A New Day Dawning
by Sheryl


It was well after dark when Adam Cartwright entered the house, hoping he wouldn't be subjected to a tedious question and answer session. He was late and he knew it and although he acknowledged that it would be a simple courtesy to give his father an explanation, the truth was, he had none.

"Adam," his father greeted from where he stood in the middle of the room.

"Hi Pa."

"If you're going to insist on wearing that, son," said Ben, gesturing toward the revolver on his hip, "then I'm going to have to insist you leave it at the door when you come into the house."

"Sure, Pa." Turning, Adam slipped the belt off and hung it on one of the hooks by the door, relieved that his father seemed to have finally come to terms with his decision to carry the revolver. Adam had been sure that his pa would be furious, or perhaps attempt to forbid him to wear it. He'd thought of all the possible objections, worked out all the appropriate arguments in his head, but so far, his father had chosen to remain silent on the issue this time.

In Adam's opinion, he was a man and as a man he had every right to choose for himself whether or not he wanted to carry a weapon.  His father could disapprove all he wanted, but short of banishing him from the house there wasn't much else he could do about it.  It had been a gamble that seemed to have paid off, thankfully.

The door to their room opened wider and Little Joe came out, yawning and rubbing his eyes.  Ben halted him by placing a hand on top of his head. "Joseph, what are you doing up?"

"I gotta go, Pa," he said, looking up with bleary eyes.

"Well, hurry up then," Ben replied, fondly.

Joe continued toward the door, pausing when he spotted the gun belt hanging off to the side.  "That's Carlos' gun!" he said, turning to gaze at his father and brother with condemnation.

"Yes, it is, son," Ben answered calmly.

"Well...why is it...? Who...?"  Confused, he stared first at Ben, then Adam.

"In light of the violence going on around here lately, your brother Adam decided he'd feel safer carrying a weapon," Ben explained.

"But, that's Carlos' gun!" He glared at Adam, his eyes filled with pain. "You shoulda left it alone!"

"Joe," Adam walked over to him, putting a hand on his shoulder, "you don't think Carlos would want me to have his gun?"

Joe stared at the gun, chewing on his bottom lip then he shook his head. "It's just that for a minute.... I thought...."

"Oh, Joe, I'm sorry," Adam pulled him close. "It never entered my mind that you'd think that."

"It was a dumb thing to think."

"No," Ben reassured, giving his son's neck a gentle squeeze. "It was just a reaction. Not dumb at all."

Joe nodded then a slight grin appeared on his face. "I gotta go, bad."

Chuckling, Adam released Joe.  "Better hurry."

Before he opened the door, Joe reached up and laid a hand on the holster and then the gun itself.

"Joseph," Ben warned. "I don't want you playing with that."

"I ain't a kid, Pa."

"That, son, is a matter of opinion," Ben replied firmly. "Never the less, you're not allowed to touch that gun for any reason. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir, I understand," he said sullenly then glancing back at Adam, he reached for the door handle.

Once Joe was out the door, Ben put a hand on Adam's shoulder. "Son, I understand your reasons for wanting to carry the gun. I don't happen to agree with you, but I do understand. You're an adult and if you choose to wear it then that's your prerogative. Just remember," he looked intently into his oldest son's eyes, "the choice you've made carries a lot of responsibility also.  I hope you think about that."

"I do, Pa." It was the truth, he hadn't made the choice lightly and it hadn't only been a result of his recent confrontation. There had been more than one occasion that his not being armed could have cost him, or one of his family members their lives. He wasn't planning to go looking for trouble and he was pretty sure his father knew that much about him, but now at least if trouble came looking for him he'd be able to defend himself.

Joe opened and closed the door then headed for their room. "Night Pa. Night Adam."

"Goodnight Little Joe." Ben gave Adam a pat on the shoulder. "It's late, you should probably turn in too."

"Yeah, see ya in the morning," Adam said then followed Joe into the bunkroom.

_ *  _ *  _ *  _

Adam watched in horror as Jim Duffy pulled his colt revolver from its holster and pressed it to the old man Carlson's temple. Seated in the buckboard, the man's wife covered her mouth, her eyes filled with terror. Adam hesitated only a moment as he calculated a plan of action. Being unarmed he realized that there was probably little he could do but go for help.  Just as he turned to do so, a shot rang out, the report echoing
throughout the valley.

Almost immediately the woman began screaming hysterically. Adam turned back to find her covered in blood kneeling over the lifeless form of her husband. There was blood everywhere, so much that it made his stomach roll.  His gaze came to rest on Jim Duffy who was looking at the scene with disdain as he holstered his gun and started walking in Adam's direction.  Duffy looked right into Adam's eyes, giving him a predatory smile that made him shudder. Adam had witnessed some pretty horrible things on their journey west, but never anything as cold blooded as the scene that had just taken place.

He wanted to yell for help, but couldn't seem to find his voice. In fact, it seemed as if he were frozen, unable move -- to do anything. His insides felt cold, his limbs heavy and numb. And still Jim Duffy's menacing gaze didn't waver.

Suddenly there was a firm hand on his shoulder, startling him, forcing the breath from his lungs, but it was the familiar voice penetrating the ringing in his ears that allowed him to resume breathing, nearly made his knees buckle with relief.  "What's going on here?"

"Pa!"

"Shh...you're gonna wake up your brothers."

"Sorry. I just...." Expelling a harsh breath, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up next to his father. "I just can't get that image of Mr. Carlson...and Jim Duffy out of my head!"

"That's perfectly understandable, son." Ben put a comforting arm around his shoulders. "I can't get it out of my head either."

"You know, Pa...I've never really wished something bad on another person. I've felt that people might deserve whatever punishment they had coming, or perhaps I've felt less sympathetic towards some people than others, but I've never actually wanted to see a man hang, until now...."

Ben studied his son for a long moment before nodding in understanding. "I'll be glad when the new marshal and the judge get here tomorrow."

"Yeah, me too." Adam scratched his head then yawned. "Pa?"

Ben turned his head.

"Do you think Jack Wolf has anything to do with Mr. Carlson's murder?"

"I honestly don't know, son." Sighing, Ben looked away, focusing on a patch of moonlight in the far corner of the bunkroom. "I don't like to think so, but it's pretty open knowledge that he's in cahoots with whomever it is running that lumber operation."

Adam shook his head slowly.  Jack Wolf, more often than not, had his hands in all the shady dealings going on, but somehow he always managed to keep them clean -- or at least appearing clean.  It couldn't be mere coincidence that those men from California had shown up and been hired on by Jack around the same time the threats and blackmailing started up. But so far, nobody had spoken up or made any sort of accusations. And Jack Wolf stayed just far enough out of the sordid business dealings to keep himself barely above suspicion -- and probably well beyond conviction.

"Well," Ben said, standing up to stretch his back. "There are still a few hours 'til sunup, we better try and get some sleep."

"Yeah, sorry for waking you, Pa." Adam sighed and slowly resettled himself in his bunk.

Ben patted his son on the arm. "Goodnight." He made his way back to his bed, doubting that either one of them would get much sleep. It was hard to settle his thoughts when the anticipation of the next day was so high.  Jim Duffy was locked away in the new jail that Ben had helped build himself. It was small, but sturdy and much needed -- especially with all the trouble that had been going on lately.  And they were getting a new marshal, too.  A lawman that would be close by incase the need for one arose. And that seemed to be happening a lot lately -- a lot more since Jim Duffy and his gang of thugs had come to town.

Duffy had come to the area claiming to be some sort of negotiator for a big lumber operation out of California.  When the landowners refused to deal with him things started to get nasty. More men showed up from California. Subtle threats were made in order to get cooperation and when the threats failed to intimidate, more often than not they were carried out.  Now, pretty much everyone had been terrorized into compliance. He and his crew were helping themselves to whatever lumber they wanted and were paying only
enough to make things appear legal.

The landowners were angry and frustrated, but not a one had made any formal accusation. You can't prove a thing when all your evidence is based on been rumor and innuendo. But Jim Duffy had gone too far this time. He'd resorted to murder when the stubborn Jonas Carlson had refused to cave in to his threats. With not only one, but two witnesses, Mrs. Carlson, and Ben's own son, Adam, he was sure to be found guilty.

One of the odd facets of the dilemma was trying to figure out exactly what Jack Wolf's part was in the scheme. He had spoken up in favor of the lumber company from the very beginning, trying to convince the people to sell their lumber. He seemed to always be in the company of one or more of the men. In fact, it seemed, to more than just Ben, that this part of the operation was based right in Jack Wolf's establishment.

Whether Jack Wolf was involved or not, they were surely in for a battle if they wanted to get those men out of their territory.  As for Ben Cartwright, although he hadn't been threatened as of yet, he was willing to do whatever it took to be free of the men from California and their unsavory influence and he knew there were others who would back him up, too.

Luther Bishop, their new neighbor, had been very vocal in his protests of the lumber contractors' shady dealings. From what Ben could tell, Bishop seemed like a good, honest, hardworking man.  It had been his idea to build the jail in the aftermath of a spree of cattle rustling several months back. Two of the rustlers had been caught then locked in the livery stable as they awaited the circuit judge to come. The rustlers had escaped the first night, unhinging a high window then knocking out their guards. There had been no more rustling around the area, but only a few days afterwards Jim Duffy showed up at Eagle Station.

Between himself and Bishop and handful of others, Ben could only hope they would be able to set the example, to show the rest of the folks that standing up to a bully was the only way to make him back down.

