For Want of a Brother, Part Five

by J. Rosemary Moss

Genre: Fan-Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: Mature Content

LINK TO PART ONE: http://jrosemary.blogspot.com/2008/02/for-want-of-brother-part-one.html

~

We were still sitting there a while later, listening to the wind howling outside. Adam still had a brotherly arm around me and I hadn’t bothered to lift my head off his shoulder yet.

It occurred to me, as we sat there, that I hadn’t grieved for Rosalind. I knew she was dead and that I’d never hear her laugh again or tease me again. But no—I couldn’t think of that. I couldn’t afford to think of that. I had to figure out what I was going to do now that I could free myself of these blasted ropes.

I’d have to do something. Sooner or later, Adam would offer to help me, ah, relieve myself. He’d have to before we turned in for the night. He’d notice that I’d loosened the ropes by then, if not before.

I stalled for time by breaking the silence that had fallen between us. “Do you think that a judge will sentence me to hang?” I asked.

“I don’t know, Reuben,” he answered. His voice was tight, as if he were forcing himself to keep it steady. “It doesn’t help matters that you shot Clayton so many times.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I got carried away. I just—I just wanted that man dead. But what would you have done, Adam, if it had been your sister? What would you have done if the law could do nothing for you?”

“I’m not sure,” he answered. Then he sighed. “Reuben, when you come to trial, the prosecuting attorney will rip your sister’s character to shreds.”

That thought had already occurred to me. “I reckon so,” I said. “He’ll ask what kind of girl would get herself into trouble like that—not a respectable girl, he’ll say. He’ll put the blame on her, not on Clayton.”

I paused and swore under my breath. “Lord, Adam, I wish she had come to me. I'd have told her that our family could survive any scandal—that we could raise a child born out of wedlock. Why didn’t she realize that?”

“Because she was young and frightened and she probably looked up to Clayton,” Adam answered. “What happened to Rosalind wasn’t your fault, kid.”

I gave a short laugh at that. “Well, what happened to Clayton was,” I said. “And I don’t particularly want to hang for it.”

“I don’t want you to hang for it either,” he said.

I lifted my head off his shoulder so that I could shift myself toward him and look him in the eye. “Do you think I deserve to?”

It took him a while to answer that— and he let his arm fall off my shoulders as he did. “It was still murder, Reuben,” he said. “I understand why you did it, but you still gunned Clayton down in cold blood.”

I raised my eyebrows at him. “That sounds like a yes.”

He shook his head and then gave me a look that was somehow warm and judgmental at the same time. “No,” he said softly. “I don’t think you deserve hanging. But you don’t deserve your freedom either.”

“If it comes to hanging or years and years in prison, Adam—well, I'd take the hanging.”

“Then you’re a fool,” he said. “Look, Reuben, I’ll do everything in my power to keep you from hanging—starting with the best lawyer the Ponderosa can afford.”

“Clayton has powerful friends who will want me executed,” I pointed out. “And even if you could save me from the noose, could you save me from a prison that would whip me into submission?” I asked. “You know what convicts are put through—and you know what hard labor does to them. Is that what you think I deserve? Wouldn’t you rather hang than face a lifetime of that?”

His amber eyes bore into me. They had an eerie glow to them, thanks to the flickering firelight. “Why don’t you tell me what you think you deserve?” he asked. “What should happen to a man who appoints himself as judge, jury and executioner?”

I stared at him for a long moment. Damn it, how did he expect me to answer that?

I could pull my hands free of the ropes now, I reminded myself. I could take Adam by surprise and grab his gun. God, that was tempting.

But it was also pointless. Adam knew—or at least I hoped he knew—that I wouldn’t shoot him.

So I moved my hands slow and easy instead, sliding them out of the ropes and bringing them in front of me. I wanted Adam to know that I could have caught him unawares. I wanted him to know that he didn’t have as much power over me as he thought. And I wanted to wipe that self-righteous smirk off his face.

But Adam didn’t act surprised by my sudden freedom. He’s got a good poker face, Adam does. He just glanced down at my wrists and then back up at me.

“You’re a bloody mess,” he commented. “We ought to see if there’s some ointment here for your wrists.”

I had to grin at his nonchalance—I couldn’t help it. “And then what?” I asked. “I’m not going back to Virginia City with you, Adam.”

He gave me a level look, but I suspected that he was trying to make up his mind about me. “Neither of us is going anywhere until the snow stops,” he said at length. “You’re not suicidal, Reuben. You’re not going to try to make it through this storm.”

I glanced at the window. The snow was coming down hard and I could still hear the wind howling. Damn. The snow would cover my tracks, but Adam was right: this storm would be the devil to travel in.

“And when the storm ends?” I asked. “I’m not going to let you shoot me in the leg or knock me unconscious,” I warned him.

“I can’t just let you go, Reuben,” he said.

I rolled my eyes at him. “What if I were Little Joe?”

He cocked his head at me. “Still competing with Joe?” he asked.

That drew another grin from me. Joe and I always found ourselves at odds. We were both reckless and rash and too pretty for our own good. That led to endless competitions between us—especially when it came to the ladies. But Joe had one thing I didn’t: an older brother to look up to and rail against.

In fairness, he had two older brothers. But I scarcely knew Hoss. I knew Adam because he was the one who had hired me and because I was part of his crew. And I knew Joe because we were nearly the same age and because we had a number of friends in common. But their brother Hoss and their father Ben were almost strangers to me. Oh, I knew them well enough to exchange greetings and small talk with—but that was the extent of it.

“I suppose I am still competing with Joe,” I owned. “But it was a serious question: if I were your brother—your real brother—would you turn me in? Or would you look the other way?”

Adam didn’t answer me—he dug into his pocket instead. I narrowed my eyes at him as he pulled out a pocket knife.

“Hold out your hand,” he ordered.

I stared at him, but after a moment I shrugged and obeyed him. Then I watched as he cut his palm open with the knife. I smiled at that—I knew what he had in mind now.

He took hold of me and mingled the blood from my wrist with the blood from his palm. “There,” he said. “Whatever happens, Reuben, I promise to treat you exactly like a brother. Now can I trust you not to shoot me in the leg or knock me unconscious—at least till the end of this storm?”

I gripped his hand as I replied. “Yeah,” I told him. "You can."

LINK TO PART SIX: http://jrosemary.blogspot.com/2008/02/for-want-of-brother-part-six.html