by jfclover

“Don’t you look purty,” Hoss said as I stood in front of the mirror, straightening my black string tie.

“You’re getting kind of sweet on her, ain’t you, Little Joe?”

“Well, someone around here’s gotta. Jesse don’t want me picking her up looking like some cowpoke who’s been knee-deep in mud all day.”

“Sure, I’m sweet on her. Who wouldn’t be?”

“You two about ready?” Adam hollered from downstairs.

“Come on, little brother. That dang perfume you snitched from Pa’s ‘bout to make me sneeze.”

“For your information, big brother, it’s Pa’s Bay rum cologne. It ain’t perfume.”

The dance was already in full swing in Carl Jensen’s barn when my brothers and I arrived. It was Saturday night, and we were looking mighty fine and ready for an evening of fun. Since I was the only one with a steady girl, I quickly scanned the room for Jesse. I spotted her right off, standing with her ma and pa and her little brother, Johnny. Only a couple of weeks ago, she’d asked what my favorite color was, and since I’d told her it was blue, she’d made herself a pretty blue dress just for tonight’s dance. I walked toward Jesse, and when I caught her eye, she wore a smile that lit up her entire face. Hoss’s comments aside, I’m glad I took the effort.

Jess was my steady girl. We’d been together nearly two months, and her ma and pa seemed pleased we saw each other regularly. Mrs. Peterson had offered me a standing invitation to supper on Thursday nights, and Mr. Peterson trusted me enough to break a couple of his new broncs after I’d convinced him that, at my age, I was much more suited for the job.

Jesse was a beauty. At seventeen, she was a year my junior, and I was the first man she’d ever really been serious about. I was glad she hadn’t been with other fellas, although I didn’t know why every man in town wasn’t chasing after her. With dark, hazel eyes and sandy-blond hair, highlighted with shades of gold, she looked like a princess. She was quick-witted and was determined not to take any guff from me or anyone else who ruffled her feathers. But what made her special, she wasn’t one of those girly girls like most young ladies I’d known. Some would call her a tomboy, I guess. Like me, she liked to take long rides on her pony, which proper young ladies wouldn’t consider ladylike in front of a suitor. But Jesse was different than other young ladies. Neither of us was out to impress. We were who we were without all the formalities that took precedence when courting.

“Hi,” I said, taking her hand in mine. More than anything, I wanted to lean in for a kiss, but not daring to be so bold with her ma and pa standing on either side. “You look lovely. New dress?”

“Thanks, Joe,” she said, squeezing my hand. “You said blue was your favorite color.”

“On you,” I whispered, “anything’s my favorite color.”

“Mrs. Peterson,” I said, tipping my hat. “Mr. Peterson.”

“How are you, Little Joe?” Mrs. Peterson said. “Did you ride in tonight with your brothers?”

“Yes, ma’am. They’re around here somewhere,” I said, looking over my shoulder. While Adam and Hoss were busy signing dance cards, Jesse’s card would soon be filled with my name and my name only.

“Shall we?” I said, pulling her toward the dance floor.

We were inseparable, even when the musicians took a break and the entire room of ladies and their gentlemen escorts merged toward punch bowls or outside where the air was a bit cooler. We met up with Adam and a girl named Beth, and after my brother handed the ladies their drinks, he handed me one. “Thanks,” I said, swallowing the syrupy punch before wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. I felt the kick of hard liquor too many times to not suspect the bowl had been heavily spiked while the Ladies League backs had been turned. A little whiskey would liven things up, although sometimes a bit too much. I’d been known to return home with scrapes and bruises, but not once since I’d started courting Jess.

“Joe?” Jesse said. “Will you take me outside to cool off?”

“Sure will,” I said, hoping for a kiss, maybe two.

“Joe? Who’s that woman?”

“What woman?”

“Over by the door. The one with the dark hair?”

I turned and glanced over my shoulder. Three ladies stood together along the far wall, sipping punch. “Which one?”

“In the blue dress.”

“I don’t know any of them, Jess. Why?”

“I don’t know … it’s strange. She’s been watching us all night.”

“Us?”

“Yeah. Every time I glance her way, she’s staring at you and me on the dance floor.”

“Let’s get you some fresh air,” I said, laughingly. “Just forget about her. She’s just jealous, seeing how my name’s on your dance card and not hers.”

Jesse took a deep breath and hooked her arm through mine. “You’re absolutely right, Joe,” she said, rolling her eyes and smiling. “What other explanation could there possibly be?”

““`

By midnight, I was mounted on Cochise and riding home with my brothers. Jesse had let me take her outside, not for one or even two, but three kisses in the cool night air. We made plans to picnic after church the next day, maybe take a swim or just an easy ride around the Ponderosa.

As we stood in the barn, stabling our horses, Hoss and Adam both joked with me about actually making it home without starting a brawl after drinking cup after cup of that spiked punch. “Our little brother must be growin’ up some.”

“I don’t know if I’d go that far, Hoss. His mind was just elsewhere tonight.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I said. “Keep it up, and there will be a brawl right here in the barn.”

“Oh, that reminds me, Joe.”

I looked up at Adam, waiting for the next jab at … well, I was never sure what my eldest brother was gonna hit me with next.

“I danced with this dark-haired woman tonight. Her name was Suzanne. No … Suzanna.”

It seemed like an odd remark, and I looked up at my brother, waiting for one of his frosty comments. “Well, what do you want me to say, Adam? Congratulations?”

“Not exactly, little brother.”

I continued to brush Cochise while I waited for some comment on how I should have been a polite gentleman and asked her to dance, and not spend the whole night with Jess.

“She asked about you, Joe.”

“Me? Why me?”

Adam glanced at Hoss before he continued. “Well,” he said, sighing, like he does on occasion, and walking out of Sport’s stall. “She had been watching you and Jesse the entire time we danced, and when I questioned her, she asked if I knew who you were.”

I remembered Jesse asking me about some woman, but I hadn’t paid much attention at the time. I had other things on my mind, kissing Jess for one.

“When I asked her why she wanted to know,” Adam continued, “all she managed to say was what a fine dancer you were.”

The look on my face said it all. I grinned at my older brothers but before I had time to strut through the barn like a full-feathered peacock, Adam grabbed hold of my arm and turned me to face him directly.

“She’s way too old for you, and besides, I thought you were already taken.”

“I’m sorry if the ladies of Virginia City find me irresistible, Adam, but—”

“She didn’t say you were irresistible. She said you were a good dancer.”

“I thought you said ‘fine dancer’.”

“Oh brother,” Hoss piped in.

“Adam?”

“What?”

“Was this … Suzanna wearing a blue dress?”

“I think so, why?”

“No reason.” Strange. Jesse was right. But the dance was over, and thoughts of a new lady in town were quickly forgotten. “Let’s raid Hop Sing’s kitchen. I’m starved.”

““`

Sleep wouldn’t come. I flipped from my front to my back all night long. Who was this woman? It really didn’t matter, did it?   I was more than content with Jess, but I’ll admit I was curious—that’s all, just curious. Jesse and I were made for each other; I knew that, so why couldn’t I sleep? Why was my mind running rampant over some mysterious, dark-haired woman?

When Hoss tapped on my door, telling me it was time to get up and get my chores done before church, I was dead to the world and could barely move from my bed. By the time Pa sent him back up to drag me down, his sunny disposition had long since vanished.

I’d nearly forgotten about the picnic I’d planned with Jesse after services until Hop Sing stepped out of the kitchen, carrying a basket and handing it to me. “For you and Missy Jesse, Little Joe.”

“Thanks, Hop Sing.”

“I make early this morning. Cherry pie for Missy Jesse.”

“She loves your cherry pie,” I said, taking hold of the basket and nodding my head in appreciation.

The three of us followed Pa to our regular seats; second row, right-hand side. I scanned the congregation as we walked down the center aisle but without the blue dress, I hadn’t paid close enough attention last night when Jesse had pointed out the mystery woman. I’d never be able to recognize her even if she stood right in front of me. She’d have to come right up and tell me her name, although no woman would consider something so forward without first being formally introduced. Instead, I looked for Jess.

I felt a tap on my shoulder as the Peterson clan slipped into the row behind us. I turned and winked at Jesse, but I was forced to turn back around when Pa’s hand clutched tightly to my knee. In my book, I wasn’t doing anything wrong, but in Pa’s eyes, this wasn’t appropriate behavior while we were seated in the house of the Lord.

I had driven the buggy into town so Jesse and I could picnic down by the lake. When the service was over, and we’d met the minimal requirement of handshaking and chitchat with people I cared nothing about, we said our goodbyes, and we were off for some alone time. No pesky brothers or any other distractions for the next couple of hours.

““`

“Hey,” Jesse said, leaning forward and then twisting on the seat. “That’s her!”

A buggy, which looked to be a rental, had just passed us on the main road to and from town. I’d tipped my hat to the lone driver—a woman—but while I didn’t realize who she was, Jesse had.

“You mean the blue-dress lady?”

“Exactly. Who do you think she is?”

“You got me. New to town, I guess. I’ve never seen her before.”

Jesse leaned against me and rested her head on my shoulder, but my mind was still on the stranger. My thoughts weren’t of Jess, but of another woman, the one called Suzanna. We were on Ponderosa land, so why had she been driving out this way while we’d been sitting in church alongside most everyone else in town?

I suddenly came alive and quit my daydreaming when I felt Jesse’s hand resting on my thigh. So far, we’d not been intimate; she wasn’t that kind of girl, and I’d never expected anything more than just a few lingering kisses. As her hand crept higher on my leg, I adjusted the reins and stopped her movement with my free hand.

Although I didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable, I didn’t think she quite understood what she was doing to me. “How about right over there,” I said, pointing to my right. There was a large, shade tree next to the lake where we could spread our blanket and dig into the lunch Hop Sing had prepared this morning.

“Let’s go for a swim first, Joe. It’s so darn hot, wouldn’t it feel good to cool off some?”

“Sure,” I said. “Sounds good to me.”

Normally, on a warm summer day like this, I wouldn’t have worn my long johns, but I did just in case Jess suggested a swim, which she often did. I reached inside the buggy, grabbed the blanket and Hop Sing’s basket, and together we walked down toward the lake.

Jesse sat down on the blanket and started unlacing her boots. “Oh, that feels good,” she said, throwing each one over her shoulder and into the grass. “Unbutton me, will you, Joe?”

She stood up and turned her back to me. There must have been twenty or thirty tiny buttons down the back of her dress. “They sure don’t make this easy, do they?”

She giggled and put her hands on her hips. “That’s so proper young ladies can’t easily be compromised by young men like you.”

“Oh, is that why?”

“Joseph Cartwright. I thought you were a man of the world. I thought you knew everything about women.”

“Well, I—”

“I’ve heard stories, you know.”

“Stories?” My fingers hesitated on the row of pearl buttons.

“Everyone in town knows about you and Miss Bulette, including all the so-called proper girls. Even my ma and pa are privy to all that went on with … that woman. Ma said you were just too young to know what was happening and that Miss Bulette took advantage.” She glanced over her shoulder, trying to see why my hands were no longer loosening her dress. “She doesn’t hold it against you, Joe, she just told me—”

“Told you what?” I said, becoming annoyed at the direction the conversation was going. “Told you to watch out for boys like me; boys who had experience with women like … Julia Bulette?” I could feel my temper rising, but I held back as best I could.

“Well, in a way.”

“Well, maybe I should have a talk with your mother, Jess. Maybe I should set her straight on a few things.”

“Joe,” she said, turning around, her dress loosened enough it fell from her shoulders. “I didn’t mean—”

“Yes, you did. I know exactly what you meant, and it wasn’t like that at all.”

“Then, what was it like?”

I started to walk away. It had only been a few months since Julia’s death, and I wasn’t going to discuss Julia with Jesse or anyone else. Not now. Not ever.

“Joe?” she said, grabbing my arm. “Please … listen to me.”

“Why?  So you can explain to me what I already know everyone thinks they know? Is that it, Jess?”

“Joe … please—”

“I loved her, Jesse. Do you understand? I loved Julia, and now she’s dead.” She’s dead because of me, although I didn’t say the words out loud. If our affair hadn’t been so public, forcing Jean Millain’s hand, she might still be alive today.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t understand. I was told—”

“You’re just like all the rest, Jesse. Poor Joe Cartwright … seduced by that woman. Well, it wasn’t like that. It wasn’t like that at all.”

“Then tell me what it was like?”

“What?”

“Show me.”

My God, what was she asking of me?

“Make love to me, Joe.  Like you did with Miss Bulette.”

I stood frozen. Is that what all this was about, this conversation about Julia?

“I love you, Joe, and you’ve been nothing but a perfect gentleman.” She eased herself forward and whispered in my ear. “But today, I don’t want the perfect gentleman.”

Jesse’s lips pressed against mine as if testing the waters for my reaction; her mouth—her entire body—insistent, demanding. I eagerly responded, wrapping my arms around her waist, pulling her hips close, closer, so she could feel the depth of my desire, pressing against her body.

If this is what she wanted, I was her man. Who, but a crazy fool, wouldn’t be anxious and excited when asked to perform? I hadn’t been with a woman since Julia, and I was eager, but what would she expect of me if I went through with her request? Marriage, children, live happily ever after?

After she loosened my string tie and unbuttoned my top button, I brought my hands to either side of her face, kissing her mouth, her face, tilting her head back, and easing my lips slowly down her neck. There was no doubt I wanted her, but this wasn’t right, and I slowed the pace. I kissed her lips once more and shook my head slowly back and forth.

“We can’t,” I said, denying us both the pleasure of making love on a warm Sunday afternoon. “I’m sorry, but we can’t do this, Jess. Not here, not this way.”

The instant her eyes teared up, she dipped her head and looked away. I reached for her and tilted her chin back up until we met eye-to-eye. “It’s my fault. I should know better. I do know better. It was foolish of me to let things go this far.”

“Take me home, Joe. I wanna go home.”

I knew she was embarrassed, and so was I for letting things intensify so quickly without thinking past my own wants and needs. “Okay, if you’re sure that’s what you want.”

She covered her face with her hands, and I could feel an occasional tremble as I worked the tiny buttons back through the holes. I wanted to say something—something worthy of the occasion—instead I struggled, all thumbs, with the back of her dress. After picking up the blanket and basket, I helped Jesse into the buggy. There was silence between us, and I only hoped we could forget today and pretend it never happened. But it had happened. We’d both been foolish to think we could be lovers one day and not have it continue forever. Maybe it was the strange lady in the blue dress that brought all this on. Was Jesse afraid I wouldn’t want her if she didn’t offer herself to me? Did she think I’d take up with some mystery woman I’d never even met?

“Jesse?”

She raised her head slightly, and I slowed the buggy and pulled over to the side of the road. “I love you. You know that, don’t you?  There’s no other girl for me … only you.”

“I feel like such a … it wasn’t your fault, Joe. I just—”

“Come here.”  I pulled her next to me. “All’s forgotten?”

“Are you sure? You don’t hate me?”

“I could never hate you, Jesse, but I will tell you this.”

“What’s that?” A quick flash of worry swept through her eyes.

“You really want to know?”

“Yes …”

“Hop Sing’s gonna be plenty mad if we don’t eat his cherry pie.”

““`

The week progressed as usual and by midweek, I was washed, dressed, and prided myself on being in such a good mood so early in the morning. Pa, Hoss, and Adam were already seated around the table, so it wasn’t as early as I thought. “Morning.”

“Good morning, son. Sleep well?”

“Yep.”

“You never mentioned anything about your picnic with Jesse? Everything all right, son?”

“Sure. Not much to tell. We picnicked by the lake.”

Yeah … what was I going to tell my father? More disastrous than good, Pa. Although to be honest, Jesse and I had worked everything out in the end. We’d sat on her parent’s front porch the entire evening, talking things out like we’d always done in the past. We avoided the subject of our picnic for as long as possible and even though it was Jesse who finally brought it up, it was just as I’d suspected. She had been jealous of this unknown woman and my association with Julia.

A man has needs, but I wasn’t going to discuss those needs with Jess. And even though I was tempted to follow her lead, I remained the perfect gentleman, and I could hold my head high—she could too. Hopefully, there’d be no more talk of Julia. That was a different time and place with the freedom to explore and, if I wanted to state the obvious, I’d honed my skills as a lover.

I’d considered my curiosity over the lady who’d picked Jess and me out of the crowd and whether I was being completely honest or not. But in the end, I told Jesse she was crazy to think I’d leave her and run off with someone else. She assured me she’d put her thoughts aside and that she’d been acting like a silly schoolgirl, not a grown woman of seventeen.

“Well, Joseph, I want you to ride into town this morning. You’ll need to pick up supplies for Hop Sing. Oh, and stop in for the mail, and I have some banking for you to do also.”

“Yessir.”

“Hoss and Adam? This is what I have planned for the two of you—”

I smiled at my older brothers, taking pleasure in Pa’s instructions, but both of my brothers scowled back, unhappy with the grueling projects they’d been assigned. I’m not sure why, but I’d gotten the better deal for sure. While my two brothers would be cleaning out ditches and replacing damaged fence lines, I’d ride leisurely on a buckboard and have an easy day in town.

““`

I dropped the buckboard off in front of the mercantile, leaving Hop Sing’s list with Jake. “I’ll be back in about an hour.”

“I’ll have your order ready, Little Joe.”

“Sounds good.”

I’d pick up the mail, do Pa’s banking, and still have time for a quick beer before the hour was up. I could hear the faint sound of men’s voices coming from each saloon I passed. It was only mid-morning, and Virginia City was already bustling with people popping in and out of numerous establishments and wagons, kicking up dirt and dust as they plowed their way up and down C Street.

I picked up the mail, but there was a line of people when I entered the bank, and I stood patiently, waiting for a window to open so I could get the two sizable drafts Pa needed. I turned and looked over my shoulder when the bell jangled above the front door. I tipped my hat at the lady and turned back around in line.

“Excuse me,” she said, stepping up behind me.

“Yes, ma’am?”

She lowered her voice to just above a whisper. “This may sound a bit forward, but didn’t I see you at the dance last Saturday night?”

“Yes, ma’am. I was there with my …” I clicked my fingers. “You were standing with friends of yours, wearing a blue dress, right?”

“Why yes, I was.”

“Little Joe?” Simon, the teller, called.

“Um … excuse me for a minute, will you?”

“Certainly.”

My hand shook as I reached for the letter Pa had sent with me. “Two separate drafts, Simon.”

He glanced at the missive. “I’ll be right back, Little Joe.”

Why was I nervous? I couldn’t even turn around and look at her. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw her walk up to the second teller’s window. She glanced in my direction, and I smiled awkwardly, feeling I was cheating on Jesse just looking her way.

Simon hadn’t returned with my drafts by the time the woman had finished and walked out the door. Adam was right about one thing; she was more his age than mine, but I’d never seen a woman with eyes that color. They were a deep, dark brown; something like Pa’s, but different—fiery and intense—as if she could see straight through to my soul. I took a deep breath and shook the lady from my mind.

When Simon returned to the window and handed me the two drafts, I tucked them into my jacket pocket and headed out the door. I looked to my left, no one, but when I looked to my right, there she was. She carried a green parasol, which matched perfectly with the green dress she wore. Her long, dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, and when she turned and met me straight on with those dark, flaming eyes, I nearly froze in place.

“I … I’m Joe Cartwright, ma’am.”

“Suzanna,” she said with a hint of a southern accent. “It’s nice to meet you, Joe Cartwright.”

“I take it you’re not from around here.”

“You’re absolutely right, Mr. Cartwright. I’m not from around here. You might say I was born quite a long distance from here. New Orleans is my home.”

“New Orleans?”

“Yes … you see, with the current trouble spreading across the southern states, my father felt it would be wise to send me to live with my aunt in San Francisco. He hopes this unrest will end sooner than later, and we will be able to return to our long-established homes in the south.”

“We’ve all read about the troubles between the North and South. I’m sorry to hear you were forced to leave your home.”

“Thank you.  I love my home, and I love everything about New Orleans. I’m not quite sure how long I’ll last in this wild and dusty West, I assume you find pleasurable.”

“I was born here, ma’am, so I don’t know anything else, but you may be surprised to know my mother was born in New Orleans.”

“You don’t say.”

“Um … could I maybe buy you a cup of coffee? Could we sit and talk for a while?”

“Well, we haven’t been properly introduced, Mr. Cartwright.”

“Call me Joe, ma’am.”

“Only if you’ll call me Suzanna. I hope you didn’t think me too forward, Joe.”

“Oh, no.  No, ma’am, not at all, I mean Suzanna.”

“Well, thank you, kind sir,” she said, sporting a beautiful smile.

“As you said, we haven’t been properly introduced, but it’s only a cup of coffee. Have you been to Miss Daisy’s café yet?”

“Yes, I have.”

“Good. Then we have no problem. Miss Daisy can introduce us.”

“I like your style, Joe Cartwright.”

“Thank you, Suzanna.”

When I walked into the café with Suzanna, Daisy gave me a stern look but when I explained the situation, the New Orleans connection, and asked her to introduce us, she honored my request before scurrying off and returning with coffee and two pieces of apple pie.

We sat and talked for nearly two hours. Suzanna told me things Pa had never mentioned about New Orleans, and after her rendition, I was certain I’d have to make the trip if I really wanted to appreciate the sights and sounds of my mother’s birthplace. Suzanna went on to tell me her father was a judge, and from what he could make of these unpleasant matters concerning the south, war was imminent, and so, for her own safety, he’d sent her away.

“What about your aunt in San Francisco?” I asked. “Won’t she be expecting you?”

Suzanna shook her head. “I needed a few days with my feet on the ground. It seemed like I’d been on that stagecoach forever.”

I chuckled at her honesty. “It can be a rough ride for sure.”

“I’m somewhat apprehensive about being alone and not knowing anyone in Virginia City. I know this is asking a lot, but I was wondering if … well, if you could maybe show me some of the sights during my stay?”

“So you didn’t know those two other ladies at the dance?”

“Goodness no, but I would have felt foolish standing alone.”

I thought about Jesse and wondered if she’d ever speak to me again if I carried through with Suzanna’s request. But if I learned more about New Orleans during the next few days, it would be worth every minute. Even Pa would understand my reasons if I asked for a couple of days off.

“I’d be glad to show you around,” I said. “Where are you staying?”

“I’ve checked into the International House.”

“I can’t do anything today. I have a wagon load of supplies I need to get out to the ranch, but I could pick you up tomorrow … say around noon.”

“Oh, that sounds wonderful, Joe. Do you have a buggy? Maybe we could take a ride and you could show me the countryside.”

“I’d be delighted.”

““`

I found myself whistling some silly barroom tune on the way home; in fact, I think I even remembered Adam playing this simple song on his guitar. This feeling, which had come over me, was curious at best. I was just being a good neighbor, but why did I sense excitement and daring? I wasn’t abandoning Jesse; I was just trying to be a gentleman, so why did I feel I had to convince myself this was the right thing to do? New Orleans—that’s why. I would learn more about the city and its people. Maybe I could tell Pa a thing or two by the time Suzanna had filled me in on city life now.

Pa walked out the front door when he heard me pull up in the buckboard. “What took you so long, young man?”

There was nothing wrong with the truth, was there? “Hi, Pa.”

“Well?”

“Well, you see, I was at the bank, and, well … I met this lady.”

Pa threw his head back, and his arms flew up in the air.

“Wait … I can explain.”

“Of course, you can, Joseph.”

I told Pa the entire story. I mentioned more than once the New Orleans aspect and finally got up the courage to ask for a few days off. “See, the way I figure it, Pa, she’s only gonna be in town for a couple of days, and I told her I’d show her the sights. Just think how much I can learn about Mama’s people in two days.”

“Oh, all right,” Pa said, grudgingly at first, then clapped me on the back. “I suppose I understand.”

“Thanks.”

“Now, unload those supplies. I guess it’s too late for you to ride out and help your brothers.”

“I guess it is.”

“Yes … I can see how disappointed you are.”

“That sounded a little sarcastic, Pa,” I said, sporting a frown.

Pa’s finger pointed to the heavily loaded buckboard. “Get busy.”

As we sat around the dinner table that evening, Pa mentioned my new friend and my taking a few days off. While Hoss grinned and shook his head in disbelief, Adam glared at me like I’d come down with the plague or some other vile disease.

“What’s bugging you?”

“I don’t know why she’d pick you to escort her around, Joe. There’s just something odd about this whole situation.”

“What do you mean by that, son?” Pa lowered his fork and looked up at Adam.

“She’s a beautiful woman and she picked me rather than him. Adam’s just jealous, that’s all.”

“That’s not it at all, Joe.”

“Then what’s the matter with me showing her around? Say it, Adam. The lady is older than I am so that makes it wrong, am I right?”

“Partly, but I find it strange that she picked you out at that dance the other night, and then she runs into you at the bank.”

“What’s so strange? It’s called coincidence.”

“Are you sure?”

“Pa?” I wanted him to intervene.

“You be careful tomorrow, young man. None of us knows anything about this woman, but I will admit, this time I agree with you, Joseph. It was probably just a coincidence. Use common sense and you’ll be fine.”

“Yessir.”

“Little Joe ain’t got no common sense when it comes to ladies, Pa.”

“Ha, ha.  You can keep your opinions to yourself, too.”

““`

My couple of days off started with early morning chores, and when I told Pa I didn’t have to pick Suzanna up till noon, he found more for me to do in the barn until it was time to go.

“Remember now, son, use your head,” Pa said when I pulled out the buggy.

“Adam’s just … well, he’s not thinking straight, Pa. There’s nothin’ to worry about.”

“All right, Joseph. Have a good time.”

“Thanks.” At least my father understood this outing consisted of nothing more than talking about New Orleans, and besides, Pa would have done the same. It was the gentlemanly thing to do.

I slapped the horse with the leather reins and took off around the barn. I’d taken time between chores to wipe down the carriage so it appeared clean and shiny. I’d never asked Suzanna’s last name, and with her dark eyes and her olive complexion, I wondered if she was possibly French Creole like my ma. Even after Adam’s uncalled-for comments, I was excited to hear more about New Orleans and anything else there was to know about the southern way of life.

I wouldn’t mention any of this to a soul, but I was eager to look into those dark, piercing eyes once again. There was just something about her—something mysterious and uninhibited—in the way she returned my gaze. I didn’t feel young or ordinary. Somehow, she made me feel like I was the only person worthy of escorting her during her short stay in Virginia City.

When I pulled the buggy up in front of the hotel, she was standing outside waiting for me. I jumped down and walked up the front steps. “Looks like you’re ready to go.” She held out her gloved hand, and I took it in mine. “I’d like to show you the lake … that’s if you’d like to see it.”

“I’d love to.”

““`

I helped Suzanna into the buggy, and we drove out of town. Clouds were already forming to the west, and I hoped we could get our ride in before a storm threatened to end our day.

“This land is so beautiful,” she said once we’d driven west of town.

“I have to agree with you, especially since my father owns the land we’re currently driving across.”

“And your mother?”

“My mother died when I was just a little kid.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—”

“Oh, that’s okay. I don’t remember too much about her, but Pa used to tell me stories about New Orleans and how even though he and Ma had been raised worlds apart, they still fell in love, and she was willing to leave her friends and her home to move to the wilds of Nevada.”

“What a romantic thing to say,” she said with that southern inflection to her voice. “They must have loved each other very much.”

I swallowed hard. “Yeah, I think they did.”

We rode in silence for the next few minutes until I pointed to my right. “There’s the lake,” I said.

Suzanna raised her hands, covering her mouth. “I’ve never seen anything so blue. Oh, Joe, it’s beautiful. Can we drive closer?”

“Sure, we can.”

I slapped the reins, aiming to quicken the horse’s gait. “Right over this ridge, and we can get out and walk down.”

The clouds were darkening, and I knew we didn’t have much time left. I took Suzanna’s hand and helped her out of the buggy. She was dressed more casually today in a white blouse, buttoned tight at the neck, a black skirt, and, of course, a matching black parasol. I wondered how many of those silly little umbrellas she’d carried cross-country.

I kept hold of her hand as we walked down the uneven slope. “Watch your step,” I cautioned. She stopped every now and then, letting her eyes take in the vastness of Tahoe and the surrounding area. “Is this far enough? We could sit down right over there.”  I pointed to a grassy spot. “I should have brought a blanket so you don’t dirty your dress.”

“My skirt is the last thing I’m concerned about today. I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to leave this place. Is there anything in San Francisco as beautiful as this lake and these tall, magnificent trees?”

“It’s a toss-up, I guess. Out there you’ve got the ocean.”

“This is simply grand. I just can’t believe my eyes.”

I enjoyed her accent, and even though we hadn’t talked about New Orleans, I was content to just show her the Ponderosa. We stared at the lake and beyond. I realized the Ponderosa was something that, over the years, I’d taken for granted, whereas Suzanna was seeing it for the first time, and she appreciated its beauty.

“Thank you so much for showing me this wonderful land of yours, Joe. You must be so proud to call this your home.”

“What’s even better is seeing it through your eyes.”

I leaned back on my elbows, breathing in the fresh mountain air, and although the wind had come up, forcing whitecaps across the lake, it was still a beautiful sight. “We should probably head back soon. It looks like a storm’s on its way.”

“I hate to leave,” she said with a slight pout of disappointment,” but I guess you’re right.”

The minute I pulled Suzanna to her feet, the clouds opened, rain drenching each of us so by the time we got back to the buggy, we were both soaked to the skin. “You’re cold,” I said. “Maybe my jacket will help.”

I shed my lightweight jacket, and as I draped it over her shoulders, I could see her lacy undergarments under her rain-soaked blouse. My eyes lingered longer than proper society would have allowed, but as I watched her large, rounded breasts heave after we’d raced up the hill, I found myself brazenly staring. Feeling ashamed, I leaped up into the buggy and started the horse back toward town.

Suzanna slid closer to me and slipped her arm through mine. “It’s freezing, Joe.”

“I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I knew it was going to rain, and I kept you out much too long.”

I felt her shiver. She held on tight as if my arm were her lifeline to a warm, dry room with a crackling fire. There was a roof over our heads, but the rain pelted in from the sides, soaking us even more, and by the time I stopped in front of the International House, loose strands of Suzanna’s dark hair clung tightly to the sides of her face. I jumped down from the buggy and helped her up the steps to the front door.

“I’m so disappointed our day was cut short. Please come upstairs. I can at least provide you with a towel to dry off.”

“I should go.”

“Oh, please. It’s the least I can do.”

Suzanna clung to my arm, still shivering as we climbed the stairs to her room. She had a black string purse she tried to open it to find her key. “Here.”  She handed the bag to me. “I can’t do anything. My fingers are so cold.”

I reached in for the key and unlocked the door to her room, offering her entry before me. She pulled two towels off the washstand and tossed one to me, and I ran it over my face and across the back of my neck. And, when I looked up, Suzanna had turned her back to me and had already removed her black skirt, letting it pool at her feet on the carpeted floor. She was beginning to unbutton her blouse.

“I’d better go.”

“Not yet, Joe. I’m just going to throw on something warm.”

She moved behind a small Chinese screen and finished undressing while I towel-dried my hair. My shirt and pants were soaked, and I still had a long ride home. When she reappeared, she wore an aqua-colored dressing gown and a pair of matching slippers.

“Oh my.  That feels so much better.”

“I really should go now.”

“But, Joe, you’re soaking wet. At least stay till the storm’s over. Surely I have something you can put on and let those clothes of yours dry.”

“I’m not sure how good I’d look in a dress.”

“Don’t be silly.” She shook her head and smiled. “Why don’t you just wrap yourself up in a blanket for now?”

I couldn’t do that. Not in front of a lady. “I don’t think—”

“I won’t look if that’s what’s worrying you. Just go behind the screen while I light a fire. Your clothes will be dry in no time.”

This is one time I wished I’d worn my long johns. How could I sit wrapped up in a blanket with nothing else on? This just wasn’t right, but I couldn’t find the right words to come up with a reason not to abide by Suzanna’s request.

“Okay,” I said reluctantly.

I used her bedspread like I would a towel after a bath, wrapping it around and around, tucking it in securely at my waist. I was still bare-chested, and it just felt wrong being half-naked in front of a lady I’d only known for a few hours. If Jesse ever found out, oh God, how could I ever explain my behavior?

I briefly thought of Julia and how we never cared whether we were dressed or not. There were numerous times I walked around her rooms naked, although that was a different time and a much different lady.   I had to admit, as much as I’d defended Julia Bulette’s way of life, Suzanna wasn’t the same type of woman at all.

I stepped out from behind the screen.

““`

I’d done the unthinkable.  I betrayed Jesse in the worst possible way. Even though she’d asked me to make love with her, I would never in a million years compromise or tarnish her reputation in that way.  But when Suzanna made herself available, it was easy to lose all sense of right and wrong.  Maybe the discussion we had about Julia brought back memories that should have remained only memories.

Her fears concerning the woman dressed in blue had become real. I’d taken the bait—hook, line, and sinker—and fallen for the charms of a southern lady. A beautiful lady I had no business spending time with in the first place.

I was exhausted, mentally and physically. My life had become a lie. A smart man would have walked away from the obvious temptations of a beautiful woman, but being the fool, I lived too dangerously for my own good. What made things even worse, I would visit Suzanna again tomorrow. Call it seduction, call it deception, call it anything you want, but I knew I couldn’t stay away.

All day long I’d felt like a big man, and it was Suzanna who’d pumped my ego with subtle words or a single touch of her hand. I wasn’t just a kid chauffeuring a beautiful woman around, explaining the sights and sounds that were commonplace on a ranch; I was a man she took seriously. So, when the rain came, and we rushed back to the hotel, taking her in my arms seemed like the most natural thing to do.

Suzanna made love slowly, passionately.  Eventually, she would ask me to touch her in special ways—ways that embarrassed me at first—but I found her insatiable, and what I hadn’t learned from Julia, Suzanna pursued as my new instructor. She guided me, introduced, and cautioned me on the finer points of lovemaking.  She taught me when to wait, when to take, and when to demand.

As I pressed my knee gently, separating her thighs, her legs parted instinctively. And as I glanced up, catching only a sliver of those dark, fiery eyes nearly hidden below thick lashes, she more than begged me to enter her domain.  I felt her need—her growing anticipation—but again, I’d been educated well. With my newly acquired skills, I slowed my advances, running the backs of my fingers across her creamy, white thighs, taunting, teasing, until the time was right. Circling my fingers, time and again, her breasts heaved, and her grip tightened and pulled me closer with heated desire.  I penetrated her with my fingers then stroked her deeply until I felt her entire body shudder. I continued to probe, pressing farther inside, rousing the onset of moisture and heat. When her back arched and her legs became rigid, quivering against my own naked flesh; when her body trembled with a sudden rush of pleasure, I replaced my finger with the tip of my tongue, probing and tantalizing the little nub just inside the doorway to her soul.

I, too, was filled with sensations I never realized were possible. As much as I pleasured Suzanna, she pleasured me more, caressing, arousing, and praising my abilities as a man.   We were a seamless match, giving and taking, loving, and delighting. When I returned home, I lingered in the barn longer than necessary, not totally anxious to walk through the front door and face the enemy. But Pa wasn’t the enemy; it was my own guilt that proved to be the true nemesis. My brothers had always accused me of chasing skirts, but this time, the chasing had been reversed. This time, I’d been chased, and without a doubt, conquered, and still, the question lingered. Had Suzanna and I really met by accident, or was Adam accurate in his thinking all along? I hated to admit my brother might be right. After all, coincidences happen all the time. I’d never let on to Adam. I’d even bet hard-earned money that running into Suzanna at the bank was nothing but an accidental meeting.

With the buggy put away, and the horse bedded down for the night, I closed the barn doors behind me. There was a soft glow of lamplight illuminating the front window, and I figured Pa would be sitting there waiting. I walked in, pretending there was nothing out of the ordinary or deceitful about my day, knowing if Pa was awake, I’d have to straight-out lie. He’d trusted me to do the right thing. “Use your head,” he’d said. Yeah, his baby son did exactly that.

But it was Adam who’d stayed up waiting, occupying his evening, reading one of his many leather-bound books. He didn’t say a word as I loosened my gunbelt and removed my jacket and hat, but when I passed by him on my way to the stairs, he finally spoke.

“Have a good time?”

I took a deep breath and answered my brother with a true fact. “I drove Suzanna up to the lake, but we got rained out.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I said after hearing his tone of voice.

“It means the storm ended hours ago.”

“Why does my personal life interest you so?”   There were times I wanted to choke my eldest brother. Why was he always prying into matters that didn’t concern him?

“It doesn’t, Joe.”

“We went out to dinner, okay?”

“It was just a simple question,” he said before standing and dropping his book on the chair. “I was only thinking back to when I was your age.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Sometimes it’s hard to keep those hormones in check.”

I wanted to slam my brother a good one. What was he; a friggin’ mind reader?

“Think I’ll turn in,” he said after patting me on the shoulder.

“Fine. Me too.”

““`

“Got in kind of late last night, didn’t you, son?”

“Yessir. Later than I had expected.” I glanced at Adam, waiting for him to ruin breakfast with some sarcastic comment of his. “Suzanna ended up treating me to dinner after I’d driven her around the Ponderosa all day”.

“That was nice of her,” Pa said.

“Yeah, it was.” I couldn’t look at my father. I just answered his question the best I knew how.

“So, what do you plan to show this young lady today?” Pa asked before reaching for the plate of biscuits.

“I’m not sure,” I lied. Gee, Pa, we may not even make it out of her room. I’m sure we’ll only be seeing each other’s sights. Not exactly what you had in mind for your youngest son was it? “Any suggestions?”

“I have many, but I’m not sure a young lady would be interested in our milling operations or any of our mines.”

I suppressed a laugh. “No, I guess not. I’ll ask her if there’s anything special, besides me, that she’d be interested in. Maybe … maybe we can track down that herd of wild mustangs Hoss and I saw a few weeks back.”

“Well, no matter what you decide to do,” Pa said, “I’m sure she’s enjoying your company.”

I couldn’t argue with that.

““`

With breakfast finished and without any off-handed remarks from Adam, I ran through some easy chores Pa had lined up for me then hopped back in the buggy and drove into town. I was a bundle of nerves, half excited and half disheartened by what I’d already done and what I planned to continue doing while Suzanna remained in town.

I stabled the horse and walked back to the hotel, and after tipping my hat to Tom, the hotel clerk; I bounded up the stairs to Suzanna’s room and tapped on her door.

“Who’s there?”

“It’s Joe,” I said, holding my hat in front of my clearly visible erection. I was as hard as a schoolboy seeing his first pretty girl, and I was notably uncomfortable, realizing I still had no control over embarrassing situations such as these.

But what I caught sight of as I entered the small, but brightly wallpapered room made me glad I was born a man. Suzanna lay in the center of the bed; a smile of satisfaction lingered across her generous lips. I stared at her sensual curves covered only by a sheer, peach-colored dressing gown, allowing the dark peaks of her breasts to show through. She leaned up on one elbow and reached her hand out for me. And like that young schoolboy who was half afraid even though his body was raring to go, I took tentative steps toward the bed. Her left knee was bent forward, covering her most private area, but as she reached down, slipping the silky gown slowly up her bare, white leg, I dropped my hat on the chair, leaned forward, and pressed my lips to hers.

“Good morning.”

“It is now that you’re here.”

For a split second, I thought of Tom Madigan, the hotel clerk, standing behind the desk and glancing periodically at the grandfather clock, counting the minutes until I returned to the lobby. Rumors of Little Joe Cartwright and that new woman in town would spread like wildfire if I chose to stay locked behind closed doors for the rest of the day.

After yesterday, and my prolonged visit, I couldn’t take that chance. We had to go elsewhere, anywhere but here in this room. But as I stood next to the bed, watching her loosen the satin ribbon tied loosely across her breasts, and as I picked up the scent of sweet verbena, I unbuckled my gunbelt and tossed my hat and coat.

“We can’t stay here all day,” I whispered as I lowered the gown from her shoulders. “Your reputation—”

Her lips were soft and moist, her body glowing, as light poured in from the hotel window, highlighting the arc of her body. She eased me down on the bed. With concerns over reputations now misplaced, I kissed Suzanna as I’d kissed Jesse only days before; her face, her neck, and her creamy, white breasts. Jesse had wanted to make love; instead, my lips tasted Suzanna’s, desirable, irresistible Suzanna.

The tiny room was sweltering, small, and claustrophobic. I lay on my back with my eyes closed while Suzanna’s fingers skimmed across my chest and belly, bringing gooseflesh to my sweat-covered skin. There were no words, only her gentle touch.

Even though we spent hours making love, we always found moments to laugh and talk about silly things in between. When I tried to sit up, when I knew it was time to go, Suzanna gently pushed me back down on the bed. “Please don’t go.”  As if tiptoeing on white, puffy clouds, her hand skimmed down my body; her fingertips working their magic, reducing me to that schoolboy who didn’t have a lick of sense or the brains to say no.

““`

“I really should—”

“Stay the night, Joe. Please?”

But Pa expects me home for supper, the little boy inside me cried. I need to go now or I’ll end up in more trouble than I know what to do with.  

“I have to go, Suzanna. Maybe … maybe tomorrow I can show you more of … well, whatever you’d like to see before you leave for San Francisco.”

“Promise you’ll be back tomorrow?”

No! I wanted to say. Don’t you understand this is wrong? I have a girl, and her name is Jesse. She’s the one I love. She’s the one I should be with.

But I was a fool, a fool who couldn’t say no to the pleasure I’d found with this southern lady. “I promise,” I said instead.

As I slipped into my clothes and fastened my gunbelt, Suzanna slid the peach-colored gown up over her shoulders, slowly tying the single, satin ribbon barely concealing her breasts. “Tomorrow then?” she said, rising from the bed and running her fingertips down my cheek.

“Tomorrow.”

I reached for the latch on her door but before I could step into the hallway, a man’s fist nearly crushed my lower jaw. As I stumbled backward, the tip of the man’s boot contacted my groin and sent me flying to the floor, clutching myself and groaning in unbelievable pain. I’d never felt such strength in one man before. But he wasn’t finished.  His boot tip slammed into my side, once, twice, three times until I ended up curling like a baby and struggling to catch my breath.

When he grabbed hold of my arm, jerking me back to my feet, I had to steady myself, holding tight to the end rails of the bed. I was bent nearly in half; pain radiated everywhere like blazing-hot fire. It’s all I could do not to keel over in a dead faint from the onslaught of the man’s vicious attack. My head spun and as I tried to slow my breathing, he slapped me across the face, pitching me backward across the bed and taking Suzanna with me.

As she scrambled to sit up, Suzanna pulled the bedclothes up tightly and tucked them under her chin, shaking, sobbing, scared to death by this sudden act of violence. I tried to place myself in front of her, blocking anything this man might try next.

“Who are you?  What do you want?” I breathed heavily, hoping the dizziness would pass before I collapsed face down on the floor and became worthless to us both.

The man pulled his gun early on, and he leaned forward, relieving me of mine. He placed himself directly in front of me, although his gun barrel pointed straight at Suzanna. “Listen up and listen carefully, boy,” he said in a deep, gravelly voice, “I want one hundred dollars. I believe that amount will cover my expenses.”

“Expenses?”

“Oh, Joseph, are you that naïve? I’ve been watching you sneak into this room for two days now and if the hotel manager doesn’t spread rumors, you know I will.”

“Why are you doing this?”

He smiled and glanced at Suzanna. “Well, you see, son, Ben and I go way back, and I know he’ll be disappointed if he finds out his son is playing games he shouldn’t be playing. And, since you fancy the ladies a bit too much and, after that sordid affair last year, I’d hate to see this young lady’s life end as tragically as Miss Bulette’s.”

My, God, who was this man? He knew everything about me, and I would be forced to do exactly as he asked or risk Suzanna’s life.

“So, this is the plan. Joseph. You’ll bring one hundred dollars to this room by eight tomorrow night, or your secret rendezvous will no longer be a private affair. It won’t be pretty though. A slow and painful death is what I have in mind for this lovely lady if you don’t show with the money.” I heard Suzanna’s shaky intake of breath; I knew how frightened she must be, but there was nothing I could do but promise to give the man what he wanted. “I want to make certain you understand.”

“Don’t worry, I heard you.” Again, the back of his hand slashed across my face, knocking me back against Suzanna.

“You have quite an attitude, boy.” The man grabbed hold of my chin and forced me to look up. “If you want the lady to remain alive, I suggest you look at me when I’m talking to you.”

“I’ll be … here,” I said, still gasping for air.

“Now,” he said, moving the barrel of his gun so it pressed hard against my temple. “I also suggest you don’t mention our little arrangement to Ben or to either of those brothers of yours and, if that’s what you choose to do, it won’t just be the lady who meets her maker.”

I feared moving, but I nodded my head.

“I can’t hear you.”

“Yes,” I said, barely above a whisper. “I heard every word.”

“Oh, let me add one more thing, and this goes for both of you, so listen up one more time. If either of you talks to the sheriff … everyone dies.”

Neither Suzanna nor I moved or made a sound.

“Hear me, son?”

“I’m not your son,” I said, glaring at the intruder.

“That’s correct.” A hint of a smile touched his lips. “You’re Ben Cartwright’s son but as your father’s son, you will treat me with the utmost respect.”

“Yessir.”

“One hundred dollars.  Eight tomorrow night.”

With his gun still drawn and my Colt tucked safely inside his waistband, the man backed out of the room.   Suzanna collapsed against me. She trembled; she cried, and I did what I could to comfort her.

I would get the $100 and be done with the man—the man with no name—the man, who was lean and muscular and double my size, the man who carried a long, jagged scar down the side of his face. As much as I wanted to tell my father or one of my brothers, I would keep the matter to myself.

I had saved enough over the years to cover the hundred, but not much more. I’d never been a big saver like my brothers. How could a person enjoy life if he didn’t spend a little money along the way? A few drinks with friends, a pretty girl? Pa had some idea of my current worth—around $140, according to my bankbook—and if I tucked some of my pay back into my account at the end of each month, maybe I could replace most of the cash before he ever found out.

““`

I’d had a lot of explaining to do. My face was bruised and swollen, and my ribs were on fire, probably cracked, but as far as I could judge, nothing was broken or needed stitches.

“What in the name of … what happened to you, Joseph?” Pa had practically thrown down his book and come running toward me when I walked through the front door. He held me at arm’s length and began examining every inch of my face.

“I got in a fight,” I said, trying to not give any details, only generalizations.

“I see that, boy, but where? Why?”

“Well,” I said, “after I dropped Suzanna off, I decided to stop by the saloon for a beer. It wasn’t my fault, Pa. I didn’t start nothin’; I just ended up right in the middle of the fracas that had nothin’ to do with me. By the time the sheriff broke things up, I had already taken a couple of hard punches and was just tryin’ to get the heck outta there.”

“Hop Sing!” Pa yelled.

“I’m fine,” I said.

“You’re not fine, Joseph. Now let Hop Sing clean up your face.”

“Okay,” I said, meeting Hop Sing halfway as he came running through the dining room. We walked back to the kitchen together.

“Boy not look fine,” he commented when he saw my face.

“Just do what you have to, Hop Sing.”

I eased myself down in the only chair available and let Hop Sing tend my scrapes. I remembered only a week ago when life was simple, and we all sat around the dining room table laughing and joking over silly things like Mrs. R.J. Mops.

We’d walked into the house after church, still cutting up over the wealthy widow who’d caught her boot heel in the hem of her skirt and ripped the entire bottom half of her dress right off its waistband. Layers of wired petticoats bounced and tumbled from side to side as she ran down the church steps toward her carriage. We howled like schoolboys over the entire affair, and I kept expecting Pa to intervene and scold the three of us for our outward display of disrespect, but I noticed the corners of his mouth kept twitching too.

What I found more surprising than Pa’s suppressed humor was the fact that Adam was laughing right along with Hoss and me. He’s usually he’s … oh, I don’t know …   above that kind of thing. But we all knew what a pompous old biddy Mrs. Mops was, and I guess you could say nobody was sorry to see her taken down a peg or two. I have to admit, as arrogant as my oldest brother can be at times, he’s not a snob and has no patience with those who are.

Adam caught my attention when he made a snide remark about how Mrs. Mops had chosen to blame the whole embarrassing incident on her Chinese driver.

“I thought she’s gonna take a whip to that boy,” Hoss said, still laughing.

“Maybe she did,” Adam said with an edge to his voice.

“You think?” Softhearted Hoss. Suddenly, he appeared worried, and the humor of the situation was completely forgotten over his concern for the hapless servant.

I thought about my situation, and I was that Chinese driver, and the man who beat me was Mrs. Mops. I didn’t deserve this; I’d done nothing but make love to a beautiful woman. Was that so wrong? To some, yes, but I didn’t deserve the beating. Maybe the unsuspecting get hurt the worst.

“Boy get punch in ribs?”

“Kicked,” I said.

“Hop Sing check, make sure not broken, wrap tight.” As I tried to readjust myself to a more comfortable position, Hop Sing scolded me. “You be still. Hop Sing have much work putting boy back together.”

According to Hop Sing, after I’d listened to one complaint after another about wasting time with foolish number-three son, I’d be as good as new. He wrapped my ribs so tight I could barely breathe. Then, he had me sit back down, which was nearly impossible given the god-awful swelling between my legs. He yelled at me to hold still then gently smoothed some of his special salve on the cuts and scrapes decorating my face. I flinched and turned my head away when he touched my swollen jaw. That man sure packed a wallop; I was surprised I had any teeth left to chew with.

Dinner was a long and painful ordeal. I kept shifting my weight on the dining room chair, thinking that at any time I might still be sick to my stomach. I’d often heard getting kicked in the … well, between the legs caused more pain than anything else, but I never imagined the sheer agony a boot tip could cause. I was still lightheaded, although I think I concealed it quite well.

I mentioned to Pa that tomorrow would be my last trip into town. I told him I’d promised Suzanna one more day. If he only knew what tomorrow would bring, I didn’t know if he’d want to protect me or skin me alive—most likely both.

Again, I lay awake, my heart pounding at just the thought of having to meet with that man tomorrow night. I’d headed up to bed early, leaving Hoss grinning proudly when I’d lost three games in a row. Obviously, my mind wasn’t on checkers, and I don’t think Hoss had any clue as to why he’d been able to jump every one of my pieces then tease me after kinging them all.

