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RATING / WARNING: PG / MENTIONS SENSITIVE SUBJECT MATTER,

NOTHING EXPLICIT IN PRESENTATION

SUMMARY: AN OLD GIRLFRIEND OF JOE’S SEEKS HIS HELP

Joe Cartwright stared at the note that had been handed to him, not knowing quite what to make of it.

Dear Joe, (it read)

Tara McWhirter. A little over a year ago she and Joe had been "keeping company" as the phrase goes. They had been getting along quite well as a matter of fact. But, strangely enough, things had never gotten to the point where they were ready to consider making the relationship permanent. Maybe that had something to do with the fact that her father seemed to look at them with such a disapproving eye. Though, as far as Joe could see, Donald McWhirter looked at any young man who paid much attention to his daughter with a disapproving eye.

Joe sometimes thought that he was over protective because he was trying to raise her without the help of her mother, who had died a couple of years earlier.

Tara and Joe had stopped seeing each other, though they remained on friendly terms. He had heard rumors that she had taken up with Kenny Allen, a young man of somewhat uncertain reputation. He did occasionally run into her in Virginia City, and when that happened they would exchange cordial greetings, but little more. There was certainly nothing between them now that would have prepared him for an appeal such as this from her. What was going on?

Joe glanced up at the messenger, a fresh faced youth who looked to be no more than about seventeen and who also appeared to be a little uncomfortable under the scrutiny.

"Do you have any idea what this is all about?" Joe asked him.

"No, sir," the youth replied shyly. "All I know is Miss McWhirter told me to carry that note to you, to bring back any reply, and not to tell her father nothin’ about it."

Joe considered for a moment, then he tore off the blank bottom half of the note, fished a stub of a pencil out of his pocket, scribbled a few words on it, folded it and handed it to the boy.

"Give that to her," he said.

And, raising his hand to his hat, the messenger was gone. Joe was left still wondering what it all meant and trying to figure out how he was going to sneak out that evening without the need for awkward explanations.

********************************

Joe arrived at the spot by the lake a little later than planned. As he had feared, it had been difficult to sneak away from the ranch house without being noticed. The sun had already sunk from sight, leaving only a pinkish orange glow where the sky reached down to touch the far shore and a fading light that skipped across the rippling water. The first stars were just becoming visible against the darker sky far above the sunset’s vanishing traces.

As Joe emerged from the trees where he had left his horse into the clear area immediately surrounding the lake he looked around, expecting to see Tara there already and hoping he hadn’t kept her waiting too long, It took a moment for him to spy her slender figure standing on a rock right by the water’s edge. Her long curly hair of reddish brown tumbled loosely down her back and a shawl was wrapped around her shoulders against the evening breeze.

Something in the way she stood there so quietly, staring out over the water left an impression of utter desolation, and for a second Joe caught his breath, fearing that she might be contemplating some desperate action.

"Tara!" he called out.

Her head turned sharply in his direction and the light was just sufficient for him to be able to see that she had been crying. He began to hurry toward her. At the same time, she jumped down from the rock and moved swiftly to meet him. As they met, Joe took her into his arms and she laid her head on his shoulder, trembling.

"Oh, Joe," she almost sobbed. "Thank you for coming! I was beginning to think you weren’t going to make it after all."

"I had a little trouble getting away, that’s all," he told her soothingly. "I wrote you that I’d be here and I always keep my word," he went on, smoothing her hair gently with his hand. "Now why don’t you just tell me what this is all about? You know I want to help you if I can".

She looked up at him with something like fear in her eyes. She seemed to want to speak, and yet she was hesitating.

"Joe, I’ve just got to tell somebody, but if I tell you I’m afraid you’ll despise me."

"I don’t think I could ever do that," he reassured her. "Whatever it is I can’t imagine that it could be that bad."

"Oh, but it is. I’ve got myself into such an awful mess." She looked directly into his eyes and, finding only encouragement there, she took a deep breath and braced herself to come out with it.

"Joe, I’m pregnant."

