by J. Rosemary Moss
Genre: Fan Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG
LINK TO PART ONE
~
I had plenty of time to sulk after Adam left. I was of less use than a woman or a child in these circumstances. And that’s precisely how Adam had treated me when he refused to strike me back--as a woman or a child. The more I thought about that, the more it infuriated me. I didn’t need his bloody chivalry. I’d rather he had returned my punch.
He knew that--he had to know it. But he didn’t see me as his equal, damn him. My blindness made me a dependent.
Somewhere in all that sulking I managed to get water to the lips of the injured men. I had to give them just a trickle at a time and massage their throats to make sure they swallowed it. I wasn’t sure what else to do for them, however. Fortunately, I didn’t have long to wait before Brian came panting back to me.
“Mr. Clayton!” he called out. “Are you all right, sir? I heard a gun shot!”
“Adam went to investigate it,” I called back. Then I waited--I could tell by his pounding gait that he was almost by my side.
He embraced me again when he reached me. I stiffened at that--this was becoming a tedious habit on his part. Nonetheless, I held my tongue and half-heartedly returned his hug.
“I’m glad you’re not harmed sir,” he told me as he released me. “Have you watered these poor devils?” he added, noting, I supposed, the patients nearby and the canteens I held.
“Yes,” I answered, handing him one of the canteens. I waited until I heard him drink deeply from it and then I began questioning him. “Did you find the driver?”
“Aye, sir,” he said. “His neck was broken. I covered him up best as I could so he wouldn’t bake in the sun--I suppose we’ll have to come back for him.”
“Good,” I said. “That’s the best we can do for now.”
“Aye,” he agreed. “Do you want me to go after Mr. Cartwright and Peter to see what the shot was about?”
I considered that. In truth, I wanted to keep Brian at my side. He could keep better watch over the two strangers. But for all I knew, Adam was lying in a ditch somewhere, done in by his leg. And God only knew if Peter had found the horses.
“Yes,” I said at last. “Report back here as soon as you can.”
~
I think an hour or more passed before the three men returned. I couldn’t look at a clock to confirm my reckoning, but I’ve gotten fairly good at approximating the time. At any event, it was long enough so that one of the strangers--the one who was worse off--died from his injuries. That made three dead from this wreck.
I didn’t want to leave the fellow exposed, so I crawled around, looking for some shelter for his remains. I didn’t find much, so I ended up piling dead branches and such on top of him. His companion, meanwhile, had yet to regain consciousness. That didn’t bode well.
Not long after that I heard the approach of horses followed by Brian calling out to me. Peter had found the horses, it seemed. One of them had broken a leg--he had fired a shot to put the creature out of its misery. But the others were sound enough. It took some doing though, to untangle them from their harness.
Someone was approaching me. From the sound of his uneven gait, I knew it was Adam. And unless I was much mistaken, his leg had gotten worse. I could tell how heavily he was favoring his other one.
He collapsed by my side when he reached me and even took the liberty of slouching up against me. I tried not to show my discomfort at his familiarity.
“You were right,” he gasped, panting hard. “I had no business stomping off on this leg.”
“Is it worse now?” I asked.
“Yes,” he answered. “And I wasn’t much help to Peter with the horses--it’s a good thing Brian came along.”
I can’t pretend that I wasn’t gratified to know that Adam, too, was useless. That seemed to even the score between us, somehow. But I hadn’t forgotten his damned chivalry.
“The next time I punch you,” I said, “have the goodness to punch me back.”
I think he rolled his eyes in response to that. “I can’t punch you--you know that.”
“Damn it,” I spat, “I’m not a child! You don’t have to treat me with kid gloves.”
He gave me a short, ironic laugh. “I’m tempted to treat you exactly as I'd treat Little Joe if he were behaving this way,” he said.
I clenched my fist at that, wondering just what he was threatening, but he spoke again before I could respond.
“Listen to me,” he said, his voice suddenly soothing. “I respect you as an equal. The fact that you can’t stand against me in fisticuffs doesn’t change that--nor does it affect your measure as a man. Now will you let this drop?”
But I didn't trust that soothing tone of his. “Are you wearing your smirk?” I demanded.
That took him aback. “What?”
I curled my lips at him. “Jack tells me that you have an infuriating smirk. Are you smirking at me now?”
He laughed again--a genuine laugh this time. “I have no idea,” he confessed. “You’ll have to feel my face for yourself.”
I took him up on that. He kept still as I ran my hand over his face again, feeling the curve of his lips and the set of his jaw. I noticed the warmth of his cheeks, so I felt his forehead as well.
“Yes, you’re smirking at me,” I said at length. “You’re also burning up--did you realize that? You have a fever.”
He sighed. “No, I didn’t realize that. Well, let’s figure some way to get all of us to the old way station. You and Brian can walk. Hopefully we can use the horses for me and the stranger--the one who survived, I mean. We'll send Peter to ride for help.”
I frowned. “These are carriage horses,” I pointed out. “And we don’t have saddles.”
“I know,” he returned. “But they’re all we've got.”
LINK TO PART ELEVEN
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