The Wedding

by

Beppina

The three young men stood in the hotel bedroom. All were booted and suited and looking their most handsome best. One stood in front of the full-length mirror, a final pat on his hair and adjustment of his silk tie.

“You look fine brother.” one of his siblings grinned, “Sam will be swooning all over you later.”

The young man turned to face his brothers, “I reckon I’ll be the one swooning as you put it,” he laughed, “All gussied up in this heat!”

The brothers cast a final eye over each other. Faces freshly shaved, hair perfectly groomed. Shirts crisp and white, finished with black silk ties. Black suits of the finest lightweight wool, immaculately cut to show off their fine figures. Black boots so highly polished to see their faces reflected in them.

“I never thought this day would come,” one brother remarked, “one of us finally finding the right girl an’ getting’ married.”

“Just took a while to find the right one brother,” another replied with a smile.

“D’you reckon we ever will?” the other brother asked, pulling a face and screwing his nose up at the thought.

“You’d better,” his brother cut in, “I don’t want to be responsible for all Pa’s grandchildren, you two could help me out a bit you know…” They all laughed at the thought of the three of them as fathers and the idea of their father bouncing numerous children upon his knees.

A rap on the door broke them from their laughter,

“Can I come in?” A well-recognised and well-loved voice called to them. One reached the door and flung it open to admit their father.

“Come on in Pa.” another son welcomed him, “His highness is nearly ready for the ceremony, just the finishing touches now.”

Ben Cartwright surveyed his three sons, pride filling his heart as he looked at them standing before him.

“I thought we’d have a quick toast before we head to church, boys.” He held out a bottle of Champagne and turned to beckon another young man into the room. Candy, their foreman and Joe’s best friend entered. With five glasses in hand, he stopped, looked at his friends and whistled. “Well, well,” he smiled, “don’t we all look a sight for sore eyes!” They all grinned and took a glass while Ben opened the bottle and poured the bubbly wine.

“Here’s to the groom,” he raised his glass, “a long and happy marriage son, we all wish you every happiness possible … and maybe a grandchild or two along the way!” he finished, teasing his son.

“Thank you, Pa,” he replied, “It’s going to be a bit strange not living here with you all, but I’m sure I’ll get used to it. Very quickly!” a smile hovering on his face.

The glasses were drained and placed on one side.

“Okay boys,” Ben indicated to all except one young man, “down you go, I want a quiet word with your brother.”

Candy led the way out and down to the waiting buggy. He’d spent hours getting it shining like a mirror. The horses glistened in the sunlight. They climbed aboard to await the groom and his father. Townsfolk walked by shouting out greetings. Most would be attending the wedding and were on their way to Church.

“See you there boys,” Roy Coffee called out, “tell that brother of yours it’s not too late to back out.” then, with a wave of his hand and a grin on his face, he passed by.

In the hotel bedroom, the father and son stood close together, heads almost touching.

“I wondered if this day would ever come.” the son said softly, a slight smile playing at the corner of his mouth, “we’ve never had much luck with girls and relationships, have we Pa?”

Ben smiled, “No I guess not, but Samantha’s a fine girl, she’ll make up for all the bad times I’m sure, and she loves you very much!”

“I know Pa, I love her too, sometimes it just hurts so much loving her as much as I do.”

His father gently patted his back, “Well, we’d better not keep Samantha waiting. It’s tradition for her to be late, not you!”

Together, father and son descended the stairs. At the bottom, they hesitated, stood and faced each other again.

“Thanks for everything, Pa,” the young man spoke softly, tears in his eyes, “you’ve made me the man I am, thank you for that.”

Ben put an arm around his son’s shoulder, “I don’t need thanks, Son, I’ve done everything because you’re my son and that’s my job.” They embraced, then shook hands. “Come on then, let’s get this show on the road!”

The Cartwright family sat together in the buggy. Joe waved to a couple of friends and tipped his hat to some older ladies. Hoss smiled at everyone he saw, and Adam sat quietly, observing the town pass by. “Good Luck” rang across the road as Dr Martin left his house, his wife holding his arm and smiling at the family.

The journey to the stone-built Church that dominated Virginia City took five minutes at a gentle pace. On board, only one sat deep in thought, though to all appearances, he was smiling happily and waving to the towns folk as they passed by.

The Groom’s Thoughts

“Am I doing the right thing?” he mused, “Maye I’m too old to be doing this. What am I now, thirty-two coming thirty-three. Pa was twenty-one-two when he married for the first time. About twenty-seven the second time and older than me the third time. Am I too set in my ways? Do I really love Sam?”

The buggy stopped only yards from the steps leading to the Church doors.

“Come on boys.” Ben encouraged his sons and jumped to the ground. Candy handed the horses off to one of the ranch hands with instructions to deck the buggy out with ribbons and flowers for the return journey.

“Give them a drink and some hay and a quick rub down Fred, then do your worst for me eh?” he laughed and joined his friends on the steps.

Ben led the way into the shady vestibule. The many guests were already seated on either side of the aisle in anticipation of the bride-to-be’s arrival. The Church was decked with orange blossoms and white roses tied with silk ribbons. The heady scent of the blossom filled the air as the family of men made their way to the front of the Church. Each row of pews held a spray of white flowers on the end, and the altar was flanked on either side by large white arrangements. The sun shone through the stained-glass window; it created beautiful patterns across the growing congregation. Mrs Miller, one of the stalwarts of Virginia City and a leading light of the Church, sat playing the organ very softly in the background. This was her pride and joy, and she took great delight in being chosen to play at the Cartwright nuptials.

The family made their way down to the front, stopping to speak to friends as they passed by, receiving good wishes and handshakes as they went until finally, they stood in the first pew to the right of the altar. The Preacher shook hands with them all, whispered words of encouragement to the soon-to-be-married man and indicated that he was ready to proceed as soon as the Bride-to-be arrived. A few nerve-racking minutes passed, and the husband-to-be looked anxiously towards the door more than once. His brothers were doing the same and wondering if she was observing tradition and keeping her intended waiting.

“Oh no. She’s not going to show. She’s changed her mind, what have I done? I knew it wasn’t such a good idea. Please don’t do this, Sam.”

The music changed from almost unheard to the beautiful Mendelssohn wedding music. The congregation stood as one, whispers hushed as faces turned expectantly towards the double doors.

The anxious young man released a long-held breath, then turned to the door.

Outlined against the brilliant sunlight, he could see the dark shadow of his bride-to-be. She stood in the white light, waiting for the moment to take her final walk as a single woman, her arm resting gently on her father’s.

The music changed again and swelled up to reach the roof as Samantha slowly and elegantly glided to the altar. Soft gasps of appreciation followed her progress as the women present saw, for the first time, the simple white gown she wore. The unfussy honey-blonde hair and the pretty rose coronet holding her veil clear from her face. Ben smiled as she reached his side,

“You look beautiful my dear…” he whispered, then stepped back.

The young man stood at her side. His face wore an expression of utter astonishment and love. He took her hand from her father’s and leaned close to her, whispering terms of such endearment to make her smile.

“I have done the right thing. How could I have doubted it? Oh, she looks so beautiful. Control yourself, everything is perfect. Oh, how I love her.”

The Preacher began the wedding service. The words were spoken, and hymns were sung. The best man, one of the brothers, handed the ring across, ready to slip onto her left hand.

He promised to love, honour, cherish and protect his beautiful bride. Then she, with a catch in her voice, promised the same.

The Preacher then spoke the time-honoured words…

“I now pronounce you Husband and Wife. You may kiss your wife!”

The newly married couple stepped close to each other, the gentlest of smiles played on his lips.

“I love you so very much …” he whispered as he leaned forward to kiss her so softly on her lips.

Her smile lit her face as she gazed into his eyes and whispered, “I love you too.”

A few more minutes passed as they sat in the small vestry signing the Church register. In the background, Mrs. Miller continued to play a pretty piece. The congregation sat chatting as they waited for the happy couple to appear. The music took up a rousing beat as the Wedding March commenced.

The couple turned to face their families and friends, smiles glowing on their faces. Then, to the strains of the most famous wedding march ever, they made their progress down the aisle to the main doors. The congregation stood applauding as the young couple passed. Words of “Good Luck”, “Be Happy”, and “Congratulations” followed them. Ben and his remaining boys walked alongside Sam’s parents as they went out into the blazing sunshine.

“We’ll be having a small repast at the International,” he informed Sam’s parents, “then when everyone’s had a bit of a rest we’ll head back to the ranch for the party.”

Both Mr and Mrs Hutchinson were delighted with this arrangement and were happy to anticipate the afternoon’s entertainment on The Ponderosa.

The happy couple climbed aboard the carriage. Candy took charge and eased the horses away from the cheering crowd and off towards the hotel.

Two ranch hands had excelled in preparing it for the day; white ribbons adorned the sides, flowers were attached to the canopy and doors, and a collection of old boots were dragged from the rear. With much cheering and laughter to accompany them, they made their way towards the hotel.

“Wait,” Sam told Candy quickly, “I forgot to throw the bouquet.”

He stopped the horses as the congregation ran to catch them. She stood and turned to face them all,

 “I almost forgot,” laughing, Sam positioned herself to throw the flowers over her shoulder.

The crowd began to count down from five. The young and not-so-young ladies surged nearer the buggy, all eager to catch the bouquet, hoping they would be next to marry. Many of them had dreams of snagging themselves a Cartwright. Maybe they would be that particular girl.

On one, Sam threw the flowers in the direction of the crowd. She then turned to see where they had landed and who was the lucky girl.

A cheer went up as the recipient waved it above her head, and the Widow Hawkins took a bow, her face filled with laughter. It was well known in Virginia City that she had “set her cap” at Ben many years before. Although they were good friends, there was no romantic attachment between them.

In fact, when Ben had been widowed, when Marie had died, Clementine Hawkins had helped with the two youngest boys to the degree that both Joe and Hoss had called her Aunt Clemmy. Ben roared with laughter as Clementine, now waving the bouquet, was on her way to him with a “come hither” look.

“Run Ben,” Roy Coffee advised, “she’s out to git ya.”

“You’re next Ben.” Paul Martin teased.

The laughing continued as the buggy rolled away. The people slowly dispersed to make their way home to prepare for the afternoon’s affair.

The luncheon was a family affair, the Bride and Groom, parents and siblings. The hotel had laid on a light meal for the wedding party, just enough to keep them going without getting too full before the upcoming big “do.”

The happy couple were toasted in Champagne and nibbled on smoked salmon sandwiches, fresh salmon and various dainties. After an hour, the newlyweds were escorted back out to the buggy. Candy sat up front while the families said their brief goodbyes.

“We’ll be back before you,” Ben announced, “our horses are over at the livery, just take your time.”

“Umm. Pa … d’you think Candy could ride back with you?” his newly married son asked. His father raised his eyebrows quite theatrically at his son’s request, then looked at his other boys as they stood grinning beside him.

“Candy’s horse is here too Pa,” one chimed in, “bought in, just in case our brother wanted to drive himself an’ Sam home!”

Knowing this had all been discussed and arranged earlier, he agreed to his son’s request.

“I sure am glad about that Boss.” Candy spoke as he jumped down, “I really didn’t fancy chaperoning these two all the way home!”

Laugher surrounded them again as they waved the couple away onto the road to The Ponderosa. Then, three remaining Cartwrights crossed the main street to the livery to collect their mounts and head home.

Meanwhile, life was hectic at the ranch house. Hop Sing and many cousins were putting the finishing touches to food, drinks and decorations for the afternoon festivities. Tables and chairs were set around the yard. A square had been erected as a dance floor; a small stage set up for the musical entertainment, a small band of fiddlers, a drummer and a guitar player. A whole side of beef was turning slowly on a spit, supervised by Hop Sing himself. Chickens had been roasted along with some pork. There was pretty much enough to feed an army. Not to mention the sweet delights that had been prepared by yet another cousin of the house major-domo. As Hop Sing surveyed his domain, he smiled in satisfaction, knowing his boss would be well pleased with everything prepared and ready to go.

Ben and his boys took the shortcut back to the ranch, not wanting to cover the newlyweds with dust as they rode by. It also got them home more than an hour before the newlyweds, which they had hoped to achieve. There was time to change clothes, sit and chat and, if fortunate enough, a half-hour doze before the guests arrived at around four.

The party went as all wedding parties do. The Bride and Groom had the first dance, a gentle waltz, soon to be joined by her parents, then Ben, who had decided to escort Clementine, and finally the Groom’s brothers and Candy. All three had found dates willing to accompany them for the day, not that it was ever difficult to do this!

Eventually, darkness fell. The moon cast her silver light over the proceedings as people began to speak of going home. All were well-fed and watered. All had a good time dancing, singing and generally enjoying themselves. The Bride and Groom had disappeared sometime earlier. Their guests and family remained talking.

“Boys, I think we’ll head back to town now,” Ben announced, “we can go in convoy with our friends, just to make sure there’s no stragglers, or accidents.”

Both sons nodded in agreement and went to collect some clean clothes for the following day and saddle up their mounts. Ben had offered to escort Clementine back to her home, plus a couple of others who’d rather cadge a ride than try getting home under their own steam. Hop Sing and his cousins would be making their way into town when the worst of the clearing up had been done.

Within an hour, a procession of buggies, wagons, buckboards and horses began the journey back to Virginia City. Much laughter was heard as they chatted and joked along the way.

Ben’s boys rode at his side, smiling and mulling over the day’s events.

“Well boys,” Ben asked, a sly grin on his face that his sons couldn’t see, “which one of you pair is going to be next?”

The boys looked at each other, eyes wide. Was Pa trying to get them all married off or what?

“See you in town Pa.” one called back, as they kicked their horses into a gallop away from their father’s laughter as it echoed in their ears.

Back at the ranch house, the newlyweds sat before the fireplace. A glass of brandy in hand as they relaxed. He had his feet on the coffee table and stretched back towards his wife.

“Peace and quiet…at last!” he announced.

“Get your feet off the table,” Sam laughed, “sorry, I just couldn’t resist that.”

“Pa’s not here, ‘n’ anyway wrong son!” he chuckled as he leaned across to kiss his wife.

Epilogue.

And they all lived happily ever after.

I leave it to you to decide which brother is the bridegroom, though there is a small clue who it isn’t!

Word count 3047.

The Root Of All Evil

CHAPTER ONE

Joe

The club plowed into my gut before I’d fully opened the door.  Doubling over, I staggered back.  Given no time to recover, the next blow sent me to my knees.  I coughed and gasped for air.  My brain fogged with sparks, but I managed to see three pairs of boots entering the cabin.  One of them was expensive, polished, and shiny.

“Miles!” Helen exclaimed.

My head snapped up.  Casper!  Terror takes my breath this time.  The need to protect Helen overrode the agony.  I tried to stand.  The size twelve boot of one of Casper’s thugs shoved me back down as I demanded, “Stay away from her!”

My scrambled attempt to rise again halted when Helen danced toward her husband.  I watched the kiss they exchanged and followed his hands as they trailed down her arms and up her back, pulling her closer.  My mussed brain struggled to understand what I was witnessing. 

When they broke apart, her words stunned me: “What took you so long?

“Your letter needed to reach me, and then I had to get here.”

“I couldn’t have stood it much longer.  You’ve no idea the squalor I’ve had to endure.”

“My poor love.”  He kissed her again, adding, “I’ve brought a gift for you.”

Her squeal of delight made me flinch.  This can’t be real.  “Helen.  Don’t.  You don’t have to pretend to him anymore.”

Those big innocent eyes were turned toward me.  The warmth and love had gone, replaced by mockery and coldness.  She leaned down and took my chin between her slender fingers.  “Don’t you understand?  I love my husband very much.”

“What?”

“Poor, Joe.  So stupid.  But I did enjoy our nights together.”

Behind her, Casper’s face solidified into harsh lines.  I groaned.  That remark had done me no favors.  Taking her arm, he moved Helen to the door.

“Go wait in the carriage for me.”

Her words were a sensuous murmur, “Don’t be long.”

“Don’t go!” I begged.  How pathetic was I?  She didn’t even look back.

Casper squatted in front of me.  The look of pity in his eyes made me cringe.

“Why?”

He looked surprised at the question.  “Money.  You’d be amazed what the threat of revealing a man’s son is a cuckold gets me.  Favors, a man’s silence, a better price on machinery, land … or timber.”

“Timber?  You did this for the timber?”

“Timber is money, boy.”

“But, you’re rich.”

“And I’ll be richer still.”

“You mean you whore out your wife f- ?”

Fingers yanked back my head, cutting off my words. 

“You’ve proved to be quite a nuisance, and now you’ll get a valuable lesson in keeping your hands off what doesn’t belong to you.” 

“Go to Hell!”

He chuckled at my defiance.  Why wouldn’t he?  All the aces were in his hand.  Before stepping through the door, he turned to the two heavies and instructed, “Don’t kill him.”

*****

Casper’s men knew their business.  They hadn’t killed me.  The piece of broken mirror revealed my face.  I winced and wiped the blood from my mouth and chin.  My other hand wouldn’t stop shaking, and the wrist looked broken.  Straightening up was a joke, and taking a breath hurt like hell.  Busted ribs seemed likely.

My guests had gone.  I wished I could say I held my own, but that would be a lie.  Casper’s thugs had taken me apart.  I touched my swelling eye.  Blood had run and dried into the other from the gash on my forehead, and the cuts on my chin and cheeks weren’t pretty.

The mirror got tossed back amongst the debris before I looked around the cabin.  The place was trashed.  I moved broken bits of table and chairs aside to get to the kitchen.  While I searched for a tin bowl and cloth, my boots crunched over the crockery we’d eaten off and the smashed jars that had held sugar and flour meant for pancakes.  I found what I needed.  But the water barrel lay in pieces, and I headed outside to the well.

Every part of me hurt.  I’d have bruises on top of bruises where they’d pounded every inch of me.  I staggered out the door.  A spasm of pain jarred through me when I stopped in my tracks — the cattle I’d brought back only hours before lay dead.  Punish me, sure, but why kill poor dumb animals? 

Oh God, the others!  I dropped the bowl and stumbled to the fence.  The rough wood of the rail digs into my palm.  I scanned the field and spotted the horses, cow, and calf at the bottom of the pasture, safe and sound.  My knees gave out.  I lowered myself to the ground and flopped my head back against the post.  I tasted the dirt they’d ground into my face.  Casper got his way.  I’d learned a valuable lesson, but humiliation’s a hard pill to swallow.  No man likes to know he’s behaved like a fool over a woman. 

Thoughts of Helen rushed me.  I doubled over.  Emotions twisted my chest into an agony worse than the damaged ribs.  I’d betrayed everyone and everything for a pretty face.  Helen was right.  Stupid didn’t even begin to cover it.  I’d thrown my whole life away, and now it’s too late. 

Laying there, the memories of the past weeks rose up to taunt me.  Why did I let it happen?

*****

CHAPTER TWO

Joe

Why do life-changing events occur when you least expect them?  It was just another supply run, and I waited outside for Hoss to pay.  While he gabbed with the storekeeper, I passed the time checking out the ladies who were enticing customers in at the saloon down the street.  Their skirts hitched high enough to display their ankles and get my eighteen-year-old pulse racing.  Even so, the passing coach caught my attention.  It wasn’t a public one but a fancy private vehicle.  The sculpted muscular lines of the four matching bays pulling it called to me.  I wandered over. 

I didn’t take much notice of the occupants until she appeared.  A small hand in a lavender glove first, then a slim foot encased in brown boots.  The elegant traveling outfit fitted her in the right places.  I crossed my arms and whistled at the view. 

Thanks to her hat, I couldn’t see her face until she turned.  The loveliness hit me like a punch.  Adam talked in his highfalutin way about Venus and other beauties, but none came close to this fairy goddess.  I stared, mouth open, watching her float into the hotel on her father’s arm, and whistled again.  That’s one gal I’d like to meet.  I could start by finding out their names.  A hand on my shoulder interrupted my mission.

“Will you come on?  I like to get home before supper.  What’re you doing anyways?”

“Just admiring the horses.”

Hoss grunted and turned away.  Abandoning my intention to pry the name of his new guests out of the International’s concierge, I followed.  I wondered why I didn’t tell Hoss about the girl.  I told him everything, but this time I tucked the knowledge and image of her beauty away to savor alone.

*****

CHAPTER THREE

The manager of The International made it his business to bow Miles Casper into the best suite they had to offer.  Once sure his guest was satisfied, he withdrew, leaving the man to enjoy the opulence of his surroundings.

The young woman discarded her traveling coat and sank gracefully onto the settee.

Casper smiled at her and asked, “A glass of champagne, my love?”

Receiving a nod, he glanced at the man who’d entered with them.  He needn’t have bothered.  His efficient secretary was already dispensing the wine.  Miles made himself comfortable on the sofa beside the lady.

Accepting the glass of wine, she yawned.  “So this is Virginia City.  What a loud, vulgar place.”

“Yes, but it’s built on a mountain of silver, which makes it very attractive.”

They had just finished the wine when a knock took his secretary across the room to answer the door. 

Casper smiled.  “That will be Evans with his report.”  

The lady glided up.  “I’ll leave you men to your business.  Consuela should have my bath ready by now.”

Catching her hand, Casper kissed it and watched her retreat to the bedroom with admiring eyes before adjusting his focus to the matters at hand.

She’d shed her traveling dress in favor of an elegant gown of rich royal blue silk and let down her brown tresses by the time she returned.  The visitor and secretary had gone.

“So, who is it to be?” she asked.

“Joseph.  Adam was my initial target, but Evan’s report had me rethink.  He’s too old.  Little Joe, however, is the youngest.  A hot-head.  Impulsive and romantic.  Plus, Ben Cartwright would move heaven and earth to protect the boy.”

“How old is he?”

“Eighteen.”

“Oh, Lord!  Not another inexperienced fumbler?  I hope he’s at least good-looking?”

“Does it matter?”  A frown disturbed Casper’s features.  His fingers caught her chin.  He let them slide down to encompass her slim neck.  “I let you do this because you enjoy yourself, but let’s not go too far.”

She laughed and moved his hand.  “Of course not.  But the last one was such an ugly toad.  Besides, it’s more of a challenge if they’re attractive.”

