roy Coffee’s office, to tell him of his suspicions, and then, after another visit to the doctor’s house to check on Chet, he was ready to leave.

He stopped for a moment, observing the ebb and flow of the morning traffic in the busy street and watching the people, wondering if any of those casual passers-by had been responsible for the vicious attack on Chet.

As he stood, he was absently rubbing Sport’s soft, silky nose. He looked into the trusting golden eyes of the horse that had been a present from his father, on his graduation from college, and his constant partner ever since. Adam had gentled and trained the tall sorrel himself and was proud of the fact that, although he had been broken to the saddle, the horse’s spirit had never been conquered and he held his head high, as though he knew his place as the mount of the eldest son of the owner of the biggest spread in the territory. Sport was reluctant to allow any other on his back, the only exception being Joe, a natural horseman, who had the same understanding for the high spirited creature as his older brother.

“Well, boy, guess we’re gonna have to come back tomorrow.” No one had ever heard Adam call his horse by name, and some wondered if the outwardly unsentimental rancher had bothered to give him one, but Adam used ‘boy’ to indicate a deeper feeling than a given name could, as one might use a nick-name for a friend. He mounted and rode off down the street, tipping his hat to Brewster, who was standing in the doorway of the Bank, a frown on his face as he watched Adam leave.

What had started as a fine, crisp, fall morning was turning into a warm, dry day as Adam rode back across the Ponderosa. He was keeping an eye out for trouble; if the attack on Chet was a means to get hold of the payroll, then those responsible would be waiting for the opportunity to complete their plan, and Adam had purposely armed himself with a few hundred dollars, hoping they would be satisfied with that. He remembered the damage they had done to Chet, and he thought that he could well suffer the same fate if he had nothing to give them.

As he travelled further towards his home with no sign of attack, Adam began to doubt his conviction about the threat to the payroll. He realised that he had been tensely waiting for something to happen only when his shoulders started to relax, and he could allow his mind to take in the surrounding pine forest without suspicion. The thickly growing trees that covered a large part of the ranch, and after which it had been named, reminded him that Joe was taking Victoria on a picnic, and would probably also be escorting her to the party to be held the following Saturday on the Ponderosa, to mark the end of the round-up and as a farewell to those who were leaving.

Adam thought of the young lady he was planning to have on his arm at that party, the beautiful, dark haired Melissa. He had called on her one afternoon, and taken tea with her and her mother, a widow who was confined to a wheelchair as the result of an accident five years before. Despite seeming a little apprehensive herself, no doubt because of her mother’s presence, Melissa had done her best to ensure that Adam felt at ease, and she had jumped to her feet at the first sign that he needed anything; a cup of tea, or more cake. The attention had quite the opposite effect however, and had begun to make Adam edgy. For some reason, Melissa was trying just a bit too hard and he became wary of her. But he had decided to invite the young lady to the party, thinking that taking her away from her mother would show him the real woman behind the nervous façade. He smiled to himself; if his brothers knew of his interest in the daughter of their new neighbour, he would have had to endure the kind of ribbing that he and Hoss had given Joe that morning. He sighed, they would know soon enough.

The next thing Adam knew, he was lying on the ground looking up at the sky through the branches of a ponderosa pine. His mind went blank for a moment, but before he had time to make sense of what he was seeing, a figure appeared above him, a gun in his hand and a sneer on his face. As Adam tried to focus on the man, he realised that his eyes weren’t working properly; no one had three eyes, or two noses for that matter. He shut his eyes and shook his head, which was a mistake; a stabbing pain shot through his skull causing him to breathe in sharply. Adam slowly opened his eyes again, blinked several times, and was pleased when the face resolved itself into something more normal; one nose, two eyes. Then he registered the curly dark hair beneath a black hat, the slit of an unsmiling mouth in the narrow head, but looming larger than anything, the gun that was aimed at him.

Adam sat up slowly, remembering the weight that had fallen on his shoulders and had sent him crashing to the ground. The man standing in front of him took a step back, allowing Adam to see two other men. One, younger and fair-haired, was sitting on his horse and holding Sport’s reins, while the third, Mexican judging by his jet black hair, swarthy complexion, and drooping moustache, was going through the saddle bags on Sport’s back.

After searching both sides, the Mexican looked up and shook his head. “Nada.”

“OK, where is it?” The question was directed at Adam by the man standing in front of him.

Adam pushed himself to his feet. “Where’s what?” he asked innocently, leaning over to brush dust from the knees of his trousers.

“Don’t play games with me, mister.”

Adam straightened and paused for a moment. He squinted against the glare of the midday sun that shone in his eyes, and he realised that his hat was lying at the side of the trail. He made to pick it up, but stopped when he heard the sound of the gun’s hammer being cocked.

The man was getting impatient. “We want your money, so just hand it over, now!” Looking into the man’s dark eyes, Adam shrugged, and moved his hand to reach into his back pocket. “Hold it right there.” Adam stopped moving. “Give me your gun, with your left hand.”

Adam handed over his revolver, then continued to reach for his wallet, and held it out. The man took it and looked inside, then his malevolent eyes narrowed. “Where’s the rest of it?”

A wry grin caught at the corners of Adam’s mouth and he nodded to himself; he had been right. “That’s all there is. If you’re after the payroll, then I’m afraid you wasted your time attacking Chet. You see, I’m the suspicious kind, and it was just too much of a coincidence that he happened to get beaten up on the very day we were collecting that much cash.” Adam pointed at his wallet. “So, you can either take what’s there, or go without.”

The Mexican stepped forwards. “We no go without; Brewster promised, it would be today.”

The man holding the gun whirled angrily. “Shut up, Javier.” He turned back to Adam, who kept his face expressionless, as though he had not heard the damning words.

“Hey, Glasby,” said the man who was mounted, “let’s take the horse. Gotta be worth something.”

