by jfclover

            

Book 1

Candy

The tingling bell caught everyone’s attention as the door burst open and three masked men forced their way into the bank’s lobby.  I edged my right shoulder in front of Joe’s left, blocking any sudden movement.  This wasn’t the time for heroics, but Joe Cartwright is a man of action; his reaction time is faster than most.  It’s nothing more than instinct for a man of his nature, and that’s exactly what happened just days ago …

~~~

“Up against the wall.  Guns on the floor.” 

Three gunmen had burst through the front doors of the Virginia City bank; outlaws with guns drawn and masks hiding a greater part of their faces.  The leader was a tall and muscular man with fiery, blue eyes who never looked away from Joe or me.  He issued commands and we did as we were told.  “With the off-side hand,” he sneered with his gun leveled at the two of us.

I was more concerned about Joe and his heated temper than the bandits who’d burst into the bank.  No one took kindly to a holdup, but the man I knew as Joe Cartwright never took kindly to anyone forcing him to give up control.  Apparently, no one else was armed and as I took a step to the side, Joe and I both dropped our guns to the floor.  The clatter brought a sense of amusement to the leader and he nodded his head as a form of gratitude for a job well done.  Under the mask, I’m sure he was smiling.

Besides the three outlaws, there were six of us in the lobby; Joe and me, Mrs. Davenport and her two children, and Silas Perkins, one of Virginia City’s kingpins.  There were also the two bank tellers who cowered behind iron bars jutting up from the teller’s window; bars that served no purpose or protection from harm during a holdup. 

Perkins was a wealthy man.  He stood to lose a great deal of money if the robbery proved successful.  He was a short, stocky man with wisps of gray hair he combed in an awkward fashion to cover his shiny bald head.  He was also a loudmouth, and that’s when the trouble began.

Clara Davenport had her arms wrapped tightly around her young children, securing each one of them close to her skirts.  There was Tommy, maybe eight-years-old and Missy, five, with their faces buried against their mother’s small frame.  All three Davenports were huddled together alongside me and against the wall, but the children were scared and crying.  Perkins, with all due respect, was a tactless man, and he told the kids to shut up and quit their wailin’.  Upon hearing his sudden outburst, the leader turned, aimed, and fired a bullet straight into the man’s chest.  Perkins flew back; his head cracking loudly against the solid brick wall as his eyes rolled back in his head.  Slowly, the man slid to the floor.  Joe fell to one knee, pressed the heel of his hand against the wound, and looked up at the gunmen.  “He needs a doctor,” Joe pleaded.

“Ya don’t say.  Well, ain’t you the smart one.”

Joe kept one hand to Perkin’s chest while he felt for a pulse with the other.  The man was alive, but barely.  Joe tried to keep Perkins talking, keep him awake and coherent until the bandits left and we could get him taken care of. 

I took on the job of protecting the Davenports.  I blocked the children’s view, not wanting them to see any more than necessary, but I kept my eyes on Joe.  His back was to the gunmen and his free hand was roaming across Perkin’s chest.  With a tight-lipped smile and a quick nod of his head, I realized Joe had found exactly what he was after.  A derringer, a small gun, tucked inside Perkins’ vest pocket was now palmed in Joe Cartwright’s hand. 

For me, it was too much of a risk.  I tried to signal Joe with my eyes.  Without words, I tried to tell him no, leave it, let the bandits get away and we’ll track them down later.  Joe, the man of action, had other ideas.

Both tellers had been hit over the head when the bandits had first rushed the bank; both lay prone on the floor.  Jeffery, the younger of the two, began to stir. “Hurry it up, Leo.  We gotta get outta here.  The kid’s wakin’ up.”

Joe glanced up at me.  Again, I barely shook my head.  Even though I thought the plan was flawed, I was ready to move on the gunmen if the opportunity presented itself.  While one man filled saddlebags with cash from the vault, the other two stood guard over the six of us in the lobby.  A sudden move on Joe’s part could get us all killed.  It was three-to-one odds; the odds were not in our favor.

With saddlebags bulging, all three men gathered close to the front door.  The leader pulled the shade to the side and peeked out the window; he nodded to the rest.  My heart pounded.  I didn’t dare let my guard down until they were out the front door and, to my relief, it seemed as though Joe had second thoughts about using the hidden derringer.  We would let them leave, and then we would ride out with the posse as soon as we got Perkins settled in Doc’s surgery. 

“They gonna kill us, Ma?” 

It was little Tommy Davenport’s sobbing voice that broke the silence.  The leader turned at the sound of the whimpering child.  He pointed his gun at the boy.  Joe raised the derringer—he took the shot.  The children screamed.  The gunman’s pistol fell to the ground.  Unexpectedly, the front door opened; the tingling of the bell alerting everyone inside the bank.  A second shot was fired.  The three gunmen fled to the street.  The intruder’s body lay face down on the floor.

We heard gunshots firing outside the bank, and when the door burst open a second time, it was Roy Coffee, gun drawn and quickly scanning the room.  A crowd began to gather outside in the street.  “We got one of ‘em,” Roy said.  “Anyone here hurt?”

Joe had scrambled across the room and leaned in over the second prone body.  He shouted to Roy. “Get the doc!  Hurry—someone get the doc!”

It was a grueling process, but we managed to get both patients, plus the two shaken bank clerks, over to Paul Martin’s surgery.  A group of townsfolk were at hand and ready to help with the injured men.  I knew Joe would stay in town, but I would gladly ride out with the posse.  I sent a man out to the Ponderosa to inform Hoss of the robbery and the shootings and that I was taking off with Roy.  I had work to do back at the ranch but given the circumstance, I knew Hoss would not expect me to stay behind.

The posse contained five men, including me, the sheriff, and his deputy.  Townsfolk were outraged by the robbery and the loss of their hard-earned money, but when it came time to form a posse most men were cowards, letting others do the dirty work while they stayed behind and complained about an unreliable bank and a sheriff who was too old to keep their town safe.

We rode out fast; hot on the trail of the outlaws.  Hoss would have been an asset, but I knew he’d want to stay in town with Joe.  This family of men—this family I’d become a part of over the last few months—was tight, closer than any other family I’d ever known in my thirty years of living and drifting from town to town.  While one was smaller in stature, quick-tempered and playful; the other was a born protector; a powerful man, but one who knew how to keep a calm demeanor in most situations.  Today added another dimension to both their lives. 

Ben Cartwright had been the intruder.  Ben Cartwright’s life hung in the balance.

Hoss

My little brother is wearin’ hisself out worryin’ over things he can’t do nothin’ about.  He blames hisself; I ‘spect he always will.  Accidents happen but with the state he’s in, he won’t listen to a word any of us have to say.  I’ve tried to get through to him, but he’s dead set on turnin’ a deaf ear.  He sits upstairs in that room and broods; won’t come down for meals; won’t talk to no one.

I manage the chores alone.  It ain’t that I cain’t get things done myself; I just think it would help Joe’s spirits to join me, to understand the world around him ain’t shut down the way he’s shut his own self down.  I can’t break through the wall he’s surrounded hisself with.  He’s a stubborn cuss, always has been, but I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him quite like this.  This time it’s different.  This time he blames hisself for Pa gettin’ shot.  My little brother has a heart of gold and he’d never hurt no one intentionally, but that’s what he thinks he’s done this time ‘round. 

~~~

Mornin’ light streamed in through my bedroom window.  I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, threw back the covers, and rolled my legs over the edge of the bed.  Fires needed restartin’; stock needed tendin’.  I’d obviously slept straight through the night and hadn’t added logs to my own fireplace.  My room felt as cold as an outhouse in mid-January.

I reached for yesterday’s clothes and pulled them on over my long johns but when I left my room, I didn’t bother to stop and open my father’s door.  I already knew what I’d find; the same as yesterday and every day since we’d brought our father home.  Pa lay sleepin’ while Joe sat guard, waitin’ for a miracle to happen.  And a miracle it would take, accordin’ to Paul.  The wound was deep and the surgery to remove the bullet had taken its toll, especially on a man Pa’s age.  Paul had given us very little hope and, although it breaks my heart to even think such things, we’d brought our pa home to die.

Candy was already awake and sittin’ at the dining room table.  He reached for the pot and poured me a cup of coffee as I came down the stairs.  Hop Sing popped out from the kitchen carryin’ a breakfast tray for Joe.  “I’ll take it up,” I said.

“Hop Sing already got.  Mr. Hoss eat breakfast with Mr. Candy.”

“No—I’ll take it this time.”

Addin’ my cup alongside Joe’s breakfast, I carried the tray upstairs.  I tapped on Pa’s bedroom door although I walked in without waitin’ for an answer.  One look at Joe told me all I needed to know.  My little brother sat with his legs looped over the arm of Pa’s upholstered chair; his head restin’ awkwardly against its high back.  He had a week’s growth of beard and his hair, which he normally groomed to perfection, had grown even more unruly as days passed.  Since he’d locked hisself away in this room, he hadn’t much cared about his appearance.  His clothes was rumpled and his boots lay on the floor where he’d kicked them off the night before.  He began to stir after I reached down and squeezed his shoulder.

“Brought you some breakfast, little brother.”

“Oh … thanks,” he mumbled.

He scrubbed at his face with both hands and then grabbed the arms of the chair and swung his feet to the floor.  Like a cat, he stretched out both his arms and legs, relieving the muscles aches I felt sure he had having scrunched hisself up like that for nights on end.  The room was warm, and I knew Joe had kept the fire burnin’ hot all night long, catchin’ broken up naps in-between.  But Joe didn’t take the tray.  He was waitin’ for me to leave it on the bedside table so he could forget about having to eat—forget about everythin’ ‘cept Pa.

“Candy’s back,” I said, tryin’ to get a rise out of his comatose state. 

My brother’s head jerked up.  He stared at me, wantin’ to know how the posse made out, but I had the bargainin’ tool on my side.  “You start eatin’, and I’ll start talkin’.  I’ll tell you what Candy told me after he rode in last night.”

A long sigh escaped, but Joe nodded his head and reached up for the tray.  I picked up my cup, and I leaned back against Pa’s desk waitin’ for him to dig in.  “Get goin’,” I said when he just sat there and stared at the plate restin’ on his lap.  He finally reached down for a piece of bacon.  I started my story.

“The news ain’t good, Little Joe.  Roy’s posse followed them bandits’  tracks into the high country.  That’s where they lost ‘em.  Candy went on ahead by hisself, said he picked up their trail once more but lost it soon after.  Said he could feel the snow comin’ and had to turn back.  Said none of them had been prepared for the drastic change in weather.”

My little brother’s continued silence was unnervin’ and, with the condition Pa was in, I didn’t even mention Silas Perkins had passed away.  Joe managed two pieces of bacon and after drinkin’ his coffee, he set the tray aside.  When he stood and walked to the window, I could tell he’d already lost weight, even with long johns underneath, his trousers seemed to not fit like they should.

“Remember that sled you made me when I was a kid?”

“What?”  Sure I remembered, but what did a kid’s sled have to do with anythin’ now other than the fact it was snowin’ and blowin’ outside Pa’s window.

“I was around five years old, and you’d found some old scrap lumber behind the barn,” he said never turnin’ to face me but just starin’ at the snow comin’ down.  “You told me it was a Cartwright tradition because Adam had built you a sled just like mine when you were a kid.  But then you’d called me impulsive for wanting to run the sled without knowing the lay of the land.  I didn’t know what the word ‘impulsive’ meant; I figured you’d learned it from Adam, but I was young and too excited to care.  All I knew was I could fly like the wind on my new sled.”

Joe’s memory was right on target.  I remembered it well although I seemed to remember a bit more than my little brother.

“You and I would sail down that hill together, drag ourselves back to the top and ride back down again.  We really flew, didn’t we?”

“Yeah, I remember,” I said.  “I also remember you crashin’ us into a tree and bustin’ up your leg.  That’s what I remember.  I also remember I had to take the blame for you bein’ so impulsive.  Why ya askin’?”

Silence.  I waited for Joe to say more but the conversation was over.

“I gotta check the stock,” I said, turning to leave, but Joe didn’t seem to care one way or the other if’n I was in the room or not.  His eyes stayed focused out the window, starin’, lost in his own memories of days gone by.  I glanced down at Pa.  No change.  The doc said that was expected but still, it was goin’ on a week since the shootin’.  I just didn’t know how to break through to Joe.  He was so lost in his own misery it was a sad thing to see.  I couldn’t imagine any of us livin’ without Pa, but I also knew it would be more of a crushin’ blow to Joe than he’d know how to handle.

Ben

I heard voices, far away, but familiar.  My sons; Hoss and Little Joe. 

I was drowning in a sea of water.  “Man overboard” … no, that’s not right … I was no longer a sailor.  I was a rancher with three sons; three extraordinary sons, my life’s blood.  I tried to open my eyes, but the sea was dark and my solitary existence was isolated and cold.  I wanted to reach out to their voices, bring them in closer so I could make out the words, but the sea held me down …

Candy

“Anything?” I asked when Hoss came back downstairs.

“No, nothin’ new.”

“Well, sit down and eat.  I’ll check the stock.”

“Not on your life,” Hoss said.  ”You deserve a day off.”

“And you don’t?”

Both of us chuckled at the absurdity of our conversation.  Hoss had worked twice as hard as I had while I’d been out with the posse.  Running a ranch like the Ponderosa was no easy task, especially for a man alone, but Hoss never complained, he did his job well.  I tried for a little more conversation.

“How’s Mr. Cartwright this morning?”

“No change,” Hoss said with a sigh.

“And Joe?”

“Same.  Won’t eat, won’t talk.”

I set my cup on the saucer and stood up from the table.  Hoss did the same, leaving his own breakfast uneaten.  “Let’s get them chores done,” he said, dropping his napkin over his plate.

Hoss had been out shoveling a path to the barn when I rode up last night.  The roads were barely passable so I didn’t expect we’d have visitors anytime soon.  I knew Hoss would want to take hay out to the herd as soon as possible, but it wouldn’t happen today or for the next few days.  A lot of melting had to happen first.

“Think I should give it a try?” I said after we’d made our way to the barn.

“Try what?”

“Joe.  Think I could talk some sense into him . . . get him outta that room for a while?”

“You’re welcome to try.  I sure ain’t gettin’ nowhere.” 

While I mucked, Hoss picked up a bucket of grain and filled a sack for Buck.  He pulled the horse’s ears through the strap so the feedbag would stay in place then leaned in and stroked the horse’s silky mane.  He’d do the same for each of these exceptional mounts that kept permanent stalls inside the barn.

Neither Hoss nor I were good at bookwork.  Not that there was too much backlog this time of year, but if Ben was unavailable, Joe normally took over.  That hadn’t happened, and it wouldn’t as long as Joe kept himself hidden away from the world around him.  It had been nearly a week now with no change in Mr. Cartwright’s condition.  The constant worry was taking a toll on everyone, not only Joe.  There was a significant change in Hoss, too.  I could sense the strain in his eyes, in his movements, and in the way he conducted his matter-of-fact conversations.

“I’m gonna give it a try,” I said, after hanging up my rake.  “Wish me luck.”

“Luck,” Hoss replied; his hand now resting on Cochise.

I knocked on Mr. Cartwright’s door.  Part of me felt like an intruder stepping into unknown territory.  I was one of the best men around when it came to roping wild horses or moving stubborn cattle to market, but talking about stuff like this wasn’t exactly my forte.  For the well-being of Hoss and Joe, I was willing to give it a shot.  I took a deep breath and opened the bedroom door.

“Hey, Buddy,” I said.

“Something wrong?”  Joe had a surprised look on his face.  Seeing me standing in his father’s doorway had caught him off guard.

“No, nothing’s wrong … exactly.  Can I come in?”

“Yeah—” 

I was overwhelmed by the heat pouring through the open door.  The fire was blazing, and I noticed a visible sheen of sweat covering Joe’s face.  His eyes were only half-open as if the life had gone out of him completely.  I wanted to throw him over my shoulder and haul him outside but I wouldn’t.  I’d just come to talk.

“Keepin’ it warm in here,” I said.

“Yeah—”

I hadn’t really thought of what I should say, and I wasn’t at all sure where to start.  Joe sat in a chair next to his father’s bed while I remained standing next to the door.  I crossed the room and leaned against Mr. Cartwright’s desk.  I looked down at the man lying on the bed, and I saw what Joe had witnessed all week long; a man lying prone, pale, and lifeless.  No movement whatsoever but the slight rise and fall of his chest.  I watched as Joe slipped a glass straw between his father’s lips, giving him small sips of water, something he’d nearly perfected since the doc showed him how.

“I thought maybe we could talk,” I said, breaking the silence.

“What about?”

He sounded so casual as if nothing was out of the ordinary.  Defiance?  Sure, that was common to Joe, but he knew full well why I was here so I blurted out the obvious.  “You need to let Hoss take over some of the load.”

“No, I’m fine here.  Besides, Hoss has other work to do.”

I should have been grateful Joe was talking, but that didn’t mean I was making any progress.  “You’re not fine.  You need time away from this room, plus, you need to share this responsibility with your brother.  How do you think he feels being left out?”

“The door’s not locked; he’s welcome here anytime.”  Joe dipped the tip of the straw back into the glass of water and again, he placed it between Mr. Cartwright’s lips. 

“Joe—”

“It’s all been said, Candy.”

Yes, it had.  Joe’s mind was made up; he wasn’t budging.  How could I convince him to do otherwise?  I didn’t know what else to say; I didn’t have the words of an insightful man—words that would break down the walls of this complicated man.  I’d have to walk away and tell Hoss I failed.  “Okay—I’ll … um tell Hoss what you said.”

I closed the door behind me.  I’d been no help at all.  Hoss already knew what the outcome would be, but he let me try anyway.  Joe had made up his mind a week ago and nothing or no one was going to drag him away from his father. 

Hoss and I talked over lunch.  We let Hop Sing take the tray upstairs to Joe.  Neither Hoss nor I volunteered for another worthless go-round.  Instead, we discussed cattle and a feeding plan and decided the books could wait.  The afternoon was a bust.  Not much we could accomplish outside, so Hoss pulled out the checkerboard and we sat and played games for the remainder of the afternoon.

Joe

The world outside is blanketed in white, forming drifts, rising high against obstacles blocking its path.  It’s a beautiful sight for a picture book but on a ranch the size of the Ponderosa, it only means twice the work and twice the manpower (which we are lacking) because I choose not to leave this room.  Howling winds rattle the windows and the downdraft forces bright orange sparks to shoot like nighttime fireflies from Pa’s fireplace; a fire that burns steady, keeping the room over-warm as prescribed by the doctor.  But now, with the heavy accumulation of snow, there will be no unnecessary travel; daily visits from Paul Martin and Sheriff Coffee will come to an abrupt end.  The house will become isolated, and any communication with the outside world will be put on hold.

I stare outside and into the whiteness, but I find it doesn’t lift my spirits like it did in my younger days.  “God’s way of cleansing both earth and sky,” Pa used to say.  According to my father, God has a hand in everything.  Ben Cartwright is a man of great faith and more times than I’m willing to admit, I’ve tried to understand the value of my father’s beliefs, but I find his God to be a selective God.  Where is the merciful God my father has always referred to?  Where is He now?

“Everything is part of God’s plan,” Pa would say.  My father has more dedication to the Almighty than any man I know.  It’s not that he’s a God-fearin’ man like some, but he’s a believer and trusts God will do the right thing.  I see it more as fate.  What will be, will be and my father’s God has little to do with the end result. 

I arch my back, stretching out the kinks due to too many days of inactivity.  My body aches and I twist from side to side, but nothing relieves the stiffness I feel down deep in my bones.  My brother Hoss says I should clean myself up; shave, change my clothes and run a brush through my hair, but what’s the use?  I don’t think the mere act of cleanliness will lift my spirits or help see me through another day.

As I stare out the window at the falling snow, I smile to myself when I think back to my boyhood, remembering tales Adam would tell Hoss and me as we huddled by the fire on cold, winter days like these.  Some of his stories came from books he’d read on Greek mythology.  Of course, the word mythology meant nothing to Hoss or me and we couldn’t have cared less about the Greeks, but the stories Adam told kept us thoroughly entertained through those endless days of winter.

They were tales of Zeus and other gods, whose names elude me and probably always will.  But the legend I remember most was the story of Pandora’s Magic Box.  I can almost hear my brother’s deep, baritone voice telling and retelling the story.  “As Pandora opened the box, ghostly forms gushed forth, and she unleashed all the evils known to man.  No longer could man lay around all day in the bright sunshine.  Now he would have to work and his body would give way to disease and illnesses.  Only one item remained in Pandora’s Box—hope.”  Adam said we are all blessed with hope because, at the very last second, Pandora slammed the lid shut and saved all of humanity by never letting hope escape.

As I work out the kinks I walk away from the window, leaving behind the reflection of a man lost in thought, of vacant eyes, of the promise of a better tomorrow.  I think back on my brother’s words.  “Hope.”  I should have hope for the future but during days like this I find myself exhausted, drained, and not willing to believe in my father’s God or in the remaining contents of Pandora’s Box.

Soon, Hop Sing will bring up my dinner, and he’ll realize my lunch still remains on the tray he brought up hours ago.  He’s well aware of the doctor’s orders, insisting I eat so as to keep up my strength for the days to come.  After a quick flurry of Cantonese, he will also appreciate the state I’m in and he will back out the door with both uneaten plates of food.

On occasion, Hoss tries to drag me downstairs but I won’t be coaxed out of this room.  He tries to understand how I feel, but even I can’t explain, not so he’d understand.  There were too many what if’s to even consider.  What if I’d done this or what if I’d done that then maybe I wouldn’t be struggling with my conscience, and maybe I’d find peace in a world turned upside down.

The days are long but when night comes, it’s just an endless source of darkness.  Even with the fire blazing, I feel a chill deep in my bones and when day gives way to night, it’s a feeling of permanence—a world encased in total darkness frightens me.  As with death, the world surrounding stops and the body leaps forward into eternal darkness. 

It’s not that I’m fascinated or obsessed by death, but I’m not one who’s escaped losing others into the world of darkness.  I’ve lost more than my share; people I’ve cared about, people who’ve touched my life only briefly and then vanished, only to leave me—the living—behind.  Again, I’ve let my mind wander, and to what purpose can it possibly serve?

I strike a match and raise the glass chimney, exposing the shortened wick.  A sense of comfort wraps its arms around me as the lamp’s golden glow warms the dark and shadowy room and forces the demons of death from my thoughts.

Hoss

“I’m gonna check the stock,” I said to Candy as I stood up from the settee.  I’d sat here too long anyway and my legs was growin’ stiff.

“Want some help?”

“You sit tight.  I’ve got it.  Go see if Hop Sing’s got dinner about ready.  I seemed to have worked up an appetite.”

“Playing checkers?”

“Yeah, playin’ checkers.  Somethin’ wrong with that?”

I slipped on my coat and grabbed my hat; it was dang cold outside and the wind didn’t help my cheery disposition.  The clouds hung heavy; a good indication of another storm on its way.  There’d been no glimpse of the sun breaking through for two days now.  We’d kept most of the lamps burnin’ since first thing this mornin’.  There was enough chopped wood to last another couple of weeks, but then we’d have to get busy.  With this kind of weather for days on end, the firewood would dwindle fast.  Then, we’d definitely need my little brother—the professional woodchopper. 

Joe learned the art of choppin’ wood at an early age, maybe five or six-years-old.  He’d been taught by Pa how to chop kindlin’ for Hop Sing’s stove.  Not by choice but by punishment for some misdeed.  That boy was a hellion if I ever saw one.  He could get in more dang trouble than Adam and I put together.  In fact, we used to call him double-trouble. 

“Here comes double-trouble,” Adam would say, knowin’ just how to get a rise out of our baby brother.

Joe was just a little shaver back then and he’d squeeze his eyes shut tight and stick his tongue out at Adam.  “Am not,” he’d say.  “I ain’t no trouble to nobody.”

Adam would roll his eyes; he knew better and so did I.  It wouldn’t be five minutes before we’d hear our pa correctin’ Little Joe for some mischief he’d already got hisself into.  Adam would look at me and refer to his prior statement.  “Double-trouble.”  We’d both snicker and carry on at Little Joe’s expense.

Little Joe chopped a lot of wood growin’ up.  He wasn’t a bad kid as some might think; he just kinda took things a step too far.  Maybe a prank he never shoulda tried in the first place or thinkin’ he could have the last word when he argued with Pa.  He was such an impetuous little guy; he never quite thought through to the consequences nor did he care at the time.  Joe’s little outbursts never set well with our father, and the boy would be sent straight to the woodpile.   Pa always had the last word.  Pa still has the last word.  Ain’t much changed there.

No matter how much or how long Pa and Little Joe argued or, what kind of trouble Joe found hisself in, there was always forgiveness at the completion of a job well done.  A finished pile of wood, stacked neatly, drained Joe’s excess energy and gave my father time to cool down.  Bad feelings toward one another were gone.  Apologies were forthcomin’.  There’s always been a special connection between Pa and Joe.  Even when he was little, Pa saw somethin’ in him; somethin’ he never wanted to destroy.  Joe had spirit and a whole lot of spunk, and it was mostly that spunk what got him into trouble.  But, he also had a great deal of love to give, especially to our father, and it’s that same bond—that special connection between the two of ‘em—that keeps Joe from leavin’ Pa’s side now.  How can I fault my younger brother for doin’ what only comes natural?

I pulled the barn door closed behind me and quickly lit the lantern.  It felt good to be out of the wind.  “Miss me, Chubby?”  I started toward my horse when a voice, comin’ from the back of the barn, startled me and I stopped dead in my tracks.

“Stand where you are, big man.”

I didn’t recognize the voice.  I couldn’t see the man.  I hadn’t brought my gun.  “Who’s there?” 

“Raise them hands.”

I raised my hands shoulder high.

“How many in the house?”

I had to think quickly.  “Three.”

“Back into the house,” the voice said.  “Get movin’!”

Joe

I burned the lamp all day.  I was beginning to lose my mind, keeping this constant vigil with no change in sight.  Pa’s shallow breathing, which I monitored almost constantly, gave the only indication of life.  If he could just give me a sign; if there was movement of some kind, I’d breathe easier and maybe believe my efforts had been worthwhile.

Hop Sing had brought up his special chicken broth which I’d been feeding Pa through the glass straw.  It actually worked pretty well but at times, I moved the tip of my finger too soon and spilled the contents, letting it dribble down Pa’s chin.  It wasn’t his fault; it was mine.  I was just so tired, so very tired. 

I knew Hoss and Candy were right; I knew they were only trying to help, but I just couldn’t force myself from Pa’s room.  Not until I knew he would live; not until I’d done everything in my power to make that happen.  Doc told me early on that Pa had a 50/50 chance of a full recovery, which only meant Paul didn’t know himself what the outcome would be.

I often think of Pa’s God.  I remember the tale of Pandora’s Magic Box.  I drop my head to my hands and I wonder if I even know how to pray.  I’ve sat alongside my father on hard wooden pews for most of my life, and I’ve heard the same lessons and prayers as everyone else.  Over the years there’ve been numerous preachers, spilling out words I never cared about, never quite listened to.  If only I had.  If only I could draw on that faith my father takes for granted.  If only I could pray for my father’s full recovery.

I stood up and crossed the room, feeling the need to stretch my legs.  I saw my reflection in Pa’s dresser mirror.  I looked like hell from afar; I certainly wasn’t going in for a close-up.  Although I’ve kept the room warm, just like the doctor ordered, I sure could use a breath of fresh air.  I lifted the sash and breathed in deeply.  The air was cold, crisp, and fresh, and it felt like heaven against my own feverish feeling skin.  I glanced over my shoulder at my father and, with sudden guilt, I slammed the window closed.  “Keep the room warm, Joseph.”  Because of my own brand of selfishness, I’d filled Pa’s room with frigid air.  I flew back across the room to check my father. 

With no change in Pa, I settled back in my chair for the long night ahead.  I found it odd Hop Sing hadn’t come up with my dinner.  I wouldn’t have eaten much anyway but still.  Maybe he’s learned by now it wasn’t worth climbing the stairs or, after remembering my conversation with Hoss, maybe he and Candy had decided to starve me out.

Candy

Hop Sing had been busy in the kitchen for most of the day.  The constant clatter of pots and pans was a comforting sound in this unusually quiet house.  I would do Hoss’ bidding and check on supper.  After tossing another log on the fire, I headed toward the back of the house, but just as I rounded Mr. Cartwright’s chair, the front door swung wide open.  The men who stood in the doorway weren’t men I’d ever expected to see again.

I started to raise my hands as the ringleader, the larger man, shoved Hoss forward, past the holsters and guns piled high on the sideboard.  I counted four holsters and four Colts, but I was too far away to have prevented what happened next.  The larger man flipped his gun in his hand and, with the butt; he slammed Hoss across the back of his head.   Hoss never knew what hit him; he hit the floor hard.

Ben

From atop a ridge, I look down.  Fields of lush green meadows surround me, pastureland, perfect for grazing any number of cattle.  A glorious deep, blue lake, larger than any I’d ever seen while crossing the prairie, had been placed by the hand of God at the base of the mountain.  Beauty encircled me.  Land I’d only dreamed of but had never laid eyes on before.  I would stake my claim right here and now.  I would make this magnificent piece of land my own—a home for me and my sons …

Joe

By morning light, I woke. Sunlight streamed in through Pa’s window; the sky was such a brilliant blue against the white backdrop of snow, I felt a sense of strength, a sense of renewal.  I stretched out the kinks of yet another night of sleeping in Pa’s chair when I felt a slight chill and realized I’d slept straight through; never waking to stoke the fire. 

Leaning over and cupping the glass, I blew out the bedside lamp and pressed my hand against Pa’s chest as I did every morning.  The same rhythmic beating hadn’t changed from any other day since the shooting.  I moved my hand to his forehead; warm enough but no fever.  As I looked down on my father’s still form, I often wondered if he felt anything at all.  Did he know I was here with him?  Did he hear me when I spoke or was he lost in another world; a world absent from my voice and from my physical presence in his room?

I knelt down to restart the fire, knowing the brilliant sun and blue sky were deceiving; the early morning temperature was most likely way below freezing.  I cursed myself for not waking up at least once during the night.  How could I have been that tired?  “Keep the room warm.”  That was my only job, but when I stood back up, needing a match from the fireplace mantle, I heard a noise, a low-sounding groan.  My attention was suddenly drawn to my father.  Was I dreaming or could it be?  With the fire quickly forgotten, I returned to Pa’s bedside.

“Pa?  Can you hear me?  Pa, it’s Joe.”

I sat on the edge of the bed.  Gently, I stroked my father’s face when, little by little, I felt him lean into the palm of my hand.  “Pa,” I repeated.  “Time to wake up now.” 

Water—Pa needs water.  I stood and reached for the pitcher—empty.  “Damn!”  Where the hell was Hop Sing?  He always kept the pitcher brimming with fresh water from the bottom of the well.  Why hadn’t he been up to the room yet?  I hated to leave Pa.  I promised I wouldn’t leave him alone.

“Pa,” I said calmly, feeling every nerve in my body wanting to shout with joy.  “Pa?  Don’t move.  I’m just going down for water.  I’ll be back before you know it, okay?  Everything will be better now.” 

I reached for my father’s hand but instead of squeezing his, he gripped tightly to mine.  “Come on, Pa.  You can do it.  I need you to wake up.  I need you …” My breathing became short and shallow: my eyes became hot with unshed tears.  “Please, Pa.” 

My father’s hand fell away, but he’d had that moment—he’d given me a sign.  There would be more; I knew there’d be more.   “I’ll be right back.  Just goin’ for water.”  I picked up the empty pitcher and took one last glance at Pa.  This was going to be a fine day—a day of hope.  A day of miracles.

Roy

“I really should ride out and tell the Cartwright’s.”

“What could they possibly do? “Paul Martin said, tryin’ to put me at ease.  “With Ben laid up, no one’s going to leave that ranch, besides, you’ve got a pretty good-sized knot on the back of your head.”

“I just think they oughta know.  I could kick myself for lettin’ them two men overtake me like that.”

“They’re professionals and, as we both know, they don’t mind pulling their guns if someone stands in their way.  I’d say you were a very lucky man, Roy.  You’re still alive.  You could have easily been killed.”

“I still think I oughta—”

“Look at this poster,” Paul said, holdin’ up it so I could see.  “You didn’t stand a chance with men like them plus, you’d never make it out to the Ponderosa anyway without a sleigh and a team of sturdy pullin’ horses.  Joe and Hoss and Candy can take care of things just fine.”

“Dang if they weren’t on me before I knew it, grabbed the keys to the cell and took the one called Lester with ‘em.”

“Don’t beat yourself up over this.  These things happen.”

“Yeah … maybe, but I sure hate to have to tell Hoss and Little Joe after what happened to Ben.”

“How about a cup of coffee,” Paul said.

I started to smile.  Paul was a good friend.  The rest of the town may not feel as charitable when they find out the only bank robber I was responsible for escaped.  “Hey, how’s Ben anyway?”

Hoss

My head pounded and my hands were tied. Nights were long and tedious when you’re not allowed to sleep.  Our three guests made all the decisions.  To begin with, they needed shelter from the storm.  We were the lucky ones; far enough away from town and a house large enough to accommodate.  We had food and a warm fire.  I feared they were set to stay for an undetermined length of time.

Candy recognized them right off.   The three bank robbers; the men who’d shot my father and killed Silas Perkins were making themselves comfortable in our home.  They ate, they drank; they made unnecessary jibes at our expense although I failed to acknowledge their humor.  Three men—three guns.  They each rotated, keepin’ their guns trained on the three of us; me, Candy, and Hop Sing.  No one had ventured upstairs; eventually, they would.  Candy and I had remained calm throughout the night, but I could tell Hop Sing was becomin’ more anxious as the morning wore on.  None of us had slept a wink and we, includin’ our guests, were tired and everyone occupyin’ the room was on edge. 

Hop Sing is a man who follows his own internal clock.  Everythin’ has a time and place and should not be altered.  Before anyone else inside the house even begins to stir, Hop sing is busy preparin’ coffee for my father.  He will carry a polished, silver tray upstairs and have it ready and waitin’ when Pa wakes.  Breakfast is hot and on the table when we come downstairs to start our day.  For Hop Sing to fall out of routine disturbs him greatly.

Candy and I wait patiently for our guests to make even the slightest mistake and in time they will.  The two of us will be ready to act.  My only fear is if Joe should venture out of Pa’s room.  He hasn’t so far so the odds are he’ll remain a recluse for now.

Our hands have been tied all night.  Leo, Lester, and their leader, Sam, are now beginnin’ to wander through the house.  As Leo checks out the rifles on the back wall, he gives a glowin’ report to his partners on how fine the weapons are and, when he glances at me, he lets on how he’d be willin’ to trade straight across the board.  He was the jokester of the group although I refused to give him the time of day.

Not only had Candy recognized the robbers, they in turn had recognized him.  “Where’s your partner?” Sam, the leader, had asked early on.

“He wasn’t my partner.  He’s just an acquaintance.”

I knew they were askin’ about Joe, and Candy was quick with an answer; the right answer. 

“I ain’t so sure about that.  Is he here?  In the house?”

“Not that I can see,” Candy replied.

“You some sort of a smart mouth?”

“Nope.”

Yes, you are, Candy, and if you don’t watch that mouth they’ll kill us all.  A part of me wanted to burst out laughing at Candy’s boldness; instead, I’d looked the other way and kept my thoughts to myself.  Candy’s comment had been enough to rattle our guests but even though the situation was dire, Candy wasn’t takin’ any guff from these three men.  Maybe he’d met men like this durin’ his travels and durin’ his life before he settled in with us.  He was an asset to this family; he proved himself daily, and I was grateful to have a man like him on my side.

Our captors, who had greeted me in the barn, had been inside the house for a good twelve to fourteen hours.  Each one of us was allowed to relieve ourselves one at a time.  Hell, no one was gonna run off for fear the others would be killed due to their flight.  Sam had made that pretty clear last night. 

We’d let most of our ranch hands go for the winter months.  We had men ridin’ fence and stayin’ the winter in our line shacks, but we wouldn’t see them till spring.  There would be no more surprise visitors with the roads being nearly impassable.  I was curious to know how Lester escaped jail and how they found their way here.  If Roy was still alive, would he be out searchin’ with a newly formed posse or would the town let him down when it came to trackin’ men through the snow?

“What’s in the safe?” Sam asked

“Papers and stuff,” I said.

“Open it.”

I glared straight at him.  I couldn’t do nothin’ trussed up like a steer.

“Untie him, Lester.”

I glanced at Candy, but this wasn’t the right time to take action.  Sam’s gun was aimed straight at Hop Sing.

“Hurry up, big man.  Get it open.”

I didn’t even know what Pa had inside the safe besides deeds to our land and other Ponderosa papers.   At times there was cash we used for payroll and such but Pa didn’t keep much money around durin’ the winter months, at least I didn’t think so.  Sam and his men were gonna be quite disappointed in what I had to offer. 

The door clicked open and I reached into the safe.  “That’s good enough,” Sam said, kickin’ at my boot heel.  I stood and ambled back to my seat.  “Tie him up, Lester.”

Leo was finished admirin’ the rifles, and he crossed the room to stand next to Sam.  His gun was always aimed in our direction, just in case, we decided to make a mad dash with our hands tied.  “What’s in there, Sam?”

“Hold your horses.  Can’t you see I’m busy?”

Sam was definitely the leader over these other two flunkies.  He pulled out the metal cash box and set it on Pa’s desk.  He holstered his gun and flipped open the lid.  “Hmmm, a tidy sum,” he said.

“How much, Sam?”  Leo was eager to know.

Sam fanned the bills, and I was surprised to see the amount he’d pulled from the box.

“Looks like about a thousand.”

“Take it,” I said.  “It’s yours if you leave now.”

Sam smiled.  “You gonna stop me, big man?”

If I could I would.  I glared in Sam’s direction.  He understood my meanin’.

“Untie the Chinaman, Lester.  I’m hungry.”

Hop Sing tensed when his name was mentioned.  I nodded at him.  “It’s okay, Hop Sing.  Fix ‘em whatever they want.”

“Yessir, Mr. Hoss.”

Lester followed Hop Sing into the kitchen.  Even with only two gunmen left in the room, neither Candy nor I had a way to disarm them.  We would wait.  Somethin’ would develop.  At some point, we’d catch them off guard.

Joe

There was the distant sound of chatter downstairs.  I figuredHoss and Candy were getting their day started and, while part of me felt guilty for not helping out, I knew I didn’t have a choice but to remain with Pa.  With the rest of the house awake and ready for work, I found it odd that Hop Sing had yet to make an appearance.  It just wasn’t like him to let things like this slide and now, I’d have to fetch my own pitcher of water. 

After pulling on my boots, I grabbed hold of the empty pitcher before I left my father’s room.  If Pa was gonna wake up today, the least I could do was clean up some.  I’d worn these clothes since the holdup but now, I felt the urge to appear a bit more presentable. 

There was a feeling of lightness to my step, something I hadn’t felt all week long.  It was as though a weight had been lifted, and my life might actually make sense once again.  But as I neared the stairs, I heard strange voices; neither of which was my brother or Candy.  I stopped.  I stood out of sight with my back against the wall.  As a kid, I’d learned much about life from this very spot in the upstairs hall.

After hearing my brother say something to Hop Sing, I wondered whose voice had I heard just minutes ago?  Surely Hoss would have told me if Roy or the doc had made the trip out and, whether it was lack of sleep or just the stress of this weeklong process, I couldn’t seem to decide what to do.   In some peculiar way, I felt uneasy about having strangers in the house with Pa in the condition he was in.  This was silly.  My mind was playing tricks although I admit I’d been caught off guard by the unfamiliar voice. 

Footsteps started up the stairs and quickly, I slipped back into Pa’s room, eased the door closed, and stood quietly, this time with my back against Pa’s bedroom wall rather than the wall in the hall.  While keeping a tight grip on the pitcher, I listened carefully to every sound.  One by one, bedroom doors opened and closed.  The intruder was heading my way.  Standing stiff-legged beside the closed door, I glanced across the room at Pa, sleeping, unaware.  When the sound in the hallway stopped, my grip tightened on the only weapon available—the china pitcher.  The latch slowly turned and before I could see a face, I saw the shiny, silver barrel of a gun.

I came down hard on the man’s hand with my only weapon.  The gun dropped to the floor and I slammed the door shut, catching his wrist and causing him to howl like a wounded animal.  I pulled the door open wide and rammed myself headfirst into his midsection, sending us both crashing into the far wall of the hallway.  Together, we tumbled sideways to the floor, wrestling away at each other’s tight hold.  As soon as I had him pinned to the ground, I slammed my fist across his jaw.  He, in turn, grabbed me in a headlock and flipped me to the side.  Now he was on top of me and was pressing both thumbs—dead center—at my throat.  Breathlessly, I finally bucked him off and when the man hesitated, I took my chance, pushing him up and farther away. 

I made it to my feet and then pulled him to his.  I jabbed at his stomach and plowed my fist across his face.  He staggered slightly but came back swinging.  There was another set of footfalls pounding up the stairs and when I chanced a look, the man whirled me around and I inadvertently caught my boot heel on the edge of the hallway carpet.  A shot was fired.  A fiery burn sent me flying forward and collapsing into the stranger’s unsuspecting arms.

Candy

Hoss and I both jumped from our seats when we heard the shot.  We both looked to Leo for answers, but he knew nothing more than the two of us.  It had been Lester who’d gone upstairs first; his mission was to find more money hidden in one or all of the bedrooms.  It had been Sam who ran up the stairs after hearing the banging commotion.  It had been Sam, followed by Lester, who came down the stairs holstering a smoking gun.  It meant one of two things.  The bullet was meant for either Joe or Mr. Cartwright, but Hoss and I knew full well who’d taken the shot.

Hop Sing stood just outside the kitchen with a stunned look on his face.  Neither Hoss nor I spoke, but if Joe was dead and Mr. Cartwright was left alone for long, let’s just say I knew what it would do to this family—this family with only one survivor  . . . Hoss.

I’d heard talk of an older brother, who’d left home some time back, and I was unsure if Hoss had wired him when Mr. Cartwright had first been shot.  I didn’t know if he even knew of his brother’s whereabouts, but what I did know was we sure could have used his big brother’s help right now. 

“You lied to me, didn’t you, smart mouth,” Sam said, digging the barrel of his gun into the side of my head.  “I oughta kill you right now.”

It wasn’t really a question, and I didn’t dignify it with an answer.  Let him think whatever he wanted.  I felt the heat of the barrel as he pressed his gun firmly against the side of my head.  I wasn’t seeing a way out, and I figured we’d all be dead within the hour anyway.  These men were already looking at a murder rap and if Joe was dead, why not three more?  What would it matter?

Hoss

“Did you kill my little brother?” 

“He’s dead and you will be too if you don’t shut that fat mouth of yours.”

Sam turned to Hop Sing.  “Food ready yet, Chinaman?”

Whether I believed Sam or not, Candy and I had to make our move sooner rather than later.  If Joe was alive, he’d need tendin’ right quickly.  If we didn’t do somethin’ within the next few minutes, Joe could bleed out and die before we got to him.

“My friend and I could use some of that grub,” Candy said when Sam and the others walked toward the dining room after Hop Sing had brought out platters of food.

“Right,” he said, shaking his head.  “You want me to untie you so we can all sit down and eat like one big happy family?  You’re jokin’, right?”

“One at a time,” Candy continued.  “Just untie one of us at a time.”

I knew Candy was itchin’ to get Joe taken care of, and maybe he’d come up with a plan.  But with one of us still tied, I didn’t see what kind of chance we had.

“All right, smart mouth.  You first.  Leo?”

Leo came around behind Candy and loosened the ropes on his wrists.  Candy had been sittin’ on the hearth and when he stood, he arched his back and then stretched his arms straight out to his sides before diggin’ his hands deep into his pants pockets.  Leo turned back toward the dining room and as soon as he passed my chair, Candy followed, droppin’ his pocket knife behind my back.

I was sittin’ in Pa’s chair, and I inched a bit forward till the knife fell right into my hand.  Without makin’ a big deal, I slid forward a touch more, enough to open the knife and began sawin’.  I could feel the sweat start to bead on my forehead and by the time breakfast was over, we’d either be in charge of the situation or die tryin’.

Hop Sing had plenty of knives in his kitchen but no gun.  To my knowledge, he’d never even held a gun in his hand.  If I walked away alive, I swore I’d make sure Hop Sing’s education was my first priority. 

Candy sat down with the gunmen as if he was already the man in charge.  And when he started chattin’ with them as though they were guests in our home, I tried to work out in my mind what the heck he had planned.

“You don’t mind making me tea instead of coffee, do you, Hop Sing?” 

“Tea?  Uh … no, Mr. Candy.  Right away.  I make you special pot.”

Tea?  Candy doesn’t drink tea.

“You one of them English sissy boys?”  Leo said.  “Ain’t them the ones who drink tea?”

“I ain’t no sissy boy, but Hoss and I both prefer tea over coffee.  Kind of a household tradition around here,” Candy said.  “But Hop Sing knows most men prefer coffee so no need for worry, he won’t make you drink tea.”

“Damn straight,” Sam said.

Candy was up to somethin’ and, if I had to drink Hop Sing’s tea rather than a cup of hot coffee, it better be good.  I felt the ropes loosenin’ but I wasn’t all the way through just yet.  I kept sawin’.  This was one time I wished my hands was smaller since I kept hittin’ Pa’s chair with the tip of the knife.  That was the least of my worries right now, but I’d pay dearly on down the road. 

I didn’t turn around to look, but I could hear Hop Sing scurryin’ about and bringin’ out more platters of food.  My stomach growled at the various smells before I remembered my little brother lyin’ upstairs wounded or possibly dead.  I sawed faster through the final rope.  Joe had to be alive.  This wasn’t how the story’s s’posed to end, not with a brother dead, and what about Pa?  Did it even occur to these men why Joe was upstairs in the first place?

Hop Sing

Mr. Candy smart man.  He give Hop Sing idea.  Hop Sing not born yesterday—plenty smart.  Hop Sing have much ingredients make man well or make man sick.  I serve bad men many cup coffee.  When pot empty, Hop Sing make more.  Men drink Hop Sing special brew.   Men not so smart as Hop Sing and Mr. Candy.  

Hoss

My wrists pulled apart, but I remained with my hands loose behind my back.

Candy was really yackin’ it up with the gunmen.  He’d already told them about our cattle and about drivin’ ‘em to market in Sacramento.  What was the point?  Was he gonna hire ‘em on as drovers next time we headed out?

The smell of food reminded me of one of our drives years ago.  Trail food was never my favorite so for me, returnin’ home was the best part of the whole trip.  The drive that sticks in my mind was Little Joe’s first.  He’d just turned sixteen, and I’d never seen anyone so excited about impendin’ hard work.  He’d just finished up his schoolin’ and Pa was allowin’ him to go on the drive.  Adam was hesitant; thought the boy was too young.  I knew better.  If nothing else, the kid had stamina and a great deal of gusto.  I knew all along he could get the job done.

The day before we was set to leave, Adam and Joe and I were roundin’ up the last of the strays.  We was just about ready to head back to the house for our last decent meal when I heard in the distance, a young calf bawlin’.  “Hear that, Adam.”

“Yeah,” he said with a sigh.  “I’ll get him.”

“I’ll go,” Joe said, still fresh by the end of the day and rarin’ to show Adam just what he was made of.”

“I’ll get this one, Kid,” Adam said and took off, leavin’ a trail of dust in his wake.

Now, I can’t rightly say what Adam was thinkin’ at the time, but I knew he was beat and so was I.  If he was out to prove he could put in a longer day than Joe, it weren’t the smartest thing big brother coulda done.  Little Joe had more energy than Adam’n I put together—always has, always will.  It’s his nature and nothin’ never changes a man’s nature.

So, long-story-short, that little calf landed right on Adam’s left wrist after he’d pulled him outta that muddy ditch.  It weren’t broke, but Doc told him the wrist needed time to heal and there weren’t no place for him on a cattle drive.   Of course, Pa agreed with Paul’s decision, and Adam had to stay home while the rest of us rode off, leavin’ him to fend for hisself.

Not only did Pa worry about Adam the entire time we were gone, he made it an even higher priority to fret over Joe.  The plan was for Joe to stick side-by-side with Adam on the way to Sacramento.  Accordin’ to Pa, the boy didn’t know what precautions to take, and he could end up hurt or worse if he weren’t frequently instructed on proper behavior.  Adam was to be his teacher. 

Before we even left the house, Pa was on Joe like bees on honey.  Do this, do that, don’t do this, don’t do that.  The kid got an earful right from the start but in the end, Joe had heard every word Pa had said.  I’d never seen anyone catch on so quickly and end up bein’ the star of the show.  

Joe was not only young and energetic, but the kid was smart.  He out-rode me and he out-rode Pa in fact he out-road most of the drovers we’d hired.  I was proud of my little brother.  He stepped up when needed; he never complained.  We knew by the end of each day he’d out-worked us all but still, he found time to laugh and tell his ridiculous jokes around the campfire at night.  Joe was happy.  He was surrounded by friends and family and, above all, he’d surpassed Pa’s expectations.

I think of Joe now, lyin’ up there with no one by his side.  That’s why he’s never left Pa’s room since the shootin’.  He wanted to be there when Pa woke.  He didn’t want Pa to wake up alone.  My little brother had been a fighter all his life.  My brother enjoyed the spotlight and he had a need to be surrounded by people he loved.  My brother would never consider dyin’ alone.

When talk around the dining room table died down, it was Leo who walked Candy back around my chair and back to his place on the hearth.  I glanced up at Candy for a sign.  There weren’t one there.  What should I do now?   My hands were free and it was my turn to eat.

“Okay, big man.  Lean forward.”

“Ain’t hungry,” I said.  “Done lost my appetite.”

“You’re choice,” Leo said.  He shook his head and went back to join his friends.  I tried to signal Candy, and all I got in return was a wink and a smile.

Hop Sing

Hop Sing pretty smart cookie.  Plan work like magic.  Men sweat; stomachs hurt.  Excuse selves one-by-one and make way to outhouse.  Hop Sing smile to self.  Not long, bad men not in charge of house no more.

Candy

It was only a matter of time.  Hoss had leaned forward and shown me his wrists were untied.  I wasn’t so lucky but soon, Hoss would understand why I wasn’t worried, and why we didn’t take the chance during breakfast.  Hop Sing had been quick to catch on; I’d seen the gleam in his eyes.

The gunmen were struggling to hang on to their breakfast.  I don’t know for sure what Hop Sing put in their coffee but whatever it was, it was doing the trick.  Numerous trips out the back door gave a clear indication of their discomfort.

If Joe was still alive, Hoss and I both knew that by now he was in serious trouble.  And what about Mr. Cartwright?  How long would he last without attention? The roads were still a problem and getting Paul Martin out to the ranch would be, at best, a long shot.

Lester sat down across from me on the settee then stretched his legs out, propping his boots on the table and leaving puddles of wet snow in their wake.  He was clutching his stomach and swallowing back his breakfast with uneven, heavy gulps.  Leo joined him only minutes later.  He, too, was struggling.  I didn’t know Sam’s whereabouts but now was the time.  We had to make our move. 

“Now!” I shouted to Hoss.

I had barely stood up from my seat before Hoss had his hands on both men, knocking their heads together and stripping them of their guns.  My hands were tied—literally—but I kicked the guns across the room as Hoss cracked the two men’s heads together again and again until they both fell unconscious.   As soon as they lay motionless, he untied my wrists and used my rope on Lester.  Before I could get to the kitchen, Hop Sing was heading my way with a second rope for Leo.

“I’ll check out back.”  I grabbed one of the bandit’s guns, raced through the kitchen and out the back door.  There were tracks but when I flung open the outhouse door, there was no sign of Sam.  A set of footprints led around the back of the house.  I trudged my way through the snow, following the only set of tracks there were, but as I came around the far side, Sam was already mounted and rounding the corner of the barn.  I took the shot, but I was too late.  He was already clear out of sight. “Dammit all to hell …”

I made my way to the porch and opened the front door.  Hoss, prepared for the worst, held me at gunpoint before lowering the weapon to his side.  “He’s gone,” I said.  I dreaded telling Hoss what I knew to be true.  “There’s one more thing.”

“What’s that?”

“He … um … he rode out on Chub.”