I could only hear mumblings of voices downstairs, Pa and Hoss and Adam, all three in danger but unknowing. I wouldn’t let anything happen to my family, and I wouldn’t let anything happen to Suzanna either. She’d been nothing but loving and kind. This business between “Scarface” and me had been no fault of hers and, as far as I knew, I’d never laid eyes on him before tonight, although he sure knew everything he needed to know about me.

~~~

Since I had to meet the man at eight, I didn’t ride into town till after lunch, explaining to Pa that Suzanna wanted to treat me to dinner after I showed her around town today. Once again, I told another bald-faced lie, which I rattled off with perfect ease to my father.

Sitting in the buggy was more soothing on my damaged body than riding Cochise but still, I felt every bump and dip in the road. I went ahead and stabled the horse, knowing I’d be in town for an extended period. My first stop was the bank to withdraw the $100 it had taken half my life to save, and here it would be gone in a heartbeat—poof—like magic—vanished into thin air.

I remember Pa strongly urging me to save half of any money I earned. When I was just a kid, I used to do little pick-up jobs for Pa or my brothers, even for some of the shop owners in town, allowing me to earn extra cash for something I desperately needed. My father saw things differently. I didn’t desperately need anything, and Pa had me put half of my hard-earned handful of coins straight in the bank.

After leaving Simon’s window, I stuffed the money in my pocket and tried to walk as normally as possible to the hotel. I wondered if the man, whom I’d christened with the name Scarface, was watching me from some dark alley. I glanced around cautiously as I walked, but I only saw men stumbling out of saloons or men driving wagons down C Street, but no one’s face fit any of my attackers.

““`

“Back again, Joe?”

“Afternoon, Tom,” I said before climbing the hotel stairs. “Got some business with the lady.” I wanted to ask him if Scarface was registered in this hotel, but I didn’t want Tom to connect the dots and somehow place me in the middle. “Shouldn’t take long,” I said, patting the wad of bills in my pocket. “It’s Ponderosa business.”

I tried to act casual, wanting the nosy hotel manager to think Suzanna was signing papers for Pa or some other ridiculous reason as to why I’d be meeting with the lady again today. If I could just make it through the next few hours, everyone concerned may actually live to see tomorrow.

I’d brought my holster with me and tucked it under the seat of the buggy, hoping Scarface would surrender my gun after our transaction. With my face looking like something the cat dragged in, Pa had been too concerned over my rough appearance to notice the missing Colt.

It was still hours before 8:00, but I wanted to make sure I had plenty of time. Suzanna needed reassurance, and most of all, she needed to know I’d kept my promise. I pressed my hand to my side, stilling the fire as I climbed the stairs. When I tapped on the door, this time, I heard a nervous quietness in Suzanna’s voice.

“Oh, Joe,” she cried, wrapping her arms around me, still trembling, still frightened. Her eyes were puffy and red, and her face mottled, most likely from a long night of worry and tears. I imagined her having the same sleepless night as I, so with my hand on the small of her back, guiding her forward, I led her to the bed and we sat down together, side-by-side.

“I brought the money,” I said, my hand still pressed to her back. “There’s nothing to worry about now.”

This was a different Suzanna, anxious and upset. She took a deep shaky breath, and as she wiped at her eyes with the corner of her lace handkerchief, I sat patiently, not sure what I should say.

“I’m scared, Joe. I wasn’t sure you’d come back.”

I tried my best to comfort her, but the tears still came. “It’s all right,” I said. “He won’t hurt you now. All he wants is the money.”

“I couldn’t sleep at all last night. I thought about trying to sneak out of the hotel, but where would I go? I … I didn’t know what to do.”

I did the best I could to make Suzanna feel safe, but obviously, I wasn’t doing a very good job. I continued rubbing her back, holding her close and wishing I could take away her fears. When she looked up at me, the cuts and bruises, marring a greater part of my face, registered with her and she was quick to comment.

“Oh my God. Your face.” She ran her fingers across the myriad of bruises. “I didn’t realize.   Are you okay?”

“I’ll live. At least he didn’t hurt you. That’s all I care about.”

“I’m so sorry. I’ve only been—”

“What?”

“You should hate me. All I’ve worried about is myself and … and look at you. That man practically killed you.”

I pulled her toward me. She may as well have been roughed up as much as I had; she felt the same pain, but it was her fear of Scarface that frightened her so badly. He frightened me, too, but in just a few hours, this business of handing over the money would be over, and our secret time together would never be revealed. Then, as soon as he was satisfied, he’d leave us alone. Suzanna would be free to take the stage to San Francisco, and I’d be free to get my own life back in order.

As I comforted Suzanna, it suddenly hit me that today was Thursday, and every Thursday for the last month or more, I’d had a standing invitation to supper at the Peterson’s with Jesse and the rest of her family. Jesse would be expecting me, and even as I’d mentioned my dinner plans with Suzanna to Pa this morning, I realized he’d forgotten too. I needed to leave, force another lie, and be back here before eight.

“I need to leave for a while, Suzanna.”

“Leave? Why?”

“There’s something I have to do,” I said, realizing it wasn’t imperative I explained where I was going. “I won’t be long.” She reached for the buttons on my shirt, and I pushed her hand away. “I’m serious, Suzanna. I’ve got an errand I have to run, but I’ll be back before eight. I promise.”

I raced—more like hobbled—out of the hotel, grabbed the buggy from the livery, and drove out to Jesse’s. I would have to explain the bruises just as I had to Pa, but if I got my lies past him, I could fool anyone into believing the beating was nothing more than a simple brawl in the local saloon. Jesse would understand; that’s the kind of girl she was.   She would also forgive me for messing up our Thursday night. I would promise her dinner out tomorrow night—a night on the town—if I could escape back to Suzanna’s tonight.

As I rode into the Peterson’s front yard, Jess’s father greeted me, but he also seemed surprised to see me. “Little Joe?” 

“Hi, Mr. Peterson. Is Jess inside?”

“What happened to you, boy?”

I touched my hand to my swollen jaw. “Just a little mishap in the saloon.”

“Looks awful sore,” he said, sympathetically rubbing his own jaw.

“It’s nothin’.”

After dropping his grease stick back in the bucket, Mr. Peterson crossed his arms and leaned heavily on the top edge of a wagon. He looked at me strangely as he removed his hat and scratched his head through thinning hair. “Jesse left earlier, Little Joe. Said she was riding over to the Ponderosa and would ride back here with you before suppertime.”

“Oh,” I said. “I’ve been in town all afternoon. I didn’t realize …”

“Well, don’t worry, son. She should be back soon, seeing how you weren’t there when she arrived.”

“Actually, I came by to say I couldn’t make supper tonight. Will you give Jesse and Mrs. Peterson my apologies?”

“Certainly.”

“I thought maybe I could take Jess out to dinner tomorrow night … kinda make up for today. Would that be all right with you?”

“That sounds fine. I’ll tell her when she gets back.”

“Thanks, Mr. Peterson. I best be on my way.”

Jess and I hadn’t made plans for her to ride out and meet me, but I also knew how much she liked to race her pony. It was probably just an excuse to get out on that little roan I’d broken myself and given her as a gift a couple of weeks ago. I turned Cochise toward town.

““`

Scarface didn’t knock; he strolled through the door like he owned the place. I stood up from the edge of the bed where I’d been sitting next to Suzanna. Although unnecessary, Suzanna stood up, too. “I see you made it back on time, boy. Do you have what I came for?”

I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out the notes. “Here,” I said, handing this man most of my hard-earned savings.

“You’re not as stupid as you look.” After fingering the bills I’d just given him, he ran his long, pale finger down the side of Suzanna’s face. “You’re a mighty fine-lookin’ woman, ma’am.”

“Leave her alone,” I said. My body tensed; my hands balled into fists at my sides. Suzanna reached for my arm, holding me back from inadvertently making a very crucial mistake. The man towered over me; his eyes narrowed into tiny slits after he pocketed the money and then crossed his arms over his broad chest.

“You tell the sheriff?”

“No.”

“You tell that papa of yours?”

“No.”

“You’re a good boy, Joseph. I’m proud of you, real proud.”

“You got what you came for now go—leave us alone.” There was a slight tremor in my voice, a scared little boy.

“All right,” he said, patting the money in his shirt pocket. “I must say, it’s been a pleasure doin’ business with you.” He took a step back and grinned. “Till we meet again, Joseph.”

Scarface backed out the door, same as before, and as soon as the latch clicked and the man was out of sight, I released the breath I’d been holding. He’d called me by my given name, which had pretty much caught me off guard and caused me to lose my whole train of thought. I’d planned to ask about my gun. The pearl-handled Colt had been a gift from Pa, a special gift I treasured more than anything else. Just one more lie I’d be forced to tell.

I thought back to the short but unnerving conversation. “I see you made it back on time, boy.” Those were his exact words. Back from where? Had he followed me out to Jesse’s? She’d ridden alone, planning to meet up with me, the man she trusted, the man she loved, and the man, who until now never had a reason to lie.

I started pacing the room then turned to Suzanna. “We need to get you outta this hotel as soon as possible.  Why don’t I run down to the depot … check the schedule for the next stage heading west.”

Suzanna dipped her head, shaking it back and forth.

“What?”

“I can’t go,” she said.

“What do you mean you can’t go?”

She wouldn’t look up, and I studied the way she wrung her hands together on her lap. “I lied to you, Joe.”

“Lied? About what?”

“There’s no aunt waiting for me in San Francisco. There’s no father, who’s a big important judge back home. I lied about everything.”

“Why? Why lie about … are you even from New Orleans?”

“Yes, that part’s true, but I’m afraid that’s the only part. I … I’m sorry, Joe. I wanted you to think I was somebody, but I’m not. I’m nothing. I’m nobody. I had to borrow money to get this far, and when I didn’t have enough for stage fare, I was forced to stay here in Virginia City.”

Tears started again, but I didn’t go to her this time. I continued to pace the room. I’d been taken in by her lies but no, not big brother Adam. He knew right from the start there was something fishy about the whole situation. But did it really matter? Suzanna was still the same loving woman whether her father was an important judge, living in a big fancy house, or no one important at all. I suppose I understood her wanting to make the right impression, even if she had to lie to do so, but I wanted to hear more. I wanted the entire story behind the woman I’d found spellbinding, the woman who’d captivated me and had an undeniable power over me.

“Then tell me why you left home and why you came here to Virginia City.”

She shook her head. “Please, Joe. Don’t ask about my past life. I just wanted to start fresh.”

“So why me? Why did you pick me out of the hundreds of men you could have chosen to escort you around town?”

“When I saw you on the dance floor, I …” Suzanne hesitated before going on, “well, I thought you were the most handsome man I’d ever seen. So … when a tall, dark-haired gentleman asked me to dance, I got up the nerve to ask if he knew who you were. Funny,” she said, laughingly. “The man I asked turned out to be your brother. I felt so foolish. I’m sure he thought me gauche, and I believe I left him feeling most uncomfortable.

“But in spite of my careless blunder, it was you, Joe,” she said, blushing. “You’re the one I waited for, but like an unnoticed wallflower, you were the only one in that old barn who didn’t ask me to dance.”

This was too much for me to take in all at once. A woman runs away from home for some unknown reason. She picks me out of a crowd of several more eligible men and within days—by chance or not—I end up her lover. Then, out of the blue, some man I’ve never laid eyes on finds out everything there is to know about my exact whereabouts, and who my family is. He enters my life, beats the hell outta me, and threatens to kill everyone I know if I don’t hand over one hundred dollars.

Now, I find I’ve been lied to, and I wonder if there are more lies to come. Given that I’m already consumed with guilt after telling my own countless lies, and worst of all, betraying Jess, I hate myself and everything I stood for just a few days ago. I don’t know if I’m coming or going, but what I do know is this whole charade needs to end.

I considered coming clean with Suzanna. I wanted to tell her about Jess. She needed to know this little fling of ours was over. Instead, I caved. The words didn’t come. She seemed so fragile, practically scared of her own shadow. So, with nowhere to go, no friends or family to help her, I couldn’t live with myself if I ran out on her now.

“I guarantee he won’t be back,” I said, sitting back down beside her. “The man got what he wanted, and he’s gone. It’s over.”

“But how did he know about us?”

I shook my head, leaned forward, rested my elbows on my knees, and sighed. “I wish I knew.”

The room went silent, each of us reflecting on the day’s events. I knew I should start home, although I felt bad leaving Suzanna alone; still, I had no other choice.

“I need to go,” I said, dreading telling her the rest. “I told my father this was our last day together. My brothers have been doing all my chores and Pa, well; I can take advantage for just so long.”

There was no response.

I took hold of her hands. “You look lovely.”

Suzanna started to smile then looked away.

“I’ll miss you.”

“How can I ever thank you for being such a good friend, Joe? You’ve been wonderful … at everything.”

I felt myself blush. “Goodbye, Susanna, and good luck with whatever you decide to do.”

I opened the hotel door and, lying on the floor, was my pearl-handled Colt. I reached down to pick it up and checked to see if it was still loaded. It wasn’t. No surprise there. Suzanna, who stood behind me only moments ago, had crossed the tiny room and stared out the window at the street below. Her shoulders slumped forward as she leaned heavily against the wooden frame.

“He’ll always be out there,” she mumbled softly as she ran her fingertip down the window, tracing a single raindrop as it made its way down the darkened pane of glass. “Will I ever see you again, Joe?”

I answered her matter-of-factly, not really thinking. “Sure, you will,” I said, knowing as soon as the words came out, I’d told another lie.

“The girl I saw you with at the dance … are you in love with her?”

“Yes,” I said, softly. I’m in love with Jess but at the same time, I’m making love to you.

Suzanna knew our time together was over. I might see her in passing, but there was no way we could continue as we had the past couple of days. As she turned back to the window, I knew I had to explain more.

“I should have been straight with you from the beginning,” I said. “I should have had more sense than to take you in my arms that first day. It was wrong. I know that, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you, but it’s time we went our separate ways.”

I thought I could stay strong. I thought I was a better man, but even after my full-blown confession about Jesse, I failed at being the well-brought-up son of Ben Cartwright. I failed everyone I cared for. I’d told countless lies just so I could lie beside this woman.

With the shade now pulled to the sill, concealing us from any outsiders, I pleasured Suzanna one last time in untraditional but satisfying ways. It was when she saw the strips Hop Sing had used to bind my ribs and the bruising and the swelling below my waist that tears filled her eyes. She couldn’t touch me. The pain would be insufferable. She held me and kissed me and whispered all the little things a man longs to hear.

““`

I was practically asleep before my head hit the pillow. I’d walked through the front door, but no one had waited up this time. After I blew out the lamp Pa had left burning on his desk, I fell straight into bed. The next thing I remember was Hoss tapping at my door and telling me breakfast was on the table. Finally, I had a decent night’s sleep.

“So, can we count on you today, Little Joe? Me and Adam’s gettin’ mighty put out, havin’ to do all your chores.”

I looked up, giving Hoss a half-smile. He didn’t waste time giving me the business once we all sat down to eat.

“When is the young lady leaving town, Joseph?” Pa asked.

“I’m not sure. Soon, I think.”

“You think?” Adam said.

Even though I had no reason to be cross with my know-it-all brother, I glared at him for no reason other than being upset with myself. “That’s what I said, Adam.”

“You mean she didn’t ask you to entertain her again today?”

I sighed. “No. If you must know, I’m not entertaining her again today.”

“That’s enough, boys. We have plenty of work that needs doing so let’s not start the day off with an argument. “Adam?” Pa said. “I need you to go to town. “Joe, Hoss, I want the two of you to ride out and check the herd.”

I looked down intentionally, studying my plate. If Pa had sent Adam to town on Monday instead of me, I wouldn’t be in the fix I’m in now. I had promised Suzanna I’d stop by at some point just to make sure she was okay, but deep down, I knew exactly what would happen the minute I stepped through her door. I’d need an excuse to go to town—something that didn’t include my brothers. I was tired of this whole business. Lies and deceptions; that’s all my life had become.

Hoss and I rode out after breakfast. Our job was to chase down strays, making sure mama and baby were together and not separated by a section of broken fence. As much as I wanted to talk to Hoss; to spill my guts and tell him everything that had happened this week, I couldn’t bring myself to do so. He’d expect me to tell Pa, and I wasn’t willing to go that far. I longed for easy conversation, and I longed to find comfort in this rock-hard saddle, still feeling the pain between my legs.

“Hoss?”

“What?”

I changed my mind. “Nothin’.”

The words didn’t come. The ease I’d always known wasn’t there. I missed my brother. I missed his company. Hoss and I were close; in fact, closer than anyone else I knew. I wanted to tell him at least part of the story, but I couldn’t get the words out. Telling him would mean betraying him, too. How could his little brother even think of taking Suzanna as a lover? Explain these things to Hoss? Not today—not ever.

Hoss never understood how I’d felt about Julia Bulette. No one did until it was too late. The only difference between Hoss and me was women and how differently we reacted when a female entered our lives. This affair with Suzanna would only drive us further apart.

“Somethin’s botherin’ ya. You ain’t been yourself all day … all week for that matter.”

“It’s nothing. Just forget I said anything.”

“Adam and me was talkin’ about you yesterday and—”

“What about Adam?” I could already feel my temper rise. “What’d he have to say?”

“I don’t know, Little Joe. Guess he’s worried about ya, that’s all.”

“Why? Why’s he worried about me?”

“Aw, Joe … you know Adam,” he said, hesitantly. “He don’t trust no one.”

“Meaning me?” I could tell this was killing Hoss, having to act as the go-between, but why Adam had to butt into my business was beyond me.

“It ain’t that … it’s that woman, that woman you been showin’ ‘round all week.”

“What about her?”

“Like he said before. He don’t trust her.”

What did he mean by not trusting Suzanna? What did Adam know about anything? All he knew for certain was that she asked about me at some stupid dance, so how did he work out this whole scenario about trust? She didn’t force me to show her around. She didn’t force me to do anything I wasn’t willing to do.

“Well, next time Adam says anything about me or Suzanna, tell him to mind his own business. He doesn’t know anything about her,” I said. “I don’t know why he’s fillin’ your head with lies.”

Hoss gave me a strange look as if nothing I’d said made sense.

“Let’s go,” I said. I kicked Cochise and started toward home. Hoss followed, but after we arrived and as we stood in the barn grooming our mounts, he just couldn’t leave well enough alone.

“What’s eatin’ ya, Little Joe? Why are you so touchy about that lady?”

With my brush still in my hand, I rested my arms across Cochise’s back. “Suzanna is a nice lady. All I did was show her around the ranch and some of Virginia City. I don’t know why Adam thinks there’s more to it than that.”

“I never said he did, Joe. All I said was—”

“Just forget it.”

I started toward the house. Hoss ran to catch up and draped his arm across my shoulder, which only made me feel worse. I was tired of telling only half-truths, and today, I’d taken all my frustrations out on him. What kind of idiot brother does that? He was only being my friend—my best friend—and I’d treated him far worse than he deserved.

“I’m sorry, Hoss,” I said.

“For what?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been a grump all day.”

Hoss patted my shoulder before he opened the front door. “You just need a good night’s sleep, little brother. Don’t worry about ol’ Adam. I never shoulda said nothin’. It’s all my fault anyhow for bringin’ it up.”

~~~

After explaining to Pa how I’d messed up and missed supper with Jesse, I realized he already knew.   If he’d said anything …

“Jesse rode over here late yesterday afternoon, Joe.” My jaw dropped. “Don’t worry, son,” Pa said, placing his hand on my shoulder. “I only mentioned you were in town, nothing more.”

Relief washed over me as if the Lord himself had graced me with a chance to redeem myself. “Thanks, Pa. I owe you one.”

“Is there something else I should have told her?”

“What? No, but you know women.” Pa gave me an odd look. Had I said the wrong thing? Had I given something away? “Jesse means the world to me. You know that. I just don’t want her to get the wrong idea.”

After cleaning up and running some of Pa’s Bay Rum through my hair, I drove the buggy to the Peterson’s. Jesse was standing out front, and as I caught sight of her, she raised her hand and waved. Wearing her blue checked dress, she wore a matching blue ribbon, tying back her golden, blonde hair at the nape of her neck.

It didn’t help that my face was still a wide range of colors, although I assured Jess it was nothing after she came running down the steps to meet me. She told me her father had mentioned I’d been in a fight, but she had no idea how bad I’d been hurt. She accepted my explanation because it was me, and because I’d never lied to her before, therefore, she had no reason to think otherwise. I felt undeserving of a girl like her. I wanted everything back to normal, back to our Sunday afternoon picnics and Thursday night suppers. It was up to me to make sure that happened, and Jess wasn’t hurt in the process.

“Ready to go?” I asked. “I told your Pa I’d take you out to dinner tonight since I messed things up last night.”

“Yes, he told me, and yes, I’d love that, Joe. Give me a minute to tell my folks we’re leaving.”

Johnny, Jesse’s younger brother, came running out just as she was heading back inside. “Hi, Little Joe,” he hollered, still running until I grabbed hold of his arm and swung him around to a full stop.

“Hey, slow down,” I said.

“Where was you last night, Little Joe?”

“I’m sorry, Johnny. I was busy in town.”

“I missed you somethin’ awful,” he said. “I had to play checkers with Papa, and he never lets me win.”

“What? You think I let you win? Not a chance, big fella.”

“Really? Never?”

“You beat me fair and square.”

For a nine-year-old, the kid was pretty smart except when it came to checkers. I’d feel bad if I beat him every time. He was the spittin’ image of Jess, who, in turn, looked just like their ma. Since I never looked like anyone in my family, I found it amusing, watching the two of them together. Of course, like my brothers and me, they, too, had disagreements. I guess it was only natural. There were times I saw the same traits in Jesse I saw in Adam, big sister bossing around little brother. To me, it seemed funny, to Johnny, probably not.

“Where would you like to go?” I asked Jess when she returned. The Petersons only lived a short distance from town, but as soon as we were out on the open road—no parents and no townsfolk to consider—Jesse scooted closer to me and slid her arm through mine.

“I don’t care,” she said. “How about Miss Daisy’s?”

“You sure? I was thinking somewhere fancier. I owe you after last night.”

“Is that why you’re all spit-shined and lookin’ so fancy?”

Jesse squeezed my arm tighter. I always knew when she was joking with me, and I turned and kissed her on the cheek. “I wanted to look halfway decent for my best girl.”

“Okay,” she said, sitting up taller. “You pick.”

“All right. The International House.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I wondered what the hell I was thinking. If Suzanna came down for dinner, I was a dead man.

“Really?”

“You know what? On second thought, the last time I was there with Pa and my brothers the steaks we ordered were … well, not so good. You were right. Miss Daisy’s is perfect.”

Daisy greeted us as soon as we walked through the door; the little bell jingling and alerting her to the comings and goings of her evening patrons. I’d never been inside her place at night, and it took on a completely different atmosphere. With lamps turned low and little candles on each table, the small café seemed quite romantic after all.

“Good choice,” I whispered to Jesse as Daisy led us to our table.

Each of us ordered the special, and while we waited for our meal, Miss Daisy brought us each a complimentary glass of wine. “I hear this is all the rage in some of those fancy restaurants in San Francisco, Little Joe.”

“Thanks, Daisy,” I said, raising my glass. “But won’t you go broke handing out free wine?”

“Don’t be silly,” she said, tilting her head down toward Jess and me. “I don’t offer such amenities free to everyone.”

As Daisy scooted back to the kitchen, Jesse and I both shared a laugh. “You’ve always been her favorite customer, Joe.”

“Yeah,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “Daisy and I go way back.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, when I was a little kid, there were times Daisy used to watch over me and Hoss.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, sometimes in the dead of winter, if we had an unexpected storm while we were in school, there was no way for my brother and me to ride home. So, Pa had made prior arrangements for us to go straight to Miss Daisy’s after school let out. Back then, she didn’t own a cafe, but Pa didn’t worry; he knew we were safe at her little house on the side of the mountain.”

Jesse nodded her head. “Right smart idea if you ask me.”

“Miss Daisy fussed over Hoss and me just like any ma would; you know, fed us and tucked us in at night, just like we were her own. She’d sit down on the edge of the bed and tell the wildest stories—never scary stories but funny ones—usually about her customers or something that happened in town. I remember Hoss laughing all the time. I was too little and mostly, I didn’t understand the punchline, but after hearing Hoss laugh, I’d always laugh too.”

“You still do that, Joe.”

“At least I understand the punch lines now, but you’re right. Once Hoss lets out that loud bellow of his, no one can hold back.”

Jesse and I ate and laughed through supper, and it didn’t take long before I realized how much I missed being with her and how much I truly loved her. Maybe someday I would tell her what a fool I’d been, but I think matters such as these past few days are best left unsaid, maybe forever.

““`

“Ready?” I said after we’d cleaned our plates and eaten dessert.

“Ready when you are.”

I left Daisy a generous tip, enough to cover the cost of our complimentary wine, and we were off. Not wanting to stable the horse just to eat supper, the buggy was ready and waiting outside the front door. After I helped Jess up, wishing our night would never end, I happened to look up, and there he stood—Scarface—lurking in the shadows, leaning against an upright post across the street. He slowly scraped the point of his knife under his fingernails, watching me, watching Jess.

When he tipped his hat, my stomach lurched at the sight of the man who’d beat me and taken my money. The man frightened me, maybe more than any man ever had before. Maybe because he’d caught me off guard or maybe it was just his size that led me to believe I was no match. I couldn’t let on to Jesse, and I couldn’t honestly say I’d be able to protect her from a man like him. I kept my eyes forward, not giving him the satisfaction of a second glance, then cracked the horse’s rump with the reins. We were out of town in seconds. I didn’t look back; I kept up the frantic pace until Jesse grabbed and pulled on my arm.

“What’s your hurry, Joe? Is something wrong?”

My heart pounded in time with the horse’s hooves as he ran full-steam-ahead down the main road.

“Joe? Joe!”

“What?” My voice was too loud, too forceful.

“I asked if you were all right.”

I slowed the horse after becoming conscious of just how fast we’d been going. There wasn’t much of a moon, lighting our way, and I could understand Jesse’s fears since I’d flown out of town like a madman. “I’m sorry.”

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

“Nothing’s wrong, Jess. I just felt like giving Star a good run.”

“You’re sure nothing’s wrong?”

“Absolutely.”

But things were terribly wrong. I’d paid the man off. No questions asked. I did exactly as I was told. No sheriff. No family members. So why? Why was he still hanging around town, hiding in the shadows, watching my every move?

I dropped Jesse off at home and walked her up the stairs to the front door. When she asked me to come in and play games like we usually did after supper, I declined the offer. “I’m beat, Jess,” I said. I pulled off my hat and raked my hand nervously through my hair. “I’m sorry, but I’ve had a lot on my mind. The ranch has kept us all really busy this week.”

“Okay,” she said.

There was disappointment in her voice. I took hold of her shoulders and turned her to face me directly. “I really am tired. Picnic Sunday?” I asked, hoping to get us back on track.

“Sure, if you have time.”

I pulled her toward me and wrapped my arms around her. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I whispered in her ear, but Jess pushed herself away from me. I tried to read the signs. I wasn’t sure if she was mad or disappointed, I’d cut our night short.

“I’ll see you Sunday, Joe.”

I stood on the front porch after she’d closed the door behind her. I heard voices from inside the house, greetings and questions, and pauses of silence. I was miserable, and if I’d done anything to hurt Jess and damaged what we had together, how would I face her? How would I tell her the truth and that those couple of days meant nothing at all?

After I put the buggy away and settled the horse for the night, I headed into the house. Pa, Hoss, and Adam all looked up in surprise. “You’re home early, son.”

“Yeah … guess so.”

“Anything wrong,” Pa asked.

“No. Jess and I had dinner at Daisy’s, and I came on home.”

I loosened my gunbelt, removed my hat and jacket, and plopped down on the settee. “What?” I said, realizing everyone was still staring.

“Just ain’t like you to come home early when you’re out with some gal, Little Joe.”

“She ain’t just some gal, Hoss.”

Adam closed his book and looked up. “What is she then?”

“What’s it to you?”

“I don’t know, little brother. It seems to me you’ve got yourself mixed up with two gals.”

“I ain’t mixed up with anyone but Jess so just leave me alone.”

I glanced at Pa, knowing I was being ill-mannered and disrespectful. I waited for my father to put in his two cents, but he sat quietly, listening to the banter and ultimately foregoing any comment he might have made.

“I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”

“Son?”

Oh boy, here it comes. I hesitated at the base of the stairs.

“Get a good night’s rest. We’ve got a long, hard day tomorrow.”

“’Nite, Pa.”

““`

Another sleepless night was nothing new; only my mind wasn’t on Suzanna or Scarface, it was Jess who kept me awake. She could sense something was wrong. I never intended to hurt her, but I already had. She wasn’t stupid; she could see right through me, and by the time I sat down to breakfast the next morning, my unpleasant mood and defiant temperament were no better off than the night before.

“I’ve hired a new man, Joe,” Pa said.

“A new man? Why?”

“Cuz you ain’t never ‘round no more,” Hoss said, starting to laugh until Pa gave him a cursory look.

“Adam hired him,” Pa said. “He had references from John Willow’s place down in Tucson. Your brothers and I thought we could use another good hand before we tried to move the herd.”

I nodded. There was some truth in what Hoss said, even if it had only been a couple of days.

“I’ve asked him to ride out with you and Hoss today. Maybe you can finish up down in the south pasture.”

“You better have Hop Sing pack an extra-large lunch,” Adam said. “I bet that new man can out-eat you, Hoss.”

“We’ll see about that,” Hoss said, stabbing his fork into a hefty stack of pancakes.

““`

“Why don’t you saddle up them horses, and I’ll go get Hank,” Hoss said as we walked toward the barn.

“Right.”

While Hoss headed for the bunkhouse, I did as he’d asked, but before I led our mounts out of the barn, I leaned down to tie the rawhide around my thigh. When I stood up and reached for the reins, there he was. Scarface stood outside the barn door, knees locked and hands sunk deep in his pants pocket, rocking back and forth on his heels as the early morning sun highlighted the jagged scar on his face.

“Joe?” Hoss called out. “This here’s Hank Quinn, our new hand.”

Scarface raised his hand to tip his hat, then with Hoss’ back to him, he closed one eye and pointed his finger—shaped like a gun—at Hoss’s back.

“Let’s go,” I said.

Hoss seemed confused. His eyes narrowed when I failed to acknowledge the new man, but he shook it off and grabbed Chub’s reins anyway. The three of us rode out together.

It’s a dang good thing I could sit a horse without giving it any thought. With my mind racing in a hundred different directions, it wouldn’t take long before Hoss accused me of being dreamy-eyed again. Scarface rode alongside me, forcing any act of bravado to rapidly disappear. My brother’s life was in danger; I had to stay calm and not let this nervous tension get the better of me. I’d paid the guy off. I’d kept my word, so why hadn’t he? It didn’t take a genius to realize he was up to something, and it was obvious whatever he had brewing in that sick mind of his could prove devastating to anyone involved.

The moment I’d dreaded all morning eventually came. Hoss was wedged knee-deep in the mud, hauling a calf out of a foul-smelling pit, when Scarface pulled his mount up next to mine and in a quiet voice, he made a new demand. “A hundred,” he said.

“A hundred what?”

“Dollars, my friend. Seems I’ve already run short of cash.”

“You’re crazy,” I said, louder than I should have.

“Am I?”

“I don’t have another hundred.” Quickly, I glanced toward Hoss, hoping he hadn’t overheard my outburst.

“Papa does,” he said, leaning back in the saddle.

“Leave my family outta this.”

“You wanna pick who goes first or should I?”

I tensed in the saddle when Scarface pulled the knife from its sheath and began digging at the grime under his nails. Again, I glanced at Hoss, hoping he’d holler for help so I could free myself from this man, and this insane request for more money.

“Maybe that big, fat brother of yours will help you out some?”

“I won’t say it again. Leave my family outta this.”

“I’m sorry, kid, but you don’t make the rules. That’s my job, not yours.”

“I already told you. I can’t get my hands on any more money.”

“Maybe I should visit that little sweetheart of yours, Joseph,” he said, making my name sound as dirty as the mud hole Hoss was standing in. “She’s a mighty pretty young lady, Jesse, right? Pretty blonde hair … soft, touchable skin. Maybe I should make a woman of her. Have you made her a woman yet, Joseph? Is she as accomplished as the lovely Suzanna?”

“Stop it! If I catch you within ten miles of—”

“What? What’ll you do?” He held the knife up in front of him, letting the sun reflect off its shiny, metal blade.

“I could sure use some help over here,” Hoss yelled.

Scarface slowly scraped the blade up his neck and under his own chin. Without another word spoken, I got the message.

“Tomorrow, Joseph.”

The man was crazy. If I delivered, he’d only want more, and unless I robbed a bank or held my father at gunpoint, I’d never get my hands on another hundred dollars.

““`

I told Hoss to go on in the house; I’d stable the horses since he’d been up to his knees in mud. When the job was done, Scarface had ridden into town, and for the first time today, I could breathe easy. Although I had trouble keeping my mind on the task at hand, I swiped the brush across Cochise’s rump. I’d taken care of Chub first, and after placing the brush on the side of the stall, I ran my hand slowly through Cochise’s mane.

With my back to the barn door, I didn’t realize Hoss had come back outside. When he rested his hand on my shoulder, I jumped, pulled my Colt, and aimed the gun straight at his belly.

Hoss raised his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, Joe, easy there, boy.”

I was far from the image of a gunslinger—a man who was steady on his feet and had nerves of steel—I was strung out and scared, but rather than shoot my own brother, I took a deep breath, lowered my gun and leaned back, exhausted, against the side of my horse. I jammed my gun in the holster and started to walk away.

“Joe?”

I couldn’t look back at my brother but at the same time, I stopped moving forward. I was in deep, and I couldn’t keep all the secrets to myself any longer. “I’m in trouble, Hoss.”

““`

Hoss stepped forward. “What kinda trouble?”

“Big trouble,” I said, turning back around and making sure he understood.

“Maybe you should be talkin’ to Pa ‘stead of me.”

“I can’t, Hoss. I can’t tell Pa.”

“Okay. Then tell ol’ Hoss.”

“I don’t know where to start.”

“Yeah, you do. The beginning.”

Hoss found a couple of milking stools, and we sat down while I decided where the beginning should be. This was going to be difficult for Hoss to hear, but as much as I needed to talk things out, I would spare him the most intimate details.

“Well,” I said, rubbing my palms together as I rested my elbows on my knees. “It all started at the dance last Saturday night …”

By the time I finished my account of the previous week, Hoss was pacing the barn like a caged animal. I’d said too much. I’d told him nearly everything about Suzanna and me and about having to give Scarface the $100. But in the end, I wasn’t completely truthful. I never mentioned that he or Pa or Adam were in danger, only Suzanna. The look on his face had grown darker with each word I’d said, and it was the embarrassment I felt over my wrongdoings that had made me hedge on telling the entire truth.

I couldn’t tell if Hoss was mad or disappointed or scared—maybe all three. I should have kept my mouth shut, and I should have figured out a way to come up with the next payment on my own. To keep my secret life hidden, I’d paid the money, not realizing at the time it was merely the first installment. I’d been naïve not to recognize that this was the way blackmail worked. Every day or every week, I’d be hit up for more and more cash.

Since I’d upset my father for weeks over my affair with Julia Bulette, this time I’d chosen Hoss to plead my case. Before Pa finally realized how much I loved Julia Bulette, he was under the impression she was using me to get back at him, and as it turned out, it wasn’t the case at all. It was genuine love between two people—much more than a simple affair. I wasn’t about to disappoint my father over my actions this time, not with Suzanna, not over basic primal wants and needs. Not when my heart belonged to Jesse.

So it was Hoss who took on the burden of knowing, but his total silence unnerved me. This wasn’t like Hoss at all. We’d always been able to work things out, but this time, there were no words, not even a look my way. Maybe he was too mad to say anything. Maybe he hated me. I hated myself, so why shouldn’t he?

“You gotta tell Pa, Joseph.”

Before it even registered what he’d said, my brother had left the barn. I thought I’d feel better, telling, but after the story was out in the open, nothing had changed and I felt worse than I had since the whole mess began.

““`

Scarface had spent the day as a hired hand. He knew the distinct markings of my horse, so I saddled a different mount, a roan much like Jesse’s and after my conversation with Hoss, I rode into town. I would see Suzanna and tell her I couldn’t protect her from the likes of Hank Quinn. If it was money she needed, I would give her every penny I owned for stage fare to San Francisco. Our affair was over. I couldn’t play games anymore. I wanted her safe and out of my life forever. This was the only way I knew how to accomplish both.

I rode hard, straight to the International House, left the roan outside, and climbed the outer stairs to the front door. “Came to see the lady, Tom.”

“She’s not in her room, Little Joe.”

I turned back to Tom, who stared at me with a disconcerting look on his face. “Do you know where she is?”

“I believe she’s stepped into the dining room for dinner.”

Sure, she had. The woman had to eat. Thank God I hadn’t brought Jesse here last night. “Thanks, Tom.”

“Little Joe?”

“Yeah?”

“Um, the lady has a … well, she has another companion tonight.”

“Companion?”

“You know … she’s dining with someone else.”

“Oh, right.”

I tried to act casual, after all, I’d led Tom to believe it was Ponderosa business that had brought us together, but who did Suzanna know besides me? She told me . . . what had she told me? Did I only assume I was the only person she knew in Virginia City? I walked toward the dining room and stood behind the heavy, velvet drapes that separated the two rooms. I scanned the tables until I found Suzanna sitting with a man I didn’t recognize. Her back was to me and as I studied the man’s face, nothing registered. He was a stranger to me. What would I do now? Wait? Have a beer? I headed for the Bucket of Blood.

I stood, leaning against the bar. By now I realized my unplanned flight to town had been a mistake. I felt like a stranger in a bar I’d been in a hundred times before. Scarface could be anywhere, and here I stood with no backup, not a friend or brother in sight. I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach, so I downed my beer and walked out through the batwing doors. But, before I could loosen the reins I’d tied to the hitch-rail, the barrel of a gun pressed firmly into the small of my back. “Alley, boy.”

I raised my hands, indicating I’d do as this man asked and not try anything foolish, but he pulled my gun from its holster anyway. I walked toward the alley, feeling the barrel press hard against the small of my back. I didn’t recognize the voice, and when I turned the corner and entered the alley, there he stood.

“Joseph, m’boy,” he said as though we’d become fast friends. “Good to see you.”

“Sorry I can’t say the same,” I said, lowering my arms to my sides. “What do you want now?”

“Seems you’ve forgotten who’s in charge, Joseph.”

“Who’s your friend?”

Scarface pulled his 6” knife and scraped it back and forth across his bare arm as if sharpening the blade against a stretch of leather. His voice remained silent, choosing not to answer my question. He towered over me and now, with an accomplice, I was reduced to standing in a dark alleyway with no chance of escape. “So what happens now?”

Scarface sheathed his knife, trading it for a foot-long iron bar, like drill bits used in the mines. He began hammering it against the palm of his hand. “It’s about the next hundred, Joseph. Have you talked to Papa yet?”

“Never intended to,” I said. The gun jammed harder against my back, causing me to stumble forward.

“Maybe the boy needs a little persuading,” said the man holding the gun.

The hammer clicked, but I knew he wouldn’t shoot, not until money changed hands. “You gonna kill me? Is that the plan?”

Scarface raised the iron bar parallel to his shoulder and slammed it against my thigh, pitching me sideways into the brick wall. Before I could catch my breath, he nailed me across the back, leveling me, forcing me to cry out before I dropped to the ground. When I raised myself on all fours, the iron bar came crashing across my shoulders harder this time than before. He’d done the job well; I couldn’t begin to move.

I was rolled to my back, and a sour-tasting piece of laundry was shoved inside my mouth. The unknown man straddled me; his knees were locked, and a boot was planted on either side of my chest. I lay helpless, my arms splayed straight out to my sides in the dirt.

“Not quite done yet, Joseph,” Scarface said as he knelt down on the ground beside me.

My breathing was labored and shallow. I could smell, almost taste, his beer-soaked breath and the strong smell of stale tobacco that lingered on his clothes.

I turned my head away, and he was quick to grab my face, pressing his fingers tightly to my cheeks, forcing me to look at him. My eyes grew wide when I saw he held a metal needle in his free hand. “Just an added bonus between friends.”

When I began to squirm—when I tried to fight evil—the gunman pressed his foot to my belly, nearly cutting off my air. My screams were muted behind the gag, only a gurgling sound escaped. Scarface smiled and rolled up the sleeve of my shirt and, as I continued to struggle, the heel of the gunman’s boot dug deeper into my belly. “I’ll fix him,” he said, tapping the iron bar rhythmically against the side of his leg.

“Patience, Junior, patience.”

Saliva slipped from the corners of my mouth as I worked my tongue furiously against the foul-tasting rag. Scarface ran the tip of the needle down the side of my face, smiling at my reaction and the fear he saw in my eyes.

“Enjoy your evening, Joseph. All the boys do.”

He plunged the needle deep into the crook of my arm, and I squeezed my eyes tight at the initial jab. I’d never know what in God’s name he forced into me or whether I’d even survive the night. My head nearly exploded, but in no time, I felt drained and lifeless, although awake, there was a sense of calm I’d never experienced until now. A warm glow filled my insides, and when the gag was removed, I stared without moving.

Scarface said something about my father before the iron bar was wedged tightly under my chin, forcing my head harder into the dirt and completely robbing me of air. “This isn’t a game, Joseph. I expect the money tomorrow or Papa dies.”

~~~

I’ll never know how long I lay on the ground before my body began to respond. I was slow to react, slow to figure out my surroundings, and I felt as helpless as a newborn calf. The night air was cool against my skin, although sweat beaded on my forehead, and my heart pounded faster as I positioned myself on one elbow and saw the gag lying on the ground beside me.

I tried to sit up and before I could get better situated, my stomach turned on me, repeating spasms of dry heaves and leaving me feeling weaker than before. What the hell? How much did I drink in the bar? Then it all came back, both men holding me down and going at me with the lead pipe. Drained from the effort to stand up, I fell back to the ground.

My eyesight was unclear, and I felt limp and confused and had to use the wall for support, crawling, hand over hand, following the line of bricks, until I made it to the edge of the building and looked down the street for Cochise. But it was the roan I’d ridden, and she stood just a few feet away.

I started back home, and when we reached the main house, I was lying in the saddle with my arms draped around her neck. I heard footsteps running toward me, but I didn’t have the strength to dismount, and I fell from the saddle, landing hard.

“Hoss!” Pa yelled. “Hoss!”

It was my brother who carried me upstairs and lowered me onto my bed. Pa was tugging at my boots as Adam unfastened my gunbelt.

“Want me to ride for the doc?” Hoss asked

“I’m … fine,” I moaned, trying to find my voice.

I felt the bed dip when Pa sat down next to me. “What happened, son?”

“Nothing,” I said. “The horse … horse lost … footing. Tripped. I fell … just sore is all.”

“Joseph—”

“Sore, Pa … fine by morning.”

“It is morning, son.”

“Oh …”

“Help me get him undressed, boys.”

“Pa … please.” My eyes were closed, but I heard Pa sigh. I hoped I’d been convincing; I wasn’t sure. “It’s nothing,” I repeated.

“All right then. You get some sleep.”

“But, Pa—”

“Come on, Hoss. Let your brother rest.”

Relief washed over me when I heard my bedroom door close, and I rolled onto my stomach, taking pressure off my back and shoulders. I couldn’t think. I was in trouble, but I couldn’t get my mind around what had happened. I fell asleep.

““`

I woke from a timeless sleep, thinking back on the bizarre and frightening dreams I assumed were caused by the drug. I could only hope whatever Scarface had shot into me had run its course and there’d be no trace or lingering effects. My emotions were getting the best of me, and I just wanted to escape back into the world I knew a week ago, not the world of chaos I was living in now. I wanted to smile again and not have to watch my back.

Pa walked into my room, set two cups of coffee on my table, and pulled a chair up close to the bed. “Think you can sit up?”

I didn’t know if I could move at all much less sit up but in front of Pa, I would make my movements seem effortless. I pushed myself up, suppressed a moan, and lowered my stocking feet over the side of the bed. He handed me the coffee, no cream, no sugar, but I drank it anyway. “Thanks.”

Pa leaned back in the chair and sipped his own. He was waiting for an explanation—one I didn’t want to give—and moreover, he didn’t want a repeat of the one I’d given him last night. We sat in silence until both of us held empty cups in our hands.

I looked up at my father. I expected to see … I’m not sure what I expected. Mad? Upset with his lying son? Had Hoss blabbed everything or not?

“I ….”

Oh God, where would I start? What would Pa think of his baby son if I told him the truth?

“I um … I haven’t been exactly honest, Pa.”

“Well, I figured as much, Joseph.”

I turned my head from my father so I wouldn’t see the look on his face. How could I explain a week, which, at the beginning, offered such intimate pleasure, but in turn took on the existence of a living hell?

“Maybe it would help to talk it all out.”

I took a deep breath and felt every muscle in my body revolt. “I’m in trouble, Pa,” I said, gazing at my feet. “More trouble than I know what to do with.” I glanced up quickly then down again.

“Does it have to do with the young lady you’ve been seeing this week?”

“Suzanna?”

“Suzanna,” Pa repeated.

“It started with her, Pa, but she’s not the problem. She’s not responsible.”

“Oh?”

I shook my head. “It’s the new man you hired.”

“You mean Quinn?”

I nodded.

“What’s he got to do with this?”

“He … um … found the two of us together in her hotel room,” I said with a quick glance at Pa. “He … he threatened to kill her if I didn’t pay him a hundred dollars. Without going into detail, I’m sure Pa understood exactly what I meant although, for the time being, he kept his thoughts to himself.

“And?”

“I was embarrassed. I didn’t want you … so I paid him off. But now he wants more money, money I don’t have to give.”

Pa remained silent.

“That’s not exactly all. He said he’d kill you and Hoss and Adam too if I didn’t pay up. I have till today to pay him another hundred.”

“Joe,” Pa said, leaning forward in the chair. “Why didn’t you come to me earlier?”

“You know why.”

Pa sighed overloud. “Okay. You made a mistake, but we’re your family, Joe, and you know what needs to be done.   We have to involve the law and let Roy Coffee handle this from here on out.”

“I promised I wouldn’t go to the sheriff,” I said, raising my head and pleading. “You don’t know this man like I do.”

“He’s the one who beat you last night?”

I reacted with a slight shudder. “Yeah.”

“Is he the one who beat you before?”

I nodded.

“You’re not alone now, son,” Pa said, resting his hand on my knee. “We’ll let Roy take charge—let him handle this man—and if need be, we’ll fight him together, you, me, Hoss and Adam. We’re all behind you, Joseph. There may not have been beatings at all if you’d come to us sooner.”

““`

There was no sign Hank Quinn had ever been a hired hand. Pa had Hoss check the barn and the bunkhouse and he was nowhere in sight. He’d only signed on for a day, just to show me it could be done, just to show me how easily he could gain access to my family.

The four of us rode into Virginia City together and straight to Roy’s office. I told my story, mainly how I’d explained it to Pa and leaving out the more personal details involving Suzanna. Knowing Scarface, he’d seen us ride into town and he’d be on high alert, realizing I’d broken the code of silence.

Roy saw a second side to the story. “Were there eyewitnesses to this blackmail,” Little Joe?”

I couldn’t involve Suzanna and my reply was no. “No, sir.

“Then who’s to say you didn’t hand this Quinn fella the money willingly? Who says money exchanged hands at all? It’s your word against his, son, and that ain’t gonna hold up in a court of law.”

“What about the next hundred?” Pa demanded. “Quinn nearly killed Joseph last night when he didn’t bring the money.”

“Blackmail’s tough, Ben. If Joe was in the act of paying the man, maybe we could make it stick, but I ain’t real sure we got a case no matter how you look at things.” Roy turned and walked toward his desk. “Now, I can arrest him for assault if Little Joe wants to press charges.”

Pa pushed his hat to the back of his head and glared and Roy Coffee.

“I suggest you all stay close to Little Joe. If this man tries anything, well …”

“Well, what, Roy?” Pa was livid. “Take the law into our own hands?”

“Um … Pa?”

“What!”

Pa’s reaction blasted through the tiny office. It was filled with heat and anger, possibly at me, but more at the situation we all found ourselves in.

“I need to stop by the hotel and check on Suzanna.”

“Oh, that’s just great, Joseph. Run off and get yourself killed over that woman.”

I looked over at Hoss and Adam for help. I hadn’t told Adam the story, but I’m sure Hoss or Pa had filled him in long before we rode into town.

“We’ll go with him, Pa,” Adam said. “We won’t be long.”

I nodded a quick thank you to Adam, and we started out the door. “Don’t you lose sight of your brother, you hear?”

“We won’t, Pa.”

““`

With a brother hovering closely at each shoulder, we marched down the boardwalk to the hotel, and I could just imagine what was going through Adam’s mind. But this wasn’t time for a discussion on how I should live my life according to big brother’s standards although I knew he was dying to tell me.

As usual, Tom stood behind the desk. “Need to see the lady,” I said before turning to my brothers. “Wait right here. I’ll only be a couple of minutes.”

“Little Joe,” Hoss cautioned. “That ain’t what Pa had in mind.”

Adam took hold of Hoss’ arm. “We’ll wait here.”

I squared my shoulders and walked up the stairs. Maybe squared wasn’t the right word. Scarface had slammed the iron bar down hard on my left shoulder, leaving my arm nearly paralyzed and useless. I was in sad shape, and everyone knew I couldn’t take care of myself or defend myself if matters of dire consequences arose.

I tapped on Suzanna’s door. She was quick to unlock the bolt, but it was Scarface who opened the door. He held his gun in front of him and smiled. He invited me inside.

“Where’s Suzanna?”

“That’s no concern of yours,” he said. “You bring the money?”

“I told you I don’t have any more money.”

“You lied to me, Joseph. Now the lady pays with her life.” His gun kept me from reacting as he pulled mine from its holster and tossed it on the bed. “Let’s go.” He backed me out the hotel door.

Scarface had our escape all planned out. He was that certain I’d show up at Suzanna’s. The back stairs, a horse waiting, rope to tie my hands, and before Hoss and Adam suspected a thing, we were clean out of town.

We rode south for a couple of miles then he stopped the horses. I was blindfolded and a rope—more like a noose—had been placed around my neck and held taut by my tormenter as we rode. After a few uneasy miles, while I tried to keep upright in the saddle, we stopped a second time and before I was ordered to dismount, although I couldn’t see, I heard a rustling sound like leaves or maybe dead tree branches.

There were no words spoken, and with my hands still tied and my blindfold still in place, I was pulled along like a mule, barely able to keep up with the pace Scarface had set. I could smell and feel the dampness; I suspected a cave or a mine as I stumbled forward over loose rock and scattered debris. When I tripped and fell to my knees, he wasted no time jerking the rope and pulling me back to my feet. Even though the sun blazed hot as we rode, I could now feel the chill of darkness.

My skin felt clammy and cool as we followed a rocky trail deeper into the cave, turning left, left again then right. If I was ever going to escape, I had to remember the way out and not lose my way through various tunnels leading nowhere.

We reached our destination, and with the rope still taut under my chin, Scarface shoved me forward, slamming me against a jagged wall of rock. I choked and gasped as my shoulder blades scraped against uneven stones until I hit the ground.

~~~

“Your new home, Joseph.”

Scarface untied my hands and suddenly tightened the rope around my neck. I dug my fingers at the rough hemp, trying to pull it away as I was forced to my feet where he tied the rope off over something withstanding high above my head. The rope slackened enough that I could breathe. I reached for the blindfold and pulled it up and over my head.

A lantern was the only light filling the space; its yellow glow highlighting the rocky points jutting out from the cave walls. Scarface knelt down on the ground and although I couldn’t look down, I heard him fiddling with something, but the sound was faint, and I couldn’t make out his next move. Then, I knew what was coming next. He pushed up my sleeve, and I bucked and kicked, trying to stop the inevitable.

“Are you finished?” he asked when I finally gave out.

“Why are you doing this?”

“We had an agreement, Joseph.”

“I don’t have any more money. I told you that. What the hell do you want from me?”

“This may not register with you now but in time, you’ll understand the full effects.”

“Of what? What the hell is that stuff?”

“Just relax, son. You’ll feel better in no time at all.”

“Don’t patronize me, just tell me what’s going on.”

“You made a mistake, boy. The girl is dead, and it’s up to you to decide who’ll be next. You think about that while I’m gone.”

““`

There was a feeling of warmth I found hard to ignore. I also found I’d been lowered to the cave’s floor with my wrists tied in front and loosely attached to ropes surrounding my ankles, hogtied but not hogtied. I was alone; Scarface and the lantern were gone and there was only a dripping sound echoing between cracks in the walls.

“You made a mistake, boy. The girl is dead, and it’s up to you to decide who’ll be next.”

The words settled in my mind, but space and time didn’t matter. So, she was dead, I would be the next one to die so what did it matter. I’d been dealt death’s hand, left with no food or water and no way out, not much hope of a future. Right now, as I closed my eyes to my fate, I didn’t much care.

My head rested against the wall and, I let the drug cradle my mind as it overtook my thoughts of death. No one would find me here, wherever here might be. We’d traveled for miles before coming to this place, a haven for Scarface where he knew I’d never again see the light of day again.

The rock wall was cold and unforgiving and on occasion, I tried to work the ropes, but my mind remained cloudy and off in a distance where occasional flashes of red or orange lights crossed paths through the darkness. Where the cave or my current situation no longer seemed important, and my urge to escape lessened with the passing of time.

My muscles grew weak and when the end came, Pa would eventually find my decaying remains because I didn’t have the strength to fight. I couldn’t fight Scarface, and I couldn’t fight his debilitating drug. My mouth was dry, but I could still hear the drip, drip, drip of water as I ran my tongue across my lips only to find it didn’t help much at all. Maybe Scarface planned this location, knowing I’d probably go insane before I ever got to the end of my life.

He was a clever man, Hank Quinn. He’d fooled Adam and Hoss easily enough when he signed on to be a continual threat to me. But not only clever, Scarface was pure evil. Coincidence? Now I wondered, but Suzanna was dead and Adam would have to apologize for all the things he’d said. Ha! No apologies for little brother because I wouldn’t be around to hear them, and he’d have to carry the guilt of his irrational comments for a lifetime.

I broke my promise to Scarface. Was that so bad? Should I die over a broken promise? I’ll bet Pa was really mad when Adam and Hoss told him I was missing, vanished into thin air while they stood guard in the hotel. “I suggest you all stay close to Little Joe. If this man tries anything, well …” I’d made a crucial mistake when I walked up those stairs alone.

Time passed; I didn’t know if it was day or night. I’d been left to die in an unmarked grave only this wasn’t a grave yet, but a one-man prison Scarface had chosen to separate me from my family. My head rocked forward, and I tried to form words, but no words sounded through the darkness. I hated being alone although warmth still surrounded me, flowed through my veins like little crystals, perhaps an unusual way to keep me alive a little while longer.

I heard distant footsteps, and I heard my own voice cry out names as the sound resonated through narrow walkways. “Hoss? Adam?” But no one was there; no one answered my cries for help. It was only a dream; one of many I’d had since I’d been left to die. But the footsteps seemed so real, boot heels scraping against rock. I kept silent this time. Why waste energy on a dream?

““`

A hint of light shadowed and swayed and then ignited the walls with a dim yellow haze when Scarface returned to the cave. And though it would sound strange, and I would never tell a soul my reaction, I was glad to know someone was there. He faced me straight on before kneeling beside me and holding the lantern up level with my face, burning my eyes with the sudden bright glare.

“I see you’re awake,” he said then patted my cheek before I turned my head away. How you doing, boy?”

Even though I longed to have someone to talk to, this wasn’t the person I’d choose. And even though I wanted him to stay just to pass the time of day, I knew it was wrong to ask. So, I lowered my head before I made a complete fool of myself, but it was unfair I had to die alone.

He carried a black bag with him, similar to a doctor’s bag, and set it down next to his feet. He also had a small, dingy flour sack he sat on the ground and immediately dug inside for its contents. “I bet you’re hungry, am I right? Thirsty?”

I stared at both bags and said nothing; I stared at the scar instead. The lantern’s light produced an altered look, slightly raised and angrier than I remembered. From just below his eye to the bottom of his chin, it became clear the disfigurement had happened more recently than I had originally thought.

He pulled out a piece of bread. “Sorry, Joseph. I forgot to bring the raspberry jam. Must have left it at home.” With my hands tied, I was forced to let Scarface feed me, and even though the bread tasted old and stale, I couldn’t get it down fast enough. I was starving, and I could have eaten an entire loaf but when Scarface figured I’d had enough, he held up a canteen and allowed me a drink though far from my fill.

When he caught me staring, he ran his fingers down his cheek, lingering on the raised scar. Then, he ran his finger down my face. “Should I mark you, too?”

“Where … how’d you get the scar?” The words came out before I realized what I’d said. But Scarface obliged.  He answered my question.

“A boy just like you.”

“What?”

“I heard he hung himself in his father’s barn.”

I didn’t understand what he was saying. What boy?

“It was his turn to pay, like it’s your turn now, Joseph.”

“I don’t—“

“Not to worry.” Scarface began loading the syringe. “You’ll understand soon enough.”

I never felt the sting, only pressure when the needle slipped through the skin in the crook of my arm. I didn’t fight. I didn’t much care about needles or scars or what the hell I was paying for. The sooner this was over the better.

“Let’s see how Ben Cartwright takes to his little boy now,” he said in a soft voice. He pulled the needle from my arm and dropped it back in his bag. His words meant nothing to me though something about Pa, but I was beyond caring. “Sweet dreams, Joseph.”

““`

Scarface returned. Sometimes it was hours between visits, and other times seemed like days, but it was always the same; he blessed me with food and water and the needle. There were days he was in a hurry to leave and days that he’d stay to talk as though we were friends just shooting the breeze on a summer afternoon. He’d talk. I’d listen. He told me stories of past adventures, but nothing made much sense. He told me he’d been a doctor once, which, even in my confused state, I found somewhat hard to believe.

“I was convicted of murder, Joe, by a six-man jury. Ended up in prison after I was wrongly accused of killing a mother and child.”

Now, that kind of talk was believable.

“Cat got your tongue?”

He often waited for me to respond, but I held back any comments I may have had. What could I possibly say? I’m sorry? Let me go home? Kill me now?

There were times he’d get angry and slap my face or grab a fistful of hair. And as days turned into weeks, we continued our one-sided conversation after I’d been fed and watered like some farm animal. The shot always came at the end of our visit. He was a man who lived by rituals and a sense of order. First came bread and water, and then the shot, never the reverse.

Some days his laughter echoed throughout the cavern walls as he left me alone to wonder when he’d return. He said lots of things in passing, but the most recent stayed with me as I tried to grasp exactly what his words meant.

“You and your papa will curse me till the day you die.”

I didn’t understand the message, and I wouldn’t for a very long time.

““`

“Hello, Joseph.”

