DEARLY BELOVED
Ben Cartwright snapped shut the lid of the handsome time piece that he had been holding to check the time against the big clock that hung on the wall outside the Overland stage depot. For the seconds it took him to replace in his pocket, he stared long and hard into the distance, as though by an act of his own will he could summon the stage coach to make it’s now overdue appearance. It was already one hour late. He scowled darkly and his black brows beetled across his brow and made his face appear shut off and melancholy. He pushed open the door to the depot office, sending the depot clerk’s heart plummeting to his boots as a result. Tom Harding stood to attention behind his desk. Ben Cartwright in a bad mood on a bad day scared the pants off of him. Ben now nodded over at the clock and Tom nodded
“I know, I know, Mr. Cartwright, it’s an hour late already.”
Ben did not reply but now glanced at the clock on the office wall and pulled out the watch from his pocket and again compared the times. He sighed and pushed back his hat and scratched his head. The stage was often late. What concerned him more than any thing was the itch at the back of his skull. Not that he could explain that to Tom Harding who was now hopping from one foot to the other in nervous anticipation of a Cartwright temper exploding right in front of him.
The door opened and the bell clanged to announce a new comer to the office, which relieved Tom from any further anxiety about Ben’s temper. Tom Sladen, who had recently started up a haulage company in town, stepped inside and closed the door. Sladen nodded over to the depot clerk and then over at Ben
“Stage late again?”
“Yes.” Ben took off his hat and wiped his brow. Just could not get rid of that itch. “Probably a wheel," he muttered and strolled over to read the list of rules pinned to the wall and yellowing into insignificance.
“Toby’s no doubt mislaid the horses again,” Sladen chuckled, his oily face creased in insincere joviality. His comment was greeted with a mere grunt of acknowledgement and Ben did not turn to pursue the conversation. Sladen frowned.. “Read about the trial?” he said by way of getting Ben to talk and the big man nodded and narrowed his eyes “Seems to have gone well,” Sladen continued.
“It did.”
“Adam turned the case. Frobisher’s a good lawyer but it was Adam’s evidence that turned the case for him”
“Yes, I think so. And yes, Frobisher is a good lawyer.” Ben smiled then. It was like the sun breaking through storm clouds. “Frobisher came to town, years back, a struggling lawyer without nickel to his name.”
“His wife changed all that,” Sladen chuckled, a degree of warmth in his voice which brought a mellowing response from the rancher.
“Frobisher’s wife always said that her husband would amount to something one day and when she said that they had bought a partnership in a big law firm back in ‘Frisco, no one believed them. Their laughs soon turned on them, though, when she proved that she had stashed away more pokes of gold from the gold dust she had panned from dirty laundry water, than some of the miners in town would see in years.” His face creased into a smile at the memory and the dark eyes softened.
“She was a clever woman all right,” Sladen said. “Not that she was the only enterprising laundrywoman to have realized that most miners brought out more gold dust in the seams of their clothes than they did anywhere else.”
“Well, Julian has done well out of it,” Ben said, his voice softening at the thought of his old friend and the hard times they had endured together way before Sladen had ever come to town.
“Certainly seems to have done that. This latest trial will really get him established. But, as I said before, that was mainly thanks to Adams testimony. The newspaper report said that Adam made quite an impression under cross examination.” He pulled out a cigar and bit off the end which he spat into a spittoon place strategically by the door. “You must be proud of him.” He struck a match and began to draw on the cigar heavily.
“Yes, I am.” Ben smiled, a tender, retrospective smile, and nodded. The matter of his son brought back to mind the reason why he was there, and he glanced again at the clock and frowned. “Where’s that stage got to?” he grumbled, shook his head and stomped from the building. T he door slammed with a bang that sent the old clock slightly askew as a result.
“What’s rattled him?” Sladen asked Tom. “The stage is always late”
“Didn’t dare ask,” Tom replied, picking up some papers from the desk. “But Adam Cartwright’s due home on that stage and I guess Mr. Cartwright’s impatient to get him back to work”
“Huh.” Sladen blew a cloud of cigar smoke into the office and shrugged. “The man works those boys too hard.”
**********
Zechariah Phillips pulled the horses up sharp. As a result, he enveloped himself, his passengers and the bystanders in a welter of dust and grit. Ben flapped his hat in front of his face and waited for his son to step out of the stage. Little Joe was walking quickly down the sidewalk towards him with a grin on his face. He greeted his father with a merry smile and a whimsical comment that drew only a grunt as a response. Joe lost the grin and turned his attention to the stagecoach. Two passengers stepped down onto the main road, and brushed away grit and dust as they did so. Joe’s grin returned as he thought of what a pleasant journey his brother must have had with such attractive co-passengers to keep him company.
Adams valise was cast unceremoniously at Ben’s feet. Both Cartwrights surveyed it without registering the fact that it was without its owner. Then they looked at one another.
“Are you sure his cable said today?” Joe asked, pushing his hat to the back of his head.
“Are you sure that’s his valise?” Ben snapped back sharply “Hey, Phillips, what’s happened?”
“Whaddya mean?” Phillips spat a stream of tobacco juice at Ben’s feet.
“Where’s my son?”
“Hey, whaddya think I am? Every passenger’s wet nurse?” Phillips spat again and Ben and Joe stepped back just in time to avoid being splattered. “Your son came to the depot and left his luggage. That’s it thar –” he indicated the baggage with a gnarled and dusty hand.
“I can see that,” Ben grumbled
“Then he said that as he had an hour to wait he would take a walk and clear his head.”
“Clear his head?”
“That’s what I said ain’t it?” Phillips frowned “Waited an hour for him to come back. Thought he had changed his mind and hired a hoss instead. Couldn’t wait no longer, had other passengers to see to.”
“He didn’t come back?” Ben glanced at Joe and frowned. “He didn’t get back. “
“That’s what the man said, Pa,” Joe murmured, pushing his hat even further back so that a lock of curling hair fell rebelliously across his brow.
“But, why not?” Ben glanced at Joe and then at Phillips and then at the baggage. “You know, Joe, I’ve had a funny feeling all morning.”
“There’ll be some explanation, Pa.”
“Something’s happened.”
“Nah, he’s okay. Probably decided to hire a horse like Phillips said”
“Adam would have told him if he had changed his plans. He’s too thorough to just change plans mid way without letting anyone know. He didn’t return for his bags either.”
“Well, Pa, if it puts your mind at rest, why not cable Frobisher and find out from him if he knows anything,” Joe said good humouredly. “Next thing you know, you’ll be saying your head itches, like Hoss…" he paused when his father gave him a dark glowering scowl and he gulped. “Well, anyhow, Pa, I’ll just take his baggage to the wagon.”
“YOU just get along and do that small thing,” Ben growled and stalked across the road to the telegraph and cable office.
*********
“What will you do, Pa?”