I watched as Hoss’ shoulders fell.  He and his mount had been together for many years; the big, powerful horse would be sorely missed.  Hoss’ world was crumbling down around him.  “Joe—” was all he said.  He started for the stairs.  I shoved the gun through my waistband and followed him up.

~~~

Joe lay prone in the hallway.

“Joseph,” Hoss said, kneeling down on one knee and placing his fingers against Joe’s neck.  “He’s alive.”

Covering the walls and the hallway carpet was a spattering of blood—Joe’s blood.  A large rust-colored stain had already begun to dry on the back of his shirt.  Joe’s words were barely audible although he tried his best to say Hoss’ name.  I clapped my hand on the big man’s shoulder and found my own eyes growing hot and clouded with tears, not just for Joe but for Hoss, too.  I looked into Hoss’ eyes; I couldn’t help but smile.  I felt we’d hit upon a tiny miracle in the midst of chaos.  But we had to act fast or lose Joe forever.

“I’ll get him to his bed.  You check on Pa.”

“Will do,” I said. 

I wasted no time and neither did Hoss.  Joe’s lifeless body lay outside his father’s bedroom door and as soon as Hoss had Joe securely in his arms, I rushed in to check on Mr. Cartwright.  Shock was the only word that came to mind when I looked across the room and saw Mr. Cartwright struggling to sit upright on the edge of his bed.

“Candy,” he said.  His voice was coarse and gravelly.  “Some water—”

“Don’t move.  I got it.  Don’t … don’t move.”

The room was cold and the pitcher was missing.  That’s when I realized Joe had used it as a weapon, the only thing he had handy and now, it was nothing but shattered pieces of china left on the hallway floor.  “I … I’ll be right back.  Please don’t move.  I’ll go get some water.”

I started down the hall when I saw Hop Sing crossing the downstairs room and heading for the stairs.  “I need a pitcher of water for Mr. Cartwright.  Hurry, Hop Sing.  He’s awake.”

I rushed back to Mr. Cartwright’s room, afraid he might be a little too eager to learn what all the commotion was about.  “Hop Sing’s on his way.  He went for fresh water.”

“Thank you, Candy.  So dry … cold.”

His voice was barely audible, but I could make out the words well enough.  “It feels cool in here now, but Joe’s kept it like an oven in here all week.”

“Week?”

It was obvious he remembered nothing, and I would gladly explain, but I felt I really needed to be helping Hoss.  “There was a bank robbery and—”

“A what?”

“You walked into the Virginia City bank right in the middle of a holdup, Mr. Cartwright.  You were shot.  This is the first time you’ve regained consciousness since—”  

“Were you there?”

“Joe and I were both there.”

“Bank … right.  I remember.  Meeting Little Joe at the bank.”

“That’s right.”

“You came with us?”

“Yessir.”

His mind was working overtime, trying to put all the pieces together.   I didn’t want to add anything that would upset him more than he already was.  The poor man was confused enough, and adding Joe’s condition to the mix would be too much to handle at this point.

“Will you get me into that chair, Candy?”

Against my better judgment, I held onto one arm and wrapped my other hand around his waist.  He was weak and unsteady on his feet but the chair was close by, and all I really had to do was to turn him around and ease him down onto the cushioned seat.  “There,” I said.  “Better?”

“Much.”

“Mr. Ben,” Hop Sing cried.  “You all better now.”

“Yes, Hop Sing.  All better now.”

“I pour water.  You need drink.  I make fresh soup and you eat all.”

“Yes, Hop Sing.”

Mr. Cartwright took the glass and steadily drank every drop.  “That very good, Mr. Ben.  I start soup on stove right away.”

“Thank you, Hop Sing.”

Mr. Cartwright released an elongated sigh before letting his head fall against the back of the chair.  “Where are my boys?”

The question I dreaded most of all.  I pulled the revolver from my waistband, and I sat down on the edge of the bed directly in front of the chair.  I clapped my hands together in my lap and looked straight at Mr. Cartwright.  “We’ve had a bit of trouble . . .”

At the mention of Joe’s wound, the tables automatically turned.  No longer was Mr. Cartwright the sick, frail man of only minutes ago, he was Ben Cartwright, the concerned father.  I fought hard to keep him in his chair, but it was a battle I would not win.  I gave it one more shot. “I need to help Hoss, and the best thing you could do for all of us is to climb back into your bed and—”

“I’m coming with you.” 

The interruption caught me off guard, but I’d been around this family long enough to know who was boss.  Arguing the point would be a waste of time.  I thought I’d try once more, but the piercing glare I received told me not to even try.  “Okay, but we need to take it slow.”

I helped Mr. Cartwright into his dressing gown and slippers.  He held tightly to my arm as we slowly trudged down the hallway together.  A fire was already warming Joe’s room and Hop Sing was coming up right behind us carrying two extra lamps from somewhere else in the house. 

Hoss turned when he heard us enter through the doorway.   “Pa,” he said, rushing to his father’s side.

“How’s Joseph?”

“It ain’t good.  We’re gonna have to get the bullet out ourselves.  No way can we send for the doc.”

“But why?” 

“Take a look outside, Pa.  There’s two feet of snow.  Ain’t no way Paul could make it this far.”

Hoss and I guided Mr. Cartwright to the chair in Joe’s room, but this chair was a small wooden desk chair and wouldn’t do for the long haul.  I grabbed Hop Sing’s arm and we raced back and carried Mr. Cartwright’s larger upholstered chair into Joe’s room, figuring this would be best and knowing he wasn’t planning to leave Joe’s room anytime soon.  I took the folded quilt from the end of Joe’s bed and handed it over to Hop Sing.  “Here—” He settled it over Mr. Cartwright’s legs, but when he tried to tuck in the sides, his hands were quickly slapped away by the overly distraught father.

“Candy?”

I looked up at Hoss.

“Think you can do this?”

“Me?”  Why me?

“My hands is so big, I’m afraid I’ll do more damage than good.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and quickly glanced down at Mr. Cartwright.  He nodded his head in approval.

“All right,” I said shakily.  I could already feel my heart racing faster than a locomotive, but both men trusted me and that was half the battle.  I gave the air of confidence and acted as though digging out bullets from best friends was second nature.  In reality, I was scared half to death.  This, single-handedly, would be the performance of my life.  “Let’s get it done,” I said.

Hop Sing had already brought up everything that was needed, including the extra lamps, now lighting up the room brighter than the 4th of July, and every tool I might need to do the job.  Hoss had removed Joe’s shirt and boots and was ready to assist if needed.  “Good thing he’s passed out, but if he comes to—” I looked up at Hoss.  “I’m countin’ on you to hold him down.”

I steadied my hand and picked up the slimmest of knives.  This wasn’t the first time Joe had been operated on in this room, and all I could do was take a deep breath and send up a quick little prayer to the man upstairs before I made the initial cut.  I’d heard the story of Joe’s eldest brother having to do practically the same operation right here in this room only a few years ago, but the scar left behind that time was on Joe’s chest.  This time the bullet had entered through the back of his shoulder.  Hoss had cleaned up most of the dried blood, leaving a half-moon scar showing clearly next to this brand-new wound.

It had only been a few months ago when Joe had gotten himself involved with a married woman.  Of course, he didn’t know she was married at the time, but it wasn’t long before all hell broke loose and her husband wasted no time setting Joe straight.  The affair ended before it began, but Emily McPhail turned out to be quite a persistent lady. 

I stared down at the old wound, but I could remember clearly when Hoss and I rode up after we’d heard a shot; the shot that had left this half-moon scar.  Joe was just now getting his strength back from that near-fatal wound and, if I did my job correctly, the healing process would begin all over again.  I had to put Emily and all of her doings completely out of my mind.  I needed a clear head before I pressed the tip of this knife into my friend.

“Okay, I’m ready,” I said.  I held a cloth in one hand and the knife in the other.  I pierced Joe’s skin then dabbed as much blood away as I could.  I plunged the knife in farther, hoping to hear metal hit metal right off although that wasn’t the case.  Blood seeped; I wiped.  Over and over, I swallowed the heavy lump in my throat.  I dug deeper.

“There,” I said.  “I can feel it now.”

Hoss swapped the knife for a long pair of tweezers and I entered the wound a second time.  These had to be something Paul Martin had ordered special for the Cartwrights.  They sure weren’t the kind of instrument you’d find in any normal household.   Metal hit metal, and I tried to wrap the tweezers around the bullet.  I started to pull back.  “Damn, I said.  “Lost it.”  I knew right then I should keep my comments to myself.  I was putting everyone on edge unlike the good doc, who knew when to keep his mouth shut.  “Got it,” I said after a second try.  I smiled at Hoss.

I couldn’t see Mr. Cartwright and I was thankful for that.  He sat behind me in his overstuffed chair, but I could only imagine what he was thinking and what he was feeling right now.  The sound of the bullet hitting the china bowl caused everyone in the room to release a difficult sigh of relief.  I was exhausted but Joe still had to be stitched up.  Hop Sing handed me a needle he’d already threaded.  Between the three of us—Hoss, me, and Hop Sing—I’ll admit we made a darn good team of doctors.

With Joe cleaned up, and after I’d drizzled some alcohol over the stitches and bandaged him as best as I could, it was a unanimous decision to leave him flat on his stomach for now.  I turned to Mr. Cartwright.  “I did the best I could.  I hope my best was good enough.”

“You did fine, Candy, just fine.  Thank you.”

Ben looked tired, exhausted in fact, and rather than returning to his room and resting as he should, he stayed right where he was.  I stood and rinsed my hands in a clean bowl of water.  My legs trembled as I tried to scrub away my best friend’s blood, which had splattered and caked halfway up my arms.  Joe hadn’t stirred, hadn’t woken or moved at all.  The adrenalin rush I’d experienced during the operation was gone and I was totally spent.  It was only midday, and we still had two bank robbers tied up downstairs.  The third was missing, but would he return for his friends?  I couldn’t think about any of them or what our options were.  All I wanted to do was go and hide somewhere safe; away from the blood and feeling of inadequacy I carried deep inside.

Ben

I sat halfway across the room.  After Joe’s bandages were applied, I had asked Hoss to push my chair closer to the head of the bed.  Both he and Candy were worn out after the surgery; not so much physically, but mentally exhausted.  They needed time away from this room in order to put the images of Joe’s gaping wound and the tedious process aside.

A bullet wound, one shot from close range, is nothing anyone should have to witness in their lifetime and, if it happens to someone you know, it becomes magnified to even greater proportions.  Nothing can prepare a man; nothing is a greater test than knowing you are the only one available to save that man’s life.  I, too, had once been placed in Candy’s shoes.  While the bullet itself leaves a powder burn when it enters the body, the gaping hole surrounded by burned and inflamed flesh would make most men turn their heads at such a gruesome sight.  While bits of clothing can also become embedded, those little fragments also need to be removed in order to prevent infection. 

Candy’d had his work cut out for him, and Hoss had kept him steady and moving forward with nods of encouragement as he, too, hovered over my youngest son’s still form.  I turned to Hop Sing.  I asked if he would take both men downstairs and get them something to eat while I sat with Joe.  Partly because I was selfish and wanted my boy to myself, but I also knew they needed to separate themselves from what they’d had to deal with over the past couple of hours they’d worked on Joe.

I leaned forward in the chair and reached out for Joseph and, although he was still unconscious, I took careful hold, circling my thumb gently on the back of his hand.  At this point, Joe was unresponsive; his mind escaping the pain and yes, there would be pain.  I studied the bandage on his shoulder.  I smiled to myself, realizing when all was said and done and we were months down the road, each fully recovered, we could discuss our battle wounds and be content with the fact we’d both survived the ordeal and lived long enough to tell the tale.  Maybe I was being overzealous in my thinking, but my son had to survive.  A merciful God would not take this boy away from me.

I felt a gentle pull, a tightness caused by the wound I’d been suffering from all week.  Life-threatening—yes, just as Joe was fighting his way back now.  It seemed as though he’d only just healed from a previous wound and now he’d been forced to survive another.  Why did this son of mine have to endure these needless hardships?  I prayed for a fast recovery.  I prayed this would be the last time Joseph had to struggle with physical pain.

Neither of us was out of the woods yet, and we both would have to deal with the dreaded recovery time, but I found myself jumping ahead to all the years I had left with my sons here on the Ponderosa.  But this boy, well, he was far from a boy, Joe was a man; a man who deserved a life of peace and not this constant barrage of torment and agony.  

Little Joe—the name of his youth—the name Hoss derived by calling my new baby son, “his Little Joe.”  The name has lasted a lifetime, and my youngest son would forever deal with the nickname he’d been given only hours after his birth.  I’ve seen my son’s face flush when he’s caught off guard while trying to impress a girl.   An acquaintance will inadvertently interrupt their conversation and call him Little Joe.  The secret is out but Joe never misses a beat.  He’s used many reasons when explaining the “Little” in his name, especially to the ladies.  “I’m the youngest of three sons,” is his usual response, never the smallest, although it’s quite obvious he didn’t inherit either of his brothers’ larger stature.

But no matter his size, this son of mine is a fighter, and that’s what I keep reminding myself as he wrestles his way back yet another time.  First and foremost, Joe is physically strong and his mind is sound.   He may be the youngest and he may be the smallest of any Cartwright but for Joe, those are the God-given assets that keep him fighting and winning battles at the most crucial times of his life.

Hoss

I stood over Candy at the kitchen sink.  He scrubbed his hands like a crazy man.  He scrubbed clear up to his elbows then back down to his hands until his skin was red and nearly raw from the burning lye soap.  I remember goin’ through the same process the first time I helped birth a calf.  Even though you scrub and scrub, what stays in your mind forever is the amount of blood.  It finds its way under your nails and into the cracks of your skin and even when you’ve rinsed and dried and walked away, you glance once again to make sure.

While Candy washed, Hop Sing stood back by the stove givin’ him the space needed to clean up.  When he caught my eye, he pointed to a white ceramic jar on the shelf; his jar labeled arsenic.  I couldn’t help but smile and wink at the little man for his quick response and ingenuity durin’ a stressful situation.

When Candy finally picked up the towel, and after he’d dried and inspected every inch of his reddened skin, he wiped the damp towel across his eyes and the rest of his face.  He took in a deep breath before lookin’ up at me. “It’s over, isn’t it?  Hoss?  I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

“But you done good, Candy,” I said, givin’ his shoulder a gentle squeeze.  “You done your best and Joe has a fightin’ chance.”

He wadded up the towel and threw it down on the counter.  “God, I hope you’re right.”

I figured the best thing for Candy was to get on with life and get his mind off my little brother.  We still had Leo and Lester tied and gagged and sittin’ in the other room.  We still had to check the stock and stoke the fires; the mundane jobs never ended.  There might be ice formin’ in the well; we’d check that, too.  We needed to bring in more wood.  I needed to keep him busy on other things and believe me, there was always other things.

I glanced at Hop Sing’s wood box, nearly empty.  “Come on,” I said.  “We got work to do.  Grab your coat and let’s get movin’.”

Hop Sing stepped forward and picked up his wooden spoon.  It was his kitchen now and time for us to leave.  “Hop Sing got beef stew on stove.  Ready for hungry men when finish.”

“Give us about a half-hour, Hop Sing, and we’ll be back to eat.”

Candy was still in a daze so I took hold of his shoulder, steerin’ him toward the front door.  I handed him his hat and coat then grabbed my own.  “Let’s go.”

An hour had passed by the time we finished our chores.  When we came back into the house, half-frozen, I stared at the gunmen, warm and cozy on the settee.  I hated the fact we even had to feed these two no-accounts, but there was no way to get them into town so we’d just have to deal with havin’ ‘em here.  I untied their gags, and I stood in front of our two prisoners.

“I’ll let ya eat one at a time if’n you’re hungry.”  I figured Hop Sing’s special brew had worn off by now but I wasn’t a fool neither; I wouldn’t let either man out of my sight.  “But, if either of you try somethin’ I don’t find to my likin’, you’re dead men.  Understood?”

They both nodded their heads.  Neither of these men had been the one who shot Pa and neither of them had shot my little brother.  It had been Sam, the one who got away, the one who took my horse, and the one who would have to be dealt with at a later date.  I doubt he’d gotten far if he was in the same shape as these two, but I couldn’t worry about him just now.  I wouldn’t say this out loud to nobody, and I know God would strike me dead for havin’ such thoughts, but part of me hoped he’d freeze to death ‘fore he pulled in somewhere safe.

Candy took a seat on the hearth.  He had both men in his line of sight.  Even I became a bit nervous watchin’ him stare with such intensity, such deep hatred, that if looks could kill, these men would be no more.  When he had a mind to, Candy could become as hot-tempered and as difficult to handle as my little brother.  His actions were unpredictable and, as he kept guard over Lester and Leo, I kept guard over him.

When I actually thought it over, I decided I didn’t really want to look at either of ‘em, so I grabbed two of the dining room chairs and hauled them inside the small room adjacent to the kitchen.  I tied each man to a chair.  This way I didn’t have to be reminded of what they’d done to Pa and Joe or what Candy could do to either of them.

I picked up an armful of firewood and climbed the stairs hopin’ Candy would follow.  He chose not to.  I turned back at the first landin’ and glanced at him one more time.

“I’m okay, Hoss,” he said.  “You go ahead.”

Ben

Joe was beginning to stir.  He mumbled something, but I couldn’t quite make out the words.  I called to him, pleaded for him to wake up and when his eyelids began to flutter, I leaned in a bit closer and gently squeezed his hand between both of mine.  We didn’t have much in the way of painkillers—brandy or whiskey to be exact—so how long Joe could endure the agony while awake was questionable. 

“Sh …”

“What’s that, Son?”

“Sh … shot.”

“Yes—you’ve been shot, but you’re gonna be fine, Joseph.”

I looked away from my youngest when Hoss walked into the room.  “He’s coming around,” I said.

“Now that’s what I like to hear.” 

With a wide grin, Hoss placed the logs in a large iron bucket by the fireplace then dug his hands deep inside his pants pockets before coming to stand close to Joe’s bed.

“No … don’t—”

I had already turned back to Joe but it was Hoss who commented.  “What’s he sayin’, Pa.”

“I’m not sure, Son, but I think he’s remembering—”

“The shootin’?”

Joe’s words were breathy and unclear and when Hoss straightened back up, he shrugged his shoulders.  “Maybe he’s dreaming, Pa.  You know how he always has them nightmares when somethin’ bad happens.”

“At least he’s finally beginning to wake.”

It was hard to tell where Joe’s mind was.  This wasn’t the first time my son had to deal with a bullet wound.  There’d been others and whether he was thinking in present terms or not, we may never be sure.

“How’s Candy?”  I asked since Hoss had come upstairs alone.

“He’s okay, I guess.  He’s frettin’ some.”

“He saved your brother’s life.”

“I know he did.  I suppose he knows it, too.  It’s just … I don’t know; now he’s got time to think and he’s down there worrin’ hisself about nothin’.  It wasn’t that he volunteered for the job; I kinda forced him into it, and everythin’ he done to Joseph is all festerin’ in his mind.”

I nodded.  Hoss was right.  I’d been forced into the same situation as Candy was once, although the man I saved was not nearly as close as Joe and Candy had become over the past few months.  In a sense, they were as close as brothers and it’s only natural he’s having second thoughts about his surgical skills.

“Go down and tell him Joe’s coming around, will you?  Maybe that will settle his nerves.”

“Sure thing, Pa.  And while I go down and tell Candy, you sit here and try to figger out the hidden meanin’ of little brother’s dreams.”

“Oh, get going.”  I smiled at my oversized son.  He knew just the right thing to say to give us both a brief minute of needed relief.

Within the hour, Candy and Hoss returned.  Joe had fallen back to sleep, but not long after the boys’ arrival, Joe’s eyelids fluttered again and finally opened into narrow slits as if the light-filled room hurt his eyes.  I gripped Joe’s hand tighter, and he tried to hang on, although weak, it was a start in the right direction.  I glanced up at the man we’d hired on as foreman, but who’d quickly become a genuine part of our family.  “Thank you again, Candy.”

He stood with his hands clasped behind his back.  I saw he was struggling for the right words to say.  Instead, he just smiled and nodded his head.

Joe had pulled his hand away from mine, and he was trying to push himself up from the bed.  “Oh, no you don’t,” I said, standing up from the chair and resting my hand on his shoulder.  “You aren’t going anywhere, Son.  I don’t want you moving at all.”

“Shot—”

“In the shoulder, Joseph, but you’ll be fine.  The bullet’s already been removed and now it’s time to rest.”   

Hoss had reached out and grabbed my arm when I’d reached out for Joe.  What terrible shape Joe and I were both in and the cause for both of our injuries had been the same gunman and his team of no-good outlaws.  What were the odds?  Dumb luck I called it, but Joe may have other ideas on the subject, especially if the lead man—the shooter—was never caught.  Revenge is mine, sayeth the Lord, but I knew my son, and none of this would be over until all three men had paid for what they’d done.

Joe’s eyes fell closed.  He would sleep now and we could all breathe comfortably again.  I felt the tug of my own dry stitches, healing, but pulling as I fell back into the chair.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Hoss said.  “Time for a little nap.  I’ll sit here with Joe.”

I wanted to argue but Hoss was right.  I was exhausted and remaining here in Joe’s room would not quicken the healing process for either of us.  “Give me a hand, will you, Son?”

Hoss didn’t think I saw him wink at Candy, but fathers saw many things sons didn’t realize.

Candy

The sun had shone brightly all day and much of the snow had melted.  Soon, I could leave Hoss here to watch over Joe and Mr. Cartwright, and I would drag these two yahoos back into town to the sheriff.  No telling where Sam had run off to, but if he had any sense, he’d run as far away from here as possible. 

We had treated our prisoners as well as humanly possible under the circumstances.  Hoss was a little more generous than I would have been when it came to their comfort.  He’d untie them and let them stretch their legs, get a drink and relieve themselves before tying them back to their chairs.  I held no sympathy for either man.  I couldn’t have cared less whether they ate or were allowed to pee.  Hoss was a much kinder human being than I.

By the end of the second day, Joe was sitting up in bed with pillows propped behind him.  Hoss had helped his father back and forth between the two bedrooms and had taken great pains to make him comfortable in the overstuffed chair.  I informed them I was taking our two prisoners back into Virginia City and, if possible, I would bring Paul Martin back out to the ranch with me.

Joe looked pale, his face appeared tight and drawn from the constant onset of pain.  He’d taken shots of brandy off and on, and he was in pretty good spirits, considering.  He was able to talk some, so after we’d all congregated in his room, Hoss was the first to break the silence and he started out with a question.

“Why is it you cain’t never stay outta trouble?”

                                                    Book 2

Joe

My shoulder healed quickly.  There was no sign of infection, no lingering aftereffects other than having to strengthen my arm again after weeks in a sling.  Hop Sing calls it my nature, which to him it’s another way of measuring my temperament or my disposition, and that’s why I’m still alive—much too stubborn to die.  I call it just plain luck.  I also call the situation, with three gunmen in the house, a damn lucky thing we weren’t all blown to pieces. 

When I found out Candy had been the one Hoss had chosen to dig out the bullet, I was a bit surprised, but it was eventually explained to my satisfaction.  Doc couldn’t come out to the Ponderosa due to the weather, Hoss’ hands were too large and my father, who had only just woken from a week in limbo after hearing a gunshot outside his bedroom door, was in no shape to operate.

The wound on my shoulder was nothing more now than an angry, red scar.  Weeks had passed and I was nearly as good as new physically, although my mental state was a different story entirely.  The thought of Pa and I being gunned down by the same man increased my hatred and fueled my desire for revenge.  The man called Sam Hastings—the shooter—was never far from my thoughts.

My father and I were both strong-minded men and because of that, we often fought with each other due to a major difference of opinion.  But this was a different case entirely, and neither of us would grant the other his say, nor would either of us concede easily.  I knew I was right, especially since the man who shot my father, and then me, was still running free.  You can imagine the exchange that went on more than once during those long winter months. 

“You’re not going after that man.” 

“I am going after that man.” 

Back and forth we went, shouting rather than talking like civilized human beings, until one of us would simply turn and walk away.  Pa was right in one respect.  I wasn’t leaving today.  I would wait until spring.  After all, I wasn’t a fool.  Traveling through the sierras with unpredictable winter storms wasn’t my idea of good common sense but come spring . . .

It was nearing Christmas, and Pa and I had put our dispute on hold.  Holidays were a special time, especially for my father.  He liked nothing more than having family and friends gather for special occasions and now, since we were both healed and pretty much back to a normal routine, life moved forward and we’d called a truce in order to maintain peace throughout the holiday season.

“You comin’?”  Hoss hollered from across the room.

I was heading down the stairs when I realized Hoss had already buckled his gunbelt and was reaching for his hat.  “Yeah, I’m ready.”  I turned my attention to Pa, who was preoccupied, logging endless totals in his ledger.   “We’re off.   You need anything from town?”

“Just check for mail, Son.  Oh, and you might check with Hop Sing before you go.”

“Already did that,” Hoss said, patting his vest pocket.  “I got a list.”

“See ya later then.”

“Okay.  You two be careful.”

“Will do.”

“Sure is warm for this time of year,” I said to Hoss as he drove the buckboard toward the main road into town.  Hoss was in shirtsleeves, and I couldn’t help but remember the two-feet of snow we’d had early in the season.  The hours I spent sitting and waiting for Pa to wake up, not wanting him to wake alone.  But it wasn’t meant to be.  How quickly the tables turned, and it was Pa who sat long hours waiting for me.

I’d often wondered how I could repay Candy for basically saving my life.  How do you tell someone how grateful you were without the words sounding mushy or overly sentimental?  Instead of words, I tried to come up with the perfect gift for Christmas, and even with Hoss’ help, it was hard to think of something that would make him truly happy.  Until he signed up as foreman on the Ponderosa, Candy was a loner—a man on the move.  If he had a mind to, he would take off and return to the kind of life he always threatens us with when we dump a load of chores his way.

“No one ever stays in a place forever,” he’ll say.  “It’s just not natural.”

I’ve heard those words so many times; I’ve given up arguing the point.  So, when I was first able to get into Virginia City after the shoulder incident, I ordered him a new saddle with his initials engraved into the rear leather housing.  CC was the best I could do with the information Candy was willing to part with.  Hoss had sent him off to check for strays earlier this morning so I could pick up his gift and hide it somewhere in the house before he returned.  When Hoss pulled up in front of the mercantile, I was the first to jump down from the buckboard.  “I’ll get Hop Sing’s list filled while you go down and get the mail,” he said.  “Maybe we’ll have time for a quick beer before we pick up that saddle.”

“I like the way you think, big brother.”

“Thought you would.”

After I’d collected the mail, I stopped in Roy Coffee’s office.  “Little Joe,” he said, standing part way up from his chair with his hand extended.  “Long time no see.  How’s things out to the ranch?”

“Everything’s fine, Roy.”

“Your Pa doin’ okay?”

“All healed up and giving us all grief.”

Roy chuckled.  “Glad to hear.  Looks like you’re all healed up, too.”

“Yep—good as new.”

“Somethin’ I can do for ya?”

“Any word on that Sam Hastings fella?”

“Well, not since he left your place.  I get posters all the time but he ain’t been on anythin’ I’ve seen.  Must be stayin’ outta trouble.”

“Yeah … I suppose.”

“Got them other two sent to prison,” Roy said.  “Two outta three ain’t too bad, ya know.”

“Sorry, Roy, but it’s not good enough.  Sam Hastings’ is a little too handy with a gun.  The man shot my father; the man needs to pay.”

“You listen to me, Little Joe.  You know darn well this is a job for the law.”

“It seems to me the law isn’t doing a damn thing.”  I turned and started out of the office, but Roy wasn’t quite finished with his letter-of-the-law sermon.

“You just hold on now and, more’n that, you watch your tongue.  Hastings will get his comeuppance and when that happens, I don’t want to hear your name mentioned in connection with his.  You understand?”

“Sure do, Roy.”

“Good.  Glad that’s settled.”

I closed the door behind me.  It was far from settled, and what I had planned was none of Roy’s concern.  And, when the time was right, I’d end the life of the outlaw known as Sam Hastings.

Hoss

I could tell Joe was distracted even before we walked into the Silver Dollar.  I’d never known anyone else in my entire life whose mood could change from hot to cold in a matter of minutes.  I didn’t know what was eatin’ him this time, but I knew enough not to ask.  With his back against the wall, Joe clammed up tighter’n ever.  I’d bide my time and wait for him to decide when to talk.  Right now, after loadin’ the buckboard alone, all I wanted was a nice cold beer.

The saloon was filled with cowhands and miners alike.  After our early cold spell, everyone was out and about and enjoyin’ a break in the weather.  It seemed to me nearly every man on the Comstock was inside this saloon.  The noise level was practically deafenin’ and, while gamin’ tables were filled to capacity, there were men who stood in line so they, too, could lose their hard-earned paychecks to some card sharp who was passin’ through town.

The gaiety of the saloon seemed to lift Joe’s spirits, and it didn’t take long before he was lettin’ a little gal flirt with him and, like it always is with my little brother, he’d already presented her with his “Joe Cartwright” smile.  So when his hand connected with her slim waist, I knew any conversation I’d planned to have was over before it began.  I ordered us a couple more beers and elbowed Joe for the money.  Without takin’ his eyes off Miss Sally, he reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out the exact number of coins.  “Thanks, little brother.”

“You’re welcome, big brother.”

When ol’ Charlie came staggerin’ up to the bar and nearly fell against me, I propped him back up and he began to chatter.  His words were slurred but I think Joe understood everythin’ the man had to say.  “What robbery?” Joe asked, turning away from Miss Sally.  “Say that again, Charlie.”

“Over to Carson,” he said.  “Just heard the bank … was robbed.”

“They know who did it?”

“Don’t know everythin’, Little Joe.  “Juss tellin’ ya what I heard.”

Joe looked up at me; his little gal all but forgotten.  “I gotta talk to Roy.”

Joe was out of the saloon before it even registered what he’d said.  I finished my beer and tipped my hat to Miss Sally.  I followed my little brother out the door.

Joe

“Well?”

“Well what, Little Joe?”

“You lied to me?”

Roy squirmed in his chair, and I could tell by the look on his face he’d kept Sam Hastings’ whereabouts a secret.

“I told you before.  This is business for the law, not you, Little Joe Cartwright.”

“So it was Hastings.”

“If you must know, I got a wire this mornin’.”

“And?”

“Seems this Hastings fella has rounded hisself up a new gang of outlaws and they hit the Wells Fargo over to Carson earlier today.  I ain’t got no more details than that.  I’m keepin’ my eyes open, but the wire states they was headed south rather than this way.”  Roy eased himself up from his chair.  “You just remember.  This is business for the law; not you.  You got me, Boy?”

My brother blocked the doorway to Roy’s office.  “Hastings is back,” I said, looking toward Hoss.

“Yeah—I heard,” Hoss said.  “I also heard what Roy said so let’s get on home.”

So close—the man who shot my father was within a half-day’s ride.  I glared at Hoss; he glared back.  I looked across the desk at Roy.  “Okay,” I said, discouraged by the fact it was nearly Christmas and I’d made a promise to Pa.  “We’ll head home for now.”

“That’s a right smart idea, Little Joe.  I’ll let you know when the law catches up with him but don’t you ‘spect nothin’ more.”

“You do that, Roy.”

After picking up Candy’s new saddle, Hoss and I drove home in silence.  The law would never catch a man like Hastings; he was smart and he cared nothing about the men he’d hired on to rob banks.  No ties made a man free to do as he pleased.  Sam Hastings was one of those men.

Hoss

I watched as Joe skirted through the house with the saddle.  He went straight up the stairs without a word to Pa.  Luckily, Candy hadn’t returned, so Joe’s rather large gift was still a surprise.   Pa stood up from his desk and met up with me at the front door.

“I better unload them supplies,” I said.

“Hold on.  What’s the matter with your brother?”

I took a deep breath and relayed Roy’s story to Pa.    “… but even though Joe’s all worked up again, he—”

“He hasn’t changed his mind; he’s not going after that man, is he?”

“I don’t think so, Pa.  He’s mighty upset, but as far as I can tell he’s gonna abide by Roy’s wishes and stay here on the ranch, at least for now.”

“Well, he better.  I swear that boy does nothing but look for trouble.”

“Give ‘im time, Pa.  He’ll settle hisself down.”

I said those words to relieve my father’s concern, but I wasn’t sure I believed ‘em myself.  I didn’t understand why Joe was still so upset.  Pa hadn’t died and neither had he, but he was still consumed in his mind over that man shootin’ our pa.  It weren’t even about his own wound, just Pa’s.  On the outside Joe performed well, at least most of the time or until he had a run-in with Roy.  Things with him and Pa was pretty much back to normal, but this whole thing with Hastings was eatin’ him up somethin’ terrible. 

Pa usually had the right words to say to end a conversation with Joe and each would walk away content with the outcome, but not once had they agreed on this issue.  All they had done was argue the point over and over with Pa shoutin’ words about Joe Cartwright’s method of justice. 

Neither had backed down in their thinking ‘cept to call a truce during the holidays.  But the visit with Roy had pushed all them buttons again and brought everythin’ back to the surface.  I couldn’t decide whether to let Joe sit in his room and brood or whether to try and say somethin’ to him.  But, when Hop Sing came runnin’ out of the kitchen, demandin’ someone unload the wagon, the decision was made for me.  Joe and his problems would have to wait for another time.

Ben

Tomorrow night is Christmas Eve, and the house will be filled with the true wonder of the season.  A joyous get-together is exactly what my son needs; family, friends and plenty of old-fashioned traditions.  With music, good food and drink and idle chit-chat, maybe these surroundings will set his mind at ease and he’ll bury all this business over revenge.

I was just finishing up some paperwork when I heard Joe’s footfalls bounding down the stairs. I looked up from my paperwork and stopped my son when it looked as though he was just going to fly past me without acknowledging my presence.   

“Candy will be mighty pleased,” I said.

“Yeah … I’m sure he will.”

“Joe?”  I hesitated; trying to decide what words might have the right effect on my troubled son.  Joe was always the most visible when it came to quick mood changes and it was obvious his visit with Roy had set him off once again.  I knew where his mind was and this entire business had to come to an end.  Joe stopped in front of my desk and although I’d said the words before, I came around to talk face-to-face with my angry son.  “Will you, for my sake, let this thing go?  I ask for nothing but your word, Joseph.  You can’t continue making yourself miserable over something you can’t control.”

“Oh but I can.  Given time … I’m sorry, Pa.  I can’t give you my word.”

“What’s that supposed to mean.  Joe Cartwright:  Vigilante?”

“Yes!”

“Why?  Why is revenge so important to you?”

“It just is.”

“Oh,” I said rather loudly.  I was displeased with my son’s nonsense answer.  “So now you’re telling me it’s Joe Cartwright:  Gunslinger.  Or is it Joe Cartwright:  Bounty Hunter?”

“I can’t explain why.  It is what it is, Pa, and you’re the one who has to let go.”

Joe crossed the room and slammed the front door on his way out.

Again, I’d used the wrong approach, but I was at such a loss.  Deep down, I knew the reason my son was so driven.  We’d seen it years before with Red Twilight and, at the time, neither Adam nor Joe thought I knew what Joseph had contemplated inside the barn.  He was ready kill the man, and it was those same feelings of hatred that tortured him now.   Only this time it was me, not Hoss, for whom he sought revenge.  And, if he accomplished this act of retribution, Joseph would pay with his own life and I wasn’t about to let that happen.

Candy

I’d just removed my hat and wiped the sweat from my forehead.  It was early afternoon and Joe had ridden out to the south pasture to join me and my efforts to round up this last batch of strays.  I’d already found over ten of the little critters either hidden in brush or trying to make their way across fast-running streams.  Even though it was hard work, I rather enjoyed the solitude.  I had just finished eating a sandwich Hop Sing had sent with me this morning when I saw the tell-tale signs of Joe’s pinto heading my way. 

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Thought you might need a hand.”

“Be my guest.  I’ve found a few and steered them in the right direction, but I’m sure there’s more out there.”

“There’s always more out there,” Joe said with a touch of sarcasm.  “Which way?”

I pointed straight ahead.  After I mounted, we rode off together.  Joe and I had never needed many words between us and that’s exactly how it was for the remainder of the afternoon.  In fact, he was overly quiet.  Winter days were short and by mid-afternoon the air was beginning to cool.  We’d only found a couple more head that had worked their way through a small break in the fence.  We’d have to return later to repair the damage.  Today was just about strays. 

“Ready to head back? 

“Yeah.  The day’s pretty much shot.”

There was an eerie silence between us.  I chose to break that silence.  “Something on your mind?”

“Nope.”

I wanted to laugh at Joe’s response.  I’d learned to read him pretty well over the last few months and the less said, the more he was frettin’ over something.  This time, I didn’t know the cause.

I offered to stable both horses, but Joe said he’d care for his own.  I understood it to mean he wasn’t terribly anxious to go back inside the house.  Maybe there’d been a disagreement with Hoss or with his father although I’d learned early on not to ask.

After we’d groomed and fed both horses, I followed Joe into the house.  I, for one, needed to clean up.  I was coated with mud up to my elbows.  I turned toward the kitchen and asked Hop Sing to heat me some water so I could finish off the day looking and smelling a bit more presentable than I was right now.  When I returned to the living area, Mr. Cartwright and Hoss sat in front of the fire, but there was no sign of Joe.  I could have predicted his behavior but again, I had learned to keep my mouth shut in times such as these.

“How’d it go, Candy?”

“Fine, Mr. Cartwright.  I think we got most or all of them back where they belong.”

I took a seat on the hearth, next to the fire.  The temperature had dropped during the ride home, and I was chilled clear through to my bones.  The last time I’d sat in this spot, my hands were tied and gunmen filled the room.  It came to me then that Joe’s mood must have had something to do with Sam Hastings.  Joe and Hoss had planned a trip to town, so I wondered if Hastings’ likeness had shown up on one of Roy’s posters. 

“Supper ready,” Hop Sing called from the dining room.  “Everybody come eat now.”

“I’ll get Joe,” I said.  I took off up the stairs and knocked on his bedroom door.  When no answer came I let myself in.  “Hey, Buddy.”  Joe stood at the window, staring at nothing, still wearing his jacket, his gun belt, and gloves.  He’d tossed his hat on the bed, but he never even turned around at the sound of my voice.  “Hop Sing’s got supper on the table.”

He let out a sigh.  “All right.”

Supper was a quiet affair.  Nothing of importance was discussed.  Nothing at all was discussed.  I felt like a fifth wheel and couldn’t wait for this evening of silence to end.  In twenty-four hours’ time, the house would be filled with a large number of guests for the Cartwright’s Christmas Eve celebration, and with the family still at odds, I wasn’t sure I wanted to hang around and be a part of any so-called celebration.

Hoss

Nothin’ pleased Pa more than a party.  Not even Joe’s volatile mood swings could interfere with my father’s joy when he was able to invite friends into our home for a night of festive entertainin’.  I must say though, Joe was a different person today than he had been after his visit with Roy. 

We’d busied ourselves all day long, followin’ each of Hop Sing’s direct orders.  Furniture had to be moved, including Pa’s leather chair, which had just been returned from having been repaired because of my awkwardness with Candy’s knife.  Tables with bright colored cloths were strategically placed throughout the room to hold countless platters of food and bowls of punch.  He even had us set up a small separate table for gifts our guests might bring.  We cleared out a corner for a three-piece band—an ensemble is what Pa called them.  I think it was one of them French words, but I still referred to “Jake and the Boys” as a band.  Pa had instructed them to play some of his favorite carols softly, as background, so as not to interrupt our guest’s conversation by blastin’ the room full of rowdy music like they would at some barn dance hootenanny.  I think Pa called it ambience, another one of them French words he enjoys throwin’ around when the mood strikes his fancy.

Even Joe had jumped right into the spirit of things, doing his fair share of rearrangin’ and settin’ up.   He had promised Pa a peaceful Christmas and, the one thing I could always count on with my little brother; he never lied and he weren’t never one to break a promise.

Everythin’ was set.  We were dressed in our finest and the guests were beginnin’ to arrive; some carryin’ in bottles of wine and some, a small, gaily-wrapped token of their appreciation, which we set on Hop Sing’s special gift table.  Pa had the fire blazin’ and the room was so warm we all had to take turns steppin’ outside to cool off.  Joe and I teased Candy unmercifully when he first appeared in his black suit and tie.  I never liked dressin’ up myself, but Candy was really havin’ a hard time.  I don’t know how many times we slapped his hand away when he reached up to tug at his too-tight collar.

“Come on, Candy. You look almost as good as me,” Joe said, tryin’ to make light.  “I can’t dance with all the pretty little gals at once, and you know I’ll have to pawn the excess off on you so leave that dang tie alone.”

“Aw, dream on, Buddy.  You’ve never looked as good as me and you know it.  I’m the one who’ll be pawnin’.”

The house filled quickly with adults and children alike.  Jake’s band played as Pa had asked and didn’t drown out anyone’s conversation.  There was punch for the kids and punch for the adults although I noticed some of them older (but not old enough) boys hangin’ ‘round the adult bowl a little too often. 

I remember one Christmas Eve when Adam caught Joe and his friends, dippin’ into the “adult” bowl.  They must have been around fourteen years old and were determined to drink like growd men.  Adam had warned ‘em two or three times to stay away but at fourteen, them boys had a mind of their own.  It wasn’t till later that night when Pa was ready to sit down and read the Christmas story from the bible; he realized his youngest son was missin’.

“Find those boys,” he’d said in that certain tone of voice Adam and I understood quite well.

It didn’t take long to locate three sick boys behind the barn.  We found out later, it was the cheroots they’d snatched from Frank’s pa that turned their stomachs and ended their fun.  There’d be no returnin’ to the hearth for the Christmas story that year.  And, when I drew the long match and Adam the short, I remained in the kitchen, soberin’ up three boys, while poor Adam had to walk out in front of our guests and tell Pa the reason for the boys’ absence.

I was brought back to the present when Joe elbowed me as he twirled on the dance floor with the mayor’s daughter.  Candy, too, was kickin’ up his heels with the banker’s daughter.  Every eligible daughter was present tonight accompanied by their ma and pa so there’d be no hanky-panky, just good, clean fun.  Of course, anythin’ could happen if a certain couple stepped outside for a breath of fresh air.

When Jake and the Boys decided on a much-needed break, I heard a tinklin’ of glasses and someone wantin’ to make an announcement.  Clara Davenport was standing next to our father and Pa was doin’ his best to quiet the overcrowded room.

“Everyone listen up,” he said, tappin’ his own glass.  “I have someone here who’d like to make a toast.”  As the room settled down and dance partners stood next to each other, appreciatin’ time for a breather, Miss Davenport gathered her children, Tommy and little Missy, in front of her.

“I’d like to make a short but important toast,” she said in her sweet but forceful voice.  “When I lost my husband nearly two years ago, I was forced to take a job as a dressmaker in Virginia City.  I knew of the Cartwright family, but not until a few months ago did I understand what kind of men they actually were.  Christmas is a time to give thanks and I—” Mrs. Davenport’s eyes began to water and she pulled her children closer to her still.  Pa wrapped his arm around her shoulders and after a deep breath, she continued.

“I’m sorry,” she said.  Let me start over.  I’m here tonight to give thanks to an unsung hero.  To Joe Cartwright,” she said, lifting her glass, “who, with his quick thinking saved both of my children’s lives.  Most of you are not aware of what transpired inside the Virginia City Bank the day it was robbed.”  She hesitated once more.  “One of the gunmen aimed his gun straight at my Tommy.  Joe shot that man’s gun out of his hand and saved my boy’s life.” 

She looked directly at my little brother as if no one else was in the room.  She held her glass up to him.  “To Joe Cartwright,” she said.  “I will always be grateful, and my family will always be in your debt.”

The entire room of people cheered and clapped their own appreciative thanks to Joe.  Under normal circumstances, my little brother enjoyed center stage, but this was different, unexpected, and he wasn’t prepared for what Clara Davenport had to say.  His own eyes filled with tears as he approached Miss Clara and her children. 

“Tommy,” he said, reachin’ out to shake the boy’s hand.  Joe looked straight at Miss Clara and smiled. 

“I don’t know how I can ever repay you,” she said.

“You already have.”

He looked back down at Tommy.  “You take good care of your ma and your sister, you hear?   You’re the man of the house now and I’ll expect nothing less.”

“Yessir, Mr. Cartwright.”

“Now, since we’re speaking man-to-man, you can call me Joe.”

Although the night had been a success, I hadn’t seen much of my little brother after Miss Clara’s toast.  It was Christmas Eve, and in the old days, Adam and Little Joe, and I would head straight upstairs to bed so Santa could make his way down the chimney and fill the room with presents.  In other words, Pa stayed up late and Little Joe would be up and the crack of dawn, bangin’ on everyone’s door and announcin’ the arrival of Santa. 

Days of childhood memories filled my heart but, on the plus side, we could now sleep in to a decent hour on Christmas mornin’.  There’d be no more bangin’ on bedroom doors before sunrise.  Also gone from this house was my older brother, Adam.  I missed him durin’ these times of family and friends but so far, he’d never found reason to return from his worldly travels. 

Pa and Candy and I were all ready to turn in but Joe didn’t follow our lead.  He took a seat on the settee sayin’ he’d be up later.  I didn’t ask and neither did Pa.  Some things were best left alone.

At Pa’s insistence, we’d already cleaned up the room and moved the furniture back into place.  We’d blown out the candles on the tree and the only light left was Pa’s roarin’ fire.  As I climbed the stairs, I glanced back at my little brother sittin’ alone on the settee.  I questioned where his mind had wandered that was preventin’ him from a good night’s sleep.  Maybe his “mood” was back and he needed a few minutes to gather his thoughts.  None of us, not even Pa, would deny him his time alone.

Ben

I woke to a glorious Christmas morning.  The sun was shining and, when I glanced at the clock on my mantle, I was shocked when it read half-past eight.  Between the late hour last night and a bit too much punch, these old bones of mine were reluctant to crawl out from under my warm covers.  But it was Christmas morning, and although I was grateful Joseph was a grown man and hadn’t beaten down my door hours ago, I was still surprised no one had woken me before this.

Quickly, I shaved and dressed and made my way down the hall to the staircase, but when I glanced down, I was forced to grip tightly to the handrail to steady these shaky old bones.  Not only were Hoss and Joe and Candy lined up to greet me, my son, Adam, was standing there too.  Each man lifted their cups of coffee and in perfect unison, they spoke.  “Merry Christmas, Pa,” and of course Candy’s Mr. Cartwright hummed alongside the voices of my three sons.

Seeing how I hadn’t moved a muscle, Adam started up the stairs.  I hadn’t taken my eyes off my eldest son, and even though he’d grown a beard and was dressed more formally than the rest of us, I would have recognized him anywhere.

“It’s good to be home, Pa.”

My watery eyes gave me away, and I quickly tried to collect myself.  “Good to have you home, Son.”  Although I had a hundred and one questions, they would all have to wait until later.

“Breakfast ready.  You come now,” Hop Sing ordered from across the room.

“I see nothing ever changes,” Adam said, smiling.

“No, Son, and I suppose we better do as he says.”

Adam and I made it down the stairs together, and after hugging my other two sons and shaking hands with Candy, wishing each a Merry Christmas, we all took our seats around the dining room table.  I was still so surprised at seeing Adam, I could barely grip my knife and fork and dig into the feast Hop Sing had prepared.

“Okay,” I said.  “Who wants to start?  Who wants to explain how all this came about and especially, how you kept such a secret from me?  Surely it took some extensive planning?”

Joe and Adam locked eyes and when Joe shrugged his shoulders, I knew he had been involved, but he was leaving it up to Adam to explain.

“Well, first off, I received a letter from my little brother, but I won’t go into that right now.  The reason for my late arrival is because the train was behind schedule and secondly, I had to practically steal a horse from the livery.  Of course, it was midnight by the time I arrived in Virginia City, and of course, it was Christmas Eve, but you can blame your youngest son for my being here at all.  It had been Joe’s idea to surprise you last night.  He’s the one who tried to time my arrival to coordinate with last night’s party but, as you can see; our well-organized plan didn’t quite work out.  Joe was the only one who knew I was due to arrive, so he graciously waited up half the night for me to show up; he even bedded down the rented horse after I rode in.” 

My eldest and youngest smiled at each other.  Not often were compliments handed out so freely between those two.

“Although I do remember at some point during Joe’s and my late-night hours of quiet conversation, being called an old man.  And it seems I also remember some off-handed remark about having more hair on my face than the top of my head.”

So much for compliments although Joe remained silent and let his elder brother enjoy the spotlight.  Hoss couldn’t hold back any longer and let out a belly laugh, which caused Candy and me to follow at the delight of having everyone together and everything familiar falling right back into place.  Eventually, at Adam’s expense, Joe let loose with his outlandish cackle.  “I tell it like it is, older brother.”

“So it seems, baby brother.”

I suggested we take our coffee in by the fire and see if Santa had been good to us this year.  My sons and Candy jumped up from the table and scurried in like youngsters to surround the tree.  “Joseph? Are you going to play Santa?”

“Don’t I always?”

Quickly, Joe handed out gifts to everyone including my eldest son. 

“I see I got one from you, Pa,” Adam said.  “Oh, and here’s one from Hoss.”

Obviously, Hoss and I were taken aback by Adam’s statement.  It seems Joseph had taken care to make this a special event for everyone.  Hop Sing brought out a fresh pot of coffee and a platter of almond and apple tarts in case we hadn’t overindulged during his king-sized breakfast just minutes ago.

“Santa leave gift in Hop Sing kitchen.  Take up too much room.  Need out now.”

We all looked up at Hop Sing.  “You mind, Candy?” Joe said.  “I’ve done enough Santa-ing for one day.”

“Sure, Joe.”

Candy stood and started for the kitchen.  Joe followed quietly behind.  I glanced at Hoss and the smile on his face gave him away.  He and I were in the know whereas Adam had no idea of Joe’s gift for our ranch foreman.  We couldn’t make out Joe and Candy’s exchange from our positions by the fire but after a minute or so, Joe stepped back from the doorway and Candy emerged from the kitchen with his magnificent new saddle.

My youngest son was just full of surprises this morning.  A genuinely heartfelt gift for the man, who, Joe considered saved his life.  Candy was speechless but anyone could tell he was pleased, even slightly embarrassed by such an extravagant gift. 

“I don’t know what to say,” Candy said.

“A simple thanks will do,” Joe replied.

Candy rested the saddle over the arm of the settee and that’s when I saw the engraved initials, CC, on the rear housing.  Candy looked at Joe and smiled.  “Thanks.”  He grabbed Joe in a bear hug which truly surprised me.  This was far from typical behavior for our hired-hand-turned-foreman, but I sensed he and Joe were as devoted to each other as anyone could be.  I couldn’t help but feel, with the surgery having been a success, the two had connected in some very special way and most of all, I was glad to see my youngest son sporting a genuine smile.

“You’re family,” Joe said after pulling back from Candy’s grasp.  “Nothing more, nothing less.”

I cherished my family—plus one.  What more could a man ask for?  The way Hoss and Adam eyed Joe and Candy made me proud of the men they’d become.  There was no sign of envy, only acceptance. 

I wouldn’t know Adam’s plans until later on today when we could sit down and talk man-to-man, but just having him here under this roof was enough for now.  And then there was Joseph, no longer Little Joe but an exceptional man, who’d gone all out to create this special day.  Although celebrating Christmas with my sons has brought joy over the years, this one will go down in the books as one to be treasured for years to come. 

As the rest of the gifts were opened, I took a moment to give thanks.  We called Hop Sing in to join us and we presented him with gifts because he, too, was part of this family.  Like Joe had said only moments ago to Candy.  “Nothing more, nothing less.”  Just family.

Adam

I could almost sense the calm before the storm.  We were well into the new year and there was no way to miss the underlying tension between Pa and Joe.  It seemed to be a private affair and no one else was allowed to intervene during their heated discussions.  Hoss had filled me in on Joe’s attitude over bringing the man who’d shot our father to justice.  “It’s like he cain’t think of nothing else,” Hoss had said when he tried to explain Joe’s obsession with Sam Hastings.  Hoss also explained Pa was alive and well, and that’s all that should matter.  “But he don’t see it that way, Adam.  It’s like he’s made some kind of oath to hisself and he’d bound and determined to carry it out.”

I’d been away for years but, as soon as I walked back in through the front door early Christmas morning, I realized some things never change.  I was finding that out more and more the longer I listened and took part in my family’s conversations.  One of those things was Joe’s determined attitude.  There was no sign of friction or stress during the holidays but now that those days were behind us, I realized how right Hoss had been.  Joe and Pa were constantly locking horns with their semi-private discussion over a man called Sam Hastings.

I had told Pa early on I wasn’t home to stay, but I’d be here for a few more weeks, maybe even through spring or until it was safe to travel again.  When I left the Ponderosa years ago, and after I’d toured the countryside and seen places I’d only read about in books, I’d chosen to settle in Manhattan, the heart of New York, and the fastest-growing city in the world.  Manhattan was a place of opportunity, especially for a man with an education. 

Suppertime had always been and still was a chance to catch up on everyone’s lives and for me; it was a time for storytelling and tales of adventures during the years I’d been away.  We all took turns one-upping each other, but the interest in my time spent living away from the ranch always came back to the forefront and became the focal point of the conversation.

I relayed details of the first elevated trains, and the fact that I’d been a part of its construction, bringing it to life and making it real.  After the first trains were running, I began consulting on a new bridge that would connect the Borough of Brooklyn with Manhattan.  The plans were still in their infancy, although I brought some copies of my drawings home to show Pa and anyone else who might be interested. 

I remembered getting a letter from my father when Emperor Norton visited the Ponderosa a few years back.  Most men took him for a fool as he tried to explain his theories and the logic behind building suspension bridges over great bodies of water.  When he secretly called upon Hop Sing and a team of Chinese workers to build what he’d drawn on paper, a small but sturdy bridge was constructed.  Hoss and Chub had been the first ones to cross, proving to skeptics he hadn’t been the crackpot they’d suspected, but that he’d constructed an obvious winner.

But, what left me wanting and ready to return west was not the lack of work, but the conditions in which most of New York’s immigrants were forced to live.  There had been a large migration of Europeans during my years on the east coast.  They came by ship across the Atlantic and many, maybe most, newcomers had settled in New York City.  The city’s population was growing faster than anyone could have ever predicted.  Times were changing, some for the better and some which proved to be more disastrous than good.

“Progress is an ongoing process,” I said one night after dinner.  “The main streets of Manhattan are paved with cobblestones, which one might think a good thing, even an improvement over dirt streets.”

“Sounds right smart to me.”

“In a way, Hoss,” I said then continued.  “You see, there was an obvious flaw in the city’s plans.  The cracks in between stones fill with every kind of filth known to man.  Horse manure, dead cats and rats, household refuse, and waste is dumped into the streets.  Sewers are clogged with anything and everything, including the decaying carcasses of dead animals.”

“That don’t sound good.”

“It isn’t.  It causes disease to run rampant, especially throughout the tenement housing.  Laws have been passed in order to improve sewage for the newly installed water closets, but in the end, the laws are seldom enforced.”

“So you’re sayin’ the city’s becomin’ buried in its own filth.”

“Exactly.”

Although I was not telling lies, I almost wished I’d lessened the blow.  There were many reasons for living in the city and ones I thoroughly enjoyed.  “There are great things about the city too, Hoss.  Plays, concerts, you know, things like that.  I always looked forward to a night out.  It was exciting … and the lights.  You wouldn’t believe the lights.  Everywhere you look there are lights.”

“I don’t know, Adam.  Between you and me, I think I’d live without light if’n I had to put up with all the rest you’ve been talkin’ about.”

I smiled at my overgrown brother.  “I’m sure you would.  And, it actually came to that point for me, too.  I needed to breathe fresh air, and for months I traveled back and forth in my mind, trying to decide what to do.  Should I continue with on with a decent career, one I cared deeply about, or should I wash my hands of the entire mess and return home?”

Everyone stared in my direction.  I smiled.  Even though Hoss had been the one to announce his objections to city life, I knew everyone gathered around the table was feeling exactly the same way. 

“So, when Joe’s letter arrived, and after I read and reread it several times, my decision was made.  I needed time to get my affairs in order, but I assured Joe I’d be home by Christmas.”

~~~

Joe’s letter stating Pa’s grave condition forced me to see my life in a different light.  I was thousands of miles from home and yes, I had chosen to live on the east coast, but my skills as an architect could take me anywhere I wanted to go.  The decision was made.  I would return for a visit and put out feelers for jobs closer to home.

I could tell by the way my youngest brother had structured his letter that there was more to the story than he was willing to tell at the time.  Although I couldn’t quite put my finger on the reason, it seemed as though there was more Joe wanted to say but maybe the words wouldn’t come.  I felt he was struggling with some inner conflict or maybe I was just reading more into his letter than was really there.  Now, after hearing Pa and Joe go on and on about Sam Hastings, I understood.  And maybe this is why Joe wanted me here.  Maybe he thought I would take his side; aid him in his ongoing discussions with Pa.

Joe has always tried hard to conceal his emotions and I was beginning to sense with age, he had learned to control certain aspects of his volatile behavior, keeping his true nature under control more than he had as a younger man.  Whether that’s good or bad, I’m not qualified to judge.  Had nearly losing Pa changed him in some way?  I knew he was troubled but rather than violent outbursts, he kept his comments more to himself than he ever had before.  Sometimes change was good, but I wasn’t sure whether this type of change was for the better or not.  I was at a loss as was everyone else. 

“Hey, old man.  You riding out with us today?”

Speak of the devil.  “I thought maybe I’d sit this one out.  Do you mind?”

“Nope.  Candy and Hoss and I can do the work.”

Joe still flew down the stairs, projecting the energy of a sixteen-year-old kid.  I was amazed, seeing him now with hints of gray in his hair and a much more muscular body, he still carried himself like a youngster.  Even Hoss put in a full day’s work while Pa shuffled papers on his desk, trying to avoid the negative effects of age compared to the vitality his two sons still possessed.

I was drawn to Pa’s desk after the three of them left for the day.  There was stock to be hay-fed during the winter months.  That was their job today, yesterday, and probably again tomorrow.  Ranch work was never done.  I sat down in the chair across from my father. 

Timing was everything, but I knew the timing would never be right if and when I brought up the fact of my need to move on.  I had been in constant contact with an acquaintance in Sacramento.  Again, I would live within the confines of a city, but the break had done me good.  Besides, this way I’d be closer to home and a visit now and then wouldn’t be so difficult.

“Something on your mind, Son?”

“You know me much too well.”

“I should, I’m your father.”

I straightened myself in the chair.  “I’ve been offered a job.”

“Oh …”

“In Sacramento.”

“And?”

“I’ve decided to take it.”

“Are you telling me chasing ornery steers doesn’t appeal to you anymore?”

I smiled at my father.  “You’re very perceptive.  And, you’re absolutely right.”

“When does the job start?”

“Not for a few weeks, but I will have to leave a bit sooner in order to find decent living quarters.”

Pa set his pencil down on the desk and leaned back in his chair and, just after I’d found comfort in my own chair after spouting out the initial words of my leaving, there was Hop Sing carrying in a tray with coffee for the two of us.  As I’ve said before.  Some things never change.

“It seems like only yesterday your trunks arrived from New York.”

“I haven’t taken time to unpack either of them so I’ll just ship them on ahead as is.”

Pa nodded his head although he remained silent.  He poured us each a cup of coffee and again, he leaned back in his chair, letting me carry the conversation without interruption.

“Sacramento is close and, in that respect, I won’t miss any more holidays or celebrations,” I said, hoping it might ease the blow.

“Yes, you’re right, but you’ll still be missed, and not only by me.  I think your brothers have gotten quite used to having you around.”

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the arms of the chair.  “I’ll miss you and both of my brothers, but do you understand what I’m saying?  I’m not suited for ranch work anymore, Pa.  There’s nothing to keep me here.  Maybe I’ve outgrown the things I held dear in my younger days.  The best alternative for me is this job in Sacramento.”

“Don’t get me wrong, Son.  I know you have to leave.  I’ve known since Christmas morning this was only a temporary stopping point to somewhere else.”

“Are you saying you’re okay with my decision?”

Pa stood from his chair and came around to my side of the desk.  “This is your home, Adam, and you’re always welcome here but believe me, more than anyone else on this earth, I understand your wants and needs.  I would never force you to stay where you’re not happy.”

“Thanks, Pa.”

I watched my father return to his seat behind his large mahogany desk; his safe haven, if you will.  A small area of the house where so many important decisions had been made over the years was still a sanctuary for Pa.  For years to come, I would picture my father holding steadfast behind this massive desk.  

“Tell me one thing if you will.”

“Certainly.”

“Is there anything I can do to relieve this ongoing conflict between you and Joe?”

Joe

“How come these steers ain’t closer to Virginia City?” Hoss said as he andIforked-out the last bit of hay from the back of the wagon.  “I could sure use me a cold beer.”

“You and me both.”

“Where do you suppose Candy’s run off to?”

“I sent him on ahead to look for strays.”

“So when we’re done with this load we’re done for the day, ain’t we?”

“That’s right, Brother, unless …”

“Unless we took a detour on our way home.”

I had stood with the handle of the pitchfork tucked under my arm just waiting for Hoss to say it first.  “That’s a brilliant idea,” I said.  “And you can be the one who tells Pa the Silver Dollar was on our way home.”

Hoss’ face dropped from a giant grin to a scrunched-up grimace.  “Why me?”

“Cuz it was your idea.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Hoss had driven the hay-filled wagon, and I had ridden Cochise out to the herd.  I sent him on ahead, and as soon as I found Candy, we caught up with my brother, and we were all three headed to town.  The roads were dry and we made good time.  It was Friday afternoon and Virginia City buzzed with excitement.  Music and rowdy men’s voices echoed from every saloon while mule-teamed wagons pulled out of town after delivering supplies for upcoming Saturday shoppers.

Candy had originally wanted to save his new saddle for special occasions.  I told him that was ridiculous.  “By the time you wear this one out, I’ll have saved up enough to buy you another.”  He finally gave in and donated his old saddle to Chuck, one of our young ranch hands.  As we tied our mounts to the railing, I glanced over the top of my own saddle at Candy who had dismounted also but was running his fingers over the engraved initials, flicking away any dust and debris that had gotten wedged in between the tiny grooves.  I didn’t dare comment, but it reminded me of Adam’s story about the filth in the cracks of cobblestone streets.  I didn’t think Candy would appreciate the comparison.

Hoss paid for the first round and, after collecting our beers, we found the last empty table and sat down.  We were all beat; it had been a tiresome week and a beer and good company hit the spot.  We couldn’t stay long; Pa would be expecting us home for supper, but it felt good to lean back in my chair and stretch out my legs so I could just relax.  The second round was on me, and I motioned to Sally to bring us three more.

“Here you go,” she said, setting the beers on our table.

“Thanks, Sally.”  I reached in my pocket and added a dollar tip to the bill.  I’d known Sally for years and always thought she deserved more than a lifetime spent at this kind of work.

“Thanks, Little Joe.  Hey,” she said, tucking the note inside the top portion of her dress and winking, hoping maybe I’d join her for a little afternoon delight.  “You boys hear about the hold-up over in Genoa?”

I had just started to relax, but the entire atmosphere inside the salon changed.  Suddenly, there was no more noise, no more laughter, only Sally and her statement.  “They know who did it?”

She shrugged her shoulders.  “Some think it was the Hastings gang.  Others think it mighta been local boys.”

“Who thinks it’s the Hastings?”

“That’s what I heard Sheriff Coffee telling Bruno earlier today.”

My heart beat in my throat as I glanced at Hoss and then Candy.  It had been months since Pa was shot; months since I’d become preoccupied with the man who’d shot him.  I’d been a good boy and I’d done as Pa had asked, but I’d warned him come spring, I find the sonofabitch and bring him in myself.  If the law couldn’t get the job done then to hell with them.  I had no problem making Hastings my highest priority once again.  It was time justice was served.

“Thanks, Sally.”  I slid my fresh mug toward Hoss. “Stay here.”

Before I stood from my chair, Hoss grabbed my arm.  “Joseph—”

I glared straight into my brother’s eyes.  “I won’t be long.”

Hoss was no dummy.  He knew where I was headed.  We’d been over this before but no one understood how I felt about this man.  It was personal and, at this point, I really didn’t care what anyone else thought.

Roy was just coming out the front door as I approached his office.  “What’s this I hear about another bank robbery, Sheriff?”

“Well,” Roy said, stalling for time.  “Ain’t none of your concern, Little Joe.”

“Fine.  Just tell me what happened.  Think of me as a curious bystander.”

“I shouldn’t be tellin’ ya nothin’.”

I waited.

“Oh, all right.  I got a wire around noontime.  It seems the bank in Genoa was held up right after the manager unlocked the front door early this mornin’.  No one else around to see who them outlaws was, but there’s a certain pattern now.”

“What kind of pattern?” 

“It’s just like that one over to Carson a while back.  Seems the manager was hit pretty hard over the head so … whoever they was they got clean away with a pretty tidy sum.”

“Which way they headed, Roy?”

“Sheriff didn’t say.  By the time someone found the bank manager stuffed inside the vault, them outlaws had got clean away.”

It wasn’t a lot of information, but enough to make me think it wasn’t local boys.  Someone had taken the time to plan this whole thing out.  “Thanks, Roy.”

“Say hello to your pa for me, Little Joe.”

“Yeah—I will.”

“And remember,” Roy hollered as I walked away.  “You leave this business alone.”

Candy was waiting for me outside the saloon and since Hoss had driven the wagon, he’d already left for home.  “Ready?” 

“Yep, just waitin’ for you.”

“Let’s go.”

Before we had a chance to catch up with Hoss, Candy pulled his mount to a stop on the side of the road.  I did the same, thinking maybe his horse caught a stone and was pulling up lame, instead, he had a few choice words to say and, I’ll admit, he pretty much caught me off guard with his first question.

“Why’d you buy me this saddle?”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“I don’t know … because you’re a good friend.”

“I think there’s more,” he said.  He settled his hat farther back on his head and crossed his hands over his pommel.

“What’s this all about?”

“Is the saddle a thank-you gift for digging the bullet out of your shoulder?”

I shook my head.  “Don’t be silly.”

“Silly?  I thought maybe saving your life had something to do with this overpriced gift.”

“So … what if it did?”

“Why can’t you admit you’re grateful to still be alive, and that I had something to do with it?”

“Okay.  I’m grateful,” I said, nearly shouting out of frustration.  “What’s your point?”

“You!  You’re alive, but you have this harebrained idea it’s your duty to go chasing after Hastings, knowing he wouldn’t think twice about tearing your hide apart with yet another bullet.  At some point, a bullet could be fatal, Joe.  Have you thought that part out?  Have you thought about what it would do to your pa?  To your brother?”

“Why the hell are you bringing this up now?”

“Because I see it in your eyes.  Because I know you’re chompin’ at the bit to go after that man.”

I looked away from Candy and focused on the open prairie.  “You don’t understand.”

“You’re damn right,” he said.  “I don’t understand.”

I couldn’t explain how I felt, and it was no business of Candy’s anyhow.  The man shot my father.  Wasn’t that reason enough?  Why was I the only one who cared enough to bring the man to justice? 

Hoss

Candy caught up and rode in with me, but Joe never slowed.  We found Cochise had already been stabled and it was time to talk with big brother.  “I’ll stable your horse if you’ll send Adam out without Joe knowin’ nothin’ about it.”   When big brother walked into the barn, he still took me by surprise seeing him dressed more like a city dude than a ranch hand.  I guess he’d gotten rid of all his old ranchin’ clothes, bein’ a consultant and all, but underneath all them fancy ruffles, he was still the same ol’ Adam.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Thought we might have a talk,” I said.

“Something I said?”

“No—somethin’ our little brother’s ‘bout to do.”

“What now?”

I could tell by Adam’s tone he was rememberin’ Joe as just a kid and not a growd man with growd up problems.  This was a little more serious than gettin’ caught drinkin’ behind the barn or pullin’ pranks he shouldn’t oughta.  I rested my hand on my new mount and I looked straight at Adam.  “He’s tryin’ real hard to get hisself killed.”

Adam kicked his toe in the dirt, placed his hands on his hips and waited for more of an explanation.  “You care to elaborate?”

I wasn’t sure whether Pa and Adam had discussed the robbery and shootin’; maybe just what I’d told him although that was plenty.  We each took a seat, hoppin’ up on the tail end of the wagon with our feet danglin’ like a couple of kids shootin’ the breeze.  I started at the beginnin’; fillin’ in any blanks about Joe’s behavior after Pa was shot.

“. . . so now you can see why he’s dead set on bringin’ that man in.  Not once could Candy or I drag him outta Pa’s room.  Pa’s gettin’ shot changed him, Adam.  He ain’t the same person he was ‘fore that robbery.” 

Adam locked his elbows and flattened his palms on the wagon bed.  He contemplated what I’d said.  “How do we change his mind?”

“I was hopin’ you had the answer cuz I been studyin’ on it for months, and I ain’t come up with nothin’ what’s gonna work.”

“Well, talking our younger brother out of anything when he’s got his mind made up is challenging at best.  But this sounds more like an obsession, which only makes his thinking more distorted than normal and nothing we say to him will sound at all convincing.  The best we can hope for is the sheriff in Genoa catches this gang and throws them in jail.  Otherwise, I’m with you.  I don’t have the answer.”

“Just remember we’re dealin’ with a growd up Joe and not a kid, Adam.”

My brother looked at me strangely before we both headed toward the house.  He didn’t say anythin’, but I hoped he was thinkin’ ‘bout what I’d said.  He’d been gone for five years and a fella like Joe does a lotta growin’ in that amount of time.  Sometimes, I think Adam was born old and, maybe he was.  His job has been takin’ care of both Joe and me and our pa his whole life.

~~~

Supper that night was a quiet affair.  Adam and I kept our previous conversation to ourselves.  I knew Candy was concerned, especially after he’d filled me in on his conversation with Joe, but he kept his thoughts to hisself, too.  It was Pa, who finally broke the ice.  It was Pa, who, I swear has a sixth sense about these things, started a conversation with Joe. 

“I have a job for you, Joseph.”

“Me?”

We all turned our attention to Pa.

“Yes.  You.”

“What kind of job?”

“I’ve just made arrangements to buy that bull I been wanting from Seth Thomas over near Placerville.   I need him picked up and brought home.”

“Why me?”

“Why not?”

I nearly laughed at Pa’s comeback, but the conversation wasn’t over just yet.  Adam and I dropped our heads and forced our attention to the food on our plates.

“I want you to leave in the morning, Joseph.”

“Fine.” 

My brother wasn’t pleased, but the three of us at the other end of the table definitely were.  Joe was bein’ sent away, and I couldn’t help but wonder how Pa knew to pick this exact time to get Joe out of the area.  No news was good news and with Joe out of town, he wouldn’t have no way to check on the status in Genoa.

“Now, I want you to take someone with you,” Pa said.  “It’s strictly your choice.”

Joe glanced over at Adam, who busied himself by cuttin’ through a piece of steak.  I reached for the bowl of potatoes and started heapin’ spoonfuls on my plate.  Candy was new at this and not totally accustomed to our particular ways of avoidance.  He made the mistake of lookin’ up when he shoulda looked down.  “I’ll take Candy,” Joe said.

“Good,” Pa said.  “It’s settled.  You two will leave first thing in the morning.”

I knew enough to hold my tongue.  Poor Candy looked a tad bewildered.  There weren’t nothin’ worse than haulin’ a feisty bull, tethered to a rope, across miles of open land.  The trip to Placerville might be fun at first—different town, different ladies to eyeball at the saloon—but the ride home would be slow and agonizin’ for all parties involved.

Candy

I’m not exactly sure how I got roped into riding with Joe, but our horses were saddled and we were ready to ride by sunup.  Hop Sing scurried out the kitchen door with a flour sack full of food for the two of us to share.  I let him know we appreciated his efforts before I looped the bag over the horn and mounted my horse.  Mr. Cartwright came out for one last word before we left the ranch.

“Here you go, Joseph.  I’ve already wired the money, and you can cash this draft at the Placerville bank.  This way you won’t have to carry the notes with you.”

Joe looked down at the draft.  “Is this what you’re paying for that bull?”

“You have no idea what I went through to force Seth Thomas to drop the price this much.”

“Must be a mighty fine bull.”

“I sure hope so, Son.” 

Joe and Mr. Cartwright shook hands.  Joe folded the draft and slid it into his jacket pocket before mounting his horse.

“You two take care.  Be careful now.”

“We will, Pa.  See you in a few days.”

Placerville was a two-day ride, up and over the summit, which was slow going on a good day, but I sure dreaded the ride back home.  I dared to think how long it would take us while dragging a stubborn, cantankerous bull.  I remember when Placerville was better known as Hangtown, and a few years before that, Dry Diggings and, even before that, Blood and Guts.  It had run through a complete gamut of names but I’ll admit, the saloons were some of the best in all of California and maybe, if we enjoyed a night on the town, Joe could keep his mind on pretty girls rather than his ever-present thoughts of Sam Hastings.

Joe Cartwright, usually the chatty conversationalist, was quiet, which made the trip seem even longer.  We’d stopped for lunch hours ago and I was starting to get hungry.  Then again, maybe it was complete boredom that made my stomach growl.  We’d slowed the horses to ride up the pass, but even this side of the mountain wasn’t nearly as treacherous and heading back down the other.  By the time we stopped for the night, we were both dead in the saddle and sleep came easy and, by noon of the following day, we rode down the main street of Placerville.  We hit the first saloon we came to, even before we’d made arrangements at the hotel.  A quick beer or two to settle the dust, and we’d tend to our mounts and find a decent hotel for the night.

“Thomas’ ranch is another ten miles from here,” Joe said.  “I think we’ll just wait till tomorrow morning to ride out and pick up that bull.”

“Sounds good to me,” I said, finishing my beer, yawning, and stretching out my arms to ease the tight muscles in my back.  We’d slept on the ground last night and climbed right back in the saddle this morning.  I was stiff and ready for a hot bath, a hot meal, and a real bed before we picked up the bull and the fun began.

“Good.  Let’s go.” 

“Why don’t I stable the horses and you get us a room.  We’ll clean ourselves up and come back and enjoy the sights if you get my meaning.”

“Been a while, Candy?”

“Huh?”

“No need for a bath if you’re just gonna drink and play cards, is there?”

“Me?”  I said, playing dumb.  “Just what are you suggesting?”

“What you’ve yet to learn, my friend, is this trip isn’t just about the bull.  My father is keen to the needs of a man.  He was a young man once himself and he can always tell when one of us should get away; a night on the town, a night of beer and poker or a night spent entertaining the fairer sex.”

“No … not Ben Cartwright.”

“Yes … Ben Cartwright.  I wasn’t sent just to pick up a bull.  I was sent on this little adventure to take my mind off Hastings; plain and simple.”

“Well, ain’t he the shrewd one?”

“Ain’t he now.” 

We finished our beers and it was time to clean ourselves up and look presentable for, as Joe had said earlier, the fairer sex.  One saloon after another lined the streets of Placerville.  We had our pick of anything and everything, and now I had a little something extra to look forward to.  Maybe this trip wasn’t turning out so bad after all.

When Joe suddenly stopped in the middle of the boardwalk, I nearly ran right into the back of him.  The stage had just pulled in across the street and its passengers were climbing down one after the other.

“Just curious,” Joe said.

“Your curiosity has gotten us in trouble before, you know.”

“Just hold your horses, Candy.  You see what I see?”

Joe

Candy was right of course.  There had been some unfortunate incidences, but I always found it interesting to note who came into town on the stage.  This wasn’t Virginia City, but it had always been a habit of mine so why break tradition now? 

A man dressed like a dude disembarked first but turned back and helped a young lady down from the stage.  She carried a pale blue parasol to match her pale blue dress and, from what I could tell from a distance, the lady was quite striking.  With gloved hands, she tried to brush away some of the trail dust from her shoulders before heading to the hotel with the gentleman.

“Let’s go,” I said.

“I thought this trip was about saloon girls, Joe, not fancy ladies from who knows where.”

“You’re absolutely right, but a closer look never hurt so, while you’re stabling the horses, I’ll get us checked in to the hotel.”

I smiled at Candy.  He knew he’d been had but that was the breaks.  I headed straight for the hotel.  I stood outside and brushed some of the grime off my jacket and then hit my dusty hat against my leg before entering the lobby.  I wasn’t terribly presentable, but I was only there for a look-see.  If need be, I’d introduce myself to the young lady after I’d had a bath and a shave.

I stood back a ways and listened as the new arrivals checked in at the front desk.  “We’ll need two rooms,” the man said.  I liked the sound of that; they might only be brother and sister.  I wasn’t quite close enough to see her face but from my viewpoint across the lobby, she looked mighty fine to me.  As soon as they started up the stairs, I moved toward the front desk.

“Pretty lady,” said the clerk behind the counter.

“I hadn’t noticed,” I lied.

“Unattached too.”

Nothing like a blabbermouth hotel clerk to spill information to a stranger.

“I need a room with two beds and a hot bath sent up right away.”

“Deep, blue eyes,” he said.

“Excuse me?”

“She had deep, blue eyes, most lovely.”

“Yeah, about that bath—”

“Oh, right away, Sir.”

He handed me a key; room 17.  “I have a friend meeting me here.  Name’s Candy.  Will you tell him the room number when he comes in?”

“Certainly,” he said, checking the register, “—Mr. Cartwright.  You’ll be right across the hall from the young lady.” 

“Thank you.  Don’t forget the bath.”

Candy wouldn’t be long, but at least I’d be privy to the first bath if the water arrived sooner than later.  The other guests were already inside their rooms by the time I’d climbed the stairs.  I glanced at the door across from mine; in brass numbers; room 18.  Even though the clerk had gone a bit overboard, he had me wanting to see for myself those deep, blue eyes.

When Candy arrived, I was just getting out of the tub.  “All yours.”

“Figured you’d jump in first.”

“Yep.  All clean.”

“Well?” Candy said.

“Well, what?”

“Well, you rushed over here to check out the girl and … well?”

I grinned as I reached for my pants.  “Well, I didn’t exactly see her face, but the clerk went on and on, commenting about her deep—blue—eyes.  What more can a man ask for?”

“Trouble, that’s what, so let’s just stick to the plan.”

“Candy, Candy, Candy,” I said, shaking my head.  “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“I left it at home.  Besides, we’re outta here early tomorrow morning which doesn’t leave you much time for courtin’.”

“Time enough, my friend.”

When I finished dressing, I headed down the stairs.  This was the best hotel Placerville had to offer.  The others in town were for gold diggers down on their luck and sporting just a few coins left in their pockets for a soft bed and a much-needed bath.  I took a seat in the lobby, making believe I was interested in a day-old newspaper and hoping the lady would reappear.  As luck would have it, she didn’t disappoint.

She came down the stairs alone and turned toward the main desk.  It appeared she’d left her parasol in the room, but she still wore the same blue dress.  I watched the clerk point toward the hotel restaurant, and the lady nodded her head and walked in that direction.  It was time to make my move.

I carried the paper with me, tucking it up under my arm.  

“Table for two?”  A gentleman waiter appeared in front of the two of us, thinking we were dining together.

“Excuse me?”  she said.

Already, I liked the sound of her voice; shy and unassuming and obviously caught off guard by his question.  I smiled rather sheepishly when the lady turned her head and found me standing directly behind her.

“Um … no,” she said.  “Separate tables, please.

“I don’t mind sharing a table,” I said to the waiter.  “In fact, I’d enjoy the company very much if the lady wouldn’t mind having me as a dinner companion.”

“I’m sorry,” she said to the waiter, “but I don’t know this gentleman—”

“Joe Cartwright, Ma’am.”  I could tell she was at a loss for words so I rambled, hoping she’d give in and have dinner with me.  “I realize we haven’t been formally introduced, and I can assure you I’m a pretty decent fella, but if you’d prefer to eat alone …”

She looked straight at me.  The hotel clerk was right.  I’d never seen eyes quite that color.  They were as dark as … maybe darker than the deepest waters of Tahoe, and I found myself staring.  Not only was I taken with her eyes but by her delicate features and flawless skin, with just a hint of color showing on both cheeks.  Her dark blonde hair was pulled up neatly and gathered with clips while loose, flowing tendrils framed her face.  I couldn’t help but smile.

“In that case, I’d be delighted to share a table with you, Mr. Cartwright.”

I placed my hand to the small of her back. “Table for two.”

The waiter sat us in an area near the fireplace, which I found to be very romantic for a couple of strangers having their first and only evening together.  When I asked him for a pen and paper, he seemed to find it odd but returned immediately with my request.  I scribbled out a quick note to Candy, explaining why I wouldn’t be joining him.  Holding the folded paper up to the waiter, I asked if he’d take it to the front desk.  He obliged.

Next, I ordered a bottle of the hotel’s finest wine and as the lady dipped her head, the hint of color on her cheeks brightened.  “I’m at a loss here,” I said.  She lifted her head but still, her reserved nature remained. “I’m afraid I don’t know your name.”

A slow smile appeared and she answered.  “My name is Sarah Collins, Mr. Cartwright.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Collins, but if you wouldn’t mind, I’d rather you called me Joe.”

“All right, Joe.  And you may call me Sarah.”

“Good.  I’m glad that’s settled.  I’m not one for formalities.”

“I hope you don’t find me too forward, I mean we haven’t been properly introduced, and I’m feeling a little awkward now that I’ve accepted your invitation.”

“Well, there’s not much I can do, pertaining to introductions that is, but I assure you that by the end of the evening everyone in this room will be envious of how at ease we’ve become with each other.  No one would ever consider the fact we’d never been properly introduced.”

Sarah smiled.  “You’ve made me feel better already.”

“Besides, if we ate at separate tables, everyone would stare and take pity.”

She tilted her head then smiled.  “Yes, you’re absolutely right, so I will say thank you again for the invitation.  I often eat alone when we travel and of course I always feel self-conscious.  And now, to realize the people around me take pity … why I may never eat again.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“I’m teasing you, Mr. Cart … I mean Joe.  I’m used to the stares and the room closing in on me, but I must eat, you know.”

“What about your travel companion.  Doesn’t he eat?”  Our first hint of conversation and I’d already made her feel uncomfortable.  Nice job Joe.

“We’ve been traveling from town to town for a long time,” she said.  “Often times I stay alone in hotels while my brother meets with business associates in the area.  Someday soon, he hopes to make a killing, well, that’s what he calls it, and we’re able to stop all this constant moving around.  I must admit, I’m growing weary of so much travel, and I would give almost anything to settle down in one place.”

“What line of business is your brother in?”

“He’s in sales.  Things have picked up lately but he’s still waiting for his big break, something that will set us up for life.  I think he’s a dreamer, but he’s my only living relative so I’ve encouraged him to make his mark in this world.”

“So how long will you be in Placerville?”

“I’m not sure.  I know that sounds silly, but when Carl’s business here is finished, we’ll move on.”

“East?  West?”

“West, I’m sure.  California.”

“Well, welcome to California.  You crossed over earlier today.” 

She dipped her head again but came up smiling.  “You must think me a fool.”

“Hardly a fool.  You’re a beautiful woman who’d rather not eat alone, who travels with her brother and, who didn’t realize she’d crossed the border into California.  There’s nothing foolish about that.”

“I must say you’re a good listener, Joe, and very sensitive with your comments.”

“Well, thank you, and since I’m such a good listener, why don’t you tell me more about yourself?”

I leaned forward, propped my elbows on the table, and rested my chin on my fists.  Her deep, blue eyes were mesmerizing, and she had a way about her that was uncomplicated and inviting but, at the same time, cautious.

“I don’t know if there’s much to tell.  Placerville is just a stopover and when the next stage comes through we’ll move on.  What about you?  Is this your home?”

“No.  I’m doing practically the same.  It’s just a stopover for me, too, although I have to admit, I’m glad I did.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because I hate to eat alone, and now I have the chance to dine with a beautiful young lady.”

“Thank you, kind sir, but that’s enough about me.  Why are you here on your stopover?”

“Besides the unexpected pleasure, I rode in to pick up a bull.”

“A bull?”

“To breed—”

“Oh, yes—”

I started to chuckle but I didn’t want to embarrass Sarah so I explained.  “I live on a ranch not far from here with my Pa and my brothers.  We raise cattle for market and well, we need a bull in order to … well, you know.”

“Well, of course.  It all makes sense now.” 

I had ordered pâté de foie gras, but when the waiter looked slightly confused by my request, I told him maybe he could suggest an appetizer.   Okay, so I was trying to impress this girl.  This was obviously a small hotel eatery in Placerville and not one of the finer restaurants a big city would sport but still, I took a shot.

I poured us each a second glass of wine before our dinners arrived.  After the initial stumbling around, getting through introductions and such, Sarah relaxed and we sailed through the rest of the evening with ease.  She was originally from Tennessee.  Her brothers had fought in the war and after the South surrendered, jobs were scarce so she and her only living brother decided to move west and start a new life.  She relayed some of the hardships she’d faced during the war and how leaving it all behind had been difficult, but she said this new journey west had been exciting, too.

I told her more about the Ponderosa and how I was born there, had spent my entire life there, and would probably take my final breath without ever feeling the need to live anywhere else.  I relayed how we all worked together to make it an even better place for the next generation.  I found her dreamy-eyed as I told of the mountains and the trees and the lake and how we cared for the land above anything else.  Maybe it sounded too good to be true, especially to one who had survived so much and seen so much devastation.  I felt like a braggart before I’d come to the end of my story.

“I lost two brothers,” she said, “both in the Battle of Shiloh.  They were young and rambunctious and excited to fight in the war.  Carl, who’s the oldest, tried to warn them, tried to keep them at home, but neither would listen.  They wanted to be soldiers and win the war for Tennessee.  Billy and Andy never made it back alive.”

Sarah’s eyes became watery pools as she spoke of her brothers.  My gesture may have been improper, but I reached for her hand.  “I’m sorry about your brothers.”

“Don’t be.  It’s my fault for bringing it up … to you—a stranger.  It wasn’t my intention to—”

“I’m glad you did, Sarah.  Living out here in the west, we were so removed from all the fighting that sometimes I tend to forget what people like you were subjected to during the war.  It’s good for me to have a reminder, and even though we weren’t involved directly we were, at times, asked to donate silver, as in cash money, or anything else we could to one side or the other.”

I remembered my days spent defending the likes of Fredrick Kyle and finding out much later about his ulterior motives.  I was young and naïve until Pa set me straight.  I, too, nearly lost a brother as we fought our own private war.  Maybe we were involved more than I realized at the time, but the difference of opinions was a major concern, and I’d often wondered if Adam and I would have fought—brother against brother—if the war had come to Nevada.

“Let’s change the subject.”

~~~

I’d caught of glimpse of Candy when he popped his head into the dining room and found me sitting with the lady from the stage.  He was a big boy, and I’m sure he could handle himself without my company.  Time permitting; I’d join him in a saloon later tonight.

Sarah was lovely.  I enjoyed listening to her tell me about the world she’d called home for so many years.  I could tell she missed her old life and was struggling to make a go of this new adventure that had pretty much been forced on her and her brother.  When she said Carl was in sales and they were moving cross country from east to west, never settling anywhere permanent, it was a life I couldn’t begin to imagine.

I’d ordered us each a piece of apple pie after our plates had been cleared, and even though our time together was drawing to a close and I’d never see this beautiful lady again, I didn’t want the night to end.  Had circumstances been different, I would have enjoyed courting Sarah and getting to know everything about her.  There was an ease about her that left me content to sit back and listen to every word she had to say.  But, it was time to leave; time to say goodbye.

“I really must get back to my room.  My brother will wonder what’s happened to me.”

“I understand although I really hate to see you go.”

“I’ve had a wonderful evening, thanks to you, Joe.  My first time dining with a total stranger.  Maybe I won’t be so afraid to take a chance the next time a waiter says, “Table for two.”

Right then and there, I knew I didn’t want her dining with anyone else.  But what could I possibly do?  She would go her way and I would go mine.  It was doubtful our paths would ever cross again.  She smiled, and when she did, her eyes lit up and her face glowed like a peach-colored sunset.  I wanted to wrap my arms around her and feel her close to me.  I wanted her lips pressed against mine, but it would never be.  Not tonight, not ever.  I stood from my chair, laid a few dollars on the table; I reached for her hand.  I walked her out of the dining room and to the base of the staircase. 