Adam took a step forward. “Don’t…” He stopped, knowing that if they thought he wanted Sport, it would only make them more determined to deprive him of his horse. No, he had to find an argument they would understand. “If they catch you, what’ll you get for stealing three hundred dollars? A year, maybe two. You take the horse, and you’ll hang.”

“But then they gotta catch us; and this horse wouldn’t be the first.” The young man’s high pitched laughter rang through the forest.

“Kenny needs a new mount,” observed Glasby. “His has had it, might as well help ourselves to this one.”

Adam looked at Kenny’s horse, an appaloosa, whose head was down and whose eyes were dull, and then he saw something that made him determined that these men would not have Sport; Kenny was wearing California spurs. While they were worn by many on the other side of the Sierras, Adam considered them brutal, with their characteristic large, spiked rowel that could tear into a horse’s flanks and bring grudging obedience. Adam could see that the side of Kenny’s horse was marked where he had used the spurs’ persuasion freely, and he was determined that that would not happen to his faithful companion.

Something in Adam’s gaze alerted Glasby. “This horse special?” he asked curiously.

Adam forced his shoulders to relax. “No, just don’t want to lose good stock.”

Glasby shook his head slowly. “I think there’s more to it than that. You got lots of horses on that ranch of yours, but you don’t want to part with this one.” Adam remained silent, afraid that if he said any more they would guess how important Sport was to him. “He ain’t a ranch horse, he’s yours. That’s it ain’t it?” Glasby said with certainty. “OK Kenny, take him.”

Kenny dismounted, stood beside Sport, and then he put his foot in the stirrup and pulled himself up into the saddle. Kenny was a little less than six feet tall, and carried spare flesh that made him ungainly and awkward in his movements. In no way did he resemble a natural horseman, and as soon as Sport felt the unfamiliar touch, he reared. Kenny kicked into the horse’s flanks with his spurs, but Sport was unused to the touch of sharp metal in his sides, and he bucked and twisted, trying to rid himself of his tormentor.

Unable to stand by while the man treated his horse in such a way, Adam waited until Kenny’s efforts to control the furious animal brought him near, and then, ignoring the threat from the weapon that was pointed at him, Adam leaped at the struggling rider, grabbing hold of him and dragging him from the saddle. Kenny fell to the ground, but Adam did not release his grip as he pinned the younger man beneath him and hit him square on the chin. Kenny went limp and Adam stood, pushing aside Javier, who was fighting to keep hold of Sport. But before he could catch the reins he felt his arms pinned to his sides, and he looked down to see that he was restrained by a lasso. He raised his hands to lift the loop over his shoulders, ready to confront the other men, but a sharp pull on the rope made him overbalance backwards. Adam got shakily to his knees, his head swimming from hitting the ground, but another pull on the rope had him flat on his back again. He gritted his teeth in anger while he struggled to rise, but Kenny, who had regained his senses but lost his temper, came to stand over him, breathing heavily.

“You attached to that horse?” Kenny sneered. “OK, if attached is what you feel, that’s what you’ll get.” He gestured to Glasby, “Hold him,” he instructed, and Glasby pulled on the rope every time Adam tried to rise, tightening the lasso, and ensuring that he could not escape. Kenny cut a short length off the rope that hung from his saddle, and then he and Glasby pinned their victim to the ground. Adam struggled against them, but soon his hands were tied and Kenny was removing the restraining rope from around Adam’s shoulders. Pushing the lasso between his captive’s bound wrists, Kenny passed the loose end through the loop and pulled it tight, effectively attaching Adam to the longer rope. Realising what was going to happen when the men released him, Adam did not try to get to his feet; he knew he would not be on them for long.

The Mexican had managed to get a tight hold on Sport’s reins, and Kenny went over to the horse and tied the end of the rope to the sorrel’s saddle. He looked round at Glasby, who nodded in agreement.

“You should’a let us have the money,” Kenny said, standing over Adam, “but you thought you’d be smart.” Kenny shook his head, smiling. “Too bad.” He hit Sport’s rump and shouted at him. The horse, already unsettled by the treatment he had received, took off into the forest at a gallop, dragging Adam behind him.

Adam’s first thought was that his arms would be pulled from their sockets as the rope tightened, but then he concentrated on staying on his stomach, his head up, peering through eyelids that were almost shut in an attempt to protect his eyes from the dust and dirt that was being thrown up by the hooves of the speeding sorrel. He was not concerned so much with the stones and tree roots that littered the path and buffeted his chest and stomach, as he was with watching the very solid countryside that was rushing past him in the form of trees and rocks.

As Sport turned to avoid a large boulder, Adam was sent spinning sideways out of control, and he groaned as he crashed into the sturdy trunk of a mature pine; his back taking the full impact of the blow. The pain clouded his mind for a second, but Sport was still running, and Adam quickly forced himself over onto his stomach; he had to keep watching or next time it could be to his head that hit something, and that might prove fatal. Adam was relieved when he saw that the trees were thinning, as the horse headed towards an open meadow covered with lush grass. But then his heart sank as he recognised the area; he knew that at the far side of the meadow was a branch of the Franktown River, shallow, wide, and rock strewn.

Glasby, Kenny and Javier had mounted and were following close behind, shouting and encouraging Sport to run, but they saw him slow as he approached the river. Adam also felt the change in pace and, although breathless from the constant battering of the ground against his ribs, he called to Sport to stop. The sorrel flicked his ears back at the familiar voice and would have halted, but Kenny was close behind, and as he heard Adam call out he pulled his gun and fired a single shot into the air. Sport took off again, into the water. He didn’t run straight across because Glasby on one side, and Kenny on the other, herded him along the river.