Hoss watched his father’s face thoughtfully. He scanned the features like a man scans a map to find what direction to take. Hoss was adept now at reading his father’s expressions. The raised eyebrows, the darkening eye, and the furrowed brow were all indicative of anxiety, perplexity and annoyance. Hoss touched his fathers arm now as though to rouse him from some deep reverie. Ben sighed and looked at Joe and then at Hoss and nodded
“I think the best thing for me to do is get to San Francisco as soon as possible.” He looked at their faces and his lips narrowed into a thin line. “Something’s happened to him.”
“You don’t know that, Pa,” Joe said quietly
“I assure you, I DO know it!” Ben shook his head miserably from side to side like some old lion fending off an annoying gnat. “When you have sons of your own one day, you’ll know what I mean.”
The brothers exchanged thoughtful glances to one another and then looked at their father. Ben ignored their looks and only leaned forward, resting his elbows upon his knees and staring into the hearth with his eye fixed and grim. Joe shook his head
“Pa, wouldn’t it be better to wait and see if there’s a cable waiting for us in the morning?”
“You can send a cable.” Ben’s voice growled from the depths of his chest. “Send it to Frobisher and tell him I’ll be arriving there Wednesday morning.”
“Pa?”
“Hoss, don’t try and persuade me to stay.”
“I wasn’t, Pa.” Hoss sat down on the chair opposite his father and looked at the earnest face once again before glancing up at his brother. Joe merely shrugged and shook his head as though he had had enough of the game. “Pa, what makes you so doggone sure that Adams in trouble? You know that he can handle anything that comes his way – oh, ‘cept knights in shining armor, of course.” He chuckled at his reference to Adam’s misadventures on one particular trip but there was no responding chuckle from his father, who only shook his head in exasperation
“I know you both mean well but I know Adam and the way he goes about doing things. And I also know that the man he was testifying against has a family that will stop at nothing to get revenge on him.”
“Well, if you put it that way, I can see your reasons for being anxious,” Hoss muttered, scratching the back of his head “But I thought you said that the law would have arrested them as well, once Henderson had been found guilty.”
“Knowing that pack of animals, they would have scattered and hidden their tracks as soon as they heard the report of the verdict.” Ben got to his feet and rubbed his hands together as though he were cold, despite the room being particularly warm that evening. He glanced over at the clock and frowned more darkly than ever. “I’m going to pack some things so I can get an early start tomorrow. You two had better get to bed; there’s little point in staying up now.”
“Are you sure, Pa?” Joe asked gently, placing a conciliatory hand on his father’s broad shoulder and wishing that in some way he could make the older man feel less anxious.
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“Well, look, how about we come along too, Pa?” Hoss suggested hopefully. His blue eyes twinkled over at Joe who glanced at Ben as though waiting for acceptance of the suggestion, but Ben merely shook his head
“No, no – thanks anyway for the thought, but there’s too much to be done here. Joe, I want you to make sure that fencing is finished before I get back. Hoss, you’ll be in charge….” His voice trailed off as though some sudden, terrible thought had crossed his mind and taken the words from his mouth. He clamped his lips more tightly together and shook his head as though denying the thoughts and turned quickly towards the stairs and to his room.
Joe pursed his lips much in the manner of his eldest brother and shook his head.
“Pa sure is worried about nothing. I guarantee you, Hoss, that Adam will ride in to-morrow morning full of the joys of spring.”
“Yeah, mebbe." Hoss frowned, his eyes still fixed upon the staircase as though in his mind’s eye he could still see his father mounting each step at a time, very slowly, like a man with the weight of all the problems of the world upon his shoulders.
*********
“What shall we do, Edith?” Mrs. Emily Abrahams looked at her younger and more active sister with a plaintive whine in her voice. Her eyes dribbled tears at which she dabbed frequently with a little lace trimmed handkerchief
Edith Stephens tidied a wisp of gray hair behind her left ear and stood up to face her widowed sister with whom she had lived for twelve years, and for whom she had the utmost contempt but tender affection. She now reached out a kindly hand, a hand that once had been very beautiful in its time and was now, laden with its rings, still distinguished.
“My dear, I really think that it is time to call in a doctor.”
“Oh dear, do you really think so?”
“It’s quite obvious,” she replied in a crisp matter of fact voice. “He is clearly very ill and there is nothing more that we can do for him.”
“But I thought it was just a little bump on the head,” Mrs. Abrahams whined. “And what will the doctor say when he knows that we have had a man in the house for several days?”
“Don’t be silly, Emily. Doctors are used to that kind of thing.” She tutted and picked up her skirts and led the way upstairs to the back bedroom.
The room was bright with sunlight and warm from the fire that was burning in the small grate. She approached the bed and surveyed the occupant, then sighed and touched his brow and then the pulse at his throat. “Emily, we must send for the doctor.”
“Oh Edith,” she whimpered and dabbed at her eyes again
“Men are not like stray dogs. You cannot bring them into the house and expect things to sort themselves out that easily. Especially when you are responsible for knocking them down in the first place.”
“Oh Edith!” she protested and stuffed a corner of the handkerchief into her mouth to stop herself from crying louder.
“Well now, you asked for my opinion and I have given it. I have nursed enough people in my time to know that this young man is suffering from something worse than a bump on the head – caused by we know who!”
“Edith, will we have to notify the police?”
“What on earth for?” Edith drew herself erect and looked at her sister in greater contempt than normal and then at the occupant in the bed with total disgust.
“It isn’t my fault though. He was coming out across the road and fell down. I’m sure he was on the ground before the cab hit him.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“He got up again, almost right a way.”
“Almost implies something that is not quite definite, Emily.”
“But he did; he got up and said ‘It’s all right.’ ”
“Nonsense, when clearly it was not all right. We should have left him to walk off while he was still capable of standing on his own two feet.”
“But his head was bleeding, Edith. He looked so pale. A cup of tea was all I intended to give him. It was you who suggested putting him to bed.”
“Emily –“
“But it was.”
“Never mind that. What is one to do when a strange man falls down in the middle of ones best parlor? Mother would turn in her grave!”
“But you said you know how to get him better seeing as how you had been a nurse for so long and knew all about nursing. You said no one needed to know and that he would soon be on his feet and out of here.”
“Well, I was wrong,” Edith conceded rather ungraciously. She clasped her hands in her lap and surveyed the sick man on the bed. “Emily, he is very sick.”
“What will the doctor think, Edith?”
“He’ll just think that we are two very silly old women to have taken in a strange man and saddle ourselves with such a problem. Now then, come along. This is not really a problem after all; there is a solution. Therefore, this is just a nuisance.”
Emily Abrahams blew her nose and stood at the foot of the bed. She looked down at the ‘nuisance’ and shook her head. “He looks so ill.”