The people of the territory had worked hard for their land; they had experienced more than their share of discouragement and hardship. Living in this land was difficult enough in itself without having to deal with ruthless money hungry tyrants threatening to steal the efforts of your sweat and blood right out from under you.

If only he could make them see that the only way to win this particular battle was to stick together, to stand united against the men and their threats. If only he could make them see.... Though he had been certain that sleep would elude him, Ben dozed off in mid-thought and didn't awaken again until dawn's light was peeking through his window.

_ * _ * _ * _

By the time Ben and his sons arrived in town, the circuit judge was already there and had scheduled Jim Duffy's trial for eleven o'clock that morning. Judge MacLeod explained to the Cartwright's that Duffy had waved his right to a jury trial, therefore the verdict rested solely upon him.

There was a knock on the door and Eli Orowitz stuck his head inside, smiling when his eyes came to rest on Ben. "Ah, Ben, I hoped to find you here," he said, closing the door behind him. "I wanted to speak to you about Mrs. Carlson. She has been staying with us since the...death of her husband"

"Yes, that's very kind of you, Eli." Ben smiled. "I'm sure you and Mrs. Orowitz have been a great comfort to her."

Eli graciously waved off the words praise. "I am concerned about Mrs. Carlson. They are having the trial today, yes?"

"Yes."

"I was hoping that possibly you could come and speak with her," Eli said, growing more serious now. "Fear...it is a terrible thing. It can cloud a person's judgment; cause a person to make unwise decisions. If it is not overcome, the fear can take over a person's whole life and lead them to do things that they will later regret."

So, that's why Jim Duffy had waved a jury trial, thought Ben. He's counting on the widow to be too frightened to testify against him. "Boys," Ben said turning to his son's, "I'll meet you at the town hall in a little while."

"All right, Pa."

"Joseph, behave yourself," Ben told him with a smile.

"Can I go with ya, Pa?" Joe asked.

"I'm sorry, son, but I'd rather you stay with your brothers right now." Ruffling the boy's hair, Ben gave him a wink. "Don't worry though, I'll see you shortly."

Joe nodded, looking slightly forlorn as his father and Eli headed out the door and across the street to the Orowitz's home.

_ *  _  * _ *  _

After pouring everyone a cup of tea, Mrs. Orowitz set a tray of cookies on the table then sat down beside Mrs. Carlson and patted her hand supportively.

"Mrs. Carlson, I hate to be so blunt, but without your testimony your husband's murderer is likely to go free," Ben tried to explain as patiently as he could.

"What does it matter if he's found guilty or innocent? My husband is already dead," she said flatly, staring into her teacup. "Hanging that man won't bring my Jonas back."

"No, it won't," replied Ben. "But, if we let Duffy go, what will stop him from killing again? Or for that matter, what will stop the next person from committing murder, and the person after that?"

"I just want to live in peace." Hiding her face in her hands, she tried to muffle her sobbing. Mrs. Orowitz pulled her into a comforting embrace, allowing her to cry on her shoulder for several long minutes. Finally she straightened, seeming to have regained some semblance of control. She looked at each of them, her expression pleading. "Why can't we just have a decent town?" she cried. "Why?"

"Mrs. Carlson," Eli responded with emotion, "don't you see? That's what we are trying to accomplish. That's why it is so important that you testify."

Ben reached out and took her hand. "We need to show these people that they can't get away with murder in our town. That we won't allow it!"

"Can you promise that my testifying will change things? Will it change this town into a decent, civilized, law abiding town?"

"I can promise you," Ben told her honestly, "that if we don't start somewhere, if we don't stand up for ourselves and for what's right...we will never have a decent town."

"You can't promise me that no one else will be killed...that I won't be killed."

Ben shook his head, looking gravely into her eyes.  "No, but we'll do everything in our power to make sure that you, or nobody else, is hurt by them. You have my word on that."

"And mine, as well," added Eli.

"And what if you can't stop them?" She whispered, looking away again.

For long moments they all sat in silent frustration. Ben could find no other words to convince or reassure the grieving widow. He couldn't blame her for her fear, but at the same time, he knew that if she let that fear rule her now, she would regret it forever. Ben patted her hand and stood. "It's a shame," he said, pausing until she looked at him. "Jonas was brave man. Brave enough to stand up for something he believed in." Ben looked down at the hat he held in his hand. "I hate to think he died for nothing."

Slowly Mrs. Carlson looked up and met his eyes. "Ben?"

"Yes?"

She sighed then glanced across the table at Eli. "I-If you'll go with me I-I will testify. You are right, it's what..." she sniffed and her forehead creased as she struggled to hold back the tears," he- he would have wanted me to do."

The two men escorted the widow Carlson to the town hall. A small crowd was gathered outside, laughing and talking loudly, seeming to Ben like they thought they were at some sort of festive event.

They made their way through the resistant onlookers and were about to enter the building when Jack Wolf stepped in front of them, blocking their path to the door. "Ben," he said, with cool politeness.

"Jack."

"If I may offer some advice," he said almost too kindly, "if I was you, I'd be more cautious about lettin' any boy of mine get involved with that trial in there."

"And what exactly do you mean by that?"

"Plain and simple, Ben. Ol' Jim Duffy's got a lot of friends, you know. They might not take too good to your boy talking against him. And, I'd hate to see anyone else get hurt."

"Is that supposed to be some kind of threat, Jack?" Ben asked, looking the other man directly in the eye.

Jack snorted, grinning broadly and took off his hat. "Now, what reason would I have to make threats against you, Ben?" he asked. "Why, I'm just offering a little friendly advice, that's all."

"We can do with out your friendly advice, thank you very much." Ben pushed past him and opened the door.

"That advice goes for you too, ma'am," he said pleasantly, looking at the widow, who was visibly trembling.

"Just ignore him," Ben said, gesturing for Eli and Mrs. Carlson to precede him. Then he turned back to Jack Wolf with a sardonic smile. "Have a nice day, Jack."

Once inside, Ben looked around for his sons. There were several rows of chairs set up. Joe and Hoss were standing behind everyone, against the back wall and Ben was thankful when Eli went over to them and put an arm around Little Joe.

The circuit judge was seated at the desk up front and Jim Duffy was in a chair beside him, laughing and talking to a tall, lanky, blond-haired man. Adam was sitting alone in the front row of chairs, so Ben led Mrs. Carlson toward him.  When she was seated, Ben crouched in front of them and put a hand on both of their arms. "Remember, no matter what happens, tell the truth."

"Of course, Pa." Adam said, meeting his eyes with sincerity.

"We can't let this group of...bullies keep pushing us around," Ben reminded adamantly.

Mrs. Carlson dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. "That's what my Jonas always said." Her chin trembled as she tried to hold back a sob.

Ben nodded, his eyes filled with sympathy. "Your husband was right, Mrs. Carlson. We have to take a stand."

"Pa? What do you think is going to happen?" Adam gestured to the raucous crowd surrounding them. "They don't seem very intimidated."

Ben sighed, wishing he could promise that the court proceeding would put an end to the chaos. "I believe if Jim Duffy is found guilty and held accountable for his actions it will be a fair warning to anyone else thinking about committing a crime around here," he answered. "Starting now, there are going to be consequences."

The makeshift courtroom was filling up and the noise was steadily increasing. Finally the judge sat down and called for order. Unfortunately very few people seemed to notice. It wasn't until after the judge had banged the gavel several times and shouted for silence that the noise began to diminish.

When the room was appropriately quieted, the judge introduced himself as Judge Robert MacLeod. Then he turned to the seemingly amused defendant and explained the charges and questioned whether he understood them. Jim Duffy laughed causing several of the other men in the room to burst into laughter also. The judge again shouted for order then admonished Duffy's behavior and threatened to lock him back up in his cell for the duration of the trial.

Duffy shrugged his shoulders, then spat into the waste can.

Disgusted, the judge turned to face the people seated in front of him and asked for witnesses.

Adam stood right away, making Ben proud.

"Your name?" the judge asked, barely looking up from the book he was writing in.

"Adam Cartwright."

"Mr. Cartwright, could you tell us what you witnessed?"

"Well, I was on the corner, across from the livery stable and I just happened to look down the street and saw Jim Duffy," he nodded toward Duffy, "holding a gun on Mr. Carlson."

"You're certain it was Mr. Duffy?"

"Yes sir."

"Go on."

"Well, then Jim Duffy shot Mr. Carlson. For no reason, Mr. Carlson didn't even have a gun."

"You actually saw Mr. Duffy shoot the victim?" Judge MacLeod asked.

Adam hesitated a moment and cleared his throat. "Well, I saw him holding the gun. I didn't actually....  I turned, just for a second, I was going to go for help because at the time I was unarmed and.... I hadn't even taken a step when I heard the shot and turned back and Mr. Carlson was dead."

"You didn't actually witness the shooting?"

Nervously, Adam shifted his weight from one foot to the other, cleared his throat again then glanced at his father.

"Son?" the judge prompted.

"No, I didn't see him shoot Mr. Carlson," Adam answered, discouraged. "But like I said, I only looked away for a second. Nobody else could have shot him."

"Well now...maybe she shot him," Duffy said, pointing to Mrs. Carlson with a smirk.

"Oh, come on...." Adam frowned, glancing at the judge.

The judge ignored Duffy's outburst. "Son, I just need to know if you saw Jim Duffy shoot Mr. Carlson."

"Uh...." Adam glanced once again at his father. "No, but...."

