Justice in Limbo

By Bakerj

Chapter One

Who was this woman next to me?  I had no idea.  There’d been too many women, too many beds in the past weeks.  Different town, saloon, girl – I didn’t remember anything, but that was the plan, right? 

Rolling out, I reached for my clothes.  Shit!  On the floor next to my pants lay my sheath.  Essential equipment carried ever since Adam handed me my first and spelled out what a soiled dove could give me other than a good time.  How had I forgotten to use it?  I cursed my stupidity or, more likely, my drunkenness even as I turned to look at the woman.  Her youth and looks surprised me.  Not a guarantee, but it was all I had.  Another mistake in a long line of dumb mistakes.  How many was I going to make?

The girl didn’t wake when I dressed and left the room.  This was just one more lost night in my lost life.

*****

I shuffled through the door of the Cantina, which doubled at the town’s hotel, glad to get out of the sun that felt alien and hostile.

“Morning, Mr. Cartwright.  Mr. Cartwright?”  Damn, she was talking to me.  “Would you like breakfast?”

The hand I ran over my face told me I could use a shave.  Hell, I owed about four days’ worth of those, but who’s counting?  My gut rumbled.  Food sounded good.  “Sure.”

I dropped my hat onto the scrubbed table in the corner and watched Mrs. Lewis disappear into the kitchen.  She ran the place with her young son.  There was no sign of a husband, and I didn’t pry into her situation.  That’s what I liked about these dead-end towns.  Nobody asked questions.

Billy brought over my coffee.  The look of pride on his face when he didn’t spill a drop reminded me of the one I wore as a kid when I helped my pa and brothers around the ranch.  I was a good son then, not the one his father no longer had faith in.  My stomach soured.

“Billy, tell your ma, forget the food.  Coffee’s all I want. 

My hand shook when I picked up the cup but steadied after taking a sip of the strong, black brew.  I replaced it on its saucer and smirked.  China cups and saucers, everything about Baptiste flouted what dead-end towns should be.  The place looked the part.  Battered buildings, smashed windows, and broken furniture piled in a rubbish heap.  Yet all the owners seemed to take pride in their businesses.

The door swung open and filled with the silhouette of a bulk of a man.  My heart raced.  With pleasure or trepidation, I wasn’t sure.  But the hat was wrong.  It wasn’t Hoss, and my heartbeat slowed.  Losing interest, I returned to my coffee. 

The man headed for a table.  The change in the room was almost instant.  Folks who’d been casual and chatting sat up and shut up.  Some took their chance and dodged out the door when the guy sat down, leaving meals unfinished. 

Curious, I looked him over.  He was large, but when you’ve grown up in a family the size of Pa and my brothers, that didn’t intimidate me.   When Mrs. Lewis took his order, her rigid politeness let me know something wasn’t right.  I took another gulp from my cup.  Whoever he was, it was none of my business.

Thanks to the coffee, my stomach settled, and I regretted canceling breakfast.  Waiting until Mrs. Lewis had finished with the big man, I asked for mine again. 

“Certainly, Mr. Cartwright.”

She looked at me with polite disinterest.  How many losers like me had she seen?  Disgust washed over me.  I didn’t have to be like this.

“Hold the food.  Can I have some hot water?  I’ll clean up first.”

The water sloshed in the pan.  Unearthing my shaving kit, I laid it out and looked in the mirror.  God, I looked rough.  What was I becoming?  A lousy drunk who couldn’t look after himself.  Is that what I wanted?  I’d run away from my failure, but letting myself become a bum would solve nothing.

I challenged my reflection, “This has to stop.”  The eyes looking back weren’t as convinced as I sounded.

With my clothes stripped off, my hand reached for the solid brick of soap.  That deadbeat in the mirror wasn’t me.  I wasn’t a quitter or a drunk. 

*****

Chapter Two

Mrs. Lewis checked when I reached the bottom of the stairs.  Her eyes widened, and she smiled. 

“You’re looking better.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled.  A nervous hand ran through my damp locks, and I held out the bundle of dirty clothes.  “Is there somewhere I can get these washed?” 

“I can clean them for you.”  She put out her hands.  I hesitated, aware of how rank they were.

“D’you have something to put them in?”  She pulled out a burlap sack from behind the counter, and I dropped the clothes in, pulling the bag tight before handing it back.  “Thanks.  Put it on my bill.”

Settling back at my table, I took a breath.  It felt good to be clean and a little like myself again. 

Billy appeared with another cup of coffee.  When he looked up from watching that it didn’t spill, he stopped short and gaped.  Geez, had I looked that bad? 

He slid the cup onto the table.  “Ma says the food won’t be long.”

Those still in the cantina were familiar from when I’d arrived the day before.  The big man was mopping his plate with a hunk of bread.  Reminded of Hoss, I smiled but quickly shook the memory off.  Best not think about how much I missed that big mule.

Breakfast was worth waiting for, or was I sober enough to notice?  I’d scraped up the last of my beans when the noise made me look around.  Young Billy had tripped while collecting up plates and dropped one.  Leftovers splashed the big man’s boots.

“You stupid brat!”

“S … sorry.”

“Them’s new boots.”  He let out a snarl and grabbed the boy.  “I’ll give you a tanning.”

None of your business, I told myself.  Hunkering over my coffee, I tried to ignore the brewing trouble.  I didn’t need this.

There was a scuffle, a blow, then the kid grunted in pain.  An older man spoke up, “He’s just a boy, Buchanan.  There’s no— ”

“Shut up, or you’ll be next.” 

Then Billy cried out again.  I set down my cup.  What the hell?  What’s the worst that could happen? 

“Leave the kid alone.”

“Who asked you?”

The big man looked mean but not stupid.  I slid around in my chair to give myself room to move if needed.

“No one.  Let the kid go.  There’s no need for trouble.”

He froze.  I knew this play.  We sized each other up like two bulls.  Hoss said I had a glare that could freeze milk.  That better be true because I was in no condition to take this moose on in a fight, and any chance of a fast draw would be a miracle with my shaky hands.

“This ain’t none of your business.”

“You’re right,” I agreed, but my gaze didn’t falter. 

The breath I held tightened my chest.  I ran my left hand up my leg nearer my gun.  Maybe he sensed I wasn’t backing down.  Perhaps as an unknown quantity, I posed too great a risk.  Whatever it was, Buchanan shoved Billy away. 

“Tell your Ma the food’s payment for the boots.”

He stormed out, and everyone started to breathe.  Mrs. Lewis came through from the back carrying a small basket of bread. 

“Ma!  Buchanan was gonna whup me good, but Mr. Cartwright stopped him.”

She wrapped her free hand around her son’s shoulders and turned to me.  “Why would you do that?”

I shrugged.  “Seemed the right thing to do.”

Wrong thing to say.  Everyone in the place stared at me.  And there it was.  The look of revelation that the hero they’d been waiting for had arrived.  Goddammit! 

Too often, we’d ridden into towns where folks begged for a stranger to save them, and the strong, moral Cartwrights obliged.  That man wasn’t me anymore.  I was done helping other people.  If I hadn’t stopped Cliff from beating up Horace that night, he’d never have been able to murder Sally.  But like her, I’d felt sorry for the whining bastard.  No good deed goes unpunished.  Isn’t that what they say?  I’d remember that from now on.  My chair scraped back when I stood.

“Lemme have a bottle of whiskey.”

“But ….”

“Whiskey,” I repeated, slamming down a coin.

She placed the bottle on the counter.  I snatched up the precious liquid and headed for the stairs.  Their eyes followed, branding me with their hope. 

I slammed the door shut with a kick and dropped onto the bed.  The room was neat, like the cantina.  I yanked the cork from the bottle with my teeth, spat it onto the floor, and laughed.  Not so tidy now.

The burn from the whiskey filled my stomach, and I squeezed my eyes shut against the memory of how those people looked at me.  Shit!  I didn’t need crap like that, people relying on me, needing me.  Another couple of swallows and their stares began to blur.  I hugged the bottle to me.  This was all I needed.

The knock on the door interrupted my drinking.  What now?  Mrs. Lewis stood there with my breakfast on a tray.

“Thought you might need this.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Her gaze slipped passed me to the bottle on the table beside my bed.

“You have to have food.”

I’d heard that before, and I gave her the same answer.  “No.  I don’t.”

I shut the door in her face.  Great.  Now I’d added total jerk to my list of character flaws.  That old agony of regret stirred in my gut, but the cure was waiting for me, and I downed another gulp, letting the liquor numb my mind and dismantle the memories.

*****

Chapter Three

The sun had slipped down behind the horizon when I made my way back down the stairs.  The cantina was busy, but I wasn’t staying.  Food didn’t interest me. 

“Mr. Cartwright.”  Damn.  I hoped to slip out without being spotted.  “I didn’t thank you earlier— ”

“Forget it.” 

My interruption was harsh.  My words sounded brutal, but neither her thanks nor what would follow was wanted.  I wasn’t a saint or their savior.  Before she could say more, I hurried out the door.

The same girl from last night sashayed up to me.  What was her name?  Did it matter?  Would she even care if I didn’t remember?  She slid her arms around my neck.  I leaned back in the chair, allowing her to slip onto my lap, and welcomed the cozy armful.

A finger ran down my cleanshaven cheek, and her eyes took on an appreciative gleam.  “My, ain’t we looking mighty fine tonight.  Can I get you a drink?”

“Get us a bottle.”

She smiled.  Flourishing my coin between her long fingers, she went to do my bidding.  I watched her walk to the bar.  The sway of her hips was enticing.  Maybe she could ease the burr that dug into me?

When she returned, I suggested moving our conversation upstairs.  Tonight, I wanted to be sober enough to enjoy her.  Finishing off the drink she’d poured, we gathered the glasses and bottle.

The room wasn’t the same one I’d woken up in that morning.  It stank of booze, sweat, and the musk of sex.  I pushed open the window to clear the air while she filled our glasses.  We finished another before getting down to business. 

Undoing her dress, she let it drop.  She wore no corset or chemise.  They weren’t needed here and would only slow up the action.  My eyes ran over her round breasts and flat stomach.  The gap in the middle of her drawers revealed a perfect triangle of hair.  I licked my lips.

My voice sounded husky with desire when I told her, “Take them off,”  She smirked and released the bow at the back.  That left the stockings.  “And the rest.”

I pulled off my shirt and unbuttoned my pants.  This time I used my sheath.

We didn’t kiss.  This wasn’t about love, just sex and the release she could give me.  My eyes and hands roamed, and hers returned the favor.  I couldn’t hold back or waste time.  Lost in the excitement that raced through me, a sheen of sweat clung to my chest as the tension gripped.  Faster, deeper, the wave of impending ecstasy wiped the world away.  The climax shuddered through me, and I cried out my relief.  I plunged until drained and collapsed on the bed.

