The Palace  
by
Helen Adams
 
 
Chapter 1

The early autumn sky was dark over the city of Sacramento.  It had a rather dank, depressed look about it, as if the entire city was wrapped up in the same sort of cheerless funk that had taken over the weather patterns for weeks.  The steady drip of rain and occasional rattle of a cart or carriage as it traveled down the muddy streets were the only sounds to be heard in the chilled mid afternoon air.  The shops and stores were mostly empty and even the birds did not seem to feel it worth the bother of chirping.  This was the atmosphere a dozen weary cowboys found themselves entering as they pushed a long steady stream of disgruntled cattle to their final destination; the livestock markets. 

“Real lively town,” one of the men commented sourly, his breath blowing out in a frosty plume as he sighed.  “Looks like somebody should be holding funeral services for the whole danged place.”

The man next to him grinned.  “Guess nobody wired we was comin’ and now that they know, they’re out rushing to find their brass instruments so they can welcome us proper.”

The first cowboy chuckled.  “You suppose they’ll play us a nice classical piece or something written special for the occasion?” 

The other man spat and cast the dripping sky and bawling cattle a disgusted glare.  “Hell, they can play me any damn thing they like, so long as it don’t sound like mooin’!  I ain’t never been on one of these blamed drives before and I ain’t planning on workin’ any more of ‘em.”

“Aw, it’s usually not like this,” the first cowboy protested.  “Who knew the weather was gonna turn to shit and stay that way for the whole trip?  Old man Cartwright was optimistic that it’d all blow over by the time we hit the mountains, and so was I.”

The younger man scowled.  “Yeah, well, that’s another thing I don’t want to hear again any time soon.  The name Cartwright!  We was given two weeks to get this herd to market and that bastard Cartwright was gonna get us here under the deadline if he died tryin’.  Never seen such a determined cuss in all my life.  I don’t think the son of a bitch even sleeps!  Ever’ time I so much as turned around to scratch my ass, there he was, chewin’ on it to get movin’.”

His friend laughed.  “Yep.  He may be a young’un, but that boy sure as hell is a nail spittin’, iron balled, through and through Cartwright, all right!  I thought sure he’d fall apart without his daddy or his brothers here to tell him what to do, but he sure came through in fine style.”

The complaining cowboy looked incredulous.  “You sound like you admire him.”

The first cowboy took a drag off the cigarette clenched between his teeth and nodded.  “I do.  Like you said, you’ve never been on a drive before, but I’ve been on plenty.  There’s a lot of men who would’ve turned tail and cut their losses when they figured out what a tough trip this was gonna be.  Young Joe just got a few of us older, more experience hands and put our heads together.  Sketched out a plan to get us up over the mountain trails when the regular flatland route got washed out and offered to let any man go who didn’t think it was worth the risk.  You heard the offer, same as I did.”

The second man nodded reluctantly.  “Yeah, that was pretty decent of him.”

 “And, he took over without complainin’ when he had to fire that sorry excuse for a ramrod after he caught him drinkin’ on the job.  That worthless son thought he had a right cozy position for himself.  Figured the boy wouldn’t have the sand to enforce his family’s no-boozing policy when he was so short-handed.”  He chuckled.  “Whenever I needed a good laugh over the last week, I just conjured up the image of that look on Briggs face when Cartwright counted out his wages and told him to get packing.  Yes sir, I sure was surprised when Joe started takin’ all the worst jobs on himself and kept movin’ us through.  And now, here we are, two days earlier than expected and with nary a lost piece of beef.  Damn straight, I admire him!  I’d work for Joe Cartwright any time, any place, and any job.  Come Spring, I’m makin’ my way back to the Ponderosa to see if they’ll hire me full time.”

The expression on the second man’s face had become very thoughtful.  “Could be you’re right, Hayes.  I gotta admit, given his reputation around Virginia City, I was expecting a lot more fits of temper than he showed and he had some good cause to lose it more than a few times.  Reckon’ he just wanted to get us here and out of the rain as quick as he could?”

 “I reckon,” Hayes agreed, eyes amused as he watched his friend’s face.  “It sure as hell is what I wanted.”

 “Yeah, me too.  Reckon I’d be glad to work for him again too, soon as I get a chance to kick back and recover from this trip,” the young man admitted with a lop-sided grin.  “I guess I just wanted a good target to take my temper out on for a minute.  Cartwright’s not so bad.”

 “Glad to hear you say that.”  Both men whipped around in their saddles, surprised to see the amused grin on the muddy face of their young boss.  Neither had even been aware that he had ridden up behind them and listened to their whole conversation.  “You’re a good man, Dutch.  I’d hate to think you were never coming to work for the Ponderosa again just cause you think I’m a bastard.”

The young cowboy flushed.  “You heard that?  I didn’t mean nothin’ by it, boss, really.”

Joe made a sweeping gesture with his left hand as they rode into sight of the stockyard.  “Gentleman, since we have reached the Promised Land, I am prepared to be magnanimous and forgive all,” he said grandly.  Then he chuckled and winked.  “Besides, once you get a load of the bonus I’m giving you boys for putting up with me and getting us here with time to spare, you’ll think I’m the best damned boss in the whole damned country!”

A few hours later, the men had proof that Joe had not merely been making idle promises, and had gone off to find lodgings, booze, women and whatever else struck their fancy in the city.  Joe had shaken their hands and wished all of them well, pleased when several of the men expressed their intentions to head back to the Ponderosa some day soon.  They’d been a good crew, good as he could have asked for and he was thankful for every last one of them.

Raising his arms above his head, Joe slowly arched his back, trying to stretch out the numerous kinks that had imbedded themselves all along his spine and into every joint during this endless journey to Sacramento.  Two weeks of rough ground, cold rations and rainstorm after cold rainstorm, never leaving his saddle for more than the few hours required to get a bare minimum of sleep, had certainly left their mark.  He grinned as he thought again about the conversation he had eavesdropped on between Hayes and Dutch.  Nail spittin’ and iron balled, huh?  Well that was definitely the impression he had tried to give of himself but he was surprised to find out how well it had worked.  There was no way the men could have know how many times I was scared spitless out there or how many times I prayed that we’d make it through okay.  How many times I felt like a little kid playing grown-up.  The hard trek had been worthwhile though. Joe and his wranglers had been among the first cattlemen to arrive with their herd and the demand was so high for prime beef right now that the price had been quite handsome.  Nearly five dollars per head higher than anyone back at the Ponderosa had been optimistic enough to expect, in fact. Thankful to have the task over with, Joe had paid off the men, deposited the money from the cattle sale into his father’s bank account, and found his horse a good warm stable to relax and refresh in for a day or two. Now, damp, shivering with cold in the frosty late afternoon air and fighting off the beginnings of a nasty head cold, Joe intended to do the same for himself. 

