For Want of a Brother, Part Sixteen

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

~

Joe, Hoss and I watched as Adam stepped into the room. He blinked at the sight of all our eyes on him and paused to lean sideways against the doorframe. Then he folded his arms across his chest as he regarded us with a half-hearted smile.

“Do you know,” he said, “I almost expected to find one of you outside Drew’s door?”

We all shook our heads at that. Even Joe, who had been eager to place himself in that exact spot, put on a face that proclaimed his innocence.

“How’s Drew doing?” Hoss asked.

“Not so good, I reckon,” I said. “Not judging by the way his voice was breaking.”

“No, not so good,” Adam agreed. “He and Jack were close.”

Joe sighed. “I guess about the only good thing you can say for Jack Clayton is that he always looked after his little brother.”

Adam furrowed his brow at that. “That’s partly true. But Drew also looked after Jack.”

“How so?” Hoss asked, raising his brows.

“Jack could never have handled their business interests on his own,” Adam explained. “Drew’s the one with the head for investments. But he can’t read books or write down figures, so he needs someone he trusts completely to do that part. Someone he knows won’t skim off the top. The wrong partner could rob him—”

He stopped and bit his tongue.

“Rob him blind,” I finished.

Adam nodded.

I shut my eyes for a moment. “And now he’s got no one that he can trust.”

“Just so,” Adam said. “And he’ll have the devil of a time finding someone—Drew’s not exactly the trusting sort. But if I know him, he’ll figure out how to manage.”

“He trusts you, don’t he?” Joe asked. “Can’t you help him?”

Adam shrugged. “If he asks me, I’ll do what I can for him. But that’s not the same as having his brother at his side.”

I swore under my breath and shook my head. “I wish I had known all this before I went in to confront Jack Clayton about Rosalind.”

Joe grimaced. “That would have stopped me too,” he confided. “Not that Drew is a saint—he doesn’t care much for the lives of his miners, does he Adam?”

“No, he doesn’t,” Adam said. “No more than Jack did. He doesn’t want them dead—he just doesn’t want to pay to improve their chances.”

I already knew that, but I digested it again. But it didn’t help alleviate my guilt—and I don’t suppose it should have.

I ought to have known better. I ought to have seen Jack Clayton as a real person. My Ma raised me up on the Bible and my Pa raised me up on Shakespeare and somewhere between those two I should’ve known the cost of removing a fellow from this world. I should have caught a glimmer of how it would affect the folks he left behind.

At length Adam left his position at the door and crossed over to Joe’s chair. I watched as he patted his little brother on the shoulder. “Get to bed,” he ordered. “I’ll take the first watch."

Joe nodded as he stood up and began to undress. Adam took his spot in the chair and put his feet up on the chest.

Hoss, meanwhile, was easing himself out of his seat. “Reckon I’ll get some sleep too,” he said. “Goodnight all.”

Joe finished changing as he left and then slid under the covers beside me. And he didn’t waste much time getting to sleep, I noticed. But I was still wide awake.

I sat there thinking for a long while. At length, Adam broke in on my thoughts.

“How do you feel about the Union?” he asked me.

I started at that. I hadn’t expected him to talk politics just now. But I managed a shrug. “I think we should fight to preserve it,” I said. “But Mr. Lincoln—President Lincoln, I mean—well, he strikes me as the worst person to lead us in a crisis like this. Hardly anyone’s even heard of him.”

Adam smiled. “Yeah, he seemed to come out of nowhere. But he has to be pretty canny to have gotten as far as he has. We’ll see. At least he’s committed to keeping this country together.”

“But he ain’t committed to abolition,” I said. “It seems to me that keeping this country together is only half the battle.”

“If the North wins, Reuben, it’ll be the end of slavery.”

I shrugged again. “Well, I think Mr. Lincoln ought to spell that out.”

“I hope he will,” Adam said softly.

We both fell quiet after that. At length I shut my eyes and managed to drift off. When I woke up, it was past cock-crow. Adam was beside me, Joe was in the chair and someone was knocking on the door.

“Adam?”

It was Drew’s voice—he was the one knocking.

Adam climbed out of bed, tied on a robe and went to answer the door. Sure enough, Drew was standing on the other side of it, holding his cane. He had his trousers and shirt on, but no waistcoat or cravat. He was unshaved too and his hair wanted combing.

“What can I do for you, Drew?” Adam asked.

“I don’t have my valet,” he answered, keeping his voice low. “Would you—would you mind helping me make myself presentable?”

I could guess what it cost Drew to make that request—especially after last night, when he had refused any comfort from Adam and slammed his door in Adam’s face. But Adam took his request in stride.

“Yeah,” he answered. “I’ll be over to your room in a few minutes.”

Drew nodded and began feeling his way back down the hall. Adam watched him go and then shut the door behind him.

Joe yawned from his spot on the chair. “I hope things go better this morning than they went last night,” he commented.

Adam shrugged. “They didn’t go as badly last night as they seemed,” he said. “Drew may decide that there’ve been enough deaths in this affair without hanging Reuben.”

Joe gave his brother a skeptical look. “That seems like an awful lot to ask of someone like Drew Clayton.”

“I know,” Adam said. “But he’s our best chance.”

We all fell silent as Adam washed up, got dressed and then left the room. But Joe sprang out of his chair as soon as his older brother was gone.

“Come on,” he told me, grabbing me by the arm.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“To Hoss’s room,” he answered. “He’s a lot closer to the guest room—we should be able to hear better from there. I don’t know why we didn’t think of that last night.”

I rolled my eyes at him. “Joe, we oughtn’t spy on them like that.”

“Yes we should,” he said with a maddening certainty in his voice. “Besides, you don’t have a choice.”

“How do you figure that?” I demanded.

He grinned at me and put his arm around my shoulders. “I’m a deputy,” he explained, “and you’re my prisoner. You got to obey orders and follow me around. Now are you coming?”

I grinned back at him—I couldn’t help myself. “I don’t have a choice, right?”

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