“He is ill,” her sister replied matter of factly. She scribbled down a note which she sealed and handed to her sister. “I’ve told him that our nephew came for a visit and was taken ill.”
“Oh, but –“
“What else can we do? We have our reputation to think about, sister, and if anyone were to know we had given a complete stranger a bed….” She looked sternly at her sister who quailed visibly before Edith’s vitriolic blue gaze.
**********
Dr. Mathews examined the young man thoughtfully, then put away his instruments and left the patient. He closed the door of the room and returned to the sisters who waited, with beating hearts, for the doctor’s verdict.
“Well now.” He frowned and regarded them both thoughtfully. “What is this young mans name?”
“John,” Emily said, for it had been her husband’s name.
“Cecil,” Edith said for it had been the name of a long ago sweetheart.
“John Cecil,” Emily said primly, shooting a defiant look at her sister who raised her head higher and thinned her lips.
“Very well. You say Mr. Cecil is your nephew whom you have not seen for some time?”
“That’s right,” Edith said. “He came the other day and then fell down in the middle of tea. Everything went everywhere – it was such a mess.”
“I see.” the doctor looked at Edith who sat very still. “Well, you both did very well.
You have no doubt saved his life. As it is, he is very ill and needs great care and attention. More than either of you can provide. I shall have to arrange for him to be taken to the local hospital.” He snapped hit bag shut. “How long has he been here?”
“Three days, isn’t it?” Emily gulped. “Edith? Dear?”
“Two days and a half,” came the snapped off reply
“He wakes up sometimes?”
“Sometimes,” Edith said, “He wakes up and talks a little. He asks for his father. Says there is something he has to do.”
“Yes, well, he’s very feverish. You should have called me here much sooner than this. I shall arrange for an ambulance to be here very shortly. There’s no need to distress your selves over this matter any more. “
They watched him go and then looked at one another. Emily dissolved into tears and Edith merely sat down and picked up her embroidery, stabbing at it with her needle with such ferocity that Emily was driven to silence.
**********
The young man in the bed opened his eyes and looked about him. He frowned in confusion. Surely something strangely miraculous had taken place in his room for he had not seen the sun shine like this nor smelled such sweet smells for some time. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes again as the pain seared across his chest and left him gasping. He raised a hand to his brow, which was hot, and his fingers, cold like ice, sent trickles of cold through his body. He remembered sitting in a coffee house, when the proprietor had told him they were about to close. He had got up and walked outside. He had walked the streets, wandering from one to the other, thinking how steep the hills were in San Francisco when he saw a hansom bearing down upon him. He had side stepped to avoid it but had fallen anyway.
What next? It was all a blur. There had been two old ladies sitting opposite one another and a table laden with fragile tea things and a fire burning in the hearth.
He tried to sit up but the effort was far too much and all he could do was sink into the over warm pillows. He felt the weight of his eyelids closing down and the picture in his mind of teacups and plates and a teapot falling about him drifted into murky nothingness.
*********
When he next woke and forced open his eyes to look about him, it was with a jolt that he saw no dainty dimity curtains, no sun light, no fire burning in a grate. A cold sterile room with rows upon rows of beds upon which lay the forms of men. A woman in a gray gown and white apron approached his bed. He shrunk back into the hard pillow as he tried desperately to claw back some form of memory, of sanity, to make some sense of what was happening. Her cold hand reached out and took his wrist, it made him shiver. She placed another cold hand upon his brow and looked down at him and smiled. It was a cold, impersonal smile.
“Oh you are awake then? How are you feeling this morning, Mr. Cecil?” She noticed the iris’ in his eyes dilate and then fade into pin pricks. “Are you all right, Mr. .Cecil?”
“Where – where am I?”
“At the hospital for vagrants. Dr Mathew brought you in yesterday. You’ve been very ill.”
“I got knocked down by a hansom cab,” he told her. She smiled and nodded and pulled the sheets so tight that he could barely breathe.
“Yes, you had a nasty gash in your head.” She pulled the sheets and tucked them under the mattress, leaving him pinned to the bed much like a butterfly stabbed by a pin to a board.
“My clothes?”
“Your aunt brought them. They’re in the closet, but you can’t leave yet. You have to wait for the doctor to come and examine you.”
He said nothing. It was hard to keep his eyes open again and he was fighting a losing battle in trying to keep memories in order. He could only let go because everything was spinning out of his control.
**********
The hours had ticked by and he lay unmoved. All about him men writhed on beds of fever and pain. Their groans haunted him when he closed his eyes making it impossible for him to call back to mind the things that should have made any sense to him. He could hear the impersonal clacketty clack, of the nurses’ heels as they walked from one bed to another. He lay with clenched teeth in dread of one of them approaching him again.
Darkening shadows finally came. He pushed aside the covers of the bed and slid to the floor. He found the closet and rummaged about for his clothes and boots, and within a few minutes, had struggled to get himself dressed. His head spun in circles and there was a loud buzzing in his ears but he felt such determination to get out of that place that he was soon striding down the hall into the corridor. Large arrows pointed to different corridors and wards, but the best arrow of all was the one marked EXIT.
He slowed a little on the way down the stairs, having to catch his breath every so often. Eventually he saw the doors and through the glass windows, he could see the sky. He pushed the doors open and was soon walking up the hill into the main centre of the town.
The same time he was leaving the hospital, Ben Cartwright was taking a seat in Julian Frobisher's study.
*********
Julian and Martha Frobisher greeted Ben with all the warmth reserved for old friends. After arranging for Ben’s belongings to be taken to the room recently vacated by his son, Martha disappeared to leave the two men to talk privately. She closed the door very quietly behind her and left to arrange the evening meal. In the study, Julian offered his friend a cigar, which was politely declined, and sat down in his big lather chair by the desk and regarded Ben solemnly.
Ben thought over the day. He had arrived later than intended and had made his way to the lawyer’s office. He had been impressed at the big building and the rather ostentatious office in which his friend conducted his business. He had been further impressed at the sight of the big house, the expensive furniture and the servants. He smiled slowly and raised his dark eyes to meet the kindly ones of his friend
“You’ve done well for yourself, Julian”
“Yes, Martha’s enterprise has paid off pretty well.” Frobisher chuckled, lighting his cigar and puffing at it appreciatively. “Now then, enough chatter. Down to business.“
“I know you may think I’m being a stupid old man, Julian...” Ben bit his bottom lip and struggled to find the right words that would not make Julian think that his old friend was, indeed, stupid. “Adam did not return as arranged. His luggage did…but he didn’t…” He glanced up at the other man and met cynicism in the gray eyes and he shook his head. “It isn’t like that, Julian. You may well think that I’m fussing over nothing, and that I’m just like an old mother hen clucking over one of my chicks. It isn’t that at all. Adam would not have gone anywhere without contacting me first. Or leaving a message with the driver.” His voice trailed away and he stared at the fire as though the flames would provide some answer more satisfactorily. Then he shook his head. “Adam could go where he likes, of course. He’s a full-grown man. He could have acted on impulse. But it is out of character for him not to have sent word of some kind. If he had not sent his luggage, I would not have been so concerned.”