"Thank you, Mr. Cartwright. That'll be all."

Adam sighed, slumping in his chair. His father leaned over and gave him a firm pat on the shoulder to show his approval.

"Any other witnesses?" the judge asked, looking at Mrs. Carlson.

Hesitantly the widow stood up and for a moment, she seemed focused only on the wrinkled white handkerchief she wrung nervously in her hands. "Yes, sir," she answered shakily, finally meeting the judge's eyes. "I was there. I saw everything."

"All right, Mrs. Carlson," the judge said, patiently. "Tell us exactly what happened."

Mrs. Carlson's shoulders were hunched over, her whole body trembling. She looked away, covering her mouth with the handkerchief. For long moments she stood silent as she struggled to overcome her sorrow. The crowd began to grow restless, muttering and shifting in their seats. The judge banged the gavel again which seemed to snap Mrs. Carlson out of the state she was in. "Jonas and I were on our way home when he," making eye contact with Duffy, she pointed in his direction, "stopped us on the street. He stood right in front of our wagon. Jonas got down and asked him to get out of the way, but he only laughed and pointed a gun at my husband. He said that he was the one giving orders, not Jonas and it was about time Jonas learned that. When Jonas told him he would never take orders from anyone like him, Jim Duffy raised the gun to his head and...and...shot him." As she spoke the last words, she broke down, sobbing hysterically and screaming, "You murdered my husband! You murdered my husband!" And then Mrs. Carlson crumpled to the floor.

Several of the townsfolk gathered around her. The judge banged the gavel, again calling for order. "Please someone take her home and see that she's cared for."

"We can take her to my home," offered Eli.

Shelby appeared then, a sympathetic look on her face softening her features. She motioned for someone to pick the distraught woman up and Eli led them out of the building.

For several minutes the judge sat at the desk writing in the book. When the low murmurs of the crowd began to crescendo, he banged the gavel and threatened to throw everyone out of the courtroom. Finally, he set the pen down and turned to the defendant. "Do you have anything to say for yourself, Mr. Duffy?"

"She's lyin'. I didn't do nothin'," Duffy said morosely then spat into the waste can.

"All right then," the judge said. "With the evidence that's been presented, I see no other alternative but to find you guilty of the crime of murder. James Duffy, you are hereby sentenced to hang by the neck until dead. The sentence will be carried out tomorrow morning, at five o'clock."

_ * _ * _ * _

It would be Eagle Station's first official hanging. Not that there hadn't been unofficial hanging's before. Cattle rustling was not a crime anyone took lightly and in a territory that seldom saw a lawman or a judge, folks were inclined to take the law into their own hands more likely than not.

Adam found that he couldn't stop pacing, couldn't stop looking out the window. His whole body was thrumming with nervous energy and no matter how hard he tried to sit still he couldn't manage it for very long. He glanced around the room at the others. Hoss was playing checkers with Luther Bishop and Little Joe was shadowing Pa's every move. Poor kid should have stayed home with Hop Sing, he thought. But, Pa wanted all of them there -- he'd insisted on it, for some reason. Adam figured there was probably some lesson to be learned, or maybe he just wanted to keep him close? Maybe he was scared for their safety.

"Adam, Hoss," Ben spoke up startling Adam from his contemplation. "Joe and I are going to head over to the mercantile to pick up some supplies. Lock the door after we leave and keep a look out the window. We'll be back shortly."

"Sure wish that new marshal would get here," Luther said as he jumped two of Hoss's checkers. "King me."

"He'll be here soon," Ben assured as he opened the door. "Ready son?" he asked Little Joe who nodded and grabbed Ben's hand. Adam shook his head sadly. He hadn't seen Joe eager to hold Pa's hand for a couple years now.

Ben chose enough supplies for them to have supper, although he wondered how many of them would actually feel like eating.

 "Can you put this on my bill?" he asked. "I'll be sure to pay it by the end of the week."

"No need, Ben," Eli replied in a no nonsense manner. "You have enough mouths to feed already. I'll turn the bill over at the next town council meeting. It should be the town's responsibility to take care of such things."

"Okay, that sounds reasonable," Ben agreed with a smile. "Thank you."

"No need for thanks. How are they coming along with the...platform?" Eli made a vague hand gesture. "I can not remember the proper word."

"Gallows." It was a word he couldn't seem to get out of his mind, especially after listening to the incessant hammering from its construction for most of the day. The very word, gallows, made him feel uneasy. It filled him with a sense of sadness, of finality. Those unfortunate enough to find themselves facing an untimely death at the gallows had truly run out of chances. A waste of God's precious gift of life.

"It will be done by morning?"

"They're about halfway finished. As soon as I get back they'll probably stop for dinner. Should be done on time."

Eli nodded grimly then he looked over Ben's shoulder and smiled. "Little Joe, you may have a stick of candy," he paused to wink at Ben, "if it is alright with your father, of course."

Little Joe licked his lips and turned pleading eyes on his father.

Ben chuckled, happy to see Joe's mind off the events of the day, at least for the moment. "Go ahead, son."

"Thank you Mr. Orowitz!" Joe said and opened the jar of licorice sticks.

"You are most welcome, Little Joe."

"Where's Mrs. Orowitz?" Joe asked, walking back over to stand beside his father.

"She is out at Mrs. Carlson's," Eli answered kindly, then he looked up at Ben. "She wanted to sleep in her own bed and we thought it best that she not be alone. Shelby's with them also."

"Shelby?" Ben asked, surprised.

"Shelby has a compassionate heart," he winked, "though she would not wish anyone to know that."

"I always knew that," Joe said, grinning up at Ben.

"Of course you did." Ben smiled at his son and patted him on the shoulder. "Well, Joseph, shall we get back to your brothers?"

Joe's grin faltered and slowly his hand reached for Ben's. "Okay, Pa."

"I'll stop by after I close up and see if there is anything else you need."

Ben nodded and he and Joe started for the door. Before they reached it, the door was flung open and a tall, dark skinned man entered the store. He stood looking at them for a few seconds then slammed the door closed behind him.

"Can I help you?" Eli asked, tentatively.

Ben put a protective arm around his son. He'd never seen the man before, but he had a bad feeling.

"Yes, you can," the stranger said, still looking out the window. "I'm looking for a man named Duffy."

Ben cleared his throat and nudged his youngest son behind him. "Duffy?"

"Jim Duffy," the man answered, glancing over his shoulder.

"And you are...?" Ben tilted his head, studying the stranger. He was obviously Indian, although he spoke and dressed more like a white man. His hair was long, arranged in a single braid that hung down the middle of his back. He wore boots, jeans and a cowboy hat decorated with three long feathers, a soft leather vest trimmed with brightly colored beading and a pale blue, button-down shirt.

"More likely to shoot than answer questions." The Indian stepped away from the door, turning his rifle on Ben. "Now, s'pose you tell me where I can find Mr. Duffy?"

Ben lifted his hands slowly, a wary look in his eyes. "Over in the jail."

The bell above the door jangled and the Indian swung around, the barrel of his gun aimed to kill. Two more men entered the store, closing the door again quickly then raising their arms when they realized there was a gun pointed at them.  The Indian lowered his rifle. "What are you two idiots doin'? Tryin' to get yourselves killed?"

"Pache," the taller man said, "We ain't never been so glad to see ya!"

"Yeah, Duffy done got himself in some big trouble. He's over in the jail," the other man said then paused, squinting as he surveyed the surroundings.

These two men looked familiar, although Ben wasn't sure of their names. He was pretty sure they were associates of Jim Duffy. In fact, he remembered them standing by the door during Duffy's trial. One of the men was about Ben's age, maybe a little older, with graying hair and a beard. The other was closer in age to Hoss or Adam -- barely old enough to shave. He had a skittish, unpredictable look in his eyes that made Ben nervous.

"Since when did this little hole in the ground get a jail?" the Indian asked. He walked over and peered out the window then glanced over his shoulder at Ben and Eli. With the barrel of his rifle he nudged the younger man's leg. "Keep an eye on them."

"Sure thing, Pache." The kid walked over to the candy counter and with a grin began helping himself. "You just keep your hands where I can see 'em," he ordered, with his mouth full. "You," he pointed his pistol at Eli, "get out from behind there. Get over here by the others."

Ben turned his attention back to the other two men. "They just built it a couple weeks ago," the bearded man said. "See it?" He gestured out the window, "Right down there."

The Indian nodded. "I see it. What'd he do anyways?"

The bearded man sighed, shaking his head. "He killed some old man."

"So, they got a sheriff over there too?"

"Naw."

"So what are they doin'? Waitin' for the judge?"

"Pache, how long you been here? The judge has been here and gone. Duffy's already been found guilty."

"Yeah," the younger man spoke up from where he was leaning against the counter, absentmindedly twirling his revolver around his index finger. He caught the weapon in mid-twirl, the barrel pointing directly at Ben. "Thanks to his kid."

Little Joe's breath hitched and he clutched Ben's arm, looking up with fearful eyes.

"Already been found guilty," the Indian repeated curiously. "What do ya mean 'thanks to his kid'?" he asked, turning his gaze on Ben then Joe.

“It was a Cartwright kid that testified against Duffy," he explained. "Not that one," he gestured to Joe, "another one, older. Said he seen Duffy shoot the old man."

"Well," the Indian gave Ben a measuring look, "how interesting."

"Yeah, cause of the Cartwright kid and the old man's wife, Duffy's gonna hang tomorrow mornin'."