“Then you’re in luck.  Joseph is both experienced and handsome.”

The lady lifted an eyebrow.  “This might be fun after all.  Tell me more.”

*****

Chapter Four

Joe

My mind was still on the mysterious angel at breakfast the next day, and I paid scant attention to Pa going on about the visitor due for dinner.  A new mine owner who’s interested in buying timber.  Miles Casper’s a big wheel with his fingers in lots of pies and more money than Midas. 

“So be on time.  I want to make a good impression.  You hear me, Joseph.”

My sixth sense for danger kicked me alert at the use of my full name.  I dazzled Pa with a smile.  “Sure.  No problem.”

*****

Gathered in front of the fireplace, washed, primped, and preened, we awaited our guest.  I tried not to let my anticipation of a dull evening ahead show.  I give Hoss a wink at Pa’s fussing over the dining table.  When we heard the buggy, we moved across the great room to greet our guests. 

My smile doubled in size when the enchantress materialized, gliding in on her father’s arm.  I tried to contain the eagerness exploding inside me, but when Pa introduced us and her gaze fell on me, everyone else in the room faded away. 

I shook Casper’s hand.  I was paying him no attention until he squeezed so tight I almost yelped.  When I met his eyes, the challenge in them was unmistakable.  It was all I could do not to massage my mangled fingers once he let go.  What was with this guy?  Was that his idea of one-upmanship?  His smile mocked me.  Misgiving crawled up my spine.  Something felt out of place. 

“May I introduce my wife, Helen.”

The shock glazed the smile to my face.  He may as well have ripped out my heart and stomped on it.

Unaware of my distress, Pa asked, “We’re very pleased to meet you, Mrs. Casper.  Have you been married long?”

“Four years,” Casper replied for her.

Four years, good lord!  She looked younger than me.  The idea of this lovely creature married to a man almost Pa’s age made me shudder.  It wasn’t unusual for girls to marry at fifteen.  In the Utah territory, they could marry even earlier.  But the knowledge she was forever out of reach crushed something so incredible it had me drawing a breath to suppress the sudden pain in my chest.

*****

Somehow, I made it through dinner.  Pa’s gaze flicked my way a few times, and since I didn’t need an inquisition later about why I was so quiet, I pulled myself together and joined the conversation.

We transferred to the seating around the fireplace.  I got to pass a brandy to Mrs. Casper (God, that title stuck in my throat).  When her fingers brushed my hand, a jolt hit me so hard I almost dropped the glass. 

I retreated to my seat on the fireplace, trying to understand what had happened.  That touch was no accident.  I glanced her way.  She saw me looking, and the sweetest, shyest smile fluttered in response.  My heart reduced to a puddle at her feet.  The thought, ‘She’s married,’ smashed my brain, and I adjusted my collar in the rising heat, forcing myself to focus on the conversation.

“The silver mine’s my latest acquisition.  It needs more attention than I realized and will keep me busy over the next few weeks.  Not much fun for you, my dear,” Casper added, patting the divine Helen’s knee.

I swallowed hard as I imagined her abandoned, alone, and forlorn in her hotel room, like a beauty from a fairytale locked at the top of a castle turret. 

“I have an idea, Ben.  Would one of your sons show Helen around?  I’m told the countryside here is a feast for any artist, and Helen loves to sketch.”

“Of course, they’d be happy to entertain Mrs. Casper if she’d like.”

My heart stopped when those lavender eyes turned toward me.  The soft bow of a mouth curved into a luscious smile, and she lisped the words, “What about you, Little Joe?”

I stammered over my reply.  Cursing myself, I took a breath so I could carry on,  “What I mean is, I would be delighted.”

The gleam in her eyes sent me to heaven.

I tossed and turned all night like a kid on Christmas Eve.  Before the excitement could climb out of control, I reminded myself Helen was a married woman.  But, heck, what harm could it do to look?

*****

CHAPTER FIVE

The following two days were a haze.  We soon lost the formality.  I asked her to drop the Mr. Cartwright, and she returned the favor.  Soon we’re chatting and laughing like old friends. 

I showed Helen the best views.  I’m only interested in one, and I was more than content to lie on my stomach chewing on grass stalks while I admired her.  I loved watching Helen.  The way the sun caught and lit her chestnut hair with auburn streaks of fire.  The way she pouted those full, pink lips when she couldn’t quite capture what she was trying to draw.  The way her dress dipped at her chest, just enough to give a teasing glimpse of what lay beneath.  I enjoyed her like a thirsty man taking a cold drink of water and dreamed she was my girl.

Those dreams took on a different hue at night.  I’d wake, soaked in sweat, still caught in the eroticism.  Guilt prodded me, but I pushed it aside.  Dreams can’t do any harm.  But they can linger. I’m still caught in their enticing web at breakfast, enraptured by the fantasy of her yielding body against mine and those lips-

“You all right?”  I started at Pa’s words spilling my coffee.  Pa frowned while I dabbed up the mess.  “You’ve been distracted all through breakfast.  Is something wrong?”

“No, Sir.  Sorry.  I’m just deciding where to take Helen.”

“Helen?”

“Yeah.  Mrs. Casper’s asked me to call her Helen.”

“I see.  Well, all right, but you remember, she’s a married woman.  Mind your manners.”

I smiled, but a shiver crossed my heart.  “Sure, Pa, always.

*****

Helen sketched, and I stared at the vista.  The tall pines stretched away as far as the eye could see to the snow-capped mountains in the distance.  My gaze soon returned to her, and I smiled at the slight furrow in her brow and the way she bit the tip of her lip when she wrestled with a tricky part of her drawing.  Goddammit!  How could God have played me such a dirty trick?  Bringing me the woman of my dreams, but have her married?  I shred a handful of grass.  It’s true what they say.  Life could be a bitch. 

I couldn’t stand it anymore.  Pushing upright, I brushed the dirt from my butt.  “We’d better be going.”

My head swam when those eyes gazed at me.  “So soon?”

Feeling guilty, I flushed.  Being around her was becoming unbearable.  “We’ve got a long way to go.”

She tucked her sketchbook and pencil back in the bag and stood.  When she stumbled on the slope, I leaped forward and caught her. Our eyes locked.  She tilted her head and offered her lips as if she knew my dreams.  My heart began to race.  Inches from mine, her enticing mouth made it easy.  The kiss set off an explosion in my brain, but a glimmer of common sense doused the sparks.  I broke away and stepped back.

“I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Don’t apologize.  I wanted you to kiss me.”

I’m rooted to the spot.  Does she feel the same?  So what?  She’s married.

She took a step toward me.  “Little Joe.”

I jolted away, and she halted.  For a moment, she stared at me.  Then she turned away and returned to the buggy.  We don’t talk on the ride back.  The guilt of the kiss weighed on me.  Not because it was wrong, but because I enjoyed it so much.  Thoughts of kissing her again stirred me in a way I knew was sinful.  My dreams don’t feel so innocent anymore.

I pulled up in front of the hotel, but her hand moved to my thigh before I could jump down. 

“Please forgive me.” 

Those large eyes beseeched and melted my heart.  It took every ounce of restraint I had not to take her in my arms. 

“It’s fine,” I managed.

Her slender fingers squeezed around my leg.  I hastened to climb out before I reacted to the touch or whipped up the horse to take us somewhere we could be alone.  I helped her down. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Sure,” I told her.

Her hand lingered in mine a moment longer than it should before she left me standing alone.

****

Despite what I’d said, I knew I needed to stay away from Helen, for both our sakes.  I’d no right to think of her in any other way than married.  But her kiss and hand on my thigh taunted my senses.  Damn!  I adjusted my pants and forced myself to think of something else.  This had to stop.

After supper, Hoss and I launched into a game of chess.  I timed my moment to raise my suggestion.  “Pa.  D’you think Adam or Hoss could step in and escort Mrs. Casper?”

“Why?”

I shrugged with an air of disinterest.  “I feel bad I’ve missed so many chores, and there’s that string of horses to break- ”

Adam cuts in, “It might surprise you to know I’m more than capable of handling the job.  I was breaking horses before you were in trousers, remember?”

I ignored him and pressed my plea.  “I just think there are more important things I could be doing.”

Hoss laughed.  “I never thought I’d see the day you didn’t want to spend time with a pretty gal.”

“Mrs. Casper is a married woman.”  Pa’s reprove was mild but clear. 

“Oh, sure.  Sorry. Just funning.”

“Let’s not fun about such things.” 

I kept my head down, grateful Pa’s attention was on Hoss and not me and my tell-tale flush.  If Pa disapproved of Hoss’s mild joke, what would he do if he found out I’d kissed her?

Adam continued his objections.  “He’s already delayed signing our contract because of other matters.  We don’t need him distracted by having to entertain his wife.  Sorry if the task’s boring you, but you’ll have to grin and bear it.”

I shot Adam a black look before turning back to Pa.  “I’d really like to swap.”

“Has something happened between you and Mrs. Casper?”

The direct question startles me.  I yelp, “No, Sir.”

“Good.  Adam’s right.  Keeping Mrs. Casper entertained is a great help.  Besides, she asked you personally.  To suddenly stop might offend.”  Pa smiled and pointed his pipe at me, “You keep on.  You’re doing a fine job.”

My heart sank.  I returned the smile with a feeble one of my own.  I’d blown my chance to come clean.  Adam smirked like the proverbial cat who got the cream.  Little did we know the repercussions that overriding my request would bring.

*****

CHAPTER SIX

“What would you like to do today?” I asked when I helped Helen into the buggy.  I’d spent the night setting myself straight, and I’m confident I’m back in control.

“Anywhere is fine.”  

What a joke my thoughts of being in control were. The drive was torture.  I’m aware of every part of her next to me.  The rise and fall of her chest, the way she licked her lips, and her knee or arm brushing mine at bumps in the road.  I closed my eyes and prayed for strength. 

We arrived at a bluff overlooking the lake.  I picked it because of the view, not because it wasn’t secluded.  I helped her out and set her feather-light frame down. Inches from me, her presence is overwhelming.  Long fingers dug into my flesh. 

“Oh, Little Joe.  I know it’s wrong, but I can’t stop thinking about you.   Please say you feel the same.”

My heart bursts with joy.  I pulled her into an embrace.  “I never dreamed I’d find someone like you.”

I took the lips she offered, devouring them with my own.  I should walk away.  No, run!  But I don’t.  Instead, I’m everything Adam says I am.  The dumb-ass kid who lets his emotions ride his common sense, but for that one bliss-filled moment, I don’t care about decency, her marriage, or her husband.

Her whispered words thrilled but broke my heart.  “I wish I’d met you first.”

It was a day as innocent as it was wrong.  The meadow grass around us smelled sweet while we sat on the blanket and talked.  The happiness of having her next to me, holding her, made me giddy.  We did no more than kiss and cuddle, although Helen’s lips against my ear whispered her desire to become one.  But a sacred vow before God binds her.  I won’t compromise her completely.

Taking her back to Casper was Hell.  I watched her walk inside like a man going to the gallows, seeing his loved ones for the last time.

*****

I trembled during the drive home.  I’d done the unthinkable.  Coveted and kissed another man’s wife and became a dirty sinner.  The kind my family despised. The kind who burned in Hell.  My hands began to shake when I neared home.  Sin like this couldn’t be hidden.  I might as well have it carved across my forehead.  Pa, everyone, would know what I’d done the moment I walked through the door. 

Except they don’t. 

Nobody pointed an accusing finger.  No one screamed, “Sinner.”  Nothing changed.  Except everything had.  What the hell am I doing?  Where was this going to end?

*****

CHAPTER SEVEN

Hoss

“You all right?”

Little brother jumped, and I mean jumped.  I walked into the barn to see him standing there, staring at the harness like he didn’t know what to do with it. But I hadn’t meant to scare him.  

“Gosh, darn it, Hoss!  You trying to give a fella a heart attack creeping up on him like that?”

“I weren’t creeping.  You were wool-gathering.”  I chuckled at the look he flung me.  Good job it wasn’t his fist.  “What you thinking about anyways?”

“Nuthin’.”

I frowned when I noticed the dark circles under his eyes.  Joe hasn’t been doing much lately except escorting Mrs. Casper, so I wondered why he looked so wrung out.  “You feeling okay?”

“What?  Course I am!”

“Just asking.  No need to take my head off.”

“Sorry.”

I grinned.  How does Little Joe always look like a kicked pup when he apologizes, making you feel guilty for taking him to task in the first place?

“Lemme help with that.”

The frown returned as I watched him drive out.  I hoped he wasn’t getting into another scrape.  What that could be, I’d no idea.  I shrugged it off and went to work.

*****

Joe

“I love you so much,” Helen whispered.

Her hand rested on my cheek before it curved around my neck, pulling me down to meet her soft lips.  I don’t resist.  Instead, I let the excitement pulse through me.  I’m losing myself.  There were no yesterday’s or tomorrows, just today and Helen.  My day lit up when I saw her and darkened when I watched her walk back to her husband.  Life was meaningless until we were together, and the longing was almost unbearable.  My desire was becoming too much.  I fought the urge to take our fondling to its ultimate conclusion and broke away. 

“We shouldn’t do this.”

“Is it so wrong for me to want you?”  Her fingers tightened, holding me there.  “Don’t hate me for that.”

“I don’t.”  She pressed her lips into my neck.  They left a hot trail of passion when they made their way to mine.  This time I didn’t stop.  Her mouth opened, and my tongue answered the invitation.  Her lithe body entwined against mine, exciting every part of me.  When her hand caressed my swelling groin, I groaned.  “We have to stop.”

Her nails dug into my arms.  “No!  Don’t stop!”

Startled, I pushed away.  For a moment, I saw someone else before me.  Could I be wrong about Helen?  Was this some kind of game to her?  The look vanished.  She turned away to pull up her chemise and began to hook up her corset.  “I thought you loved me.”

“I do.  That’s why we can’t … I won’t do that to you.  I have that much decency left in me.”

“If I don’t care, why should you?”

Goddam!  She made it hard.  Did I want Helen?  Damn right, I did.  Every night, I gave in to her urging.  Tore the clothes from her body and sank deep inside her.  It was glorious, powerful, even savage.  But it was only in my dreams.  I grabbed my shirt and stood, holding my hand out to help her up.  “Yes, you do.  C’mon.  Let’s get you back.”

*****

Sweeping into the bedroom, Helen tore the expensive Parisian creation from her head and hurled it to the floor.  From his seat, her husband watched her display of temper.   “Something troubling you?”

“Joseph Cartwright!  I thought I had him, but Sir Galahad held me off again!”  Dropping onto the bed, she grabbed a pillow to cover her face and let rip a scream while drumming her heels.  Finished venting her spleen, she tossed the pillow aside and complained, “All he can do is talk about not besmirching my honor.” 

“How tedious.  I’ve no wish to press you, my love, but I do need that timber.”

“Anyone else would have given in by now.  I could slap him and his wretched honor.  I suppose we should have known.  After all, he wanted to marry that whore of his.”

Miles moved to the bed and joined his wife.  “The late Miss Bulette knew what she was doing.”

“And so do I!  He’s completely in love with me, you know.”

“Naturally.”

“Damn him!  So stuffed full of ideals.”  Falling silent, Miles watched his wife.  After a moment, she bit the tip of her fingernail.  He recognized the familiar move and smiled.  Almost to herself, Helen continued, “Yes … stuffed full of romantic notions and a kind heart.  All he wants is to protect me.”

“I believe a plan is forming.”

“I always find a way.”

“And that is why I love you.”

“I know just how to break our dear Little Joe, and the best part is we can have some fun in preparation.”  Helen hoisted up her skirts and rolled over to straddle Casper.  Leaning down, she kissed her husband before adding, “And Miles, make it rough.”

“Just the way you like it.”

She giggled.  “You know me so well.”

*****

Chapter Eight

Joe

Despite every sinew and thought being focused on Helen, the tension in the house finally broke through my obsession.  When Hoss missed another chance to take my piece, I looked up from the checkerboard.  Adam stared at the book he wasn’t reading, and Pa gazed into his brandy glass.

“What’s going on?  You all look like you’ve lost a fortune and found a dime.”

Lifting out of his lethargy, Pa grimaced.  “Sorry.  It’s this timber deal.”

“What about it?”

Adam replied, “Casper still hasn’t signed.” 

My heartbeat quickened.  “Do you know why?”

Pa put his hand up in a placating gesture.  “He’ll sign.  He’s just busy right now.”

“You know how much we need this.”  Adam ran a hand through his hair.  “It’s my fault.  If I hadn’t suggested building the mill and taking out that loan.”

“It was sound thinking, and I agreed with you,” Pa told him.

I forced myself to ask, “What if he doesn’t sign?”

The appalled look on their faces destroyed my happiness like blight. 

“Why would he do that?”

I looked at Hoss.  “I don’t know.  I’m just asking.”

“Of course, he’ll sign,” Pa assured us.

“He’d better,” Adam retorted. 

“How much trouble would we be in?”

“Nothing we can’t handle.”

“C’mon, Pa.  How much?”

Pa flicked a look at Adam.  He knew Older Brother would blame himself for any cutbacks.  “We’d have to tighten our belts for a while.  Put off the improvements we planned and buying the new breeding stock.  We’ll get through it.  Even if Casper doesn’t sign, we’ll be all right.  But he will.”

Sleep proved elusive.  My family’s words shattered my idyll.  I’d not just been a fool.  I’d been a selfish fool.  I’d taken advantage of Helen’s feelings and risked damaging my home.  Worse, my resistance to Helen’s urging was breaking down.  Something had to give.

*****

To say what I had to, I needed distance.  I stood away from her.  I’d reached my decision and didn’t want to drag this out and hurt Helen any longer.  The breeze brought her perfume to me.  The intoxication of the scent filled my senses, making me giddy.

“We have to stop seeing each other.  I’m sorry.  It’s my fault.  I was wrong.  I should never have come between you and your marriage.”

“Is that what you think?  Joe, my marriage was destroyed on my wedding day.  He never loved me.  To him, I’m a trophy.  He owns me, controls me.  He tells me where to go, what to do, say, wear, and if I fall short of his standards ….”

Her words trailed off, but I had to know where they were going.  “What?”

“He beats me.”

Shock rooted me to the spot driving every other thought away.  “He hurts you?”

“When I disappoint him.  Yes.”  The idea appalled me.  How could she disappoint anyone?  “It’s better on business trips.  He curbs himself since he doesn’t want anyone to see the bruises, but last night I upset him.”

She pulled up her sleeve.  The ugly, vivid marks stood out stark against her milky white skin.  Everything else went out of my mind.  I rushed to her side.  On my knees, I took her arm and caressed the bruises with my fingertips. 

“I’d like to beat his brains out.”

“This is nothing compared to- ”  She broke off and averted her head. 

“Tell me.”

“I can’t.” 

Her tears removed none of her beauty.  She took my breath away.  But I had to know everything.  I begged, “Please.”

“A year ago, I fell pregnant.  It made me so happy.  But Miles didn’t feel the same.  He seemed almost angry about the pregnancy.”  When she faltered, I wrapped my hands around hers and tried to give her the strength to carry on.  “I did something stupid.  Miles flew into a rage.  He beat me … and … I lost my baby.  Oh, Joe, my baby!”

I pulled her close, holding tight while the sobs quivered through her.  The suffering she’d endured horrified me.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted you to love me for me, not out of pity.”

Her bravery shamed me.  I felt like an ass, getting cold feet because of a contract.  Money counted for nothing compared to what we felt for each other.

“You have to leave him.”

“How can I?  I have no means of my own.”

“Be my wife.  Marry me.”

“No!”  She pulled away.  “I knew I shouldn’t have said anything.  You’re saying this because you’re feeling sorry for me.  You don’t mean it.”

“Of course I do!  I love you.”

“Prove it.”

It was a challenge and a demand.  To answer it would mean stepping across that line into the place I swore I’d never go.  But I wanted her.  The blood pounding in my veins sparked every nerve until they sang and vibrated with my desire.  “If we do this ….”

“I’ll know you’ll never leave me.”

That was all I needed.  She’d be mine today and always.

*****

Sweeping the stray hairs away from Helen’s face, I gazed into her beautiful eyes.

“Pa’s gonna love you.  When we get home- ”

“I have to go back first.”

“No.  He’s never going to lay a finger on you again.”

Helen sat up, and I followed.  “I have things I need to get that belonged to my mother.”

“We’ll fetch them later.”

“I can’t.  You don’t know Miles.  He’ll destroy them just to spite me.  I have to get them.  I’ll be all right.”

The idea of her spending another night with that brute made me sick, but I understood her feelings.  Besides, this gave me the chance to talk to Pa.

“Tomorrow then, and don’t worry, I’ll explain everything to Pa.”

“No!  You can’t tell him anything.  I told you because I trust you.  No one else can ever know.  I couldn’t bear the way they’d look at me.  I can’t face them like that.  If you tell, I won’t leave.  Promise me you won’t tell, Joe.  Promise!” 

I didn’t understand, but I couldn’t deny her anything.  Helen wrapped herself around me.  I held her close.  Her skin against mine felt soft and cool. 

“You won’t tell anyone what we’re planning, will you?  They’d never understand and only try to stop us.”

“I won’t let that happen.”

She sighed and murmured, “I trust you.”

The words sent a chill through me.  I felt all the weight of their responsibility and the guilt because I hadn’t agreed to stay silent.  I needed to face up to my actions, and that meant talking to Pa.

*****

Chapter Nine

Buck stood alone in his stall.  Luck was on my side.

I found Pa at his desk and gripped the back of the chair in front of it for support.  If only I could have relieved the weight on my soul as easily.  Pa looked up and waited for me to start.

“I need to talk to you.”

He laid down his pencil and closed the ledger to give me his full attention.  Pa was great like that.  I slipped into the chair.  But, now I was there, I didn’t know how to start.

Almost as if reading my thoughts, he told me, “Just start at the beginning.”

I smiled despite my anxiety.  “It’s about Helen.”

“Oh?”

“She and I have gotten close, gotten to know each other.”  Pa tensed but held back and let me continue.  “Her marriage isn’t a happy one.”

“She told you that?”

“Like I said, we’ve gotten close.”