Joe stared at her for a few seconds, his eyes wide with astonishment as the echo of her words in his mind was drowned out by the lapping sound of the lake. He grasped her by the shoulders and looked directly at her.

"You’re sure?" he said quietly.

She nodded. "I saw Doc Martin two days ago. It’s true."

The sympathy in Joe’s eyes was not unmixed with a certain disappointment. "I’m sorry, Tara, but I’ve gotta ask this. I’ve been hearing some talk about you hanging around with Kenny Allen." He paused for a second or two. "Is he the father?"

Tara lowered her eyes, and it was a long moment before she nodded again. "Yes, he is," she almost whispered.

"And does he know about it yet?"

Tara shook her head with apparent reluctance.. She was beginning to tremble.

"Well, you’re going to have to tell him," Joe prodded her gently. "So the two of you made a mistake. But if he’s willing to do the right thing by you and marry you that would probably be the best possible way to make things right, don’t you think?"

But Tara didn’t seem to think so. Her manner became even more agitated, and she shook her head more vehemently.

"No, Joe! I can’t! I don’t want to marry him! I just can’t!"

"But why not?" Joe questioned her, genuinely confused by the strength of her reaction.

Tara raised her eyes to meet his and the pain in them actually startled him.

"We didn’t just make a mistake," she said, her voice unsteady but intense. "He forced me, Joe! Do you understand? He forced me!" And she began to sob.

Joe gathered her head to his shoulder and stood there stunned as her strong emotion spent itself. This news was completely throwing him off balance. He didn’t know Kenny Allen that well, and what he did know of him wasn’t all that favorable, but he would never have imagined him capable of something like this.

Joe and Tara stood there silent until her sobbing finally subsided. Then he gently moved her head so that she was facing him directly again, and looked down at her with compassion.

"Can you tell me about it?" he said.

Now that she had begun, Tara seemed to want to get the whole thing off her chest.

"He’d been bothering me about it for a while," she began. "Sweet talking me about how much he wanted me, saying it made him ache all over, and if I really loved him I wouldn’t deny him. Well, I told him that if he really loved me he wouldn’t pressure me to do something I wasn’t comfortable with. I wasn’t brought up that way and I just didn’t feel it was right. Then, one Friday night about two months ago he came to pick me up for a buggy ride. He was late because he and some of his pals had already spent some time at the Bucket of Blood after getting paid for the week, and he was dead drunk. I hesitated about going with him when he was in that condition, but in the end I decided I didn’t want to get him angry by turning him away. We were supposed to come up here to watch the moonlight on the lake, but instead he drove to this little cabin on the Rawleys’ place. He works for the Rawleys you know. Well, this was a line shack of theirs. Kenny said we could be real private there. He said we’d have something to eat in front of the fire and have a real good talk. Then, once we got inside he had his hands all over me. I tried to pull away from him, but he was too strong!" The tears began to well up in her eyes again. "It didn’t take him very long to get me down on the cot. I was fighting him all the way, but I was just no match for him! And then...well, he finally got what he’d been wanting."

She stopped talking and silence descended, broken only by the gentle lapping of the lake and the mournful call of a bird.

"When it was all over he drove me home," she resumed, "and we didn’t say a word to each other the whole way. My father wasn’t home that night, which was why we had picked that night to go out in the first place, so I didn’t have any trouble about sneaking back in or anything. I went to bed but I didn’t sleep at all. In the morning it almost seemed like it might have all been a bad dream, but it wasn’t. I’ve only seen Kenny once, briefly, since then. We ran into each other in town a couple of days afterwards and he pulled me aside and said that it would only cause trouble for us both if I told what had happened."

"But Tara," Joe interrupted, his voice edged with the anger that had risen in him as he heard what had happened to her, "someone who did what he did to you needs to be made to face some consequences for it. This should be reported to the Sheriff."

"Joe, my father would never stand for me bringing this out in public," she returned.

"Your father?" In the chaos of his thoughts Joe had almost forgotten about Donald McWhirter. "But I’d think he would want to see justice done to the man who hurt you."

