Epilogue to Takin' Charge
 

Long before they came into the house, Ben heard his sons laughing with one another. The cold winter blast that came in with them had carried their good-natured teasing and bantering to him. As much as he wished it, the sound could not revive his spirits that afternoon. He stood, holding the package and letter he had gotten from the post office that afternoon, as he watched them strip off their heavy jackets, gloves, hats and gunbelts. He could see a light dusting of snow on their collars and hats. The ice crystals had even caught in Joseph's hair and he shook his head just once, the flakes quickly melting in the warm air of the room.

They are in such high spirits. So much like little boys when it snows. Wonder if Adam nailed his brothers with the first snowball fight? Or did they get him?  Doesn't matter. Oh God I wish I didn't have to do this, Ben thought, watching them.

"Hi Pa," Hoss' voice boomed out, greeting their father.

"You would not believe the Christmas tree we got this year. Best one we've ever had," Adam joined in.

"Boys, boys. I'm glad you all are home but must you be like a herd of cattle come stampeding through the door? For God's sake, Joseph, close the door."

"Yeah, not ever'body likes the cold like you do," Hoss teased, grabbing his little brother roughly around the neck with one meaty arm.

Joe ducked out of the hold and tried to get behind Adam, all the while laughing.

"BOYS!" Ben finally shouted. Once they had stopped their gentle roughhousing, Ben's whole demeanor changed. "Why don't you get something hot to drink and get warmed up?" They all turned as one for the kitchen, once again beginning to push and shove one another. "Except you, Joseph. I need to talk to you." And without looking to see if he was being obeyed, Ben turned to go back into his study, the letter and package still in his hands.

The three brothers exchanged looks and Joe shrugged his shoulders. Adam gave a little jerk of his head to Hoss and they went into the kitchen, leaving a perplexed Joe. He had absolutely no idea what he was being called to task for. He hadn't been to Virginia City in over a month and even then, he had just gotten supplies and the mail and returned home promptly. As he slowly walked to his father's desk, he mentally rolled over in his mind what might be the problem and came up with nothing.

"I got a letter from a Reverend Freeman down in Sacramento," Ben started slowly, knowing that no matter how carefully he chose his next words, they were going to crush his son. "He, uh, he, " and words failed him completely so he simply handed the letter to his son.
 

Dear Mr. Cartwright:

I have the sad duty to inform you that a close friend of yours died last night after a brief illness. Leeann Winwood and her two children, a daughter she called Ruth and an infant son Matthew, had been ill and staying with me when she took a turn for the worse. Before dying she gave me her last will and testament and asked that I write to your family and let you know of her passing. She also asked that the diary I am sending under separate cover be given to you as well. She had also asked that you provide transportation for her children back to their father but her two children died early this morning and are going to be buried with her.

Sadly,
Reverend Amos Freeman
Sacramento United Church
Sacramento, California

Joe sat in absolute stunned silence. Just five months ago, after the tragic death of Leeann's husband Pete in an accident at the Cartwright mill, Joe had told her he would do anything for her. And he had meant it. He wanted to correct the mistake he felt he had made earlier in his life when he had let Leeann get away from him. They had courted for almost a year and many thought that Leeann and Joe were on their way to the altar when she had suddenly married Joe's best friend Pete. Although they had remained friends over the intervening years, the relationship between Leeann and Joe had changed. Now it would change forever. Leeann and her children were gone.

"Joseph, I'm sorry, son," he heard his father saying dimly. He slowly put his hand to his forehead. He felt himself being pushed into a chair and a glass of brandy placed in his hand.

"Lee and the children…all gone. Oh God, Pa, why?" he whispered. "She wanted to get away for a while. Said she was going to visit friends in San Francisco for Christmas. I didn't want her to. I told her-- aw what does it matter what I told her? She's gone now. She and Ruth and little Matt."