I licked my lips in anticipation of water easing the soreness always present in my throat. My stomach began to rumble, anticipating the dry crusts of bread. I was excited to have company but fearful of everything else that moved throughout the cave. Sweat slipped down from my forehead, stinging my eyes and if I caught a drop on my tongue, it tasted of salt.

“How’s my boy, today?”

“Where’s your bag? Where’s the food?”

My heart began to race. Scarface held a lantern and nothing more. He snapped his fingers as if he’d forgotten why he came, and then knelt down beside me on one knee. “Guess I forgot to pick up what I needed before I left.”

“Why? Why did you come?”

“You feeling a bit uncomfortable?”

God, yes. “Where’s the stuff?”

“I’m terribly sorry, Joe. Maybe next time.” He stood to leave.

“Wait,” I cried. “You can’t go.”

“I’m sorry, son. Really I am. But this is how it has to be.”

“Why?” Why are you doing this to me?”

He pulled a syringe from his back pocket and knelt back down on the ground. “Is this what you want?”

I turned my head away.   I didn’t want to admit anything to Scarface, but I knew exactly what he wanted. He wanted me to beg, and I wasn’t about to sink that low.

“Joseph?”

“What?”

He raised my sleeve, and I felt an instant calm before the needle even touched my arm.

“I asked you a question, but you failed to answer.”

“What do you want from me?” I shouted.

“The truth, Joseph. Just the truth.”

“Yes!” I shouted. “Yes!”

“So did the other boys, but I must play fair.”

“Fair?”

“Not today, Joseph. You see … there’s nothing in this syringe. Nothing at all.”

““`

On his final visit, which I didn’t know at the time, Scarface set the lantern on the ground, and like always, he knelt in front of me and stared into my eyes, but my eyes were half-closed, and my head lolled against the rock wall. Although I hadn’t eaten in hours or days, I never knew which, I’d been violently sick, and the cave smelled of vomit and urine. The vomit was fresh, but the smell of urine had been present since day one.

There’d been times when Scarface untied me and let me move farther back in the cave to do my business, but he wasn’t always there to allow me that freedom of movement. So, my trousers never really had time to dry, and his comments had been brutal over my unsanitary behavior, but I’d had no other choice but to go where I sat.

“How’s my boy?”

He rocked me out of a semi-conscious sleep, and my temper soon flared when I recognized my captor and glared at the man with contempt. “How do you think I am, you sonofabitch?”

“Well, I expected as much.” There was a gleam in his eyes as he spoke, which only upset me more.

“Why are you here? I thought you’d left me here to die.”

“Joe,” he said slowly. “That’s not my intention at all.”

“Then what?”

Again, he pulled out a syringe, and when he tapped the needle with the tip of his finger, I saw a tiny drip slip over the top. Thank God. The syringe was full.

“You have a choice this time.” He reached behind for his canteen and set it on my lap.

“We’re going to try something new today.”

“No games, Quinn. Just give me the goddamned shot.”

“You know I don’t play games, Joseph, but I guess we could call this a game because this time, you must choose.”

“Choose what?”

“A cool drink of water, which will keep you alive or maybe you’d rather have this worthless little shot instead. It’s your choice.”

It wasn’t a choice at all, and he knew damn well what I’d choose. “Just give the shot and get the hell out.”

“All right. Here you go, son.”

“I’m not your damn son.

He placed the syringe in my hand, but my hands were tied, and I had no choice but to sit and stare and try to figure out what kind of game we were playing this time. “What now?” He untied the rope and set my hands free.

“Let’s see how you do.”

Quickly, I pushed up my sleeve and touched the needle to my arm, but I couldn’t go any farther. My hand shook and my muscles tensed as I stared at the needle pressed against bruised and swollen skin. “Here … you do it.” I held the syringe back to Scarface.

Quinn took the syringe and slipped it back into his pocket. “No deal. Go ahead … drink the water instead.”

My heart pounded and my eyes watered. Scarface picked up the lantern and turned his back on me.

“Okay,” I cried. “I’ll do it myself.”

He dropped the syringe in my lap and stood over me as I steadied the needle to my arm and pushed the drug into my vein. The needle hung limply as immediate warmth calmed the demons and brought an instant sense of peace to my tortured soul. My hand fell away, and Scarface extracted the needle and threw the syringe back in my lap.

“You’ve done yourself no favors, Joseph,” he said as he retied my hands then draped the canteen’s strap over my head, only to let it dangle against my chest where I couldn’t reach and take a drink. “You’ve become like all the rest.”

I didn’t much care what he said. I didn’t much care about anything.

“You disgust me, Joseph. You’re a worthless embarrassment to everyone; a true drug addict, and you’ll never be free.”

He continued to rattle on as I let my head lie back against the rocks.

“Enjoy the journey, my friend.”

I had already closed my eyes, but I heard his boot heels scraping until he was gone. With my hands still loosely hogtied to my ankles, I could only dream of bringing the canteen to my lips. “Only sips,” I heard Hoss say. “Only sips, little brother.” But it couldn’t be Hoss. Hoss was dead.

““`

I stood alongside Scarface as we looked down on my brother from an overhanging cliff high above. Hoss sat in the soft summer grass, watching two young bear cubs as they played and splashed in a fast-running stream. I yelled out a warning but realized I had no voice. Mama bear sensed danger and she was on top of my brother, ripping and slashing the flesh from his back. Her claws dug deep, gouging, overpowering until Hoss lost the battle and lay prone, his limbs jerking reflexively until there was no movement left at all.

My mind was muddled with visions. I was never sure what was real. Was it as Scarface had warned at the beginning—both brothers dead—a slow and painful death? I’d lost Hoss. Was Adam dead, too? I shook my head to clear the webs. Real—not real. How would I ever know for sure?

When I stood up from my seated position, giving the rope gentle slack and stretching my legs, I was forced to remain in a bent position since my wrists were still roped a foot or so from my ankles. The canteen dangled from my neck, giving me no way to drink and as dizzy as I felt, the euphoric feeling and a crude sense I had control over my wellbeing didn’t last.

I stood completely still, veiled in eternal darkness where bats flew about, their wings charging through my hair while unseen crawling things fell down the back of my shirt. My legs were nearly done in, and I constantly shifted my weight from one foot to the other then stood flat-footed, stretching and flexing different muscles but in the end, nothing changed, and I slumped back to my seat on the ground.

““`

The ship’s sails were tattered and torn. The rolling sea, where sharp edges of white, glistening foam stood out against the dark and blustery sky caught my attention. Where wave after wave crashed headlong into the tiny vessel, twisting and turning, raising the bow and then slamming it down below the surface only to rise again. Scarface and I watched as Adam clung to the mast with his last ounce of strength. I would have thrown out a lifeline, but my hands were tied, and my voice remained silent. I couldn’t move forward, and I couldn’t save my brother from ultimate death.

“Adam!”

Exhaustion was my worst enemy, and I rested my head against the rock wall, fell into some kind of trance, still awake but dreaming of what lay ahead and of my brothers’ fate—both dead—and I began counting my blessings. I was grateful I’d known a girl like Jesse. Grateful I’d been raised in a home filled with love. Grateful for Cochise, and grateful Pa would never have to see me like this.

Grateful … grateful … peaceful oblivion …

““`

I clenched my fists when my entire body rocked back and forth with intense pain, with such violent agony that nothing I tried made it stop. I couldn’t shake the tremors, seizing me upright, grabbing and twisting so hard, and not letting go. I reached out for help from Scarface, but only his laughter filled the darkness.

“Where are you? Why won’t you help me?”

Voices were constant, many voices, but never Scarface, never the one voice I searched for amid others. I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping the dreams would fade and the voices would disappear into the night. Then Scarface would come. He was afraid to be seen. He’d always remained in the shadows, in alleyways, and in the darkness of caves where there was little light.

“Please … I won’t tell Pa.”

“You gotta do somethin’, Doc. Little Joe’s hurtin’ somethin’ terrible.”

“I’m doing all I can, Hoss.”

At times, I heard my brother’s voice. The dream was so real, and I wanted to call out but dreams fade in and out and bizarre and frightening images often appear.

I reached for Hoss, but I had to keep running when mama bear reared up on her hind legs and directed her anger at me. Her claws extended, and I stumbled and backpedaled across the field of knee-high grass. And before she landed on all fours, she grabbed at my shoulder, leaving deep marks and blood from torn flesh, and I cried out for Hoss. But Hoss was dead, and I ran faster’n a jackrabbit, like the boy I’d once been, away from the cubs in the stream and away from my dead brother.

“It’s all part of the withdrawal, Ben. His body’s fighting the effects of the morphine.”

“But why would anyone do this? What purpose—“

New voices entered my dreams, and I rolled to my side and covered my ears with my hands, but I was still rocking and pulling my knees to my chest. My skin was damp from sweat, but I shivered from the cold.

“Go away!” I tried to move further when mama’s claw grabbed hold of my shoulder. I couldn’t run and I couldn’t hide. The sky was flooded with light and again, I called out for Scarface.

“Help me … please help me.”

The dreams repeated like clockwork, and I fought the images circling the room, faster and faster they came, mixed up and jumbled and chaotic. And when I woke, the cave was dark and damp; another day had passed. My face burned with heat, and I tried to tear away the clothes that covered my skin.

“Can you hear me, son?”

“Try to get that sheet back over him, Ben.”

The voices were back only this time, I recognized the deep, whispering voice of my father. A new dream where Pa would die, and I would be too far away to save him. Only Scarface could save my father, but he promised me early on that everyone would die. “No, Pa. Not my pa.” I covered my face with my hands, and I cried. “Why?”

“Joseph. Wake up, son.”

The dream was so real, but when I opened my eyes, a dim light showered the cave. Confusion addled my brain, and I pictured my own bedroom on the Ponderosa. I was dying for sure, but in my own bed with Pa and Hoss and Adam standing near. A smile nearly broke; I wouldn’t have to die alone.

Pa’s white hair shone brightly where there’d been no trace of light for so long. He took my hand in his, and I realized my hands had been untied and the noose was no longer rough against my skin.

I’d seen a hanging before. A Chinaman was lynched one night, hung up by his ankles from the old sycamore tree. I wasn’t supposed to be there; I wasn’t supposed to be a witness to a lynchin’. I ran to find Pa that night. I ran from mama bear, but Pa still held my hand.

“Pa?”

“I’m right here, son.”

“Are you dead, too?”

“Joseph. No one is dead. You’re very much alive.”

I fought my confusion. Pa seemed so real I didn’t want to fight the dream. I let it come and, as the room lightened with rays of morning sunshine breaking through my open window. I felt at peace.

The dream expanded and Hoss and Adam stood beside the bed. I smiled at the sight. We were all together again. Scarface had ended my life too, and I was happy now. No more dreams and no more nightmares and dark caves. No more thirst, and no more pangs of hunger, no more dying alone.

“Is he really awake, Pa?”

“Yes. He’s coming around, Hoss.”

Tears ran from my eyes, and I didn’t care. I hadn’t died alone. My family was with me, and we’d all be together forever.

“Welcome home, Joe.”

I smiled at Adam. He patted my leg, and I took a deep breath, but my breathing suddenly quickened to a rapid staccato, much like a metronome set too fast. I was trying to keep up the quickened pace, but when my stomach seized and my back arched, I cried again for Scarface. “Oh, God, no.”

“Hoss, ride in and bring Paul back out.”

“Right, Pa.”

“No, no,” I cried. “You lied to me.”

“Hurry, Hoss.”

Pa’s voice was urgent. He was fighting with me, and all I could do was cry. I fought to find Scarface and fight through the hands that held me down on the bed.

“Damn that man!”

“No … let me go.”

“Get some fresh water, Adam.”

““`

“I see you’re awake.”

“Yeah, I’m awake.”

Days passed and the worst was over. I’d made a few trips downstairs but never stayed long enough to make the effort worthwhile. I was content to lie in bed, content to stay by myself without piercing eyes watching my every move.

“Are you hungry? Do you need something to drink? Would you like to sit up for a while? Fresh air will do you good. The doctor says you should be up and around by now?

No! I didn’t want any of those things. I wanted morphine; I wanted Scarface. I didn’t want to be stared at like some trained circus animal. My answers had become one-word sentences. “NO.” I didn’t want to talk. I didn’t want to leave my bed. I didn’t want to be watched over and talked to like a helpless child. I was embarrassed by the painful and repetitive symptoms I couldn’t shake when my family was near.

Scarface had said many things to me during our time together. He talked and I listened. There was a statement, which stuck with me even to this day. “You and your papa will curse me till the day you die.” I cursed him all right. I cursed him for leaving me to fight this battle alone. Somewhere he was watching. Somewhere he knew exactly what my life had become, and he was laughing hysterically. He’d done the job he’d sat out to do. He’d done his job well.

Pa cursed Scarface, too. I’d overheard his outbursts when he thought I was sleeping. I thought it was a dream, but dreams and what was real frequently coincided. “Why?” Pa kept asking, but there were no answers to his questions, nor had I found any reason as to why I’d been picked to crave the pleasures of morphine just to have it taken away. I felt no remorse for the way I acted. It wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t my family’s fault; it’s just how things turned out. Pa begged God to let me live. I begged God to let me die.

I resorted to the only thing available, Pa’s whiskey. By keeping a bottle in my room under the mattress, I fought the worst pains, and no one was the wiser. I ate Hop Sing’s soup and drank water or coffee when offered. But I lived in a world of my own, drinking and sleeping and begging off anyone who tried to disrupt the peace I longed to feel. I wanted it this way, and I fought to keep the world from observing the disappointing son of Ben Cartwright.

Of course, there were interruptions I couldn’t control. Roy Coffee for one. The sheriff had questions, and I answered the best I could.   The doctor checked on my progress and would then report to Pa, leaving me to wonder what was said when they left my room. When Pa knocked on my door one afternoon, I cringed. What now. Why wouldn’t they leave me alone?

“You have a visitor,” he said.

I was sitting up in bed after, just pouring enough whiskey down my throat to make it through until my body betrayed me again. Jesse Peterson walked into the room and stood by the side of my bed.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi,” I replied, but I was on edge immediately and lacked the confidence of the man she knew before.

“I’ll leave you two alone to catch up.”

Pa closed the door, and I heard his footsteps walking down the hall. I’d grown very aware of footsteps, coming and going, since I’d taken to Pa’s bottles.

“What’s been happening?” I said as if we’d seen each other only yesterday.

“Joe,” she replied. With just my name being said, I sensed tears in the sound of her voice

“I’m fine. No tears, okay?”

“We thought you were dead. We all thought that man had killed you.”

“I’m not dead … just, I don’t know, not quite a hundred percent yet.”

I tried to sound upbeat, but seeing Jess only made matters worse. She cried anyway, and I felt nothing. This was the girl I loved, and I felt nothing. I wanted a drink. I wanted morphine. I wanted her to leave and never come back.

“I’m tired, Jess. Maybe another time would be better.”

She leaned in to kiss me, and I turned my head away. I smelled of alcohol, and I didn’t want her to guess or to tell anyone my secret.

“Okay,” she said and stepped back from the bed. “Another time.” She started for the door but turned back and looked at me over her shoulder. “I love you, Joe.” And she was gone.

She didn’t know what she was saying. She didn’t realize I was different now, and I couldn’t love her as I had before. I slumped down in the bed and reached for the bottle. My hands shook and in my panicked state, I spilled whiskey down my nightshirt, leaving a wet stain no one could ever see. I drank more than usual, capped the bottle, and ran to my dresser for a clean shirt. I was just starting with the buttons when Pa walked through the bedroom door.

“That was a quick visit,” he said. “Can I help?”

“No. I got it.” I kicked the fouled nightshirt closer to the bed and slipped on a pair of trousers. “If I’m going to have unexpected visitors, I should be seen in something besides a nightshirt, don’t you think?”

“I’m sorry if I embarrassed you, son.”

“It’s okay.” I straightened the covers and climbed on top of my bed, leaned back against the headboard, and crossed my ankles.

“Is there anything you need? Coffee? A sandwich?”

“I’m fine. Maybe I’ll read for a while.”

“All right. Just holler if—“

“I will.”

And Pa was gone.

““`

“So how’d you ever find me?” I’d asked Pa earlier in the week when he’d come to my room wondering why I hadn’t come downstairs when it was nearly noon. I didn’t remember leaving the cave and didn’t know how I got home so it was high time I asked a few questions of my own.

Pa leaned back in the chair and folded his hands in his lap. It seemed a struggle for him to begin but when he started talking, he explained most every detail.

“Well, your brothers and I rode together with Roy and a five-man posse for the first few days. We split off into smaller groups, but there were no tracks to follow, and we were at a loss as to which direction to even start looking. After three days of nothing, Roy and posse gave up, leaving only your brothers and me to keep searching.

“At one point, Adam convinced me to stay home in case you somehow made it back to the house. So, your brothers headed out each morning thereafter and didn’t return till sundown, each going their separate ways but coming home empty-handed and feeling more discouraged as days passed.

“One morning,” Pa said and held his head up to stay the tears, “Hoss saddled Chub and found a note poking out of his saddlebags, but he never said a word to Adam or me. He rode off alone. I think he was scared, not sure if it was a hoax or what he might find.”

“What did the note say?”

“The old Turner Mine.”

“You mean the one right outside of town?” God, I needed a drink.

“That’s right, Joe. No one ever bothered to look there. It was too close, I guess. How that man got you there with no one seeing was … well, it doesn’t matter now.”

“Hoss went there alone?”

“Yes.”

“Was Scar … was Quinn there? He had to leave the note, so you’d find me, right?”

“That’s what we have to assume, son.”

I studied my hands, which always trembled some, and thought of Scarface. That was the plan all along. He never intended for me to die. He wanted me to live and for some reason, he wanted Pa to see what he’d done while I was his captive. He talked about Pa a lot, rambling on about this and that and how disappointed my father would be to know I didn’t fight back, that I let him give me the drug and that eventually I’d …

“Where is he now?”

“Who, Joe?”

“Quinn.”

Pa sighed. “We don’t know.”

I clutched the sheet with my fists. Sweat dotted my forehead and my stomach tightened with agonizing pain, which, over the last few days, I’d become better at hiding from my family.

“So, it was Hoss who brought me home?”

“Do you need to hear more?”

“Please, Pa. Just get it said and get it over with.”

“Hoss said he rode out to the mine and found an old rusty lantern hanging at the entrance.” Pa hesitated again. “Are you sure, son? Are you sure you want to hear more?”

I nodded my head.

“Your brother assumed you were dead. I don’t think he’s gotten over the shock he felt when he first saw you. He said there was a rope around your neck and you fell forward into his arms when he cut through. And, from what I gather, he carried you, along with the lantern, back out of the mine. You hadn’t moved, and he couldn’t find a pulse but at some point, while he readied his bedroll to wrap you up and bring you home, you made a sound.” Pa smiled and almost laughed. “I doubt either of us can imagine how your brother felt having given you up for dead?”

“Well, I have Hoss to thank.” Or did I?

Maybe we’d all be better off if Hoss hadn’t ever found that note. I recalled a story Pa told Hoss and me about a night on a trail drive when cattle stampeded, and a man had been trampled nearly to death. Pa was alone in his thinking when he said the man’s life was worth saving. It became a race against time but in the end, the drover’s life was saved. Jimmy’s a cripple now. He can’t walk, but he’s alive. I can’t help but wonder if he thanks my father or curses him every day of his life.

“Life is precious, son.”

I looked up from my daydreaming.

“Every man, no matter the pain, is given an internal desire to live until he’s forced to take that final breath. That’s what you did, Joseph. You willed yourself to live.”

“I’d all but given up, Pa. I was so tired. I was so alone, and I had constant nightmares. I was thirsty and hungry. It was so bad, Pa, I wanted to die. I begged Quinn to let me die.”

“No, son …”

Tears filled my father’s eyes.

“I didn’t know when he would come or if he would come back. He’d tease me with the canteen or dry crusts of bread. Then, he’d load the needle. He’d laugh and he’d talk, and I had to listen, or he’d slap me across the face. He played games, taunting me with the drug. I needed it bad, Pa. I know you don’t understand even Doc doesn’t really know what it does to a man.

“In time, I didn’t care about food or water, only the needle. He knew that, Pa. He made me crazy for the drug, and I had to beg him to give me a shot. “Not today, Joseph,” he’d say. I cried, Pa. Do you know how that made me feel? Crying for morphine, begging Quinn, and listening to him laugh in my face?”

I was yelling and sobbing, just like in the mine, while Pa wiped his own tears, thinking I didn’t see him touch his thumb to the corners of his eyes. Pa thought, after all this time, I was on the mend. I wasn’t even close. I wanted morphine so bad I nearly shot out of bed and ran to find Scarface.

Pa stayed with me through that night. He slept in the chair, and I waited to hear his gentle snoring before I reached for the bottle. I couldn’t resist, and I couldn’t wait until morning. My life was turned upside down, fractured into broken pieces I didn’t know how to mend.

““`

Days later, after I’d sent Jesse away and felt my life was spinning out of control, I was sitting on the settee when Roy Coffee rode up to the house. I didn’t move; I let Pa answer the door. I was half asleep and, as I often did, I rubbed at my wrists, just to know they weren’t still tied. I still suffered dreams I didn’t care to share, and I still had times where they overlapped into real life. But when the sheriff’s voice greeted Pa, I shook myself awake and stood from my seat.

“Hi, Little Joe,” he said smiling.

“Hi, Sheriff.”

“Found out some interesting news today. Thought you and your pa would want to hear.”

“News?”

“Take a seat, Roy,” Pa said.

We all sat down, and Pa and I looked toward the sheriff.

“Well, I don’t know if’n your pa’s told ya yet, but we got a trial set for next week when the circuit judge comes through.” I glanced at Pa, wondering why I hadn’t been told. “I’ll need your testimony to put these three yahoos behind bars.”

“They’ve been caught?”

“Sure have, Little Joe. They’s in my jail, but it was the territorial marshal who actually rounded ‘em up and brought ‘em in for safekeepin’ till the trial.”

“Wait a minute. You said three?” I was confused.

Roy held out his hand as if he needed his fingers to count. “First off, there’s the man who called hisself Hank Quinn.”

“Yeah, he’s the one who—”

“Well, seems he’s got hisself two accomplices.”

“Go on.”

“His real name is David Davis. He and his two friends are wanted from here to Lake’s Crossin’. I got this information from the marshal; Carter’s his name, while you was still held up in that mine. Seems this Davis fella was a practicin’ doctor at one time.”

“A doctor?”

Roy and I both turned toward Pa.

“Dr. Davis,” Pa said. “Wasn’t he on trial in Carson maybe eight or ten years ago? I served on a jury—“

“One and the same, Ben. Dr. Davis was sentenced to ten years in the territorial prison.”

Pa stood and began pacing the room.

“What’s this all about?” I asked.

“Dr. Davis was on trial for murder. Seems he let a mother and her baby die because—” Pa stared straight at Roy, and the sheriff’s statement was never finished.

“Because what?”

“Mind if I continue, Ben?”

“Yes, I mind.” Pa’s voice had an air of disgust, but he’d stopped pacing.

“Well, let’s just say he was in some kind of stupor. I remember the husband testifying that Dr. Davis did nothing but sit and stare into space instead of helping his wife deliver the child and … both died as a result. Others came forward, statin’ they’d also witnessed the doctor acting odd at times as if he was in some kinda trance.”

Pa continually nodded his head. He thought he’d kept the doctor’s secret from me, but I knew exactly why those people died. I knew about trances and not caring. I knew about everything the doctor felt that day.

“What it all boiled down to was that the good doctor was takin’ too much of his own medicine, and he couldn’t function no more like a doctor. He was found guilty of negligence and sent to prison.”

“He told me he was a doctor, but I never believed him.”

“I remember how he stood up in that courtroom and laughed like a crazy man,” Pa said. “And when the sheriff handcuffed him to lead him back to jail, he looked straight at the six of us in the jury box and threatened us all.”

“Threatened you how?” I asked.

Pa looked down at his boots as if they’d suddenly become more interesting than answering my question.

“Pa?”

My father took a deep breath. “Dr. Davis said he’d be back. He said we’d all pay for the mistake we’d just made.”

“That’s why he came after me,” I mumbled. It all made sense; all the other boys he talked about. He’d done the same thing to them and then sent them home to their Pa’s addicted to morphine. You could hear a pin drop. I should have kept my mouth shut; I’d only made things worse. Pa’s back was to me, and I realized the enormous amount of guilt he must be feeling. “It wasn’t your fault, Pa. You couldn’t have known.”

My father was speechless. I held my tongue and didn’t ramble on with some unnecessary babble that couldn’t change the past or change what Scarface had done to any of us. Now glassy-eyed, Pa turned and studied my face. I held back my own tears. He nodded and touched his hand to my cheek. “Forgive me, son.”

““`

Roy left the house, and I returned to my room to drink alone. Within the hour, Pa, Hoss, and Adam surrounded my bed.

“Roy stopped us on his way out,” Adam said. “he told Hoss and me the rest of the story. I thought you’d want to know.”

“The rest? What else is there?”

“Well,” Adam said, taking a seat at the end of my bed,” I don’t want you to take this wrong, Joe, but Roy told us about the other people the marshal took into custody along with Davis.”

“That’s right. He said there were three.”

“Yes, but I believe he only got as far as Dr. Davis.”

“Then who are the other two?”

“The other man goes by Junior. Apparently, he’s Davis’ younger brother.”

He must have been the one who stood over me that night in the alley, the night I got the first shot. “Okay,” I said. “And the third?”

Adam was locking and unlocking his fingers and seemed reluctant to go on. “The third was a woman.”

“A woman?” I glanced up at Pa, who’d remained standing next to Hoss.

“Her name is Louise Davis and … she’s the doctor’s wife.”

“Wife?”

“Yes,” Adam said, “but she goes by a different name, Joe, and since she’s been here in Virginia City, she … she used the name, Suzanna.”

“Oh, God, you mean?”

“I’m sorry, Joe.

“You were right. Oh, God, you were right.” I threw the covers off my legs and tore out of bed. “God,” I cried as I bent nearly in half and covered my face with my hands. I couldn’t breathe.

“Joseph, take it easy, son.”

“Why? Why should I take it easy? God!”

“How could you have known? None of this is your fault.”

“No? Then whose fault is it, Pa?”

Pa started toward me with both arms reaching out.

“Leave me alone!” I screamed

“Joe! Stop this right now!”

Pa seized my wrists; gripping so tight I couldn’t break the hold.

“Out! Everyone out!” 

Pa wouldn’t let go. We each struggled for control, but I was no match. I hadn’t the strength to fight my father.

“Will you excuse us for a minute, boys?”

I was breathing short and fast as Pa half-carried me back toward the bed. “I don’t wanna talk about it, Pa. Just leave me alone.”

“I’ll leave, but only after you calm down.”

I turned my head from my father. Nightmares I could handle, but this wasn’t a dream. It was real, very real.

“Joseph,” Pa said, releasing my wrists and letting my hands fall limply to my lap. Pa pulled the chair in front of me so we sat knee-to-knee. “Davis was out to hurt me, and you became the pawn in his inexcusable excuse for revenge. You’re not to blame, son. You were set up, an unsuspecting boy taken in by a beautiful, conniving woman.”

“That doesn’t help, Pa. That doesn’t help at all.”

“You mean everything to me, Little Joe, and I hope you realize if things had turned out differently, if Davis had given you too much morphine or never sent us that note, if we’d been a day too late, I don’t know what I … you’re alive, son, and nothing else matters. The past is past, and all we can do now is work together to ensure your future.”

I wanted to believe my father’s words, but what Pa failed to understand was that the past was still with me. The image of Scarface and Suzanna would soon fade, but the drug was still with me. I wanted it more than my life. Davis could have killed me, but he knew my addiction would be worse than death.

In time, it would come between Pa and me. It would destroy all we had; it would destroy the family. I wasn’t getting any better. I was sick with the craving, and Pa would never understand. How could I go on pretending? And then the trial, where everyone would know what a fool I’d been. Everything would be out in the open.

Pa was waiting for me to say something, anything, but what could I say. “You and your papa will curse me till the day you die.” Scarface knew the truth, and so did I.

““`

When Pa returned later that evening, I refused the bowl of soup he brought up for dinner, and I turned him away when he wanted to talk. I was shivering so badly when Adam popped his head in, I sent him away, too. Everyone wanted to talk things out. I was in no condition. I was out of whiskey.

I lay in darkness. Gooseflesh covered my body. Pa had called me a boy—an unsuspecting boy—and he was right. I didn’t have the sense God gave me. I’d been told that before, and now I believed it was true.

I missed Hoss; he rarely came to see me. I’d see him out my window, busying himself with chores or hanging his arms over the corral fence, staring at nothing. When the house fell silent and everyone had turned in for the night, I threw off my covers and swung my legs over the side of the bed. Still cold, I wrapped a blanket around my shoulders and quietly walked to Hoss’ room. I didn’t bother to knock.

“Hoss?”

“Joe? Somethin’ wrong?”

“I don’t know, is there?”

“What’s that mean,” he said, pulling off his second boot and setting it next to the other.

I shrugged my shoulders. “I dunno.”

Hoss sat on his bed, and I opted for the chair. I hadn’t prepared a speech but at this rate, we were getting nowhere. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Hoss leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. As he rubbed his palms together, I knew he was thinking about what he wanted to say.

“You coulda been killed, Little Joe.”

“I coulda been, but I wasn’t.” Even as I said the words, I felt my stomach pull tight and my face flush with unexpected heat.

Hoss shook his head.

“Something’s botherin’ you, so why don’t you come straight out and tell me?”

There was silence. I continually swallowed back the bile at the back of my throat.

“It’s … I’m just glad you ain’t dead, little brother.”

“I’m glad too, Hoss, but the fact I ain’t dead isn’t the problem, is it?”

“No, not directly.”

“Then what is?”

Hoss stood from the bed, shoved his hands deep in his pants pockets, and walked across his room to the bedroom window. “It’s cuz you get mixed up with all them women. Ya don’t care nothin’ about no one else or what the outcome might be.” He kept his back to me and stared out into the darkness. “You should’ve never been with that lady in the first place, Little Joe.” There was a slight pause, and Hoss finally let go of what was bothering him. “If you hadn’t been out whorin’, none of this would’ve ever happened.”

I stood from the chair, but suddenly, it was all I could do to grab for the basin in Hoss’ room. First came the whiskey, and since my stomach was empty, having skipped supper and eaten very little lunch, I stood over the bowl and heaved until tears filled my eyes. My brother’s hand was on my back; his other held onto my arm. Pa rushed in to stand beside us.

“It’s my fault, Pa. I said things I shouldn’t have.”

“It’s not your fault, Hoss.  It’s the morphine.  It’s still in Joe’s system.”

“Oh, God,” I cried.

Morphine, whiskey, it didn’t matter. When the violence only got worse, I fell back on Hoss’ bed, cramping and bringing my knees to my chest then wrapping my arms around and holding on tight. I rocked back and forth, anticipating the next surge. I didn’t want them to see me like this. I’d tried so hard to hide from everyone.

“The bowl,” I sobbed.

My brother’s words rang in my ears. I was to blame for everything I was going through now.

““`

The next few days were a blur as I consumed bottle after bottle of Pa’s whiskey. I took walks in the yard and made myself scarce when I needed to empty my stomach. I vowed no more humiliating displays in front of my family. No one ever mentioned the fine sheen of sweat always present on my brow or my constant return visits to my bedroom.

I had just walked out the front door when Roy Coffee rode up and started talking before dismounting and tying his horse. “Hey, Little Joe. Got some good news.”

“Your prisoners drop dead in their cells?”

“Not exactly. You’re Pa home?”

“Yeah.”

“Come on. He’ll want to hear this, too.”

“Pa? The sheriff’s here,” I called from the front door.

We gathered around the dining room table, and Roy started his story.

“According to the marshal, prosecutin’ these three in Lake’s Crossin’ would likely bring on a conviction since two young men from the area have died, they think because of Davis. You’re a lucky boy, Little Joe. Darn lucky to be alive with the likes of him gettin’ hold of you as he did.”

I nodded. “How’d the boys die, Sheriff?”

“Well, seems one boy, seventeen years old, hanged hisself in his father’s barn not long after Davis released him. Another boy, your age I believe, took hisself into a saloon and dared some hotshot gunslinger to draw his gun. Boy died that night on the barroom floor. Carter talked to the prosecutor and they think they can tie it all to Davis and what he done to them boys while they was captive. They were both sons of jurors, Ben.”

“Joseph?”

“It’s nothin’, Pa.” He’d caught me smiling, and there was nothing to really smile about because I knew why those boys had died. I knew the feeling of despair.

“It looks like you’re off the hook as far as a trial goes, but I’ll let you know what happens as soon as I hear the outcome.”

“Thank you, Roy,” Pa said when I remained silent.

Pa walked with the sheriff to the door, and I headed upstairs. I sat on the bed with my bottle; I’d never felt so relieved. In a way it was over. I wouldn’t have to testify or face anyone in court or on the streets of Virginia City. My secret was safe, no affair, and no injections of morphine to pass as food for gossip. I tilted the bottle to my lips until it was empty. Soon, Pa would discover the shelves were bare, maybe not today or tomorrow but eventually questions would be asked.

““`

I was ready to go back to work. I’d done enough chores around the house to last a lifetime, so Pa sent me out with Hoss. I was prepared for the worse and threw a full bottle in my saddlebags. An entire day away from home seemed nearly unbearable.

“Mend fences,” was all Pa had said.

I was aware of the double meaning. Hoss and I weren’t fighting or arguing, we just weren’t friends anymore. I had no friends. I hadn’t been to town, and I hadn’t seen Jess since she’d stopped by shortly after my return home, and that was a lifetime ago.

The day was long and the conversation meaningless. I had to slip off a couple of times to reach in my saddlebags, but Hoss kept on working; he didn’t care what I was up to. We mended fences, rode home, and went our separate ways.

The next day proved the same, and the day following was no better. Pa had been to town and discussed the results of the trial with Roy. At supper that night, he filled us all in. Davis was sentenced to thirty years—ten for each kidnapping—Suzanna and Junior would serve ten. Although I was pleased with the outcome, it changed nothing of the legacy Scarface had left me. I was broken and alone. I hated my life, and I had only myself to blame.

I asked Pa if I could work by myself for the next few days. To say he was displeased was an understatement, but he agreed to my request for time alone. So after my brothers rode out together, I headed out to round up a few strays. But it was a worthless venture; I was too nauseous to sit in the saddle.

I found a large oak and propped myself against its trunk; I sipped whiskey from the bottle. I should have been well by now, but stomach pains impaired my progress and kept me from putting in a full day’s work. I thought of Jimmy, the drover who’d lost his legs in the stampede; a worthless cripple just like me.

Sweat covered my face as I fought back the urge to ride to town, into Chinatown, where morphine was plentiful and where opium dens often housed some of Virginia City’s own upstanding businessmen. Unscrupulous, maybe, but those places were a fact of life. Like saloons, these secret hideaways were just a different way to relax and find comfort. Pa wouldn’t agree, never, but I wasn’t naïve to the guarded world the Chinese referred to as pleasure palaces.

It was growing late, and I knew I should start back, or Pa’d have a search party out combing the countryside, but I’d just begun to relax, and I was content in my own little world. This new way of life had become the new normal. I muddled through, sick most of the time, but if I gave up the whiskey, it would only be a matter of time before I found morphine or took my own life. I didn’t want to leave this world dangling from a rope like one of those boys; I just couldn’t do that to Pa.

The sound of a twig snapped and startled me from my morbid thoughts. I turned to see Hoss walking up from behind. I tucked the near-empty bottle behind me.

“Thought it was time we talked, Little Joe.”

“Ya scared me half to death, Hoss,” I said, looking up and running my hand anxiously through my hair. I glanced over my shoulder, realizing he’d walked rather than ridden up to the big oak. “Where’d ya leave Chub?”

“He’s back there a ways. I weren’t sneakin’ up on you; I just felt like a walk is all.”

Although I hadn’t asked my big brother to sit down, he did so anyway. He unfastened a button of his shirt and reached inside. There must have been half a dozen cookies in the package Hop Sing had sent along for his lunch. He handed me one. Given time, Hoss would finish off the rest.

“Something on your mind?” I asked.

“Yep.”

A cookie took more importance over the conversation, and I knew better than to disturb a hungry Hoss.

“I been thinkin’, Little Joe. I been thinkin’ a lot lately.”

With my cookie forgotten, knowing I didn’t dare take a bite, I pulled my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around my legs.

“You see, Joe, you and I consider womenfolk in a completely different way. Most of ‘em scare me but you … well, you got a way about you. I guess what I’m tryin’ to say is maybe I’m jealous of what comes so easy to you cuz as long as I live, women is somethin’ I’ll never quite understand. It’s what makes each of us different, and it was wrong of me to fault you for somethin’ what comes natural.” He stopped to offer me another cookie. I declined. “I come to apologize. I been wrong in my thinkin’.”

I shook my head. “You weren’t wrong, Hoss.” I dropped my chin to my knees. “You’ve been right all along. I never should’ve taken up with Suzanna.”

“But don’t ya see, Joe. That’s just how things are. Ain’t no pretty lady gonna ask about me at a dance. You’re kinda like a … like a target, but it ain’t your fault. It ain’t nobody’s fault. It just is.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to follow through, you know, do the deed so to speak.”

“Well, you might be right there, but that ain’t the point. I’ve never had the chance to know what I’d do in your place. Maybe I’d … you know, too, if’n I had the chance.”

I studied Hoss, and the expression on his face nearly broke my heart. His shoulders slumped forward, and his face hung lifeless. Life was unfair. Hoss was the best man I knew.

“How ‘bout I trade places with you next time someone asks about me at a dance,” I said, trying to make a joke.

“No thanks, little brother,” he said, laughingly.

“Then you don’t see, do you?”

“Huh?”

“You think you wanna be in my shoes, but when it comes right down to it you don’t want any part of my life.”

“Yeah, well … when you put it like that.”

“You said, ‘it just is’ so—”

“Ah, Joe. Now ya got me all confused.”

“Good. That’s what little brothers are for, right?” I knew from that moment on, I wasn’t alone.

Hoss let out a deep breath.

“Finish up your cookies, big brother, and let’s go home.” I felt restored though far from recovered, but a weight had been lifted. There was still kindness in a world I didn’t understand, a world that had changed and taken me down with it. I slipped the bottle to the side of the tree and stood up.

“One more thing,” Hoss said, dusting the crumbs off his shirt.

“What’s that?”

“It’s about Miss Jesse.”

I clapped Hoss on the back. “What about her?”

“I donno. You planning on seein’ her again?”

“Why? You been courtin’ her on the side?”

“Joseph. That ain’t even funny.”

“No, guess it’s not.”

We started down the hill toward Chub. I held Cooch’s reins, and he followed behind. There was still a sense of awkwardness between Hoss and me though, in time, I knew we could work things out.

“You gonna tell Miss Jesse about … you know?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think that’s wise, do you?”

“Since I can’t fit in your shoes, I’ll leave the business of handlin’ women up to you, Joseph.”

“Thanks.” I almost felt human again. Hoss and I were making progress in the right direction. Maybe living wasn’t such a bad deal after all. I stopped and looked up at Hoss. “Friends?”

“Ah,” he said, staring down at his boots, ‘course we are.”

“Good. I’m kinda hungry.”

My brother turned his nose to the sky and sniffed the air. “Roast beef and fresh bread.”

Hoss, as much as he tried, he could never stay mad for long. As far as I could tell, we’d accomplished what Pa asked. We’d mended fences, and tomorrow we’d ride out together. Pa would be pleased.

The whiskey? Well, maybe that would fade away in time.

And Jesse? I didn’t really know what the future held, but somehow, I knew there might be a future worth living. And thanks to Hoss, my brother, my best friend, I’d try to make things right.

The End
6-2013

The next story in this series: Betrayal #2

* Although the first syringe with a needle fine enough to pierce skin was invented in 1853, it wasn’t commonly used until the Civil War, 1861-1865. This story would have taken place in 1861.  I’ve hedged a few years.

~CHAOS~

by jfclover

Every day is a mere repetition of the day before, a routine of deception that keeps me alive and enables me to face the world in which I live. I wake feeling empty and void of purpose; I draw the covers and bury my head. I cry because I’m weak. I cry because I’ve failed so many. I cry over what my life has become.

Gentle warmth embraces me, stirs within my soul, and I return to the living once again. Contentment edged by fear washes over me when I draw from the vial and sink the needle’s tip into the crook of my arm. Harsh and glaring marks reveal the trail of evidence for an addict like me.

Morphine has become my savior; it’s the life I’ve been dealt and the sacrifice I’ve made. I’m playing a fool’s game, a game where nobody wins. Where death hovers like an aura, always looming but never seen, where tireless injections see me through to another day.

Though I feel the end is near, I see no means of escape.

“““““

Archibald Alexander announced his arrival in Virginia City with drums beating and brass horns blaring.  With outstretched arms and a booming voice, he commanded attention as he delivered God’s word atop a brightly painted wagon he used as a platform.  “Sinners come forth,” his voice thundered as he advanced down the main street of town.  “Thieves, liars, and beggars.  I speak to rich and poor alike. Come forth and receive the word of God. Let the Almighty wash away your miserable sins.  Come! Come!  Through me, God will heal your wretched souls.”

Citizens gathered along C Street to watch and listen to this unexpected exhibition. And as he spoke, a quiet hush came over the crowd of onlookers.  I, too, stood in disbelief, listening to declarations shouted boisterously from this flamboyant man of the cloth.  He proclaimed the ability to save our worthless hides.  He’d been blessed by the hand of God and announced to the world he could heal the sick and maimed if they truly believed.

I’ll admit he had a way about him, nearly convincing everyone in his path he truly was a sainted man.  Charisma is the word I’d use.  Archibald Alexander had charisma, a certain appeal, which made his travels to our fair city a time I’d soon regret.

Word of his arrival spread quickly. He set up his tent just south of town and mesmerized everyone who attended his services. I found him to be nothing more than a pumped-up, loud-mouthed windbag.  With his arms extended high over his head, his body trembled with the heavenly spirit.  He’d tilt his face toward the heavens before shouting the gospel until his voice became raspy and hoarse. I wondered if he might collapse.

“Hell and damnation!”  We were all sinners in the eyes of God.

A vast congregation of townsfolk crowded in for weeks to hear the new preacher, the man of miracles.  All seemed content to stand for hours in the sweltering heat inside his large, canvas tent and listen to him speak, to cleanse themselves of their earthly sins and wrongdoings. They often begged to be healed when doctors had failed using modern medicine.

His gospel-toting words could be heard on Sunday mornings and again, with an even larger attendance, every evening of the week.  One meeting was more than enough for me.  Even Pa shook his head in disbelief, wondering how long this proclaimed man of God would cry out his words of hellfire before it was time for him to pack up, move on, and captivate the next group of unsuspecting souls.

He was a handsome man, tall, with clear, blue eyes and straight, blonde hair, and it was easy to see why womenfolk would drop everything and drag their husbands and beaus to hear him speak. He had charm and grace and even with his large, lanky frame, he swept through the crowd with the ease of a bird in flight.

One night early on, Pa and I stood near the rear of the tent; watching and wondering how long the preacher’s welcome would last. The collection plates filled to the brim as he quoted verse after verse. “The wicked borrow and do not repay, but the righteous give generously …” I wasn’t good at remembering numbers of verses, but it was hard to back away from his words. “God loves a cheerful giver …” Well, he’d conjured up a cheerful crowd; he’d most certainly gotten his message across.

Not everyone felt as Pa and I did. Archibald Alexander caught the eye of a golden-haired beauty, who found his work fascinating and his manner quite charming. Before month’s end, she’d become his assistant. Just after he gave his final sermon and before his tent came down, he married that golden-haired girl.

I wish our lives had taken a different course, Jess’ and mine, but without a fight, I let the preacher take Jesse away. Archibald Alexander and Jessica Sue Peterson were married on the first of July. They left Virginia City the following day and eventually settled in a village inside the boundaries of Mexico. Jesse became a midwife, and the preacher surrendered his tent for an honest-to-God (pardon the pun) stone church, steeple and all.

““`

I betrayed Jess and had an affair with another woman. Although the affair was brief, I made front-page news in the Enterprise after the trial in Lake’s Crossing. Two boys had died, but the names of six young men, who’d been kidnapped and ill-treated, were exposed. I was one of those young men and like the other five; I’d been seduced by an older woman and then held captive by a man who sought revenge. One entry was particularly unnerving.

“As the youngest son of Ben Cartwright, a prominent Nevada rancher, young Joseph Cartwright had also been victimized by Dr. David Davis. Davis, only recently released from a ten-year prison sentence, had subjected the young man to an undeserving amount of suffering when he had denied payment of an undisclosed sum of money.

“The blackmail scheme had been contrived by a husband-and-wife team: Doctor and Louise Davis, aka Suzanna, a name she used while in Virginia City. These young men were seduced into a web of indiscreet behavior and then blackmailed to keep their improper conduct silenced. Subsequently, Joe Cartwright was kidnapped by Davis, held captive, and spent weeks in an abandoned mine on the outskirts of Virginia City. Also, at the hands of Davis, every young man, including Cartwright, suffered daily injections of the miracle drug known as morphine.

“Doctors nationwide are just now beginning to report the harmful effects of this drug …

Although the story continued, that section presented enough information to raise suspicions as to why I’d been blackmailed in the first place. Not every detail had been printed, but there had been talk and it didn’t take long for rumors of Davis’ wife and me to be linked together scandalously. And it didn’t take long for Jesse to put two and two together and realize I’d been with Suzanna during the time I’d been courting her.

As rumors spread, Jesse took the brunt of the townsfolk’s harsh remarks and innuendos. I can’t imagine the anguish she suffered, but I was in no condition to make things right. There were more important matters I needed to deal with; tracking down a reliable source of morphine was my primary concern. No longer did anything else matter, not even Jess.

There was a time when I thought my drug use was over. I’d even given up the whiskey I’d used as a substitute just to make it through the day. Whether I was weak or whether … I don’t know exactly what happened, but my life had changed. I failed myself, and I failed my family when I introduced morphine back into my life.

It wasn’t long before I was closely acquainted with a unique section of the Chinese community. I was good for the money and Mr. Wong was good for the drug. Pa’s whiskey had kept me alive, and it had kept me from having severe withdrawal for a short period. I remember talking to Hoss one day as I sat under an old oak tree, hating my life and contemplating whether life was worth living. Hoss and I were having trouble seeing eye-to-eye on certain matters, and the last thing I said to him that day was how I was going to make it up to Jess.

That day never came. Instead of rectifying things, I rode straight past the Peterson’s ranch and into Virginia City—to Chinatown. I connected with Mr. Wong, who in turn supplied me with the lifeline I could no longer live without.

Initially, I lost weight, but that little problem was easy to solve with a pair of long johns and a heavy wool shirt under my regular clothes. I had mood swings, causing my family, and especially my father, times of undue stress. I had to learn the process. At first, I injected too much or too little. Finding a balance was harder than I imagined it would be. I was either too tired to do anything or, at times, I could barely suffer through sitting in one place.

There were unnecessary fights between my brothers and me. It was completely my fault but, in the beginning, I didn’t see it that way. I only saw fire and hate, aggravation and fault on their part. It took some adjustment to get the exact dose but over time, I nailed it, and no one became wise to my secret life. I honed the skill of injecting to a fine art, when and how much became routine, and at that point, my new way of life, my up and down moods leveled off to a nice even keel. I was able to cope with the daily routine of working alongside Pa and my brothers. My appetite and visible health returned, and as I kept my addiction hidden from the rest of the world, my life ran as smoothly as it had before any of this business began.

I admit I came close to having my private world of dependence revealed. It was a couple of months ago. I’d been careless and twisted my ankle when my boot caught wrong in a gopher hole. I’d been out alone, finishing a strip of fencing Hoss and I had started the day before. The wagon and supplies were at the bottom of a hill too rugged to drive up. My only choice was to crawl down uneven, rocky ground, cursing at everything blocking my way. By the time I returned home, I was sweating profusely and trying desperately to conceal the trembling, which was just beginning to show. I was long overdue for a shot.

After Pa helped me into the house and up to my room, I needed him to leave, although leaving me alone with an injury was not my father’s way. Pa, Hop Sing, and both brothers hovered over me, making a big deal over a sprained ankle. Sure, my ankle was sore and swollen, but I had more important matters on my mind. Somehow, I talked Pa out of sending Hoss for the doc, assuring him my ankle wasn’t broken, only slightly twisted, and I’d be back to work in a couple of days.

By the time I was left alone for the night, I was in a near state of panic. My hands shook so badly, that I broke the tip of the needle as I recklessly jabbed it through my skin then continued to force the dull metal nub into the crook of my arm. Pain exploded from my shoulder clear through to my white-knuckled fist. Blood pooled unexpectedly.

I lay back against my headboard, a lone tear slipped down my cheek when I closed my eyes. I wanted to savor the urgent relief and absorb the gentle warmth that surrounds every nerve with a calming euphoria. The need had been great, but I had to force my mind to accept the drug, relax, and appreciate the gift I’d driven into my body.

The instant I began to calm enough to savor the drug’s effects, I heard a tapping sound at my door. Confusion brought dread and I slid my arm—needle still hanging from broken skin—under the blanket, quickly covering the evidence of my sins. Popping his head through the narrow opening in the doorway, my father only wished to bid me goodnight.

“You doing all right, son? Anything I can get you before I turn in?”

I barely found my voice. “I … I’m fine, Pa.” My heart beat overtime, violently clashing with the blessed serenity I’d found only moments ago.

“All right then. Goodnight, Joe.”

Praying my father wouldn’t return for some unknown reason, I lowered the blanket and drew the broken needle slowly from my arm. And, as I ran my thumb over swollen, blackened flesh, I studied all the various marks left behind, some fresh, some weeks old, but all had remained, conveying the story of my life.

I wondered how long I could keep up the charade, the shame, and the humiliation I’d brought into this family. I wondered whether I had the right to remain under my father’s roof. I wondered when I might die.

~~~

“Ready, Joe?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be, big brother.”

It was Saturday night and with my ankle now healed, my brothers had talked me into attending a dance in Virginia City. Since the article had been printed in the Enterprise and with Jess gone from my life, I hadn’t left the house much at all, opting out of most social situations. But tonight, as Pa had said to me earlier in the week, it was time for me to get back in the swing of things.

“You’re a young man, Joseph, with a whole life ahead of you. Don’t let difficult times prevent you from enjoying what may prove to be a new beginning.”

Pa was right in his thinking; it’s just that my life was different now. Timing was everything. I lived in my private world with deadlines to meet and adding a social life to the mix didn’t seem worth the effort. But I agreed to go out with my brothers. It would make Pa happy and, I suppose it was high time I showed my face in town. I could only hope the rumors concerning Suzanna and our short-lived affair had died down, at least to a low roar. I wasn’t sure how many sideways glances I could take.

I’d been to town for supplies or to run errands for Pa but for months, I hadn’t indulged in any nighttime activities. No beers in saloons with my brothers. No barn dances where decent young ladies, who were usually accompanied by their mothers and fathers, would keep their distance from me, knowing what a rascal Joe Cartwright had turned out to be. So, this was it. I was dressed and ready to go.

My brothers and I rode together, but as we unsaddled our horses at the livery, I could feel the tension build. I’d been careful to time my injection so I could easily make it through the evening without any complications but still, the familiar case of butterflies intensified as we walked toward the barn together.

“What’s the matter with our little brother, Adam? Seems he’s draggin’ his feet.”

“You draggin’ your feet, Joe?”

“I ain’t dragging my feet,” I said without looking up. “You two give me a pain.”

Adam walked through the open double doors first then Hoss, and then me. The three-piece band was playing a familiar tune while men kicked their heels and twirled their womenfolk on the dance floor. Dresses of every color flashed against the dull, flat background of the barn. I thought back to another time, another dance where I’d held Jesse, wearing her new blue dress and looking as lovely as ever. But there was a second blue dress that night and the beginning of a long and unsuspecting nightmare.

I shook off the memory when Hoss grabbed hold of my arm. He led me to the barn and to the punch bowl where a group of young ladies stood, waiting to have their dance cards filled by all the single men in attendance. Adam and Hoss graciously signed their names while I hung back, scared and nervous, and not quite the Joe Cartwright of old.

“Come on, Little Joe,” Hoss said, handing me his pencil. “Get to signin’.”

I smiled at the group of young women who all seemed to be cackling like a flock of jaybirds, waiting nervously with pencils in hand. I signed my name quickly, never aware of whose card I held in my hand. Within minutes, I found myself on the dance floor. There were tall ones and short ones, fat and skinny ones, but it didn’t take long before I’d had enough. Between the skittering fiddle and the vast array of colors, swirling in time with the music, I soon felt nauseous. It all became too much and without being seen by my brothers, I slipped quietly out the back door.

My hands trembled and my hair prickled with sweat as I ran down a back alley to the saloon. Overheated and overanxious, I thought maybe a beer would cool me down and settle the tension that continued to build. I drained the first mug quickly and ordered a second only to find my head spinning and an annoying rushing sound in my ears. I leaned heavily on the bar, hoping I wouldn’t make a spectacle of myself and pass out on the barroom floor. Surely, I could handle a beer or two; after all, I’d been allowed to drink for the past two years.

“Hey, Little Joe.”

I turned my head and looked at the man standing next to me. “Simon?”

“Yeah, who’d you think it was?”

I gave him a half-smile and turned my attention back to the beer I gripped with both hands. Simon had no idea how unnerved I felt, but I’d be damned if I’d let it show.

“I ain’t seen you in a coon’s age, Joe. Where ya been keepin’ yourself?”

“Busy at the ranch,” I said, timidly. “That’s about all.”

“Why ain’t you at the dance?”

“I was,” I said, looking up. “Why aren’t you?”

Simon and I had been friends for a short time in school, but that was years ago. We’d each gone our separate ways after we’d witnessed an unforgettable night, which I won’t go into right now, but we never spoke of it again and eventually, our friendship waned.

Simon looked different somehow—thinner, I guess—but most of all he kept fidgeting with his mug. His fingers were restless and, contemplating my sorry state, I checked my own hands, knowing reporters from the Enterprise were always alert and watching for something revealing to write up as front-page news. I was steady now; the night’s unsuspected jitters had calmed, leaving me feeling drained of energy and just wanting to go home.

“Hell, I don’t have time for them kinda females what show up at dances, Joe. They tend to mess with a man’s mind and make him feel like he ain’t good enough. Mostly, I stick to whores.”

“That’s one way to look at things, I guess.”

“It’s the only way, least for me, Little Joe.” Simon set his empty mug on the bar and ordered two more. He slid one to me.

“Thanks, Simon, but I should probably go. I’ve got two brothers who’ll be wondering where I’ve run off to.”

“Still taggin’ you around?”

“Yeah … some I guess,” I said cracking a smile.

“How ‘bout one for the road?” He slid his arm across my shoulders in an act of friendship, but all I could think of was remaining steady, not trembling like Simon, who’d been drinking all day. “I’m sure your brothers are plenty occupied with them female dancers.”

“I suppose,” I said, sipping the foam from my third beer.

“Besides, I know what kinda womenfolk you fancy. You’re just like me, Little Joe. We both like them ladies what’s whores.”

My eyes grew dark, and my left fist connected with Simon’s jaw and before he had time to react, he tumbled sideways, but scrambled to his feet and came back swinging. I ducked the first blow, but Simon was all over me with punches to my face and gut, and though I’d sent him flying over a nearby table, he was back at me in no time.

The saloon exploded into a battleground. Everyone who’d had one beer too many was shovin’, punchin’, and swearin’ until the bartender unloaded his shotgun, silencing the room and putting an end to the free-for-all.

Not long after, Roy Coffee appeared in the doorway, as did both brothers. I stood up slowly and with the back of my hand, I wiped away the blood that trickled from my nose and mouth. Simon stared at me from his position on the floor, still tangled under a fallen chair. No apologies were given. I reached down for my hat and left the saloon with my brothers.

The ride home was hell. I shivered and ached but not from the bruises inflicted by Simon Henry or by the others who joined in the fight. I knew exactly why, and after pulling Cochise to the side of the road more than once to empty my stomach, Hoss and Adam only assumed I’d had too much to drink. I didn’t say a word otherwise.

But as soon as we walked through the front door, I was nearly overrun by Pa, asking questions and making sure I was all right. I assured him I was fine, said a quick goodnight, and immediately ran upstairs and crawled into bed, leaving Adam and Hoss to explain. I didn’t much care what was said, I only needed to be by myself so I could resolve the problem before my life took a turn and sailed further out of control.

Morphine warmed my body and soothed my soul, and I settled into a melancholy state of bliss. Soon, I fell asleep; conjuring up strange visions I hadn’t experienced since I’d slept against the rock wall inside the mine. And when I woke, frightened and lying in a pool of sweat, I spent the remainder of the night, staring into the darkness, afraid to close my eyes, afraid to fall back asleep.