“I see.”  Hearing the hint of accusation in his words, I licked my lips.  This was harder than I’d ever imagined.  Seeing my turmoil, Pa softened and urged me, “Go on.”

“There’s no easy way to say it except straight out.  I’m in love with her.”

“What?  Joe, look.  I understand, she’s a pretty girl, but whatever feelings you think you have- ”

“We love each other.”

“Joseph.  You can’t.  She’s married.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“Of course, it matters!  I didn’t bring you up to get involved with a married woman.”

“We didn’t want this.  It just happened.  Besides her husband- ”  I snapped my mouth shut, remembering my promise.

“What about her husband?”

I wanted to tell him what a monster Casper was and how he’d made Helen suffer.  But I couldn’t.  I jumped up, clutched the back of the chair, and leaned toward Pa, willing him to understand.  “He doesn’t matter.  Pa, trust me- ”

“Her husband matters a great deal.  And as for trusting you?  I trusted you to behave like a gentleman.”

I winced, but before I could reply, the front door opened.  Damn!  Adam and Hoss were back.

Seeing us, Adam tossed his hat on the credenza and asked.  “What’s wrong?”

“Your brother thinks he’s in love with Helen Casper.”

“You can’t be serious?”

“Stay out of this, Adam.”

Of course, he ignored me.  “This could ruin our deal.”

“We love each other.  That’s more important.”

Adam rolled his eyes and flourished his arms in a gesture of disgust, but it was Hoss who shook me when he gasped in horror, “Little Joe.  You can’t mean it.  She’s a married lady.”

“He won’t be seeing her again.”

My head snapped back around to Pa.  Why did we have to go through this again?  “You can’t stop me.”

“If I don’t, her husband will.”

I reeled from the words.  Was Pa threatening to tell Casper?  Could he betray me that way?  I looked from Pa to Adam and Hoss.  Helen was right.  I should’ve kept my mouth shut.  I fought down panic and bought myself time. 

“Okay.  Have it your way.”  I’d never lied to Pa, but I lied through my teeth now, right to his face.  “I’ll tell her tomorrow.”

“I don’t think- ” Adam began, but Pa cut him off.

“No.  It’s all right.  He can be the one to tell her.”  When he turned back to me, the relief on his face was horrible.  “You’re doing the right thing.  Best to end it before things go too far.”

‘It’s too late for that,’ was what I should’ve said.  Instead, I’m every bit the coward.  A scared kid who wanted to hold on to his father’s belief he was still a decent man for a little longer.

*****

I went to my room and excused myself from dinner.  Pa didn’t object or try to talk me down, which was okay by me.  I needed the space to think.

The look on Pa’s face haunted me.  I know now how disappointed he’ll be when he finds out the truth.  I slam my fist into the other.  How could Pa, all of them, have behaved like that?  Dismissed our feelings like we were stupid kids?  Helen and I shouldn’t have fallen for each other, but love like ours couldn’t be wrong.  My angry thoughts shoved aside any regret. 

Throwing myself on the bed, I sucked in long breaths and laced my fingers tight behind my head. My family always supported me.  Once they saw how much Helen and I loved each other, they’d come around.

*****

The champagne spilled over the glass, and Helen laughed to see it slop onto the bedsheets.

“To your success, my love.  I never doubted you for a moment.”

Helen clinked her glass against her husband’s to acknowledge the compliment. 

“Consuela has packed my bags all ready for the morning.”  When she saw her husband’s surprised look, Helen shrugged.  “I have to make it look good.”

“Of course, and so will I.  My entrance as the enraged husband will be the best yet.”

Giggling, Helen kissed him.  “I can’t wait.”

*****

CHAPTER TEN

Joe

After a hellish night, I took off for Virginia City before anyone else was up and around.  I didn’t stop to eat.  I couldn’t have kept food down anyway.

I was early.  I pulled the buggy out of sight behind the hotel and paced the boardwalk until I saw Miles Casper and his secretary leave.  Then I dived up the back stairs to his suite.  Tapping on the door, I prayed Helen answered.  When she did, the relief made my voice wobble.  “Ready?”

“Yes.”

Luck stayed with us.  We reached the buggy without seeing a soul we knew.  I tossed the bags in the back, helped her up, and shook up the horse. 

*****

Pa came out of the house.  I steadied my breathing.  Side by side, we crossed the distance to him.

“Pa, Helen’s left her husband.  We’re going to be married.”

I looked for the softening in those dark eyes, the hint of a smile.  None comes.  Instead, what crossed Pa’s face chilled my soul.

“You lied to me.”

He left us on the porch and walked back into the house, not caring whether we followed him.

I tightened my grip on Helen’s luggage.  Placing a hand under her elbow, I smiled.  “It’ll be all right.”

Hoss looked shocked, and anger radiated off Adam.  But both held back while Helen was there.  Pa returned to his chair and stared into the fireplace.

“Shall I take Helen up to one of the guest rooms?”  No one said anything.  “Okay, I’ll do that,” I blurted into the silence.

I tried not to sound dejected as I placed her bags on the bed.  “We’ll win them around, don’t worry.”

Whatever happened next, nothing was more important than her.  I whispered reassurances before leaving to return to the lion’s den.

Pa stood before the fireplace, one arm resting on the mantle.  To my surprise, Adam and Hoss are nowhere in sight.  I waited for the storm to break.

His words were so soft I strained to hear them.  “You broke your word.”

“I had no choice.”

“There’s always a choice.  You chose to lie and bring a married woman into my house.”

He turned to me.  Dear God!  I wanted to scream, ‘I’m sorry.’  Tell him I didn’t mean it, anything to take that look off his face.  But I’m a man, and men fought for what they wanted. 

“I can explain.”

“No.  You can’t!”  At last, he exploded.  I was almost grateful.  “You can never explain how it’s all right to abscond with another man’s wife.  His wife, Joseph.”

“We love each other.  We want to get married.”

“She’s already married!  Love doesn’t give you the right to take a wife from her husband.  Or to lie.”

“I had to!  You threatened to tell Casper.”  I sucked in a breath and calmed myself.  Shouting wasn’t helping.  “If you just give me a chance to explain about Helen and me.”

“You can go.”

“Pa!”

“Joseph!  I won’t discuss it now.  Go take care of … Helen.  We’re done.”

His last words hacked away the roots of my soul.  I retreated up the stairs.  I couldn’t go back to Helen.  I needed time alone to think. 

I dropped on the edge of my bed and ran my fingers through my hair.  That look on Pa’s face.  God!  My hands formed fists as I clutched the base of my skull and curled forward over my knees.  My chest heaved, trying to drag in enough air to keep breathing.  It would be okay.  Pa would come around.  He had to because there was no turning back.

*****

My door burst open.  Startled, I look up into Adam’s angry eyes.

“What the hell did you do?”

“None of your business.”

“I’m making it my business.  Don’t you get it?  We’ll lose that contract and more because you can’t keep it in your pants.”

I squared up to my brother.  “We love each other.”

A bark of laughter greeted my defiance.  “And you think that’s a good enough reason to destroy a marriage, ruin reputations?”

“We don’t care what people think.”

“Of course you wouldn’t!  But what about Pa?  What will it do to him when this gets out?”

“This has nothing to do with Pa.”

“Grow up!  You’re a Cartwright.  Our name means something.  Or it did.  You’ve destroyed that. And for what?  So you could play the knight errant to some ninny who weeps all over you?”

“Don’t push me, Adam!”

He runs a hand over his mouth.  I frowned, seeing it shake.  “You have to send her back.”

What kind of man did he think I was?  “No.”

“I gave you a chance.  Helen’s going back whether you take her or I do.”

I lunged and caught hold of his shoulder.  “You can’t!”

Adam slammed me back against the wall.  On his face was a depth of contempt I’d never seen before.

“You may not care about what happens to this family, but I do.”

“If Casper finds out- ”

“I’m not going to tell him, although I’m tempted.  He spends the day at the mine.  There’s plenty of time to get her back.  He’ll never know unless she’s stupid enough to say something.”  Adam pushes me tighter into the wall.  “You or me?  Make up your mind.”

The door closed, leaving me still pressed against the wall.  How could my brother do this?  I couldn’t, wouldn’t, be parted from Helen.  I’d rather die. 

Desperation brought the solution.  I leaped to my desk and tore open the drawer emptying the contents until I found the document I tossed there a couple of months ago.  A deed to a small property in California staked in a poker game.  At the time, I hadn’t given it any attention.  Now, it seemed more valuable than the entire Comstock.

****

Helen stood when I slipped into the room.

In a hushed tone, I told her, “Change of plan.  We’re leaving.”

“What?”

“Adam’s going to take you back.  We gotta leave.  Now.”

“But I need to be here with you.”

Pulling her to me, I hold tight. 

“I wanna be with you too, but it can’t be here.”  Helen’s silent and stiff in my arms.  Was this a step too far?  Would fear of leaving everything behind prove too much?  I wouldn’t give up and urged, “If we don’t go now, Adam will be back.”

“All right.” 

I closed my eyes from the relief that rushed through me.

We crept down the back stairs.  Helen waited while I circled to the front where the buggy stood.  Moving with stealth, I unhitched the horse from the post and led it back. 

I looked over my shoulder in time to see the house vanish out of sight.  Inside, I’m busting in two.  The part of me that loved Helen leaves.  The other remained with Pa and my brothers.  Would I ever see them again?

*****

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Hoss

We left Pa alone to talk with Little Joe, but he hadn’t said a word since we returned.  Seeing him wound so tight and quiet scared me.  Adam disappeared for a while, and the look on his face made me wonder what he’d been doing.

The big clock ticked the hours away while we sat around, wondering what the two people upstairs were doing and what we would do about them.  Pa looked more unhappy with every passing moment while Adam glanced at the stairs with impatience. 

We all jumped at the rap on the door.  When I opened it, my heart sank.  I stepped back to tell Pa who it was.  Before I got the chance, Miles Casper swept me aside and strutted into the middle of the room.

“Where are they?”  Pa pushed himself out of his chair to face the man.  “I know my wife’s here with your profligate son.  I’ve caught him red-handed.  Don’t deny it.”

“I’m not.  Hoss.  Go tell Little Joe and Mrs. Casper that her husband is here.”

I trod up the stairs.  This wasn’t a task I cared for, and by the time I closed the door of the second empty bedroom, I was even more unhappy.  What had my brother gone and done?

***

“Gone?  What do you mean they’ve gone?” Casper raved.

“Just that,” I replied. 

Pa’s soft words exploded into the room, “They’ve run off.” 

“Nonsense!  Don’t try and trick me.”

“If they’re not there, it can only mean they’ve left together.”

“My wife would never … your son’s a thief as well as a libertine.”

We wanted to defend Little Joe, but how could we?  Pa tried anyway, “They’re young and foolish.”

“Nonsense!  Your son’s a filthy seducer.”

“They’re in love,” Pa retorted, for the first time letting his temper show.

“My wife loves no one but me.  No one!” 

Pa took a breath and calmed down.  “We’ll find them and bring them home.  You have my word.”

“Under the circumstances, your word doesn’t mean a hell of a lot.”  Pa bowed his head.  But when Casper stepped closer, he drew up to meet him.  “You’ve no idea how sorry you will be.  Forget the timber contract.  I don’t do business with people I can’t trust.  When you find Helen, bring her straight to me.”

He left us staring at each other.

Adam stayed silent long enough for Casper to drive away.  “How could he be so stupid?  So selfish?”

Pa lowered himself into his chair.  I could see the strain on his face.

“Leave it,” I cautioned.

“Hoss, we’ve lost the contract, and this will be all over town by tomorrow.”

“Miles won’t say anything.  It’s his wife, remember.”

“I’m not so sure.”

“So, what if he talks?” I demanded.  “People gossip all the time.”

“With a man like Casper, it’ll be reported in the newspapers.  This will destroy our reputation across the territory, even beyond.”  Adam strode across the room.  “This is typical.  Why didn’t he stop seeing her?  Why let it go this far?”

“He tried, remember?”  Adam halted his pacing and glared at Pa.  “He asked for someone else to step in, and I told him to carry on.  If he’d confided in me … explained.”

I sat on the low table in front of Pa.  “You ain’t to blame.”

Adam added, “Hoss’s right.  There’s no one to blame except Little Joe.  He’s eighteen.  Old enough to think for himself.”

“C’mon, Adam, you know he weren’t thinking with his head.”

“We all know what part he was thinking with.”

“I meant he were thinking with his heart.”

“Give it up, Hoss.  He knew what he was doing.  Who knows what else his selfishness will cost us.” 

Much as I hated to admit it, Adam was right.  I glanced at Pa.  What damage had this done to him? 

“Shall I saddle the horses?” I asked.

“No.  Tomorrow will be soon enough.”

Adam flung a hand toward the door.  “They can’t be too far ahead.  We wait until tomorrow, and we could lose them.”

“They might change their minds.  Let’s give them that chance.

Adam ran a hand down his face.  I weren’t sure I agreed with Pa either, but I kept silent and prayed Joe would return.

*****

Lying in bed, the niggle at the base of my skull drove me up and took me to the top of the stairs.  I found Pa alone in his chair, hands clasped, staring into the empty fireplace.  His thoughts on Joe.  Just like mine. Dadburn you, Little Joe!  Bare feet took me down to stand in front of him.

“This ain’t your fault.”

“Who else’s is it?  He’s my son.  I thought I’d brought him up with values and morals.”

“Aw, you know you did.”

“How do I know after today?  He broke God’s commandment.  Lied to me.”  I could have cried at the look of failure on my father’s face.  If Little Joe had been there, I’d have given him a pounding he’d never forget.  “If I could only talk to him.”

“We’ll find them.  Don’t worry.”

*****

CHAPTER TWELVE

Joe

From the rented buggy, I gazed at the acreage around me.  “It’s suffered from being unattended, but the lands good.” 

Shaking up the horse, we continued around the bend.  I’d sold Pa’s buggy in Carson City, where we’d boarded the stage.  I’d tamped down the guilt.  We’d needed the money. 

Helen had laughed, thinking it a grand joke when I bought the stage tickets under assumed names.  I hid the fear that her husband or Pa would find us.  But we reached Blythe safe and sound, and I hired the buggy and got directions to the farm.

The trees gave way to a clearing.  To the left stood the cabin.  Its simple wooden structure weathered nut brown, lightened only by the mud daub between the logs.  The barn and corral were on the right, and behind the cabin, a small kitchen garden ran rampant next to the well. 

The interior of the cabin wasn’t up to much.  The kitchen was set back on one side of the fireplace.  The bed, dresser, and small wardrobe were spread along the back wall.  A table with chairs had been arranged in the middle of the room. 

Helen didn’t move from the doorway.  Her nose wrinkled.  “It’s so small and dirty.”

I bit my lip.  Her elegance looked out of place in this dusty little cabin.  I joked, “We won’t have to go far to bed.”

Her eyes found mine, and I could see the reproach in them.  “You want me to sleep here?”

No question, I was the world’s biggest idiot!  “No.  I’m sorry.  I should’ve realized this place wouldn’t be fit to live in.  Wasn’t there a boarding house in town?”

“Yes.  It was down the street from the Fargo office.”

“You can stay there tonight.”

“And you’ll hire someone to clean?”

“No, Honey, we can’t afford help.”  Turning her to face me, I smiled.  “I’ll take you to town and come back.  I’ll have this place ready for you by tomorrow.”

Her doubtful gaze continued to roam the cabin, but she managed a smile.  “All right.” 

God, she was wonderful.

*****

The lady who owned the boarding house was friendly, kind, and formidable.  I had no qualms about leaving Helen in her care.  But Helen wasn’t so keen to let me go. 

“You don’t have to leave.  We could forget the farm and stay here?”

“The farm’s our future.”

“Oh, but Joe, this is our first time alone since we left.  I want you.”

I yearned for her too.  Her lips and hands began to test my resolve, and I had to gather every scrap to step away.

“It’s just one more night, and then we’ll have the rest of our lives together.”

Pouting, she crossed her arms and turned her back on me.  “Yes.  In that pokey little cabin.”

“I know it’s not much.  Once I get the farm going, I’ll build you a better house.  I promise.” 

“And what am I supposed to do here on my own?”

“Get some rest.  You need it after that journey.”  I kissed her cheek.  “Don’t be cross.  I love you.”

It hurt to leave her upset.  Had I dragged her to a world where she could never be happy?  I hoped not.

When I returned the buggy to the stables, I spotted the ‘For Sale’ notice for a buckboard and team.  After closing the sale, I headed for the mercantile.  I checked out the plows and seed, mulling over the idea of planting a late crop.  I pulled myself away.  Right now, I had to focus on our immediate needs. 

Laying my goods on the counter, I waited until the owner finished his conversation with another customer before asking, “D’you know where I can buy a milk cow?”

“If you’ve a mind to buy a cow, I could let you have one of mine.”

I turned to the other customer who’d spoken.  The mercantile owner added, “You could do a lot worse than buy one of Mrs. Fletcher’s cows.”

Smiling at the diminutive woman, I asked how much.  The lady tucked an escaped grey hair back under a bonnet that had seen better days.  Her twinkling brown eyes narrowed, and she put her hands on her hips to look me up and down the same way I’d sized up the horses.  My smile widened. 

“I ain’t looking for cash.  I have chores need doing ‘round my place.  If you’re agreeable, I’ll exchange the work for a cow.”

“Ma’am, sounds good.”

I got directions to the lady’s place and agreed I would go over in a couple of days.  Then I gathered my purchases and headed out to the cabin.

*****

It took all day and the best part of the next to get the cabin clean and tidy.  On my hands and knees scrubbing the rough wood floor and then the stove, I gained a new appreciation for Hop Sing.  I found plenty of hay in the barn loft and used some of that to re-stuff the mattress before making up the bed with the new sheets and blankets. 

I surveyed my handiwork.  Rubbing the back of my head, I grimaced.  It still didn’t look like much.  That kind of thinking wouldn’t do.  I focused on chopping kindling for the stove and replenishing the water barrel from the well.  For a final flourish, I arranged a few flowers in a jar and placed them on the table.  I’d done all I could.  I hoped it was enough.

*****

“What d’you think?”

“It looks fine.”

Helen’s lack of enthusiasm sat like a lead weight in my stomach.  “I’m sorry it’s so shabby.  I promise the new house will be better.”

Her musical laugh trilled.  “Oh silly, you don’t have to worry about building a new one.”

I’m happy Helen’s no longer upset, but her words puzzled me.  “I promised, didn’t I?”  I placed her bags next to the bed.  “While you unpack, I’ll go check the snares I put out this morning.  We might have a fat rabbit for supper.”

“Won’t we go back to town to eat?”

“Why would we do that?”

“We don’t have a cook.”

The breath I let out fluttered the hair on my forehead.  “No, love, we’ve got to cook for ourselves.”

Helen’s eyes widened.  She pointed to the stove.  “On that thing?”

“That’s right.”

“Joe.  I can’t cook.”

“You can’t?” I squeaked.

“I’ve always had a cook, so there was never a need.  You don’t mind, do you?”

“Course not.” I pushed down my disappointment.  Heck, she could always learn.

Slinking across the room, she winds her hands around my neck.  “At least we’re alone.”

Her lips found mine.  Stepping back, she smiled and tugged my shirt to draw me to the bed.  This time I found her lips before tipping us onto the mattress. 

*****

I opened my eyes to see Helen’s face.  A sleeping beauty out of a fairytale, my fairytale.  My stomach quivered from the thrill that ran through me.  I wanted to jump up, run outside, and scream to the world, “She’s mine.”  I chuckled at my foolishness and rolled onto my back.  The pre-dawn light softened the shadows allowing me to see our humble home.  We’d escaped her husband and found a place of our own.  We’re together, and everything will be fine.  Pa flitted into my consciousness to disrupt my contentment.  Now wasn’t the time to go there.  Right now was about mine and Helen’s future.  I turned back onto my side, grasping for the serenity of moments before.  My heart steadied when I gazed at Helen.  What else could I want but her? 

*****

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Hoss

Little Joe running out hit Pa hard.  He might have ridden out the shock easier if it had been Adam or me.  Being his youngest somehow hurt more. 

We rode to Carson, Genoa, Placerville, and China Town, looking for them.  When we turned up nothing there, Pa had Roy put out feelers to sheriffs further afield.  Still, we heard no news.  Then Miles Casper came calling again. 

We stood together on the porch while he swaggered toward us.  His secretary followed behind, clutching a black case under his arm.

Taking the brandy Pa offered, Casper settled deeper into the chair and asked, “You haven’t found them?”

“No.”

“Hmm … well, I’m sure they’ll turn up.” 

Casper’s a man I don’t rightly understand.  His wife had run off, but the anger was gone.  Instead, he seemed pleased, content even.  Leaning back, he crossed one leg over the other and smirked at Pa.  Adam and me pulled together to stand on either side of Pa’s chair.

“It can’t be easy, Ben.  Knowing your son’s an adulterer.  If this gets out, it won’t be good for you.”

“You haven’t come all this way to condole with me.”

“No.  I’ve reconsidered over the timber.”  Adam straightened up, and Pa sat forward.  This was the best news we’ve had in days.  “Only a poor businessman puts personal matters first.”

“I’m glad you feel that way.”

At a flick of Casper’s fingers, the efficient man standing behind him whipped out a document from the black briefcase and handed it to Pa.

“Of course, I’ve revised my offer to reflect the circumstances.”

I peered over Pa’s shoulder.  The price wasn’t a quarter of what the timber was worth. 

“I can’t accept this.”

“Refusal would be a mistake.  Sign, and I’ll ensure no one will hear about Joseph.  His debauchery will stay private.”

Adam had gone from straight to rigid.  “And if we don’t, you’ll see it gets out.”  

“You’d be exposed too.  Everyone would know your wife left you for my son.”

The smile on Casper’s face turned to a gloat.  “Ah, but I’d be the victim.  While you would be the father of a reprobate and fornicator.  Think about how that would harm the precious Cartwright reputation?”

Pa’s gaze dropped to the page again before looking at Adam.  My older brother was a man of strength and conviction.  Giving in to such tactics would be the last thing he’d want.  I’d never seen him look so beaten.  Giving a sharp nod, he moved to stand by the dining table with his back to us.  Shocked, I placed my hand on Pa’s shoulder and murmured, “You can’t ….”  My father looked up at me, and the protests died on my lips.