Then slowly, Joe lifted tormented green eyes to his father's face. " I suppose you know about…" he started but couldn't finish his sentence. Ben waited. The first time he had had the privilege to see the little girl Ruth, his heart broke. The bright curls and dancing green eyes, the high cheeks and delicate features didn't seem to belong on a child of Pete Winwood's who was a fair haired and ruddy complexed raw boned man. And Leeann's hair was a deep brown. No, no one had to tell him that the little baby he held that afternoon after she had been christened was his grand daughter. No one spoke of it.

"I think it's time you tell me about what happened, Joseph. Why did you.." and then Joe exploded from the chair to stand before his father.

"No, because I would get half way through and you would be mad at me. You wouldn't finish listening. Read Leeann's diary, Pa. I'm sure she told the truth there. Read it, then I'll tell you what you want to know!" Joe shouted at his father. He turned abruptly on his heels, then stalked to the stairs. He took them two at a time and disappeared before Ben could speak.

In the kitchen, Hoss and Adam had only heard Joe's shouted words and then the resounding slam of the upstairs door. Looking at one another over their coffee cups, neither wanted to venture into the main room right then. When they finally dared to stick their noses out, all they saw was their father sitting in his chair by the fire, reading from a small book bound in red leather. Something about the way he sat convinced them without discussion that they needed to be elsewhere until he finished.

Throughout the afternoon and into the early evening, Ben read the diary of a young woman he wished he had known better and the son he thought he knew better.  In the beginning of the diary, it was obvious that Leeann had loved Joe to utter distraction but that it had cooled somewhat by the time they had been dating about six months.  By that time, however, she had had her first taste of passion at the hands of his son. While he read her description of it, Ben came to the realization that she was not the first woman his son had ever experienced. Looking at the dates, Ben knew Joe was just a few months over 16 at the time and it bothered him that his son had known so early what it took to please a woman. Yes, it was obvious in the way Leeann had written that it was a most enjoyable experience for her. For a few long moments he sat back and wondered who the first woman in his son's intimate life was. Then he shook his head, thinking it was not right for a father to have such thoughts. Ben chuckled at himself, knowing his discussion with Joseph on the birds and bees was way too late in coming if the dates in the diary were any where near accurate!

As he continued reading, Ben sensed a certain distance growing between Leeann and his son. She had met Pete Winwood. Gradually, more gradually than Society had seen, Joe was eased out of Leeann's life and Pete took over.  From what he had remembered, it was a rather abrupt parting that had left many wondering about the young couple. But from reading the words Leeann had written herself, it was a more gradual thing, as if she had been slowly slipping down a snowy hill and into Pete's arms.

Then three weeks before Ben knew Leeann and Pete were married, there came a most startling entry. Pete had told Leeann that if she wanted children, then he was not the husband for her. He admitted to having had the mumps when he was 14 years old and it had left him sterile, according to the doctors. And yes, Leeann had desired children. Almost as much as she wanted Pete. In that diary entry, she told how she and Pete discussed adoption. 'No, that would put their problem out in the open,' and Pete's young man's pride wouldn't hear of that. Leeann insisted that there was a way around the problem. 'Was it that Pete didn't want children?' Quite the contrary. Anything that would make Leeann happy would make him happy. So it was that Leeann set out a trap, with her future husband's blessing.

And Joseph Cartwright, just shy of his own seventeenth birthday, fell into it. In her diary, Leeann lined it all out: he was a healthy male with no known family problems that could endanger a pregnancy. He could be relied upon to keep silent about the child's parentage. Should something happen to both Leeann and Pete, he had the resources to step in and without questioning, take care of the child. Society would just simply think that he was helping out as a friend had asked. And, hopefully, he was more than willing. He was available.

Leeann's next missive to her diary was a month following her marriage to Pete. She had just found out she was pregnant.  To say she was delirious was an understatement. Pete too was happy. Now all they did was sit back and await the birth of "their" child.  Not once during the ensuing 8 months was Joe's name mentioned even once.