Frobisher said nothing. He had no son or daughter about which to worry and fret. He looked at Ben and thought only that his friend was being overly anxious. He drew upon the cigar and surveyed Ben thoughtfully
“Julian, tell me something. Was Adam all right when you saw him last?”
“Yes, he was very well.”
“Was there anything at all strange? Did anything happen during the trial?”
Frobisher smiled slowly and described an arc in the air with the cigar. “Your son – I thought that Whiting would make mince met out of him but he stood his ground. As stubborn as a mule with that touch of mockery about him.” He frowned then and was quiet for a moment or two before looking up to meet Ben’s eyes. “Ben, if Adam had faltered in his testimony during cross-examination, we would have lost that case and two murderers would have been let loose upon society. I can guarantee that the first person they would have had in their sights would have been your son.”
“Is it possible that they could have contacted anyone from outside to – have done something?”
“No. I looked into that possibility as soon as I received your cable.” Frobisher inhaled a deep gulp and then slowly exhaled the smoke in a blue gray plume that wafted across the room. “The first day Adam was cross-examined, it was like steel crossing steel and Whiting was rattled. You could see that as clear as day. He was forced to call for an adjournment and the Judge agreed. Then the next day I thought we had lost the case altogether when Adam was late.”
“Adam would never have been late for such an occasion as that.”
“Well, he was. The judge was going purple I can tell you. Nearly adjourned the case again when Adam arrived. He apologized to the court and the Judge in that way that he has – you know – humble but arrogant – and thankfully the Judge accepted the apology and the case commenced forthwith. I have to admit I was worried. Your boy didn’t look right. I recall that now.“ He paused in mid-sentence, picturing now in his mind the scene of the trial. “He was not dressed tidily and looked disheveled and more like he had just got off the stage than had been staying here with us. Frankly, Ben, he did not smell like a bed of roses either.” He chewed at the butt of his cigar and having mangled it into a soggy mess jabbed it in Ben’s direction. “I could see that Whiting thought he had Adam at a disadvantage. Adam’s whole demeanor was lackluster and sullen, and then, when I thought we had lost for sure, back came the sparkle and the wit. Doubt if we’ll see the like again. He swung the case round and won the hearts of the jury.” He frowned. “When he came back to his seat, he asked for the windows to be opened and complained about feeling hot. He looked rather wild eyed too. “
“You mean, he was ill?”
“I don’t know. It is possible. Martha and I were out that evening and I did not see him until the morning that he left. He seemed quite himself then and left in good spirits.”
“If he was taken ill, where would he have gone? I’ve cabled several of our friends here already but no one has seen him.”
“When I received your cable I put an advertisement in the newspaper journal. That is how things are done here...” Julian frowned. “I’ve received no news yet.”
Ben stood up, approached the fire and stretched out his hands to the warmth of the flames. He felt icy cold with a fear that trickled through his veins and touched his hearts with a terrible apprehension. Sometimes it happened like that, this odd knowing instinctive feeling that something was wrong. It was like some kind of pain that nagged and gnawed at the heart until one was left feeling like a wrung out rag. He turned to Frobisher.
“I have to do something. I’ll take a cab and see if he is in any of the hospitals.”
“Ben, I’ve already arranged for all that.” Julian stood up and walked to his side and placed a hand on the other man’s broad shoulders. “It’s very civilized here, Ben. Not like back in Virginia City. Here – if you lose a cat, a dog – or a son," he smiled gently, “he’ll be found. Don’t worry.”
“Perhaps, but –“
“No buts.” He raised a hand and smiled again, “Ben, we go back a long way, don’t we? You saved my life once, remember?”
“That was a long time ago, Julian.”
“I know, but lawyers are rather like elephants; they never forget. I’ve done all I can to locate your boy. Now, the hardest part of all is sitting here, and waiting.”
“I can’t just sit here and do nothing, Julian”
“You can pray,” his old friend said very quietly.
*********
It was an uneasy and long night. For hours Ben lay on the bed or paced the floor or stood at the window and gazed over the city wherein somewhere his son slept. But where? The anxiety gnawed at his heart and within his head until sleep finally stole upon him and forced him to retreat for a while from the worries of his son.
They had finished eating their morning breakfast when Martha came and smiled at them both. In her hands she held a notebook that she held out to Ben
“A hansom driver brought this. He saw the advertisement.”
“Is it Adam’s?” Frobisher asked Ben who was examining it with the light of feverish excitement in his eyes. When Ben nodded, he turned to his wife. “Where is this driver? Is he still here?”
“Just outside.”
“Then bring him in, my dear, bring him in.”
The driver stepped into the big room and glanced uneasily about him and frowned, twisting his hat nervously round and round between his thick fingers.
“I never stole nuthin’ outa the notebook,” he said anxiously. “It was just lying there, on the ground.”
“On the ground? How? What happened?” Ben demanded
“Well, I was driving this little old lady to her house. There was this gent on the sidewalk. He was the one I thought to be the guy you wrote about in the ad.” He frowned, recollection obviously difficult. “He was walking up the hill. Looked kinda lost if you know my meaning. Sometimes you can tell jest by looking at folk and how they walk whether or not they know where they are, and what they’re doing of. He was kinda aimless. Stopping once in a while. Looking around him. I stopped the cab just as he fell down right in front of it. Of course that made the old lady all of a twitter as you can imagine. She stepped out right away but he got up and said not to worry, he was all right. She thought the cab had knocked him down and gave me a right scolding and insisted that he went into her house and took him in there and then. I was a mite annoyed – " His voice trailed off and he bit his lip and glanced shiftily around the room.
“I suppose you found the note book a few hours later” Ben said sarcastically
“No, sir, it was there lying in the roadway. I meant to take it in but thought if I did, I would be in trouble again. I can’t afford to lose my license. It was only her word against mine that the cab didn’t knock him down. I intended to send it on to him later.“
“And where did all this happen?” Frobisher had the sense to ask before the driver backed off and made a run for it before Ben accused him of something more serious than knocking down a pedestrian.
*********
Edith and Emily stood in their best parlor and explained very carefully all that had happened the day of the accident. Edith described Adam in such detail that there was no doubting whatsoever that the young man was indeed his eldest son. He listened with dread as she told him that the doctor had agreed he was very ill and had taken him to the local hospital.
“What did he say was wrong with him?” he asked with a huskiness to his voice that indicated only too well the dread he felt.
“Pneumonia – exhaustion – concussion,” Emily said in a very soft voice. “He was very, very unwell,”
Ben bit his lip and looked at the two women who looked back at him with dread in their eyes
“We did all that we could. Dr Matthews said that we had saved his life,” Edith assured him
“No doubt you did,” Ben replied with tears now threatening to rob him of speech altogether.