“Think of it as reparation for damages suffered,” Casper added.

My hands curled into fists.

Pa stood.  “My answer’s … no.”

Elation ran through me, but Adam gasped, “Pa!”

Pa ignored him and continued.  “I won’t be blackmailed.”

“I meant what I said.  It’ll ruin your reputation.”

“We’ll survive.”

Miles slithered out of his chair.  “My offer stays open for two days.  No longer.”

*****

Pa closed the door on our unwelcome guests and turned to face us.  “I mean it, we’ll survive.”

Adam stormed, “At what cost?  If he carries out his threat, it could spell ruin.”

“I’ve spent twenty-five years building the Cartwright name.  It can withstand this.”

“I hope so.  Just let me get my hands on Little Joe!  Did he even think about us?  No!  He was too busy climbing into bed with a married woman.”

“Stow it,” I told him when Pa turned grey.  “I don’t know about you, but I could do with a brandy.”

I handed out the glasses, and we settled around the fireplace in silence.

Adam turned the glass in his hands.  “If it wasn’t for the mill.”

“We’ve been through this.  No one’s to blame.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

Pa’s voice was mournful but carried a hint of reproach, “The loan isn’t Little Joe’s fault either, son.”

“You’re not excusing what he’s done?”

“No.  Once we find him and bring him home- ”

“Should we?” I interrupted.  Two startled gazes turned to me.  “What I mean is, they’re in love, ain’t they?  What they did ain’t right, but they’re not the first to do what they’ve done, an’ I doubt they’ll be the last.  Joe said Helen’s marriage weren’t a good one.  Maybe leaving Casper was for the best, and … what if they’re happy?  Do we have a right to come between them?  Sometimes good comes out of bad situations.  What if this is one of those times?”  I paused, letting my words sink in before I pressed on, “Joe brought her here because he wanted our help.”

“Help to keep a married woman from her husband,” Adam stated. 

Pa slumped in his chair.  “I should have let him explain.  Given him that chance.  Maybe then, he wouldn’t have run away.”

My eyes narrowed when I caught the guilty expression that crossed Adam’s face.  “What did you do?”

He shot me a grimace.  “Don’t blame yourself, Pa.  That may have been my fault.  I told him I’d take Helen back if he didn’t.”

My anger grew as I listened.  “After doing what he did, you thought he’d take her back because you told him to?  You know him better than that!”

“Hold on, Hoss.  Adam did what he thought was best.”  Pa sat forward and rested a hand on my knee.  “I understand what you’re saying about the two of them, but running away isn’t right either.  If what you say is true, we’ll deal with that later, but first, we need to find them before the situation becomes irretrievable.”

I glanced at Adam.  We both knew what Pa meant.  I gulped down my brandy and prayed we would.  If we didn’t, and there was a babe involved, what then?

*****

Chapter Fourteen

Casper was true to his word.  Every time we walked into a room, a conversation stopped, or we heard sniggers behind our backs.  Adam dented his fist on a few fella’s teeth who dared to make a smart remark to his face.  Pa didn’t say much.  There’s not much to say.  The damage was done.

Pa and Adam visited the bank manager to negotiate more time on the loan.  When they trudged through the door, the looks on their faces didn’t raise my hopes.  Still, I asked, “How did it go?”

“He gave us four more months.”

Puzzled by Pa’s grim tone, I queried, “That’s good, ain’t it?  We’ll be able to repay it after the drive.”

“Yes.  Excuse me.”

I watched Pa tread up the stairs and turned back to Adam.  “What happened?”

“We got a lecture on how the bank needs to uphold certain standards.  They still want our business, of course, but they might not be so generous in the future.”

“Dadburn nerve.  When he’s helped keep them open more than once.”

Adam raised a hand, then let it drop.  “I know.  None of that counts anymore.”

I shook my head, refusing to believe it could be true.  I began to see things another way come Sunday.

A silence fell on the congregation when we arrived.  We moved to seats, and I followed Pa’s lead and held my head high.  I caught the eye of a couple of friends, who nodded back, and a few who looked away.

The service was torment.  The dadblamed minister went on about the sins of the flesh and the evils of coveting another man’s wife ‘till I was sick to my stomach.  Pa might keep his gaze ahead when we walked out, but Adam and I fixed the minister with a look that conveyed our feelings and made the small man squirm.  It might not be Christian, but it sure felt good. 

Our friends came up and wished us good day to show support.  Their kindness filled me with gratitude.  But when I saw Mrs. Frost, the head of the Virginia City’s Women’s Committee, bustling over with her husband, I cringed. 

“Oh, Ben.  How awful this must be for you.  Your youngest too.  Such a tragedy.”

“Little Joe ain’t dead,” I bit at her.

Mrs. Frost talked over Pa when he began to reprimand me.  “I know that, but, after what he did … you poor man, I imagine you must feel it might have been better if ….”

She let the sentence trail off.  We gaped at her.  Pa drew himself up to look down at the busybody.

“My son may have acted with poor judgment, but I would never wish him dead.  Regardless of his actions.”

“Well!”  She hooked her husband’s arm.  “Come, Frederick, let’s go.”

The pair stalked away.  Pa lets out a breath like a dragon.  “That woman!”

*****

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Joe

I went over to the Widow Fletcher’s, or Harriet’s, as she insisted I called her.  I handled all the chores she wanted me to do in a couple of days and collected a fine milk cow.  She even threw in its little bull calf.

“Why don’t you hire help?” I asked while looping the rope tied to the cow around my horse’s neck.  “There’s more to do.”

“I know.  I just can’t compete with Rufus and the wages he pays.”

“Rufus?”

“Rufus Tunstall.  Owns the T Bar spread west of here.  Right now, he’s got himself a mess of horses to break, so he’s hiring extra men.”

“That so?  Still, you need help.  Those loose shingles will leave you with a hole in your roof if you don’t get them fixed.”

Harriet shrugged her thin shoulders and planted her hands on her hips.  “They can wait.”

I pulled a face but didn’t comment.  Waving Harriet goodbye, I headed home with my treasures. 

*****

The calf’s a big hit with Helen, but since she had no clue how to milk a cow, I took care of that chore.

Over dinner, I told her about the possible wrangling work.  “Be a good chance to earn extra cash.”

“Why bother?  We don’t need the money.”

I swallowed the piece of rabbit I was chewing on from the stew Helen cooked and cut off a burnt portion of potato. 

“We can always use the money.”  Helen shrugged.  Her disinterest worried me.  I’d never been poor, but I understood the value of money and hard work.  “Hey, it’s Sunday tomorrow.  Why don’t I take you to church?  Be a chance to meet some of our neighbors.”

“Oh, yes.  It will be nice to see other people.”

*****

It doesn’t take much to fill the church, and we had to squeeze on the end of a pew.  Helen used the opportunity to dress up in the finery she hadn’t worn since we left.  She glowed, and heads turned when we entered.  My stomach clenched at the looks in some of the men’s eyes.  A strange mixture of jealousy and pride rushed me.  I pulled Helen closer in a possessive move, but I couldn’t keep the smile from my face as we took our seats.

After the service, I said ‘Hi’ to Harriet.  She introduced us to the pastor, who took the time to present some townsfolk.  A nagging sense of disappointment crept through me as we mingled.  Helen was polite but aloof, and her disinterest became more and more obvious as we met other farmers and their families.  On the drive home, I tackled the issue.

“You weren’t very friendly back there.”

“They were so boring.  Talking about crops and children.”

“They’re our neighbors, Helen, and hopefully our new friends.”

“Did you see the clothes the women were wearing?  So dowdy.”

I pulled the horses to a halt and scooched around in the seat to face her.

“They may not wear fancy clothes or live in big houses, but they’re hardworking, decent people who don’t deserve to be looked down upon by you.” 

“I’m sorry.  Please, don’t … don’t hit me.” 

Pain lanced my heart when she shrank from me.  My God, how could I forget what she’s suffered? 

“I’d never hurt you.”  Gentle and slow, I reached for her and drew her into my arms.  “I’m sorry.  I can’t believe I did that and scared you.  Forgive me.”

“You won’t shout at me again?”

“No, never.”  I moved her back and looked into her eyes.  “You’re safe with me.”

I wiped away her tears before moving off.  When I glanced her way, I breathed a sigh of relief to see the smile on Helen’s face.  I slipped my hand into hers.  If she was happy, I  was too.

*****

Chapter Sixteen

My back muscles rippled and cracked when I heaved the post into position.  Dropped secure at last, I stood back and wiped the sweat from my brow.  Hoss, I could sure use you now.  Working without my brothers by my side left a bigger hole every day.  How often had I wanted to ask Adam’s advice or share a joke with Hoss?  God, I missed them.  Snatching for the canteen, I doused my head in cool water.

Droplets cascaded when I shook it out, and I turned my focus back to my work.  The effort was worth it.  The farm was taking shape.  Thanks to wrangling work I’d completed at Tunstall’s, I’d be collecting the makings of a small herd tomorrow.  After that, I would start the plowing. 

Helen called me to supper.  I abandoned the next log.  I’d come back out and finish after I’d eaten. 

I scooped the last piece of stew into my mouth, chewing the tough meat into submission.  I smiled and said, “That was great.  I’ll help with the dishes when I’m finished.”

Before I had a chance to move, Helen slipped across from her chair into my lap.

“Do you have to go back out?”

I cuddled her to me.  “I won’t be long.  I wanna make the most of the daylight.”

Twining her fingers through my hair, she pouted and complained, “You’ve been working non-stop.  I never see you anymore.  ”

Her accusation was an exaggeration, but I still felt guilty.   She melted against my chest when I kissed her.  I pulled her closer.  Helen’s arms wrapped around me.  Her fingers touched the bruises I gained courtesy of being tossed from the horses I broke, making me flinch.

Trailing kisses down her neck, I murmured, “I should get back to work.”

She called my bluff.  “Make love to me.”

Tiredness, aches, and pains dropped away like they never existed.  Sweeping her into my arms, I carried her to the bed.

I’d never known such bliss.  I held in my arms the girl I loved.  We’d given up everything for each other, but there were no regrets.  Our love consumed my world.  She gave my life purpose and joy.  I’m content and happy so long as I’m with her.  I don’t need anyone else. 

In the moonlight, Helen’s iridescent glowing skin made her a goddess.  I skimmed a hand over her velvet surface.  The warmth and softness under my fingertips thrilled me.  When she stirred, I held my breath.  She sighed and opened her eyes.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.  Go back to sleep.”

Her nakedness shifted against mine.  “Well, so long as we’re both awake.”

Grinning, I met her lips.

*****

The cattle I’d herded back milled about our small corral.  The sight puffed out my chest with pride.  I twisted in my position straddling the fence to look back at Helen.

“They sure look good, don’t they?”

Her nose wrinkled when she peered at them through the fence.  “You got these instead of money?”

“This is much better.  Tunstall’s a nice guy letting me take them instead of cash.  We’ve got a fine bull and three cows.  We’ll build a herd in no time.”  One of them lifted a tail and deposited a pat.  Helen backed away fast.  Laughing, I swung my leg over and jumped down.  “I’ll move them to the lower pastures soon.  I’ve almost finished the fence.”

“Good.”

I chuckled and followed Helen into the cabin to wash up for lunch.  Ladling water into the bowl from the barrel, I stopped when a rap came at the door.

“Hey, our first visitor.  Wonder who it could be?”

And that’s when the world came busting in!  They were our first visitors and our last.

My fingers touched my stomach, where the club had hit.  I winced.  The life I was trying to build had come to an abrupt and painful halt.  Could I have been any dumber?  The dead cattle were just another reminder of the disaster my life had become.

My head dropped against the fence at my back.  I had one more question.  What should I do?  A smart man would go home, fling himself at his father’s feet, and beg for forgiveness.  I turned my head East toward the Ponderosa.  Could I do that? 

*****

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

My wrist was starting to look ugly by the following morning.  I needed a doctor, but any movement wasn’t fun.  I couldn’t hitch the buckboard or walk.  My only choice was to ride.  I’d make the ten miles if I took it easy.  Yeah, right.  But I’m out of options.

I’d no wish to parade my situation through town, so I held off leaving until just before dusk.  Leading the horse into position beside the water trough, I stepped up and pulled myself across.  My fingers dig deep into its mane.  I gasp shallow breaths to fight back the waves of nausea.  Once the sensation ebbed, I allowed the mare to move off.

*****

Dear God.  Could I make it?  Only halfway to town, and every part of me radiated torment.  My chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself.  The sweat stuck the shirt to my back and slapped wet curls into my eyes.  “Don’t stop,” I told myself.  I had no other choice but to keep going.

I was reeling by the time I reached the doc’s house.  The moisture dripping in my eyes obscured my vision.  I squinted through the dusk at the shingle.  If I dismounted, I’d fall flat on my face and never get up, but I don’t have the strength to shout either.  I sat there while the gloom grew darker around me, feeling like an idiot.

“Who’s out there?”

The question jerked me out of my stupor.  I croaked my name, adding, “I need help.”

The doc held up his lantern.  “Good Lord.  What happened to you?”  He doesn’t wait for an answer, which is great since I don’t have the strength to muster one.  Sliding me off the horse, he pulled my arm around his neck.  “C’mon, let’s get you inside.”

Walking would be a polite way to describe how I made it into the house.  Aware I was leaning on him, I apologized.

“Pish!  D’you think I haven’t helped bigger men than you?”

I’m sure he had, and I shut my mouth to concentrate on not passing out. 

Getting into the house, a rustle of skirts preceded an anxious female voice who asked, “Where’s your wife?  Should we send for the sheriff?”

The care behind the question choked me.  I swallowed the lump in my throat.  “No.  She’s safe … gone.”

Laid on the docs table, he gave me something nasty to drink.  Time began to slip in and out.  The doc’s face hovered over me.  He smiled when he told me he would start with my wrist.  I think I screamed when he reset the bone.

I awakened to groan in protest when the doc sat me up to bandage my ribs.  Someone else was in the room, but I couldn’t turn my head enough to see.  The flickering amber flame of the lamp attracted and held my gaze with mesmerizing fascination.

“I’ll need to stitch that cut above your eye.”  The doc’s words drifted away from me.

The level in the fuel chamber of the lamp had dropped when I opened my eyes.  How long had I been here?  Someone wiped a cloth over my face, removing the dirt.  I blinked, and a woman’s features came into focus.  My damaged, swollen lips didn’t want to participate with the smile I tried to give her.  I drifted again.

The stab of the needle yanked me back to awareness.  Firm hands held my head, preventing any movement.  The doc told me, “Keep still.  I’m almost done.”

My eyes slipped shut, and the drug pulled the darkness back around me.

The next time I wake, I’m covered in blankets, and the lamp’s turned low.  The silence told me the household had turned in for the night.  The hope they’d taken care of my horse disturbed my consciousness before I faded.

*****

Sunlight caressed and warmed my face.  I turned toward it and opened my eyes. 

“Good to have you back with us.  How’re you feeling?”

I let the cheerful words sink into my fuzzy mind, trying to make sense of them.  “Okay.  I guess.”

The doc chuckled and helped me sit up.  Wincing, I tried to assist and discovered my right wrist in a splint and the arm strapped to my bound chest.

“You won’t be using that for a while.”

Receiving a glass of water in my left hand, I put off anything else until I’d taken a long drink.  “Thanks.”

“Care to tell me what happened?”

I stared out the window.  The sunlight refracted on the pane in little bursts of brilliance, lighting up the rot eating into the frame. 

“I got what was coming to me.”

“I don’t know what you did, son, but nothing rates that kind of beating.”

I didn’t argue.  What would be the point?  I swung my legs off the table after throwing aside the blankets.  Through the pain this movement cost me, I gasped, “Can I go now?”

“Whoa!  What’s the hurry?

“I need to get back.  Where’s my horse.”

“If you try to ride, we’ll be scraping you off the ground in under a mile.”  He’s probably right, but I don’t care.  I needed to get out of there.  Seeing the determined look in my one open eye, the doc sighed.  “All right.  I’ll take you in my buggy.”

“There’s no need- ”

“No argument.  I don’t go to all this trouble to have it undone.  Come and have breakfast.  Then we’ll leave.”

*****

The doc filled the first part of the journey with instructions on how to take care of myself.  Finally, he gave in to his curiosity and asked,  “You said your wife’s safe but gone.”

“Yeah.”

“She doesn’t know about the attack?”

“She knows.”

“Will she be back?”

“Nope.”

The doc shifted in his seat.  “I’m sorry.”

*****

The yard’s even bleaker than when I left.  The carrion we disturb flies up from the already bloating cattle. 

Doc Murphy looked horrified.  “Who did this?”

I managed the painful climb down and caught my breath before I replied, “Someone who felt he had the right.  I’d invite you in for coffee, but … ”

“Next time.  You take it easy now.”

Once I’d untied my horse, the doc drove away.  I led the mare to the gate.  Releasing the animal into the pasture, I turned and shuffled into the cabin.  The wreckage made me balk.  I had to lie down, so I ignored it and picked my way through the debris to the bed.  The busted frame means one end’s on the floor, but who cares?  At least the mattress was intact.  I eased myself down and stared at the ceiling.  What was I gonna do?  I couldn’t deal with decisions right then, and I pushed any thoughts away.  I closed my eyes.  Darkness claimed me.

*****

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Hoss

The door slammed.  Slapping the newspaper against his thigh, Adam marched to the table and tossed it in front of us.

“‘The Enterprise’ have done their worst.” 

I turned the paper toward me.  The front page carried the banner headline, ‘Youngest Son of Ben Cartwright Absconds with Wife of Eminent Businessman.’

Adam dropped into his chair.  “It won’t be long before every paper in the territory prints the story.”

“We expected this would happen.”  Pa picked up the publication, folded it, and laid it aside.

“Doesn’t make it any easier to read.  According to them, Little Joe’s the original sinner and the source of all that’s rotten in Virginia City.”

I pinned the chop on my plate with my fork and muttered, “Well, he ain’t, and they can say what they like.”

“Was there any mail or telegrams?”

Adam looked from Pa to me.  We both heard the hope in the question.  “No, nothing.”

Pa’s shoulders sagged.  “I’ll check in with the sheriff while I’m in Carson City tomorrow.”

“We’re coming with you,” I told him.

“No need.  You have chores to- ”

“We’re going.  We’re family and in this together.”

Pa patted my wrist and summoned a small smile.  “All right.”

*****

The ride to Carson City was solemn.  Losing Little Joe had taken the heart out of our family.  My thoughts dwell on my younger brother.  I wondered if he was okay, where he might be, if he missed us as much as we did him, and whether he was happy.  I hoped they were.  They’d sure smashed a lot of eggs to be together.

Pa took care of his business in the land office first.  I opted to wait outside.  My gaze followed the fancy coach that rolled by, curious to see a private vehicle.  The scuffle behind pulled my attention away.  A bunch of kids tumbled out of the alley, yelling and scrapping like demons. 

I turned back when the land office door opened, letting Adam out.   I looked past him and asked, “Pa coming?”

“He’ll be out in a moment.”

I looked back down the street.  The coach had pulled up outside the hotel.

“You ever seen a fancy rig like that before?”

Adam followed my gaze.  “No,” he replied with disinterest.  “This is a waste of time.”

I know Adam’s talking about our intention to visit the sheriff.  He’s probably right, but Pa needed to feel he was doing something positive to find Little Joe.

Pa appeared, stuffing a document into his jacket.  He fixed us with a determined look.  “Let’s go see the sheriff.”

They made for his office, but for some reason, I glanced back toward the hotel where that carriage had stopped.  My mouth dropped open when two people emerged from the entrance.  I groped to clutch Pa’s arm.  “Ain’t that Miles Casper?”

“Yes … and Helen’s with him!”

Pa moved fast.  To keep up, I had to jog.

Casper wasn’t a man to be disconcerted, but there’s no missing the look of annoyance that crossed Helen’s face when she saw us, and … I turned cold.  Like a snake, she’d shed the skin of the fragile, young girl we’d seen before to reveal a poised, assured woman.

Pa marched up to him and demanded, “What’s your wife doing here?  Where’s my son?”

“I’ve rescued my wife, and we’re returning home.”

“And Little Joe?”

“I’ve no further interest in that rake.” 

“Where is he?”

“I don’t have to tell you anything.  Your son’s an adulterer.  You’re lucky I don’t bring charges.”

Pa turned to Helen, his words an accusation, “He loved you.  He offered you marriage.”

“He offered me lies.  Seduced me and tricked me with promises I’m ashamed to admit I believed.  He had no intention of marrying me. When I realized his deceit, I wrote to my husband and begged forgiveness throwing myself on his mercy and generosity.  I’m very grateful he has a forgiving heart.”

“Little Joe would never- ”

“I don’t expect you to believe me.  No doubt he’ll tell you more lies.  But that is the truth.”

Casper waved a hand.  “Now, stand aside.”

We drew together and formed a barrier between the couple and their coach.  “Where’s my son?”

Helen rolled her eyes.  “For Heaven’s sake.  He’s on a ghastly farm near a town called Blythe.”

Pa looked her straight in the eye when he thanked her.  Contempt dripped from every word.  She didn’t bat an eyelid.

We watched the carriage drive away.  It took them out of our lives, but like locusts on a cornfield, they left devastation behind.

*****

I stared down my whiskey glass, looking for answers that weren’t there.

As soon as the Casper’s drove away, Pa announced his intention to get a drink.  We’d followed.  

“She sure had me fooled.  She didn’t look nothing like the little gal we knew.”

“She fooled us all,” Pa replied, his unhappiness growing.  “I can’t believe … those things she said ….”

“They weren’t true,” Adam snapped.  “Joe’s an idiot but not a seducer.”

“But he did lie to me.”

“Only because he thought he had no other choice.  He was stupid enough to want to marry Helen.  We all know that.”

“D’you think she ever cared for him?” I asked.

Adam downed his whiskey.  Pa shook his head.  My heart ached for my little brother.  Whatever he’d done, he loved Helen.

“Anyone heard of this place, Blythe?”  Adam and I shook our heads.  Pa grunted.  “We can check the maps in the Land Office.”