~~~

When morning came, I forced my feet to the floor, but I remained seated on the edge of the bed, cradling my head with both hands, the throbbing punishment hanging tough from last night’s endeavors. When the trembling started, I fought back the anxious feeling I’d learned to accept when Scarface withheld the drug during the brutal game he liked to play. I thought of his words as though he was here with me now. “You and your papa will curse me till the day you die.” I couldn’t speak for my father, but as I loaded the syringe, I cursed aloud, the man who’d altered my life.

I was the last one down to breakfast and as soon as I was seated, Pa felt he had to comment on my behavior in the saloon. “What exactly happened last night, Joseph?”

My brothers each held their forks midair, also waiting to hear an explanation. “Nothin’ much, Pa. Simon Henry and I disagreed.”

“Over what, son?”

“Just something he said.” I kept my eyes on my plate even though just looking at the mound of scrambled eggs turned my stomach.

“Why didn’t you stay with your brothers at the dance?”

“I don’t know. It was hot, and I needed some air.” I needed air now. The questions were almost more than I could deal with this early in the morning.

“Well next time,” Pa said, “you’ll stay with your brothers.”

“Don’t worry, Pa. There won’t be a next time.” I stood to leave the table when Pa called me back.

“Joseph. Sit back down and finish your breakfast.”

“I’m not real hungry, Pa,” I said, trying not to let on as to how miserable I felt. It was a workday, and I started for the door. “I’ll go saddle the horses.”

“Joseph,” Hoss chimed in. “It’s Sunday.

I looked over my shoulder at Pa, confused, but realizing Hoss was right.

“If you’re not going to eat then go get dressed for church.”

“I’m not feeling very well, Pa. Maybe I could just stay—”

“That’s no excuse. Get ready now.”

I had no choice. I had to play the role of the kid who’d had too much to drink and clearly couldn’t hold his liquor. Sick or not, I was heading for Sunday service.

““`

We took our seats inside the church—second row on the right. It was all I could do to pretend all was well and play Pa’s obedient little boy. I was anxious and worst of all, nauseous. Numerous times my knee rattled involuntarily and Pa, who, since I was a small child had sat to my left, placed his hand on my leg to steady the growing agitation of having to remain perfectly still. This time, his gentle touch did little to calm the inner demons that found pleasure, brawling inside my body.

As for the sermon, it was obvious I hadn’t heard a word. Not that I cared; I didn’t care about a damn thing other than wishing the hour was over. But it was my father’s duty to make sure the reverend believed I was paying close attention.

When service finally ended, Pa surprised us all with an unexpected invitation to the International House for Sunday dinner. If this morning hadn’t been torture enough, now I had to eat, with absolutely no appetite, in front of a crowd of people in a fancy restaurant. I was lightheaded, and when Hoss leaned his elbow on my shoulder, it was all I could do to keep my balance and remain on my feet.

“I’m not hungry, Pa, so why don’t I just wait in the buggy while you three go ahead?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Joseph. If you feel that poorly then order a bowl of soup.”

The tone of Pa’s voice indicated there’d be no further discussion on the subject. I saw no way out, and my chest grew tight. My heart pounded, then slowed, then pounded again. My skin felt as though I’d crawled into a bed with a thousand and one fleas. It had nothing to do with the beer I consumed last night; it had everything to do with the drug. But why now? This hadn’t been a problem since I’d learned the correct amounts.

My twice-a-day injections were hardly enough anymore. For months, I’d managed one shot in the morning and one before supper with no problems at all. I’d dosed myself this morning and now, for some unknown reason, I was a wreck. “I need to run an errand, Pa. I’ll meet you at the hotel in just a few minutes.”

“Joseph, what possible errand could you have on Sunday morning?” Pa wasn’t taking this well.

“I … I’ll be right back, Pa, won’t take long at all.” I ran off before my father could stop me. I had no idea what my explanation would be, but I’d think of something before I met up with my family at the restaurant.

Beads of sweat dotted on my forehead as I ran through back alleys and down through the narrow streets of Chinatown. Mr. Wong would know exactly why I was there, and he’d be more than pleased to be paid extra for another small vial of the much-needed drug.

I knocked frantically on his front door, which was not much more than a thin partition to keep out the elements and passersby. When I knocked a second time, a young lady came to the door. “I need to speak to your uncle,” I said slightly out of breath.

The young lady, maybe four or five years my junior, pressed her palms together and bowed slightly before leading me back through a curtained doorway where Mr. Wong lay sleeping on a narrow bed only inches from the floor. A small Chinese woman—I assumed to be his wife—was kneeling on the floor next to him. She held a small, iron object with some type of fragrant smoke billowing out through its sides. Slowly, she waved it over her husband’s chest.

I wasn’t sure what to do, but I was in a hurry to make the purchase and be on my way. “May I speak to Mr. Wong?”

The young lady’s eyes dipped, and she shook her head. “Uncle very sick.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Um, maybe you can help me.”

She didn’t speak, but she looked up at me with ebony eyes slit through soft, pale skin with tan-like undertones. Realizing I hadn’t removed my hat, I quickly pulled it off and raked my fingers through my hair.

“Your uncle … he, um … I would pay him for a certain item. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Could you maybe sell that certain item to me? I have money.”

“I don’t know if—“

“I’ll pay whatever you ask. Money’s no problem.”

I’d frantically rushed through my words, and I hoped the young Chinese girl was able to understand my meaning. She looked at the older woman, who in turn nodded her head. “Okay,” she said.

“Thank you.” My heart swelled with anticipation. I followed her out of the larger room and into another, smaller space further back in their cramped but detail-oriented home.

“You wait here,” she said.

She disappeared behind another curtain, and before I had time to look around, she returned with a small vial of morphine. “I’ll need a syringe, too,” I said, pointing first to the bottle and then my arm, not sure if she understood. She disappeared once again, and I felt an urgent sense of relief wash through me.

“Same price you pay Uncle,” she said after returning a second time.

“Good … that’s good,” I said, feeling my heartbeat abate, knowing I’d conquered this minor glitch and gotten my hands on exactly what I needed. “Here you are,” I said, handing her the same amount of notes I paid Mr. Wong. She tucked the bills into the pocket of her black, ankle-length pants before bowing and letting me know our transaction was complete.

“Do you mind if I—” I held up the vial and the silver syringe.

She guided me toward a black, lacquered table. I knelt on an ornate floor pillow and quickly pushed up my sleeve. I should have injected my left arm, but with such an unsettled feeling of panic, I needed to steady the needle the best I could.

Immediately, a rapid sensation—warm and welcoming—surged, extending its golden fingers through countless veins, suppressing the frenzy that was my fate only moments ago. My eyelids dipped, my entire body relishing in the wonder of morphine while the syringe lay limply against my arm. Captivated in my little world of ecstasy, gratified by the simple act of pressing a needle through broken skin, I lost track of time and space.

I blinked my eyes repeatedly as if I’d fallen into a deep, tranquil sleep. Instantly, I reeled myself back to the present, noticing the young Chinese girl standing over me, watching and waiting for me to leave. I needed to meet my family and not linger forever in the house of Wong. I slipped the needle from my arm and pushed myself to my feet.

“Thank you again, miss,” I said, capping the needle and putting both items inside my jacket pocket. I started for the door and stopped, turning back to the girl before leaving. “My name’s Joe.”

“Yes, I know.”

“You do?”

“Uncle tell name long ago.”

“Oh—” I’m not sure why I found that strange, but I did. “May I ask your name?”

“Mei,” she said softly.

“I’m happy to meet you, Mei.”

Mei bowed again. I didn’t know if I should do the same or not. It wasn’t my custom so I tipped my hat, backed out the door, and then hurried to the hotel to meet Pa and my brothers.

Although my father gave me a stern look when I arrived, he said he’d ordered for me since I had such important business to attend to before lunch. I took a deep breath, apologized for the delay, and thanked him for his patience.

“At least you seem awake now,” Pa said. “I hope you don’t plan to doze off through services every Sunday.”

“No, sir, not at all, sir.”

“Good. I’m glad to know this was only a one-time occurrence.”

The subsequent conversation droned on, each voice emerging as though I was listening with my head underwater. There was nothing earth-shattering discussed or brought up that needed my attention, so I found my mind wandering and wondering about the young girl named Mei.

““`

During the next few weeks, my life fell back into a normal routine. I never figured out what had happened to me that Sunday when I was forced to make an unscheduled visit to Chinatown, but when it was time for my monthly visit, Mei greeted me at the door rather than her uncle, Mr. Wong.

“Is your uncle still ill?” I asked, remembering he was unwell the last time I was there.

“Uncle dying.”

“I’m sorry.”  Realizing my manners weren’t what they should be, I removed my hat. “Can’t the doctors do anything to help?”

Mei’s chin dropped to her chest.

“I could bring Doctor Martin. He’s my doctor.  Maybe he could help your uncle.”

She shook her head. “Too late for Uncle. Make offerings to ancestors for next life.” She swept her hand across the room to a small altar where she, or maybe his wife, had left many contributions such as fruit, shiny pieces of paper, and a small wooden statue. I didn’t understand the ritual or many Chinese traditions for that matter, but I was honored she felt comfortable sharing that part of her life with an outsider like me.

I wasn’t sure what to say. Mr. Wong meant a lot to Mei; he also meant a lot to me. “What will happen if your uncle dies? Will you stay here in this house?”

“Nowhere else for Mei to go. This Mei home.”

I wondered if she’d act as my supplier after her uncle died. Although this wasn’t the time to ask, I felt a crest of fear running through me. I couldn’t go a week or even a day without Mr. Wong, and I’m sure I wasn’t the only one in town who made repeated visits for the small but life-sustaining vial of morphine.

There had to be others like me, who came to deal with the Chinaman regularly. The search hadn’t been easy. It had taken close to a miracle for me to locate him in the first place. Not many Chinese individuals were willing to talk to a white man asking for a ready supply of morphine.

Mei and I had become friends of sorts. I felt at ease in her company, and maybe next time I could discuss the matter of my monthly visits. I wouldn’t dare bother her with it just now. I made my purchase, thanked her, and I was on my way.

““`

We’d just sat down for lunch when a rider’s hooves pounded dirt outside the house. “Sounds like we’ve got company,” Pa said.

“I got it,” I said, tossing my napkin on the plate and using the guest as an excuse to leave my lunch behind.

“Hi, Little Joe. Your Pa home?”

“Come on in, Sheriff. Hungry?”

“Sorry, Little Joe, but thanks for the offer,” Roy said, doffing his hat and looking past me for my father.

Pa joined me at the front door when he heard Roy’s voice. Hoss and Adam turned in their chairs.

“Bank was robbed early this morning, Ben. I got men scouring north and south of town, but I could sure use some help covering the Ponderosa.”

The gang, who consisted of four men, had made their getaway riding south, but Roy still wanted us to look for tracks on our land. Knowing he could count on Pa and since the bandits might be holed up in one of our line shacks waiting for things to cool down, he’d ridden out from town to ask for help.

“Saddle the horses, boys,” Pa ordered. “Hop Sing? Two days supplies.”

We all took off in different directions. Pa hurried toward the kitchen as Hoss and Adam grabbed their gun belts and rushed out the front door. I ran upstairs. I met up with both brothers while they were still saddling our mounts.

“What happened to you, little brother? It ain’t gals we’re after.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Thought maybe you run upstairs to spruce up ‘fore we left,” Hoss said, chuckling at his joke.

“Very funny,” I said. “You keep cracking jokes, and we’ll never get outta here.”

The five of us rode out together and as soon as we hit the main road, we separated into two groups. “Which way, brother?” Adam pointed in a northerly direction. I nodded, and we took off, leaving the others behind. With Hoss, the expert tracker, Roy’s group stood a better chance of locating the gang than Adam and I did, and since the robbers had taken off to the south, it only made sense to steer Hoss in that general direction.

My brother and I rode steadily for most of the afternoon. We had enough supplies for two days, which meant a cold night on the ground or, if we were lucky, one of our line shacks. We’d already checked two so far and found nothing. The sun was low in the sky, and I was hoping to get out of the saddle sooner than later. “Might as well bunk here, Joe,” Adam said as we rode up toward the third tiny cabin.

“I’m game,” I said. “I’ve had enough riding for one day, and anything beats the cold, hard ground.”

“That’s for sure.”

The line shack was nestled deep in the pines on the northern rim of the Ponderosa, secluded and hard to find if you weren’t familiar with the lay of the land. I could tell Adam was tired by the tone of his voice, and while he carried in the supplies and started a fire, so we could have something besides jerky for supper, I stabled the horses in the small lean-to built adjacent to the cabin. Leaving my saddlebags tied, I took time to do what was necessary.

While Hoss thought I was primping, I’d run upstairs to grab my prized possession, my little, black bag, and bypassed my brothers in the barn without either catching sight. For months I’d stashed the bag under my mattress and up to this point, I’d kept my secret hidden from everyone living in the house.

The last couple of miles on the back of Cochise had been torture. It was late in the day, and with Adam riding alongside; I’d had no other choice but to wait till we pulled up for the night. But now, with my brother safely inside the cabin, I could relieve the discomfort and make it until sunrise.

After leaning back against the outer wall to steady myself, I pierced my skin and, as smooth as silk, the morphine burrowed its way through my veins. Like bathing in stove-heated water, the golden liquid traveled first through my arms and legs, forcing my knees to become weak and my legs to buckle. I slid down the rough, wooden wall until I was sitting down, legs stretched out flat on the ground. Luxuriating in the splendor while make-believe steam rose from the bath, encircling me with scents of wildflowers and pine as my entire body felt the intense pleasure of a simple injection. But the warm, even glow was temporary. Gone in only seconds but stabilized me until morning. Quickly, I packed away my supplies before untying our bedrolls and heading inside with Adam.

We ate beans and fried bacon and between the two of us, we polished off a pot of hot coffee. There wasn’t much to do during evening hours spent in a line shack, so when Adam pulled out a small flask of whiskey from his saddlebags and offered me a drink, I refused to indulge. “I’ll pass,” I said, waving away the offer.

“What? Is this the new Joe?”

“No, I’m just tired is all.” After what I’d gone through last time, after drinking just a couple of beers, I couldn’t risk having another unscheduled crisis with Adam so close at hand.

There were two cots, one alongside either wall and after we cleaned up our supper dishes, we each kicked off our boots and fell onto a thin mattress that served as a bed. I heard my brother’s gentle snoring long before I drifted off to sleep.

““`

I was the first to wake, and after swinging my legs over the side of the bed and pulling on my boots, I needed to make a trip outside to my saddlebags. As soon as I opened the cabin door, an explosion of gunfire and racking pain sent me tumbling back across the cabin’s dirt floor. “Adam!” I shouted wildly, clutching my shoulder and sensing warm, sticky blood flowing between my fingers. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my brother, ducking under the only window, his six-shooter held steady in his hand.

I kicked the door closed and scooted back toward my bed and my holster. “What the hell just happened?” I cried, realizing immediately my brother knew nothing more than I.

“Did you see who shot you?”

“No dammit! I didn’t see anyone.”

“They may have us surrounded, Joe. Could you see if the horses were still tied up?”

“NO!” I cried louder this time. “I told you. I didn’t see a damn thing.”

“Take it easy, Joe.”

“Take it easy?” I wailed, restraint quickly slipping away. “I’ve got a slug in my shoulder, Adam. How am I supposed to take it easy?”

“I’ve got medical supplies in my saddlebags. As soon as we’re safe, I’ll get you fixed up, at least well enough to ride home.”

“You think it’s them?” I moaned, breathlessly. “The robbers?”

“I have to assume, but your guess is as good as mine. Don’t move, Joe, just hang tight.”

A muted crashing sound caught my attention when Adam broke through a thin pane of glass, shattering it on top of his bedroll. He aimed and took a shot, while I lay on the ground and shuttered at the sound of additional gunfire, chipping at the outer walls of the cabin. The gunmen were close, but why weren’t they running away? And, why the hell had they come back, just to shoot at us?

“They out there?” I called, as I leaned back against the end-post of the cot, unseeing.

“The horses, Joe. They came for the horses.”

Oh, God. The gunfire stopped; the air fell silent.

“They’re gone,” Adam said with a sigh. “Cochise and Sport too. They must’ve needed fresh mounts or maybe they’d been forced to ride double.”

Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm. Those simple words became a mantra in my head even though a clear sense of panic had taken over. Adam supported my weight as I positioned my feet under me and took a couple of shaky steps before I sat down on the narrow bed, still clutching tightly to my shoulder until my brother gently eased my hand away. I glanced at my left palm, exposing bright, red blood before closing my eyes to the pain. My useless right arm lay limp in my lap.

Since the bullet had driven in small bits of material, Adam took special care to slowly unbutton and ease my sodden shirt from the gaping wound. Covered in blood and with rivulets of sweat streaking my face and chest, I wasn’t thinking straight when I let my brother remove the only item of clothing that concealed my secret from the rest of the world.

It wasn’t until Adam picked up both wrists and held my arms straight out in front of him that I suddenly came alive and tried to pull away. But his grip was firm, and after witnessing the questioning look, after my brother failed to articulate simple words, an awkward silence followed. Neither of us moved. There was no use. The muscle in my brother’s jaw tightened, relaxed, and tightened again as he stared at the bruising, the damage, and the unsightly scars scattered unevenly up and down each arm.

“Joe …” he mumbled. “My God.”

As Adam blinked repeatedly, I turned my head away. Adam—the brother who never allowed his emotions to get the best of him—was shedding tears at the sight.

“The bullet,” I cried, trying anything to divert his attention. “Get the bullet out, Adam.”

Stone-faced and drained of color, Adam stared at every raised and shaded mark, old and new, faded and fresh, mottled in an irregular fashion. Months of hiding, planning, and praying no one would ever know had vanished in a single instant. But my brother couldn’t force his eyes away.

“Adam,” I called out again. “The bullet.”

“Right,” he said, suddenly clearing his throat and laying my arms down gently on my lap.

He turned his back to me, and I watched closely as he covered his face with both hands, trying to dispel the vision of what he’d just seen. After composing himself, he dug through his saddlebags and removed what was needed to stitch and repair the wound.

Adam handed me the flask of whiskey first before he sat down beside me on the side edge of the narrow cot. I shook my head and handed it back. He accepted the small container, setting it down on the ground for later use. “Good thing we didn’t empty it last night.”

But there was no reply. My brother’s face was already dotted with sweat as he placed a cool cloth on my shoulder to mop up the visible blood. “This won’t be pleasant.”

“I know. Just get it over with.”

““`

Some would say I was lucky; the bullet had gone straight through. There was an exit hole on the back of my upper arm, taking the pressure off Adam and making my brother’s job one he could handle without too much difficulty. Although his hands were shaking as he threaded the needle with a thin string of catgut, I felt numb to the pain when the needle pierced my flesh.

“Don’t you want a drink?

“Not now,” I said when he handed me the whiskey. I turned the flask in my hand. “Maybe later.”

Adam nodded. “I need to use a portion of this over the wound, Joe.”

I handed my brother the bottle. He understood what I meant by “later” and so he used the alcohol sparingly, dispensing only a small amount before stitching up the front and backside of my arm. It’s funny; I barely felt the needle slip through my torn and swollen flesh, more like a painless, gentle tug than the act of mending severed skin. I was conditioned to needles, but Adam would feel more comfortable if I looked away. He wasn’t conditioned at all.

With the stitching completed, and with strips of my brother’s spare shirt wrapped neatly around my shoulder and arm, I remained on the bed, clutching the tiny container of whiskey with both hands. Adam ventured outside the cabin and found we were quite alone with no way home but to walk.

““`

Three shots signaled distress.

Adam fired three shots into the morning sky. If Pa and Hoss were within range, they’d come riding up in no time. If not, we’d have to start walking. The shock of the bullet and the pain that followed may have stayed the agony I should be experiencing by now. Although Adam wasn’t aware of what was to come, I was, and I knew the unexpected sense of calm was deceiving and wouldn’t last much longer.

To say I was terrified was an understatement. I’d only experienced small bouts of distress without the drug. The drug … I almost had to laugh. My only faithful companion in a world filled with fear. Never had I gone an entire day without injecting and now, with no horses and no morphine, the walk home scared the hell out of me. Even under the best conditions, I could easily predict the varying transformations, testing, and betraying my sanity. I hated that Adam would witness the impending crash—the sudden fall of Joe Cartwright into the depths of hell.

I played possum when my brother stepped back through the cabin door. I couldn’t face him now that he knew the story of my desperately hopeless life. He quickly busied himself, rustling around, adding wood to the fire, and making coffee, and soon, the pungent aroma of bacon permeated the small room. I felt hungry, which I took as a good sign, at least for now.

Adam sat down beside my prone body, and by resting the back of his hand on my forehead, he felt for the onset of fever. I was still without my shirt; only Adam’s thin bedroll covered my chest and legs, but with my eyes still closed, I could sense he was staring. How could I blame him? Morphine’s an ugly business, and no one could ever be prepared for the shock when they first take notice of the gruesome marks. I chose to inflict myself. With deep affection, which was sometimes omitted between the two of us, Adam called out my name. “Joe?” I couldn’t play possum forever. I opened my eyes and rolled to my side; I faced my brother. “Think you can eat something?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Can you sit up?”

Adam turned back the bedroll and helped me to a sitting position. Only a slight wave of nausea came over me. “I’m fine,” I said, simply out of habit. My shoulder burned like fire, but that was to be expected. After situating the blanket around my shoulders, he left me sitting on the edge of the bed while he went to pour the coffee. After handing me a hot, tin cup, he held his own with both hands and sat on the bed across from me. “How do you feel?”

“Pretty good.”

I sipped my coffee, as did my brother. The conversation was strained and for good reason. Neither of us wanted to discuss the obvious. We would be having a very different conversation soon enough. But I was wrong in my thinking. Adam cleared his throat and began with the first of many questions. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He looked up from his cup. “Morphine?”

That single word made my heart flutter and then constrict. “Yeah,” I said, though I wasn’t man enough to look up.

“Tell me what I need to know, Joe. When will you give yourself the next shot?”

This wasn’t what I expected to hear from my brother. He was concerned over my objectionable way of life. I shook my head. “I can’t.”

“What?” His voice was strained; he didn’t understand my meaning.

“It … it was in my saddlebags.”

“Gone?”

“Gone.”

Adam rose from his cot. He walked to the door, opened it wide, and stood without moving, staring toward hills dense with pines. He leaned heavily against the frame and took one more sip of coffee before tossing the dregs to the ground. He turned back to face me. “So, what happens now?”

“I’m not exactly sure.”

“You’re not sure?” Adam seemed surprised at my answer. I dropped my eyes to the floor. My brother came to sit next to me. “I don’t understand.”

“Well, I do, Adam. I’ve never gone a day without morphine.”

“You mean—” Adam hesitated, trying desperately to understand, but having no real idea how profound my addiction had become. “You’ve been on this stuff since you were kidnapped? That was months ago.”

I nodded. Yeah, I made it twenty-three unbearably, grueling days before I raced down the streets of Chinatown, but what did it matter now? My brother was speechless. Never had I known Adam Cartwright to be lacking in words.

“I need air, Adam.”

I stood, set my cup on the table, and walked out the door. My shoulder throbbed, but I could deal with the pain of a bullet wound. I pulled the bedroll tighter over my shoulders and looked toward the trees and hills, just as my brother had only moments ago. I was trapped in this damnable cabin, and I was a helluva long way from Chinatown.

Since the shock of being wounded had passed, the restless feeling was free to begin; nausea, following the onset of prickly agitation, was a definite sign my last injection was running thin, was leaving me with nothing to hang on to, exposed to the world for all to see. That much I knew. That’s why I’d made the unexpected visit to Mr. Wong’s that Sunday morning after church. I’d never let the burden of morphine take hold more than it had that day. But any sense of pride I may have felt in the past vanished completely when, alone in my room, I loaded the syringe for the very first time.

Adam stood behind me; the recently fried bacon and day-old biscuits set on the table untouched. “How can I help?”

Adam’s words startled me; I’d been lost in thought and hadn’t realized he’d walked up. I looked to the sky, trying to stay the tears or maybe I was begging God for any kind of help he could give. Either way, I couldn’t turn around and face my brother. However there wasn’t the normal put-down I expected from Adam, and I was nearly overcome by his simple, caring words. My body trembled. Before long, I found myself in my brother’s arms. Adam held me close to his chest while I cried. I wasn’t strong anymore. I wasn’t the man I pretended to be.

““`

We remained at the cabin long after we should have left for home, but I was in no condition to travel. Every so often, Adam would walk outside and throw three shots in the air, but no one ever came, no one heard our signal. It was no secret that, before long, Pa and Hoss and everyone else would know the reason for our delay, the lies I’d told, and the secret I’d kept well hidden for so long. The telling would have to come.

By noon, my bedding was damp from my growing volume of perspiration. My face burned with fever, only it wasn’t a fever at all. I lay on my side, clutching the thin mattress held up from the floor by the crisscrossed rope attached to a wooden frame. I felt every length of the fiber pulled taut across the narrow cot. The thin bedroll once covering my wounded shoulder, I’d flung to the dirt floor in a fitful fury of sudden agitation. I stared at rounded lengths of logs, trying desperately not to let Adam witness each grimace of pain, distorting the natural evenness of my youthful features.

Muscles constrict and my throat thickens. I can’t swallow and I gasp for air. My chest tightens and I feel it will shatter if I don’t fill my lungs. Relentless spasms force me to curl into myself and wrap my arms around tightly, hoping to ease the pain. The logs suddenly blur through glassy, tear-filled eyes. Pressure builds in my ears and hums like flies swarming over a dead carcass. My joints ache as though muscles have become detached and are floating at odd angles beneath fevered skin.

Nausea takes hold, and I race from the bed to the door, falling to the ground to retch repeatedly into God’s dusty, brown earth. Dry heaves cinch my stomach tight until I fall to my side in respite. My head spins and a shadow hovers over my still form. Adam kneels by my side. He tries to comfort, tries to soothe with words I can’t make out.

My senses, which have faded in and out, have reached full circle, and are gradually increasing in intensity. Adam helps me to my feet, and I nod a thank you, but I’m not sure why, and without words of his own, my brother guides me to a rickety, wooden chair. He sits down beside me, but I can no longer keep my head from falling on folded arms, resting atop the table. I pray the worst is over.

When I raised my head and leaned back in the chair, Adam handed me a tin cup of water. “Thanks,” I said before bringing the cool liquid to my lips. I know he wants to talk. I know he wants to know everything but is afraid to ask. Somehow, I’m afraid to tell. “I’m okay now.”

“Sure?”

“Yeah, I think so. The worst is over. Maybe we can start home in the morning.”

“We’ll see.”

That was Adam, always the pessimist, but I wasn’t going to let him bring me down. I could make it now. No more lengthy bouts of pain to contend with. I was clearly on the mend. But it was only the beginning.

““`

I was powerless, and I’d lost the ability to restrain my cries for help. I cried for an end to the pain; I even tried to find a way to take my own life. Every sound and every movement frightened me, and I scurried to the end of the bed, cowering in a knotted position, covering my head with my hands. I wept uncontrollably when my body seized. I couldn’t lie still when Adam fought to keep me from running outside the cabin.

Rats, bigger than cats, scudded back and forth across the dirt floor. I begged Adam to get them out, but he wouldn’t go after them, and he argued with me in a quiet, calm voice. “There aren’t any rats, Joe.”

Hell, there weren’t. “Adam, please … I saw them with my own eyes.”

When I heard rustling—a crunching sound—outside, I told my brother the outlaws had come back. Again, we argued and like always, Adam voiced the final words. “Joe, no one’s there.”

Why was he arguing with me? I knew what I heard. The bad men had returned. They’d come to finish us off, to keep us quiet, but Adam wouldn’t listen. He wouldn’t go check outside. I pleaded again, but he wouldn’t leave my side. He held a cup of water to my lips, and I slammed it away from his hand. I rolled to my side and I wept.

After what seemed like hours of fighting with my brother, I drifted into a fitful sleep, but I woke up screaming. I was scared. The cabin wasn’t safe. The room had become stiflingly and claustrophobic. Intense colors swirled in ghostly shapes before my eyes. Sounds were crisp. I could see faces; hear voices. We had to get out. “No!” I screamed, pushing Adam away. “We gotta go.”

“Joe stop!”

“Get away from me!”

This time, Adam was wrong and with both hands, I pushed him to the floor and bolted out the door. Again, I fell to my knees. And with my wound ablaze, pressing knifelike needles through my skin, I held myself steady with my good hand palmed to the ground. My stomach convulsed, my arm trembled and gave way under my weight, and I fell to my back, lying spread-eagle in tufts of uneven grass.

Trees towered over me against a cloudless sky, their boughs built of stone, unmoving. A vulture passed overhead, circling, waiting. In time, he’d swoop down, peck at my eyes, and ravage my body, leaving only a mere skeleton to rot under a blazing sun. Adam’s long, morning shadow crossed over me, and, like a young boy, I closed my eyes. If I couldn’t see him, he couldn’t see me. I lifted myself from the dirt and rolled to my side. My stomach constricted, tugging at the void already there.

“Oh, God,” I cried as I fought against the tedious drain on my body.

“Let me help, Joe.”

“No … just go away!”

My cries were weak, but Adam reached for me anyway. I slapped at his hands, missing, but God, I tried to push him away. He lifted me to my feet, but I broke loose and ran. I ran toward a nearby hill, dodging tall, columned pines, filling my lungs with air with every panting breath I could muster. I fell more than once, but I kicked away the loose brush that tangled around my ankles; I kept running. I had to get away, and when I couldn’t take another step when my lungs reached their limit and my shoulder burned like hellfire, I cried out obscenities into the nothingness before I dropped to the ground for the final time.

Adam knelt beside me. His words were soothing as he scooped me up like the child I’d once been. He cradled me in his arms and held me tight to his chest. His smooth, steady voice comforted me as we meandered through prickly scrub and uneven trails toward the line shack. And as the sun grew higher in the sky, I began to relax, to catch my breath, and settle my beating heart. But in the hours that followed, I began to question my chances of survival.

The attacks became frantic, more violent than before. I was in so much pain, I cried, I screamed, and I talked nonsense until exhaustion left me no choice but to fall back onto the bed when my legs gave way like thin willow branches. I was so tired my body fell lifeless, unmoving until my hands and arms began to tingle and my body convulsed, stretching my skin tightly until every nerve was tortured with pain. There was no rest, no way out of this continuing hell.

Adam pulled a chair up next to the bed, but his presence only assured me there was more to come. Although he tried, his best wasn’t good enough, and when I shivered and cried, when I turned away and faced the wall, he remained by my side, a gentle hand resting near my wounded arm.

I slept fitfully, waking to images darting across the plank ceiling, reaching down with elongated tendrils, twisting like fingers around my neck, choking, gasping, and calling me by name. But there was laughter, deep and hoarse, and the jagged scar of my tormentor shown in the swirls of shimmering light.

Scarface stood alongside me, his arm draped over my shoulders, and we watched together, the visions that surrounded our lives. He prodded me to laugh with him. “Don’t you see them, boy? Are they haunting your dreams? They’re part of the package, Joseph, enjoy, laugh, but don’t cry. Only babies cry for their papa’s. Only babies …”

““`

By early dawn, before the sun crested the mountaintops, I was jerked awake when the outlaws broke through the cabin door, grabbed me, and hauled me out of bed. I was shoved against the back wall and, with the power of a boxer inside a roped-off ring; I pounded one man relentlessly until his dark-haired form fell to the ground. He cried out for me to stop but once he was down, I kicked at his ribs until he rolled to his side and curled himself around the end of the bed. “Don’t move. Don’t move or you’re a dead man,” I screamed like a man crazed with vengeance.

“Joe, stop. Joe, please …”

My brother’s voice rang in my ears. “I’m gonna kill him, Adam.”

“Joe, no more … no more.”

My fists were bloody and bruised, and I hid them behind my back, waiting for the man to roll over, to show his face in the gray, morning light. And when he pulled his feet under him and stood to full height, I realized exactly what I’d done, and I trembled as I bent in half, covering my face with my hands. “Oh, God … oh, God, oh, God, oh, God.”

“It’s okay, Joe.”

“No,” I cried. “I … I thought you were them. I would never—“

“Joe, it’s okay.”

Adam’s arm came around my waist, and I fell onto his chest. “I didn’t know.”

“You’re all right now,” he said, softly. “We’ll both be all right.”

When I raised my head, the deep cuts I’d inflicted on my brother’s face were trickling with blood. He’d tried to stop me, but he never fought back, and when his hand covered his swelling jaw, I cowered and turned away.

““`

“You learned well, little brother. You sure know how to pack a punch.”

Adam and I sat on a dry, wooden bench outside the cabin. The sun warmed our faces, countering the early morning chill. Dressed only in my trousers and boots, I kept my bedroll draped loosely around my shoulders for warmth. Earlier, I tried to eat a stale biscuit, but without much enthusiasm for food of any sort, I let it crumble through my finger to the ground.

Adam was trying to lighten the mood with his off-handed comment, but I felt miserable and ashamed every time I saw the marks I’d left on his face. I remember kicking him in the side, surely leaving him bruised and uncomfortable there too. How could I make it up to him; my brother had saved my life, kept me from doing … I don’t know what.

“Feel better now?”

“Yeah. Sort of a rough night.”

“Sort of?” Adam grinned, and I wondered if it hurt to smile. “Another cup of coffee?” he asked.

“No, I’m good.” I leaned my head back against the cabin’s wall and closed my eyes. “I’m sorry, Adam.”

“I wasn’t referring to the fight, Joe. It’s you that worries me, and I’m not sure how much more of this you can handle on your own.”

A faint chuckle passed my lips. “I’m not sure either, brother.”

Adam had taken on a thankless job without realizing what was in store when we rode out together. I owed him my life but saving my hide had been a job he’d taken for granted since the day I was born. He took his job seriously, and he did his job well.

“I couldn’t have made it through this without you,” I said.

“I’m just sorry it came to this, Joe, but in a way I’m glad.”                          

“Glad?” What the hell was he saying? Did he enjoy watching me suffer? Did he enjoy having me pound him into the ground? “What do you mean, glad?” I said, pointedly.

“It’s over now, Joe. Don’t you understand? The hiding, the deception, it’s over.”

“I don’t know, Adam.” My voice shook and immediately, I knew it was the wrong thing to say.

The look in his narrowed eyes was raw. His eyebrows knit together and the muscles in his jaw tightened. I’d said the wrong thing and I knew it but right now, sitting on this wooden bench, I didn’t know what to feel or how I felt about anything.

“If I had morphine, I don’t know if I—”

Adam grabbed my shoulders. “Listen to me,” he demanded. “You’ve proven you can beat the hold that drug had on you. Don’t be a fool, Joe; you’re halfway there. Don’t let morphine win.” He let go of me, but his eyes remained dark and constant.

The blanket fell from my shoulders. My arms were exposed, and I didn’t rush to hide the scars. “You were right, you know.”

Adam chuckled softly and threw out his remaining coffee. “Right about what?”

“Suzanna,” I said softly. “You knew she was trouble right from the start.”

“Water under the bridge, Joe.” He stood from the wooden bench with his back to me.

“None of this would have happened if I’d listened to you in the first place.”

“You don’t know that.  Davis would have found another way. I’m sure of it.”

“You think?”

“I know, little brother.  Who’s the smart one in this family?”

“Me?”

“Yes, you are.” Adam knelt in front of me. “Smart enough now to ask for help if you feel you can’t make it through another day.”

“Yeah … maybe.”

“No maybes, Joe. You’re young and you’re strong. You’ve proven you can beat this.”

I circled the cold, empty cup in my hand. Adam had more faith in me than I did. Maybe I wasn’t the smartest one in the family, but I was smart enough to figure that out. “When do we start home?”

“We can’t leave until we’ve had something decent to eat. I’m starving. Think you can eat?”

“Sure,” I lied.

“Will you be okay if I head out to find us a rabbit or two?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

““`

After a dinner of roasted rabbit cooked on the ends of bark-ridden cottonwood sticks, we were able to save our hardtack and a couple of strips of jerky for the trip home. I was able to eat some, and I think my brother was pleased.

Adam and I talked after supper. His gentle words encouraged me to stay strong, but his over-confident remarks sailed right over my head. No one understood the hold morphine had on a man’s body and soul, and even though Adam asked several questions about just that, I couldn’t seem to find the right words to explain the actual sensation, or the actual pleasure derived from the so-called miracle drug.

“It’s like a driving force, Adam. When the pain is unyielding, it soothes. I wish I could say more, I wish I could explain how it works and how it feels, but I don’t know the right words.”

“Maybe part of me understands, but only a part,” he said. “I only wish I could do more and somehow cut through the barrier, blocking you from taking the final step and letting go of the drug forever.”

I almost shrugged my shoulders and told him it was my problem, not his; instead, I stood and yawned and told him I was ready for bed.

“You need anything?” Adam questioned as he knelt to bank the fire.

“Don’t ask.”

My brother shook his head, and I let the conversation drop. We’d talked enough for one night and the more we talked, the more anxious I became. I pulled off my boots and wrapped the bedroll around my shoulders before settling down on the mattress. I needed a good night’s sleep if we were taking off in the morning, and I could only hope the dreams and memories would remain silenced for the next few hours.

I kept my cries to myself during the night that had no end. I also managed to stay in bed, never calling out or, God forbid, attacking my brother for some unknown reason. But my white-knuckle grip on the mattress served as a warning; the fierce desire for morphine was ever-present, robbing me of the strength to think it was over, finished, never again.

When a hand gripped my shoulder, I sensed the visions, which had kept me awake most of the night, were not visions at all. They were real. I lay unmoving, denying the dream had come true. Then, in a flash, I jerked myself off the bed.

“Easy, Joe.”

My heart was in my throat, as I stood face-to-face with my brother. Finally, I sighed with relief and released my pent-up breath. “Shouldn’t sneak up on a man like that.”

A smile broke across Adam’s face. “I’ll certainly be more careful next time.”

I was so tired of fighting unknown demons, so tired of it all. The sun’s rays filled the dirt-streaked window, and I stared through the broken pane of glass, remembering how this completely new episode of my life had begun. A lifetime ago, it seemed. Pa and Hoss would be hunting us down, realizing we’d run into trouble somewhere along the way.

The aroma of fresh-brewed coffee filled the room. The thought of a new day wasn’t quite as appealing to me as it was for my brother. I plopped back down on the bed and cradled my head in my hands. The ever-present roaring in my ears had returned, a minor distraction that nearly drove me insane.

“Good morning,” Adam said, delivering me a steaming hot cup of coffee.

“Yeah …”

“Not a good morning?”

“Not by a long shot.”

I stood from the bed and crossed through the cabin, stretching the kinks from my back as I stood just outside the open door. I sucked in deep breaths of air, filling my lungs with scented pine and the fragrance of wildflowers, which were just opening their petals to start the new day.

“I’ll see what we have to eat,” Adam said from inside the cabin. I didn’t reply; I needed to do my business and clean up some so I headed down to the creek, rotating my wounded shoulder but finding it stiff and sore.

Sensing I looked worse for wear, the icy-cold water struck my back like a shower of raindrops as I splashed it over my shoulders and across my chest before scrubbing my face and running damp fingers through tangled hair. I lingered longer than necessary, enjoying the fresh scents of dawn and the brisk gusto of the fast-running stream. And as climbed back up the hill, I saw Adam outside the cabin. Panic was evident in his staccato movements as he shifted his eyes methodically from tree to tree and then lower still, scanning through ragged scrub until he made eye contact with me. A slow craggy smile appeared as he ran a hand slowly through his hair. “Thought maybe you … I don’t know what I thought,” he said as I approached.

“Sorry, brother. I was just taking a leak and washin’ up.”

A simple nod of relief was accompanied by an embarrassed look as the toe of his boot scraped across a small tuft of grass.

“You ain’t never gonna stop worryin’, are you?” I said, with a half-smile of my own.

“Probably not.”

“You can, you know.”

Adam shook his head. “Never happen, Joe. I’ve worried about you since the day you were born. Why, in heaven’s name, would I stop now?”

““`

Adam tossed his saddlebags over his shoulder, gathered up the two bedrolls and we were out the door. “Think you’re ready for this?”

Growing tired of the endless questions, I answered with a lie. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

We’d barely made it down the side of the mountain, and I was already feeling the strain of days of inactivity, or should I say extreme activity. Sleep had proved difficult, and I never claimed to be an early riser like Pa and my brothers, but Adam wanted to get an early start. Although my brother kept most of his thoughts to himself, when he did speak, I tried to feign interest, although my responses became edgy as the morning wore on.

Adam shot his pistol every so often, hoping someone would hear our signal. It was slow going, and it didn’t help to have my arm tied up with a sling. When possible, Adam held my good arm, guiding me through denser trees and scrub. My brother hoped to make the next line shack before nightfall, nearly ten miles over rough terrain but by noon, I was dragging my feet and stopping to lean against thick-trunk pines whenever I got the chance.

“Let’s take a break.”

“I’m okay.”  I panted along with the beat of my pounding heart. Finding the energy it took to put one foot in front of the other was wearing me down faster than normal.  “We can keep going.”

“I’m beat, Joe. Not sure I can keep up this pace.”

Adam was lying for my benefit although I nodded and slid down the trunk of a tree, stretching my legs out in front of me. Since most everything I owned had been stolen, Adam handed me his canteen, and sensing it was only half-full; I drank sparingly then lay my head back against the tree and promptly fell asleep. When I woke, Adam had started a fire and a pot of coffee simmered over slow-burning coals.

“You shoulda woke me earlier.”  I rubbed my eyes and ran my free hand across my face.  I finger-raked my hair from my forehead. “Pa would insist I had a haircut if he saw me lookin’ like this.”

“That’s for sure,” Adam said, chuckling softly and with narrowed eyes, he proposed his next question. “Um … is that a streak of gray above your ear?” He pointed to my left side.

“Yeah, right. I ain’t exactly as old as Pa, Adam.”

“No … but,” Adam squinted as if that would help him focus. “Maybe it’s just the light.”

“Well, it better be.” I pushed myself up from the ground and took in our surroundings. Full-needled pine boughs lay to the side of the fire. “Hey, what’s all that for?”

“We’ll camp here tonight. No since pressing our luck; the line shack’s quite a distance away.”

“I can go farther.  I’m better now.”

“Tomorrow’s soon enough.”

Last-word-Adam was convincing, and I didn’t have the energy to argue the point. I heard the gurgling sound of a stream down below. “Water?”

“Yep.”

Leave it to Adam to camp next to a stream. I never even heard it when we’d stopped to rest, but my brother knew it was there all along. With only one canteen, fresh water was a necessity.

I moved down the gradual slope and pulled off my boots, plopping my feet in the cold mountain stream. I was tired—tired of the mess I’d made of my life—tired of just about everything. I ached for the tranquility of morphine, the warmth, and the golden glow as it passed through my veins.

The roaring in my ears never stopped. I swallowed incessantly, leaving my throat rough and my lips cracked. I wanted to beat my fists against granite boulders until they were raw and thrummed with a heartbeat of their own. I wanted to feel pain; I wanted to sense anything but the incessant craving, driving me nearly out of my mind.

I was beginning to understand the bottom line, understand what all this idle pondering meant. I couldn’t go home; I could never go home. I was a failure and a pathetic excuse for a son. I didn’t have the strength, I didn’t have the right, and I didn’t deserve to be Ben Cartwright’s son.

I turned my attention to Adam when he walked up from behind and joined me on a rock large enough for both of us to sit comfortably. After noticing my bare feet, he pulled off his pair of boots and plopped his feet in the water next to mine.

“Yikes!” he said, pulling his knees up quickly and then easing his feet slowly back into the rushing water. “Cold.”

“I hadn’t noticed.”

Adam leaned back, pressing his palms to the flat surface of the boulder. “Hungry?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “Not really?”

“Tired?”

I chuckled. “Have you forgotten I slept most of the afternoon away?”

My brother had broken the silence but only temporarily. Now, the only noticeable sound was white foaming water, splashing over our feet as it raced to the base of the mountain. I needed to make Adam understand my decision not to return home. If anyone understood it would be him, and he would be able to explain the situation to Pa better than I ever could.

Adam and Pa had many secrets over the years. They were each other’s confidants whether business or pleasure, man-to-man talks came easy between my father and his eldest son. “Adam?”

“Hmm …”

“I need you to do something for me.”

“Name it, Joe.”

“Well, I need you to talk to Pa.”

“And what should I tell him that you can’t … or won’t?”

I reached up, forcing my hat further down on my forehead, and steadied my eyes on the stream. “I can’t go home, Adam. I want you to tell Pa … tell him anything, I guess.”

My brother didn’t act surprised at my request. He sat up taller and began scraping dirt from under his fingernails. “Where will you go?”

“Go?” I hadn’t thought that far ahead. “Don’t know.”

“Well … maybe you could give home a try. If things don’t work out, you’re always free to leave.”

“No,” I said, biting my bottom lip but holding firm. ”I can’t, Adam. I can’t tell Pa besides, what would I say that made any sense?”

“The truth.”

“No, this is best for everyone. I’ll go away for a while and get myself straightened out. A few weeks alone and maybe I’ll be ready to come home.” I turned to face my brother directly. “Don’t you see? It has to be this way. I need time—“

Adam gripped my good arm; he held tight. “Listen, Joe. This isn’t a game. Pa needs to know and so does Hoss. We’re family. We’re all there to help. You can’t do this alone, no one can. I won’t let you go off for a day, much less somewhere we don’t know about, and spend weeks alone.”

I blinked repeatedly to stop the urgent flow of tears. This wasn’t the first time tears burned my eyes, it happened all the time now. “I’m sorry. I’m just … I’m confused about everything, Adam. I can’t go an hour without crying like a baby. My body hurts, my head hurts, even my hair hurts. I can’t do this.”

“You can and you will.” Adam’s grip tightened.

I wiped my free hand across my eyes and mumbled the only words that mattered. “I can’t tell Pa.”

““`

I woke sometime in the night; Adam was sound asleep, snoring softly under his bedroll. I pulled on my boots and quietly made my way out of camp. I started walking, keeping close tabs on the meandering stream. I’d left the canteen and bedroll behind, knowing my brother would need them for the rest of the trip. I decided to leave, not his.

The roaring in my ears was almost a welcomed distraction, drowning out nighttime noises that small, furry animals made as they scampered across fallen pinecones and through dense layers of undergrowth. Never mind that trees were tilting at odd angles and subtle flashes of light crossed the moonlit sky. I was wide awake, not dreaming, yet trees swayed in front of me, some laughing, some, it seemed were gearing up to attack. I had to concentrate, I had to clear my head, keep moving forward, and not worry about anything that was slightly out of kilter during my trek down the side of the mountain.

I was free, and freedom from having to tell Pa gave me newfound strength and strength gave me power, and the ability to do things my way. I was on my own, and I would start a new life and if morphine was a part of that life then so be it. My fate was determined the day Scarface taunted me with the empty syringe and made the craving real. If I were to survive, it had to be my choice when or how to fight to get my life back.

““`

I nearly jumped outta my skin when I heard three shots echo through canyon walls though I didn’t know who’d fired the gun. I’d followed alongside the stream, leaving a clear trail for my brother to follow, but I didn’t dare lose track of the water. As luck would have it, a smaller creek broke off just up ahead. The right fork would take me home, the left probably headed toward Virginia City. Though I wasn’t sure, I had to make a choice.

When I started down the middle of the stream, I chose right, toward the ranch house. Adam was a smart man, and he’d figure I’d turn left, anywhere but closer to home. I would veer west later, maybe California or maybe south to the Arizona territory.

I kept moving forward through the water, but it was slow going at best. The rocks were slimy, and covered with slick, green algae, and keeping my footing was a true test. I had to move faster. Adam wouldn’t walk through the stream, and I knew he was gaining; by now, he had to be. The sun was high overhead, noon or better, but when I looked up, when my concentration waned, I fell, straight forward into hip-deep water.

The icy flow surrounded me, splashing over my head and halting my breath until I rose, gasping for air. I leaned sideways against a large boulder, but one foot was pinned tightly, lodged between two unforgiving rocks. I twisted and pulled, I tried to leave the boot behind, but it was no use. My foot was solidly wedged, jammed in tight, and I didn’t have the strength to pull it free.

Three shots echoed through the vast columns of trees.

““`

Horse’s hooves plowed through the underbrush, nearing their destination. The thunderous sound of water deadened most other noises but my father’s voice; “Joseph!” broke through. I held tight to the boulder until Hoss splashed his way through the stream and loosened the rocks wedged against my boot.

I could have made it to the bank myself, but Hoss had other plans when he threw my arm across his broad shoulders and half-carried me to dry land. And though the constant roaring in my ears seemed louder, I tried to distinguish voices, Hoss and Pa’s both, rattling on at once with questions I couldn’t answer.

“You all right, Little Joe?

“Where’s Adam, son?

“Why ain’t you two together, boy?”

I stared back and forth between the voices, feeling an abrupt intrusion into my private world. Although the answers were on the tip of my tongue, I failed to connect the words. I began to shiver.

“Joseph, where’s Adam?” Pa signaled Hoss to get the bedrolls “Can you hear me, Joe?”

“Adam? He’ll be along.” The sun felt warm on my face, but I’d spent too much time in the frigid water. “We disagreed,” I said when my senses began to surface, and answers became clear in my mind. “I took off before he did.”

Pa fiddled with the buttons on my jacket, and I pushed his hands away. “No, I’m fine.”

Hoss shrugged his shoulders at Pa then knelt on one knee and wrapped his bedroll around me. I nodded my thanks, and Hoss remained by my side, rubbing the wetness from my hair. “See ya done lost your hat.”

“Yeah, when I fell, I guess.” I was somewhat rattlebrained, but Hoss was making sense, so I concentrated on his words.

“We got Cochise and Sport back at the line shack, Little Joe.”

“You do?” A smile broke through as I gazed up at Hoss.

“Yep. We done caught them robbers after Pa spotted one of ‘em riding your horse.”

I glanced up at Pa, who was looking upstream. I suppose he was watching for Adam.

“Should’ve seen Pa’s face when it weren’t you in that saddle.”

I chuckled inside. “I’ll bet.”

“That’s enough, Hoss,” Pa said, removing the sodden blanket and wrapping a dry bedroll across my shoulders. “What happened to your arm?”

“Nothin’ much. One of the robbers you caught shot me before they stole the horses.”

“Look, Pa,” Hoss said, pointing upstream. “Adam’s comin’.”

Adam was closing in, carrying a bedroll under each arm; the canteen and saddlebags looped over his shoulder. I didn’t know what to expect; he certainly had tales to tell.

My jacket covered my arms, and even though my clothes were wet, Pa had given up on undressing me. For now, I was safe. The blanket felt good and kept me from shivering, and the roaring in my head was silenced, leaving nothing more than a dull ache.

“We got separated a little way back,” Adam said. “Lost our horses, and we’ve been on foot ever since.”

Hoss jumped right in and proudly explained that Sport and Cochise were waiting for us at the line shack just a couple miles down the canyon.

“That’s good to hear,” Adam said, before dropping the extra weight he’d carried and kneeling next to me. “You okay?” Adam whispered with his back toward Pa.

I nodded.

“I should check that wound.”

Adam kept his voice low, but I could feel the panic rise just knowing Pa was nearby. “Not right now.”

“Well,” Adam said, swiveling around on the toes of his boots and looking up at Hoss and Pa. “Should we make our way down the mountain?”

“If you two are ready, let’s go,” Pa said. “We can rest here awhile if—“

Adam stood up first then helped me to my feet. I handed Hoss the second wet blanket and walked ahead of everyone else.

“Joseph. You look tired,” Pa said. “Why don’t you ride Buck?”

“I’ll walk.”

Even though I was farther ahead than anyone else, my father’s voice carried through the woodlands like a steam locomotive roaring through desolate plains. “What’s the matter with Joe?”

“He’s tired,” Adam stated. “It’s been a rough couple of days.”

“You sure that’s all?” Pa asked. “He seems so out of sorts.”

I couldn’t hear Adam’s response, but I knew now, he wouldn’t betray me out here in the backcountry or anywhere else. He’d leave the telling to me.

““`

It was good to see Cochise safe and sound and since there was enough light left in the day, we all saddled up and started for home. And, because I was only one-handed, Hoss lifted my saddle and tightened the cinch. “All set, little brother.”