Traditionally, the Cartwrights stayed at the Empire hotel, more because it was owned by an old friend of Ben’s and was therefore his personal favorite than for any other reason.  Over the years, his sons had gotten into the habit of going there as well, but the Empire was clear across town and the rain was starting again.  Here I am, a couple days earlier than expected for my reservation at the Empire, surrounded by perfectly good hotels that I won’t have to get drenched again to stay at, he thought to himself. Aw, what the heck. There’s no law that says I have to stay in the same place all the time.

As Joe stood in the doorway of the hostelry where he’d placed Cochise, he peered out into the increasingly heavy downpour, trying to spot someplace promising. 

“Quite a whopper of storm, isn’t it?”  Joe turned around to find the stable owner right behind him, gazing at the rain with a somewhat admiring expression.  “Sure wouldn’t want to be caught out in it, though.”

“Neither would I,” Joe told him sincerely.  “In fact, I’ve been standing here trying to decide where I might find a place to stay without getting drowned on the way.  You wouldn’t happen to have any suggestions, would you?  I also need to send a telegram home to my pa, if there’s an office nearby.”

The hostler scratched his head beneath his beat up brown hat and closed one eye in thought.  “Well, let me see.  If you want a cheap place, there’s the Harbor Light, just west of here about two blocks or the Cracked Jug down east about the same distance.  They ain’t much more than a couple of low down taverns, but they rent rooms above the bar.”  Joe made a face.  Much as he liked a good saloon, those didn’t exactly sound appealing.  The man saw his expression and chuckled, showing the space left by two missing teeth on his upper gum.  “Then again, if you’ve a mind to try the spendier places, there’s a real high end deal down about four streets north of here.  New joint called the Palace.  It’s supposed to be real swanky with just about anything a man could ask for.  I reckon they’d probably have their own telegraph too.  Most of the fancier places do these days.”

“Well, I guess I could have a look at it,” Joe decided.  “If it’s too much, I can at least ask if they’ll let me send my wire home before I go look for something cheaper.  Where is it exactly?”

“Let’s see, now.”  The hostler closed his eyes and appeared to be mentally mapping the route, as his hands drew it in the air.  “Go outside and left two blocks, then turn north and head up four.  It’s on 12th street.  Biggest danged building you ever saw!  Can’t miss it!”

“Thanks, mister,” Joe told him.  Grabbing his bulging saddlebags and settling his hat and jacket into as protective a position from the elements as possible, Joe headed out into the storm. The short journey was sufficient to soak him clear to the skin and the muddy streets soon added yet another layer of grime to his already saturated clothing.  His hat managed to blow clean off twice when he ran out of hands to keep everything in place as giant wind gusts tore through the air.  Fortunately, he was able to grab the hat both times before it could get away, but those few seconds were all that were needed to soak his face and hair as wet as the rest of him.  Sure, Hoss, he thought, grumbling obscenities under his breath.  You just had to sprain your ankle right before the cattle drive so I had to make this trip without you.  I wasn’t even supposed to be here, except Adam had to take care of that logging camp emergency so I just had to up and volunteer to go with you!  Stupid, Joe, stupid! You volunteer to help out and wind up doing everything yourself.  Just my luck we had to be short handed right now, but we didn’t lose a single cow because of it.  Guess that’ll make Pa happy, eh, Hoss? I’ll bet you’re sitting warm and dry by the fireplace drinking coffee right about now, too.  Well, I hope you’re happy cause next time out you’re on your own!

The huge building looming ahead of him, exactly where the hostler had promised it would be, was a most welcome sight to the bedraggled young cowboy.  It was the biggest hotel Joe had ever seen and as he drew closer he could see a placard, which below its name read, ‘Finest rooms and amenities on the West Coast.’  Drawing near to take a closer look at it, Joe’s eyes read no further than the smaller print promising soft beds, hot baths and 24 hour kitchen service before he headed inside and made for the front desk.  He was about ready to sell his soul for those things by this time.

The lobby was huge and decorated in fancy green filigreed wallpaper and ornate furnishings, with matching carpets and gold accented curios at every turn.  Joe was mildly surprised to find a woman behind the front desk when he got there, and he removed his hat and shifted the muddy saddlebags on his right shoulder self-consciously when he noticed her eyeing him with mingled curiosity and sympathy.  He shifted uncomfortably; well aware that he was dripping water on the fancy carpet and that additional droplets were dripping off of his nose and hair, spattering the oaken desk. The woman waited patiently, seemingly unperturbed by his disheveled state and Joe smiled winningly at her.  Even thin and hollow eyed with exhaustion, wet, mud spattered and bearing two weeks worth of scraggly stubble on his face, Joe Cartwright had a magnificent smile and the woman could not help responding in kind.  “How can I help you, sir?” she asked in a pleasant voice.

“Well, I’ve been told that you have a telegraph here and I need to send a message.  After that, I just might be needing a room for the night.”

“Of course, sir.”  She produced a pad from behind the desk and handed it to him along with a pencil.  “Just write out your message and I’ll be happy to send it right away.”  Joe thought for a moment, tapping his lower lip with the pencil then hunkered down and wrote out his message.  She scanned it and read it back to him.  “To Ben Cartwright – Virginia City.  Cattle delivered, no losses.  Price better than expected, money in bank.  Men paid with bonus.  Weather awful; will wait it out here with your permission.  --- Joe.”

He nodded.  “That’ll do.”  He paid for the message and waited a few minutes after she sent it out, hoping there might possibly be a quick answer.  He grinned when the telegraph key sprang back into action almost immediately.  Pa or one of the others must have been right in town.  Maybe my luck is changing for the better.

“You got an answer right back, sir,” the clerk told him cheerfully.  She handed him the message. 

‘To Joe Cartwright – Palace Hotel.  Good job. The trail boss deserves a double bonus for extra work.  Hoss back to work. Take a week and enjoy.  Pa.’ Joe’s eyebrows rose as he read his father’s message.  Extra pay and a whole week in Sacramento!  Hoss must’ve been wearing him down feeling guilty over leaving me to do the job alone.  Well, it’s a tempting offer and I’m going to take it!  “Well, ma’am, it looks like I’ll be needing that room,” he told the clerk with a grin. “And if you’ve really got everything that sign outside promises, then I’ll be staying for a few days.”

She turned the registry book around for him to sign.  “We have both regular rooms and suites available, sir.  Which would you prefer?”

Joe could see the prices posted on the wall behind her.  The suites were about three times as expensive as the rooms, quite exorbitant in fact. He wondered what could possibly be worth that kind of money. Joe opened his mouth to say that he wanted just a regular room, then paused.  He had the next few days free to spend however he wished, so he had the time to enjoy something better and thanks to Pa’s directive, he certainly had the money. What the Hell, he thought.  “I’ll take a suite,” he told the clerk.  “I’d also like to have hot bath water and something to eat sent up right away.”