"Not necessarily," the Indian said, studying the street outside. "Not if we bust him out. You say there's no sheriff?"

"No sheriff, but there's at least two or three guards in there and the place is pretty tight."

There were four men over there, Ben was pretty certain, because right after he and Joe had left he'd seen Big Dan Larsson go inside. Not that the presence of one extra man was all that reassuring to Ben. If these fellows were planning on blasting their way in -- which when he thought about it, would be ridiculous to attempt -- he didn't want his sons caught in the gunfire.

The Indian turned away from the window and his gaze traveled from Eli to Ben and finally came to rest on Little Joe, who was still tightly gripping Ben's arm and peeking out from behind him.  "You, kid," he ordered, stepping closer to the two Cartwright's. "Get out here where I can see ya."

Ben's heart skipped a beat as his youngest son hesitantly stepped forward, eyes wide with fear. "Come on," Ben tried to reason, holding his son back, "he's just a little boy."

The Indian ignored him. "Get over here. Now."

Joe looked up at his father, as if seeking reassurance. Ben met the boy's eyes, took a deep breath and nodded for him to obey.  He could see Joe trembling, could tell his legs were not cooperating as he slowly walked toward the Indian.

As soon as Joe was in reach, the man grabbed his upper arm and pushed him roughly toward the door.  "You're gonna go over to that jail and tell them we wanna make a little trade. They let us have Duffy and we'll let these nice people go. Got that?" Joe nodded and tried to get another glimpse of his pa. The Indian stepped between them, blocking his view. "You march straight over there, ya hear me boy?" He glanced out the window then opened the door and shoved Joe outside. Ben nearly collapsed with relief.

_  * _  *  _  * _

Adam watched through the window as the stranger pushed his little brother out of the mercantile. Alarmed, he went to the door and opened it in time to see Little Joe bolt across the street and head straight for him. Joe flung himself into Adam's arms.  Adam held on tightly, wanting to still the tremors running through the small frame, but at the same time, needing to know what was going on. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Luther Bishop walk around them and close the door then Hoss was kneeling down beside them, resting a hand on both his and Joe's backs. After a few moments, Adam pulled back a little. "What's going on over there, Joe?"

Joe took a deep, ragged breath and wiped his eyes with his sleeve as he attempted to gather his wits. "There's three men." He looked from Adam to Hoss. "They got guns and they told me to tell ya that they'll let Pa and Mr. Orowitz go if you let Duffy go."

"Is anyone hurt?" Luther Bishop asked.

Joe shook his head.

Hoss growled with frustration and stood up. "Now what?"

Adam was still looking at Joe who although shaken, seemed uninjured. "You okay, little brother?" he asked quietly.

Joe nodded and licked his dry lips. "I'm okay, but what are we gonna do, Adam?" he whispered, searching his older brother eyes for some sort of solution.

Adam looked away, at the moment feeling completely helpless.

"The marshal's s'posed to be here soon," Bishop said from behind the small desk. "Let's just wait and see what he has to say."

"Yeah," Dan agreed. "Should be here any time now."

Adam stood, keeping a hand on Little Joe's shoulder.  "Somehow we need to warn the marshal about what's going on before he gets here."

"You're right, if he just comes ridin' in here," Dan looked out through the barred window, "he's most likely to get himself shot."

"I'll go," Hoss offered, fierce determination in his eyes. Adam knew that Hoss had a hard time sitting still when there was trouble going on, but that was too bad. He was going to have to learn to be a little patient because at the moment Adam didn't feel too confident about having either of his brothers out of his sight.

Thankfully for Adam, Big Dan stepped in; with a snort he clapped Hoss on the shoulder. "I don't think so, boy."

"Why not?" Hoss questioned, seeming insulted.

"Because..." Dan hesitated, fishing for an adequate response, "whoever goes will have to get down to the livery stable."

"Yeah, so...?"

"So..." Dan stood straight, glaring down at Hoss with a righteous expression, "I think it should be me. After all, it's my livery stable."

Hoss's mouth dropped open. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Well," Dan folded his arms across his chest then cleared his throat, "you ain't allowed in my livery stable."

 "What?" Hoss practically shouted then began shaking his head, half amused and half annoyed. "That's the dumbest thing I ever heard."

Big Dan shrugged; it sounded okay to him.

"Since when?"

"Since now," Big Dan nodded resolutely. "Look, son," he reasoned, softening his tone, "more than likely they ain't gonna take too kindly to any of us waltzin' outta here."

"I know that!" Hoss exclaimed, still being stubborn.

"Well then," replied Dan, his tone matching Hoss's, "if you think I'm sendin' you out into an ambush, you...you must have rocks in your head."

Hoss puffed out his chest and gave the bigger man a surly glare. He opened his mouth to argue, but Adam interrupted by placing a hand on his brother's arm.

"Hoss, I know you want to help, but I'd rather you stay here for now," Adam said quietly, then turned to Dan. "The marshal should be coming from the east. Try to find someone to wait for him just outside town...and make sure nobody sees them."

"But, Adam...." Hoss started to protest.

"Look brother, don't you it makes more sense if Dan goes? He's more experienced with this sort of thing and it'll be easier for him to round up some men to help out."

His jaw remained set as he considered his brother's suggestion, but he couldn't argue with Adam's line of thinking, so resignedly he ended up agreeing.

"Little Joe, I want you to get behind the desk," Adam directed. "Just incase there's any shooting."

More easily than usual, Joe acquiesced and ducked behind the desk then cautiously peered around the corner.

Adam and Luther Bishop followed Dan to the door, watching as he stepped out onto the boardwalk and began his trek down the street to the livery stable.

From the entryway, Adam held his breath and said a silent prayer that the big man would make it without incident. Dan was half way down the street, nearly home free when the door to the mercantile was flung open and gunfire erupted.

For a split second, Adam felt completely helpless and then it dawned on him that he now had at least some small control over their fate. He slid his hand over the butt of the Colt revolver on his hip, unlatched and drew it from the holster. His hand trembled only the briefest moment and then he was sighting his target and firing across the road, hoping, at the very least, to create a diversion that would allow Big Dan to escape.

The whole situation seemed surreal and after several shots, it took him a minute to realize he was out of ammunition and being fired upon in return. He shouted for Hoss to get down with Little Joe then grabbed the rifle he spotted leaning against the wall, took aim and fired again.

Luther Bishop had busted out a pane of glass and was also firing across the road. He glanced over to Adam while reloading his weapon. "Get out of the damn doorway, Cartwright," he shouted then fired again.  Adam closed the door and joined him at the window just in time to see one of the men in the Orowitz's doorway go down. There was one last shot that shattered the window above them then as abruptly as it had started, the shooting ended.  Adam closed his eyes and slid to the floor, drained.

"Is everyone all right?" asked Bishop.

Breathless, Adam opened one eye and nodded.

Hoss peered around the corner of the desk. "We're okay."

 _ *  _ *  _ *  _

Leaning back against the wall, Ben stretched his legs out, crossing one over the other and watched as two of his captors tended the wounded third man. "Seems like things aren't turning out as you'd planned," he commented, seeming casual and bemused.

The young man turned around and glared at him. "You just keep your mouth shut."

"Damn," the Indian said, "he ain't gonna make it."

"Well, maybe we oughtta kill one of these here fellas to make things even," the younger man said, stalking over to Ben with his rifle pointed at Ben's chest.

Ben's gaze traveled slowly up the long barrel of the rifle, continuing until it met the irascible young man's eyes.  The young man smiled menacingly and for a split second, Ben wondered if he would pull the trigger.

"Jasper," the Indian snapped, drawing the young man's attention away from Ben. "His time will come, but not yet. Get over here."

Jasper started to walk away then paused, turned back and leaned close to Ben. "You're mine, Cartwright," he growled, backhanding Ben across the side of the face before stalking away.

Eli reached over and put a hand on Ben's forearm, his expression calm, yet meaningful: Don't ask for trouble, it said.  Ben had no intention of asking for trouble, but he could see trouble beginning to brew. The younger man's inexperience and impulsiveness were wearing on the older man. Ben could only hope that somehow it would it work in their favor.

_ *  _ *  _ *  _

Before, Adam had thought Little Joe seemed uncharacteristically attached to Pa. Now, he couldn't help notice that, for the time being at least, his brother seemed to be using him as a substitute.

Smiling, Adam ruffled Joe's hair, forcing himself to be patient.  Joe needed to feel some sense of security and Adam needed to keep reminding himself of that. Any other time, he would have been more than happy to indulge his little brother, but right now, Joe's constant presence was making it difficult for Adam to think. And he really needed to think. Perhaps now more than ever before he needed a clear, sharp mind.

The constant hammering from outside wasn't helping any.

"Adam?"

"Yeah?" Adam turned away from the window and looked at Joe, instantly feeling guilty for his prior thoughts and wishing there was something he could do to ease the fear and anxiety he saw on his baby brother's sweet face.

"You think they're gonna hurt Pa...or Mr. Orowitz?"

"Joe, I wish I could tell you that they won't." He sighed, crouching down in front of his brother.  "All I can say for sure is that we're gonna do everything we can to get Pa and Mr. Orowitz out of there safely."

Little Joe nodded, entirely unconvinced, and looked down at the floor.

"Joe...."

Obnoxious laughter coming from the jail cell interrupted the moment. "If'n y'all don't let me go, they're gonna do more than hurt your pa! They're gonna kill your pa for sure! Probably put a bullet in his head same as old man Carlson."