The first thing I noticed was that my saddlebags were still intact. I gave Adam a sideways glance as my breathing soared and my heart accelerated, forcing me to grip my saddle horn with both hands and beg God for strength to resist. Adam casually walked behind Sport, sliding his hand across the horse’s rump until we were standing shoulder-to-shoulder.

“Stay strong, boy,” he whispered. “You can do this.”

My life was a lie. Everything was a lie. I wanted to scream, to run, to load the needle and end the misery, but when Adam’s hand skimmed across my shoulders, I nodded my head. I’ll try.” I mounted Cochise, knowing this would be the longest ride of my life.

““`

When we arrived home, we sat down for a late supper. I was exhausted; I think we all were. It had been a very long day, and when I tried to excuse myself to go upstairs, Pa stopped me cold. “What’s bothering you, Joseph?”

I glanced at Adam first. “Just tired, Pa.”

“Well,” he said, sliding his chair back from the table. “I better take a look at that shoulder before you turn in.”

“I’ll check him,” Adam said, quickly tossing his napkin on his plate and scraping his chair across wooden planks. “I stitched him up, and I’d like to see it through to the end.”

Pa didn’t catch the look in my eyes or the way my hands fisted as if punching something or someone was the answer to the immediate problem. I remained calm enough to evade Pa’s interference but at some point, all hell would break loose, and I’d have no choice but to leave my family behind.

“That’s fine for tonight,” Pa said, “but tomorrow, I want the doctor to have a look and make sure there’s no sign of infection.”

My body trembled, and Adam anchored his hand to the small of my back while we climbed the stairs together. I sat down on the edge of my bed and scrubbed my hands across my face, waiting for my heartbeat to calm.

“Take it easy, Joe. You’re safe right now.” Adam’s words did nothing to calm my nerves or settle my stomach, which had joined the fray by unexpectedly seizing and forcing my supper back into my throat. “You’re going to have to take off your shirt, you know.”

“I know,” I said sharply. “I will.”

My hand trembled as I reached to unfasten the first button. For months, I’d been alert to certain sounds throughout the house, footsteps in the hallway and bedroom doors, opening and closing, calling the beginning or the end of the day. It was a time when I could lay back and relax and sip from a bottle of Pa’s whiskey or, as time went on, inject myself without the fear of someone walking in. It also became a time to reflect on my life, what should have been, and what real life had turned out to be.

As I felt for the second button, I reflected on those long-ago days when the pull became too great, when pressure built inside like a ticking time bomb. When I threw my life away and took my first trip to Chinatown. For months, I guarded my secret; never thought a day like this would come.

When I finished with the buttons, Adam leaned in to help ease the shirt over my shoulder when suddenly, I found Pa standing in my doorway. I panicked, pulling the shirt back over my shoulder and overlapping it in front, guarding myself against the unwanted intruder.

“Mind if I take a look at your brother’s handiwork?” Pa said cheerfully.

Without realizing it, I was biting my bottom lip, my eyes pleading with Adam to make my father go away.

“This is embarrassing, Pa,” Adam said, turning his back to me, covering for me as though I was a child due for a lecture or a tanning. “Maybe when Paul gets here tomorrow, he can describe my “handiwork” to you.”

“Oh, come on,” Pa said, stepping forward. “Don’t be so modest.”

Terrified, I darted from my room, bypassing Adam and Pa. I flew down the stairs, out the front door, and ran to the barn where I scaled the ladder to the loft. I pulled my knees to my chest, buried my head, and rocked back and forth like a baby. “Oh, God,” I cried. “Oh, God … Oh, God.”

A flicker of light and the sound of glass lowered to the lantern’s base sent waves of anxiety pulsing through me. “Joe? You up there?” It was Adam’s voice, but I didn’t want to talk. I needed time alone, but the light grew brighter as my brother crested the top rung of the ladder. He held the lantern up over his head. “Mind if I come up?”

“You’re already here, aren’t you?”

“I’ll leave if that’s what you want.”

I hesitated and wiped the back of my hand across my face. “Oh, God, Adam. What do I do now?”

Adam took that as an invitation and lifted himself to the loft. Only in the very center could my brother stand completely straight. He was bent from the waist until he knelt in front of me. “You okay?”

“Oh, yeah,” I said sarcastically “Why wouldn’t I be.”

“Pa’s worried about you.”

“I’m sure he is,” I said, raising my head and running my hands across tear-soaked eyes.

“I didn’t say a word, but he suspects something more than that bullet wound is bothering you.”

My heart raced as I thought through what I needed to do. I swallowed hard. “It’s time, isn’t it?”

“Well, the sooner the better I always say.”

“I’d rather it was later.”

There was another long pause before Adam spoke. “Pa loves you, Joe, maybe more than anything or anyone else in this world. Sure, he’ll be shocked, but mostly scared of what happens next. He’ll be hurt because you never confided in him as to how bad things were. But Joe, morphine is a killer. You know that. It’s got to end.”

“I know all that, Adam. Don’t pretend you know something I don’t.” I gazed upwards, trying to stay the incessant flow of tears I couldn’t begin to control.

“We’re all here to help you through this and yes, there will be more tears and maybe shouting, and believe me, it will take a certain amount of time before Pa and Hoss grasp everything you say, but there will also be understanding. Should I go on?”

Unexpectedly, I thought of Jesse and how differently my life should have turned out if not for Scarface, if not for morphine; if not for this and that, and blah, blah, blah. What did it matter anyhow? I’d made a mess of my life and the price of my survival was uncertain. I cleared my thoughts and looked at Adam. “I never meant it to last this long,” I said in a strained voice. “I thought I could stop whenever I wanted, and I tried, Adam, I really tried.”

“Listen, Joe. You’ve made a helluva start already. Come on. I’ll do everything I can to help you through.” Adam picked up the lantern. “Come on, you ready?”

“I don’t want Pa to hate me,” I said, sniffing back tears of frustration “Don’t you see? I’m not like you and Hoss. I’m the black sheep; the one who always messes up.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, son.” The deep baritone voice startled me. Pa had heard everything I’d said.

“You tricked me!” I shouted at my brother before pushing him away.

“Joseph. Adam had no way of knowing I was here. Don’t blame your brother; blame me for following the two of you out here. Please come down, son.”

Adam nodded his head and whispered, “You’re halfway there. Go down and finish the job.”

““`

The four of us took seats around the fireplace. There was no morphine, no brandy, and no shot of whiskey to give me strength or ease the blow to my family. I felt alone and on display. I wanted to speak, but words wouldn’t come. Finally, Pa asked if he and I needed to have a private conversation. I glanced at Adam. He didn’t say a word, didn’t move a muscle.

“Adam already knows everything,” I said without looking up.

“Knows what, Little Joe?”

Hoss, my naive brother, may be the one most hurt by what I had to say. He’d never understand why. He saw life differently than anyone else, and he often saw me as his innocent little brother and would give his own life to protect me from all the evil in the world.

Adam gave a slight nod, prodding me to go on. He leaned forward in his chair; his fingers intertwined but unmoving. I wondered if he was as nervous as I and, after taking a deep breath; I looked across the low, wooden table at Hoss, who was perched on the hearth with a juicy, red apple in his hand.

“Remember when you found me in that mine and you thought I was dead.” I was staring only at Hoss, not my father, hoping I could tell the story without hesitation. “Well, I shoulda been.”

“That ain’t funny, Joe?” The apple no longer held interest. My brother’s eyes welled with curiosity and doubt.

“Well, you see, Hoss, that man who kidnapped me also injected me with morphine and—”

“Aw, Joe, that was a long time ago. What’s that got to do with what’s botherin’ you tonight?”

Hoss had seen my violent reaction during the days and nights of withdrawal, especially one night when I’d gone to his room to talk things out. But how could I put it into words; how could I turn everyone’s lives upside down by explaining what seemed so obvious even if I never said another word?

“Joseph?”

“I’m sorry, Pa. I don’t know what—“  My chest tensed with anxiety; I feared it might split in half if I said another word. Never had I been so afraid to tell the truth.

“I need to speak to your brother alone,” Pa said after leaning forward in his chair.

“But, what about?”

“I think you and Adam have things to take care of in the barn, Hoss.”

“Come on,” Adam said, standing and waiting for Hoss. “Time to put the stock to bed.”

Hoss looked like he’d lost his best friend, like he wasn’t part of the family, and everyone shared secrets except him. “All right,” he mumbled, “but this ain’t right, just ain’t right at all.”

When the front door closed and my brothers were out of sight, Pa moved to sit on the wooden table in front of me. He reached out and took both my hands in his as though I were a child, asking for guidance. His voice was soft and his words were simple but direct.

“Talk to me, Joseph. There’s nothing we can’t work out together.”

“You don’t understand, Pa.”

“I think I do, son.”

I met my father’s eyes; his grip remained constant, holding each hand while his thumbs circled, trying to ease the tension I’d brought into the room. “You heard everything … everything I said to Adam, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Then there’s nothing left to talk about.”

“Oh, Joe, that’s where you’re wrong. There’s everything to talk about.”

Pulling my hands away, I stood from the settee, distancing myself from my father, distancing myself from his trusting eyes and forced smile. He didn’t have the slightest idea what these last few months had done to my physical or mental well-being. He thought it was over the first time, and he thought it was over now and somehow, I would suddenly turn back the clock and happen upon the Joe Cartwright of old. “It’s not over, Pa. Don’t you understand? I need morphine.”

“Joe, listen—“

“No, Pa. You listen.” I began to pace the room, but I stopped and leaned firmly on the table behind the settee. “Adam thinks it’s over. Two days without morphine and I’m cured. Well, I have news for you and everyone else. It’s not that simple, Pa. There’s no magic cure.”

Pa stood and walked toward me, and when he reached out, I turned my back. My father’s words of wisdom weren’t going to work this time; words weren’t the cure to the fix I was in. I was in too deep; I knew that, so why the hell didn’t anybody else understand?

“Joseph—”

“Pa, I’m sorry. I’m not the son you hoped for. I know I’m a disappointment, and I’ve brought shame to this family, and I’ll be leaving in the morning. I’m sorry. That’s all I have to say.”

I ran from the room and left my father without the answers he deserved. I climbed the stairs and flopped back on my bed. The room was dark, but lighting a lamp seemed a waste of time. I was tired, and my shoulder ached, but unlike the rest of me, my shoulder would eventually heal. I was broken, and there was no clear fix.

I lay in the dark until I heard my brothers come back inside the house and close their bedroom doors. By now, Hoss knew everything. Adam had no choice but to fill him in on the reason for our extended stay at the line shack. My long-kept secret had left a gaping hole between the rest of the family and me.

I never should’ve come home, I should have been firm with Adam and, if I’d had more sense, I would have opted for a better route and taken the other fork in the stream. Tomorrow I’d pack my bags, and maybe get a room in town until I could decide what to do or where to go. Home wasn’t where I needed to be; anywhere but home suited me just fine.

I stood and walked to my window, lifting the sash so I could breathe in the cool night air. Below, in the darkness, highlighted by moonlight, was my father’s silvery hair. With his arms stretched across the top rail of the corral, he scuffed the toe of his boot back and forth through the loose dirt. I couldn’t see his face although he was leaning heavily, staring down at the small swirls of dust he created.

Never once had my family given up on me. Hoss searched day and night until he found me in that old, abandoned mine. Ranch work was put aside; nothing else mattered to my big, oversized brother except knowing I was safe at home. And Adam, hounding me to stay strong so I could beat this thing, not for him, not so his life could go on, but because he didn’t want to stand by and watch me die. Maybe he was being selfish, but somehow his words struck home.

Of course, Pa said all the right things and did all the right things, but I never really listened. I chose to hear only certain words, not their true meanings but in Pa’s case, the words came straight from his heart. “Talk to me, Joseph.” I turned my back on my father. I turned my back to everyone who wanted to help.

Then, I remembered Scarface and the reason this whole mess came about. Pa had sent the good doctor to prison, and he was determined to return and ruin the six men who’d served on the jury. I’d always blamed him for my addiction; I failed to take responsibility for my selfish actions. But suddenly it hit me like a ton of bricks. If I failed to turn my life around, I wasn’t the only one to lose the game. My father would lose also, meaning there was only one winner—Scarface.

Gently closing the sash, not wanting to wake my brothers, I turned from my window and silently made it down the stairs and out the front door. I needed to speak with my father.

No one in my family shed tears like I did, but tonight Pa’s shoulders trembled; his sobbing and ragged breathing were due to the angry words I’d thrown in his face. He hadn’t heard the door close or even my footfalls on the wooden porch, but when I touched his shoulder, I startled him and quickly, he stood to full height.

“Pa?”

My father’s grip tightened on the railing, and he remained steadfast. I knew for a fact that he didn’t want to look at me, much less talk to me after what I’d said, but in the shadowed moonlight, I saw worry lines built into my father’s face. I had interrupted a private moment and I hesitated, giving him a chance to recover.

“Forgive me, son.” His voice was soft, but I heard the words even though he couldn’t or wouldn’t face me. But his words were all wrong. I’m the one who came to apologize. I’m the one who was ripping this family apart.

Pa turned toward me, but I didn’t have a speech to give, and I wouldn’t make promises I couldn’t keep. I only came to … I don’t know exactly why I came but I knew for certain, I couldn’t go on without my father’s love. “Forgive? I don’t understand.” This was crazy talk. “No, Pa.” I shook my head “You’re wrong.”

“Am I?”

“Pa, you’re not making any sense.”

My father’s hand came to rest on my good shoulder. “Don’t you see, son? When a child enters this world, it’s a father’s duty to protect; just like all of God’s creatures, our job is to use any measure possible or go to any extreme within our power to keep that child safe from harm.”

“But, Pa …”

“Joseph, I’ve failed you in so many ways.”

This conversation had turned south, and whatever I’d planned to say was all turned around in my head. “This isn’t your fault, Pa. None of this is your fault.”

My father remained stoic; his face had softened, and deep brown eyes stared down at mine, and, with the patience of a saint, his eyes begged me to continue.

“I wasn’t strong. I was weak, and I chose the drug over . . . over everything else, Pa, over my family, over my friends, even over Jess. I let Jesse run off and marry that two-bit preacher.”

Suddenly, my stomach seized, hitching my breath like a blow to the gut. Still bound by the properties of morphine, the tireless cramping nearly bent me in half. Pa reached out, and I held fast to his wrist until the restricting hold finally passed.

“Son?”

“It’s gone,” I said, my breath still catching as I spoke. “I’m okay now.” I slowly straightened and nodded my head as I forced a half-baked smile. “What I’m trying to say is Jesse could have been my wife. She loved me, Pa, and I let her go. I let everyone down, especially you. It’s you who needs to forgive me, not the other way around.”

Pa looked tired; his red-rimmed eyes cautioned me I’d said enough, maybe too much. I’d yelled at my father and begged forgiveness all in one night, but that’s how my emotions had settled in through this process. Adam would call me volatile, maybe even dangerous, and Hoss would shake his head and say I’d always acted this way.

I smiled at Pa for real this time. “Maybe we can start fresh tomorrow.”

Pa forced a smile of his own. We had a lot to talk over, to resolve and, if possible, leave our regrets behind. Forget apologies; tomorrow would come soon enough, and maybe we could start from scratch, one day at a time.

I stood in front of my father, wanting to close out the night with thoughtful words, words that carried weight. But Pa took me in his arms and pulled me tight to his chest. The rhythm of his heartbeat proved this was my home, and this was where I belonged. No matter what I did to destroy my life or how much I hurt my family in the process, there was always one thing I could count on—my father’s love.

The End

The next story in this series: – Betrayal #3

~A MATTER OF TRUST~

by jfclover

I was tempted to seek out Archibald Alexander, the mighty healer of the sick and maimed.  My life had become more frantic as days progressed, and if coffee had been a magic cure, I’d have been a new person by now.  I drank cup after cup to combat my anxiety the week after I’d returned from the cabin, but it only worsened my symptoms, causing havoc with my everyday life.  Demons visited often when I slept, and exhaustion was a daily curse I fought during daylight hours.

Without morphine, my entire life was muddled and barely worth the effort to venture through another day, but my father thought it best that I follow a normal routine.  Although mornings were the worst, dressing, shaving, even running a brush through my hair tested the boundaries of my sanity.  I was far from pleasant; I belittled anyone who made a comment or asked a stupid question, and there were plenty of stupid questions. 

“How do you feel, son?”

“I’m fine,” I lied every morning at breakfast.  What was I supposed to say?  Gee, Pa.  Isn’t the world a wonderful place?  I’m so happy to be alive.  I could barely dress after my body seized up on me and restricted every move I tried to make.  My hands shook so badly I cut myself twice trying to shave my damn face.

My father expected too much.  Living in his world without morphine was a grueling effort.  I wasn’t becoming healthier, and knowing my symptoms were only enhancing as the days progressed, I feared the worst.  But Pa wanted me cured, restored to the days of happy-go-lucky Little Joe Cartwright.  I was far from restored to anything.

““`

When Pa and I had returned to the house the night I’d come clean about my addiction, a lamp had been left burning by my father’s chair, but the room was empty.  My brothers had gone upstairs, leaving Pa and me the time we needed to sort things out.  I assumed Adam had told Hoss the whole miserable story, saving me from having to explain exactly what went on in the cabin.  I hoped Adam was gentle and didn’t reveal everything.  There were times when a man’s actions were best left untold. 

Pa and I talked late into the night.  At first, I hesitated, but I finally told my father a couple of shots of whiskey would help steady my nerves and make the telling easier.  He was reluctant although he honored my request, choosing brandy instead.

“Guess I could use a drink too, son.”

Adam had been right.  Pa blamed himself for not knowing what was taking place under his own roof.  Apologies were frequent and heartfelt.  Although deeply shaken by what I’d revealed, my father kept implying it was his fault, not mine.  He’d known men whose lives had been controlled by too much laudanum or alcohol, but he’d never once thought it was a possibility within his own family.  “I thought it was over, Joseph.  I confess I’d put Davis and the kidnapping out of my mind long ago.” 

Dr. David Davis was aware of the effects of morphine.  He knew the consequences.  He knew that constant use of the drug could rip a family apart.  Not only would I suffer, but my family would also suffer, and that had been his intention all along.  Bringing my father to ruins, watching his slow decline was the doctor’s primary goal.  He couldn’t compete with Ben Cartwright’s wealth, holdings, or power within the community, but he could destroy the closeness we’d always shared as a family.

Pa searched for answers while I tried to hold my own as the evening progressed.  I tried to take blame but as the night wore on, we came to a mutual understanding.  By midnight, we’d blamed the good doctor, setting ourselves free and looking for a way to move forward.

“Is it over?” 

I wasn’t sure whether to be honest with Pa or not and when I hesitated, he knew the answer.  “I want to say it’s over,” I said, forcing my mind in the right direction.  “I want to say I’ll never give myself another injection, but I can’t make that promise.”  

My answer hit Pa hard.  He was speechless, and while I watched him nervously work his fingers, I wanted to change my answer and tell him what he wanted to hear, instead, I said nothing at all.

“It’s late, Joe.  We best turn in.”

““`

Pa’s cure to most problems he couldn’t solve with words was hard work.  “Hard work cleanses the soul and lifts the spirit.”  I’d heard the saying before, and as the three of us headed out to work several days after we’d returned home from my weekend of hell, I heard those same words again.

I had been given a few days to rest up and pull myself together after Adam explained to Pa my ordeal at the cabin.  I drew the shade in my room and slept off and on.  I had no energy and no real desire to get out of bed.  Pa woke me when it was time to eat—three squares a day—but my appetite had vanished, and it was slow to return.  Just the sight or smell of food caused my stomach to revolt and quickly, I grabbed the bowl, once again feeling the effects of life without morphine.

There were times I apologized to my father for not being the son he’d always hoped for.  Other times, I begged him to go away, get out of my room, and leave me the hell alone.  I shivered constantly, crawling under heavy quilts only to throw them off minutes later.  Everyone thought they had the right to walk in and out of my room at any time day or night, and the constant interruptions nearly drove me insane.  I was fighting invisible after-effects, and I was tired of being put on display.

On rare occasions, when I ventured outside to the corral or the barn, my legs nearly gave way after only a few minutes of standing around doing nothing.  Pa wasn’t pleased with my progress and so his answer, to what he presumed was a simple medical problem, was to have the doctor pull a miracle cure from his little black bag. 

My father sent for Paul Martin.  The doctor had been out once before to check my shoulder wound and at the time, I figured it best to tell him about the injections before I removed my shirt.  I didn’t want anyone else to be as traumatized as my brother had been when he first laid eyes on my arms.  After reporting I was healing up nicely, he’d given Adam high praise for tending the wound so well. 

The doc and I talked for an extended period that day.  He’d asked my father to leave the room so he and I could have a private conversation.  I was greatly relieved by his request.  “I thought this might happen, Little Joe, but when there were no visible signs and no frantic calls from your father, I supposed you’d fared better than I’d expected.”

“I never meant it to go this far, Doc.”

Paul was quick to apologize.  “Oh no, son, I’m not insinuating any of this was your fault.  No one’s to blame but the man who did this to you.  After weeks of being forced to take the drug, it only makes sense that you were bound to run into this kind of trouble when the morphine was withdrawn.  I will say this, though,” Paul said as an afterthought.  “I wish you’d come to your father or me before you started … self-medicating.”

“Self-medicating?”

“That’s what you’ve been doing, isn’t it?”

“Yeah … I guess.”

“So, tell me this?  How are you feeling now?”

Although it was a viable question, and there was nothing funny about the situation, I chucked anyway.  “Besides horrible?”

The doctor grinned.  “Yes.”

“I’m tempted to ride into Chinatown every waking hour, Doc.”

Paul understood my need for morphine, but he let that part go.  “I want more than “horrible,” Joe.  Tell me what feels horrible, what are your symptoms?”

“Everything,” I said, trying to hold back the endless flow of tears that had also become part of my new life.  “Where do I begin?”

Paul said nothing; he sat forward in the chair and waited for me to continue.

“Okay, the constant roaring in my ears for starters.  The headaches.  My stomach cramps so hard that I have to curl up like a baby in this bed until it finally calms down enough that I can straighten out my legs and lay there like a normal person.  I can barely stand the smell of food and if I try to eat, I lose most of it anyway.  I’m tired all the time and … on occasion, I’m a bit disagreeable.”  A smile crossed Paul’s face at my last remark, and I knew Pa had filled him in on the worst scenarios.  “Want me to go on?” 

“Well, I figured as much, and I’m sorry, Joe.  Sorry it has to be this way.  But, what I will say is there will be an end to all this misery if you continue to do exactly as you’re doing now.”

“That’s a big if, Doc.”

“I want you to come see me twice a week.  Can you do that?  Can you sit a horse and ride to town?”

“Why?  You don’t trust me?  Is that what this is all—”

Paul held his hand up to stop my sudden reaction.  “This isn’t about trust, Joe.  This is about making sure you regain your health.  Little things like a strong heartbeat, clear eyes, energy, and an increased appetite.  I want to keep track of your headaches.  I want you to be able to eat a decent meal and keep it down.”

Carrying on a simple conversation with the doctor drained all the energy I had.  I wanted to crawl back in bed and sleep.  “Will I ever feel normal again?”

Paul sighed and shook his head.  “From what I’ve read in the most current medical journals, doctors are beginning to discover morphine is a much more addictive drug than they first understood it to be.  Since a needle is used rather than mixing a powder or using laudanum a spoonful at a time, morphine hits the system much faster and more aggressively.  Don’t get me wrong, son, morphine is a miracle drug.  In the right hands, it’s a very impressive painkiller, although now they’re finding when the drug is administered over a lengthy period, the patient suffers a different type of trauma when the drug is taken away.”

“I know all that, Doc.  It’s called craving, but how long will the craving last?  When will I make it through the day like a normal person?”

“I wish I had an answer, Joe, but I don’t.  It takes time.”

Paul didn’t have any magic cure like my father had hoped for.  Time was the only answer he could give, and when he closed his bag and left my room, I walked to the end of the hall and listened from the top of the stairs while he and my father had their own private conversation.

“Morphine isn’t a new drug, Ben, but we don’t know all the facts about its powers of dependence.  The studies are just now coming out.  From what I’ve read, and from the way Joe talks about his experience and his overwhelming desire to keep taking the drug, it appears to be much more addictive than doctors and scientists initially realized.”

Nothing new, I’d heard all that before.  I was so tired that I was tempted to go back to my room, but I remained hidden, leaning heavily against the wall, and heard the doctor out.

“What are you saying?”  Pa asked.  “When will this ever end?”

There was a lengthy pause, but I didn’t dare show my face while I was eavesdropping on their conversation. 

“What this all boils down to is the boy may be addicted for life.  If he starts injecting himself again, I’m afraid it will kill him.  He’ll need more and more morphine to make it through each day.  That’s what addiction is all about, Ben.  Do you understand what I’m saying?”

I couldn’t hear if Pa said anything in reply, and there was a prolonged silence until Paul continued.

“I’m afraid what Joe is fighting now is a deep depression.  He doesn’t feel well; he doesn’t know if he’ll ever feel normal again.  What the boy needs is to get back to work and out of that darkened room where he’s shut himself away from the rest of the world.”

That’s all I needed to hear.  Paul hadn’t been completely honest with me, but he was laying it all out for Pa.  Maybe it was a trust issue after all—a pact he’d made with my father. 

What no one knew, and what Adam hadn’t mentioned or perhaps forgot, was I still had my little black bag.  I still had morphine tucked under my mattress.  And though I prayed every day for strength to leave it alone, if I wasn’t strong, if I couldn’t go another day, I knew what I had to do.

““`

By nature, Pa went with the doctor’s advice, and the following morning he sent the three of us out to round up steers before we moved the herd to their new pasture.  Today was my first day back to work.  I was the son of a rancher, and this is what a rancher’s son did.  I was genuinely surprised by how good it felt to sit a saddle and run Cochise as I’d always done before.  I’d only been away from work for a week but a week ago, I was a completely different person.  I wouldn’t even venture to guess how long I could last before my body gave way.

“You up for this today?”  Adam asked as we rode side-by-side.

“I think so.  I feel pretty good.”

“That’s good, Joe.  I’ve been worried about you.”

“Me?  Why?”

“Well, with you cooped up in your room all day, I have to admit I was becoming concerned.”

“I dunno.  Guess it’s time I got up and joined the living.”

“I think so, too, but if you need to take a break or head back home just let one of us know.”

My body was far from fit and by mid-morning, my energy was fading, although I managed to keep up with my brothers until we broke for lunch.  After a couple of bites of cold fried chicken, I lay back in the grass and closed my eyes.  Within seconds, I was sound asleep, and by the time Hoss shook my shoulder; the sun had drifted low in the sky.

“What time is it?”  I asked, feeling confused and generally out of sorts.  I sat up, realizing I was dressed, boots and all, and I’d been sleeping, but not in my bed.  There was an unexpected smell of horse dung as a breeze washed across my face.  I’d fallen asleep in a pasture.

“Time to go home, little brother.”

“Go where?”  I couldn’t quite get the facts straight in my head.

“Home.  It’s almost suppertime, Little Joe.”

I blinked a couple of times to clear the webs and comprehend the situation.  “So you sat here all day while I slept away the afternoon?”

“Well … yeah.”

With my senses restored, I realized what was really going on.  “Pa told you not to leave me alone, didn’t he?”

“Aw, Joe.  It ain’t like that.”

“Where’s Adam?”

“He left a while back.  I couldn’t just leave ya here sleepin’, now could I?”

“You coulda woke me up after lunch.”

I stood up, but I rose too quickly.  I was dizzy, and I threw my right hand out to steady myself against the trunk of a tree.  Forgetting my shoulder was far from healed and gave me fits at inopportune moments, pain soared, causing me to cry out in frustration.  So, for immediate gratification, I cursed loudly and kicked the damn tree.

“What’d ya go and do a fool thing like that for?”

“Shut up and leave me alone, Hoss.”

I walked straight toward Cochise mounted and rode toward the house.  I wasn’t a little kid who needed to be watched every minute of the day.  If I couldn’t be trusted, then I didn’t belong on a working ranch.  I told Adam I didn’t want Pa to know, and this was why.  No one would ever trust me again.  I’d be watched day and night now that Doc had told Pa I’d never be fully cured. 

I stabled Cochise, walked straight through the house, and up the stairs to my room.  I barely had my jacket off before there was a light tapping sound at my door.  “Go away,” I hollered.  The door opened anyway.  Why did they bother to knock? 

“You won’t speak to me with that tone of voice, Joseph,” Pa said after he plowed into my room, closing the door behind him.

“Sorry.”

“You don’t sound sorry to me.”

I was angry, and even though I tried to maintain control, I ripped off my hat and threw it toward the only chair.  “Maybe I don’t want to be treated like a five-year-old kid,” I said louder than necessary.

Pa’s hands flew to his hips; his weight held evenly in a solid stance.  “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“It means I don’t need my brothers watching over me all day.  I can take care of myself.”

“You’ve been sick, Joseph,” Pa said, relaxing his arms to his sides.  “You’ve been holed up in this room for nearly a week.”

“I’m not sick, Pa.  I’m an addict.  I always will be according to the doc.  Are you gonna watch over me every day for the rest of my life?”

“If I have to.”

“Then I’m leaving.  I’ll find somewhere else to live.”

“Oh, you will.”

“If I have to.”  I turned away from my father’s icy-cold stare; he knew I meant every word.

“I want you downstairs to supper in five minutes.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Joseph.  It wasn’t a request; it was an order.”

“I’m not hungry,” I repeated slower this time.

“Five minutes.”

Pa walked out of my bedroom before he said something he’d regret.  We were all on edge, and it didn’t take much for me to start an argument over just about anything.  I loosened my gunbelt, letting it drop to the floor before flopping down on my bed.  Living under my father’s roof was no longer an option.  I had to make a change, but what?  Where the heck would I go? 

Pa didn’t wake me for supper.  Clothes and all, I fell asleep where I’d fallen onto the bed.  I woke at some point during the night to find Adam removing my boots and laying a quilt over me.  He never said a word.  It was my brother’s way.

““`

I washed and changed my shirt, nothing new or unusual about that except I made it through the simple morning routine without my stomach seizing or my hands trembling like willows in the wind.  I was the last one to sit down at the breakfast table.  Nothing unusual about that except I wanted to make my own plans for the day.

“I need to ride into town this morning, Pa.”

“Oh?”

I caught Pa glancing at my brothers, and I couldn’t help but wonder what was going through his mind.  “Doc … um … he wants me to ride in twice a week.  You know, check to see if I’m getting any better.”

“I didn’t realize,” Pa said weakly.  “He didn’t mention that the other day.”

“Well, that’s the plan.”

“Why don’t I ride in with you?”

I glared sharply at my father.  Suddenly, we were back into that whole issue of trust and without having to say anything outright, Pa understood my meaning.                                                                       

“All right, Joseph.  Ride in alone.  You might as well check for mail while you’re in town.”

“I will.”

Hoss gave Pa a concerned look; much different than the one I gave only moments ago.  My brother was worried, and his troubled gaze deepened the lines in his face.  He thought my father should be forcing more control and not let me ride to Virginia City alone.  As one last-ditch effort, Hoss asked if I wanted him to ride along with me.  I told him thanks for the offer, but I thought I could manage just fine by myself.

““`

“I’m surprised to see you so soon,” Paul said.  “Are you feeling any better today?”

“Some,” I said, although it was far from the truth.  Each day became harder to get through than the day before, but I didn’t want the doctor running to my father with that kind of information.  “Pa’s got eyes following me day-in and day-out.  You’d think I didn’t have a lick of sense when it came to handling my life.”  Although I found no humor in my last statement, the doctor smiled.

“It’s understandable, Joe.  Your father’s worried about you.  He blames himself, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.  We’ve been all through that.  It’s just … Pa doesn’t understand.”

“Give him time, son.  Your father’s scared.  He almost lost you once, and he’s not about to let it happen a second time.”

I shrugged my shoulders.  “Pa doesn’t trust me anymore.”

Paul hesitated.  The truth hovered like a heavy black cloud; I could feel the walls closing in, and I wanted to bolt from Doc’s office and end this mindless conversation.  “I’ll repeat what I said, Joe.  Your father is worried and scared.  Don’t be too hard on him.  Remember, he’s the only father you’ll ever have.”

The doctor’s words were meaningless to me, and when he finished giving me a lecture on his idea of what my father truly felt, I buttoned my shirt and said goodbye.  Pa wasn’t worried; he was embarrassed I’d brought a drug like morphine into our home.  Under his careful watch, I’d done the unthinkable.  I’d brought disgrace to the family and dishonored my father.  The lack of trust would ruin any relationship we’d ever had.

““`

The steady rhythm of my boot heels against wooden boardwalks gave way when I turned off C Street, making my way through the back alleys leading toward Chinatown.  I questioned whether I was doing the right thing or making another huge mistake.  It wouldn’t be the first time I messed up and the way my heart was pounding, I gave my intentions a second thought.  I was as nervous as I had been the first time I’d ventured into this part of town, asking questions and receiving few answers.

But before I arrived at my destination, the narrow street was filled with a throng of men and women—all of Chinese descent.  More people than I could count poured out through doorways and stood in front of the house of Wong.  All were dressed in their native attire, their palms pressed together and their eyes contacting no one.

I would’ve asked what was happening but as a white man, I was in the minority.  Let’s just say I was the only white man overlooking the growing crowd, a crowd who appeared to be standing in some sort of silent vigil.  I felt out of place, and the last thing I wanted to do was draw attention.  Slowly, I backed down the street and into an adjoining alleyway leading back to the main part—the white part—of town.

“Hey, Little Joe.”

I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard my name called.  “Sheriff—” I fought to steady my breath.  Roy Coffee was the last person I wanted or needed to see.

“Whatcha doin’ down here in Chinatown?”

“I … um, came to see a friend.”

“What’s goin’ on?”  Roy asked, after seeing the crowd lining the street.  “Some kinda weddin’ or a funeral?”

“I’m not sure.  Everyone’s kinda quiet so maybe a funeral.”

“You’re probably right … about the funeral, I mean.”

“Yeah, I was just heading to the post office,” I said, anxious to get away.  I still had to pick up the mail or Pa would have my hide.

“Tell your pa he needs to come see me so I can beat the pants off him at cribbage.  You know, he ain’t no good at that game.  Bet I’ve made more money off Ben than anyone else I know.”

“I’ll tell him,” I said with a quick wave goodbye as I stepped up onto the boardwalk.  Leave it to Roy Coffee to start yammerin’ about something unrelated as soon as you tell him you have somewhere else to go.

“Oh—Little Joe,” he said, calling me back just as I’d thought I’d made a clean getaway.  “I ran into Art Peterson this mornin’.”

I was in no mood for any of Roy’s stories about the Petersons.  That part of my life was over, and I’d moved on though I would always regret my foolish mistakes.  Jesse had married a traveling preacher, and God knows I didn’t want to hear the happy couple was starting a family or … or anything else.  If they were moving back to Virginia City, I couldn’t just stand around and watch.  I’d be forced to leave although I wanted to run away now; I forced myself to stand still and listen to what Roy had to say.

”Well, Art and his wife, Lillian, received a wire from the preacher, Alexander’s his name if I remember right.  You remember the preacher, don’t ya, Little Joe?”

“I remember.”  How could I possibly forget the day my life changed forever; the day I rode past Jesse’s house and straight into Chinatown to buy my first vial of morphine?

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news cuz I remember you used to be kinda sweet on that little gal, but it seems Jesse come down with the typhus.  I guess the preacher come down with it, too, but he managed to beat it somehow.  Jesse didn’t, son.  I’m afraid she didn’t make it.  Art’s drivin’ a wagon down as soon as possible to bring her body …”

As I stared over Roy’s shoulder at nothing, the landscape became murky and gray while the sheriff continued his long-winded recollection of this morning’s conversation with Jesse’s father.  His words became a babbling blur, a never-ending stream of meaningless words.  Let the memories of the golden-haired love of my life rest in peace.  I may have cut him off mid-sentence when I turned and walked away.

““`

I rode Cochise hard.  I met up with my brothers on the south road, and we rode back to the house together.  Although they talked about their morning, chasing strays, I didn’t mention Jess.  I didn’t say anything at all; I just rode—mindless and numb.  The possibility Jess might someday return always lingered deep in my mind.  “Things didn’t work out with the preacher,” she’d say.  Then, I’d ask her to be my wife, and all those late-night fantasies—Jess lying beside me, touching, caressing—would come true.  Nothing but silly dreams, but they were all I had.  I’d kept the dream alive for so long and now, along with the dream, Jess was gone forever. 

“Got the last of them strays this mornin’,” Hoss said as we walked out of the barn.  “We can start movin’ ‘em out tomorrow if that’s what Pa wants.”

“I’m sure he will,” Adam said to Hoss, but he was looking at me.  “You up for riding out with us tomorrow, Joe?  We could sure use an extra pair of hands.”

“I’m up for it.  Why wouldn’t I be?  That’s what we do, isn’t it?  We move cattle from one place to another, and then we move them back again.  Don’t take much of a man to do that?”

Hoss turned his attention to me.  “What’s eatin’ ya, little brother?”

“Nothin’.  Nothin’ at all.”

Although I kept walking, I saw Adam grab Hoss’ arm; a sign he needed to back off.  I walked into the house alone, and after leaving my gunbelt and hat by the front door; I headed straight for the stairs.  I wanted to be alone.  I wanted to dream one more time.

“Little Joe?”

Not now, Pa, not now.  I sighed overloud and stopped in front of Pa’s desk.  “What?”  I said without much enthusiasm.

“How was your visit with Paul?”

“I’ll live.”

Pa stood from his chair and walked around to the front of the desk.  “Something the matter?”

“No.”

“Did you pick up the mail?”

I dropped my head and then looked up at Pa.  “I’m, sorry.  I forgot.”

“Well, no problem.  I’ll ride in later.”

“Can I go now?” 

I didn’t wait for an answer. 

““`

Jesse lay next to me on our deep feather bed.  Our lives together—our marriage had been blessed by God and both of our families.  I loved my wife and she loved me.  Nothing in this life would ever destroy the bond we had with each other.

As I reached out across our bed, I cried silently, feeling deep despair for what should have been.  I embraced her remains—a skeleton—white and cold.  Her golden-blonde hair was matted and caked with earthly debris; her pale, silky skin turned to dust.  No eyes to light up when she saw me, only a deep hollow void where hazel once sparkled with the joy of life.  No lips to touch, to kiss, to love …

I woke, cold and shivering, even though I was wrapped in a heavy, winter quilt.  The pain of Jesse’s death hung over me, crushing me, and leaving me empty inside.  As I curled into myself, I realized my life meant nothing.  I’d made my choice long ago; the choice had not been Jess. 

I tried my best.  I tried to be strong, but living this day-to-day life was fast becoming a losing battle.  Nothing mattered.  I’d failed Jesse: I’d failed my father and brothers.  I couldn’t pretend to be the honorable son or the decent brother everyone expected.  I hadn’t promised Pa.  I hadn’t promised anyone I’d never use the drug again, and as much as Adam praised me and encouraged me to stay strong, I just couldn’t imagine this life of hell any longer.  I rolled to the edge of the bed, slipped my hand under the mattress, and reached for the little black bag. 

After settling my back against the headboard, I pulled out the items inside.  My hands trembled.  My body ached with anticipation; relief was only moments away.  I released the little tie that opened the bag, removed the syringe and vile, and then stared at each item I laid on the quilt.  My eyes began to tear and I blinked repeatedly, knowing these were the last tears I would ever shed.  I uncapped the needle and eased the tip into the vile, loading twice the normal amount.  I rolled up my sleeve and straightened my right arm.

Tears fell as I touched the tip to the crook of my arm.  I should have said goodbye; I should have done a lot of things differently, but the end was in sight.  No more pain, no more hell on earth—

“JOE!”

I jerked my head toward the sound of my brother’s voice as he barreled into my room, grabbing the needle from my hand and throwing it to the floor, crushing its contents with the heel of his boot.

“NO!”  I sobbed.  “Adam, no.”

“This isn’t the answer.”

“Oh, God.  Yes, it is.”  I covered my face with my hands and turned away from my brother.

“Why, Joe?  Why after all this time?”

“It just is.” 

“Why?”  Adam shouted, grabbing hold of my chin and forcing me to look up at him.

“Because I killed her.”

“Killed who?”

“Jesse’s dead.”  My brother was silent, but I saw the look on his face.  He knew I was guilty just as I knew it myself.  “I let her go, and now she’s dead.  Don’t you see?  It’s my fault; everything’s my fault.” 

“How is Jesse’s death your fault?  Tell me, Joe.  I don’t understand?”

“She didn’t love him, Adam.  She didn’t love the preacher; she loved me, and I let her go.”

“Listen to me,” Adam said, squaring my shoulders to face him head-on.

I was spent.  I stared across my room but at nothing.  I even failed at death.  Why, when life was so hard, did Adam force me to go on?  The roaring in my ears was louder now; it filled the room, canceling out any other sounds.  My hands lay limp in my lap, but my brother’s voice broke through the raging river.

“You beat this once, Joe.  Don’t let something you had no control over affect the rest of your life.”

“But I loved her, Adam.  I love her still.”  I turned away again.  I wanted to believe my brother’s words.  I wanted to be strong, but as soon as Adam let go of my shoulders, I rolled to my side, away from my brother, away from the world where I was forced to remain whether I wanted to or not. 

“Will you come downstairs with Hoss and me?”

“No.  Just leave, Adam.”

“I’m not leaving you up here by yourself.  Pa’s still in town; he’s probably having supper with Roy, but Hoss has whipped up something for the three of us to eat.”

I rolled back to face Adam.  “Why’s Pa in town?”

“He rode in to get the mail a couple of hours ago, and he’s not back yet.”

“Please, Adam.  Please don’t tell Pa.  He doesn’t need to know about this.”

“Joe,” Adam pleaded.  “Pa needs to know; you know that as well as I do.  He’ll help you through this, you know he will.”

“No, Pa won’t understand,” I begged like a child.  “Besides, it’s over, and I’m fine now so just let it go.”

Adam sat down on the edge of my bed.  “Why won’t you listen to Pa?  What’s he done to upset you so much that the two of you can’t talk anymore?  You’ve always been able to work things out.” 

“I don’t know,” I said.  “It’s not just Pa.  It’s everything.”

 “Have you talked to Paul Martin about any of this?”

“Any of what?  Paul said I’m fine.”

“I don’t think you are.”

I felt anger rise within.  “So you’re a doctor now, too?” 

I was mad.  I pushed Adam aside, climbed out of bed, and crossed the room, distancing myself from my brother.  As I flattened the palm of my hand against the windowpane, the glass was still warm, even though the sun would be setting soon.  I’d be alive to witness another sunrise tomorrow.  I was so close, so close to ending the pain. 

Adam walked up behind me, but he remained silent.  I remembered my dream, and my body suddenly trembled at the eerie sight of Jess’ dead body, lying beside me.  “I thought someday she’d come back to me.  I always dreamed of the day we’d finally be together.”

Our reflections showed on the glass panes.  Adam was gazing out the window just as I was.  My eyes became unfocused as I remembered another time when Jess stood on her parent’s front porch, waving to me as I drove into the yard.  Hugging tightly to my arm I raced the buggy to our special meadow, hoping for a kiss or two before day’s end.

“I’m tired, Adam.  I just need to sleep.”  I realized my brother’s hesitation.  He didn’t want to leave me alone.

“Why don’t I sit with you for a while?”

I was too tired to care.  I crossed the room and lay down on the bed.  It didn’t matter if Adam stayed or if he went downstairs to eat with Hoss.  I didn’t know whether I’d gotten through to him about Pa, but what did it matter? 

Adam covered me with the quilt.

““`

I’d just closed my eyes when Pa burst into my room.  His rigid stance and blaring voice, “Joseph,” brought me from lying belly down on my bed to bolting upright and finding his silhouette blocking the dim, hallway light.  My father had one hand gripping the doorknob, the other flat against the wooden frame, and before he relaxed his unyielding position, my brothers flanked him on either side. 

“What?”  I said, running my hand through my hair and adjusting my eyes to the dim light.

Pa turned to Adam and Hoss.  “Will you give us a minute alone?”

“But, Pa …” Hoss began.

My shoulders fell forward; I shook my head in disbelief.  Leave it to Adam to run straight to Pa.  I glared at my brother, who I thought I could trust but no, he’d ventured behind my back and told my father everything about this afternoon.  For a moment, Adam’s eyes met mine before turning to leave, dragging a concerned Hoss with him.  But my eyes remained on Pa, still unsure what to think about this sudden outburst.

My father crossed the room and pulled the chair up close to my bed.  He was a man on a mission, and there was no small talk.  He jumped right in with his accusations.

“I had supper with Roy,” Pa said.  “He mentioned he’d seen you.”

“Yeah, we talked.”

“He mentioned something quite disturbing.”

“He told you?”  I fell back against the headboard.  Hadn’t I thought enough about Jess for one day?  Now Pa was going to bring it all up again, and here I’d blamed Adam.  Guess I’d been a little too hasty to accuse but why the tone of voice?  Why did Pa sound so mad?  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Well, I do.”

Where was the sympathetic look I expected to see?  Where was the understanding, the words that would smooth things over and shed some light on my future now that Jesse was gone?  Pa’s eye bore into mine as though it was my fault she was dead.  Adam had tried to assure me, but it was obvious Pa thought otherwise.

“Why you were in Chinatown?”

“Chinatown?” 

“Yes, Joseph, Chinatown.”

“It’s none of Roy Coffee’s business to tell you what I do or where I choose to go.”

“Do you care to explain?”

I nearly laughed.  I knew exactly what Pa was thinking, but that wasn’t the case at all.  “It’s not what you think.”

“Then maybe you could tell me what I should think, Joseph.  What else could there possibly be that would lead you to that part of town?”

“Not now, Pa.”  I rolled to my side.  I’d gone to visit a friend, to see Mei, but the funeral got in the way.  Let him think whatever he wanted.  There would be no discussion, and if my comings and goings bothered my father then so be it.  Right now, I couldn’t care less.

“He also told me about Jesse Peterson.”

I closed my eyes; I didn’t want to go there again.  “There’s nothing more to talk about, Pa.  She married the preacher, and now she’s dead.”

“Joseph— there’s plenty to talk about.”

“Please, Pa …”

I wasn’t facing my father, but it wasn’t hard to hear the scraping of chair legs or listen to him close the door after he walked out of my room.  I was fooling myself if I thought Pa would ever trust me again.  Although he tried to smooth things over, just the mention of Chinatown had put him in such a state of anger; our lives would never be the same again. 

““`

Melancholy settled throughout our home, leaving a stillness; an eerie silence where once there was laughter and a sense of family.  Pa and I avoided each other; in fact, I spoke to no one.  The four of us behaved as strangers, all functioning separately but forced to live under one roof. 

Most days I kept to myself, and maybe it was only my imagination that caused me to feel the way I did, but I didn’t know if I could remain where I wasn’t wanted, needed, or trusted.  I did exactly as I was told, and I stayed out of everyone’s way as much as possible.  I visited the doc just like he’d asked then returned home and reported to Pa although that was the beginning and end of our conversations.  Adam and Hoss stayed clear of me and my sullen mood most of the time.  I couldn’t blame them.  I wasn’t much fun to be around.

I hadn’t been back to Chinatown to visit Mei; Jesse’s death consumed me.  I knew I should ride over to the Peterson’s and extend my condolences, but just the thought of seeing Mrs. Peterson or little Johnny’s face was not an option.  I wasn’t strong enough.  Not now, maybe never.

Since the day Adam burst into my room, I hadn’t reached for my little, black bag.  What my brother hadn’t realized at the time, I’d learned to always keep a backup, just in case.  I was making it through each day.  Some days even seemed close to normal or at least what I remembered normal to be.  Pa never mentioned Chinatown again, although I often wondered if he had people, he considered friends out watching my every move.

Pa and I had lost our way.  If we were in the same room, we argued.  It didn’t matter how the discussion started, it always ended up the same.  By the end of the day, I was exhausted.  Generally, I’d skip supper and head straight to my room, and I found out weeks later Pa often did the same.  Our lives were in turmoil.  Our lives together were miserable.  No one had an answer, no one had derived a plan that might clear the air and set us back on track.

So, life went on.  Cattle needed moving, fences needed mending, and everything else that materialized on a ranch the size of the Ponderosa needed tending as well.  Instead of settling in, I grew more restless as days and weeks progressed.  I wasn’t happy at home, and I knew I was the cause of everyone else’s unhappiness.  The more I considered the situation, the more I realized I was the one who’d have to leave this house if there was ever to be peace in the family.

““`

I wanted to see Mei once more before I made any permanent decision to give up the life I’d always known.  She’d been kind to me in my desperate state, and she hadn’t looked down on me as a drug addict who only came to purchase morphine.  I assumed the crowd I’d witnessed last time I was there had lined the streets to honor Mei’s uncle, but I was never sure.  If Mr. Wong had died, it was up to Mei and her aunt to earn a decent living.  I rode out before dawn, failing to mention to Pa or my brothers where I was headed.

Pa would imagine the worst.  He’d never understand why I wanted to pursue a friendship with a Chinese girl, especially a drug dealer’s niece.  And if I’d been honest and told him where I was going, there would have been another confrontation, and I didn’t have the strength to fight.

I rapped on the makeshift door of the house of Wong.  Of all the times I’d come to this place, I was more nervous today than on any other occasion.  I stood with my hat in my hands when Mei opened the door.  She palmed her hands and bowed slightly before extending an invitation and letting me inside her home.

“Hello, Mei.”

Again, she palmed her hands and bowed from the waist.  “Mei not see Mr. Joe for long time.”

“No, I guess not.”

“I get,” she said, turning and walking toward the back room.

“No,” I said pointedly.  “I mean … that’s not why I’m here.”

She was confused by my statement.  “No want morphine?”

“No.  I … actually, I came to see you.”  I was more nervous than ever.  Maybe it was wrong to come here after all.  Mei was a Chinese girl, I was a white man, and a white man would never be welcomed in the Chinese community if not invited or not making a purchase of some kind.  “Is your aunt here?”  Maybe my visit required a chaperone.

Mei bowed her head.  “Aunt no want live after uncle die.”

“So … you’re all alone now?”  Mei took a step back.  I saw fear in her eyes, and I realized I’d frightened her.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean—“

“No want morphine?”  Again, she questioned the purpose of my visit.

“No,” I said softer this time.  “I don’t use morphine anymore, at least not today.”  There was an awkward silence, so I hurried to explain.  “I just came to say hello.”  But I thought of this young girl alone, who had to have an income to survive.  “How will you get by?  How will you live?”

“Morphine,” she said like I was a schoolboy dunce.  “I sell morphine.”

“No, no you can’t do that.  It’s too dangerous.”  What was I saying?  Why was she going to listen to me; it was the only way she knew how to survive.

“You need morphine.  Make Mr. Joe happy.”

Maybe Mei wasn’t as young and naive as I originally thought.  She sure wasn’t stupid, and she wasn’t shy about wanting to sell the profitable drug.  I’d heard about opium dens here in Virginia City, and even though they were hidden and not advertised to the public, we all knew they existed in Chinatown. 

But a vial of morphine was different.  It was portable.  A man didn’t have to spend hours smoking opium to obtain that mind-numbing feeling.  I remember Pa talking to Adam one night.  I was eavesdropping—something I had to do if I ever wanted to know anything that occurred in the adult world—and Pa was telling my brother what Roy Coffee had said about so many dens cropping up throughout the area.

“The dens are growing in number,” Roy told Pa during a private conversation and Pa repeated what the sheriff said to my older brother.  “You know as well as I do, Adam, Roy has no jurisdiction over that part of the city.”  I listened for a good, long time to understand what they were talking about.

“Roy’s becoming concerned,” Pa continued.  “Opium’s the decline of any decent, hard-working man.”  Adam looked unsure, and Pa kept explaining.  “The larger problem is these men return day after day until their businesses falter and everything they’ve worked for their entire life is in ruin.”

“So, what’s Roy planning to do?”

“That’s the problem, son.  Roy has no control over the Chinese, and he can’t arrest a man who insists on destroying his life.”

I learned a little about opium that night.  I learned Pa, Adam, and Roy thought an opium den was a bad thing.  I was fourteen years old when I overheard their late-night conversation, and I came to understand my father regarded opium as one of the evils of society.  Never in my wildest dreams did I consider that, only a few years later, I would fall victim to morphine, which I gathered was not much different from the pleasure men derived from opium.  It was faster, maybe more powerful.  I didn’t know.

“You want share tea?  I make.”  Mei asked after a prolonged silence.

“Yes.  That would be nice.”

We sat down at the same lacquered table Mei had directed me to that Sunday morning so long ago.  I could almost imagine the warmth and overall calm morphine provided during my near collapse after church services.  Along with the tray of tea and two small, hand-painted cups, she brought a small vial and a brand-new syringe.  “For Mr. Joe,” she said, before bowing and setting the tray on the low table.

As tempted as I was, and as my heartbeat rose in anticipation, I said no to Mei.  Maybe we couldn’t be friends after all.  Maybe I was just another paying customer, and she needed to make sure I continued that way.

“I’m sorry, Mei,” I said, reaching for her hand.  “I don’t want the morphine.  I thought maybe we could be friends.  Do you understand what I’m saying?  No morphine.”

“Friends?”

“Yes.”

“But … you not Chinese.  You white man.”

“Yes, I am, but I still think we could be friends.”

“What about elders?  Not right Mr. Joe and Mei be friends.”

“Elders?  You have no family left.  If you don’t want me here just say so.”

Mei shook her head.  “Mr. Joe no understand.  Mei must do right by honorable elders.  Would be disgrace if she not collect money for purchase from Mr. Joe.  All eyes on Mei to prove worthy.”

I wasn’t sure what to say, but I understood her meaning.  I was an intruder in this community.  I was only good for the money I could provide.  “I understand.”

“Elders must think you come for morphine.  Then Mr. Joe and Mei be secret friends.”

A smile hinted at the corners of her mouth, and I smiled back at the girl who’d quickly worked everything out in her mind.  She needed to show the elders, whoever they were, that I was a customer, not just a friend.  I pulled eight dollars from my wallet; the amount I paid her uncle.  “Here,” I said, laying the bills on the table.

Mei looked down at the vial of morphine.  “You want?”

“No, but I wouldn’t want to upset the elders.”

“Not right.”

“It’s okay.  I don’t want any trouble.”

“Mr. Joe very generous man.”

I had a handle on how the process worked.  Mr. Wong worked for someone higher up who’d supplied him with the drug, and now Mei had stepped in and taken over the business.  No income would be lost, and she could take over her uncle’s role if she showed a profit at the end of the day.  “One more thing. You need to drop the Mister.  It’s just Joe.”

“Just Joe.”

