Part 9

Ben could barely sit his horse. Hoss was afraid that his father would topple over. They had searched straight for almost two days with very little rest; Ben Cartwright was a driven man.

"Pa, it's been two weeks since Adam left Eastgate. Ain't no way a man could survive in this place for longer than that," Hoss said.

"I know, I know," Ben said. His shoulders were drooping and Hoss and Joe knew that if they didn't take over, Ben would never give up his search for Adam; they worried about his sanity. Ben had been seeing things, hallucinations, and hearing things, believing that he heard Adam calling for help, answering when he called out which Ben had done so often that he was now hoarse.

"We're going to have to face it, Pa," Joe said, "we're not going to find Adam."

Ben didn't want to face it. Dying out here was as horrible as dying alone at sea, drowning in the dark waters with the body never to be found, eventually consumed by fish and crabs. "I suppose you're right. If only we could have found his body," Ben said, his voice breaking.

Joe looked down so his family wouldn't see his quivering lip. They had finally decided among them that Adam was dead. Joe didn't know how he would be able to bear the grief and guilt he felt. It was like a lead weight strapped to him, weighing him down; Joe knew he would never be happy again, never laugh, never feel anything but this darkness that descended on him.

Even if no one else ever blamed him, Joe would blame himself. He would always be the one who survived the trip, the one who was so selfish and who wanted his comforts so much that he allowed his brother to go off and die alone in the wilderness—that was how he saw it.

Joe and Hoss turned their horses, toward home, Hoss clucking to the pack horse, but Ben didn't follow. Joe turned to call to his father but Ben was just sitting on his horse, staring open-mouthed at the vista below.

"Pa? What is it?" Joe followed his father's stare and he couldn't believe what he saw. Out in this area of rocks and a merciless sun with just wild animals, serpents and insects, was a man pulling someone on a travois. The man who was pulling was trudging along, every step an effort. He swayed slightly under the weight of his burden.

"Hoss," Joe called. Hoss looked back and saw Joe was pointing. Hoss stared as well, the sight not quite sinking in.

Ben at first thought that he was going mad, that he was hallucinating from lack of sleep and was seeing what he hoped to see.

"Do you see him, Joe?" Ben asked. "I'm not imagining it, am I?"

"No, Pa. I see him too. I think it's Adam."

Ben called out for his son, his voice breaking and then he kicked his horse and headed down the rocky slope. Joe and Hoss followed, Hoss having dropped the pack horse's reins.

It was Adam. Ben dismounted and went to Adam as he dropped the travois and fell onto the ground, desperately crawling to get away from these men who had come upon him. Ben spoke to him, tried to get through to Adam, and as Adam unintelligibly rambled on about games and water and food, Ben held onto his eldest son, clasped him to his chest and kept repeating, "It's me, Adam. It's me," until Adam sobbed out, "Oh, Pa," and fell into his father's arms.

Joe had grabbed his canteen and poured some water on his hand and rubbed it over Adam's cracked lips. "He's been through some kind of hell, Pa." And Joe handed the canteen to his father who sparingly gave Adam the water he desperately needed.

Joe patted his father's arm; both his father and Adam had been through some kind of hell. Joe was moved by the love his father showed for Adam and felt overwhelming relief that Adam had been found but now he would have to face Adam, would have to beg for his forgiveness. "A man's responsible for what he does," Adam had earlier told him and Joe knew that he had no one to blame but himself for what had happened. And he was the one who had finally convinced his father to turn back, to give up.

Adam had been home a month. The doctor in Eastgate said that Adam suffered from severe dehydration and could use a few good meals. Adam was thin, had dropped close to fifteen pounds due to nearly starving and loss of fluids. But now Dr. Martin back home had finally given Adam a clean bill of health but told him to take it easy; the body broke down under conditions of semi-starvation and Adam needed to slowly build himself back up.

But none of them knew what had happened to Adam those two weeks he had been missing. He confirmed that he had been robbed by two men and been left on foot with no water. Adam also identified the dead man on the travois as Peter Kane, a miner at whose camp Adam had stayed. But that was all. The only thing he told his father when he asked was that he brought Kane along to prove something to himself; that he wouldn't leave another human to die alone in that hellish landscape.

Didn't a crucible, through intense heat, strengthen a substance, burn out impurities? Adam asked. Ben had answered yes, yes, that's what a crucible was for. And all Adam would say was that he had been through an ordeal that he hoped had made him a better man. But he wasn't sure; he didn't know. Only time would tell.

Joe hadn't been the same either since they had found Adam. Joe expected Adam to blame him but he didn't. Adam said that it was own hard-headedness that had caused things to happen the way they had. Joe wasn't to blame. But Joe still felt as if every time his father or Hoss looked at him, they blamed him. It seemed to Joe that whenever the ranch hands looked at him or people in town asked him about Adam, he saw the assignment of culpability in their eyes.

It had been a hard day on the ranch and Joe had worn himself out; that was the only way he could fall asleep anymore. But Joe awoke to a sound as if someone was struggling in Adam's room. He quickly got up and rushed to the bedroom next to his, opened the door and saw Adam sitting up in bed. Even in the pale moonlight, Joe could see the look of fear in his eyes.

"Adam, you okay?'

Adam's chest was heaving as he breathed. "Yeah, I had a dream of… Joe, out there, in the desert, I almost killed a man with my bare hands. I wanted to strangle him, to see his tongue loll out of his mouth and his eyes roll back in his head. I wanted to murder him. I know what I'm capable of, Joe. Now I know the kind of man I am and I don't think things will ever be the same way again."

"The man you were dragging—Kane, is he the one?"

Adam nodded, falling back onto his pillow, staring at the ceiling. "Yes. He's the one. I hated him, Joe, feared him-I couldn't let him win. But I couldn't kill him, I couldn't be like him—but maybe I am. I was so close—so close."

"You want to talk about it?" Joe asked. He sat down in the chair next to Adam's bed.

"Yeah, Joe, I do, but are you sure you want to hear? It might change your opinion of me, lower it?"

"Oh, hell, Adam, I got such a low opinion of you now that you can't lose any more ground."

And after a second's pause, Adam laughed. For the first time in over a month, someone in his family was treating him as if he wasn't a delicate invalid—it was Joe. And Adam and Joe laughed together, an open, easy laugh between brothers that brought ease to them both.

"It used to be me checking on you when you had a nightmare," Adam said, "and now it looks like the tables have turned."

"Nah," Joe replied. "The tables haven't turned; I'm just repaying you for all the times you helped me through rough spots. You were always there for me, Adam and I wasn't there for you when you needed me."

"You're here now." And Adam began to tell Joe about all that befallen him and how he had survived, how memories had sustained him—and how he had been lost but had finally been found. And Joe felt that he had been found as well.

~ Finis ~