Adam tried to ignore the man and took a hold of Joe's arms. "Joe, look at me." When Joe looked up there were tears in his eyes. "We'll get them out of there somehow. Okay?"

"Are you gonna let Mr. Duffy go?" he whispered.

This was the tough part -- the part Adam didn't quite know how to explain. Not to his little brother, anyway.  Actually, he couldn't explain it to himself any better. He knew the right thing to do, knew the reasons why, but he was having trouble convincing himself that any of this was worth his father's life.

Thankfully a knock on the side door put a halt to the conversation, temporarily anyway. Mr. Bishop grabbed his rifle and nodded to Hoss.  Adam put one hand on his gun and with the other pushed Little Joe behind him.

After peeking cautiously out of the small window, Hoss grinned in relief. "It's Shelby and Mr. Larsson," he said, opening the door for them.

"Well now," Shelby drawled, sauntering into the room with a cigar clenched in her teeth and a crate filled with food in her arms. "Looks like you boys got yourselves a bit of a mess goin' on, don't it?"

Adam smiled grimly and Joe ducked out from behind him. "Hi Miss Starrett, Mr. Larsson."

"Hey there, half-pint." Shelby shifted the crate to one arm and chucked him lightly on the chin.

Luther Bishop sat back down and set his rifle on the desktop. "I take it the marshal ain't here yet."

"Nope," answered Dan. "Sure is takin' his time."

"He shoulda been here by now!" Hoss clamored, sounding annoyed and frustrated.

"Ain't it just typical?" Shelby said with disgust as she set the crate on top of the desk. "Always pokin' their noses where they got no business and never around when ya need 'em."

Adam put his hands on Joe's shoulders. Joe tipped his head back and grinned up at him. If anything, thought Adam, having Shelby around would be a good distraction for Little Joe.

"How in tarnation can you stand all that racket out there?" Shelby complained, stalking back to the door. "Out of the kindness of my heart, I bring those ungrateful varmints a fine, tasty, home-cooked meal," she opened the door and leaned outside, "and they don't even bother to stop that gol-danged hammerin' long enough to eat it!"

The hammering stopped -- no surprise. Adam thought that surely Hop Sing had heard her clear out at the ranch.

Smiling with satisfaction, she closed the door. "There now, that's much better. You boys hungry?"

_  * _  *  _  *  _

Ben heard the back door open and cringed. Had to be Jasper, back from disposing of their friend's body. He had thought -- or hoped -- that it would take him longer, much longer. Footsteps drew nearer and then the man appeared before him, with a chunk of flat bread in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.

"What did ya do with him?" the Indian questioned, looking away from the window.

"They got a cellar just out the back door," Jasper replied, taking a bite of the bread and washing it down with a swig of wine. "Got some food and liquor stored down there. Want some?" he offered, holding out the bread.

"No, but I'll take some o' that," the Indian pointed to the wine.

Jasper handed the bottle over to the other man and tore of another chunk of bread.

"Listen," the Indian said, eyebrows drawing together in concentration as he leaned closer to the door.

"What?" Jasper scowled. "I don't hear nothin'."

“Exactly, they've stopped hammering."

"Huh." Jasper tilted his head, looking puzzled. "Ya reckon they decided to let Duffy go?"

The Indian didn't respond; he set the wine on the counter and went to a different window, seeking a better view.

Ben cleared his throat and folded his arms across his chest. "I can tell you right now," he said matter-of-factly, "they're not going to let a convicted murderer go free."

"You just keep your mouth shut," Jasper growled, picking up the wine and taking another swallow. "Nobody asked your opinion."

Shrugging, Ben leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. He prayed that his sons and the others had the courage to stand firm -- even with his life seemingly in the balance. If they let that man go, it would be a terrible mistake -- one that would take years to repair, if it ever could be repaired. They had put too much effort into building their dreams, not only him, but many others too. They'd worked too hard to make this a decent place to just throw it all away.

_  * _ *  _ *  _

Adam took a sip of coffee as Hoss and Big Dan headed outside to check on the progress of the workers. Luther Bishop was leaning back in his chair, feet propped up on the desk, snoring.  Joe and Shelby were sitting on the floor in a corner, talking quietly. Joe had a tablet of paper and was writing, while Shelby watched with keen interest. Adam couldn't begin to guess what they were doing, since Shelby couldn't read or write. Maybe Joe was drawing pictures?

Of the three brothers, only Hoss had eaten a fair amount of the food Shelby had brought. Joe hadn't eaten anything at all and Adam hadn't been feeling very hungry either.  Between the men in here and the men outside...and Shelby of course, practically the entire crate of food had disappeared without Adam and Joe's help anyway.

The hammering started up again after what seemed like only the shortest of breaks. Adam was to the point where he was seriously thinking about stuffing something into his ears -- anything to muffle the constant, nerve-wracking pounding of the hammers. They could have taken an hour for supper, he wouldn't have minded at all. They were three quarters done, anyway. Plenty of time to finish by morning.

"That's it!" Shelby jumped to her feet, pulled her gun and headed for the door.

"Wait!" Adam blocked her way, laughing. "You can't shoot them."

"Why not?"

"There won't be anyone to finish their job?"

With a peevish look, she put her gun away. "I reckon you got a point there."

From the floor, Joe let out a giggle.

Shelby squinted an eye at him. "Shouldn't you be writin' instead of laughin'?"

"Writing?" Adam tried to catch a glimpse of the tablet, but Joe held it away.

"Never you mind," Shelby said, pointing a warning finger in his face.

Adam took a step back in surrender, more curious than ever at what they were up to.

_  * _ *  _ *  _

"Damn," the Indian cursed. Stalking to the younger man, he snatched the bottle of wine from his hand.

"What's wrong?

"Can't you hear, boy?"

Jasper tilted his head for a moment. "All I hear is that bangin'."

The Indian rolled his eyes.

"Looks like they haven't changed their minds after all," Ben remarked casually.

"Maybe they just need a little help comin' to the right decision."

Jasper's eyes lit with excitement. "Are we gonna kill one of 'em?"

The Indian glared at him. "NO, we ain't gonna kill one of 'em -- not yet anyway."

"Well what we gonna do then?"

The older man leaned against the counter, seeming to contemplate the two hostages. "I figured we'd let one of 'em go...."

"Let one go?" Jasper shouted angrily.

The Indian rounded on the younger man, a cold glint in his eye as if daring the man to challenge him further. "That's what I said!"

The younger man shrank back a little, his tone immediately contrite. "What we gonna let one go for, 'Pache?"

"We need to get another message over to the jail," he answered, moving toward the window. "And we only need one hostage to bargain with, right?  A life for a life."

Immediately Ben wanted to jump up and plead with them to let Eli go, but he hesitated, fearing that anything he said would most likely ensure that they keep Eli instead of him.

"I say we keep Cartwright," said Jasper.

Yes. Ben felt relief wash over him, but a moment later he realized it was too soon.

"I don't remember asking your opinion," the Indian replied with an arched eyebrow.

"I-I know that, but I was just thinkin'..." the kid looked apprehensive about continuing.

"Thinking what?" the Indian asked, begrudgingly.

"Well," the kid smiled tentatively, "Them Cartwright kids is over at that jail, right? I figger they'll be more likely to do what we want if'n we got their pa here with us."

The Indian nodded, his expression revealing pleasant surprise. "Good thinking, kid. Good thinking."

The young man beamed at him.

_ * _ * _ * _

"They've opened the door," Adam informed the others in the room. "It's Mr. Orowitz! He's coming this way."

Everyone hurried to peer out the window. Adam gave Joe a meaningful look and pointed to the desk. Joe rolled his eyes and trudged back to what Adam had deemed 'the safest place' in the room.

"Open the door," Bishop called out and Hoss was happy to comply.

A shaky, almost frantic Eli Orowitz stumbled through the door. Adam and Bishop ushered him to a chair. "Well...?" prompted Bishop.

Eli held up a finger, signaling that he needed a moment to catch his breath. "They...let me go to...bring you a message."

"Is my pa okay?" A worried-looking Joe popped up from the side of the desk.

Still panting, Mr. Orowitz smiled at Joe and pulled him close. "Yes, your father is uninjured." All three Cartwright's nearly sagged with temporary relief.

"What's the message?" Dan Larsson questioned, perching on the edge of the desk.

After a few more breaths, Eli cleared his throat and focused on Adam. "They say that if you go through with the hanging, they will..." he glanced briefly at Little Joe, then back to Adam, "they will do the same to your father."

Both Joe and Hoss turned to Adam. "Adam?" Hoss spoke uncertainly. "What are we gonna do?"

"Well, I say we let the scum go," Shelby answered first. "He ain't worth Ben Cartwright's life."

"He's a murderer," Bishop argued. "We can't just let him go."

From the jail cell, loud, maniacal laughter rose.  Adam felt a chill run down his spine.

"Oh, shut up!" hollered Shelby. "Crazy fool."

"I wish the marshal would get here," Dan said again. "He might be able to come up with something none of us have thought of yet."

"Well, looks like he ain't gonna come," Shelby drawled, irritated. "Looks like we're gonna have to figger this out on our own. What do you say Adam? No one here's gonna fault you for wantin' to save your pa." She cast a hard glance toward Bishop, clearly letting him know she thought it best to leave the decision up to Adam.

Adam rubbed a hand over his face. "I don't know. Pa wouldn't be in favor of letting Duffy go."

"He might," Shelby said, "if'n it was one of you boys over there in his place."