Reaching for the whiskey, I waved the bottle in her direction.  “Another?”

Nodding, she pushed higher on the bed and took the glass I poured.  Her chestnut hair hung loose down her front, framing her pert breasts.  Yanking the pillow further up my back, I imagined the picture we must make.  A drunk and a whore.  Pa would be so proud.  If he was disappointed before, what would he be now?

“What’s so funny?” she asked.

I curbed my bitter laughter and shook my head.  “Nuthin’.”

The carved letter hanging from the ribbon around her neck caught my eye.  “What’s the P for?”

“Penelope, but everyone calls me Penny.  She fingered the little ornament.  “It were a gift from my husband before he ditched me here.”

Why had I asked?  Her tale of woe was the last thing I wanted to hear.  Besides, saloons were full of women who’d lost their husbands either through death or desertion.  They needed to work to eat.  “Tough break.”

She shrugged, dismissing any pity.  “My pa warned me about him.  Said he weren’t Christian and no good.  I didn’t listen.  Dan was full of dreams of making it rich, and having me along got in his way, so one day he was gone.”

Despite myself, I asked, “Why didn’t you go home?”

“Pa told me if I married Dan, I weren’t never to darken his door again.”

Something dormant stirred, and I murmured, “I’m sorry.”

She giggled.  “I don’t care.  ‘Sides, working here can be a lot of fun when the right cowboy comes to town.”

She’s begun to trace her finger down my chest, following the curve of my bone and muscles.  Her eyelids drooped.  Beneath them, a sultry gleam shone.  It had its desired effect on me.  I replaced my glass on the table and turned the lamp down low. 

Her skin under my hands was soft, her body willing and pliant.  I lost myself in the moment, letting my mind drift to another time and another girl. 

“Who’s Sally?”

I jerked away from her.  “What?”

“You called me Sally.”

Rolling over onto the edge of the bed, I doubled over. 

“You okay?”  Her touch on my back sent me lurching upright.  When I began to fling on my clothes, she asked, “You leaving?”

“Yeah.”  I slapped money on the dresser by the door and didn’t look back.  On my way out, I bought another bottle. 

The whiskey seared like my shame.  How could I have called her Sally?  Sally, who I loved and wanted to spend my life with.  The one who Horace took from me.

Horace!  That sniveling rat destroyed my life, and I’d destroyed the chance of making him pay.  The question that never stopped, never-ended returned.  What if I’d done nothing?  No!  No one else believed him guilty.  I’d had to make Horace confess.  Yet, if I hadn’t, if I’d left it to Roy and the law, would he have been found guilty?  And now I’d ruined any chance of that happening.  The problem shredded my insides like fence wire. 

I kept pouring the whiskey down my throat.  The oblivion it brought couldn’t come fast enough to stop the memories of that verdict crowding back into my thoughts.  I still felt Pa’s grip on my arm when they read it out and heard Hoss’ words while he led me toward the door, “Nuthin’ for you here, Brother.” 

My God!  Did they know?  Could they see?  All I wanted was to reach him.  Get my hands around the smarmy, murderous creep’s neck.  Strangle the life out of him, the way he snapped the life out of Sally … beautiful Sally.  Clutching the bottle to my chest, I curled into a ball and squeezed my eyes shut against the memories of that day in court that flooded back ….

Horace’s slick lawyer swaggered toward me. “Why did you pursue my client, Mr. Cartwright?” 

“He was trying to run.”

“Run from what?  Had the defendant been arrested or charged with any crime?”

His eyes bore into mine.  My fists tightened as I fought to hold my temper.

“No.”

“Why was he running then?”

“Because he killed Sally and wanted to get away.”

“Or was there some other reason?  Tell me, Mr. Cartwright, what happened in the street the day before you say he ran?”

“A group of men gathered outside his boarding house.”

“A vigilante group.  Isn’t that right?  Would you not say the defendant had a right to fear staying in Virginia City?”

“That’s not why he left.”

“So, you say!  But is it not, in fact, true that you pursued a free man because YOU decided he was guilty?”

“He is guilty.  He confessed.”

The man tucked his thumbs into his waistcoat pockets.  His smile tightened my fists more.

“Oh, yes.  The confession.  I’m coming to that.  Tell me, Mr. Cartwright, how long did you hound my client?”

“I didn’t hound him.”

“You followed him.  Entered his camp at night.  Is that not true?”

“Yes, but— ”

“You never gave my client a moment’s piece, did you?  For five long days and four nights, gentlemen of the jury, Mr. Cartwright, haunted the defendant until he was driven back to Virginia City to seek refuge from his pursuer.  And when he did, what did you do?”

“I went to the boarding house.”

“And did you not chase the defendant down in his room?  Kick his door in?  How did it feel Mr. Cartwright finding him cowering in the corner, terrified of you?”

“He wasn’t scared of me.”

“You heard Mrs. Cutler’s testimony.  With tears in her eyes, she told how he ran from his sanctum, fearing for his life, how you pursued and caught him!  How you pushed her away when she tried to stop your assault.  A member of the gentle sex manhandled by you.”

“I didn’t mean … I’m sorry for pushing her.”

“But you’re not sorry for what you did to my client.”

“I wasn’t going to hurt him.”

“How could he know that?  You followed him, hounded him, taunted him in the most brutal way, then pinned him against a wall.” 

“He attacked me.”

“He was defending himself.  But you were relentless.”  The attorney leaned forward so close I could smell the tobacco on his breath.  “Isn’t that why he confessed?  So your pursuit would stop?  So he could get some peace?”

“He murdered Sally!”

“Did he?  Or did you just believe that?”  He pointed toward his client, who stared back at me with that pathetic, cherubic face that looked harmless but hid a killer.  “You pursued and pushed this poor, innocent man you see before you into confessing to a heinous crime he didn’t commit.  I think the jury can see the truth.”

*****

Chapter Four

Sending the blankets flying, I bolted upright.  My hand ran over my face to help free my mind from the visions that returned night after night.  They were always the same.

First came Horace and his lawyer, laughing in my face.  Then, Pa, shaking his head at me while comforting a sobbing Mrs. Cutler, the disappointment on his face there for everyone to see, and last came Sally, with her neck twisted into an ugly, unnatural angle.  Her reproaches for letting her killer run free never left me.

I squinted to block out the light that leaked through the gap in the blind.  My fingers groped for the whiskey bottle.  It was empty.  I cursed and threw it to the floor, looking around for the one from the cantina.  When I spotted it on the dresser, another curse ripped from me.  Why the heck did I leave it over there?

Lurching toward it, my hands grabbed the side of the solid piece of furniture, bringing me face to face with the pathetic wreck reflected at me in the mirror. 

“Damn you.  What d’you know anyway?”

Didn’t I have the right to feel this way?  I’d waited a long time to find Sally.  Bright, funny, kind, and beautiful, she was a darling.  But with so many heartaches and disappointments before her, I hadn’t rushed in headlong for once.  I’d taken my time.  Wooed and courted her for five months to ensure she was ‘the one.’  If I moved quicker, hadn’t dragged my feet to protect myself, she would’ve been married and safe that night, and Horace could never….  It was my fault he was able to get to her.  My goddam fault! 

The knock stopped me in my stagger back to the bed.

“Mr. Cartwright?”  What now?  Why couldn’t they leave me to climb back into bed and the bottle?  “Ma sent me up to see if you wanted some lunch.”

“No.”

“Okay.  Then Ma says, can she change the towels and chamber pot?”

I growled.  This woman was obsessed with cleaning.  “It can wait another day.”

“It’s been two already.”

“What?”

The voice through the door faltered, “Erm … you ain’t been out for two days.”

Two days?  What was he talking about?  It was only last night Penny and I ….  “What day is it?”

“Saturday.”

Had I lost two days?  My eyes searched my haggard reflection.  Is this what I wanted …? 

“Billy!  Bring me hot water.”  Boots scurried away.  “What kind of man are you?”  My reflection didn’t answer, but I wasn’t about to give in to the silence.  “You’re better than this.”

Stripped off, with a towel wrapped around my nether regions, I lay back on the bed to await Billy’s return.  When the knock came, I called him in, but instead, Mrs. Lewis entered.  Leaping off the bed, I clutched the towel tighter.

Oblivious to my embarrassment, she set the jug down on the washstand before laying a clean towel and my spare clothes, freshly laundered, on the bed.  Then, she lifted the blind and opened the window.

“When you’re ready, come down and get something to eat.”

My insides squirmed.  Something in her tone and manner reminded me of Hop Sing.  Like a little kid, I told her, “Yes, Ma’am.”

Running to the door, I turned the key behind her.  I didn’t want to risk her coming back. 

*****

The last button of my shirt slipped into place.  Fresh clothes and a wash made me feel a little more human, but a two-day whiskey diet hadn’t helped my stomach.  Grabbing the bottle from the dresser, I poured the remaining contents out the window in a final act of defiance I hoped I wouldn’t regret.

The chair at my usual table was waiting, and I asked Mrs. Lewis for coffee.  The cantina was almost empty, which meant we were between meal shifts.

“What time is it?”

“About two.  Sure you won’t have something to eat?”

I shook my head.  Food was too risky. 

Mrs. Lewis left me hunched over my cup while she disappeared upstairs to clean my room.  The coffee scorched my insides with its strength.  I grinned, she knew what I needed, or maybe she just wanted me sober.  Fair enough.

The dark liquid swirled before my eyes.  What was I doing here?  I’d told myself it was putting distance between Horace and me, giving myself time to think.  Yeah.  Drinking myself into a stupor was really doing that!  I couldn’t keep going like this.  Something had to change.

“Refill?”  Mrs. Lewis held the coffee pot up in anticipation and then filled my raised cup.  “Mind if I sit down?”

My eyes narrowed.  The last thing I wanted was any company.  However, enough of the decent Joe Cartwright remained to gesture my acceptance.  Mrs. Lewis slipped into the chair and rested clasped hands on the table. 

“I still owe you a thank you for helping Billy the other day.”

“Forget it.”

“Buchanan is a bully.  He would’ve enjoyed hurting him.  I’m very grateful you stepped in.”  For the first time, she looked nervous, and my stomach sank.  I knew where this was going.  “He’s the foreman for the Big J.  He and his men have been causing trouble for weeks.  Since Jackson and his son moved here six years ago, he’s driven almost every other settler from the valley.  Now he’s after the town.”

“Why tell me?  Talk to the sheriff.”