As the bow wave caused by his body threatened to drown him, Adam tried to raise himself up, but the rocks hammered at his chest and eventually he had to turn onto his back to allow himself to breathe. The men following behind, urging Sport on and laughing, watched Adam fighting for air in the water as he was dragged along behind the horse, unable to avoid the stunning blows to his head and body from rocks just below the surface. When they finally realised that the pummelling had rendered Adam unconscious and oblivious to what was happening, they allowed Sport to leave the river, but the rope caught around a bush, and the horse found it impossible to drag the dead weight behind him up the long, steep bank. He stopped, his head jerking nervously up and down, his flanks heaving.

Kenny approached slowly; he didn’t want to spook the horse. He reached out, took hold of the reins, and tied them to his saddle. Then he released the rope from Sport and freed it from between Adam’s hands. He coiled it up and attached it to his saddle, then went back to where Adam lay on his back, his eyes closed and his breathing uneven. Kenny’s mean smile did not light his eyes as he saw the front of the once neat black shirt ripped and showing where the rough ground had torn at its wearer. He turned away, and the three men rode off, taking Sport with them.

**********

Joe and Victoria had finished their lunch and were sitting close together on a bluff, looking out over the forest as it stretched away into the distance. Victoria was dressed in a short, grey riding skirt and pale red silk shirt that brought out the warm brown hues in her eyes. Joe thought how beautiful she looked and tentatively put his arm round the girl’s shoulder. She did not remove it, but leaned against him and sighed as she gazed at the view, blued by the haze of the sun, where nothing could be seen to move and only the occasional birdsong disturbed the silence.

“Oh, Joe, it’s so beautiful here, so peaceful. It’s as though we are alone in the world.” Victoria’s surprisingly deep voice sent a shiver through Joe, who turned his attention away from the far off grandeur to concentrate on the beauty beside him. Slowly, Joe moved his hands to cup her face, and then lowered his head and kissed her gently. She responded, and for a moment they were lost in each other, the forest forgotten; in that instant nothing else existed for them, and they were, indeed, alone.

Suddenly they broke away, as the sound of a shot echoed through the silence. Joe got quickly to his feet, staring again at the forest as though the trees would part and allow him to see what had caused someone to fire. Victoria stood beside him, a hand on his arm.

“Joe, do you think that means trouble?”

Joe frowned as his eyes continued to search the view. The shot sounded close by, but it was impossible to tell exactly where it had come from. “Dunno,” he said, “but that wasn’t someone out hunting.” He had recognised the unmistakeable report of a revolver, and no one used a hand gun to go after game.

“Do you think you should go and look?”

“Well…”

“Let’s go.” Victoria did not hesitate, but headed to her horse expecting Joe to follow.

Joe smiled as he hurriedly stuffed the remains of the picnic into the hamper and fixed it to his saddle. He mounted Cochise and kicked the horse into a gallop in Victoria’s wake, thinking that he had found a woman who would head towards trouble, rather than run away from it. He recalled the conversation he had had with Adam and Hoss at breakfast; Victoria would probably have rescued him from the bear!

One of the things that attracted Joe to Victoria was her love of horses and riding, and now he was grateful that she had refused the offer of a buggy for their outing. They rode through the forest as fast as they could, but were hampered by the thickly growing trees. It was nearly twenty minutes later that they emerged into an open meadow, where Joe stopped and Victoria halted beside him. Joe was looking at the grass and his eyes narrowed.

“What is it, what can you see?” Victoria asked.

Joe indicated the ground in front of them and drew an invisible line in the air, until he was pointing ahead at the trees marking the far side of the meadow. Victoria followed with her eyes, seeing the narrow path where the long grass had been flattened.

“What would have done that?”

“Well, it wasn’t a wagon,” Joe observed as he thought, and he didn’t much like what he was thinking.

They went slowly in single file, Victoria behind, as they followed the trail across the meadow, until they came to the river. Joe could see marks in the mud where something had been dragged into the water, and also the hoof prints of several horses, which told him they had entered the water, but there were no marks on the opposite bank. Joe looked left and right, wondering which way he should turn. He mentally tossed a coin and turned to his right, upstream, looking for any indication of where the riders had left the water. Joe was beginning to think that he must have turned the wrong way; he had gone over half a mile with no signs. Suddenly he urged Cochise to cross the river and then he kicked the horse into a gallop along the bank. Victoria followed, and saw Joe throw himself down beside the dark shape of a man lying on the ground. She rode up beside him and dismounted, drawing in a worried breath as Joe glanced up and she could see tears shining in his eyes.

“Joe? Who is it?” she asked softly as she knelt beside him.

Joe looked down again at the pale face and blood streaked body. “It’s my brother, Adam,” he said quietly.

Her hand at her throat, Victoria asked her next question carefully. “Is he…alive?”

Joe didn’t answer straight away. Adam’s bound hands were stretched over his head and, without moving them, Joe reached out to untie them, loosening the rope, which was blood-stained where it had cut into his brother’s wrists. Joe threw it away angrily and then he carefully felt his way down Adam’s arms and across his shoulders. After he had searched the rest of his brother’s body, he sat back on his heels and breathed a deep sigh of relief. He had found cuts and bruises, but, as far as he could tell, no broken bones, and no bullet wound. Joe looked up, smiling in relief. “Yeah, he’s just out cold.”

Victoria went to her horse, got the canteen that was hanging from her saddle and, from the hamper on Joe’s saddle, the cloth they had used for their picnic. She held out the green and white chequered material, and when Joe nodded she tore a strip off it and started to bathe Adam’s face. Joe ripped off another strip, and after unbuttoning the torn black shirt, started to clean the cuts and scrapes, which were oozing blood.

Roused by the touch of the cold water, Adam stirred, moaning as he tried to move.

“Just lie still, big brother,” Joe instructed, and Adam willingly lay unmoving as the world intruded painfully into his consciousness.

Eventually he opened his eyes. “Joe…?”

“Yeah, it’s me. What happened? Who did this?”