**********
“I tell you, there was no one admitted here by the name of Adam Cartwright.”
The grim faced Matron of the hospital hugged her pile of laundry to her chest like a shield warding off the evils of a very distressed man who in his angst appeared not to realize just how threatening he could appear to others. Julian Frobisher placed a restraining hand on Bens arm and urged him to calm down. He then turned to the Matron, who was watching them both with suspicion.
“I’m sorry. My friend and I are somewhat anxious about this young mans disappearance. But are you sure?“
“I’ve already said –“
“Yes, yes, I appreciate that but…. “Julian held up a placating hand and smiled pleasantly. “Adam is Mr. Cartwright’s son. We know that he is ill and had been taken to a hospital. This is the hospital and Dr Matthews is the doctor who arranged for him to be brought here. Now if we could see Dr Matthews, perhaps he could tell us where we could find the young man in question.”
“Dr Matthews only brought in one patient yesterday. He was a young man but he was not called Cartwright. It was Cecil, John Cecil.”
Ben scowled darkly and grabbed at Julian’s arm and pulled him aside
“This is no good, Julian; Adam is obviously not here. We’ll have to go and look elsewhere”
“No, wait!” The woman looked at the two men with a kinder and more tolerant look on her face. “Mr. Cecil was tall, dark haired with a faint scar on his upper lip –“
“That’s Adam! That’s my boy!” Ben cried out, stepping forwards so abruptly that the Matron stepped back in fear that he was about to knock her down in his haste to get onto the ward. “Where is he? Which ward is he on?”
“That’s just the point. He discharged himself.”
“Discharged himself?” the two men cried out simultaneously
“Yes. He left her some time during the night. I must say I was really surprised as I would never have thought a man in his condition would have been capable of getting as far as the ward door, but he managed it.”
“You mean, he’s gone?” Ben’s voice trailed away and his eyes went blank. He turned to Frobisher. “We’re back where we started then, Julian.”
“Well, maybe so. The only difference is that we know he is ill and needs help. That makes our search for him more urgent, Ben”
The Matron nodded. “Yes, it is urgent. He needs medical attention immediately.”
They watched as she turned back to the ward and departed through the double doors that swung together, taking her from their sight.
“Where do we start?” Ben asked. “This place is like a warren field to me. Perhaps another hospital?”
“I think it would be better if we returned home. It is just possible, Ben, that we may have some news waiting for us there. At least, we will have familiar surroundings about which to think out some plan of action”
“I don’t understand though, Julian. What could have happened to cause him to be this ill? You said that when you saw him last he was well enough but now, according to this woman, he could be dying!”
Frobisher shook his head. He was a lawyer only, an emotional man perhaps, a medical man, well, no more so than Ben. He took a deep breath and put his hand on his friends arm. “Perhaps we will hear something when we get home. We have advertised; we have friends; someone, some-place, may have heard or seen something.”
Ben slipped his hat back onto his head and turned to leave. He glanced up at the portals of the hospital as he passed through them and shook his head. Useless. Useless. He bemoaned himself again and again. He was impotent, and useless.
**********
Adam sat down slowly at the table in a coffee shop and for a little while just watched people as they went about their daily business. He had allowed his feet to wander along unfamiliar streets whilst his mind had wandered in a fever of jumbled thoughts and anxieties. Pains in his stomach had urged him to seek somewhere to get something to eat and drink whilst his brain rebelled at the very thought of food passing his lips. He had discovered only then that his wallet was missing and, for an instant, had stood in the road with a blank look on his face as he stared helplessly at the buildings all about him and at the people who thronged the streets and even brushed against him.
His legs demanded some respite. His chest was so tight that breathing was a painful experience. He found loose change in his pocket and walked to the nearest place where he could sit, think, and have something to drink.
It was good to sink down and sit. He asked for water to drink. It was hard to breath and hard to think. Thoughts kept bouncing about in his head and he knew that somehow he had to harness them together and work out what was happening to him. If he had been on the trail somewhere, out on the range, he could have handled things better than being here in this over populated, over busy alien place.
“Are you all right, sir?”
A young woman stood by his table and was looking at him with anxiety in her eyes. She placed the water on the table, but her eyes remained on his face and looked concerned. The thought came to his mind that for her to look at him like that, what must he look like now? He passed a hand over his jaw, and felt the rough coarse stubble of beard. A strong longing for home and familiar things rushed to his heart.
“Are you ill?” she frowned “Would you like to sit somewhere a little more private?” She turned and indicated a table and chair further back in the room, where shadows were dark and a sick man would not put the diners from the enjoyment of their food. He stood up unsteadily, the table scraped against the floor as it moved with him. “Let me help you. Shall I send for a doctor?”
She was strong and for that he was grateful as he leaned against her and allowed her to help him to the other table. She left him there, and called out to someone in the back room. For a few seconds he could hear voices calling too and fro but he had to close his mind to them as the words began to jangle in his brain.
Stronger hands were helping him to his feet and he felt himself being propelled along a corridor that had doors leading off from them. He was gently set down upon a bed, and he was aware of someone lifting his legs up and settling them upon the mattress. It seemed as though suddenly nothing mattered anymore. No, nothing mattered anymore.
**********
“Joe, I bin thinkin’”
Joseph Cartwright stared up into the sky as though scanning the heavens for some revelation that would explain this rare phenomenon. He turned then to Hoss and smiled his beaming smile. “What about?”
“Adam.”
“Well, what were you thinking?”
“Jest thet we shoulda heard from him by now, right?”
“Right.”
“But seein’ as how we ain’t, then Pa could be right and summat must have happened to him.”
“Right.” Joe sighed and pushed his hat to the back of his head and picked up the coffee pot from the hot stones by their camp-fire. He poured out the black bitter liquid and raised the tin cup to his lips. “I was thinking the same thing myself, Hoss. What do you think we should do about it?”
“Well, the fencing’s all done like Pa wanted. I got my chores sorted out too.” Hoss paused and glanced at his brother. “I reckon we should high tail it to ‘Frisco and see what’s going on fer ourselves.”
“I reckon you’re right at that, brother.” Joe grinned and threw the coffee dregs onto the ground. “How about we get home right now and sort ourselves out some things and get ourselves outa here?”
Hoss smiled and nodded. Within minutes they had the campfire damped down and the utensils put away. It was more of a relief to him than anything else that Joe had been so ready to move out with him. The anxiety he had been feeling for his brother had been gnawing at him all day and the frustration of now knowing what was happening was beginning to eat at his patience. He mounted Chubb with such a feeling of relief that even the horse caught his mood and leapt forward with such a lurch that Hoss almost lost his hat.
**********
“Drink this.”