“Our previous sheriff was killed, and Fuller … well, he doesn’t want any trouble.”  She leaned closer.  My jaw clenched.  “We thought— ”

“I’m sorry, but I’m not the man to solve your problems.”

My coffee was left unfinished in my rush to get out of there.  The sunlight razed from the ground, so bright it stopped me for a moment while my eyes adjusted.  I decided to check on something else I’d been neglecting, Cooch.

I needn’t have worried.  The livery owner knew his business, and I paid for another week but questioned why.  Moving on would be the smart move, but, despite my grumbling, this was the nicest place I stayed in for a while, and I kinda liked that.  I gave Cooch a couple of determined pats.  The townspeople could be handled.  I wouldn’t let them involve me in their problems.

****

It was late when I wandered into the saloon, hoping that Penny would be occupied, letting me snag a different girl.  I was out of luck.  She spotted me the minute I walked in.  Over she came, one hand on hips that swayed with confidence.

“Hey, there.  I was beginning to give up on you.  Whiskey?”

“Sure.”

She returned with the bottle and two glasses but only laid one on the table.  “Mind if I join?”

She was giving me a chance to say no, but I canted my head to the empty chair instead. 

I downed a glassful before tackling what weighed on my mind.  “Look, about the other night.  What I said.”

“Huh?”

Her puzzlement shook me.  Didn’t she remember?  I cleared my throat.  It was still hard to say the name out loud, “I called you … Sally.”

She giggled.  “Oh, that!  Not to worry, honey.  I get called lots of names.”

I blinked, stunned.  Was I relieved, annoyed?  I didn’t know.  To hide my confusion, I swallowed another drink. 

She leaned in across the table, seduction in her eyes.  Her arms came together, squeezing her succulent breasts in a way that tightened my groin in anticipation.  Moist lips curled into a smile, and her words oozed like honey trapping a fly.  “You can call me anything you like, just so long as you don’t run away again.”

Being with the same girl was dangerous, but I wanted her.  She could make me forget, and I needed that bad.  Smiling, my hand took hers.

*****

Chapter Five

My wallet was getting light of cash, so I didn’t stay the night this time.  Penny was a working girl.  She needed more than one client. 

Cowpokes from the Lazy J out for fun at the end of the week filled the saloon, and I had to push my way through the raucous crowd to the bar.  That’s when I spotted Buchanan.  He hadn’t seen me, and I took my chance to slip away.  I’d get a drink back at the cantina.

I made for my usual table and eased into the chair.  I stretched, pushing it back onto two legs, my body still reveling in the satisfaction of my coupling with Penny.

“Can I get you a beer?” Mrs. Lewis encouraged.

“Whiskey, thanks.”

The bottle appeared before me.  I poured a glassful but wasn’t in a hurry, and it went down slow for a change.  A guitar began to play, and I leaned back to listen.  The Spanish tune wound its way around the room to embrace me.  My eyes closed, and I returned to the great room, sitting cross-legged on the low table, gazing into the fire with Adam in his chair beside me, strumming away.  Almost two years had passed since last hearing him play.  Did he still?  When he left to travel, his guitar remained behind.  That had pleased Pa since it told him Adam meant to return. 

“Penny for them?” 

I opened my eyes to find Mrs. Lewis sitting opposite me.  “Nothing worth repeating.”

“Would you mind a bit of friendly advice?”  My hands tightened around my glass, but before I could answer, she continued, “You won’t find the solution to your problems at the bottom of a whiskey glass.”

She sounded like Pa.  Resentment fueled my curt answer, “My life.  My choice.”

“Who was she?”

“What?”

“The woman who did this to you.  Who was she?  Girlfriend, lover, wife?”

“She didn’t do anything to me.  She was murdered.”  I spat out the words with studied venom and delighted in her look of dismay.

“I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Damn right.”

Retreating to my room, I shut my door against her words and threw myself on the bed.  Who was she to poke her nose in? 

In my gut, my very soul, I’d known it was Horace who’d murdered Sally.  When he confessed, it had been both a relief and a horror.  The man worked with her.  Hell, she’d considered him a friend, and he’d murdered her.  He’d taken my future from me and called it a mistake.  Jesus, a mistake!  But he’d confessed at last, and Sally would get justice.  I’d hung onto that until the verdict destroyed my hope — and then, Pa. 

The look in his eyes when he questioned my belief never left me, and neither did those words.  “Ask yourself, Joseph.  Is there the smallest chance you might be wrong?  That he confessed even though he wasn’t guilty?”

How could he think that? My own father?  The man who should have the most faith in me had none.  Before the sun showed its tips over the mountains, I lit out without even saying goodbye to Hoss.  Why?  Because I was a coward and afraid of seeing that same doubt in his eyes.  I couldn’t have taken that. 

I cursed Mrs. Lewis.  What right had she to interfere and bring it all back?  This is what happens when you stay in one place too long.  That had been a mistake.  Tomorrow, I’d move on.

*****

My sleep was disturbed, but not by dreams.  Gunfire and laughter splintered the air.  The Lazy J’s cowboys had spilled from the saloon into the street below.  I slid a finger behind the blind to ease it back, unsurprised to find that the sheriff was nowhere in sight.  Tonight, at least, they were too drunk to do much damage.  After breaking a few windows and putting holes in a water trough, they rode out.  Letting the blind fall back, I returned to my bed.

*****

Chapter Six

The usual breakfast crowd filled the cantina.  Despite the impact of the booze on my appetite, I decided to eat before heading out.  I’d reached my table when a woman I recognized from the saloon crashed through the door.   

“Doc!  Where’s the doc?”  Spotting the older man who tried to intervene with Buchanan and Billy, she ran to him.  “You gotta come.  Quick!”

“Calm down, Kate, and tell me what’s happened.”

“It’s Penny.  She’s been knifed.  It’s bad.  There’s blood everywhere.”

On my feet, I followed them out the door.  We stopped to retrieve the doc’s bag before heading to the saloon and the room upstairs.  The same room I’d been in only hours earlier.

A group of men gathered around the door.  I pushed them aside to let the doc and Kate through before closing it in their curious faces. 

The sight was grim.  Blood spray patterned the wall.  Not enough to be life-threatening, but it looked horrible.  More blood splattered the blankets on the bed.  The woman who held a cloth to one side of Penny’s face stepped away to give the doc room.

He lifted the blanket to reveal where someone had slashed a knife across Penny’s arms, midriff, and breasts.  After replacing the covering, the doc removed the cloth on her face.  I flinched.  A pretty girl, Penny’s looks could have been her one chance out of this life if some man had fallen for her enough to want marriage.  The blade had destroyed any hope of that. 

Penny’s large eyes filled with tears.  “It’s bad, ain’t it?”

When the doctor nodded, the tears tumbled over.  Her fingers dug into the mattress, and her body stiffened while he examined her ruined face.

“If I’m gonna stitch her up, I need more light.”

When Kate went to fetch lamps, I followed her out the door and grabbed her arm.

“Who did this?”

“What difference does it make?”

“He needs to be arrested.”

She looked at me as if I were crazy.  This is what anonymity really meant, nobody giving a damn.  She shrugged.  “Buchanan.  We all warned her about him.  Penny thought she could handle anyone.  Guess she was wrong.”

Kate walked away, leaving me standing alone.  A hard knot lay in my gut, and I took a moment before returning to the room.  The doc was rummaging through his bag.  I joined him and asked in a low tone, “Will the scar be bad?”

The doc’s watery eyes found mine.  “I’d like to say no.  But, son, I ain’t that good.  If she could get to a decent surgeon … but she’s a whore in a two-bit town, so that ain’t likely, is it?”

I bit my lip and took a second to consider, although I already knew what I would do.  “There’s a surgeon in Sacramento, studied under Cole.  If I can get to a telegraph, I’ll contact him and have money wired to pay him and get Penny there.” 

A friend of Adams, Henry Gibbons, was a good man and a passionate doctor.  I was sure he’d help Penny.

The doctor stared at me.  I knew what I looked like, and he had no reason to think me serious.  Hoss always said I was an open book waiting to be read and whatever the doc saw in me was enough.

“All right.  The nearest telegraph is in Sonora.  I’ll pack and bandage her face.  Give that surgeon of yours the best chance for the least damage.  I’ll take care of the other cuts.”

Moving to the bed, Penny saw me for the first time and raised her hand to hide the wound that carved up the side of her cheek.

“Don’t look!”  I wrapped my fingers around her other hand and smiled.  Tears hung from her lashes.  “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Of course, I should.  I’m gonna send you to a surgeon in Sacramento.  He’ll take good care of you.”

“What?  But … why?”

“We’re friends, remember?  Now you be a good girl for the doc, an’ I’ll be back.”

*****

Stepping back into the bright sunlight, I marched to the sheriff’s office.  That knot moved up to my chest. 

I slammed the door shut, waking the dozing sheriff.  He jumped, snorted, and sat up.

“There’s been an attack on one of the girls at the saloon.”

Fuller lurched out of his chair and shuffled to the stove to pour a cup of coffee.  “What about it?”

Something in his question raised the hackles on the back of my neck.  “You knew?”

“Sure.”

“Then why aren’t you doing something?”

Taking his cup, he sat back down and fixed me with a resentful look.  “What d’you expect me to do?”

“Arrest Buchanan.”

“Mister.  If you think I’m gonna arrest a man like Buchanan over a whore you’re wrong.”

Palms down, I leaned over his desk.  “It doesn’t matter what she is.  She deserves justice like anyone else.”

“Not in this town.  Martin Jackson’s a powerful man.  I ain’t about to go after his foreman.”

“Penny’s face will be scarred.”

“So what?  The rest of her is still good.  ‘Sides them girls know the risks.  It’s part of the job.”

“You just don’t give a damn, do you?”

The man set down his cup.  “I think we’re done.”

I smacked the desk with my fist and stormed out.  What a pathetic specimen.  Not a patch on Roy.

When I strode into the cantina, Mrs. Lewis stopped me.  “What’s happened?”

“One of the girls got cut up.  I need to ride to Sonora.  I’ll be back.  Can I keep the room?”

“Of course.  Will she be all right?”

“I hope so.”

*****

After sending the telegrams, I hung around waiting for replies and the funds to be wired. 

Henry’s arrived first, confirming he was happy to help.  That was a start.  Time ticked away.  I decided to get something to eat.

Finally, the funds came through.  I didn’t like to guess if they’d referred the request to Pa.  The bank handed me the cash, and I visited the stage office before heading back.

*****

Chapter Seven

Penny sat on the bench outside the stagecoach office, waiting while it loaded.  I’d driven her and the friend who agreed to go with her over in a hired buggy.  The bandage that covered her face might cause comment by curious folks, but she’d be spared any horrified looks. 