The clerk smiled brightly, made a notation on the book and handed Joe a pen, which he used to sign his name.  “That will be number 28 at the top of stairs and down at the end of the hall to your left.  Is there anything else I can get you sir?”

Joe grinned tiredly and grabbed the key she offered. “I don’t know what exactly that sign outside means by ‘amenities’, but right now I think I’d be perfectly happy with just the food and bath water.”

The girl leaned forward a bit.  “I’ll be right here all night if you change your mind.”

Though sure she had not meant to convey anything more than simple courtesy by the words, Joe smiled slowly.  The clerk was quite pretty, blonde and green eyed with thick lashes and a petite figure.  He was about to give her one of his patented charming lines when his train of thought was interrupted by the first in what turned out to be a long series of sneezes, followed by a heavy cough.  He flashed the woman an apologetic glance and snuffled.  “I don’t suppose you have a handkerchief?”

She smiled sympathetically and handed over a lace trimmed ladies hanky.  He nodded gratefully and turned his back to blow his dripping nose into the small cloth.  “You can hang onto that,” she offered.  “Consider it compliments of the management.”  He nodded his thanks.  She looked a little worried as he coughed again.  “Are you sure you don’t need anything else, Mr. Cartwright?  I could send for a doctor if you like.”

Joe waved away the suggestion.  “I’ll be fine, thanks.”  As he pushed away from the desk and moved toward the stairs, he called back over his shoulder, “But if you happen to think of anything else I might want tonight, just sent it on up, okay?”  He thought he heard her laugh behind him, but he could not be sure.     

As he reached his room and unlocked the door, Joe released a low whistle, now understanding the higher rate.  The interior of his new room was enormous, nearly as big as the whole downstairs of the ranch house back home.  It was also incredibly plush, with thick carpeting on the floor and heavy curtains on both windows and surrounding a huge canopied bed.  The decoration was much like the lobby downstairs, only done up in a blue and gold motif.  There was a fireplace taking up the center of one wall, a desk, several chairs, a small table and a couple of pieces of furniture he could not readily identify.  Joe stood stopped in the doorway, wondering if he should have gotten the regular room after all.  He felt a great reluctance to take his wet muddy self into that rich interior but then chided himself for being silly.  It was just a room and he had every right to make full use of it.  But, just the same, Joe decided to obey his impulse not to track mud on that nice carpet.  Too many years with Hop Sing, I guess, he thought ruefully. 

Closing the door behind him, Joe carefully laid his saddlebags on the floor, wet side up, and using his hand to balance against the door, took off his boots and wet socks and carried them in his hand as he moved into the room to have a better look around.  Ohhh, yeah, was that ever the right thing to do, he thought, flexing his bare toes into the thick carpeting.  Luxurious did not even begin to cover the sensation of that warm and blessedly dry cushion releasing just a bit of the accumulated soreness from his feet.  Joe set his boots down on the hearth, noting that the fireplace was already laid read for a fire.  All he would have to do was strike one of the matches provided in a tiny carved niche in the mantle and he would soon have a crackling blaze.  He considered it, but opted to wait until later.  He was curious to see what was behind the blue damask bed curtains first.  There was a silken rope attached to the curtains at the head of the bed and Joe pulled them all the way back, revealing the biggest, softest looking, most inviting bed he had ever seen in his life.  He heard the rapturous sigh that escaped his lips at the sight of it and laughed, glad there had been nobody else around to hear him.  The temptation to just flop down on that big mattress and sleep for a few hours, or a few days, was nearly overwhelming, but Joe knew he would not be able to rest comfortably as dirty as he was. Better to get that bath and food first. 

Thoughts of the bath led Joe to a second door, which he had assumed, correctly as it turned out, would house a bathtub.  His eyes widened when he saw that in addition to the deep, extra large copper tub, which had its own drain leading to a pipe that disappeared into the floor, there was an actual water closet!  He had heard of them, but had never seen one before and he could not help being impressed.  The bathroom was also fully stocked with plenty of soap, including shaving soap, lots of nice thick towels and a bathrobe.  For a moment, Joe wondered if somebody had left it behind, but a closer inspection revealed the garment to house a note, which read, ‘Compliments of the Palace Hotel’.  The robe was made of the same material as the towels, and test fingering proved it to be just as thick and fluffy. Though normally not much for wearing robes, Joe could not resist the urge to try it on.  Gladly shucking his wet dirty clothes, he donned the robe and sighed in satisfaction.  It felt warm and dry and extremely soft against his skin. Oh, boy, if the rest of my stay here is as good as the first ten minutes I’m never gonna make it home. He picked up a towel and took it back out to the bedroom, squeezing his still drippy hair and sat down on the bed.  The mattress gave beneath his weight and Joe flopped back into the inviting softness with a groan, his knees still hooked over the side of the bed.  A wave of drowsiness hit him and he suddenly found himself fighting to keep his eyes open. I don’t want to fall asleep yet, but I’m so tired and this bed feels sooooo good, was his last thought before the world blinked out.

A sharp knock on the outer door startled him about 15 minutes later and he scrambled off the bed as fast as his aching muscles would allow, wondering what had awakened him.  He felt a little muddled and was trying to rub the bleariness out of his eyes, when the knock sounded again. “Just a second.”  Feeling a little awkward about answering the door dressed in nothing but a bathrobe, Joe opened it and allowed a bellhop bearing a covered tray to enter.

The man spread a small cloth over the table, then laid a plate of roast beef, mashed potatoes and gravy, steamed carrots and hot buttered rolls upon it.  Even with a stuffy nose, the aroma was enough to set Joe’s mouth watering and all thoughts of sleep vanished as he felt the eager tightening of his empty stomach.  “Your hot water will be up in just a few moments, sir,” the bellboy said, pouring a cup of aromatic coffee into the cup he had brought.  “Will you be needing anything else?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Joe told him.  “Just fill the tub, then I’ll be fine for tonight.”  The man nodded and left, returning a few moments later with two other young bellhops bearing two large buckets of steaming water each. They made several trips, filling up the tub with an efficiency Joe admired, while he stood back and occupied himself with sneaking samples of all the items on his dinner plate and waited for them to leave.  Not one of the bellmen so much as batted an eye at his appearance as they hurried back and forth. Joe supposed they must have seen a lot of guests dressed as he was, if the hotel provided those robes to every suite.

Finally alone at last, Joe gave up his polite picking and attacked his dinner with a level of enthusiasm his brother Hoss would have envied, not stopping until the last scrap of food was gone.  “Ahhh,” he sighed, standing and rubbing at the pleasant fullness in his stomach. “A few more meals like that and you’ll feel almost human again, Joseph.”  He grinned, wondering absently if he was the only one of his family who liked to talk to himself when there was nobody around to know about it. 