“Joe,” I said, chuckling slightly.

“Oh, I get.”  She smiled.  “Joe.”

“Right.”

Again, I was graced by her smile, timid, but they’re all the same.  “I better go,” I said.  “You be careful and—don’t let strangers in the house.” 

I remembered Pa’s words when he’d leave on business trips.  I was just a kid but so was Mei, and I hoped she wasn’t in over her head.  I rose from the ornate pillow I’d used for a chair.  Mei stood too.  She bowed slightly and without thinking, I reached out for her hand.  Sensing fear, she backed away.  The gold flecks, which had danced in her eyes only moments ago, were gone.  “Mei,” I said softly.  “I’m sorry.  I never meant to dishonor you in any way.”

She didn’t respond.  I’d frightened her.  I picked up my hat and turned to leave the small, restrictive shanty Mei called home.  My intentions had been honorable, but she saw my friendly gesture as threatening.  I could have kicked myself for not thinking.  Our customs were much different, and I needed to keep that in mind if I chose to return.

““`

It was over three weeks before I summoned the courage to revisit Chinatown.  I’d been to see Paul for my regular checkups, but I’d avoided Mei.  Although I was becoming stronger physically—I’d gained weight, my heartbeat had slowed to within a range Doc was satisfied with—even the roaring in my ears and insufferable stomach cramps were seldom a problem anymore.  But nothing had been resolved at home.

Pa remained distant.  His face had grown hollow and deeply carved lines of unnecessary worry had settled in permanently.  And if he spoke during supper, it was nothing more than the bare minimum.  Even where the ranch was concerned, there seemed to be a loss of interest.  Harmony between the four of us had slipped away.

As I strolled through back alleys, I felt as giddy as a schoolboy.  It was foolish for me to be seen walking casually through Chinatown, but it was the young girl named Mei who kept me coming back.  I needed a friend.  I hoped she did too.

The door opened before I had a chance to knock.  An elderly, gray-haired woman dressed like Mei, wearing black pants and a black shirt buttoned high at the neck, stood with a full, wooden pail. 

“Excuse me. I’m looking for Mei?”

“Mei not see anyone.  Go ‘way.”  The old woman still held the bucket, and from what I could tell, if I didn’t do as she asked, she wouldn’t think twice about throwing its contents at me.

“Mei is my friend,” I pleaded.  “I’d like to visit with her.”

The woman raised the bucket and took aim.  I quickly stepped back, away from her and the entryway.  But somehow, I’d gotten through to the old woman, and she set the bucket down and motioned me to follow.  That’s when I realized the pail was full of human waste.  I was safe for the moment, but I didn’t dare want to offend this woman now that I had been waved inside.

I followed her to the same bed where Mei’s uncle lay dying.  Mei quickly turned her head away when I entered the room.  Her left arm was splinted, but she raised her right hand, trying to cover the cuts and bruises marking her face.  I knelt on my knees and reached for her hand.  One eye was swollen shut.  Her bottom lip was puffy and cracked, while evidence of a knife cut crossed under her chin.

“My God, Mei, who … who did this to you?”  I was so shocked by her appearance that my voice faltered; the simple question was whispered aloud.  And when there was no reply, I looked up at the old woman.  “Who did this to her?”  This time, I spoke with urgency.

Her anger was evident in her reply.  “White man.”

The old woman looked down on me as if I’d been the one who’d attacked Mei.  To her, we were all alike, brutal and uncaring.  I’d seen it so many times before, even the way Hop Sing was often treated by outsiders.  The Chinese had been ostracized since they’d first set foot in this country, but why Mei?

With her eyes still covered, she wouldn’t look up at me.  A tear slipped down her cheek as she tried to keep herself hidden.  I wondered if I looked similar in any way to the man who’d hurt her so badly.  Did we all look the same to a girl like Mei, to the old woman? 

I finally stood, turning my back on the young girl I called friend.  I glared at the old woman, but I kept my voice even.  “Tell me his name?”  

“Not know name.”

“Would you recognize him if you saw him again?”

The old woman looked away.  I knew right then she would never give me the man’s identity, the man who’d beaten and maybe disgraced Mei as only a man could.  What I didn’t realize at the time was the Chinese community would deal with the guilty party in their own way.  They had no need for white man’s sheriff or white man’s law.  I took a step forward, looping my thumbs over my gun belt.  When Mei called out my name, I turned back around and knelt on the floor beside her cot.  “I’m here, Mei.  I’m right here.”

I glanced at the old woman, hoping she’d give us a minute alone, but that was not her intention at all.  Mei reached out with her free hand, which I held between both of mine. 

“Who did this to you?”  I persisted.

Mei’s stare was fixated on the old woman; the man’s name would remain a secret.  I sat with her long enough that the old woman finally figured I was a safe bet and left us alone.  But when she returned, only a few short minutes later, she had a loaded syringe in her hand.

“What’s that?”  I said, turning to face her directly.

The old woman looked down at Mei.

“Oh no, you don’t.  She’s doing just fine without your help.”  The old woman began rattling off words in Chinese.  I stood and grabbed her wrist.  “NO!  Not now, not ever.”

“You want?”

“No, I don’t want, and Mei doesn’t either.  Get out, old woman,” I cried, grabbing the syringe from her hand.  “I’ll take care of her myself.  Now, get the hell out!”

I escorted the old woman to the door and waited until she’d stormed halfway down the alleyway before I walked back to sit with Mei.  I didn’t know who the old gal was or when she’d return or how big a hole I’d dug by acting unfavorably, but I’d held her off for now.  I saw no other choice; I had to protect my friend.

By nightfall, I was prepared for anything or anyone who entered uninvited.  I kept a sharp eye on the door even though I remained sitting on the floor next to Mei.  I’d had her drink tea I brewed myself, and I wiped her face and neck with a cool cloth.  Not only was I in trouble with the old woman and probably the entire Chinese community, but I was in even deeper trouble with my father.  I’d left at sunrise and hadn’t returned.  Yeah … I was in deep for sure.

Pa would be pacing the floor or worse, silent and brooding.  My brothers would reassure him; tell him he needn’t worry, but whichever tactic he found useful, there’d be no peace until I returned home with a darn good explanation.  Even then, the odds were against Pa and me reconciling, no matter what I used as an excuse. 

The link binding my father and me had broken.  Weeks of silence between us had left permanent changes in the way we related to each other.  I felt more like a boarder than part of a family, where love and respect meant everything to me.  Pa and I had been at odds for so long that I didn’t know whether the damage was repairable or not.  We’d pushed each other to limits we’d never had to face before.  We’d disregarded the true value of each other.  As I looked down at Mei, hurting but silent, holding my hand as her only lifeline, I knew this was where I belonged, and where I was needed most.

I missed my father.  I missed what we’d had between us.  Sitting here with Mei, I learned in one night what worrying over someone you felt responsible for was all about.  Maybe I’d been too hard on Pa all along.  I’d said words I can never take back.  All this time I blamed him for not trusting me when all he cared about was my safety—that I remained alive and well—and not end up a casualty of morphine.

I couldn’t conceal my smile, thinking over the action I’d taken when I’d kicked the old lady out of Mei’s house.  I’d become the big brother, the protector, the one in charge of someone else’s existence.  Like Adam, when he saw me through the worst days of my life, it finally clicked inside my head.  Adam felt responsible, just as I did now, just as my father always had and always will.

““`

I sat at Mei’s bedside for two days.  There’d been no interruptions from the outside world, Chinese or otherwise.  She was well enough to sit up, eat, and drink, and before we discussed any plans, she explained the proper way to brew tea.  I listened and I learned, but I learned more than just how to brew a proper cup of tea.  She explained who the old woman was, and she touched on other matters concerning various Chinese customs.

“Mei-Lien is aunt’s brother’s wife.” 

It took me a minute to work the relationship out in my mind.  “What does Mei-Lien’s name mean?”  I asked as we fought boredom while Mei’s body healed.

“Mei-Lien mean beautiful lotus.”

“So, Mei means beautiful?”

“Yes.”

“You are beautiful, but I’m not so sure about Mei-Lien being a beautiful anything.”  Mei smiled.  Whether it was the compliment or what I’d said about Mei-Lien, I wasn’t sure.  “Quite beautiful.”

“Mei accept generous compliment from friend with kind heart.  Friend help Mei live, not die like Mei-Lien want.”

“You’re saying that old woman wanted you dead?”

“Mei bring disgrace to house.  You save Mei from hand of death.  Now must leave house of Wong or face much ridicule and shame.”

“Leave?  But I don’t understand.  Where will you go?”

“Mei-Lien try to save Mei from life she must live now.  Blame white man for death.”

“I’m sorry Mei, but what life?  Why are you better off dead than—“

“Mei dishonored.  Now she sold as slave.  Never marry.  Never have family of own.  Mei-Lien know of such things.  No want see Mei suffer at hand of others.”

I realized now the white man had not only beaten Mei, he’d raped her also, and by no fault of her own, everything in her world had changed.  Maybe deep down I already knew, but I didn’t know the harsh consequences that would follow.  The old woman wasn’t trying to ease Mei’s pain; she planned to end her life with one single injection.  Mei had no one to turn to now, her life was not her own.  “Then you’ll come home with me.”

Mei smiled but shook her head.  “No can go with friend.”

“Yes, you can.”  I stood up from the floor cushion and began pacing the small room.  “If you don’t come with me, they’ll find a way to kill you or sell you as a slave.  I won’t let that happen, Mei.”  Mei bowed her head but said nothing, and again, I knelt on the floor and picked up her hand.  “Please let me help you.  I don’t know about the Chinese, but in the white man’s world, that’s what friends do for each other.”

“You good friend.  You only friend, but I no belong in white man’s world.”

“Okay … how ‘bout this,” I said.  My mind was whirling in a hundred directions, trying to sound convincing even if I had no idea what to do.  “Come to the ranch until we can figure something else out.  You need time to heal.  You need decent food, and you already know I can’t cook; I can’t even make a decent pot of tea.”  Mei was listening, and although I hadn’t quite convinced her this was for the best I kept trying.  “We have a Chinese cook on the Ponderosa.  His name is Hop Sing and he’ll fatten you up, and you’ll be feeling your old self in no time.”

Mei was hesitant and when she finally looked up, her expression gave way to doubt.  “Mr. Joe sure this best?”

“Yes,” I chuckled softly.  “Mr. Joe sure.”

I’d finally gotten through to her.  Now, we just had to find a way out and not be seen leaving Chinatown.  “Think you can sit a horse?”  Mei gave me a questioning look, but I saw no other choice.  “We can ride double.”  Her look remained uncertain.  “You and me.”  I pointed to her and then to myself.  “On the same horse.”

Mei nodded.  “Yes.”