“Thank you for a delightful evening, Sarah.  I just wish—”

She touched her fingers to my lips.  “I wish that too.”

I watched her climb the stairs.  She never once turned or looked back.  Maybe that’s how she lived life now, never looking back.  I started for the front door, thinking I should meet up with Candy, but the desire for a night spent in some raucous saloon seemed to pass the minute I’d met Sarah.  I slowly climbed the stairs to my room.

Candy

The door swung open and Joe was pocketing his key.  I had left the door unlocked but Joe, assuming I was having a fun-filled evening at one of the many saloons scattered up and down the main street of this dirty, little town, hadn’t suspected to find me sitting in the room.  I had made my way down to the Rusty Nickel earlier in the evening and treated myself to a couple of beers, but the need for drinks and poker and ladies had lost most of its allure after I’d been dumped for the night by my best friend.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” he said.  “I thought you’d be makin’ your free night in town a bit more exciting than lying around this room.”

I shouldn’t be mad or hold a grudge, but I wasn’t exactly thrilled about being sent off while Joe made eyes at some woman he’d never see again.  And no, I didn’t want to hang around a saloon alone and drum up worthless conversations with people I didn’t know or care about.  It may have been my way during my past life, but things had changed.  I had friends—close friends like Joe and Hoss—but what good did friendships like those do me tonight?  It was no surprise when I found Joe and the lady sitting down to dinner.  He has a way with women but still, I was the third wheel and not included in Joe’s romantic endeavors.  I was politely excused and tossed aside.

“Guess I was tired,” I said, reliving my night of boredom but choosing not to let my feelings show.  Hell, it was only one night, and I was making a big deal over nothing.

“What do you think about staying over one more day?”

“Here?”

“Yeah,” Joe said as he unbuckled his gunbelt.  He hung it over the bedpost before removing his jacket. “Thought I’d have breakfast with the lady and … well, see if anything, you know … develops.”

“It’s your call, Buddy.  I’m just along for the ride.”

“Good.  I’ll leave a note with the clerk to deliver it to her room.”

“Why don’t you just slip it under her door?”

Joe shrugged his shoulders.  “I don’t know.  Would that be proper?”

“If she’s the only one staying in that room, why not?”

“Okay.  I guess you’re right.  Sure you don’t mind?”

“I suppose I can find something to do while you entertain the lady.”

After seeing the look in Joe’s eyes, it was obvious he was smitten.  Of course, Joe Cartwright was easily smitten but what I realized, after cryin’ in my beer, was that Joe would have done the same thing for me had the roles been reversed.  I would let him have his fun without complaints.  Hell, what was one more day anyway?

He took his time and used his best penmanship to write out a note then slipped it under her door.  It wasn’t long before a note appeared under ours.  Joe had tried to make conversation during the tedious wait, we’d even found a deck of cards and played a few hands of five-card-stud with matches we carried in our saddlebags.  But when the lady’s note appeared, he was out of his chair quicker’n a jackrabbit and grabbing it up off the floor. 

The smile came before the words.  “She said yes.”

“Congratulations.  Now you’ll be able to tell everyone it was a two-day romance rather than just one.”

“There’s no need to tell anyone, Candy.  In fact, when breakfast is over we can head on over to Thomas’ ranch, pick up the bull and be on our way.”

“Fine by me.”

“I have to stop at the bank and cash the draft anyway and the bank won’t open till 9:00.  I figure we’ll only be set back an hour or so.”

“What happened to see what develops?”

“Wishful thinking on my part is all.  She’s heading west and we’re heading east, which leaves time for breakfast and that’s about it.”

“So, does this lady have a name?”

“Miss Sarah Collins and she’s a native of Tennessee.  You wanna know more?”

I laughed at Joe’s enthusiasm.  “I’m good.”

Joe fell back into his chair.

“You’re deal,” I said, but it was obvious Joe’s mind was no longer on five-card-stud.

When I woke the following morning, Joe was already dressed and excited about meeting his lady-friend.  “Take it easy, Joe.  What time did you say in your note?” 

He pulled his watch from his inside his jacket.  “Another hour.”

Sarah

I doubt I slept a wink.  I tossed and turned and relished every thought that had gone through my head since last evening’s dinner with Joe.  I must admit I was truly taken by his handsome features and masculine form, but there was so much more to the man than just his initial attraction.  He had substance, something so rare in a man when his main goal was to impress a woman.  There were no tall tales of adventure, and he didn’t rattle on, letting his ego get in the way of what a lady might consider a bit more important. 

He actually listened to me and asked about my life before he told me about his.  I’m afraid most of the southern gentlemen I’ve known over the years have much to learn from this Nevada cowboy named Joe Cartwright.  They may be more proper and refined, but oftentimes it’s their own self-importance that takes priority over any type of decent conversation.

Joe was different in that his mind was open, like a small child who was willing to learn.  He had no knowledge of my situation or my past, but he was eager to soak up everything I had to say.  He reached out to me and, by listening and appreciating all I’d been through these last few years, he knew the kind of person I really was.  He knew how the war had changed me from that innocent girl to one who was cautious and guarded but with Joe and his unselfish ways, I’d let down that guard, and I found remnants of that innocence I thought was lost forever.  

It was obvious I’d been easily seduced by his charming nature and his air of self-confidence, but there was also a gentleness, an underlying softness about him, which I found so endearing and so pleasant to be around.  Unlike my brother, Carl, who I’ve traveled with for so long and, who has a more demanding and forceful way about him, it was a relief to know there are men like Joe still left in this world.   I so admired his ease and straightforward ways.

I had woken before dawn, washed, and began dressing by lamplight.  Breakfast—just the thought of seeing him one more time gave me a girlish thrill, and even though eight o’clock was still a ways off, I wanted to look my best; I wanted him to remember me always as I would remember him. 

Traveling with my brother over these last few months has taken its toll.  More than anything, I wanted to settle down in one place and so far, Carl and I had not shared the same dream.  There were instances when he had to be on the road for days or weeks at a time.  I was lonely for family, a sense of belonging but, as always and without complaint, I would wait for him to return since I had no money or no actual address of my own.  But I was growing tired, and when Joe told me of his ranch and the permanence he felt regarding living there for the rest of his life, I was envious of his content, his very own place in this world where I had none. 

I stood in front of the oval mirror, tracing down every simple flaw of my face.  My eyes were too large and my nose too small, and what could I possibly do with this unruly hair?  I had noticed Joe had a couple of scars on his face, although I would never be so bold as to ask, for now, I would only presume as to what had happened to him.  Perhaps a knife fight, holding off ruthless outlaws while defending the land he cherished.  Or perhaps merely childhood injuries caused by rough-housing with one of his brothers.  No matter.  Nothing could take away from that beautiful face; not even the tiniest hint of imperfection.

I propped my foot up on the edge of the chair in order to fasten my boot.  I found my fingers to be unsteady and not quite cooperating with the new pair of shoes straight from Paris, France.  They were tan-colored linen with square leather toes—the most current style in women’s fashion—but because they were brand new, it was most difficult to ease the buttons through the tiny slits under the best of circumstances.  And now, with this current outbreak of nerves, I was having a most difficult time.  When the task was finally complete, I ran my hand down the bodice of my dress; a green linen to match Joe’s gorgeous, green eyes.  I held in my stomach a little tighter since I’d given up wearing those hideous corsets when Carl and I left Tennessee. 

My brother was not an early riser, and I would be back in my room long before he ever realized I was missing.  He’d checked in on me last night but it was late, after I’d already dressed for bed.  While I chose to have dinner here in the hotel, he had enjoyed one of the local saloons.  Not that I would ever be caught dead in a saloon whether I was allowed or not, but men seemed to find it relaxing to take part in all the drinking and gambling and other, shall we say immoral behavior.

When I checked the watch I had pinned to my dress, it read five minutes till eight.  I took a deep breath to calm myself; I certainly didn’t want to seem over-anxious.  The best thing to do was walk out the door at eight, slowly walk down the stairs, and hope Joe was waiting outside the restaurant entrance.  With one last check in the mirror, and after tucking one last strand of hair back where it belonged, I opened the hotel door.

To my surprise, there he stood, just as handsome as he had in the golden glow of firelight last night.  I was thankful I’d kept my thoughts to myself with these paper-thin walls and not blurted out silly, girlish comments he might have overheard.

“You look lovely,” he said.

“Thank you.”

He reached for my hand and slipped it through his arm and we walked down the hallway together.  I was in heaven.  My palms were sweaty, and I prayed he wouldn’t detect my racing heart.  I knew this was our last few hours together although a girl can dream but suddenly, I felt myself blush.  The dream in my mind’s eye was of Joe, but it was far from proper or respectable.

“Table for two?”

“Yes,” he said.  “A table for two.”

Candy

I walked down the boardwalk to a small café and had breakfast.  I thought about collecting the horses and having them ready to go, but I wasn’t sure how long “breakfast with the lady” would take.  So I strolled, without purpose, up and down the streets of Placerville.  There were gun shops, leather shops, and an abundance of hardware stores with picks and shovels; anything a miner might need to strike it rich.  It was Virginia City three or four times over.  Mining was serious business in this part of the country and Hangtown, I mean Placerville, was a rough and unfriendly town.  As soon as Joe finished up with the lady, I’d be more than ready to move on.

I strolled by the bank where we would cash the draft.  It was not a fancy building at all, rather plain and rundown for all the business it took in.  My guess is it was built when the town was still Dry Diggings and that’s been several years ago.  With the closed sign still in place, and shades covering the front windows, it would be the last place in town to open and the first to lock its door in the late afternoon.  The phrase “banker’s hours” seemed more than fitting. 

Bored?  Yes, I was bored.  I headed back to the hotel, but as I reached the steps to the front door, I heard a man yelling hysterically from the direction I’d just come.  I stopped and stared as most of the town’s citizens raced down to see what all the commotion was about.  I shrugged my shoulders and followed the crowd down the street.  A little excitement never hurt when a fella was bored to death.

What appeared to be a businessman, dressed in a black suit and tie, was furiously waving his hat over his head.  His frantic appearance and his continuous yelling and carrying on made me rush a little faster down the boardwalk.  And when I finally got close enough to make out his words, I realized what had him so out of sorts. 

“The bank’s been robbed!  Help!” he cried.  “Help!  The bank’s been robbed!” 

When the sheriff arrived, he pushed the onlookers, including me, out of the way before entering the front door with the suited gentleman.  There was much debate amongst the town’s citizens as to the sum taken although to my knowledge; bank robbers didn’t have a tendency to leave much behind.

I took a step back. “Great,” I mumbled.  How do you pay for a bull without a penny to your name? There was nothing I could do here but get in the way so I started back up the street only to see Joe and his lady friend stepping out of the hotel.  

“Candy,” Joe hollered, waving me over.  “What’s all the ruckus about?”

“Oh, nothin’ much.  Bank’s been robbed.”

“Just now?”

“Well, I have to assume it was sometime after closing and before the bank opened this morning.  I’d say we have a problem, Boss.”

“Yeah—”

Joe gazed down the street at the angry crowd still gathered in the street.  Then it hit me—Hastings.

“What’s the matter, Joe?”

Joe chuckled and mumbled under his breath.  I knew what he wanted to say, but it certainly wasn’t appropriate language for a lady of quality.  His face softened when he looked at Sarah and, a quick smile broke through, ridding his face of any anger he may have felt only moments ago. 

“Well, I needed to cash a draft to pay for that bull I was telling you about.”

“Now what will you do?”

“I’m not really sure.  This may prove to have been a long trip for nothing.”

Joe looked back toward me.

“Oh, by the way, this is my partner, Candy.  Candy, I’d like to introduce you to Miss Sarah Collins.”

I tipped my hat.  “Nice to meet you, Miss Collins.”

“Pleased to meet you, too, Candy.”

Sarah Collins was strikingly beautiful, and it was clearly obvious why Joe was so taken.  Who in their right mind wouldn’t be?  Considering how many women he’d chased after just since I’d known him, I doubt he’d ever met one who could hold a candle to this little gal.

“They know who did it?” Joe asked very matter-of-fact.

“Don’t think so.”

“Why don’t you see if you can find out anything,” Joe said.  “I’m going to take Sarah up to her room, and I’ll meet you back here in a few minutes.”

I wanted to tell him I didn’t need his help if he wanted to spend more time with the lady.  I was actually capable of gathering details on my own, but I knew Joe Cartwright, and I knew exactly what he was thinking.  Here I’d been worried about paying for the bull, but I’d bet money Joe’s mind had turned in a completely different direction.  Sam Hastings was back in business and his gang had struck again. 

Joe

“I want you to be safe,” I said as we stood outside Sarah’s door.  “I don’t want you out on the streets right now.  It’s too dangerous; too many people are upset over losing their hard-earned money.”

“But why do you have to go back out there?  It’s not your problem, Joe, and if it’s as dangerous as you say …”

Sarah’s eyes were glassy but she held my gaze.  She was frightened and I understood her concern, but I also had to know if there were any clues so far.  I had my suspicions although I wasn’t ready to voice them until I had a few more of the facts.

“I’ve been in other towns where robberies have occurred, Joe.  I know what happens to people.  I know how crazy they can be.  Promise me you’ll be careful.”

“Don’t worry about me; I can take care of myself.  Just promise me you won’t leave this room.”

Sarah nodded her head and fumbled to remove the room key from her small, black, purse.  She handed it to me and I unlocked the door.  But before she turned to enter her room, I placed my hands on her shoulders and leaned forward.  I had planned a quick little kiss on her cheek, although I was startled when Sarah turned her head and pressed her lips to mine.  And, without really considering how inappropriate our behavior had become, I dropped my hands to her waist and kissed her back.  As soon as we separated, Sarah was the first to apologize.

“I’m sorry, Joe.  I’m not sure what got into me.  I doubt Emily Thornwell would approve of my complete and utter forwardness.”

“I know nothing of Miss Thornwell, but Joe Cartwright approves very much.”

“I’m afraid I’m a bit more like Lady Stanhope.  Travel and adventure and taking risks are more to my liking than parlor talk and proper etiquette.” 

“Well then Miss Sarah Stanhope-Collins, let’s just toss old lady Thornwell out on her ear and try this again.”

Sarah skimmed her hands up my chest until her fingers were intertwined behind my neck. “Like this?”

I pulled her inside the room and kicked the door closed before I kissed her again.  I heard a slight moan as Sarah’s hands tightened around the back of my neck.   Chasing outlaws was a fool’s game, reckless, and long hours in the saddle.  And as I’ve been reminded more than once, it’s a job for the law, not Joe Cartwright.  I had a choice.  I could remain here with Sarah, keeping her safe and keeping her in my arms for the rest of the day, or I could ride out with the posse.  But therein lay the problem.  Deep down, I knew it was Hastings and his gang, and also, I feared moving forward with Sarah when our time together was already drawing to a close.  I quickly abandon the idea of happily ever after and the decision was made. 

“I need to go, but I won’t be long,” I said.  “Lock the door behind you and don’t open it for anyone until I get back.”

She took a step back and, with her head turned away, and with nothing more to say, she did as I asked.  I popped forward for that kiss on the cheek I’d planned only moments ago, and then I was out the door.  When I heard the key turn in the lock, I blew out a long, slow breath and tried to shake Sarah and her talk of improper etiquette from my mind.  I needed a clear head; I needed to meet Candy and then the sheriff.

The street was more crowded now than before.  News spread fast.  People had lost their savings and demanded something be done.  Their persistent shouting and the intermittent sound of gunfire caused a certain degree of chaos as men and women alike needed someone to blame.  I caught up with Candy and he was quick to fill me in on what he’d learned so far. 

“No tracks so no sign of which way they went, Joe.  This all took place while the bank was closed.  They broke in through the back door and knew just how to jimmy the safe.  Someone said it was the newest model available, just arrived a few weeks ago from St. Louis; claimed to be robber-proof.”

“I’m sure every safe claims to be robber-proof.”

Candy laughed.  “Guess you’re right.”

“What’s the sheriff plan to do?”

“He and his deputy just went back to their office.  I don’t know whether they have a plan or not. This town’s on fire right now.  People are mad.  They want action.”

“Yeah and rightly so.”

“Where’s Sarah?”

“Locked in her room.”

“Well?  What do we do now?”

“Let’s go talk to the sheriff.” 

I wanted to run the possibility of Sam Hastings past the sheriff.  I’m sure he was well aware of the gang’s activities these past few months, but I needed to know whether Hastings was at least on his list of suspects.  Of course, we weren’t the only people demanding the sheriff’s attention.  A group of men had already followed him down the narrow boardwalk and for Candy and me, complete strangers, to get a word in edgewise would take some real finagling.

“Follow me.”

We walked right through the sheriff’s front door, and even though the deputy was trying his best to keep everyone out, we made our way in.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Sorry to bust in, Sheriff, but my friend and I may be able to help.”

“Unless you and your friend there robbed the bank and you’ve come to turn yourselves in, I have no need for any help from a couple of yahoos I’ve never laid eyes on before.”

I looked toward Candy as I raked my fingers through my hair in frustration.  “Sam Hastings,” I said.  “That name mean anything to you?”

The sheriff turned quickly, locked his knees in a firm stance, and faced me.  “What’s he to you?  Friend?  Partner?  Kin?”

I sighed and felt my face burn with frustration.  “No . . . none of those, Sheriff.  The man shot my father during a holdup in Virginia City.  He’s never been brought to trial, and he’s robbed several banks since.  Surely you have his likeness on a poster.”

“I’m sorry about your father,” he said.  “I do, in fact, have a likeness, but that doesn’t mean Hastings and his gang had anything to do with last night’s robbery.”  The sheriff walked behind his desk and sat down.  “Have a seat, gentlemen.”

“Thanks,” I said.  Candy and I each pulled up a chair.

The sheriff leaned forward and rested his elbows on his desk.  “The name’s Tucker, Jesse Tucker, and I’ve been sheriff here for the last two-and-a-half years.  We’ve had bank robberies before but never one like this.”  Tucker held up his hand and started counting with his fingers.  “First off, this robbery took place in the middle of the night.  Second; I ain’t got no sign of the outlaw’s tracks leadin’ outta town.  Third; no one saw or heard a thing.  What I’m trying to say, gentlemen, is that I don’t have one shred of evidence to go on.”

I found myself quickly losing hope as the sheriff listed the problems he faced.  Nothing to go on and an angry town who would demand he rounded up these bandits and returned their money immediately. 

“It’s my turn to say I’m sorry, Sheriff.  I guess I wanted it to be Hastings and his gang.  I want to see him brought to trial.  I want the man to pay for shooting my father.”

“Anything we can do, Sheriff?”  Candy asked.

“Bring me a miracle.  Bring me some evidence so I know where to start.”

Candy shook his head and looked in my direction.  I had nothing to offer and neither did he.

“You boys stayin’ over in town?”

“Yeah,” I said.  “The Cary House.”

“Best one in town,” Tucker said.  “I didn’t catch your names,”

“I’m Joe Cartwright and this is Candy Canaday.”

“Cartwright?  Ben Cartwright’s son?”

“Yessir.”

“Don’t know him personally, but I’ve heard the name.  May I ask your business?”

“Well, I planned to cash a draft at the bank this morning to pay for a bull I’m buying from Seth Thomas.”

“Seth?  Good man.”

“Yeah,” I said.

“Well, Boys, I’m heading back over to the bank; see if I can pick up any clues at all.  You two willing to ride posse?”

I glanced at Candy.  “Sure.  We’re ready if you need us.”  We walked out of the sheriff’s office, knowing nothing more than before we walked in.  “I should send Pa a wire.  Let him know what going on.”

“We stayin’?”

“Looks that way.”

                                             Book 3

Ben

When I finished reading, I handed the telegram to Hoss.

Ben Cartwright, Ponderosa Ranch, Nevada (stop)

Staying over in Placerville (stop)

Bank robbed last night (stop)

Can’t cash draft (stop)

Will help sheriff if needed (stop)

Joe (stop)

“It figures,” Hoss said.

I shook my head.  There was some truth to Hoss’ statement, although I didn’t say a word one way or the other.  My boys always said trouble followed Joe like bees buzzed to honey.  This wasn’t Joe’s fault although it did present a problem.  I glanced up when Adam walked into the room. 

“Telegram from Little Joe,” Hoss said.

“Trouble?”  Adam said as he crossed the room.

“It’s Little Joe, ain’t it?”

“That’s enough, Hoss.  You certainly can’t blame your brother because a bank’s being robbed.”

“If Adam or I had of gone to pick up that bull and left Joe here at home, I bet there never woulda been no robbery anyhow.”

“Oh, Hoss.”  Now he was just being ridiculous.

“Maybe Hoss and I should ride over to Placerville and see what this is all about.”

“Yeah, Pa.  Maybe we oughta.”

I looked at both of my sons and tried to figure the two of them out; think like they thought, react like they did when it came to their younger brother.  While they both might kid around and roll their eyes when it came to Joe and his apparent draw when it came to trouble, they were both ready to ride to his rescue.  This time, I was the one holding them back, knowing Joe would be perfectly all right and he’d figure something out on his own.

“Your brother is a grown man; not a child.  I’m sure he can take care of himself without the two of you buttin’ in.”

“But, Pa—”

~~~

As I lay in bed, thinking back on the conversation I had with my sons earlier in the afternoon, I began to wonder.  Had I jumped the gun?  Had I laid their worry to rest without thinking what Joe might be up against if he and Candy joined in with the posse?  Had I been as cocksure as Little Joe without thinking things through?

Sleep wouldn’t come.  I tossed from side to side and finally slipped on my dressing gown and slippers and left my warm bed to go downstairs and mull things over in front of the fire.  As I started across the room toward my desk, thinking a small glass of brandy might just hit the spot, I heard a voice, plain and clear, coming from my eldest son who had stayed up late to read. 

“Couldn’t sleep?”

I jumped slightly, realizing I wasn’t alone.  “If you must know … no, I couldn’t sleep.”

“Someone on your mind?”

I turned toward Adam.  He closed his leather-bound book, and he’d turned his attention to me.  “Would you like a drink?”

“No one should drink alone.”

I poured us each a brandy.

“You still worry about the kid, don’t you, Pa?”

“Oh … I’m not worried.”

“Right.”

“Okay, I’m worried.  Is that so wrong?”

“Never said it was.”

I took a seat on the settee closest to my son.  “You really think we should go?”

“Joe’s a grown man, Pa; said so yourself.”

Adam wasn’t making this easy.  On one hand, I had no doubt Joseph could handle himself with a posse, but that’s not what had me worried.  If the bank had been robbed by Hastings there were other matters to consider.   A man out for revenge could easily lose his train of thought; become over eager and do something rash.  Of course Candy was there to hold Joe back, but Joseph could be persistent, even sneaky, if certain circumstances arose.

“Penny for your thoughts.”

“Oh, I was just trying to think things through, Adam.”

“Unlike someone else we know?”

“That’s not fair, Son.  Joseph is a much different man than the one you left behind over five years ago.”

“Then tell me about him, Pa.  What kind of man has Joe become?”

I couldn’t help but smile.  The boy, who’d given me the most trouble growing up, was one of the finest men I’d ever known.  Not taking anything away from my other sons, they being fine and decent men too, but it was the changes that had taken place in Joseph after Adam had left the ranch.  Overnight, my young son became an adult, a man to be proud of and, without my even realizing; he’d taken his place as my right-hand man.  But that’s not what I said to Adam.

“We held Joseph back, Son.  We never gave him the chance to grow up.  I guess it was mainly my fault, always wanting to keep my youngest son a boy, but I couldn’t hold him back forever.  Joe knows every inch of the Ponderosa.  He knows the ins and outs of all of our holdings.  Joseph’s a leader, Adam.  I’ve come to trust his judgment and his decisions, and I depend on him as I once depended on you.  Am I making this clear?”

“Perfectly clear.”

“There are still times I fear for him though.  It not that he’ll act without thinking but there are times he’s so driven, I guess I tend to worry.  I’m not saying Joseph is irresponsible in any way, it’s mainly due to his impulsive nature and his drive for perfection and, to tell you the truth, I wouldn’t have him any other way.  He’s a man, Adam; a smart man; a man with a good head on his shoulders.  He can think for himself, and he doesn’t need his father tagging him or telling him what to do.”

“So, you don’t want to interfere,” Adam said.  “You’d rather Joe handle things in his own way.  Am I right?”

I nearly chuckled out loud.  How many times in the past five minutes had I contradicted myself?  Not to Adam of course, but in my own mind.  Boy—man.  My boy was a man.  Keep telling yourself that Ben and maybe in time you’ll come to believe it.  I wasn’t quite ready to give Adam an answer one way or the other.

“I think we need sleep, Son, and maybe matters will become clear by morning.”

Adam

I looked up when my father came down the stairs the following morning.   He was slipping his arms through his vest, as if he was in a hurry to start his day.  There was a spring in his step and, as he eyed Hoss and me already sitting at the dining room table, he was quick to take his own seat and pour himself a cup of coffee.

“Mornin’, Pa,” Hoss said, taking a sip from his own cup.

“Morning, Son, Adam.”

“As Adam already knows, Pa said, “I had a rather restless night.”

“You sick or somethin’, Pa?”

“No, but I’ve decided you boys were right.  Something tells me we should ride to Placerville.”

It was difficult for my father to admit he was wrong and his sons were right, but I could tell during our midnight talk, he’d been losing sleep worrying about Joe.  Although it wasn’t just Pa, all of us were wondering the same thing.  Was Hastings involved in this robbery?  And, if the posse was able to catch up with the gang, would Joe be able to contain himself in a proper way and let the law handle the arrest?  By 8:00 a.m. we were mounted and ready to ride.  Pa brought cash this time to pay for the bull, knowing the draft he’d given Joe earlier was nothing but a worthless piece of paper. 

When my father was anxious it showed in how he sat his horse.  His arms were stiff and his back became rigid to the point of looking uncomfortable, even painful, in the saddle.  We had a long ride ahead of us, and with Pa not letting Buck take a comfortable rein, he would be exhausted before the end of the day.  Telling my father to relax; to stay calm and not worry about Joe was not an option.  It would only make matters worse, so I rode along in silence.  Hoss had noticed Pa, too.  He also knew better than to voice his concerns. 

Hopefully, by tomorrow noon we’d be setting foot in Placerville.  We’d pay for the bull and all ride home together although maybe that was wishful thinking on my part.  Pa seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to my youngest brother.  I wondered what had changed his mind.  I wondered why Pa suddenly felt the need to make this ride.

Joe

I stood in the hallway outside Sarah’s room after Candy and I returned to the hotel.  I told her I’d talked to the sheriff and although it was highly improper for Sarah and me to be alone together, she opted not to bother with formality and, by disregarding all social graces, she asked me in. 

The room was identical to mine with only one bed rather than two.  A small table, a highboy dresser and a chair were the exactly the same.  Paper with gold flecks covered the walls and a sheer, white curtain gently stirred as it draped loosely across the open window.  I took a seat in the chair, while Sarah sat down on the edge of the bed.

“So what happens next, Joe?”

“Not much.  Candy and I said we’d ride posse if the sheriff needed extra men to go along but as I said, it doesn’t look hopeful.”

“I spoke to Carl while you were down talking to the sheriff, and he says it’s time we were on our way.”

“You’re leaving?  When?”

“On tomorrow’s stage.”

My heart was racing.  To hell with Hastings.  Let someone else go after him.  For months, I’d put all my energy into the day I’d track the man down, but all I really cared about now was Sarah and the thought of never seeing her again didn’t set well with me at all.  But what could I do?  What choices did I have? 

“Tomorrow?  For sure?” 

My voice was unsteady and my heart pounded even faster than before only this time for good reason.  Why did I care so much for this woman I barely knew?  It had been less than twenty-four hours, and it was as though I’d known her all my life.  Two simple meals together and somehow, I’d fallen head-over-heels in love.  It wasn’t the least bit rational, but I wasn’t a kid anymore.  I knew the difference; a woman like Sarah, who had more to offer than just a pretty face, was leaving and I’d never see her again.  I’ll admit I was attracted, but her delicate beauty was only the beginning.  She was smart and she held her own in a conversation.  She knew I lived on a ranch, but I gave her no indication of its size so it had nothing to do with Cartwright money or the Cartwright name.  Nothing I had or could give her changed the fact that she, too, was attracted to me.

“There’s nothing here for Carl and me, Joe, not in a town like this.  It was only a stopover, remember?”

I remembered her exact words.  It was only a stopover for me too, but things had changed.  “Where will you go from here?”

“Carl says maybe Sacramento or even San Francisco.  He thinks he can find work in one of the larger cities and, if so, we may be able to make one of those places our permanent home.”

“I see,” I said although I didn’t see at all.

Sarah stood from the bed and moved toward the window.  The breeze caught little wisps, which had fallen from the clips in her hair.  She stared out the window and down to the street below.  “Everyone has a place to go,” she said.  I detected sadness in her voice.  “We’ve been wandering the countryside for so long; I only want to settle down.  I’m tired, Joe.  I need a place of my own; a place I can call home.”

I rose from the chair and stood directly behind her.  Less than twenty-four hours.  I couldn’t lose her.  Not like this.  Not on a stage to who-knows-where.  I wanted time to court her, to see if we were a true match.  I wanted to hold her; make love to her, have her lying beside me when I woke to a new day.  The picture in my mind was vivid and real.  I placed my hands around her waist and as her breathing faltered slightly, she turned to face me. 

I leaned forward and as I did, her lips parted.  And as we discovered each other again, exploring, reaching deeper and deeper, she wrapped her arms around me, pulling me closer, until the two of us became only one silhouette in the window.  I felt her fingers on the back of my neck, toying with the longer strands of my hair.  I reached for the clips in her hair and, after releasing them both, I relieved her dark, blonde hair and watched it cascade across her shoulders.  I finally pulled back, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly, carefully, as I considered what I was about to say.

“I can’t let you go,” I said.  “I can’t let you leave on the stage.”

Sarah smiled but then she shook her head.  “I have to go, Joe.  I have no other choice but to leave with Carl.”

“There has to be another way.”

Again, she smiled.  “I wish—” She pressed her hand against my chest.  “Maybe we could write each other.  I excelled in penmanship when I attended the county school before the war.”

“You maybe, but my penmanship isn’t worth the paper it’s written on.”

I stared into those deep, blue eyes, totally captivated and trying to gain enough courage to say the words I felt in my heart.  She was a pleasant and caring woman, and she seemed exceptionally fascinated when I led her on a simple journey across the Ponderosa.  And when I spoke of my father and brothers, she hung on my every word.  I felt as though she was already a part of me, an extension of my life.  Silly?  Yes.  After less than twenty-four hours it made no sense at all, but I was ready to commit my life to this woman, to have her by my side and to cherish the life we could build together.

“Sarah Collins?  Will you marry me?”

“Marry?”

“I love you, Sarah.  I know it sounds crazy, but I see no other way.  I want us to be together.  I want you to be my wife.”

She started to turn away.  “Joe … I don’t know if—”

“Please . . . just think it over.  I know I’m rushing things but—”

“Joe?  Are you sure this is what you want?”

Sarah’s eyes became glassy and her hands tightened in mine.

“I’m very sure.”

“What about your family?  What will they think?”

“They’ll love you as much as I do.”

At this point, she was probably questioning my sanity.  Maybe I was too, but I knew in my heart I wanted to be with her always.  She was everything I’d hoped for; everything I could have wanted in a lifetime partner.  Call it providence or call it my good fortune to have met the woman of my dreams.

“Oh, Joe, I just don’t know … are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure in my life.” 

After a brief hesitation, Sarah looked straight into my eyes and gave me her answer.

“I . . . well; I’ll have to check my calendar.”

I saw a gleam in her eye and the slight lift at the corners of her lips.

“You mean—”

“I mean yes, Joe.  Yes, yes, yes.”

As if on cue, we both began laughing and crying at the same time.  Dreams do come true.  I would have a boatload of explaining to do when we got back to the ranch, but it would be worth every minute of justification.   From today forward, Sarah Collins would be known as Mrs. Joseph Francis Cartwright.

“Let’s do it today.  I’ll go find a preacher and we’ll be married before nightfall.”

Sarah ran her hands down the dress she was wearing as if it was far from appropriate attire for a her wedding day.  I, of course, had nothing but the clothes on my back. 

“Here’s what we’ll do.”  Sarah kept silent as I derived a plan.

“We’ll get married today, just to make things legal, and then when we get back to the ranch we’ll have a proper ceremony with family and friends; a wedding dress for you and a suit and tie for me.  There will be food and flowers and music and dancing—anything you want, it’s yours.  A deal?”

“Oh, Joe.  Of course it’s a deal.”

I wrapped my arms around Sarah and we kissed long and hard.  “I should tell Candy and let you tell Carl.  They can both act as witnesses in front of the preacher.”

“What about the posse?”

“The posse?”  I’d let bank robberies and outlaws kind of slip my mind.  “I don’t exactly know yet.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

“Believe me, Sarah.  Right now, riding posse is the last thing on my mind.”

~~~

“You what?”

“I know, I know.  It sounds a little rushed, and I know what you’re going to say, but it’s what Sarah and I want.”

“A little rushed?  Joe—”

“Don’t say it, Candy.  I’m going to have enough trouble explaining things to Pa”

“Whew . . . you ain’t a kiddin’.  I sure wouldn’t want to be in your shoes.”

“Hey, it’s my life.  I know things are moving fast—”

“Fast?”  Candy’s eyebrows arched high on his forehead and his eyes seemed to bulge from their sockets.

I smiled at Candy.  “Easy, big fella.  Okay, I admit, really fast, but we have no choice.  If I don’t make things happen today, Sarah will leave on the next stage with her brother, and I can’t let that happen.”

“Smitten is one thing, Joe, but marriage . . . marriage is forever.”

“Exactly.  Now, I’ve got a lot to do before there can even be a wedding.”

Candy stood up and held his hand out to me.  “Well, Buddy, I guess congratulations are in order.  I wish you two the best.”

“Thanks.  Now, if you’ll show that same vote of confidence when I have to explain things to Pa …”

Sarah

As soon as Joe left my room, I very unsuccessfully tried to gather my wits about me.  I breathed in deeply before I knocked on my brother’s door, which was adjacent to mine at the Cary Hotel.  I knew this would come as a shock and I wanted to say the right thing, but what could I possibly say that would make sense to someone like Carl when it barely made sense to me.

“Married?  Just who do you plan to marry?”

“I know it’s sudden,” I said.  “I know it doesn’t make sense, but I love him, Carl, and I plan to marry him.”

“I don’t understand?  Where did you meet this man?  Better yet, when did you meet this man?”

“Hear me out, Carl.  I met him yesterday and I know it sounds—”

“Yesterday!  What can you possibly know about a man you only met yesterday?  Have you lost your mind?”

“I know all I need to know,” I said.  I started to feel very offended by Carl’s lack of patience and understanding.   “He’s a fine man and more than that, he’s generous to a fault.  He’s compassionate and gentle and he—”

“The answer is no, Sarah.”

“What do you mean no?  You’re not Papa.  You’re my brother and if you’ll just listen, I can explain.”

Carl began laughing and started for the door.  “Where is he?”

“Why?  Why does it matter?”

“Because I’m gonna rip him a new . . . rip him to pieces, that’s why.”

“If you’d just listen to me.”

“Has he taken advantage of you?  Is that what this is all about?”

“No!” I shouted.  “It’s nothing like that, Carl.”

“Does this man have a name or are you running off with the first grubby miner who claims to have struck it rich in this rotten little town?”

“That’s not fair.  Of course he has a name.  His name is Joe Cartwright.  He’s from Nevada and he lives on a ranch called the Ponderosa.”

“Cartwright?”

“That’s what I said, Joseph Cartwright.”

“And he’s asked you to marry him.  Why, Sarah?”

“Because he loves me and I love him.”

Carl walked toward the window and stared down at the street below.

“So when is this marriage taking place?”

“Today.  Joe and I were hoping you and his friend, Candy, would stand up with us.”

“Candy?  What kind of name is Candy?”

“Why does it matter?  I’m not marrying Candy.”

“No . . . I guess you’re not.”

Carl was my only living relative, and just the thought of getting married without him in attendance upset me more than I cared to let on.  “Please, Carl.  If you’d meet with Joe for just five minutes you’d see for yourself I’ll be well taken care of.”

Carl turned back to me and rested his hands on my shoulders and, with a softer tone to his voice; he went on to explain why he wouldn’t be attending my wedding.  “There’s been a change of plans,” he said, “and I regret to say this, but I’m leaving today on the noon stage.  In fact, I was just coming to tell you when—”

“But why so suddenly?  What’s one more day?”

“Again, I’m sorry, Sarah, and if you’re determined to marry this man then go right ahead and do as you wish.  You’re right.  I’m not Pa, and I don’t want any hard feelings between us.  Something’s come up.  It’s a business opportunity, and I must leave as soon as possible.”

“I’ll never forgive you, Carl.  Today’s my wedding day.  You have to be here.  You’re all the family I have.”

“Listen to me,” he said.  “As soon as I’m settled I’ll take some time off to come and meet this . . . this Joe Cartwright.  I promise.  I just can’t stay here another day.  It’s business, Sarah.”

I’d seen this side of Carl before, always another business opportunity; never asking what I might think or want.  And although I’d followed him from town to town without complaint, I thought it unreasonable he couldn’t stay for one more day.  My eyes grew hot with tears, but I refused to let Carl see.  I slammed the door on my way out.  There was nothing left to say.

~~~

“So I don’t get to meet your brother before he leaves Placerville?”

“I’m sorry, Joe.  Carl said it was urgent business, but he would come to the Ponderosa as soon as he could get away.  He feels terrible he won’t have the chance to meet you,” I lied.

“Well, I guess that will have to do.”

“Yes, I suppose.”

I didn’t want Joe to get the wrong impression of Carl.  I didn’t want him to know my brother had a mean streak, a vindictive side to his personality, which, most likely, he’d inherited from our father.  It wasn’t fair to Joe.  He’d been nothing but loving and thoughtful, and I was almost glad Carl wouldn’t be there to cause some sort of disruption.  That’s not the way I wanted to start my new life or my marriage to Joe.

Joe

I could tell Carl’s words hurt her deeply.  Not only was he not going to attend the wedding, I have a feeling there was more to the story than she let on.  Perhaps he gave her the same look Candy had given me.  I certainly wasn’t willing to pass on our conversation, and maybe she felt the same about Carl.  Although it was totally understandable, I didn’t want anyone’s difference of opinion to interrupt our day.

On the bright side, Carl’s opinion or not being there for the wedding hadn’t changed her mind about marrying me.  I wanted Sarah to be happy and not start off wondering if she’d done the right thing.  “Would it help if I went and talked to him?”

Sarah shook her head.  “No, it’s just how things are, Joe.  Carl’s not one to change his mind.  He’s funny that way.  Some may say he’s inconsiderate and thinks only of himself, but he’s been a good provider and I can’t take that away from him.”

“Well then, he’ll just have to show up for our second wedding, our proper wedding.  Will that work?”

“I love you so much,” she said.

I took Sarah in my arms.  “I’ll bet money he won’t miss the next one.”

I was tempted to bang on his door anyway and tell him what I thought, but I would respect Sarah’s wishes.  It was no way to start our marriage by overstepping my bounds.  Carl and I would have to meet another time and actually, it suited me just fine.  This way neither of us would have family present until it was time for our proper wedding.

“Now,” I said.  “If I plan to marry the girl of my dreams, the least I can do is go out and buy and new shirt.  I also need to find us a preacher.  Are you okay waiting here till I get back?  I won’t be long.”

“I’ll wait.  I need to do a little preparing myself.”

“Good.”  I smiled at my soon-to-be bride.  “I love you more than you know, Sarah.”

“And I you,” she said, causing me melt like butter as I stared into her beautiful eyes.  “I’ll be dressed and ready when you get back.”

After a quick kiss, I headed out the door to run my errands.  Apparently there was an abundance of so-called preachers in Placerville.  There were plenty of souls needing saving and more than enough men-of-the-cloth to fill those needs.  There was a modest looking church on the first corner I came to so I climbed the steps and walked inside.  Although the building was small and sparsely decorated, it would serve our purpose just fine.

“Hello?” I called.  “Hello? Anyone here?”

A white-haired man with a turned collar stepped out from behind a doorway.  He greeted me with a welcoming hand.  “I’m Reverend Jeremiah Smith.  How may I help you?”

“I’d like to be married.”

“Wonderful,” he said.  “And you are?”

“Joe Cartwright, Reverend.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Cartwright.  Have you set the date?”

“Yessir, we have.”

“All right,” he said.  He opened a leather-bound book and pulled out a pencil from his black shirt pocket.

“Today—” I said rather abruptly.  “We’d like to be married today.”

“Excuse me?”

“I realize it’s somewhat unusual, but it needs to be today.”

“Well . . . certainly, young man.”  He closed his book.  “Today is a perfect day for a wedding.   Any special time you had in mind?”

“Whatever suits you?  I know this is a bit of a rush but—”

“No problem at all.  Say … two o’clock?”

“Two’s perfect.  Thank you, Sir … Reverend, Sir.  We’ll be back here in plenty of time.”

Meeting with the preacher wasn’t as bad as I thought and now, for that shirt and tie.  It’s not every day a man gets married and I wanted to look halfway decent.  I walked down the boardwalk towards what looked like the only outfitter in town.  Sheriff Tucker was heading my way.  I stopped although I hoped he wasn’t forming a posse and would want Candy and me to ride along.   As he approached, it was easy to tell by his sullen expression, he’d found nothing worthwhile to go on.

“I’m at a loss, Mr. Cartwright.  Those bandits were in and out of that bank and left nothing—not a blasted drop of evidence behind.  No trail—nothing.  It could have been the Hastings gang as you suggested, but I don’t think we’ll ever know for sure.”

“I’m sorry, Sheriff.  Sounds like you’ve done everything you could.”

“The town’s in an uproar, and I can’t blame everyone for being upset.  Lotta people lost a lotta money last night, myself included.”

“I wish there was something I could do to help, but we’ll be pullin’ out tomorrow.”

“I could still gather a posse, but which way do we ride?  Where do we look and who are we looking for?  As sheriff, I feel I’ve failed this town.”

“Not your fault, Sheriff.  Things happen and sometimes we have no control over the end result.”

I walked away, leaving a down-and-out sheriff behind.  The robbery and any thoughts about Sam Hastings were past history, at least for today.  I had more important matters to deal with.  I glanced at a jeweler’s sign across the street.  I hadn’t even given thought to a ring.  Quickly, I crossed the street.

Sarah

When I heard a knock on the door, I knew it was Joe.  Today, I was marrying a man I hardly knew, but I wasn’t concerned over the outcome.  Some would call it a leap of faith, blind faith, a whim—a careless and foolish whim.  But hang the realist, hang them all.  Somehow, I knew this was the right thing to do.  Somehow we’d make this marriage work.  I checked my face one more time in the mirror and then turned the key in the lock. 

“Hi,” I said.

“Hi,” he said.

A case of nerves had hit us both, and it was quite obvious we were both a little nervous over what lay ahead.  Maybe petrified was the proper word. 

“Two o’clock,” Joe said.

I glanced at my watch.  We had plenty of time.

“Are you having second thoughts?”

I detected uncertainty in his eyes.  “No … are you?”

Joe reached for my hands.  “No, not at all.”

I opened the door wider and Joe stepped in.  He had already changed into his new shirt and he’d also bought a black, silk tie.  “We’re not supposed to see each other before the wedding. Bad luck.”

“Old wives tale.  You don’t believe all that, do you?”

“I better not,” I said, gripping his hands tighter.  “We’ll need all the luck we can get.”

He started to chuckle.  “I suppose you’re right.  I can’t wait to tell my family, especially my pa.”

“Will your father be upset?  Oh, never mind.  That was a really stupid question, wasn’t it?”

“It’s not a stupid question at all but yes, there may be a few words said.  I didn’t leave home to get married.  I left home to buy a bull.”  Joe brought my hands to his hips and he rested his on mine.  “It may take some sinking in before Pa or either of my brothers gets used to the idea but I assure you, as soon they get to know you they’ll love you just as much as I do.”

“Are you sure?  Are you really sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.”

“And we’ll all be under one roof, right?”

“Until I get a house built, I’m afraid so.”

I let out a long heavy sigh.   “I’m more nervous than I thought I’d be, Joe.”

Joe pulled me closer and kissed me.  I kissed him back like I’d never kissed a man before.  And when his hands began to roam, every nerve in my body came alive.  I never wanted the feeling to end in fact, I would have made love to him right there on the spot whether we’d planned to marry or not.  To hell with Emily Thornwell and her book on proper etiquette—to hell with anyone except the two of us.  But our intimate time together would have to wait.  Joe, the proper gentleman, stepped back and let his arms fall to his side.

“If I don’t leave right now I feel all propriety will slip by the wayside and I … let’s just say, I’d better leave, Sarah.”

I slapped my future husband on the shoulder.  “And I thought I was marrying a gentleman.”

“I assure you, Miss Collins.  My thoughts are far from gentlemanly, and that’s why I’m leaving you now.”

Candy

Watching Joe taking short, choppy stridesback and forthin our tiny hotel room was a sight to see. He was too nervous to sit down and, at least once every five minutes, he tugged at his black, silk tie.

“Nervous, Buddy?”

“If you only knew.”

The pacing continued until he finally lit, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.  But that didn’t stop him from fidgeting, shifting his weight or repositioning himself a hundred times over.  The poor guy was like a fish outta water.  He rubbed his palms together and crossed his legs.  Before long his legs were extended then crossed again.  He stood up from the bed only to push the curtains aside and gaze out the window at passersby below.

“Anything of interest down there?”  Even though Joe was a nervous wreck, it didn’t stop me from having a little fun.

“What?  Oh, no.  Nothing much going on at all.”

“What if Sarah turns out to be knock-kneed or flat-footed?”

“Huh?”

Joe continued to stare out the window.  I needed to do better.  “Maybe she’s wearing one of them wig things and she’d really as bald as a cue ball.”

“What’s the matter with you?”

“Maybe she’s—”

“Cut it out, Candy.  She’s none of those things and even if she was—”

“Okay, okay,” I said, throwing my hands in the air. “Just funnin’ ya.”  Joe rolled his eyes and looked back out the window.  He was too nervous to even take a joke.  “You gonna make it, Buddy?”

Another loud sigh.  “Sure I am.  What time is it?”

“It’s time if we walk really, really slow.”

Joe reached into his jacket pocket and drew out a thin, gold band.  He gazed at it and smiled before he handed it to me.  “Since you’re my best man—”

“How’d you know what size to get?”  I hid my smile when I saw a hint of color rise in Joe’s cheeks.  I slipped the ring in my own pocket for safekeeping.

“Size?”  Well … the jeweler sort of helped me with that. I just hope he knew what he was talking about.”

“Mmm …”

“Oh, one more thing …”

While exercising the Cartwright charm by pleading to my softer side, Joe explained how it just wasn’t fair for Sarah to have to honeymoon alone, so he asked me to ride out and speak to Seth Thomas tomorrow morning, and explain about the bank robbery and the problem we now had over cashing the draft.  Thomas needed the particulars as to why we hadn’t picked up the bull, and Joe decided I was the just the right man for the job.

Of course I agreed.  Of course I had no other choice.  I was a hired hand and Joe Cartwright was the boss.  Not that I ever really felt inferior, at least not with the Cartwrights, but on occasion I was reminded of my place.  I was reminded of who gave the orders.

“Meet you at the church,” I said as we left the hotel room.

I walked on ahead while Joe stopped to pick up Sarah.  I made a quick stop by the funeral parlor and picked up a fresh rose for Sarah; my one and only contribution to this whole affair.  Even though I wasn’t convinced Joe was doing the right thing, I wanted them to know I was on their side.  After all, getting married was the easy part.  Returning home and telling Mr. Cartwright would be a whole different story.

~~~

“Mr. Cartwright,” Reverend Smith said shaking Joe’s hand.  “And this must be your lovely bride to be.”

“Yessir.”

“And your name Miss?”

“Sarah Ann Collins.”

The Reverend looked at me.  “And you must be the witness?”

“Yessir.”

“Shall we proceed?”

When I handed the rose to Sarah, she breathed in its fragrance and then winked at me.  “How very thoughtful, Candy.  Thank you.”

I nodded my head and smiled.  This was their day and after we took our places in front of the reverend, I took a step back, letting Joe and Sarah share the spotlight.  Reverend Smith didn’t waste a minute starting the proceedings.  “Dearly Beloved …”

It felt like a shotgun wedding to me until the preacher began reading from the bible, making this marriage very, very real.  No one was forcing these two so maybe there was something to be said about Joe and Sarah; something decent and genuine about their love for each other.  Although I’m not sure which of the two looked more nervous when the preacher finished speaking and looked up, there was a feeling of peace that seemed to settle within these four walls, making this whole event seem fitting and proper.

“Do you have a ring, Mr. Cartwright?”

Joe turned toward me.  I dug deep in my pocket for the tiny gold band, and when he reached for the ring, I noticed tears; nothing heavy, just that glimmer, that watery sheen, which comes so naturally to a man with such powerful emotions.  I envied Joe Cartwright.  I’ve always called him a man of action and today, standing alongside his new bride, he’s proven that fact once again.  He’s a man who dares to take chances.  Some would call him impulsive; some would call him crazy.  But as I stood there watching the two of them, I saw how he looked at Sarah and she at him, and I knew right then their decision to marry had been more than just a sudden impulse, an infatuation.  I saw passion.  I saw love. 

Then it hit me.  Joe wasn’t taking a chance at all.  He knew what he wanted and he’d gone after it like no other man I’ve ever known.  And because he was that man of action, he had the opportunity for a life of happiness.  Maybe I should add admire to my list.  Anyway, I knew they stood a helluva chance for a long and happy life.

Suddenly, riding out to Thomas’ ranch didn’t seem like such a chore after all.  These two people deserved some time alone, brief as it might be, before their fairytale became reality.  I smiled when I heard the reverend’s last words.

“I now pronounce you man and wife.”

Hoss

“I’m starvin’ to death, Pa.” I adjusted my hat to the bright sunlight overhead as me, Adam and Pa rode down the dusty street in the town currently known as Placerville.  “Ain’t we gonna stop somewhere and eat?”

“I just want to get checked in to a hotel first, so if you can hold off another minute or two we’ll find a suitable place to eat.”

We’d ridden hard for nearly two days.  We’d lived on jerky and beans and spent the night on the ground, and my stomach had been growlin’ steady-like for the past two hours.  Neither Pa nor Adam were used to days in a saddle and, between the two of them being somewhat out-a-sorts since we left the Ponderosa, I figgered it was my turn to put in my two-cents.

“Here,” Pa said, pointin’ to a sign that read The Cary House.  “I’ve stayed here before.  It’s the best in town.  Why don’t you two stable the horses and I’ll get us a room.”

Pa handed me Buck’s reins, and Adam and I rode down to the far end of town to the livery.  When we started back up the boardwalk, carryin’ saddlebags over our shoulders, I glanced toward one of the saloons.  “A beer would sure hit the spot.”

“No kidding, but you know Pa.  He won’t rest easy till he lays his eyes on our little brother.”

“I sure could use a quick one, ya know, settle the dust ‘fore we go back to the hotel.”  There were times I could sway my big brother, but at times he could be just as stubborn as Pa.  This time I won him over.

“Just one,” Adam said, holdin’ up a finger.  “A quick one and then we’ll head to the hotel.”

I clapped my hand on Adam’s shoulder.  “Thought you’d see it my way.”

We stopped in the first saloon we came to, The Rusty Nickel, and we stepped up to the bar.  “Two beers,” I said.  I held up two fingers in case the bartender hadn’t heard me over all the racket.  “Someone musta hit pay dirt, Adam.”

“Seems that way.”

The saloon was packed with drunken miners.  Some ol’ geezer was yammerin’ on and holdin’ up a small, cloth bag—gold or silver I ‘spect.  Adam, always the observant one in the family, picked up his beer, turned and leaned his back against the bar.  He hooked his heel on the brass railin’ and before I knew it, he was elbowing me in the ribs.  “Candy,” he said.

“Well, son of a gun.”

The two of us made our way through the boisterous crowd and we each pulled out a chair at Candy’s table.  His mouth hung open and his eyes bugged out in disbelief.  “Wha . . . what are you two doing here?”

“We missed ya, Candy,” I said, holdin’ up my beer in salute.  “Couldn’t go another day without seein’ yer purty face.”

“Bull—why are you really here?”

Adam leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table.  “Bull,” Adam said, his voice slow and easy.

“What?”

“We came to pay for the bull.”

I wanted to laugh but Candy seemed preoccupied, and I figgered Joe had got hisself in some kinda trouble and Candy wasn’t too keen on tellin’ either of us what had happened.  Maybe a bar fight; a night in jail—who knows?  He wouldn’t be sittin’ here nursin’ a beer if Joe was seriously hurt so the next thing to do was to get him talkin’ and explainin’.

“Your Pa here, too?”

“Yeah,” I said.  “Why?  Is that a problem?”

“Problem?  No … no problem at all.”

Adam set his mug down on the table and questioned Candy further.  “Where, dare I ask, is my errant little brother?”

“Joe?”

I glanced at Adam.  There was somethin’ fishy goin’ on here.

“Yes, Joe?  I seem to remember the two of you riding off together just a few days ago.”

It was the way Adam stated facts that made a man want to hide like a turtle inside his shell.  I could see it in Candy’s eyes.  He was lookin’ to hide.

“Well, yeah.  Sure we did,” Candy said.  “Got here yesterday ‘bout noon.”

“And—” Adam continued. “When I see one of you without the other, I become curious, or should I say suspicious that something may have gone awry.”

There he went again, usin’ all them fancy words when all he had to do was ask  Candy where our little brother was keepin’ hisself.

“Well—”

“Is there a reason Joe’s not with you here in this saloon?”

“A reason?  Well, sorta.”

“Ah, come on, Candy,” I said. I was gettin’ plumb tired of all this horsin’ around.  “What’s goin’ on?”

“Can I take the fifth?”

Adam’s brows furrowed into nearly one continuous line.  He was becomin’ impatient and so was I.  “What’s this all about?”  I said.  “You’re gonna have to spill the beans sooner or later.”

“I choose later.  Where’s your pa?”

“He’s checking into the hotel.”

“Which hotel?”

“The Cary House.”

“Maybe we should walk on over.  Joe and I are registered there, too.”

“And will my brother be there when we arrive?” Adam asked.

Candy hesitated.  “Most likely.”

“In a compromising position?”

Candy hesitated again.  “Well, no.  Not really.”

“Dadburnit anyhow, Candy.  You ain’t makin’ no sense at all.”

“Come on, Hoss,” Adam said, tiltin’ his glass and finishin’ off his beer.  “Let’s go see what this is all about.  It’s obvious Candy is having difficulty explaining Joe’s out-of-town exploits.”

Candy smiled rather sheepishly for a growd man.  It’s a smile I’d seen hundreds of times on my little brother’s face.  It either meant there was trouble brewin’ or Joe was already in some kind of fix Candy didn’t dare talk about.  The three of us stood from our chairs and walked up the boardwalk and toward the hotel.  Candy seemed to have trouble keepin’ up with Adam and me, so I gently took hold of his arm and dragged him through the front door and into the hotel lobby.

“Think I’ll head on up to my room,” Candy said.

“Oh, no you don’t.  You’re stayin’ right here with me.”

Candy and I stood at the base of the stairs while Adam walked up to the front desk.  “My father just checked in.  Cartwright’s the name.”

“Yes, Sir.  Room 19 and 21; adjoining rooms.  Enjoy your stay, Mr. Cartwright.”

The clerk handed Adam a key and the three of us climbed the stairs together.

“Here’s my room,” Candy said.  “I’ll see you all later.”

“Nope.  You’re comin’ with me.”

Adam opened the door and the three of us walked in.  Pa stood with his hands on his hips and glared at each of us separately. “Sure took you long enough.”

“Look who we ran into on our way back from the livery.”  I pushed Candy in front of me.  Pa looked toward the door as if expecting Joe to follow. 

“Isn’t Joe with you?”

“Well, yeah … but he had some business to tend to.”

“Business?  You mean the business with Seth Thomas?”

“Took care of that this morning, Mr. Cartwright,” Candy said, smilin’.  “I told Mr. Thomas about the robbery and that Joe couldn’t cash the draft.  He said it was no problem at all.  We could go ahead and take the bull with us and you could wire him the money after we got back to the Ponderosa.”

“I see.”  Pa walked a few steps away then turned back, looking straight at Candy.  “So you were the one who settled up with Seth Thomas, correct?”

“Yessir.”

“So then you can tell me why my son sent you and didn’t go himself.  Is that also correct?”

“I … I’d rather Joe told you himself, Mr. Cartwright.”

“And where is my son?”

“If I were to guess, he’s across the hall.”

Pa opened the door.  “Which room?”

“Um … 18, Mr. Cartwright … but I wouldn’t go in there just now if I was you.”

The thought of Joe bein’ in some kind of danger had long since passed.  Pa could barely contain hisself, tryin’ to get a few simple answers out of our trusty foreman.

“Then you best tell me right now why I shouldn’t go across the hall to see my son.”

Candy hung his head.  He held his hat with both hands, twisting the brim in a nervous fashion.  “It’s a simple explanation really, Mr. Cartwright.”

“Good.  Start explainin’.”

“Well, if you must know,” he said, glancin’ at Adam and me and then back to Pa.  “Joe’s . . . he’s on his honeymoon.”

As soon as I heard Candy’s words, I cringed but held my tongue.  I waited for the outburst from Pa while Adam walked toward the window and busied hisself lookin’ out; his way of avoidin’ what was bound to come.  But the room went deathly still.  Maybe an outburst would have been better.  None of us misunderstood what Candy had said, and no one even questioned the fact.  In fact, no one asked why or when or anything for that matter.  We all just stood there like statues, waitin’ for someone else to speak.   I finally broke the silence.

“I, for one, am hungry.  Anyone wanna join me?”

“Yeah,” Adam said.  “I could use a bite.”

“Me too,” said Candy.”

“Pa?  Join us?”

Pa forced a heavy sigh.  “Why not,” he said, slammin’ his hat on his head.  “The last thing I intend to do is interrupt my youngest son’s honeymoon.”