The water in the bathtub was still hot enough to sting his hand when Joe reached in and checked it, so he spent a few minutes in front of the bathroom’s large oval mirror, getting rid of the itchy whiskers that two weeks on the trail had provided him with.  He smiled at his reflection, noting that while he still looked pretty rough, his condition was improving rapidly.  A second check of the tub revealed that the water had cooled just enough to be perfect and Joe happily removed his robe, draping it across the washstand, and stepped into the tub.  He lowered himself into the steaming water with a long groan of pure pleasure.  “Ohhh, yes,” he breathed, stretching out in the long tub and feeling his body relaxing by degrees. He was so sore and the hot water felt so good!  It did not take long for the nice soothing bath to work its magic and soon Joe was fighting off waves of drowsiness again, but he felt reluctant to leave the water’s warm embrace.  He held out and soaked for another ten minutes, giving the water time to begin to grow a bit tepid, then picked up soap and a wash cloth, eager to get the last of the trail grime off his body and out of his hair.  He smiled faintly as he ran the cloth up his arms and into his armpits, skimming soapy water across his smooth chest, down his abdomen and lower, not missing a single inch of skin in his pursuit of cleanliness.  God, even the soap felt extra luxurious in this place!  It was not the usual homemade lye soap he was used to using at home, with its rough texture and slightly slimy feel. It was something else, very silky to the touch, which produced lots of lather and a nice lemony smell that made his nose twitch.  If we had this stuff at home, I’d be in that bathhouse as often as Adam is!   He chuckled at the thought as he lathered up his wet hair and ducked under the water for a good rinse. When at last he could lightly pull at his locks and hear their squeaky clean sound, Joe decided it was time to go and pulled the tub drain, watching the water spiral down with more interest than the sight probably deserved.

Getting out of the tub proved to be far more difficult than getting in had been, as Joe’s lethargic muscles protested his demand that they lift him back into a standing position, but finally he hauled himself out and toweled off.  Bending over to dry his legs, Joe suddenly felt so light headed that he nearly fell and quickly knelt down, placing his fingertips against the floor to steady himself and resting his forehead upon his upraised knee. A roaring sound filled his head and Joe could hear his heartbeat pounding loud in his ears.  He wondered if he were about to faint, but then the feeling passed and he was left with just the familiar sensation of crashing fatigue.  Using the tub to push himself back up, Joe threw his towel to the side and stumbled into the bedroom.  The air felt cold after the steamy confines of the bathroom, causing him to shiver as he moved through the room dousing the lamps.  Deep yawns overtook him again and again throughout the procedure and Joe was more than happy to extinguish the last lamp and crawl between the cool sheets of that wonderfully inviting bed.  He cuddled into the welcoming embrace of the soft mattress face down, letting the pillow absorb a small moan as he hitched the blankets a little higher over his shoulders.  Within seconds, Joe was fast asleep.



Chapter 2

The first early rays of dull sunlight filtered in from the east window, drawing a series of soft protesting noises and a great deal of squirming from the sleeping figure on the bed as he tried to move out of their reach.  Finding himself unable to shift his left arm or move his legs, Joe struggled up through the last foggy layer of sleep and squinted in the brightening glare, trying to see what held him.  His covers were pulled out on all sides and twisted around his body, trapping him in a tight blanket cocoon.  I must’ve been cold last night, he thought, pulling and kicking at the covers until at last he obtained his freedom.  That small bit of exertion left him panting, completely unable to draw any air through his nose and he shuddered suddenly as a chill passed through him.  Joe groaned out loud.  Oh, come on, he thought disconsolately.  I thought I just had the sniffles from all that rain and that I’d feel okay today. I can’t be getting sick now!  Not when Pa just gave me a whole week off to do whatever I want to! 

A determined set hardened Joe’s jaw, a set his family and most of his friends would have recognized as the warning sign of a fit of extreme stubbornness.  He was not going to waste this vacation being sick and that’s all there was to it!  Willing himself to feel more energetic, Joe flipped back the blankets and jumped out of bed, surprised when his legs nearly refused to hold him upright.  The sudden motion left him feeling a little dizzy and he braced his right hand against the wall, his left clutching his pounding head. Suddenly Joe was no longer so sure that being up and moving was such a hot idea. “Maybe I just need some fresh air,” he muttered.  Slowly groping his way over to the window, Joe was pleased to see that the brightening sky held only a few puffy clouds, no rain clouds at all.  The warm sun felt good against his skin as he rolled his shoulders and neck, trying to loosen his still achy muscles, and his head finally began to clear. Then, movement from a window in the building across the street caught his eye and Joe froze in place, realizing that he was standing before an open window stark naked where anyone with an opposing view might see him.  In fact, the revelation continued; he had probably been fully visible to anyone watching as he got ready for bed last night! 

Though not an overly modest person by nature, Joe’s realization was enough to send him scurrying into his bathroom to grab the robe he had discarded the night before.  As he threw it on and belted it, he caught a glimpse of his reflection, puffy eyed and red nosed, pale except for the bright flush on his cheeks, his face caught in an expression of blind panic and Joe began to laugh.  The sound was slightly hysterical and a peculiar honking inspired by his blocked sinuses only made him laugh harder, finally dissolving into a fit of helpless giggling egged on by his repeated snorts as he tried to catch his breath.  He was forced to sit down on a high stool he found next to the washstand as he began to cough. What were you thinking , he asked himself, dashing away tears as he struggled to breathe between snickers and increasingly strident coughing.  You might have given some poor old lady a fit of apoplexy when she looked out her window this morning!  Or maybe a thrill…  A vision of some white haired old woman peeking out, then rushing to grab a pair of opera glasses for a better look suddenly popped into his head and the laughter overtook him again, nearly turning him blue as he gasped for air. 

Thirty minutes later, the hint of a smile still visible on his face, Joe trudged down the short flight of steps toward the hotel’s main lobby, feeling somehow better for his fit of mirth.  He had dressed in his only remaining clean clothes, a pair of brown pants and an old faded blue shirt that had once been his very favorite. He had discovered them tucked into the bottom of one saddlebag.  Hop Sing had packed for him, knowing that Little Joe’s idea of luggage was an extra pair of pants and two or three shirts stuffed into a bag.  Hop Sing had an absolute gift for neatly packing toiletries and an impossible number of clothes into the bags with plenty of room left over for extra supplies.  It was a gift the entire family had learned to appreciate over the years and in this case, Joe had made up his mind to find his friend some sort of present while he was in town, as a special thank you.  There had been no way he was going to wear yesterday’s outfit again.  Those clothes were so filthy they could have virtually stood alone and most of the rest of his belongings were nearly as bad.  He had been sure there was nothing left, but after upending the saddlebags on his bed, he had found his current outfit, complete with a pair of clean socks rolled into the shirt and had offered up a silent petition of thanks to Hop Sing.