"I don't know about that." Adam shook his head and turned back toward the window. "Pa was never one to give in to blackmail and that's what this is, clear as day."

"So you still wanna go through with the hangin'?" Hoss asked, seeming bewildered.

"Hoss, if it comes down to it, you know what Pa would expect us to do," Adam said, looking his brother in the eye. "For now let's just see what happens. We still have time. Who knows, maybe the marshal will turn up?"

The rest of the group nodded and went about trying to busy themselves. Eli closed his eyes, folding his hands together and resting his forehead against them.

Little Joe came to stand before his oldest brother.  "Adam?" he asked quietly, his eyes pleading. "You ain't gonna let 'em kill my pa, are ya?"

"Joe, he's my pa too."

"I know that," he said frowning. "You ain't, are ya?"

Adam kneeled so he was eyelevel with his youngest brother.  "Joe, this is important. I know you're worried about Pa, so am I, but we can't let bad people get by with things like this. I told you before, I'm gonna do everything I can to make sure nothing happens to Pa and I mean that."

Joe nodded, looking apprehensive. "But, what if...?"

"Try not to think about that right now, okay? There's no sense getting yourself all worked up just yet," Adam counseled, knowing it would be foremost on his and everybody else's minds -- all night long.

Standing again, he patted Joe on the shoulder and went back to the window. Pa? What should I do? He pleaded, silently. But, he didn't really need his father to answer the question, because he already knew what his father's answer would be. He'd known it all along. Yet, he was still unable to justify it in his mind and he doubted that he ever would. He could only hope that when the time came - if indeed it did - somehow he'd find the courage it would take to do the right thing.

_ *  _ *  _  *  _

Ben winced as he sat up a little more straight. His back was stiff and his rear end was killing him. Sitting for hours on the hard floor was beginning to take its toll on his not-as-young-as-it-used-to-be body.  He would have liked to get up and stretch his legs, but the way Jasper was eyeing him made him think twice about moving at all.  The Indian had gone out the back almost an hour ago, by Ben's estimation. It was dark out, so apparently he figured it would be safe. Maybe someone had got him? Although, his immediate thought was hopeful, another look at the kid changed his thinking. There was no doubt that junior over there would love the chance to put him out of his misery.  He shifted again and bent one knee.

"You best quit movin' around, Cartwright." Jasper trained the rifle on Ben's midsection.

Ben held his hand out, in what he hoped was an appeasing gesture. "Sorry."

"What's a matter?" Jasper stalked toward him. "The floor not to your likin'?"

"Well, actually...." That was all he got out when the kid struck a harsh blow across his left cheekbone.

"Maybe that'll take your mind of it?" Jasper smirked.

"What the hell is going on in here?"

Thank God, Ben thought -- then he wondered why he was thankful that now there were two men threatening his life instead of one. The thought of one killer being good-bad guy and the other a bad-bad guy almost made him laugh. It must have made him smile, because a moment later Jasper was bent over, staring in his face.

"You think somethin's funny?"

Ben shook his head. "No, no."

"If I was you then," he spat, "I'd wipe that fool grin off my face, before I wipe it off for ya."

"If I was you," the Indian parroted using the same viscous tone, "I'd move away from him, before I move you away." He cocked the gun he was holding.

 "I was just foolin' around," the kid chuckled nervously. "What'd the boss say?"

Ben wondered if 'the boss' could possibly be the person he had in mind. Jack Wolf was a shady character at best and probably more involved in this operation than any of them were aware of -- but a murderer? Ben would have liked to think not, but there really wasn't anything he'd put past the man. Still....

"The boss said just like I said," the older man answered. "We wait it out 'til dawn and see what happens."

"If they kill Duffy, we kill him, right?"

The Indian looked at him for a long time, before pulling his hat down to cover his eyes. "Just keep an eye on him."

_ * _ * _ * _

Adam tucked the blanket around Joe then sat on the edge of the cot gazing down on his little brother. How would he handle losing his pa after all the other losses he'd been forced to endure over the past year?  And Joe wouldn't only lose Pa, he speculated. Joe would hold him personally responsible if anything happened to their pa. And rightfully so. Would his little brother ever be able to forgive him if he allowed those men to kill
their father? Adam didn't think so, especially since he doubted he'd ever be able to forgive himself.

He glanced at Hoss who was sitting in a corner, his hat pulled down to hide his eyes. Hoss was older than Joe and had a deeper sense of right and wrong, but Adam was pretty certain that even Hoss would hold him accountable if anything happened to their pa. Was this worth losing his whole family?

Ben Cartwright was a man who lived by, and would be willing to die for his convictions. He lived his life as an example for his sons. Adam knew their father had taught them to make their own decisions, to follow their own consciences and would never fault them for doing so. But he'd learned early on that the only time he landed in trouble -- with his pa, or anyone else -- was when he disregarded his father's wisdom. And always after the fact, he would realize that he had not only disregarded his father, but he had ignored his own conscience as well.

If he didn't act on what he believed, if he didn't follow his father's example now, how could he in good conscience call himself a man? How could he call himself a Cartwright?
When the time came, Adam knew he would do what was right -- what his father would do -- just like he'd been taught. It would be difficult, but he no longer felt alone. His father was with him, would always be with him. As long as he lived by the example that had been his life, mistakes or not, Adam knew his father would be proud.

At least a few of them were able to get some sleep, he thought, brushing a hand over Joe's forehead. With all the hammering going on, it was a miracle anyone could sleep. The gallows would be finished before morning, which was only a few hours away.

"So, you decide anything?" Shelby's voice startled him out of his thoughts.

He smiled grimly. "Nothing really new."

"You're gonna go through with it?"

"If it comes down to that, yes."

"I don't know how you could Adam," she said sadly. "Your pa's life is worth a hundred Jim Duffys."

"That isn't the point."

"Then what is?"

"We can't let those people get away with murder, Shelby. If we give into them now, this will never be a decent place to live. We'll be marking ourselves as easy targets for any and every crook that comes along."

"But, that's your pa over there!"

"I know that, believe me." Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair. "But, even if we let Jim Duffy go they could kill my pa anyway." Suddenly a thought occurred to him. "They could have killed Big Dan if they'd really wanted to. I'm not so sure they really want to kill anyone."

"Well, I just hope you're right, Adam. You're takin' a big gamble, though."

"Yeah." Adam got to his feet and went to the side door. He looked out the window and to his surprise found Jack Wolf standing out on the sidewalk, leaning casually against a fence post watching the construction process. Apparently he had no fear of being shot at, which only reinforced Adam's belief that he was in cahoots with the thugs who were holding his father. "I'll be right back," he said to Shelby and went out the door.

"Mr. Wolf," Adam said, nodding at the other man.

"Well, well...I was wonderin' where you were, Adam."

"In the jailhouse of course, since unlike you," Adam raised his eyebrows pointedly, "I'm unable to walk down the street without getting my tail shot off."

Jack chuckled. "I got no quarrels with whoever it is holdin' your pa over there."

"Obviously," Adam smiled coldly. "And which of your men are holdin' my pa over there?"

Jack chuckled again, but the look in his eyes showed no humor. "Now, that sounds awful close to an accusation boy," he folded his arms across his chest. "You best watch what you say."

Adam eyed the man speculatively. It was obvious that he'd hit a sore spot, but he had no proof of any wrong doing on Wolf's part. The truth was, he didn't even know the identities of the men holding his father.  Mr. Orowitz had given them all a vague description of the two men and thought that possibly one was employed by Jack Wolf, but he hadn't been certain. Still, Adam was convinced that Jack Wolf had a hand in all the unscrupulous dealings lately. And he also realized that Jack Wolf was pretty well informed as to the details of their present predicament.

Until now Adam Cartwright had never thought of himself as a gambling man, but he had a gut feeling that there was only one way to get his father out alive.  "I know at least one of those men holdin' my pa works for you, Jack."

Jack studied his fingernails. "That don't mean nothin'."

“Doesn't it?"

"A man can't be held accountable for what his help does." He grinned wolfishly. "If in fact those are my men holdin' your pa."

"True, but if they are...how do ya think the folks around here are gonna feel about you when they find out it was your men who killed Ben Cartwright? Who do you think they're gonna hold responsible?"

"Might just be that they'll hold you responsible," he replied coolly. "You know as well as I do that all you have to do is let Duffy go and your pa can walk right outta there. Seems to me if your pa ends up dead, it'll be on your hands."

Adam stared at the gallows, almost finished now.  It was true, in part. If anything did happen to his pa, it would be on his hands and he'd have to live with that the rest of his life. But, it wouldn't be solely on his hands.

The words meant to condemn Adam had condemned Jack Wolf as well. For now Adam had no doubts that Jack Wolf was behind it all and if it took the rest of his life, he would prove it. But for now, he couldn't let the man, or the words intimidate him. There was too much at stake.

Adam turned his attention to Jack Wolf again. "You go ahead and believe that if it makes you feel better, Mr. Wolf.  Up until now, everyone's pretty much turned a blind eye to you and your business ventures. But, the people here...we're not stupid. You mark my words, if anything happens to my pa, you'll be the one who pays." Adam stared him hard in the eye. "That's a promise."

Jack Wolf laughed, although Adam was sure he saw a touch of nervousness. "Well, it's been delightful shootin' the breeze with ya tonight," he said glibly, "but I must be on my way now. I do believe it's past your bedtime too, young Adam." Taking off his hat, he bowed dramatically. "Til we meet again."