“Are we going?”

I twisted the glass in my hand while Pa weighed the decision.  “No.  We’ll let him come home on his own.”

“Pa.”

“I know how you feel, but he has to make this decision by himself.”

We found out Blythe was a four or five-day ride from the Ponderosa.  We headed for home to count them off.

*****

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Joe

I didn’t go.  Maybe because I’m not that smart or too darned stubborn, or maybe I’m just a damned coward.

Once I laid down on the bed, I remained there until the need to pee drove me to the outhouse.  I put it off as long as possible.  Peeing’s never pleasant when someone’s ground their heel into your balls.  I didn’t let the blood in it bother me … much. 

The bed and sleep called to me, but I needed water.  Sweat dripped down my face and chest by the time I hauled up a bucketful from the well.  Too heavy to carry, I poured half back.  I set the bucket next to the bed and lay down to wait for the room to stop spinning.  My jaw unclenched bit by bit as the pain eased.  I shut my eyes to block out the shambles of my home and my life and waited for sleep.

*****

Scraping the last water from the bucket, I had to move.  How much time had passed?  Two days, three?  The hunger gnawing at my belly told me it’d been long enough.

I scooped up what beans and coffee the mice and rats hadn’t eaten from amongst the chaos.  The chewed bacon I left for the rodents. 

The upturned milk urn was empty.  I wondered if I should bring in and milk the cow?  Who was I kidding?  But the dislodged stove flu was an easy fix.  I gathered kindling to fry up a few beans and make coffee in the dented pot.  Forcing the unappetizing mess down, I told myself I’d start the cleanup tomorrow.

I kept my promise.  The stench from the slaughtered cattle risked attracting larger predators.  I dealt with them first.  Dousing the carcasses with coal oil, I struck a match. 

No rancher wanted to see cattle go to waste.  It went against everything I’d been taught, but what difference would one more failure make?  I chalked it up alongside the rest.

After bringing in the animals, I set about clearing the cabin.  Noise filled the air when wood ground on wood.  I hauled out piece after piece of broken furniture.  Thanks to being one-handed, the whole process took ages.  But the pile in the yard grew until the pain and exhaustion got too much.  I called a halt for food and rest.

My respite didn’t last long.  I’d built up a head of steam and needed to keep going.  Strewn around the room were my torn clothes.  I reached for my jacket to shake it out and hoped it wasn’t beyond repair.  The bonnet dropped to the floor at my feet.  I stared at the frivolous creation Helen had looked so beautiful wearing. 

My knees buckled. I tried to force back the tears to grief I had no right to claim.  Helen wasn’t dead.  We hadn’t been married. But no amount of logic could stop the anguish that ripped through me. 

Questions, regrets, truths tumbled one after the other.  How could she sleep with another man to make the husband she loved richer?  How could she have deceived me?  But it was my fault, falling for her illusion like a wide-eyed, wet-behind-the-ears kid.  I’d made it easy for her.  I’d been the fool.  The adulterer.  The sinner.  If I had been the man Pa expected … my insides twisted.  What would Pa think of me now?  I buried my head in my hand.  I had to face the fact I’d ruined everything.  I crawled back to bed.

*****

CHAPTER TWENTY

Hoss

After fifteen minutes of Pa’s pacing, Adam shut his book.  “Why don’t we just go?”

“What?”

“Let’s save the wear on the floor and go find him.”

Thrusting his hands into his pockets, Pa replied, “I wasn’t thinking about Little Joe.”

I snorted.  “C’mon, Pa.  You ain’t fooling no one.  You’ve been thinking about nothing else.  We all have.”

Pa returned to his chair and crossed his arms.  “He needs to decide by himself.”

Adam and I exchanged a look.

“I agree,” Adam told him.  “But that doesn’t mean we can’t be there and ask him.  If he decides to stay, at least we’ll know.”

“Why wouldn’t he want to come home?”

I stood.  “He will.  C’mon, Pa.  Let’s go.”

****

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Joe

The flies shivered in circles on the mattress shaking and buzzing as they probed for food.  I could shoo them away, but why bother?  Let them have their fun. 

I watched their activity out of one eye.  Between my face and the sheet, my hair stuck to sweaty flesh.  I shifted my weight.  The wall of musk hit me, wrinkling my nose and churning my stomach.  I stank. 

After three days of getting up only to pee, feed the animals, and fetch more water, staying in bed had become unbearable.  It was time to stop feeling sorry for myself and climb out of my pit of despair.  I didn’t need to add wallowing in self-pity to my list of mistakes.  I stumbled to the outhouse and then the well.

Lowering myself to the ground hurt as bad as hauling the water, but I managed it.  I reached up to tip the bucket placed on the edge of the well.  The first load dumped in my lap.   A yelp let loose when the cold water hit my sore privates.  I improved my aim.  I scrubbed myself with the lump of lye soap I’d found and then my clothes before slinging them over the hitch rail to dry.  My legs and good arm resembled jelly by the time I’d finished. 

I moved to the old crate I’d propped against the cabin.  Since the last thing I needed was splinters in my butt, I was careful how I sat.   I stretched out my legs and allowed the heat of the day to dry me off.

The warmth from the wood seeped into my back.  I watched as the droplets of water on my skin shrank and evaporated.  My mind drifted and wandered to my family.  Hoss, laughing at some clever remark of Adam’s while they played checkers.  Pa sunk deep into his chair, enjoying one of his books and puffing on his pipe.  The familiar rich, pungent smell of sweetness and spice filled my nostrils.  I jerked upright.  That kind of thinking was dangerous territory.  That life was gone. 

My head thudded back against the cabin while my gaze trailed around the yard.  I’d lost the cattle, but if my ribs healed fast, there was still a chance of planting a late crop.  This was my life now.  I could make it work. 

Haze from the heat shimmered in the air.  I began to doze.  My eyelids had started to droop when the sound of a vehicle snapped me awake.  I grabbed my pants and dived back inside for my gun.  The buggy had pulled up outside by the time I’d struggled into my trousers.

“Cartwright?”

Relieved, I leaned on the doorframe and welcomed Harriet.  “What brings you here?”

“I heard you had problems.”  I raised my eyebrows, and she added, “Doc Murphy told me.  Geez, boy, he wasn’t joking.  Look at you.”

“I’m fine.  It looks worse than it is.”

Conscious of my exposed bandaged chest, I tried to wrestle on my shirt using my good arm.  Harriet sniffed and gave me a hand.

“I’ve brought some grub.  It’s only stew and bread.”  Only stew ….  I could’ve kissed her feet.  I did kiss her cheek.  “Enough of your flim-flam,” she told me.

Placing the pot on the crate, she handed me the bread wrapped in a cloth before looking around at the pile of broken furniture and debris.

“Where’s your wife?”

I stiffened.  The idea of people gossiping about me stuck in my throat.  “The doc didn’t tell you?”

“He told me you had troubles, is all.”

I dropped my gaze, ashamed of my accusation.  “Helen’s gone.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Her genuine concern touched me.  “Come in.  I can manage a coffee.”

“That I’d like to see.  But I need to get to town.”  Climbing back into her buggy, Harriet gathered her reins.  “You need anything you come see me, y’hear.”

I stood back and watched her drive away.  It felt good to have a friend.  Maybe I could do this after all?  Maybe you should go home.  Pushing the discordant voice aside, I took a long sniff of the bread and collected my stew.

*****

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Hoss

We rode into Blythe late morning.  Tied our horses in front of the mercantile and followed Pa inside.

The man behind the counter broke off his conversation with a lady when he saw us and asked, “What can I do for you, folks?”

“I’m looking for my son.  I believe he lives near here.  Joseph Cartwright?”

His reaction and the look he exchanged with the other customer let us know we were in the right place.

The woman fixed Pa with a stare.  “You Joe’s Pa?”

“That’s right.”

“About time his kin showed up.  That boy’s struggling out there all alone.  Won’t take help from nobody, ‘cept the grub I gave him a few days back.  And even then, he brought the pot back clean to me.”

“Thank you for helping him.”

The lady’s bony finger poked Pa in the chest.  “I ain’t asking for thanks.  When that boy of yours saw I’d got me some broken shingles, he replaced them.  Wouldn’t take a thing from me.  ‘It’s what neighbors do,’ he told me.  I was doing the same.”

“I didn’t mean to offend.”

Anxious to find out more about Little Joe, I jumped in and asked, “’Scuse me, ma’am.  You said Joe were struggling.  Why’s that?”

“He took a real beating when his wife left.”

“His wife?”

Adam’s exclamation had the two exchanging another glance.  The old lady’s hands went to her hips.  “I were right.  I knew those two were runaways.  I guess it were her Pa who fetched her back?”

Pa ignored the question and focused the conversation back on what mattered most.  “Was he badly hurt?”

“Bad enough.  Doc Murphy treated him.”

“Thank you.  We’ll go speak to the doctor.”

We crammed into the Doc’s room and got the same reaction when Pa told him who we were.  Reluctant at first to tell us about Joe’s injuries, the worry on Pa’s face soon had the doc giving in.

“A broken wrist, probably a cracked rib or two, a lot of bruises, cuts, and grazes.  He got off luckier than he might’ve.”

“Thank you, doctor.  If he owes anything- ”

The doc shoots Pa a look.  “That son of yours ran across me minus a buggy wheel a while ago.  He got it back on and turned up the next day to fix it permanent.  He told me doctors were too valuable ‘round these parts to risk driving about with a loose wheel.  I would’ve treated him free if I could’ve.  He wouldn’t let me.  Dang fool rode in here yesterday and insisted on settling his account.  Gave him a piece of my mind for such foolishness.”  The doctor moved a bottle of something nasty looking and cleared his throat.  “It isn’t my business to say, but whatever your son did, I hope you know he’s a good man.”

Pa took his hand.  “I do.”

*****

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Joe

Every task took twice as long.  I kept going, but the prospect of planting a crop began to look bleak.  I’d risked the ride into town to buy supplies and see the doc, who insisted on changing my bandages and re-splinting my wrist.  At least I won the battle to pay. 

The cow kicked her leg in protest at my clumsiness.  I guess one-handed milking doesn’t make for a comfortable experience.  “Sorry, girl.” 

Carrying the bucket to the door, I set it out of the way and returned to lead the cow to the pasture.  Her calf gambled around.  I turned my back on its frolicking.  I can’t take that kind of joy right now. 

My feet dragged back to the barn.  I picked up the rake.  My broken wrist has been released from my side, allowing for more movement, but I needed to stop and bend using the rake as support every few minutes.  I’d get done.  It just took time.  I was learning patience. 

The last bundle of hay was forked into a stall.  I wiped my brow and smiled at the neat barn.  I could still find my own joy.  In a burst of optimism, I decided to tackle sawing firewood after lunch.  I retrieved the bucket of milk and left the barn.

*****

Hoss

We found the cabin easy enough and followed Pa to the opened door.  The place was empty, not just of Joe, but everything except a collapsed bed and a crate. 

“Perhaps he’s in the barn,” I suggested.

Pa grunted.  Stepping outside, he pulled up short.

There he was.  Holding a bucket in his good hand, he pushed the barn door closed with his other shoulder.  Little Joe’s a skinny little cuss, but right now, he looked like one of those waifs I’d seen in San Francisco.  I could see the bruises on his face turning from vivid purple and blue to green, even from here.  The splint on his right wrist covered the entire lower part of his arm.  His leaning position told me his ribs were hurting.

I glanced at Pa.  He drew in a large breath as Joe turned toward us.

*****

Joe

They’re here.  How did they find me?  Why had they come?  To gloat and tell me how dumb I’d been?  I knew that already.

Pa said something to Adam and Hoss and walked toward me.  My gaze dropped to his boots.  I looked every bit the failure.  If he’d come to berate me, I owed him that much.  But I could at least take it like a man.  I placed the bucket down and straightened.  He stopped before me.  I braced and faced my father, ready to take his anger. 

“Let’s go home, son.”

*****

Hoss

I couldn’t make out Pa’s words, but I could see Joe.  I watched his eyes widen, then squeeze shut as his face crumpled.  My father stepped forward and embraced his youngest son, who folded into his arms.

I heaved a sigh.  Adam bowed his head and turned away.  Neither of us moved, giving them the privacy Pa asked for and Little Joe time to collect himself.  We’d never know what passed between them in that brief space of time, but knowing them, it was a lot. 

With his arm around him, Pa walked Little Joe back toward us.  Adam returned the greeting Joe gave him.  I needed more.  Relieving him of the bucket, I slipped an arm around that slim frame and squeezed.  “Good to see you.”

Little Joe’s chin trembled, but he managed to say, “You too.”

I placed the milk next to the sink while Pa had Joe sit on the crate.

“How did you find me?”

Adam filled Joe in on how we’d encountered Casper and Helen and then asked, “Who did the damage?”

“Casper’s men.”  Joe touched his black eye.  “I earned it, I guess.”

“Nonsense,” Pa informed him.

“I took his wife, Pa.  That wasn’t part of the plan.”

“Plan?  I don’t understand.”

Joe looked at Pa and pulled a face.  “I guess they wouldn’t tell you that part.  It was all about money.  They had it worked out between them.  Helen had the affairs, and he used that to get whatever he was after.”

“Son of a bitch.”

Pa ignored Adam’s mutter and knelt in front of Joe.  “She lied?”

I shut my eyes at the broken-hearted expression on my little brother’s face. 

“It doesn’t matter.  I’m sorry about the timber.”

“I didn’t sell to Casper.”

“What?  Pa!  You needed that contract.”

“We’ll make do without.”

“I’ve messed everything up, haven’t I?”

“No, boy.  It’ll be fine.”  Pa stood, put his hand on his hips, and took charge.  “First, we need to find a way to get you home.”

“I have a buckboard and team.”

“Good, good.”  Pa glanced about the desolate cabin.  He’s thinking the same as me.  We wouldn’t need to spend any time packing.  “We’ll eat and then head for home.”

Joe insisted on two stops on the way.  The first to the old lady we’d met in the mercantile and then the doc.

Shrugging off my help, Joe climbed off the buckboard and unhitched the cow.  The calf followed behind when he walked to the woman.

“You leaving, lad?”

“Yeah.”  Joe held out the rope.

“She’s yours.”

“She’d be happier with you.”

Before she took the rope, the lady hugged Joe.  “Good luck.  If you ever pass this way again, drop in and say howdy.”

“I will.”

Joe stayed in the wagon for the doc, who seemed to approve.  The two shook hands, and we left Blythe behind.

*****

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Joe

The journey and constant pain combined and pushed me to collapse.  Falling into bed, I stayed put for a week. 

Coming home should have been a relief.  It wasn’t.  Each day the tension mounted when nobody mentioned Casper or Helen.  I waited for the discussion with Pa.  It didn’t come.  I’d rather have Pa yelling than this silence.  

I couldn’t blame him.  He wanted to move on and leave the whole sorry mess behind.  I’d screwed so much up you’d think I could at least give him that.  Telling myself I was stupid doesn’t make a blind bit of difference.  The longing for Helen gouged a hole so deep it wouldn’t be filled.  I’d wake up night after night in a cold sweat feeling her skin against mine and me still inside her. 

Of course, Pa knows.  Each day his irritation grew.  Work would’ve got me out of the house, but I’m tied here giving Pa a front-row seat to my latest failure.  Slumped into the blue chair, I couldn’t help but notice the exasperated glances he shoots my way. 

“I think I’ll go lie down.”

“Moping off to your room won’t help.  It’s over, and you need to put it behind you.”

I turned back.  At least he’s talking about what happened.  “I’m trying.”

“It was a sham, boy.”

“It wasn’t for me.  I was a fool.  I know that.  But I can’t just stop loving her.”

“Love?”  Pa closed his eyes, seeking strength to keep calm before continuing, “We’ve all made fools of ourselves over a woman.  But she was married and- ”

“I know that should’ve made a difference, but it didn’t.”

Pa’s short-lived patience ran out.  He slammed his book shut.  “Are you telling me you’d do the same again?”  I didn’t need to answer.  It was written all over my face.  “I thought you’d learned your lesson?”

“I’ve never been much for schooling.  You should know that by now.”

Pa stood.  “I need air.”

I watched him leave.  Now I knew the truth.  He couldn’t forgive me for running off with a married woman. 

*****

Hoss

Whatever happened between Pa and Little Joe must’ve been bad.  Four days of silence between them was stretching all our nerves.  When I came across my brother in the barn looking like an abandoned pup, I couldn’t bear it anymore. 

“You okay?”

My question jolted Joe out of his reverie.  “Yeah.  Just thinking.”

“Bout Helen?”

He gave me a look as if he was surprised I’d mention her name.  “That obvious?”

“Yep.”

His smile was a poor effort.  It hurt that it had lost its brilliance.  “Don’t tell, Pa.”

“What?  That you’re thinking about her?  He’d understand.”  I frowned at his expression and asked, “He don’t?”

“Pa thinks I should forget her.  He’s right, and I’m trying.  But what she did doesn’t change how I feel.  I’d do it again.  Even though it was wrong.”

My hand found Joe’s knee.  Now I understood his problem.  “You told him that, huh?”

Joe hung his head.  “I don’t blame him for being disappointed.”  He swiped a hand over his cheek, quick to brush away the tear he didn’t want me to see.  The loud breath he sucked in turned into a sniff.  He straightened.  “I know I have a lot to put right, and I will.”

“We’re just glad you’re back.”

“Thanks,” he told me.  But I couldn’t miss the doubt in his eyes. 

Pa’s disappointment would be tearing Joe apart.  This couldn’t go on.  I took my chance to tackle Pa head-on the next day when I found him alone. 

“Where’s Little Joe?”

Pa looked up from the newspaper he was reading.  “Resting in his room.”

“What’s between you two?”

“I’d rather not discuss it.”

I wouldn’t be dismissed, not today.  “You’re gonna hav’ta.  Y’know, Joe’s miserable.”

“He’s brought that on himself.”

“How?”

Pa scowled at me but folded his paper and put it aside.  “I asked if he would do it again, get involved with a married woman.  He told me he would.”

“You’d rather he lied?”

“Of course not.   But I thought he understood his actions were wrong.”

“Ain’t it possible for a man to know something’s wrong and yet believe it’s still the right thing to do?”

“He broke one of God’s rules when he committed adultery.”

I chewed my lip then broached a subject I never thought I would.  “As I recall, Mrs. Edwards was gonna leave her husband for you.”

Pa fixed me with a hard stare.  “Joyce’s situation was different.”

“Why were it?  Little Joe believed Helen’s marriage weren’t happy.  The same as Mrs. Edwards.  What is this, Pa?  One rule for you and another for Little Joe?”

“Certainly not!  Joyce and I were friends long before she was married.  You don’t understand.”

“No, I don’t, but it sure looks that way to me.  You loved Joyce.  Little Joe loved Helen.  Sure, she might not have deserved it, but that don’t change his feelings none.  Besides, ain’t you meant to love him no matter what he does.  That’s what you’ve always told us?”

The glare Pa gave me could’ve scorched wood.  “I do.  I just don’t know if I can forgive him.”

“You can’t mean that?”

“If he accepted what he did was wrong, maybe, but- ”

My chest swelled.  “You always taught us to stand by what we thought was right.  What did you really mean?  We can, so long as we agree with you?  I never took you for a hypocrite.”

Too angry to stay, I left. 

I decided to work my frustration out on the woodpile.  I’d been at it a while when Pa appeared.  I laid down the ax and pulled out my bandana to wipe my brow and hands.  I let Pa start the conversation.

“Y’know, having three smart sons can be hard on a man at times.”  Pa leaned against the woodpile and crossed his arms.  He lowered his head and looked up at me from under those bushy eyebrows.  “You’re right.  I haven’t wanted to admit I would’ve broken the same Commandment.  I think that’s why I was so angry when Little Joe ran off with Helen.”

“Because he did what you would’ve?”

“Yes, and the wrong of it came home to me.  But I believed the same as Little Joe.  I believed it was the best … the only thing to do.”  Pa straightened and gripped my shoulder.  “I haven’t been fair to him.  Thank you for telling me.”

“You would’ve worked your way ‘round to it, I reckon.”

Pa chuckled but shook his head.  “I’d better go see him and have that talk.” 

Slapping me on the back, Pa strode away to the house.  I watched him go with a smile on my face from pure pride.  My gaze traveled from him to Little Joe’s bedroom window.  I took a breath, expanding my chest to let in the fresh air.  If anyone can work their differences out, it’s Pa and Little Joe.  We were gonna be just fine.

I picked up the ax.  The handle honed smooth from use, settled into my hand.  I began to swing.

***The End***

January 2022

If you enjoyed my story, I hope you’ll consider letting me know and leaving a comment.  Thank you.