“Good.  Pack what you’ll need to get by, and we’ll leave as soon as it’s dark.”

~~~

I held Mei’s hand, but I had to drag her from her uncle’s house.  She was frightened, and I understood her concern, but we needed to hurry and not be seen traveling together.  We moved from shadow to shadow up dark and narrow alleyways until we made our way to the livery where I’d left Cochise two days ago.  James, the boy who often slept overnight inside the livery, knew me well.  It was late, and I was glad he was awake and had stepped outside for a smoke. 

“Hey, Little Joe,” he said as we approached.

“Hey, James.  I came for Cochise.”

The sandy-haired boy, about fifteen or sixteen, dropped his cigarette to the ground and twisted the sole of his boot until nothing remained of the orange glow.  “I … um, I gave your horse to Hoss, Little Joe.  He … he come in a couple of days back.  Said you’d probably left town, and he took the horse home with him.”

“That’s okay,” I said, knowing he felt embarrassed over his decision to let the horse go.  “Don’t worry about it.”

“I thought you was gonna bust my … oh, excuse me, ma’am.”

I started to smile but thought better of it and quickly changed the subject.  “You got any horses to rent?”

“Sure, I do.  You know, Hoss was askin’ lots of questions, but I didn’t have no answers.  I hope you ain’t mad about me givin’ ‘way your horse.”

“I’m not mad.  I just need a rental and saddle.”

“One for the girl, too?”

“No, she’ll ride with me.”

I seated myself in the saddle and helped Mei up behind me.  She’d brought a small bag with her; I looped it over the horn.  Not knowing if she’d ever sat a horse before, I told her to wrap her arms around me and hang on tight.  As soon as we were out of town, I felt her head, resting between my shoulder blades, and it wasn’t long before she’d fallen asleep.  Slowly, I walked the horse home.

““`

A buttery veil of light illuminated the front porch, a welcome sign; however, my arrival home at this time of night wasn’t one of my best ideas.  I hadn’t left town like everyone assumed, and I’d returned home with a guest—not a normal guest but a female, Chinese guest.  On the other hand, the one thing I excelled at over the years was explaining.

Even though Pa and I had our differences—more now than ever before—my father had always been a firm believer in human rights, and ancestry was never a factor.  Above all, Pa was a fair man when it came to various nationalities, and if I played my card right, he would have no choice but to listen and understand that I had no other choice but to bring Mei here to the Ponderosa.

Before I had a chance to dismount, Hoss came running out the front door and across the porch.  “Joseph!  He shouted.  “Pa, it’s Joe,” he hollered over his shoulder.  “We thought you done took off for good, Little Joe.”

“I need help, Hoss.”

“What?  Who ya got there?”

“I’ll explain in a minute.  Help her down, will you?”

As soon as Hoss reached up, Mei’s arms tightened around my waist, and as her legs stiffened, the rental lunged forward until I reined him in.  “It’s okay, Mei. This is my brother.  He’s kinda big, but he’s a friendly sort.”

“I won’t hurt you none, ma’am.  I promise.”

I glanced down at Hoss, and when Mei finally loosened her grip, she let my brother help her down, and by the time I had both feet on the ground, Pa and Adam had joined us.  Mei was frightened.  I couldn’t understand how she felt surrounded by three large men, so I drew her close to me before I began the introductions.

“I’d like you to meet my friend, Mei,” I said, looking straight at my father.  “She needs a place to stay, and I told her she’d be welcome here.  It won’t be long; just a few days.”  Pa’s fisted hands moved to his hips as he glared down at the two of us.  Not the greeting I’d hoped for, although I concealed my anger in front of Mei.  He had every right to be upset with me, but not with our guest.  “I can explain.” 

When no one said a word, I headed toward the house, holding Mei’s hand in mine.  Footsteps followed me across the front porch, and I walked straight to the spare room where I deposited Mei’s small bag on the bed.  “Do you need anything?  Tea?  Maybe something to eat?”

Mei shook her head and then slowly took in her new surroundings.  There wasn’t much to see: a neatly made bed, a sewing rocker, a pie table, and a ladies’ writing desk Pa had bought for Mama when he found her running her fingers across the surface in Cass’s Mercantile just before Christmas.  My father was a generous and considerate man, but tonight, he’d emerged from the house like a fire-breathing dragon from some age-old fairytale.

I wanted to reassure Mei, but I needed to talk to Pa first and make sure we could stay.  I wasn’t sure about anything.  “I’ll be back in a little bit,” I said, briefly touching Mei’s shoulder.  “Why don’t you get settled in?  I have some explaining to do?”

She picked up her cloth bag and hugged it to her chest before sitting down on the edge of the bed.  Everything about the Ponderosa and this house was foreign to her, and it would take time to adjust.  There were new voices, an entirely new environment, and new types of food she’d probably never tasted before.  I hoped she’d feel more comfortable after I introduced her to Hop Sing and explained how we treasured him as a member of our family.

“Please don’t be afraid,” I said.  “Pa and my brothers are all nice people once you get to know them.  It’s late, that’s all, and if they don’t get their beauty sleep, it tends to make everyone grumpy.  Don’t worry; everything will be fine tomorrow.”

I closed the bedroom door, not knowing if Mei understood all I’d said, but I’d check back later and make sure she had everything she needed.  I found three sets of eyes staring at me when I turned around in the dining room.  I pointed to the living room, not wanting Mei to hear our discussion.  “Let’s sit in there,” I said.

We all took our usual spots, Pa and Adam in their chairs, Hoss and me on the settee.  I didn’t get a word said before Pa started in.  “What’s the meaning of this, Joseph?”

“If you’ll give me half a chance, I’ll explain.”  My father’s look told me I’d said the wrong thing … as usual.  “I’m sorry, Pa.  That didn’t come out quite right.”

Pa cleared his throat, and I waited to be reprimanded in front of my brothers for speaking my mind.  I was eighteen years old, and I still had to watch what I said to my father.  When would he ever realize I was a man, and I needed to be considered as one?

“What are your plans for this girl?  Surely you don’t intend on keeping her here?”

“Why?  Because she’s Chinese?”

“Yes, Joseph.  Because she’s Chinese.”

“I don’t understand.”  I was angry.  I stood from the settee and ended up behind Adam’s chair, distancing myself from my father.  “She has no family and nowhere else to go.  Why are you acting like this, Pa?  You’d take in a stray dog, but not a Chinese girl.  Why?”

“Cut the drama, Joe,” Adam said, looking over his shoulder.

“You stay outta this.”

“Joseph,” Pa said sternly.  “Sit down so we can discuss this like civilized adults.”

“Okay, I’m sorry.  I just don’t—”

“First,” Pa interrupted, “why don’t you tell me where you’ve been for the last two days?”

I glanced at both brothers and back at Pa.  “I’ve been with Mei.”  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Hoss shaking his head while Adam’s cheeks filled until he let out a long, slow breath of air.  “But not the way you think.”

“Why don’t you tell me what I’m thinking, Joseph?”

I prayed Pa would listen, would let me explain without interruption.  I took a deep breath, and I began my nonstop story.  “I brought Mei here because she’s sick … well, actually she’s not sick, she’d been beaten and … and possibly taken advantage of, and her relatives, an old woman named Mei-Lien, would have either sold her as a slave or killed her for dishonoring the family, which wasn’t her fault but the fault of the man who did this to her.  I couldn’t let that happen, Pa.  Do you understand what I’m saying?  She’s my friend.  I stopped the old lady once, but she would have come back if I’d left Mei there.”

Okay.  I took a deep breath.  It was all out in the open, and I watched for Pa’s reaction, but my father’s attention was drawn to the dining room.  Hop Sing stood outside Mei’s bedroom door.  He crossed the room and came to stand next to my father.  “What Little Joe say is true.  No make little girl go back undeserving family.”

“Thank you, Hop Sing,” Pa said before turning back to me.  Although Hop Sing knew the ways of the Chinese, my father didn’t seem impressed with his remark.  “I’m sure what Hop Sing says is true, but having her here in this house will only bring—“

“Bring what, Pa?  Trouble?  A fellow human being needs our help, and you’re ready to turn her out without even listening to what I’ve said.”

“Joseph, I need to know more,” Pa said.  “How do you know this girl?”

“The girl has a name, Pa.  Her name is Mei.”

“All right.  Her name is Mei.  Now, start explaining.”

“She’s a friend of mine.”

“Go on.”

“It’s a long story, Pa.  I met her a long time ago.”

“And?”

“Does it really matter?”

“Yes.  It matters to me.”

“Okay.”  I tried to keep my voice steady and just say the words calmly.  “I met her a few months ago when I bought morphine from her uncle.”

Pa slammed his hands on the arm of his chair.  “Oh, that’s great, Joseph, just great.”

The battle had begun, but I wasn’t backing down.  “Do you want to hear the story or not?”  I said overloud.

“Don’t you raise your voice to me, boy.  I’ve had about all I can take.  And now, I find out you’re still making trips to Chinatown.  When is this going to end, Joseph?”

“I don’t think you’re giving Joe a chance,” Adam said.  “Let the kid explain.”

Hoss’ head bobbed in agreement, but my father was hanging tough.  He glared at all three of us, but I was willing to talk, to explain whatever Pa wanted to hear.  “I’m sorry I raised my voice.”

Pa sat rigid in his chair and seemed to be fighting demons of his own.  He remained silent.  He wouldn’t look at me; instead, he fixed his eyes on the fireplace.  I remained silent also.  “My apologies, Joseph.  You may finish your story.”

There was something in my father’s voice, I hadn’t heard for a very long time.  A softness, a gentleness; a breaking down of the unyielding wall we’d created between the two of us.  I repeated my story slower this time, hoping Pa would understand the seriousness of Mei’s situation, and that I didn’t intend to abandon her when she needed me most.  

“You have to understand, son, we may end up with the entire Chinese community on our doorstep.”

“Were you listening to me, Pa?  If she goes back, they’ll either sell her or kill her.”

Pa leaned forward in his chair.  The worry lines intensified, but his voice remained calm.  “She’s here, and there’s nothing we can do tonight, but what are your plans?”

“I don’t know, Pa,” I said, rubbing my hands nervously up and down my thighs.  “It’s just … I didn’t know what else to do.  I didn’t know where else to go.”  Again, I complicated my father’s life, and when no one said anything, an awkward silence filled the room.  “I should probably check on Mei.”

“It’s late,” Pa said.  “I think we should all turn in, you too, Joseph.  It’s been a long day, and it’s too late to decide anything tonight.”

I wasn’t sure what Pa meant, but he was right about one thing.  I was tired, and tomorrow was soon enough to figure things out.  Pa and my brothers started upstairs, but my father turned back around.  “Joseph?”

“Yessir?”

“You did the right thing, son.”

My eyes suddenly burned; I swallowed the lump in my throat.  “Thanks, Pa.”

I should have said more.  Pa was trying although he’d caught me off guard and left me nearly speechless.  I crossed the room and knocked before opening the door just slightly.  “Can I come in?”

There was no answer and when I stepped through the doorway, Mei was still sitting on the bed, clutching her bag with both hands.  I had good news, and I wanted her to know she had been welcomed into this house.  “Is everything okay?”  Her eyes met mine.  Still, she said nothing.  I sat down beside her.  “Tell me what’s wrong?  Is it something I did?”

“No.  Joe have gentle soul.”

“Something’s bothering you.  Are you scared?  There’s no need to be.”  I sat with my hands in my lap.  I didn’t dare touch her for fear of frightening her more.  “We all sleep upstairs, which is why I gave you this room.  From down here, you won’t even hear Hoss snoring.”

“You stay?”

“Here?  In this room?”

“Yes.”

Pa would have my hide.  “I’ll stay till you fall asleep.  Will that help?”

““`

I planned to be the first one up the following morning, but when Hoss tapped on my bedroom door, I knew I’d slept in late.  I hurried to dress and flew down the stairs, wanting to check on our houseguest before having breakfast with the rest of my family.  To my surprise, Mei was already seated at the table next to my father.  I smiled, gave her a quick wink, then took a seat beside her.

“Good morning,” I said, wanting Mei to feel as comfortable as possible in a house full of men—big men.

“It seems our houseguest was up early, helping Hop Sing cook breakfast,” Pa said.

“You were?”  I said, looking toward Mei.  “You don’t have to do that.  You’re a guest in this house.”

“Joe help Mei.  Mei return favor.”

“Okay,” I said.  “That’s fair, I guess.”  I glanced at a plate of, well, something that looked sort of like a rolled-up pancake.  “Hey, what’s this?”

“Hop Sing call pancake.  He say Mr. Hoss eat anything.  He say you very hard to please.”

“Me?”

Pa and my brother erupted with laughter at my expense.  Even though they were right, I felt slightly embarrassed, but there was no way I’d let on to Mei.  I’d eat the darn things no matter how bad they tasted.  I picked up the platter and smelled the so-called pancakes. 

“You gonna pass them things, little brother, or just sit there sniffin’ all day?”

I scooped one up and passed the plate to Adam.  He took one and Hoss took three.  “Feel free to dig in, big brother,” I said, watching Hoss’ eyes light up with enthusiasm.

“Don’t mind if I do.”  Hoss cut the thing in half and popped it in his mouth.  He made a big deal of chewing this funny-looking pancake while the rest of us sat and watched.  Soon, a smile crossed his face.  “My compliments, Miss Mei.  This here pancake is the best thing I ever ate … oh, no offense Hop Sing.”

“That all right, Mr. Hoss.  Hop Sing stir batter.  Help Missy Mei.”

“Oh, well, in that case, I’ll say thanks to both chefs.  These is mighty fine tasting.”

Hoss ate anything, so naturally; he found Mei’s cooking to his liking.  I felt encouraged and forced to take a bite of my own.  I smiled at Mei, who, with her hands resting in her lap, her one arm still in a splint, waited patiently for my opinion.  “Delicious,” I said.

“You like?”

“Yes, very much.”

“Better than Mr. Joe cooking?”

I glanced at my father.  “You see, Pa, Mei was stuck in bed and had to rely on me for her meals.”

“You have my sympathy, Mei,” Adam said.  “I’m not sure how you survived.”

“That’s right, Miss Mei.  Ain’t nothin’ worse than Little Joe’s cookin’.”

“Hey,” I grumbled.

“Okay, that’s enough, boys.  Let’s not forget we have a guest at our table.”

Mei’s adjustment under a white man’s roof was my main concern, and I felt we’d just made a start in the right direction.  The lighthearted banter brought a smile to her face, and any reluctance she may have had about coming with me would hopefully vanish sooner than later.

Not only was Mei smiling, we all were.  For the first time in months, we carried on with easy conversation throughout our meal.  Pa was talking and laughing right along with the rest of us.  Hoss and I were joking, and at times even Adam joined in with his own style of humor.

“How about I show you around the ranch this morning?” I polished off every bit of food on the table.  “Is that all right with you, Pa?”

“I don’t mind, but make sure you watch yourself,” he said.  “And I suggest you don’t stay gone too long.”

“What’s that mean?”  I wasn’t sure what my father was referring to.  Did he think I’d disrespect Mei or seek out a vial of morphine?  After this morning’s conversation, I almost felt like he trusted me again.  Had I read more into his lightheartedness than I should have?

Pa hesitated to comment, and after wiping the corners of his mouth with his napkin, he glanced at Mei before he spoke.  “Just don’t take any unnecessary chances, and I’d also advise you not to go near Virginia City.”

“I was planning to go down by the lake, but what exactly are you saying, Pa?”

My father glanced at my brothers and then back at me.  “I think it’s best that no one realizes we have a guest staying with us on the Ponderosa.  Do you understand my meaning?”

“Yeah, Pa.  I’m sorry.  I didn’t at first.”  I realized now what Pa meant, and even though he was trying to be discreet, I’m, sure Mei understood every word.  I was the brainless wonder this morning.  Pa trusted me, but the Chinese community worried him.  He was only thinking about our safety, nothing more.  “We’ll just take a short ride.”

“All right, Joseph.  Then we’ll see the two of you for lunch?”

“Sounds good, Pa.”

““`

I helped Mei into the buggy but quickly decided against driving to my favorite spot by the lake.  I had no intention of Mei and I becoming more than just friends and the lake, the little path down to the water’s edge held too many memories.  One too many times, I’d taken women there, Jesse, and then Suzanna.  Although it had been months, the memories of those days were still fresh in my mind.

I took a different road this time, one that led to an overlook of the ranch house and valley below.  I was determined to forget the past and enjoy the day with Mei, and that’s exactly what we did.  I let the horse hit on his comfortable gait as we rode through tall, majestic pines.  It was a perfect day.  The sky was a brilliant blue with a thin string of clouds to the east.  Mei seemed at peace, and with what she’d been through, I felt honored she’d let me be part of her life.  I hoped we would always remain friends, but at some point, she’d have to leave the Ponderosa and find her way, but today was ours to just sit back and enjoy.

I’d made a conscious decision as Mei and I rode along, enjoying our ride in comfortable silence.  I was also at peace, the first I’d known in a very long time, and with that long-forgotten ease of body and mind, I made a promise to myself.  Later that night, I asked Adam to follow me upstairs.  “I have something for you,” I said as the two of us stood together in my room.  I lifted my mattress and pulled out my little black bag.  “Here,” I said, handing it to him.

My brother was speechless.  He held the bag with both hands, feeling its contents.  “Is this what I think it is?”

“Yep, sure is.”

“You’ve had this in your room all this time?”

“Yep.”

“And you’ve never once—“

“Nope.  Never once, thanks to you.  It’s yours now.  Do whatever you want with it, Adam.  I know this may sound strange, but I had an epiphany today.” 

My brother smiled at my choice of words.  “I just can’t believe—”

“This little, black bag has been under my mattress this entire time.  I know you thought you’d crushed the last of it when Jesse died, but an addict never runs that low on his supply.  I could have reached for this bag anytime, day or night, and no one would have been the wiser, but I didn’t, Adam, and you’re the reason I made it through.  You kept me strong.  You made me fight my way back.”

Adam continued to hold the bag with both hands, staring as if it was worth its weight in gold.  “You know this is all Pa thought about during the two days you were gone.”

“I figured as much.”

“Then I have one request.”

“What’s that?”  I thought this would be simple, but nothing ever is, and I suddenly feared what Adam might say.

“Sit down and talk to Pa, Joe.  He deserves to know what goes on in that head of yours.”

“He doesn’t trust me, Adam.”

“He would if you gave him a chance.”

I nodded.  Adam was right.  I’d given my father every reason to lose faith, and first thing tomorrow morning, I would sit down and try to make things right.

“I’m proud of you, Joe.”

Adam’s statement meant a great deal to me, and if I spoke to Pa—if I bared my soul and apologized for the months of anguish I’d put him through—then maybe I could make him believe in me again.  I missed my father.  I wanted him to need me and trust me, and if I chose my words wisely, our lives could take on new meaning, one of hope and a future together.  At least it would be a start.

The End

The next and final story in this series: Betrayal #4

~BOOK 1~

by jfclover

I shifted my weight when her hand swept against my inner thigh.  I’d become increasingly aroused by her gentle and refined touch, but I remained patient, kept my eyes closed, and allowed her to explore at her own pace.  After all, Sally Ann was a pro and by far the most seductive and sensual woman in all of northern Nevada.

After loosening my buckle and nudging the belt away, she eased her hand inside my trousers as she’d done so many times before.  Making love was an erotic game of give and take, and Sally Ann played the game exceptionally well.  As she wrapped her fingers around me, I filled her small, thin hand, letting her handle me with her gift of self-assurance.  Though my eyes remained closed, I couldn’t help but smile as I reached for her and gently guided her head to replace those nimble fingers.

The subtle movement was not what she’d expected, and she moved accordingly.  In doing so, she bumped my ankle, causing me to overreact and grab both of her arms to ease the pain.  “I’m sorry,” I said.  “My ankle.”  But with my eyes wide open, I caught sight of the woman before me, but she wasn’t a woman at all.

The woman who I thought was sharing my bed was a young girl, a girl I’d frightened, and a girl who’d frightened me.  Her large, doe-like eyes filled with fear, as did my own.  “Who are you and what—” I found myself speechless, and I quickly scooted across the narrow bed until my back was against a log wall.

A small stream of moonlight filtered through the window above my head, and I was able to see a worn burlap curtain draping the bed from … from whatever might lie beyond.  My heart pounded like blasts of thunder, and I remained distanced from the unknown slip of a girl.  As my eyes adjusted, I took in my surroundings, but nothing seemed familiar, and while the frightened girl had scurried away quickly after I’d released her arms, she’d tried to make herself invisible in the corner of the room.  

Realizing I was still exposed, I pulled the threadbare blanket above my waist and quickly adjusted my pants, then buckled my belt.  But the fact remained, I was disoriented and inside someone else’s home.  My ankle was swollen twice its normal size, and a young girl had nearly … Oh, God.  What the hell just happened?

Through eerie shadows, the girl slowly sank to the floor and pulled her knees to her chest.  She covered her head with her hands as though I might climb off the bed and strike her.  This was a living nightmare, and, in a nervous fashion, I swept the back of my hand across my dry, chapped lips.

“Please, mister,” she cried in a small, anxious voice.  “I didn’t mean nothing wrong.  Please don‘t hurt me.”

One minute, the girl was on top of me, and now she cowered in fright.  What could I possibly say?  God knows I would never hit her or … but she’d been party to my sudden outburst and feared I’d come after her and strike her for … for what?

“You gotta believe me, Mister.  I didn’t mean nothing wrong, I just figgered since you was here you’d want me to do you.”

“Do you?”  I repeated her words in my mind as if expected to perform this type of sexual act with a stranger, a grown man she’d never met until today. 

I continued to stare, but the night and the events leading up to the moment I nearly dishonored us both were all coming into view.  A jug of whiskey and an invitation to spend the night were the reasons I’d found myself in such a predicament.  But the girl?  My God—how was she a part of this whole terrible scene?

“Molly!  Where the hell is you, gal?”  [

The girl stood but remained pressed into the corner of the room.  A gray gunnysack hung from her shoulders, and her thin, bone-white arms and legs protruded from the makeshift dress.  Her light blonde hair looked uncombed and hung in thin, scraggly ringlets framing her face.  She turned her head sharply when she’d heard the call, but her fear remained, and with her back and hands palmed against the rounded log wall, she inched herself past the curtain and out of sight.

I was finally able to breathe.  I closed my eyes, leaned my head back against the cabin wall, and tried to put the last few hours in some kind of order—my ankle, the mule-driven wagon, the old man’s cabin, the whiskey, and the girl.  The events of the past two days came flooding back into my mind …

“Joseph?”  Pa looked up from the papers on his desk as I made my way down the stairs. “I’m riding down to Carson this morning.  I need to deliver these contracts to William Watson,” he said after gathering his papers and rolling them lengthwise.

“Why don’t you let me take them?”

“Why?  You have business in Carson, too?”

“No, not anything I’m aware of, Pa.  I’m just trying to save you from taking that long, dusty ride down the mountain and back.  Besides, you’re just getting over that head cold and we wouldn’t want a relapse, would we?”

“Since you put it that way, Son, you’ve got a deal.”  Pa slapped the rolled bundle into the palm of my hand.  “I certainly have enough work to keep me busy around here.”

“Good,” I replied.  “Think I’ll take a clean shirt for tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”  Pa’s heavy eyebrows arched as he questioned the need for an extra day off—shall we say vacation?

“You don’t expect me to turn around and head straight back after that long, dusty ride, do you, Pa?  I might just stick around and have a couple of beers, maybe play a few hands of poker, and if it ends up too late, I‘ll just stay the night.  Of course, I’ll start home bright and early tomorrow morning.  Be home by noon at the latest.”

Pa covered his mouth and cleared his throat as though he understood my meaning but wouldn’t dare condone my behavior.

“I know what you’re thinking.”

“Do you now?”

“Oh, come on, Pa.  I’m a grown man and—well, it’s no secret every man needs a night out, you know, on occasion.”

“I suppose every man does at one time or another.”

I started to laugh.  “Remember the first time Adam didn’t make it home for breakfast, and you tried using some lame excuse on Hoss and me to explain his absence?”

“Joseph—“

“Oh, I remember quite well, Pa.  I may have been young, but I was never naïve.  I recall explaining to Hoss everything you neglected to say.”

“Okay, that’s enough, Son.  Shouldn’t you be on your way?”

“I just need to grab that clean shirt.”

I delivered the contracts to Pa’s longtime friend and casual business partner, William Watson, then stayed the night in Carson City and accomplished exactly what I’d set out to do.  By morning’s light, I was heading back home.  It was mid-June and unseasonably warm, not to mention dry and dusty, just like I’d imagined.  Even the gentle breeze added no respite from the hot morning sun. 

“Whatcha say, Cooch?  We need a little break?” 

Stopping at the first shady spot I saw, I loosened the cinch and led Cochise down a gentle path to a crystal-clear stream.  Knowing I had time to kill, I stretched out in the cool grass and let my mind slip back to the hour of pleasure a woman like Sally Ann readily provided a willing participant like me.

After declining a dinner invitation with Watson and his wife, Martha, I headed straight to McMurphy’s Tavern, hoping my favorite painted lady would be working late into the night.  As soon as I walked into the smoke-filled saloon where smells of filth and whiskey rang true, I laid my coins on the counter and asked the chubby-cheeked barkeep for a beer.  As I leaned my back against the rounded edge of the bar and, after hooking the heel of my boot on the railing below, I scanned the room for Sally Ann.  It wasn’t hard to distinguish cowhands from miners, and there were even a couple of city slickers leaning over tables filled with cards and coins.  But those people didn’t interest me in the least; I only had eyes for my favorite girl.

When I finally spotted her through the blue-tinged haze of smoke, she seemed burdened with the job she was paid to do, but when she caught my eye, I gave her an easy smile and watched as she removed a miner’s hand from the fleshy part of her thigh.  I lifted my glass in salute; my eyes never left the striking blonde-haired woman whose creamy white breasts spilled over the top of her green satin dress.

She leaned in and whispered something in the miner’s ear before easing herself up from the chair pressed next to his.  As she slowly crossed the room in time to the beat of a tinny piano, she and I never lost eye contact.  Sally eased the mug from my hand, and before any words were spoken, she walked her fingers up my chest and then locked them together behind my neck.  And as she toyed with the length of my hair, she pressed her hips to mine and whispered in my ear.  “It’s been a long time.” 

Her bewitching candor seared my entire body with rushes of heat, leaving my cheeks flushed as I forced a rather shy smile.  “It’s been a very long time.”

Checking the position of the sun when I woke from my unscheduled nap, the grass was no longer shaded, and I would be late returning home.  I’d told Pa lunchtime and it was well past noon now.  It didn’t matter what age I was or that I had flecks of gray in my hair, my father would be anxious over my delayed arrival home.  I thought back to my evening at McMurphy’s with Sally Ann, and I smiled with satisfaction, delighting in the fact that my short vacation had been a much-needed bonus to the everyday grind on a ranch the size of the Ponderosa.  Pa, even with his list of never-ending chores, should certainly understand a man’s most inner needs.

I stood up, plopped my hat on my head, and with my energy restored, I tightened Cochise’s cinch and vaulted onto the saddle.  Thinking I needed to make up for lost time, I kicked Cooch into an urgent gallop, but after rounding the first difficult turn in the road, I hadn’t seen the rattler until it was too late for either of us.  Cooch shied, rearing in panic and before I could react, I was flying sideways towards a shallow embankment and colliding feet first into the trunk of a tree.

Pain shot up my right shin, and I grabbed hold of my leg, grimacing as I looked up to find Cochise taking off at a full run.  “Damn,” I cursed aloud at my obvious misfortune.  Cooch was halfway back home by now, and I was stuck in the middle of nowhere with nothing but the clothes on my back. 

The blasted tree that had ended my downward slide would have to do as protection from the heat of the day.  I brushed away pinecones and pebbles, clearing a small space, and scooted back toward its trunk.  From my vantage point, I could still see the road at the top of the rise.  I could do nothing now except wait for Hoss or my father to set out looking for me when Cochise wandered riderless into the yard.  After removing my boot, I tried to move my injured foot.  “Damn,” I scowled a second time, squeezing my eyes shut so I could stomach the wrenching pain.

After sitting for hours, complaining only to myself and a few scattering lizards about my frustrating dilemma, it seemed as though my luck had finally changed.  I heard the sound of metal-rimmed wheels, slowly plodding along the road up above me.  I watched closely as the broken-down wagon rolled near, then realized it wasn’t a Ponderosa wagon as I‘d originally expected.  I also wasn’t expecting to see Cochise tied to the tailgate.

“Hey!”  I yelled, trying unsuccessfully to push myself up from the ground.  “Stop!  That’s my horse!”

The wagon kept rolling forward at a slow but steady pace, never stopping, never showing signs of slowing down.

“Hey!”  I called a second time and, when the driver ignored me completely, I did what I had to do.  Half hobbling, half crawling, I awkwardly ascended the hill, desperate to catch up with the moving wagon.  “Stop!”  I cried once again.  “Just stop a minute, will you!” 

“Cain’t stop,” the old man grumbled.  “Ain’t got time for no fool.”

I topped the hill, lunged forward, and, just before landing face-first on the road, I grabbed hold of the open tailgate and swung both legs onto the wagon.  After catching my breath, I turned my head and looked over my shoulder at the two people occupying the bench seat up front.  An old man, sporting faded overalls and a battered, straw hat, handled the single mule with both hands.  Sitting next to him was a young girl—a granddaughter maybe—with dirty-blonde hair and clothed in a gunnysack dress.

“If you’d stop, I could untie my horse and you could be on your way,” I said to the obstinate old fool who’d had the nerve to call me a fool in the first place. 

The man never looked back; he never took his eyes off the road, but he spoke with a Southern drawl.  “Don’t know if’n it’s your horse or not.”

Try as I might to keep my temper in check, I began explaining about the snake on the side of the road, but still, the old man never acknowledged me, never said a worthwhile word.  The mule kept a slow, steady pace on a road that was nothing more than an old trail leading into the backwoods of the Ponderosa.

When the young girl turned and looked back over her shoulder, the old man nudged her side until she, too, faced the road ahead.  I knew in my current condition I couldn’t mount Cochise unless the old man was generous enough to pull up on the mule and stop the wagon, but I’d yet to find anything generous about this man at all.  So, I leaned against the sideboard, figuring I’d just have to wait until we reached our final destination. 

Not much farther down the road, we pulled off onto an even smaller, rougher trail, leading towards an old abandoned cabin, which I recognized as one of our old, forgotten line shacks lying just inside the boundary line.  It was a small cabin we’d decided not to use anymore; in fact, Hoss and I had built a new, much sturdier shack about five miles closer to our southern pasture.

I scooted toward the edge of the tailgate when the old man finally pulled the mule to a stop.  I tried to step down and found myself cursing the pain and cursing myself even more for leaving my boot behind in my rush to catch up with the wagon.  Looking at the size of my puffed-up ankle, I reckoned only Hoss’ size sixteen would slip over my foot now.

The old man ambled to the back of the wagon and gazed down at my swollen foot.  “Snake bit?”  He turned his head to the side and spat a wad of tobacco before I could answer.

“No.”  I shook my head.  “As I mentioned before, there was a snake by the side of the road.  I took a fall from my horse and twisted my ankle when my foot hit a tree.”

“Should oughta watch out for them things, Boy.  Name’s Orville Krebs,” he grunted before spitting again.

“Joe, Joe Cartwright.”

I was grateful when the old man helped me down from the wagon, but what surprised me even more was when he led me toward the cabin.

“You ain’t going nowhere, least till morning, with a foot what looks like that.”

“If you’ll just help me onto my—”

“Just do as I say, Boy.”

“Yessir.”

The old man guided me through the foul-smelling cabin and straight toward a narrow bed situated against the back wall.  There was a thin, striped mattress, a moth-eaten blanket, and a piece of heavy burlap hanging from the ceiling, separating the sleeping space from the rest of the room.  With only one bed tucked into the small space, I determined a brief rest would have to do; there were no accommodations for overnight guests.

“I don’t mean to put you out.”

“Ain’t no bother.”

I lowered myself down on the mattress and lifted my swollen ankle, easing it up gently before leaning back against the cabin wall.  How I’d gotten myself mixed up with this lot was a story in itself, and I wished I’d remained firm with my earlier decision to be on my way.

Orville uncorked a jug he’d picked up from a nearby table.  “Drink whatcha need.  There’s plenty.”  He handed me the heavy, clay container.  “Make that ankle a yours feel a bit better.  I’ll put up your horse,” he said with the same deadpan voice he used every time he opened his mouth.

I cradled the jug on my lap and stared after the old man as he walked out the cabin door.  My ankle throbbed unmercifully, and what I would have preferred was a simple glass of water rather than a hearty snort, but since I was a guest of Mr. Krebs, I tilted the jug up and took a lengthy gulp of whiskey.  The initial swallow made my eyes tear and my chest burn, but when I tilted the jug a second time, the fire-laden brew began to dull my senses and numb the pain.

What I hadn’t realized at the time was that Orville Krebs’ main source of income was his home-brewed whiskey.  Future conversations led straight to how he’d learned the art of distilling whiskey from his pa, who’d learned from his pa in the back hills of Tennessee long before the war.  When the War Between the States finally ended, there was no money to be made selling moonshine.  His wife had died years before, and his only daughter had left home to marry some Yank.  So, with nothing to keep him in Tennessee, he’d headed west, doing odd jobs along the way until he found this abandoned cabin and made it his permanent home. 

Morning sunlight and a hint of fresh air streamed through the open front door.  I scrubbed my hands over my face and tousled my hair into an orderly fashion, then realized I must have fallen back asleep after my encounter with the young girl.  Still somewhat confused due to too many pulls from the jug, I wondered if I’d only dreamed about her.  Whiskey will do that sometimes, but it all seemed so real.

The bedroom curtain had been pulled open, and I gathered it was a cue for me to leave and not bother coming back anytime soon.  So, after scanning the entire cabin, I wondered where the old man and the girl had slept since I had used their only bed.

I turned back the blanket and swung my legs over the side of the thin mattress.  But when my foot accidentally hit the floor, I gritted my teeth as the sudden rush of pain nearly made me sick to my stomach.  I eased off my sock and ran my fingers across the classic black and blue marks of a sprain that looked and felt much worse this morning than it had last night.  When I caught sight of a long, smooth stick lying across the foot of the bed, I assumed the old man had left it for me to use.  I picked up the makeshift cane and let my weight center on my good foot, but tears nearly exploded from my eyes as I hobbled across the room and braced myself against the open doorway.  Outside the cabin, sitting on a log bench, was Orville, sunning himself like a lazy old dog.

“That away,” he said, pointing behind the shack.

“Thanks.”

I made my way to the outhouse, grateful I didn’t have to squat behind a bush with a young girl or an old man lurking somewhere close by.  On second thought, there was no way I could have squatted for any reason this morning.  Walking was a test in itself and I planned to do as little as possible.

When I returned, exhausted from my painful excursion, I stopped next to the old man, and without a word, Orville stood up and walked back inside.  It was still early in the day, and already, the morning temperature confirmed that by afternoon, the day’s heat would be nearly unbearable.  I knew my pa and my brother were probably already out looking for me, and I needed to get back to the main road if I had any chance of being found.  The old man returned with a bowl of something I couldn’t quite discern.

“Fatback‘n greens,” he said, handing me the unappetizing leaves.

“Thanks.  Don’t get me wrong, Mr. Krebs, I appreciate all you’ve done, but I need to be on my way.”  I stared into the bowl, knowing even one bite after the amount of whiskey I’d consumed last night would prove a big mistake.

“Best eat first.”

I smiled and nodded my head.  “I’d like to say goodbye to the girl.  Molly?  Is that her name?” 

The old man frowned and answered gruffly, “My granddaughter.”

“Oh, yeah.  I kinda figured—”

“Girl’s busy.  Got chores need doing.  Don‘t got time for no sitting ‘round, visiting with strangers while chores is waiting.”

Orville stood and walked around to the back of the cabin, leaving me standing outside the front door.  The old man hadn’t said anything else about the girl, so maybe he was unaware of what his granddaughter had attempted with a passing stranger.

I scanned the area in front of the cabin, looking for any sign of Molly.  Maybe I’d been mistaken about her age.  Maybe I’d been mistaken about everything I thought had happened during the night.  Could I have been dreaming of Sally Ann and  … no—it was real.  The girl’s advances were real.

I maneuvered myself onto the bench Orville had vacated, closed my eyes, and leaned my head back against the outside wall.  The sun warmed my face as I fought images of the girl’s unbelievable skill at handling a man, and when I heard the old man rounding the corner with Cochise, saddled and ready to go, I set the bowl on the bench and nodded.

“Time you’s on your way.”

“Thanks for everything, Mr. Krebs.” 

I tipped the brim of my hat to my host, then hopped up on the long bench and mounted Cochise.  But as I started away, I turned back for one last look and noticed the girl leaning against the side of the shack out of her grandfather’s sight.  She stood still; her thin, white legs were crossed, and her fingers pinched lightly at her bottom lip.  She stared back.  I nearly turned Cooch around, but something deep inside told me I best keep moving forward.  Instead of waving or acknowledging the slip of a girl who looked so alone, I kept my hands on the reins and rode out of the yard.

After reaching the main road, I thought back over the last twenty-four hours and the fact I was only offered fatback and greens and a jug of rotgut.  Did the old man even know how to snare a rabbit or shoot a squirrel?  What did these poor people survive on?  Though it was none of my business, I couldn’t get either of them out of my mind.  But what affected me most was the young girl’s actions during the night.  Where would a little girl get such ideas?  Where did she learn such things?  Why was she living with her grandfather, and what exactly was going on inside that cabin?  I was so lost in thought that I didn’t notice the two riders approaching until they appeared directly in front of me. 

“Well?”

My eyes shot up when I heard the deep, irritated voice of my father.  “Oh, hi, Pa, Hoss,” I said, forcing a smile.

My father wasn’t happy.  “Oh, hi, Pa,” he mimicked.  “You’re sure taking your sweet time getting back, Joseph.”

And when I glanced at Hoss, his expression wasn’t much different, although when his face scrunched up and his eyes narrowed, I knew he had something on his mind.  “Um, I know this may sound like a silly question, Joseph, but where in tarnation is your boot?” 

I looked down and winced as I slid my foot from the stirrup.  “It’s a long story, brother.  I’ll explain everything once we get home.”

Pa turned Buck, and Hoss and I followed closely behind.  Once my foot was free of the stirrup, there was no chance of sliding it back inside.  

“—and that’s all there is to tell, Pa.”

“That’s quite a story, Son.”

But my father’s not one to leave any of his boys to their own devices and moments later, Pa stood from his chair to judge the swelling a second time.  As he adjusted the pillow under my foot, I grabbed hold of my leg and fought hard not to grimace in front of my father.  If he’d just leave well enough alone …

“Want me to fetch the doc?”  Hoss asked in a concerned voice.

“I guess you better.  I can’t tell if he’s broken something this time or not.”  Pa watched me as I tried to tweak my position on the settee and stepped forward to help.

“I got it—I got it,” I said, not wanting help from anyone.

“All right,” he said, throwing his hands in the air.  “I won’t touch.”

“I’m fine, Pa.  I don’t need the doc.  It’ll mend itself.”

“Go on, Hoss.”  Pa shook his head at me.  “It won’t hurt to have a second opinion, will it?”

It wasn’t worth the fight.  “Whatever you say.”

As soon as Hoss was out the door, Pa’s tone lightened.  He perched himself on the table and kept his hands buried in his lap.  My ankle was safe for now.

“You hungry?”

“Starved.” 

“I’ll fix you a sandwich, and you’ll at least have something in your stomach before your brother gets back with Paul.”

“Thanks, Pa.”

I’d only revealed the conditions of the rundown shack and the lack of decent food to Pa and Hoss.  I’d said nothing about the girl and her nighttime intentions.  I buried it in the back of my mind just like Pa had buried his hands in his lap when he questioned my delayed arrival home.  I would have to return.  There were too many unanswered questions, and I had to try to understand their situation even if I was intruding on private lives.  Something wasn’t right.

Hoss helped me upstairs while Pa walked Paul Martin out to his buggy.  The doctor had agreed with me.  This time, it was indeed a sprain, not a break, but Paul gave me strict instructions to stay in bed.  He would bring out a pair of crutches in a few days so I could get around, but until then, I was to stay put. 

“Guess I’m stuck doing your chores again, Joseph.”  Hoss rocked back and forth on his heels, waiting for a response, but when the smart reply didn’t come, my brother pulled up a chair and sat down next to the bed.  “Something bothering you?”

“Huh?  Oh, sorry, Hoss.  Just thinking about the people I stayed with.”

“They kind of got to you, didn’t they?”

“They sure did, brother.  You know that little girl, she—”

Hoss looked puzzled.  “She what?”

“Oh, nothing, she just seemed so lonely, stuck out there with no one but her grandfather around, that’s all.  No schooling, no friends … it was sad to see her standing there all alone.”

“Guess they chose that kind of life.”

“No.  Not the girl,” I said, but I needed to think things through.  “I’m tired, Hoss.  Mind if I rest a while?”

“Nope, I don’t mind none.  Be back when supper’s ready.”

“Sounds good, thanks.”

Without disturbing my ankle, I rolled to my side and pressed my face against the soft, linen pillowcase.  I thought of the filthy mattress and musty old rag of a blanket I’d used the night before, but Molly consumed my thoughts more than the ratty living conditions, and there was no way I could rest until I found out more about her situation.

I ran the whole scenario through my mind.  The touching, the cowering—afraid she’d be punished … for what?  Not performing?  Had Krebs sent her to my bed?  God, I couldn’t let it go.  The girl knew way too much about a man.  I was a stranger, and I wasn’t the first man she’d … my thoughts pulled me in deeper than I wanted to go.  Was this commonplace?  Had she done this type of thing before?

Yes.  She had.  I knew she had.  My mind threatened to explode.  How many men had she been with?  How could I be certain, and how could I help the girl escape that kind of life?  I had to go back.  I had to know the truth.  As soon as this darn ankle …

“But Pa, I have to go.  I’ve been up and around for days.  My chores are caught up, and I’ll only be gone a couple of days.  I figure I can hunt for deer on the way and—”

“Joseph!”  Pa interrupted, “I’m not concerned about chores.  I’m more concerned about you sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.  Have you considered the old man’s pride?  He may not take kindly to you stepping in and throwing food in his face.”

I stared straight into Pa‘s eyes.  I’d explained everything in detail down to the moth-eaten blanket I’d been forced to use.  I planned to win this battle no matter what.  And even though I still hadn’t mentioned anything about Molly and her premature education regarding the male anatomy, I had to see for myself if her living conditions were as they should be.  I‘d left the line shack with an uneasy feeling, and returning seemed my only option.

“Oh, come on, Pa.  If you’d seen the two of them, you’d understand.  They have nothing.  Nothing!”  I said, my voice cracking with emphasis.  “I’ll kill a deer on the way there.  I’ll tell the old man I live too far away to carry the animal home, see if he’ll accept my offering, and take the meat off my hands.  At least they’ll have something decent to eat for the next few months.  Then, I’ll turn right around and ride home.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Pa dug his hands deep into his pants pockets before he turned and walked away.  Maybe I was being hardheaded, but I had to stand my ground.  My father stopped and looked back over his shoulder, shaking his head. 

“I don’t think it’s wise, Joseph, but if you must.”

“I knew you’d understand, Pa.”  With a huge grin, I reached for my father’s shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze.  “I’ll leave first thing in the morning.  Wish me luck.  The sooner I find a big, fat buck, the sooner I’ll be home.”

I was up and out the door before sunrise, and to my good fortune, I’d tracked down and killed a decent-size buck not long after leaving the house.  I’d carefully gutted and tied the sturdy animal across Cochise’s rump.  Then, riding straight for the line shack on the southernmost rim of the Ponderosa, I arrived early enough that there was still plenty of daylight for the return trip.  When I called out to the house, there was nothing but silence in return.  I tied Cochise in the shade and, after sliding the deer to the ground, I made my way up to the cabin.

After removing my hat and after running my hand through my hair, I knocked on the wooden front door.  I waited patiently, scanning the yard behind me before knocking a second time.  But as tiny hairs prickled the nape of my neck, I was very aware of the quiet.  Nothing stirred.  No mule in the broken-down corral, no kindling stacked by the door or smoke coming from the stone chimney, only the barn door swinging loosely on rusted hinges.

When I heard a noise coming from somewhere in the yard, I turned and gave a glance, and still, there was no one in sight.  I lifted the latch, and the rusted-out hinges squealed unforgivingly as I opened the only door.  Maybe Pa was right.  Maybe my coming here had been a mistake after all.  Pushing the door open wider to let in the morning light, I looked from corner to corner and saw no one.

“Hello?  Orville?  Molly?  It’s Joe, Joe Cartwright.”

When I stepped farther inside the cabin, I nearly keeled over from fright when a tiny, gray creature skittered across the plank floor.  It’s only a mouse, Joe.  Pull yourself together.

Overcome by a repulsive stench, I wanted to plug my nose as I walked closer to the curtained-off room.  Looking toward the small space, I noticed the burlap drape hanging partially open.  Orville.  The man was asleep on the bed, and when I bent over to shake his shoulder, I quickly drew my hand away. 

“Oh God,” I said, stepping back from the cold corpse.

I hurried back outside and called for Molly repeatedly.  Sucking in deep breaths of fresh air, and bracing myself on the support post in front of the cabin, I lifted my head and looked around the empty yard, and still not a whisper of sound.  I wanted to jump on Cochise and ride as fast as possible, but Orville had to be buried, and Molly—little Molly—had to be found.

Dread washed over me as I walked to the back of the cabin to the small lean-to where Orville had stabled Cochise.  There was a milk cow, which appeared content as though she’d been tended recently.  I looked around the small space for a shovel when I heard a shuffling sound.  As I crept closer, I saw a hint of Molly’s blonde hair as she tried to hide behind a large pile of straw.  I had frightened her once before, and I’d be damned if I’d frighten her again. 

“Molly?”  I whispered before moving any closer.  There she sat, scrunched up with her arms wrapped around her legs.  As I continued forward, it was obvious she was using her knobby knees to hide her face from the incoming stranger.  “It’s me, Molly, Joe Cartwright.  Do you remember me?  I stayed over one night a few weeks ago.” 

She bobbed her head slightly but never actually lifted it from her knees.

“Can I come a little closer so we can talk?” 

Without making eye contact, she nodded again.  Wanting to meet her face-to-face, I knelt on one knee in front of her.  “I’ve been inside the cabin.”

Her body shuddered as if she were well aware.  “He’s dead, ain’t he?”

I studied her for a minute, and when she finally lifted her head, I nodded.  “Yes, he’s dead.”

“Figgered that’s what happened.”

“Is there somewhere special you’d like him buried?”

“Up the hill, I reckon, by Ma and Pa.  They’s over by that old oak tree,” she said, pointing off to the side.

“All right then.  I’m going to get that taken care of if you tell me where I might find a shovel.”  She didn’t speak but pointed across the lean-to.  “You stay put until I’m finished, okay?”  I half-smiled and stood up to carry out the dreaded job of digging a grave for a man I’d come to despise.

After viewing the body a second time, I wished I’d never removed the blanket covering his lower half.  His filthy overalls were drawn to his knees, and an obvious stain remained when the old man had—

”Oh, God,” I cried into my hands after I covered my face and tried to block the image of Molly—  “No, not the girl.  No, God, no.”  How could I have left her behind?  Had she been pleading with me to take her away?  Had I missed all the signs?

As much as I fought to suppress any thoughts of what Molly had endured living with this evil man, now I had proof of what I’d assumed all along.  If Pa hadn’t taught me to respect the life of every human being, I would have left the old man on the bed and set fire to the place.  To hell with burying scum like Orville Krebs.

“It’s finished,” I said after walking back toward the cabin and seeing Molly standing outside the door.  “I’ll say a few words over him if you’d like.”

“No need,” she said.  “He weren’t nothin’ special.”

For the first time since my return, I took a good look at the girl standing before me.  Dressed in burlap with a length of rawhide tied at her waist, I guessed her to be around thirteen or fourteen years old.  She looked up at me, and I held her gaze until she turned to walk inside.

“Molly?  Can we talk for a minute?” 

“Why?”

“Outside,” I said.  “The air’s a little better out here.”

The cabin reeked of the old man, and I should burn the mattress in case he died of some disease rather than what I suspected, but Molly was more of a concern to me right now.  The bed and any of his belongings could wait for a later time.

Molly had no qualms about sitting beside me on the long bench outside the cabin door.  She was comfortable around men, which seemed odd for a girl who’d been isolated here in the woods for such a long time.  I had questions, but where would I start without scaring her away?

“How old are you, Molly?”

“I’s around fifteen, I think.”  I hadn’t thought she looked that old, but if she’d been living on greens for a better part of her life, it could be the reason she’d remained so small in stature.  “I didn’t have no more birthdays after Ma and Pa died.  Orville says they’s a waste a time.”

I fought to hide any emotions that might surface over Molly’s answer.  Birthdays were such a joyous occasion in our home; it was hard to imagine not celebrating such a special time.  But birthdays were the least of my worries.  Somehow, I had to gain her trust.

“You’re too young to stay here on your own.”

“Why?  I been taking care a things ‘round here for long as I ‘member.  Where else would I go anyways?  This here‘s my home.”

“Well, first of all, you have nothing to eat.  You don’t have any decent clothes to wear.”

“I got Dilly?”

“Is that your milk cow?”

“Yeah.”

I crossed my arms and leaned back against the cabin wall.  “What about school?  The nearest one is more’n twenty miles from here.”

Molly hesitated before she spoke, but then she said what she’d been told by her grandfather.  “Orville says he didn’t have no schooling, and I didn’t need none neither.  He said it was God’s will when my ma and pa died of the fever, and since I’s spared, I‘s s‘posed to stay on and take care of him till he‘s dead, too.”

I watched her carefully when she took to biting nervously on her bottom lip.  I also noticed the same deadpan voice as Orville Krebs.  I needed to slow down and give the girl time to think things through completely.

“Guess I done God’s will.  He finally up and died.”

I nearly chuckled at her dry sense of humor.  “Do you have any other people, aunts, and uncles maybe?”

“None I knows of.”

“Would you consider coming home with me?  I don’t live very far, and I—” I saw her flinch, and I tried to think what to say.  “I’d like you to meet my family, just like I met your family.  Maybe we could be friends, Molly.”

Her eyes grew wide—was it fear?  What had I said to frighten her this time?

“There’s nothing to be scared of.  You’d have a room all to yourself, and there’d be food on the table anytime you felt hungry.”  I chuckled softly before I continued.  “That’s if my brother, Hoss, doesn’t eat it all first.  I know you’ll like my brother.  Everybody likes Hoss.  He’s just a big old teddy bear.”

Molly flew from the log bench and ran around the side of the cabin toward the lean-to.  I’d done it again.  I’d said the wrong thing, but what?  What had frightened her this time?

“Molly, stop—Molly?” 

When I caught up, I knelt in front of her like I’d done before, and I held both of her arms to keep her from running off again.  But when I felt tremors rush through her, I dropped my hands to my sides, realizing immediately my inappropriate choice of words and actions.

“You misunderstood me, Molly.  I didn’t mean—”

“I don’t wanna go nowheres.  I just wanna stay here and tend to Dilly.”

“It was my mistake, Molly.  I used the wrong words, and I’m sorry.”

“Mistake?”

“I’d like to take you away from here.  This is no place for a young girl to stay alone.  Now,” I said, hoping I could make myself clear.  “My father has a big house with many rooms.  You wouldn’t have to share a room with anyone else.  Understand?  You’d have your own room and no one will bother you or ask anything of you while you’re a guest in our home.  Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Her staring eyes caused me to wonder what was going through her young mind.  I didn’t want to pry.  I wanted things to be simple and direct, without asking too many questions or upsetting her more than I already had.  

“I’ll make you a promise right here and now.”

“A promise?”

“In my father’s house, you will always be safe.”  How could I explain without coming right out and stating the obvious?  “Safe from everyone, just like the night I stayed here.  I made sure you were safe.”

“I dunno …. ”

I closed my eyes briefly.  “Molly, I give you my word.  No one will bother you ever again.  Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“S’pose I ain’t got no other choice, do I?”

“You always have choices, but I think this would be a good choice for you to make.  You pack up what you want to take with you, and I’ll get my horse ready, all right?”

“Just like a man,” she mumbled.  “Always telling you what you gonna do even when you says you don’t wanna.”

I’d darn forgotten about the deer I’d killed earlier.  It seemed like a lifetime ago I’d tied the dead animal over Cochise’s rump and brought him for this family of two.  There was no easy way to get both the deer and Molly home, so I left the dead animal for scavengers.  It was my only choice.  While Molly gathered her belongings and, knowing how much she cared for Dilly, I chose to tether the milk cow to my saddle and take her along too.

“Dilly’s coming with us, Mr. Joe?”  Molly asked with delight when she walked out of the cabin.

“She’s yours, isn’t she?”

“I’m the one what tends her.”

“Well then, you can tend her at my house, too.”

We rode in silence.  I’d seen the gleam in her eye when I opted to bring the cow, maybe her only true possession since she’d brought nothing from inside the house.  Maybe I’d finally done something right.  She climbed up behind me and wrapped her arms around my waist.  I felt her head resting against my back, and within minutes, she was sound asleep.  I took it slow, but it wasn’t long before I felt Molly stirring and took it as an opportunity to head down to the stream that paralleled the main road. 

“Thought we’d get ourselves a cool drink.  Not too much farther now, but I could use a short break.” 

I swung my leg over Cooch’s neck and reached up to help Molly down.  Not wanting to touch her any more than was necessary, I let her follow me down to the creek.  She picked the largest rock and plopped herself down, then dangled her bare feet in the cold mountain stream.

“Can I ask you some questions, Molly?”

“Anything ya want, Mr. Joe.”

“First off, you can call me Joe instead of Mr. Joe.”

“Okay.”

“Second, can you tell me how long your grandfather’s been dead?”

“Three days seems ‘bout right.”

Surely, she had been back inside the house since then.  The next question was going to be more difficult since I believed I already knew the answer.  “Can you tell me how your grandfather died?”

“I’s doing him,” she said without the slightest inflection in her voice.  She never looked up, and she failed to see the look of horror on my face as she continued to swing her feet.

“I’m sorry, Molly.”

“I ain’t.  Most days I wished he was dead anyhow.”

“I meant I’m sorry he … or that you—” I seldom had trouble finding the right words to say, and I chose to rephrase.  “I’m not sorry he’s dead either, Molly.”

“It weren’t just him, you know.” 

I looked up, afraid of what she might say next. 

“Orville had other fellers what come to buy his whiskey.  He always said if I wanna keep a roof over my head and have somethin’ warm in my belly, it was my duty to be nice to them men what come by the house.  That’s why, when you was in there sleepin’, Orville sent me to do you.  He said you looked like you’s a rich man, seein’ how you had a fancy saddle and a fancy horse and all.  Well, I didn’t wanna make Orville mad; didn’t wanna make Orville mad.  He weren’t easy to be ‘round when he’s mad, even worse when he gets likkered up.”

Even though it was tough listening to Molly’s straightforward admission of doing the deed with several men, I needed to know everything that went on inside that cabin before I took her home, before I had to explain her early-acceptance-into-womanhood to Pa and Hoss.  Although it seemed that once the girl had started talking, she was eager to tell her story without any prodding whatsoever.

“Ol’ Orville, he’d git hisself all likkered up then he’d git madder’n a hornet if’n my chores weren’t done or if’n there weren’t nothin’ on the table to eat.  The more he drank, the madder he’d git.  He didn’t never go huntin’ like Papa used to, so I’d just boil us up some greens and sometimes them friends of his would trade him some fatback or squirrel meat fer a jug of whiskey.”

Molly picked a blade of grass and began splitting it into long strips before she continued. 

“Me and Ma and Papa were just fixin’ to move on, but ‘bout that time, Papa come down with the fever.  I seen Orville sometimes, lookin’ at Ma kinda funny like.  I was just little then, and I didn’t know nothin’ ‘bout growed-up ways.

“I ‘member the first time Papa left to go huntin’, and Orville took Ma back inside the cabin, and he says to me, “Git out and stay out.”  I heard Ma screamin’ and fightin’ her own Pa that day.  After supper, Papa went outside to smoke his pipe, and Orville made me come sit on his lap while Ma was cleanin’ up the supper dishes.  He run his hand up and down my bare leg and told me how purty I was.  Ma done snatched me right up from his lap and made me go outside with Papa.  Ol’ Orville never did that again, so I figgered he and Ma made up cuz I never heard no more fightin’ and screamin’ after that night.

“Weren’t long after Papa died when Ma got sick, too.  Orville wouldn’t let me tend her; he told me I belonged outside the house till the sickness passed.  But Ma never got no better, and so we buried her next to Papa up by that old tree on the hill.”

“I’m sorry, Molly.”  There, I’d said it again.  It seemed like the only words I ever said to the girl.  “So you‘ve been living here with your grandfather ever since?”

“Where else would I live?”

I smiled.  She sure wasn’t backward.  She had a brain and she knew how to use it.  It wasn’t any of my business to ask more questions, but in the long run, I had to know everything I was dealing with.  

“Is there anything else you’d like to tell me about your ma and pa?”

“What’s there to tell?  They’s dead.”

“You’re right.  It’s none of my business.  You ready to go?” 

“Sure wish it’d been Orville what died ‘stead of Ma and Pa.”  She picked another long blade of grass and began pulling it apart.  “The day after we buried Ma, Orville come back inside the cabin all tuckered and sweaty, and he told me to fetch his jug.  He sat there all day long drinking from that jug.  I thought he must be really sad ’bout Ma dying and all.  I never seen him that likkered up before.  I ‘member him mumbling something ‘bout my ma, but I couldn’t rightly figger what he’s sayin’.

“He told me to come and sit on his lap.  He’d never had me do that again since Ma got mad at him that night, but this time Ma weren’t there.  He pulled me again’ his chest.  I could smell his sour breath, and when he put his mouth on my neck, I could feel his beard tickling me.  I giggled, and I think I made him mad cuz he jumped right outta that chair, and I fell smack down on the floor on my bottom.  He went back to his bed, and I heared him moanin’ and grownin’, and I knew ‘xactly what he’s doin’ cuz I’d seen him jerkin’ on hisself lots a times before.

“He didn’t never make me sit on his lap again after that day, but I was used to hearin’ him make all them gruntin’ noises.  When I’s jiss little and Ma sent me down to wash in the creek, he’d follow me, saying he’s just makin’ sure I’s safe from lions and coyotes what prowled sometimes.  I thought maybe he’s havin’ a fit or something the way he’s a rubbing on his thang and moaning like some old, wounded bear.  That’s how I know’d what he’s doing ‘cause he’d always cry out in the end like he’d hurt hisself.

“When I got bigger, and my titties started showin’, he’d liken to come up ‘n rub on them, but not so hard like he did with his thang.  He’d stand over me, and I seen him smiling.  He’d tell me I’s coming along just fine.  Said I’s ripening nicely, and then he said, more’n he’s just a simple man with simple needs what gots to be filled.  Told me the preacher back home said a good woman’s what God intended for man.  He said he’d have to do me purty soon to fulfill them needs ‘cause there weren’t no other female persons in these mountains no more.  Said he’d had a girl what’s half Paiute ’round the place for a time, but like my ma, she’s dead now, too.”

Molly chuckled softly, but she didn’t look up.  “I ‘member the first time I got my monthly troubles.  I thought God was mad at me for somethin’ I done, and I was dying ‘cause I’d been reckless with my chores or cuz I’d back-talked Orville.  I took to my bed, and I waited to die.  Orville laughed at me.  He told me it was a natural thing.  He called it my monthly troubles.  Said it’s a woman thing, and I’d get used to it over time.  I thought he just didn’t wanna tell me I’s dying like my ma and papa, but Orville was right.  I ain’t dead.”  She looked up and smiled at me this time.  “Guess he was right about some things.”

Although I smiled back, I didn’t know what to say.  My mouth was dry, and I settled for running my tongue over my lips rather than move to get a drink from the stream.  Molly hadn’t finished her story just yet.

“For months after my troubles began, Orville didn’t do nothin’ but rub up against me, and then he’d go in back and rub hisself, thinking I couldn’t see or hear what he’s doin’.  That’s till wintertime ‘fore last.  It was too cold to go outside, and we’s both stuck in that ol’ cabin all day and all night.  One day, he’d been sippin’ at his jug all day long, and that always made me a little scared, ‘cause like I told you before, when he got all likkered up, he weren’t really hisself.  But I guess his spiritual needs was getting the best of him cause he’s looking hard at me that whole day.  When he set his jug down and stood up from his chair, he told me it was time.  Said he’d fought off them Godly urges as long as he could, and he just couldn’t be made to hold hisself off no longer. 

“Funny thing was,” she said, stopping to glance at me, “I didn’t know what it were time for.  I wasn’t scared of him till that night after he come walking toward me with a whole different look in his eyes.  He pulled off my leather string and slipped my dress up over my head.  Then, he stared at my titties with a kinda funny look.  I ‘member holding my hands ‘tween my legs … I’s kinda embarrassed of him seein’ me naked and all.

“But that’s when he pulled my hands away, and I ‘member stumbling some cuz he made me spread my legs wider so he could get his big ol’ hand in-between.  I didn’t much like what he’s doin’ so I swung back my hand and smacked him upside the head.  That weren’t the smartest thing to do.”  Molly scrunched up her face as though the long-ago event was taking place right in front of her eyes.  “Ol’ Orville, he reared back and slapped me ‘cross the face so hard, I fell back on the bed.  There was blood comin’ from my nose and mouth, but he grabbed my arm, pulling me back up to my feet, and then he slapped me again. 

“I started to cry and he said there’d be no cryin’ and no back-talking or he’d have to learn me same as he learned my ma.  I still didn’t understand, but when he unfastened his coveralls, I saw his thang.  It was big and hard like a tree branch.  He crawled on top of me, and before I could figger what he’s plannin’, he shoved his thang inside—”

“That’s enough, Molly,” I said sharply.  “Don’t say anymore.”  I swallowed the lump in my throat and I squeezed my eyes tight, trying to erase the mental picture Molly had painted, but there would be no erasing the vision of that old man climbing on top of this child. 

“You see … after the first time he done me, Orville’s on top a me near every mornin’ and every night.”

“Molly,” I interrupted.  “Really, you don’t have to go on.”

“May as well finish tellin’, Joe.  You asked me, so you might as well hear all I gotta say cause I ain’t never gonna tell no one this story again.”

“Okay.”  What Molly said made sense, and I forced myself to listen. 

“There was other times, too, when I think Orville just liked lookin’ at me, ‘cause I’d growed up some, you know, titties and all.  That winter, he’d have me pull my dress up over my head so I was naked and shivering from the cold.  He made me play with my titties till they got pointy and hard, and, well, I s’pose you can gather the rest by now.”  She looked at me and grinned.  “Yep, he pulled on his thang and carried on till he’d cry out ‘cause he’d hurt hisself again.

“Orville started drinking all the time after the snows come that year.  I never knew what he’s gonna do next.  He told me I’s broke in, good ‘nough for any man who had coins to spare, and so he told them other fellers what come for whiskey that for two bits more they could take me back to the bed and do me.  Life weren’t so bad when Orville had all them extra coins jingling in his pocket.

“He’s always reminding me it’s my duty.  It’s God’s will cuz there weren’t no other females nowheres close by.  He never took too kindly to me sassing and said I’d better be ‘special nice to them men what was paying him two bits for services rendered. 

“I ‘member running outta the house once, trying to get away from Ugly Elbert.  Orville, he’s a sitting on that old log outside when he heard me coming and he stuck out his boot.  Well, I tripped and landed face down in the dirt.  Busted up my arm pretty good that time.   Him and Ugly said they know’d how to fix it, so Ugly held me up aging him, and Orville pulled on my arm.  I ‘member screaming bloody murder it hurt so bad.  Them two tied my arm up tight with sticks and pieces of rawhide and said I’d be good as new in no time.  When they’s finished tying, Orville told Ugly to git busy, and git his business finished, ‘cause he couldn‘t hold his own self off much longer.”

Molly leaned back on the rock and rested on her elbows.  It seemed she was thinking hard.  I wondered if her story was finished, if she’d said everything she wanted to get off her chest.  But when she started up again, her voice was still controlled, never wavering, just matter-of-fact.

“There’s times Orville was just plain mean, and I figgered God had nothing to do with what he’s thinking or doing.  Never figgered out what made him do them things, but he seemed pleased with hisself when he seen me hurting cause some of the things he done just weren’t right.  I ’member one time he took a big, long stick and—”

“Molly!  That’s enough for now.”  With a quick glance at the sky, I realized we’d spent much more of the afternoon talking than I’d anticipated when we’d stopped for a drink of water.  “It’s really getting late, and I think you and I need to be moving along.  We want to get home sometime today.”  Besides, I couldn’t stomach much more about her young life.

She’d told her story so casually, as if this was a common occurrence among all young girls her age.  Orville Krebs and all the other men in her life were as normal for her as day turning into night.  If this was the hand she’d been dealt, I was determined to make sure her life would be different from now on.  I’d find her a new home and a new family; a family who’d bring her up as a young girl should be, even if I was forced to raise her myself. 

Chapter 2

Molly’s face showed signs of fear as I lifted her down from Cochise in front of the expansive ranch house I called home.  “Now, don’t be frightened,” I said, keeping hold of her hand.  “I’ve been a guest at your house and now you’re a guest at mine, okay?”  Even though she nodded her head, I knew she was frightened.  I glanced back at the milk cow we’d dragged home behind us  “Molly?”  I said, kneeling again on one knee.  “Why don’t I show you the stall I have in mind for Dilly?” 

But when I looked up, my brother, Hoss, was just starting through the front door.  Molly’s grip tightened against my fingers, and she eased herself behind my back.  Hoss was a big man, maybe the largest man she’d ever seen, and with her detailed past surfacing only a few hours ago, I could only imagine her unwillingness to be introduced to anyone new and unfamiliar.

“Sweetheart,” I said.  “Everything’s okay; I don’t want you to worry.  It’s only my brother, and I promise you’re safe, okay?”

“He’s big.”

“Yes, he is, but he’s as gentle as … as Dilly.”

Her eyes narrowed.  “As Dilly?”

“Okay, maybe that wasn’t the right comparison.  Was your pa a gentle man?”

“Course he was.”

“Well, so is Hoss.  You just have to trust me on this, Molly.”

I was still balanced on one knee when she placed her hands on my shoulders and peered over my shoulder.  I watched her eyes grow big as she stared at my brother.

“Whatcha got here, Little Joe?”

I made eye contact with Molly once more before I stood up.  “You okay?”

She nodded her head.

“Hoss?  I want you to meet Molly.  I was a guest at her house a month ago, and now she’s going to be a guest at ours.”

“Nice meeting you, Miss Molly,” Hoss said, extending his hand.  “Welcome to the Ponderosa.”

“Nice meetin’ you, too, Mr. Hoss,” she said, as softly as a church mouse.  

~~

I’ve met his type before.  Men are men; they’s all the same.  They tip their hats and introduce their selves just before they loosen their belts or unfasten their coveralls.  Joe’s brother ain’t dirty, and he don’t smell.  He smells of soap, like Joe.  But it wouldn’t be long ‘fore the big man would come and demand what he was due.  His God-given needs would bring him straight to my bed.

~~

Hoss gazed at me skeptically, and I mouthed the word, later.  Molly still clung to me, gripping my hand even tighter than before.  “Hey, where’s Pa?”  I asked, as we walked toward the house.

“He had a meeting in town; something to do with that Watson deal.”

I’d need time alone to talk with Pa and Hoss, but first, Molly needed a bath and something clean to wear before sitting down at the table to eat.  With a house full of men, I could count on Hop Sing for the meal, but I wasn’t sure how I’d manage the bath or the clothing.  After hearing voices coming through the front door, Hop Sing rounded the corner from the kitchen, and his eyes fell immediately upon Molly. 

“What you got here, Little Joe?”  Molly backed up against me, and I rested my hands on her shoulders. 

“This is Molly, Hop Sing.  She’s come to visit us for a while.”

Hop Sing bowed slightly and smiled at the young lady in front of him.  “Bet Missy hungry.  Hop Sing fix sandwich.  You come sit.” 

Molly’s panicked-filled eyes found mine when Hop Sing took hold of her hand and pulled her away from me.  I winked and nodded my head, letting her know it was all right to go with our cook. 

“Hop Sing right back with food for Missy.” 

Hoss and I eyed each other and shrugged our shoulders.  As usual, Hop Sing had taken charge of the situation.  While Molly was in Hop Sing’s care, I took a minute to talk to Hoss.  I kept my voice to a whisper and quickly explained the situation. 

“The grandfather is dead.  What else could I do?  I couldn’t leave her there to fend for herself.”

Hoss shook his head.  “Poor little thing.  Looks like she ain’t had nothin’ to eat for some time.”

We both glanced at the plates of food Hop Sing began bringing to the table.  There was leftover fried chicken, a bowl of apples, and a big glass of cold milk for Molly, but she looked past Hop Sing and his constant chatter, and, with pleading eyes, I think she was asking permission.

“Go ahead, Sweetheart.  Eat up.  I’ll try to keep Hoss over here so he doesn’t steal all the food from the table.”

“Don’t go telling her that, Joseph.  She’ll get the wrong idea.”

“Hoss is right, Molly.  You eat whatever you want.  I guarantee Hoss won’t bother you or any of the food on the table.”

~~

This time maybe, but what if Joe weren’t around?  What happens when he leaves me alone with his brother or the father he keeps talking about?  And what about this little person with funny eyes?  Will I have to do him, too?

~~

After Molly picked up a piece of chicken, I turned my back to the dining room table and whispered to Hoss.  “I’ll explain more when Pa gets home, but she trusts me right now, and I want to keep it that way.  It may take some doing before she feels comfortable with you or Pa.  You understand?”  Hoss nodded, but I’m not sure if he really understood.  “She’s had a rough time since her Ma and Pa died.  Let’s just say her grandfather was no prize.”

“Weren’t her grandfather nice to her?  I mean … I see they didn’t have much in the way of clothes or food, but was he mean to her?”  Hoss had already seen the fear in her eyes, and my quick explanation confirmed his thoughts. 

“From what she’s told me today, the old man drank and ruled with an iron hand, but that’s all I can say for now.”

“Poor kid.  Whacha plan on doin’ with her, Joe?”

“I’m not sure.”  I glanced over my shoulder and saw how Molly kept her eyes glued to Hop Sing.  Did she fear him, too?  “Guess I need to find a home for her, but not for a while yet.  For now, I just want her to feel safe.”

“You mean you’re gonna keep this little gal here with us?”  Hoss looked rather delighted at the prospect.

“Well, she’s never seen the inside of a schoolhouse, so I was thinking maybe between the three of us we could at least teach her letters and numbers.  She may look backward, but I guarantee you, Hoss, she’s not.  This little girl’s as smart as a whip.” 

“I bet she’ll catch on faster’n you or I did, if what you say is true.”

Hoss was such a loving soul, and as much as I wanted to confide everything, I didn’t dare.  Nor would I tell my father—not yet.  There would come a time later when I would reveal the entire story, but I wanted them to know her first and care for her like I did.  Her not-so-normal background might influence them the wrong way, and I wasn’t about to let that happen.

“Looks to me like she could use a woman’s touch,”  Hoss said, interrupting my thoughts.

“We’ll get to that.”  I patted his stomach and started walking away.  “But right now I need to find something for our guest to wear.”

“I get, I get,” Hop Sing said, running toward the stairs.  “You sit.  Eat with Missy.  I start bath and find clothes to fit young lady.”

“She has a name, Hop Sing.  Molly—her name is Molly,” I yelled at Hop Sing’s back as the Chinaman scurried up the stairs.

“Okay, Little Joe.  Missy Molly.  I get.  Fix Missy up just fine.”

“Little Joe?”  Molly said, turning to face Hoss and me.

“It means I’m the youngest.  I’ve got two older brothers who christened me with that name the day I was born.”

“You seemed awful big to me that night you was—”

“Eat up, Molly,” I said, sensing alarm bells ringing loudly.

Hoss looked quizzically at me and whispered.  “What’s she mean by that?  She need glasses or something?” 

“Eat some chicken, Brother.” 

Hoss and I took seats at the dining room table as the Chinese boss of the Ponderosa had ordered us to do.  “Looks like Hop Sing made enough food for three people,” I said, reaching for the platter of cold, fried chicken.  “Everything okay?” 

She nodded her head.  “Where’d that man get all this food?”

“Hop Sing?  Well, when you’ve finished eating, I’ll show you the kitchen.  That’s where our cook spends most of his time.  He does most of the cooking and cleaning around here.”

“You have a man what cooks?”

“Yes, we do, and just remember, Molly, any time you’re hungry, you just tell Hop Sing and he’ll whip you up whatever you want.”

“You mean it, Joe?  You really mean it?”

“He sure does, Little Lady,” said Hoss.  “Hop Sing fixes me anything I want to eat.  I just have to ask him politely.”

Molly looked at Hoss and then toward me.  “Hop Sing don’t like you?”

“Why would you say that?” 

Molly looked at Hoss again and back at me. 

“Oh, Hop Sing likes me just fine,” I said, finally catching on.  “See, mealtime is Hoss’s favorite time of day.  He just has a much bigger appetite than I do.”

“That’s for sure.” Hoss rubbed his rounded belly.  “A big wind could carry the two of you off to another territory, but me?  Not a chance.  There ain’t much hope for Joe, but Hop Sing will make it his highest priority to fatten you up some.  You can count on that.”

I was determined to make this work, and my confidence was escalating as I watched Molly relax in the chair across the table from Hoss.  Even with a hesitant start, she was beginning to feel comfortable.  And when she’d eaten her fill, I reached for her hand and guided her toward the stairs.  We’d tour the kitchen another day.

After reaching the top landing, Molly stopped and gazed down the long hallway before looking up and questioning me.  “Them’s all separate rooms behind them doors?”

“Yep.”  I pushed open the first paneled door.  “This room’s just for you.”

Molly let her eyes move from one corner of the room to the next.  The entire line shack would have fit inside these four walls.  In the center of the room stood a large four-poster bed with a bulky, down quilt and four plump pillows at the head.  A washstand stood to the side, and there was a floral curtain in the window that matched the cushion on the rocking chair in the far corner.

“All this for just one person?”

“Yep.  All this just for you, Molly.”

“So … where does everyone else sleep?”

“Come with me, darling.  I’ll give you the grand tour.”

I took Molly’s hand and together we strolled slowly down the hallway, opening every door so she could see everyone had their own bed inside their own bedroom. 

“Hop Sing?”

“Well, he sleeps in a room off the kitchen.  He gets up earlier than the rest of us so that way he doesn’t wake anyone else up.”

“Oh … he makes chicory?”

“Usually coffee.”

By now, we’d returned to Molly’s bedroom, and I could tell she was still studying everything, big and small, inside the generous space.  “Okay then,” I said.  “I see Hop Sing’s brought water for your bath, so you’re on your own.”  I walked toward the bed.  “He’s laid out these clothes, and you’ll have to make do until we can buy you something better in town.”

“I ain’t never seen a real tub before.  Always went down to the crick.”

“Here’s your chance to try it out.  Hop Sing left you soap too, so make sure you wash real good, even your hair, okay?”

“I sure will, Joe.  I’ll be clean as a whistle in no time.”

“Good,” I said, trying to contain a giggle.  “I’m gonna get cleaned up too, and by then maybe my father will be home.”

“Is … is he a big man like Hoss?”

“No one’s as big as Hoss, but Pa’s bigger than I am.  So you get cleaned up and it won’t be long till supper.”

“You mean we’s gonna eat again?”

“That’s right.  Its tradition around here.  Three meals a day.”

~~

I stared after Joe as he pulled the door closed behind him.  I was alone for the first time in the big house, and I realized what Orville musta been thinking when he first laid eyes on Joe.  He saw money—lots and lots of money.  I didn’t know much about telling the difference between them who had and them what didn’t, but Orville sure did.  I believe he’d have sold the pinto to the first buyer if Joe hadn’t scrambled up that hill, but he’d used me for bait instead.  Two bits here and two bits there, and maybe more from a rich man like Joe Cartwright.

But Joe weren’t like most men.  Maybe he thought I was too dirty, and that’s why he’s so set on me cleaning myself up in this tub.  I stared at the fluffy blanket and big pillows covering the bed, and I thought of Joe.  He’d been good to me.  He was a friend; a best friend, my only friend, and he’d brought me here to live with him.  Was this forever?  Was this how rich folks treated everyone?

~~

I stood in front of my mirror, skimming the razor across my face after soaking in the tub longer than I’d planned.  I’d nearly fallen asleep until a chill came over me after letting the water grow cold.  I hadn’t planned to leave Molly alone too long, and, being lost in thought as I pulled the blade up under my chin, I didn’t hear the bedroom door open, and I didn’t hear footsteps cross the room.

“Ouch!”  I gasped when the tip of the blade nicked my skin.

Molly had slipped up behind me, wrapping her still-damp arms around my waist, and rested the side of her face against my back.  She freed one hand and let it slide slowly down the front of my trousers in an attempt to arouse me before I turned sharply, letting the razor fall, only to bounce and clang as it hit the side of the china bowl.

 I grabbed hold of her arms.  “Molly, no!” 

