Part 1

"Be at Signal Rock in three days—and be on time for a change." That was the last thing Adam Cartwright had said to his brother, Joe, as he left Eastgate for his "rest cure" of hunting after a long, hot cattle drive and the sale of the beeves at the terminus-this hot, little Arizona city. Adam had the $5,000 payment tucked safely in his wallet but had given Joe a large bill so he could "celebrate." But Joe couldn't see any way to celebrate in this town. The sign on the Red Dog Saloon advertised girls but Joe had looked around and there were no girls, just dirty, sweaty cowboys drinking piss-warm beer and playing poker.

When Joe asked about entertainment, the bartender told him that there was going to be a trial and people were going to be flocking in to see it. A man named Obadiah Johnson had shot and killed his wife and his business partner when he had found them together in his bed, "…and they weren't sleeping," he added. "Obadiah thought the partnership had gone too far," the bartender said and both Joe and Adam smiled.

In the saloon, when Adam told Joe that he wanted to relax from the hardships of the cattle drive by getting a little hunting in and then, once they met up again, to take in a little fishing at Pyramid Lake, Joe said that he was loco; that was rough land to go through just to end up turning back around and heading to Pyramid Lake when Lake Tahoe had fish leaping out of the water, just taunting humans to try and catch them. But when Adam had his mind made up, that was it. Joe had learned that long ago—old " Yankee Granite Head" always thought he knew best and Joe, many times, had to begrudgingly admit that Adam did know what was best. And it was because of that, that Joe had no qualms about Adam taking off on his own for almost four days and enjoying time spent alone, something Joe didn't understand.

Joe enjoyed people, thrived being in the center of conversation and laughing and having life swirl around him. He received his energy from the company of others, particularly pretty girls; life seemed to snap with energy whenever he was interacting with others and a pretty face and shapely legs made him truly feel alive. But not Adam; people seemed to drain the life force from him and he always needed to be alone, to play his guitar and create melodies or to read and sketch-to live in his head for a time in order to gain back the ability to interact with others.

Now Joe was at Signal Rock, waiting for his oldest brother to show. Not only was Joe on time, he had been early. He had camped last night under a shady tree on the east side of Signal Rock, he and Cochise, and Joe would smile to himself whenever he thought of Adam's face when he would arrive and see "Little" Joe sitting and waiting with a "And where have you been?" expression on his face.

"Big brother is going to be surprised," Joe said to Cochise as the horse nudged him. "I know, I know; you just want to get started home. It was a hot drive wasn't it?" Joe asked his horse. "I think you lost a little weight, Cooch. We're going to hafta tighten that girth a bit more, huh?" The horse nudged his arm again. Joe was drinking his morning coffee and it almost sloshed over the side. "Oh, forgive me. I forgot that you need your coffee to open your eyes and clear your head. Well, you can have the rest of it." And Cochise stuck his tongue into the cup and licked up the bitter liquid until Joe, laughing, pulled the cup away. "Hey, it's hot, boy! And too much coffee and you'll take off and gallop all the way back to the Ponderosa."

Joe sighed; it was early but the day was beginning to heat up. Joe looked around; this was rocky, dusty land and Signal Rock was a few yards behind him. Fortunately, there was water nearby and Cooch and he had both been able to take long draughts of the sweet water and Joe could fill up his two canteens for the dry ride until they reached the lakes of Nevada. So Joe waited, even drifting off for a while.

He woke with a start. Joe looked around, his heart pounding. Cochise was a few feet away cropping the short grass and other than that sound, the air was still. Joe stood up. "Adam? Adam? Adam, are you here?" Joe wondered if maybe Adam was playing a joke on him, woken him up and then stepped out of sight, but there was no response; the air still hung heavy with the early afternoon heat.

"Hey, Cooch," Joe called and the horse lifted its head. Joe picked up the saddle and the horse walked to him as Joe approached. "We need to go look for oldest brother. He should be here by now so I figure he's probably on the other side of Signal Rock. Let's go but he won't believe that I was early. But wait until I tell him Obadiah only got five years instead of hanging; And Adam was so sure that a man's gotta pay the ultimate price of his life for murder."

Joe rode around Signal Rock but found no sign of Adam or anyone else. By nightfall, it would be four whole days since he had last seen Adam and Joe began to feel sick; Adam was never late.

"We best go look for him, Cooch. You call out if you hear his horse coming, okay?" And Joe kicked his horse and then began to backtrack to where Adam had taken off east over the mountains. "I tried to tell him, Cochise, tried to tell him that it was a hard ride and bad country but would he listen to me? Nope-wouldn't listen at all and now I bet that his horse has come up lame and that old Adam's having to walk in." But Joe didn't believe a single word he said; something bad had happened and he knew it. Joe felt cold chills; sweat had dampened the hair at his nape and his sweat-soaked shirt caused him to shiver despite the heat. "A goose just walked over my grave," Joe said aloud to his horse.

Joe traveled a whole day, sweeping the area which meant little forward progress but he covered a wider area; he found no tracks that he could discern as Adam's; the ground though was hard and therefore, unless a stone was crushed or there had been broken or split sticks with the mark of a horseshoe, there was no tracking anyone—at least for Joe.

"I sure wish Hoss was here, Cochise. Why Hoss can track a ghost." Joe pulled up his horse and called out again for Adam. He would wait each time and strain to hear any sound but there wasn't even the sound of birds. There was nothing but the infernal heat and the stillness of death.

Joe rode to a rise and sat for a few moments longer, standing up in the stirrups and looking around but didn't see even a dust cloud in the falling darkness. Nothing moved as he looked in all directions. Adam wasn't coming and that was it.

"Doesn't look too good," Joe told Cochise and the horse nodded its head as if agreeing. "In the morning, we'll go get more supplies and then really go look for him." So in the morning after a restless night, Joe turned his horse's head back toward Eastgate, knowing that he would have to cross dry, cruel land to get there in the shortest time. It would be hell for a man on foot. And Joe swallowed deeply; he feared for Adam and even though he knew that he couldn't have stopped Adam had he tried, Joe felt he should have tried, should have said or done something to keep Adam from going off alone.

"A man's responsible for what he does," Adam had said when discussing Obadiah Johnson, but Joe suddenly added for himself, "and for what he doesn't do as well."

TBC