When the final bag got strapped aboard, I went to her.  “Time to go.”

She clutched my hand between the two of hers.  “I wanna thank you for all you’ve done for me.  I ain’t never had no one be kind to me the way you have.  You’re a good man, Joe Cartwright.  Ain’t no one better.”

“I did what anyone would’ve.”

“That ain’t so, and you know it.”

I couldn’t take her gratitude and brushed it aside.  “Come on.  Let’s get you on that stage.”

Once seated, she took my hand again in her quivering one.  “Do you truly think that fancy doctor can help me?”

This wasn’t the time to be hesitant.  “I know he can.  You be good and do as your told.  I’ll be checking up on you.”

“I will.  Bye, Joe.”

*****

After returning the buggy to the livery stable, I made for the cantina.  Mrs. Lewis took my supper order.  When she didn’t walk away, I looked up to see her watching me.

“What?”

“Just trying to figure you out.”

“Any luck?”

She smiled in a way that said she knew more than I liked.  I gritted my teeth.  Moving on would be a good idea, but there was something I needed to do first.

*****

Chapter Eight

Three days later, Buchanan came to town.  He rode in behind a wagon driven by a couple of hands.  I strolled down the street toward them.

Leaning over the hitch rail outside the mercantile, I fixed my gaze on the foreman.  My blood began to boil when I thought how this bastard must’ve held Penny down while he sliced her up like a piece of meat.  I drew in air and slowed my breathing. 

He handed off the list to the owner and stepped onto the boardwalk, leaving the two hands to do the heavy work.

“I’ve been waiting to speak to you.”

He smirked.  “If it ain’t the kid lover.”

“Name’s Cartwright.  I’m here about Penny.”

“Who?”

“The girl you cut up.”

“What?  The bitch with a smart mouth?”

“If you say so.”

“You gonna take me on ‘cause of her?”

Buchanan flung back his head and roared with laughter.  I took my moment and slipped under the rail, landing my first punch before he’d stopped laughing.  Grabbing his waistcoat, I spun him around and powered my fist into his belly.  He staggered back and went off the boardwalk, hitting the ground with a thud. 

I needed every advantage, so I didn’t give him time to recover before pulling him off the ground and plowing in again.  He was tough and soon recovered, and I dropped onto one knee with a grunt, but I moved fast and hit back hard.

Backed against the hitch rail, I had Buchanan where I wanted him.  My fists piled into him.  One, two, one after the other.  Relentless.  Unstoppable.  When he toppled to the ground, I followed with my punches flying.

Now I’d teach him a lesson.  Get Penny the justice she deserved from this pig who attacked women.  Scum like Horace!

What the heck was that sound?  I looked down.  Beneath me, Buchanan gagged for the air my hands squeezed out of him.  What the hell ….?  I yanked my fingers away and lurched upright, staggering back.  The foreman rolled onto his side, coughing and dragging in breaths.

Around me, the gathered crowd stood still and silent.  My hands shook, the knuckles split and covered with blood.  What had I become?  A monster like Horace? 

I needed to get out of there, but Buchanan had other ideas.  When I heard the tell-tale sound of metal clearing leather, I turned and fired.  My bullet buried into Buchanan’s arm, but I wasn’t fast enough, and his slammed through my thigh.  I staggered and doubled into the pain but stayed standing while my fingers squeezed back the blood.  My gun held ready, I straightened and faced the Lazy J’s hands. 

“It’s over.  Anyone got a problem with that?”

They didn’t, but I still backed away slow. 

Mrs. Lewis and the others stood outside the cantina.  I limped right past, unable to look her in the eye.

I slumped onto the side of the bed and stared at the floor.  The reds and gold of the worn carpet beneath me mingled into one as the rest of me started to shake.  This time Mrs. Lewis didn’t knock before she barged in.  Ignoring my glare, she placed the bowl she carried down on the dresser. 

“The doc will come soon as he’s finished with Buchanan.”

I lifted the hand off the rip in my blood-soaked pants.

“It’s just a scratch.  I don’t need him.”

“We’ll let him decide.  Meantime, we can clean up the rest of you.”

She gave me a look I’d seen before, and I didn’t argue.  A groan escaped me when she pressed a cloth against my leg and tied it tight with another.  Then my hands were plunged into the bowl.  They’d been cleaned, spread with ointment that stung like blazes, and bandaged by the time the doctor appeared.

“Let’s take a look at that leg, young man.”

“How’s Buchanan?”

“He’ll be fine.” 

I heaved a sigh of relief.  “I almost killed him.”

“Son, if you were a killer, he’d be dead.  Besides, he deserved it.”  I shook my head.  Nothing would make what I did feel right.  “The bullet’s gone clean through, but I’m gonna need to stitch it up.  It’ll hurt.”

“I know what to expect.”

Famous last words.  I lay on the bed, spent.  My resources drained.  No matter how much I prepared myself, getting stitched up was never a picnic.

The doctor patted the bandage.  “All fine and dandy.  Should heal up no problem.”

Mrs. Lewis looked from me to the doctor.  “He’s very pale.”

“It’s to be expected.  Give him a shot of whiskey.  When he can take it, feed him.” 

I shuddered at the thought of food.  “Thanks.  How much do I owe you?”

The doctor snapped his bag shut.  “This one’s on the house,” he told me, then added to Mrs. Lewis, “He may get a little fever later.  Don’t let it worry you unless it gets worse.  If it does, call me.”

Mrs. Lewis nodded and closed the door behind the medical man.  I frowned at my situation, hating to feel weak and helpless.  “Sorry about this.”

“For a man who doesn’t like to get involved in other folks’ business, you’ve got a funny way of going about it.  I’ll get your whisky.”

I picked at the bandages on my hands.  It didn’t feel good knowing what I’d done.  Buchanan was vermin, but … God, how close had I come to killing him? 

*****

Chapter Nine

“Mr. Cartwright … wake up!”

My eyes opened to find Mrs. Lewis standing over me.  The worried look on her face snapped me back to reality.  I ran a hand down mine to wipe the last wisps of the nightmare away.

“Sorry.  Dreaming.”

“Some dream.  Do you think you could eat something?”

I took a moment to consider and discovered the rolling in my stomach had stopped.  “Sure.”

The eggs she gave me were good.  In between eating, I asked, “What happened to Buchanan?”

“After Doctor Bates patched him up, they took him back to the ranch.  Jackson won’t be happy.”

I lay down my fork, dropped my head against the headboard, and sighed.  “I better talk with him.”

“What?  You can’t go there now.”

“I almost killed his foreman.  The least I can do is explain.”

Mrs. Lewis swept out of the room, leaving me to wonder what the heck I’d said.

*****

My leg hurt like hell, but I made it downstairs.

“Mr. Cartwright.  What are you doing?  I would have brought your lunch up to you.”

“I’m fine,” I grinned, “and I think it’s time you called me Joe.”

“All right, Joe.  I’m Rose.  What would you like to eat?”

Doctor Bates’ medical bag thumped down on my table.  “Nothing down here!  What are you trying to do?  Undo all my good work.  Now get back up to bed.  I mean it.”

“My leg’s fine.”

“You show me your medical degree, and I might believe you.  Now get!”

I all but rolled my eyes yet did as I was told.  The doc followed.  All the way, he grumbled under his breath about the disobedience and stubbornness of patients.  Instructed to strip off my pants, I lay on the bed, and he began to unwind my bandage.

“If you haven’t busted open these stitches, it will be a miracle.”

“Are they okay?”

“Yes,” he conceded.  Meeting my gaze, he added, “Which is testament to my good stitching rather than your good sense.”

I laughed.  “All right, Doc.  I’ll stay put.”

By the time he’d finished checking and rebandaging the wound, my leg throbbed so bad I was glad to obey his decree.  Rose appeared with some food, which at least took my mind off it, but by sunset, I was sick of the pain and staying in the room with nothing but my thoughts.

The knock brought my head off the pillow.  Even if it was the doc again, I didn’t care.  The silhouette that crowded the door frame changed my mind.  Dammit to hell!  Hoss.

“What’re you doing here?”

“I see your mood ain’t improved none.”

“C’mon.”  I flung my blankets aside.  “Now you’re here, let’s get a drink.”

“Should you be getting up?”

The look I gave him shut Hoss up, and I reached for my pants.

*****

It didn’t take long to figure out Hoss had gotten an entire history of my time here.  He was good at that, getting folks to open up to him, inspiring trust. 

“How’s Pa?”

“He wants you home.”

“Why?  To tell me he doesn’t believe me again.”

“Knock it off, Joe!  You know that ain’t true.”  What did Hoss know?  I slugged back the whiskey.  He frowned at me and asked, “Why’d you leave anyway?”

“I couldn’t stay.  Not with Horace walking around free.”  It wasn’t the whole truth, but it was all I was prepared to tell Hoss.

“That’s why I’m here.  Something’s happened.  We might be able to get Horace after all.”

“How.  Thanks to me, he was found not guilty, remember?”

“I’m talking about the other girl in Mason City.

“What?”

“Her sister’s come to Virginia City.”

I rubbed my eyes.  “I don’t understand.”

“She and her brother arrived on the stage, and I bumped into them.  Well, not so much bumped.  Some fellas were shoving her brother around.  I stepped in and shooed them away.  When she found out who I was, Mrs. Shield, that’s her name, asked me to come with her.”

“Come with her?”

“Yeah, to see Roy.  Didn’t I say?  She and Davey, that’s her brother, David White.  They were on the way to Roy’s office when those yahoos started pushing him about, and I helped them.  That’s when it happened?”

“What?”

“She asked me if I knew you.”

I stared at Hoss and the look of satisfaction on his face.  “And?”

“I told her you were my brother.”

Irritation crept up my throat.  I demanded, “Will you get on with it.”

“Hold your horses.  She asked me to join her because what she had to say might interest me.  Then she marched right into Roy’s office and told him she’d come from Mason City about the murder of her sister, Caroline, by Horace Perkins.”

“But, that was a year ago.  How come she’s only saying it’s Horace now?”

“Because she didn’t know who he was until Davey saw the picture in the paper.” 

“Paper?” My head was beginning to ache like my leg.  “I wished you’d make sense.”

Hoss rolled his eyes at my denseness and reached into his jacket to pull out a folded piece of newspaper.  Next to an article about the trial was a drawing of Horace with his smarmy lawyer. 

“The lawyer had the artist draw that picture for the paper special.  He bragged to Horace how he wanted the whole world to see their victory.  Davey recognized Horace soon as he saw it.”

“He met Horace?  Why didn’t he say something when his sister was killed?”