Ben sat back at that point and thought about it. During the times when his own wives had been pregnant, Ben had known some of the happiest of times. To watch the life you had helped to start grow within the womb, to feel that first kick, to hear the heartbeat for the first time.  All those things were part of the joy of becoming a father, not just the birth and the subsequent growth of the child.  And those things had been denied his son because until the little girl had been born, no one suspected a thing.

His finger marking his place in the handwritten pages, Ben spent a long time staring into the flames, not reading. His son had been used and had kept quiet, his heart no doubt breaking every time he saw the little girl her mother named Ruth. Yet Ben could not find it within himself to blame either Leeann or Pete or Joe. There had been no laws broken and since the child had been conceived prior to their marriage, there was no adultery, either. And the way Leeann had written about Pete's responses to the situation left him with little doubt that Pete loved the little girl as though she was from his seed.

Finally, Ben opened the book back up and began to read again. Following the little girl's birth, the family had been happy and content. By that time Pete was foreman at the mill and they had moved to the house overlooking the Washoe River.  Things were going right for the young couple and it was reflected in Leeann's writing. The pages were full of the things that Ruth had done, her first steps, her first words. And again Ben felt an ache in his soul that his son had been denied these simple pleasures of fatherhood with the lovely child. Ben recalled her tell tale bright curls and green eyes that had marked her immediately, at least to Ben's thoughts, as a Cartwright. But in the diary, more and more Leeann kept remarking how much Ruth resembled Pete's mother.

The entries for the last year were fewer and briefer. One particular entry jumped out from the pages at Ben. It was in the late fall of last year. Leeann confessed in her diary that she wanted another child and would do whatever she had to do get one. Pete, she said, was happy with just the one but would go along with whatever she wanted.

As he turned the page that began the last month of November for the previous year, the writing stopped.  He thumbed the remaining pages and found they were all blank. Ben sat staring into the flames crackling in the fireplace, he let his mind wander then finally focused on one part of the diary he held in his hands. It was on the part not written.

Joseph, you were right. I wouldn't have listened. I would have gotten angry with you, thinking you had been less than honorable in your dealings with Leeann. Maybe you were, but there is a question I need to ask you, son and rising from his chair, threw another log on the fire and headed up the stairs to his son's room, dropping the diary into his chair.

A tap on the door was all Ben gave then pushed the door on open. There was no lamp lit. He saw the shadowed outline of Joe against the night sky while white snow fell outside the window. Without a word, Ben stopped just behind his youngest son and let a comforting hand come to rest across his son's shoulders. He could feel the muscles tighten against his hand, then Joe put his head back, looking into the heavens just beyond the glass.

"You were right, Joseph. I would have lost my temper with you and not let you finish. I'm sorry. It seems I misjudged a lot of things about you and Leeann."

"No, Pa, you were right on the money about Leeann and I. Or at least where I was concerned. I know about Ruth and I know why Leeann came to me that night before she and Pete were married. I know it now… but then? No, Pa. Your little boy was less than an honorable Cartwright that night. I was so head over heels glad that I had Leeann back and I wanted to show Pete who the better man was. Then when she and Pete got married anyway…well, you remember how upset I was for a while. But Pete kept inviting me over to their place, and it just didn't make sense. All I could see was Leeann was pregnant and the timing was too close for comfort. I stayed quiet and when Ruth was born and Pete took on over her so, I thought I had just been stupid to be so afraid."

"Afraid? Afraid of what, son?" Ben gently rubbed the back of Joe's neck, thinking it would keep him calm. And talking.

Joe snorted and moved away from the window and his father's hand. "Of what you would say. Of what you would do."

"I thought you knew me better than that, Joseph," Ben chided softly then with a jolt, realized that he thought he knew his son better too. That was until just a few hours ago. "But, yes, when I saw that little baby the first time, the resemblance struck me. But I think I was the only one who saw it. As I recall, there was only one other person there that afternoon at her christening who also remembered you when you were that age as well. And considering the fact that Adam was only 12 or so, well, his memory may not go back that far."