That wasn’t quite the outburst I had expected, but Pa had made his feelings clear.  He was not at all pleased and his words held heavy sarcasm, mockin’ Joe’s current situation.  We were all tired from two days in the saddle and to hear this rather outlandish news was a shock to everyone, especially our Pa.

~~~

“Table for four?”

“Yessir.  Four mighty hungry men.”

“We followed the young man and, as we approached the fireplace on the far side of the room, Pa suddenly stopped.  Joe hadn’t looked up but right off, Pa had spotted him and apparently his new bride.

“Good evening, Son.”

“P—Pa … what are … Hoss? Adam?”  Joe quickly rose to his feet.

“Surprised to see us?”

The young lady remained seated, but she looked up and took us all in.  She broke the uneasy silence.  “Mr. Cartwright?”

“Yes.”

“My name is Sarah.  I’m so pleased to meet you.  Joe’s told me so much about you, and you’re exactly as I’d pictured you would be.”

“Yes, well . . . I’m pleased to meet you, too, Miss … Ma’am … Sarah.”

“You must be Hoss,” she said.  “And you’re Adam?”

“Ma’am,” I said with a quick nod.  Pa was as flummoxed as I, and we both stumbled with our greetings, but not my older brother.

“I’m pleased to meet you, too, Mrs. Cartwright,” Adam said, showin’ me and Pa up in front of Joe’s new wife.  I turned my head and gave him a devilish look, but he shrugged his shoulders and smiled.  But then I realized what he’d done.  He’d let Joe know we were on to him, or at least that Pa had already heard the news.

“Thank you, Adam,” she said in a sweet southern voice.  “We just came down to the restaurant ourselves.  Won’t you all join us for an early supper?”

I’d watched my little brother’s face contort at Adam’s less than subtle comment.  The cat was out of the bag, so to speak.  Now, if Pa behaved hisself, we could actually sit down and eat.

Candy scrunched up his face, too, and shrugged his shoulders.  “Didn’t realize you’d be here in the restaurant, Joe.”

“Yeah, well, we worked up an appetite.  Everyone gets hungry, right, Pa?”

I shook my head.  Joe never knew when to keep his trap shut, and this was definitely one of those times.  The less said the better, but this was Joe we were talkin’ about.  And rather than the growd man Pa kept talkin’ about, he had suddenly regressed to the boy we called Little Joe; that fourteen-year-old kid who got caught drinkin’ behind the barn on Christmas Eve.

So far, Pa was behavin’ hisself and keepin’ his thoughts to hisself.  I wouldn’t have put it past him to cause a scene right here in the restaurant, but I was proud of him so far.  He was handlin’ things real well.

“We’d love to join you, Sarah.”  Pa turned to the waiter.  “Will that be a problem?”

“No, Sir.  Not at all.”

Joe’s cozy little table for two had suddenly became a larger table for six.  We had to move farther away from the fire, leavin’ Joe’s attempt at a romantic supper completely blown to bits, especially when Pa took the chair right next to my younger brother.  After we were all seated and the waiter had walked away, Pa cleared his throat.  “Is there something you’d like share with us, Son?”

Oh boy.  Here it comes.  Joe took Sarah’s hand in his and looked straight at our father. 

“It seems you already know, Pa.”  Joe glanced at Candy with that smirk—that crooked grin—he gets sometimes, showin’ his own displeasure.  “There’s not a whole lot to explain that would make any sense but here goes.”  Joe gripped tighter to Sarah’s hand.  “May I present to you, and to Adam and Hoss, my bride, Mrs. Sarah Ann Collins Cartwright.”

“You can leave out the Collins, Mr. Cartwright.  I’m certainly not from a family who celebrates debutants or socialite status in order to keep the family name intact.  But I am very aware of the social graces, and I hope you’re not too upset over Joe’s and my rather quick decision to marry.”

Pa nodded his head as he took in the information, but he wasn’t ready to speak just yet.  I liked this little gal already.  She sure wasn’t no wallflower, and I began to entertain the thought of havin’ a woman around who wasn’t afraid to speak up to our pa.

“I know what you’re going to say, Pa.  I know this all seems a bit awkward, but I can explain.”

Sarah smiled at Joe.  I could tell my little brother was strugglin’, but Sarah was willin’ to take that first step forward and let Joe off the hook. “I know this is all rather sudden, Mr. Cartwright, and I must apologize for not being able to announce our marriage in a more proper and more dignified manner.  Discussing the matter over an unplanned supper in this hotel wasn’t Joe’s and my intention, but I assure you, neither of us intended to hurt you in any way, especially Joe.  If there’s anyone to blame, it’s my fault the marriage took place so quickly.  Please don’t blame you son for something that couldn’t be helped.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you, Miss … Sarah, but—”   

Before Pa had a chance to say more, Sarah continued.  “Again, please don’t blame Joe.  I know how much he loves and respects you, and it would break both our hearts to have you feel we’ve betrayed you in any way.”

I glanced at Adam, and although I was smilin’ and takin’ pleasure in Joe’s new wife’s remarks, I could see that look on his face.  He was processin’.  Adam had to process everythin’ before he made a decision.  I couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinkin’.  Did he think she was just usin’ our brother for . . . I don’t know maybe financial gain?  Pa had warned us early on that we had to be careful because there was womenfolk who took advantage of men with money and property and, because we had both them things, we had to beware of gold diggers and such.  But when Pa spoke up, I hoped my big brother would follow in step and be happy for Joe.  It was easy to see my little brother was eager for everyone’s approval.

“Well then,” Pa said.  “May I be the first to congratulate the newlyweds?”

“Same goes for me, Joe, Sarah,” Adam said, noddin’ at each in turn.  “I wish you both the best.”

“And me,” I said, not wanting to be left out completely.

“Pa?”

“Joseph, I’ll speak to you later.  If you don’t mind, I have a few things I need to say.”

“But, Pa …” 

“Joseph, not now. “

Joe glanced at Adam and me and then at Candy.  He held back anythin’ else he might have said so Pa could get off his chest what was on his mind. 

“To say I’m shocked is an understatement.  I don’t know how or why this marriage came about so quickly, but I have no objections.  I know my son.  I know how impulsive he can be.  I’m not saying that was the case here although I—”

“Pa, please—”

“I’m speaking, Joseph.  Please allow me the courtesy to finish what I have to say.”

“Yessir.”

Pa looked straight at Sarah as if Joe wasn’t even in the room.

“You obviously know this will be an adjustment, not only for you and Joseph, but for the entire family.  I assume you two will be returning to the Ponderosa to live, which means we will all be together under the same roof.  That in itself will take time getting used to.  Now, if Joseph thinks that much of you, if he is so in love with you that he took you for his bride after only one day, there must be a reason, a very special reason.  My son is old enough to make his own decisions; I trust his judgment, I have for many years.  So what I want to say to you, Sarah, is welcome to our family and to your new life on the Ponderosa.”

Sarah had listened to Pa and, with glassy eyes and, with a husky hoarseness to her voice; she thanked him for his kind words.  “I will try my best to make the transition easy on everyone, Mr. Cartwright.  I love your son very much.  You may think it impossible in such a short period of time but in my heart I know we are meant to be together.  Joseph is an exceptional man, and I must give you credit for raising him as you did.  I fell in love the moment I laid eyes on him.  Trust me, Mr. Cartwright.  I will do everything in my power to be a loving wife to Joe and of course a devoted daughter-in-law to you.”

Joe smiled at Sarah and, with one hand still holdin’ his wife’s; he reached for Pa’s arm and gave a gentle squeeze.  “Thanks.”

“I meant every word I said, Joseph.  Just promise me you’ll take very good care of your new bride.”

Joe turned back to Sarah and smiled.  “I intend to.”

“Hey—just think,” I said, winkin’ at Pa.  “Maybe you’ll get a passel of them grandkids after all.”

“Oh, Hoss.  Slow down, Son.  One piece of shocking new at a time is about all this old heart can take.”

My little brother looked not only content but extremely relieved after receivin’ Pa’s blessin’.  I was proud of Pa for takin’ things in stride; for takin’ the high road, shocked or not.  He could have caused a scene and distanced hisself from Joe and Sarah forever.  The years have mellowed Pa.  If Joe had tried to pull this off ten years ago, Pa would probably be talkin’ annulment rather than a long, happy life together.  But Joe and Pa had come a long way since those days of Joe’s youth.  Sure, there were disagreements and they were both hot-heads when they thought they was right, but they’d growd to respect each other, to take time to listen and even compromise. 

Like Pa said, it would definitely be an adjustment for us all, but I was kinda lookin’ forward to havin’ Sarah join our house full of men.  Changes are difficult, especially for growd men like us, but I was up for the challenge.  I think Pa and Adam were too. 

When supper was finished, and we’d all celebrated and drank more champagne than we should have, talk returned to the reason we were all here in Placerville.  Pa suggested Joe and Sarah ride on ahead; ride back to the Ponderosa and get settled in.  The rest of us would pick up the bull and return shortly after.  Maybe he was givin’ Joe time for another brief honeymoon before life on a ranch took precedence over a newly married couple.  With smiles lightin’ up their faces, Joe and Sarah agreed to the plan. 

“Well, I don’t know about the rest of you,” Pa said, “but this old man is tired and needs to go to bed.”

“You’re not alone, Pa,” Adam said as he stretched his arms out and yawned. 

This trip may have been harder on Adam than Pa.  He wasn’t used to ranch work anymore.  He was used to suits and ties and sittin’ behind a desk, not the back of a horse.  I’m sure he was beat although he never let on till now.

“You boys ready to call it a night?”

“Uh … Pa?  We ain’t all boys.”

Pa chuckled.  “My apologies, Sarah.  Hoss is absolutely right.”

                                                Book 4

Sarah

I was officially Mrs. Joseph Francis Cartwright.  During our trip home to the Ponderosa, Joe tried to explain as much as he could about the house we’d be living in and again, the land surrounding, but when I took my first few steps into his home, his Ponderosa, I was in awe.  The house was larger than I’d expected although it was plain to see it was a home which had served men well.  There were no feminine touches; no lace or flowered prints, no hint of a woman’s presence.  My breath caught in my throat and I hesitated, but only momentarily, and when Joe sensed my reluctance to move forward, he wrapped his arms around my waist.  “We’re home.”  With ease and tender affection, he soothed away any fears or doubts I may have had.

I was out of my element in this grand space, but I knew in my heart Joe would see me through.  A week ago I was just a girl from Tennessee, following her brother from town to town and now, here I stood, a married woman, a rancher’s wife.  I knew nothing of this kind of life.  I’d heard stories of men and women who’d traveled west, looking for a better life only to discover many hardships in this uncivilized land.  I was extremely impressed as Joe and I traveled together across his Ponderosa; land he’d called his father’s dream.  But, by the way he talked of its riches and beauty; I knew the Ponderosa was my husband’s dream, too.

Suddenly, a loud clatter came from another room in the house and a harried Chinese man came rushing out to where we stood. “Where rest family?  You no come home together?”

“Slow down, Hop Sing.  There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

“Excuse, Missy.  Hop Sing no understand.  Where Mr. Ben?  Where Hoss and Mr. Adam?”

“Sarah, this is Hop Sing, the most important person of our extended family.  Hop Sing?  This is my wife, Sarah.”

Hop Sing bowed his head.  “Nice to meet, Missy Sarah.”  Then, my words sunk in.  “What you say, Little Joe?  You say wife?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Missy Sarah Little Joe wife?”

Joe took hold of my left hand and showed this odd little man the gold ring on my finger.  “My wife,” he repeated.  I could tell this man was shocked and his voice never seemed to stop.  I spoke and then stood and listened to his comical banter.

“Hello, Hop Sing.  It’s nice to meet you.”

“Little Joe married man?  Why Hop Sing not know?  Why you keep secret from Hop Sing?”

“Relax,” Joe said.  “We only met a few days ago.  I’d never keep a secret from you.  You know better’n that.”

“Mr. Ben know Little Joe have new wife?”

“Yes, Hop Sing.  Everyone knows.”

“Mr. Ben—” Hop Sing suddenly switched over to Cantonese and I was obviously at a loss.  When he high-tailed it back into the kitchen with his arms flailing over his head, I turned to Joe. 

“What’s he saying?”

“Believe me, you don’t want to know.”

I had two rather large carpet bags, and Joe carried them upstairs and set them down in his room.  Again, it was very masculine and, as I scanned the room, I noticed a painting of some Indian, hanging on the wall.  “Who might this be?”

“You don’t like my Indian?”

“Let’s just say having him staring at me while I dress and undress will take some getting used to.”

Joe took me in his arms.  “Well then, let’s just see his reaction.  If he bothers you, he’s outta here.  I can’t have my wife fully clothed when I’d rather have her fully unclothed and lying on my bed calling out my name.”

“Joseph!  The things you say are—”

“I only speak the truth, so how ‘bout it?”

“How about what?”

“Let’s see if the chief likes what he sees.”

Joe reached forward and his fingers slowly unbuttoned the new white blouse he’d bought along with the new riding skirt for our trip home.  I gave way to his gentle touch, but my mind was still on the Indian.  “I think he needs to go . . . the picture, Joe.  Find your Indian a new home and I will be glad to lay naked on your bed and call out your name.”

“Our bed,” he said, smiling. 

Joe crossed the room and removed the picture from the wall.  He set his Indian out in the hallway and closed the bedroom door.  He resumed his place, standing in front of me only to continue on with the tiny pearl buttons.  “No more Indian,” he whispered close to my ear.  “Only you and me in this room from now on.”

We had several days alone before the rest of the family returned home.  Joe showed me more of the ranch on our daily afternoon rides.  Mornings were lazy and spent mostly in bed.  Even Hop Sing valued our privacy and allowed Joe to tell him what time we’d want breakfast served.

“I could live like this forever,” I’d said one morning as I rested my head against my husband’s shoulder.

“Don’t get too used to this routine.  It will end the minute Pa and the others return.  But for now, you’re all mine.  I don’t have to share you or my time with anyone outside this room.”

It was late spring and the Ponderosa was in its glory.  The pastureland was a deep green and the mountaintops were still covered in snow.  The land was breathtaking, and I couldn’t help from constantly commenting on its magnificent beauty.  We rode to a small plateau above a gentle rolling valley surrounded on three sides by very elegant, whispering pines.  “Here,” he said. 

“Here what?”

“This is where I’d like to build our home.”

“It’s a beautiful spot, Joe.”

“You probably have no idea where we are, but we’re less than a mile from the main house, so traveling back and forth wouldn’t be too much of a problem even during the winter months.  On the other hand, we’d be far enough away that we wouldn’t have constant visitors.”

“Joseph Cartwright.  You have a one-track mind.”

“All I meant was—”

“I know exactly what you meant.”  Joe hopped out of the buggy and came around to help me down.  “Bet you can’t catch me,” I said, and I took off running.  I ran to the edge of woods before stopping to catch my breath.  Joe was right on my heels so I took off running in the opposite direction; to a second grove of trees before I began laughing and fell to my knees amid pine needles and wild grass.  I turned to look back over my shoulder, but Joe wasn’t there.  Quickly, I turned and looked the other direction—still no Joe.  But then I heard a twig snap under the weight of his boot.

“Ah-ha,” he said, jumping out from behind a large-trunked tree.  Like a knight in armor with a stick he held as make-believe sword he’d angled his mighty sword toward the sky then suddenly, he shifted the stick in my direction.  “So, my woman likes the chase, does she?”

I couldn’t think of a comeback, and I found myself laughing until tears streamed from my eyes.  I was out of breath and as Joe pulled me to my feet, I tried to give chase again until he forced my back against the tree from which he’d suddenly appeared.  With the tip of his sword to my throat, he spoke.  “You’re life hangs in the balance, my sweet maiden.  What shall it be?  The gallows or me?”

“Oh, m’lord,” I said with eyes closed and the back of my hand pressed to my brow.  “Whatever doest thou have in mind?  I’m but only a defenseless maiden and you have overpowered me with such force, I feel as though I might collapse from shear fright.”

Joe tossed his sword to the ground and pressed his body firmly against me before crushing my lips with a kiss.  “I will take you here and now.  Don’t expect these harsh surroundings to interfere with the simple laws of nature for I am a man with simple needs.”

My heart beat with excitement and my body reacted in perfect harmony with my husband’s forceful enthusiasm, but I became overly dramatic once again.  “Take me if you must.  Ravage me if that is your wish.  Spoil me as you rob me of everything I hold sacred.”

We both fell into fits of laughter as together; we tore at each other’s clothes.  Joe’s hands skimmed my breasts, my belly and before I could catch my breath, he’d already eased his fingers into the dampened area between my legs.  And when he forced himself inside me I was ready, drawing him in deeply and tightening myself around him until he withdrew and thrust again.

We were like animals, uninhibited in every aspect, and when he knotted his hand in my hair, I snaked my hand down the length of his back and drew his hips tighter to mine.  Our reckless lovemaking held no limits; caring only about friction—hands and hips grasping, grinding.   His sweat mixed with mine and our nakedness, together with feral need, brought us to climax within only moments of each other.  Joe’s breath was ragged; his legs trembling but strong.  He’d filled every need, even a remote fantasy of a knight in shining armor, capturing his queen and taking her for his own.

I held my handsome knight close to my heart, never wanting my childish fantasy to end.  We made love again, only at a slower pace; a gentle pace with Joe’s back to the ground, digging into pine needles and rock so I would be spared.  And when we were spent, and we lay on our sides staring into each other’s eyes, he asked me the question again.

“So what do you think?”

“Think?  Must I think?”

“About building our own home right here on this piece of land.”

“I’d say we’ve already christened it quite nicely, so why would we even consider another spot?”

“I love you, Mrs. Cartwright.”

“With one exception,” I said, catching Joe off guard.

“What’s that?”

“The Indian stays behind.”

“Maybe I’ll donate him to the local saloon.”

“That’s a fine idea, Mr. Cartwright.”

“Okay, this is what we’ll do . . .” Still lying naked, and with Joe drawing a diagram on my still damp chest, he talked about building our home.  “You and Adam will sit down and draw up the plans; remember, he’s the architect in the family, but you’re the designer so you tell him what you want.  And, when you’ve finished with all the plans, my brothers and Candy will all take time off from work to help me with the actual construction.”

“Don’t you want any say in the matter?”

“Nope.  I’ll leave it strictly up to you.  Just remember we can always add on if need be.  It doesn’t have to be a mansion right in the beginning.”

“Is that what you think I want, Joe?  A mansion?  This isn’t the antebellum south, you know.”

“If it’s a mansion you desire, you go right ahead and plan one out but just remember this.  The larger the house, the longer we remain under my father’s roof.”

“How about a one room shanty; enough room for our bed so we don’t have pine needles scratching our backs.”

Joe smiled and slipped his arm around me.  “Now you’ve got the picture.”

Adam

I sat down with Sarah every chance I had free.  I would be leaving soon and the plans for their new home had to be finished before my departure.  Pa knew I was leaving, but so far I hadn’t mentioned a date nor had I mentioned anything to my brothers.  With the addition of Joe’s wife, our home had taken on an air of formality; not that Sarah demanded anything special of us, but just her presence forced us to watch our tongues and keep ourselves properly dressed at all times.  Yes, there were slight changes, but changes we were all more than happy to live with.

I must say my little brother picked a most capable woman.  Sarah was an addition, but she was a delightful addition.  She not only made Joe happy, she had easily captivated all of our hearts with her endearing southern charms.  I enjoyed our evenings together, and I would miss her as much as everyone else when it was time to leave for Sacramento. 

Joe had left every detail completely up to his wife.  Whatever she wanted was hers.  I found her to be extremely frugal; nothing more than the bare necessities.  Even though I would make suggestions for additional rooms or perhaps a loft, she nixed the idea.  “Maybe later, Adam.  All we need right now is enough room for the two of us to move around comfortably.”  A gold-digger she was not and for that, it restored our faith in mankind, especially for my father, who, I admit, had his doubts.

When I suggested a pump at the kitchen sink, she agreed it would be more than welcome.  She elaborated on how her father always intended to install one for her mother, but it never came to be.  And, since she was the only girl in the house growing up, it had always been her duty to fetch the water. 

“I’d give just about anything for an indoor pump, Adam.”

“I could always give you a second one in the bedroom.  Joe just has to dig another well.”

“Oh, goodness no,” she said.  “One’s plenty.”

Joe spent his evenings playing checkers with Hoss or Candy or a game of chess with Pa.  Nothing much had changed there.  The same arguments ensued over Joe’s sticky fingers, unless he was playing with Pa, then he was kept on the straight and narrow.

I didn’t mind working out their plans at all in fact, it was a nice change from structuring bridges and a maze of rails.  And, on the plus side, I didn’t have to be involved in the constant banter over every senseless move on the checkerboard.  My time was occupied with Sarah’s ideas and my drawings.  It felt good to do what I knew best.  These past few months I’d been considering whether I could fit back into a rancher’s life.  I knew now, it wasn’t the life for me.  Although Joe and Hoss seemed completely content, I found I’d much rather develop my brain than settle for developing my brawn.

We were coming to a close, Sarah and me, and I would miss our time together.  Besides her obvious beauty, which at times was a moderate distraction, the woman had brains; she was smart.  She saw things I missed and in a gentle way, she’d point out my errors.  I found her charming and much too intelligent for my little brother.  She’s the type of woman I’d searched for all my life, but Joe had met her by chance, and he’d won her over in a matter of hours.  They complimented each other and they loved each other and, I’ll have to say, they were perfectly suited for each other.

To this day, there are times I still don’t give Joe the credit he deserves.  I will always think of him as the young hellion he used to be.  And, as Pa often reminds me, Joe is a grown man and not the kid I left behind.  It’s often hard to come to terms when you find the world you left behind has changed so drastically in your absence. 

When I returned from college over a decade ago, it was Joe and I who struggled to see eye-to eye.  This time the struggle is mine to bear alone.  I’m not needed here like I once was.  My youngest brother has taken over my role in this house, and he’s doing as well or better than I ever would have imagined.  I’m proud of the kid.  He deserves credit for his accomplishments, and I should give him credit, but I rarely make the effort to give him that pat on the back he deserves.

Joe has changed the most over the years, and realizing he’s Pa’s right-hand-man has been a difficult jolt to my ego.  He’s taken my place, leaving me an outsider in this world I once called home.  I can’t blame the kid for growing up and, although I often regret the fact, I blame him for taking my place; for moving in on territory that was once mine.  I know it’s not right and it’s unfair to Joe, but taking orders from my little brother doesn’t bode well for me.  I can’t remain where I’m not in charge.  I can’t pretend to live a life that’s changed so drastically in my absence. 

I tell myself time and again; my skills as an architect are needed elsewhere.  There are firms that realize my potential and talents and, from more than one offer, I’ve chosen the Sacramento firm to make my new home.  So why do I lay in bed at night, trying to convince myself I’ve made the right decision?  Why would I forfeit my education by remaining here on the Ponderosa?  A man has to do what’s right for him, but damn if I can even give myself that so-called pat on the back.

I turned my head from the drawings, and I watched my family interact.  I’ll miss these evenings, even the senseless banter, but I will remember these special times when I grow weary of my well-furnished apartment lined with shelves containing my treasured, leather-bound books.  Yes, my fine books held important literature and they always give me a sense of comfort, but I’ll remember the laughter and the camaraderie I’ve left behind and Sarah, who I’ve come to admire as a beloved extension of this family.

She gently touches my arm, and I wonder if she knows what I’m thinking.  Does she understand my need to leave; my need for a different life?  If anyone in this room understands, it’s most likely the woman who’s become Joe’s wife.  She left her own war-torn south in order to start fresh; to make a new life.  Does she sense my reluctance as I, too, leave everyone and everything I know and love behind?  And even though I’ve obviously left home before, there’s still that feeling of belonging that begs me to stay and be a part of my father’s dream.

Embarrassed that I’ve let my mind wander, I quickly turn my attention back to the drawings I have spread out on the dining room table.  “You know,” I said after clearing my throat.  “I think we’re just about finished.”

“What would Joe and I have done without you, Adam?”  She turned in her chair.  “Joe?  Come look.  Your brother is magnificent.  The plans are nearly complete.”

With a quick nod to Hoss, Joe stood up from his seat on the large, plank table and walked into the dining room.  He stood directly behind Sarah and rested his hands on her shoulders.  She, in turn, reached up and laid her hands over his.

“You’re really finished, Adam?”

“I think so unless you’ll need another room here off to the side.”  I pointed to where a baby’s room could easily attach to his parent’s own bedroom.

“Not just yet, big brother.  But in time, I hope.”

Sarah squeezed Joe’s hands, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before they’d be planning that new addition.

“So we can start building anytime, right?”

“Well, first thing tomorrow morning, I’ll write out an order for lengths of board lumber and you can deliver the contract to Stan up at the mill.  But yes, you can start clearing the property anytime you so desire.”

Joe leaned down as kissed his new bride.  “I’ll have the house ready by fall.”  Joe turned and glanced at Hoss.  “Right, Brother?”

“Why you lookin’ at me?  Ain’t my house.”

“Candy?”

“Forget it, Joe.  I’m a ranch foreman, not a house builder.”

“Ah, come on.  Pa?”

“Me?  You trying to kill your father?  Put me on a ladder and that will be the last time you’ll see or hear from this old man.”

I saw, in Joe, the young man I’d left behind over five years ago; hands on hips, chin jutting out, nostrils flared and eyes filled with fire.  The joke had gone on long enough, and when Pa and Hoss and Candy stood and crossed the room, clapping Joe on the back and asking when he wished to start, I felt more like an outsider than ever.

Hoss

By summer’s end, the house was complete.  Adam had moved to Sacramento shortly after he’d drawn up the plans for Joe and Sarah.  He also said when the time was right he’d take some time off, and he’d return to see the finished product.  Joe and Sarah were anxious to start their new life in their new home.  But my little brother was full of surprises, and when he said there was one more thing needed doin’ before move-in-day, we all rolled our eyes and wondered what he was gonna ask of us now.

“A wedding,” Joe said.  “I promised my wife a proper wedding, and I’d like to have it here in this house before we move into our new home.”

The look on Pa’s face said it all.  I’d never seen him more overjoyed and pleased to honor Joe’s request.  “Of course we’ll have it here, Son.  Sarah?  Does the Ponderosa suit you?”

“I can’t think of a better place for a wedding, Mr. Cartwright, but only if you’ll escort me down the aisle.”

“Well, this calls for a celebration.  Hoss?  Will you go to the cellar and bring up a bottle of our finest champagne.”

Before I left the room to do Pa’s biddin’, I watched Pa pull Sarah close to him and whisper somethin’ in her ear.  She smiled first and then Pa followed suit.  I don’t know what was said, but Pa had grown to love Sarah and now, with this rather startlin’ announcement, he had a good-as-any reason to celebrate.  Having the weddin’ here with friends and family not only pleased Sarah and Joe, but Pa would be in his element as he showed off and introduced the new bride and groom.

~~~

Joe’s sudden marriage had caused Pa a considerable amount of concern, and he weren’t above sharin’ his comments with me and Adam.  All the way back from Placerville, that’s all we heard was one question after another. Neither Adam nor I had the answers, but we had no choice but to listen to the constant bursts of rage brought on by my father. 

Even after we arrived home with the bull, Joe was preoccupied with Sarah, as he shoulda been, but it was a drain on my father.  It was a drain on all of us in the beginnin’.  A woman in the house; a woman we barely knew.  Joe marryin’ so quickly.  Who does that?  Well, that was Pa’s main question, which, of course none of us had a decent answer except Joe was Joe.  End of story.

So, not only were Joe and Sarah gettin’ used to each other, the rest of us were strugglin’ too.  My little brother was quickly learnin’ the basics of marriage.  And, of course, Sarah had to get used to livin’ in a house with six growd men, and now that I look back, I imagine it was harder on her than anyone of us.

The first few weeks were tough.  Joe was dreamy-eyed and drivin’ us all a crazy with his constant carryin’ on about how beautiful Sarah was, how smart Sarah was and how perfect Sarah was.  He was like a schoolboy with his first crush and, well, we got the message, but Joe wouldn’t shut up until Pa finally put his foot down one night durin’ a game of chess.  Sarah had asked if anyone minded if she turned in early and there, practically before she reached the top landin’ of the stairs, Joe started up again with his never-endin’ compliments about his wife.

“Isn’t she the most—”

“Son—” Pa interrupted.  “Why don’t you let us be the judge?”

“What?”

“I don’t mean this is a bad way, Joseph, but give us a chance to know Sarah in our own time.”

“Yessir, but she’s just so—”

“Joseph.  It’s your move.”

Joe moved his king directly in front of Pa’s queen.  Pa looked across the table, knowin’ Joe was obviously askin’ to be excused.  So without flauntin’ the word, checkmate, he said instead, “Goodnight, Joseph.”

“Nite, Pa.”

“Ahh,” I said, leanin’ back against the settee.  “Peace and quiet.”

Pa straightened up the board, havin’ all the pieces lined up for the next fool who wanted to challenge my father to a game of chess.

I turned to face my father.  “Have you written Adam about the weddin’?”

“Yes, but so far I’ve only received a maybe.  With the new job and all, it may be too much for him to return home so soon.”

“He don’t wanna miss Joe’s weddin,’ does he?”

“We’ll see.  I’m for bed.  You?”

“Yessir, and if your words sunk into that thick skull of Joseph’s, maybe the peace and quiet will continue on through tomorrow.”

Pa chuckled.  “Maybe, Son, but don’t hold your breath.”

~~~

All of our gettin’-used-to-each-other was weeks ago, and Joe and Sarah had both settled into a nice, easy routine—we all had.  Adam was gone and although Sacramento wasn’t far from the Ponderosa, not like when he was livin’ in New York, but he wasn’t under the same roof with the rest of us.  We’d all enjoyed havin’ him here but it was obvious this wasn’t the right place for him no more.  He’d moved on and found work that suited him more than sittin’ the back of a horse. 

This was my home, would be till the day I died.  And now, with Joe and Sarah having a place all their own, I knew this would remain Joe’s home for the duration, too.  It had been Pa’s dream—three sons to care for the land he’d chosen to be our home.  I guess two out of three ain’t such bad odds.  Pa could always count on Joe and me to keep his dream alive.  And now, with Joe married to Sarah, Pa’s legacy might continue on with the next generation.

Just as Joe had let Sarah plan their new home, he also let her plan the weddin’.  Anythin’ she wanted was fine by him.  Just as we’d invited Adam to make our family complete, Sarah had invited her brother; her only livin’ relative.  We hadn’t heard more from Adam, but Carl Collins had written Sarah a brief letter.  He said he was sorry, he was workin’ steady and, with deepest regrets, he wouldn’t be makin’ the weddin’. 

We all felt terrible for Sarah, and as soon as she read the letter, she ran straight up the stairs to Joe’s room.  When Joe tried to follow, Pa grabbed his arm, holdin’ him back.  “Give her a minute alone, Son.  She’s hurting inside.”

“Sorry, Pa.  All the more reason for me to be there with her.”

I had to admit, I thought Joe was right, but like most times when there was a disagreement between Pa and my little brother, I kept my thoughts to myself.  Hopefully, our entire family would be in attendance whereas no one would be representin’ Sarah’s side of the aisle. 

Joe knew the right words to say and before long they bounded down the stairs together.  With her hand tucked safely in his, he led her out the front door and to the barn so he could present her with a special weddin’ present a few days early; a beautiful chestnut and white pinto and a brand new western saddle.  They sure made a handsome pair and when they returned to the house hours later, Sarah’s tears over her brother’s failure to show up for her weddin’ were a thing of the past.  Joe certainly had a way.  I don’t know what he’d said or done, but my little brother was quite an expert when it came to matters of the heart.

Joe was Sarah’s rock and she leaned on him heavily at times, but she was also her own person with her own opinions.  Pa and I would sit back and listen to them squabble over this and that and, unlike the Joe I’d known all my life, he was the first to give in; the first to apologize before takin’ her by the hand and leadin’ her up the stairs.  I have to think that, on certain occasions, Joe started these arguments just so they’d have a reason to make up.

Joe

Today was wedding number two, and I was an absolute wreck.

“You sure it looks right?”

“Yeah, it’s right, now quit badgerin’ me, Joseph.”

Hoss and his enormous fingers were fumbling with my tie.  My fingers had turned to jelly, but I don’t know that his were working any better.  My bride was dressing in our room, and I’d been kicked out earlier in the day so she could have some privacy.  It was silly to be nervous, but I was sweaty and itchy and tugging at my shirt collar for much needed air when Hoss slapped my hand away.  “Quit your fussin’, Joseph.”

I’d been banished to the downstairs guest room to bathe and dress but now that I needed his help, Hoss took up most of the tiny room and the little breeze coming through the window was blocked almost entirely by my brother’s bulk.  Pa tapped gently on the bedroom door before he, too, crowded into the room.  “You about ready?” he said.

“Ready?”

“The guests are arriving, Son, and I think we should all be present to greet them.”

“I guess it’s time then,” I said, breathing in deeply.  “Okay, let’s go.”

The room was beginning to fill.  Furniture had been pushed aside early this morning and chairs, brought in from the church and neighboring ranches, were arranged in place without a center aisle.  I would pick up my bride at the base of the stairs and escort her to stand in front of Reverend Holmes.  Jake and the boys had already started playing their background music, and they’d been instructed to play the wedding march when they saw Pa and Sarah appear the top of the stairs.

I stretched out my neck one last time, trying to ease my collar, and I walked into the dining room with Pa and Hoss by my side.  I glanced at Hop Sing who was manning the front door, while Candy was directing all newcomers to their seats.   It seemed as though everyone who lived in Storey County was flooding into our house for the event.  Mostly friends of Pa’s but also friends of my own and, since I’d lived here all my life, there was quite an enormous crowd.  The only person missing was Adam and of course Carl.

“Think there’s enough chairs?” I said, looking over my shoulder at Hoss.

“Don’t you worry ‘bout nothin’ but gettin’ that little gal of yours safely to the altar.”

“Right.”

I don’t remember being quite this nervous when we first got married, but maybe I was.  I didn’t know why I was such a wreck.  We’d been married for months and here I was acting like . . . God, I don’t know what.

Reverend Holmes came up and shook my hand.  “Are we about ready to begin, Joseph?”

Pa stepped up beside me.  “May I have a minute with the bride-to-be, Reverend?”

“Certainly, Ben.  Take your time.”

“Thank you.”

The guests were seated and content to listen to the music and talk quietly amongst themselves.  I rested my hand on the dining room table, just to keep from keeling over and making a damn spectacle of myself before I had to walk through the crowded room.  Without Adam present, and with the words of his last letter, “hope to be there,” I’d asked Hoss to be my best man.  Candy stood up for me once, and even though he’d become as close as a brother to me, this time the wedding was geared toward family.

Hoss gave me a little nudge from behind.  “Better go take your spot, little brother.”

“Maybe you should go up there first,” I said.  “I’ll follow you.”

“Not on your life,” Hoss said in a low, gravelly tone then pushed his hand against my back. “We’ll walk up there together just like we planned.”

Hoss and I hadn’t yet taken that first step when we each turned our heads as the front door eased open and there, dressed accordingly, stood Adam.  He quickly crossed the room and came to stand next to Hoss and me.  “Hope I’m not too late,” he whispered after removing his hat and adjusting his tie.

I shook my head.  “You’re cuttin’ it close, big brother, but I’m glad you made it.”

“My apologies, Joe.  I won’t bore you with an explanation.”

“Hey, no problem.  Come—join me and Hoss.”

“Yeah, might not be such a bad idea,” Hoss whispered when Adam approached.  “Seems our little brother has a severe case of them little butterflies.  He’s probably gonna need both of us holdin’ him up.”

We circled the room and came to stand between the reverend and our guests.  The three of us stood shoulder to shoulder only today, I took center stage.  With a brother flanking each side, protecting, and showing me the love and support I’d known since the day I was born, I was more than ready to move forward once again with this new chapter of my life.

The wedding march began and, in unison, we all turned our heads to the top of the stairs where Pa and Sarah were positioned and ready to take that first step down.  Pa looked quite dashing in his new black suit and pristine white vest.  And, with his full head of stark white hair, he almost looked regal.  But it was my bride who took top billing, who came in second to none.  Sarah hadn’t allowed me to see her dress, and now I understood why all the secrecy and mystery that came with a proper wedding. 

My bride looked radiant, and I heard a slight gasp from friends and even my brothers when she appeared for all to see.  Her dress was beautiful; made of satin, ivory silk.  It fit snug at the waist and, with a stand up collar; she had chosen to reveal nothing.  The lady from Tennessee was saving it all for me.

And when she and Pa stepped onto the second landing, Sarah turned slightly and, when her eyes met mine, she smiled and winked.  My heart skipped a beat, my knees became weak, and even though my mind began to wander hours ahead and to a second wedding night, I was quickly brought back to the present when Pa placed Sarah’s hand in mine.

The words were the same as before.  “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the presence of these witnesses—”

I held my wife’s hand in mine and, with my family by my side, I felt blessed but most of all lucky to be alive and lucky to have taken a chance when the odds were against us.  No one in their right mind gets married so quickly, but Sarah and I took that chance and together we’d beat those odds.  We’d opened Pandora’s Box and let hope guide us to where we are today.  And, as my father would say, it was God’s will that brought us together and joined us as one.  To me, it was nothing but blind faith.

Adam

There was no mistaking the joy my brother felt as he held Sarah is his arms and they danced the night away.  Of course, he had to do the gentlemanly thing and step away, allowing nearly every man in attendance a turn on the dance floor with his new bride.  But he never turned his back to her, and even when she was in another man’s arms, their eyes were locked on each other. 

So when my turn finally came, and as I held Joe’s bride in my arms, I realized it was time to make changes in my own life.  I needed a sense of purpose; I needed more than just a career.  It was time to rethink my life; to quit using work or leather-bound books as a substitute for happiness.

“You look lovely,” I said.  “Joe’s a very lucky man.”

“I’m the lucky one, Adam.”

Our conversation was short, and I caught sight of Sarah’s eyes dart toward Joe.  I envied their love for each other and, when Hoss cut in next, I stepped aside only to let myself reminisce on what might have been.  After my experience with Laura and Peggy, I’d pretty much given up the prospect of having a family of my own; in fact, I’d left the Ponderosa as soon as my back had healed and I was given the okay to travel.  It had taken time to earn Peggy’s trust after her father died, and in the process I’d convinced myself marrying Laura was the right thing to do.  All along, I thought I’d been ready to settle down and, after much deliberation I moved forward, assuring myself that the three of us were meant to be together.  And even though Pa had questioned my love for Laura early on, I’d chosen not to believe there was any truth to his words.

Since then, I’ve shied away from taking any more chances when it came to matters of the heart, but maybe there was something to be learned from my youngest brother.  Of course I’d never let on, but there were times I envied the way Joe took the bull by the horns and leapt into a situation with blinders on.  He had such enthusiasm and such a passion for life; he took chances I’d never even consider.  Whether it was fear of rejection or fear of failure, taking a giant leap of faith had never been my way.

Looking up from my musings, I glanced at Joe to find Sarah tucked securely in his arms.  Men and women had given way for the final dance of the evening, but all eyes were on the newly-married couple.  I watched Sarah smile at whatever Joe had just whispered in her ear and, when her face reddened, I knew this party was over and the lovebirds were anxious to begin their own private party at home.  No one else was privy to their private conversation, but as he pulled her tighter to his chest, I caught a glimpse of his watery eyes.  My little brother was blessed, and I couldn’t help but wish him a lifetime of happiness.

Sarah

Joe practically dragged me out the front door as onlookers gathered to throw rice and wish us well.  I don’t know who had decorated the buggy, but it was all decked out in white sashes with a “Just Married” sign attached to the rear.  I couldn’t help but laugh as bits of rice pelted my face and, with Joe trying to swerve and duck the two of us out of the way, we were nearly hysterical by the time he got me settled inside the buggy.   We waved a quick farewell and drove away, leaving the crowd of rice-throwing enthusiasts behind.  Someone had set a blanket on the seat and I quickly spread it across our legs.  It wasn’t considered a cold night for Joe, but I still hadn’t acclimated to the chilly, mountain air.

I snuggled in close to my husband.  I loved him so very much and most important, he loved me like I’d never been loved before.  We’d taken a chance in Placerville and our marriage had been blessed by a higher power; it worked very well.  We vowed early on to never keep secrets from each other and I would always keep that promise; I believed in my heart Joe would too.  We’ve vowed many things to each other and we’ve managed, quite easily, to keep those vows intact.  On this very special night, I relayed my innermost feelings to my husband.

“This feels like a dream, Joe—maybe a fairytale—but it’s the fairytale I’ve dreamed of my entire life.”

“Fairytales can come true, you know.”

“Well mine has and I have only you to thank.”

“Me?  Well, in that case, I’ll consider letting you show me how thankful you really are.”

“Can’t you ever be serious?”

“I’m sorry,” he said.  “And I’m sure I’ll be saying I’m sorry more often than I care to, but believe me, Sarah; I love you more than you’ll ever know.  I may kid and joke around, but you’re my life, my whole life, and don’t you ever think any different.”

I was genuinely blessed.  I’d married a tender-hearted man; a man who took my breath away; a man who was truly a gift from God.  I would set his body on fire tonight and every night for the rest of our lives.  I’d often been told it was a wife’s duty to let her husband have his way, but I have to feel sorry for those women who never knew the true meaning of love and affection. 

Joe knows how to pleasure a woman.  I’m certainly not his first, and I thank the women who came before; the women who taught him the intricacies of lovemaking, of satisfying a woman’s needs along with his own.  The act of seduction, sincerity, and the final climax of that love is something a man learns over time, and my husband has learned those lessons very well.

It was only a short distance to our new home and before I knew it, Joe was pulling up in front of the house.  He jumped down from the buggy and held out his hand out for me.  Again, he picked me up and carried me in his arms over the threshold of our new home.  The small but intimate room was filled with flowers.  Candles had been lit rather than lamps.  “Who did all this, Joe?”

He shrugged his shoulders.  “Must have been the wedding fairy.”

“The wedding fairy?” I said with a touch of sarcasm.

“Yep.  Don’t you believe in fairies?”

“I believe in fairytales.”

“But not fairies?”

Joe finally let my feet touch the ground but his hands remained circling my waist.  He pulled me close and he kissed me, making every aspect of my fairytale come true.  He led me to a small, round table where a bottle of champagne had been set on ice.  Again, I asked, “Who did all this?  And don’t tell me fairies.”

Joe popped the cork and quickly picked up a glass, daring not to waste even a drop of those golden bubbles. “Beats me,” he said.  “Everyone I’ve known since the day I was born was at our wedding.”

“So much for keeping secrets from each other,” I said after he handed me the first glass.

“Ah, come on now.  I’m your husband and the preacher said you have to believe every word I say.”

“Is that right?”

“Yes, Mrs. Cartwright.  That’s exactly right.”

Joe lifted his glass to mine and we both grinned as tiny bubbles tickled our noses before we took the first sip.  “Well,” I said, turning my back and starting to cross the room.  “I guess that means I can keep secrets, too.  Isn’t that right, Mr. Cartwright?”

I began to stroll through the house, dipping my head into the kitchen and into the bedroom.  Though the house was small, Joe had said we could add on when needed.  What he didn’t realize was “needed” was only seven months away.

“You don’t have any secrets from me,” he said, seeming quite sure of himself.

“You’re absolutely right.  No secrets at all.”

“Is that the truth?”

I smiled when I detected a hint of worry in my husband’s voice.  “Maybe.”

Joe stood behind me, slipping his hand around me while sipping champagne from his glass.  His warm breath teased the nape of my neck, hinting at what was to come.  Kisses soon followed while his free hand slowly made its way up the bodice of my dress.  “Maybe what?” he mumbled.  

I tilted my head to the side, giving him leeway to explore wherever those soft, tender lips wished to go.  He cupped his hand over my breast, and I tried not to react even though my breasts were now tender to the touch.  If I could keep this secret just a little while longer, we’d have more time to enjoy each other’s company before word of a new life would consume us both and take over our lives completely.

“You haven’t answered my question, Mrs. Cartwright.”

“You haven’t answered mine,” Mr. Cartwright.”

Joe took the glass from my hand and he sat them both down on the table.  I began to falter when he stared at me with those loving, green eyes.  “Secret or not, I still love you,” he said.  “But, we did promise each other, and this is certainly no way to start out a marriage.”

I could tell he was kidding, but my mind was in turmoil.  Should I make an announcement like this tonight; our wedding night?  But as my belly pressed against my husband, I knew I had to share my excitement.

“Well, if you insist,” I said.

“That’s kind of a strong word, isn’t it?  How about just a simple please?”

“Okay . . .”

“Well?  Out with it before I forget you even had a secret.”

“How would you feel about being called Papa?”

Joe looked stunned at first, but within seconds he pulled me so close I could barely catch my breath.  “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“When?”

“I would say about six to seven months from now.” 

My husband was the most loving person I’d ever known.  Tears streaked his face as he held me close and whispered in my ear, over and over, how happy he was; how happy I’d made him; how I’d given him the best gift of all.  He carried me to the bedroom and positioned me against the backboard of our bed where I’d overfilled with embroidered pillows.  He ran back out for the bottle of champagne and came back to sit down beside me.

“I’ll have to talk to Adam.”

“Not tonight, I hope.”

Joe rolled his eyes.  “No, not tonight—nothing could separate me from you tonight—but soon, before he returns to Sacramento.”

“He has other work, Joe.  I doubt if your brother has time to draw up plans for this new room.”

“Yeah . . . you may be right.”

“Besides, it doesn’t have to be built today.  The baby can sleep in our room during those first few months.  In fact, I’d prefer it that way.”

“I guess there’s no real rush, but I’ll let him know anyway.  He can at least be thinking it over.”

I pressed my hand to my husband’s chest.  His heart beat faster than normal, and I knew he was trying to take in all I had told him.  “We have plenty of time, Joe.”

“Yeah . . . guess I got a little carried away.  Have I told you how much I love you?”

“Oh, once or twice.”  I let the palm of my hand slide gently down my husband’s cheek.  “Do you know the old saying; show, don’t tell?”

“I can’t say I do, but I’m no fool.”

“Well …”

“Are you sure it’s okay … I mean.”

By the time we were relieved of our wedding attire, Joe eased himself on top of me.  I felt his length, and I took in his musky scent as his firmness pressed against the softness of my belly.  My husband’s love-making was measured on this very special night; not filled with wild abandon as was normally customary and definitely gratifying.  There was such softness, such tenderness; I knew in my heart I’d picked the right man to father our children and even more important—a man who would make each and every day of my life complete.

~~~

We’d been living in our new home for nearly a month and it was time to head into town again for fresh supplies.  Although I’d been invited to go, I chose to remain at home.  I’d traveled enough over the past few months that I was perfectly content to let Joe go alone.  I opted to work around the house, starting with placing fresh linens on our bed and chopping vegetables for the stew I’d serve for dinner.

I realized straight away I enjoyed domestic life; I enjoyed making a home for my husband although I’d learned early on to always make extra when preparing supper.  We’d already had unexpected guests as in family members such as Hoss or Candy, who would ride back with Joe from a day’s work, and I’d often invite them to stay.  Yes, the honeymoon was over and I took pleasure in their company.  I got a kick out of the foolishness between brothers and friends. 

“This is for you,” Joe said, handing me a letter he’d picked up when he returned from town.  I glanced at the postmark and smiled as I ripped the envelope open. 

“It’s from Carl.”

“I’d hoped it wasn’t from a former lover you hadn’t told me about.”

I shook my head.  “My hundreds of old beaus are all back in Tennessee.  They don’t even know where Nevada is.”

“They better not find out either.”

I would have nailed him with a comeback, but I was too excited over the contents of the letter. “Oh, Joe,” I said, scanning down the page.  “Carl’s coming for a visit.  He says he’ll been here on the 24th and will be expecting my chicken and dumplings for supper.”

“That’s great.  It’s about time I met your side of the family.”

“Wait, isn’t that when you scheduled your trip to Sacramento to meet with Adam?”

Joe let out a lengthy sign.  “Yeah … I hadn’t realized—”

“I doubt Carl can change his plans if he’s working.”

“Is he still living in Sacramento?”

“That’s the postmark.”

“Well, the best I can do is ride past him on the road, and we’ll just have to meet another time.  I hate to cancel my meeting with Adam since he’s rushed to get the new plans finished.”

I was so upset with the conflicting dates.  I so wanted my brother to meet Joe.  “Such a shame though I guess it can’t be helped.”

~~~

I kissed my husband goodbye and began preparations for my brother’s arrival.  I cleaned every corner of the house whether it was needed or not.  Without Joe tracking up the place with his dirty boots, I knew my efforts wouldn’t be in vain.  I washed sheets and pillow shams, and even though Carl would be forced to spend the night on our sofa, I wanted everything aired out and smelling fresh for his arrival. 

By mid-afternoon on the 24th, everything was ready.  The chicken and dumplings were simmering on the stove; the rest I would tend to later.  I kept peeking out the window, waiting for Carl to ride up and finally, my wish had come true.  He was dressed in, what I referred to as, his cowboy clothes, and when he dismounted and started toward the house; I swept open the door and ran straight into his open arms. 

“I’m so glad you’re here.  I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you too, Sarah.”  Carl leaned in and kissed my cheek.  “Well, where’s this husband I keep hearing about?”

“Oh, Carl,” I sighed.  “You won’t believe what happened.  Come on in the house.  I’ll explain.”

I held my brother’s hand and led him inside.  I stood completely still while he scanned the room.  Every room was visible from the front door so it didn’t take long before he’d seen all there was to see and turned back to me.  “It’s smaller than I’d imagined,” he said.

“This is all we need for now.  Joe and I can always add on.”

“I just assumed it would be larger.”

“Why would you think that?”

“No reason really … just thinking out loud.”

I took Carl’s hand and led him to the kitchen table.  “How about some coffee?  I have fresh on the stove.”

“Sounds good.”

Just like I’d hoped we would, Carl and I sat down and talked.  I filled cups with coffee and set out cookies I’d baked earlier in the day.  I hesitated at first, but then I told him why Joe had gone to Sacramento and why we needed the new room.  I thought Carl would be thrilled over my news about the baby, but I got the strange impression he couldn’t have cared less. 

We were different as night and day, Carl and me, and although he’d been my protector and provider since the end of the war, there was a part of me that disliked my own brother.  The way he could look into my eyes and make me feel small and insignificant was a trait I’d come to despise; a trait Papa often used, and one Carl had perfected early on and was using now.

He’d taken after Papa in so many respects.  I was just a girl—a good-for-nothing girl—in a family of boys; boys who became strong enough men to work the farm while Papa sat back and squandered away his days, drinking whiskey he’d buy from a crusty old peddler back home.  I hated him for wasting the life God gave him and for what he’d done to Mama.  All those years of hard work and she’d asked for nothing in return but a decent life and a well-cared-for family. 

I turned my attention back to Carl, leaving my feelings of self-pity behind.  He had crossed the room and had taken an interest in one of the rifles Joe had on display on a small gun rack he’d built for our new home.  “Very nice,” he said as he aimed it toward the front door.  Good quality rifle.”

“I guess so,” I said.  “It was a gift from Joe’s father on his twenty-first birthday.”

“Nice gift.  Quite expensive.”

“I suppose.”

“I can’t wait for you to meet my husband,” I said as I crossed the room to stand beside my brother.  “I know you’ll admire him just as I do if we can ever get the two of you together.”

“Oh, we’ll meet, little sister, besides, it works out better this way.”

“What do you mean?  What works out better?”

He positioned the rifle back onto the rack and chose to sit in Joe’s leather chair.  He ran his hands over the smooth leather arms as he pressed himself snugly against its back.  “All the comforts of home,” he said.

“Is something wrong, Carl?  Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“There is, Sarah.  I’m embarrassed to say anything, but … I’m broke—really broke.”

“I thought you had a job in Sacramento.”

“It fell through and I … well, the small amount of cash I had on reserve is gone.”

“How much would you need to get by until something else comes along?”

“Not much.  Maybe a thousand.”

“A thousand dollars?”  I said rather loudly.  “I don’t have that kind of money.”

“How about your husband?  He might give you the money.”

“I would never ask Joe for that amount of money.”  I was shocked by Carl’s assumption.

“Sarah, I beg you.  I’ll pay you back as soon as I get back on my feet.  I promise.”

“I don’t understand any of this.  Why so much?”

“Things are expensive in Sacramento.  If I just get enough to get settled then I won’t have to come begging for more.”

I was taken aback by Carl’s request.  There had always been enough money to get by so why had he come begging me for more?  Why now?  Did I dare give in to his request?  I turned and walked away; I needed time to think this through.  What would Joe think of me; would he think the worst?  Would he think this was the plan all along?  I couldn’t think straight.  I couldn’t find a reasonable solution.  I turned back to Carl.

“You promise you’ll pay it all back?”

“Of course, I promise.”

Whether I believed him or not, he was my brother and I owed him for all the months he’d cared for me.  I wasn’t sure what or how I’d tell Joe, but I felt I needed to do this for Carl.  He seemed so desperate and humbled, having to beg me for money.

Mr. Cartwright had opened a bank account for Joe and me and presented it to us on our wedding day.  A rather generous sum, still in all, when a thousand dollars came up missing, I’d have to really think things through to come up with a viable explanation.  That would have to come later, and I prayed Joe would understand.

~~~

The transaction was painful but trouble-free.  I was Mrs. Joseph Cartwright, and making a withdrawal for the sum of one thousand dollars was as simple as signing my name on a piece of paper.  I thanked the teller and proceeded toward the front door.

“Oh,” I said, surprised when I nearly bumped right into Mr. Cartwright.”

“Sarah?  My goodness.”

I felt my face flush.

“Are you here in town alone?”

“Yes, Sir, but I’m heading back home directly.  I … I just needed some ready cash to pay the dressmaker, Mrs. O’Malley.”

“I know Joseph is out of town and you must be very lonely, staying in that house all alone.  I’d be delighted if you would stay in town a while longer and have lunch with me.”

How could I turn him down?  He would suspect something was wrong if I hurried off when Joe wasn’t even at home.  “I’d love to have lunch. I’ll wait right here for you to finish your business.”

“Good.  I’ll only be a minute.”

I stood outside the bank, nervously clutching my purse which contained one thousand dollars in cash.  I took a deep breath when suddenly, Candy came up from behind.

“Do you always hang around outside banks, Mrs. Cartwright?”

“Candy … hello.  I’m waiting for Mr. Cartwright.  He’s offered to take me to lunch.”

“Oh yeah?  Wonder if that offer stands for me, too?”

“I … I would imagine.”

“Candy,” Ben said as he walked out onto the boardwalk.  Sarah and I were just off to lunch.  Join us?”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

The three of us walked down to Daisy’s Café and took seats at one of the empty tables.

“I must find a reason to send Joe away more often,” I said.  “Having two handsome escorts for lunch makes a girl feel extra special.”

“You are special, Sarah, so why don’t you come and stay at the house until Joseph returns.  I should have suggested it earlier and I apologize.  I just wasn’t thinking.”

“Oh no, Mr. Cartwright.  Joe will be back in a couple of days and to be honest, I rather enjoy the time alone.”

“As you wish, but I must insist Candy ride home with you.  I don’t like the fact you’re out riding alone.”

“That isn’t necessary, Mr. Cartwright.  You both have your own work to do.  I won’t hear of such nonsense.”

“Sarah—I insist.”

I barely touched the food on my plate.  I didn’t want any trouble.  I sure didn’t want Carl to get the wrong idea when he saw Candy riding into the yard with me.  I took a few sips of water and only managed a couple bites of food until I sensed two sets of eyes watching me.  I forced myself to eat more.

“Is anything the matter, Sarah?  You’ve barely touched your lunch.”

I shook my head, but I knew Mr. Cartwright deserved an answer.  “I guess it’s harder being alone in the house than I let on, but Joe will be home soon.  It sounds silly, doesn’t it?  A grown woman carrying on—”

“Sarah.” Mr. Cartwright reached for my hand.  “It’s not silly at all and I’ll say it again.  Why don’t you ride back with Candy and me until Joe returns?  How ‘bout it?” 

“Absolutely not.”  I started to laugh at the absurdity of the situation.  “I’m a grown woman with a husband and a home of my own.  It’s time I start acting the part of a responsible wife and not a little girl.  I assure you, Mr. Cartwright, I’ll be just fine until Joe gets back.”

“All right,” he said.  “Now, there is one problem that needs to be solved immediately.”

“Oh?”

“Enough of this Mr. Cartwright business.  Will you please just call me Ben?”

“That I can do without having to think twice, Ben.”

“Good.  I’m glad that’s settled.”

“Thank you,” I said, “for being Joe’s father and accepting me into your family.  I know Joe and I upset you in the beginning.  The word shock was clearly written in your eyes although I can assure you, I love Joe more and more every single day we’re together.  I hope you never have reason to regret I married your son.”

“Regret?  No, my dear.  Never in a million years.  I’ve never seen Joseph so happy.  He loves you dearly.  We all do, so none of this talk about regret, you hear?”

“Thank you, Ben.”

“Well, I think we best be off.  Everyone ready?”

We all stood from our chairs and suddenly, I felt a sudden pain low in my belly and without having time to think of how it would look to Ben and Candy, I grabbed hold of the table’s edge.  Candy reached out to steady me.  The pain was sharp but quick.  I had to think fast.  I took a deep breath and stood up straight.

“How clumsy of me,” I said, laughing.  “I caught my boot heel on the chair leg.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes … I’m fine.”

Candy

I helped Sarah with her paint.  Mr. Cartwright rode off, and then I mounted my own horse.  “Ready?”

“This really isn’t necessary, Candy.”

“Boss’s orders.  You wouldn’t want me to get fired, would you?”

Sarah made a face and then laughed.  “No, Mr. Canaday.  I certainly wouldn’t want that.”

I thought back to the day Joe introduced me to Sarah and, with all the pride of a man clearly in love, he said he wanted to marry her.  There was no doubt Sarah was a beautiful woman, and Joe never could resist a pretty face, but marriage?  I really thought he’d lost his mind.  But now, seeing the two of them together, I realize what Joe had seen very early on.  She was much more than just a pretty face and somehow, Joe knew from the minute he’d laid eyes on her that she was the perfect girl for him.

Sarah’s made a home for Joe and endeared herself to the rest of the family but today, I sensed something was out of kilter.  Call it a gut feeling, but she wasn’t quite acting herself.  I couldn’t pinpoint the reason and maybe it was just the fact Joe was away, and she missed him.  I was probably reading more into the situation than necessary, but I was concerned. 

As we rode into the front yard, I expected her to invite me in for a cup of coffee like she’d always done in the past.  Since they’d moved into their new house, there were days I’d swing by and pick up Joe and we’d head out together for a day’s work, but Sarah would always insist I stay for a cup of coffee before the two of us rode off.  That was not the case today.  She even tried to bid me farewell at the turnoff to their place.  I said I would ride all the way to the front door whether she liked it or not.  Boss’s orders, I reminded her.

I hitched the horses to the railing out front and I helped her down.  “If you’ll invite me in for coffee, I’ll stable your horse.”

“Coffee?  I thought you had work to do, Candy.”

“Nope.  Free as a bird.”

“All right.”

Her nervousness increased.  Worry?  Fear?  I couldn’t quite make it out.  I led the paint to the barn and loosened the cinch and even though I was completely alone, I felt as if someone was watching.  I looked around the barn for anything out of place or unusual, but everything seemed to be in order.  I pulled off the saddle and lowered it on a rack next to the stall.  This was ridiculous.  I shook off the eerie feeling and headed toward the house.

I could smell the coffee brewing and Sarah had already set cups out on the table.  “All done,” I said.  I quickly surveyed the house; nothing strange or out of place there either.  Apparently, my feeling of dread was a bit unreasonable. 

“Have a seat, Candy.”

“Thanks.”  I took a seat at the table but I kept my eyes on Sarah.  She still seemed on edge, nervous about something.  “Anything wrong, Sarah?  Anything I can do?”  I blurted out the words without really thinking what I’d said.  It wasn’t my place to ask such personal questions.

“Cream and sugar, right?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“I told you and Mr. Cartwright I was fine.  I don’t understand all this unnecessary concern.”  She stood next to me, pouring my coffee.  “You’re both acting like a couple of old mother hens.”

“You’re right.  Just protective, I guess.  I apologize if I’ve made you feel uncomfortable.  That wasn’t my intention at all.”

“Good.  It’s settled then.  There’ll be no more worrying about me staying here alone.”

Sarah filled a plate full of cookies and set them on the table.  “I see Joe’s put on a couple of pounds.  I guess this is why?”  

“Joe could use a couple more pounds and so could you.”

I took a cookie.  “Let’s see if I can make that happen.”

Before Sarah could pour me a second cup of coffee, I told her I’d better be on my way.  As I mounted my horse, she stood and waved from the front door.  Nothing seemed amiss.  I’d let my imagination run wild, but in a way, we all felt protective.  Maybe Sarah was right.  Maybe we were all a bunch of old mother hens.

Sarah

I flopped down on the sofa.  I was buzzing with nervous energy and for good reason.  Where was Carl?  Had he suddenly had second thoughts and left without the money?  As soon as I laid my head back on the sofa, the front door opened and he walked into the house.  I jumped up and turned toward him.  “You scared me half to death walking in like that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Where were you?”

“Just riding around looking the place over.  This is a nice part of the country, Sarah.”

“Here,” I said, handing him the money.  “This is what you came for, but this is all I can do . . . no more, understood?  This is the only time I’ll be able to help you.”

“You’re a good sister, Sarah.”

“I’m not so sure my husband will agree.”

“These Cartwrights are made of money.  He’ll never even notice it’s missing.”

“That’s not fair, Carl.  My husband works hard.  He’s earned every penny I’m giving you.”  Although this wasn’t exactly the truth, Carl needed to know this was all he was getting from Joe and me.

The supper I’d planned with my brother fell flat.  The room was filled with tension, not the joyous reunion I’d hoped for.  All evening long I stewed over the thousand dollars and how I’d explain the missing money to Joe.  So when Carl kissed me goodbye and rode off the next morning, I realized things would never be the same between my brother and me again.  I cursed myself for making it so easy for Carl to slip in here and force me to make that kind of decision while Joe was away.

Joe

“Thanks, Adam.  I wouldn’t know where to start without these new plans.”

“When will you begin construction?  It’s getting awfully late in the year to start building.”

“Sarah wants the baby to stay in our room for a while anyway, so I won’t start anything till spring.  I’m just glad we have this part out of the way.  I can always start clearing the land.”

With that said, Adam and I were able to sit back and just enjoy being brothers.  I told him what was going on at home; starting with the trouble we’d had up at one of the mines.  Water seeping in was sometimes a problem but if you found the source, sometimes it was a quick repair.  We’d had heavy snowfall early in the year, which also meant a heavy freeze.  The temperatures continued to bounce back and forth hot/cold, hot/cold all season long, which often causes shifts in underground streams.  Of course, Adam was well aware of how the earth moved, but I went ahead and talked about Pa’s and my concerns anyway.

“There are too many miners standing around idle, Adam.  It takes time to pump out the excess water so you know exactly what I have to look forward to as soon as I get back home.” 

“I’m beginning to enjoy my job more and more,” he said.

Adam seemed pleased with his job.  It was work he enjoyed while Sacramento and this firm suited him well.  He filled me in on his latest project and then he told me he’d become his own boss of sorts.  “Did I mention the firm hired two new men to work under me?”

“I’m not surprised.  They found someone who could do the job well.  And, don’t forget, Hoss and I both know how much you like playing boss-man.”

“Someone had to boss you two around or nothing would have ever gotten accomplished.”

“I’d argue the point, but I’ll allow the remark this time around.”

“Smart move, little brother.”

“So you have two new assistants?”

“That’s right,” he said, smiling.

“Is that good or bad?”

“Funny you should ask,” Adam said.  “Both are competent enough although one’s quite the talker.  Kind of reminds me of a kid I grew up with who asked one question after another all day long.”

“Hey, don’t get too carried away.  I’ve already let one remark slide.

Adam chuckled but then he went on.  “I know more than I care to know about his life, and I’ve relayed bits and pieces of my own life, including the family and the life I left back on the Ponderosa.”

“That doesn’t sound like you.”

“Well, it’s different when you’re alone in a new city and everyone you meet is a stranger.”  Adam looked straight at me.  “You know how it is sometimes … different circumstances lead to different conversations—kind of like I imagine you and Sarah that first night.”

“I guess that makes sense,” I said.  “So what kind of things do you talk about?  Buildings or bridges or what?”

“No, not at all.  Mostly I talk about the Ponderosa.  Of course, I brag a little, but who wouldn’t be proud of the most perfect place on earth.”

“Well, the Ponderosa is something to be proud of.  Who could blame you for spoutin’ off?”

“I’ve even praised my “younger brother”.  I explained how you’d taken over when I left; how you built up the ranch and oversaw the mining and lumber business, and how the ranch would fail to run properly without your knowledge and expertise.”

“Wow!  You make me sound like a hero.”

“Maybe not a hero per se, but a man with a good head on his shoulders.”  Adam leaned forward in his chair and put on his serious face; one I’d seen many times before.   “I’m proud of you, Joe.  You’ve stuck by Pa and you’ve made us all proud.” 

I started to smile.  “You’re giving me a big head, Adam, but thanks just the same for the vote of confidence.”

Adam leaned back in his chair and looked straight at me.  “So, you haven’t mentioned that wife of yours more than just a couple of times since you’ve been here. That’s not like you, Joe.”

“Don’t get me started or I’ll be praising her for the rest of the day.”

“Still that good?”

“Better,” I said.  “She’s my whole life, Adam.  I realize now how Pa feels about all of us … you know.  If something happened to one of us, well, it’s the same with Sarah.  I don’t know how I’d ever live a day without her.”

“Well,” he said, “I’m glad everything’s working out.  She’s a fine woman.  Why she married the likes of you I’ll never—”

“Hey, I’m a perfect gentleman and a perfect husband.  Just ask my wife.”

“Yeah,” Adam said, shaking his head.  “Isn’t it time you started back home?”

“As a matter of fact …”

“Seriously, Joe.  I’m glad the two of you are doing well.”

“Thanks.  Me too.  Hey, when are you gonna take time to find yourself a good woman?”

“If I was anything like you, I’d meet her today and marry her tomorrow, but you know that’s not exactly my style.”

“Sometimes you’ve gotta break the mold, big brother.   Take a chance.  The possibilities are endless.”

~~~

It was noon by the time I started back to the ranch.  We said our goodbyes, and I let Adam get back to work.  I had thought of spending another night, but I was anxious to see my wife.  Leaving this early would give me a half-a-day head start. 

I often wondered if Adam was happy.  He seemed to be, but the fact that he drew up the plans for our new room after work and, in just a few days’ time, led me to believe he didn’t have much of a social life.  I kept telling myself his career was his choice; a choice that made him happy, but deep inside I still felt he belonged with us on the ranch and not out on his own.  As Pa always says, ‘we’re old enough to make our own decisions’, but it doesn’t always mean we make the right ones.  Hoss and I would remain on the Ponderosa forever.  Neither of us had the urge to take off on our own like Adam.  And now, with Sarah, and with the baby coming, I was more content than ever to watch over my family and over our land.

When I pulled up in front of the house, Sarah ran out to greet me.  I picked her up and, as I held her in my arms, I swung her around in circles, listening to her squeal.  “Did you miss me?”  I said.

“Miss you?  Take me inside, and I’ll show you how much.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

Although I was filthy from the long ride home, it didn’t seem to matter to my wife.  Sarah took my hand and dragged me into the bedroom.  I threw my hat on the chair and leaned down to untie the rawhide holding my holster but as soon as I stood back up, it was Sarah who finished the job.  She loosened my gun belt and slipped my jacket from my shoulders before pressing her lips to mine.  One by one she undid the buttons of my shirt while I gazed into those gorgeous, blue eyes.  I was suddenly tumbling backward onto the bed after my gentle, petite wife gave me a hefty push. 

“My wife the brute,” I said, smiling and reaching my hands up toward her.

“You have no idea.”

She hoisted up her skirts and climbed on top of me, but I grabbed her around the waist and whirled her onto her back, giving me the upper hand.  As I loosened the sash at the top of her blouse, I leaned in for another kiss.  “I missed you so much.”

We made love twice that afternoon.  Sarah was all over me and although I had no complaints, I’d never seen her quite this assertive.  If absence makes the heart grow fonder, I’d be more than willing to throw in a few more overnight trips seeing that returning was far beyond any of my expectations.

I held her in my arms and we talked about the new plans Adam had drawn up and when I would start the addition.  I told her about Adam going on and on about the Ponderosa to some new guy and how he’d made me out the hero.  But when I asked about Carl’s visit, she didn’t have much to say other than he’d stayed for supper that night and rode on back to Sacramento the next morning.

“Did you two have a falling out?”  I asked, remembering how excited she’d been upon receiving her brother’s letter.

“No … I don’t know.  It just wasn’t the same without you here.”

“I’m sorry things didn’t work out the way you’d planned.”

“He has his own life, Joe; a different life from you and me.  You’re my family now.  I don’t need Carl like I once did.  I depended on him for everything; for food, clothes, and a place to live for so long, I sometimes feel I owe him.  But I owe him nothing.  Not anymore.”

Sarah wrapped her arms tighter around me and I held her close.  I could feel slight tremors, and I couldn’t help but think there was more to the story.  She wasn’t ready to tell me everything that happened and that was okay.   I didn’t want to press; I knew how it felt to be cornered and not ready to talk.  If there were something else worth talking about, she’d tell me in her own time.

~~~

A week had passed since I returned home from Sacramento. More often than not, Sarah and I spend Sunday afternoons at Pa’s.  After church, we all ride back together, partly for work, but mainly for Sunday dinner with the family.  Hop Sing goes all out, usually fixing my favorites, and Pa, Hoss and I discuss the upcoming week and what needs to be done.

Life on a ranch was never routine or mundane.  Just trying to keep afloat is often a major challenge.  This week presented an ongoing challenge.  The mine was still filling with water, which caused major delays by constantly dragging men away from their work in order to pump out the excess water.  This type of situation didn’t happen often, but the bottom line was keeping men safe and making a profit.  I’d mentioned this to Adam while I was in Sacramento, and I knew it was my call to make things right.

“I’ll go,” I said to Pa.

“You’ll probably have to spend a couple nights up there, Joe.”

“I can’t say I’m thrilled about that, but I don’t have much choice.”

“Maybe I should break the news to Sarah,” Pa said, kiddingly.

“I’m a big boy now besides, let’s just say returning home will be … um, well worth the time spent away.”

I had not married a complainer.  Sarah took my leaving in stride.  “How long will you have to be up there, Joe?”

“It depends.  I’ve got to find the water source and that could take hours or possibly days.”

“You’ll let the other men crawl down in that mine, won’t you?”

“Sure, as much as possible,” I lied.  There was a reason for me handling the problem rather than Hoss.  I was the runt of the family and, good or bad, I was able to fit into tight places where my brother could not.  “Nothing will happen to me.  Not with you and the baby on the way.  Believe me.  My days of taking unnecessary chances are well behind me.”

“I’ve heard stories,” she said.   “Joe Cartwright dives in head first—worries about consequences later.”

“Those are kid stories, Sarah.”

“How about that time you went after Red Twilight?”

“I was a kid besides; he deserved worse than he got.”

“Let’s see,” she said, tapping her finger against her chin.  I didn’t want to tell her how much she reminded me of my father.  He, too, thought tapping his finger helped him think.  “How about the time you rode into Paiute country so you could take that Indian princess to a dance.”

“Where do you get all this stuff?”

“I listen.  I hear things.  It seems both of your brothers like to tell tales about their adventurous little brother.”

“Maybe so, but those old stories have nothing to do with the jobs I have now?”

“It has everything to do with it, Joe.”  Sarah stood from her chair and approached me with a very stern look on her face.  “It means you have to use your head and make sure you don’t get into a situation where there’s no way out.”

“Sweetheart, listen to me.  You’re talking about things that happened ten . . . maybe twelve years ago.  People change.  I’ve changed.  Those stories are older than dirt, and my brothers still seem to find amusement by telling and retelling all that ancient history every time there’s a lull in the conversation.”

“I still worry.”

“Well, don’t.”  I wrapped my arms around my wife and locked my fingers together behind her waist.  “There’s no reason for concern.  Nothing will go wrong at the mine.  Just think of it as an annoying drip at the kitchen pump—nothing more than a simple repair.”

I kissed my Sarah goodbye.  There wasn’t time for anything more.  “Love you,” I said, turning in my saddle and waving as I rode away.

                                               Book 5

Candy

I met Joe on the road to the mine.  Mr. Cartwright, being the kind of father he was, didn’t want Joe up at the mine alone if there was more trouble than he could deal with.  I questioned his lack of faith, but he was quick to set me straight.

“Angry men lead to angry situations, Candy.  We can’t afford to give them full pay when the mine isn’t operating.  I’ve agreed to half-wages, but that’s the best I can do.  Some will take it in stride, others won’t.  These are hard, tough men, and I’d feel much more comfortable having someone watching Joe’s back.”

“You’re right, Mr. Cartwright.”

“Now, if you run into trouble neither of you can handle, send someone down the mountain for Hoss and me.  If need be, I’ll call in Roy Coffee, but I don’t think it will come to that.”

“Okay.  I’m on my way.”

~~~

“Why are you here?”  Joe asked as I caught up to him on the road leading to the mine.

“Nothin’ better to do.”

“Pa send you?”

“Yep.”

“Figures.”

Joe smiled and laughed it off and we rode together, both knowing his pa would have it no other way.  As we approached the mine it was obvious the men were pumping again.  Twenty to thirty men sat around playing cards and quickly hid their bottles of rotgut when Joe and I rode into camp.  They pumped in shifts; it took five men at a time to siphon the water out.  I took care of the horses while Joe approached the miners.

Sarah

There was a knock on the door and, being alone, I was hesitant to open it for just anyone.  “Who’s there?”

“Open the door and find out.”

“Carl?”  I slid the bolt and opened the front door.

“Hello, Sarah,” he said.  I felt my skin crawl and I hoped I was wrong, but when he stood there smiling, I knew exactly why he’d come back to this house.

“I have no more money, Carl, so if that’s why you’re here—”

He closed the door behind him and walked in as though he owned the place and everything inside.  He sat down in Joe’s chair and propped his filthy boots on my clean table.  “You see, I’ve run through the first thousand so it was time to pay my baby sister a second visit.”

“How could you have possibly … and get your feet off my table!”

He dropped his feet to the floor.  “Look, Sarah.  We’re family.  Who else could I turn to?”

“Well, it certainly isn’t me.”  My heart pounded.  I walked up behind the sofa and rested my hands on its high back.  The look on Carl’s face frightened me, but I kept on talking.  “I have nothing else to give you.  Don’t you understand?  There’s no more money.”

“I’m your own flesh and blood, Sarah.  I don’t know why you’re acting this way?”

“Because it’s not my money to give, that’s why.”

“I’ll bet that husband of yours didn’t even miss the first installment, did he?  He won’t miss the second either.”

“That’s not the point, and don’t you ever consider that thousand dollars an installment.  It was a one-time loan and if you haven’t come to repay the debt, we have nothing more to talk about.” 

“I believe I mentioned the money was gone, Sarah.  I won’t be paying back any money to Joe Cartwright, not now, not ever.”

“Then get out.  I trusted you, Carl.  I trusted you to do the right thing.”

“I think you misunderstand the reason for my visit.”

“Well, you’ll not get another penny from me.”

Carl stood and walked toward the window at the front side of the house.  “I think I will, Sarah.  In fact, I’m sure I will.”

“Not without talking to my husband first.”

“Sit yourself down, Sarah, and let me tell you how it is.”

Joe

“I’m heading down.  You stay up top, Candy, and keep an eye on the men.”

“Will do.  Holler if you need my help.”

There’s nothing I dreaded more than going underground.  How men did this on a daily basis was beyond me.  Just the thought that at any moment there could be a cave-in and bury us all alive, gave me the willies so bad I had to take several deep breaths in order to take my first steps forward; into the abyss, the nightmarish hell that nearly scared the pants off of me.

I held the lantern at eye level, feeling soft, slippery mud under my boots, my riding boots, not miner’s boots, which had completely different soles and made walking on uneven earth much safer under these conditions.  If the ground was saturated this high, I knew we were in trouble.  Pumping wasn’t the answer and, if worse came to worse; we might have to close this mine down forever.

As I walked farther into darkness, I thought of Sarah and the little white lie I’d been forced to tell.  “I’ll send someone else down,” I’d said.  But was it really a lie or was I just consoling a worried wife?  We’d vowed to always be truthful with each other but this was different; this was part of running the ranch, and I didn’t want her to sit home and worry the whole time I was away.  Besides, nothing was going to happen.  I had too much going for me and, just as I’d told Sarah, I was older and much wiser than that kid who ran off into Paiute country unafraid of any consequences I might have to endure.  That was childhood fun.  This is my job.

When I nearly lost my footing on the slippery earth, my heart skipped a beat, and I found it necessary to run my free hand along the mine’s rocky walls to steady myself.  The feel of something tangible gave me little comfort as I tried desperately to keep my mind on the task at hand.  Just like the panic I’d felt at Eagle’s Nest all those years ago, fear was quickly taking hold of me now.

Some may say that fear of heights and going underground was far removed from each other; two completely different aspects.  I’ll tell you right now they’re not; there’s no difference at all.  Fear is fear and as I put one foot in front of the other, making my way down, I had fear written clearly across my face.  Joe Cartwright; terrified with a capital T. 

My father was well aware as I clung to the rocks, sprawled out flat on my belly, and stared up at my rifle at Eagle’s Nest.  I was trapped—near panic—by my own sense of fear.  Pa did his best to rationalize the situation, but nothing he said was going to make me inch my way up that mountain.  I cried on that mountain.  I cried because I was weak.  I cried because I was frightened.  I cried because I thought it was childish for a grown man to act like a scared little boy.

My heart pounded now, just as it had when I clung to that mountain.  Fear for fear’s sake had kept me from reaching another few feet for my rifle and as a result, I kept telling myself this was my job; I didn’t have time to waste or let my fear show to hardcore miners.  I was their boss.  I was the man in charge.  I traveled deeper into the mine.

Sarah

Carl had left me speechless.  Mostly, I was in shock as I listened to why I would gladly hand over the money without a word to my husband.  My head roared and my body trembled as Carl confessed to one robbery after another since we’d left Tennessee.  I told myself they were lies—all lies—but Carl knew too much, he said too much for me not to believe every word was true.  How had I not known?  How had I been so naïve?  How would I ever explain this to Joe or to the rest of his family?

I was a fraud; my whole life with Carl had been a pretense, a deception.  He explained that with me along, no one suspected him of being an outlaw or part of a gang.  I added presentability as we moved from town to town; a possible wife or sister as we climbed down off a stage.  Carl even used a disguise of sorts.  He often grew a beard for his line of work but, before we moved on again, he was clean-shaven.  I never once caught on to his antics.  He had hooked up with different men en route and still, I had never put two-and-two together.  Oh, what a fool I’d been.  I was so ashamed and so desperately torn over what to do next.

Joe

I walked deeper and deeper into the mine. After breathing a sigh of relief, I still clung to the safety net of the wall, but I let my lantern drop to my side when I found a five-man crew, pumping out water at the lowest level, five stories down.  Cold jagged stone surrounded me in this blackened world that contained underground riches.  I ran my fingers along rock that was damp to the touch; rock that could easily close in on me like the lid of a coffin.  Desperately, I chose to force my thoughts on Sarah and the baby.  I tried to keep my head; tried to tell myself this was just a job; a necessary job and, when I finished this minor repair, I would again see daylight, I would again see my beautiful wife.

“Hey, fellas,” I said as I walked up behind the five men at the base of the mine.  “Having much luck?”

“Slow goin’, Mr. Cartwright.  Water’s comin’ in faster’n we can pump it out.  This whole shaft may be worthless if we can’t find the source.”

There were enough lamps lit in the immediate area that it gave off the illusion of daylight.  I was more comfortable now than I had been while winding my way down through narrow tunnels to this lowest level of the mine.  I could see the headlines now.  “Boss keels over in mineshaft.  Miners drown in a pool of water when attempting the rescue.”

“Okay—what can I do to help?”

Sarah

Carl had taken on a new name along with his new life of crime.  Had it been to protect the family, I didn’t know.  I didn’t ask because there was no family left to protect except me.  What came next was the way Carl clarified a certain captain’s actions with absolute loathing as he transported me through the events leading up to my brothers’ deaths.  His voice never faltered.  He talked as though he was in a trance; as if he was right back on that battlefield at Shiloh.

“We marched forward under General Johnston’s command.  Union soldiers had already landed and taken their position on the far side of the Tennessee.  Our goal was to push them back away from the river and into the swamps of Owl Creek.  But battle lines became confused; rain battered our bodies and both of our brothers were still only playing at war.  Even with the distant thunder of artillery, they never understood the seriousness of war.  And when we reached an abandoned camp, I’ll bet a hundred young men stopped dead in their tracks to forage for any remains of food left by Union soldiers.   Billy and Andy were two of those men.

“We were all starving but still, it was no excuse not to march as we’d been ordered.  I tried to haul Billy and Andy along with me, but they were both laughing like kids as they grabbed handfuls of jerky and stuffed stale biscuits into their pants pockets.  I screamed at each of them to get movin’ or I’d give them both the beatin’ they deserved.”

Carl’s body stiffened and he turned and beat his fisted hands against the stone fireplace until I thought he’d soon break bones in each.  When he finally stopped pounding, he reached up and grabbed Joe’s rifle from the rack above.  He whirled around to face me and, holding the gun at eye level, he pointed it straight toward my face.  Suddenly, he fell slack, the anger was momentarily gone.  I remained frozen in place, but my hands covered my mouth and tears ran from my eyes as Carl dropped the rifle to the floor.

“Captain Hastings rode up from behind.”  Carl’s voice took on an eerie calm as he finished the story.  “The boys were hungry; they’d only stopped for—”

My brother’s eyes closed and took deep, heavy breaths until he could find his voice once again.  “Shots rang out, but it wasn’t the Union; it wasn’t the enemy … it was Hastings.  He shot both our brothers in the back.  He killed his own men to force the remaining foot soldiers to move on.”

“Oh, God—” I gasped. 

“My rifle was loaded.  Hastings, sitting tall in the saddle like a decorated general, became the hated enemy.  I raised the rifle to my shoulder.  I took careful aim.  I shot the bastard dead.”