Hoss took the paper from my numb fingers and returned it to his pocket.  “You have to understand about Davey.  He’s different.  He don’t see the world the same way as the rest of us.  He don’t like or understand most of it.  But there are some things he does real well.  One of them is recognizing faces. 

“Margaret … Mrs. Shield knew a fella had been pestering her sister.  She never met him, and she didn’t know Davey had until he saw the picture.  Soon as she found out, she went straight to the sheriff.  He told her he couldn’t do nuthin’ since Horace had moved out of his jurisdiction.  So she decided to come here.”

“It’s pretty flimsy.  He could be mistaken.  It’s been a year.”

“Roy said the same thing.  But Mrs. Shield told him David never forgets a face.  It’s a trick of his.  She had Roy test him.”  Hoss chuckled and slapped my arm.  “You shoulda seen it.  I’d fetched Pa by then so he could hear the story.  She had them pick out five men for Davey to look at.  When Pa asked her if she meant Davey would recognize them a few hours later, she said, ‘A few hours?  Piffle!  Too easy.  I guarantee he’ll pick them out days later.’  The look of Pa and Roy’s faces were a picture.” 

“I’d liked to have seen that.”

Hoss turned the beer glass in his hand and smiled.  “Margaret sure is something.  Since their parents died, she’s run the family business, the household and taken care of Davey.  She carries all that on her shoulders without a word of complaint.”

“Where’s her husband?”

“She’s a widow.”

“Quite a lady.”

“She sure is.”

“Sounds like you’re sweet on her.”

It was a casual jibe, and my eyebrows raised when Hoss blushed.  But his love life wasn’t my priority.  I asked, “So, Roy arrested Horace?”

“Well, no.  Not without a warrant.  But he agreed to write to Mason City.  While we waited for the answer, I thought I’d come and fetch you back.”

“You did, or Pa?”

Hoss weighed me up as he answered, “Pa wanted to wait until we heard back.  He didn’t wanna get your hopes up.”

“Sure.”  With a vicious jerk, I tossed my refilled glass of whiskey back and choked.  After catching my breath, I told him, “You don’t need me.  I messed it up before.  I won’t risk doing that again.”

“You can’t blame yourself— ”

“Can’t I?  If I hadn’t stuck with Horace, that lawyer couldn’t have twisted everything the way he did.  Everyone believed him.  Even Mrs. Cutler changed her mind.”

“Aww, Joe, you know she were desperate for Horace to be innocent.  Once that slick lawyer got his hooks into her, she were bound to agree with his version of events.”

“But not Pa.”

“He was just asking the hard questions, making sure you were being honest with yourself.”

I hunched my shoulders and gathered in my self-pity.  “You don’t know what it’s like to have Pa doubt you.”

“Don’t I?”

Okay, so Pa questioned Hoss over Clarence Boiling.  Still, I wasn’t giving in.  “And look what happened.  He almost killed you.”

“That weren’t nothing to do with Pa.”

Arguing with Hoss was like chopping down a tree with a spoon.  I gave up. 

“I’ve got something to do here first.”

“I heard.”  Of course, he had.  “Want company?”

“I don’t need my hand holding,” I told him and stood.  Hoss closed his hand around my wrist when I reached for the whiskey bottle.

“You don’t need that either.”

He was right.  But I wasn’t about to be told like a kid.  My eyes met his.  Hoss pursed his lips but removed his hand. 

I let a beat go by and asked, “You staying here?”

“Yep.”

“See you in the morning.”

“Good night, Little Brother.”

Limping away, I left Hoss and the bottle behind.

*****

Chapter Ten

It had been one helluva night.  I missed the oblivion the rotgut gave me and itched for a drink, but coffee would have to do.  When I flopped into the seat next to Hoss, I reached for the pot he’d ordered.  It rattled against my cup. 

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Thought any more about coming back?”

Was he kidding?  I’d thought about nothing else.  Cradling my cup, I tried to hang on to my resentment at being pushed, but with Hoss, that was impossible.  He was the most steadfast brother and friend I could wish for, and here I was, treating him like dirt.  I sighed, “I need a little more time.”

“Sure.”

Did I deserve his consideration?  Probably not, but I was damn glad of it.

I looked up when Mrs. Lewis and the doctor came over.  “Hi, Doc.”

“Rose has told me what you’re planning.  Don’t do it.”

“My leg’s fine.”

“I’m not worried about that.  You’ll be riding into trouble.”

At those words, Hoss sat up straighter.  I tried to dismiss the concern.  “I just want to talk— .”

Mrs. Lewis broke in.  “That’s all our sheriff wanted too.  I told you he was killed.  We found him on the road beaten to death after talking to Jackson.”

“Look, I appreciate your concern, but you don’t have to worry about me.”

The two threw each other looks that told me they doubted I’d make it through the day but left us in peace.

“Joe ….”

“Don’t.  I’ll be fine.”

*****

Fresh and eager for a ride, it took Cochise around two hours to reach the ranch and another to get to the house. 

A man strode out as I tied my rein to the hitch rail.  He planted his feet on the porch and his hand on his hips like he owned the world.  I guess he owned this piece.

“Are you, Mr. Jackson?”

“That’s my pa.  I’m Martin Jackson.”

“My name’s Joe Cartwright.”

“Cartwright?  The Ponderosa Cartwrights?”

“That’s right.”

“What brings a Cartwright out here?”

“I’m here to talk with you about Buchanan.”

He looked surprised but nodded.  “You better come in.”

Martin led me to an office.  The shelves stuffed with books and the map on the wall sent a pang of familiarity through me.  I laid my hat on the enormous desk that dominated the room.  He sat in the oversized padded chair behind it, and I took the spindle back one he offered. 

A Mexican woman appeared at the door.  When he spotted her, Martin snapped, “Get out!  If I want you, I’ll call.”

The woman scurried away.  I began to see why his men behaved like pigs.

“I take it you’re the man who beat up my foreman and put a bullet in him.”

“That’s right.  Did he tell you why?”

“He told me something about a whore.”

“That whore was nineteen, and he cut up her face.”

Martin picked up a pencil and began to play with it between his thick fingers.  “She mouthed off to him.  You expect a man to take that?”

“I don’t expect a man to take a knife to a woman.”

“All right.  He overstepped, is that reason to almost kill him?”

“No.  I’m sorry for that.  I lost my temper.”

“You must have quite a temper.”  Martin tossed the pencil back on the desk.  “He’ll recover.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“I’m curious.  Why’s a man like you bothering with a whore?”

“Somebody had to.”

Martin snorted.  “That whole town is worthless.”

“It could become something better.  You’re the biggest rancher around here.  You’ve got the influence to help with that.”

“I don’t want that shithole to become something.  I want it gone.”

I stiffened when the realization hit me.  “You sent your men to cause trouble.”

“C’mon, Cartwright.  You telling me you’ve never had to clear out squatters?”

“These people aren’t squatters.  Baptiste’s been there for almost twenty years.  Long before you got here.”

Martin leaned forward.  “You listen to me.  I heard all about the great Ben Cartwright and his ideas of loving thy neighbor, but I’m a Jackson.  We own this valley, and I want that land.”

“You can’t run off a whole town.”

“Can’t I?”  He leaned back in his chair, arrogance oozing from every pore.  “What if I rode in and burned it down?”

He meant it.  What kind of lunatic was this?  I rose to my feet.  A noise behind brought my head around to see a man in the doorway. 

Richard Jackson must’ve been a big, powerful man once, but the injury that put him in the invalid chair had ravaged his body back to a shell.  The sunken cheeks and loose skin on his gaunt face made him look much older than he was. 

“Anita said you had a visitor.  Who’s your friend?”

“I’m Joe Cartwright.”

When I took the hand offered, he asked, “Any relation to Ben Cartwright.”

“Yes, Sir.  He’s, my father.”

“I met your pa a few years back.  Good man.  Knows ranching.  He told me he had sons.  You his youngest?”

“That’s right.”

“You doing business with my boy?”

“You could say that.”

“That’s mighty fine.  We couldn’t do business with better people.”

“Cartwright was just leaving, Pa.”

“Nonsense.  You’ve only just arrived.  You can stay for a drink.”

I dismissed the fleeting thought to broach the subject of Baptiste.  How could this withered old man help?  But I couldn’t turn him down either.  “Thank you, Sir.”

Martin’s reaction to his pa’s request to pour some brandy couldn’t have been more grudging, but I soon had the glass of amber liquor in my hand.

We talked about ranching, the Ponderosa, and his dreams for his ranch.  I wondered how a decent man like him could’ve ended up with a son like Martin.  The entrance of another Mexican woman interrupted our discussion.  Her dress and manner told me she was no servant, like the first.  Richard put out his hand, and she crossed the room to slip hers into it. 

Next to me, Martin stiffened.  “What d’you want?  We’re discussing business.”

“Martin.  That’s no way to talk to Anita.  Besides, the business talk has finished, hasn’t it?”

The lady’s large almond eyes gazed down at her husband, and she spoke as if the exchange hadn’t taken place.  “I’ve come to remind you to take your medicine, my dear.”

He patted her hand and told us, “You see how she takes care of me.”

Martin slapped down his glass.  “You don’t need me then.”

“Martin ….” His father began, but the door had already closed.  Richard shifted in his chair, and the look he threw me was full of apology.  “Forgive him.  The boy’s always been headstrong.”

I had another word for it, but it wasn’t one I could use in front of a lady.  “Sure.” 

“Anita, I want you to meet Joe.  His father’s, Ben Cartwright.  He owns the Ponderosa.”

“Oh, yes.”  She smiled at me.  “Richard has mentioned your father many times.”

“Join us,” Richard invited.

“Certainly, once you’ve taken your medicine.”  Chuckling, the old man did as he was told. 

I pondered on Mrs. Jackson.  She was younger than her husband by several years.  It couldn’t be an easy life putting up with Martin.  Why did she do it?  Her eyes gave me the answer.  The love in them when they turned to her husband almost startled me.  I had no doubt she’d do anything for this man. 

“How long have you been married?”

“Almost three years.  I met Anita after the accident that left me paralyzed.”

“I’m sorry.”

“The Lord giveth and taketh.  He put me in this chair but gave me this wonderful woman.”  

“It can’t have been easy.”

“It wasn’t.  But thanks to Anita and Martin, I survived.  And when I think of the way Martin stepped up.  I couldn’t be prouder.  He’s done a fine job with the ranch.  Built it up beyond any dream I had.” 