"But Joe, it’s not the way you think! I got up the courage to tell him about everything this morning. I figured I had to. And he...well he scared me. I’ve never seen him in such a rage."

"I’ll bet. He must have wanted to go after Kenny with a gun!"

"It wasn’t Kenny he was in such a rage at. It was me! He was blaming me for everything, accusing me of leading Kenny on! He started calling me terrible, awful names, saying I had ruined the family honor and threatening me! When I actually saw him going for his whip I bolted from the house. I gave the note for you to a hand who I knew I could trust, and I’ve been doing my best to avoid my father for the rest of the day."

Joe found it incomprehensible that a man could act that way toward his own daughter. But there was no time to dwell on that. There were urgent immediate matters that required attention.

"So what were you planning on doing now? Do you have anyplace to go?" he asked her.

"That’s just it. The only place I could go is to my aunt and her husband in St. Louis. But I have no idea how I’m going to get there. I don’t have any money and..."

"Now don’t you worry, it will all work out," Joe assured her. "You can stay at the Ponderosa tonight. We have plenty of room, and my pa will understand. Then tomorrow we’ll figure out what to do. We’ll get you to your aunt somehow."

"Oh Joe, that sounds too good to be true!" Tara said, her eyes shining with gratitude. "I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to repay you."

Before Joe could reply their attention was caught by a sound coming from the trees nearby. A shadowy figure stepped out from the darkness into the pale light of the rising moon. Tara’s eyes grew wide with fright as she recognized him.

"Father!" she exclaimed.

Donald Mc Whirter did not say a word. Joe’s eyes strained to make out the approaching figure against the darker background from which it had emerged.

He saw the glint of a shaft of moonlight on the barrel of a rifle as McWhirter raised the weapon.

"No! Don’t!" Joe cried. But McWhirter did not respond. He aimed the rifle directly at his daughter, who had stepped a couple of paces away from Joe and now stood there seemingly frozen with fear.

Realizing that it might be his only chance to stop McWhirter, Joe went for his own gun. He was fast, but he was not quite fast enough.

The two shots sounded at the same time, echoing like thunder in the stillness of the deepening night.

The reverberations of the two gunshots died away as Joe Cartwright stared, appalled, at the scene before him. He had hoped to catch Donald McWhirter in the shoulder, but he had not been quite quick enough to prevent the man from getting his own shot off. Joe had looked on in horror as Tara cried out in pain, fell to her knees with her hand clutching at her chest, then pitched forward onto the ground. At the same time Donald McWhirter fell backwards and lay there motionless.

It took Joe about three seconds to rouse himself from his state of shock. He quickly moved to Tara’s side and knelt down beside her. Carefully he turned her over and lifted her up slightly to take her in his arms. The first thing he noticed was the stain of blood that was spreading rapidly across the front of her dress bodice. The second thing was her eyes staring up at him in pain and fear. It was all too clear to Joe that her wound was beyond his ability to deal with and that any help was much too far away to be of any use. She continued to stare up at him, breathing raggedly. Finally she managed to speak.

"Joe, I...I don’t want to die....please...I...oh God, help me!" Her bloody hand grasped at the front of his jacket.

Joe gently brushed back the hair from her face, then he gathered her in a little more closely. There really wasn’t much more that he could do.

"You just take it easy, Tara," he crooned softly in a not quite steady voice. "You don’t have to be afraid...not at all. Now don’t you worry about anything."

Something in the soothing sound of his voice or the comforting touch of his hand seemed to have its effect. She relaxed a little and the fear went out of her eyes.

"Joe...I’m sorry...I got you mixed up in this....please...forgive me."

"Now didn’t I just tell you not to worry about anything? If there’s anything that needs forgiving, I forgive you...but I don’t think there is."

An almost undetectable smile played across her lips. Her hand reached up to gently brush against his face.

"I hope...God....will be...so merciful," she barely whispered. She took one final rasping breath. Then her eyes fluttered closed, and her head fell back limply against his shoulder. She was gone.