~~~

With hatred in his heart, Carl had used the captain’s name.  He’d been arrested early in our travels but broke out of jail and, from that day on, he’d forever be known as Sam Hastings.  Wanted posters would ring out the name Sam Hastings rather than Carl Collins.  I tried to catch my breath after the name took hold and memory served.  I’d heard the name Hastings before. 

Joe mumbled in his sleep and, although I listened carefully, his words were unclear.  But when it happened a second time, my husband woke suddenly and, with a sheen of sweat covering his face and chest, I reached out for him because I, too, became frightened.  He was unfocused and his breathing came in hard, uneven gasps.  Throwing back the blanket, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and planted his elbows on his knees before cupping his head in his hands.

“Joe?”  I called softly.

I had spoken his name but it took a few moments before it registered where he was and who was calling out to him.  I remember the night clearly as if it was only yesterday.  “I’m sorry,” he’d said, turning back and facing me on the bed.

I lit the lamp and turned it low as Joe slipped back under the covers.  He wrapped his arm around me, pulled me to his chest and he shared a disturbing account of the man he knew as Sam Hastings.  My eyes filled with tears as he told me how he’d all but given up hope of his father surviving the bullet wound.  I could hear the pain in his voice, and I held him tight as he described the daily routine of tending to his father. 

He talked of his father’s God that night and how he’d questioned a God that would take his father’s life.  He questioned his own faith more than once, and I let him ramble and get it all said without interruption.  Before he fell back asleep, he pulled me closer and told me the simple act of sharing the horror of those long, lost days brought a sense of peace he hadn’t felt since that weeklong period of his life.

It was morning, over breakfast, when Joe told me the rest of the story.  He didn’t waste words, but he told me of Hastings’ return, and how he and his gang broke into the house—how Hastings had climbed the stairs and shot him in the back.

And now, as I stood in the same house with this madman, this killer, I realized the obvious.  Everything suddenly appeared as clear as the noonday sun.  Carl couldn’t be seen at my weddings.  Joe knew him as Sam Hastings; Candy did too.  Disappearing from this house the day I went to the bank was a cautionary measure for Carl in case I brought the law or someone like Candy who would recognize him right off.

 ~~~ 

Nothing more was said that night.  I cried into my pillow for what seemed like hours, and when I crawled out of bed at sunrise, I found Carl sitting on the sofa with his feet propped up on the table.  The house felt cold, and I soon realized he had let the fire go out.  I hadn’t even thought to come out and add more logs during the night; my husband always took care of such things.  I knelt down next to the wood box and started building a fire.

“I could have done that,” Carl said.

“Well, you didn’t, did you?”

“I didn’t think it proper for a guest to have to do all the work.”

Just like Papa.  “I hoped maybe you’d acquired a conscious and be gone before I woke up this morning.”

“Gone?  I don’t have what I came for.”

“I won’t give you any more money, Carl.  I won’t be a party to your blackmail.”

“Blackmail?”

I stood and reached for a match although, before I knelt back down to light the fire, I turned and looked down at my brother; smug and content to make my life a living hell.  “I know more than you think I do, Carl.  I know about your dealings with the Cartwrights.  I know you shot Joe’s father during a bank robbery.  I know you showed up at their house only days later.  I know you shot my husband in the back inside his own home.”  I lost my calm after I’d relayed those simple truths to my brother.  “How could you, Carl?  How could you?”  I screamed.

“So the cat’s outta the bag.”

“Is that all you have to say?  No apology, no I’m sorry, Sarah?  ‘The cat’s outta the bag?’  What kind of fool thing is that to say?”

When Carl stood up from the sofa, he took a step toward me.  I stepped away from the fireplace, farther away from the madman he’d become.  Fury beat hard inside my chest.  I wanted him out.  I never wanted to lay eyes on him again.

“You think these well-to-do pillars of the community will want to look at your face when they find out the truth?  It’s doubtful, little sister, so why don’t you just do as I ask and no one gets hurt.”

“Why are you doing this to me … to us?”

“It’s simple, Sarah.  Because I can.”

I turned and walked away.  This wasn’t my brother.  This was some stranger who called himself my brother.

“I’m gettin’ too old for runnin’ and hidin’.  Now, with your husband’s money, I can live a normal life; a life you and I should have had all along.  No worries, no gang to watch over or wonder if they’re gonna open their drunken mouths and spout out trade secrets to the wrong people.  I’m tired, Sarah, and you can either see things my way or . . . your husband pays dearly for your stupidity.  You see, I’ve known Joe Cartwright much longer than you have.  We’re practically old friends.”

“Do you know how much Joe hates you for putting a bullet in his father?  You nearly killed the man.  Don’t you feel the slightest bit of remorse for what you did?”

“Sorry, Sis.  It was just a job.”

“A job?  Killing people is just a job?  I always knew you had a mean streak, Carl, but I never had any idea what kind of man you really were.”

“I gave you a good life, Sarah.  I never heard any complaints.”

“Had I known, I never would have—”

I needed air.  I needed to be away from Carl.  I wrapped my dressing gown tight around my waist and walked out the front door.  Tears clouded my eyes as I tried to look across our land; Joe’s and mine.  We’d built our home in this special place; a place he’d always come to as a child.  A place he loved as much as he loved me. 

I looked to the heavens.  I searched for that God Joe had talked so freely about that night.  I’d betrayed my husband when I didn’t tell him about the first installment.  Did I really believe it was a loan?  I didn’t know what I believed.  What could I do to save this marriage now?  Where were the answers I so desperately needed to find?

My prince believed in fairies and I in fairytales.  My fairytale had come true the day I married Joe, but now the fairytale princess was clashing swords with the fire-breathing dragon, and she failed to see any means of escape.  Her prince would find out nothing; he would not be brought into her world of deception or know the shame she felt. 

Joe

“Are you a good swimmer, Mr. Cartwright?”

“A what?”

“We need a volunteer to go below the waterline and feel around with his hands.  That’s the only way we’ll know for sure what size the gap is we’re dealin’ with.”

The low and constant drone of the pumping action beat in time with my heart.  Five men operated the machine but it wasn’t good enough.  Someone had to go underwater and that someone would have to be me.  My promise to Sarah would be broken but this was my job.  It had to be done.

Sarah

The dragon took a familiar stance.  I was suddenly reduced to that small child, who was frightened of her father, who cowered in fear when too much whiskey kept him from holding his tongue.  When hiding in the dark rather than fighting her way back from his contemptible words held her prisoner and, in turn, made her feel small and undeserving of a father’s love.  The young girl, who never measured up, who wasn’t strong enough to work the farm like her brothers, who was cast aside as a nobody—a good-for-nothing—who feared the world around her.  I stared into the dragon’s eyes. 

“Let’s get one thing straight, Sarah.  This isn’t a game.  People die if they don’t do as I say.”

“Is that all you think about?  Killing people?  What’s happened to you, Carl?  Why are you behaving like this?”

“Because it’s owed me, Sarah.” 

I spat out words rather than lurking in that dark hiding place I’d once thought safe.  Carl’s voice remained forceful, and I trembled with fear when he spoke.  But this time I stood to my full height; stood straight as an arrow and fought my inner fear.  I would leave that young girl behind and fight the dragon.  I was stronger now.  I had the gift of Joe’s love and for that one simple reason, for the prince in my fairytale; I would stand up to Carl.

“Owed?  Owed what?”  I was confused now.  I questioned his words.

“Because I fought in that damned war and came away empty-handed.  Because Ma and Pa and Billy and Andy are all dead and for what?  What did the war prove?  We lost our home, our way of life.  We lost everything while these bastards out here in the west made a killing at our expense.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Silver and gold, Sarah.  We would have won that war if not for the likes of northern sympathizers like the Cartwrights, who financed the war effort and eventually brought us to our knees.  Don’t be so naïve.  Why do you think they’re so wealthy now?  We paid for their wealth with our family’s lives.  People like the Cartwrights owe us.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.  “Have you always thought this way?  Is this what you really believe?”

“Damn right, I do.”

“So you’re ready to kill my husband, the father of my child, because you’re under some crazy notion he owes you.”

“Yes he owes me,” Carl shouted.  “His whole damn family owes me.”

I was losing my mind listening to Carl and his deranged way of twisting the facts.  Was that why he robbed those banks?  Because people out west owed him?  I was at a loss for words.  How could I make him see how wrong his thinking had become?  I crossed the room still absorbing his words, but then a second thought crossed my mind.  I turned back to Carl.

“Tell me.  How did you know Joe would be gone from the house today?”

“I have my ways, little sister.  I have connections, not only here in Nevada but in California, too.  Sometimes luck falls into your lap and information flows like a fast running stream.  My informants do their job well.  They keep me well informed of the comings and goings of your precious husband.”

I remembered something Joe had said when he returned from his trip; something about Adam having a new assistant.  “You do have a job in Sacramento, don’t you?  That was the plan all along.”

“I see you already know, Sarah, so let’s not beat a dead horse.”

“Adam Cartwright?”

“I always knew you had a brain in that pretty little head of yours.”

“This is insane, Carl.”

“Is it?”

“If you think you’ll get another dime from me or my husband—”

“If that’s the way you want it.  You have a choice, Sarah.  You head straight to the bank or I head straight to the mine.”

“You wouldn’t.”

Carl eased the gun from his holster and ran his fingers along its smooth and shiny barrel.  “It’s business, Sarah, strictly business.”

Joe

It’s funny how the mind wanders at unsuspecting times.  I thought back to when I was about twelve years old, and a bunch of us boys used to go swimming up at Turner’s Lake on Saturday afternoons.  That was until the accident and a good friend wound up dead, not because he didn’t use his head, but because accidents happen.

We would dive from a giant boulder a few feet above the waterline and into the murky, cat-tailed water below.   One boy followed the next, laughing and carrying on like young boys often tend to do.  But after an hour or so we became careless and took chances although we were not truly aware of the danger we imposed on each other.  We piggybacked ourselves and played war on top of that boulder.  We fought to the finish and the two, unlucky, warriors would fall to their death, splashing into the lake, pronouncing the other team of two the victors in battle.  The winners then took on the next brave souls, gouging with willowy sticks we used as epées of which I was a very proficient part of my team. 

Then, toward the end of the day, the unthinkable happened.  Tommy Davies didn’t come up out of the water.  I was the first to react; to dive in and swim to the exact spot where my friend had fallen into the lake.  With a frantic pace, I felt only rocks and tall grasses but no Tommy.  I came up for air and dove down again.  My eyes were closed in the dark, muddy water but this time I touched Tommy’s hand.  With an uneasy feeling, I grabbed hold and struggled to pull him to the surface.  Mitch jumped in and helped me get Tommy across the lake, but when the two of us pulled him up and onto dry land, it was too late.  Tommy Davies was already dead.

Now, as I stand here in the depths of the mine, I have to force those ancient memories out of my mind.  I was not that young boy who feared ever going back to Turner’s Lake, who kept his distance forever.  I was a man and there was nothing to fear, only a small repair in a small pool of water, and I’d be home with my wife in no time.

“There’s no other way to find the source?”  I asked, still remembering the awkward sensation of touching not seeing.

“I’m afraid not, Mr. Cartwright.  None of the men here volunteered.  Ain’t like it’s written down nowhere in our contract that any of us gotta dive under water.”

“You’re right, of course.  Guess I’ll see what I can do.”

I didn’t know the miner’s name, but I handed the man the lantern I’d carried down with me and stripped off my jacket, which I should have left hanging with my hat and gunbelt on my saddle.  The water was already knee deep where I stood, but where the men were actually standing, pumping, it was up past their waist.  The source was somewhere in that deeper pool and I’d been elected to find it.  I took a deep breath and lowered my head under water.

Sarah

Carl holstered his weapon and walked out the door.  No goodbye, no second chance for me to change my mind and give in to his demands.  I stood at the front window and watched as he mounted his horse and rode away.  My easy, carefree life with my handsome prince had turned into a nightmare; one I couldn’t distance myself from anymore. 

I changed into my riding clothes, saddled my paint, and rode towards the main house.  When I galloped into the yard, Hoss was helping Hop Sing hold a gun in his hand, trying to get him to aim at tin cans he’d lined up on the corral fence.  He excused himself and came to help me down, but there was no time for gentlemanly gestures or idle chit-chat.  I’d already dismounted, and I was running toward the front door.

I found Ben sitting behind his desk and Hoss on my heels.  “I need help,” I begged out of desperation.  “I need help now!”

He scooted his chair back and moved to the front of the desk.  “What’s happened?  What’s the matter, Sarah?”

“It’s Joe.  He … he’s in danger up at the mine.”

“How could you possibly know what’s—”

“He just is.  You have to believe me.  There’s a man riding up there right now and he’s planning to kill my husband.”

“I don’t understand.  What man?”

I couldn’t form the words.  I couldn’t let my secret out in the open. “There’s no time to explain.  We need to hurry.”

“Saddle the horses, Hoss.  You stay here, Sarah.  Hoss and I will ride—”

“NO!  It’s my fault Joe’s in danger.  I know the man who’s after him.  I’ll recognize him.  You won’t.”

“All right,” Ben said, gripping my shoulders.  “It’s against my better judgment, but all right.”

“We need to go now!”

There was panic in my voice, but it got Hoss and Ben moving faster than I could have hoped.  Carl had a generous head start but within minutes we were on our way, riding faster than I thought Mr. Cartwright was able.  I would have gone alone, but I had no idea where the mine was located; I had to assume Carl did.  The entire story would have to be told, but not until I knew Joe was safe.  There would be plenty of time to explain later.

Joe

I dropped down into the pool.  Guiding my hands along the rough wall deep below the waterline, I felt for a fast-running current between rocks, but I felt nothing.  When I came up for air, I kicked at the rock wall out of sheer frustration before going under a second time.  The water was rising at the rate of probably an inch a minute and was halfway up my chest when I surfaced again for air.

“Can you pump any faster?  Can we lower the water level at all?” 

The general consensus was no. 

I took another deep breath and plunged myself to the bottom of the pool.  Feeling slowly along every rock for any apparent gap and all the while, I tried to distance myself from long-ago memories.  But as my fingers moved along the jagged edge, it brought back to mind each and every minute of that horrifying day.  Suddenly, I was that frightened twelve-year-old boy.  With every movement of my hands, visions of Tommy’s vacant eyes stared back at mine.  I pushed myself up, forcing my head above water and gasping for air to refill my struggling lungs.  I fought hard to rid the vibrant picture of Tommy’s pale, white hand, floating freely, tormenting me twenty years after the fact. 

I felt the same chill in my bones as the day I pulled Tommy’s lifeless body from the bottom of the lake—the day I had to tell his ma and pa their only son was dead.  The nights I cried myself to sleep, trying to deny the harsh reality of death.  I cried for the innocence of young boys everywhere.  I never went back to Turner’s Lake; I never played piggyback wars again.

Loose rock and bits of small debris were swirling in a circular motion due to the pounding action of the pump.  I filled my lungs and headed back down again.  With only my hands as guides, I reached down to the lowest part of the wall adjacent to the pump and finally, I felt a rush of water, but I needed air.  I pushed up for another quick breath and relayed the good news. 

“I found it,” I said still gasping for air.  “The break is behind the pump.” 

Finally, I’d determined where the break was located, and now I knew why no one had detected the flow of water before.  The source was directly behind the pump, separating the stream in to two equal parts.  The question now was how big was the hole and where was the spring located?  I lowered myself again and cupped my hand to block the flow but water came hard and fast.  I pushed up again.

The waterline had risen nearly a foot since I’d started the search.  It was coming in faster than the miners could pump it out.  “Let’s get outta here,” I said.  “It won’t be long till we’re all underwater.”

There were six of us; five miners and me.  Normally, the ground was a gentle slope up, but this pool of water had caused a large cavity at this end of the shaft.  We literally had to crawl out through a sea of mud and silt until we reached solid rock and could make our way back to the entrance.  Two men stood above the rest of us, holding up extra lanterns and reaching down toward the pool to help us climb out.  I let the miners go first.

An unexpected surge of water from behind the pump thrust the three of us forward and against the frontmost wall of the pool.  Only one man had climbed to the top.  But, when the water rushed in, all three miners panicked and ran when they heard the sudden whoosh, leaving three of us still trying to claw our way up the muddy sides of the water-filled crater.

“GO!” I hollered at the men in front of me.  The rocks were slick with sludge, and even with miners’ boots, the men struggled to climb their way out.  One man fell back nearly toppling over me, and when I reached out and grabbed his shirt, we both fell back into the mix of water, mud, and debris.  I held on tight and, when his head popped up from under the water, I breathed a quick sign of relief.  “You okay?”

“Yeah … yeah, I’m okay.”

“Good, let’s go.”

Water flowed in at a frantic rate.  Nothing would stop it now.  “Grab him,” I called out to the only miner left up above.” 

Luckily, the area was still lit with lanterns attached to rock walls.  Thank God, I couldn’t imagine fighting our way out in the darkness.  The man above laid belly down and grabbed the hand of the miner alongside me.  He pulled while I pushed from behind.  Another man safe and now, I was the only man left to pull out from the pool. 

The earth began to shake.

Ben

The mine was just over the next rise, but the terrain was steep with bits of loose shale underfoot.  We couldn’t push the horses any faster, and we were still a good fifteen to twenty minutes away.  I hadn’t taken time to ask Sarah more questions although I had many, but one came to mind immediately. Who was this man out gunning for Joe?  I could tell by the frightened look on her face when she burst through the front door, and her strident determination to get to the mine as quickly as humanly possible, she was definitely afraid for my son.  A man she knew, a man she could recognize but we couldn’t.  I was completely baffled so I did all I could at the time.  I prayed for my youngest son.

We rode straight to the mine’s entrance to dismount.  Miners were crowding the entrance and were all standing shoulder to shoulder, yelling out names unknown.  “Where’s Joe?”  I hollered when I spotted Candy.

“Down below, Mr. Cartwright.  They’re pumpin’ out water but—”

Candy’s words were cut short when we all turned our eyes to find two miners, struggling, forcing their way to the entrance and into the crowd of men.  When a third man appeared, I’d hoped it was Joe, but the man was unfamiliar to me although, when I studied him carefully, I saw he was carrying my son’s green jacket.  “Where’s my son?”  I hollered as I pushed my way through the crowd.

“Below … water’s comin’ in fast … three men still—”

“Still what?”

“Trapped …”

I glanced quickly at Hoss and grabbed a lantern from one of the men.  “How far down?”

“Fifth …”

“Fifth level,”  Hoss whispered.  “Joe’s trapped down there.”

“Let’s go!”  Hoss’ comment only added to my concern.  No time to waste hunting down a gunman now … unless he was down in the mine already.  Hoss and Candy were right behind me.  The ground was damp and slick, making treading along the slippery surface more of a challenge than I cared to think about.  “Careful, you two,” I warned, glancing over my shoulder.

“Right behind you, Pa.”

I held the lamp up high enough to see where we were going, keeping the palm of my hand flattened against the wall to steady myself on the uneven ground.  I could hear Hoss and Candy, following right behind but nothing else.  No cries for help, no echo of a pump—nothing. 

“We just passed level three,” Candy said.

The earth began to thunder under our feet.  We stopped, each man catching his breath until the rumbling stopped.  “Let’s move.” 

“We best hurry, Pa.”

“I know, I know.  I’m going as fast as I can.”

Panic set in as a second rumble, much more forceful than the first, nearly brought the three of us down.  I kept my hand on the wall, but the lantern was swaying erratically as rock and debris came crashing down from above.  My heart pounded.  All I could think about was Joe trapped down below and the biggest question of all.  Would we make it in time? 

“Level four,” Hoss announced.  “You hear anything?”

“Not a thing.”

I knew what that meant.  So did Candy and Hoss when no one called out for help and no one was climbing the uneven path toward us.  Although I wanted to share bits of optimism with the two men behind me, I could barely think straight myself.  What condition would Joe be in before we made it down another level?  The ground began to shake.  I stumbled forward and Hoss grabbed my arm. 

“You okay, Pa?”

“I’m fine.”  I shook off my son’s sturdy grip.  “Not much farther now.”

I stopped again when rumblings—an all-out cave-in—sounded below.  A cloud of dust and dirt blew up through the narrow walls, and the three of us were forced to turn our backs and rush uphill when half the mountain started tumbling down around us.  We knelt down on the ground, cowering next to the wall and covering our heads from flying fragments of rock.  It seemed like hours of thunderous clamor, but it was only seconds before a wall of rock separated me from my youngest son. 

“We’ll get him out, Pa.  I’ll go back and get some men.  “I promise … we’ll get him out.”

“You stay here,” Candy said.  “I’ll go.”

I heard Hoss’ voice but I barely comprehended his words.  I stood, staring at the rock isolating me from Joe.  I lifted the lantern high above my head to get an overall view.  A solid wall of rock blocked any attempt at rescue.  I wasn’t a miner; I didn’t have the skills or the training needed to plow ahead.  I wasn’t sure where to start.  How long could Joe last without air?  How long would it take before Candy returned with more men?

Candy

I ran like the devil up the slick, muddy floor to the mine’s entrance.  I hollered before I ever saw daylight.  “We need men—men, and shovels.  There’s been a cave-in.  Three men trapped.”  No one moved.  No one was willing to go down into the mine.  “Now!  I need help.  Now,” I begged.  “My best friend’s down there.”  I stared straight into one man’s eyes; I grabbed the front of his shirt.  “Why won’t you help me?”  The man didn’t move.  He stood and stared right past me.

It took time but finally, I had a handful of men who were willing to follow me down to the fifth.  I stood in front of one of the stationary miners.  “I hope you’re never buried alive.  Believe me, Mister, that’s where you’ll stay,” I said, grabbing his shovel.  “I better not see your face when I get back.”

Along with seven other miners, I headed back down.  These men knew the ins and outs—knew what they were doing—unlike Hoss and Mr. Cartwright and me, who were ranchers, not miners.  When we reached the blockage, Hoss and Ben had already begun tearing the top rocks away. 

“Wait!” a miner hollered.  “Hold up a minute.”

Mr. Cartwright held up his lantern and recognized the man who spoke.  “Alex,” he said.  “Little Joe’s in there with two other men.”

“I know he is, Sir, but hold off and let me take a look.”

“All right, but they’ve been in there almost twenty minutes.  I don’t know how much air they have left.”

“You and Hoss step back.  Let me crawl up just to make sure we’re not gonna cause any more damage.”

Alex was blessed with a calm soothing voice and, as Ben and Hoss did as he asked, he climbed up the rock wall, taking their place.  My guess was this type of catastrophe was second nature to a man like Alex, but it wasn’t to me or any other man who called himself a rancher.  I let out a long sigh of relief when Hoss’ boots hit the ground and he came to stand next to me. 

“Pa’s awful worried.”

“He has every right.”

“No, I’m afraid for him, Candy.  I ain’t never seen him this upset.”

I looked up at Hoss and what I saw etched across his forehead were worry lines, but were his thoughts more for Joe or his pa?  Joe had been through many rough patches before due to life-threatening bullet wounds, concussions, or broken bones, but he’d always come out a winner.  Joe Cartwright had beaten the odds so many times in the past, I felt sure he’d beat them again this time.  I stopped pondering the situation when I heard Alex’s voice.

“We’re okay to go, Mr. Cartwright.  Why don’t you stay back, and let me and the boys handle this.”

I watched Mr. Cartwright take hold of Hoss’ arm; his entire body slumped toward his big middle son.  I looked up at the rock wall, separating us from Joe and the two other men.  The miners quickly made a pass-line.  A lighter-weight miner stood halfway up the wall, pulling away only one rock at a time and handing it down to the next man in line, who handed it on to the next.  It didn’t take long at all and, as soon as a hole was made tall enough and wide enough, he sent the lighter-weight man shimming through to the other side.  Mr. Cartwright was suddenly alert and standing on his own.

“All three alive,” Alex relayed loud enough so we all could hear.  I reached out to shake Hoss’ hand.  Mr. Cartwright was next.  We all looked at Alex, who had saved the day.

“Alex,” Ben said.  “How can I ever thank you?”

It was an unbearable wait before the two miners were finally on our side of the newly formed wall.  All were soaked to the skin and covered in slimy, gray mud.  Each man braced himself on all fours while gasping for fresher air.  Joe was the last man recovered and he, too, had fallen to his knees after having been pulled through the narrow opening and before Mr. Cartwright rushed to his side.  “Are you all right, Son?”

Between heavy breaths, he managed the words his father longed to hear.  “I am now.”

I could hear Joe’s breathing from where I stood.  In and out, in and out, coughing and breathing, in and out.  Hoss helped him to his feet and we began the long trek to the top and to daylight.  While Joe was flanked on either side by his pa and his brother, I followed the three Cartwright men a suitable distance behind. 

What a day this turned out to be.  It was the miners and their attitudes we‘d been worried about, but Joe, especially, ended up with much more than any of us bargained for.  I could see light as we approached the entrance.  Even though no one was seriously injured, our climb had been slow.  Miners cheered as the four of us surfaced, making our way past the opening and into the glaring sunlight. 

Joe smiled for the first time since early this morning when I’d kidded him about his pa sending me out to watch over him.  Hoss stood beside him, clapping him on the back and joking with him while Mr. Cartwright still kept a tight hold on his son’s arm. 

Joe looked to the sky; relieved to be out of the darkness and into the sunshine again.  We all felt at ease and were smiling, nearly laughing, when, out of nowhere, a sudden blast echoed through the canyon walls.  There was no mistaking the resounding discharge from the barrel of a rifle.

Hoss and I pulled our guns and took aim.  A glint of sun, reflecting off metal, flickered.  Next to the trunk of a pine on a forested slope directly across from the mine’s entrance, I found my target.  I aimed.  I fired.  The shooter spun and fell to the ground.  Then, only moments later, I glanced at Hoss, wondering if my eyes were deceiving me.  I thought I’d nailed him but, as I continued to stare, it looked as though he was running away.  I blinked repeatedly into the sun’s glaring rays.

It all happened so fast.  A sudden cry and a feeling of helplessness washed through me when I heard Mr. Cartwright’s voice.  Joe, who’d slumped forward in his father’s arms, was being lowered to the ground with Hoss’ carrying most of his weight.  Lifeless and unresponsive to his father’s words; Joe’s head lolled to the side as a rust-colored stain penetrated his mud-soaked shirt.

“Someone ride for the doc!”  Hoss hollered over his shoulder.

I ran and grabbed the bedroll off my horse and handed it down to Hoss.  Ben had already tucked his neckerchief under Joe’s shirt, hoping to ease the flow of blood.

“How bad is it, Pa?” 

Hoss’ voice was just above a whisper.  With the shooter all but forgotten, all eyes were on the youngest Cartwright.  I didn’t wait for a reply; I left Joe in good hands and started up the side of the mountain.  With my gun still palmed in my hand, I was ready for anything.

I wound around trees and rocks; never taking my eyes off the exact spot I’d seen the gunman.  I came in from the side, still with my eyes focused on the tree where I’d seen that spark of sunlight, glistening off the metal barrel.  Just a few steps farther and I looked down to the ground.  What I saw would remain with me always.  I’d done the unthinkable.  I struggled to catch my breath.

“Oh, God, no.”  I fell to my knees.  Tears clouded my eyes.  What had I done?  How could I have been so wrong?  I reached down and brushed the loose strands of hair from her face.  Her white blouse was covered in blood, and like Mr. Cartwright, I pulled off my own neck scarf and pressed it against her wound.

 “Candy,” she muttered.

“Lay still, Sarah.  The doctor’s on his way.”

“I tried to stop him.”

“Stop who?”

“My … brother.”

“Sarah?  Sarah?”

I felt for a pulse.  It was weak but still there.  I gathered Sarah up in my arms and as her head fell limp against my chest, I carried her motionless body back down the mountain.

Hoss

“We need to get Joe down the mountain, Pa.  He don’t stand a chance if we stay up here much longer.”

“Get another bedroll.  He’s too cold.”

“Yessir.”

“And send another man down the mountain.  Tell him to have Paul meet us at the house.  It’s closer.”

I grabbed Joe’s bedroll off Cochise and handed it down to Pa.  I found a young man I didn’t know, but one who looked smart enough to do what I asked.  Take my brother’s horse.  He’s fast.  Find the doc and tell him to meet us at the house.”

When I was finished tellin’ the boy what to do, I looked up to find Candy walkin’ toward us.  I squeezed my eyes shut tight; I swallowed the lump in my throat when I saw who he was carryin’ in his arms.  I didn’t have to ask; the answer lay straight ahead.  And though it could have been me who took the first shot, it was Candy; a maverick with a gun, a faster shot than ol’ Hoss.

I turned my head away.  How could a day that began with such promise, turn into such a nightmare; a god-awful bloodbath where only innocent people were involved?  When I woke this mornin’, the sun was shinin’ and the birds was singin’.  There was nothing to indicate today would be different than any other.  My brother and now his wife were hangin’ to life by a thread, but why these two people who was just beginnin’ their lives together?  Who was this man Sarah knew and we did not, and why would anyone wanna kill my little brother?

I knew why Joe had volunteered to come up to the mine, and I was relieved it was him, not me.  I’d dealt with disgruntled miners before, but that wasn’t the reason.  Joe knew what would have to be done and he’d let me off the hook.  I’d smiled with relief when he’d volunteered for the job but now, with all that’s happened in just a few short minutes, I cursed myself for making him an easy target … and now Sarah.

Pa was still bent over Joe and had no inklin’ of the turn of events.  I met Candy halfway.  “She alive?”

“Barely,” he said.

I didn’t say more, and maybe I should have.  Maybe I should have reassured Candy it weren’t his fault.  If he hadn’t fired his gun, it would have been me.  I was set and ready to fire.  “We’re gonna take Joe down the mountain,” I said.  “He can ride double with Pa.  If you can handle Sarah—”

Tears formed in Candy’s eyes.  I reached for Sarah and he gently placed her in my arms.  “Mount up.  We’ve got to get these two home.”  But Candy didn’t move.  He stood and stared at Sarah.  “God, Hoss—”

“Come on,” I said.  “Ain’t no time for that now.  Weren’t your fault.  Let’s go.”

Someone had to take charge, and it was up to me to get the ball rollin’.  There weren’t time for worryin’ about what might have been.  Two people shot.  Two people in trouble, and it seemed as though time was floatin’ by like white, puffy clouds that didn’t seem to move at all.  Pa still hung over Joe as if he was already mournin’ his death.  I settled Sarah on the horse with Candy and sent them on their way.  Next were Joe and Pa.  “Mount up, Pa.”  My voice was stern, but it was the only way to break through my father’s trance.  “I’ll hand Joe up.”

Pa was seated on Buck when I lifted Joe and got him seated in front of my father.  “You okay to ride down the mountain?”  Pa nodded his head.  He hadn’t spoken a word.  I followed them both.  I don’t think Pa even noticed Candy and Sarah were on down the mountain in front of him.  He was too consumed with Joe.

When we were close enough to the house, I rode on ahead.  Doc Martin’s buggy was a reassurin’ sight to see.  He’d let hisself inside already.  I tied my horse to the rail and ran into the house to let him know there were two people in trouble, not just one.

“What’s happened, Hoss?  Word is Joe’s been shot?”

“Yessir.  Pa’s bringin’ him down, but there’s more.  Joe’s wife, Sarah, well … she’s been shot too.”

The doc shook his head, and I could see the look of disbelief in his eyes.  “How far behind are they?”

I looked out the door.  “Candy’s here now.  I’ll bring her in.”

“Take Sarah to Adam’s room.”

I heard the words but I didn’t take the time to answer.  “Wait here for Pa,” I said to Candy. 

Paul followed me up the stairs and into Adam’s old room.  “I’ll check Sarah out first and maybe you’ll have Joe settled by then.”

I ran back down the stairs and saw Candy trying to get Joe out of the saddle.  “Let me,” I said.  “I’m taller’n you.”  Candy stepped back, and Pa followed me up the stairs to Joe’s room.  While Pa busied hisself, removin’ Joe’s boots and belt, I went in to check on Sarah and Doc.

Paul stood next to the bed although he turned his head when I came into the room.  I saw it in his eyes before he even spoke the words.  “I’m sorry, Hoss.” 

Adam’s quilt covered Sarah’s length and, even though I knew she was gone, my mind was havin’ a hard time processin’ the doc’s words.  “You sure?”

Paul nodded his head.  I felt like some big, stupid oaf when I realized what I’d actually said.  “Guess I was just hopin’ against hope you’d made some kinda mistake.”

“She’d lost too much blood, Hoss.  Does Joe know?”

“No, Sir.”

“I don’t want anyone saying anything until I tend him.  Understood?”

“Yessir.”

Like Pa had been on the mountain, I seemed to be in some kinda daze myself.  I kept starin’ down at that quilt; a simple patchwork without no frills or fancy designs.  Adam’s ma had made it after she and Pa were married and while she was carryin’ Adam.  Pa had kept it tucked away in a cloth bag and had never once taken it out and used it for hisself.  It became more of a keepsake: a reminder of gentler times.  When Adam returned to the Ponderosa from college, Pa passed the quilt onto him.  I don’t know what brought all that to mind just now.  We all had mementos of sorts but as I looked down at this special quilt coverin’ Sarah, it hit me.  While tragedy struck Pa more’n once, he always had a livin’ remembrance of his own, his sons.  My little brother wouldn’t be so lucky.  He’d not only lost Sarah; he’d lost his unborn child.

“Hoss?”

I jerked my head up and looked straight at Paul.  “Sorry, Doc.  There’s somethin’ I mention ‘fore ya see Joseph.  It … well, it was Candy who shot Sarah.  I won’t explain it all now.  Just thought you should know.”

“Oh, no,” Paul said. 

“One more thing.  Pa don’t know nothin’ about Sarah neither.”  Doc’s shoulders dropped, and he shook his head.  There was nothin’ more I could say. 

Paul cleared his throat.  “I better see to Joe.”

I didn’t want to leave Sarah alone, but I closed the bedroom door behind me and followed Paul down the hall.  I stood in the doorway watchin’ the doc as he walked into Joe’s room and took charge of the situation.  Before anyone had a chance to speak, he moved Pa out of the way and asked for Hop Sing. 

“Hop Sing’s in San Francisco,” Pa said.  “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”

“No.  Where’s Candy?”

“I’ll get him,” I said.

I didn’t much want to hang around and listen to the argument that was bound to come.  First, I stopped in the kitchen and filled two big pots with water.  I put them on the stove to boil.  Then, I went to find Candy.  With no horses left in the yard, I knew I’d find him in the barn.  All the mounts had been relieved of their saddles and Candy had busied hisself brushin’ them down. 

“I’ll finish here,” I said.  “Doc needs some help with Joe.”

“Me?”

“Yep.”

“Why me?”

“You sound just like my little brother.  Don’t just stand there askin’ stupid questions.  Joe needs you.  Paul needs you.  Get movin’.”

“Okay.”

Candy rushed toward the house and I stayed in the barn, brushin’ each horse, includin’ my new geldin’ Joe had first named Bad Ass but, for Pa’s sake, we simply called him Bass for short.  Joe had worked hard; he’d spent many hours with this horse, tryin’ to break him to harness then to saddle.  Bass gave my little brother a heap of trouble—therefore the name—but in the end, Joe won out and the new horse was mine.  I still miss Chub, and I suppose someday Bad Ass and I will become friends.  We just ain’t quite there yet.

I figured the pots was boilin’ so I came back into the house and carried one of ‘em up the stairs.  Pa was just leavin’ Joe’s room, and I met him in the hall.  “I’ll meet you downstairs,” I said.

I filled the china bowl next to Joe’s bed and set the pot on the floor.  “Anything else, Doc?”

“Thanks, Hoss.  We’ll be fine here.  I’ll send Candy down as soon as we’re finished.”

I took one last look at Joe and left them alone to patch up my little brother as best they could.  When I reached the bottom of the stairs I didn’t ask Pa, I just picked up the bottle of brandy and poured me and him a drink.  “Here,” I said.

“Thank you.”

Pa sat in his overstuffed chair, and I took a seat on the hearth next to him.  My father’s features gave the surefire impression of a beaten man.  He’d sunk down low in his chair and never even lifted the glass to his mouth.  I didn’t know if I should say anything about Sarah now or wait to see how Paul made out with Joe.  Losin’ Sarah was one thing, but losin’ Joe would take the life right outta Pa.  Of course, havin’ to tell Joe, well, I tried to put that outta my mind altogether. 

I sat my glass down on the table also untouched.  I rubbed my temples with my fingertips but the answers didn’t come.  “Suppose I should wire Adam?” I said, not wantin’ to think of either Joe or Sarah or even Candy.

“Not right now, Son.  I need you here.”

“Yeah—”

“We’ll know more tomorrow.”

If Joe makes it that long.  What was I thinking?  Of course, Joe would make it.  He always had in the past.  Why would this time be any different?  I couldn’t get my mind off Candy.  I tried to put myself in his boots, but I couldn’t begin to imagine what was goin’ through his head.  Paul was only tryin’ to help the situation by havin’ him assist with Joe, but I wasn’t at all sure that’s what Candy needed right now.

“Sarah,” Pa blurted her name and then sat taller in his chair.  “Where’s Sarah?  Hoss?”

The moment of truth.  I was right all along.  Pa hadn’t been aware.  He looked around the room as if she’d suddenly appeared.  Then, he focused his eyes on me.  I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, prolongin’ the inevitable.

“Sarah’s dead, Pa.”

“Dead?”  Pa’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“She’s up in Adam’s room.  Doc already—”

“Dead?”

I closed my eyes and searched for the right words to say.  There were no right words so I said what had to be said.  “When Candy fired his gun …”

Pa didn’t speak.  He was tryin’ to get the gist when he whispered her name again.

“Sarah?”

“I don’t know the whole story.  We’ll have to wait for Candy.  I told the doc, and I s’pose that’s why he asked Candy to help with Joe. 

“Candy shot Sarah?”  Pa mumbled.

“No sense makin’ assumptions, Pa.  Sarah said there was a man after Joe.  She said she knew this man so maybe she tried to stop him.  We’re just gonna have to wait for Candy.  Maybe she said somethin’ to him before—” 

I realized what I’d just said.  Here I was makin’ my own assumptions without any facts to back them up.  I picked up my drink.

Adam

I took the first stage out of Sacramento, praying I wasn’t too late.  I’d been taken for a fool.  I’d let a con artist—a cold-blooded killer—get the best of me without suspecting a thing. 

Late yesterday afternoon my current boss, Jonathan “TJ” Marshall, flew into my office like he’d just seen a ghost.  I stared up at him and, before I spoke a greeting, he hit me with some very startling information.  One of the men he’d hired to act as my assistant, a man who’d called himself Marcus Carter, was not who he appeared to be. 

“His likeness is on posters in every city and town in at least three states,” Marshall said, waving a sheet of paper through the air as he scurried his way across the room. “Over the past few months, he’s robbed banks and killed men and he dodges the law as easily as a snake slithers through tall grass.  We know him by Carter, Adam, but here’s the kicker.  His real name is Sam Hastings; one of the most despicable outlaws in the entire region.”

“You said Hastings?”

I grabbed the likeness from Marshall and held it close to the lamp so I could make out his features.  It was Marcus Carter, but I knew the name and my heart skipped a beat.  He was one and the same.  “I know this man.”

Marshall looked startled.  “And you let me hire him?”

“What I meant to say was … I know of the man.”  I gathered up the papers on my desk, stacking them neatly before I turned to face Marshall.  “I’ll need a few days off, TJ.  This man, Hastings, he’s a danger to my family and—” Everything I’d said to Carter over the past couple of weeks flashed through my mind.  “—I’m sorry.  I have to leave now.  It’s urgent.  I’ll explain later.”

I tore out of the office, ran and gathered my essentials into my saddlebags, and headed straight for the depot.  I’d been duped into giving out information I should have kept private.  I’d always prided myself by erring on the side of caution, but this time I’d gone overboard in the other direction.  I’d told this man, who called himself Carter, more than I ever should have told anyone about the Ponderosa.  I mentioned many of our holdings and how Joe was in charge of the entire operation.  What I didn’t realize at the time was that Marcus Carter, aka Sam Hastings, was well aware of the Ponderosa and everything it had to offer.  He’d been an unwanted guest and, he not only shot my father, he’d also shot my youngest brother.

There was time to see the sheriff before I boarded the stage.  TJ never left my side.  We were informed of one more name; not an alias but a name that had become known, a name that shook me clear through.  Carl Collins.

I’d chosen to travel light, only packing my saddlebags for the trip home.  As soon as the stage arrived in Virginia City, I noticed Roy Coffee standing on the boardwalk, always interested in the passengers disembarking in his town.  Roy stepped up to greet me; surprised to see me arriving on the late-day stage.  “Adam Cartwright,” he said as he vigorously pumped my hand up and down.  What brings you to town?”

“I wonder if we could speak privately.”

“Somethin’ serious, Adam?”

“I believe so.”

Paul Martin

“Steady now, Candy.”

“I’m tryin’, Doc.”

“Keep his shoulders steady.  I need to get these stitches in before he wakes up and starts moving around.”

The bullet was out and Joe had remained unconscious throughout the surgery, but as I slipped the needle through with the final stitches, I could sense he was coming around.  The boy with nine lives would pull through physically, but I feared for his mental state.  Candy would also have to deal with his unfortunate mistake.  Each man would pay dearly over the untimely death of the love of Joe’s life, Sarah Cartwright.

“Just a couple more and we’ll bandage him up.”

“Good, Doc.  I can’t take much more.”

“I must say you’re a champion under pressure, Candy.  In fact, this isn’t your first time operating in this room or on Joe, is it?”  I’d hoped for some easy conversation, but I should have known better.  “Time to give yourself credit for a job well done.”

“You got it all wrong, Doc.  You don’t know the whole story.”

“Oh, but I do.”  I glanced across the bed at Candy. “Hoss told me what happened.”

Candy looked away, but when he finally turned his eyes back to me, his body language said it all.  “How am I gonna tell him, Doc?  How do I tell my best friend I took the shot?”

“Candy wait!”

I still had a few stitches to go when Candy bolted from the room.  Perhaps I shouldn’t have said anything at all, although I knew he had to face what had transpired at the mine before Joe was coherent enough to ask questions and complicate the issue even more.  I took my time with the bandages.  I wanted to speak to Candy again but my patient came first. 

“Doc?”

I turned to see Hoss standing in the doorway. 

“Everythin’ okay?”

“Joe will be fine.  It’s Candy I’m worried about.  I’m afraid I may have spoken out of turn.”

“Oh—”

“He’ll need all of you to step up and give him the support he needs.  He’s in a bad way right now, and something like this can ruin a man forever.  Don’t you let that happen, Hoss.”

Hoss didn’t reply.  He walked toward the window and looked out toward the barn.  “He’s takin’ off, Doc.”

“Of course, it’s not for me to say; it’s up to you and Ben to know how best to handle the situation.”

“There ain’t no best way, Doc.  Ain’t no best way at all.”

Adam

“Candy?  Hey, Candy—”

“What’s his all-fired hurry?”

“I wish I knew, Roy.  Guess we’ll find out when we get to the house.”

Roy and I had taken the main road out of Virginia City when Candy flew past us like a whirlwind on a hot summer’s day.  The first thing Roy noticed as we rode into the yard was Paul Martin’s buggy.

“Doc’s here, Adam.”

“You sure?” 

“That’s his buggy.”

I grabbed my saddlebags and, before we made it up to the front door, Hoss was coming out to meet us.

“Adam … Roy?  How’d you hear so fast?”  In his confusion, Hoss repeated my name.  “Adam?”

“I’ll fill you in later,” I said.  “Why’s Paul here?  Is it Joe?  Pa?”

“It’s Joe.  Come on in.”

From the tone of my brother’s voice, I knew something was wrong, terribly wrong.  Pa stood up from his chair, but he seemed unsteady on his feet.  I walked toward my father and took hold of his arm.  “What’s happened, Pa?”  My father stood there in silence, looking toward the staircase as if I’d never said a word.

“Joe’s been shot but Paul says he’ll be okay,” Hoss answered instead.  “I guess you’ll have to make a report,” he continued, turning his attention to Roy, “but Joe ain’t in no condition.  Doc’s up there with him now.”

I stared at my father.  My God, he looked a hundred years old.  “Let’s all sit down.  You can fill us in.”

“Adam?”  Pa questioned.

“I’ll explain later.  It doesn’t matter now.”  I’d come too late if Hastings or Collins, whatever the man called himself, had anything to do with Joe’s condition.

Pa lowered himself in his chair, but he kept his focus on the stairs.  “We’ve got trouble, Adam.”

“Joe?”

Pa broke down more than once as he tried to explain all that had taken place in a single day’s time.  Hoss was there to fill in the gaps, but with Joe nearly losing his life twice in one day, and with the shock over Sarah’s death, the day’s events had taken a deeper toll on my father than I ever could have imagined.  Pa’s face looked worn, and when I suggested he go upstairs and lie down, I was rebuked for my efforts.

Pa has ruled over us boys with a heavy hand his entire life so, for me to suggest such a thing, he promptly reminded me of my place with “the look”.  Away from the ranch, I was an educated, intelligent man.  Here on the Ponderosa, I was still my father’s son, and I had no right to interfere with the order of command.

But as I looked into his eyes, I became frightened for my father.  The best word to describe him was fragile.  His strength was wavering; the powerful man with the powerful voice was not the man who sat by my side.  Pa was grieving, which was only natural, but he was truly beaten down and in pain himself.

“Does Joe know?”  No one spoke but heads dropped forward and without words, I knew the answer.  “Maybe it would be best if I told him.”

All eyes were on me, so I explained my theory.  “He may blame one of you for not stopping Candy from firing his gun.  I wasn’t present.  I can’t be blamed for what happened at the mine.  Let me be the one.”  And though I was partially to blame, I would ask Joe’s forgiveness when the time was right.  I only wanted to spare my family from having to explain Sarah’s death.

Hoss shook his head and scrubbed his hands over his face.  “I ain’t never thought life could be so hard.”

I stared straight at Hoss, who was grieving himself, but when I looked up, Paul Martin was starting down the stairs.  We all turned our attention to the doctor for word about Joe.  As he rolled down his shirtsleeves, he eyed each of us separately before he spoke.  “Joe will recover.  I’ve given him something for the pain and he’s sleeping right now.”  Paul turned his attention to Roy.  “It will be a couple of days before he’s ready to talk so you might want to get what information you need from Ben or Hoss.”

“I’ll do that, Doc.”

I stood and walked toward Paul. “How about some coffee.”

“I’d rather have a brandy,” he said.

I crossed the room and poured the doctor a brandy.  “Help yourself to more.”

“Thanks, Adam.  Ben tells me you have a new job in Sacramento.  I’m surprised to see you home.”

“Me too.  I had some information to give the family, but it appears I’ve arrived too late.  The damage is already done.”

“I’ll let you fill me in later.”

“Thank you.  I’ve explained everything to Roy, and that’s why he rode out here with me.  He hadn’t yet heard about the shooting … shootings.  We only came to warn Joe—” I shook my head.  There was nothing left to say.

Hoss came to stand next to Paul and me.  “Think I’ll take a ride into town.  See if I can find Candy.”

“Want company?” I asked.

“No, you better stay here with Pa.”

Candy

I’d seen Roy and Adam on my way into town.   I should have stopped right then and there and turned myself in.  Lock me up and throw away the key.  That’s what a murderer deserves and that’s exactly what I was.  But I rode on; never said a word.  I’d stopped at the Bucket of Blood for a quick drink, which turned into nearly finishing off a bottle of Sam’s second-rate whiskey.  So, when Hoss came into the saloon, he stopped at the bar, called out for a beer, and then came to sit at my table.

“Thought I might find you here,” he said.

“Yep.  But not for long.”

“What’s that mean?”

“What’s that mean?”  I said, hearing my own voice crack as I repeated the question.  “It means I either need to leave this town or turn myself in to the Sheriff.  I’ve decided I’d rather keep moving.”

“Turn yourself in for what?  You ain’t done nothin’ what I could’ve done in your place.”

“Who took the shot?  Who killed his best friend’s wife?  It wasn’t someone else, Hoss.  It was me.”

“It was an accident, Candy.  Pure and simple.  I know it ain’t gonna be easy, but you can’t leave Joe like this.  You can’t just run away and second guess yourself for the rest of your life.”

I rubbed my hands over my face and pushed the bottle away.  “Does Joe know?”

“No … far as I know he ain’t come to yet.”

Why I let Hoss talk me into riding back with him and facing everyone in that house I’ll never know.  I’ll never know why I stopped for that drink when I should have kept on riding and never looked back.  Maybe I’ve lost my desire for the open road, and maybe I was sitting there all that time just waiting for Hoss to ride in and drag me back to the ranch.  But, when we rode into the yard, I lost my nerve. 

“I can’t go in there, Hoss.”

“Yes, you can.  Now we already discussed this and you know what you gotta do.”

As I drew in a deep breath, I glanced up at Joe’s bedroom window, searching for the courage I didn’t have.  Hoss ran his hand across my shoulders, and we walked toward the front door together.  It was obvious the man he knew as “rock-steady Candy” had been reduced to a quivering train wreck.  We entered the house together.  All eyes were on me—the hated one, the killer—the one who’d turned everyone’s lives upside down.

“Come and sit down, Candy.” 

“Yessir,” I said, taking Joe’s seat next to Mr. Cartwright at the dining room table.  His voice was soft, and I wasn’t aware of any indication of contempt or anger, but I knew it was there.  I tried to pull myself together and listen to what everyone had to say.  Then, I would make my final decision on whether to leave or find the courage to stay.  As I took my seat, I realized everyone had gathered to discuss the new information Adam had to offer.  I was filled in on Carl—Sam Hastings—Collins.

To start off, I learned who everyone suspected the shooter to be and, for my benefit, Adam explained his time spent in Sacramento with his so-called assistant.  But the question that lingered at this table of men was why.  Why murder Joe?  Why was Carl Collins out to kill his sister’s husband?  And how did Sarah know what her brother’s intentions were?  For any of us sitting at the table, the answers were slow in coming until I shot off my mouth with the first idea that popped into my head.  “Blackmail?”

All eyes were on me.

“Okay,” I said, sitting up taller in my chair. “Carl listened carefully to everything Adam said about Joe and the Ponderosa, plus, he already knew the lay of the land so all he needed was to fill in the gaps.  I bet he egged you on,” I said, looking toward Adam, “and made you feel real proud of Joe’s accomplishments.  Am I right?”

Adam nodded his head and, with the little I knew of this man, it was obvious he was trying to maintain control as he limited his facial expressions.  He was also feeling guilty for his part in this whole ordeal, but I felt some comfort knowing I wasn’t alone.

“The man had no morals, no ethics, so why not work out a blackmail scheme instead of his current profession of killing and robbing banks.  No good reason to continue his line of work if he could sit back and enjoy his sister’s good fortune.”

‘You might just have somethin’ there,” Roy said.

“I bet you’re right, Candy.”  Hoss looked to his father for reassurance.

“So how do we prove any of this without Sarah’s testimony?” Adam said.

Adam’s comment, his mention of Sarah, brought back all the dread I felt inside.  “Excuse me,” I said.  I had to leave the table.  I needed clean, fresh air.  The air surrounding the dining room table suddenly felt as stale and confining as level five of the mine.

Ben

“Let him go, Hoss.  He’s hurting; he’s upset.”

“Yessir.”

We were all under a great deal of strain, but Candy’s was insurmountable.  He’d become an intricate part of this family and truly, I understood his overwhelming feeling of guilt, just as I would one of my own sons.  But Joseph was my blood son and even though I knew he was sleeping, I needed to be with him, to see him, to touch his face, to not let him wake up alone. 

“If you’ll excuse me,” I said as I pushed my chair back from the table.  “I’m going up to sit with Joe.  Whatever is decided, you can do it without any further input from me.”

The how’s and why’s didn’t matter.  Joseph mattered.  His recovery mattered, and I knew where I belonged.  I climbed the stairs and opened my son’s door.  The blanket had been pulled up over his shoulders and any and all bandages Paul had used to cover the wound were hidden from sight.  Carefully, as not to wake him needlessly, I eased the wooden, desk chair up next to the bed.  I reached for his hand; I held it in mine.  So many times I’d sat in this same exact spot, praying for my youngest son’s recovery.  So many times I’d wanted to keep him in bed longer so he could heal properly, but this boy of mine was always up and rarin’ to go long before the doctor gave him the okay.  This time, I wasn’t so sure if his natural energy or even that boyhood spirit could help him overcome such a terrible loss.

I knew the battle he faced.  I knew, firsthand, how grief could destroy a man if he chose to let it; if he chose not to fight his way back through the misfortunes of life.  My life was built on faith.  My son?  I wasn’t sure if his personal faith was enough to see him through this tragic event.

I’d been blessed with three fine sons and when tragedy struck, I clung to each child as a lifeline—a future—a legacy.  But Joe doesn’t have that child, that new living being, to see him through his journey.  Building a new life without Sarah and without the gift of his child will be a true test of strength and his underlying faith in the Almighty. 

I knew the feeling of despair and the depths of depression my son would have to endure; the loneliness, the idle time, when giving up becomes easier than living through another day.  We’d all be there to help; his family, his friends, but would it be enough?  It’s not the same as when he was a young boy; when I could hold him to my chest and dry his tears.  His hopes and dreams have been shattered, and I pray he has the inner strength to endure this unforeseen trial he must face each and every day for the rest of his life.

I studied my son’s face; so peaceful now but had so much yet to endure.  I squeezed Joe’s hand as I wiped a tear from my eye.  I thought back to something Hoss had said earlier today.  “I ain’t never thought life could be so hard.”  How true that statement had been.

Hoss

My little brother didn’t wake for another twenty-four hours.  Pa never left his side even with Adam and me tryin’ our best to scoot him outta Joe’s room.  Candy kept his distance durin’ that time, lookin’ after stock and lookin’ for any mundane chore to keep his mind occupied and distance hisself from Joe.

It weren’t long after Joe woke before he was askin’ after Sarah.  Although Adam had offered to do the explainin’, Pa shook his head.  He appreciated the offer, but Pa would be the one to break the news.  There’d always been somethin’ special between Joe and Pa and now, with ‘em sharin’ the same kind of pain; the same kind of grief, maybe Pa was right.  Maybe with him doin’ the tellin’ …

I wasn’t in the room to hear what was said, and I wasn’t there to see or hear Joe’s reaction.  It was a private matter between two men who’d lost more than any decent man deserved to lose.  My brother loved his wife as much as any man could love a woman.  His life had become one with Sarah, and I prayed my little brother had the strength to go on.

~~~

It’s been a couple of months now and none of us is the same as we was before that day at the mine.  Joe was still recoverin’ from his wound, but that was only the physical part of things.  The shock of Sarah’s death was taking time to sink in.  The real healin’ was just beginnin’.

Joe says he forgives Candy; says Adam’s discussion with Hastings had little or nothing to do with what happened.  So, that should be the end of things, but it weren’t even close.  It’s obvious to everyone in this house that even though the words had been spoken, they didn’t quite ring true with my little brother.

Joe had kept to hisself over the past few weeks.  He’ll show up for dinner most nights and none of us really knows where he goes durin’ the day.  On his first day back in the saddle, he left with a rope tied around the neck of Sarah’s paint.  We ain’t never seen her since.  I s’pose she’s back with the herd, but Joe don’t say much and we all refrain from askin’ too many questions.

Today was a difficult day although, I’m not surprised at what took place, but I already felt the loss.  Candy decided to leave the Ponderosa.  He’s a good man and a good friend, and I’ll miss him more than he knows.  I understand why he’s leavin’ and there ain’t nothin’ more I can do or say that will change his mind.

He’s tried hard over the past few weeks to take things in stride; to believe my little brother’s forgiven him, and I think he’s tried to forgive his own self.  I don’t know that he’ll ever forgive hisself for the pain he’s caused Joe and the rest of the family.  But it ain’t his fault.  It were an accident, but maybe I’d feel the same as Candy if’n it had been my bullet what had found its target.

I’d seen the way Joe looked at him sometimes and it weren’t a friendly look at all.  I don’t know if Joe even realized what he was doin’ or sayin’ with that sideways glance of his, but it was hurtful to Candy; it hurt us all.  So, Candy’s movin’ on.  He’s always threatened to leave in a kiddin’ sort of way, but this time’s for real.  Even Pa sat him down and pleaded with him to stay.  We all did but in the end, he said it was time to go.  I’ll miss my friend.

With Joe off doing whatever it is he does and with Candy saying his final goodbye, Adam decided to take more time off from his job in Sacramento to help us out around the ranch.  I don’t ask much of him, knowin’ he ain’t cut out for heavy ranch work no more.  He mainly helps Pa with the books or takes the buckboard into town for supplies.  He still don’t take kindly to sittin’ a horse.

Mostly, I work alone.  No Joe; no Candy to help pass the time.  No jokin’ around or ridin’ out with somebody by your side.  The chores never end, and it’s a lonely existence without someone to share the misery of everyday life.  Ain’t nothin’ the same, but life goes on.  If Joe’s home, he turns in early.  Pa is close behind.  Sometimes Adam will go to his room to read, and I sit alone till I bank the fire and turn in myself.  We ain’t a family no more.  This ain’t how it’s s’posed to be.

~~~

Epilogue

~~~

Joe

Life’s a funny thing.  When I was a younger man, I’d often become amused when my father demonstrated his excitement over certain dates or past events that had remained special throughout his lifetime.  They were all crystal clear in his mind, whether it was someone’s birthday or anniversary, or simple things like the day Adam returned from college or Hoss’ first date with a pretty girl, or even the first steps I took as a baby.  Pa remembered them all.  I used to chuckle when he’d mention—clear out of the blue—some special event in his life and expect the rest of us to feel the same connection he did.  In the end, memories aren’t quite the same for everyone involved.  I find I’m becoming more like my father.  I hold my memories dear although I tend not to share them with others as my father often did with his. 

I hold on to certain dates more readily now, just as my father always held on to his.  I can’t help but remember every important and not-so-important event during the few months we lived as husband and wife.  I don’t shout out those dates to the world; I don’t bring them up to anyone else but Sarah because they’re a gift only she and I share.  I celebrate those special moments just as if she and I were never apart.

I’m not at peace with my life or with the world that surrounds me, and maybe that’s one of the major problems that prevent me from moving forward.  At times, my mind takes a momentary break from the misery I’ve felt since losing my wife; there are even times I smile, thinking my feelings of hopelessness and despair are taking a step back from center stage. 

Time heals all wounds.  Isn’t that the old adage?  It’s been a year now since Sarah’s death.  The wound still festers but the stitches of time are gradually closing the gap.  There will always be a scar but even scars, like memories, eventually fade. 

I’m treading cautiously on Adam’s cobblestone streets.  There are days I remain on the surface, and there are days I fall into the cracks where an overwhelming stench of death and decay settles over me and brings me to depths I can hardly bear.  I’ve often questioned why I’m forced to remain in this world alone, and I’ve even questioned my own sanity.  Death is permanent and there have been days when my own finality has been the option I longed to choose.  I’ve asked my father’s God why?  Why has he left me in limbo with no direction and no reason to move on with my life?  Although the answers are never clear, I’ve kept myself alive.  I’ve followed Adam’s cobblestones, but I don’t know where the uneven avenue will lead. 

I lost my wife a year ago to the day after my father was shot by a man who didn’t value human life.  A man who wanted what the world had to offer but could never make it on his own without destroying other people’s lives in the process.  Carl Collins was a man who took whatever he desired; a man whose fate may have been determined inside the womb long before he was allowed to enter this world.  Was it providence?  —or did the world he entered turn him against his fellow man?

When Sarah was killed, I never realized the dates were the same but when there was time for thought and reflection, it struck me they were identical.  And like my father’s memories, the dates have left a permanent mark; one I will always remember but will keep to myself, for no one needs to dwell on past events as I do.  First come thoughts of Sarah, my fairytale princes, my wife and mother of my child, and then my father and the dark days that followed while he lay in limbo between life and death.  

When snow fell early that year, covering the earth and casting dark and dangerous shadows over my heavily burdened soul, I was consumed by death.  As I sat in my father’s room, day after endless day, I planned every detail of my revenge against the man known as Hastings.  I was focused on vengeance—the need to settle the score—until … the day I met Sarah and my world changed forever.  And when I asked her to be my wife, all thoughts of retribution vanished into thin air.  My life was taken to new heights; ones I didn’t realize were even possible.  I was filled with joy and happiness, and I pushed all thoughts of Sam Hastings away—a hidden part of my past.

It’s been a tough year, but I’ve made it through to this special day.  Pa and my brothers have done whatever possible, trying to bring me around and put some kind of order back in my life.  I appreciate their efforts, but I appreciate the quiet times most of all; the time spent with my thoughts of Sarah and dreams of the plans we’d made.  I won’t say it consumes my life, but it’s more of an understanding she and I have, and I prefer to share those special moments with no one else around. 

I often sleep in our bed.  I clutch Sarah’s pillow to my chest and I remember the good times.  Tears fill my eyes, but I suppose it’s part of the process.  Pa thinks I should close up the house, but I haven’t had the courage to do so just yet.  It’s all I have left, and a simple difference of opinion like this won’t distance my father and me. 

Although I haven’t cleaned out the house or thrown anything of Sarah’s away, I can still remember back to one cold winter night when I’d sat on our sofa and, by the light of the blazing fire, I stared into the eyes of a tall, well-built man, who, along with his younger brothers, had a tintype made before they marched off to war.  It had sat on top of the dresser in our bedroom and I have to think no one paid much attention to the small-framed picture but Sarah. 

Dressed in military attire, with swords attached to their belts and long-barreled rifles with the stock planted firmly on the ground, they appeared proud to be serving the cause.  Two brothers died in battle and the eldest returned home to become the man I knew as Sam Hastings.  I often wondered whether I would have befriended Carl Collins had he only been Sarah’s brother and not the evil man he’d turned out to be.

In the beginning, I knew how much Sarah loved her brother and how desperately she wanted him to become part of our lives.  Of course, never having met the man she’d described, I only knew the outlaw whose face was concealed behind a red bandanna when he’d burst into the bank.  I never recognized the man in the tintype as the man who’d caused so much chaos and devastation to me and my family.  I’d only seen his eyes; never once had I seen his face.  Without Hoss or Candy to point an accusatory finger, I never made the connection.  

My wife is buried within walking distance of the little house we built in the clearing surrounded by pines which I had told Sarah would block the winter wind.  The new room was never added although I’ve kept the plans Adam drew up as a simple reminder of what might have been.  I’ve put them away, finding it much too painful to spread them out on our kitchen table where Sarah and I sat together and studied them every night before we turned in.

I’m trying my best to move on and at some point; I may actually find that sense of peace that comes with time.  I’ve ridden up to the house where I’ve already visited Sarah’s final resting place so we could have time alone on this very special day.  No one asks questions; no one stops me from making the trip.  My family allows me the time I need.  I dream of Sarah here; I feel her presence beside me—my wife the brute—as I’d once called her.  I smile at the memory as I catch a sudden glimpse of her face before it vanishes without warning. 

After Candy left the ranch, my father tried to convince Adam to go back to Sacramento; back to the career he’d chosen, but my brother has remained on the Ponderosa and taken over where I left off.  Running the ranch takes more than I have to give.  He feels partly to blame, but we’ve been over that a hundred times.  I don’t blame my brother and I’ve come to realize, I don’t blame our foreman either. 

There was a time I couldn’t bear to look at Candy’s face or stomach the sound of his voice.  The man killed my wife, and it was all I could do to not wrap my hands around his neck and do the same.  The memory of waking and finding my world shattered soon festered and took control over every thought I had and every breath I took.  Without even knowing until it was too late, Candy was gone.

It took time for me to think things through; more time than it should have, and I know how deeply I hurt my friend.  I’d let certain words slip or I’d shut down completely, leaving him no other choice but to ride away from the ranch forever.  Candy did what any one of us would have done given the circumstances that day; he was only trying to protect me and my family from a crazed gunman high on a hill.  I’d spent weeks searching for him when realization took hold and the guilt over my own actions became too much to bear.  An apology was in order although I never got the chance.  I miss my friend.  I only hope our paths will cross again during our lifetimes.

Carl—Sam Hastings—Collins was killed in a shootout in Reno only days after he put a bullet in me.  The fool was trying to rob the Wells Fargo alone.  It was a suitable ending for a man who’d ruined so many lives, but not the exact ending I would have preferred.  My deepest regret is that I hadn’t put an end to the man’s life.

So, as I often do, I sit atop Cochise and gaze down at our home.  I’ve spent the day next to Sarah’s grave.  In a place filled with wild grass and pine needles, we talked another day away.  It doesn’t seem like a year has passed, and although I’ve moved back in with the family, I don’t know whether I’ll ever close up our little house for good—too many memories; too many good times.  I would have raised my children in that house.  I would have kissed them all goodbye and ridden off for a day’s work with Candy or Hoss and when I returned home, I would have found Sarah standing out front with open arms and our children gathered by her side. 

She once called our life a fairytale.  Maybe that’s all it was meant to be, a brief fairytale for two people whose lives fell into place by taking a chance, by beating the odds, by acting on blind faith. 

I pulled on Cooch’s reins and turned him around to start home.  I hadn’t heard the rider approach; the rider who sat quietly behind me with his hands crossed over his pommel just waiting for me to turn and look his way.  I smiled.  He smiled back.  Besides his own mount, he held the reins of a second horse—my brother’s horse, Chub; Chubby as Hoss affectionately calls him.

“You found him.”

“I did.  Up Reno way.  Recognized the horse so I checked the brand.”

I hesitated before I asked the next question.  “You here to stay or just passing through?”

I’ve missed my friend, and it nearly broke my heart to see tears glistening in his eyes and think back to how I’d carried on only a few months ago.  I never saw this day coming, but Candy was showing more guts than I’d ever had in my life.  He’d taken that first step and was sitting here now.

Candy had suffered too, just as I had over Sarah’s death.  I knew that now.  I also understood what it took for him to set foot on the Ponderosa again.  I hoped we’d both come to terms with the past and were willing to start fresh.  I knew I was; I hoped he was too.  I realized Candy hadn’t answered my question so I put it a different way. 

“I’d like you to stay.”

A quick nod and it was settled; no long speech or list of reasons, other than Chub, and a chance for reconciliation.  Candy was not much for words, but I always knew what he was thinking.  I steered Cochise in his direction and reached out to shake his hand. 

“Welcome back, my friend.  Let’s go home.”