“Got dragged…three men.” After taking several deep breaths, he continued. “Wanted the payroll. They attacked Chet in town…so I left the money.” Adam was trying to gather enough strength to rise. “They jumped me on the way home. When they found I didn’t have the payroll…they took Sport.”

Joe was pleased to see some colour return to his brother’s face as he talked. “OK, don’t you move,” Joe told him. “I’m going to get a buckboard to take you back home.” He turned to Victoria. “Will you stay with him, until I get back?” Joe looked round; it was over half an hour since they had heard the shot, and they had seen no one, so it was probably safe for him to leave.

“No!” It was Adam who spoke. “I’m going after them.” He tried to rise, but Joe put a hand on his chest and pushed him back.

“You’re not goin’ anywhere, not like that.” Joe’s was the voice of reason, but Adam didn’t want to hear it. He pushed the hindering hand aside and groaned as he sat up.

“I have to get Sport back.” Adam sat and cradled his bruised ribs, but as he leaned over he could feel the pain in his back where he had struck the tree, and which had not been helped by being pulled over the rocks in the river bed. He sat up straight, pressing a hand into the small of his back and gritting his teeth, then he rolled onto his knees and started to push himself upright.

Joe knew that he couldn’t stop his determined brother moving. “Come on, I’ll help you,” he said, as he put his hand under Adam’s arm to support him, but once on his feet Adam eased away from the assistance.

“I’m fine, just bruised, nothing broken,” Adam insisted, buttoning what remained of his still damp shirt as he registered Victoria’s presence. He gave a small smile, as he looked from Joe to Victoria. “I hope I didn’t spoil your picnic.”

“Oh no,” she assured him, “we were just…” Victoria stopped, embarrassed. “Then we heard a shot.”

Joe looked proudly at the girl. “Victoria insisted we find out what it was about.”

“Well, thank you for that. But I think Joe had better take you home.” Adam turned to his brother, “I’ll be fine, if I could borrow a horse.” He took a step away, sucking in a breath at the pain that shot down his right leg.

“D’ya think you can ride?” Joe was relieved to see Adam standing unaided, though obviously with some difficulty. When Adam nodded, Joe continued. “Then you ride Victoria’s horse, she can double with me and we’ll all go back to the house.”

Adam wanted to go after the men straight away, but he needed a change of clothes and a new mount, so he agreed reluctantly.

Joe thought they should go slowly, but his brother rode ahead, forcing Joe to keep up with him. Despite the pain in his back, Adam made himself sit up straight in the saddle; he didn’t want Joe seeing the difficulty he was having. Adam knew that he would have a struggle with his father when he heard what had happened, and if Joe told Pa he was hurt it would only give him more ammunition in the coming argument. He would be more concerned about his son’s condition than the loss of the money and would try to stop him from going after the men. Adam was quietly assessing his injuries, and knew that there was no lasting damage and any pain he had would pass, but could he convince his father of that in time to catch up with Glasby and his men? He had to get Sport away from them before they harmed him.

**********

“Adam, be reasonable,” Ben begged his eldest son. “You’re in no state to go after them.” One look at Adam told Ben that he was trying to hide his discomfort; the skin around his eyes was drawn tight, and he was standing slightly skewed. “I’ve sent Chris into town to tell Roy, and you should let him handle it. That’s his job, not yours.”

In the hour since he and Joe had returned home, Adam had taken a few hurried minutes to explain to Ben what had happened, first to Chet in town and then to himself on the way home, and of Brewster’s involvement. Then he cleaned himself up, changed into fresh clothes, picked up his black, Sunday best hat, with its black band and silver studs identical to the one he had lost, and allowed Hop Sing to clean and bandage his wrists. Now he stood in front of his father, hands pressing down firmly on his hips, his back straight. He wasn’t trying to be defiant, it was the only way he could stand and not give away the fact that he had a constant nagging pain across his back and down his right leg from his butt to his knee. That, and the headache he had, would slow him down, but he couldn’t wait for it to improve.

“I admit there’s bits of me that hurt, but nothing serious,” Adam insisted. “And while I’m standing here arguing with you, those thieves are getting further away.”

“But it was only three hundred dollars.”

Adam smiled gently. “Pa, I remember the days when that sort of money was more than we ever expected to see.”

Ben nodded. “I remember them too, and I thank God that those days are behind us. But even then your life was worth more than any amount of money, and that hasn’t changed.”

Joe was sitting on the sofa with Victoria, watching and waiting patiently for the outcome of the discussion. It was never easy to tell which way an argument like this one would go; it usually ended suddenly, when either his father or brother would unexpectedly give way. But it looked as though that moment was still some way off.

Adam was becoming impatient, time was wasting and he wanted to be gone. “It’s not the money I’m going after. They took Sport, and if what I saw of the state of their horses is any clue, I’d rather have shot him there and then than have Kenny ride him.” Adam took a deep breath; he didn’t like pressuring his father, but Ben was giving him no choice. “Pa, I’m your son, and I live in your house, and if you forbid me to go, I’ll abide by that.” Adam paused meaningfully. “But I’ll never forgive you.”

Ben looked hard at his son; he didn’t like being manipulated. His anger rose at Adam’s words, but he could see the determination in the dark eyes, which overrode the discomfort that Adam was trying unsuccessfully to hide. When Ben spoke it was kindly, only concerned for the safety of his child. “Why don’t you wait for Hoss to get home, you know he’s the best tracker in the family…”

But Adam didn’t want kindness, he wanted action. “I can’t wait that long, it could be hours before he gets back, by which time they’ll be long gone.”

Ben stared at the floor and breathed a long sigh while he made his decision. Having independent, strong willed offspring was rewarding for a parent, but it did not always make for an easy life. He looked up. “Very well, go. But will you do one thing for me?”

Adam tried to relax his shoulders, but it just made his back hurt and he stood tensely. “What?”

“Take Joe with you.”