Authors notes:
Thanks to my keen-eyed and honest Beta, Pat.  Who truly deserves it.
Episodes referenced: The Mill  Written by Halsted Welles

‘Tis the Season …

By MelCC

~~~

It had been a terrible year and I, for one, would be glad when it was over. 

A year so full of loss, it was hard to see how we could ever recover.  Now it was Christmas Eve and not one of us had been looking forward to the season.  But there was no avoiding it.  I’ve had my share of loss over the years and maybe that has made me more resilient, I don’t know.  All I know is that it’s my son, my youngest, who is suffering the most and I worry for him.

We’d both stood and watched helplessly as his brother, Hoss, had lost his battle for life under this very roof.  We’d buried him next to Marie, the only mother he had ever known.  I visit both their graves regularly and I know that Joe does too. 

Adam had returned for Hoss’s funeral, but had left again soon after and we hadn’t seen him since.  He had chosen solitude as his way of coming to terms with his loss and I couldn’t blame him for that.  We didn’t know if he would be back for Christmas or not, we’d had no word, but I was still hopeful.  If he did make it back, maybe his presence would lift our spirits enough to help us to get through. 

Maybe if we were together, it would be a little easier for us all, but especially for Joe.  The house was just so empty, the ghosts of those who should be here hovered in every corner, and it didn’t seem to be getting any easier. 

Earlier, Candy, Jamie, Joe and myself had eaten a modest supper in near silence.  Each of us, no doubt, contemplating our own personal loss in the privacy of our own thoughts. 

Of course, Joe was the one who had lost the most.  Whilst still mourning deeply for Hoss, an all too brief ray of sunshine had entered Joe’s life – Alice.  Then she too had been cruelly snatched away, together with their unborn child. 

Now Joe has one more grave to visit. 

I’d watched as my son’s heart had broken all over again.  He had gone away for a month after Alice’s death, he needed time to come to terms with what had happened.  Then, following his frenzied hunt for her killers, he had finally returned home exhausted and empty. 

He’d lost so much weight that he was hardly recognizable, the hollowness of his cheeks all the more evident after he had shaved the beard he had allowed to grow.  The usual glint in his eye, the vitality, the sheer energy and vibrancy that were so infectious had all but disappeared.  Now his movements are slow, his shoulders hunched and he rarely smiles. 

Seeing the shell of the man he once was that Joe has become saddens me beyond words.  I know that it will take time for him to heal, that he has lost too much in too short a time and I need to give him time, but it isn’t easy.  Candy, Jamie and Hop Sing also try their best, but the strain is getting to everyone and it feels like our family will never be whole again.

*****

Knocking gently on Joe’s door but hearing no response, I opened the door quietly and looked over to Joe’s bed.  He was lying on his back with his fingers laced behind his head staring up at the ceiling and I could see the tears glistening in his eyes from where I stood.

“Are you ready for tomorrow, son?”

He didn’t answer straight away, but sighed heavily.

“I don’t know, Pa.  I’m thinking I might go out for the day, just ride some.  It’s just too hard.” 

Moving further into the room, I sat down on the chair next to Joe’s bed.

“I know, son.  We’ll miss you, though, if you’re not here.”

He was quiet for a time until a sudden choking sob pierced the silence as Joe fought to maintain control.  I wished there was something I could do to take away some of the pain.  So many people, so many loved ones, gone.  This Christmas would be the worst we’d ever faced.

“They should be here, Pa.  Here with us tomorrow.  Hoss and Alice and my baby.  Around the table, laughing.”

I shook my head sadly, I had no answer for him.

“I can still hear him, Pa.  I can still hear Hoss laughing.  How can we do this without him…without Alice…Adam too?”

Squeezing his arm, I rose slowly and left him to his thoughts. 

*****

Jamie and Candy looked up from their game of checkers as I walked slowly down the stairs.  After a small shake of my head, they resumed their game in silence.  What could we do?  We couldn’t just ignore the day tomorrow.  There was Jamie to think of too, we had to at least try to get through as best we could. 

I would hang the stockings as usual later, I decided, one each for Hoss and Adam and one for Alice and for the grandchild I would never know.  It just felt wrong not to.  We would get through tomorrow somehow.  We had to.

As I was settling in front of the fire with my pipe, we heard the unmistakeable sound of a horse approaching and all three of us looked up, exchanging expectant glances.  Even Hop Sing emerged from his kitchen wearing an apron and a hopeful expression, we were all wondering the same thing.  I got up with hope in my heart and headed for the door.

*****

“Joe, there’s someone here to see you.” 

My heart was racing with excitement and also some anxiety, but I was finding it hard not to grin from ear to ear, feelings of relief flooding through me.  I stepped back, allowing our visitor to enter ahead of me.  Hesitating for a moment to look at Joe, he walked towards the bed and spoke softly to him. 

“Hello, brother.”

Starting, Joe sat up suddenly, his head snapping towards us and his mouth falling open in surprise.

“You came back!”

“I promised I would, didn’t I?” 

Dipping his hand into his pocket, he took hold of Joe’s hand in his own and turned it palm upwards so that the scars Joe had sustained so recently were visible, before folding Joe’s fingers closed.

“Sorry it took me so long to return it.   Happy Christmas, Joe.”

Uncurling his fingers, Joe stared at the treasured locket in his hand and then squeezed his eyes closed, a single tear escaping from between his lashes.  Blinking, he stared up at his brother. 

Then he smiled. 

“Happy Christmas, Clay.”

The End.

Lost Soul

by jfclover

Territorial Enterprise

Editorial penned by Lincoln Hays

August 28, 1864

Living in the wilds—as Easterners like to call it—of Nevada, we consider ourselves a hardier breed than our Eastern kinfolk.  Setting out to conquer the world, we left the safety of our homes and families to start a new life in the West.  But what happens when tragedy strikes?  Do we question ourselves?  Had we been foolish to follow the trailblazers and pioneers who came before us and settled on land that belonged to somebody else?

The Paiute occupied the territory for hundreds of years before we staked the land and called it our own, and what does that say about us as a people?  We want and we take.  We never stop to ask, but that’s just one man’s opinion.  Mine, and I may be shot dead for stating the obvious.  We came to make our fortune in the Wild West, but we’re still shocked when our mere presence becomes grounds for retribution.

A man and his fiancée were brutally attacked during a peaceful outing last Sunday. Had they crossed that invisible line the white man drew up in one of his various treaties?  It’s doubtful the young couple went that far, but that didn’t seem to matter.  What matters is that they were easy targets, unarmed and outnumbered.  Left for dead, the young man managed to survive but at what cost?

We see this as an outrage, a blatant act of violence where retribution on our part could signal all-out war.  Joseph Cartwright suffered a great loss.  Our resident physician, Dr. J. Paul Martin, says that in time, the son of one of our most prominent families will recover from his wounds, but the horror of that day will be seared in his mind forever. 

Though our condolences go out to the family, such unconscionable matters won’t be discussed in polite circles, and the story of Joe Cartwright’s loss will soon fade from our memories, gone and forgotten until the next brutal attack.

Ben

“You’ve got to get him out of that house, Ben.  Find something, anything for him to do.  His wounds are healed, and there’s no physical reason he can’t go back to work.”

“But he refuses, Paul.  The boys and I have tried everything we know how, but he’s broken inside.  He won’t talk.  He won’t listen, and I don’t know how to repair the damage.”

“A trip maybe.  Is there anywhere he’d like to go?”

“I wish I could say yes but …”

“Persuade him, Ben.  It’s time to dig deep.  Find something of interest because the longer Joe remains isolated” —Paul gripped my arm tightly— “I assure you the consequences are grim.”

I shook the doctor’s hand, but I didn’t let go immediately.  The warmth and strength of his grip kept me on my feet and gave me hope for Joe’s future.

“If you think I crossed the line—”

“No, no, Paul.”  I shook my head and released his hand.  “The truth had to be told.”

The look in Paul’s eyes mirrored my own.  My dear friend had always succeeded in the past.  Whether Joe suffered from a childhood illness or a broken bone, Paul was on hand, but this time was different.  Not even Hoss and his easy ways had been able to succeed in turning the mind of his young brother.  Freeing Joe from the misery and humiliation he felt had been a waste of time and energy, and the three of us had been stonewalled at every turn.

Though I fight the memories, not a day goes by that I don’t remember the gruesome sight or the look on my older sons’ faces when we found Joseph’s motionless body.  He’d given up the fight and willed himself to die.  With words I couldn’t bear to hear, Joseph begged us to let him die.

My son’s wrists were bound to a branch of a dead cottonwood tree.  A three-foot-long stick separated his ankles and left him immobile in an awkward spread-eagle position.  His head lolled forward, but the garbled mumblings proved there was still life.  In short, hesitant breaths, Joseph recited the 23rd Psalm, the prayer of a dying man.

Hoss had pulled a knife from inside his boot and handed the weapon to Adam.  “I’ll hold him. You cut the ties.”

My oversized son held Joe’s legs while Adam shimmied up the tree so he could cut the bindings at Joe’s wrists, but Indians have a way with rawhide.  Soaked in water, leather shrinks as it dries and leaves permanent gouges in a man’s tender skin.

Hoss’ hunting knife was large and though Adam tried his best, he nicked Joe’s skin several times trying to slide the blade’s tip under the rawhide.  When his arms were free, it took both Hoss and me to catch Joe when he fell.  I held my son’s legs and Hoss caught his shoulders before we laid him on the ground.  Adam cut the rest of the ties at Joe’s ankles and that’s when the protest began in earnest.

Even though I cradled my son’s head in my lap, I couldn’t shake the fact that he continued to preach a death wish.  “No! No, Joseph.  Your brothers and I are here.  You’re safe.”

He pleaded and cried but there were no tears.  Adam held a canteen to my boy’s lips, and he turned his head away.  He wouldn’t drink.  He wouldn’t open his eyes.  He never reached for my hand or my face like he’d done so many times before when he was hurt or frightened.  He lay on my lap, unmoving.  Silently, I prayed.

Hoss

A Paiute brave prides himself in four Virtues:  Bravery, Generosity, Fortitude, and Wisdom.  When a young pup wants to show he’s destined for greatness, he’ll set his sights on those four goals.  Young men will often show bravery by leaving their captive to die rather than killing him outright.  After senseless torture, a branding, or beating, the young brave will often take something he can show the chief as proof of his superiority over his opponent also known as counting coup.

A man is nothing without his horse so the young brave might return with the white man’s mount as an indicator of his conquest.  If he left the white man to die of his own accord, he’d be deemed generous.  But strength of character might be harder to achieve unless he can show his chief and even grander prize—a woman or child brought back to use as slave labor.  In my brother’s case, Joe said Ginny had been killed, that her body had been kicked and beaten until she was lifeless.

Joe was a fighter, and the bruises marring his body told a vicious, angry story.  He’d put up a hell of a fight and endured more than any man should.  After counting the hoof prints surrounding the area, I guessed there were five or six young braves against one young man and his woman.  Joe lost the battle and he lost Ginny.  He carried a powerful amount of guilt, and his mind had shut down to those of us who tried to help.

We could only guess what happened.  Remnants of a picnic lay scattered on the ground.  Ginny wasn’t the type for fancy doings.  She enjoyed the simple life, and Joe admired her for that.  She was never one to expect dinners at fancy restaurants or sit through an event at Piper’s when she knew that was the last thing my brother wanted to do after a day in the saddle.

Me and Adam and Joe had started the construction of a small house about a mile southwest of the main house.  Adam drew up the plans, and the three of us planned to have the home completed before the wedding.  Joe would keep the secret clear up till the wedding night when he’d sweep his bride across the threshold and into their new home.  He was so proud.

Ginny was a pretty little gal.  With raven, black hair and deep chocolate eyes, she could’ve passed as a native of these parts if not for her creamy white skin.  I hated to think what might have happened if she hadn’t, in fact, died that day.  No one was a hundred percent sure.  Joe said he watched her die, but we never found a body and that niggling feeling that maybe, just maybe the young braves had taken her back to their camp weighed heavy on my mind.

After two months time, Joe was still unresponsive.  Day and night, he sat inside that little house with the drapes pulled tight.  He didn’t want no visitors.  He yelled at us more than once to get out and leave him alone, but we didn’t see things his way, and we kept trying everything we knew how.

Adam

A few days before Joe asked Ginny to become his wife, I found him in the barn grooming his horse.  Not an uncommon sight and maybe it calmed his nerves if, in fact, he had any second thoughts about tying the knot.  “You sure you’re ready for this?”

Joe’s surprised look didn’t catch me off guard, but I’d startled him and he laughed before answering my question.  “Are you crazy, brother?  There’s no better girl in the whole Comstock.”

“You’re right about that, but is she ready for you?”

Joe set his brush on the half-wall and reached for the rake.  “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

I chuckled at the kid’s remark, but provoking a reaction from my young brother was the highlight of my day.  “Hoss went to pick up that new suit coat he had made, and Pa’s driving Hop Sing to distraction, so I came out here.”

Joe leaned the rake toward me.  “You can take my place.”

“That’s okay.  I’ll pass.”

“Figured you’d say that.”

I should’ve been standing at Joe’s bedroom door watching the transformation prior to his wedding.  Primping is what Joe did best.  Oh how he’d fuss and carry on in front of the mirror, but every hair would be in place and every speck of lint would be dusted from his blue suit.  The word perfection comes to mind and if a man’s lucky, he only asks one young lady to become his wife.

Things were different now.  That feeling of loss, of quiet desperation, had taken Joe to the gates of hell and was calling his name.  No longer did he resemble the man I’d witnessed the evening he took Ginny out for that special supper.  His hair was an unruly mess.  The early stages of a beard he couldn’t grow properly covered half his face, and his clothes smelled like he’d worn them for a lifetime, but today was the day.  If I had to beat him senseless, I aimed to drag him out of that house and back among the living.

After saddling Sport, I slipped away from the ranch unnoticed.  I didn’t want Pa or Hoss with me or to follow me to Joe’s house.  This was between him and me.  He could fight all he wanted, but I wasn’t much of a man—or an older brother—if I couldn’t handle him in his weakened state.

I tied my horse to the hitch rail and walked to the front porch.  I’d taken pride in building the little house and so had Joe, but the thrill had all but left him now.

No sound came from inside, but I knew he was there.  After opening the door, I stepped inside, but it was too dark to see.  The draperies were pulled tight, and I pushed the heavy brocade to the side, which gave enough light that I realized Joe wasn’t in the kitchen, dining, or living area.  I walked to the bedroom, pushed the door open, and stared at my youngest brother.

“Get up,” I said overloud.  “Now!”

Though his back was to me, he didn’t move a muscle when I shouted, but that didn’t hinder my plan.  I grabbed his arm and dragged him to the side of the bed.  Still nothing.  No acknowledgment at all, so I took matters a step further.  I pulled him off the bed and onto the floor.

He rose up on one elbow.  “Happy now?”

“This is only the beginning, Joe.  You’re not going to like what I have in mind, but it has to be done.”

“Get out.”  His voice was just above a whisper, but I wasn’t about to leave.  I’d made up my mind when I’d crawled out of bed before daylight that the madness would end today.

With two hands, I grabbed his whiskey-soaked shirtfront and pulled him to his feet.  His legs were like willow branches, but I held him upright.  “When was the last time you ate?”

“Dunno.  Don’t care.”

“Wrong answer.”

“How much have you had to drink?”

“Not nearly enough.”

“Wrong answer again, Little Brother.”

When Joe’s legs gave way, I scooped him up, carried him out of the house, and looked at the trough.  “Okay.  If this is how you want to play the game.”  Though he sputtered and spit the foul-tasting water, I dunked him again.  He was mad, and I was relieved to know there was still some fight left in the kid.  He tried to swat my leg, missed, but it was a good sign all the same.

“You ready to get cleaned up?”

“What for?  What do you care?”

“I care.  Pa cares.  Hoss cares.  That’s why.”

“Leave me alone, Adam.”

“Nope.  Not today.”

Joe

The clothes Adam made me wear were too clean, scratchy, and stiff, and I was perfectly happy before my brother showed up, but he seemed determined to have his way, and I didn’t have the wherewithal to fight him.  He sat me down at the table and scoured through the pantry for food.

“Peaches?  Is that it?”

I shrugged at his condescending tone.  I couldn’t have cared less, but Adam pried the can open and poured the contents into a bowl.  He held a spoon out in front of me.  “Eat!”  When he turned his back to make a pot of coffee, I set the spoon on the table and leaned back in my chair.  My stomach wasn’t ready for food, and I closed my eyes.  I’d nearly drifted off when “Eat the damn peaches!” resonated like thunder.

“Fine.”  I pushed up taller in the chair.  “What’s your problem anyhow?”

“You, that’s what.”

“Pa send you?”

“No.”

“Hoss?”

Holding the pot in his left hand, Adam glanced over his shoulder.  “No.”

“Then why are you here?” I was losing patience.

“Why are you?”

My temper got the best of me and I shouted.  “Why shouldn’t I be?”

“Because you have a job,” he cited.  “Because Pa pays you a salary, but you sit on your butt all day doing nothing.  Tell me, Joe.  Are you proud of yourself?  Are you happy with your life?  Do you know how your behavior affects Pa?”

I shifted my eyes to my brother.  He’d hit a nerve.  “Is something wrong with Pa?”

“No, he’s not sick if that’s what you mean.”

“Then let it go, Adam.”

“That’s not the plan.  Not today.”

I stood from my chair.  “I’m going to bed.”

“Sit back down, Little Brother.  There’s work to be done.”

“Work?”

“When was the last time you brushed your horse?”

“My horse?  What’s he got to do with anything?”

“When was the last time you did laundry or cooked a decent meal?”

“Why do you care?”

“Why?  Because you look like hell, and because I don’t want your death on my hands.  We have a calf count to make.  I want you ready to ride in five minutes.

Hoss

I don’t know how he did it, but Adam was my hero.  He dragged Joe out of the house, set him on his horse, and brought him to work.  Neither of us mentioned Ginny or the event that put him in such a state, and Joe seemed to do okay.  Either that, or he put on a darn good act.  Thing was, though, he tired quickly.  By noon, he was sound asleep in the shade of a big ol’ tree.  I’d have let him sleep a while longer, but Adam made me the bad guy.  “I got him here, you wake him up.”

“Oh, Joseph,” I said in my best sing-song voice.  “Up and at ‘em, Little Brother.”

A smile flittered across his face but when he opened his eyes, the smile vanished and his eyes narrowed like his mind was cluttered with other thoughts.  Had he been dreaming of Ginny?  I dared not ask, ‘specially after seein’ them watery eyes and the look on his face when he realized where he was and why.

“You comin’, Little Brother?”

“Huh?”

“Lunchtime’s over.  Time to get movin’.”

“Oh … yeah.  I’m coming.”

That’s when I knew he’d been dreamin’ of happier times, and I felt awful for disturbin’ them little bits of happiness he’d conjured up in his mind.  When Adam stopped for the day, we followed Joe back to his house.  His mood had worsened after lunch, and we were kinda nervous about leavin’ him by hisself.  “Mind if I come in for a cool glass of water?”

“You didn’t have to follow me home, you know.  I’m a big boy now.  I don’t need a keeper.”

“That ain’t why we’re here, Little Brother,” I lied, but Joe wasn’t stupid.  Me and Adam had watched over him since the day he was born, and he was well aware of why we’d stopped by his house before riding home.   “Mind if I get that drink now?”

Joe waved me to the kitchen before he plopped down in the overstuffed chair he’d ordered from San Francisco.  After seein’ Adam’s plans for the house, he knew right where it would go.  When the crate was delivered, Joe tore the planks and packing away and tried it out right there in the front yard.  He sat this way and that, wiggled his backside till it fit just right then crossed his legs, laid his head back, and closed his eyes.  The half-crooked smile told us that Little Brother was quite pleased with his overpriced purchase.

“Hey,” I said.  “Why don’t you come home with me and Adam and eat some of Hop Sing’s good cookin’?”

“This is my home, Hoss.  I can do my own cooking.”

“You could if you had any food in the house, but you don’t.  One good meal ain’t gonna hurt you none.”

I don’t think he realized how much weight he’d lost or how pale and sickly his skin looked.  Hop Sing often cooked extra and would bring a care package to Joe.  He’d never said nothin’ to Pa, but I caught him sneakin’ out the back door one day with a full picnic basket. 

“What you got there?”

“For Little Joe.  He not eat if I not bring.”

I clapped our little Celestial on the back.  “You’re a good man, Hop Sing.”

“Hop Sing do what right.  Keep Little Joe alive.  Broken heart take long time to heal.”

Joe wouldn’t come home with us, but for the next two weeks, Adam and I set up a routine.  We took turns draggin’ Joe out of bed and off to work.  He still hadn’t come home for supper, but every day I asked, and every day I got the same answer.  “Not tonight, Hoss.”

I’d seen some improvement, though.  His face showed some color and he lasted longer in the saddle.  Not that work was fun and games, but we tried to throw somethin’ good into every day.  On one particular day, I decided we’d take a swim.

Sitting on the bank of the river, I prodded and teased my little brother until he had no choice but to dive right in, clothes and all.  “You gonna drown with them boots on,” I hollered, but he paid me no mind.  I shed my own boots and stripped down to my long johns before I jumped in after him.  “Give me them boots, you dang fool.”

The boots came off one at a time, and he tossed ‘em up on the bank.  “Happy?”

The current wasn’t too bad for this time of year and Joe tried to float on his back, but without no fat on his bones, his tries were useless.  Not sure if it was my imagination or not, but I might’ve heard him giggle.  I listened for more, but … Joe’s moods had always gone from light to dark in an instant, and the light had gone out of his eyes.

Joe

Nights were always the worst.  With the new routine Adam and Hoss had conceived, I kept busy most of the day.  But, by late afternoon, they had no choice but to head back home and every day, they asked the same thing.  “Come with us, Joe.  Hop Sing always makes plenty.”