The End

 ~ Dreams of Revenge ~

by jfclover
~~~

With the War Between the States over, men were looking everywhere for work. Large city banks had been forced to close, leaving hundreds homeless and destitute. A nationwide depression, starting on the east coast, had swept the country, finally easing its way into the state of Nevada where transients roamed the streets of Virginia City only to find the job market at nearly a standstill. Wagon trains brought families from war-torn states to the wide-open spaces out west. Some of the travelers were searching for a place to settle while others came eager to make their fortunes in the gold and silver mines they’d only read about in periodicals.

The Ponderosa was barely holding its own. Demand for board lumber was over. The once prosperous days during the war, supplying timber for the mines and then cutting ties for the transcontinental rails were fading away, and we were barely keeping our heads above water. I struggled daily to keep things on an even keel. I did the books in the evenings after working daylight hours alongside the few men we’d kept on the ranch.

Even with profits down and after having to let a third of the men go, I’d kept Tim Wilson in charge of the mill, and it was his job to ride up the mountain once a week and one less worry for me. The rest of the week, he spent working with me and in the evenings when I was trapped behind the desk doing paperwork, Tim would help Pa with his nightly therapy.

But our way of life was being threatened. Over the years, I’d tried to accept that there were reasonable explanations for events that happen during the span of a man’s lifetime. The unanswered question is how do those incidents model a man’s character? Does he benefit or is he altered for the rest of his life?

In the case of my father, the stroke has forever changed him, but Pa was far from down and out. My father is a warrior—a fighter—who has taken the setback as something to overcome, not something that will overtake him.

It’s been two months since Pa and I returned from San Francisco where the illness struck, leaving him paralyzed and speechless. It’s been a long haul of grueling therapy, but we manage to get through the routine Doctor Martin set up. Increasing my father’s mobility and getting him to speak clearly takes time, a lot of time, and there are days I grow impatient, days I want to walk away and leave Pa and the ranch behind, but it’s only a fleeting thought, a stupid thought, and I’m embarrassed I let my mind conjure up such ideas. I’m just tired of the day-to-day routine.

Pa has made tremendous progress, and I should be grateful. He walks with a cane and he’s forming words that were impossible weeks ago. I could’ve lost my father, and I should be counting my blessings. So should my father, but he isn’t one hundred percent, and he’s developed an attitude that needs to change.

Ben Cartwright has always been a powerful man, a strong man with strong opinions. He’s always been a powerhouse in the community and at home, but all that’s changed now.

The simple things he used to do like riding Buck or driving a team are no longer an option. Even simple paperwork is too much of a chore. His eyesight was damaged slightly so reading and writing are difficult and frustrate him more than he lets on.

When I’d mentioned hiring a bookkeeper, the fire in my father came alive. A definite no was his answer. So, after a day in the saddle, I come home to the books, and I’m tired. There’s no actual break in the routine.

Arguing with Pa is useless, and I step away from the desk without Pa or Tim suspecting how the constant demand of work is eating at me, making me want to scream that life isn’t fair. Instead, I walk out the door for a breath of fresh air, but these are the cards I’ve been dealt, and I remind myself to get back on track and quit feeling sorry for myself.

Pa and I had a good day today. I drove the two of us into town for church services, and we had lunch at the International House, which was a huge mistake since the hotel rooms above us were being renovated. Even though the carpenters didn’t work Sundays, there was still the presence of dust, almost cloudlike, as we walked through the lobby and into the restaurant.

“When’s this ever gonna end, Fred?” I joked with the slender, thin-haired clerk standing behind the front desk.   Pa and I had come for dinner a couple of weeks ago when they were just beginning the process. I knew it was an extensive project, but I forgot about the mess when I invited Pa out to lunch.

“Oh, it’s a year-long project, Mr. Cartwright. We want it done right, you know.”

I smiled at my father, who was in an exceptionally good mood. “Maybe we should find a new restaurant next time, Pa.”

“Yes, in … deed.”

Over the next several months, matters concerning the ranch and its holdings had been in a steady decline. Lumber was no longer a profitable commodity. Mills built along the coastline used primarily Chinese workers, reducing costs by cutting labor wages and left most of the inland mills out of operation. We no longer milled for the mines, and the Virginia City boom was over. Just a few short years ago, we struggled to keep up with demand; today, we closed the mill for good.

I had to let good men go—men with wives and children—men who had lived and worked on the Ponderosa for years but were no longer needed. Their prospects for a decent future were slim and the severance pay I offered each man would last no time at all with hungry mouths to feed.

Besides the mill and disappointment over its closure, silver prices were at rock bottom due to the war in Europe, and we were forced to shut down our mines. Plus, our stock holdings in major mining operations throughout the Comstock were nearly worthless since those mines had suspended operation too.

With the population growing rapidly in most major cities, cattle prices were up dramatically so raising a large, healthy herd was our only direct source of income. We depended on this year’s herd to see us through the winter months and even with rail prices up, we’d still bring in a handsome profit. The Ponderosa wasn’t diversified as it had once been; consequently, everything depended on the profits we’d make from the sale of our steers.

Cattle drives weren’t nearly as rough as they’d once been. These days, we drove our beef to the railhead and they were loaded into boxcars and shipped back east like any other cargo. With Hop Sing able to watch over Pa, Tim and me, and our drovers would head out next week to deliver the herd to the railhead.

I had to laugh at Tim one night as he and Pa and I sat around the dining room table. There was a new woman in his life and every time I broached the subject the kid turned beet red. We had yet to meet the young lady—and I was dying to do so—but Tim was overly secretive and wouldn’t tell us much about his girl.

Apparently, she was new to Virginia City and she’d literally bumped into him one day when he’d gone into town for supplies. For Tim, it was love at first sight, but he gave no more information than he’d met a woman and he liked her a lot.

“What’s your lady friend gonna do while we’re away on the drive?” I asked between bites of my supper.

Suddenly, the food on Tim’s plate became terribly interesting. Pa made a face and shook his head, letting me know I should mind my own business but this was just way too much fun.

“I hope she doesn’t take off with some other fella while we’re on the drive,” I joked.

Tim’s head snapped up immediately. “She wouldn’t do that, Joe.”

“A week’s a long time, isn’t it, Pa?”

“Enough, Joseph.”

“You’re Pa’s right, Joe. Ain’t none of your business.”

I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms over my chest. “Maybe there isn’t a lady after all. Maybe Tim’s making her up. I’ve never met her, have you, Pa?”

My father shook his head and reached for his cane that hung on the arm of his chair. “Watch your step . . . Joseph.” He stood from his chair. “I have better … things to do.”

Pa had nothing better to do, but he didn’t want to be dragged into the conversation either. I couldn’t blame him, but dang, I loved watching the kid squirm. It wasn’t hard to forget when Adam and Hoss had done the same thing to me, and although it was pure torture, I couldn’t help goading the kid a bit more.

“All right then, is this woman blonde, brunette, or maybe a fiery redhead? Is she tall, short, fat, thin?” I leaned forward and rested my elbows on the table. “She ain’t got no teeth so that’s why you’re not bringing her around, right?”

“If you must know, she’s beautiful, Joe. Her hair’s sorta between blonde and brown, and she’s not very tall. She’s definitely not fat and she ain’t missin’ no teeth. And more’n that, I know she ain’t lookin’ for any other fellas while I’m gone!”

Tim stood from his chair in a huff. He marched out the front door and slammed it shut behind him. I glanced at Pa, who had picked up his newspaper and taken a seat in his chair. “Guess I went a little too far.”

“You guessed right, Joseph.”

“Guess maybe I should go talk to him—straighten things out.”

I found Tim leaning against the corral, arms draped over the top rail, but when I came up behind him, he turned his head the other way. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean anything by it, Tim. I was just fooling with you.”

He hesitated but finally turned toward me. “I guess I knew that all along. It’s just—I think I might be in love with her, Joe. I’ve never met anyone like her before.”

“Then I’m truly sorry. I didn’t know.”

“She’s just so—I don’t know. She’s so gentle—so kind. I think she might love me, too.”

“Have you told her how you feel?”

He shook his head. “No.” He half laughed. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“You serious?”

“Sure, I’m serious. What’s holding you back?”

“Everything, Joe.”

“Okay—” I said, leaning my back against the fence.

“I can’t just come right out and say—say love stuff to her.”

I kept silent and waited in case he had more on his mind. This was something he needed to work out alone and I’d made him more than uncomfortable. I’d said more than I should’ve and it certainly wasn’t up to me to decide the kid’s future, especially with women.

“So, what if I tell her I love her and—and she wants to get married or something?”

“Do you want to get married?”

His hands, which had been dangling over the rail, were now scrubbing his face in frustration. “I don’t know, Joe.”

“Well, you better know before this goes too far, right?” Tim stared at me wanting answers I couldn’t give. “Look, it’s only been, what, not even a month since you met her, right?”

“Right—”

“So give it time. There’s no reason to hurry, is there?”

“No, I guess not. But part of what you said scared me, Joe.”

I racked my brain. “What was that?”

“Well, you said she might go off and find some other fella.”

“Tim,” I said, sliding my arm across his shoulders. “I was only kidding but I’ll say it again. I’m sorry. I’m sure that won’t be the case.”

Tim and I rode out the next morning after patching up the mess I’d made after last night’s teasing. We’d been rounding up strays for the drive when, unexpectedly, a rifle shot came out of nowhere. Tim and I scrambled off our horses and crawled behind a fallen log. I pulled my Colt as did he, scanning the hillside in front of us, but there was clearly no movement either of us could see. “You see where the shot came from, Joe?”

“No, but you and I are the only ones out here so guess what? Someone wants one or both of us dead.”

“But who?”

I knew as much as Tim did—nothing. We’d just finished the day’s job and were ready to head back to the house when the shot rang out. I lifted up partway and still nothing. No more shots, no movement at all. “What do ya think, Joe?”

“I wish I knew.” Crouched low and scanning the hillside, I ventured away from Tim, still holding my gun at waist level. “Stay put,” I said. I sidestepped quickly until I was behind a large-trunked cottonwood.

“See anything?”

“No, cover me. I’m going for the horses.”

The sudden blast had scared both mounts, but I could see them on down the ravine. I climbed down the rocky terrain, and after I grabbed both sets of reins, I headed back up toward Tim. There’d been no more shots, just the one. The question was who and why?

I’d holstered my gun and stood out in the open. No more shots rang out, and deciding the coast was clear, we mounted and rode home, but we still knew nothing. After taking care of our horses, I stopped Tim before we went inside the house. “Don’t say anything to Pa. I don’t want him worrying the whole time we’re gone.”

“Sure, Joe.”

The sun was shining; the sky was blue. There was a warm, gentle breeze as we headed down the mountain—we were off to a good start. The cattle were rounded up, and we were pushing them forward by 8:00 that morning. In order to maintain the cattle’s weight, we’d let them stop to graze frequently, plus we’d stop over for a night’s rest and still make the railhead in plenty of time. It was an easy trip; far from the old days when it took weeks to get our cattle to market. This time we’d take it nice and slow and deliver healthy, fat steers in exchange for top dollar.

The four men I’d picked as drovers were mostly friends of mine. Two of the boys, Rex and Andy, were my best wranglers and the third was a man named Ralph who’d worked alongside Tim at the mill.

I’d hesitated at first, but I went ahead and hired a longtime nemesis of mine who’d been down on his luck since the day his brother had died from excessive burns caused by a fire nearly twenty years ago. Harry Allen had never really gotten over Jerome’s death and when he came begging me for a job, I gave in. His father had passed a year after Jerome, leaving only Harry to tend the goat farm, but his heart wasn’t in it—his heart was usually in a jug of locally stilled whiskey. I figured I could handle the likes of Harry Allen for two days, knowing how desperately he needed the money.

After moving the cattle about four or five miles, it was time to break for lunch. Ralph built a small fire to boil our coffee while I grabbed enough grub from my saddlebag to feed us all. We hadn’t bothered with a cook and chuckwagon this time; we’d had Hop Sing load us up for the two-day trip instead.

Harry had wandered off into the woods, and when we’d all finished our sandwiches and apples and some of Hop Sing’s cookies, I glanced to my left to see Harry coming toward us, lumbering up the hill from the narrow gully below. I assumed he’d just gone to relieve himself, but he was red-faced and seemed out of breath as he yelled out frantic words a ranch owner never wants to hear.

“Smoke! Smoke!” He yelled, panting for breath. “I seen smoke over the next ridge!”

Jumping up, I knocked over my second cup of coffee and dropped my cookie in the dirt. Harry was right—smoke was billowing from the adjacent ridge, precisely in the direction we were headed.

Why hadn’t I seen this or smelled the smoke before we stopped for lunch? None of us had. But clouds of white, billowing smoke had claimed the clear blue sky. Flames began their dance on the hillside ahead. If we didn’t move the cattle now we’d lose them all.

“Let’s ride!” I hollered. “Head ‘em west—toward the lake.”

Cinches were tightened. We mounted within minutes and were driving the cattle over some of the roughest terrain in the area. Had I made the right decision? I wasn’t sure but the men did their best to keep the panicked steers moving forward without the threat of stampede.

The cattle sensed danger and became restless, moving in several directions and making our job that much harder. Harry, not being much of a cowhand, was more of a detriment than useful, but the rest of us fell into a rhythm and put in twice the effort.

Steers tumbled and fell; stronger cattle trampled the weaker ones. Our job had become chaotic, and I couldn’t afford to lose one steer much less a larger portion of the herd. The Ponderosa’s welfare depended on this delivery and the outcome looked bleak.

We covered our faces with bandanas as the smoke grew in volume and nearly blocked our visibility. With wind gusts growing stronger, flames jumped from treetop to treetop then swept lower, igniting dry tinder below. My eyes and throat burned. The flames were closing in, and the cattle were determined to flee in every direction possible. Screaming orders became impossible. It was each man for himself.

Tim circled to the left, and I waved my hat, pointed to the right, and took off in that direction. Not able to worry about strays at that point, I tried to keep track of the main herd. My legs ached from gripping Cochise though I suppose it was nerves rather than my ability to keep balanced on my horse, but I felt no different than the steers we drove. I was as scared and as nervous as they were.

Rex, the lead man, came racing back and pulled to a sudden stop beside me. “Fire ahead!” He screamed so I could hear over the roar of panicked cattle.

“Can we turn them south?” I yelled back.

“Doubt it, Joe. They’re all about half crazy.”

“We have to try. Let’s go!”

Rex and I rode hard to the front of the herd, tried to turn them, and head uphill. I caught sight of Andy moving forward with Tim, but the effort was worthless. Flames had jumped to the south of us. We were surrounded, and the stench of burning hides filled the air. We were losing them faster than moving them. There was nowhere left to go.

I had to think of the men. The herd was going down, and not a damn thing I could do, but get the men out safely. If we stayed on this mountain much longer, we’d all be dead. “Follow me,” I hollered at Rex. We rode as fast as possible toward Tim and Andy. I stood tall in my stirrups. Where the hell was Harry?

“Anyone seen Harry?” I shouted over the flames.

The answer was no. I took a deep breath, sucking in a huge amount of smoke then proceeded to cough my fool head off. When I was able to speak, I told the men to give a quick look for Harry then get the hell out of there. “Meet back at the knuckle-shaped rock by the springs.”

The four of us took off in separate directions to look for Harry Allen. The smoke became unbearable and I could only imagine what Adam had dealt with when he’d been trapped in the burning building with no way out. When he’d recovered enough to come home, he’d never wanted to talk about it and now I understood why.

None of us could stay out much longer. Without being able to see the other men, I prayed they’d already ridden out to safety, but Harry was my responsibility. I’d hired him on as part of the crew, and it was up to me to check every hidden draw until I found him.

After another 20 minutes of searching, I had to give up and leave Harry behind. Visibility was zero and the jumping flames were nipping at the heels of Cochise. As scared as he was he stayed surefooted as we slowly trekked down toward the stream where Rex, Andy, Ralph, and Tim stood, thank God.

“No, Harry?”

“Sorry, Joe,” Tim said.

“Okay, let’s get the hell outta here.”

I sent Rex and Andy back to the ranch and Ralph rode with Tim and me to his own place in town. I’d told the men to clean up and rest in the bunkhouse, but I also asked them not to mention anything to my father. He should hear the story from me, and not one of our ranch hands.

I thanked Ralph and said goodbye at his cutoff. Tim and I dismounted and led our mounts into town. I needed to tell Roy about the fire, and I felt obligated to tell him about Harry. I spotted the sheriff on the boardwalk making his afternoon rounds.   “Roy,” I called out.

“Little Joe, Tim. What’s up?”

“Fire, Roy—fire up on Sattler’s Ridge”

“Fire? How bad?”

“I don’t think there’s much you or anyone else can do except warn people to get out. The wind’s carrying the fire all across that side of the mountain.”

“You look beat, Little Joe,” Roy said. “I’ll get some men from town to ride out that way.”

“We lost the entire herd.” I rubbed soot from my upper lip. “We lost a man too, Roy.”

“Anyone I know?”

“Yeah, Harry Allen. I thought you should know.”

“Harry Allen?”

“Yeah, I hired him on as a drover.”

“I don’t know whether this is good news or not, Little Joe, but I just seen Harry over at the Bucket of Blood nursin’ a bottle of whiskey.”

“What?” Tim piped in before I could speak. I wouldn’t let my anger show in front of the sheriff, but to say I was burning mad was an understatement.

“Buy you a beer, Tim.”  I smiled and slapped the young man’s back.

“I don’t want no trouble, Little Joe.”

“Don’t worry, Sheriff. I’m just gonna buy my friend a beer.”

He didn’t see us enter the saloon. Tim and I walked straight to his table until he had the sense to look up. “Hello, Harry,” I said. I saw the frightened look in his eyes as he started to scoot his chair away from the table. “We looked for you, Harry; thought you might be trapped in the fire.”

“I—I had to get outta there, Joe.”

I leaned over the table, slamming my palms on the top. “Without telling anyone you were leaving?”

“I—”

“Did it ever occur to you we all could’ve been killed trying to save your sorry hide?”

“I’m sorry, Joe.”

“Go home, Harry, and don’t ever come begging for a job again.”

I left it at that. I should’ve beaten him half to death for running out like he did. My drovers were safe; no one was injured and thank God, no one was killed, but that was Harry, a worthless drunk and a sorry excuse for a man.

Tim and I were beat and our mounts were exhausted as well but we still had to ride home. My father was next on the list and it was going to kill him, knowing I’d lost the herd and worse, knowing how they died. The Ponderosa was at risk, and I wasn’t sure which part would upset him more. So far, the fire wasn’t a threat to our land but if the winds changed—

We were all in for a sleepless night.

Filthy and half-starved, Tim and I walked up to the house together. A soft, amber glow brightened the front window over my father’s desk. I reached out to open the front door and found it locked for the night so I knocked and we waited. Pa wasn’t expecting us home this early, and I’d probably startled him knocking at this late hour. I heard the tapping of his cane against the wood floor. “Yes? Who’s there?”

“It’s me, Pa. Me and Tim.”

Pa slid the latch and opened the front door. He took a step back and our eyes met, but words weren’t needed. With our clothes reeking of smoke and covered in ash, if he hadn’t smelled us already, he could tell by the look in my eye. “The herd’s gone, Pa.”

My father’s eyes closed but only briefly. “You’re all right?”

“Yeah, fire on Sattler’s Ridge, but everyone got out safely—everyone’s fine.” I hung up my hat and unbuckled my gunbelt. “The fire’s still burning,” I said without looking up at Pa. “Every last steer was—” I didn’t go any further, and I wasn’t about to go into detail. Pa already knew. I also failed to mention anything about Harry. Why bother? “I’m sorry, Pa.”

“As long as … everyone got out safely,” he said, “we’ll deal with the rest … later.”

Talking had become easier for Pa. He barely hesitated anymore, and I concentrated more on his words than the day we’d had.

“You both look tired. Get cleaned up and … get to bed. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“Go ahead, Tim. I’ll be up later.”

“Nite, Joe. Nite, Mr. Cartwright.”

“Hey, if you need somethin’ to eat—”

“Not tonight.  Thanks.”

I needed a drink, maybe two. Tim probably did also, but he’d already started up the stairs. “Join me?” I said to Pa, reaching for his decanter and pouring myself a brandy.

“Yes, thank you.”

Pa made his way back to his chair next to the banked fire. “I was just heading up to bed myself … before you—” he started to say. “A drink may help us both sleep easier.”

I poured us each a brandy; handed him a glass then sat down next to him. I downed mine quickly and then leaned back on the settee. I hesitated to say anything more about the fire tonight. I was beat, but I couldn’t go to bed. Not with the fire— “I should keep a watch out tonight.”

“The fire?”

“Yeah. If it heads this way—” I was too tired to finish a simple sentence and too tired to cover my mouth as I yawned and slowly closed my eyes.

“Joseph, go to bed. I’ll be up for a while; I’ll wake you if there’s trouble.”

“Maybe I’ll sleep down here,” I said, already deciding that was the plan. I grabbed a throw pillow and tucked it under my head as I stretched my legs out on the narrow settee.

The rooster crowed loud enough to wake me. I raised my head and noticed Pa was beginning to stir in his chair. Seems we’d both fallen asleep sometime during the night. I’d sat up and run a hand through my hair, settling it off my forehead, when Hop Sing slipped into the room carrying a tray. “Morning, Little Joe. Hop Sing make fresh pot for you and father.”

“Thanks, Hop Sing. It’s much appreciated.” I poured a cup for me and one for Pa, who was adjusting himself straighter in the chair. “Here you go,” I said, handing him a cup and saucer.

“Thank you, son,” he said, suppressing a yawn.

All I could smell and taste was smoke that clung to my clothes. The house was still standing, but I thought I should check outside. “Be right back,” I said, carrying my cup with me.

I walked out the front door to see low-hanging, dark clouds. The ground was damp, and I had good reason to be thankful. It rained during the night though I never heard a thing. The outside air smelled fresh and clean with only a hint of lingering smoke. Hopefully, the threat of fire moving onto our land was over. Still, the Ponderosa was being threatened in other ways—not losing trees and scaring the land but losing everything we’d ever worked for.

I threw out the last of my cold coffee and walked back into the house. “Rained last night, Pa. I think we’re safe now.”

“That’s good,” Pa said. “Real good.”

In my absence, Pa had moved to the dining room table so I joined him, taking my usual seat to his right. “We have more to think about than a wildfire, Pa. I don’t know how we’re going to make up for losing the entire herd.” I looked up at my father. He should’ve been as concerned as I was, but I didn’t see any sign of worry or stress in his face. He looked rather calm and collected.

“You’ll think of something, Joseph.”

I almost laughed. “I’m glad you think so, Pa. Offhand, I don’t have anything in mind. Maybe you can enlighten me.”

“You’ll figure it out.”

What the heck was the attitude? I’d never known my father to talk that way before, and I was a little dumbfounded. “You okay, Pa?”

“I’m fine, son.” Pa picked up a platter of scrambled eggs and scooped some out on his plate. “Eggs?”

“Thanks.” I took the platter and served myself what was left and handed Pa a plate of sausage.

“How many head did you leave behind before the drive?”

“Well, the bull and the yearlings, so maybe thirty or forty head.”

“That’s a start.”

“Yeah,” Probably the smallest herd we’d had since Pa built this place.

“You work with what you have, son. The herd’s gone. You move on with what you have left.”

“We won’t have any cattle to take to market next year, Pa. We’re basically starting from scratch.”

“That’s right.”

I was speechless. This wasn’t like Pa to sit and remain calm when our way of life had been threatened. Even though none of the events of the past six or eight months had been our fault or preventable, I questioned the odd behavior—the odd state of mind.

“I need a bath,” I said, changing the subject. Pa was talking crazy, and I didn’t have the energy to set him straight.

“Too bad we’re not in San Francisco,” Pa said as I stood up from my chair. “Baths were much easier in our suites, weren’t they?”

“I’ll say they were. I’ll get Hop Sing to heat the water.”

I stripped down and climbed into the bath. Remembering the private bathrooms Pa and I enjoyed at the Palace Hotel, this felt nearly as good. How perfect life had been back then. How much our lives have changed.

I lay my head against the back of our old copper tub and closed my eyes. I smiled to myself, just now realizing what Pa was trying to say during breakfast. We’d lost the herd, the mill was shut down, and the price of silver was at an all-time low. We were at rock bottom just like Pa had been when the stroke had knocked him flat on his back and speechless. He’d made a miraculous comeback and in his mind so would the Ponderosa.

I envied my father’s faith. If he thought we could do it then it would happen just as he said. This time, though, it was my turn to come up with a solution, but I admit, I didn’t have a tenth of the faith my father had.

When Tim finished breakfast and took time to bathe, the two of us rode out to see how much the fire had destroyed. Though we’d never know how it started, I needed to see the destruction for myself. My mind quickly flashed to Harry Allen and what a useless idiot he was, but even Harry wouldn’t have been that careless. There had been no lightning strikes, which was usually the case, and no one would burn anything this time of year and lose control of the fire.

I remember when I was just a kid; a family from Kentucky decided to settle near here and thought they’d burn out the land as a cleansing tactic. Maybe that’s something people did in Kentucky, but not when timber is so dry and delicate to begin with.

I fought with that old man when I’d seen what he’d done, and told him how many acres, homes, and families could be destroyed by the blaze. It didn’t turn out like I’d expected, though, and when he aimed his long-barreled rifle at me, I ended up having to shoot first, ending his life instead of mine. I hope that wasn’t the case this time with some new settler thinking that’s how we did things in Nevada.

Tim and I surveyed the damage; acres had been burned and even some of our own land at the north end of our property. Trunks of trees were still smoldering, but the real danger was over thanks to the unexpected rainfall. Whereas it never occurred to me to pray for rain, I’m sure my father had done that very thing, and maybe his prayers had been answered thus saving most of the land he cared so much about.

The Ponderosa wasn’t altogether penniless, and I wondered if buying more cattle and enlarging what herd we had left might be the wise thing to do. We could always drive some of those Texas longhorns up and breed them with our Herefords. It may carry us over until the mill was needed or the price of silver rose again.

“Joe?” Tim said as we rode back to the house. “You mind if I stop in town for a while or—”

His voice trailed off. I was no dummy; I knew exactly why he wanted to go into town. “Missin’ your lady friend?”

“Well, I thought I might—I mean, if you don’t mind, I’d like to—”

“Sure, go ahead. See you back at the ranch later.”

“Thanks, Joe.”

Maybe it was time for me to find a new lady friend, too, though not many of the proper ladies in Virginia City would give me a second look. Not much had changed in that respect, and as time passed, I’d gotten over the fact that I couldn’t change what any of the Virginia City bluebloods chose to believe. But now wasn’t the time to think about the ladies. The Ponderosa’s future was at stake, and redirecting our ventures would take most of my time and energy.

When we all sat down to dinner that evening, Tim rushed in at the last minute. Smiling rather sheepishly just as I used to, trying to stay on Pa’s good side, he took his seat across from me. Then, he said something that stuck in my craw, something I couldn’t dismiss.

“Well?” I said to Tim. “Did you have a nice afternoon?”

The kid blushed before he spoke. “Yeah—”

“And?”

“Well, she was out shopping when I rode into town, and so I took her to Miss Daisy’s for lunch.”

Pa eyed me, but I was done joking with the kid. He was so shy and so uncomfortable talking about his love life; I didn’t want him to run out of the house like he had last time.

“You know what was odd though, Joe? She was talking to that scumbag, Harry Allen when I rode in.”

“Harry?”

“Yeah. She seemed kind of flustered and told me he’d bumped into her and knocked the packages outta her arms. Then she told me that after he picked them up, he kept walking and talking to her. That guy gives me the creeps, Joe. I don’t like him being anywhere close to her.”

“I don’t blame you, Tim. I never should’ve hired him for the drive. He’s nothing but a no-good drunk and should be locked up on that farm of his and never let out.”

“Joseph—”

“Well, it’s true, Pa. You know it, and I know it. He’s a bad seed; he never did a worthwhile thing in his life.”

Pa didn’t argue with me because I was 100% right. Harry Allen was no good. I’d dealt with him since I was a kid in school, and he wasn’t worth two cents if you asked me. I don’t know what possessed me to hire him as a drover except that he looked so haggard and so worn-down from just trying to stay alive that when he begged me for the job, I caved. It would be the last time, though, and thinking back to what Tim had said, I’d be upset too if Harry were anywhere near a woman of mine.

“Hey,” I said. “What’s this lady’s name anyhow? I’m tired of calling her your lady friend.”

“Harriet,” he said. “Harriet Collins.”

“Well, I’m sure Harry was drunk when he ran into her. Slim chance it will ever happen again.”

The name Collins gave me chills, but I couldn’t tell Tim or say anything to Pa. They’d think I was some kind of nut job if I let the woman’s last name mean anything more than it was—a last name. Then I thought about Harry. He never did anything by accident, and I could only hope that Harriet and Harry Allen weren’t running with the same circle of friends.

As summer approached, I had more time to think about bringing steers up from Texas. Pa agreed it would be a worthwhile venture, and as much as I hated leaving my father home alone with just Hop Sing, it had to be done. If I could drag Tim away from Harriet Collins for a couple of months’ time, I’d be lucky. I’d thought about taking Rex and Andy, our horse breakers, but Tim had become such a close friend we’d even started thinking alike. If there was anyone I wanted watching my back, it was Tim Wilson.

I’d planned to leave in two days, and I thought I’d treat the kid to a night in town before we left for Texas. As we both rode into Virginia City, I wondered if he’d rather be with his lady friend than with me. He’d never say anything, but I knew how serious the relationship had become, and I hoped I wasn’t cutting in and ruining any plans he may have had.

I had to stop at the bank for cash while Tim headed down to the mercantile. Then we tried out a new restaurant in town called Reds. It was worth a shot. We each ordered a steak, which wasn’t anything to get excited about, and then lit out for the saloon for a few beers and maybe a few hands of poker. Neither of us played cards too much after what we’d each been through early on in our lives, but a friendly game never hurt anyone.

“The oddest thing happened at the bank,” I said to Tim as we leaned back against the bar at the Silver Dollar. “There was this well-dressed woman, and just as I walked into the bank, she almost ran me down trying to get out of there.”

“What was her hurry?”

“Beats me. She kept her head down, almost like she didn’t want me to see her face.”

“That’s kinda strange, ain’t it?”

“Sure was but now I’m curious,” I said, laughingly.

“Well, maybe you’ll see her again someday or maybe like you say, she ain’t got no teeth and didn’t want you to notice.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. The kid was quick and kept me laughing all the time. Although he’d never take the place of Hoss—nobody could—he was a good man to have around.

After a few hands of cards and more beer than either of us should’ve had, we were unsteady on our feet by the time we left the saloon. There was barely any moonlight so we plodded along slowly, both of us sobering up along the way.

An early morning chill filled the air as the low hint of sunlight spread across the horizon. Tim lifted his head slowly off the jagged rock. He reached the base of his skull, feeling the good-sized lump, which in turn left traces of rust-colored blood on his fingertips when he eased his hand away. “What the—”

He made it to his feet, started to stumble forward, but he righted himself quickly. A feeling of dread crept over him as he stood in the middle of the rutted dirt road, bewildered. Turning his head slowly, looking in all directions, he discovered nothing that made any sense. His horse was gone. Joe and his mount were gone. Had Joe ridden off, leaving him hurt and alone sometime during the night?

As fuzzy as his head was, he remembered some of what happened the night before. He and Joe had left the saloon and were on their way home when a shot was fired. He remembered falling and realized he must have hit his head on a rock when he’d tumbled from his horse.

He reached for the sleeve of his jacket—more blood, a flesh wound, but only a scratch, nothing to fret over. He hollered for Joe, then grabbed his head with both hands as pain shot through, and retched by the side of the road. After taking a deep breath and pushing his tousled, blond hair off his forehead, he started toward the house.

When no one came down for breakfast, and after asking Hop Sing if the boys had left the house early, worry got the best of Ben Cartwright. He could’ve been sleeping when the two had come in the night before, but now he realized there was trouble. He ate quickly and had just walked out the front door when he saw Buster, Tim’s horse, standing alone, still saddled in the middle of the front yard.

Ben walked Buster to the barn and noticed a man crossing the yard behind him. “Tim? That you?” Ben dropped the horse’s reins.

“Yessir, it’s me,” he said, cradling his aching head.

“Where’s Joe? Isn’t he with you?”

Tim removed his hat and looked at Ben. “I don’t know, sir.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? Why isn’t he with you?”

“I don’t—there was a shot and … “

“Let’s start over, Tim, and tell me what you do know?”

“We left the saloon, and we were on our way home, and—I just don’t know, Mr. Cartwright. There was a shot. I fell off my horse and—and now I’m here.”

“Your horse is here. I was stabling him when you—”

“Oh, good. I didn’t know where …”

“But you don’t know who shot at you.”

Tim shook his head.

“And there was only one shot.”

“I think so, sir, but I may have already passed out. When I woke, Joe was gone. His horse was gone, and I … I’m sorry, but that’s all I know.”

Ben became even more concerned when he noticed the dried blood on Tim’s fingers. “Let’s get you cleaned up, and I’ll see if I can make sense of what you’ve just told me.”

Within the hour, Ben and Tim were in the surrey and on their way to Virginia City. Stopping where he and Joe had been bushwhacked, they found clues, but no explanation as to why.

“—and that’s all I know, Sheriff,” Tim said, after he finished giving the same account he’d given Ben.

Roy pondered the kid’s story then stood from his desk to refill his cup. “Coffee?”

“Not now, Roy,” Ben said.

“So Little Joe had quite a bit of cash on him, right?” Roy questioned. “How many folks knew about you boys headin’ for Texas?”

Tim looked at Ben and shrugged his shoulders. “No one.”

“Well, it sounds like robbery to me. What about you?”

Ben shook his head. “I don’t know, Roy. It’s like Tim said; nobody knew their plans.”

“I’ll round up a posse.” Roy buckled his gunbelt. “Little Joe can’t be far. I’ll send word as soon as we find him.”

Roy Coffee and his posse turned up nothing that summer afternoon or any of the days that followed. They stumbled upon Cochise, still saddled and grazing, close to a mile down the hill from where Tim and Joe had been ambushed, but that was the extent of their findings.

Days turned into weeks. Ben had corresponded with Adam numerous times, explaining the situation as best he could, but his letters became less hopeful as time went on. Adam did everything possible to keep his father’s hopes alive, but he could tell from the most recent letter, his father had lost any hope of finding Joe alive.

With Texas steers long since forgotten, Tim, although only a mere substitute for a blood son, had become Ben’s right-hand man, and he would hold that position as long as he was needed. Working steadily, he managed to keep the ranch running, but after long, tedious days, it became difficult to keep his employer’s spirits up. With Joe missing and presumed dead, Ben had grown less than enthusiastic when it came to his once-prosperous ranch.

Ben’s world had been shattered. Joseph was his only living son still residing at home, a son who prided himself on keeping an old man’s legacy alive. Since Hoss’ death, and with Adam’s work in California, Joe and Ben had become closer still. Ben had never deluded himself over who was the real boss; Joseph was in charge. Joseph ran the ranch. It was up to his youngest son to decide what was needed. Even though Joe felt it necessary to run things by him by asking his opinion or listening to his thoughts, it was Joe’s decision in the end. What would become of the Ponderosa and the legacy Ben would hand down to his sons?

“—I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.” Adam leaned in and kissed his bride, Kathryn Lemont, now Mrs. Adam Cartwright.

His best man, Jake Jacobs, slapped Adam on the back and reached for his hand. “I was starting to wonder if you were smart enough or man enough to make this lovely lady your bride, Adam.” Jake eased himself between the newly married couple, congratulating them both before wrapping his arms around Kate and kissing her full on the mouth.

“Hey, buddy. Friend or not, that’s enough,” Adam said, moving Jake aside and away from his new bride. “You missed your chance, my friend. She’s officially Mrs. Adam Cartwright.” Adam smiled at Kate, pulling her close to his side. As her fingers slipped up the front of his chest, he took her hand in his then brought it slowly to his lips, and whispered, “I love you.”

Held in a small chapel, Kate had decorated it with bouquets of flowers, and it was a joyous occasion with everyone in high spirits, but the celebration would be short-lived. Tomorrow, Adam and Kate would leave their friend, Jake, and the city of San Francisco behind. Adam was returning home, accompanied by his new bride, who seemed almost more anxious than he was to start over in the wilds of Nevada, a term she’d heard and couldn’t wait to begin their new life together.

The wedding hadn’t been a snap decision. Adam and Kate had been lovers for years, but since they were leaving the city, it was time to make their partnership official. Joe had been missing for two months, and Ben couldn’t manage alone. Tim, whom Ben had praised more than once in his letters, had done what he could, but Adam knew he had to return. He had to be there for his father.

Adam had enjoyed his life in the city, and he’d become well-known by the articles he’d written. He’d even won a journalism award after taking up pen and paper when Jacobs lured him in that direction. But it was time to put that piece of his life behind him and do what he could, even if it meant selling the ranch or subdividing the thousand acres his father owned.

Times were changing, and with new settlers moving into the area, it might prove cost-effective to let some of the land go, but he and his father would work that out as soon as he was settled back home.

And what in God’s name had happened to Joe? Why was there never a body found? Pa had written about the search parties that had combed the area so when Roy and his posse turned up nothing but Joe’s horse, Ben had called in a state marshal, and when he and his men failed, a private detective was hired but still, they’d found nothing.

He’d just dealt with Hoss’ death and now Little Joe, the baby brother who brought chaos and joy to the family was suddenly ripped away. As the Central Pacific headed east toward Virginia City, Adam tucked his musings away. He was determined to find answers where professionals had failed.

Ben had Tim drive him into Virginia City. Seeing Adam and Kate should’ve been a reason for celebration, but with Joe’s probable death, the homecoming and Ben’s mood was melancholy at best.

Tim pulled the large, four-seated surrey to a stop only minutes before the train roared into the depot. It was easier for Ben to stay seated and wait for his son to come to him than to try to manage the stairs up to the loading dock. Tim jumped out of the surrey, offering to help with their luggage and point Adam and Kate in the right direction.

Ben had accepted the young man as a devoted companion and as close to a son as any man could be. He’d learned to rely on Tim for everything, including personal needs as well as managing the ranch. But decisions concerning ranch operations would alter when Adam returned, and Ben was concerned about the transition. He didn’t dare lose the bright young man in the process.

Ben spotted Adam and Kate departing the train. He lifted his hat, waving it high over his head as he caught sight of his son. He did feel joy, more than he could imagine as Adam and his new bride walked down the stairway toward the surrey. They greeted each other; a hearty handshake from Adam and a kiss from Kate before climbing aboard the freshly cleaned buggy and heading back to the Ponderosa. The house would be filled with a woman’s voice and hopefully a mild distraction from the ever-present stillness at home.

Kate was a gift from heaven, a woman entirely opposite his conservative and quiet son. She was bubbly and full of laughter, something the house needed desperately right now. Ben hoped they’d be happy living with him and not feel the need to build a place of their own, but that would be discussed later. Ben was content and thanked the good Lord for bestowing on his eldest son this beautiful woman and the ultimate desire to return home.

The window shade had been lowered to the sill, and I barely knew day from night since I’d been brought to this place, weeks maybe even months ago. My wrists had been handcuffed and my ankles tied to a brass bed, which left me immobile. I’d lost all track of time.

It wasn’t hard to figure out that Harriet Collins and Abby Collier were one and the same. Why I hadn’t connected the dots earlier wasn’t worth dwelling on any longer. My life hung in the balance with Abby calling the shots. I wasn’t to speak unless spoken to; I couldn’t relieve myself unless she decided it was time. I ate whatever she fed me; I drank on occasion when she deemed it necessary to keep me alive.

But her goal was revenge, to drive me insane, to watch me commit yet another murder, my own. I’d killed her father and was the reason for her brother’s death, and she assured me I would plead with her—beg her to let me end my life.

For hours, I went without food or water, and I’d learned not to ask. Abby’s life had become a living hell after being introduced to morphine while she served her two-year sentence in the Women’s Facility for being an accomplice to her brother, Jackson’s, plan to kill me.

“You know what happens to women in prison?” She said early on, as she held the small vial of morphine up close to my face.

I never told her I’d done time, and I wondered what kind of game she was playing. Did she already know the answer? Anything could upset her, and I had to watch every word I said. “No, tell me,” I said, a bit too sarcastically, but I don’t think she noticed the inflection in my voice.

She held the vile eye level and stared at its contents. “This little drug is encouraged for women with female troubles, Joseph. Menstrual cycles or menopause, even pregnancy, of which I have no issues with any of those on the list, but” she said loudly, “I was given the drug anyway. We all were.”

“Why?” I asked then I realized anything was possible in prison. I should know.

“Morphine means control, Joseph. I thought you, being a man and all, would already be privy to matters of such.”

“I never tried to control you, Abby, and from what I remember of our time together, it was you who tried to control me.”

“Oh, Joseph, how silly you are. What you fail to realize, my sweet, is that after this marvelous drug has taken over every conscious thought, your mind is no longer your own. Men step in. Men who want to hurt you.” She lowered the small bottle to her lap. “I had to beg, on my knees, Joseph. I had to perform favors no proper woman should have to. Do you understand my meaning?”

“Yes,” I knew exactly what she meant although I said nothing to encourage her to say more, but she continued.

“The guards called it playtime, Joseph. I could see the outline of the vial in the guard’s shirt pocket as he stood outside my cell, smiling and grabbing himself in an ungentlemanly fashion. We had to have our playtime first. You understand, don’t you, sweetheart? I had to spread my legs for despicable men who put their filthy hands all over me, and why you might ask? Because you sent me there to live with those men.”

“Abby, please listen to reason. I had no way of knowing—” Without even hearing my plea, she continued.

“I was expected to remove my underclothes and lie down on the bed.” She hesitated but only for a minute. “I suppose you think I should have fought them off, don’t you. Rule number one, Joseph. Don’t fight back. Rule number two: never make a sound.

“I listened to those pigs grunt and groan as they forced their way inside me, leaving sticky wetness on my thighs while the second guard stood unfastening his pants for round two. But that wasn’t the end, not at all. After they’d spoiled me for any decent man and humiliated me to no end—it wasn’t enough. I was forced to my knees. I was forced to beg.”

She took a deep breath, and I supposed she was reliving the experience much like I had at times. What could I say? She held up the vile so I’d be sure to see.

“For this little bit of heaven,” she said, running her free hand down her thigh, “I had to demean myself even more by begging for one simple shot of the prison drug.” It was no surprise that when her sentence was complete, she’d been released back into society with a cruel addiction to morphine.

Twice a day, Abby sat next to me on the bed with her vile and her dirty syringe, making sure I was able to witness the process as she plunged the needle deep into her arm for the needed rush she craved. “I feel playful today, Joseph,” she’d sometimes say. I dreaded the words, knowing where her thoughts were headed and what she meant by “playful.”

As she’d been wronged in prison, she planned retribution for me. I was the scapegoat for all the horror that had plagued Abby’s life. She’d brought me here as one would a possession—a plaything—someone for her to humiliate and take pleasure in hurting whenever she felt the need. She’d proven herself successful, savoring every minute of the anguish she caused. In her mind, when I’d had enough of her games when life wasn’t worth living, I’d ask for release from this world to the next.

Abby’s physical features were changing almost daily. Her face had grown gaunt and gray, a washed-out look that aged her beyond her years. She’d lost weight, as I had too since she seldom fed me and rarely ate anything herself. The addiction took its toll, and she became more unpredictable, and her mood swings were more erratic.

The lovely woman I once knew was gone; her beautiful face, the gentle curves of her body, and even the refined and delicate way she moved when I first met her and enjoyed listening to her skirts swish softly through the hallways of the hospital in San Francisco. Her mind faltered daily as if it had withered and was close to breaking down. All that mattered now was the drug, which brought on frustrating and overwhelming aggravation for me.

Today was one of those days. She was driven to “play” as she called it, or “feeling playful,” which were, I believe, her exact words. In her warped state of mind, she enjoyed degrading and making me suffer just as she had suffered for so long.

Without ease or constraint, she handled the most sensitive part of my body, not with gentle fingers but with a grip meant to cause pain. By not allowing me the end result, the atmosphere in the room became two-sided—fulfillment for her and torment for me.

With the constant noise level, the endless pounding and shoveling sounds, and men’s muffled voices coming from somewhere outside this room, it suddenly came to me that there was complete silence. It must be Sunday, a day of rest, during the yearlong renovation of the International House Hotel. Could I possibly be right here in the heart of Virginia City?

Abby was a sly one, and this would be the last place anyone would ever look, especially after all this time when I was most likely presumed dead. She also had the hotel routine down well and knew when to expect a knock on the door. She would slip a heavy, leather mask over my head and buckle the straps under my chin. I couldn’t make a sound.

Only two people ever came to this room. First was a young man of Chinese descent who understood only some of the language but who offered to clean the room or at least change the linens. Abby would often reply that she was busy and ask that everything be set outside the door and she would gather up the clean items later. This was a classy hotel and linens were changed weekly for ongoing residents. The second person to show up was her accomplice.

The unforgiving mask was one used on her in prison, and she relayed part of the story to me one night after she’d attacked me with her fists when I’d asked for a drink of water.

“I had to wear this twice, Joseph,” she said, holding it up in front of her and staring as if the slits for eyes were staring back. “Twice,” she repeated. “Once, when my brother hung himself in his cell all because you forced him into that prison and for what? What, Joseph? Because he was getting back at you for killing our father? Is that what you call a reason, Joseph?

“Abby,” I started to say, but she hushed me and continued.

“The guard strapped this on me,” she said then twirled the damn thing on her finger. “I was beside myself. I screamed and cried when I heard Jackson was dead, and that’s all it took for the guard to slap my face, pull this from his belt and fasten it over my head. He tied my hands behind my back so I couldn’t reach the straps and slammed the cell door shut. I can still hear his belly-laugh as he walked away.”

“Abby, I’m sorry,” I said, but I don’t know that she listened or even heard my apology.

“Six pounds, Joseph. This little item weighs six pounds,” she said, still twirling, “and as you’ve discovered, it’s hot and uncomfortable. It’s used to control inmates who’ve become violent. I never became violent, Joseph, but I had to wear it twice.”

I knew there was more to tell, and I’d kept my mouth shut and listened, but I was wrong. She said nothing only stopped the twirling, leaned back in her chair, and stared at the tiny slits.

Her taunts had become pure evil. She’d often reminded me of our time together in San Francisco, which was a memory much different from anything I could recall. For Abby, we’d had a love affair until I turned my back on her by sending Jackson and her to prison. Why had I betrayed her so? That was the daily question she forced me to answer. What could I possibly tell her but to go along with the bizarre chain of events as she saw them?

I played the game. I did what was needed to stay alive.

“It’s so good to have you home, son, and you, Kate,” Ben said as they gathered around the dining room table, eating one of Hop Sing’s dinners.

“You might want to direct your appreciation to Kate, Pa,” Adam replied. “She’s the one who persuaded me to move back. She was ecstatic about coming here and leaving the city from the first day I’d mentioned it to her.”

“Well, I’m glad you convinced him, Kate. This old house came alive the minute you walked through the front door.”

“I didn’t have the heart to tell her how long the winters were,” Adam continued, “or how dry and dusty it was in the summer.”

“I have a feeling she’ll manage just fine, son.”

Kate, sitting beside Adam, took hold of his hand and looked at Ben. “Thank you, Mr. Cartwright. Your son can be quite stubborn at times, but I think we’re both happy to be here, aren’t we, sweetheart? And yes, I have no doubt I will adjust quite easily to this new way of life.”

Tim was also thankful that Adam had come home. The workload was too much for one person, and between the two of them, he could take a breath; maybe even sit back and relax for more than five minutes at a time.

Harriet Collins had been called out of town suddenly; something about a dying relative she’d written in a message and sent to Tim by courier nearly two months ago. On stationery she’d borrowed from her landlady at the boarding house, she wrote in very few words that she was sorry things hadn’t worked out, but she felt she was needed back home. She’d be forced to leave Virginia City on the next stage east, returning to her native Boston, and was deeply sorry she wouldn’t have time for goodbyes.

Tim dealt with the loss of the woman he loved although at first he was devastated when there had been no goodbye, no forwarding address. It was a blow to his ego, knowing he’d been in love, not her, and he’d never see or be with her again.

Harriet was older than Tim by nearly ten years and for that reason, he’d never brought her around to meet the family besides the fact, she’d never seemed to have any desire to see where he lived or meet the men he lived with.

What would any of the Cartwrights think of him courting a woman who was so much older and more experienced? Would they think he was out of his mind? Though he missed her at times, there was too much work to be done, but now that Adam was home, maybe it was time for him to find a new girl, maybe one closer to his own age and maybe one who actually loved him back.

When dinner was finished and the men retired to the great room for coffee, Kate bid the family goodnight and headed upstairs to Adam’s old bedroom, the room now stockpiled with their belongings. The remainder, furniture and other odds and ends, even some of their clothing was in storage and would be shipped from San Francisco later. Adam assured her his boyhood bedroom wouldn’t be their home for long, just until he had time to build a house of their own, a comfortable distance away from prying eyes.

As soon as he heard the door close upstairs, Adam poured two glasses of brandy and sat down next to his father to discuss what Ben thought had happened to Joe. There had to be more to the story, especially without Joe’s body ever being located; a simple robbery just didn’t make sense.

“I’m gonna go check the stock, Mr. Cartwright.”

“Thanks, Tim,” Ben said, turning and smiling at the young man.”

“I thought maybe we could have a private conversation while Tim’s busy with the evening chores, Pa.”

“Adam,” Ben said, adjusting himself a bit taller in his leather chair, “Tim Wilson is as much a part of this family as you or your brothers ever were. I won’t allow him to be left out of any family discussions or anything else concerning ranch business.”

“I just thought—”

“I know what you thought, son, but I’ve grown quite fond of the young man, and I need you to keep that in mind as we move forward. He’s been my right-hand man since Joseph—since Joe’s disappearance, and I won’t have him thinking he’s not needed or wanted.”

“All right,” Adam said in a drawn-out voice. “Should we wait for him then?”

“He knows everything I do, son. He was with Joe when this first happened so filling him in isn’t an issue.”

Adam hesitated before he asked the next question. His eyes met Ben’s. “Still nobody?”

“No—”

“Then there’s hope, Pa. There’s got to be something we’re missing.”

“It’s been weeks, Adam,” Ben said, adjusting himself in his chair. “No ransom note, no sightings, nothing.”

“Then why was Joe taken—a robbery?”

“That’s the only sensible conclusion any of us came up with, son. Joe had $1000 in cash to buy Texas Longhorns. Tim said no one knew about the money except the bank manager.”

“Was he questioned?”

“Son, I’ve known Harry Bristol for years. He’d never attempt something like this.”

“I know one person who would,” Tim said, walking back into the house.

“Who’s that?” Adam said.

“Harry Allen, that’s who.”

“Harry Allen? What’s he got to do with Joe? I just assumed—”

“Why didn’t you mention him before?” Ben said.

“I don’t know. It’s probably nothin’ anyway.”

“What’s this about Harry Allen, Tim? Why do you think he’d have anything to do with Joe’s disappearance?” Adam already knew what kind of man Harry was but why was he mentioned in relation to Joe this many years later? He had never assumed there’d still be cause for trouble with the likes of the Allen brothers.

“Joe hired him for the cattle drive up to the railhead last spring,” Tim said, glancing at Ben and then looking back at Adam. “I’m sure you already know about the fire and all—well, when the fire got too intense, Harry cut out—left us and the herd behind. All four of us searched for him, thinking he must have been trapped in the blaze. But Joe, he felt responsible, and he stayed out there looking almost too long. He nearly died that day all because of that fool.”

Tim saw the surprised look on Ben’s face. When the boys arrived home that night, Joe hadn’t mentioned anything about Harry or about having to endanger himself searching for him. Ben shook his head. Joe had spared him the details

“Go on,” Adam said.

“When Joe and I rode into town to tell the sheriff about the fire and about Harry being dead, we was told Harry was sitting in the saloon, drinkin’. I could tell Joe was hot under the collar, but all he did that day was tell Harry off rather than beat the stuffing outta him like he wanted to do. There wasn’t no fight or nothin’ but that guy’s trouble, Adam. He’s no good.”

“I have to agree with you, Tim. Harry’s been a thorn in Joe’s side as long as I can remember.” Adam glanced at his father. “Was Harry ever questioned?”

Ben tried to think back. His life was in such turmoil in the days following Joe’s disappearance, and he couldn’t recall all the details like he should. “I’m not sure, son, but as far as I can remember, no. I think it’s time we paid Roy Coffee a visit. First thing tomorrow morning.”

“Good,” Adam said, slapping his hand on his knees then standing. “Now that that’s settled, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I have a beautiful wife waiting for me upstairs.”

“Nite, son.”

“Night, Adam. I’m off to bed too, Mr. Cartwright.”

“Goodnight, Tim.”

Ben remained seated, staring into the dying flames of the fire. Harry Allen. Why hadn’t his name been brought up before? Ben recalled how years ago, the Allen brothers had nearly killed Little Joe over a gambling debt even though Joe had the money in his pocket to settle up with the miserable gambler. Could it possibly be they’d overlooked Harry Allen all along?

Someone pounded on the door. Looking through the narrow slits of the mask, I knew who’d come and I knew why. He was out of pocket change, and Abby was his meal ticket. After a night in the saloon, he’d be back for more, but Abby was preoccupied and the banging sound continued.

She took pleasure in the sudden rush. Before removing the needle from her arm, she’d lie back in the chair and close her eyes. Nothing else mattered, not her appearance, or the constant pounding or the guttural sound that filtered through the mask. I couldn’t yell out, and I couldn’t move.

Minutes passed before she actually stirred. “What?” she shouted. Loose strands of matted, blonde hair lay lifeless across her shoulders. Her dress was filthy; she never bathed or cleaned her teeth, but when she leaned forward, she extracted the needle and let it fall to the floor.

“Miss Collins?”

“Who is it?”

“It’s Harry. Unlock the damn door before I kick it in.” She reached for the latch and turned the lock. Harry flung the door open and pushed Abby aside. “I need cash, lady, and I need it now.”

I watched the confrontation but could barely hear Abby’s voice since the mask was so tight on my head. It wasn’t the first time Harry had seen me lying on the bed buck-naked, and I was long past feeling embarrassed.

Harry Allen had been in on the kidnapping. Whether it was the money Abby paid him or his lifelong hatred for me, I’d never know, but like a good little errand boy, he arrived daily with either another vial or a bottle of whiskey. I don’t know what she’d paid him, but he had the upper hand and wanted more.

One of the two had made out with the $1000 I had on me; I suppose whoever reached into my pocket first. I assume it was Abby or Harry who wouldn’t be coming around screamin’ and carryin’ on like the fool he was.

“No more,” Abby said. “I told you before. There’s no more money.”

“Then don’t expect me comin’ ‘round here no more, Missy. The party’s over.” Harry moved closer to the bed and stared down at me. “What are your plans for Cartwright?”

Abby plopped down in the chair, her knees spread like a man’s, and she cradled her head in her hands. “He—he needs—”

“What? He needs to die is what needs doin’ ‘fore he tells the sheriff what we done.”

She lifted her head slowly, and with a scowl on her face, she stood from the chair. “I make the rules, Harry, not you,” she said. “He’ll die, but he’ll die by his own hand, not yours, not mine. Do you understand me?”

I couldn’t make out Harry’s last words though I doubt he was thrilled over having a woman give orders and pointing to the door. Harry slammed the door on his way out, and a chill ran through me. Maybe this was the end. Harry was of no use to Abby anymore, and if she were truly out of money, how would she finance her need for morphine?

I’d seen her at her worst. I’d seen her trying to hold off, struggling with herself not to pick up the vile and dirty syringe. It may sound odd to most people, but there were times my heart broke for the once beautiful woman, who’d encountered a series of circumstances that affected her so, forcing her to live through the misery and settle for the kind of life that was spiraling out of control.

Her moods were up and down, sweet and reminiscing or violently angry. She’d speak of our love affair one minute and then become aggressive, attacking me, slapping, gouging even ripping her torn, ragged fingernails down my face and chest.

Abby unbuckled the straps from my neck, removed the mask, and set it aside. I pulled in as much air as I could after what seemed like hours. The drug was still affecting her mood, and she was at peace, but somewhere down the road, there’d be hell to pay.

“My plan hasn’t worked out, has it, Joseph? You’re still alive.”

I was so thirsty. “May I have something to drink, sweetheart?” It was time to try the absurd. Maybe if I joined her fantasy world and carried on as if we were lovers, I could leave the room alive.

“Did I ever tell you about the second time I wore this mask?” She held it with both hands and ran her fingers over the moist, warm leather.

“Tell me, my love,” I said, choking on each word.

It was the same narrative I’d heard before, but I listened as though it was the first telling. It was the story every woman would tell who had spent time in prison. It was the story of being raped repeatedly in order to get a single shot of morphine the warden used to control his inmates. I knew the story well, and I listened to this version, which paralleled all the rest.

“—and I did what every decent lady does. I spread my legs and urged him to take me,” she said as she filled the syringe. “Then he’d jam the needle in my arm—” I watched, and with force, the needle broke in her arm.

I cringed as her face tightened with pain. She never deserved such treatment, no one did. I understood pain. I understood prison life though I would never let on. I would never give her the satisfaction of knowing I, too, was raped.

Abby rubbed the raised mark she’d left on her arm then leaned back in her chair and looked straight at me. “From that very first time, as that pig-faced guard forced himself inside me, I began planning my revenge, Joseph. I wanted you to know pain. I wanted you to feel what I felt. I wanted you to know what you’d done when you sent me to that place with those horrible men.”

She moved to the front edge of the chair and had a cunning, almost cheerful smile on her face. “Revenge is good therapy don’t you think? I mean what else do I have, Joseph? My life is over. I have no family, and I don’t have you. That’s why you must die. You understand, don’t you?”

It had all been said and somewhere between love and madness stood her obsession for revenge. Abby’s feelings were clear. Her life was over, and mine would be too. I didn’t know how or when but I felt it would be soon.

She scanned the room. A bottle of whiskey sat on the table next to her chair. She pulled the stopper and walked back toward the side of the bed. “Tell me again why you deceived me, Joseph.”

“I love you, Abby,” I lied. “I would never deceive you; you know that by now, don’t you?”

“You deceived me, Joseph. You lied to me. You killed my father, and now my brother is dead. Why, Joe? We had everything. Why do you hate me so?”

“I didn’t mean for Jackson to die. He took his own life. He wasn’t strong like you and me. We can be together now just you and me.”

She held the bottle in her hand, turned, and walked away. Apparently, my answer wasn’t the right one. I didn’t know what she wanted to hear. What did she expect me to say? I’d tried everything, but Abby held firm in her distorted way of thinking and nothing I said would satisfy her.

Abby stood across the room and gazed at her reflection in an oval mirror that hung above a small dresser. I wondered what she saw—certainly not the beautiful woman she used to be but a down-and-out morphine addict, who had long since cared about herself or her appearance. Her hollow face, matted hair, and her filthy, loose-fitting clothes were a disgrace to the woman she’d once been. Did she see what she’d become or did her eyes deceive her? Did she still see the lovely woman I’d met in San Francisco or did this ghostly image of her warn-out self stare back?

Unexpectedly, she grabbed the neck of the bottle and slammed it against the mirror. Shards of broken glass fell to the floor, and while still in a fit of rage, she flung the broken whiskey bottle clear across the room, sending the coat rack alongside the front door, teetering.

Her violent rage continued as she swept her hands across the top of the small dresser and then the round table adjacent to the chair, flinging lamps and countless smaller items, sending them flying then crashing to the floor in this tightly furnished room.

She stood over me and glared. The hate in her eyes was visible as she raised her hand high above her head and with all her might; her hand came down, slapping my face, jerking my head sideways. “I hate you!” A second slap. “I hate you!”

Again—and again—and again.

There was no sense pleading—she’d lost control. Closing my eyes while she viciously tore at my face, I grabbed a tight hold of the end rails as she continued her vicious rant. She beat on my chest and punched her fist in my gut before the slapping began again. My ankles had been tied with rough hemp, and whenever I jerked from the attack, the ropes dug deeper into my raw and swollen skin.

As quickly as she’d begun, she brought it to an end. She straightened herself to full height, glaring at the marks she left. I struggled to catch my breath. “I thought you—thought you loved me, Abby,” I said, gulping for air, hoping I could calm her frenzied attack. “You told me you loved me.”

As my breathing returned to normal, Abby transformed into someone completely unlike the woman who tore at me only moments ago—a look of sadness and distress claimed her eyes as tears flowed slowly down her reddened cheeks. She sat down next to me on the edge of the bed and reached out her hand, tracing her fingertips across my swollen cheek then pushed my sweat-soaked hair from my forehead.

Standing up, Abby gathered her skirts then she lifted one knee, climbed up and stretched herself out lengthwise alongside me. She reached down for the coverlet and pulled it up over the two of us before wrapping her arm around me and laying her head on my chest. Just above a gentle whisper, she mumbled the words, “I’ll always love you.”

She was exhausted, as was I. Neither of us moved or said a word. I hadn’t a clue what brought on the erratic behavior. Since I’d been her captive, she’d never acted that way before. Why the sudden change? Maybe she’d dosed herself differently this time. It was my chance to scream out, to see if someone would find us. But I was so dry; I could barely hear my own voice much less holler loud enough that I’d be heard outside the hotel door.

Morning light flooded the room, and Ben sat in his bedroom chair, still upset over the name Tim had mentioned the night before. He made his way downstairs, but he’d stay home rather than ride to town with his boys.

Wondering why Harry Allen had never come to mind all those weeks ago, Adam and Tim could ride in and see Roy Coffee easier than dragging him along anyway. He cursed how his body betrayed him since the stroke. He’d recovered most of his faculties, but the fact that he tired easily angered him most of all. Yes, the boys could handle things just fine and report to him later, but as much as he wanted to believe in miracles, his hopes of seeing his youngest son alive and well were dashed long ago.

Roy Coffee stood outside. He was fanning himself with his hat when Adam and Tim rode in and tied their mounts to the hitch rail. “Adam Cartwright!” Roy said with a smile. “When did you get back in town?”

“Just yesterday, Roy.”

“Well, it’s sure good to see you, son.”

“Thanks. Good to see you too,” Adam said. “If you have a minute, we’d like a word.”

“Somethin’ on your mind?”

“Yes, there is.”

“Come on then,” Roy said. “Let’s talk inside.”

Roy led the way and sat down behind his desk while Adam grabbed a chair from across the room and swung it around, setting it in front of the sheriff’s desk. “Wanna sit down too, Tim?”

“I’m okay, Sheriff,” he said, pulling off his hat and leaning his shoulder against the office wall.

“What’s this all about, Adam?”

“It’s about Harry Allen, Roy, and a possible connection between Harry and Joe’s disappearance.”

“Harry Allen? What makes you think he had anything to do with Little Joe?”

Tim crossed the room and leaned forward, flattening the palms of his hands on Roy’s desk. “Remember the fire on Sattler’s Ridge, Sheriff?”

“Yeah—”

“Remember when me and Joe rode in to tell you we thought Harry was dead and all the time he was over there drinkin’ at the saloon?”

“Yeah—”

“Well, Joe didn’t do nothin’ to hurt Harry, but they had words and it weren’t long after when Joe went missin’.”

“So you two think Harry Allen had somethin’ to do with Joe’s disappearance?”

“It’s possible, Roy,” Adam said. “Was he ever questioned?”

“No, there was no need; at least I didn’t think there was at the time.”

“Maybe there is now,” Adam suggested.

“I seen Harry earlier this mornin’ while I was makin’ my rounds and I’ll tell ya, he looked madder’n a hornet.”

“Is he still in town?”

“Don’t rightly know but let’s take a look-see.”

The three men settled their hats on their heads and walked down the steps from the boardwalk to the street. “Might as well, check the saloons first. That’s where I usually see him,” Roy said. They crossed the street together; first stop, the Silver Dollar Saloon.

It was early enough in the day that the saloon was nearly empty. When they didn’t spot Harry right off, the three men marched down the boardwalk to the Bucket of Blood. There sat Harry, alone; a half-empty bottle of low-grade whiskey sitting on the table in front of him. “You let me handle this, boys,” Roy said, anticipating trouble before it began.

All three men crossed the room. Harry looked up only to find Roy Coffee standing there, his hands folded together in front of him, and behind him stood Adam Cartwright and Joe’s friend Tim. “I’d like you to come with me, Harry.”

Harry glanced past the sheriff at the other two men. He swallowed the lump in his throat before he asked why. “What for, Sheriff?”

“There’s somethin’ we need to talk over and I’d rather do it in my office than here in the saloon.”

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere with you, ‘specially not with them two standin’ there gawkin’ at me.”

“You’re comin’ with me, Harry. Come on, let’s go.” Roy took hold of Harry’s arm, and the frightened man jerked it away.

“Okay, I’ll come peaceful-like, Sheriff, but you tell them two to stay away from me.”

“Let’s go,” Roy said, knowing that Harry was hiding something, whether it had anything to do with Joe Cartwright, he didn’t know. Looking back, though, he wished he’d questioned Harry and spared Ben so many weeks of torment.

Tim and Adam hung back, keeping quiet for now, as the sheriff settled into his office chair to question the new suspect. Roy planned to do something he’d never done in all his days as sheriff; he was going to lie.

“I brought you in, Harry, because there’s new information concerning the disappearance of Joe Cartwright.”

Harry leaned back, slumping casually in his chair. “What’s Joe Cartwright gotta do with me, Sheriff?”

“I’ve got an eyewitness who’s fingered you as one of the suspects. That’s what I got, Harry.”

“You’re crazy, old man. I ain’t seen Joe Cartwright since—since that cattle drive,” he said, glancing up at Tim.

“You’ve seen him since then, Harry, so I’m tellin’ ya right now you have a choice. You can either tell me what happened to Little Joe or you can spend time as a ward of the county right here in my jail.”

Harry jumped up from his chair. “That ain’t fair, Sheriff! I ain’t done nothin’ to Joe Cartwright.”

“Well, I say you did so if you ain’t willin’ to talk then come with me.” Roy kept his voice as calm as possible. “Let’s see if your memory improves while you’re sittin’ in that cell.”

Harry Allen glared at Adam and Tim. How could they possibly know? They didn’t, and now he was being railroaded, and it was all because of that woman and her idiotic plan to kidnap Joe Cartwright. The money she’d paid him had run dry, and now he was going to pay for something she’d planned all along.

Once Harry was locked in the cell and Roy had walked back into the outer office, there was nothing more Adam or Tim could do but wait. “We’ll check back tomorrow,” Adam said. “Maybe he’ll be more talkative by then.”

“All right, boys, but you both know I can’t hold him forever.”

“Thanks for doing what you did, Roy,” Adam said, then stopped and gave a sideways glance to the sheriff. “That was some fancy police work, Roy. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Roy smiled up at Adam. “I didn’t either, son.”

Abby had fallen into an unresponsive sleep, and I felt her dead weight on my chest. She hadn’t moved a muscle since she’d climbed into bed with me. I was dying of thirst, and I desperately needed to relieve myself so I called out her name, not knowing if I could wake her or not.

“Time to get up, Abby.” I tried to shift my weight but it was impossible to move. “Abby, please. Abby, wake up.”

Still dead weight. The room grew warmer, and the stench, overwhelming. Between the two of us, who hadn’t bathed in a month, and having to relieve myself on the filthy bed, it had become challenging just to breathe. What I wouldn’t give for a day outside; a day on the back of Cochise.

How was Pa coping? Had he become ill again worrying about me? I prayed that wasn’t the case although I couldn’t imagine what my father had put himself through since the day I’d gone missing. Had he given me up for dead and put up a marker next to Ma’s grave? Without a body, there was always the chance I’d walk through the front door and that’s the burden he carried—never knowing whether I was dead or alive.

“Abby,” I called out again. I lifted my chest up slightly from the bed, trying to wake her. Thank God, I didn’t have the mask on, but damn, the dead-weight was hell.

Harry Allen was an addict in his own right and after days without a bottle, he was growing agitated and restless in the confines of Roy’s cell. Whiskey had become Harry’s best friend after his brother, Jerome, had died and within a year, his father, and then the mess with Joe Cartwright.

How had he been talked into such a scheme? He knew exactly how. He was dead broke. The farm was in ruins, and he’d become a penniless drunk in need of a quick solution. When Harriet Collins approached him and mentioned Joe Cartwright was the target, he knew he’d found his gold mine.

The woman had thought long and hard during her days behind bars. She’d devised a plan to hurt Joe and his precious Ponderosa, the land he’d told her so much about, and then as a final blow, she would persuade him to end his own life.

First, there was the random shooting, a scare tactic she’d called it. Then Harry had started the fire that killed the Ponderosa herd, precisely as she’d asked and subsequently paid him to do. Hell, the world would be better off without the likes of Joe Cartwright as far as Harry Allen was concerned so not only would he earn himself pocket change, he’d never have to deal with Cartwright again.

Little Joe Cartwright had been a constant irritation to Harry ever since they were young boys in school. His fancy clothes and good looks, something Harry and Jerome were never gifted with, brought on a world of hate for Harry; the handsome boy who all the girls fell for, never once giving him a second look. Jerome had to be persuaded to join in with his brother’s constant taunting and excessive thrashings when they were young boys, but the best night of Harry’s life had been nearly beating Joe Cartwright to death when a gambler in town paid him and Jerome for doing what came naturally.