Adam leaned heavily against the building and closed his eyes, only to be startled a moment later when the door opened and Shelby stepped out. "Well now, I am impressed. Yes, sirree."

Adam looked at her suspiciously.

"That was quite a performance." She grinned, pulled out a cigar and offered it to him.

"Oh, uh..." his nose wrinkled and he waved a hand, "no thanks."

"Suit yourself." Shrugging, she stuck the cigar between her teeth, pulled out a match and struck it on the doorframe. "About that performance," she said, after taking a few puffs. "I just hope it worked."

"Yeah," Adam turned his gaze toward the direction that Jack Wolf had disappeared in, "so do I."

_ * _ * _ * _

"Get up there," the Indian ordered, prodding Ben toward the table with the barrel of his gun.

Unsteadily, Ben climbed up onto the table, trying to keep his balance without the use of his hands.

"Jasper," the Indian said as soon as he'd pulled the rope around Ben's neck and tightened it sufficiently. "You're gonna have to duck out the back and get over to that jail and see what's goin' on."

"What? Why me?"

"Cause I said so."

"I don't wanna miss out on the fun."

The Indian glared at him impatiently. "I ain't gonna do anything 'til you come back with the news."

"Promise?"

"Just get."

"What if someone sees me?"

"Anyone out this early is gonna be out to watch the hangin'. They're not gonna notice you if your careful."

"Okay." Jasper looked over his shoulder one last time then headed out the back door.

The Indian sneered at Ben. "So, you think your boy's gonna let you swing?"

"If you mean do I think he'll go through with hanging that murderer," Ben replied calmly. "The answer would be yes."

"It's a shame when a man can't count on his own son to save his hide."

Ben smiled, his eyes filled with determination and pride. "On the contrary, I am very much counting on my son."

_ *  _ *  _ * _

Jasper looked around the corner of the building, seeing a crowd gathered beside the jail. Nobody was looking his way, so he stepped out into the street, put his hands in his pockets and walked nonchalantly toward the crowd. He could see the platform above the peoples' heads. The rope hung from a beam at the top. He walked around, trying to find a suitable vantage point, but everyone was too close together, he couldn't see anything. Taking his hands out of his pockets, he unlatched the safety harness on his holster, slid the palm of his hand over the revolver and began squeezing through the mass of onlookers.

Finally, he got to a spot where he could see what was happening. He nudged an older man with his elbow, pushing him to the right. The man threw him a dirty look, but Jasper only smirked back at him. When he looked again toward the platform, the sight made him catch his breath. He'd been so sure they wouldn't go through with it.

As he watched Duffy being led up the steps of the platform, his anger grew. How he wanted to kill the high and mighty Ben Cartwright. Whether they hung Duffy or not, either way he'd tell Pache that they had. 'Pache was getting soft and the boss was just as bad. Ol' Mr. Wolf must be takin' his position on the town council a little too serious-like. Thinkin' he was some sort o' upstandin' citizen these days. Well, he'd show the both of 'em.

He watched as they placed the noose around Duffy's neck. By the look on Duffy's face, he was still thinking they wouldn't follow through. Duffy was glaring at someone in particular and when Jasper followed his line of vision, his eyes came to rest on Adam Cartwright. Now, there's a real piece o' work, thought Jasper. What kind of a kid would send his own pa to his death? He continued to glance from Cartwright, to Duffy, impatient to see what would happen.

Then suddenly Adam Cartwright's head turned toward him and their eyes met. Turning, he tried to push his way through the crowd at the same moment he heard the sound of the bottom dropping away from the platform. One quick backwards glance revealed the gruesome sight of Jim Duffy's body dangling limply from the rope, his mouth hanging open, his eyes staring ahead, vacant and lifeless.

Adam had tried to get Joe to go back inside. The last thing he wanted was for his baby brother to witness a hanging and he knew his father would have felt the same way.  When he had shouted for Joe to go back inside, Joe had ignored his command, instead shouting back defiantly that he had the right to see what was gonna happen to his pa. To Adam, the words were as painful as a stab through the heart.  Pa, please forgive me.

Then suddenly Joe was shouting his name again, tugging on his arm and pointing to someone in the crowd. "That's one of the men from Mr. Orowitz's store! Right there, Adam! One of the men who's gonna kill Pa!" Adam scanned the faces and almost immediately found the suspect. He knew this man, knew he worked for Jack Wolf and remembered seeing him at the trial. Unfortunately, the suspect took notice of Adam's interest in him and immediately turned to flee.

At the same moment as the floor dropped out from beneath Jim Duffy's feet, Adam and several others had taken off after the man Joe had pointed out. They dodged around the crowd, coming out on the other side to see the man hurrying across the street.

"Stop!" yelled Adam, drawing his gun and taking aim.

The man turned around, his eyes wild, gun waving dangerously at the crowd.

"Drop your gun!" Luther Bishop ordered from a few feet to Adam's right.

Instead of dropping his gun, however, the man aimed it more steadily at Adam, smiled and pulled the trigger.

Adam felt a thread of pain in his shoulder, but ignored it as he, in turn, pulled the trigger of his revolver. Then he watched in horror as a red stain blossomed on the front of the other man's gray shirt. Man? wondered Adam. Now that he was able to look closer, he realized the other man was just barely that. More of a kid, he thought and watched as the kid dropped to his knees then pitched forward, face down.

"Adam! Adam! You're shot!"

The words were filled with anguish, but the buzzing in his ears made the vice sound distant and muffled. He felt a tug on his sleeve and shook his head to clear it. Looking down he saw his youngest brother's tear-streaked face looking up at him with fright.

"Joe, I told you to get inside," he mumbled.

Joe wiped his eyes and bit his lower lip. "Adam, you're shot! He shot you!"

Then Luther Bishop and Shelby were leading him to a set of stairs close by and Shelby was pulling his shirt back away from his shoulder. "It's just a graze. Took a hunk of skin, but he'll be okay," she determined after inspecting the wound closely. She pulled out a bandanna and pressed it against his shoulder. "We should get it cleaned and dressed proper."

"No, we gotta find Pa." He stood up, trying to push the small gathering of people out of his way. His legs felt weak and his ears were still ringing, there were bright spots of light dancing in his peripheral vision. He blinked hard then swayed as he felt his knees start to buckle.

"Adam!" Joe cried out, wrapping his arms tightly around his oldest brother's waist and holding him upright.

"You best just sit down, Adam. Catch your breath for a minute," Shelby directed. "We'll find your pa, don't worry."

Adam closed his eyes, trying to regain his equilibrium. He hugged his little brother with one arm, hoping to reassure him while at the same time taking several deep breaths. "I'm okay, Joe. Calm down."

Joe nodded, not letting go as he maneuvered the much bigger body back to the staircase. Adam's rear end landed hard on the second step before he realized what was happening. When he finally opened his eyes he was looking into the worried faces of his two brothers. He couldn't help but grin. He was the one supposed to be worrying about them.

Hoss stood up straight and rolled his eyes, trying to cover his concern. "You tryin' to give me a heart attack brother?"

"Sorry," he said, apologetically. Forgetting his injury, he shrugged then winced and pulled away the bandanna to inspect the wound for himself. "Ow," he said a little sheepishly, then smiled at Joe who was still looking at him with a humorless, haunted expression, "It's okay, buddy, just a graze."  The gash had mostly stopped bleeding, but was oozing a clear, watery fluid. Shelby scowled at him and insisted he keep the cloth pressed against it.

"Let's go find Pa," he said, looking at each of his brothers and when he stood again, he was feeling a lot steadier on his feet.

_ *  _ * _ *  _

Ben swallowed, feeling the muscles of his neck flex against the noose. His legs were starting to feel weak from standing in one position for so long. He felt another drop of sweat roll down his temple and wished he could wipe it away. Somehow, he couldn't believe this was going to be the end.  Dying like this, at the hands of these low lives, with his children so close and yet so helpless to stop this from happening. He could only hope they wouldn't be torn apart after he was gone. He wasn't sure what was going on in their minds at the moment, but he had to trust Adam, had to trust that his son would do right -- now and in the future.

Sudden, fierce realization struck him. Adam had grown from a boy to a man right before his eyes and although Ben had stated that fact before, the reality of it had never been so apparent to him as it was at that very moment. It was amazing how blind a father could be to his child's coming of age. Of course he trusted Adam. He trusted his oldest son implicitly. Adam was a fine, sensible, reliable young man with high morals and standards -- a son any man would be proud to have. And then he was struck with another realization and he vowed that the next time he laid eyes on his son -- in this life or the next -- he would make sure to tell him all of these things. Lord, how I must have let him down, thought Ben. Forgive me, son.

There was pounding on the back door that made Ben jump.  Just what he needed to do -- hang himself.

"Don't go anywhere," the Indian said with a smirk and backed out of Ben's line of sight.

"It's over. Time to let Cartwright go."

Ben heard footsteps and then Jack Wolf was in front of him, hands on his hips looking up with a wry expression. "Hello Ben, looks like you got yourself in a bit of a situation there."

"Yeah, I'd shake hands with you, but as you can see...."

Jack chuckled then grew serious and pointed at the Indian. "Cut him down. This nonsense has gone far enough."

The Indian stood there for a long moment, shaking his head. Finally he looked at Jack.  "Sorry, no can do, Mr. Wolf. I'll cut him down as soon as Jasper gets here and tells me they let Duffy go."

"Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news but I wouldn't be expectin' either of those boys to come callin' anytime soon."

"What do you mean?"