"So you knew? And you said nothing? Why?" and Ben sensed rather than saw Joe turn in the dark towards him.

"Because I figured if she really were your daughter, it would eventually come out in the open and I would deal with it then. I figured there was only one person who knew for sure and Leeann wasn't saying anything. Her reasoning must have been sound enough, I thought. And she never said anything to you?"

"She did last year, finally. But you read about that in her diary too, didn't you? And that's what you are really up here to lay me out about, isn't it?" The hostility in Joe's voice gave it brittle edge, as though he were trying to keep control and losing the battle.

"Son, her diary stops before November of last year," he whispered.

Ben heard Joe take a deep breath and sensed him moving again. Ben stayed where he was as Joe returned to stand beside him at the window. Now his shoulders were slumped and his whole demeanor one of defeat.

"Leeann always did like to leave me holding the bag. Guess she's done it again."

"Go ahead and tell me, Joseph. I promise, I will hear you out." Ben again let his hand reach out and touch him, a comforting hand over his son's slim shoulder. He felt it rise just once then drop back down as Joe began to tell his story.

"I guess it was about September a year ago. Pete sent a message by one of the hands that he needed to see me about a personal matter. I thought 'Great this is when the blackmail starts over Ruth.' I put him off as long as I could then I just couldn't any longer. So I dropped by the mill, hoping to talk to him there. But no, we had to go up to the house. I remember it as if it were yesterday. Ruthie was sitting there playing with one of her dolls and it made my heart about break, Pa. I knew, I knew, she was my daughter but Leeann had said nothing. And I kept trying to figure out how to keep my little girl and not have to deal with blackmail and shame and all that. I just wanted to have her as mine. All mine…

…and the little girl with her bright green eyes and lustrous chestnut curls looked up at her "Uncle Joe" as her momma and daddy had told her to call him. He had an easy smile and wasn't afraid of picking her up when he came to visit. That wasn't often enough as far as she was concerned. And he always brought her a present. Most of the time, he would hide it and make her look for it. Once he had even put it under his hat. She had clambered all over him, looking in pockets and patting his sleeves before she took his hat off to find a stuffed bunny with button eyes and a pink satin nose. The two of them had giggled together before she gave him a hug and a kiss and ran off to show her mother. Today, he gave her a small bag of her favorite candy: licorice drops.

"You want some coffee, Joe? I just made a fresh pot," Leeann asked, coming from the kitchen when she heard Ruth's squeal of delight and cry of "Uncle Joe!"  She saw the uncertainty course through him then just as quickly it was gone as he stood with her daughter in his arms and they were discussing Ruth's latest acquisition: a puppy sent from the Ponderosa that Uncle Hoss had dropped by the day before.

"Well, now you know that puppy didn't come from your Uncle Hoss. You know I sent that puppy. Hoss was just the messenger for me 'cause I couldn't come myself."

"Is he really your brother, Uncle Joe?  You don't look like him at all!"

"Sure he's my brother. He's just an apple that fell off the other side of the tree is all. But you like the puppy, right?" and still carrying her, Joe walked on into the living room of the mill foreman's cabin, Pete tagging behind. Watching.

"Coffee, Joe?" Leeann had to ask again to get his attention.

"Yeah sure, Lee," Joe answered her then went back to his conversation with Ruth. "What are you gonna name him?"
Leeann just shook her head watching Joe and Ruth. As much as she loved Pete and knew the decision she had made to marry him was right, she couldn't help but wonder what her life might have been like married to Joe. Just look how he dealt with a child! She and Pete had tried their best to make Joe a part of their daughter's life but it always seemed to her like they needn't have tried so hard. The two of them were just naturals together.

Pete came back from washing up just as Leeann was serving the coffee. Ruth was snuggled into Joe's lap and still chattering on about her puppy and her latest adventures with the mean chickens.