I stared at this man.  Did he really have no idea how his son built this place?  Maybe it was time he found out.  I glanced up.  Anita hooked my gaze.  Those eyes demanded my silence.  My God, she knew and was keeping it from Richard!  Her hand tightened around his, and the smile he gave her reflected his happiness, but she never took her gaze off mine.  Alright, I’d do as she asked but stay and pretend everything was fine.  I couldn’t do that.  Finishing my drink, I rose. 

“Thanks for the hospitality, but I’d better get moving.

“You be sure and say, ‘howdy’ to your pa from me.”

“I will, Sir.  Ma’am.  Goodbye.”

When I reached the porch, Martin was waiting.  I mounted, but he stepped forward and caught my rein.

“You get in my way, Cartwright, and I’ll stomp on you like an ant.  Y’hear?”

The look I gave him wasn’t one he could mistake.  I yanked Cooch around, pulling free of his grip, and rode out.

*****

Chapter Eleven

The meeting was a bust, and I didn’t look forward to telling the townsfolk about Jackson.  I’d no doubt he’d carry through on his threats, and what chance did they have with that useless sheriff?  Sure, they could send for a Marshall, but he could take weeks to arrive.  Dammit!  I should’ve stayed out of it.  I’d just made things worse.  Why the hell had I expected anything different?

I pulled up when the four riders surrounded me. 

“What’s this about?”

“Mr. Jackson sent us to make sure you got off his land.”

“I know my way.”

“He has a message too.”

Even though I ducked the swinging club, it caught my shoulder with enough force to knock me off balance.  Hitting the ground, I rolled and pushed myself upright.  I faced four men.  This wasn’t going to be pretty. 

The biggest one grinned.  “This is for Buchanan.”

Shit.  A grudge match was all I needed.  I did my best, but it wasn’t long before I found myself strung out between three of them while the big one took his punches. 

The position they had me in meant I couldn’t buckle and ride the blows.  Groans grunted out each time the brute’s massive fist sank into my midriff, lifting me onto my toes and blasting agony through my muscles.  The taste of blood filled my mouth from the lips he split, and sweat dripped from my brow as I fought to keep my head up.  Rough laughter rang in my ears. 

Just as I started to see stars, horses pounded toward us.  They let me go, and I dropped to the dirt.  Around me, a ruckus broke out.  I’d managed to steady my breathing by the time Hoss reached me. 

“Dadburnit, Joseph.  Sometimes, I could pummel you good.”

Ignoring his grumble, I jerked my head at the people with him.  “I guess this was your idea?”

“Nope.  All theirs.”

Startled, I looked at the townspeople, the doctor, storekeeper, livery owner, and others.  Even Mrs. Lewis stood holding the horses.  Ordinary folk, not a hero among them.  Yet they’d left the safety of their homes and businesses to rescue me.

Once helped to my feet, I assessed the damage.  I might be bleeding, sore, and hurting, but I was upright and breathing.  Good enough.  I slapped Hoss on the back and limped toward Jackson’s men, who shifted from foot to foot when I approached. 

“C’mon, let’s take them back and deliver a message of our own.”

*****

Martin stepped out onto his porch.  His father followed, maneuvering his wheelchair through the open double doors.

The younger Jackson glared at our party, and his hands balled into fists.  “What the hell?”

Dismounting with care, I drew myself up and walked to the porch.  “I brought your men back. 

“Martin, what’s going on?”

“Nothing, Pa.  Go inside.  Let me handle this.”

“What the matter?  Don’t you want your father to know you sent men to beat me up?”

“What’s he talking about?” Richard Jackson asked.

“Leave it to me, Pa.”

“Why don’t you tell him?  How your men have been terrorizing the town.  Cutting up women.”

Doctor Bates spoke up.  “It’s true, Mr. Jackson.  Your son is trying to drive us out.  Like he’s done to most of the other settlers in the valley.”

“We bought that land fair and square,” Martin returned.

Mrs. Lewis jumped in, “Only after you killed their stock, burned their barns, or worse.”

Richard Jackson pointed at Mrs. Lewes.  “I know you.  Your husband owned that land along the river.”

“He did, up until someone shot him in the back.  My husband refused to sell, yet your son produced a bill of sale with his signature on it for a fraction of its value.” 

This was news to me.  I glanced from Mrs. Lewis back to Richard Jackson and watched the doubt enter his eyes.

“Martin …?”

“It’s rubbish, Pa!  Lewis sold out to us.  I had nothing to do with him being shot.  Are you gonna listen to their lies or me?”

Old man Jackson stared at his son for a long moment before he wheeled forward.  “I don’t know why you’ve come here with these lies, but you can leave.”

I turned to him.  The man believed his son, and why shouldn’t he?  Heck, I admired him for it.  But he needed to know the truth.

“It’s not lies, Sir.  Your son threatened to burn the town if they didn’t move.”

“So what?  That stinking dump is in our way.”

“Son.  They’re our neighbors.”

“To hell with them!  We’re better than any of them.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” I told him.  “Look at them!  Yes, you’ve got them good and scared.  But that didn’t stop them from helping me.  Or coming here to tell you they won’t stand for anymore.  They’re ten times the people you’ll ever be, with more guts than you’ll ever have.”

The fury built within Martin.  A man who’d had his way all his life, any opposition stuck in his craw.  His hand moved to his gun.

“I wouldn’t,” I warned him.  “My brother would drop you before you cleared your holster.” 

Martin’s gaze flicked to Hoss.  I didn’t need to turn my head to see him with his gun drawn, steady as a rock in his saddle behind me. 

The bellow Martin released ripped the air.  He leaped at me, hands flailing for my throat.  I found myself back in Mrs. Cutler’s living room, grappling with Horace.  I shook the memory and Jackson off. 

His face contorted into a savage snarl when he came at me again.  His onslaught was ferocious, but Martin was a man who relied on others to fight his battles, and the rage that powered him could only take him so far.  When I put him flat on his back, he stayed down. 

My chest pumped as I dragged in enough air to speak, “We’ll be sending for a Marshall.  If you do anything to the town before he gets there, I’ll come right back and pay you another visit.” 

I flung my arm across my forehead to wipe away the sweat, dirt, and blood.  Behind me, Hoss holstered his gun.  Retrieving my hat, I straightened to look right into the face of Richard Jackson.  His expression was more than I could bear.  I turned away and walked toward Cochise. 

Behind me, Martin spat out his venom.  “You think you’ve won, Cartwright?  You’re wrong.  You can’t beat a Jackson.”

His father’s quiet words tried to stem him.  “Son, enough.”

“Shut your mouth, Old Man!  You’ve had your day.  I own this valley, and no one is gonna stop me.”

The warning Hoss shouted had me spinning back.  I hadn’t turned halfway before the shot rang out.  I sucked in a breath, waiting for the bullet to hit, but I was still standing.  It was Martin who lay dead with a hole in his chest.  I turned to Hoss and followed his shocked gaze to Anita Jackson.  Standing in the doorway, she clutched the rifle she’d just used on her son-in-law.  Laying it aside, she fell to her knees beside the man she loved.

“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t let you be the one to do it.  Not kill your son.”

“How did you know?”

“I know you, my husband.  You wouldn’t stand by and let Martin commit murder.”

“I was a fool to trust him.”

It was then I saw the gun in his quavering hand.  He let it drop into his lap when his wife wrapped her hands around his arm.  This father would have killed his son.  The child he’d plowed his hopes, dreams, and future into to save me.  I had to say something.  “There’s nothing wrong with trusting your son.”

“Yes, there is.  I put blind faith in Martin when I should have questioned him.  All his life, I let him have his way.  That’s not a father’s job.  I should’ve checked him, kept him on the right path.  I could have prevented all of this.  I failed.  Failed him.”  Richard clutched his wife’s hands, begging forgiveness, “Failed you.”

Tears trickled down her face.  “Oh, no.  Never.” 

He kissed her forehead and turned to the townspeople.  “You too.  I failed you all.  I’m sorry.”

Nobody moved or spoke until Mrs. Lewis replied, “We’re sorry too.”

Richard slumped back.  That galvanized Anita.  Her husband needed her, and she took charge.  She directed her people to move Martin’s body and took Richard back inside.  Time for us to leave.

*****

When we got back to Baptiste, I was done.  Not that I’d say anything.  Admitting I was hurting wasn’t one of my strengths. 

Hoss hooked my arm when I made for my table in the cantina.  “Why don’t we get you upstairs and cleaned up first?”

After drying my face, I reached for my shirt again.

“Might as well leave that off since you’re gonna rest.”

I should’ve known.  I never could hide much from Hoss.  “I’m fine.”

“Joseph.  I ain’t about to argue with you.”  I looked into my brother’s eyes and dropped the shirt back on the bed.  “Don’t move until I come get you.”

It turned out this parting threat wasn’t needed.  Once my head hit the pillow, I was out and didn’t stir until Hoss shook my shoulder later.

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead.”

“What time is it?”  My mumbled question stumbled out over a swollen lip.  Seeing the room masked in shadow, I added, “I must’ve slept for hours.”

“Guess you needed it.  Feeling better?”

“Yeah.  Thanks.”

The cantina was packed, and I ran a gauntlet of handshakes to get to my table.

“What’s going on?” I asked Mrs. Lewis when she brought some coffee.

“Mr. Jackson has sent a message.  He wants to meet with the town.  There’s even talk of us getting our property back.”

“That’s great.”

“It’s all thanks to you, Joe.”

I shook my head, but she smiled and nodded before bustling away to fetch our food. 

Aware of his gaze, I told Hoss, “I’m glad it’s gonna work out for them, but I didn’t have much to do with it.” 

He fixed me with those baby blues and asked.  “Ready to go home?”

“Yeah.”

*****

Chapter Twelve

Hoss set an easy pace on the ride home, giving consideration to my healing leg and the fact I was stiff, bruised, and aching from the beating I took.  When we camped, he filled me in some more about what had been going on.  Roy and Pa did test young David White’s memory.  Roping in five men to help, they were amazed at his assurance when Davey picked out the same men three days later.  Enough to convince Pa, but when Roy explained he couldn’t do anything with it, I winced hearing the uproar that followed, not just from Pa but Margaret Shield.  Roy had never had it so hard.

Around our crackling campfire, Hoss told me about the other young woman Horace murdered. 

“Caroline bumped into this fella while shopping.  She’d laughed about him because he was such a mouse.  When he started turning up everywhere she went, Margaret wanted to scare him off, but Caroline refused ‘cause she didn’t want her to hurt his feelings, what with him bein’ so awkward and shy.”

I snapped the stick in my hand and flung it on the fire.  “That’s Horace.  Shy like a snake.”