Adam glanced across the room at his youngest brother, who was sitting on the sofa with the girl he wasn’t courting. Adam knew that while Sport was uppermost in his mind, his young brother had different priorities. “I don’t know how long this’ll take.”

“Well brother, the sooner we go the sooner we’ll be back.” Joe got to his feet, smiling to encourage Adam to agree.

“All right then.” Adam turned to the door. “Let’s go,” he said over his shoulder, trying not to limp as he made his escape from Ben’s piercing scrutiny of his condition.

Joe asked his father to make arrangements for Victoria to get home safely and, after making a detour into the kitchen to collect supplies, he joined Adam in the barn, where his brother was attempting to lift a saddle on to Bella, a big bay mare with an even temperament and steady gait; the sort of ride Adam needed at that moment. Joe gently, but firmly, took the saddle from Adam’s hands and completed the task in one swift movement.

Joe fastened the cinch under the belly of the mare and, as he straightened, he looked with concern at his brother. “You sure you should be doing this?”

“Don’t you start,” Adam said crossly. “I only agreed to you coming to please Pa, but if you’re going to spend all your time telling me I should be at home tucked up in bed, I might change my mind.”

“Oh yeah? Well don’t worry. If you want to go and kill yourself I won’t stop you. But just remember that it’s me who’s gonna have to tell Pa.”

Adam hung his head, sorry that he had sounded off at Joe, who was only showing a brotherly concern. He looked up and spoke quietly. “Joe, how would you feel if someone stole Cochise? Not just the fact of losing him, but knowing that the person who took him was going to mistreat him?”

Joe studied his adored pinto. He finished tacking him up and led him out of his stall before he replied. “I do understand,” he assured his brother.

Adam nodded. “Then let’s go.”

As he settled into the saddle, Adam’s tense face reflected the pain from his back and leg, but he gritted his teeth and led the way out of the yard. Joe frowned as he watched, then he followed, shaking his head at his elder brother’s stubbornness.

**********

When they reached the spot near the river where Joe had found Adam, they stopped. Joe dismounted and Adam leaned on the pommel of his saddle, trying to ease the nagging pain low down in his back, while he watched his brother scouting around on the slope of the bank.

“That way,” said Joe, coming back to stand beside Adam and pointing north.

“You sure? We haven’t got time to go the wrong way.”

Joe caught Cochise’s reins and sighed, then smiled to himself; he had an idea that he would be doing a lot of sighing before their hunt was finished.

“Yes, brother, I’m sure. ‘Course you could get down off that horse and go see for yourself.”

Not relishing the thought of trying to get back on the tall bay, Adam declined the invitation. He held up a pacifying hand. “No, I believe you.”

As Joe sprung lightly onto Cochise, he turned to his brother, who was straightening up slowly, the fingers of his right hand digging deep into the back of his thigh as he tried unsuccessfully to find a spot that would ease the pain. “Let’s get one thing straight. You’re gonna have to trust me, unless you wanna do this by yourself, and by the look of you, that ain’t an option.”

A smile caught at the edges of Adam’s mouth. He had spent years teaching Joe how to track, and it looked as though the effort was about to pay off. Until he stopped hurting, he knew Joe was going to have to take the lead in the hunt for the men, and Adam was prepared to let him, as long as they caught up with them. “Of course I trust you, we’ll track them down together,” Adam assured him. “Lay on, Macduff, and cursed be him that first cries ‘Hold, enough’*”

Joe frowned. “Huh?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Adam became serious. “North you said?”

They rode off, Joe leading the way through the forest as he followed the clear trail left by the men. Occasionally he would dismount and crouch down, looking at the ground, better to see the signs that would tell him which way to go, and he realised that, for some of the way, the men had followed the same path that he and Victoria had taken to find his brother, but in the opposite direction. Joe thought that they could not have missed them by more than a few minutes, but that had allowed them to escape unnoticed.

From the boundary of the Ponderosa, the trail continued north and west. Adam rode along behind Joe, silently following where his brother led. The pain in his lower back was slowly spreading down into his foot and upwards into his shoulders where it met his headache, and that, combined with the bruising to his ribs and stomach that restricted his breathing, meant that it was taking all his strength just to stay in the saddle.

When the sun sank behind the mountains and it became dark on the narrow track, making it difficult to follow the signs, Joe turned to tell Adam that they should stop. Alarmed to find that his brother was nowhere is sight, Joe pushed Cochise into a gallop back the way they had come. As he rounded a bend, he was relieved to see Bella ambling along slowly, but was not so pleased to see that Adam had his eyes shut and winced every time he swayed with the movement of the horse. He was not directing the animal, who was wandering at her own pace.

Pulling up beside his brother, Joe called to him. “Adam.” No reaction. Joe put his hand on Adam’s arm. “Adam!” he said louder.

Adam opened his eyes and he seemed to shake himself. He looked round. “Joe? Why’ve we stopped?”

Joe frowned as he dismounted, went to Bella’s nearside and looked up at his distracted brother. “I think you stopped some time ago.”

“Where are we?”

“Just off the Ponderosa. By the look of things they’re headed towards the mountains west of Virginia City. But it’s too dark to follow them now.”

Adam looked up at the sky. “There’s still a half-hour of daylight, we should go on.”

“Let’s talk about this when you’re on the ground?” Joe suggested, as he took hold of Bella’s bridle and led her and Cochise into the forest, where he could hear the tinkling sound of water. He stopped beside a stream, in a small clearing, and reached up to take hold of Adam’s arm, helping him down. Adam could see the determination in Joe’s face and didn’t resist, but, as his feet touched the ground, he gasped in pain and would have fallen if Joe had not held him.

As his brother gently lowered him to the ground, Adam looked up. “Don’t say it, not a word. I am not going back.” He smiled to reassure Joe. “Besides, a night’s rest will get this better.”