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to go.  The fact was I couldn’t bring myself to step foot inside the ranch house.  There were too many good times in that house, ones that included Ginny, and I could still picture everything.  The seat she liked best in front of the fire.  The songs she tried to teach Hop Sing while they worked in the garden.  I could name a hundred other reasons I couldn’t go home.  If I stayed in my own house, I could dream and reflect and no one said a word.

Some nights were different, though, and my mind didn’t go straight to Ginny and the good times we had.  My thoughts were of that day, so peaceful and perfect, and the announcement that would change our lives forever.  I tried, Ginny.  I tried and failed.  I should’ve listened to you.  I should’ve paid more attention.  Maybe things would’ve turned out different.

 “Not only did I find the most beautiful woman in Nevada,” I said, “but I found a woman who can cook.  That’s hard to come by, you know.”

“Oh, Joe.  Don’t be so silly.”

“I’m serious.  I’m getting more than I deserve.”

“It’s only a picnic lunch but I’m glad your tummy is happy.”

“That’s not all that’s happy.”  I cupped her face and covered her lips with mine.  And, after sinking my fingers in her silky dark hair, I kissed her long and hard.  Ginny was soft and warm and when a small moan escaped from the back of her throat, when she moved her hand to my shoulder, I wished away my jacket.  I wanted to feel her hand slide along my skin and …

“Joe?”

The interruption made me pause.  “What, darlin’?”

“Do you have plans for next April?”

“April?  I don’t know.  Roundup, I guess.  Why do you ask?”

“And then the drive?”

“Yeah.  End of April, first of May.  Sometime around there.”

“What if I asked you to stay home this year?”

I shifted my weight and leaned up on one elbow.  “What’s this all about?”  Ginny smiled, but I was slow to catch on.  “Is something wrong?”

“I hope not.”

I was never good at guessing games but …  “Are you?”

“I think so.”

“A baby?”

Ginny blushed when I touched her cheek and eased her down alongside me on the quilt she’d made just for picnics.  Our legs intertwined when I pulled her even closer, but moments later she stiffened and looked up.  “What was that?” 

“What?”

“Thought I heard something.”

“You sure?”

She leaned in and kissed my forehead.  “No, it’s nothing.  Probably just a squirrel.”

But it was something.  Hidden in a grove of trees, they were on us in seconds.  Faces painted with red and black stripes—two distinct lines on each cheek—five young braves circled the blanket and screamed angry words in their native tongue. 

I jumped to my feet and pushed Ginny behind me.  “Stay calm. We don’t know what they want.”  My gunbelt lay next to the basket, and I’d taken my boots off just as Ginny had when we soaked our feet in the stream.  Unarmed, I was helpless to take a stand and defend.  “Take what you want.”  I gestured with my hands at the picnic basket and blanket.  It wasn’t much but I hoped they’d be satisfied with white man’s trinkets. 

I prayed my voice wouldn’t crack.  I couldn’t show fear, and I stood my ground, but Ginny trembled behind me.  She’d grabbed my hand so tight; I hoped the blood would still flow if I were forced to fight.  Hoss could fight them off with one hand tied behind his back.  Protect and defend, but I didn’t have his strength.

Cool and composed Adam would never provoke a fight.  I wouldn’t either, not when the odds were against me.  When the one in charge shouted words I couldn’t understand, I stepped back so they could pick through our belongings if that’s what they’d come for. 

Knives and fists.  Whoops and cries, and I gasped for air when bones cracked and broke with the weight of their fury.  “Ginny,” I cried in a near-muted voice.  “God, no.”

Adam

Joe asked me a question I couldn’t answer.  “You never say her name.  Why, Adam?”  It was a simple question, and I didn’t know the answer except we thought we were sparing his feelings by not talking about her.  We all loved Ginny, Pa especially.  Had she been twenty years older, he might’ve taken her for his own bride.  He cared deeply for the raven-haired young girl who would become his first daughter-in-law, and he was nearly as comatose as his youngest son.

She was a fun sort.  Not a woman I’d find intellectually stimulating, but she’d been a perfect choice for Joe.  They never found cause to fight.  They were that much alike and that much in love.  They respected each other and would make a life together that was the envy of Joe’s friends.

We all search for that perfect mate, but Joe had searched since he was fourteen years old.  One girl after another came and went.  There’d even been marriage proposals when he was a younger man, but life always took a turn until Ginny.

Maybe we’d been mistaken.  Maybe Joe was right.  Ginny was gone but far from forgotten.  Pa had contacted her brother in San Francisco soon after we’d brought Joe home and realized Ginny was dead.  He sent a letter expressing his condolences, but since there was no outright funeral, only a few words were spoken when we placed a headstone next to Marie’s.  We never heard back from Geoff.  We hadn’t met the man when Ginny was alive, and I didn’t expect to meet him any time in the future.

For the last two weeks, we’d ridden to Joe’s and taken him to work with us, but the day came when he said he didn’t want any more wake-up calls.  Tell him where we’d be, and he’d get there himself.  We took him at his word, but we were wrong to do so.  Rounding up steers or digging out water holes wasn’t the distraction I’d hoped for.  Getting Joe out of that house and back to work had been my main goal, and the first day we didn’t rouse him out of bed, he failed to show.

“What now?”  Hoss said.

“The sooner we finish the job, the sooner we can get cleaned up and see what that fool kid is up to.”  We were up to our necks in mud, and Hoss turned on me in a flash.  He didn’t hold back.

“He ain’t no kid, Adam.  He’s nearly twenty-three years old and his girl is dead.  Remember that next time you call him kid.  He needs our help, Adam, not attitude.”

“You’re right.  It’s just habit.”

“One you oughta break right quick.”

As always, Hoss was right, but I changed the subject anyway.  “Pull that branch out, will you?”  I never gave Joe the credit he deserved.  He’d been young and foolish for so long that old habits were hard to break.

Both of us were in a mood, but Hoss seemed more frustrated and more intent on making the job harder than it should’ve been.  The problem wasn’t the beaver dam as much as it was Joe not showing up that had set him off and fueled his grumpy disposition.

“Why don’t I finish here and you go get cleaned up,” I said.  “Joe would rather see you than me anyway.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I just know, now go.”

“All right.  If that’s what you want.”

“I do.”

Hoss

I moved upstream where clear water flowed and scrubbed the mud from my pants.  When I climbed onto dry land, I pulled on my boots and mounted my horse.  I’d dry on the way to Joe’s.  Joe worried me.  It weren’t like him to break his word and not meet us when he said he would.  His home was closer than the ranch house anyway.  I didn’t want to make two stops, and I didn’t want Pa to know what I was up to.

I knocked on his front door and let myself in without waitin’.  “Joseph?  You here, Joe?”  The house was dark, the drapes drawn tight.  I made my way across the room to his favorite chair and found him slumped against the arm, passed out or asleep, I wasn’t sure.  He’d flung his leg over the far side and after a final drink of some rotgut swill, an empty bottle lay on the rug.  “Joseph!”

“Hmm …”

“Get up,” I hollered.  Nothin’ we’d done seemed to help, but I couldn’t watch him backslide into oblivion again.  Lettin’ cheap whiskey solve his problems weren’t the answer.

“What dang fool thing have you done now?”

“Done?”

“Get up and get dressed.  I’ve had enough foolishness for one day.”

Joe dragged his leg off the arm, leaned forward, and cradled his head in his hands.  “Sorry, Hoss.”

“You’ll be a lot sorrier if you don’t get up and get movin’.”  Seems any energy he mustered failed him within seconds, and he sunk deeper into the overstuffed chair.  His eyes were swollen red, and his hands were shaking.  “Joseph?  What ‘s wrong, boy?”

“Nothing,” he sobbed.

I knelt down on one knee.  “What, Joe?  What happened last night?”

“Nothing happened.  Nothing ever happens.  Ginny’s gone, Hoss.  She’s dead.  That’s what happened.”

“Aw, Joe … come on now.”

“No, Hoss.  I’m tired.  I can’t do this anymore.”

My leg was startin’ to cramp, and I eased my backside onto a table in front of my little brother.  “But you was doin’ fine yesterday.  What changed?”

“I can’t pretend anymore.  I can’t do it, Hoss.  It’s too damn hard.”

“You listen to me ‘cause I’m only sayin’ this once.  Rotgut ain’t never the answer.  Ginny’s gone and I’m as sorry as you are, but there ain’t nothing we can do to bring her back.  Look at me, Joe.”  He tried to move away but I clamped my hands on the arm of the chair.  “You ain’t dead, but you might as well be the way you’re carryin’ on.  What would Ginny say if she saw you like this?  Huh?”  He turned his head to the side and started to squirm.  I needed him think rational-like.  “Exactly, Little Joe.  I’d be embarrassed too.”

“I don’t want to be here without her, Hoss.”

“I know you don’t, but you’re better’n that, Joe.  Where’s the man she fell in love with?  He sure ain’t what I’m lookin’ at now.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Don’t I?”

“Huh?”

“You’re my little brother, and I understand you better’n anyone else.  I know you’re hurtin’, but you ain’t just hurtin’ yourself.  When one of us is feelin’ low, everyone in the family feels the same, and you got no right to hurt the ones who care about you.”

“Then leave me alone.  Leave me be, Hoss.”

“Can’t do that, Joseph.  You got family.  Have you considered what all your sulkin’ and hidin’ in this house day after miserable day is doin’ to Pa?  Do you know how much he’s hurtin’?  He don’t know how to make things better for you, and it’s tearin’ him up inside.  Ain’t a day goes by that his eyes don’t tear up, but you don’t care about no one else, do you?  It’s all about Joe Cartwright and nothin’ else matters.”

“Is Pa okay?”

“No, Pa ain’t okay.  Ain’t you heard a word I said?”

Joe looked like more like the town drunk than his old self.  His clothes was rumpled; his hair was a mess.  He needed a shave and he smelled bad.  “Have you looked in a mirror lately?  You’re a sight, Little Brother, and I don’t mean that as a compliment neither.  Good thing Ginny can’t see you now.  That’s all I gotta say.”

When Joe didn’t react, when he wouldn’t say two words in his own defense, I stood from the table and started toward the door.  Maybe Pa or Adam could get through his thick skull, ‘cause I was wasting my time.  “Do what you want, Little Joe.  I got better things to do than to sit here lookin’ at a smelly old drunk.”  I slammed the door on my way out.  I was madder’n hell.  Adam was wrong to send me.  I said words I shouldn’t have.  Hittin’ a man when he was down weren’t right.

Adam

Straightening tack and polishing my saddle kept me busy enough that Pa wouldn’t ask questions I couldn’t answer to until Hoss came home.  Since I’d flapped my jaw telling Pa how good his youngest was doing, I didn’t want him to know Joe hadn’t shown up to work.

When Hoss finally rode in, I capped the can of polish and waited for the lowdown on Joe, but after he dismounted, he shook his head.  “You never should’ve sent me, Adam, ‘cause I did more harm than good.  He was too hungover to work and I shouted at him—”

“Hungover?  I thought we’d gotten through to him.”

“Guess his ears was closed, big brother, ‘cause he’s right back where he was two weeks ago.  Dragging him outta bed didn’t do nothin’ but make things worse.”

“Don’t say anything to Pa.”  I stood a few feet away as Hoss loosened Chubb’s cinch, pulled the saddle from his mount, and picked up the brush.  Taking swift, short sweeps across Chubby’s flank, my brother tried to ease his frustration the only way he knew how.  “You’re not to blame, you know.”

“I don’t know nothin’ no more. Adam.  Joe ain’t no better off than he was after the attack.  He’s movin’ backward in time.  He don’t see no future without Ginny, and nothin’ I said seemed to matter.  I ain’t no genius when it comes to words, so it’s up to you and Pa now.  I ain’t goin’ over there again and watch him destroy his life.”

Hoss’ final comment wouldn’t last five minutes if he thought he could help our brother, but we put our discussion to rest before going inside the house.  We’d sleep on it and maybe by morning, one of us would come up with a new and better plan.

My father knew grief.  He’d lost three wives, and he mourned each of their passings, but he hadn’t fared much better than Joe when it came to his third wife, Marie.  Those were hard times.  Pa left the ranch; he left me in charge of my brothers but upon his return, nothing more was said.  The subject was closed; the grieving, the drifting, and the misery had been left behind.

Joe was so much like Pa that I wondered if this, too, would pass just as abruptly.  I considered the long days on the trail when Pa had wandered the Utah Territory alone.  Had he taken to the bottle as Joe had?  I’d never know for sure, but I tended to think along those lines after seeing how easily Joe could sink into a bottle of booze.

With supper finished, we all migrated in front of the fire.  Pa lit his pipe and picked up the latest newspaper, but I could almost guarantee no article would hold his interest for more than a minute.  His thoughts would be elsewhere, same and Hoss’ and mine.  Hoss set up the checkerboard and assumed I’d rather play a game with him than read from a leather-bound book.  Maybe he was right.  The simple days of concentrating on a good story were few and far between.

“Black or red?”

“Black’s fine.”  I considered my mood.

Hoss moved his piece and then looked up.  His eyes circled the room like a vulture sniffing for prey.  “You hear somethin’?”

“You trying to distract me already?  You sound more like Joe than—”

“I’m serious, Adam.  Thought I heard a horse ride up.”

I moved a black piece.  “Your move.”

Bootheels sounding on the front porch proved Hoss had sensitive hearing, and he smiled that big told-you-so smile.  “See?  You heard it too, didn’t you?”

“Why don’t you go see who’s at the door.”

“I plan to do just that.”

I sat back in my chair and crossed my legs.  I picked up my copy of Thoreau, opened it to the middle of the book, and chuckled when I scanned the first passage.

If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it’s because he hears a different drummer.  Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away.

If that wasn’t Joe Cartwright, I wasn’t sure who else Mr. Thoreau had in mind.  Had we gone about this all wrong?  When Hoss pulled the front door open, my young brother stood at the threshold.

“Joseph?”  Pa called from his chair.  “Is that you, Son?”

“It’s him.”  Hoss smiled at Pa then turned his attention back to Joe.  “You just gonna stand there?”

Embarrassed, it seemed, Joe stepped inside the house.  He carried a carpetbag in one hand and held his hat in the other.  Pa and I both stood from our chairs and started across the room.  “Joseph?”  Pa repeated.  “Come in, Son.”

“I—I’m sorry, Pa.”

“Sorry?”  Pa slid his hand across Joe’s shoulder.  “Sorry for what?”

“I don’t know.  Everything, I guess.”

“Oh, Joseph.”

I caught Hoss’ eye and motioned him to follow me upstairs.  “We’ll say good night, won’t we, Hoss.”

“Huh?  Oh … yeah.  Night, Pa.  Night Little Joe.”

“Goodnight, Boys.”

From the first landing, I looked over my shoulder and watched Pa guide my brother to the settee.  And though his steps were hesitant, Pa had developed a keen sense of patience where his youngest son was concerned.

I wondered what Hoss had said.  Something more powerful than he imagined, some breakthrough comment had brought Joe looking to our father for comfort.  If the kid ever considered his actions might affect Pa in a bad way, these last few months would have played out much differently.

I clapped my oversized brother on the back.  “I don’t know what you said,” I whispered, “but I think you’re a genius with words after all.”

Sharing the same grief bonded Pa and Joe together in a way only they could share and relate.  They might talk long into the night.  There might be tears, hopefully, a hint of laughter, but I hoped for Joe’s sake, Pa could crush the demons and bring new light to a haunting situation.  If anyone had the power to set my brother on a new and different course in life, it was our father.

The End

July 2017

Mrs. Etta Harding

By Bakerj

Chapter One

The hollow echo of his horse’s hooves bounced off the silence as he rode deeper into the heart of the deserted city.  Empty windows stared down, their black holes gaping wounds in the buildings.  His head turned from side to side, checking every alley, cranny, and shadow like a deer picking its way through a wolf-laden forest. 

He tried to make out the familiar houses beyond the main street, but the fog that shrouded them was too thick to penetrate.  The squeak brought his head around with a snap.  A battered door swung on rusted hinges.  Paint peeled off the sign above, the boards twisting on their nails.  Yesterday, Virginia City had been a teeming metropolis of over three thousand souls.  What the hell happened?

Gathering storm clouds gave no relief from the heat that prickled his skin.  He sucked in deep breaths trying to draw oxygen from the heavy, still air while the stench of fear curled around his nostrils.  Drawing Cochise to a halt, he screwed up his eyes and tried to make out the shape at the end of the street.  It hadn’t been there a moment ago.  Maybe it was someone who could tell him what was going on.

When he drew near, the shape shifted and defined into a person, but no comfort flooded Joe.  He couldn’t make out anything other than the man was dressed in grey.  The battered hat that sat on his lowered head shaded his face.  Cooch danced and fretted, and Joe had to work to keep him from bolting.

“What’s happened here?  Where is everyone?”  The figure didn’t move or answer.  Joe’s jaw set, and his fingers tightened around his reins.  “Answer me, damn you!  What’s going on?”

Time slowed as the head rose inch by inch, revealing the featureless face that hung in shadow.

Bolting upright, Joe’s shaking hands scrambled for his lamp and seared the room with light.  His heart thudded with sickening speed, and breath after breath shuddered through him while his eyes darted around his room. 

The hand that ran down his face came away slick with sweat.  His nightshirt stuck to his chest and back with clammy persistence.  He chuckled, trying to bring himself fully awake and lighten the sense of dread that clung to him.  It was just a stupid dream. 

Flopping back on his pillow, the breath in his chest hitched, and his muscles tightened.  His gaze fixed on the grey figure spreadeagled across the whitewashed plastered ceiling like some grotesque spider hanging from its web.  Then – it dropped!

His scream shook the windowpanes.  In under a minute, Pa and Hoss appeared.  Guns in hand.  They pulled up short, seeing no one in the moonlit washed room except Joe upright on his bed.

“Dadburnit.  What’s going on?”

His voice shook.  “Nothing.  A bad dream is all.”

“I wish you’d have quieter ones.”

“Sorry.”

Hoss huffed and stomped away.  Pa hung onto the doorknob.

“You sure you’re okay.”

Joe managed a smile.  “Yeah.  Like I said.   Nightmare.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No!”  Sharper with the reply than he intended, Joe rushed on, “I feel stupid enough.”

Pa smiled at that.  “No need.  Get some sleep.”

Joe only waited for the door to close to light the lamp.  He forced himself to look at the ceiling.  Its emptiness mocked him, but no more than his own words, “Geez, what did you expect?” 

He flung back his blankets and climbed out of bed.  Scrubbing his scalp, he padded to the chair by his desk.  The boards cold and hard under his bare feet.  Slumping down, he let his gaze travel across the ceiling again.  The fire in the grate had died to almost nothing.  Only a few embers glowed red.  He shivered, and he crossed his arms for warmth.  The sunken pillow and crumpled bedsheets called to him.  Joe snorted at how ridiculous he was being.  It was just a nightmare.  Why let it get to him? 

Marching back to the bed, he cocooned himself in the blankets.  The lamp still blazed, but his fingers hesitated when they reached for the wick raiser.  Turning the knob, he dimmed the light but didn’t put it out. 

***

Joe removed his hat and wiped his brow with the back of his sleeve.  Repairing fence was his least favorite chore.  He put aside the hammer and retrieved his canteen hanging from another post.  After one gulp, he let the water run over his head and shook it out.  He held the canteen to Hoss.

“Drink?”

“I’m good.”

Recapping the canteen, he slipped the strap back over the post, letting the smooth, pliant leather run through his fingertips.  He froze.  Something was behind him.  He could feel the air being displaced by its presence.  The hairs on his neck rose, and his heart quickened.    His gaze flicked to Hoss, still pounding a post with his sledgehammer.  He flexed his hand to still the quivering and spun, pulling his gun.  Nothing was there. 

“What’s the matter with you?”

Holstering his colt, Joe pulled a face.  “Thought I heard something.”

“What’s up with you anyhow?”

“Nuthin’!”  Joe jutted his chin at the expression of disbelief on his brother’s face.  “C’mon.  Let’s get these dang things done.”

***

Chapter Two

Joe adjusted his tie and reached for the brush.  Tilting his head in the mirror, he grimaced at the dark circles under his eyes.  Wanting to look his best, they weren’t doing him any favors.

The nightmare continued.  Its disturbing echoes stayed with him, even when out doing chores, and he was as jumpy as a jackrabbit.  Sleep lost its appeal when it brought those vivid images of a decaying and rotten Virginia City and that figure.  His eyes searched his room in the mirror, almost as if he expected to see him standing there. 

He’d managed to keep the dreams reoccurrence to himself but couldn’t figure out why it did.  ‘Forget it,’ he told himself.  Tonight was about having a good time.  It wasn’t every day Pa agreed to a night away.  He and Hoss had it all planned.  The Opera House followed by a late supper at Delmonico’s and a night at the International.  A roguish smile crossed his face.  Plus, the chance to flirt with a girl or two. 

“Ain’t you ready yet?  Pa’s waiting.”

“Almost.”

“What’s all the primping for anyhow?”

“Ladies appreciate a fella who makes an effort.” 

“Seems a waste.  I hear tell Mrs. Harding ain’t a day under fifty.”

“And I heard her lecture is a sell-out.  We’re bound to run into a few pretty girls.”

Hoss chuckled and left.  Joe turned back to the mirror.  The grey figure behind him filled the glass.  Whirling so fast, he crashed into his dresser and sent the bottle of cologne tumbling.

“Hoss!”

Poking his head around the door, Hoss asked, “Yeah?”

There was no man there, just his room, same as always.  He’d steadied himself, feeling a fool for calling out.  “Nuthin’.” 

“You sure?  You’re looking peaked all of a sudden.”

Joe rolled back his shoulders and grabbed his blue jacket and black dress hat.  “I’m fine.  Let’s go.”

***

Joe hadn’t been wrong.  The Opera House was heaving with patrons eager to see the celebrated medium, Etta Harding.  Her legendary ability to contact the spirit world had been the talk of Virginia City for three months.

As they neared the town, Joe’s heart had begun to race.  The tendrils of his dream returned like a sour taste.  When they rode up the hill, heard the pounding of the stamp mills, and saw the pristine buildings with boardwalks crammed with people, Joe laughed with relief.  It earned him a glance from Pa and Hoss, but he didn’t care.  The lightness in his chest was worth a couple of funny looks.

Treading up the steps to the open double doors, Joe tipped his hat and grinned at the myriad of young women accompanying their families.  He winked at Hoss, who rolled his eyes and pushed him inside.

The Cartwrights took their seats in one of the side boxes.  The house buzzed with anticipation. 

“Sure is a crowd,” Hoss said.

“Hmm … it’s amazing what attracts people.”

Joe glanced back at his father and raised his eyebrows at Hoss.  It’d taken all their persuasion to get Pa to join them.  He wasn’t keen on contacting loved ones from beyond the grave for entertainment.

The hush died when Thomas Maguire came on the stage.  The owner waved his hands for quiet.  “Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you for coming tonight.  Our Opera House has seen many fine performers, but none as extraordinary and gifted as the one we are about to see tonight.  Her remarkable reputation precedes her, and so, without more ado, I present the spiritualist and medium, Mrs. Etta Harding.”