"Just that, well...I imagine your pal Jasper is most likely a little too stiff to be goin' anywhere...if ya get my meaning," he said morbidly. "And ol' Jim Duffy is right at this very moment danglin' on the end of a rope in the yard of the new jail. That's where he was the last time I saw him anyway."

The Indian's eyes grew hard and more cold than Ben had thought imaginable Definitely no hint of goodness in this bad guy. "Well then, looks like I won't be cuttin' Mr. Cartwright down at all."

Jack Wolf took off his hat and pushed his hair back. "I said, cut him down," he repeated in a low voice.

"And I said, no."

The next scene happened so fast that even when it was over, Ben wasn't quite sure what had taken place. He saw the Indian's right hand move toward his holster, but he never even saw Jack draw his gun. There were two shots fired in rapid succession. Ben felt a rush of air and sharp pain in his shoulder then watched as the Indian grabbed at his throat and crumpled to the ground.

"Christ, Cartwright," Jack Wolf chided as he stepped up onto the table and pulled the noose from around his neck. "Ya just had to get yourself shot, didn't ya?"

Ben hadn't realized he was shot. He frowned, looking down at his torso as he clumsily got down from the table. "Shot?"  he asked, glancing over his left shoulder at Jack Wolf who was cutting the ropes binding his hands together. The sudden ability to move his arms set off the pain in his right shoulder. "Oh," he said curiously as he finally noticed the rip and surrounding red stain on his shirt.

Jack was already prodding it. "Well, sit down will ya?" Pushing Ben toward a stool, he ripped the shirt further than the bullet had already. "It don't look too bad." He pulled a white handkerchief from his coat pocket. "Just a graze. You'll live," he said sounding disgusted as he pressed the cloth to Ben's shoulder wound. "Hold that," he instructed, helping Ben to his feet. "We best hurry before..." Jack paused, smiling wryly,  "before that son o' yours comes blastin' his way through the front door."

“Wait,” Ben said, holding up a hand. “I don’t understand…why’d you…?”

“Why’d I what? Save your behind?”

Ben nodded.

“Look Ben, I admit to bein’ associated with those fellas and that lumber operation, but I never thought they’d resort to killin’ anyone. Yes, I was tryin’ to get the people around here to sell their lumber. Yes, I would have gotten a cut of the profits…but it was supposed to be profitable for everyone. When nobody wanted to deal with the contractors, things got out of hand. But, I swear I didn’t have anything to do with that part of the business.” The two men stood facing each other, each wondering what the other was thinking. Finally, Jack took Ben by the elbow. “Come on Ben, let’s go find those boys of yours.”

Feeling a little confused, a little overwhelmed at everything that had happened -- at everything that was still happening -- Ben allowed himself to be led out the front door and into the early morning sunlight. He didn’t know if Jack Wolf was telling the truth or not. In his present condition, Ben didn’t feel capable of making any judgment calls – at least not until he got a good night’s sleep.

"Pa!" Little Joe came charging toward his father, nearly knocking him off his feet. Adam and Hoss were close behind, both grinning broadly.

"Hey Pa," said Hoss. "You don't know how good it is to see ya!"

Adam smiled and started to clap him on the shoulder then noticed the obvious wound. "Pa! You're hurt!"

At the very same moment, Ben eyes were glued to the apparent wound on his eldest son's shoulder. "Son?"

Adam glanced at his own shoulder then at his father.

"It's just a graze." They said in unison.

Joe let go of his father and took a step back, looking up at Ben then Adam, alarmed.

"Really, I'm okay," he tried to assure his boys. "Let's see that shoulder, son," he said stepping closer to Adam.

"I already looked at it, Ben. He'll be just fine," Shelby intervened, sounding irritated. "It just needs cleanin'."

Ben nodded absently. "Okay, then...."

"Pa, I wanna go home!" Joe announced, tugging on Ben's good arm. "Hop Sing can fix you up, right?"

 "Hop Sing?" Shelby cried out, offended. "There ain't nothin' he can do that I can't do. I say we all head on over to my place."

"Your place?" Jack questioned, as if the suggestion was completely absurd. "I say we all head on over to my place. After all, I'm the one that rescued him."

Shelby looped her arm through Ben's good arm and turned to give Jack Wolf a look that told she was clearly unimpressed. "You're just lucky you did, too." Then she turned to the small crowd that had gathered around them on the street. "Well, don't just stand there, come on. First round is on the house."

"Whoa, whoa!" Ben stopped after only a few steps. "It's not that I'm not grateful...for everything...but it's a little early...and well, if you don't mind, I think I'd rather go home. Besides...."  He tilted his head toward Little Joe who was still standing in their former spot looking at him with anguished eyes. "Joseph?"

"I wanna go home, Pa."

"Well, that's a fine how-do-ya-do." Shelby said, winking surreptitiously at Ben. "Guess I can't blame ya for wantin' to get home. You boys take care o' your pa now, ya hear?"

Ben smiled and nodded to Shelby. "Thanks."

"Don't thank me, thank him," she said, pointing to Adam. "That's one fine boy ya got there, Ben Cartwright."

Ben looked at Adam who was blushing furiously and refusing to make eye contact with anyone. "A man, not a boy," he said softly, clapping his son on his good shoulder. Adam looked up at him, still blushing but there was gratitude in his eyes. "Come on boys, let's go home."

“We should stop at Mrs. Carlson’s on the way and let Mr. and Mrs. Orowitz know you’re okay,” suggested Adam.

“Eli’s all right?” Ben asked.

Adam nodded. “Yeah, he rode out there earlier to make sure Mrs. Orowitz and Mrs. Carlson were all right.”

“If we stop there, you know we won’t get home for hours,” Ben warned with humor.

“Yeah, but maybe they’ll invite us for breakfast!” Hoss said eagerly. “I’m starved!”

Adam groaned and rolled his eyes, but refrained from commenting further.

“Joseph?” Ben looked down at his smallest son. “That okay with you?”

Joe looked up, pursing his lips. “Well, Mr. Orowitz was real worried, so it wouldn’t be very nice if we just went home without stopping there first.”

“Okay, then.”

_ *  _ *  _ *  _

They watched as the Cartwrights drove the wagon out of town. When they were no longer in sight, Shelby turned toward those who remained. "Well what are ya waitin' for?" she said and started in the direction of her saloon.

As she put her foot on the first step, the sound of hoof beats made her pause. Slowly she took the cigar from her mouth and turned toward the sound. A stranger, dressed in black, riding on a large gray and white horse dismounted in front of the jail. "Well, well, well. Must be the new marshal." She took her foot off the step and pivoted in the direction of the jail, wholly intent on giving the lawman a piece of her mind.

"Don't go lookin' for trouble, woman." Big Dan grabbed her by the arm. "'Sides, I'm awful thirsty," he said with a frown.

"Yeah!" several shouts rang out. "You promised us a free round."

Sticking her cigar back in her teeth, she glared at the outside of the jail, resigned to sending her sentiments telepathically for now. "All right, all right."

In the jailhouse, Luther Bishop folded up the map he'd been studying, still no closer to proving where the properties were officially divided. The property line seemed to run right over the strip of land in question, but Bishop was convinced it belonged to him, not Ben Cartwright.

Leaning back in the chair, he glanced out the window, not wanting to think about the task that lay waiting for him and a little peeved that nobody else had offered to help.  They really needed to get an undertaker next, he thought. Although a doctor would come in real handy too.

The front door opened and a tall, sturdy looking fellow walked in. Dressed in black with a bright, shiny, silver star pinned on his chest, he smiled when he spotted Luther seated at the desk. "Hello, I'm Marshal Brady," he said, with a dashing, white-toothed smile.

"Marshal, Marshal, Marshal..." greeted Luther. And Shelby said you were never around when we needed.  "Luther Bishop, glad to meet ya." He shook the marshal's hand and grabbed his hat off the hook. "Welcome to Eagle Station." He opened the door and tipped his hat. "Sorry, but I gotta run."

The marshal waved, a puzzled expression on his face as Luther closed the door. A second later the door opened again and Luther poked his head inside once more. "Ya might wanna take care o' the body out here. I can tell it's gonna be a hot one today."

"Body?"

"In the yard."

"Ah." Well, he'd heard the west was rough. He went to the window to look out into the yard and.... Ew, how barbaric.  He pondered the task that lay before him, trying to imagine what Marshal Machismo would do in his situation. Alert the undertaker, of course.  Taking the dime novel out of his breast pocket, he paused to give the darkly clad figure on the cover an appreciative look, before laying the book on top of the desk.

Now to find the undertaker. Pulling up his britches, he stepped outside and took a deep breath, inhaling the fresh, invigorating, pine scented air. He looked up and down the street, seeing no sign that said Undertaker, or Mortuary...or even Doctor.  Well, surely they must have a doctor. Every civilized town has a doctor.

The blasting of gunfire rang out from a building down the block. At least that place had a sign, he thought as he walked toward the establishment. There was another burst of gunfire and a man tumbled out the door and onto the street, landing in a heap at the marshal's feet.  Propping himself up on his elbows, the man blinked sluggishly for a moment or two before falling back and closing his eyes.

"You just stay out too, ya hear!" A heavenly voice shouted from the entrance of the saloon. The marshal looked over and his gaze fell upon...the loveliest creature he'd ever seen.

Entranced, the marshal stepped over the now snoring man and continued walking dazedly toward the vision of beauty. From that day forth he vowed that he would follow her everywhere and go to any lengths to win her heart.

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