“Sheriff!” Harry hollered. “You can’t hold me any longer. Lemme outta here!”

Roy had listened to Harry’s bellowing for three days, and he was growing weary of the constant yelling and banging his tin cup between the cell bars. He was going to have to release him soon, confession or not.

The elderly sheriff finally stood up from his chair and walked back to speak to Harry once more before Adam made his daily trip into town. “Ya ready to talk, Harry?”

“Ain’t nothin’ to say, Sheriff, now lemme outta here!”

“Who’s in on this with you, Harry?” Roy hoped Harry might lower his voice to match his own.

Harry threw his tin cup at the cell wall, denting it even more. “Damn bitch,” he muttered quietly.

“Who, Harry?” Roy asked only hearing the last word. “Who wanted Joe dead? Who paid you to kill him, Harry?”

Harry’s back was to Roy, hands on his hips, his head bowed but still, he wasn’t talking.

“Okay, if that’s the way you want it, I think I’ll walk on over to the saloon and get me a drink,” Roy teased. “I’ll be back later, Harry.”

“Sheriff! Sherrr—iff!

Roy walked away from the cell; the yelling grated on his last nerve. He heard the sound of boot heels crossing the wooden floor of his office and figured it was probably Adam. After closing the double doors, separating him from his prisoner, he shook his head in disgust. Harry’s muffled screams could still be heard.

“Mornin’, Son.” Roy lowered himself into his chair. “You see what I have to put up with here? He’s been yelling like that for three days.”

“He say anything yet?”

“Sit down, Adam. We just may have a lead here.”

“God, I hope so. Pa’s taking the news about Harry awfully hard.”

“He ain’t sick again is he?” Roy leaned forward, genuinely concerned.

“Not yet, but I’m worried about him. You know Pa, he blames himself for not thinking of Harry Allen in the first place.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Well, you and I know that, but Pa figures Joe might still be alive if Harry had been questioned early on.”

Roy shook his head. “You tell Ben to blame me for that, not hisself.”

“So what’s our lead, Roy?”

“First off, I’m positive Harry had a part in all this. Second, I believe there might’ve been a woman accomplice.”

“A woman?” Adam questioned.

“Yep. Harry mumbled something just a minute ago thinking I didn’t hear him, but I’m certain there were two people involved. Can you think of any woman who would want Joe dead?”

Adam leaned back in his chair. “I don’t know, Roy. Joe hasn’t been with a woman since—wait—” Adam ran the timeline in his head. “There was a woman in San Francisco. She went to prison after Joe’s testimony—a two-year sentence. She should be out by now.” He looked up at Roy. “It was that business with the Colliers. Remember Harold Collier, the escaped prisoner that Joe ended up killing out at that line shack?”

“Yeah, but where does the woman come in?”

“She’s his daughter. She and Joe—well, it’s a long story, Roy, but more than likely she’s carrying a lot of hate and—”

“What’s this woman’s name, Adam?” Roy scrambled for a piece of paper. I’ll wire the Women’s Facility, see if she’s been released.”

“Abigail Collier but she goes by Abby.”

“I ain’t heard of no one by that name ‘round here, but we could always check the hotel, see if anyone’s registered under that name.”

“Let’s go.” Adam stood from his chair and opened the front door.

“Hang on a minute. I gotta tease my prisoner a little more. Roy opened one of the double doors and poked his head in. “Me and Adam Cartwright are goin’ for that drink now, Harry. You stay put and I’ll be back shortly.”

“You’re a damn son-of-a-bitch, Sheriff. Least you could do is bring me a bottle.”

“Not till you’re ready to talk. That’s when you’ll get your bottle.”

“Roy,” Adam said, laughingly, “You’re quite a character.”

“Just doin’ my job, Adam, anyway I know how.”

Roy and Adam stepped up to the front counter at the International Hotel. “I need to look at your registry, Fred.”

The thin-haired clerk turned the book around. “Here you go, Sheriff. Are you looking for someone in particular?”

“Yeah, a woman named Abigail Collier.”

Fred rubbed his index finger across his chin. “Don’t remember that name. I have a woman named Collins but no Collier.”

Roy ran his stubby finger down the page. “How long’s this Collins woman been here?”

“Oh, let’s see, I’d say close to a couple of months. I told her we were renovating and it would be noisy and dusty most of the time, but she said that was no problem—said she was just doing some work for a client that was way overdue and asked that she not be disturbed. I had to give her the only room I had left that hadn’t been updated. It’s in the back of the hotel, but she holes up in her room most of the time.”

“Show me where she first signed in, will you, Fred?”

He spun the book back around, flipping pages until he came to the right date. “Here, here’s when she checked in, Sheriff.”

“Harriet Collins, that name mean anything, Adam?”

Adam stared at the name. Harriet Collins—Harriet Collins. Adam ran the name over in his head. “No, nothing, Roy.”

“Well, thanks anyway, Fred.”

“Anything else, Sheriff?”

“No, that’ll do.”

Adam and Roy started out of the Hotel. There was something oddly familiar about that woman’s name, Adam thought, although nothing was coming to mind. “Guess I’ll head home, Roy.”

“I’ll keep Harry one more day, but I’m gonna have to let him outta jail tomorrow,” Roy said. “I’m sorry, Adam.”

“You’ve done everything you could, and more,” Adam replied.

“Tell Ben to take care of hisself, will ya, Adam?”

“Sure will. Thanks again.”

Adam rode slowly; he was so sure they had found a lead, but again a dead end. When Tim had mentioned Harry Allen, he thought for sure they were on to something. He chuckled to himself thinking of Joe and how he would have handled the situation had the roles been reversed. He’d take him in some dark alley and beat the truth out of him if that’s what it took to get a confession. Adam wondered if he had it in him to do exactly the same thing.

Abby died about two days ago from what I figure. Not knowing day from night, it’s hard to know, but her weight, although slight, is dead weight, and she’s crushing my chest and my leg. I’ve soiled the bed, and with Abby’s bodily fluids releasing after her death, I’m overwhelmed by it all and close to dying myself.

The crazed woman will get her wish after all. I can’t hold out much longer, lying in filth with no food or water. Harry hasn’t been back or I’d plead with him to release me. I’d gladly meet his demands. I’d pay anything he asked.

The room is dark, and my mind wanders. I think of Hoss. Hoss is waiting, calling out for me to join him and Mama, and I’ll be with the two most beautiful people I know. If I’m meant to leave this world, I hope it happens today. There’s no earthly reason to prolong the inevitable.

I thought back to a day when Pa and I were out riding. It wasn’t long after my brother’s death but before my father’s stroke. Thinking back, it may have been the last time we rode horseback together. We’d ridden out to check the herd, and I asked him if he’d take another ride with me. He agreed. We rode to a special place, a place where my ma was buried and Hoss alongside her.

“This is going to be hard for you to hear, Pa,” I said after we’d dismounted. My father didn’t say anything but his hand slid across my shoulders as we walked down the hill toward the lake and sat on a wooden bench Hoss had made a few years back so Pa or I could visit this very special place. I should have started talking by now, but the words hadn’t come.

Again, Pa’s hand gripped my shoulder. “You’re my son, Joseph, and I pray you have the strength to tell me what’s bothering you.”

“I wish things could have been different, Pa, but they weren’t.” I looked to the heavens for that strength my father always referred to. “I don’t know how to say this, especially to you.”

“Does anyone else know?”

“Adam knows,” I said, “and he begged me to tell you—otherwise, I don’t know if—”

“Only you can be the judge, Joseph. If you’d rather not say anything more, I’ll understand.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. Would this only cause more pain for my father? God, if I only knew the answers before I blurted out words I may always regret. I took a deep breath, glanced at my father, and then looked away.

“For two years, I—” Oh God, why was Harold, the cell, and everything about that time so clear in my mind?

I glanced up at Pa; he had tears in his eyes. Had I made things worse by not telling him for so many years? Did I dare go on? I felt like a little kid, finally revealing the truth after telling a deceitful lie. And even though Pa’s gentle touch gave me strength, I was petrified to say anything more.

I leaned forward, rested my elbows on my knees, and covered my face with my hands. It was now or never, and I blurted out the past I’d failed to put behind me.

“I was raped, Pa. For two years, Harold Collier beat me and raped me. He held a knife to my throat while he— I was held captive in the cell with that madman, and there was nothing I could do but let him have his way or—”

It was said, in crazed haste, but I could say no more. I sprang up from the wooden bench and walked farther down the hill. Why had I felt the need to talk about it again? Why? I leaned against a large boulder; tears streaked my face, just as they had when Harold—

I didn’t hear Pa come up from behind until I looked up and there he stood. I was so ashamed and so remorseful after spilling my guts. “Damaged goods”—from that first encounter until the day I die. And now I’ve damaged my father’s feelings for me in the worst way possible.

“Son,” Pa said, placing his hand on my shoulder. I turned quickly; I didn’t want to be touched. Pa’s hand slipped away. “You’ve tortured yourself long enough, Joseph. Let it go. Prison and all the tragic events you endured are a part of your past, a horrible and terrifying part, but don’t let Harold Collier or your memory of him torment you for the rest of your life.” Pa waited for me to look up at him, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it, not now, maybe never. “Believe me, son, I think no less of you than I did five minutes ago. I only wish I—”

“No, Pa! That’s just it! You couldn’t do more. Don’t put any of this on yourself. That’s why I was reluctant to say anything at all.”

A slow smile appeared but never reached Pa’s eyes. He would always feel guilt over words he’s spoken long ago, words of comfort when I was in Roy Coffee’s jail. “Have faith, Joseph. Everything will be all right, you’ll see.”

Those words didn’t ring true, and my father would always blame himself, but something Pa said clicked and finally, the answer we both desperately needed became apparent. Maybe it was this special place—maybe a miracle of sorts had occurred, and I turned to face my father.

“Pa, you’re absolutely right,” I said, shocking my father with my sudden outburst.

He tilted his head slightly as he crossed his arms over his chest. “How so?”

“We both need to lose the guilt. We can’t change or dwell on the past, and I won’t if you won’t. We’ll make a pact.”

Now the smile reached his eyes and feeling just like that little kid, who was afraid of speaking the truth, he grabbed me in a tight hug. Eventually, he leaned back but still gripped my shoulders with both hands.

“You’re smarter than I ever gave you credit for, Joseph.”

“Thanks,” I chuckled softly.

The subject was never brought up again. Pa never asked questions, and we each buried the past on that hill by the lake—its final resting place.

Maybe it was that special place where loved ones were present. I’ll never know, but it proved to be a good day and a good memory of my father. Since my time was drawing near, I’d take his love and all the good memories we had together with me.

Tim met Adam in the yard in front of the house. “Did Harry say anything this time?”

“No,” Adam said. “Roy knows he was in on it though, but there’s no proof.” He watched Tim’s face fall with disappointment. “Roy thinks there may have been a woman involved.”

“A woman? Who?”

“He doesn’t know,” Adam said, leading Sport to the barn. “Roy and I checked at the hotel for the only woman I could think of who might’ve held a grudge, but it didn’t pan out either. The only woman registered was a Harriet—Harriet something.”

Tim swallowed hard. “Collins?”

Adam stopped suddenly. “You know her?”

With his hands planted on his hips, Tim sighed. “I did,” he said. “Yeah, Adam, I knew her real well until she told me she left town; said she was going back to Boston to take care of a sick—”

“Harriet Collins—” Adam interrupted. “It has to be!”

“What?”

“Saddle your horse,” Adam yelled over his shoulder as he ran toward the house. “I have to tell Pa and Kate.”

The front door banged loudly against the sideboard just like it had when his young brother used to fly into the house and had been reprimanded for his actions. “Pa?” Adam hollered before the two almost collided.

“What in the world?”

“I can’t explain, but I have to get back to town. I think Abby Collier changed her name to Harriet Collins, and she’s staying at the International.” The words flew faster than lightning. “I think Harry Allen and she planned Joe’s kidnapping. He may not be dead after all, Pa. Tim and I are riding in. Where’s Kate?”

“Upstairs—”

“Tell her I’ll be back as soon as I can. I need to go now.”

After alerting Roy to the possible name change, the sheriff told Adam and Tim to stay put while he talked to Harry. “I was thinking of letting you out, Harry, but a Miss Harriet Collins has just told us all about your involvement with Joe Cartwright.”

“She what?” Harry stood from the narrow cot and grabbed the cell’s bars. ”That goddamn bitch.” Roy’s head nodded slightly.

“What did she promise you, Harry? Money? Did she give you enough so you could sit in the saloon all day rather than tend them goats of yours?”

“Goats is all dead,” he said, moving across the cell.

“You make yourself comfortable, Harry. I’ll be back shortly.”

“Don’t forget that bottle, Sheriff.”

“I need the key to Miss Collins’ room, Fred.”

“Well, I can’t just let you barge into the woman’s—”

“The key, Fred.”

“Here,” he said, reluctantly handing Roy the key.

“You boys stay here. I’ll call ya if’n I need ya.”

Disgusted that it had taken so long to figure Abby Collier had been the one to determine Joe’s fate, the last thing Adam wanted was to stay put. While Tim paced the lobby and the sheriff climbed the hotel stairs, he leaned heavily on Fred’s counter and waited.

When Roy stood in front of room 16, he couldn’t help but detect a nauseating smell. He knocked on the door twice, hollered the woman’s name, and inserted the key.

“Lord Almighty.” He covered his nose and mouth with a bandana and moved closer to the bed then backed toward the window and lifted the shade. He turned back to the bed. Two dead bodies. The woman and Joe Cartwright.

Wishing he could spare the family, they’d have to be told. What would this do to Ben? All these months and they hadn’t had a clue … and now this. Tears filled the old sheriff’s eyes. Taking a step back, he saw Adam and Tim standing in the doorway.

“It’s bad, boys. It’s real bad.”

Tim hesitated, but Adam crossed the room. “All this time—wasted.”

“I’m sorry, Adam. I wish I’d … I don’t know how—”

Adam ignored Roy’s mumblings. He stood next to the bed and reached down to touch his brother’s forehead, but there was warmth beneath his hand. Not the chill of death he’d expected. He ripped back the blanket and pushed Abby’s lifeless body to the side.

“Adam—stop!” Roy cried. “That’s not the way.”

“Joe’s alive, Roy, but he’s chained to the bed. I need a set of keys!”

Adam cringed at the sight before him. Excrement, urine—filth like he’d never seen before, and Joe’s body was laden with it all. Pulling his old pocketknife, he slashed through the ropes at Joe’s ankles. “Key’s Roy. Now!”

“I’m looking, son.”

Joe began to stir.

Roy had searched every dresser drawer, every tabletop, everything besides the dead woman, but she’d be next. He rolled her on her back and for a second, he had to look away. He found skirt pockets but no keys, then finally, a hidden pocket inside her blouse. “Found it.” He tossed the key to Adam. One, then the second, and his brother was free.

“Wrap him up best you can, Adam. I’ll run and tell Doc we’re on our way.” Though Adam didn’t look up, he nodded to the sheriff.

Roy wasn’t as spry as he’d once been, but that didn’t stop him from his duty as sheriff. “Help Adam,” he said to Tim. I’m goin’ for the doc.” He stopped at the front counter and told Fred to lock the room until he could get back for the body.

“Body?”

“I’ll explain later. Just lock the door.” Roy was out the front door, running toward Paul Martin’s office like a man unexpectedly struck by youth.

“Joe’s alive,” Adam said. “Ride home and hitch up the surrey. Bring Pa to Doc Martin’s.”

“We have to get him to drink,” Paul said. “Then I’ll clean him up.” After removing the soiled blanket and laying a clean sheet over his patient, Paul turned to Adam. “Take this to Sara. Have her burn it out back.”

Adam didn’t know the woman named Sara, but he’d find her and hand over the blanket. When he returned to Joe’s bedside, his brother was still unconscious, but Pa had lifted his brother’s head and was having Joe take sips of water reflexively. And, he did. The process was slow, but Adam smiled when he saw the look on Paul’s face. If nothing else, Joe was a fighter.

Though Joe was thin and pale and had been lying in his own filth for at least a few days, Paul was concerned about what diseases the woman might’ve carried. Her reason for death wasn’t clear, and since their bodies had been thrown together on the bed, Paul wanted to take precautions.

He laid Joe’s head back on the pillow when the natural reflex to drink had subsided and sent Adam out again to ask Sara for a pot of boiling water. It would take lye soap and the hottest water he could stand to clean up the mess the boy was in.

Roy had excused himself after Adam carried Joe into Paul’s office. He wasn’t needed and only stood in their way. Besides, he had other business to tend to. There was a dead body to remove, a task that never sat well with him since the first day he’d put on the badge.

Paul took the lathered cloth and scrubbed the boy’s body. Soiled sheets were changed before they rolled him over to do his back and legs. Until he was as clean as possible without soaking in a tub, Paul’s diligence gave Adam hope that the potential for Joe to contract any disease was obsolete.

Joe’s hair came next, and Adam adjusted his brother and held his head over the side of the bed for the doc. Paul scrubbed and rinsed, scrubbed and rinsed. “That’s all we can do for now.”

“What comes next, Paul?”

“Rest and water. More rest and more water. And pray.”

When Joe began to shiver, Adam looked to Paul, but the doctor seemed pleased. “Shouldn’t we cover him? He’s freezing to death.”

“Not yet. Let him shiver a few more minutes, Adam. It might bring him around.”

That didn’t turn out to be the case although Joe began to moan, a deep, rasping sound in his throat. It seemed he was trying to say something, and even though his lips moved, the words wouldn’t form. Adam leaned in closer, trying to distinguish the sounds, but it was no use.

“Let’s warm him up now.” Paul had Sara hang blankets near the kitchen stove just for this purpose. After what Roy had told him and his new assistant, Sara Michaels, when he first burst through the door, Paul began preparing for the long day ahead. “Grab those blankets from the kitchen, Adam, and let’s warm this boy up.”

Adam wanted answers, but he wasn’t about to leave his brother. When the shivering finally slowed, Joe still wasn’t awake, but Paul kept forcing the kid to drink. All they could do now was wait.

The thump, thump, thump of the cane alerted the two men that Ben had arrived. Paul stood up from his chair just as Ben threw open the surgery door. Ben’s eyes met Adam’s first then shot straight to Joe. “He’s alive?” he said just above a whisper.

Paul smiled at his longtime friend. “Joe is alive although he hasn’t come to yet.” He reached out and placed his hand on Ben’s arm. “Perhaps he’s waiting for you.”

As much as Ben hoped Paul’s statement was true, was it only wishful thinking? He moved toward the bed where Adam had moved Joe after they’d gotten him cleaned and dressed in a soft, flannel nightshirt. Paul scooted his chair across the room so Ben could sit next to his son, a young man who’d been presumed dead for nearly two months. Adam stood next to the door, and when he caught Paul’s eye, he motioned with his hand, requesting the doctor to leave father and son alone. Paul nodded his consent and followed Ben’s eldest out the door.

Ben rested his hand on the blanket covering his son’s chest. He had to feel a heartbeat, the only indication that his son was still alive. He forced a minimal smile before bowing his head. Today brought him a miracle unlike any other day in his life.

When Joe began to stir, Ben pushed a lock of his son’s damp hair off his forehead. Running the back of his hand down Joe’s face, he felt a warmth and not the chill of death. Though still overcome by the shocking news Tim had delivered, he admired the young man and praised him for having second thoughts about Harry Allen. Otherwise … no, he wouldn’t let his mind go there.

Ben and Joe had grown fond of Tim over the past several years, and how devastated the young man must feel knowing Abby had posed as Harriet Collins. Only using him to get her hands on Joe, Tim must feel a fool. Ben would remedy that as quickly as possible.

After Joe settled into a deep sleep, Ben stood up and quietly left the room. He found four people sitting in Paul’s kitchen drinking coffee. “Tim? I’d like a word if I may.”

“Sure, Mr. Cartwright,” he said, standing and following Ben out of the room.

They walked to the far end of the hallway before Ben stopped and turned back to Tim. Noticing fear in the young man’s eyes, Tim looked nervous, but there was no need. Ben smiled, hoping to reassure him that he was way off track.

“I can’t begin to imagine how hard this is for you, son.” The young man bowed his head. “What I can tell you is how grateful I am that you made today possible.”

“But, I—”

“You saved my son’s life,” Ben continued, “and there’s no way I can repay you.”

“I just wish I’d thought of—”

“Stop right there,” Ben interrupted again then waited for Tim’s eyes to meet his. “I’ll repeat what I just said. You saved Joseph’s life. I’m just sorry that sick, horrible woman involved you in her plans.”

“Guess I should have known from the start what was going on, Mr. Cartwright.”

“How would you ever know? She’s very good at what she does. She worked her magic on Joe a couple of years ago just as she did this time with you.”

“She did? You mean she—”

“Exactly. So unless you’re a mind-reader, which I seriously doubt, you never stood a chance.”

Tim gave Ben a slight nod. “I just feel like such a fool.”

“As did my son when she used him.”

Again, a nod from Tim.

“I’ll say one more thing and then I need to get back to Joseph.”

“What’s that, sir?”

“The same thing I’ve told my own boys from time to time over the years, and I’ll say it to you. Don’t let a deceitful, spiteful woman affect the rest of your life. Wipe away the feelings you had for her and leave the memories behind. Move on with your life. I assure you, son, you’ll find happiness elsewhere.”

“Yessir.”

“I’m serious, Tim. Let it go.”

“Thank you, Mr. Cartwright. I’ll try.”

Ben patted the young man’s shoulder then turned and walked back toward Joe’s room. He stopped at the doorway and looked back over his shoulder. “I’ll be staying here tonight. You and Adam go on home and get some sleep. I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was a low flame, barely visible in a bone-china lamp across the room. The second was my father’s radiant white hair. He sat next to me in an upholstered chair, his head resting on a fisted hand, sound asleep. Maybe I should have waited until morning, but I reached out and touched his arm.

His body twitched, and he opened his eyes, but he couldn’t get his bearings until his eyes met mine. “Joseph,” he said. My throat was dry, and I smiled instead of trying to talk. I’d only croak out the words, and I didn’t want Pa’s worry lines to deepen ever more on account of me.

Seeing Pa after my ordeal with Abby paralleled so many dreams I’d had over the last few weeks that I had to keep reassuring myself. Slowly, though, Pa reached for my hand and a smile began to form. Though his eyes were barely visible in the soft light, they were glassy and bright, but he held his emotions in check.

“I had to make sure you were real,” I whispered.

Pa lifted my hand to the side of his face. He closed his eyes and tightened his grip. There was dampness now that wasn’t there before. “I’m real and so are you, Joseph.”

We shared the moment. We’d both had our ups and downs, and we’d each been through troubling times, but my father and I were survivors. Nothing could keep us down for long though I admit I’d lost faith. I wonder if Pa had too.

I’d lived through a grueling two months, but I’d lived through worse. If nothing else, I would remind myself of my father’s helpful words—“let it go”. Somehow, it made life bearable to know I could do just that—I’d learned to move on and leave the past behind.

“How ‘bout a glass of water, Pa.” It was hard to speak. Even my lips felt tight and swollen.

My father’s smile reached his eyes this time before he turned in the chair and lifted the pitcher next to him. “Can you sit up some?” He said, clearing his throat.

“Yeah—”

I leaned up on one elbow and took the glass from Pa, but my entire body ached. “Good,” I said, handing it back. I lay back down, exhausted. Everything hurt, my face, my ribs, even my stomach, and legs. I took into account the last time Abby had lost control, and I’d paid dearly for her crazed outburst.

But I could smell the freshness of lye soap, which was my first clue that somehow I’d gotten out of that miserable hotel and out from under Abby’s dead body. My wrists were wrapped in bandages, and I wore a clean nightshirt. There was some kind of salve covering the cuts on my face, my chest, and probably my ankles too.

“Where are we?”

“Paul Martin’s,” Pa said. “I sent Adam and Tim home.”

“They were here?”

“Earlier, yes.”

“How’d I get here?”

“Why don’t you get some sleep, Joseph? We’ll go over all of that in the morning.”

“Okay,” I said, thinking Pa was right. The explanation could wait. “Is there somewhere you can stretch out and get some sleep too?”

“I’m fine right here, son.”

I should have known Pa wouldn’t leave my side. I was curious though, wondering if I’d been held at the International House like I’d thought and for how long but Pa was right; I was too tired to concentrate on anything.

When morning came, Pa and I talked some then he was gracious enough to leave the room while I tended to my personal needs. I wasn’t sure he’d leave me alone, and I’ll admit it was a bit of a struggle to get in and out of bed without help. But Pa was soon walking back in, accompanied by a young lady I’d never seen or met before. “This is Sara Michaels, son. Sara is Paul’s new assistant and following the doctor’s orders, she’s here to feed you this bowl of broth.”

I flattened my palms and pushed myself up a little taller in the bed. I was dressed in a nightshirt, but my face was a mess, and I was embarrassed for anyone but Doc or family to see me like this. I’d turned my face to the side when she came through the door with Pa, but I had no choice now.

“I’m able to feed myself,” I said, embarrassed, and fidgeting with my blanket, “but it’s nice to meet you, Sara.”

“Nice to meet you too, Mr. Cartwright.”

“Call me Joe,” I said, still trying to get my swollen mouth to cooperate.

“Okay, Joe. You sure you can manage?”

“I’m sure.”

She rested the tray on my lap and took a step back. “There you go then.”

“Thank you.”

“I think I’ll go get a cup of coffee,” Pa said.

“Bring me one too, will you?”

“Oh, you stay put, Mr. Cartwright. I’ll bring you a cup.”

“And me?”

“I’ll see what the doctor says, Mr.—Joe.”

I waited until Sara left the room and closed the door behind her. “Where’d she come from?”

“From what I can gather, she’s been working for Paul for about a month. She used to work in a big city hospital before arriving in Virginia City. Apparently, she came in on the stage, saw the doctor’s shingle, and with her valise still in her hand, she marched down here first, convinced Paul how much he needed an assistant, and he hired her on the spot. Smart girl if you ask me.”

“Pretty girl if you ask me.” I smiled at Pa between sips of soup, but I didn’t miss the way he shook his head or the face he made.

Paul came into the room with two cups of coffee, one for Pa and one for himself. It was obvious I was the odd man out, but I’d live. I was just glad to be clean and fed; I wasn’t going to complain.

Before Paul had a chance to say anything, Roy Coffee joined us. He looked across the room and smiled at me. “You sure don’t look like the same person I saw yesterday, Little Joe.”

“I’m not, Sheriff. I’m a free man now.”

“You up to makin’ a statement?”

“I’m not sure what I can tell you that you don’t already know.”

“Well, you can tell me who was in on this—kidnapping is what I guess we’ll call it.”

“Yeah, that’s a good word for it.” I took a deep breath. “As far as I know, the only people in on it were Abby Collier and Harry Allen.”

“So they’re the ones who attacked you and Tim Wilson on the road that first night?”

“I assume so, Roy. When I came to, I was chained to a bed, and I stayed that way until yesterday. Pa told me this morning I’d been at the International House this whole time. I suspected as much but I never really knew for sure.”

Roy shook his head. “I’m sorry we didn’t find you sooner, Little Joe. If it hadn’t been for Tim Wilson, we might never have found you—in time that is.”

“Guess I owe him my life.”

“I’ve got Harry locked up in my jail.”

“Yeah. What happens to him now?”

“I’ll set a trial date with Judge Morrissey as soon as possible and with you testifying against him, I’m sure Harry will spend a good deal of time in prison.”

I glanced at Pa and back at Roy. “Harry,” I mumbled. A lost soul if I ever knew one. “I’ll be there, Roy. I’ve had enough of Harry Allen to last me a lifetime.”

Paul took the bowl when I was finished and told everyone, even my father, to scat. “This young man needs his rest.”

Pa consented, said he was going down to the barbershop for a bath and a shave, and he’d be back later. Paul sat with me for a minute after everyone left. “I have some concerns I didn’t want to mention while your father was in the room, Joe.”

“What concerns?”

“Do you have any reason to believe Abby was diseased in any way, anything she could have picked up in prison that she might have infected you with when she died, or even before for that matter?”

I shook my head. “I don’t think so, Paul. Her only disease, if you want to call it that, was morphine.”

“Roy told me he found small, empty vials in the room. I suspected morphine.”

“It’s sad, Doc. She was a beautiful woman once.” I smiled at the thought. “A woman I thought I loved a long time ago.”

Paul rested his hand on my arm. “I’m sorry, son.”

“An entire family ruined,” I said more to myself than Paul.

Paul stood from his chair and started to pull down the window shade, and I stopped him. “Will you leave the shade up, Doc, and open the window?”

I woke to a pleasant surprise. Sara opened the door and peeked in to see if I was awake. “Come in,” I said. I pushed myself up and leaned back against the headboard, smoothing out the blanket that covered my legs.

“I thought you might want a shave before Doctor Martin sent you home.”

“Am I leaving today?”

“I believe so, Mr.—I’m sorry, Joe. Dr. Martin mumbled something about it would be a lot easier on him if he sent you home now rather than later.”

I ran my hand over my chin. “I suppose a shave wouldn’t hurt,” I said, still feeling the effects of my swollen face although I imagined Sara would be gentle, unlike Abby, who had taken the liberty to shave me, but compassion was never her strong suit. But in all the weeks I was held captive, I’d never seen my reflection in a mirror, and I assumed my face was a dreadful display of cuts and bruises.

Sara smiled, giving me a reason to smile back. “I’ve heard some of what you’ve been through, Joe. I can’t imagine anyone being so hateful. Maybe deranged is a better word.”

“It wasn’t a pleasant experience, but it’s over now. I’ve learned over time not to dwell on the past. Today’s a new day and yes, I definitely need a shave.”

Perfect white teeth and a dazzling smile brightened her face. “I’ll be right back then. We’ll have you looking quite smart before you leave.” I knew a shave wasn’t going to help much although I was looking forward to the young lady sitting with me before it was time to go.

Tim drove the surrey into town to pick up Pa and me while Adam stayed home for some much-needed private time with his wife. The doc released me that afternoon noting that Hop Sing could do as much for me now as he could. Eat—drink—rest. I knew the routine better’n anyone.

As we drove into the yard and I glanced at the house, I pondered the next steps we’d all have to deal with concerning the ranch and the financial problems we’d be forced to evaluate and somehow resolve in the near future. It was too late in the year to consider adding longhorns to our existing herd; winter would be here before we knew it and driving cattle up from Texas was no longer an option.

But with all the problems we faced, it was nothing we couldn’t handle. We’d been hit hard before and it could happen again sometime down the road. If we all put our heads together, my father, my brother, and Tim, we stood an excellent chance of making it all back, maybe not with longhorns but something would take their place.

My family was blessed with experienced men and a young man, who, by chance, had stumbled into this family and who just may surprise us all with fresh new ideas, keeping the rest of us from growing rigid or stale in our conventional way of thinking.

When we arrived home, Pa went upstairs to lie down. He had encouraged me to do the same, and I said I would later, but I needed fresh air, and I found myself content, sitting outside rocking in the front porch chair. I looked like a ghos,t and I pretty much felt like one too. I’d all but given up hope of ever leaving that room alive and from what anyone could gather, Abby had moved out of the boarding house and rented the hotel room the day she’d told Tim she was leaving town.

I’ll never know how she and Harry ever got together, but I do remember Tim being upset one day after seeing the two of them in Virginia City. Abby had come up with a simple explanation that had satisfied Tim’s curiosity, but I’m certainly glad he and Adam finally put two and two together and got me outta that mess before it was too late.

I heard the front door close, and I turned to see who was coming. Tim came up on the porch carrying two cups of coffee. “Can I join you, Joe?”

“You bet. Have a seat.” He handed me a cup, which I wasn’t sure I was allowed, but I took it anyway. Who would be the wiser? “It’s been quite a couple of days, hasn’t it?” I said.

“Longer’n that for you, Joe.”

“Well, yeah.” I took a sip of coffee and cradled the cup with both hands. “I don’t know how to thank you, Tim.”

“Ain’t necessary, you know that.”

“You know I’d be dead today if you hadn’t thought of Harry.”

“Well, that’s ‘cause you taught me them kinda things, things like never giving up, even like you done when you stayed out there looking for Harry on the drive.”

“I guess—”

Tim leaned forward in his chair. He rested his elbows on his knees and held his cup with both hands. “You said to me once that brothers do for each other no matter what it takes. Heck, Joe, you’re more like a brother to me than anyone ever could be.”

“I feel exactly the same, little brother.”

“I like the sound of that, Joe.”

“Well, I know one thing we have in common.”

“What’s that?”

“We have the same taste in women.” I could have smacked myself for blurting out those stupid, unkind words when I saw the look on the kid’s face. My entire life, I never learned to think first and blurt later.

“Yeah, bad,” Tim replied. Suddenly, he burst out laughing. “Real bad.”

“No more conniving, wicked women,” I said, holding out my hand. We shook on it—a pact between brothers.

“Just what are you two scheming out here?” came Adam’s deep baritone voice.

“Come join us, big brother.”

“Thought I might.”

I was the middle brother now, and although I’d never fill Hoss’ boots, it felt good to have family surrounding me. “Where’s Kate?”

“She’s dressing for dinner.”

“Uh-huh—”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” That perplexed look came easy to him whenever I spoke.

“Good grief, Adam, I wasn’t born yesterday and neither was our little brother.” I winked at Tim. “Just because Tim and I pick unstable women to court doesn’t mean you have to rub it in that you have a wife catering to your every need.”

“That’s enough out of you. Obviously, you’ve forgotten how to respect your elders?”

“Respect or envy?”

Adam smiled—enough said.

Our kidding stopped when a buggy rounded the side of the barn. “That looks like Doc’s buggy but who’s that drivin’?” Tim asked.

“It ain’t the doc but I aim to find out.” I jumped up then wished I hadn’t moved so quickly. Leaving my brothers gaping at my rush to find out, I walked toward the buggy, thinking I knew exactly who it was and was excited at the prospect. “Hello, Sara.”

“Joe—”

I held out my hand and helped her down. “What brings you out this way?”

“The sheriff came by Doctor Martin’s office not long after you left. He brought some of your things by not realizing you’d be released so soon. I was anxious for some fresh air so I asked him if I could bring them out to you.”

“That’s very kind of you.” I smiled the best I could, and her cheeks reddened slightly. Framed by her silvery, blonde hair, she had a healthy glow.

“Here, in the back,” she said.

I reached in and picked up my gunbelt, my hat, and my corduroy jacket. “The sheriff said the rest of the items weren’t worth saving.”

“I’m sure he’s right. Thanks, Sara.”

“You’re welcome,” she said then turned as if she had to leave.

“Um, do you have time for a cup of coffee or—”

“I really should be getting back to town.”

I reached for Sara’s elbow and helped her onto the seat. She glanced at me quickly, with almost a shy demeanor, before she picked up the reins. “Bye, Joe.”

I wanted to say more but hesitated; she flicked the leather reins. ”Sara?” I called as soon as she started forward. She pulled up on the reins. “I just wanted to say thanks again.”

She smiled. “You’re welcome but really it was nothing.”

“Sara?”

“Yes—”

“Would you maybe want to picnic with me after church on Sunday?”

“Yes.”

“You would?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll see you Sunday then.”

“See you Sunday.”

I watched her drive away. My heart pounded; I felt like a kid in a candy store and I wasn’t about to turn around and let my brothers see the huge smile on my face. My entire body buzzed with eagerness—a new start, fresh and clean, and if we hit it off like I hoped we might, I’d tell her everything about me, the good and the bad. If she chose to listen and accept the man I’d considered “damaged goods” then maybe we stood a chance.

After I’d composed myself, I glanced over my shoulder at my brothers, who’d obviously enjoyed the show. I don’t know whether they heard any of our conversation but for now, it would remain a secret, at least until Sunday. They could pester me all they wanted, and, believe me, I’d have it no other way. Why? Because we’re brothers.

The End

1-2012

• Reference to Season 2 – The Spitfire

by jfclover

There are times in a man’s life when he doesn’t recognize a friendship for what it is or what it could be.  Whether the friendship will endure a lifetime or whether the friendship is fleeting, only passing through the night, that little piece of heaven should be honored and treasured.  Friendship is a lifetime gift; it fills the soul with happiness and joy.

***

My father’s mood had us all on edge.  He was short-tempered and fussed over the most trivial things as he packed his briefcase with maps and receipts and anything else he would need to verify proof of the land in question.  He’d scheduled a meeting in town with a neighboring rancher who, after all these years, was disputing a parcel of land at the northwest corner of the Ponderosa.  His name was Carl Hubert and the land in question held a hundred or more head of Ponderosa cattle.  We’d used that section for years, and Mr. Hubert was suddenly questioning the boundaries of our adjoining ranches.  

Pa wasn’t about to give up a parcel of land without a fight, and with Adam in Sacramento and not due back for another two days, I’d promised Pa I’d watch over Hoss while he was in Virginia City.  Besides, Hop Sing would be at my brother’s beck and call too so there was nothing to worry about.

“It’s only a broken arm, Pa.  It’s not life-threatening.  I can handle my brother while you’re gone.”

“If you’re sure, Joseph.  I’ll have no fooling around.  I want you to stay with Hoss the whole time I’m gone.  You understand?”

“Sure I do, Pa.  No need for worry.  Hoss and I’ll be fine.”

“All right.  I’m off then.  I’ll see you boys later.”

***   

From Hoss’s bedroom window, I couldn’t see the front yard and I hadn’t heard Pa ride up after his day spent at the land office, but when he dragged himself through the front door, I knew things hadn’t gone well.  Hoss had slept most of the time Pa was gone and I was bored to tears, but I’d done what Pa asked.  I never left my brother’s room except for a quick trip to the outhouse, which I didn’t think my father would mind.

I had big plans for Friday night and Saturday, and I didn’t want to blow my chances because I’d disobeyed my father.  With Hoss laid up because of a freak accident and Adam working out a lumber contract with Pa’s friend in Sacramento, I had to be on my best behavior and so far, I’d done everything Pa had asked of me over the last two weeks.

I slipped out of my brother’s room, stood at the top of the stairs, and watched my father set his kangaroo briefcase on his desk and slip out of his winter coat.  By the set of his shoulders, I realized the land dispute was far from over.

“Pa?”

He glanced up the stairs.  “Oh, hello, Joseph.  How’s your brother?”

“He’s sleeping.”  I started down the stairs.  “He slept most of the afternoon actually.”

“Good.  I’m sure he needed the rest.”

“You don’t look too happy.”

“That stupid, stupid man.  He insists we move our cattle by this time next week.  Move off our own land, but I won’t give in to his demands.  Mark my words, Joseph.  This dispute is long from over.”

“How about a cup of coffee?”

“I could sure use one.  That northerly wind is like ice out there today.”

But before I could make my way to the kitchen, Hop Sing was carrying a tray toward my father’s desk.

“Looks like someone beat me to it, Pa.”

“Thank you, Hop Sing.  Do you have any of those little sugar cookies left?”

“Yessir, Mr. Ben.  Hoss ate first batch, but I bake again today.  I get.”

“Why don’t we take our coffee upstairs.  I’m sure your brother could use some cheering up.”

“He’s really put out with himself, Pa.  He still can’t figure out how that burr got under his saddle.  It’s almost like someone put it there on purpose.”

“Who’d do a thing like that, Joseph?”

“Beats me, but you know Hoss.  He checks everything twice.”

“Well, you’re right about that.  It is strange, isn’t it?”

“You bet it is.”

The two of us marched up the stairs to find Hoss sitting up in bed and adjusting his sling over his casted right arm.

“This dang fool thing doesn’t fit right,” he growled.

I hid my smile when Pa set his cup and saucer on Hoss’ nightstand and helped my oversized brother fix his sling so he’d be comfortable.  Since Hoss rarely had an injury that kept him down for more than a minute, he’d really turned into a sourpuss over this broken arm business.

“Take it easy, son.  Paul said the sling is necessary for the first few days.”

“Never should’ve happened in the first place, Pa.”

“I know, but it did and you need to be patient.”

I’d had so many stupid injuries over the years that I was used to endless days of bed rest, but not Hoss.  He was madder’n a hornet on a summer’s day and nothing Pa said would change his grumpy disposition.

“Want me to help, Pa?”

“I don’t need no more help, little brother, and quit your laughin’.”

“Hoss, you know me better’n that.  You know I’d never laugh at someone who’s confined to bedrest for two whole days.”

“Tell him to go fix a fence or somethin’, Pa.”

“That’s enough, boys.”

Hop Sing entered my brother’s room carrying a cup of coffee and a plate of fresh-baked sugar cookies that he sat on Hoss’ lap.  It was only seconds before Hoss forgot I was even in the room.  The anger lines softened as soon as he popped that first cookie in his mouth.

***

Tomorrow was Friday and I had plans I wasn’t about to change because of Hoss’ arm, or Pa’s fight with Carl Hubert, or Adam’s work in Sacramento.  Saturday was the most important day of the year, at least for me, and I planned to spend the night at the International House so I’d already be in Virginia City early on Saturday morning for Ed Skylar’s annual horse auction.   

As advertised on his flyer, Skylar was selling mares and geldings and a prize-winning Kentucky stallion.  I wanted that stallion more than anything.  Of course, I would check out the additional stock, but the stallion was my main concern, and I’d boasted to some of my closest friends that no one in the territory of Nevada would own that horse but me.

Pa had warned me to keep my mouth shut although the friends I’d told had either no interest or not enough ready cash to purchase the animal, but I was lucky this year.  Pa told me to use my head.  He’d pay for the stallion if I thought the horse would improve our stock.  How could a prized Kentucky stallion not benefit the Ponderosa?  Though I hadn’t seen the horse, in fact, no one but Ed Skylar knew the stallion’s exact breeding background, I felt sure the animal would be a winner.

Tomorrow afternoon I would ride to Virginia City and book a room at the International House, and I’d be the first in line to judge Skylar’s stock Saturday morning prior to the auction.  Actually, I had an ulterior motive for staying over in town, one Pa didn’t need to know about, and that was spending a few minutes with my best girl, Frankie.

***

“I’m off, Pa.”

“Have you got everything, Joe?”

“Sure do.”  I patted my jacket pocket.  “Got the money in my wallet, a clean shirt in my saddlebags, and my chores are done.  Can’t think of anything else.”

After fastening my gunbelt I reached for my hat.  Pa crossed the room from his desk and reached for my shoulder.  “You be careful, son.  Auctions can be tricky you know.”

“I know, Pa.  I know what I’m doing.”

“Don’t let anyone swindle you out of that thousand dollars, you hear?”

I chuckled.  “No chance of that happening, Pa.  Not unless I get knocked over the head and, if that’s the case, I won’t bother coming home.”

“You just be careful.”

“I will.  See you tomorrow night.”

“And stay out of the saloons.”

“Right, Pa.”

I promised Frankie I’d stop by and say hello when I rode in for the auction.  Surely, Pa wouldn’t object to me saying “hi” to a friend.  So she worked at the Silver Dollar.  It wasn’t like I was going to the saloon to get drunk or get in some stupid barroom brawl.  Maybe I’d sneak in one beer, just to settle the dust from the long ride to town.  Anyway, what Pa didn’t know …

***

As my eyelids fluttered open, I questioned my whereabouts, but I was at a loss.  Had I been asleep?  Had I been dreaming?  I tried to lift my head, but the intense pounding prompted me to reach for the base of my skull where my fingers slipped through a sticky wetness at the back of my neck.  And when I gazed at the tips of my fingers, there was blood, lots of blood.  But the alley was dark, and my mind couldn’t keep up with my thoughts, and what were my thoughts anyway?  I wasn’t sure.  All I knew was that every part of me hurt.  Had I been kicked by a mule and left in some alley to die a slow death?  No, there was no mule.  That was the dream I’d had, but I was awake now, and I had to concentrate.  I had to know what the heck had happened.

Like a rushing river, a gust of icy wind barreled down the alleyway, and I shivered.

I pushed myself up from the ground and sat back on the heels of my boots, but I was wobbly and worried I might be sick until I saw who was lying less than a foot away.  My body became rigid, and my mind raced when I saw her lying so still.  Her green satin dress—the one she wore when she kissed my cheek—was torn from her shoulder, and her bare arms and legs were exposed to the cold night air.

Her given name was Francis Stapleton though to me she was just Frankie—a nickname I’d given her a long time ago—but Frankie wasn’t moving.  Her pale white arms lay flat on the ground, sprawled is the right word.  She lay sprawled on the ground, and her face—something was different about her face. I shifted my weight closer and called her name.

“Frankie?”

And because I didn’t want her to see any signs of blood, I wiped my hands vigorously against my pant legs to remove any trace that something was amiss.  And when I felt a sickening pain in my shoulder, I eased my left arm tight to my chest and forced myself to breathe slow and steady.  Frankie needed me; this was no time to give into my own weakness.

“Frankie?”

When I reached out and stroked her battered cheek, she leaned into my touch, but just enough to assure me she was still alive.  She tried to form words, but her voice could only mumble things I couldn’t understand except for my name.  She tried her hardest, but her words were too distant to hear.

“I’m right here, darlin’.  Don’t move.  You’re hurt, and I need to go for the doc.”  I leaned in closer.  “Can you hear me, Frankie?”

“Joe …”

She knew who I was and I took that as a good sign.  “You’re okay.  You’re gonna be fine.”

Long blonde tendrils had fallen from broken combs she’d used to fashion her hair, but I would buy her pretty, new ones as soon as she was well.  Though combs were the least of our worries, it was the first thing that ran through my mind.  I needed the doc, but with my left arm in such a state, I couldn’t carry her, and I couldn’t leave her unguarded and alone.

Frankie was my closest friend.  She was the first real “lady” I’d ever met and together we formed a special bond.  Though we were both young and quite foolish in those early days, we’d shared much more than just our hopes and dreams.  Frankie was my first real love, or should I say lover.  Even before Julia Bulette, Frankie, and I had explored each other—body and soul.  Together we’d laughed and cried, and we’d made our way through the difficult years between adolescence and the adults we’d become.

On my seventeenth birthday, my brothers took me to the Silver Dollar Saloon and bought me what they thought was my first beer.  Of course, I let them think that and of course, I let them think I was meeting Frankie for the first time.  I even called her Francis that night in order to keep up the charade.  I also let them think our trip upstairs—the one they paid handsomely for—was my first time but Frankie and I were passed that sort of thing.  We’d become friends, and we’d left our lovemaking behind us a long time ago.  I remembered the words she’d said that night.

“I can’t keep this money, Joe.  Give it back to your brothers,” she’d said, holding the wad of Adam’s money out in front of her.

“Not on your life.”  I leaned in and kissed her cheek.  “You tuck it away for a rainy day.”

That night, we spent our “lovemaking” hour talking about the future, her future, her hopes and dreams of a better life, and I was determined to help her move on from Virginia City and find that new life, but that was two years ago, and Frankie was still taking men upstairs at the Silver Dollar Saloon.

And as I looked down at her tear-filled eyes, I saw only pain.  She was badly hurt, and I didn’t know what had happened to either of us.  I couldn’t remember a damn thing, and that’s when I heard footsteps entering the alley.  I reached across my battered left arm and pulled my gun.  I held it as steady as I could with my right hand.  “Who’s there?”  

“Little Joe?”

“Sheriff?”

Roy Coffee, followed by Bobby—the weekend bartender at the Silver Dollar who was nearly the size of Hoss—scurried through the dark alleyway.  Roy stopped and stood on the opposite side of Frankie and Bobby pointed his finger down at her sprawled body and spoke wildly to the sheriff.

“That’s her,” Bobby said.  “That’s Francis.”

“She’s hurt real bad, Sheriff,” I said, looking up from my crouched position next to her.  “She’s been beaten and cut with a knife.”

Roy took a step closer.  He reached down to the ground and picked up a curious item just the other side of Frankie’s body.  “What’s this?” he said.

A bloodstained knife, my knife, the one I carried inside my boot.  “That’s my knife, but I … I didn’t do this, Sheriff.  Someone must have …”

“Have what, Little Joe?”

“I don’t know.”  I closed my eyes.  I think I even held my breath because I couldn’t remember anything that would make sense to the sheriff.  My mind was blank.  Nothing seemed real until I looked down at Frankie and determined that someone or a bunch of someone’s had it in for the both of us, but why?

“That’s her, Sheriff.  She’s been missing over two hours,” Bobby repeated.

“All right, Bobby.  I can see for myself,” Roy said.  “Go get Doc Martin.  I need him here now.”

“Is she dead?”

“Get the Doctor, Bobby.”

“You gonna arrest him, Sheriff.  You gonna arrest Little Joe Cartwright?”

“Please go.”

As soon as Bobby ran back down the alley, I realized where Frankie and I were and it made no sense.  We were deep in the heart of Chinatown and again, I asked myself why.

“What do you know about this, Little Joe?”

I shook my head.  “I don’t know anything, Sheriff.”

“What’s the last thing you do remember?”

“Last thing I remember was a poker game.  I was playing poker at the Silver Dollar.”

“And then what?  You two slip out the back door for a little … “

“No, Roy.  Don’t you understand?  Frankie and I are just friends.  We’re not … you know.”

“Well, what do you think happened?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did you have a fight with this girl?”

“No!”  I shouted.  “We never fight, Roy.  She’s my friend.”

I held back tears of frustration, and I held my throbbing left arm tighter to my chest.  I’d never felt such pain and I couldn’t make it end.  I remembered just yesterday when I’d laughed at Hoss over his sorry mishap and his broken arm.  What a fool I’d been.

“Sorry, big brother,” I mumbled.

“What’s that?”

“Nothing, Roy.”

***

“I’ve sent my deputy out to the Ponderosa for your Pa, Little Joe.”

Paul Martin and Bobby carried Frankie on a stretcher to Doc’s office.  With help from Sheriff Coffee, bracing me as we walked, I kept my left arm tucked tight to my chest, and we followed closely behind the stretcher.  Bobby had scowled at me as if I’d caused this whole mess and though I was tempted to give him that same fiendish look, I forced my gaze to the uneven ground as we strode through the back alleys of Chinatown to the lit streets of Virginia City proper.   

“What happens now?”  I asked Roy.  Was I under arrest?  According to Bobby, I’d attempted to murder my best friend.

Roy and I sat in the waiting room together while Doc worked on Frankie.  Luckily, Bobbie had left the doc’s office and I wouldn’t have to put up with his scornful looks.  My shoulder was only a minor inconvenience compared to the brutal injuries someone had inflicted on the young, Silver Dollar barmaid.

“We got ourselves two scenarios, Little Joe.  If the girl dies, and seein’ how you was found at the scene plus, there’s blood on your knife, then I got to arrest you for murder.  If the girl lives, I still have to arrest you for attempted murder.”

“It wasn’t me, Roy.”

“Can you prove that?”

“I can’t prove a damn thing, but I’d never hurt Frankie,” I shouted.  “Why don’t you understand that?  Someone else is involved here.”   

“You mind your manners, boy.  There’s no reason to scream at me.  You’re Pa wouldn’t take kindly to that and neither do I.”

“Pa’s the least of my worries, Sheriff.  Frankie’s lying in there and she’s all messed up, and I can’t do anything to help her.  She’s my concern right now, and you don’t seem to understand anything I’m saying.”

“I have to ask this, Joe.  Did you use your knife on the girl?”

“You know me better’n that, Roy, and you still have to ask?  I got a good size egg on the back of my head; my shoulder’s on fire and I can barely breathe.  Doesn’t that prove anything to you?”

“Maybe the girl fought back.”

“Maybe she did.  If I could remember, I’d fill in the blanks but rest assured because I’m only saying this one more time.  It wasn’t me.  I’d never hurt Frankie.”

“Well, this don’t look good, Joe.  The woman’s found beaten half to death and you’re my only suspect.”

The sun was just beginning to peek through Doc’s front window.  Had we been in that alley all night?  Bobby said Frankie went missing two hours ago, but if it was already morning …

“It’s Saturday, isn’t it, Sheriff?”

“All day long.  Why?”

I rubbed my forehead with my right hand.  “The auction.  I came to town for the auction.”

“Skylar’s auction?”

“I rode in last night so I could get a good look at the stock this morning before the auction started.  I booked a room at the International then I walked down to the Silver Dollar for a beer and . . .”

“And what, Little Joe?  Did you talk to the young lady?”

“Of course, I talked to the lady.  That’s what friends do, Roy.”

“Okay, go on.”

“I sat down to play poker—you know, to kill some time before I went back to the hotel.  Some fancy dude brought a bottle to the table and offered us all drinks, but I skipped the whiskey and only drank beer.  I wanted a clear head to inspect the stock and I … God, Roy, why can’t I remember?”

“Tell me more about the girl, Joe.”

“I don’t know … I was two or three rounds into the game and Frankie came and stood behind me.  She put her hands on my shoulders.”

“Go on.”

“Everything?”

“Everything you remember.”

“I looked up and winked, and she leaned down and kissed my cheek—you know, for luck.  I won that hand and I told her with a few more of those sweet kisses, she’d make me a rich man, and I’d have enough money to buy all the stock at Skylar’s auction.”

“So everyone at the table knew you had money for the auction.”

“I don’t think so, Roy.  I didn’t yell it across the table; I whispered to my best … to Frankie.”

“Do you remember anything else, son?”

“Yeah, I remember going out back—you know, to the outhouse, and Frankie was standing just outside the door having a smoke.  I stopped and we talked for a minute before I went back inside.  She mentioned something about the big city dude sitting at my table—the one who’d offered the whiskey—and that he’d been bothering her.  He’d just come to town, and she said he’d been flashing handfuls of paper money around the saloon.  He’d been propositioning her and Margie all night long, and she said his comments were vulgar and that he gave her and Margie the creeps.”

“His name’s O’Hara, Little Joe.  Met him when he got off the stage around noontime today.  Said he was here for the auction, but let’s get back to Miss Francis.”

“Okay.”  I thought for a minute.  “I’m not sure I saw her after that.  I sat back down at the poker game but for some reason I didn’t feel well.  My head started pounding and my stomach was upset and … and I ended up back outside at the outhouse.”

My mind was blank, and I closed my eyes.  I tried to retrace my steps, and that’s when Doc’s front door flew open, and an icy gust of wind made my already cold body shiver.  I tightened my grip on my injured arm before looking up at my father.  He didn’t look pleased.  With everything else that was going on this week, I really couldn’t blame him.

“Take a seat, Ben.  I’ll see if Paul has an extra blanket for Joe.  He spent the night—” Roy hesitated.  “I’ll let the boy explain.”

Just the other day, Pa had mentioned that the old timers were predicting one more heavy snowstorm, and I was beginning to think they were right.  Even though it was late April, I was shivering, like I’d fallen into an icy pool, and I’d never be warm again.

“Maybe I’ll make some coffee, too,” Roy said.  “I’ll get you that blanket first, Little Joe.”

“I’m gonna need more’n blankets, Roy.”

Paul stepped out of his surgery.  He glanced at Pa and then looked straight at me.  “She’ll live,” he said softly, “though I’m afraid she’ll be looking for a new line of work.  Her days as a pretty barmaid are over.”

“What do you mean … over?”

“We’ll talk about that later, son.  First, let’s see what’s happened to that arm.”

When I stood from my chair, my father stood from his.  There was no doubt he wanted the entire story, and there was no doubt he wasn’t leaving my side until he could get his mind around all the facts.  

“What’s this all about, Joe?”

“It’s a long story,” I said.

“It always is, Joseph, but let’s have Paul take a look at that arm first.”

***

I couldn’t tell if Pa was upset with me or if he was trying to lighten the mood.  I’d done nothing wrong, but I felt my own father was accusing me of something I didn’t do.  I climbed up on Doc’s surgery table, and he handed me a glass of cloudy water.  He told me to drink.

“Drink it all, Joe.  I assure you this will help ease the pain in that shoulder.”

“Okay,” I said.  “Then can I see Frankie?”

“We’ll see.”

“I didn’t hurt Frankie, Pa.”

“Later, Joseph.  We’ll talk this out later.”

“You have to believe me, Pa.  The sheriff thinks I tried to kill her and—“

“I believe you, son.”

“Do you?”

“Of course, I do.”

“That’s good … good.”

The effects of the laudanum had slurred my speech, but before Doc could work on my shoulder, my jacket and shirt were removed and set aside.  And while I could still think, I pointed at my jacket.

“My wallet,” I said to Pa.  “The money.  The … the auction money.”  I was struggling to form the right words but, on top of everything else, I didn’t want Pa’s thousand dollars misplaced.  Get … get the money, Pa.  My jacket.”

“Let’s not worry about money right now, Joseph.  Doc’s ready to set your shoulder.”

“Money … money’s safe, Pa.”

“Okay, son.  That’s good, but you need to relax.”

“Kay …”

The sudden jerk, the violent force the two men used to pop my shoulder back in place sent me reeling through a dark and chilling chasm of hell.  And when the agony didn’t subside, my sudden cry turned to a muted whimper as I tried to move away from the hands forcing me back down on the surgical bed.  I closed my eyes to the pain, and gulped in so much air, I thought I might pass out, but that wasn’t the case.  I was wide-awake, and I reached for Pa’s vest, thinking if I could grip something tangible, it might serve to ease the pain.

“We’re finished, Joe,” Doc said.

With pleading eyes, I stared up at Pa, at his tight-lipped smile and the lone tear slipping down his cheek; my father was hurting too.  And when he reached for my good hand—my right hand—his grip was strong and I held tight, and my breathing began to slow.

“You did fine, son,” Pa said.  “You did real good.”

“We’ll need to let him rest a minute, Ben, and then I’ll tend the gash on the back of his head.  Let’s see if the laudanum will take hold again before I start anything else.”

“My son isn’t guilty of any crime, Paul.  Not in the condition he’s in.  Joe must be telling the truth.”

“I’m not sure if it will help, but I’ll speak to Roy myself.  The boy’s eyes were glazed over when Roy brought him in.  It’s possible he’d been drugged, but I can’t be certain.  He was cold and so was the girl.  I don’t know how long they were in that alley but lying there most of the night didn’t do either of them any good.  You’ll have to keep a close eye on Joe after you take him home.”

I couldn’t keep my eyes open; voices faded into a murky sea of background noises, and I wasn’t allowed entrance.  Like a darkened cave, walls tightened around me, hugging me snuggly to a pillow of warmth with a faint scent of Bay Rum.  I breathed in and out as I floated into a comfortable sleep.

“Hold him tight, Ben.  He’s bound to feel this first stitch.”

I tried to move out of the cave, but the walls were solid rock tightening around my body like steel talons.  Tears filled my eyes, and the smell of Bay Rum became stronger.

“He’s fighting me, Paul.”

“Hum something, Ben.  It will take his mind in a different direction.”

The tune sounded familiar, a lullaby maybe.  An old song from a long time ago and it resonated in my ear, and I held my breath so I could listen more clearly to the elegance and the calming bliss of the simple tune.  I wanted to smile, to stop and remember a distant past that no longer existed.  My mind gave way to the comforting melody of my youth and gently eased me into a world far away from the striking onset of pain.

***

I wasn’t allowed to see Frankie before we left town.  Lying face up in the back of a rented wagon with Buck and Cochise tethered behind the rig, my peaceful world of laudanum was wearing thin.  A storm was moving in and rather than lock me inside a frigid cell, Roy conceded to Pa’s wishes and let him bring me home to recuperate.

Even though Pa tried his best, the ride was rough, and I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs from the constant pulsating throb that spilled fire over my shoulder.  Everything else, even my head didn’t cause as much torment and I should have been glad, but I couldn’t get past the driving pain on my left side.  Maybe it hadn’t been a dream after all.  Maybe I had been kicked by a mule before I was dumped in the alley and left for dead—well, maybe I wasn’t left for dead, but there was a part of me that knew death would be my only relief.

Hoss heard us pull up in the yard and from the corner of my eye, I saw him run toward the wagon and stare down at me, but he’d be no use to either of us with his arm in a sling.

“I’ll get Joseph inside if you’ll take the team to the barn,” Pa said.

“Sure, Pa.”

“Just pull them inside and I’ll deal with their harnesses later.”

“I’m sorry, Pa.”

“Not your fault, Hoss.  Just get them inside before the snow gets any heavier.”

“Yessir.”

Not until we stopped in front of the house did I notice it was snowing, lightly right now, but if the old-timers were right, we were in for a good one.  With each simple movement, I trembled, and my teeth began to chatter when Pa moved the blankets so he could sit me up in the wagon.  I tried to be useful; I tried to scoot forward and help him as much as possible, but I was still half out of it and Pa worked hard to get me inside.

I headed toward the settee but without being given a choice, Pa had different plans and I was up the stairs and lying on top of my bed before I could even think to object.  My father undressed me down to my long johns and had the covers pulled up to my chin in no time.  And, as soon as Hoss had moved the horses to the barn, he came upstairs and started a fire in my room.  That much he could do one-handed.

Though I tried to keep my eyes open, it didn’t last but a minute before I was sound asleep but when I woke, I had company.  Pa.  He’d pulled a chair next to the bed and he had a book open on his lap.

“Hi,” I said softly.

“Hi yourself.  Feel any better?”

“Some, I guess.”

“Think you can eat?”

“No, but I could use a glass of water.”

Pa stood from the chair and poured water from the pitcher.  “Hop Sing just filled this so it should be nice and cold.”

My throat was dry and the water felt good going down.  “Thanks,” I said.

Hoss must have heard us talking and it wasn’t long before he was walking through my bedroom door and standing at the foot of my bed.  “You okay?”

“I will be.”

“Ain’t we a sight, little brother?  You’re left and my right.  What are the odds?”

“Crazy, isn’t it?”

“I sure wish Adam was home,” Pa said.

“It’s snowin’ harder, Pa.  Don’t know if he’ll be able to make it here or not.”

“I know.  I just wish I knew where he was or if he was all right.”

“You know Adam, Pa,” Hoss said.  “He won’t do nothin’ stupid.  He probably stopped for a meal or somewhere that’s nice and warm, don’t you think?”

“He was due back yesterday, son.  You can understand my concerns, can’t you?”

“Sure, Pa, but I wouldn’t worry too much about big brother.  He knows how to take care of hisself.”

***

“What’s this all about, Little Joe?”

It was Sunday morning, and all I could think of was that I’d missed the auction.  I eased myself up taller against the backboard of my bed and looked up at my brother.

“I wish I knew, Hoss.”

“Pa filled me in some after you fell asleep last night, but nothing makes much sense, does it?”

“No, you’re right.  Nothing makes any sense at all.”

I fiddled with the strips of cloth that strapped my left arm tight to my chest.  The whole bandage thing was uncomfortable but more than that, it was annoying to have only one hand available.  But then I looked up at Hoss.  He wasn’t complaining so I let it go.  What was the use when we were both in the same situation?

“Too bad about the thousand dollars.”

“What?”

“The auction money you lost.  Didn’t Pa say anything to you?”

“My wallet?  It’s gone?”

“Yep.”

My emotions were all over the place.  I hurt, I couldn’t quit thinking about Frankie, and now this.  Why hadn’t Pa told me about the missing money?

“I’ll get it back, Hoss.”

“How you gonna do that?  Do you even know where it is or who took it?  Sure hope you didn’t lose it in that poker game you was playin’.”

“Is that what Pa thinks?  That I lost it playing poker?”

Hoss moved to the side of my bed and sat down next to me.  “You listen up, little brother.”  He scooted a little bit closer.  “Pa’s got more to worry about than the thousand dollars you lost.  Adam ain’t home from Sacramento yet and you were beaten half to death.  I ain’t much help around here either so don’t you go and tell him you’re running off to find the money.  At least not anytime soon, you hear?”

“I didn’t say I’d find it today, but I didn’t lose it in a poker game either.  Make sure Pa knows that, okay?”

“Just keep it under your hat for now.  I don’t wanna upset Pa more’n he already is.”

“So, where’s Adam?”

“Have you looked outside?  There’s nearly a foot of snow on the ground and there’s no way Adam could ride home even if he wanted to.”

“He might be in town, right?”

“Could be, but you know how Pa is.  If we ain’t all under one roof, he’s gonna fret like an ol’ mama bear until we’re all accounted for.”

“What’s going on in here?”  Pa entered my room.  “A tea party?”

“That’s right, Pa.  Joe and me’s havin’ a tea party, ain’t that right, Joseph?”

I looked at my father.  Should I say something about the money?  I didn’t know what to do.  I didn’t know what I should say.

“How do you feel, son?”

“I’m fine, Pa.”

“Good, then maybe I’ll bring you a steaming pot of Hop Sing’s tea and you two can continue your little party.”

“I’d rather have a coffee party.”

Pa chuckled and I smiled back.  “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Let me, Pa,” Hoss said.  “Why don’t you sit down here with Joe, and I’ll go find Hop Sing.”

It wasn’t hard to notice the deep-set lines in Pa’s forehead and realize the last couple of days had taken a hard toll on my father.  He looked beat.  He hadn’t slept but this time, I wasn’t the only reason.  Hoss and I had both been injured, Adam was missing, the money was gone, and Mr. Hubert wanted our land.  I wondered what might come next in this little string of mishaps.

“You’re worried about Adam, aren’t you, Pa?”

Pa gave my bedroom window a lingering look before he answered.  “Heaven’s no, son.  Adam’s a big boy.  He’s more than capable of taking care of himself.”

“And I’m not?  Is that why you haven’t gone looking for him?”

“Your injuries have nothing to do with my staying or leaving, Joseph, but last night’s snow tells me that leaving the house right now might be a bad idea.”

“You can take the sleigh.”

“I could, and I might consider doing just that if the situation warrants.”

“But not until I’m up and around, right?”

“Let’s just concentrate on getting you well.  We’ll worry about everything else later.  Understood?”

“Yessir.”

***

The following morning, I climbed out of bed and slipped on my pants.  None of my shirts would fit with my arm tied to my chest so I made it down to Pa’s room and pulled a shirt from his wardrobe.  It would have to do.  I wasn’t lying in bed for another whole day and, in order to sit at the breakfast table, I had to be dressed in something other than a nightshirt.

I heard Pa and Hoss talking, but their voices stopped suddenly when they saw me starting down the stairs.  I’d made it to the first landing when Pa pushed his chair back and moved across the room like the house was on fire.

“What’s this all about, Joseph?”

“I got hungry,” I said.

“I was just going to bring you a tray so march yourself back upstairs and—“

“I’m fine.  My legs ain’t broke, Pa.  I can walk to the table just fine.”

“You’re not dizzy, lightheaded?  You’re sure you feel up to this?”

“I’m sure.”

“Come on then.”

Like a child taking his first steps, Pa didn’t leave my side.  We walked to the table; he pulled out my chair and waited until I sat down before he called to Hop Sing for another place setting.  I winked at Hoss, and his half-hidden smile told me he knew exactly what I was thinking.  Hoss and I understood each other; we’d always been able to communicate without uttering a single word.

“Adam’s not home yet?”

“No, and I’m about ready to saddle Chubby and go lookin’ myself.”

“Oh, no you’re not,” Pa said from the kitchen doorway.  “No one’s leaving this house, not on a day like this: besides, I want to talk to you, Joseph.”

“Me?”

Hop Sing sat a plateful of scrambled eggs, bacon, and two biscuits in front of me.  He poured me a cup of coffee and when Pa sat back down, Hop Sing poured him a fresh cup too.  I looked down at my plate; my stomach turned on me.  How was I ever going to eat?  I forked some eggs just before Pa began to speak.

“You probably don’t remember, Joseph, but before we left Paul’s office, he suggested you might have been drugged.”

“Drugged?  Come on, Pa.  Don’t you think I’d remember something like that?”

“No, Joseph.  Just sit quietly and listen … please.  When he saw you in the waiting room, Paul said your eyes were glazed, which could have been a sign, but he wasn’t a hundred percent sure.”

“Then why bring it up now?”

“Because we’re looking for answers, son, and there’s no reason to be sharp with me unless you want to spend time in the territorial prison for something you didn’t do.  You need to calm down and we’ll talk this out.”

“Who’d do such a thing?”  Hoss asked.  “Who’d wanna drug Joe?”

After a couple bites of my breakfast, I realized my stomach wasn’t ready for real food just yet, and we all moved in front of the fire.  Hoss and I sat on the settee.  I leaned forward with my elbow perched on my knee and held my head in my right hand.  Drugged.  When and how?  I racked my brain and came up with zilch so what could I say?  How could I add to the conversation when I couldn’t remember a darn thing?

Pa was also worried about the northwest section of the Ponderosa, but he didn’t have time to dwell on Carl Hubert and his denial that he’d made a mistake and that the land in question was Ponderosa land.  Our cattle still remained on that section of the property and even if there’d been a court order to move them, there was no way Hoss and I could accomplish the task in the shape we were currently in.

My father looked tired and for good reason.  Hoss had been hurt and now this thing with me had turned our lives upside down.  Adam should have arrived home two nights ago, and though I’m sure Pa’s concern was unnecessary, that’s what our pa did best.  He worried.

“The auction,” I mumbled.

“What’s that, Joseph?”

“The auction.  Maybe someone didn’t want me at Skylar’s auction.”

“Enough to frame you for nearly killin’ that little gal?”  Hoss said.  “That just don’t seem right, Joe.”

“I know it don’t seem right, but what else is could it be?”

Pa sat up straighter in his chair, but he let Hoss do all the talking.

“Did you go up to her room last night?  I mean, did you see Frankie anywhere besides at the poker table?”

I wished Pa had fallen asleep rather than perk

up when Hoss started asking me personal questions.  Now I’d have more to explain than was necessary.  I let my brother’s comment slide and I tried to change the subject.

“Hoss, I’ve told the story a hundred times.  I said hello to Frankie when I walked into the saloon.  She kissed me on the cheek for luck, and I saw her when I went to the outhouse.  End of story.”

“Tell me if I’m hearing this right, Joseph.  You’ve been upstairs with this girl before?”

My heart thudded hard when Pa dove right in without hesitation.  “Does it matter?”  I met my father’s eyes, but I caved when his intense look softened.  He’d asked a simple question and since I’d never been a very good liar, I answered truthfully.  “Yessir.”

“So you were more than just friends.”

“I guess so.”

“Joseph, how many times have I told you boys that this kind of behavior only leads to—“

“Pa,” Hoss cut in.  “Little Joe’s special activities have nothing to do with the predicament he’s in now.”

“Special activities?  Is that what you boys call it?”

“You know what I mean, Pa.  A man, ‘specially a young man like Joseph, can’t be accused of wrongdoing just because he goes upstairs with a pretty little gal on special occasions, can he?”

My face was burning after Hoss’ innocent explanation.  He’d only made things worse, and when Pa stood and grabbed the poker, I wanted to sneak out of the room, but I knew better than to walk out in the middle of a conversation.  He prodded the burning logs with such force that the fire crackled and blazed, just like my personal life, which had just been put up for display so Pa could take potshots and point out my weakness for beautiful women.

“There’s this fella name O’Hara, Pa,” I said.  I had to get my father’s mind out of the gutter and back on track.  “Roy said he came in on the stage just for the auction.  Maybe he poisoned my drink when I was outside.  Maybe he didn’t want me at the auction, and maybe … I don’t know.  Frankie and Margie thought he was real creepy, but that’s all I know.”

“Who’s this Margie?”  Pa asked.

“She’s just another girl at the Silver Dollar.”

“Is she one of your special friends too, Joseph?”

I glared at my father.  He had no right.  “I’m done here.  I’m going back to bed.”

“Not yet, young man.”

“We’re not getting anywhere, Pa.  You keep getting off track and it’s not helping.”

“It’s you that’s off track, Joseph.  All this gallivanting with every young lady in Virginia City has led to an attempted murder charge.  And anyone who has any interest in your casual dalliances with young women has taken advantage of that particular bit of insight.”

“My dalliances, as you call it, have nothing to do with the fact that Frankie was beaten half to death, Pa.  Maybe you haven’t noticed, but I didn’t fare well either.”

“I know that, son, and I’m sorry, but it still doesn’t dismiss the fact that you live life carelessly.  If you’d gone straight to the hotel and stayed there like you were supposed to, we wouldn’t be having this discussion at all, would we?”

“Is that all?”

“Is what all?”

“I’m tired, Pa.  I’d like to go to bed.”

“Go on then.”

Just as I stood up from the settee, my stomach gave way.  I raced out the front door and ran smack into my eldest brother who grabbed my arms so I couldn’t go any farther.  I should’ve never eaten those eggs.  I knew better than to take that first bite and now I was paying the price for thinking I was up to a normal meal with the family.

“Let me go,” I cried just before my legs gave way and I slumped to the ground and retched uncontrollably all over my brother’s black boots.  Adam kneeled beside me and I heard him call for Pa, but I was too sick to care and too sick to hold back or to push his hands away.

Pa camped out in my room most of the day.  Since my arm was wrapped to my chest, I had no choice but to lie flat on my back and try to keep the room from spinning.  Pa pulled a chair up close, but I didn’t get much sleep.  I was sick off and on all day long.  I’d turn my head toward Pa, and he’d hold the china bowl under my chin.  My stomach pains were unforgiving.  I was hot then I was cold.  No sooner had Pa covered me with blankets that I was wrestling to kick them back off.

Paul Martin had sent powders home with my father, but I was afraid to take anything that might make my stomach revolt more than it had already, but I gave into Hop Sing’s tea when he said it would calm a stomach that flip-flopped.  I was totally spent, too tired to argue and I drank the Chinese concoction without protesting at all.

***

When I heard my bedroom door squeak, I opened my eyes.  The sun shone across my bed from a brightly lit cloudless sky but from my vantage point, I couldn’t tell much else.