Joe just shook his head at his brother’s stubbornness and after settling the horses, started to make camp, gathering wood and setting a fire before going to their saddle bags and getting food and utensils. Once he had made some coffee, Joe sat down beside Adam, who was lying stretched out on the ground with his knees bent up and one arm under the small of his back.

When Adam saw that his brother was offering him a cup, he rolled onto his side and sat up slowly, pulling in a quick breath as a bolt of pain shot down the back of his leg. “Thanks,” he said, taking the cup and sipping the hot, strong coffee.

Joe reached down at his side, and Adam raised his eyebrows as he saw the bottle that Joe held out to him, unmistakably whiskey.

“Thought this might help, hope Pa won’t mind me borrowing it.” Joe smiled, and when Adam nodded he poured a shot into his coffee.

“Thanks again, you’re a smart boy.” Joe bristled at the term ‘boy’, as he always did, and Adam saw the reaction. “Sorry Joe, I didn’t mean that like it sounded.” He took a pull at his coffee. “It’s good.” He smiled appreciatively.

Joe finished his own drink and went to the fire to prepare supper. Adam eased himself down until he was again stretched out on the soft covering of grass, and watched as Joe filled a pan with beans and chunks of beef, provided by Hop Sing.

When the meal was ready, Joe helped Adam to sit up and placed Bella’s saddle behind his back, trying to make him comfortable. After he had managed to eat a little, more coffee, generously laced with whiskey, was taking Adam’s mind off the pain, and he relaxed into the warmth of the woollen saddle blanket behind him. “How far away d’ya think they are?” he asked.

Joe thought for a moment before answering. He wanted to say that their quarry was too far ahead to catch, but suspected that Adam would just want to go faster, with less rest; or he could try to slow him down by saying that they were close to catching them. Joe decided on the truth.

“They had a good start on us, but the trail’s clear and easy to follow, like they don’t expect anyone to be following.”

Adam nodded thoughtfully. “Good, then there’s a chance.”

“What if…” Joe hesitated to voice his thoughts. “What if Sport’s hurt, like you think he might be?”

“First I’ll see how bad he is.” The look that came over Adam’s face sent a shiver down Joe’s spine as his brother continued quietly, but with chilling certainty. “If I have to shoot him, then they’d better not give me any cause to shoot them as well.”

“Aren’t you the one who always taught me that this sort of thing should be handled by the law? Don’t you think…?”

“No, I don’t.” Adam started to turn to face his brother, who lay on the opposite side of the fire, but he stopped immediately; his back muscles cramping as soon as he moved. He settled slowly back against the comfort of his saddle, trying to relax. “Joe, I won’t harm them, that I promise you. At least not intentionally. I do intend that they should face the law. But I won’t promise to take any of them back alive if they resist.”

Joe studied his brother’s features, and Adam could see the unasked question in his eyes - why?

Adam wasn’t sure that he could, or wanted to, explain. His feelings ran deep and he would have preferred to keep them to himself. But he knew that his brother was entitled to an explanation; he was asking Joe to put his life on the line for his horse, though he would do everything he could to prevent that situation arising.

When Adam spoke he looked into the fire, avoiding the young eyes that were observing him closely. “You know Pa gave Sport to me when I graduated?” He glanced at Joe, who nodded, then he went back to studying the fire. “Well, that meant so much to me. Pa had made a lot of sacrifices to allow me to go to college. He didn’t really have the money to do it; everything was tied up in the ranch. But he worked and scraped to get enough together so that I could go. Then when I came back he gave me the horse, and told me it was a ‘thank you’ for making it all worthwhile. I had had the benefit of his work and his effort, and he was thanking me. You can’t know how that felt.”

“No, I guess not.”

“And today…the thought that those men would take that gift and abuse it…abuse the love with which it was given…well, I can’t just stand by and let that happen.”

“So you wouldn’t go after them for what they did to you, but for what they might do to Sport?” Joe was curious, wondering at the strength of his brother’s dedication to his horse. It gave him an insight into a part of Adam’s character that he knew existed but which seldom showed itself.

“That’s right.” Adam raised his eyes to his brother. “I can understand what they did, and why; I know that men like that exist. I like to think that Sport has only ever known kindness; even when I was breaking him I never harmed him, never pushed him beyond that point where his spirit was broken. Now he’s in their hands, seeing a different side to human nature, and that same spirit will make him fight them every step of the way.” Adam stared into the fire, his thoughts uneasy. “It could be his death warrant.”

Joe watched him for a minute. “Try and get some rest, we’ll leave at first light.”

**********

Bacon was cooking over the fire, wafting its delicious aroma round the camp, when Joe shook Adam awake and offered him a cup of coffee. Adam sat up slowly; a night on the ground had made him stiff, and he could feel every bruise and scrape that getting dragged had inflicted, but he was pleased when he found that he felt only a slight twinge from his back.

Joe held out the whiskey bottle, but Adam shook his head. “It’s OK, don’t need that.”

Joe smiled, relieved, as he passed over a plate. They ate quickly, and as soon as they were finished, Joe packed up the camp, telling Adam to rest as long as he could. Once all was ready, they mounted and Joe picked up the trail, which was still clear and easy to follow.

Mist shrouded the trees, wisps clinging to the upper branches, hiding the sun and adding to the chill of the early morning as they rode. Although feeling better, Adam allowed Joe to lead; the experience would be good for him. Moving along the narrow track, Joe was keeping his eyes pinned to the signs on the ground; deep hoof prints showing three horses bearing riders, and the lighter marks of one unmounted. As the morning wore on, Adam felt the ache in his back return. The constant, nagging pain extended down his leg, but he tried not to let Joe see his discomfort, he wanted his young brother to concentrate on finding the gang. Adam was looking ahead, desperate for a sight of the men they were after. Suddenly he called to Joe.