Applause pounded off the walls and rose to the rafters.  Onto the stage walked the lady they’d come to see.  Hoss was right.  She wasn’t a day under fifty.  Grey snaked through the brown hair, tied in a neat coil with curls on each side of her face.  A hush fell when she reached the podium in the middle of the stage.  The lady had quite a presence. 

“Thank you for your warm welcome.  Tonight, I will attempt to contact the spirits and pass on any messages they may have.”

Joe and Hoss grinned at each other, the schoolboys in them excited.  The show began.

“I have a gentleman with me who recently passed.  He is impatient to be heard.  His name is Antonio.  Does that name mean anything to anyone here?”  Hands in the audience shot skyward.  “Food was a vital part of his life.  He owned a restaurant.”

Hands dropped, and one remained.  Mrs. Harding indicated the woman stand.

“He was your father?”

The girl nodded.  “Yes.”

Gasps of amazement rang out around the hall.

“He was the chef in his restaurant.”

Turning pale, the young woman replied, “Food was his life.”

“Your father is happy.  He is with your mother.”  Tears fell down the young woman’s face, and the man beside her handed over his handkerchief.  “He wants to tell you that you and Luca should run the restaurant.  You have the same love of food, and he has faith in both of you.”

Between her sobs of joy, the young woman called out her thanks and returned to her seat.

When the applause died, the show continued, and Mrs. Harding connected four more times and passed on the spirit’s messages. 

Then the medium bowed her head, and intense concentration crossed her face. 

“Ain’t she a caution?” Hoss said.

Joe didn’t acknowledge the comment he barely heard. 

“There is another presence, but … I can’t quite reach him.  I will attempt a different approach.  For this, I need the assistance of my husband.”

A small, unassuming man came on stage, followed by stagehands who carried a table and two chairs.  The man laid a stack of paper on the desk with a small pile of pencils. 

Mrs. Harding left the podium and sat.  Placing her palms face down, she bowed her head again.  Her husband turned to the audience.

“My wife will now attempt to contact the spirit using automated writing.  This requires her to enter a trance-like state, and the spirit’s replies will be written.  I will relay the answers.  It is a delicate process and requires the utmost concentration.  I must request absolute silence.”

Joe didn’t feel the thrill that ran around the theatre or how nobody moved when the medium began.  Guided to the paper, her hand started to turn, creating circles with the pencil. 

“Is somebody there?  Please tell us you are there.”  When Mrs. Harding’s scribblings filled each piece of paper, her husband pulled it away and set her hand on the next sheet.  She continued her monotone questions, unaware of his movements.  “Is somebody there?  Don’t be afraid.  I can feel your presence.”

Joe’s knuckles turned white when his fingers tightened over the balcony of their booth.  He leaned forward, drawn toward the stage, and sweat began to stand out on his top lip. 

“Is somebody there?”

Joe’s heart rate slowed.  His gaze riveted on the woman. 

Her hand moved with a definite purpose and wrote a word.  Mr. Harding read it aloud, “Yes.”

“Can you tell us your name?  We want to speak with you.  To help you.  Tell us your name?”  The world began to slip away and dim.  The smell of roses clogged his lungs.  It became hard to breathe, like he was being held underwater.  “Tell us your name.  We want to help you.  Can you tell us your name?”

The hand wrote again.  “Joseph.”

No longer in their box, Joe was on the stage next to Mrs. Harding.  How did he get there?

“Joseph, tell us what you want.  We want to help you, Joseph.  Tell us what you want.”

He looked down.  His feet were there, but he couldn’t feel the solid wood beneath them.  Everything around him was blurred and out of focus, like in his dream.  Was he dreaming? 

“I don’t understand.”

Joe jumped when Mr. Harding repeated his words.  Another sheet of paper flew to the floor.  Joe stared at the man.  Couldn’t they hear him?  See him?

“What don’t you understand?  Tell us, Joseph.  We’re here to help you.”  Joe reached out but couldn’t move.  “How can we help you, Joseph?  We want to help you.”

“What’s happening?”

Panic clamped down when no one heard him except the medium, who scratched his words on the paper.

Mrs. Harding’s droning, one-tone questions continued, “You’re speaking to us, Joseph.  We want to help you.  Tell us, Joseph.  How did you die?  How did you die, Joseph?  Won’t you tell us?  Tell us how you died.”

Why was she asking that?  He wasn’t dead.  He wasn’t!  He fought the weight that pressed on him, crushing his chest. 

“I’m not dead!”

The whole auditorium jumped and turned to look at their box.  Tearing from his chair, Joe sent it clattering to the floor and staggered toward the door at the back.  His chest heaved with the effort of dragging in air he couldn’t seem to catch.

“Joe, what’s wrong?”

His hands flailed for the doorknob, but he couldn’t reach it.  Then the world crashed in.

***

Joe waved the glass away with a sharp motion.  He couldn’t feel any more of an idiot. Bad enough to pass out like a girl, but to do it in front of half the town!

“Drink it.”

Pa wasn’t joking.  Not up to an argument, Joe took the glass and sipped at the whiskey.  His hand went to rub his throat.  Someone had unbuttoned the top of his shirt, and his string tie hung loose at the side. 

“Where am I?”

“The manager’s office.  Feeling better?”

Joe nodded and pulled himself further up the sofa.  A knock at the door had him swinging his legs off.  He wouldn’t be seen stretched out like an invalid.

Mrs. Harding entered the room.  She checked in the doorway and took in the three men before her.  Then she smiled at Joe.

“I just came to see if you were all right.”

“Thanks, ma’am, but there’s no need to worry.  I’m fine.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

Etta Harding knew how to hold a room.  Sweeping in, she took the hand of the young man, looking pale and disheveled before her.  Tilting her head, she waited.  Catching on, he said, “I’m Joe, and this here’s my Pa, Ben Cartwright, and that’s my brother, Hoss.”

Her smile encompassed them all.  “Pleased to meet you.  You look like you’ve been through the wars, Joseph.  It is Joseph?  Joe is short for Joseph.”

“Yes, ma’am.  It’s a lot of fuss over nothing.”

“Still, I do wish to talk with you.  I must finish my performance, but I’ll come back.”

“I’ve caused enough trouble.”

The hand she placed on Joe’s shoulder prevented him from standing.  She wasn’t about to let him run away.  Alarm fractured at the back of his eyes, but he was a gentleman and wouldn’t refuse her request.

“Please, as a favor to me.  Stay until I come back.  Please.”  Getting the consent she wanted, she patted his shoulder and returned to the door.  Stopping, she looked back.  “Thank you.”

Without so much as a twitch or a flicker of her eyelashes did she betray what she’d seen the moment she entered the room – the dark presence that loomed behind Joseph Cartwright.

***

Chapter Three

Joe stood the moment the door closed. 

“Let’s get out of here.”

“But you promised you’d stay,” Pa objected.

“She was just being polite.”

“That’s not the point.  You gave your word.”

Joe turned away.  He hadn’t liked the look in her eyes when the medium asked about his name, and he’d caught the delicate scent of her perfume.  Roses.   When he’d come too, he thought he’d imagined the whole thing, but now?  Before he could protest, the door opened.  A stagehand came in carrying a tray.

“Mrs. Harding asked me to bring you wine while you wait.”

“Thank you.  That’s very kind of her.”  Ben laid the tray on the large desk that dominated the manager’s office.  He looked at Joe.  “Now, what d’you say?”

Joe threw up his hands in surrender and sat back down.  “Hoss, you don’t hav’ta miss the show.  Go back and watch.”

“If you’re feeling all right?”

“I don’t need two nursemaids.”

Taking his chance, his brother scooted out the door.  Joe turned to look at his father, who handed the glass back to him and raised an eyebrow.  “Nursemaids?”

Joe cracked a smile.

***

By the time Hoss returned, Joe was pacing the floor.  To his relief, Mrs. Harding followed.  If he had to do this, he wanted it over and done.  She settled on the sofa, and Joe had no choice but to accept her invitation to join her. 

“Joseph, what I have to tell you is difficult, but you must hear it.  Something happened tonight, and I think you know that.”

A knot tightened in Joe’s stomach.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Have you been having strange dreams lately?”

“He sure has.  Horrible nightmares, some of them.”

Joe shot a glare at his helpful brother.  “I’ve had a few bad dreams, is all.  So what?”

“Did you know that dreams are a way for spirits to communicate?”

“Spirits?”

“Yes.  Have you recently been injured?”

“No.”

His father cleared his throat.  “Well.  That’s not quite true.”

Joe swung around to frown at Pa.  “I think I’d know.”

“You weren’t exactly injured.  Do you remember a week ago?”

“That?  I knocked myself out.  But I was fine.”

“No.  You weren’t.”

Joe turned to Hoss, staggered by his comment.  “What’re you talking about?”

Mrs. Harding put a hand on Joe’s arm, and he quietened down.  She looked at Hoss and Pa.  “Please, tell me what happened.”

Pa took over the conversation.  “Last week, Joe saved a boy who ran out in front of the stage.  But he hit the boardwalk hard when he jumped.”

“When Pa and I reached him, he weren’t breathing.”

“Hoss grabbed you, and it started you breathing.  But, for a minute there ….”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You were fine, and well, why scare you?”

Joe rolled his eyes.  “Okay.  I was injured.  So what?”

Mrs. Harding took his hand between hers.  “Sometimes souls don’t pass fully over when they die, and when someone is near death, they can break through to latch on to that person.”

Yanking his hand free, he sprang from the sofa.  “So, some dead guy’s haunting me, is that it?  What next?  We pay you to get rid of him?  Is that what this is all about?”  His words were insulting, but something gnawed at Joe to get out of there.  “C’mon, Pa, we don’t hav’ta listen to this.”

Rising from the sofa, Mrs. Harding clamped her hands around his arms.  “You’ve seen him, haven’t you?  The man in grey.”

The air became thick, and his head felt like an orange being squeezed dry as it began to pound. “I don’t know what your—”

“He’s getting closer, Joseph.  You can’t ignore him.”

“Mrs. Harding—” Pa began.  She cut him off, but her gaze never left Joe’s.

Sweat stood out on his forehead, and his skin turned clammy.  The heavy, dark presence pressed against his back.  It turned his stomach to admit it, but he was terrified. “He’s there, isn’t he?”

When her gaze flicked away and back, he swallowed.  “Yes.”

His eyes slid sidewards, and he wiped his top lip.  “What do we do?”

“We talk to him.” 

She glanced at her husband, and he left the room. 

Seeing his chance, Pa asked, “What exactly is going on?”

“Mr. Cartwright.  A spirit has attached itself to your son.  It must be detached.  The longer we wait, the harder that will become.”

Her words sent a shiver up Joe’s spine.  He’d go mad knowing that thing was waiting every time he closed his eyes or looked in a mirror.  He met Pa’s gaze, and he didn’t say anymore. 

When Mr. Harding returned, he carried a wooden board and laid it on the table before the window.  When they took a seat, Joe saw the letters of the alphabet had been burned into the board’s surface in two rows.  Underneath were the numbers, one to zero, and below that, the word Goodbye. 

“A Ouija board?” Pa asked.  “You’re going to hold a séance?”

“Yes.”

“It’s okay, Pa.  I need to do this.” 

The lamps in the room were lowered.  Their light cast long, quivering shadows over them.  Joe ran his sweaty palms down his trousers and wondered why dim lighting was always necessary for this sort of thing.

Mr. Harding placed a small triangular piece of wood on the board and told Joe to rest his fingertips on it.  Joe shifted in his seat and gazed back at the lady opposite him, her hands linked with Pa and Hoss, who flanked her on either side.

In the tone of an undertaker, Mr. Harding said, “We will begin.”

Hoss winked, and Joe couldn’t help but smile.

Mrs. Harding started, “We are speaking to the spirit in the room.  We know you are there.  Tell us your name.”

Silence followed, and Joe looked from Hoss to Pa.  Seconds passed to the ticking of the clock on the shelf in the corner.  Hoss drew in an audible breath.  When he breathed out, a diaphanous white cloud formed before him.  Joe met his stunned gaze and shivered at the sudden cold.

“We know you are with us.  Tell us your name.”

Under his fingers, the piece of wood trembled.  He fought the urge to let go.  Instead, he followed when it forced its way across the board.  Pa spoke the letters it selected and then put together the name.  “William Potof. “

“Tell us, William.  How did you die?  How did you die, William?” 

Like some crazed trapped animal, the triangle circled the board, becoming more frenzied with each move until Joe could barely keep up.  The intense cold pressed in, turning his lips blue. 

Mrs. Harding continued, “We want to help you, William.  Tell us how you died.”

The shadows moved, and the grey figure rushed Joe.  The slam of his chair hitting the floor bounced off the walls like an orchestra’s crescendo.  Cold engulfed him, and his breath froze in his lungs.  The apparitions’ fingers curled into his shirt to twist and tighten it across his chest.  The tips of his boots thrashed and scraped the wood in their fruitless endeavor to gain purchase.

Unable to bear the shapeless features, he turned away to see the window frame behind bow and twist.  Dropped to the floor, he flung up his arms to protect himself from the flying shards that flew when the window erupted.  The lamps flared, engulfing them in blinding light before exploding in a blast of glass and oil. 

Plunged into darkness, everyone scrambled.  Ben to Joe’s side, and Hoss to open the door.  He returned with a lamp, followed by the theatre manager.

John Burns stared at the chaos.  “What happened?”

“It’s all right, Mr. Burns, everything is fine.  Give us a few more minutes, please,” Mrs. Harding said.

“Look at my office.  Who’s gonna pay for this?”

Seeing Joe was on his feet, Ben turned to Burns.  “I’ll take care of any damage, John.  Now, please, give us a moment.”

Joe watched his father lead the man out and shut the door before turning to the room, “Is everyone all right?”

Mrs. Harding walked around the table to Joe.  Concern shone in her eyes.  “You’re bleeding.”

Joe picked glass from his hair.  “Just a few scratches.”  He grinned.  “I guess we made him mad.”

She smiled, but his father shook his head and held Joe still to check the cuts on his face.  “It’s no laughing matter.”

Joe shot Pa a look that let him know he knew that and brushed his hands aside.  Frustration dug its way back.  He threw out his arms.  “What do we do now?”

“Is there a way to find out anything about William?” Mrs. Harding asked.

“What good will that do?” Joe snapped.  “We already know the man’s dead.”

“How he died could be the key to helping him.”

“I don’t wanna help him!”

“Joseph, the only way to end this is to get William to pass.  Maybe how he died could tell us how to do that.”

Joe shook his head but turned to Pa for an answer.  Putting his hands on his hips, he thought for a moment, then suggested, “There’s the Territorial.  They keep obituary records, and Potof isn’t a common name.”

Joe grabbed his hat.  “Let’s go.”

“Wait … wait a minute.  We can’t go there now.  It’s late.  The office will be closed.”

“Since when has Dennis ever left before ten?”

“Even so.  Let’s wait ‘till the morning.” 

Their eyes met.  How could Joe tell Pa he couldn’t face one more night knowing that thing was there trying to burrow into him like a tick?  Worse still was knowing he was a grown man afraid of a ghost.  

Hoss always said Pa could read him easier than a primer, and it looked like he wasn’t wrong.  “All right.  Let’s go.”

Joe gave Mrs. Harding a wave and headed out the door.

***

Chapter Four

Dennis McCarthy unlocked the door.  “What the devil, Ben?  What’s this about?”

“Sorry, Dennis.  But it’s important.”

“You come pounding on my door at this hour.  It’d better be.”

“We need to look at your obituaries.  We’re trying to find out how a man named William Potof died.”

“William Potof?  You won’t have to search.  That’s not a name or a story I’ll forget.”

Joe’s eyes widened.  “You know him?”

“He was my first headline.  A tragic case.”  McCarthy walked to the back of his neat office to a large cabinet.  Pulling open one of the broad, narrow drawers, he removed an old copy of the newspaper and carried it to the table.  “See for yourself.”

The three men gathered around.  The paper was dated September 1860, and Joe read the headline.  “Tragedy takes the lives of two.” 

“What happened?” Ben asked.

“You remember what it was like back then.  People pouring into the city.  They couldn’t put up buildings fast enough.  Potof and his son were walking home.  Rafters being hauled up broke loose, taking most of a wall with them.  Potof stayed put so he could throw his son clear.”  McCarthy shuddered.  “Horrible business.  He was pulverized.  There wasn’t enough left to bury.”

The tips of Joe’s fingers ran over the text.  “He died saving his son.”

McCarthy shook his head.  “Afraid not.  A beam caught the boy.  He was only six years old.”

Joe laid his palms on the table and read the story.  The man that haunted him was a husband and a father who died trying to save his child.  Did he know he’d failed? 

“Thanks, Mr. McCarthy.”

McCarthy threw up a hand when they headed for the door.  “What?  What’s this all about?  I saw you pass out at the lecture tonight, Joe.  Is this something to do with that?”

“I’ll explain it to you later, Dennis,” Ben told him before he turned and followed his sons.

***

Chapter Five

Back on the street, Joe hesitated, not knowing what to do next.  His father’s hand dropped onto his shoulder.

“It’s late.  Why don’t we get something to eat and turn in?  We can see Mrs. Harding first thing and tell her the news.”

The golden liquid swirled around the thick glass.  Joe had downed the top half in one gulp, but the rest was going down slow.  Supper at Delmonico’s was forgotten.  Instead, they’d headed for the Silver Dollar and their steak plate with all the fixings.  They’d been lucky to find a table in the packed saloon.  The metallic tinkle of the piano that had seen better days provided the background accompaniment to the loud murmur of voices.  Saloon girls shimmied to their table but moved on, finding the occupants uninterested. 

Stopping his rotation of the glass, Joe took another swig.  Did it make a difference to know the ghoul haunting him had once been a family man?  The chair creaked when he leaned back into it.  Was he here now?  Joe closed his eyes and returned to the moment the specter grabbed him.  He chilled again at the memory of William’s hands on him with a touch that froze his flesh and veins.  He’d felt again the waves of anger that had struck him, but also something else.  He drew a deep breath and let the feeling return to engulf him.  A sadness that drove the air from his lungs and constricted his heart ‘till he thought it couldn’t take another beat. 

“Joe?  You, okay?”

Joe opened his eyes.  Startled, he rubbed the heel of his hand over his face.  His gaze flicked around to check no one else had seen the tears. 

Their meals arrived and provided a welcome distraction.  A second beer followed the first, and Joe relaxed as his family kept the talk light and off the subject of spirits.  Joe even managed a smile and wink at Gracie, one of his favorites.  Although a half-hearted gesture, it earned him a visit to their table.  He obliged by buying the lady a drink before she moved on to likelier prospects.

Pa drained his glass.   “Well, you two can stay for another, but I’m beat.”

Breathing in the heavy scent of Gracie’s lingering perfume, Joe smiled.  He knew what Pa was doing, giving them a chance to enjoy more than just the beer.  Not tonight.

“I’ll join you.”

“You sure?”

Joe nodded, and Hoss drained his glass, too.  “Wait for me.”

Pa opened the door to the suite, and they followed him inside.  Joe had his suspicions why he’d booked this and not three rooms.  The suite only had two beds, which meant one thing.

“You two won’t mind sharing a bed.”

Joe sighed, resigned to this obvious move. 

Hoss’s bear-like grip enfolded him.  “Sure.  We’ll be snug as two bugs.”

“Just don’t roll on me.”

***

He faced the deserted main street again.  How could that be?  Had he ridden in circles?  What was that shape at the other end of town?  A man?  Wait!  There was something important he had to do, and there was a name, wasn’t there?  He frowned, chasing the memories that swirled around him.  William Potof!

This was it.  This was the dream!  Joe pursed his lip, remembering Mrs. Harding’s words while they waited for her husband to return with the Ouija board.  “We must encourage the spirit to cross.  Persuade him it’s time.”  She’d made it seem so easy. 

Joe stared down the street at the figure.  “Okay, William.  Let’s finish this.”

His fear slid away like removing a coat replaced by anticipation that tightened his back, shoulders, and stomach.  Dismounting, he faced the grey figure. 

“William, it’s time for you to go.”  The figure shuddered at the mention of his name.  Joe ploughed ahead.  “You’re a brave man.  You died trying to save your son.  No father can do more.  But he’s dead, William.  Joshua died, too.”

Joe met the maelstrom head-on.  But he couldn’t control William any more than a boat could control the storm that tossed it around on the ocean.  Crashing to the ground, he rolled under the fingers that ripped at him.  Howling screams vibrated in his ear.  How could you fight a spirit?

The voice broke through the noise and violence.  Hoss!  Calling him back.  Waking him.  William began to fade.  He couldn’t let it happen.  This was a one-time deal.  It had to end now!

“No, Hoss.  Let me be!”

He was back, and William stood apart from him, silent and entrenched like a giant oak. 

Joe pulled himself up and began again.  “I know you’re a good man.  You don’t want to hurt anyone.  But you’re hurting me.  There’s nothing to keep you here.  Joshua is waiting.  It’s time to go.”

The figure didn’t move.  Joe lowered his head.  Were his words making a difference?  How does a spirit move on anyway?  Should he have waited for Mrs. Harding?  Was this all a waste?

The light came from nowhere, and Joe turned to face it.  It wasn’t bright, yet it filled all the space around them.  He looked at William and saw him for the first time.  The lean face and eyes filled with tears.  A man not much older than himself, who’d suffered enough.

Joe smiled.  “Go see your boy.”

When William walked forward, the glow shimmered and faded.  Darkness closed in, and Joe heard Pa calling to him.  He opened his eyes and shut them again at the glare. 

“Hoss, move the lamp.  You all right, Son?”

Joe’s hand pressed around his father’s bicep.  “Yeah, Pa.  I’m fine.”

“Can’t say the same for your nightshirt,” Hoss remarked.  Joe looked down at the ripped material.  “You must’ve torn it when you were thrashing about.”

Picking a shred out with his fingertips, Joe shook his head.  “Guess so.”

***

“Thanks again,” Joe said, taking Mrs. Harding’s hand through the stagecoach window.

“I was glad to help.”  Instead of letting go, she squeezed his fingers.  “Well done.”

Joe blushed, smiled, and stepped back, tipping the front of his hat in a goodbye salute. 

His family stood on either side of him as they watched the stagecoach bowl down the grade out of town.  Joe slapped them on the back.

“C’mon, let’s get home.  I need to herd some cows or fix a fence.”

“You sure you’re all right, Little Brother?  I ain’t never heard you volunteer to fix fences.”

“Okay.  Maybe not a fence ….”

*** The End ***

[Oct 2023]

If you enjoyed my little story, please consider scrolling down and letting me know. Thanks.

Thanks to Chrissie for being my second pair of eyes.

Author’s Notes:

Early day Spiritualist mediums were the celebrities of their time and were considered to be in the entertainment field.  Many came to the Comstock to speak on the subject and give readings in Virginia City and Gold Hill.