“Caroline said she’d tell him herself she weren’t interested.  Margaret told her she wasn’t to see him alone, but the next day, she came home from taking Davey to his doctor to find her sister dead.  Her neck broke.  Seems she’d let him in herself so the servants wouldn’t know.”

“Poor kid didn’t know what she was dealing with.”

“Margaret blames herself for not guessing what Caroline would do.  They questioned some men, including Horace, but with no witnesses or evidence, no one got charged.”

I cursed.  Horace had been lucky.  Surely it was time for that luck to run out?

****

Each day, I found out more about Mrs. Shield and her brother.  Hoss sang Margaret’s praises, and the feeling there was something between them deepened.  But the more I heard of Davey, the more concerned I grew.

“Even if we get Horace to trial, any lawyer could take Davey apart,” I worried.  “Let alone that slick fella Horace had before.”

“Margaret is sure he’ll be fine.”

“Are you?”

Hoss gulped his coffee and gazed into the fire.  “Maybe.”

“But you’re not sure.”

“I don’t know how he’d cope with a trial.  Margaret has a lot of faith in him.  If everything’s explained to him and he’s in familiar surroundings, he’s fine.  If not … but I trust her.  If she says he can do it, that’s good enough for me.”

I turned my cup in my hands.  Were we placing all our hopes on a horse that wouldn’t make the finish?  I focused on something else.

“She sounds like quite a woman.”

“Yeah.  She is.  An’ when you think ….”

“What?”

“Nuthin’.”

When Hoss shifted his position, my curiosity spiked.  I knew when my brother was hiding something.  “C’mon, what is it?”

“Forget it.  She told me in confidence.”

“You think I’d tell?” I asked, loading my question with hurt feelings.  That did the trick. 

“Okay, but you ain’t to repeat this to anyone, even Pa.  Margaret ain’t a widow.  When her folks died, she got guardianship of her sister and brother.  Then she found out that her husband was trying to have Davey put in an asylum and take over the business.  You can guess what that did to her, but she didn’t sit around cryin’.  Instead, she went out an’ paid a judge and got herself a divorce.”

“A divorce?  Whew!”

“That’s why she lets everyone think she’s a widow, ‘cause of the scandal.  Now she looks after Davey and runs the business, and she don’t wanna give up that independence for any man.”

“She sounds like one tough lady.”

“Well, she ain’t.  She puts up a good front, but I ain’t never met a more feminine gal.  All soft skin and hair that smells like lilacs, an’ like anyone else, sometimes she needs comfort and love.”

I tilted my head as I watched my brother talk about this woman.  Did Pa know?  We were grown men, and he never asked nor interfered in our love life.  Would he be pleased about this arrangement?  I didn’t care.  So long as Hoss was happy.  But I couldn’t resist a little teasing.

“I guess she got what she needed?”

That broke his reverie.  He nudged me with his shoulder, almost knocking me flat. 

I laughed. 

The grotesque sound jolted me.  How could I joke and laugh when Sally …?  My face crumpled.  Tears stung my eyes.  I turned my head away when my shoulders began to shake.  A hand slid around them.

The touch crumbled the last of my defenses.  I needed something solid to hang onto to let go of the grief.  And he was right there, as always.  Turning into my brother, I clung on, letting the tears come at last. 

*****

We didn’t say much during our last night in camp.  The closer we came to home, the more jittery I became.  Hoss threw me a few glances but didn’t say anything until I stared at my half-eaten plate of food for ten minutes.

“My beans that bad?”

“Huh?  Oh.  No.  I was just thinking about tomorrow and seeing Pa.”

Hoss’ fist made contact with my shoulder in a gentle punch.  “It’ll be fine.  He’ll just be glad to see you.”

That might be true, but I didn’t deserve to be treated like the prodigal son.  I didn’t say any more, and we soon settled down for the night.  Above me, the inky blackness of the sky gave way to a million stars, which matched the multitude of thoughts racing around my mind. 

When I’d gone after Horace, I believed in my right to do what I did.  Pa’s questions punched a hole right through that certainty.  I thought them a betrayal, but old man Jackson’s words opened my eyes.  Pa had always questioned us, made us examine our motives and thinking, and kept us on the straight path.  I owed him thanks for that; instead, I’d flung it in his face when I left.  The fingers intertwined behind my head tightened.  There was a lot to apologize for and put right, and I’d be starting tomorrow.

*****

Chapter Thirteen

The final miles across the Ponderosa were a relief.  I was eager to get home and see my father.  The buggy at the door told us Pa had visitors.  It sent a ripple of annoyance through me.  I’d wanted our reunion to be private, not shared with friends or strangers.

We walked in to find a raging tempest pacing the floor.  Pa sat in his chair and watched the woman rant.  Another man cringed in Adam’s blue chair, hugging his arms and rocking.

“It’s outrageous!  Someone should arrest that sheriff.  Shirking his duty this way.” 

Pa begged, “Mrs. Shield, please, calm yourself.”

The woman halted her furious pacing when we entered.  Seeing Hoss, she went toward him.

My attention stayed on Pa.  The look on his face was something I’ll never forget.  He sprung from his chair and took my hand in both of his, the firm grip warm and inviting. 

“It’s good to have you back.”

“Thanks,” was all I could manage over the lump in my throat.  I swallowed it down and took a breath, “Pa— ”

He cut me off.  “Nothing more to say, son.”

There was, but I’d leave that to later.  Our attention turned back to Hoss and Mrs. Shield.  Hoss described her as fine-looking.  She was undoubtedly striking.  Standing six feet tall in her stockings, she was hard to miss.  The firm set on her jaw showed her determined nature, and fine brown eyes sparkled while she spoke to Hoss.

“As soon as I saw the letter from that wretched sheriff, I had to come and tell your father.”

“It’s okay.  C’mon sit down.  You ain’t even taken off your coat.”  Hoss put a hand under Mrs. Shield’s elbow and led her back to the settee.  Calm descended on the room.  “We’ll have some coffee.  Pa?”

“I’ve already asked Hop Sing.”

After taking her jacket, Hoss had Mrs. Shield sit.  She took Hoss’s hands in hers, her fingers caressing his.  I cut a look at Pa.  He’d seen it too. 

“I’m so glad you’re back,” she told him.  Then she noticed her brother rocking in his seat and was on her feet again.  “My love.  I’m so sorry.  How could I have been so thoughtless?  Hoss, I need to take him somewhere quiet.”

“Would one of the guest bedrooms be okay?”

“Perfect.”

I waited until the trio had moved out of earshot before commenting, “She’s interesting.”

Pa pulled his anxious gaze away from the stairs back to me.  “Huh?”

“Mrs. Shield.  Interesting.”

“Oh, yes.”

“Hoss seems taken with her.”

The look I got warned me off dangerous ground.  I dropped the subject.  The ice I was standing on was thin enough already.  Hop Sing appearing with coffee brought a welcome distraction.

“Little Joe!  You back.”  Our cook hurried across the room.  The smile on his face was the biggest I’ve ever seen.  I took the tray and placed it down while he looked at me.  “It’s good you back.  Ponderosa not same without Number Three Son.  I fetch cup for you.  Dinner ready soon.”

“Thanks, Hop Sing.”

“He’s right.  It hasn’t been the same.”

I sat and tried my apology again.  “I’m sorry for the way I left.”

Pa put up his hand to stop me before dropping it onto my knee.  “I told you.  No need.  You’re back.  That’s all that matters.”

“But it isn’t.”

“It is for me.  Now, drink your coffee.”

Resigned, I took the cup he handed me.  “So, what was all the fuss about?”

Pa pursed his lips and ducked his head.  This couldn’t be good.  “Hoss told you about what’s happened?”

“Yes.”

“Roy got the answer from the sheriff at Mason City.  It isn’t very helpful.  Since Horace is out of his jurisdiction, he’s said that there’s nothing he can do.”

“What about a warrant?”

“According to him, Davey recognizing Horace isn’t enough evidence to issue one.”

“But Horace was picked up before— ”

“Yes.  And we know he lied about knowing Caroline White.  But, for that sheriff, Davey’s word isn’t enough.”

“He’s guilty.”

“I know.  We got your hopes up.  I’m sorry.”

My cup clattered back into its saucer.  Was it over before it even began?  “I guess that’s that.”

“No.  It ain’t.”

Hoss stood on the half-landing.  Unmovable like the Sierras, hand clamped over the newel, he looked down on us.  “That man killed them two little gals, and he’s gonna pay for one of them.  Even if I hav’ta hog-tie him and carry him to Mason City myself.”

Pa raised his eyebrows.  “Much as I’d like you to, you know we can’t do that.”

“Then we’ll find another way.”

*****

Hoss kept up his relentless positivity for Miss Shield’s benefit throughout dinner.  She wasn’t fooled either, but she was just as grateful.

“Mr. Cartwright.  Thank you for a delicious meal.  But we must be going, or we will be late for David’s bedtime.”

Hoss was off the settee and helping the lady on with her coat in a flash.  “I’ll escort them back to town, Pa.”

“Son, Mrs. Shield knows the way.”

“I know, but I’d like to see ‘em back.”

Pa’s arguments faded away when Margaret added her plea for his escort.  We said our goodbyes while Hoss loaded his saddle in the hired buggy and tied Chubb to the back. 

“Pa.  I’ll stay overnight and visit Roy first thing.  See if he’s got any ideas.”

Before Pa could say a word, Hoss shook up the horse.  My father let out a breath.  When Big Brother was determined, not even he could stop him.

We returned to the house.  Pa poured a brandy for himself and one for me.  I grimaced at the generous glassful.

“Something wrong?”

“I’ve been overindulging lately.”

A ripple of concern ran over my father’s face, and he tensed, but he didn’t reach to remove the glass and instead relaxed back.  “Ah.  Well, you don’t have to finish it.”  He was learning. 

“Thanks.”  I sipped the smooth liquor.  Mellow and complex, the subtle taste of fruit mixed with hints of sweetness and oak was a far cry from the swill I’d been drowning in.  Savoring the notes, I took my time.  We settled back.  The snap of sap from the burning logs, mingled with the tick from the grandfather clock, provided the only break in the companionable silence.

The liquor in my glass had sunk an inch before I spoke, “You were right.”

“About what?”

“Questioning my motives.  I wanted him so bad.  I pushed too hard.”

“No one blames you for that.”

“I blame myself.”

“If you hadn’t, Horace would’ve ridden away.  What if he had killed again?  You’ve prevented that.”

“Have I?  Maybe.  At least he’s still in Virginia City.”  Pa’s jaw tightened.  “What?”

“Since the trial, well, I don’t know how else to say this.  He’s become something of a celebrity.  The man who was falsely accused.  He’s making the most of it.”