Joe was pleased to see the same girl behind the front desk who had been working when he had checked in the prior afternoon.  “Good morning,” he said, approaching her with a smile.  “I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch your name yesterday.”

She looked up and returned his smile and greeting.  “Connie Bryant.  What can I do for you, Mr. Cartwright?”

He leaned his arms on the desk and told her, “I wanted to thank you again for the loan of your handkerchief yesterday and ask you a couple of questions, if that’s all right.” 

“Of course, Mr. Cartwright.  That’s what I’m here for.” 

“Okay, first off, unless it’s against hotel policy or something, please call me Joe.  And actually, I have three questions,” he said.  Connie’s smile widened and she nodded for him to proceed. “One, I was hoping to get some breakfast, so where do I find your dining room?”

She pointed toward the staircase he had just descended.  “Right past those steps on the left side.  You’ll find just about any kind of breakfast you like.  We also serve a full lunch menu beginning at noon and supper starting at five o’clock.”

“Perfect,” he declared.  “Two, once I finish eating I really need to find someplace that does laundry cause I’m pretty much scraping the bottom of the barrel right now.”  He flicked the collar of his shirt, which was a little frayed and had not faded quite as much as the rest of the garment.  Normally he liked to look a bit sharper around a pretty woman and would not have drawn extra attention to any flaws in his appearance, but Joe figured it really didn’t matter in this case.  Connie had already seen him looking like a drowned rat and sneezing his head off, so he figured he could only go up from there.

“The Palace has a very good laundry service, Mr., excuse me, Joe,” she told him.  “We send it out to one of the local Chinese laundries and they usually get everything back to us within 24 hours, less if you have something of high priority.  And your third question?”

Joe could tell by the way her breathing had quickened in response to his proximity, and her body language as she leaned toward him, that she found him attractive.  The feeling was definitely mutual and Joe had intended to find out what time she got off duty and to invite her out somewhere, but he was fighting off the urge to begin coughing and that unpleasant detached feeling was beginning to come over him again.  This was definitely not the time to be making a date, knowing he would be miserable company for her. Besides, what girl would want to kiss a guy knowing all she would get out of it would be to share his cold? 

As if provoked by the thought, Joe suddenly turned away and gave an explosive sneeze; then offered Connie an apologetic smile.  “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll leave my third question until I’m feeling a little better.”  He was pleased to see the rosy blush and tiny smile that indicated she understood the nature of that third question perfectly. 

“Anytime, Joe,” she said sweetly.  “I was here last night because I was filling in, but usually I’m here from six in the morning to six in the evening, everyday but Sunday.”

He grinned and tipped an imaginary hat as he pushed away from the desk.  “I’ll remember that.”

The dining room was not even half full when Joe wandered in.  Most of those having breakfast seemed to be businessmen, though there was the odd couple here and there and one family consisting of a middle aged woman with three children quietly saying grace at a corner table.  All the men seemed to be dressed a good deal more formally than Joe was, in either suits or crisp looking shirts and ties. He self-consciously rolled his sleeves down and buttoned his cuffs as he entered and selected a table next to the family of four.  Several minutes passed before a waiter appeared with a menu and a glass of fresh cold water, which Joe immediately took a grateful swallow of.  His throat was quickly beginning to move past the annoying tickle of the last hour and into terrible soreness. “My apologies for the wait,” the server said.  “Both of our usual morning waiters are out sick today and I’m the only one here.”

“Oh, that’s all right,” Joe told him.  “I wasn’t in a hurry.”  He picked up the menu and looked it over.  Though he had been hungry when he came down, Joe now found that the more he studied the menu, the less appealing breakfast began to seem.  “Do you have any suggestions?” he asked the waiter hopefully.  “I can’t seem to make up my mind.”

The waiter was an older man, thin and crowned with neat, though rather sparse, gray hair and a small moustache.  Physically, he could not have possibly been less like Joe’s father, but the sharp hawks’ gaze with which he speared his young customer reminded Joe instantly of Ben.  It was the expression his father gave him when he had detected an illness or injury that Joe was trying to cover up behind a shield of bravado.  Joe straightened his spine and endeavored to look healthy, then realized what he was doing and stifled a grin. The waiter thought for a moment.  “I think you might do well to order hard boiled eggs and toast,” he suggested.  “They taste about the same with or without a head cold and perhaps some lemon tea with honey for your sore throat.”

Equally surprised by having the man so boldly acknowledge his illness, and by the friendly way he spoke, not at all stuffy and what Joe had come to think of as ‘waiter-ish’, he smiled.  “How did you know I have a sore throat?”

The man returned his smile.  “Call it an educated guess.  You sound as if you’ve been coughing, or will be before long, and you’ve swallowed and winced about a dozen times since you sat down.”

Joe’s smile widened.  He liked the matter of fact way the man spoke.  Concerned but not condescending.  “You have kids, don’t you?”

The waiter chuckled.  “Two sons and four daughters.  With that many youngsters, I’ve done more than my share of nursing, so you’ll have to forgive me if I sounded a little too familiar.  My oldest girl always tells me I’m a busybody and I suppose she’s right.”

Joe chuckled a bit, then winced again.  “I figured.  You reminded me of my pa just now.  So, is that lemon tea pretty good?”

“It’s good and I think you’ll find it very soothing.”  The man made a questioning gesture with his pad and pencil.

“All right, I’ll try it,” Joe decided.  “The eggs and toast sound pretty good too.”

“I’ll be back with your order in just a few moments, young sir,” the waiter promised.

“Thanks, and call me Joe.”

The man nodded and offered, “Matthew.”

Joe picked up a folded newspaper he found tucked in next to his plate and absent-mindedly looked it over.  There was nothing of interest in the articles on the front page and before long he gave up, unable to keep his mind focused on the print.  Bored and looking for something to distract him from the misery of his body, he began to play with everything on the table, spinning the napkin ring, tapping his spoon, twirling the butter knife and drawing lines in the condensation on his water glass.  He was in the process of carving a pat of butter into tiny triangles with the knife when he heard a giggle and glanced over to the table with the children.  A little girl about six years old was watching him with interested blue eyes and Joe smiled at her.  Casting a glance around to make sure he was unobserved by all but the child, Joe stealthily ripped a corner off the newspaper and rolled it into a little ball.  Edging his water glass over to the other side of the table, he balanced the paper ball on the tip of his spoon and flicked it.  The paper sailed into the air and landed with a shallow plop into the glass.  The child’s face lit up with delight, so he ripped another shred of paper off and repeated the process, making another perfect shot.  All three of the children were watching by this time and Joe made a perfect six shots out of six tries before he saw the children’s mother shooting him a disapproving look.  Joe immediately put the spoon down and folded his hands together, looking so guilty that the woman’s stern expression immediately softened.  Joe smiled sheepishly.  His father would have almost certainly grabbed the utensil out of his hand and smacked his knuckles with it by this time, cautioning him to behave himself at the table and please remember that he was 19, not 9.  Joe could all but hear the words and he blushed, embarrassed to have been caught doing something so childish. 