“Look, there.” He pointed at a spot up ahead, and they slowed as they approached. Beside the trail was the carcass of a horse, a small hole in the side of its head indicating what had killed it. Adam peered down, and knew instantly, from the pale rump and dark forequarters, that it was the horse which Kenny had been riding. His lips thinned and his jaw set; now Kenny would be riding Sport, or attempting to.

Without waiting for Joe’s lead, Adam turned back to the track and kicked Bella into a canter. They hadn’t heard the shot, which meant that the men were still some way ahead of them.

“Hey, Adam, slow down,” called Joe, as he caught up with his brother.

Adam didn’t slacken his pace as he looked round. “No, we’ve gotta catch them before…”

Joe caught at Bella’s bridle and forced her to a walk. The look that Adam gave Joe would have frightened most men, but Joe could see the pain behind the glare and would not allow his brother to intimidate him.

“Adam, be reasonable. How long do you think you can go on at this pace? You want to catch ‘em, I know that, but then what? Your back’s hurtin’, ain’t it?” Adam didn’t acknowledge Joe’s question. “You cripple yourself by riding hard, and whether we find them or not will make no difference. If I have to take them on alone, they may still get away; is that what you want?”

‘Adam, be reasonable’. The words rang in his head; his father had said the same thing to him. Was he being foolish in going after the men, just because of his horse? He had promised himself that he would not put Joe in danger, but that was exactly what he was doing by letting his emotions rule his thinking.

“Sorry, Joe, you’re right.” He pointed ahead. “OK, after you.”

Joe sighed, satisfied that, for the moment, he had managed to control his brother. He smiled to himself; that had to be a first, and probably an equal surprise to both of them.

The trail they were following led them higher into the mountains, along narrow tracks which became increasingly rocky, making it more difficult to follow the signs, until finally they disappeared completely. Joe stopped, peering at the ground, then he looked round at his brother and frowned.

“You OK?” Joe asked.

Adam kept his features under control and nodded. “Keep going,” he ordered.

“The trail’s gone. We’ll have to follow the track and see if we can pick it up again, I don’t think they would have taken to the forest,” Joe said, as he looked at the close growing trees.

They rode for an hour, with no sign of the gang. Joe was beginning to think that the trail had gone cold, and was going to suggest to Adam that they should give up the chase, when he saw a small cabin up ahead.

“Let’s ask there, maybe they’ve seen ‘em, if they came this way,” Joe suggested. Adam just nodded, it was taking all his efforts to overcome the growing agony in his back and leg. He just wanted to find the men, get Sport back, and go home. ‘Surely not too much to ask?’ he wondered, gazing up into the deep blue sky.

They pulled up outside the wooden building, which was no more than a single-room shack. There were pelts and pans hanging on the wall by the door, but the place was clean and in good repair, and appeared to be well kept. Joe glanced round at Adam, then dismounted and went up the two steps that led to the door. He knocked, and was more than startled by the response. The sound of a shot from inside the cabin reverberated around the forest, and a hole appeared in the wood of the door, six inches to the right of where Joe’s head had been before he threw himself down the steps and onto the ground.

“Get away from here, I mean it. I told you, I’ll kill you!” It was a woman’s voice, high pitched and angry.

Joe raised himself up, and there was silence from the shack as he got to his feet to be joined by Adam, who had dismounted, ready to go to his brother’s assistance.

Joe glanced round. “What d’ya reckon?”

“Who knows? But maybe…” Adam stopped, contemplating this turn of events. He suspected that he knew what had happened, and who had caused it. “Try again, let her know who we are, if you can.”

Joe nodded, and keeping to one side of the door, he went up the steps again, and called out. “Ma’am, it’s just me and my brother. We don’t mean you no harm.” Reaching out, he lifted the latch and pushed the door open, peeking round the doorframe when no shot came. He could see little in the darkness within, but heard the sound of a gun’s hammer falling on an empty chamber. He rushed inside before the weapon could be reloaded.

As his eyes grew accustomed to the dim light, Joe saw the slim figure of a woman sitting on the floor, her fair hair dishevelled, her face showing cuts and bruises where she had been struck, and her dress spattered with blood. A rifle was held in shaking hands pointing at the intruder, and as Joe approached the woman shrank back, only stopping when she was pressed tightly against the wall beside the kitchen range. When she saw Adam appear behind Joe, his black hat and dark hair reminded her of one of those who had attacked her, and she cried out, rising from the floor and striking out angrily at the men before her.

It took the strength of both brothers to control the woman’s raving, until she collapsed, unconscious. Joe put his arms under her shoulders and knees and carried her to the bed in one corner of the room. He loosened the buttons at the collar of her simple grey dress and pulled the covers over her.

“Looks like she was attacked,” observed Joe gravely, as they stood looking down at her.

“And I’d bet a silver mine to a short bit** that I know who did it.”

Joe looked up sharply. “You think…?”

“Who else? It’s just too much of a coincidence that their trail came this way.” Adam’s face set hard as he thought of the woman, alone, having to face Glasby and his gang.

The brothers exchanged glances and looked around; it was all too easy to imagine what had happened. The cabin was a mess, with sacks of flour and sugar slit open and scattered on the floor along with the contents of the kitchen cupboards, the few books from a row of shelves tossed aside, and broken ornaments and upturned furniture gave the room an appearance that contrasted strongly to the neatness outside.

Joe could see by Adam’s awkward stance that he was having trouble staying on his feet, and he picked up an overturned bentwood chair and set it beside the bed. Adam didn’t need any encouragement to settle himself on the seat; the struggle with the woman had not helped the pain in his back and leg, which was a constant ache that couldn’t be relieved. It was draining his strength, making it difficult to move one foot in front of the other, and every time he took a step he wanted to scream out against it, to make it stop.

Joe handed him a pan of water and a cloth, and Adam set about cleaning the woman’s face, bathing the cuts and bruises and pressing the cloth against the gashes to stop them bleeding.