Adam took the glass and felt warm fingers fold around his in order for the glass to be steady enough to reach his lips. The water tasted bitter but he drank some and then rolled back onto his side against the mattress.
“Isn’t there someone I can get in touch with for you? Tell me? I can send my daughter to get them.”
The words seemed to come from a long way off and finally reached him and he stayed there, his eyes closed, wondering who to contact.
“Frobisher. Julian Frobisher.”
“I know him. I’ll tell him to come here for you.”
He heard the door close gently behind the woman and then the whispers. He no longer cared about the whispers. Nor did he care about the faces that drifted through his mind and floated before his closed eyes. He was grateful when darkness swept him into a cocoon of warm forgetfulness and then, nothing.
*********
Martha opened the door to them herself and beamed a warm and welcoming smile. She gestured to them with her hand to come inside and led the way to the study.
“A man came this morning. He’s been waiting for you.” She stood aside and pushed open the study door “Mr. Petersen, my husband and Mr. Cartwright are here now.”
David Petersen stood up and glanced from one to the other of the two men. Being a father himself he could quickly discern which of the two men would be the father of the man about whom he had come to speak. He nodded over to Ben and extended his hand.
“I’m David Petersen. I saw your notice in the paper about Adam Cartwright.”
“You’ve seen him?” Ben asked quickly
“Not for a few days, but I had to come. My wife said I should come straightaway, as soon as we saw it. Your notice in the paper, I mean…." His voice drifted away, and the paper he held rolled in his hand was waved futilely before them
“Sit down, Mr. Petersen; I see Martha has taken care of you. Would you like another drink?” Julian offered
The man blushed slightly. He was a poor man, hard working and sober. It had taken a considerable degree of courage to come to this area of San Francisco and to knock on that very impressive and forbidding door. He now felt over awed at the obvious wealth of the place and the fact that the two men were holding him in such respect. Obviously this Adam Cartwright was of some importance and once again he turned towards the father, Ben.
“Some days ago – " He paused and cleared his throat. “Well, fact is, I work on the harbor, I’m a wherryman there. My wife and child came to see me that day and while I was talking to Sarah, my boy, Joshua, ran off and fell into the harbor. He was some distance from us and usually is no trouble but this particular day he went off further from us. We didn’t even hear the splash but we did hear his scream as he fell. Thankfully for us there was a young man walking about, just viewing the ships, and he saw Joshua fall and dived in right there and then. Saved our boys life.”
“Adam? Do you mean Adam?” Ben asked hoarsely
“Yes sir. After he came out of the water with Joshua …. “The man faltered again and shook his head. “It was not easy. He had to go down for him several times. My boy was a dead weight and the water was freezing. We managed to get them out and my boss took Mr. Cartwright into his office to dry off and thaw out. Oh, we thanked him, thanked him from the bottom of our hearts as well you can imagine. He said to take our boy home quick as possible and to get him warm. My wife said, ‘What’s your name, sir, so’s we always knows who to thank for saving our boy’ and he said ‘Adam Cartwright, from the Ponderosa.’ So when we saw this notice in the paper we thought we should – I mean – I should come and tell you about what happened.”
“What day was this?” Julian asked
“It was Thursday, sir.”
“That was the day of the trial, Ben, the day he came and looked so disheveled. No wonder considering what he had done!” Julian shook his head “Why on earth did he not mention it?”
“He wouldn’t have thought to mention it," Ben said quietly. “Oh I knew there was something wrong, I just knew it.” He clenched his fists and pounded one into the other.
“Well, sir, if you don’t mind my mentioning it, but your son is a hero, and a brave man –“
“And he could be dying…. Ben’s voice trailed away as he bowed his head in frustration and grief.
“Sir, we down on the harbor got a gang together. We’re looking for him, sir. Least we could do after what he did for us. If you just tell us where you want us to look, sir, then just say the word.”
“I don’t know where to tell you to look,” Ben growled “This rabbit warren of a place, all those streets and alleys – he could be anywhere." He put a hand to his brow and shook his head. “Typical, does something harebrained and says nothing; typical!”
Julian Frobisher could say nothing. He had never been a father, and seeing his friend’s anguish now he was glad that he had missed out on the privilege. He put a glass of whiskey near his friend’s reach and sat down on a chair opposite their visitor, trying to efface himself from witnessing his dearest friend’s heart breaking misery. He beckoned to Petersen.
“You know the hospital for vagrants?”
“I do.”
“Start your search in and around that area. He’s a sick man, Mr. Petersen, and will not be able to walk too far...” He put his hand into his jacket pocket and withdrew his wallet and was about to take out some money when Petersen held up a hand and shook his head.
“We’ll find him,” he said gruffly and pausing only to look briefly at Ben, he left the room.
**********
Martha Frobisher heard the light tapping on the door and was already on her feet when the servant admitted a young girl. Both looked at one another as though they came from different worlds for the gulf between rich and poor could never be more apparent than when a poor person stands in a room over adorned with the showy opulence of wealth.
The girl gulped, and bobbed a curtsey and took a deep breath.
“My grandpa said to tell you that he has a sick man in his house.”
“A sick man?”
“Yes, ma’am, sick he is and said to come to your house and tell you.“ She glanced about the room, self -conscious and awed.
Martha stared at her for a second and then went to the bell rope and pulled for the servant, and then, realizing she would reach her husband sooner if she went for him herself, she hurried out of the room, leaving the girl standing on the thick Abussion rug in the little sitting room she called her own.
**********
Adam could hear tapping. It was not loud. It was irritatingly soft. He imagined himself tapping at a wall. It was dark. He could feel something rough and hard in his hand. It was a cold chisel and he was tapping it against the wall of a mine. A face loomed before him. A face with hard dark demented eyes and he groaned aloud the name he loathed above any others. “Kane!” he cried and the word forced him into consciousness.
He sat up and looked around him. The room was in semi darkness, lit only by a single lamp. Rain, the tapping that he had heard, was pattering against the window. He buried his face in his hands and struggled to breathe, to think. He pulled the covers away and forced his legs to move. Everything was so hard, so difficult. His breathing came as harsh gasps that burned his throat. He had to move his legs and he had to breathe and everything that was usually so natural, was now so immensely difficult.
Outside a clock chimed midnight. He closed a door and stepped out into the street and pulled the collar of his coat close across his chest. Cold rain swept over his face and was a blessed relief from the heat of the bed he had just abandoned.
He forced himself across a deserted roadway and towards where a lamp glowed in the darkness. It gleamed as an orange orb. He stared at it for a second and then turned to look up at the clock face. The hands of the clock ticked away the minutes, the seconds, of his life.
The rain came down faster now. He leaned against a wall for shelter and wondered if he would be able to get his legs to take him across the road to the restaurant and to that bed. He thought about it but even thinking left him exhausted.
“ADAM!”
He jerked into awareness. Blood pumped adrenalin through his body and nerve ends tingled and his heart raced.