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said contritely.  “I saw the kids watching me and thought I’d try to amuse them a little.”

She glanced down into the faces of the three happy looking youngsters and favored Joe with a tired but genuine smile.  “I suppose I should thank you for distracting them.  Raising three young children can be something of a challenge.  I’m afraid they don’t get quite as much amusement as they should.”

One of the children, a boy of about four or so, piped up, “Do you gots any kids, mister?”

“Joey!” The woman immediately scolded.  “Don’t be impertinent to the gentleman. And it’s ‘do you have any children’ not ‘do you gots’.” 

Joe grinned.  “That’s all right, ma’am.  I don’t mind answering.”  He looked at the boy and said, “No, I don’t have any kids.  I’m not even married.  I live with my pa and brothers on a big ranch back in Nevada.”

“Can I ask another question, Grandma?” the boy asked. “I promise I won’t be ‘pertinent.”

She cast Joe an apologetic look.  “I’m sorry.  With these three, one question usually opens up the floodgates.”  She turned to the boy.  “Why don’t we let the gentleman get back to his breakfast, dear.”

Disappointed, the children turned back to their plates.  Equally disappointed, but figuring he had been dismissed, Joe heaved a quiet sigh and returned to staring at the white linen tablecloth.  He could hear animated whispering behind him and was surprised at the sound of a woman gently clearing her throat to get his attention.  Curious, he turned back to find the lady at the table smiling at him. The thought instantly flitted through his mind that she had a very lovely smile.  In fact, she was quite beautiful for a middle-aged woman. He had been surprised to hear she was the children’s grandmother rather than their mother, and while he had no particular masculine interest in her, noticing women was as much a part of Joe’s mindset as noticing whether it was day or night.  He simply could not help it.  “Yes, ma’am?”

“I was going to add, unless you’d care to join us, young man,” she said kindly.  Joe dropped his gaze, realizing his feelings must have been written all over his face.  “The children and I agree that we’d be glad to have you.”

“I’d really like to, ma’am,” he said sincerely.  “Only I’ve got a pretty bad cold and you probably wouldn’t want me getting too close to the kids.”

She smiled again, his concern for the children’s welfare making her warm to him even further.  “My little granddaughter here,” she indicated the girl Joe had first noticed, “has a cold as well.  I’m certain the rest of us are no more likely to catch anything from you than we are from Amanda.  Please do join us.”

A grin spread over Joe’s face, lighting his eyes.  He moved his chair over into the space two of the little ones eagerly scooted over to provide him with.   “Thank you for asking me over, ma’am, it was really nice of you.  By the way, my name is Joe Cartwright, but please, just call me Joe.”

He held out his hand, which the woman shook with a surprisingly firm grip.  “Pleased to meet you, Joe.  My name is Clara Hill and these are my grandchildren, Joey, whom you’ve met already; Amanda…” the blue eyed little girl grinned at him and stuck out a tiny hand, which Joe politely shook, ignoring the stickiness on it.  “And, this is Jane.”  The third child, a pretty brunette girl of about nine years, nodded and offered a shy smile. 

The little boy tugged at his grandmother’s sleeve and whispered loudly, “Now can I ask a question?”

Joe and Clara exchanged an amused look over his head.  He nodded and she told the child, “Yes, you may.”

He looked up at Joe, his brown eyes wide and eager.  “Is your name Joseph?  My pa’s name was Joseph and so’s mine!”

Joe nodded.  “Yep, I was named after my pa’s father.”  He had not missed the past tense the child used when referring to his father. 

“Did you used to get called Joey, too?” The boy continued.

“No, I never did,” he answered.  The child looked a bit disappointed in his answer, so he added, “Everybody called me Little Joe.  Matter of fact, most of them still do.”

“I like that name,” Amanda burst in.  “Can we call you Little Joe, too?”

He shrugged.  “Sure, if you want to.”

The two small children continued to pelt him with questions, completely undisturbed by their grandmother's occasional reprimands about nosiness.  Between them, they nearly managed to worm his entire life’s story out of him in less than five minutes.  The news that he had lost his mother to an accident at the age of four elicited great sympathy from the entire family, and Joe learned that the children’s parents, Clara’s son Joseph and his wife Ruth, had died earlier in the year in a carriage accident.  There was a momentary lull in the conversation as the losses were mourned anew, then the children were off and running again, demanding to know all about Joe's life on the Ponderosa. The oldest girl did not speak, but sat quietly sipping her milk and watching Joe with rapt, decidedly starry-eyed attention.  Just as Joe was beginning to feel truly overwhelmed, he was saved by the return of Matthew.

The waiter’s mouth twitched as he beheld the slightly desperate expression on Joe’s face and the eager delighted faces of the children.  The two smaller ones were clinging to the young man’s sleeves by now, the small boy practically in Joe’s lap.  “For a moment, I thought you’d left, young Joe,” Matthew said, laying down his burden of plate, teacup and silver tea service before Joe.  He added a small pot of honey and more butter on a small plate.  “This should fix you right up.  Is there anything else I can get any of you?”  Everyone declined and Matthew left them to their meal, giving Joe a wink as he left.

Joe’s voice was about to give out and his throat was on fire from all the talking he had done.  He stirred some of the honey into the steaming tea he poured into the delicate china cup and took a careful sip.  It felt wonderful going down and tasted good too, but Joe was finding it difficult to force his burning throat to swallow the liquid.  Pressing his Adam’s apple for support, he took another shallow sip.

“You poor dear,” Clara said, watching him wince as he drank his tea.  “You told us you weren’t feeling well and here we’ve all been, bombarding you with questions.  You mustn’t aggravate your poor throat anymore.  Children, Joe has told us quite enough about his life for one morning, now I want you to be still.”

There was no mistaking the iron in her tone and the children responded to it instantly.  The little ones moved back to sit straight in their own chairs.  They sat quietly and watched their new friend prepare his eggs and toast and eat it in tiny bites, soaking the toast in his tea to soften it so it would go down easier.  He began to feel a little uncomfortable under their watchful eyes.  He looked at Clara and said softly, “You know all about me now. Tell me about you.”