"Ruthie, you hush now. You ain't even let your Uncle Joe get a word in edgewise! Don't you know children are to be seen and not heard," Pete fussed. He wasn't really angry with the little girl at all. He found it impossible to be angry with her for very long. All she had to do was lift those green eyes of hers, filled with tears and his heart would melt as well as his determination to be a strict parent.

"Dag gone it, Pete! If that's the way it's suppose to be, how come I get a chance to talk at all at home!" Joe shot back, accepting a cup of coffee from Leeann while Ruth snuggled a bit closer. He eyed the cup carefully, then Ruth.
"I'll sit still so you can drink your coffee, Uncle Joe. I promise," and the child fell silent.

For a while the three adults sat talking about the mundane things in life, the weather, crops, some of the latest gossip, including Joe having to take some good natured ribbing about still being single.

"Oh, it only bothers the ladies I'm not seeing!" Joe replied.

"Well if those young ladies could see their competition tonight," Pete gestured towards Ruth. She had fallen asleep, sitting in Joe's lap, her head resting comfortably on his chest. "Those young ladies you were speaking about, Joe, just how young are they?"

"They may be older but I think this one's got a special place for me. Got to admit though, this is the only one that's fallen sleep on me in a long while," he said, looking down at her.

"Let me take her to her room, Joe." Leeann got up, arms out stretched.

Joe easily stood up, still cradling the sleeping child to him. "I'll take her." He moved past her mother and father towards where he knew her room was.  She stirred once in his arms, putting her own small ones around his neck, sensing the parting, perhaps.  Leeann pulled the comforter back and Joe laid the child down, giving her a kiss before her mother covered her.
For a long, long moment Joe stood looking down at the little girl. Was this going to be the last time he was allowed to see her? The warning bells in the back of his head were ringing. And there was a loud voice telling him to pick up the child and run from the house. He couldn't fathom a parent who would use their child for financial gain so he would fight her parents in a court of law for her custody, if need be. But first he would hear their demands. With a heavy heart, he returned to the living room where his one-time friends sat, ready to make him their sworn enemy.

"Joe, the reason we asked you to come and talk with us involves Ruth as much as it does the rest of us. It's for her that we're doing this, you understand." Pete started slowly and anger began to rise in Joe's chest.

An hour later, there was an anger of a different sort in Joseph Cartwright. Between Leeann and Pete, they had told him how terrible they felt about tricking him like they did, but they figured there was just no other way.  They wanted him to know that Ruth was the most important thing in their lives and they cherished their daughter and always would. But now they had decided that Ruth needed a younger brother or sister.

No longer able to sit still, Joe exploded out of his chair. "Just what do you take me for? Am I some stallion you haul out when you want your mares bred?  Just a stud? Well I won't do this, Leeann. Whatever else you may think of me, I have a sense of right and wrong and this is all wrong to me. My God, Pete, you are asking me to-" Joe was so angry he could not continue.
"We are asking you for Ruth's sake, Joe," Pete tried, spreading his hands in a conciliatory gesture.

"Don't you dare bring that child into this. I won't hear that you are doing it for her sake," seethed Joe, glaring at his once friends. It was all he could do to keep from going into the little girl's room, gathering her up in his arms and taking her away. This was worse than blackmail to him.

"Joe," Leeann whispered, "You grew up with brothers. Pete and I didn't. We were only children. We know how lonely that single child can be. And living all the way out here, what chance would Ruth have to play with other children? If there were any other way, believe me, we would do it. Joe, please, help us."

Staring at the floor, Joe knew he had no concept of being an only child but what Leeann had said made sense. And he truly did not want his daughter growing up unhappy in the least. "But still. Pete, what kind of man offers his wife to another?"

"A man that loves her. And loves her children, no matter who the father is, Joe. You may be Ruthie's blood father, but you ask her who her daddy is and she'll tell you I am. We want you to have a part of these children's lives, Joe, but rest assured, I will be their daddy. And that, Joe, is why I am asking you to do this. Man to man. I want to be a father."