He stepped out of the shadows of the wall. He was a dark shadow himself with his coat pulled tight and his collar shielding his face. His trousers were shapeless and clung to his legs from being so wet. His dark hair blew in the breeze. He saw the shape approaching him and recognized the most precious of persons running towards him. Relief made him so weak that his voice completely disappeared.
He could only put out a wet shimmering hand. It gleamed as a white blur against the darkness. It gleamed wet and white from the rain and Ben Cartwright seized hold of it and pulled his son towards him
“Adam, Adam,” he whispered. “My son, my son…come….you’re coming home,” he whispered as he felt the excessive wetness of the clothes seep through his own and he saw a smile flicker across the beloved face. “Adam, thank God," he whispered as the young man fainted in his arms. As consciousness faded from his mind, Adam Cartwright repeated his father’s words, thank God, because against all the odds, his father had not let him down.
************
Adam clenched his teeth tight to stop them from chattering in his head. There was so much noise rattling around inside his brain already that anymore would have sent him screaming mad. He wanted to open his eyes but was too weak to-do so. Everything ached, not only ached, but also hurt. Shooting pains stabbed in every joint through his limbs and every breath was an agony of fire burning across his chest. He was burning hot but shivering from cold. He was sweating so much he could feel the perspiration rolling irritatingly all over his body and yet his mouth was dry and his tongue cleaved to the roof of his mouth. He lacked even the strength to beg for water to relieve him from the anguish of thirst that tormented him mentally and physically.
Ben watched his son with eyes red rimmed from lack of sleep and honest tears. No man, he felt, should look upon a beloved child, whether full grown or infant, and watch him suffering. He had watched his sons too often in their lives fighting for life. Now, this time ………he bowed his head into his hands and tried to stop the thoughts that hammered behind his eyes like red -hot branding irons.
The Frobishers had called for their own doctor to provide medical assistance to the young man. He had come, examined him, given him a sedative and said he would return. He had not needed to say any thing; the look on his face had been sufficient.
**********
The door opened and Martha tip toed towards Ben and touched his hand very softly.
“Ben, you have visitors,” she whispered and turned to indicate the two young men who stood in the doorway
The paleness of their faces, the dark shadows under their eyes, and the dryness of their lips indicated with what haste they had ridden to reach their father and their brother at this so terrifying time. Joseph looked at his father and found himself unable to move his legs, not only from weariness on their part, but because of the pang to his heart when he saw his father’s haggard and distressed face.
“Pa, we couldn’t stay home,” he heard himself saying and marveled that he had managed to get the words through his lips without bursting into tears.
Hoss had said nothing but was already standing at his brother’s bedside and holding the trembling hands in his own. He was willing Adam to open his eyes and to look at him and to feel the love that he felt for him. Eventually he turned away, his own eyes full of tears and his throat tight with fear that now surged like a physical blow through his body.
“Pa, you should have sent for us.” He looked at his father and approached him and took his hand in his own. “Pa?”
Ben sighed as though he were himself emerging from a deep sleep. He forced a smile to his lips and nodded. Then he stood up and embraced them tightly. “I wanted to send for you but events seemed to take over.”
“Pa? Is it true? Is Adam dying?”
Ben glanced anguished eyes at Joe, the words hung in the air over their heads like the terrible sword of Damocles. He swallowed hard and shook his head in denial. “No, no, he’s not dying. He’s going to get better.”
Joe turned his head to survey the sick man in the bed and shook his head thoughtfully. It seemed to him that either his father was deluding himself or Adam was already in line for the resurrection. He walked very softly over to the bed and looked down at his brother and knelt down beside him.
“Adam? It’s Joe here. Hoss and I thought you would like some company. We left you the fencing on the north ridge to do when you got home and that black gelding is just panting to have another – to have another –“ He gulped; heck, what did it matter what that black gelding wanted to do. He leaned down and held his brother close. “Adam? Don’t go away …don’t ……do you hear now?”
**********
Doctor Walters came into the room and rubbed cold bony hands together whilst a frown of concentrated mitigation fell over his long and rather laconic features. “Well, it is not good news. But you were not expecting good news, were you?” He glanced at Joe and Hoss as though daring them to utter a word in disagreement. The brothers exchanged a look of helplessness before returning their attention to the doctor. “He has been ill for some time now. You do realize that, don’t you?”
“What do you mean? He was all right at home,” Hoss stuttered, thinking back to the weeks before Adam had left to attend the trial. His brow crinkled as he remembered the workload each day that Adam had undertaken. No sick man would have been capable of doing anything like half of it. Pschew, the man did not know what he was talking about, and Hoss shrugged to indicate his disdain.
“I know what you must be thinking,” the Doctor responded. “To all appearances he was fine. He would be working and doing all the normal things that he had always done. But I would say, at a rough estimate, that he had been ill for some weeks. Perhaps it would have started with a cold, maybe a slight chill, a fever that he shrugged off because being young he thought, like all young men do, that he was invincible. He worked hard and slept well. But in his lungs, things were happening and –“
“He has been grumpier than usual.” Joe interrupted. “And he was always wanting to get an early night.”
“And he missed the spring dance. I thought that odd at the time.” Hoss rubbed his chin with a broad slightly trembling hand.
“Well, whatever!” The doctor dismissed the comments with a shrug. “Knowing he had to testify at this trial probably made him push himself. Then going swimming in the harbor and spending the day in wet clothes. Then getting knocked down by a cab. Heavens, what was the man thinking!”
Ben sighed; he was in no mood to have anyone criticize Adam, even if it was a doctor of Walters’ reputation and astronomical fees. He stood up. “Have you anything else to say?” he asked in a deep gruff voice that barely concealed the edginess behind them.
“Don’t expect too much. Keep him warm and clean and get him to drink as much as you can. I’ve left medication here. “He indicated some bottles on the bureau. “Make sure you give him regular doses. He’ll probably vomit most of it back at first, but I’ll call in again and check on him.”
“Pa, I didn’t realize he was ill. I kept joshing him for being so moody,” Joe whispered as he sank down upon the arm of a solid looking armchair
“”It’s all right, Joe; I didn’t realize he was ill either.”
“Its jest not fair," Hoss groaned, biting on his bottom lip and searching for more positive things to say.
“Since when has life ever been fair?” Doctor Walters said gently. “At present he is comatose, and he may stay like that for a while. Gradually his fever will increase and he will have to call upon all his reserves to fight to live. He’ll grow delirious. I don’t know what reserves he has left to draw upon now but it is going to be his own will power that will ultimately get him through this ordeal. Try not to say or do anything that may add any anxiety to his current sufferings. He is utterly exhausted. Poor boy,” he murmured under his breath as he picked up his hat and medical bag and prepared to leave.