Joe sat there holding the still, lifeless form for a couple of minutes with tears streaming down his face. He had not been in love with Tara McWhirter, but he had cared for her as a friend, and her death, with all the circumstances surrounding it, was hitting him hard.

Finally he gently laid her down and got to his feet. He took a couple of deep breaths to compose himself, then he staggered over to where Donald McWhirter lay. Joe went down on one knee beside him and reached out to turn his face into the moonlight. An angry looking wound above his right eye was still trickling blood down the side of his face. There was no pulse at his neck or at his wrist. Donald McWhirter, like his daughter, was dead.

Joe bowed his head and begin to weep once more. He had never meant to kill the man, only to prevent him from firing at Tara, but the light had been so poor....

Suddenly a strange feeling came over Joe, a sense that there was someone watching. A second later he heard a voice, anxious and insistent.

"Joseph!"

His pa. Joe’s head whirled around and he caught sight of his father, standing by the trees near the spot where McWhirter had appeared earlier.

With a great sense of relief Joe stood up once more and, as fast as his unsteady legs would allow him, hurried to meet his father. Ben Cartwright’s anxious eyes took in his son’s distressed state, the blood on his jacket and face. As Joe came within reach Ben gathered him into his arms and held him close. Neither of them were able to speak for a moment.

Joe finally looked up into his father’s face, his relief at seeing him there very clear.

"Pa, what are you doing out here?," he asked, in a voice that reminded his father of how young he really was.

"Did you really think you could sneak out of the house this evening without it being noticed?," Ben replied. "When I realized you had gone I thought of how quiet you had been earlier at supper and I thought something must be wrong. I know that, when something’s bothering you, you often come up to your mother’s grave site, so I decided to take a chance and see if you were there. It isn’t very far from here. I heard gunfire in this direction and I hurried over as quickly as I could.." He looked solemnly down into his boy’s eyes. "Son, what happened here? Are you all right?"

Joe nodded with an answering solemnity. "I’m not hurt, Pa." He turned his head to look back at where the two bodies lay. "But Tara and her father are both dead.

Oh, Pa, it was so awful!" He laid down his head on his father’s shoulder and allowed himself to sob for a minute.

Then he raised his head and the whole story began to pour out of him - Tara’s note, his meeting with her and everything she had told him, her father’s appearance...and what had happened then.

Ben listened to it all very intently and, when it was over he drew Joe close once more and held him tightly.

"It’s all right, son", he whispered in Joe’s ear. "It’s all right."

************************

About a month later Joe Cartwright stood in a secluded corner of Virginia City’s cemetery looking down at the grave of Tara McWhirter and thinking back on the events of that night and their aftermath. The deaths of the McWhirters had caused a great deal of gossip and speculation in the town, much of it having to do with Joe’s role in the event and whether it was really as innocent as was being given out publicly. An inquest two days after the event had concluded that the death of Tara McWhirter was homicide at the hands of her father and that the death of Donald McWhirter was justifiable homicide on the part of Joe Cartwright in the attempt, however unsuccessful, to defend Tara McWhirter. Still, there were always people who would talk, and for a couple of weeks Joe found himself the subject of many curious glances and whispered asides. These unpleasant conditions soon began to ease, however, especially when the news that Kenny Allen had quietly packed up and left town turned gossip and speculation in a different direction.

Now as Joe gazed down at Tara’s grave a feeling of great sorrow stole over him. He wondered if somewhere, somehow, Kenny Allen was suffering the consequences of his actions...actions that had set this tragedy in motion. And he speculated about what might have been if Tara’s father had been more accepting of the relationship that he and Tara once had. Would they have gone beyond friendship, possibly even married? Useless to think about that now.

Joe knelt down by the grave and carefully placed two objects next to the headstone. One was a single pink rose. The other was a pair of baby booties made of pale green yarn. He stayed there kneeling for some time with his head bowed and his eyes closed. Then he stood up, slowly turned around, and, without looking back, quietly walked away.

THE END