With occasional helpful asides from her grandchildren, Clara complied.  She was the widow of a banker, the only living relative of the three children, as her son had been her only child.  Raised in Concord, she had come out west with her late husband and son twenty years before and now resided permanently in Sacramento.  Though she did not say it, Joe guessed that she was rather well to do.

As he finished breakfast, Joe reached for his wallet and was surprised when Clara reached out and laid a hand on his arm to stop him.  “Please, allow me.”  Joe opened his mouth to protest, but she held up a finger and continued,  “Don’t argue with me, young man.  You’ve given all of us a livelier, more entertaining meal than we’ve enjoyed in I don’t know how long, and brought the spirit of my son Joseph back to me for a little while.  This is just my way of saying thank you.”

Touched, Joe clasped her hand and nodded.  “Thank you, ma’am.”  He grimaced, hearing that his voice was almost completely gone. 

Clara pulled out a couple of notes to pay for the meal, leaving a generous tip for Matthew, then reached into her purse for a piece of paper and pencil.  She quickly wrote down something and handed it across to Joe.  He accepted it curiously and she said, “It’s an old family recipe for the soothing of sore throats and congestion.  It’s not hard to make and it may help you.”

“Thanks again,” he rasped.  Joe stood and smiled down at the little family.  “I hope I’ll see you again later.”

“You take care of yourself, Joe,” Clara admonished. 

“Bye Little Joe,” the children chorused.  He waved back to them as he left the dining room.



Chapter 3

Joe walked back up to his suite, fishing for his key and was surprised to find the door already wide open when he arrived.  Figuring anyplace as lavish as this hotel was would probably attract thieves; Joe automatically reached down to pull his gun and frowned as he remembered he was not wearing it.  He had decided to leave it in the room while he had breakfast and he scolded himself silently for being so careless. Tensing in case he had to move fast, he approached the entry cautiously and peeked in.  Joe breathed a sigh of relief and felt instantly foolish at seeing only a small mobile cart full of sheets and cleaning supplies and a young chambermaid engaged in wrestling his tangled bedding apart.  (Boy, you are getting paranoid!) He attempted to say hello, but it emerged as little more than a strangled croak.  The girl jumped with a squeak of surprise, clutching the quilt she was folding to her chest. Joe fell back a step, holding up both hands.  He tried twice to speak and explain who he was, but his voice refused to emerge.  Frustrated, Joe made a room encompassing gesture with his hands then pointed back to himself.  He was rewarded by seeing the chambermaid relax, and even offer him a chagrined smile.

“I’m sorry, sir.  I wasn’t expecting anyone and you startled me,” she explained.  There was a faint lilt to her voice, which combined with her dark auburn hair and a smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks instantly identified her as Irish. “I’ll be just a few moments and then I’ll be out of your way.”

“No hurry,” Joe whispered, pleased that he had managed to be audible.  “I just came back to get something. Do you happen to know where I’m supposed to take laundry?”

“Oh, I can take it for, sir,” she said brightly.  “Just let me get something to carry it down in.”  She whipped the rumpled sheet off Joe’s large bed and folded it in two, then spread it across the foot of the mattress.  “I’ll just wrap whatever you have in this and make sure it’s marked to be returned to you.”

Joe gestured for her to wait right there, then went to retrieve the filthy clothes he had dumped on the floor of his bathroom the night before, glad suddenly that Hop Sing was not around to see them and go into a tirade.  He rummaged the pockets to ensure they were empty and placed the clothes on the waiting sheet, then grabbed his saddlebag and upended it onto the pile.  Joe stabbed a hand out and flipped a few of the items over into a different order as a set of drawers tumbled out to top the stack.  He felt a little embarrassed to have this strange girl seeing his personal items, but there was no help for it if he wanted everything back clean.  Quickly scanning the area to make sure there was nothing more, he nodded to the girl and she efficiently tied the ends of the sheet into a neat compact bundle.  Reaching into her apron pocket, she pulled out a pencil, a straight pin and a scrap of paper.  Then she wrote ‘28’ on the paper and pinned it to the sheet.   “There you are.  Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?” 

(Funny how every person I’ve met so far in this place has said that to me.  It must be part of the job training.)  He started to shake his head, then remembered the recipe Mrs. Hill had given him downstairs.  He held it out to the girl.  “Know where I can get some of these ingredients?”  The sentence caught in his throat and Joe began to cough, turning away and hacking uncontrollably.  His chest tightened painfully and his throat became a well of pure agony as the fit went on and on.  He could not seem to catch his breath and he saw the panic he felt reflected in the chambermaid’s eyes as she helpfully pounded his back and drew him over to sit down on the bed.   Finally the spasm eased and Joe gasped, dragging in a few desperate gulps of air.  He was unable to hold back a small whimper, his face pinched tight against the pain in his throat. 

“We have a hotel doctor, sir,” the girl said urgently.  “You just wait right here and I’ll go get him for you.”  She patted his arm in a comforting way and Joe caught her hand in his.  He shook his head gently, then more vehemently when she pressed his need to see the physician.

 “No,” he croaked.  “Don’t want Doctor.  Please…water?”  She dashed into the bathroom to get his half full water pitcher and poured him a glassful.”  Joe took a deep swallow, waited a few moments as he concentrated on breathing normally, then drained the rest of the glass.  He nodded his thanks to the girl.

“Oh, mister, are you sure you don’t want to see the doctor?” she begged.  “That cough sounded just awful and you look so pale!  You really scared me just now.  Won’t you please let me go get Dr. Rogers?” 

Her brown eyes brimmed with tears and Joe could hear the sincere concern in her voice. He very nearly gave in to her out of sheer pity for her distress but his own dislike of doctors won out and he shook his head again.  “Don’t need him,” he whispered.  “Want some air.  Feel better.” 

The girl still looked extremely doubtful, her compassionate eyes revealing her concern at seeing him feeling and looking so utterly miserable.  Hoping to ease her mind, Joe tried to smile.  He mouthed the words, I’ll be okay, and she slowly nodded, obviously not liking it, but understanding that she could not force him to seek medical attention.

Twenty minutes later, Joe was no longer quite as confident that he would, in fact, be okay. The sunshine and crisp cool air had been refreshing at first and he had been sure he had made the right choice. But after only a short period of walking he had begun to perspire and had actually needed to stop and rest for a few seconds as his energy drained out of him a bit more with every step. Now he was shivering in the cool mid-morning air and his legs felt like lead as he trudged through streets filled with increasingly watery sunshine, toward the stable where he had housed his horse.  Chafing his arms in an attempt to warm up, Joe wished he had brought along another jacket besides his favorite green one.  That jacket was one of the filthiest items in his dirty wardrobe and Joe had thrown it in with the rest of his laundry.  Now, though, he wished he had kept it out, dried mud and all, as a light breeze chilled him enough to make his teeth chatter. 