"There has to be another way, Pete."

"What would you have me do, Joe? Go to someplace like San Francisco and get a job in a whorehouse for as long as it took to get pregnant? Just think about how much fun that would be!" snapped Leeann.

"How about adoption? There's plenty of kids in orphanages. Seen the one in Gold Hill. It's full to bustin' at the seams. You gonna tell me there's no kids available?" reasoned Joe, not knowing he was going over old ground with them. They had prepared themselves for the confrontation and all the arguments they knew he would have.

"We are talking about a child that needs to be mine too!" Lee hissed, full of her own righteous indignation.

Burying his face in his hands, Joe was running out of arguments but still the feeling of being used persisted. He stood before the cheery fire, eyes closed and massaged his temples, wondering when the headache had started. He felt the tug on his pants leg and automatically looked down into eyes as green as his own. Instinctively, he reached down and picked up the little girl. My little girl, he thought.

"Are you gonna help my mommy have my brother?" she asked with all the innocence the young bring to an overheard and misunderstood conversation. She twined her little fingers into the curls at the nape of his neck, feeling how soft and silky they were. Just like hers….

And Ben felt the shoulder beneath his hand rise and fall again and heard his son's deep sigh as he finished telling of the encounter. True to his word, Ben had not interrupted once during the telling but now wished that he had. So many questions came unbidden to him that his mind whirled in a torrent around half formed ideas and thoughts. Finally, he settled on one. The sound of him clearing his throat seemed to bounce off the very mountains, it was so loud in the still room.

"Joseph, the little boy, Matthew. Born right after Pete's death. Was he…" and Ben couldn't bring himself to finish the question. He felt he knew the answer before he asked but still he needed to hear it from Joseph himself.

Joe looked sideways into his father's face. The deep shadows made it hard to determine the expression in his dark eyes but Joe could tell by the look of his father's set jawline that he was bracing for the worst. How could he tell his father what he had done and make him understand why he did it? It went beyond logic. The reason was lost somewhere in the haze that was emotion. To say that he did it for love made it all sound so very trite but that was the truth of it. But he had done it not for the love of the woman but for the love of a little girl he knew he could never come out and rightfully claim as his own. And the decision was one that made either way Joseph Cartwright had known from the beginning would tear at his heart for all eternity.

"Yes, Pa. Matthew was probably mine as well."

The silence in the room stretched to the breaking point. Ben's hand dropped from the touch of his son as though he had been burned. As a father, he was afraid that some of the pain he felt would have been telegraphed through his hand to his son. And Joe had enough pain to deal with at the moment. Ben didn't want to add to it but did unwittingly by drawing his hand away. Joe stood stock still, watching the snow falling outside his window, feeling more alone now than he ever had in all his life. He wanted to cry out and rail at the injustice he felt he had been dealt but knew he had to remain silent to protect not only those now gone from him but also those still with him. So instead, he chose a more abstract attack on his grief.

"So, okay, bring out your best shot, Pa. Come on, you know you want to lay me out real good about this. After all, look what your baby boy did now!  Forget about why I did it, I slept with a married woman and that is all you can see!  You and half the world! And horrors of horrors, she got pregnant and I kept quiet about it. I let another man raise my children with his name! Not only that, I denied you grandchildren, rightful, true, honest to God grandchildren. So go ahead Pa, bring out your worst lecture and heap it all on. But I have news for you. You can't begin to hurt me worse than I have hurt myself.  My children are dead, buried, and I can't show my grief outside this room. I can't mourn my own children."

Beyond words and expressions of sympathy lies the unspoken language of touch, one human being to another. A comforting embrace that speaks more truthfully from the heart than words ever could. The signal that acceptance is given and received more quickly relayed than any other way. But Ben didn't consider the philosophy behind his action. He only understood that what he needed and what his son needed was one and the same. And for several long heavy moments they shared that embrace that spoke of sorrow and pain, acceptance and forgiveness, anger and love.