Why was I surprised?  Horace had always been an outsider wanting in.  Why wouldn’t he relish the opportunity to be the center of attention?

“I don’t know if I can face him.  After the trial, I wanted to ….” 

I couldn’t bring myself to say the words.  I lifted my eyes to meet Pa’s steady ones.

“Trust me, son.  There’s a big difference between wanting and doing.”

*****

Chapter Fourteen

The long ride back had purged the last remnants of cheap booze from my system, and I was able to enjoy being back in my bed, sleeping like a log until Pa called me.  I came down to find him eager for action.

“Soon as we’ve eaten, we’ll ride into Virginia City and find your brother.  I want to speak to Roy myself.”

I thought Hoss could handle it, but I didn’t argue.

*****

“Roy, I understand,” Pa said.  “I’m just saying there must be something we can do?” 

I looked at Hoss and rolled my eyes.  Pa and Mrs. Shield had been going at Roy for twenty minutes, and it was getting us nowhere.

“An’ I just got through telling you.  There ain’t!”

“All right.”  Mrs. Shield joined in again.  “If you can’t arrest him for my sister’s murder, can you arrest him for something else?”

“Ma’am, for me to arrest a man, he has to commit a crime.”

“Can’t you make something up?” Pa demanded.

The appalled look on Roy’s face would’ve been funny at any other time.  I shot Hoss another look.  He got the message.  “Pa, you know Roy can’t do that.”

Pa slapped his hat against his leg.  “Yes.  Yes.  I’m sorry, Roy.  It’s just … to be so close.”

“I know it, Ben, and I think the sheriff in Mason City is being derelict in his duty by not issuing the warrant.  Say, what about a letter to the Governor?”

Mrs. Shield’s stepped forward.  “Would that work?”

The light returned to Pa’s eyes.  “It might.”

Keen to encourage this hopeful mood and get them out of his office, Roy added, “I’ll help in any way I can.”

“Thanks.”  With peace between them restored, Pa shook Roy’s hand.

“Let us return to my rooms,” Mrs. Shield proposed.  “We can compose the letter there.”

Pa nodded and followed them out.  The sheriff’s office emptied, and Roy collapsed back in his chair.  I stopped at the door and grinned.

“Nice work, Sheriff.”

I’ve known this man for a lot of years and recognized the twinkle in his eye as he growled, “Get outta here.”  I laughed and shut the door.

*****

“Joe.”

I woke with a start, yawned, and ran a hand through my hair.  “Sorry.  Did I fall asleep?  Finished?”

Pa looked sheepish.  They’d been working on the letter for over two hours when I dozed off.  “Almost.  Come on.  We’re going to take a break and get some lunch.”

I perked up.  “Sounds good.”

Margaret helped her brother into his jacket while Hoss put away the cards he’d been using to entertain Davey.

We made our way down to the hotel restaurant and settled at a table tucked into a corner that suited our young friend, as it was away from the central hubbub.

Our meals had been served when the sudden hush in the room made Hoss turn around.  I looked up from my plate of chicken and dumplings.  Standing across from us was the man I wanted least of all to see.  I knew I’d run into him at some time, but not today.  Loathing rose in my throat to choke me, and I was all too aware of the gun holstered against my hip. 

Those who knew the history had stopped talking and looked from Horace to our table.  They waited with bated breath to see what would happen.  Horace spotted us.  I hoped he’d turn around and leave – no such luck.  Instead, excitement sparked in the onlookers when he adjusted his jacket and marched toward us.  It looked like all the attention he’d been getting had given him a backbone.

“I’ve got nothing to say to you.  Get lost,” I told him.

Horace pouted and drew himself up.  “I thought you might want to apologize.”

Pa’s hand closed around my wrist as I began to rise.  It might’ve stopped me a few years ago.  It failed now.  But I had things under control.

“Apologize?  For what?  You can tell these people whatever you like, but you and me, we know the truth.”

The little creep flushed and tried to brazen it out.  “You hounded me to make that confession.  I’m innocent.”

I couldn’t believe the man’s gall.  Horace had always been deluded.  Was he so far gone that he’d begun to believe the story his lawyer had woven? 

A stir had begun on the other side of the table.  Davey began to mumble and whisper to his sister, who tried to hush him.  I ignored it, keeping my focus on Horace.  “Take my advice and leave me alone.”

His flush deepened.  With all the people watching, he was in a quandary about what to do.  I just wanted him out of my sight.  Margaret was still trying to quiet David when he broke free and jumped up. 

“That’s him.  That’s the man Caroline didn’t like.”

My teeth clenched.  We didn’t need Horace knowing about our ace in the hole.  I caught Hoss’s eye and hitched my head to the door.  He wrapped an arm around the young man, but the usually pliable Davey didn’t want to go and squirmed away from Hoss. 

“No!”  Pointing at Horace, he cried, “It was you.  I don’t forget faces.  You gave Caroline flowers.  She didn’t want them.  She told me.  She didn’t like you.”

Horace blanched and took a step back.  I flung a hand out toward Hoss to stop him from hustling Davey away.

“What’s the matter, Horace?  Did he get it right?  You gave Caroline flowers, didn’t you?”

“I don’t know what he’s talking about.  I didn’t know that girl in Mason City.”

“Who said she was from Mason City? And do you always give flowers to girls you don’t know?”

“I … I didn’t.”

Davey was on a roll and jumped in,  “Yes, you did.  Yellow ones.  You told her they were the color of her hair.  She said that was silly, just like you.”

“Liar!”

Everyone in the place had stopped what they were doing, their attention on us.  Horace’s gaze darted around the quiet room.  I saw the muscle in his neck work and the fear enter his eyes.  Trapped by his delusion, he’d left himself exposed where everyone could see and hear.  This was my chance.  I had to use everything I knew about this pathetic man against him.  This time, there’d be no screwups. 

“He’s right, isn’t he?  You knew Caroline.  You lied about that.  Like you lied about Sally.”

“Shut up!  I know what you’re trying to do.”

“What, Horace?  What am I trying to do?  Get you to tell the truth?  What happened?  Didn’t she want you around either?”

“That’s not true!  Caroline liked me very much. We would’ve been together if it hadn’t been for her sister.  She made Caroline say she didn’t want to see me.”

Margaret swept between Horace and me.  “Rubbish!  Caroline couldn’t abide you.  Her mistake was thinking you were sad and harmless.”

My instinct for danger tingled down my neck.  Too late, I reached to pull Margaret behind me, but Horace grabbed her.  Bent backward, Margaret’s hands clutched the arm that snaked around her neck, trying to escape the painful embrace. 

I sensed Hoss’ powerful presence at my back as I moved toward the struggling pair, hands spread wide in front of me.  “Careful.  You break her neck, and no one will believe it was a mistake.”

“Caroline liked me!  I just wanted a little more time, that’s all.  If she’d just let me talk.”

“But she was like Sally, right?  She wouldn’t listen.”

“I knew I could convince her if she would only listen to me, but she tried to call for a servant.”

“What happened?  Did you try to shut her up, like Sally? Grab her like that, too?  Squeeze a little too hard?”

“I never meant to hurt her, but she was just like the rest of them.”

“Them?”  Horror clawed at my senses.  “How many were there, Horace?  How many mistakes have you made?”

“It’s not my fault!  All I wanted was to talk to them.”

“Hold it right there!  Horace, you’d better let that lady go and come along with me.”

My head snapped around.  I hadn’t seen Roy come in.  Now wasn’t the time for him to interfere, but my glare didn’t faze him.  I should’ve known.  He’d dealt with Pa for years.  However, Horace surprised us when he pulled a gun from his pocket. 

“No! Get back!”

“Now, son, you don’t want to be doing that,” Roy explained in the fatherly voice he used for all wayward young men.

“Stay back!”

Taking a step closer, I said, “Let her go.  It’s over.”

The truth sank in.  The furious madness I’d seen before crossed Horace’s face.  “This is your fault.”

He turned the gun on me and squeezed the trigger.  Explosions and screams tore through the air as I was knocked sideways.  I slammed into the floor with my brother’s bulk on me.

“Hoss!”  My heart raced so hard that I felt sick.  I rolled my brother off with hands that shook.  When he complained about the movement, I had to fight the wave of giddy relief that swept across me. 

Kneeling beside us, Pa helped Hoss sit up. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah.  He clipped my side, is all.”

“Are you crazy?” I demanded. 

“Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

My hand went to his shoulder, and our eyes met.  “Thanks.” 

Pa took over.  “C’mon, let’s get you to the doctor.”

Hoss stood but shook off his help.  “I’m all right.  Check on Mrs. Shield.”

This brought our attention back to the rest of the room.  Horace lay huddled on the floor, sniveling. Blood spilled through the fingers of the hand holding his other arm.  Roy frowned down at him, his gun still drawn.

Margaret tried to soothe Davey, who had retreated away from the noise and commotion into the corner.  Although shaken, she told Pa, “Take care of Hoss, Ben.  I’ll take David to our room.”

Much as I wanted to go with Hoss, I knew what he’d wish me to do. 

“Can I help?”  She nodded and stepped aside to let me gather her brother.  I turned back to Pa and Hoss.  “I’ll be over to the doc’s as soon as Davey’s settled.”

I didn’t give Horace a second look as we left the room.

*****

Epilogue

Pa and Hoss strolled out to meet me when I cantered into the yard.

Greetings over, Pa asked, “How was the young lady?”

“Just fine.  Thanks to Doc Gibbons, the scarring won’t be nearly as bad as it might have been.”

“How is everyone else?”

“You were right about Mr. Jackson.  He’s returned the property that Martin swindled.  Mrs. Lewis has asked Penny to run the cantina for her since she’ll be busy with her place from now on.”

“That’s good news.”

The smile slipped from my face.  “I got your telegram.”

Pa and Hoss understood why I couldn’t go to Mason City for the trial.  I’m not sure Margaret did, but that couldn’t be helped. 

Hoss’ hand dropped on my shoulder and squeezed tight.  “We got them their justice.”

Justice for Sally and Caroline.  That meant something, but so did the knowledge that Horace wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone else.  No other young women would die at his hands, or others suffer the way we had because of him. 

“Did you say goodbye to Margaret and Davey for me?”

“Yeah.  We said goodbye.”

I cut a look at Hoss.  Those words included more than me.

Pa slapped us on the back.  “C’mon.  Hop Sing’s making a fresh pot of coffee.

There was grieving still to do, but right now, coffee sounded good.  Side by side, we strolled toward the house.

*** The End ***

[April 2022]

Author’s notes:

With thanks to my Beta, Pat.

Episode referenced:
Justice:  Written by Richard Wendley
The Smiler:  Written by Lewis Reed