He was concentrating on his task when his thoughts were dragged back to the room, as he noticed Joe moving round the cabin, tidying up; picking up the books and replacing them on the shelf, collecting the pieces of china into a pile, refilling the cupboards and righting the chairs and table before finally finding a broom, which he used to sweep the rest of the chaos out of the door. Adam smiled at Joe. Their father would have been proud of his young son, who always had to be nagged to tidy his own room at home, with little success.

As Joe came back from clearing the steps, he turned to Adam. “You keep an eye on her, while I make us some coffee.”

When Joe returned from the horses with the supplies he needed, he handed Adam the whiskey bottle. Adam dropped his hat on the floor, and a silent smile of appreciation crossed his face as he unstoppered the bottle, took a long swig and settled to watching his charge. When he saw the woman’s eyelids flutter, Adam moved closer and put a gentle smile on his face so that she would not be frightened of him.

At the sight of the dark-haired man leaning over her, the woman moved to the far side of the bed, holding her hands up to ward off the expected blows. As her eyes slowly took in the figure in front of her, she realised that she had never seen him before; she was sure that she would have remembered the soft brown eyes and strong features.

Adam spoke quietly. “It’s all right, I won’t hurt you, we’re here to help you.”

Her blue eyes flickered to Joe and then looked back at Adam. “Who…who are you?” she asked, her bruised mouth barely moving and with a quiver in her voice.

“I’m Adam Cartwright,” he gestured towards the kitchen, “and that’s my little brother, Joe. We found you and put you to bed. Can you tell us what happened?”

The woman seemed to hesitate for a long time, and Adam thought that she would not reply. But the name of Cartwright was familiar and she made up her mind that these were not the men who had attacked her. “My name’s Araminta Sinclair. Three men…” she paused, swallowing as she remembered, “three men came, they wanted money but I wouldn’t tell them where we hid it. They wouldn’t go away, even when they’d searched. They said if they couldn’t have money, they’d have… But I fought them and I hurt them, then I got the gun…and they left,” she finished, with a distinct tinge of pride.

“When was this? How long ago?” Adam asked gently. The word that came into his mind as he looked down at Araminta was ‘fragile’; she was small and slight of build, her complexion pale, but she had fought off three men, on her own. Adam shook his head in amazement; it was more than he had done when faced with those same men.

“It was…an hour ago…maybe two.”

Adam touched her arm, trying to reassure her. “Well…you’re safe now.” He looked round the small room. “Does anyone live here with you?”

“My husband.”

“Where is he?”

“He went to trade the pelts. He’s a trapper,” she explained.

“When do you expect him back?” Adam was hoping that her husband would return, and he and Joe could continue with their own hunt.

“Don’t know exactly…soon.” Exhaustion was overtaking Araminta, and suddenly the effort to speak seemed too much.

The drooping of Araminta’s eyelids told Adam that she needed rest. “You try and get some sleep.” He pulled the covers over her again. “We’ll be here to keep an eye on you.”

Araminta looked at the man who called himself Adam and thought that there was something about him that you didn’t argue with. She allowed her eyes to close and drifted off to sleep.

Adam leaned back and tried to relax his muscles, but as soon as he did so the pain in his leg sharpened and he tensed again. It seemed that no matter how he sat it made no difference, the agony went from his back to his toes. He took another pull at the bottle and settled back slowly, waiting each time he moved for the pain to subside, and then leaning back a bit more, until he was able to sit with some measure of comfort.

Meanwhile Joe had lit a fire in the range and put some water on to heat. As soon as the coffee was ready, he poured two cups and went to sit on the side of the bed, handing one to Adam, who quietly told Joe what he had learned. “Her name’s Araminta Sinclair, her husband’s away, don’t know when he’ll be back. If it was Glasby who attacked her, they’re not that far ahead.”

“What are we gonna do?” Joe asked.

That was a question that Adam had been considering. “Well, we can’t leave her here like this. One of us has to stay with her.”

Joe knew there was only one sensible solution. “You stay then. You cain’t go after Glasby and his gang on your own, not with your back like it is; he’d make mincemeat of you.”

Adam gestured with his head towards the bed. “But if I stay here, what help am I gonna be to her? We don’t know how badly hurt she is and she needs someone who can look after her. You’ll have to stay here, ‘til her husband gets back.”

“Adam,” Joe said forcefully, “I won’t let you…”

“Yes, you will.” Adam’s tone matched his brother’s. “I’ve allowed you to lead this hunt so far, but don’t push me. You’re staying here, I’m going after Sport.” Adam knew that he stood little chance of success, but he would not see this woman, or his brother, sacrificed on the altar of his emotions. “If I think there’s no chance, I’ll go for Roy.”

“By which time they’ll be long gone.”

Adam shrugged and Joe saw the effect of impending failure in his brother’s eyes; sadness and defeat. Adam leaned down and picked up his hat from the floor, where he had dropped it. As he straightened, he kept his features under control so that Joe would not see the difficulty he had in moving. He stood and headed for the door as quickly as the pain would allow.

Joe tried again to stop him. “What about some food, you haven’t eaten since breakfast?”

Impatience getting the better of him, Adam snapped, “There’s no time for that.” He nodded towards the bed where Araminta lay. “Take care of her as long as she needs you,” he instructed as went out.

Joe stared after him. “Look out for the bears,” he whispered to the closing door.

**********

Adam reached Bella and held on to the saddle, dropping his head onto the warm leather. He breathed deeply several times, hoping that the agony would die down into a manageable ache. When he decided that he could wait no longer, he mounted slowly and rode back to the path that he and Joe had been following. He urged Bella into a canter, knowing that he was on the right trail and eager to catch the men. The horse had an easy, even gait, but despite this Adam soon had to pull her to a walk; he was in danger of parting company with his mount as his right leg lost the ability to grip the horse’s flanks. The track climbed up higher into the mountains and then suddenly started to descend st