“Hey, Little Joe.”

“Hi, Hoss.”

As soon as he heard our voices, Pa woke and sat up taller in his chair.  He smiled up and Hoss before he reached out and touched my good arm.

“How do you feel, son?”

“Better.”

“Would you like more of Hop Sing’s tea?”

“No.  Nothing right now.”

I’d never tasted anything so vile in my life, and I feared that anything else I ate or drank might wreak havoc with my stomach and start the ball rolling again.  I wasn’t about to take that chance.  I looked up again to see Adam moving silently across the room.  He stood next to Hoss at the foot of my bed.

“Hoss filled me in,” he said.

“And?”

“And what?

“You gonna lecture me too?”

“I hadn’t planned on it,” he said.  “Should I?”

“Save it for later, okay?”

“Will do.”

“Hey,” I said, looking closer at my eldest brother.  “What’s that scratch on your head?”

“Nothing to worry about.”

I chuckled.  “Someone take a potshot at you, brother?”

“As a matter of fact …”

“What!”  I pushed myself up on the bed and leaned back against my headboard.  Pa stuffed pillows behind me and I nodded my thanks.  “Seriously, someone shot at you?”

“Yeah.”

“When?”

“Let’s worry about that later.”

“No, I wanna know why someone’s shootin’ at my brother.  You know who did it?”

“No, but I have a guess.”

Pa’s look at Adam said we shouldn’t be having this conversation.  “We have no proof, son.”

“I think we do.”

“Come on,” I said.  “Spill it.”  Everything hurt, but I needed to know what Adam was thinking and why Pa was holding back.  “Who?  What?  Tell me.”

“Doesn’t it seem odd to you that all three of us are injured at the same time?  First Hoss, who’d never saddle a horse without checking for burrs, then you’re found beaten half to death in some alley, and the next day someone takes a potshot at me.  Not to kill, which means he’s a damn good shot with a rifle, but to cause enough of an injury that it upsets the entire household.”

I glanced at Pa until Hoss spoke up and had me thinking in a new direction.

“Kind of blows your theory about O’Hara, don’t it, Joe.”

“Sure does, Hoss.”

“What theory?”

“I’ll explain later,” Hoss said.

“No,” Adam replied.  “Tell me now.  Let’s get this all out in the open.”

“I thought a man named O’Hara was after me because of Skylar’s auction.  I thought maybe he wanted me out of the way so he could buy the stallion.”

“That wouldn’t explain Hoss and me, would it?”

“No, but who?  Who’d be after all three of us?”

“I can think of someone,” Adam said.

“Adam …” Pa cautioned.

“Hubert?”  I said.  “Carl Hubert.”

Adam grinned.  Hoss did the same.  I looked back at Pa.  “You don’t think so?”

“I don’t know what to think, Joseph.  We’ve been neighbors for more than ten years.  I staked Carl when he and his wife, Glenna, and their two young daughters first drove their broken-down wagon into Virginia City.”

“You staked him?  Did you know him?”  I shrugged my good shoulder.  I’d never heard that story before.

“No, but they needed help.  They were flat broke and out of provisions.  Their mules were skin and bones, and I sectioned off that far corner of the Ponderosa and, with a gentleman’s handshake, I offered them the land.  I said if they made improvements the first year, the land was theirs, and I’d deed it over for the sum of one dollar.

“They started out in a small soddie, made improvements, and then built the house they live in now.  Adam and I rode up that summer and took them a milk cow for the children, which is why I can’t believe Carl would do something so drastic over a piece of land he knows doesn’t belong to him in any shape or form.”

“If it’s not Mr. Hubert, does that mean you have someone else in mind?”  I asked.

“No, but I need proof,” Pa said, glaring at Adam, “before I’ll accuse a normally decent man of harming all three of my sons.”

“Just the other day, you called him a stupid man.  Have you forgotten that, Pa?”

“No I haven’t, Joseph, but I was … I was upset.”

“And you’re not upset now?”

Pa stood from his chair.  “I need some air.”

When Hoss and Adam started to leave my room, I called out to my eldest brother.  “Adam?  Can I talk to you?”

“Sure.”  He turned at looked at Hoss.  “I’ll be down in a minute.  You go on.”  Adam sat down in Pa’s chair.  He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and laced his fingers together.

“Does it hurt?  The scratch?”

“That’s what you wanted to talk about?”

“No.  Not really.  What I need is a favor.”

“Go on.”  Adam leaned back in the chair and crossed his legs.

“I need you to ride to town.  I need to know if Frankie’s still alive.”

Adam blew out a breath then chewed on his bottom lip before he answered.  “Right now?”

“Soon as you can,” I said.  “Pa won’t let me out of this bed, not after I threw up all over your boots and—well, you know.  She’s my friend, Adam.  She’s a close friend and I … I need to know if she’s all right.  I’d go myself if I could.  Maybe you could bring her here … to the Ponderosa.  She could stay in the guest room and—“

“Hey, slow down, little brother.  Have you talked to Pa about this?”

“No, but she needs somewhere to go where she’s not alone.  Besides, someone out there wanted her dead and no one seems to know who that someone is.”

“She means that much to you?”

“She means everything to me.  She’s my best friend, Adam.  Can you make Pa understand that she’s more than just a—that’s she’s a real nice girl and not just a—you know what I mean.”

“I know what you mean, Joe, but you’re asking for the moon.”

“A real pretty moon don’t you think?  Please, brother?”

“I’ll talk to Pa, but don’t get your hopes up.  He’s got a lot on his mind right now.”

“I know he does, but I know you can make him understand what’s important.  She needs a stake, Adam, just like Mr. Hubert needed one when he had no place else to go.”

***

By that evening, I hoped to have answers.  I’d slept off and on most of the day only to wake up and discover Adam hadn’t done my bidding.  He hadn’t made the trip, but he’d promised he would first thing in the morning.

He’d had a long discussion with Pa on my behalf using the same analogy I’d used on him, that the girl needed a stake, that she was worth something in this world.  Nothing permanent, of course, but she could stay at the Ponderosa until she’d recovered fully.  I blamed myself.  Who else could I blame?  Wrong place wrong time, I guess, but I’d gotten her into this mess, and I wanted to see things through to the end.  I owed her that much, maybe I even owed her my life.  If only I could remember everything that happened.

All I’d had to eat all day was tea and toast and I was starving.  I threw on the clothes that lay at the foot of my bed and headed downstairs to the living room where I found the family sitting in front of the fire.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Hoss called out.  “Decide to join the living?”

“Yeah.  Think I’ve got bedsores from lying up there all day.”

Pa met me at the bottom of the stairs.  He wasn’t taking any chances, but that was Pa and over the years, we’d all learned not to complain … too much.

“Sit down here next to Hoss,” he said.  He guided me across the room and lowered me onto the settee.”

“Thanks, Pa.”

“Feeling better?”

“Yeah.  Hungry, though.”

“I’ll have Hop Sing make some tea.”

“Pa—” I whined like a five-year-old.  “Anything but tea, okay?”

“Okay,” Pa chuckled.  “Milk and cookies?”

“Perfect.”

***  

I was up before dawn the next morning.  The house was still sleeping, and I slipped downstairs and saw Hop Sing adding large lengths of wood into the fireplace.  When I hit the squeaky stair about halfway down, he turned his head.

“Why you up before sun, Little Joe?  Not like you come awake this early.”

“I guess not, but I wanted to talk to Adam before he rode to town.”

“You bring Missy here to Ponderosa?”

Hop Sing never missed a beat.  He was all-knowing.  “I hope so.”  I plopped down in Pa’s leather chair.

“You good boy, Little Joe.  Hop Sing have room spic and span for Missy Francis.”

“I knew I could count on you.  I just hope Adam can convince her to come out here and spend a few days.”

Hop Sing wiped his hands on his apron and moved toward Pa’s chair.  He sat down in front of me on the wooden table.

“Little Joe not hurt Missy.  Hop Sing know for fact.  Not in Little Joe nature to harm friend.  Sheriff not use brain in head when he accuse Little Joe.  I go with Mr. Adam.  I talk to elders in Chinatown.  Hop Sing get whole story what happen in alley.  Eyes always watching.   No one ever alone in Chinatown.  Someone know truth and Hop Sing find.  Hop Sing clear Little Joe name.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, gave Hop Sing a tight-lipped smile, and nodded my head in appreciation.  “Thanks,” was all I could choke out.  Appreciating Hop Sing was a given, but when he went over and above his assigned duties, I’ll admit I was proud to call such an honorable man my friend.

By the time we all sat down to breakfast, I’d had three cups of coffee and I was rarin’ to go except I had nowhere to go but back to the settee for the rest of the day.  Adam had hitched up the sleigh and Pa informed Hoss and me he’d be joining Adam and our cook.  He would talk to Roy, tell him what had happened to Adam on his ride home, and then run Adam’s theory past him.  Hop Sing would head straight to Chinatown and Adam would make his way to Paul Martin’s.

“You’ll have to do some convincing, Adam.  She won’t want to come but don’t give her a choice.  Tell her … tell her whatever you have to, charm her, Adam, and drag her out here.  Whether she likes it or not, she needs a place to stay.  She needs to be safe from the monster that cut her face.”

“I’ll do what I can, Joe, but I won’t promise anything.”

“You can do it, brother.  You’ve wrangled me all my life.  Frankie’s just a little girl.  Just use those persuasive talents of yours and you’ll be fine.”

“Right.  I’ll do my best,” he said.  “Pa?  You ready to go?”

Adam might pretend he’s all business, but I knew I could count on him to get Frankie out here where she belonged.  If he could convince our father to let her come and stay till she was well then convincing a nineteen-year-old girl wouldn’t be a problem at all.

***

“Ain’t you even a little bit worried?”

“It’s slow going by sleigh, Joe.”

“But it’s four o’clock.  They should have been back two hours ago.”

“I can see the clock; I know what time it is, and they’ll get here when they get here; besides, you’re startin’ to sound like Pa so settle down.”

Even though Doc wrapped my arm tight to my chest, I still cradled it, still held it protectively, but it was a constant reminder of the alley and the way Frankie looked at me, the way she pleaded for help, and the way I’d let her down when she needed me most.

The scene played repeatedly in my head, and I paced the room, waiting, hoping, staring at the grandfather clock, and taking out my frustration on Hoss.  We’d played a hundred games of checkers, we drank a hundred cups of coffee, and I was done sitting around.  I pulled the front door open for at least the tenth time this afternoon … and saw nothing, nothing but snow falling gently, enough to cause even more delays.

“They’re on their way home, don’t you think?”

“I’m sure they are so sit down and quit openin’ the front door.  I can barely keep the house warm as it is.”

I decided to take Hoss’ advice, and I started for the settee when I heard a noise.

“Bells!  Do you hear bells?”

“Sure do, Santa Claus.”

“Real funny, Hoss.”

I ran to the front door, pulled it open, and saw my brother helping Frankie down from the sleigh.  I raced out to greet her and welcome her to our home, and the first thing I noticed was the veil covering her face, but that was okay.  We’d worry about that later.  She was here and that’s all that mattered.

“You must be freezing,” I said.  “Come inside where it’s warm.”  I grabbed Frankie’s arm and pulled her along with me.  “I’m so glad you came.”  We crossed the room and I stood her in front of the roaring fire.  “Here.  You’ll warm up now.”

“Howdy, Miss Francis.”  Hoss stood from the settee and smiled at our guest.  “Can I take your wrap?”

“Maybe in a minute, but I’ll keep it on for now, Hoss.  Frankie held her hands out to the fire.  “It’s chilly out there, Joe.  Your Pa had plenty of blankets but for a girl born and raised in Arkansas, I may never get used to weather like this.”

I wrapped my right arm around her shoulder and whispered close to her ear, “You’re safe now, Frankie.  My pa and my brothers—we’ll all protect you here.”

“And I’m grateful, Joe … for everything.”

“How ‘bout a cup of coffee?”

“I’d rather have a cup of tea if it’s not too much trouble?”

“Of course not.  This is your home for as long as you want to stay.  Anything you want or need you just sing out and it’s yours, okay?”

“Any particular tune?”

I chuckled softly.  “I love you, Frankie.”

“Don’t let your father hear you talk like that.”

“Once Pa gets to know you he’ll love you too.  No question about that.”

The blast of cold air signaled that Pa and Adam were finished putting up the team, and as soon as they’d thrown their hats and gunbelts on the credenza, they both headed straight toward the fire to warm themselves too.

“Boy—” Pa said.  “I’m getting too old for sleigh rides.”

“You’re kidding, right Pa?”

“No, I’m not kidding.  These old bones—well, it doesn’t matter now.  Did you start a fire in Miss Stapleton’s room?”

“I was just gonna do that, Pa.  Will you excuse me, Frankie?”

“Sure.  Go ahead, Joe.”

“I’ll be back in two shakes.”

There was so much to talk about, but I wanted to talk to Hop Sing first and see exactly what he found out in Chinatown.  Pa’s theory about Carl Hubert could wait.  Roy’d have to think on that anyway, but if someone saw something, then mystery solved and my name could be cleared.

I hurried to light the fire and make sure things were in place for Frankie.  Hop Sing had everything done up right.  The room smelled fresh and clean, perfect for our guest.  When I was satisfied the fire had caught and would warm the room, I hurried back downstairs to find everyone had removed their coats and wraps and were sitting comfortably in front of the fireplace.

“I’ll be right back,” I said as I passed quickly through the living room toward the kitchen.

“Hold on, Joseph,” Pa said.  Come and sit down.”

“Hang on, Pa.  I just need to talk to—“

“Come sit down, Joseph.”

“Yessir.”

“I have something to say,” Pa said, “but we’ll wait for Hop Sing.  He’s part of this family too and today he played an invaluable role, and I want him to sit here and be a part of this conversation.”

“Tea and cookie for Missy Francis,” Hop Sing said.  “I go get coffee for Cartwrights, but you keep eye on Mr. Hoss.  He steal all cookies before you even get one.”

“Aw, Hop Sing,” Hoss growled.  “I’d never steal nothin’ from a lady.”

When we each had a cup of coffee sitting in front of us, Pa asked Hop Sing to sit down and join us.  “You tell your side of the story first, Hop Sing.”

“Hop Sing glad to tell story.  It happy story for some and sad story for others.”

“Come on, Hop Sing,” I said eagerly.  “What’d you find out?”

“You keep mouth from running all time, and I tell story.”

“Sorry, Hop Sing.”

“Always eyes in Chinatown.  Chinese not ignore what in plain sight is why Hop Sing know he can help Little Joe.  You not hurt Missy.  Big man hurt you first then Missy.  You sick.  Too weak to fight.  Battle over before it begin.  Big man take broken body and dump in alley far from saloon.  He come back late same night with Missy.  Carry over shoulder like sack of grain.  He dump on ground alongside first body.  That what eyes see.”

“Was it Hubert?  He’s at least your size, Pa.  I knew it was him all along.”

“No,” Pa said, glancing at Frankie.  “It was Bobby Adler, Joe.”

“What?  The bartender?  What’s he got against me or … or you?”  I turned toward Frankie.

Pa cleared his throat.  “Bobby Adler was paid to injure all three of you.  First Hoss.  He planted the burr under your brother’s saddle while Hoss collected the mail.  He was also the one who took the potshot at your brother, but he had a personal vendetta against you.”

“Me?  Why?”

“Because Bobby’s in love with me,” Frankie said.  “He saw you as a threat, Joe.  He saw you as the young handsome man that he would never be.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Maybe so, but it’s the truth, Joe, and that’s why he took money from Mr. Hubert.”

“Money?”

“Seems Adam was right all along,” Pa said.  “Carl Hubert offered Bobby a substantial sum of money if he would injure—but not kill—all of my sons.  That way, I wouldn’t have the time or the energy to argue in a court of law.  He knew I’d be too involved with my own personal problems at home to worry about that section of land he wanted.”

“I don’t understand,” I said to Frankie.  “If Bobby was in love with you why would he hurt you?  Surely that wasn’t part of Hubert’s plan.”

“No, it wasn’t, Joe.  When I saw you go out the back door a second time, I was concerned.  I thought maybe you were sick, and that’s when I saw Bobby throwing you over his shoulder.  I hollered at him to stop.  I asked what he was doing and he said you were sick, and he was taking you down to Doc’s.

“I didn’t think much more about it.  I knew you’d be okay once you got to Paul Martin’s, so I … I let it go.  I never thought he’d do such a thing, but when I came back to the saloon later that night, he seemed different somehow.  He asked me to join him outside for a cigarette, and I … I said okay.”

“What happened, Frankie?”

“Bobby began saying things he’d never said before.  He … he told me how good we’d be together, that we were the same kind of people, that you were cut from a different cloth and that … I don’t remember much else, except I tried to go back inside the saloon and he grabbed my arm.  He forced me down the back stairs.”

She glanced at my father, then Hoss, and then Adam.

“He pulled a knife; he held it under my chin.  Even his voice was hard—you know, menacing when he talked.  He said he’d found the knife inside your boot, that he was going to hurt you if I didn’t . . . if I didn’t run away with him.  I didn’t think he was serious, Joe.  I laughed in his face but then I realized my mistake.

“He was very serious.  Said he had a plan that would send you away for a long, long time, but I didn’t know what he meant.  I couldn’t imagine what was running through his mind.  Where could he send you when this was your home?  I wasn’t thinking straight.  I didn’t’ realize …”

“Don’t cry, please don’t cry, Frankie.  It’s not your fault.  None of this is your fault.”

I pulled her toward me and even with my arm strapped up tight; I held her head against my chest.  Her face was hidden.  She hadn’t removed her hat and veil and I couldn’t begin to see her beautiful, blue eyes, but that had been her choice.  I certainly didn’t want her to feel more uncomfortable in front of me or my family.

“I’m sorry, Joe.  The next thing I remember was when you called out my name.”

“Please don’t blame yourself.  If anything, it was my fault you were hurt.”

“No, son.  Hubert and Bobby were at fault, not either of you.  Bobby’s the one who took things even farther.”

I shook my head.  “You’re wrong, Pa.  Frankie was hurt because of me.  You even said so the other day.”

“I what?  Son, I never said—“

“Yes, you did, Pa.  You took me to task and now I understand why.”

“I never meant you were to blame for—“

“But I am, Pa.  This whole time, Bobby’s been watching the two of us but in his greedy, warped mind; he saw Frankie and me as a couple of lovebirds.  I wasn’t just another customer who came in the saloon and flirted with Francis Stapleton; plus, I’d gone a step further.  I’d nicknamed her Frankie.  Everyone else knew her as Frances.  It’s true, we have a history and Bobby knows that, and he was jealous.  Hell, I’m surprised we’re not both dead.”

***

“Joe?  Will you show me my room?”

“Sure, I’ll take you up.  Just let me get your bag.”

Pa stood from his chair, as did my brothers.  “Supper will be served shortly, you two.”

We climbed the stairs together and since I was still one-handed, I sat the bag down to open the guestroom door.  Frankie stepped inside.

“This is lovely,” she said.  “So fresh and clean.”

“You’ll have to thank Hop Sing.  He’s the one responsible.”  I sat her carpetbag on the foot of the bed and picked up the empty pitcher.  “I’ll fill this with warm water and be right back.”

I’d just turned to leave when she called my name.  “Joe?”

“Yeah?”

After loosening the narrow, blue-ribbon under her chin, she removed her bonnet and set it on the bed, but she kept her back to me.  Frankie had spared my family from the bruising and knife cuts on her face.  I understood she was embarrassed, and I wanted to say the right thing, but she spoke before I could gather the right words together.

“Could you have Hop Sing bring a tray to my room?  I’m not quite up to public viewing just yet.”

“Frankie, I’m sorry.  If there’s anything I can do …”

“I think it’s best if I stay here for now.”

“If that’s what you really want.”

“I do.”

“Okay, I’ll fill the pitcher.”

***

After Hop Sing took a tray upstairs, the rest of us sat down at the table but piling food on my plate had been a mistake.  I couldn’t eat when Frankie was hiding from the world, hiding from me.  I thought she’d feel comfortable here.  I thought warm sun and mountain air would help her heal, but I misjudged the situation.

“You’ve got to let it go, son.  Carrying guilt over Miss Stapleton will ruin your life.”

“It’s not easy, Pa.”

“I know it’s not easy but if it’s any consolation, Bobby and Carl Hubert will be punished for what they’ve done.”

“How’s that help Frankie?  Her face is ruined and—?”

“In time, Joseph …”

“She’ll never be the same.  She was beautiful, Pa.  Wasn’t she, Hoss?”

“She sure was.”

“Upstairs,” I said, “she took off her hat, but she wouldn’t let me see her face.  She kept her back to me.”

“That’s only natural, Joe.  She’s embarrassed, but Paul said the scars will fade in time.  Right now, they’re very pronounced.”

“I want to help her, Pa.”  I looked directly at my father.  “She’s always wanted to leave Virginia City.  She’s always wanted to make a new life, and I want to make sure she doesn’t have to go back to that saloon.  She deserves better.”

Pa reached forward and gripped my shoulder.  “Then we’ll help her all we can, son.”

“Thanks.”

“Oh—” Pa said.  “I forgot to mention this earlier.”

“What’s that?”

“When Roy arrested Bobby Adler, he also arrested him for robbery.  The fool had your wallet tucked into the back pocket of his dungarees.  Every bit of the auction money was still there.”

“That louse.  That’s probably double what Hubert paid him in the first place.  He sure hit the jackpot when he hit me.”

“It helps our case also, Joe, when we go to court.  Not only did Bobby beat you and the young lady and leave you for dead, he robbed you of a thousand dollars.”

“Pa?”

“What, Joseph?”

“I was thinkin’.”

“That’s always good, son.”

“No, I’m serious.”

“I know you are,” Pa said, smiling.  “Go on.”

“Since we thought that money was lost forever—I mean, maybe we could put it to good use and … and help someone in need.”

Without going into detail, Pa knew what I meant and so did my brothers and the decision was unanimous.

“Of course, we can, son.  If it will help her make a new start, she’s welcome to every penny.”

I smiled at my father.  “You’re the best.”

That’s the kind of man my father was.  A man who’d lived through his own hardships and was willing to help others who were down on their luck.  I picked up a piece of fried chicken and took a big healthy bite.  Suddenly, my appetite was back.

***

On the fifth day after her arrival, Frankie came out of her room and presented herself without the veiled bonnet.  She must have heard everyone else, including Hop Sing, leave the ranch to appear at the inquest.  I stood from the settee as she made her way down the stairs.

“Hi,” I said.

“I had to show myself some time, Joe.”

“I’m glad you did.  Besides, I have something to talk to you about and now’s just as good a time as ever.”

There were several cuts on Frankie’s face and neck.  Some were still scabbed over, but some were beginning to heal.  “The doc was right,” I said.  “You’re face looks much better.  You’ll be your old self in no time.”

Frankie smiled but it was a sad smile, and I wasn’t sure what else I could say.  Maybe she didn’t realize I’d seen her face that night in the alley, but I didn’t want to bring that up.  I pulled her with me toward the settee.  “Want some tea?”

“Not right now.”

“I have a surprise for you.”

She turned to face me.  She held her hands in her lap.  “I love surprises, Joe.”

“Good, ‘cause I think you’ll like this one a lot.”  I took her hands in mine.  “I’ve talked to my father and … and you always said you wanted to make a new start, anywhere but Virginia City, am I right?”

“Yes, but what’s this all about, Joe?”

“Well, Pa, my brothers, and I are gonna make that happen.  After Bobby beat me up, he stole my wallet with the money I’d brought with me for Skylar’s auction.  We thought the money was gone forever; in fact, Pa marked it off in the books as a loss, but we have it back now and … and it’s yours, Frankie.  Pa and I want you to have it.”

“Don’t be silly, Joe.  Hospitality is one thing but I can’t take your hard-earned money too.”

“Yes, you can.  And you will.  I want you to make that new start.  I don’t want you to go back to that saloon.  I want you to make new memories.  Are you listening?”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Say yes.  Say you’ll take the money.”

“All right.  I’ll take your money, but I’ll pay it all back.  Understood?”

“I love you, Frankie.”

“I love you too, Joe.”

***

Life was good.  Doc drove out to check Hoss’ arm, check my arm, and see how Frankie was faring.  Adam’s “scratch” was pretty much healed and with a wave of his hand, he brushed the doctor off.  Since the snow had all but melted, ranch life was back to normal.  Time to catch up on chores, business, as usual, sort of.  Hoss and I were still on the mend so I was excused from certain chores, and I would take Frankie for buggy rides most afternoons.  

We talked about our futures, hers mainly.  Where she would go and what she would do when she got there, but her plans for a new life were uncertain.  I told her to write as soon as she was settled, and I’d come to visit the first chance I got.  That brought a smile to her face.  We had days of laughter, memories of the past, and new memories we would make, even though we’d be separated from each other.

“You’ll write me, won’t you?  Tell me where you’ve settled and how everything’s working out?”

“How else could you visit me, silly?”

“You have a point.”   I cupped her nearly healed face and kissed my best friend until she kissed me back, and that’s when I realized it was the only real kiss we’d shared in over two years.  “I’ll miss you.  More than you’ll ever know.”

She didn’t respond.  We didn’t always need words between us, but Frankie had been overly quiet the last couple of days.  Something had changed although I couldn’t put my finger on it or even explain why I felt that somehow we were growing apart.

Our relationship had changed rather suddenly.  I could feel it in my bones, a distance between us, a flood of emotions that couldn’t be explained, but they were separating the two of us without our knowledge.

***

I woke the next morning and hurried down to breakfast.  Frankie had joined us for meals over the last two days, and I was anxious to wish her a good morning, but I was surprised to find only Pa and Hoss sitting at the dining room table.

“Where is everyone?”  I asked.  “Where’s Adam?  Where’s Frankie?”

Pa waited for me to sit down.  “Miss Stapleton is gone, son.”

“Gone?  Gone where?”

“She asked Adam drive her to Virginia City this morning.”

I looked up at Hoss before I turned my attention back to Pa.

“Why?  Why didn’t she wait for me?  I would have driven her in though I’m surprised she’d want to go.  Why so early—I mean, what’s the rush?”

“She’s catching the morning stage, son.”

“The stage?”

Had I heard Pa right?  As though I was suspended in time, I fell into a world of darkness where I felt guilt and loss and suddenly, I knew I’d never see Frankie again.  My throat tightened, it swelled twice its size and I could barely swallow.  Hoss and Pa stared at me with caring looks as I digested the information, but I didn’t need glaring looks, I needed answers.

I looked toward the staircase hoping Frankie would somehow appear and tell me Pa was wrong and that we’d be together forever, that friends never really separated, that she’d changed her mind and would stay in Virginia City, and we’d never really be apart.  I looked back at Pa.

“Without a goodbye?”

He reached out his hand but I shook my head.  I didn’t need comforting; I wasn’t a baby boy.  I needed answers, but there were none.  What could Pa possibly know that would make the situation bearable?  Nothing.  I was at a loss, but I couldn’t speak.  I didn’t want to speak and I stood from my chair.  I needed time to think.

“She mentioned a letter, Joseph.  Upstairs in her room.  She said you’d understand.”

“Did you give her the money?”

“I tried, but she refused to take it.”

I’d never felt so empty.  I was hollow inside, confused, and not ready to accept what this whole ridiculous morning meant.  I lost my best friend and she didn’t have the courage to tell me she was leaving.  Had she played me all these years?  Had there ever been a friendship, or was it just an act, a way to keep Bobby Adler at bay?  Had she used me and I was too stupid to realize what a fool I’d been?

“Excuse me, Pa.”

A stupid letter.  That’s all she’d left me.  That’s all I meant to her.  Maybe I’d just tear it up and be done with Francis Stapleton.  I didn’t much care anymore.  Why should I?  Obviously, she didn’t give a hoot about me, and if I didn’t have my arm in a damn sling, I ride out of here so fast, no one could catch me and try to tell me any different.

I stood outside her bedroom door.  The letter lay on the bed, and I walked in and picked up the envelope.  I was ready to tear it in half when a part of me said no.  Read it first.  Give her the benefit of the doubt.  Innocent until proven guilty, right?

My name was plain to see.  Joe.  I sat down on the edge of the bed and peeled the envelope open.  It read:

Dearest Joe,

Please don’t hate me.  You and I both know it’s better this way.

You were my first love, my first lover, my first of many things I never knew were possible.  I’ve never had a friend like you and I will treasure that friendship always.  You’re a special kind of man, Joe.  You’re kind and you’re generous to a fault, and I’ll always be grateful for everything you offered a girl like me.

You taught me so much that I know I’ll forget to list all the qualities that make you the man you are.  You taught me how to hold my head high, how to own a room full of people and not shy away from anything or anyone when I knew I was right.  You made me see what the world had to offer.  You gave me confidence when I had none.  You believed in me and taught me that I could actually be somebody someday.  You made me see my real self, to know myself inside and out, and for that, I will love you forever.

I’ll miss you, and you’ll miss me, but we’ll always have each other in our hearts.  Keep me in yours, my sweet Joe.  You’ll always hold a special place in mine.

Always, Frankie

I curled up on the bed where Frankie had spent the last week.  A hint of rose water, the scent she always wore still lingered on her pillows.  No forwarding address.  No way to trace her steps if I ever wanted to see her again.  Vanished like a cool breeze on a summer’s day, and no promise to ever write again.

Was this really for the best?  No, not in my book, but leaving had been her choice and I had to let her go.  If we’d both led a different life, if she’d been a banker’s daughter or a rancher’s daughter, would I have thought of her differently?  Would I have asked her to be my wife?

My thoughts took me to places that didn’t matter now that she was gone.  Soon there’d be a trial.  Hubert and Adler would pay for their actions, and I’d testify on my own behalf, but what then?  Frankie was gone from my life.  My best friend was climbing aboard a stage in Virginia City.  Eastbound?  Westbound?  I didn’t even know that much, but it didn’t matter now.  She’d severed all ties.  She thought it was for the best, but I’ll miss my friend.

“Son?”  From the doorway, Pa called my name.  He wanted to talk.  My father always wanted to talk.

“Not now, Pa.”

I clutched the letter and folded both arms across my chest.  I faced away from the door.  I didn’t want company.  I didn’t want to talk.

“I might be able to help.”

“I don’t think so.”  I sighed when I heard Pa cross the room and sit down on the edge of the bed in front of me.

“Francis and I talked late last night.  She came downstairs after you’d already gone to bed.”

I turned my head; I looked up at Pa.  “She talked to you and not me?”

“Yes.”

“Fine.”  I returned to my previous position and pulled my arms in even tighter.

“She’s a very brave young lady, Joseph.  That girl’s got more guts than you and your brothers combined, and I admire her for that.”

Although I listened, I didn’t respond.

“All the money, the generous little extras you’d given her over the years, she’d saved.  She called it her traveling money and because of you, she said she had all the money she needed to make a new start, which is why she wouldn’t accept the recovered auction money.

“She also said you were the one who convinced her she could be anyone she wanted to be.  You filled that young woman with confidence, and that’s more than anyone can ask of another person.  I’m proud of you, Joe.  You’re a fine young man, and I’m honored to call you my son.”

Slowly, I sat up; I rolled my legs over the edge of the bed.

“I’ll miss her.”

“I know you will, and she’ll miss you.  You and Frankie had something special, something that binds two people together forever.  You may not feel it right now but in time, your world will set straight again.”

“I never had a chance to buy new combs.”

“What’s that?”

“Bobby broke the combs Frankie used in her hair.  I planned to buy her new ones as soon as I could ride to town.”

“I’m sure she’ll write when she gets settled.  You can send them to her then.”

“No, she won’t write.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“I’m sure.  This part of her life is over, Pa.  She wants a fresh start, and I’m part of the life she wants to forget.”

“You’re right about one thing, son.  This life is over and she’ll begin a new life somewhere else, but she’ll never forget the young man who made it all possible.  That, I guarantee.”

“I hope so.”

“Well, I know so.”

I chuckled softly.

“Now,” Pa said.  “Your brother is still one-handed and he’s trying to clean the barn.  Think you could give him a hand?”

“I can give him one, but that’s all I’ve got to give, remember?  Hey, you trying to get rid of me, Pa?”

“I am, but don’t forget what I said, Joseph.  You gave of yourself to that young woman, and she’ll always be grateful.  You’re not an easy person to forget.”

“Thanks, Pa.”

“Now, young man, there’s work to be done so get up and get moving!”

The End

2015

by jfclover

“Don’t you remember anything about that time?”

“Apparently not,” Joe replied.

“Then maybe I should enlighten you, Little Joe.”

“You’re the smart one around here, or so I’ve been told my entire life, so why don’t you fill me in on what’s got you so all fired up?”

As I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms over my chest, Joe leaned forward, forcing his elbows hard onto the dining room table, and waited for a reasonable explanation as to why I had brought the matter up in the first place.

“Well?  You’ve got the floor, big brother.”

It had been two days since we’d entertained Frederick Kyle in our home, at our family dinner table.  There’d been a good amount of kidding and laughter over Joe’s poker playing and how rarely he came home a winner. There’d also been questions and answers concerning Kyle’s business of exporting gold and silver bullion and his eagerness to meet important businessmen in Virginia City.  Joe was happy to oblige the outsider and offered to go with Mr. Kyle and introduce him to the more prominent men on the Comstock.

After Joe’s kind offer, Hoss quickly jumped into the conversation and tried to explain the difference between Joe and me and how money affects each of us so differently.  Suddenly, we were discussing the dividing line between North and South—a matter Pa had tried to keep out of this house for fear of stirring up trouble between his oldest and youngest sons or anyone else—friend or foe—who was dead set on winning an unwinnable battle.

Later that night, I stepped out onto the porch where Kyle and my father were still discussing this imaginary “dividing line,” and the next thing I heard coming from our guest was talk of civil war.  “You really think it will come to that?”  I questioned, but Kyle was quick with answers as if he’d already jumped on the bandwagon—joined the Cause—and was somehow promoting a war between the states.

I watched his eyes light up when he stated he was from Kansas, a centralized state, which sat right in the middle of things.  Pa quickly spoke of Nevada, praying the conflict wouldn’t affect those of us living out here in the West.  Of course, I agreed with my father, but I kept my thoughts to myself although I knew right then that Frederick Kyle was trouble and my little brother would be caught in the middle of the war-hungry outsider’s exploits.

Joe and Kyle left early the following morning.  Joe was eager to help his new friend in every way.  But it wasn’t until the following day, I found myself in Virginia City asking questions of my own and discovering Joe was the first person Kyle had asked for when he climbed off the stage.  My curiosity blossomed.  Meeting Joe had been no accident and I was quick to tell my father the news.  It wasn’t until later in the day that Joe showed us a gift Kyle had given him—a small portrait of his mother.  A man who’d actually known his mother prior to Pa’s third marriage had torn at the kid’s heartstrings and placed him forever in Kyle’s debt.

“Adam?”

I looked at my brother, the innocence of youth at only seventeen but what Joe may not remember was a time, long ago, when a terrifying event took place right here on the Ponderosa.  It was a time when our world had come crashing down, not only from the death of Joe’s mama but within days I found myself the head of the household, in charge of my two younger brothers when Pa rode out, not saying when or if he’d ever return home.

I don’t remember ever being as young as Joe looks right now but at seventeen, I was Ma, Pa, big brother, cook and bottle-washer, and everything else we’d lost when Marie died and Pa left the Ponderosa.  Hop Sing wasn’t with us back then, and I didn’t know much about household duties since Marie had taken over when she and Pa returned from New Orleans. I was twelve years old at the time, and I’d finally enjoyed the freedom to attend school, dragging Hoss along with me to a makeshift schoolhouse Miss Fanny O’Malley ran for the country kids who needed a proper education.

My schooling ended the day Pa left the ranch.  I worked from sunup to sundown and then some.  There was Hoss and five-year-old Little Joe to care for and the ranch didn’t run itself.  So when a man named John, with a wife named Tillie and two sons—Hiram, 14, and Moses 7—walked into our front yard and asked for work, I looked into the man’s eyes and said yes.  I couldn’t do it alone.

“I’m not sure where I’ll put you up,” I said.

“Da barn be just fine, Mr. Adam.”   

“I’m sure we have some extra bedding, but the straw is fresh and will make good beds for your boys.”

“My boys is good workers and my wife’s a good cook, if’n you could use her in yer kitchen.”

“I sure could, Mr. …”

“Just John, Mr. Adam.  Ain’t got no other name but John.”

“All right, John.  Why don’t you and your family find a good spot in the loft, and I’ll go check for bedding.”

I’d just hired a black man and his entire family to help me run the ranch with no way to pay wages and whether I could feed my family and this new family too was yet to be seen.  Plus, I’d insulted the man when I asked him his last name.  If he’d been a slave, he would have taken the last name of his master but if he were a free man, would he have chosen a name randomly?  Honestly, I didn’t know.

Just as I opened the front door, the whirlwind we called Little Joe came racing down the stairs and didn’t stop until he nearly bowled me over, not only with speed but also with questions that required immediate answers.

“Hurry, Adam, hurry,” he shouted.  “I seen four people going into our barn.  Think they’re horse thieves?  What if they take Sally?  We won’t have no milk for our supper.”

“Slow down, Buddy, slow down.”  I picked the child up and he wrapped his legs around my waist and his arms around my neck nearly cutting off my circulation.  “Joe, please,” I said.  “Those people aren’t horse thieves or any other kind of thieves.  They’re going to work for us while Pa’s away.”

“All of ‘em?”

“All of ‘em,” I said, “and I want you to use your best manners when you’re around our guests.”

“Thought you said they was gonna work.”

“I did.  They are … but mind your manners anyway.”  I turned when someone rapped on the front door.  “Get down, Joe, and give me some room.  Miss Tillie,” I said.  She stood stock still with her hands on her youngest son’s shoulders.

“John says you might need someone to help in the kitchen.”

“We sure do, ma’am,” Joe said before I could answer.  “Adam ain’t no good at cookin’.”

“Isn’t any,” I said then realized it wasn’t the time or place to be correcting a five-year-old boy in front of Miss Tillie and her youngest son, Moses.  “Joe’s right, ma’am.  I’m not any good in the kitchen.”

“I be glad to help out some,” she said.

“Only if you can cook enough for everyone.  There’s three of us and four of you, and our hired hand, Isaiah McCullough.  That’d be eight people in all, ma’am.”

John’s wife cooked that night and for the next two weeks, we ate high on the hog.  Joe and Moses had become fast friends while John and Hiram helped Hoss and me with all the daily chores Joe and Moses weren’t old enough to do.  While Tillie minded the younger boys during the day, the four of us could concentrate on what needed to be done before winter set in.  Hoss was in favor of working rather than attending school anyway, and I didn’t have the heart to send him on his own when there was so much work to be done.  Leaves were turning from green to gold and it wouldn’t be long before we’d have to hunker down for the next few months.  And if this winter were anything like last year, no one would be attending Miss O’Malley’s makeshift school until spring.

It was on or around the end of the month when our neighbor to the north, Mr. Avery Proctor, stopped by to tell Pa he’d heard rumor of slave catchers in the area.  I quickly explained our pa wasn’t home, but I’d be sure to pass on the message as soon as he returned.

I didn’t want outsiders knowing our business so I kept my reply short and simple.  If neighbors came around too often looking for Pa, they’d realize he’d left the ranch, leaving the three of us alone to fend for ourselves.  I feared what might happen to my brothers if anyone was foolish enough to try to separate them from me by disrupting our family and taking my young brothers away.  Although there weren’t neighbors for miles around, it only took one nosey busybody to stick his nose in where it didn’t belong.

“Ain’t no slaves ‘round here,” Hoss said to Mr. Proctor after hearing what our neighbor had said.  I tried to push my brother behind me until I finished the conversation with the well-meaning man, but Hoss was nearly my size, and pushing him anywhere was a foolish waste of time.

There was a bounty on runaway slaves, and most were returned to their owners for payment but on some occasions, black men were hung by the neck until dead.  It never occurred to me to ask John or Miss Tillie how they’d happened to settle in Nevada, and I hoped I hadn’t brought trouble into this house or to my brothers.

~~

My five-year-old brother was twelve years older now, a man, yet not a man, and when I glanced back up at Joe, who was waiting patiently while I reminisced through events that happened so long ago, what could I say?  Was it fair for me to bring up the past when it seemed he’d buried it down deep inside and had possibly forgotten the whole ordeal?  My God—he was so young at the time.  I was stalling, hoping for answers where there were none.

“Why don’t we wait and talk tomorrow,” I said.

“I’ll never understand you, big brother.  First, you’re hotter’n a firecracker, and then you sit back in your chair like nothing’s wrong, and now you want to wait and talk tomorrow.”  Joe pushed his chair back from the table and shook his head in disbelief.  “Tomorrow is fine with me.”

Joe started across the room when I stopped him.  “Hey, Joe?  Wait a minute.”

“Don’t tell me you changed your mind.”

“No … not really.  Just one question.  Do you remember a boy named Moses?”

“Moses?”

Joe’s brow furrowed as though his mind was working overtime trying to place the name.  “Never mind,” I said.  “It doesn’t matter.”

I banked the fire and headed on up to bed.  Pa and Hoss had turned in early since they were riding out to the north pasture the next morning.  I supposed Joe would be meeting Kyle again, and I’d be left alone to finish the paperwork on the new timber contract.  It shocked me some when Pa asked if I would handle this contract while he and Hoss were away, but I jumped at the chance to have a day to myself.  It didn’t happen often with four grown men living under one roof, and I was pleased my father had enough confidence in my skills to hand me the job.  My higher education was going to waste most days but handling the paperwork alone would be the equivalent of managing an important project.  If we seceded in securing this deal, it would greatly benefit the Ponderosa and for once, I’d be using my brain for something besides pushing cattle and digging postholes.

The sheets felt crisp and cold as I slipped my bare feet between the linen fabric on my bed then tucked my hands behind my head, not quite ready to call it a night.  I decided to leave the subject of Moses, and what Joe and that little black boy had seen on that cold December day, rest—no sense bringing up memories of the past if it would cause Joe unwarranted pain.  Joe’s sympathies lay with the South because of his mother’s heritage, and I had no right to complicate the matter any further.  Kyle would leave town if he couldn’t find investors and our lives might return to normal without complying with his deep-seated Southern influence and hatred over the North.   

I was nearly asleep when a light shone under my door combined with quick, shadowy movements in the hall.  I crawled out of bed to see what all the commotion was about when I found Pa opening Joe’s bedroom door.

“What’s up?”  I asked in whispered tones.

“I heard your brother,” Pa said.  “Must have been a bad dream.  He was calling out for . . . actually, it sounded as though he was calling for you.”

The light from Pa’s lamp preceded us into Joe’s room, leaving eerie shadows highlighting my brother’s tightened face.  But as Joe’s hands slid down his cheeks, he eyed the two of us suspiciously, cautiously, as if the interruption was welcome, but not.

“Sorry, Pa,” he said.  “Must … must’ve been dreaming.”

“You were calling out for Adam, son,” Pa said as he eased himself down on the bed.

“For Adam?”

“Yeah—”

My brother’s eyes met mine, and I had my suspicions—Moses—but I kept my thoughts to myself.  I’d planted a dangerous seed, it was all my doing, causing my brother to wake in the night, frightened and calling out my name like he’d done for days after the event all those years ago.

“Go back to bed, Pa,” I said reaching for the lamp.  “I’ll sit here with Joe.  You’ve got an early start in the morning.”

“I don’t need a keeper, Adam,” Joe said.

“I know you don’t, and I’ll only stay a minute.”

“Sure you’re okay?”  Pa said, addressing my brother.

“I’m fine, Pa.  Sorry I woke you.”

Pa leaned in and squeezed Joe’s shoulder then gave him a quick smile before handing me the lamp and thanking me for taking over his fatherly role just this once.  I turned down the wick, placed the lamp on Joe’s table, and pulled a chair up next to his bed.

“Bad dream?”  I asked hesitantly.

Joe’s voice softened.  “Not really, but it was enough to wake me up.”

I waited for him to start talking, to bring up Moses and his family, but that wasn’t really his way.  Someone had to initiate the conversation and this time it had to be me.  “You remember anything about the dream?”  Even though I’d planned to drop the subject, I had to ask one more time.  Joe’s eyes proved a sure sign, a gentle giveaway he’d remembered.  His eyes widened and his face paled at my question.

“Yes.”

“Was the dream about—“

“Yes.”

Joe was struggling with memories I’d brought to the surface.  He threw his blankets aside and stood from the bed.  He began pacing the room.  I remained seated, waiting for him to collect his thoughts and if he wanted to talk, I was ready for any questions he might have.

“Why?”  Joe asked.

“Why what?”

“Why did you have to bring Moses up after all these years?”

“I don’t know.”  I slumped back in the chair.  Why did I?  “It was all this business with Kyle and I was afraid you’d get … I’m sorry.  Just let it go.”

“What about Mr. Kyle, Adam?”

“Why don’t we drop it?  I made a mistake, Joe, and I’m sorry.”

“Oh no, you don’t.  You brought all those old memories back to life and they’re as clear as if it happened yesterday, and now you want to drop it?  Why, Adam?”

“I said I made a mistake.  I never should’ve—“

“You’re damn right you shouldn’t have.”  Joe turned his back and rubbed his face with his hands before turning back around and glaring in my direction.  “I don’t understand what you’ve got against Mr. Kyle or why you think all that business about Moses and his pa has anything to do with why Mr. Kyle is here in Virginia City.”

“Because it does, Joe.  Kyle is bound to the South and—“

“Did you ever tell Pa what happened?  Did you ever tell him what Moses and I saw that day in the woods?”

“No,” I replied softly and dipped my head just like my young brother would do when he didn’t want to admit the truth.

Joe turned his back again, and I couldn’t blame him.  I couldn’t blame him for anything he thought over the way I’d handled things nearly twelve years ago.  To say I was handling things properly now wasn’t right either.

Two months had passed since the incident with Joe and Moses before Pa returned to the ranch, and I didn’t see the need to bring violence back into our home.  We were all so happy Pa had decided his sons were more important than his grief over Marie’s death that I’d kept silent—silent for twelve long years.

“I remember,” Joe said softly.  “I remember everything about that day, Adam.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“No.  I’d rather go back to bed and forget everything.”

“All right.  Maybe tomorrow.”

“No.  Not tomorrow, not ever.”  Joe’s eyes were on fire.  His nostrils flared in the way he gets when he’s right and everyone else is wrong.  “Go back to bed, Adam.”

“I’ll have to tell Pa,” I said.

“Why?  Why now?  You didn’t think it was necessary twelve years ago.”

“I was wrong, Joe.  Pa needs to know what happened that day in the woods.”

“Just forget it.  Pretend it never happened.”  Joe’s voice was braced with anger.  “It’s over and done with, and telling Pa is a waste of breath, besides, it doesn’t make any sense to bring up the past now.”

“Why don’t you let me decide what’s a waste of breath.”

“Because it didn’t happen to you, Adam.  It happened to me, and I don’t want to relive the past just ‘cause you’re not fond of Mr. Kyle.”

~~

Although I’d kept quiet during breakfast the following morning, I knew by the end of the day the story had to be told.  Pa and Hoss rode out before Joe woke and, of course, Pa asked questions about Joe and his nightmarish dream, but I lied for the time being.  I said Joe was fine.  Nothing to worry about.  I didn’t know Joe’s plans for the day, but I hoped we’d have time to sit down and discuss the matter before Pa and Hoss returned home from the north pasture.  I had a timber contract to run through, and I would get that done eventually, but Joe was more important than any contract or anything else work-related.  I thought my father would agree.

At half-past eight, I was sitting at my father’s desk, reading down the first page of the contract and marking changes we’d need to make as far as the number of men needed for the job.  After Joe made his way down the stairs, he took a seat at the dining room table without saying a word to me, or even looking my way.  He was still upset over my bringing up the past, but we had to talk.  We had to set things straight.

“Why you so late,” Hop Sing raged at Joe.  “Breakfast all cold.”

“I’m sorry, Hop Sing.  How ‘bout just a cup of hot coffee.”

“Coffee cold too.  Have to make fresh pot for little boy who sleep late and make more work for Hop Sing.”

“Thanks, Hop Sing.  This little boy appreciates everything you do and I’m sorry I overslept.  I guarantee it won’t happen again.”

“That better.  Apology accepted.  Hop Sing make fresh coffee.”

I listened from across the room, and the gifted sweet-talker had done it again.  He’d smoothed Hop Sing’s feathers and got exactly what he wanted in the process.  Although Hoss was Hop Sing’s favorite when it came to mealtime, Joe ran a close second.  His gift for diplomacy made me smile and in the process, he left a clean slate for the next time he lost favor with our high-strung cook.

I took a deep breath, picked up my own cup and saucer, and strolled casually toward the dining room.  A fresh pot of coffee was as good an invitation as I was going to get, and I wanted to resolve the problem with Joe so I could concentrate on the contract for the rest of the day.

“Morning,” I said.

“Morning”

“Mind if I sit down?”

“Nope.”

“Mind if we talk?”

“I know you aren’t hard of hearing and if you remember, big brother, I already told you I’m not talkin’ about Moses or anyone else.”

Hop Sing entered the room carrying the coffee pot and a plate of sugared doughnuts for Joe.  I’m not sure how he’d hidden them from Hoss but somehow he had, and Joe was enjoying the spoils because of his earlier comments to our cook.

“You eat.  You still growing boy and growing boy need Hop Sing food so he make it through the long day.”

“You’re too good to me, Hop Sing,” Joe said.  “I’ll make sure I eat every last donut on this plate.”

“Should’ve brought him a bowl of lumpy oatmeal,” I grumbled and, in a louder voice, I turned to Joe.  “You beat all.  You know that?  You really beat all.”

“I know,” Joe said smiling.  “Hop Sing loves me best.”

“You think so?”

“Ain’t it obvious?”

“Seriously Joe,” I said, changing my tone completely.  “We need to talk.”

Joe popped a donut in his mouth then exaggerated his chewing, thinking I wouldn’t interrupt his breakfast, but he was wrong.  I was determined to end this once and for all.

“Sorry, brother.  Can’t talk with my mouth full,” he said, showering me with powdered sugar, but I was going to win this battle, sprayed sugar or not.  Without Joe’s permission or his new way of stalling, I started reminiscing about that day.

“It was a Monday morning,” I said, “and Tillie was stripping beds when Hoss and I rode out.  I remember her telling you and Moses to find something constructive to do and let her wash the sheets without the two of you underfoot.  I’d sent John and his boy, Hiram, out to check the herd while Hoss and I rode into town for supplies.”

I’d set the scene, and I glanced across the table at Joe.  He hadn’t moved.  He hadn’t taken another doughnut or sipped his coffee.  I didn’t much care if he ate or not.  This was more important.  This was something Joe had to remember and had to talk out since he was so dead set on taking up with Frederick Kyle.

John and Hiram were a true vision of the South, not the stories Joe’s mama told of honor and pride or of The Code and how men battled for what they thought was right.  She told of steamboats on the Mississippi with columns of black smoke and whistles that sounded miles down the river.  She told all of us boys about her own heritage, of the Creole people, who spoke a truly romantic language, and she was obviously pleased when we’d use some of her everyday Creole words.

She talked of hundred-year-old plantations with stately mansions and ancient oaks lining the entrance of the estates and of sugarcane growing tall in the fields.  There was the French Quarter, where flagstones were scrubbed every morning in the courtyards, and oil-burning streetlamps lit the city throughout so it never grew completely dark.  She told of aboveground cemeteries and how mourners would decorate the tombs of the recently deceased.  She talked of the good life, not the real life she’d endured before meeting our father.  She romanticized the life she’d dreamed of living, and even I was taken in by her soft voice and her in-depth explanations of Southern living.

But what she neglected to mention to any of us was the fact that slave labor kept the South alive—the men and women who worked the plantations, who got down on their hands and knees and scrubbed the walkways or lit the street lamps or sculpted the “cities of the dead.”  Never once did I hear Marie speak of the Negro population or their condemned way of life.

I readdressed Joe and continued with the story of that day, at least my memories.

“So instead of sticking close to home, you and Moses sneaked out the back door with your fishing poles and headed down toward Willowcrest Pond.  Am I right?”

“Yeah.”

“What happened next, Joe?  What made you leave the pond?”

“I don’t know.  We just did.”

“Where did you go?”

Joe rubbed at his forehead with both hands.  He was fighting the images I’d stirred up, but I thought he might talk, and I knew better than to interrupt.

“We . . . we heard horses—riding fast—and we followed the sound.  We ran after the men because I figured you’d be mad if you knew there were strangers on the Ponderosa without permission.”

I smiled.  Only five- and seven-year-old boys would rationalize a reason to trail men on horseback when they knew better than to follow any strangers crossing our land.

“You didn’t have to go far, did you?”

“No.”

“What happened then, Joe?”

“I don’t know.  I don’t remember.”

“Yes, you do.  What did you see?  What did you hear that day in the woods?”

“Why are you making me do this, Adam?  Why does it matter now?”

“Trust me, Joe.  It matters,” I said firmly.  “You saw John and Hiram, right?”

“Yes—“

“Then tell me what you saw.”

“I can’t, Adam.  I don’t want to remember nothin’ about—“

The group of men surrounded Moses’ Pa and Hiram, all on horseback, each with a rifle lying across his lap.  Mr. John and his boy’s hands were tied behind their backs, and they were struggling in their saddles, trying to get the ropes loose from around their wrists but they’d been tied too tight.

One man held their horses’ reins, leading them both toward the old oak tree, past the stream where Adam and Hoss shot a grizzly last fall, and past Willowcrest Pond where Moses and I had been fishin’ only a few minutes ago.  Another man pulled Hiram’s horse up close to a rope he’d swung up and over a low-lyin’ branch then widened the loop so it fit over the black boy’s head.  He pulled the stiff circle tight around Hiram’s neck.

Joe pressed his face into his hands.  “Don’t make me do this, Adam.”

I wasn’t about to stop him now.  He had to recreate the story in his mind, even if he was unable to say the words aloud.  He had to relive the horror of an unnecessary lynching or Kyle would win the kid’s trust, and Joe might be lost to us forever.  My brother’s eyes were closed as he traveled through long-forgotten memories of the two able-bodied men who died that day.  Two men who could have been taken back to their owners if, in fact, they were runaways at all, but that wasn’t the case.  Those six men were out for blood, and black blood was easy pickings.

Mr. John screamed and begged the group of men to let his boy go.  “Hang me instead,” he shouted as he struggled in the saddle.  “Please don’t hurt my boy.”  But his words were in vain.  The men laughed, they all laughed until one of the men pulled a riding crop from his saddle and began lashing at Mr. John’s shoulder and back.

“Keep your filthy mouth closed if you know what’s good for you.  You sit and watch that boy hang, and you’ll soon find we don’t want no darkies mixin’ with decent folk in this part of the country.”

As Mr. John continued to struggle and fight the binding rope, tying his wrists, I held Moses down when he started to rise from the large, granite boulder we’d hidden behind.  “Stay here,” I said, “and keep quiet.”  Moses was older’n me but about my same size, and I was able to keep him hidden behind the rock and restrain his outbursts or cries.

Mr. John was crying too.  The crop came down hard on his back.  His shirt was soon shredded and he was bent forward over the saddle’s horn.  At the time, I thought his pain made him wail and curse God, but maybe it was seeing Hiram, swinging from the rope after one of the men hit the rump of his boy’s mount.  The frightened horse skidded out from under him and his body jerked this way and that until he was still and dead.

Joe shivered and breathed with hesitancy, forcing me to speak.  I had to interrupt his thoughts.  “You okay, Buddy?”

“They killed Hiram first,” he said.

Tears tracked my brother’s cheeks as he thought through the events of that day.  He seemed to remember every sequence without saying the words out loud.  I wouldn’t ask questions, I wouldn’t interrupt him again as long as he realized the horror that had made its way to Nevada from his mother’s romanticized South.

“John continued to beg those men to cut his boy down, Adam, to let Hiram live and take him in his son’s place, but Moses and I watched the man with the crop slide closer to John and grab the back of his head by his hair so he could see Hiram was already dead.”

I reached for Joe’s shoulder but he shied away from my touch.  He swallowed hard and scrubbed the tears from his face before he traveled once more back in time.

The man with the crop reared back in the saddle.  He lifted his leg and booted Mr. John off his horse.  I pressed Moses to the ground and covered his mouth so he wouldn’t cry out for his pa.  “Stay quiet,” I whispered.  Two men dismounted and pulled Mr. John to his feet before attaching a different rope to his bound hands.  The rope was thrown over the limb next to Hiram’s dead body, and they lifted Mr. John in the air by his wrists, still tied behind his back.  He was nearly bent in half; his head hung past his knees, and his shoulders had snapped out of place.

Mr. John cried out as he struggled to free himself from the taut rope.  Again, I pushed Moses to the ground so he couldn’t see his pa hanging from the tree and in much worse shape than his brother had been.  But I kept my eyes glued to the six white men and their captive as they twirled the big man in circles and laughed when vomit spewed from his mouth to the ground.

“Oh, God—why, Adam?  How can so-called decent men torture another human being and laugh at his pain?

“I think that’s enough, Joe.”  Although his story had been silently told, I could feel the pain he felt that day having to witness the cruelty certain men were capable of casting upon another.

My brother shook his head then tilted his face upwards to stay the tears.  “Two men died that day, Adam.  For no reason other than they were black men rather than white.”

“That’s right,” I said, “but lynching slaves is part of the South’s heritage, and that’s why I needed you to remember.  I loved your mother, Joe, and I know she wanted all of us to love her way of life, but the South isn’t all sugar and spice.”

“I was so scared, Adam.  Dammit,” he shouted as he stood from his chair.  He hurled his full cup of coffee at the dining room wall.  “You just don’t get it, do you?”

“Maybe I don’t, and maybe I never will, but I’m sorry you had to witness such a terrible act, especially at such a young age.”

“What does age have to do with anything, Adam?  How many lynchings have you seen?  Any at all?”

“No, and I hope I never do.”

“Moses’ pa didn’t die quickly like Hiram, you know.  It seemed like hours before his body gave out and the men were satisfied he was dead.”

I crossed the room and reached for the decanter of brandy.  Although it was still early morning, I was sure Joe needed a drink as much as I did.  “Here,” I said.  “Take this.”

Rather than drinking the shot, my brother set the crystal glass on the dining room table and rotated it back and forth between the palms of his hands.  Was the motion symbolic?  Was the picture of John, spinning back and forth from the rope binding his wrists still as clear as day in Joe’s mind?

“Let’s get out of here for a while,” I said.  Paperwork be damned.  Joe needed clean, fresh air—maybe a ride would help.  “I’ll saddle the horses.”

He gave no response, but I wasn’t surprised.  It had been a rough morning, and if a ride would clear Joe’s head, the timber contracts could wait until later.  I’d brought this on, and I had to find a way to set things right.

~~

We rode steadily after leaving the yard.  I followed Joe’s lead, but it didn’t take long before I knew right where he was headed—the old oak tree where the events of twelve long years ago had taken place.  Although it was never my intention to travel this route, I should have known that was where we’d end up.

Joe stopped high on a ridge overlooking the hanging tree below.  I sidled up beside my brother and tried to play out in my mind what he’d seen and how it had affected a five-year-old boy and his young friend to watch two men—Moses’ father and brother—hang.

Even though I tried my best at the time, I wasn’t Pa, and I wasn’t what Joe or Moses needed.  Miss Tillie did what she could to calm both boys when they returned to the house, crying and screaming about tales of bad men, and the uncalled-for deaths of John and Hiram, Tillie’s husband and eldest son.

My heart went out to her as silent tears streaked her face, and I offered as much comfort as possible to the broken family.  But in a way, I’d neglected my young brother as I concentrated my efforts to help Tillie and Moses cope with their loss.  Within days, mother and son were gone from the Ponderosa.  In the middle of the night, they had left.  No note, no goodbye— they’d vanished from our lives.

I realized now, I’d let the events of that day pass without sitting down with Little Joe and making sure he was all right.  Our “hired help” was gone and so was the memory of the lynching, or so I thought.  I’d been naïve to think just because Tillie and Moses had left the ranch, Joe could move on the next day without memories of what he’d seen.  I was too young to know how a day of terror might affect a young boy, plus, there was twice the work for Hoss and me to accomplish alone.   

“I thought I’d laid it to rest, Adam.”

Joe’s voice fractured my distant musings and brought me back to the present.  Should I let it go or push Joe further?  My mind raced with unanswered questions.

“What—” Joe said, looking straight at me, and I struggled with my response.

“All right . . . do you realize why I wanted you to remember?”

“You said something earlier about Mr. Kyle,” he said.  “Is that what this is all about?”

There was only one word I could say in my defense.  “Yes.”

“Kyle?”

“He’s up to no good, Joe.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Oh, but I do.”

“So that’s what this is all about?”

I sat deeper in my saddle and stared down at the tree, which had lost most of its golden leaves and had taken on a haunting look of death.  I pictured two innocent people lost forever.  “Yes, Joe.  That’s what this is all about.”

Joe looked away from the old oak, scanning the countryside, maybe mulling over what I’d said, but he said nothing in return.  As he chewed his bottom lip, like he’d done his entire life when he was troubled, I decided to continue.

“Kyle’s devoted to the South, to the Cause as it’s referred to now.  He’ll use anyone who might benefit his efforts to stockpile money, and he’ll fight anyone who gets in his way.  He’s using you, Joe.  Frederick Kyle is not your friend.”

“You don’t know that, Adam.  You think you know everything.  You’re right and I’m wrong.  Well, maybe this time you’re wrong.”

“Think, Joe,” I said louder than necessary.  I wasn’t wrong and I had to make Joe see the darker side of the South.  “Remember what you saw here twelve years ago then tell me you’ll stand alongside Frederick Kyle and men like him.  The lynching you saw that day is commonplace for runaway slaves all over this country.”

Dear, God, what had I put the kid through just to prove a point?  I’d shouted at Joe so he’d understand my feelings toward the Confederate way of life.  After all these years and with all this talk of war, the crisis Joe faced as a child needed to be brought out in the open so he could finally understand what Kyle was trying to preserve in the South.

I’d said my piece and it was time to call it quits—time to let Joe decide for himself right from wrong.  I’d known from the start Kyle was trouble, but I had to let it go.  Joe was nearly a man, and he had to decide which road to take without me deciding for him.

The sun had arced in the sky as we rode out in order to face death head-on, and now it was mid-afternoon, time to return to the house and see if we could be civil to each other for the rest of the day.  The contracts sat untouched on Pa’s desk, and he and Hoss would be riding in soon.

“Let’s go home, Joe.”

“You go ahead.  I need some time to think.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah—I’m sure.  I’ll be along.”

I turned Sport toward home and left my brother sitting on the ridge staring down at the hanging tree.  Was this a wise decision?  I didn’t know.  If I said more, I’d only be repeating myself.  It was up to Joe to decide his own fate.

As I rode into the yard, Pa and Hoss were just coming out of the barn from stabling their own mounts after a long day’s ride.  Pa wasted no time questioning me about my whereabouts—and Joe’s.

“I thought I left you to go over the contracts,” he said.

I wasn’t even off my horse before the questions started.

“And where’s your brother?  I see his horse is gone too.”

“I can explain,” I said after dismounting and holding Sport’s reins behind my back like a child who was hiding evidence of misdeeds.

“I’d like to hear it,” Pa said.

I glanced at Hoss, saw him roll his eyes and told Pa I’d be in as soon as I tended my horse.

“I’ll be waiting,” he said.

I felt like a ten-year-old boy when Pa used that tone of voice.  I was a man, a grown man, an equal to my father and still, I felt like a child.  This wouldn’t be an easy explanation, and I dreaded having to tell my father what should have been told years ago.  I was in charge of my brothers, but I was the age Joe was now.  I thought I was grown and could handle the job but in hindsight, I made plenty of mistakes along the way.  Today would settle one of those mistakes but not all.  So, with Sport cooled down, watered, and fed, I made the short trip across the yard to the house.  I wondered if Pa was watching from his window; I didn’t look up to find out.

As I walked inside, Hoss was rounding the corner of the dining room carrying a sandwich he’d conned out of Hop Sing.  Pa was at his desk, holding the unfinished contracts with both hands, and I knew the look.  It wasn’t a pleasant look, and since I’d barely even started on the task I was assigned to do, I told myself I wasn’t a child who needed a good, long talking to, but that’s exactly how I felt.

“Well?”  Pa said.

I took a seat across from my father, who’d remained seated at his desk.  Hoss leaned against the wall next to the stove.  He, too, was anxious to hear my explanation.  I tucked my hands between my thighs and I began the long, difficult story.

“Guess I’ll start at the beginning,” I said.

Pa laid the papers on his desk, folded his hands together, and waited for me to begin.  I cleared my throat.

“What I’m about to tell you happened twelve years ago . . . during the time you were away from the ranch.  Hoss will remember since he was almost twelve at the time, but it seems Joe had buried the events of that day until I brought it up last night, hence, the nightmare that frightened him.  He’s pretty upset right now and it’s my fault.  Maybe I should start with an apology, which I’ve said to Joe many times over, but I should also apologize to you too for not informing you of everything that happened during those months after Marie’s death.

“Adam,” Pa said, a curious look marked his face.  “What’s this all about?”  

I didn’t hesitate.  I jumped right in and told the story to my father.  “There was a lynching on the Ponderosa while you were gone,” I said.  Pa’s deep, dark eyes rounded like saucers, and he glanced up at Hoss, who had just taken his last bite of sandwich.  “I’ll explain.”

And so, I did—beginning to end.  I even told Pa where I’d left Joe this afternoon, and I assumed he’d be home shortly, but I couldn’t promise.  “He needed a little time to himself,” were my last words on the subject.

Hoss had taken a seat halfway through the story.  I wondered if he had buried the incident too until I brought it to light.  Twelve long years—buried—and now the cruel, vindictive hangings were brought back into our world as though they happened only yesterday.

“Why now, son?”  Pa said.  “Why wasn’t I told twelve years ago?”

Although I had my answer ready—because the three of us were so happy when you returned, I didn’t want to spoil your homecoming with a lynching story—but the front door opened and Joe walked into the house.  I turned in my chair and watched as my brother calmly unbuckled his gunbelt, laying his holster and hat on the credenza as if today was like any other.

“Joseph?”  Pa called out.

Joe was silent.  He started across the room, pretending he didn’t hear his name being called.

“Joseph?  Did you hear me, son?”

“Not now, Pa.”

Not a glance at me or anyone else.  Joe’s eyes were set dead ahead as he crossed the room and headed toward the stairs.  When Pa started to rise from his chair, I stood also.  “Let him be,” I said, laying my hand on Pa’s arm.  “He has a lot on his mind and I don’t think he’s in the mood for more talk.  Maybe later tonight.”

My father moved in front of me.  “You’re not Little Joe’s father, Adam.  I am, and if I want to talk to my son, I will do it with or without your permission.”

“Sorry, Pa.”  I fell back into my chair and glanced at Hoss as Pa climbed the stairs to Joe’s room.

“What’d you think he’s gonna say to Little Joe?”

“I don’t know, Hoss.  What would you say?”

“Me?  Don’t think I’d have brought any of this up in the first place, big brother.”

“Thanks,” I said with a touch of sarcasm.  “That’s just what I needed to hear.”

~~

It was over an hour before Pa and Joe came down the stairs.  Hop Sing was beside himself with dinner ready and no one present at the table.  I tried to reassure him it wouldn’t be long, but not much calmed the frantic little cook when he was ready to serve a hot meal.  Hoss and I both stood and made our way to the table without a second glance from Pa or my youngest brother.

As we took our seats at the table, I could see by the puffiness around Joe’s eyes, he’d been crying.  Maybe that was best.  Maybe he could bury the images of John and Hiram once again, just like he had when he was a young boy.  Even Hoss had become quiet and sullen after reliving the story I’d revealed to Pa.  It was doubtful I’d heard the end of this; Pa would have plenty to say about my mistake in judgment when my brothers weren’t around to overhear the conversation.

Hop Sing rounded the table with platters of meat and potatoes, vegetables, and bread.  Even though none of us had anything to say, our cook was cheerful and acted as though nothing was amiss.  When I glanced up from my plate, I caught Pa nodding to Joe.  I wondered what he had said to bring Joe out of his room and to the table when I thought we wouldn’t see hide or hair of him for the rest of the day.

Joe took a deep breath.  He laid his fork on his plate and looked straight at me.  “You were right, Adam.”

I’d just scooped a bite of potatoes, but my fork hung mid-air after Joe’s statement.  “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.  You were right and I was wrong.”

Even though Pa had encouraged Joe to speak, I was grateful he was able to admit I had a brain in my head when it came to certain, difficult matters.

“Kyle was never my friend and I know I was nothing but a pawn in his little game of drumming up funds for the South.  You taught me a lot today, brother.  You showed me the whole picture, not just what I wanted to see.”

“Joe, I—“

Joe shook his head.  “My mother was from New Orleans and there’s a part of me that will always feel close to her Southern way of life.  I can’t deny my own heritage, Adam, just because bad things happen.  Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yes . . . I do.”

“I don’t know why you did what you did.  I’m sure you thought bringing up all those old memories was the only way to keep me from tagging along with Kyle, but I don’t see it that way at all.  There should have been another way for you to get your point across.  I don’t know how, but it hurts, Adam.  It hurts to remember.”

Again, tears were forming in Joe’s eyes, and I knew I’d gone overboard trying to protect my young brother from a man like Kyle.  “I’m sorry, Joe.  I know I’ve said it before, but I really am sorry.  You’re right.  I should have thought of another way.”

When I was seventeen, I was thrust into the role of father to two young boys, and I couldn’t help but wonder how either of them would have acted in my place.  I was young and naïve, and I made mistakes along the way.  I was twelve years older now, but I was still making awkward mistakes.

I dropped my napkin on my unfinished plate of food and scooted my chair back from the table.  “Excuse me,” I said.  Like my brother earlier in the day, I needed a few minutes to myself.  And as I leaned my elbows on top of the corral fence, I studied the sky and the stars that may, someday, lead me to unknown places and unknown people far from the Ponderosa.  But my time was cut short when I heard the front door click behind me. Though I didn’t turn around, I knew from the sound of his footsteps who was crossing the yard.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” I returned but kept my eyes focused on the clear, night sky.

“I was kinda hard on you in there, Adam.”

“No, you weren’t.”

“I was, and I want to apologize.”

“Seems we’re both apologizing a lot today, Joe.”

“Yeah, seems we are.”

I turned my head toward the kid whose wide, white smile shone brightly in the dark of night.  “I guess we both made mistakes.”

“I never should’ve jumped all over you for making me see the truth.”

“I could have taken a different route.”

Joe shook his head.  His smile was gone.  “Nothing else would have had the same impact and you knew that, didn’t you?”

“I guess I did, but—“

“It’s over, Adam.  The past is the past and even though the lynching happened twelve years ago, they’re still happening today … in the South, I mean.”

They happened here, too, because runaway slaves were making their way west more than they were in John and Hiram’s day, but I wasn’t going to make matters worse by opening my big mouth again.  “You’re right,” I said instead.

“All’s forgiven?”

“All’s forgiven,” I said, hoping the storm was over, and we could get back to what we did best—return to a peaceful existence where we were one as family and not divided emotionally by North and South.

I clapped Joe’s shoulder, but he turned and wrapped his arms around me like he did when he was a five-year-old boy and I‘d stepped in as his substitute father.  I wasn’t ready for such an intimate connection with my young brother but somehow, it seemed natural—as though we were those younger boys, and back to the days when, in Little Joe’s eyes, I could do no wrong.  I wrapped my arms around my brother.

In life, we all make mistakes but in this family, we can always count on each other for forgiveness.  Sometimes it takes longer than others.  I’d wanted Joe to come around to my way of thinking, and he had—mistakes or not.

In less than twenty-four hours, my young brother had made decisions only a man could make.  He thought through everything he’d seen and been through that day so long ago, and he’d come to his own conclusions.  Maybe Pa and I had something to do with leaning him in a certain direction but ultimately; it was his choice and his decision to make.

Our lives aren’t always measured by birthdays but by events that come between those special days.  Joe and I would always remember this time of turmoil, and we would grow wiser from our mistakes.

And if we were lucky, Frederick Kyle would have already left Virginia City and would camp on some other unsuspecting young man’s doorstep, leaving us to run the Ponderosa and leave talk of war behind.

The End

8-2014