He left his son in the dark room, standing and watching the snow as it fell, gracing the tall trees and the taller mountains beyond. He had offered Joe to have Hop Sing send him up something to eat but Joe had declined, saying he wasn't hungry, just tired. Ben didn't want to leave but knew that he had to give Joseph room to grieve for his loss. He said softly the he would check on him later.

Adam and Hoss turned expectant faces up when they heard their father's footsteps at the top of the stairs. A shared glance between them communicated their concern. It was obvious that their father had been crying and that disturbed the two brothers, considering that they had heard nothing all afternoon past Joe's initial explosion.

Ben stopped in front of the fireplace and tucked his hands into the tops of his pockets. He knew they needed some sort of explanation of the events but didn't know where to start, much less even if he should even try. So much of it was so personal to their brother yet the impact on all their lives would need to be explained. Finally he decided that too many secrets had been held too long and it was time for a full clearing of the air. Especially since he saw that on the square table behind him lay Leeann's open diary and the letter from the reverend in Sacramento.

"Joe okay?" Hoss broke the silence before their father had the chance to and Ben was grateful.

"I don't know, Hoss. I know he is in pain far deeper than I can reach at the moment. Leeann -" he started but faltered.
Adam quickly picked up where his father had left off but his typical sarcasm was missing. "I would think he would be more upset about the children. He is, isn't he?"

"How much do you two know about all this?" Ben whispered, afraid of the answer. He watched Adam nod to Hoss, giving Hoss the floor.

"Well, you'd hafta' be blind to know that Ruth wasn't Joe's little girl. She acted just like him too. She had every soul around her wound around her little finger, same as he can do sometimes. And she could talk a blue streak when she was excited 'bout something."

"And did you ever notice how she would cut those green eyes at you? Seen Joe do that so many times at breakfast. She was a sweet child. Bound to be a handful but a sweet child all the same. She even had me roped and tied," Adam spoke up, a wistful tone lingering in his voice.

"You mean to tell me that you all knew-" started Ben but Adam again cut in.

"Yes, Pa, we all knew but we all stayed silent too. I never could figure it out until I read parts of this." He gestured towards Leeann's diary. " And I knew that Matthew was his child too. Something I saw Joe do back about then that didn't make sense until much later."

"And you stayed quiet about it? You didn't say anything to him? Or to me?"

Adam grimaced, knowing that his own actions were now being called into question. "Yes, Pa I stayed quiet. I kept it to myself. But not for the same reason you might think I did. I kept quiet because I decided for once to trust my little brother. I saw him and Leeann together in shall we call it a very compromising position. At first I wanted to get my hands on him and beat the living crap out of him but then I figured he was a man and needed to be dealt with the same way. I thought about telling Pete too. In the end though, I am glad I made the decision to do neither. We had no business, none of us, in his personal life. And we still don't, Pa."

"I will tell you one thing, though, Pa. I wish them little young'uns hadn't died. Maybe they didn't happen the way you would have wanted them to, but Pa, you need to think of them young'uns as your grandchildren. I even got a kick hearing that little gal call me Uncle Hoss. Why, I used to watch Joe with little Ruthie and I can tell you, he would have made a wonderful daddy to them."

And Adam picked up where Hoss stopped. "And there isn't a doubt in my mind either Pa that someday, that little brother of ours will be that daddy to a whole passel of little Cartwrights. Probably more than we care to think about! But he will do it right. Not just for us, or himself, but for a little girl he had once. He'll do it for Ruth."

Outside, the snow fell, blanketing the earth in its cool mantle of white, covering over the scars on the landscape. It is the same way that time covers the scars on the human soul. And the scars that Joseph Cartwright bore were no less than any man's. They were just different, deeper and would take longer to cover completely. But they were not scars from what had happened but scars from what could have been.