Tears welled in her large, brown eyes.  Maybe I’d overreacted to her advances, but this wasn’t right—this wasn’t right at all.  As she shook off my hold, she stared into my eyes as if I were the meanest man on earth.  I reached for her; I needed to explain, but she panicked and ran toward the bedroom door.  Before I could react, she was gone, racing down the stairs as I called her name.

“Molly!  Molly, wait!”

I ran the damp towel across my face.  Dressed only in my trousers and boots, I didn’t take time to grab a clean shirt before I ran down the flight of stairs after her.

“Molly,” I called out again.

The front door stood open, and I raced out to the yard, but there was no sign.  I called her name.  I ran to one side of the house then the other.  Where would she go?  Where would she hide?  I’d embarrassed her; I’d made her feel small and unworthy.  God, I didn’t have time for that now.  I had to find her before Pa got home and …

~~

I climbed the wooden ladder and pressed my back against the wall then tucked myself behind fresh-smelling hay in the corner of the loft.  Why had Joe pushed me away?  Why was he acting so mean when I was only trying to please him?  My papa and even Orville always said I was a purty little thing so why did Joe hate me so much?  What had I done wrong?

“Get him a wanting you, gal,” Orville had said.

I tried.  I did what I do best, but Joe wouldn’t let me do him like all them other men what was Orville’s friends.  I squeezed my eyes tight shut as I remembered Orville haulin’ me out back to the lean-to and backhanding me ‘cross the face. 

“It don’t take a shitload a persuading to git a man wanting you.  You’s just a dim-witted little piece of shit if’n you cain’t figger that out.” 

The second backhand came harder and faster than the first and knocked me clear to the ground.  But as I pushed myself up, Orville tore at the back of my dress and bent me face down over the utility table.  He dropped his overalls and rubbed up against my bare skin. 

“You ain’t even worth your feed.  You’re so damn stupid, you cain’t even stir up the God-given need in some stranger who’s taking up space in my bed.” 

Orville’s loud grunts and groans paled in comparison to the pain I felt that day when Orville took me from behind, rested hisself, and took me a second time.  

“That man would’ve paid a helluva lot for you if you’d done ‘im right.  That man had money to burn.  Couldn’t you see that, girl?”

~~

After racing back to the front of the house, I hollered at Hoss who’d just come through the open door.  “Seen Molly?”  

“Nope.  She run off?”

I didn’t take time to answer.  I kept running until I reached the barn doors.  Thinking she may have done as I’d had when I was her age, I looked up before I scaled the ladder to the loft. 

“Molly?  You up there, darlin’?”

It didn’t take long to find her hiding behind a pile of hay.  Knowing I shouldn’t be out here alone only half-dressed with someone Molly’s age, I had no choice.  I couldn’t leave her cowering in the barn.  Though I kept my distance, I knelt down in front of the scared little girl.

“Molly, please don’t do this.  I’m sorry if I scared you.  It wasn’t my intention at all.”

“Why do you hate me, Joe?”  Tears streaked her face and her voice caught as she hiccupped back her cries.

“Oh, Molly.  I don’t hate you.  It’s just … we need to talk.  There are rules and—“

Molly fell forward.  She threw her arms around my neck, and against my better judgment, I pulled her close.  I stroked her silky, clean hair until the sobs subsided and I felt her breathing regularly again.

“I love you, Joe.”

“No, Molly.”

“Yes, I do, and you can’t tell me different.  I know what love is.”

“Molly … ”

I let my voice trail off.  What were the right words to say?  I pulled back, wanting to kick myself for screwing up again and sending Molly the wrong message.  Her thoughts were so messed up; I had to set her straight before—

Hooves slowly plodded.  Buck.  I could tell by the slow gait my father used when entering the barn.  Oh, God.  Could this day get any worse?  Here I was, a half-naked man twice the girl’s age, hovering over my father in the loft in a very compromising position.  Surely, Pa wouldn’t think—no … surely, he trusts me more than that.

“Someone up there?”  Pa called out when he heard Molly and I shuffling above him.

“Yeah, Pa, it’s me.  I was just coming down.”  The timing was what it was.  Only five minutes more, Molly and I would have been back in the house, and I would have been fully clothed.

Pa had already removed his saddle and blanket from Buck when I started down the ladder, but he didn’t turn around to look until he heard the second set of boots on the wooden rungs.  The scoop of grain was quickly put in place for his mount, and Pa stood with his hands planted firmly on his hips.  Molly took one look at my father and ran from the barn to the house.

“Pa, I can explain.”

“I think that would be wise, Joseph.”

“I—I’ll meet you inside,” I said, sidestepping my way toward the barn doors.

After grabbing a clean shirt, I settled Molly in her room.“I need to speak to my father privately.  Will you wait here until I come back?”  Molly turned on the bed facing away from me and didn’t want to hear anything I might have to say.  “I promise I’ll come back as soon as I smooth things over with my pa, all right?”  I walked out of the bedroom hoping she understood and hoping she’d stay put.  I descended the stairs to face my father.

Pa’s voice echoed through the room before I hit the first landing.  “You better have a darn good explanation, Joseph.”

I glanced at Pa’s brandy container. Should I start by handing my father a glass? Give him time to calm down?  It sure couldn’t hurt.  I poured each of us a drink.  “This might cushion the blow, Pa.”

“I can’t help but be concerned, son, and the faster you start explaining, the better off we’ll all be.”

I handed Pa a glass of brandy and kept the other for myself.  “It’s not what you think.”

“And just what am I thinking, Son?”

“I’ll start at the beginning, and you’ll see how this little mix-up is really nothing at all.”

I told Pa what I’d found while delivering the deer to the line shack.  Orville’s death, Molly left alone, and how I took charge of the situation.  Still, I didn’t mention Molly coming into my room.  Instead, I gave him some lame excuse about Molly being frightened and running to the loft.  I chased after her and only minutes later, Pa was leading Buck into the barn.

“So now what?  How old is this girl?”

“Fifteen, we think.”

“We think?”

“She’s not sure.”

Pa stood from his chair, poured himself a second drink, and asked if I wanted another.  I said no.  I figured I’d better keep my wits about me at least until I’d talked to Molly and straightened things out.

“You can’t keep her here.”

“Pa, please.  Did you hear anything I said?”

“There’s that newly built orphanage in Carson City, and I think the girl would be much better off—“

“No.  I won’t send her there.  She stays here, Pa.”

My father stopped in his tracks and looked at me sideways over his shoulder.  “What did you say?”

“Pa, I’m not a little kid.  I’m a grown man, and I’m old enough to make my own decisions.  Now, if you feel that’s not the case, if you want to fight me on this, I’ll take Molly and we’ll both stay somewhere else.”

“Joseph, I don’t understand.  What kind of hold does this girl have on you?”

“There’s no hold, Pa.  She’s young, and her grandfather treated her worse than a dog.  She’s frightened, and there’s no way I’m sending her off to live with anyone else.”  I stared into my father’s eyes wondering why we weren’t on the same page.  “Maybe in time, I’ll find a decent family who wants to adopt her.  Maybe.  But right now, she stays.”

“Joe—”

“No more arguing, Pa.  I know what I’m doing.”

Molly was reintroduced to Hop Sing when she heard him ranting over ungrateful family and food all cold as we descended the stairs together.  I whispered in Molly’s ear, “He gets that way sometimes; nothing to worry about.  You sit here next to me.”  I pulled the chair out for Molly and took the seat beside her. 

After we were all seated, and before platters were passed around the table, Pa bowed his head to say grace.  I reached under the table and squeezed Molly’s hand.  Everything was new and overwhelming to a girl who’d grown up knowing nothing about the normal practices or rituals of everyday life. 

Before we passed the platters around the table, Pa cleared his throat and turned toward me.

“Molly?  I want you to meet my father.  Pa?  This is Molly.”

“How do you do, Molly,” Pa said in his gentle voice.

Molly didn’t respond.  She looked up at me and I nodded.  “Just say hello,” I whispered.

“Hello,” she said to Pa.

“Joseph?  Will you help the young lady fill her plate?”

“Yessir.”

“Eat what you can.  You don’t have to eat everything on your plate.  Only Hoss does that.”

Molly looked across the table at Hoss.  She smiled and he smiled back. 

“My little brother is wrong about most things, Molly, but this time he’s absolutely right.  I’m known for cleaning my plate, ain’t that right, Pa?  Pa?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Son.  What did you say?”

“Ain’t nothin’ worth repeating.”

Hoss looked across the table at Molly and me, and I could tell he was disappointed in Pa’s silence and blatant avoidance of a guest at our table.  My father was executing his right to punish me by keeping silent.  It wasn’t Pa’s way to be rude or intimidate a houseguest, especially a child, but he was doing just that. 

I picked up my fork and motioned Molly to do the same, and she did.  But my brain wasn’t registering the problem.  I was too busy wondering if Pa was onboard with my decision.  The constant clanging of Molly’s fork hitting the china plate finally alerted me to the problem and, whether I should have or not, I chuckled.

“Here, Molly.”  I took the fork from her left hand and switched it to her right.  “This should work better now.”

When Molly felt she had eaten her fill, she leaned back in her chair—and belched.  “I‘s stuffed to the brim,” she said, rubbing her belly with both hands.  The three of us burst into fits of laughter, even Pa couldn’t contain himself then leaned forward and spoke.

“Molly,” he said.  I’m stuffed to the brim, too.”

This poor, uneducated girl brought laughter to our table and in time, she would capture my father’s heart.  I could see in his eyes, he was moving toward my way of thinking.  Molly wasn’t ready for the outside world.  She’d be lost in the crowd, and she was too special to be railroaded into an orphanage.

When she yawned and her eyes briefly closed, I figured it was time for bed.  “Come on,” I said, reaching for her hand.  “Let’s get you upstairs.”

“Night, Hoss,” she said, looking back over her shoulder.  “Night, Mr. Cartwright.”

I smiled as Pa and Hoss responded in unison.  “Goodnight, Molly.”

“That food sure was tasty, Mr. Cartwright.  And we do this again tomorrow?”

“That’s right, and the day after, and the day after that,” Pa said.  “Sweet dreams, Young Lady.”

After giving Molly a pair of my longjohns to sleep in, I told her I’d be back shortly to tuck her in.  As I stood outside her room, waiting for her to change, I thought of my father, and I felt pride and gratitude for a man who maybe didn’t agree with my way of thinking but was willing to keep his thoughts to himself considering the awkward situation.  When Molly called out, I walked into her room and sat down on the edge of the bed. 

“Tomorrow, I’m going to take you into town and buy you enough pretty dresses to fill that wardrobe.”

“What’s town, Joe?”

“Town?  Well, it’s a place where people buy things they need like clothes or food or a new saddle for Cochise … things like that.”

“I see,” she said, but her eyes roamed the room before they settled back on mine.  “Did you buy all these fixings at town?”

“Most of them, yes we did.”

A smile crossed Molly’s face.  “We never had much fixings, Joe.  Orville used the money he made off the whiskey and off me to buy more supplies to make more whiskey.”

“All that’s changed now, Molly.  You can have anything you want.  We’ll buy new dresses and bonnets, and new boots and stockings, and pretty bows for your hair, and even a bag of candy from the general store.”

Her eyes rounded like brilliant globes.  “Oh! Town’s like a trading post.”

“Yeah, pretty much but more of everything.”

“Is there lot’s a people at town?”

“Sure there are.  There are men and women and children just like you.  There are big buildings and—” I watched her shrink back into her pillows.  “There’s nothing to fear, Molly.  I’ll be with you the whole time.  I won’t leave your side, even for a minute.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.  Now, young lady, you get to sleep, and we’ll head out early tomorrow morning.”

Molly tucked the heavy quilt up under her chin and snuggled down under the covers.

“It may be too warm for that heavy blanket.”

“No it ain‘t,” she said, snuggling down even farther in the bed.  “I’s just fine.”

I leaned in to kiss Molly’s forehead but quickly refrained, remembering what she’d said in the loft.  A kiss would only lead her on, and that’s the last thing I intended to do.  “See you in the morning,” I said, standing up from the edge of the bed and turning to leave.

“See you in the morning.”

I stood at the bedroom door as Molly rolled to her side, still buried under the heavy quilt.  I understood the excitement of sleeping in a real bed with sheets and blankets and all the “fixings” a young girl could ever want, but overall sadness burned at my eyes as I closed the bedroom door behind me.

“Coffee?”  Pa asked after I’d come down the stairs.  I nodded and collapsed on the settee.  It had been a very long day, and I was exhausted.  But more than just being tired, I dreaded the explanation I’d have to give.  I figured if I was going to get any sleep tonight, I’d better explain the entire situation to my father.

“Hoss already in bed?”

“He practically followed you up the stairs.  He did double chores today and a thank you wouldn’t hurt.”

“You’re right, and I’ll tell him first thing tomorrow.”

I studied my hands as though they held the written words I wanted to say.  How much should I really tell Pa about Molly’s past?  Should I go the limit or sugarcoat the more horrific events?

“About Molly, Pa.”  I glanced up at my father.  “There’s things I haven’t told you about the girl.”

“I thought as much,” Pa replied as he eased himself down in his leather chair.  Sulfur filled the room when he struck a match to light his pipe.  “What is it, Joe?  What are you holding back?”

“You see, Molly lived with her grandfather and—”

“Yes, Joseph.  You explained that to me before your trip back to the line shack.” 

My emotions surfaced and it wasn’t a good time to fall apart.  I felt responsible for Molly, and I’m not sure why I felt I was the only one who could save her from a life of hell.  I had to make Pa understand how fragile and how helpless she was to fend for herself.  I stood up from the settee and placed the palms of my hands against the cool stones of the fireplace.  I looked over my shoulder and found patience and understanding in my father’s eyes.

“He mistreated her, Pa.  Her grandfather—he used her for his own … his own satisfaction.”

“You mean he took advantage … sexually?”

I couldn’t repeat the word.  I nodded my head.

“Oh, Joseph.  I didn’t realize.”

“For two years, at least.  It started when she was barely old enough to—Pa; I have to help her through this.  Don’t ask me why, but I feel responsible.”

Pa stood and set his pipe in the stand.  “Sometimes life is unfair, son, and it seems Molly paid a price at an early age.”

“That’s not all,” I said.  My father slid his arm across my shoulder, and I trembled knowing what I needed to say next.  “He sold her to his friends.  He let men pay to use her.”

There was silence, dead silence then Pa spoke.  “I know what you’re trying to do, Son, but the damage might be too great.  She may never get over—”

“Oh, yes she will, Pa.  If it takes a lifetime of trying, I’ll make sure no one ever touches her that way again.”

“Does Hoss know?”

“No.”

“Maybe this is best left between just you and me for now.”

“Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

“Now,” Pa said in a lighter tone.  “You should take her to see Paul Martin.  Let him examine her, make sure she’s not physically damaged in some way.”

Pa rubbed my back like I was a child who needed comforting.  Maybe I did.  Maybe all this business with Molly was too much for me to handle alone.  “All right.  I planned to take her into Virginia City tomorrow to shop for clothes.  We’ll stop by Paul’s while we’re there.”

“Why don’t you get some sleep, Son.  You’ve had a very trying day.”

“I will.”  I looked into my father’s eyes.  “Thanks.”

Pa smiled the type of smile that said he understood and he would help in any way possible.  “Goodnight, Joseph.”

“Night, Pa.”

~~

The only thing missin’ is Joe lyin’ beside me.  His soapy-clean skin and gentle touch as his arms wrap around me, pulling me close, kissing and touching me like no other man before.  I wrap my arms around my pillow and pretend he’s here with me.  And though tonight I would only dream of my sweet Joe, I knew someday my dreams would all come true but then the nightmare begins when Orville’s shadow blankets my pillow.  He stands over us with a whip in his hands.  He pushes Joe out of the way and suddenly; Ugly Elbert is climbing on top of me, forcing my legs apart and unfastening his coveralls.  I stare into his eyes as he lowers his longjohns and forces hisself inside.  His wheezing, whiskey breath pours over me, and he locks his arm tight against my throat.  I can’t breathe.  I’m gasping and I call out for Joe.  I call but no one comes.  Ugly paid his two bits, and he takes me more’n once but Orville won’t pull him away …

~~

Weeks passed.  It seemed the nightmares had ended and Molly was able to sleep through the night without waking or crying out for help.  I’d taken her to town with me on a number of occasions.  Every time I went for supplies, or mail or whatever was needed, she was by my side.  My family had become experts on different subjects as we all took turns helping with her schooling.  She was an intelligent girl, not backward or by any means slow so she caught on quickly, but she was at least five years behind the other children her age.  Preparing her for the classroom would take a miracle, but I refused to send her unprepared, only to be laughed and gawked at by the other children.

Molly had settled in nicely and she took her studies seriously, but I could tell Pa was concerned when her attention span always lasted longer when I was in the room.  “It’s a kid’s crush on the teacher,” I’d said, hoping to smooth things over with my father.  “Nothing more than gratitude.”  But Pa wasn’t buying.  He feared she’d never want to leave, and he was constantly pushing me to find a nice, wholesome family where she would be raised with a woman’s touch and a father’s love.

I wasn’t oblivious to Molly’s affection and maybe I’d brought some of it on myself.  I’d taken her everywhere with me but for a purpose.  I wanted to expose her to another way of life.  We rode fence together.  We’d round up strays or she’d sit on the corral fence while I broke in a new string of broncs.  Maybe it wasn’t proper female upbringing, but she was learning all the same.  She was seeing how a ranch was run—that there was more to life than jugs of whiskey and daily encounters with a despicable old man.

When she had gone to the barn alone with Hoss to watch a foal make his initial appearance into the world, I was so happy she’d learned to trust someone besides me.  It was a huge step for Molly, and I was proud of my little girl.

Molly had learned to laugh, to have fun and act like a child her age, but I agreed with Pa in one respect.  She needed a woman’s touch, something none of us could provide.  But as time went by, the thought of Molly leaving the ranch became more difficult for me to bear.

Pa had talked to the Reverend Jamison about finding her a new family—a new place to live other than the Ponderosa—but so far no one was willing to take a half-grown girl into their home.  Prospective parents wanted either a baby girl or boys old enough to work the ranch or farm.  And when Pa would mention the orphanage, I put my foot down until he had reservations of his own about her care and safety in a place like that.

Molly was a pretty girl and with proper food and the lack of daily stress, she was blossoming into a beautiful young lady.  Her hair shone like a field of golden wheat.  Her young body had developed fully and with her tainted background, she needed special guidance in learning proper ways to act around young men.

Mrs. McGinley was a widowed shopkeeper I’d persuaded to help Molly with the layers of clothing she’d have to wear under her dresses.  She was gracious enough to take Molly by the hand and instruct her on what clothing was appropriate for every day and what type of dress was worn on special occasions.  I’d thanked her and paid her well for her efforts.  I’d even had thoughts of Molly living with Sarah McGinley and how that might work out, but that’s as far as it went.  I wasn’t ready to part ways with the girl who, by some strange luck-of-the-draw, had become my charge.

Molly had never been happier.  She loved the Ponderosa and everyone in my family.  She’d become our little princess, and we all cared deeply for the young waif turned beautiful young woman.  I’d started inviting friends and neighbors to join us for dinner over the last few weeks so Molly could practice her newly refined etiquette.  No more belching at the dinner table, and in every way possible, I was proud of our thriving, young princess.

“Hey, Pa,” I said, as Molly and I walked through the front door.

“Did you two have a good time?”

“We sure did, Mr. Cartwright.  Joe took me down to the lake and taught me how to skip stones across the water.  I can do it almost as good as him now.”

“That sounds fine.  Listen, why don’t you go upstairs and get washed up and we’ll have some lunch.”

“Okay,” she said and bounced happily up the stairs.

My father waited until Molly was well out of sight before he spoke.  “Joseph, we need to talk.”

“Sure, Pa, what’s up?”

“Come and sit down.”

I hung my hat and jacket next to the front door and unfastened my gunbelt.  I rolled up my sleeves as I walked over to join Pa at the dining room table.  “Something wrong?”

Pa nodded for me to sit down, and he carefully slid a cup of coffee across the table.  “We need to discuss Molly.”

“Right now?”

“Right now.”

“All right.”  I pulled out a chair and sat down beside my father.  “What’s this all about?”

“I want you to hear me out—preferably without interruption.”

I chuckled softly.  “This sounds serious, Pa.  What am I missing here?”

“This afternoon I received a wire from William Watson.”

“Okay … and this has something to do with me?”

“Well, William and I were discussing the contracts last week for the timber we plan to supply the railroad, and I happened to mention Molly and … and that you were looking for a family to adopt her.”

“Pa,” I said, but my father held up his hand.

“Let me finish.  As I was saying, William casually mentioned he and Martha might be interested.  Of course, they’d like to meet her and … so … I’ve invited them to dinner tomorrow night.”

“You should have asked me first, Pa.”

“Joe—” My father may have made a mistake in judgment, but he wasn’t backing down. 

“How well do you know them, Pa?  Watson’s a business partner, that’s all.”

“I’ve had dealings with Watson for years, Joe.  You’ve met him and his wife, Martha, on numerous occasions.  They’re fine people and pillars of the community.  You know as well as I, you couldn’t find a better family for Molly anywhere.”

I stood and crossed the room then turned back to look at my father.  “This should have been my decision, Pa.  You had no right—”

“Joseph?”  My father motioned me to sit down.  “We need to talk this out.  The longer you put this off the harder it’s going to be.”

“I know, I know.  I just don’t know if—”

“Joe, you’ll need to tell Molly.”  Pa cut me off; he was past discussing the matter further.  He was set on having this dinner, and I had no say one-way or the other.  “Let her know we’re having company for dinner tomorrow night.  Let’s see how it goes.  You don’t have to tell her anything but to be on her best behavior.  There’s no need to tell her why the Watson’s are coming.”

The thought of strangers gaping at Molly, deciding if she was good enough to be their daughter was wrong, so very wrong.  I stared down at Pa.

“Joseph—please.  Do this for me.”

At this point, an argument would be worthless.  Plans had been made whether I agreed or not.  Dress and act appropriately and see if you fit the bill.  Is that what I should tell Molly?

“I’ll let her know we’re having guests for supper.  That’s all.”

~~

Mama used to hold me on her lap and tell me make-believe stories she called fairytales.  After she and Papa died, I would often sit by the stream and dream of a day when the clouds would part, and my knight in shining armor would swoop down from a sun drenched sky and take me in his arms.  He would lift my hand to his lips and his gentle kiss would transform me into a beautiful princess with flowing blonde hair and a white, satin dress.  And he’d place me on his magnificent steed and he would carry me to his castle where we would dine like kings and queens, and I would sleep on a featherbed next to my handsome prince forever.

My dream had become real and I cherished my new life with Joe and his family.  According to Mr. Cartwright, I’d become a real lady and never again would I be sold for two bits to any backwoods mountain man.  Joe was proud of me too and everyday he’d teach me something new.  I learned how to curtsy, when to speak and when to hold my tongue.  I was allowed to make my own decisions, even at the mercantile when my prince let me pick a gift for myself.  Whether whimsical or practical, he’d let me choose.

And when Joe and I went to town yesterday, he took me to Daisy’s Café for lemonade.  My face flushed when Miss Daisy leaned over and whispered in Joe’s ear how lucky he was to have such a pretty young lady to squire around town.  He reached out, squeezed my hand, and looked me straight in the eye.  “She’s quite lovely, isn’t she, Daisy?”  I knew it was a sign—a sign of Joe’s undying love.

Husband and wife.  Prince and princess.  It wouldn’t be long now before he realized we were meant for each other and no one could stand in our way.

A sudden knock on my door brought me to my senses.  My prince had come calling.  I pinched my cheeks for that slight dusting of color before I answered his call.

“Come in, my love.”

~~

After letting myself in Molly’s room, I realized I was not yet prepared for the most difficult conversation I would ever have with my young ward.

“Is something wrong, Joe?”

I nearly smiled.  Molly knew me that well, and my features must have expressed the regret I felt over our upcoming talk.  “Nothing’s wrong,” I said.  “We just need to talk.”  I ran my hand through my hair as I crossed the room then pulled out the desk chair and sat down.

Molly sat on the bed across from me with her hands folded loosely in her lap.  She looked different somehow, anxious, waiting.  Happy?  I wasn’t sure what to think.  But suddenly, she was on her knees and running her hands up my thighs.  I took her hands in mine, gripping them tightly. 

“No, Molly.  This isn’t the way.”

Tears filled her young eyes and she dropped her chin to her chest.  I stood and pulled her up with me only to lead her back to her seat on the bed so we could finish our talk.

“I need to talk to you about something important, and you need to listen to every word I say.”  I sat back in the chair and gave her a minute to collect herself before I cleared my throat and began.  “You okay?” 

“I’m fine.  What did you want to say?”

But she wasn’t fine, and I’d have to use more tack than I originally planned.  “We’re having dinner guests tomorrow.”

“We always have guests, Joe.”

“Well, tomorrow’s different.  We’re having special guests.  Friends of my fathers, and they’re friends of Hoss’ and mine too.”

“Oh?  Why are they special?”

I’d changed my mind before entering Molly’s bedroom.  I decided to be truthful and not hide behind a veil of lies and deception.  Molly was due the truth no matter how harsh the words sounded or how uneasy I felt when I gave her the news.

“Because the purpose of this particular dinner is so these people can meet you.  See, well, let me backtrack.  Their names are William and Martha Watson and Mrs. Watson, well, she was never able to have children of her own and they’re coming here to . . . they would like to meet you and maybe, if all goes well, they might like to have you live with them in their home.”

“You mean I wouldn’t live here anymore with you?”

“That’s right, Molly.”  I was fumbling with the right words to say.  How could I explain—

“Why do you want to send me away?”

“I’d visit all the time, Molly.  We’d see each other—

“But why?” 

“Molly, you need to listen.”

“No, I won’t.  I can’t.”  Both eyes reddened as tears slipped down her cheeks.  “I’m not pretty enough?  Is that it?  Did you find a girl more prettier than me?”

“Molly, please—”

“It’s Orville, ain’t it?  It’s all them other men what done me back at the cabin?  Why, Joe?  Why don’t you want me?  I’ll make you happy—please don’t send me away.” 

“It’s not what I want to do, Molly.  It’s what I have to do.”

“Why do you hate me?”

I stood from my chair and pulled Molly up with me.  “Please don’t cry.”  I stroked her hair and felt every tremor coursing through her body.  “I don’t hate you.  I could never hate you, but living here is wrong.  You need a family, not just a bunch of men who don’t know how to raise a young lady.  You need a woman—a mother—in your life.”

“No, I don’t need no woman.  I need you.”

I held Molly away from me and tilted her chin until her eyes met mine, but she jerked herself away and a look I’d never seen before came over her.  “I hate you!  I hate you!  Just get away from me and leave me alone!”

“Molly, please—”

“Go away!  I don’t want you here.”

I backed away; I started toward the door.  “I’ll be downstairs.”

Molly had folded her arms across her chest and turned her back to me.  Our talk had gone terribly wrong, just as I knew it would.  I should have prepared her for this.  I should have said no to Pa.  I should have done everything differently.  I’d failed to convey the proper message to a girl who’d been thrown to the wolves at an early age.  Not once has she been given a choice of how to live her own life.  I tossed her a crumb then I took it away; a life of happiness ripped out from under her.  No wonder she hated me.  I’d feel that way, too.

Needing to distance myself from everyone after causing Molly so much pain, I headed straight to the barn and saddled my horse.  The thought of sitting through supper making idle chitchat burned at my stomach like a fire-breathing dragon in one of Adam’s old storybooks.  As I rounded the corner of the barn, I heard Pa call out but I never looked back.  I rode harder than I should have.  Guilt over Molly tore at me, and I’d be damned if I’d sit and discuss the situation any further.

The Watsons would be our guests for dinner tomorrow night.  How could I justify sitting at the dining room table with literal strangers, encouraging Molly to be polite in order to persuade this couple to find her charming and say yes, we‘ll take her to be our daughter.  Memories of the day we sat by the stream while Molly painted pictures of her past so matter-of-factly drilled through my head and pounded relentlessly with every new detail of her miserable life. 

What would she remember about me or the Ponderosa?  That I was nothing but a traitor, that I’d brought her out of hell and gave her a life she had to give up after just so long?  Orville Krebs had never been mentioned again after that day by the stream.  She’d moved on once, could she manage to do it again?

I barely remember tethering Cochise outside the Silver Dollar, and I barely remember nursing a half bottle of whiskey but when the auburn-haired barmaid teased the side of my face with her painted nails, I suddenly came back to life.  Since I’d taken a corner table in the rear of the saloon, I hadn’t expected a visitor but I’d known Mel for years.  Some days we were friends and some days we were lovers but when she rested her hand on my upper thigh, well …

I hadn’t been with a woman since Carson City, since the day before I’d met Molly and had become her keeper.  Months had passed, and I hadn’t even given thought to a night on the town.  But, between the whiskey and Mel’s obvious attention, the thought of spending a night with the soiled dove seemed much more plausible than riding home and facing the sacrifices we all make when we’re only trying to do good.

I poured us each a drink, draining the bottle and promising Mel I’d hold down the fort until she finished her shift.  “If you’ll sashay on up to the bar and get me another bottle, I’m yours for the night.”

“Oh my,” she said, fanning her face with her long, delicate fingers.  “How could I ever deny such a romantic gesture?”

I pulled her to my lap, wrapped my arm around her slim waist and whispered.  “You’re the most beautiful woman in all of Nevada.  You’re the music in my soul and the reason I live and breathe.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it, Little Joe?”  I loved when Mel laughed.  Her eyes lit up and her cheeks flushed cherry red.  “I’ll get you that bottle.”

“That’s my girl,” I called out as she stood to walk away.

I smiled and shook my head.  Not many called me Little Joe anymore.  Sure, some of the old-timers like Roy and Paul Martin and of course, Hop Sing would never change his ways, but Melanie and I went way back.  And though she wasn’t my first, she ran a very close second and would always be dear to my heart.  

She loved to tease and play games, and she’d undoubtedly broken many hearts, even as a working girl at the Silver Dollar Saloon.  And after she hooked her high-heeled boot over the railing at the bar and shimmied her skirt above her knee, she looked back over her shoulder and winked.  Between the whiskey and Mel, I could actually relax, leave my thoughts and worries behind, and enjoy a night on the town.  

Maybe Pa was right.  Maybe I’d become too attached.  I couldn’t be mother and father to Molly, so maybe this was for the best after all.  Molly would learn all the social graces from a woman like Martha Watson.  Womanly questions would be answered correctly, not the fumbling answers I tried to convey over the past few months.

Mel set the bottle on my table and lifted her leg, placing her booted foot on the chair next to mine.  And as she adjusted her laces, I stared at her ankle and visualized the night ahead, but when I reached for that outstretched leg, she stayed me with the palm of her hand.

“Save it, Cowboy.”

“You’re a tease, Mel.”

“Maybe, but I’ll treat you to a night you’ll long remember.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

After a quick kiss on the cheek, Melanie snaked through the crowded room, fulfilling her obligation as barmaid.  It was Saturday night, and the saloon overflowed with miners and cowboys alike.  I’d skipped dinner and realized I’d missed lunch too.  I’d consumed way too much alcohol, and I had too much time to kill waiting for Mel.  A breath of fresh air, a trip to the outhouse might sober me up some.  But when I stood, my balance was a bit shaky, and I found I’d steadied myself against a miner twice my size. 

“Sorry fella, my fault,” I said rather sheepishly.

“Watch where you’re going, jackass,” he said, grabbing the front of my shirt.

‘Whadya call me?”  Suddenly, I was as sober as a judge.

“I called ya a jackass.  Got a problem with that?”

Blood pulsed and heat rushed to my face over the miner’s snide remark.  I was in no condition to fight, but no one called me a jackass and remained standing upright for long.  I turned my back as though leaving well-enough alone then swung back, throwing a solid punch at the man’s midsection and a quick left to his lower jaw.  The miner just stood there, swaying, but not enough to alter his stance.  My eyebrows rose and a forlorn expression of “what-the-hell” probably showed in my eyes. 

As a young boy, I was taught to think first and act second.  Heeding those words might have been a smarter choice since the last thing I remember is the big man balling his beefy fist …

Fragmented voices surrounded me, Melanie’s being one.  “Charlie?  Hank?”  I began to stir.  “Help Mr. Cartwright to his horse.”  As I was hauled to my feet, I searched wearily for Mel but after I was settled on top of Cochise, I had no choice but pray I’d make it home in one piece.

Years ago, Pa would have been pacing the room, staring at the clock, and planning the lecture I’d be forced to endure while still in the throes of too much alcohol.  Never put off till tomorrow what you can accomplish in the middle of the night.  The evil of alcohol and a young man’s ability to reason went right over my head in those days, and by the next Saturday night, I was pushing the limits of Pa’s endurance once again.

Unlike that young, foolish boy, I stabled my horse and made it up to the house without incident.  I tiptoed up the stairs sliding my hand along the rail and down the hallway walls until I reached my room.  The house was silent, everyone was sleeping and I planned to do the same.  After removing my boots and throwing my hat on the chair, I fell back on the bed keeping one foot on the floor like Adam had taught me years ago.  I threw my arm across my forehead, and visions of what might have been with the beautiful Melanie seeped into my mind …

     We’d walk up the stairs hand-in-hand; her room was far away from the grating shouts, and the gay, simple tunes hammered out on the piano below.  Mel would have teased me unmercifully all evening long, making me more than eager to let her have her way with me by whatever means she chose.  I would be nothing but a pawn in her game of romantic seduction. 

     She’d close the door behind us, and a swirl of purple satin might brush across my legs as she turned around to face me straight on.  Her blue eyes would flash with excitement and without wasting anymore time; I’d reach for the pin holding her hair.  Highlighted with henna, her silky mane would cascade over her shoulders as she lifted and shook her head to loosen the tightly wound curls.  And with my eyes never leaving hers, I’d place my hands at the small of her back and pull her toward me.  And when she reached out to touch me, I’d ease her arms back to her sides. 

     “Allow me,” I’d say, slipping the silky fabric from her pale, white shoulders.  “It’s time           you lay back and enjoyed the ride?”

     “I like your style, cowboy.”

     “Thought you might.” 

     Rather than giving her full rein, I chose to use my own imagination and see if I could pleasure Mel the way she’d always pleasured me.  I couldn’t offer her a candlelit dinner or quiet conversation but maybe for a time, I could show her she was more than second best according to the fancy bluebloods of Virginia City.  Men would call her a whore, a plaything, a woman without a soul, but I knew better.  Her profession had not deadened her soul or her acceptance of a loving touch.  Could I make her feel?  Could she get lost in the dance? 

     Her breathing became hesitant as I slowly released each tiny button until the bodice of her dress fell to her waist and exposed her creamy white breasts.  And when she reached for the buttons on my shirt, I shook my head, no.  I wanted control.  I wanted to set the pace, eager to satisfy, eager to bring out the fire within.

     I would teach her restraint, patience, and the feeling of being loved rather than forced to perform.  With her hands by her sides, I untucked and unbuttoned my own shirt then let the back of my fingers skim slowly from her waist, between her breasts to the underside of her chin before leaning in for a kiss.

     With our clothing finally removed and in a heap on the bedroom floor, I lay down beside her, letting my hand drift slowly but with certainty between her legs, acknowledging her wetness and feeling her tremble with anticipation as she spread herself fully, allowing my fingers to penetrate deep inside.  She tilted her hips, arching in the luxury of having someone else provide pleasure.  Again, she reached for me, and I gently but firmly pushed her hands away, keeping her eager and demanding more until she could stand it no longer and would plead and cry out for me to enter her hidden domain.

     Carefully, I moved myself on top, slipping my legs between hers.  And when her body quivered with unrestrained passion, she brought her hands toward me.  Reaching for my shoulders, I shook my head.  Her arms fell back on the mattress and she sighed in frustration.  I clasped my hands over her wrists; I leaned down and kissed her, still holding myself off until she could stand the erotic game no longer.  I began easing myself inside, teasing her with the slightest retraction, until I entered her fully.

I opened my eyes to a moonlit room.  My room.  I looked beside me; I was alone.  The dream was so real, so vivid in my mind I nearly chuckled aloud.  Too much alcohol will do that and with no food in my stomach, I’d had more than my share of hard liquor.  I reached for my swollen eye where the big man’s fist had connected and the night’s events came crashing back.  There was no going upstairs with Melanie, only a long ride home in the middle of the night.

My right foot was still anchored to the floorboards and I dared not move and inch until morning.  I closed my eyes.  My head still swirled with hazy thoughts of Mel as I fell back asleep.

Her gentle warmth adjacent to my chest was all it took to arouse me but this time I would give her full rein, and I would obey her directives like an eager puppy waiting for a beefy bone.  Her hands were soft and gentle; she was a pro and more than most barmaids, she enjoyed offering up her hidden skills.  Not every woman could take me on such an incredible ride as the sensuous, vivacious Mel. 

 The room stopped spinning, and I let my arms fall to either side of my body as she   worked her magic fingers across my goose-fleshed skin.  Although I winced at the pain when she touched the tender spot high on my cheekbone, I let it pass.  I let the fantasy continue.

Her hands gave way to her mouth, soft and gentle, but with such purpose.  I reached down, letting my fingers entwine in her long silky hair.  God, she was good, and as much as I tried to hold back and appreciate her seductive presence, I couldn’t hold out much longer.  My breathing intensified; I was at her mercy but without warning, my mind began to betray me.

      Hadn’t I ridden home from Virginia City?  I would never bring Mel to my father’s house.  So real, so damn real.  I tried to call out her name, but the dream silenced me.  Her warmth surrounded me as she took me in her mouth.  She’d taken me too far and I was past holding back.  The final release.  The euphoria of passion . . .

“Oh God—no!”  I cried, as I’d cried once before.  “No, Molly, No—”

But it was too late; there was no turning back.  As much as I tried to contain myself, the deed was done, complete in all sense of the word.  Like a small child, I threw my arm over my eyes.  I wouldn’t—I couldn’t see the outcome if I covered my eyes.

My head pounded; my body shuddered even though I was nearly spent.  Everything that could go wrong in my life exploded within me, leaving me drained and silently crying for help.  How had I not known?  Why hadn’t I heard her enter my room, lie down beside me, touch me?  God, how could this have happened in my father’s house?

To my left, I detected a buttery glow.  From dark to light, a lantern shone, moving shadows across the room and across the bed where Molly lay beside me.  My father blocked the doorway.  Though his features were blackened in shadow, the stark reality of my inappropriate state sent waves of panic crushing my soul while leaving me weak and helpless to rectify the situation.

Guilt affects a man’s core.  I felt weak, nearly helpless to undo the damage I’d caused in only a moment’s time.  I’d forfeited my integrity simply because I was unaware of my surroundings.  I was too drunk to . . . God . . . what the hell would happen now?

“Joe?”

She lifted her head from my chest where she’d cowered and tried to hide herself from my father just moments ago.  Her voice pierced the silence, broke through my thoughts and left me even more terrified of moving, of disengaging myself from the compromising position I’d found myself in.  What would my father do or say in his state of disbelief? 

But I had to move.  I had to find Pa, talk, explain everything.  But how?  How would I—where would I start and would he believe anything I said?  After that little problem in the barn, I wasn’t so sure.

I swung my legs over the edge of my bed and, in my rush to rectify; my stomach nearly gave way.  I adjusted my trousers and buttoned my shirt.  Molly placed her hands on my shoulders and, leaning toward my left ear, she whispered, “I love you, Joe.”

Molly’s voice was clear and precise, and I realized she believed every word.  I chose to remain silent.  I chose not to look at her.  Again, a childish trick of deceiving myself, of pretending.  If I didn’t acknowledge her, if I didn’t see her, maybe she’d go away.  Maybe she was never here at all.

I listened to her sobs; her fingers tightened on my shoulders.  I’d thought she was Mel, a dream, a fantasy.  “I’m sorry,” I whispered.  I didn’t think it was possible, but her grip tightened.  Why didn’t I move away?  What prevented me from telling her how wrong this had been?

Pa was waiting, of that I was sure.  I had to make an appearance.  “I have to go, Molly.  I have to speak with my father.”

Her arms circled my chest.  She locked her fingers together in a death grip behind my back.  “Don’t leave me, Joe.  Please don’t leave me.”

I pulled her hands away; I stood from my bed and I turned to face her.  “I have to speak to my father; I have to do it now.  You go back to your room and I’ll be up later.  Please,” I said, as though my directive hadn’t been enough.

“You’ll come to me?”

I took in a deep breath.  “I’ll speak to my father first.  Then we’ll talk.  I want you to stay upstairs while I try to explain—”

“You’ll tell him we’re in love with each other?”

“Molly, please.  Just do as I ask.”

She wore a pink dressing gown with nothing but flesh showing underneath.  And when she stood from the bed, she fumbled with the sash, bringing both sides to the front and tying a simple knot.  Her movements were slow, and I found myself looking away until she was properly covered and ready to go back to her room.

When her bedroom door clicked shut, I left my own room.  My heart beat unnaturally.  I stood unsteady at the top of the stairs, hiding from the lamp’s light positioned next to my father’s leather chair.  He must have stoked the fire; a cadence of shadows played a symphony across the floorboards, just the way my stomach played violently with uncertainty.

I hesitated; I even took a step back when the grandfather clock struck three.  There’d be no sleep tonight, only unpleasant conversation as I tried to defend myself when there was no reasonable defense possible.  I started down the stairs.  Pa, a roaring fire and a bottle whiskey, not my father’s normal drink of choice, were there to greet me as I took a seat on the settee then turned to face my father. 

“I don’t know where to start, Pa.  I don’t know what to say.”

“I’m sure you can come up with something, Joseph.”

“It’s not what it seems.  You don’t understand.”

“Try me.”  Pa’s voice was deep, his tone harsh and demanding.

“This isn’t easy.”

“No, it’s not and I’ll give you one minute to collect yourself, but do you have any idea how serious this matter is?  Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“I know what happened.  You don’t have to shove it down my throat.”

Besides being disrespectful to my father, I realized my choice of words had been highly inappropriate. 

“Get on with it, Joseph.  Tell me why I find my son with a fifteen-year-old girl in his bed?  How I catch my son half naked in the loft with the same child—child, Joseph!  Is that why you brought her to live here?  How could you, Joe?  How could you be so—”

“—for God sake, Pa.  You think I planned this?  Is that what you really think?”

“Lower your voice, Joseph.”

“Why?  You’ve already made up your mind.  You already know everything, don’t you, Pa.”

“What do you expect me to think?”

“I don’t know, but you’re wrong.  Real wrong.”

“Okay,” he said, lowering his own voice.  “Explain why I’m wrong and you’re right.”

Now that the anger and shouting was behind us, at least for the moment, maybe I could explain and maybe Pa would hear me out.  I met my father’s challenging glare then felt the need to steady myself with a shot of whiskey.  Since Pa hadn’t brought me a glass, I stood from the settee and crossed the room, picked up a glass and returned to my seat. 

“I might need this,” I said.

Pa said nothing.  He held out his own glass, and I poured him a refill. 

“Tonight wasn’t the first time,” I said.  “Well, actually it was, but it wasn’t the first time I found myself in a compromising position with—the girl.  You need to hear me out, Pa.  You need to know how tonight came about.”

“I’m listening.”

I threw back the shot.  It burned and, mixing with my earlier intake of alcohol, I shuttered and set the glass down on the table.  “It all started that day I hurt my ankle, and I was taken to the Krebs’ cabin to rest.”

Pa’s reaction was subtle.  He was trying desperately to hold back anything he might say in anger.  I told him about the night in the cabin, how I’d found Molly in my bed, just like I had tonight.  “But tonight, I was too drunk to know.”  Although a poor excuse, it was the truth.  “I thought it was a dream until it was too late, and I was past holding back.  There was nothing I could do to stop—”

I looked up at Pa, and we both turned our attention to the stairs after hearing Hoss’ heavy footsteps.

“Why‘s everyone awake at this hour?” 

“Why don’t you make yourself useful,” I said, staring up at Hoss.

“Huh?”

“Why don’t you make us all coffee?”

“Coffee?”

“Your brother might as well hear this too,” Pa said.

Hoss scratched at his thinning hair.  “I’m missin’ somethin’, ain’t I?”

“We’d appreciate some coffee, son.  Would you mind?”

Hoss mumbled to himself as he crossed the room toward the kitchen.  I found it funny somehow, but this certainly wasn’t the time or place to make light of any situation.  But what I realized, too, was life goes on and yes, tonight had posed a problem, but we’d get past it somehow.  The sun would come up and a new day would begin.  I would talk to Molly like I had before and we’d move on.  This wasn’t the end of the world.

Pa stood and motioned toward the dining room table.  We both sat in silence waiting for Hoss and the pot of hot coffee, which I needed over another shot of whiskey.  My brother poked his head out through the doorway. 

“Who wants cake?”

I shook my head; I feared speaking out loud.  How simple life was for Hoss.  Coffee and cake—an instant remedy for what ails a man in the middle of the night.  If I said the wrong thing or used the wrong tone of voice, Pa might get the wrong idea.  My brother had lightened the mood even for Pa.  The deep-set lines creasing his forehead were less visible after Hoss’ simple question.

It was time for the whole truth about Molly.  Her parent’s death from the fever, Orville taking her to his bed, the whiskey, the exchange of money for sexual favors, everything that lead to what happened tonight and when Hoss took his seat at the table, my story began.  Maybe, over the course of telling, I’d said too much, given too many facts about Molly because Hoss excused himself from the table and walked out the front door.  His chocolate cake sat uneaten.

I glanced at Pa.  “I said too much, didn’t I?”

“You know Hoss.  Give him time to let the story sink in.  He’ll be back.”

I rubbed my temples hard.  My head pounded but I continued.  “The day you found us in the loft, I thought we had everything talked out.”

“What does that mean, talked out?”

“She came to my room the day I brought her home.  I was shaving when she came in and—she doesn’t understand, Pa.  I thought I’d made myself clear, and maybe I had for a time.  But tonight, after I’d explained about the Watson’s—oh God.  I thought I’d gotten through to her but—”

“You know she can’t stay here.  You realize that now, don’t you?”

I turned my head slightly when the front door closed and Hoss walked back inside.  He moved slowly before taking his seat at the table.  Pa poured him a fresh cup of coffee then glanced at me.  I covered my cup with my hand.  My stomach was so on edge; I thought it best to stop drinking anything at all.

I tried to justify my night in town and why I had to get away after explaining the situation to Molly.  “She didn’t take it well, Pa.  She doesn’t understand why I’d ever want to send her away, and I thought if she had time to think things through . . .” I glanced at Pa and Hoss, hoping for confirmation, but there was only silence.

“So, I rode into town.  I had a few drinks—okay, I had too much to drink and I had a little problem with one of the miners.  After he gave me this,” I said gently touching the bruise marring my right cheekbone, “he—well, he didn’t hesitate to show me the front door.  I don’t remember much after that.” 

That was the last thing Pa wanted to hear, but I had to make him understand how truly bad off I was and how the unspeakable happened with Molly.

“I know what you’re gonna say, Pa, but it’s God’s truth.  I was dreaming about one of the ladies at the saloon and—and the next thing I knew, I was—and you were standing at the doorway of my room.”

Pa finally broke his silence.  “I just don‘t understand how this could have happened, Joseph.”

“I don’t either, Pa,” I said sharply.  “Don’t you understand?  I didn’t realize it was Molly.” 

“Are you sayin’ what I think you’re sayin?”  Hoss interrupted.  “I mean about that little gal upstairs?”

I looked across the table at Hoss.  My brother was just now visualizing the entire situation in his mind.  I couldn’t quite figure what he was thinking, but the expression on his face scared me.  He must hate me.  How could anyone be expected to understand what happened or why?

I cupped my head with both hands.  “I made a mistake.  I made a horrible, horrible mistake.”  And when I raised my head, I locked eyes with Hoss just before he turned his watery eyes away.  I turned my attention to Pa.  He, too, averted his eyes.  “Help me, Pa.  I don’t know what to do.”

The room was silent.  My own eyes filled with tears but all had been said.  Everything was out in the open.  Would I have told Pa if he hadn’t walked in?  No.  Definitely not.  I was too ashamed.  I’d done the unthinkable and I would pay for my reckless behavior for the rest of my life.  One way or the other, I’d be punished for my indiscretion.

“I believe the Watson’s are planning to drive up early and check in at the International House sometime today,” Pa said.  “They’re also planning to spend the night rather than heading back to Carson after dinner.  I’ll speak to William, and I’ll inform him Molly’s bags are packed, and she’ll be ready to leave right after supper if they agree she’s the right child for them.  We can‘t possibly have the two of you under the same roof for yet another night.”

Diving back into a bottle of whiskey seemed the best alternative, but dawn was breaking; a new day was beginning.  This would be our final day with Molly, only everything had changed.  Nothing remained the same.  No longer could Molly and I talk or laugh or take rides down by the lake.  No longer could I take her to town for a day of shopping, ending with lemonade at Miss Daisy’s Café.

Molly not only found solace on the Ponderosa, she’d fallen in love with me, a man twice her age—a father figure who cared for her wellbeing, nothing more.  A man who fed and clothed her, who thought he was doing the right thing but in the end, I’d made a mess of everything.

I remembered a time I wasn’t much older than Molly.  Pa had set me straight on a few things back then and maybe this was the same situation.  A young, deaf girl named Annie Croft had the same mindset as Molly.  But, as Pa explained at the time, it wasn’t love; it was gratitude for what I’d given her, for how I’d changed a deaf girl’s life by teaching her hand signals so she could communicate with her father.  I’d done the same for Molly.  I’d changed her life but at what cost?

“Pa, help me, I don’t know what to do.”  I’d said those same words as a boy.  I’d said them again tonight.  Did a son ever grow old enough not to heed his father’s words or take his advice? 

By this time tomorrow, Molly would be gone.  She’d live in a home with a mother and father who would see to her needs, care for her in every way possible and help her mature into a healthy, well-adjusted young woman.  She’ll learn the social graces we couldn’t teach her as a family of men.  She’d meet young boys her own age, and I would become just a memory of her transition into a new life.  I should be grateful.  I should be thankful people like the Watson’s exist.

“Let me be the one,” I said to Pa.  “Let me tell the Watsons.  I brought Molly into our home.  She’s still my responsibility.” 

Pa rubbed his fingers across his forehead.  “That’s probably for the best, Joseph.  Hoss and I’ll stay here with the girl.”  Although Pa’s thoughts varied from mine, he was right.  I needed to distance myself from Molly.  We all looked up when the grandfather clock chimed five times. 

“Think I’ll catch a couple hours sleep in the barn before I go.”

“Think I’ll do the same,” Hoss said, pushing up from his chair.

I wondered if Hoss would really leave without speaking to Pa privately.  Did he understand what took place to cause such a ruckus in the middle of the night?  Would Pa have to paint him a picture?  God, I hoped not although I could almost envision their conversation as I walked out the front door.

I woke to the stench of wet, musty-smelling stalls.  After managing a few fitful hours of sleep in the loft with rain sounding on the barn roof, I looked down to find the buckboard and a matched set of bays already gone.  I hadn’t even heard them leave.  I brushed the straw from my jacket and ran my hand through my hair; I didn’t want to step back inside the house for fear of having to see Molly or Pa or Hoss or whoever hadn’t taken the buckboard.  I was talked out.  There was no more to discuss until I met with Molly later today.  I saddled my horse.  I would talk to William Watson but what should he be told?  Everything?  Nothing?  Could Doc Martin help me decide?

I tied Cooch to the hitchrailand forced my legs to climb the steps to the doc’s front door.  Not only was I completely exhausted, I was still hung-over and feeling every movement with extra intensity.  My cheekbone, where the miner had planted his fist, had settled to a dull ache but without the use of a mirror, I wasn’t aware how bedraggled I really looked.

“Doc,” I called.  “You busy?”

“Morning, Joe.  Seeing how you’re upright rather than prone this time, it can‘t be too serious.”

I actually found something to smile about; I even chuckled at the doc’s remark.  “It’s not what you think, Paul.”

“Well, have a seat, son.  Any excuse to set these papers aside is a welcome relief.  You’re sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.  I—I’m here for an entirely different reason.”

“It’s not Ben or Hoss, is it?”

“No, everybody’s fine.  It’s just—we’ve had a little trouble at home and I thought maybe you could help.”

Paul pulled out a bottle and two glasses.  “Will this help?”

Again, I found myself smiling.  “Maybe—why not,” I said.  I threw back the shot in one quick motion and held my glass out for another.  “You see, Doc, the problem concerns Molly.  I didn’t mention everything she’d been through when I brought her in for you to examine.”

“Yes, I know.”

“You do?”

Paul sighed.  “You mean the fact that she’s experienced?”

My head shot up.  “You, oh, I guess maybe you would know, wouldn’t you.”

“When you brought her in a few months ago for me to examine, I assumed she would react somewhat differently to my probing, being as young as she was, but that obviously wasn’t the case.”

I nodded but kept silent, letting Paul explain all he knew about my young charge.  The brandy hadn’t worked its magic and nervously, I began twisting my hat in my hands.

“There was some tearing in that general area, Joe, which has now become scar tissue and may or may not cause problems on down the road.  I’m sorry, I can’t be certain.  Now, I can’t really tell when the abuse started, what I mean is I can’t give you Molly’s exact age, nor can I explain exactly what was used besides a man’s penis but, and this is hard for me to say, son, but there have been other items inserted inside the girl.”

“I know.  She told me everything, although I stopped her when she started in on those type things—God, Paul, why would someone do that to a child?”  I became restless.  I stood and walked toward Paul’s office window.  Could I listen to more?  Was there more?

“May I ask you something personal, Joe?”

“Personal?”  My heart constricted.  Did Paul know?  Had the doc read my mind?  “Go on,” I said hesitantly.

“Has the girl come to your bed?  Has she tried to touch you inappropriately for a girl her age?”

When my head swung abruptly over my shoulder, shocked at the boldness of Paul’s question, I saw he’d turned his chair to face me, to see my reaction, and my reaction gave him the answer he expected.  I turned back to the window, staring.  A normal day for most.  People were milling about their business while I tried to keep this horrible secret from leaving Paul’s office.  But could I keep my personal life hidden?  Would people know my shame; would they see it in my eyes?  Would Molly be condemned to a life of hell if the story were told?

“It’s not your fault,” Paul said, offering me another shot.  I shook my head; I’d had enough; the details of my alcoholic binge needn’t be discussed.  But how did Paul see me now?  Did he see me as a man who’d made a terrible mistake or as a man who took advantage of the situation?

“How did you know?” 

“It just goes to reason, Joe.”  Paul stood and turned me from the window to face him head on.  “The girl simply wanted to please you.  You’re her savior.  You rescued her from her grandfather and she’s repaying you the only way she knows how.  Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“No.  It was my fault.  You don’t know everything.”

“Then tell me.”

I turned again, but Paul’s hand was firm on my shoulder.  “I was drunk.  I was too drunk to know what was happening and I let her—God, Paul.”

“Come on,” he said.  “Sit down.  Let me explain what happened.”

I gave into Paul’s demand and took a chair by his desk.

“Let me say my piece before you say anything at all, okay?”

“Go ahead, Doc.”  I propped my elbows on my knees.  I let my eyes study the floor and waited for Paul to speak. 

“I’m only giving you my opinion, Joe, because there is nothing written in medical journals about the effects of sexual activity at an early age.  Molly is a young girl who’s been used for someone else’s pleasure for a very long time.  I assume by her grandfather since he was her only guardian until you took over the role of caretaker.  Am I right?”

“Yeah, you’re right, Doc.”

“You bring the girl to the Ponderosa where she’s fed decently and clothed properly for the first time in her life.  She’s grateful, Joe, and she only has one way of thanking her new benefactor.  She’s trying to please you, to thank you and repay you for everything you’ve done.  Using her body is the only way she knows how.  And, I know this may be difficult to hear, but it’s possible the girl is finding sexual pleasure for the first time in her life.”

“Pleasure?  You can’t be serious.  You don‘t know the whole story, Paul.”

Paul held up his hand.  “Let me finish.”  I slumped back in my chair and let the doctor continue.  “You know as well as I do, Joe, there can be as much pleasure and satisfaction for a woman as there is for a man.”

“She’s just a little girl.”

“You’ve changed that little girl’s life.  You’ve shown her a whole new world and she’s grateful, she’s probably fallen in love with you.  You’re the first man besides, maybe her father, who’s showed any interest in her as a human being.  She only wants to return the favor, and what else did she have at her disposal but her own body?”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?”

“I can’t believe a fifteen-year-old girl would find any pleasure after being forced time and again by that old man.”  I was hot-under-the-collar and at this point, I wasn’t in total control.  “Doc, you’re wrong.”

“Right or wrong doesn’t matter, Son.  What’s done is done.  I know you’d like to turn back the clock, but let’s see if we can’t find a sensible solution rather than beat a dead horse.” 

I wanted to run out the front door.  The discussion with Paul proved frustrating, but maybe some of what he said was true.  Was it possible for a young girl to fall in love?  A crush maybe?  No, puppy love at best.   I dismissed my musings and looked up at Paul.

“We think there’s a solution,” I said.

“Go on.”

“Well, Pa has friends in Carson who might want to adopt Molly.  They’re good people.  He’s a well-to-do businessman and his wife is connected tightly with their church.   Anyway, they’re coming for dinner tonight to meet Molly, and Pa thinks it would be best if her bags were packed and she left with them this evening.”

“Your father has a point.”

“Yeah,” I mumbled.  “That, or I’ll be sleeping in the barn from now on.”

Paul smiled.  He tried his best, and I understood he was only trying to be impartial to all parties involved.  Paul was a decent man.  He saw both sides of the coin.  Although he was free with advice, he never judged, and he’d made me feel more at ease.

“See, maybe there’s a silver-lining after all.”

“I haven’t even told you the reason I stopped in.”

“You want to know what all you should tell the prospective couple.  Am I right?”

“What are you, Doc?  A mind reader?”

“Joe, you’re eyes are an open book to your soul.  Not a bad thing, mind you, but I always know when you’re troubled.  Your father does too, more so than I, I’m sure, but there are always signs.  You’re a very passionate young man, always have been, always will be.  You take everything to heart and sometimes the struggle becomes overwhelming.  Like now, like this problem with Molly.”

“Am I that easy to read?”

“Sometimes.”

“So, what do you think?”

Paul studied my question before answering.  “In my opinion, you should inform these people of at least some of Molly’s background, although I wouldn’t include yourself; I don’t find that necessary.  But, tell them if they have any concerns about any problems that may arise, I’ll do everything I can to help.  I know the Reverend Jamison will also.  I believe there’s a new young doctor in Carson City, and perhaps he’ll be able to advise them should they have questions or concerns.”

I stood from my chair suddenly light-headed and wondered how long it had been since my last meal.  I should have eaten cake with Hoss.  I reached for the doc’s hand.

“Thanks for everything, Paul.”

“One more question, Joe.  Does Molly know about tonight’s dinner?”

I dropped my head.  “Yes, she knows.”

“Well, that explains everything, Son.”

“What?  What do you mean?”

“That’s why the girl came to your bed.  She was trying to influence your decision—to make you change your mind.  The girl was simply begging you to let her stay.”

I nodded my head.  “Yeah, I guess you’re right.  I just hope we’re doing the right thing.”

“There’ll be an adjustment period, but the couple sound decent enough, and you and I both know she can’t remain living on the Ponderosa.”

“Not unless you want a new border.”  I smiled at Paul.

“Have faith, Joe.  I’m sure you’re doing what’s best for the girl.  Just remember, and I mean this, so listen good.  None of what took place between the two of you is your fault.  Don’t you dare blame yourself.”

“I won’t, Doc.  Thanks for everything.”

I rounded the corner of the barn on Cochise just in time to see Molly climbing into the open-roofed buggy.  Pa hesitated behind her as I approached.  I dismounted.

“What’s up?”  I asked.  “Something wrong?” 

“Nothing’s wrong, Joe.  Hop Sing has fixed us a picnic lunch, and we were just heading out.”

I glanced up at Molly then took hold of Pa’s arm and led him a few feet from the carriage.  Just my presence that close to Molly seemed to irritate my father, but this was still my home even if I was bedding down in the barn.

“Excuse us for a minute, Molly; we’ll be right back.”

“What’s this all about, Joe?”

“I just wanted you to know I’ve talked to Doc and to the Watson’s and we’re all set for tonight.”

“Good.  You did a good job.  Oh, and Joe, just for the record.  I was wrong to assume.  I regret what I said last night but as you can imagine, I was—I’m not sure what I was, to be honest.  I know this isn’t the time and place for apologies but I just wanted you to know—“

“Hey,” I cut in.  “No apology necessary, Pa.  I know what it looked like and everyone concerned was embarrassed but it’s over.  Paul and I had a good talk and maybe I understand the situation better now than I did before.  We’ll talk about this later.  As you said, right now isn’t the time or place.”

Pa gripped my shoulder.  It was another form of apology and I appreciated the gesture.

“Now, would you mind if I took Molly on the picnic instead?  I need to talk to her alone and there’s not much time left.”

“Are you sure that’s wise?”

I winked at my father.  “You don’t trust me?”

Pa shook his head.  “I did it again, didn’t I?”

“You can’t help yourself, Pa.  It’s in your blood.”

“Go on, but make sure you’re home in time for her to dress for tonight.”

I turned and walked back toward the buggy and Molly.  “Mind if you and I picnic instead?”

“I’d be delighted.”

I glanced at Pa and winked after hearing Molly’s answer.  She’d learned so much.  Simple things mostly and she’d been a quick study.  We all thought she was ready for a real school with friends her own age—a normal upbringing, just a later start than most.

After slapping the reins, we headed back the way I’d just come.  Molly leaned back in the seat, and I couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking.  This was her last day with Pa and Hoss and me.  She must be frightened, nervous, and wondering what direction her life would take now.

“I have a favorite spot Hoss and I used to go to when we were kids.  I think you might like it.”

“Is it where you taught me to skip stones?”

“Nope,” I said.  “This is a new spot; one I haven’t taken you to before.”

If I could lift her spirits, if I could pretend today was no different than any other, maybe I could bring up supper with the Watson’s on a more positive note.  I tried to put Paul’s conversation into perspective.  Love.  Molly was in love.  And, although I disagreed with him at the time, a memory from years ago suddenly swept through my mind.

Jenny Barnett.  I was thirteen years old and madly in love with the blue-eyed beauty who sat beside me in Miss Jones’ classroom.  I’d worked for days on my speech.  Adam had coached me, helping me put all the words together so I wouldn’t sound like a scared little kid.  But by the time I’d found the courage to ask Jenny to the end-of-year dance, Billy Carter had already stepped in and asked her himself.  He was a bull, outweighing me by at least twenty pounds and six inches in height, and Jenny had opted to have Billy serve as her escort rather than a puny, little kid like me.

“He asked me first, Little Joe, and besides, he’s older’n you and he already knows how to dance.”

“Don’t mean I can’t learn by Saturday night,” I said, refusing to let her go that easily.

“Maybe next time.  I’m with Billy now.”

Not only did her words sting my young heart; it was the way she looked at me, pitied me.  I was too young and too scrawny for the likes of Jenny.  I was a head shorter than Billy Carter, I wasn’t an experienced dancer, and he asked her first.  Three strikes you’re out.  I moped around the house for days, and even as Pa and my brothers tried to cheer me up, I knew my life was over.  I was in love, and I’d been cast aside like a pair of worn boots.  I was unworthy of Jenny’s love and attention.

I remember the pain, the all-consuming grief of losing my first love to another man.  It was heartbreaking, maybe even more hurtful because of my age.  Tears had been followed by mood swings.  Seeing Jenny at school only made things worse.  I would have done anything to make her love me as much as I loved her.

Now, with the roles reversed, how different were Molly’s feeling toward me?  How could I have been so blind?  It took an outsider like Paul Martin to set me straight; to reveal the obvious truths I’d missed along the way.

I steered the buggy to the overlook where Hoss and I used to come as kids.  We’d called it our happy place.  Though I don’t remember when or why we chose the name, it was the one spot I came to when I needed time alone or to sort things out.  And, as memory serves, Hoss brought me here to fish and camp in lieu of that Saturday Night dance when I was young and brokenhearted. 

I quickly prayed for the right words to say.  This was my last chance and I didn’t want to mess things up.  In a few hours time, Molly would be gone from our lives so whatever I said, she’d carry with her forever.

But I wasn’t like Adam or Pa.  I wasn’t good with words.  Even Hoss, in his roundabout way, could get his point across by smoothing out the rough edges so, before you could interrupt or pull him off course, the problem suddenly vanished into thin air.  I pulled the buggy to a stop.

“I’m proud of you, Molly,” I said.  “You’ve come so far in such a short period of time.”

“Are you, Joe?  Are you really?”

“You bet I am and I know you can’t visualize the future right now but in time, you’ll see leaving the Ponderosa is the best thing Pa and Hoss and I could do for you.”  Molly tried to speak but I held up my hand.  “Let me finish, all right?”

She nodded and turned her head to look forward rather than at me.  I was breaking her heart, just like Jenny broke mine so long ago, but I had to continue.

“Everyone is scared at some point in their life, and I’m sure that’s how you feel, but” –I wanted to take her hand although I refrained from touching her in any way— “It’s time for you to make a new start.  School,” I said, “will open a whole new world for you, Molly.  You’ll meet friends your own age and you won’t be stuck hanging around a bunch of old people like me and Pa and Hoss.”

“But what if those kids don’t like me?”

“What’s not to like?”  I turned slightly on the seat.  “You’re going to have so much fun and meet so many new people.”

“Why do I have to go to school?  Why can’t you and your pa keep teaching me instead.  ‘Sides, I know all I need to know.”

“Because, Molly.  School isn’t only about reading and learning your numbers.  You’ll have a chance to meet kids your own age and have friends to do things with.”

“What kinda things?”

“You know, girl stuff.”

“What’s girl stuff, Joe?”

“Well, things like getting all dolled-up in your best party dress for a Saturday night dance, or maybe going with a handsome young boy to a church social.  You and your girlfriends might go shopping or have tea and cake on a Saturday afternoon.  That’s girl stuff.” 

“Why can’t I go to the dances with you?  I don‘t want to dance with no one else.”

“Anyone,” I corrected without thinking and hated myself for sounding exactly like my elder brother when I was his age.

“With anyone else,” she said, accustomed to the corrections.  She looked my way; tears formed in her eyes.  “It don’t matter what I say.  You’re still gonna send me to live with those people, aren’t you?”

“Yes.  I have to, Molly.”

My own eyes began to well, but I couldn’t fall apart now.  Molly was frightened; she had good reason.  The Ponderosa had been a safe haven for months, and switching gears would bring anxiety to anyone who’d been through as much as she had.  She’d felt relaxed in our home and we’d asked nothing in return.

“I know you’re scared and if I were in your shoes, I’d be scared too.”  I reached for Molly’s hands in spite of right or wrong.  “Believe me—if there was any other way.”

“But there is, Joe.”  Tears tracked her cheeks.  “Don’t make me go.  Please don’t send me away.”

Molly wasn’t just my ward, she’d become like a daughter.  I cared for her as though she was my own flesh and blood and now, two hearts were breaking.  Tomorrow the strings would be severed, and I wondered if this was how Pa felt when Adam left the ranch.  I’m sure it was though I never paid attention.  I was too busy wishing him well.  “Have a good trip, brother.”  Knowing he’d be home within a year’s time, I never read the signs.  I never knew he was leaving us forever.  So, we all clapped my brother on the back, we said our goodbyes, and he climbed onto the stage to explore a world far from the Ponderosa. 

But not until this very minute did I realize now how Pa’s heart must have been breaking.  Why didn’t I realize that back then?  I too busy getting on with my own life to see the hurt in my father’s eyes, but Pa knew all along.  He knew his son was leaving forever.  It wasn’t just an adventure at all.  It was a lifetime of change.

From the day I’d seen Molly standing beside the old cabin with her fingers pinching her bottom lip, until this very minute, this final conversation where I was breaking her heart every time I spoke, she’d made me laugh and cry and everything in-between.  Her pleading eyes nearly broke my resolve.  If I could only keep her safe on the Ponderosa forever, I would, but I had to remain strong; I had to keep perspective.

We remained seated in the buggy; the picnic lunch all but forgotten.  Acting as any concerned father might when his child was hurting, I tried to justify, using simple words and keeping my voice calm but on track.  Thinking back on the discussion I’d had with Pa years ago over Annie Croft, I needed to make Molly understand the difference between love and gratitude.

“Molly, Mr. and Mrs. Watson are fine people.  They have a fine home and they told me just this morning how excited they’ve become over having a daughter of their own.”

“But they don’t even know me, Joe.”

“Just hold on.  Let me finish.”  I hesitated, waiting for Molly’s complete attention before I continued.  “The Watson’s couldn’t have children of their own, and they were so excited when Pa told them about you.  After I talked to them earlier this morning, they said they’d like you to come home with them after dinner tonight.”

“Tonight?”

My throat tightened, and my words came out just above a whisper.  “Yes.  Tonight.”

“Please don’t send me away, Joe, please.” 

“Molly, there’s no other way.  You can’t stay on the Ponderosa with three grown men.  It’s just not right.”

“I’ll be good.  I’ll do anything you say.  Please don’t make me go.”  The walls caved in.  Tears streamed down Molly’s face in a desperate attempt to make me change my mind.

“Listen to me,” I said, after placing my hands on her shoulders.  I won’t be far away.  I make trips to Carson all the time.  I wouldn’t even consider not riding down and checking up on my best girl.  Hey, maybe I can talk the Watson’s into letting me stop in for weekly visits until you’re settled in.  Would that help?”

“But I won’t get to do nothing with you, Joe.  We won’t go riding fence or catching strays no … anymore,” she corrected between gentle sobs.

“Chasing strays isn’t a proper job for young ladies, Molly.”

“Joe … please … ”

My speech hadn’t gone well, and I was on the verge of giving in, of letting Molly stay, but there was no way, not after last night.  Plans had been set into motion.  Molly would leave the Ponderosa tonight.  I’d only made things worse; I’d accomplished nothing by trading places with Pa.  Maybe he would have gotten through to her where I failed.

“I’m sorry, Molly.  It‘s just the way things have to be.” 

Each of us sported suits and ties while Molly glowed like an angel, clothed in her Sunday best, when William and Martha presented themselves at the front door.  Molly tried to hide behind me; fear of the unknown was apparent in her eyes.  I winked and took her hand in mine, guiding her to stand alongside me. 

Molly wasn’t the only one frightened by the events taking place.  I would never admit this to her, but I didn’t know the Watson’s very well at all.  Pa met several times with Mr. Watson, studying contracts and such, but what did my father really know about the man’s home life.  Maybe he was some sort of tyrant who would make Molly’s life miserable.  Or, maybe Martha Watson had some strange biblical perception of how to raise a young girl that was out of line with my own way of thinking.  I took a deep breath and cleared all thoughts from my mind.

We all shook hands and greeted our guests before Molly was formally introduced.  Martha’s eyes gleamed with approval as she quickly crossed the room, leaving her husband behind, and came to stand face-to-face in front of Molly.  She reached for the young girl’s hands and gave a gentle squeeze. 

“I’m so glad to meet you, Molly.” 

Molly studied the woman carefully, and as I’d coached her prior to their meeting, she responded accordingly.  “My pleasure, ma’am.”

Pa welcomed our guests with a small glass of brandy and without further delay; everyone took a seat around the large dining room table.  Hop Sing was in his glory as he carried out a platter of his famous pork roast and sweet potatoes.  Hoss, forgetting temporarily there were guests at the table, rubbed the palms of his hands together in anticipation which, in a matter of seconds, brought a round of laughter and brought a brilliant shade of red to Hoss’ chubby, round face. 

“I promise not to talk business,” Pa said, lifting his glass of wine.  “Tonight, we are gathered for a very special occasion.”  He turned to Molly and smiled.  “To this stunning young lady, who’s brought sunshine and happiness to our lives.  May this new, exciting adventure bring happiness and all the joy she deserves.” 

“Hear, hear,” said William, lifting his own glass.

“Hear, hear,” replied Hoss.

Mrs. Watson was beside herself with joy.  She asked one question after another, and Molly answered as politely as she could.  I sat next to my young charge, and she wasn’t about to disappoint.  Although I remained silent, letting Molly and Martha converse back and forth, I felt pain and sadness over having to let my little girl go.

“And as soon as we get you home,” Martha said, “you and I will go shopping, and we’ll decorate your room befitting a young lady.  Would you like that, Molly?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Even though Molly’s answers were simple, I was proud of her, knowing how desperately she wanted to stay on the Ponderosa.  We had done everything possible to create a new version of Molly, a girl who was gracious and presentable, who would lead a new life with a new mother and father and, in time, I hoped they would all grow to love each other as much as we had over the last few months.

In Molly’s honor, Hop Sing concocted a flaming dessert, one she’d never forget.  He had grown quite fond of her while she’d lived with his American family.  After the flaming peach concoction was finished, Pa asked Molly to step outside with him. 

“We’ll only be a minute,” Pa said to our guests as he lifted her hand, and they walked toward the front door.

I glanced their way as they headed outside and wondered what Pa wanted to say.  But, as soon as William heard the front door close, he dropped his napkin on his plate and turned his attention to me.

“May I have a word, Joseph?”

“Of course.” 

We carried our glasses of wine with us as we walked toward Pa’s den for privacy.  I almost felt sorry for Martha, having been left out of this private conversation, but I was curious as to what Watson might say that he couldn’t have said in front of everyone else.

~~

Ben guided Molly along the front porch to two chairs and a woodentable where she had busied herself with her studies during the warmer months.  When he was sure he had her attention, he had a few words to say before she left with her new family. 

“I hope you’ll give this new arrangement a chance,” Ben started, smiling sincerely before he continued.  “I want you to make us all proud, especially Joe.  You know he’s very worried about you settling in with your new family.”

Molly dipped her head, but she knew Mr. Cartwright was trying to make a point, and she’d be smart to remain quiet and hear him out. 

“We all want you to be happy in your new home, and I think you will be if you give your new parents half a chance.”

Molly didn’t speak; she couldn’t.  She could barely even swallow for the heavy lump in her throat. 

“If for no other reason, do this for Joe.” 

~~

Everyone put on a happy face.  As soon as Molly’s trunk, filled with an assortment of dresses and bonnets and everything else I’d bought her over the last few months, was loaded onto the back of the buggy, it was time for our final goodbyes.

Hoss leaned in and kissed Molly on the cheek.  “We’ll miss you, Sweetheart.”

Pa followed Hoss.  “You take care of yourself and enjoy this new experience with your new mother and father.” 

When it was my turn, I knew what was expected but to hell with being proper.  I pulled Molly to my chest and gently stroked her hair.  I felt her tremble and, realizing all eyes were on me; I pulled back and bent down on one knee.  “If you ever need anything, if you ever—” I couldn’t say the words I had planned all day to say.  I couldn’t even tell her how much I cared about her or how I would miss her.  Knowing full well, she and everyone standing in the yard might misconstrue my words as more than just affection for a child I deeply cared for, I said nothing more.  “Take care, Princess.”

I stood and helped Molly, and then Martha, into the buggy.  I remembered the promise I’d made about visiting often until I glanced at William Watson and reflected on what the man had said when we stood alone in my father’s den.

“After what you told me this morning about Molly’s unsavory past, I think it best you and your family keep your distance from our new daughter.  Anyone can see how the girl has taken to you especially.  It seems to me she’s more attached to you than she should be, and,” he whispered, “I wouldn’t want people to get the wrong idea.”

I stepped toward Pa as the buggy pulled away.  Molly turned around to wave and William clearly put a halt to her movements.  Pa reacted quickly when my body stiffened and anger flared.  Grabbing hold of my arm, he steadied me in place. 

“It’s just his way, Joseph.  Molly will be fine.”

“I hope you’re right, Pa.  I truly hope you’re right.”

The End

Next and last story in the series: – Molly #2