They watched him go, the door closed gently behind him. Together and alone the three Cartwrights drew closer together; Joseph slipped his hand into that of his fathers whilst Hoss placed a firm hand upon his fathers shoulder, having realized that he had bitten his nails so much that had he chewed any further he would have been guilty of cannibalism.
“I hadn’t realized he was so ill. Had I done so, had I done so –" his voice drifted away. Oh, had he known, things would have been different.
****************
Whispers surrounded him. He tried to open his eyes but could not. He did not know whether he were dreaming or hallucinating. The warmth was suffocating and he struggled to push it away. It seemed as though once too hot, and then, too cold. As he struggled so the whispers continued to buzz about his head.
“Adam?” A hand touched his and the cool fingers that touched his burning skin sent trickles of ice speeding over his flesh so that he shivered. “Drink this.” Someone was lifting his head and something touched his lips. He clenched his teeth and something wet and warm poured over his chin and neck and made him shiver even more. “Try and drink this; you need to drink it to get well.”
“I’m not sick. I’m just tired, just tired,” he whispered
“I know. This will help you sleep”
The voice was warm and familiar. He drank some of the warm liquid and frowned. It was tasteless and he gulped down more of it until he could not breathe and felt that he was drowning. Now he pushed away Ben’s hand. There were so many noises. Whispers. Rain upon the windows. He heard the crackle of flames burning wood and a swoooooosh as ash fell into the grate. If only he could open his eyes. He flung an arm across his face and wiped the perspiration away. He felt as though he were burning. His stomach was in agony and he groaned aloud.
“It’s all right,” a familiar voice said. “It’s all right, son” but he pushed against the sheets as panic rose in his throat and then the blackness came and swallowed him up into its swirling comfort.
Her face was just a face in a photograph. But his father would look at it and say “Elizabeth” in a voice that cracked with love. So Adam had looked at it and thought “Mother.” In his dreams, he would make mother come to him and talk and laugh with him. When Inger came into their lives and showed him how good it was to have a real mother to play with, to talk to, and to share time with, then in his dreams, Mother came to play and talk and shared time with him. He had always felt safe during those times because she was - mother.
Now in these bleak dark hours he dreamt that he was safe with her. He sat by her side and listened to her voice as she told him stories of the sea that her father, his grandfather Stoddard, had once told her. He drifted away and floated somewhere. He was traveling in the sky looking down at the land beneath him. He saw Ben and Joe and Hoss and called out to them. “Pa – Pa - Joe – Hoss.”
Ben leaned forward from the chair by the bed and took hold of the feverish trembling hands and listened as his son called out “Mama”. He felt his own heart tremble and the tears well up in his own eyes as he wiped away the perspiration that dripped from his sons face and gathered in the hollow of his throat. Then Adam would push away the gentle hands and cry out in a voice full of anguish and despair, “No, no, it’s not right, it’s all wrong.” But Ben did not know why his son said that, but could only hold his son’s hands and tell him that he was there and urge him to fight, and fight hard.
**********
“Dr. Walter thinks he’ll reach the crisis point tonight,” Ben said in a low voice to his sons and Frobisher as they sat together at the table after the evening meal.
“Pa, I don’t want him to die,” Joe stared down at his plate and forced his lips to stop trembling. He wanted to be as brave as possible and he looked over at Hoss who was watching his father’s face as though his own heart was breaking.
“Pa, Adam will be all right. He’s come through things like this before, remember?”
“I know.” Ben nodded and stood up. “He keeps talking to his mother.”
“HIS mother?” Hoss frowned
“Elizabeth. He keeps talking to her.”
The night stole upon them, minutes that ticked away with a relentless stealth. They sat in the room and listened as Adam fought his battles in sweat and tears and moans and sobs in that perspiration soaked bed.
How often they would go to the bedside and turn the pillow and change his linen or wipe his face and force some liquid through clenched teeth. How often his hands would push them away whilst he called out for those he loved.
“Mama?” he whispered and opened his eyes and looked into the face of his father. “Where’s my Pa?” he demanded in a cracked voice and Ben sighed and assured him that he was there. So Adam closed his eyes and shut his mouth and drifted back to fight the final battle.
“He’s going to die,” Joe said quietly to Hoss. Hoss nodded and lowered his head and covered his face with his hands in a vain attempt to stop the tears from falling.
Walters came and approached the bed and took a good look at Adam. He touched his brow and felt his pulses and took hold of his wrist and felt the pulse there. The perspiration now spiked Adams hair and lay in a pool in the hollow of his throat. His lips, dry and cracked, moved constantly as he talked and whispered to those he loved and saw only in his mind. His hands fluttered constantly too and fro over the covers. Very slowly and gently Walters placed Adams hand under the sheets and then he shook his head and turned to them.
“This, gentlemen, is the crisis. We can only pray now that he comes through the next few hours safely.”
Joe glanced at his father and pity for him never smote a son’s heart so deeply as it did at that moment. Ben bowed his head as though to surrender to One who had authority over all things whilst his dark eyes filled with tears and spilled over. Hoss, standing nearest to his father, stepped closer and put his hand around his fathers clasped hands
“Pray hard, Hoss,” Ben whispered
“I am, Pa, I am.”
**********
Adam felt as though some strong force were sucking the marrow from his bones. The strength in his body was flowing out as though it were sand pouring from a glass bowl. He could see it trickling out from a central hole and felt no compulsion on his part to stop it. He watched as though standing at a safe distance, fascinated at seeing and watching his life force slowly seep away.
“Look, you’re dying,” a voice said in his head
“Yes, I am,” he replied
“Do you want to die?” He recognized the voice. It was the voice he knew to be Elizabeth’s.
“I want to die. I’m too tired to live anymore.”
“Are you going to give your life away then so easily? Is it not worth even a small fight to keep it?”
“I don’t want to keep it. Mama, I want to go to sleep and when I wake up I want to be with you. Go now. Let me sleep.”
**************
Ben came and leaned over the bed and took hold of Adams hand. He held tightly to the fingers and stilled them for a while. With his free hand he stroked back the black hair and thought “This is the little boy who would run to me with open arms, who thought I was the beginning and end of his world. Oh God, give him the will to live.”
Dr Walters came, shook his head and felt for Adams pulse.
“I’m sorry, he’s weakening. I can’t understand it. I thought he would fight much harder but he isn’t resisting at all. I don’t think there is much time left.” He looked at them with sad eyes, feeling compassion for them. “If you want to say anything to him, before he goes, say it now. The sense of hearing is the last to go, so he will hear you”
They looked at one another in horror. Hoss walked to the window and leaned his brow against the cool glass and wept. Joseph approached the bed first and touched his brother’s hand.
“Adam. Hey, Adam, it’s me, Joe. Don’t go now. Not now. There’s so much to do, you know.”
Adams eyelids fluttered. He was standing on the cliff and looking out across the sky and there was the hawk. It