He suppressed another raspy cough, wiped the sweat off of his brow for the third time and eyed the dampness on his hand with disgust, berating himself for his stubbornness. (Would it really have killed you to at least see this hotel doctor?  Pa would’ve made you see him the moment he knew you weren’t feeling well. For that matter, so would Adam and Hoss.  Hell, even if he’s not much of a doctor, the man could’ve at least given you some cough syrup!  But, no, you had to have your own way, as usual and now who’s paying for it?)   Joe could see the hostelry ahead and was grateful.  It had taken his sick tired body nearly twice as long to walk there as it normally would have, and he had made up his mind to restable Cochise closer to his hotel.  Surely a place like the Palace would have its own stable.  I’ll just find out after I take care of a few errands.  Might as well get everything done today cause I don’t think I’m gonna feel much like going out again for a while. 

There was no sign of the hostler when Joe entered the snug stable.  In fact the only live bodies he saw at all belonged to the half dozen horses taking shelter there.  Cochise spotted him instantly and whinnied in greeting.  Joe walked over to the animal, stroking his soft nose.  “That old fella been taking good care of you, boy?” he whispered.  The horse blinked placidly and tossed his head.  Joe felt comforted by the familiar presence of his pinto.  His head was starting to hammer again and Joe draped his arms over Cochise’s back and rested his forehead against the black and white coat.  The horse felt warm and strong, like a familiar piece of home.  Joe smiled at the thought. Funny, I didn’t even realize I missed home until right now, he mused.  Guess I just want Pa here to pet my head and tell me I’ll be okay, like he always does when I’m sick.  Well, Pa’s not here, so I guess you’ll have to do, Cooch.  Joe just stood there for a long time, hugging his horse and feeling uninspired to move.

A gravelly chuckle from the doorway made Joe open his eyes and turn.  The hostler was watching him with a friendly grin.  “The beds at the Palace not turn out to your liking, son?” he asked, removing a pipe from between his lips.  Joe must have looked confused, for he added, “Using your horse for a pillow just seems like an unusual use for a nice riding animal like that.”

Joe smiled and patted Cochise on the neck. “I’ll be taking him out today, mister.  Not that I’m complaining about the service, but six blocks seems a long way to travel every time I need to get a ride.”  Joe’s voice had recovered somewhat, but it still cracked and faded in and out as he spoke and the effort was causing more pain than it was worth. 

The hostler frowned and took a step closer as his young customer moved into the light.  “Good gravy, boy, you look terrible!  You all right?” 

Finding himself unaccountably irritated by the question; Joe shrugged off the man’s concern.  Wasn’t anybody around here polite enough to pretend they hadn’t noticed he looked as bad as last week’s leftovers? Wanting to get away from the hostler’s pitying gaze, Joe dug into his pocket and fished out two dollars.  “That enough?” 

“More than,” the man said.  “Would you like me to saddle him up for you?”

Joe nodded and moved out of the way toward the support of the doorway, fighting off the same strange light-headedness he had experienced after his bath the night before.  The hostler made quick work of readying Cochise and when he led the pony up to Joe, admonishing him to ‘take care’; Joe gave him a tight smile and tugged his hat brim in acknowledgement.  It took all his effort to not look as weak as he felt as he swung up into the saddle and headed back outside. 

It felt much more natural to be riding Cochise through the streets than walking and as long as he kept the horse to a sedate pace, it did not aggravate his headache.  Joe rode north for a while, checking the street signs carefully until he found a couple he recognized as being in the area of the Empire hotel.  He made a short stop inside to cancel the reservation he had made before setting out on the cattle drive, and emerged, glad he had not run into anyone he knew.  While Joe knew he had a perfect right to stay at any place he chose, he had not looked forward to letting his father’s old friend, Mr. Tyler, know that any of the Cartwrights were shifting their business to another hotel.   Joe had taken a genuine liking to the staff of the Palace and suspected he would be staying there again on any future trips to Sacramento.

Okay, I’ve got my horse and cancelled my other reservation.  What else do I need to do? Joe asked himself.  He looked around the surrounding streets as he slowly retraced his path back to his hotel.  A small herbalist shop suggested itself as a place to find the contents of Clara Hill’s cold remedy, and Joe decided to go in and look around.  He tied Cochise up outside and walked in, wrinkling his nose as a sharp acrid odor penetrated his clogged nasal passages.  Joe desperately stifled a cough; afraid he might not be able to stop again if he got started.  He spotted a small Chinese woman behind a counter and approached her with a polite bow of his head.  She smiled and returned the courtesy.  Joe held out his paper with the recipe on it and looked at her hopefully, praying she knew how to read English.  The lady scanned the paper and nodded.  For the next few minutes, Joe watched dully as she moved from shelf to shelf, measuring herbs into small cloth bags.  Finally, she tied the bundles together into a larger bag and gave it and the paper back to him.  She wrote down a price and Joe paid her without a word, only offering a grateful smile and a second small bow.

Joe’s nose slammed shut again as he emerged back into the daylight, but he had just enough time to catch the scent of rain before it did.  The sky had been growing steadily darker for the last hour, and now there was a heavily charged feeling to the air that made it impossible to tell whether the rain would come in five minutes or an hour.  There was only one more stop to make, so Joe opted to take his chances.  He was feeling increasingly lousy with every minute that passed, but his last stop was an important one.  If the laundry service did not deliver as planned, he would need something to wear on the morrow and if the rain began again, Joe was not going to be caught out in it without some kind of protection.  He knew from past trips to the city where to find shops that sold pre-made garments in every size and price range.  He found one that looked promising and shopped quickly, coming out with two well-wrapped packages tucked under the arms of the brown leather duster he now wore.

No sooner had Joe’s seat planted itself back in his saddle when the clouds let loose.  He saw people running for shelter everywhere, but for him there was no shelter he wanted more than the one offered by the canopy of the big bed in room 28 of the Palace hotel.  So, hunkering deep inside his new coat, Joe walked Cochise slowly through the streets of the city.  Part of him wanted to go faster, to get there that much sooner and he could feel that his horse wanted that too, but dizziness and agonizing flashes of hot and cold were washing over his body now.  Joe was afraid that if he allowed Cochise to go any faster, he would tumble right out of the saddle.

All about Joe, the storm raged, thunder and lightning adding their spectacular presence to the wind propelled rain, as if Mother Nature were doing everything in her power to add to the misery of the young man on the pinto horse.  It seemed as though he had been riding for hours before Joe saw the Palace looming ahead of him.  Luckily, he spotted a carriage pulling into a small enclosure on the west side of the hotel and in that way discovered the stable he had known must be there.  Following the vehicle, Joe went inside and dismounted, practically falling off Cochise’s back.  He immediately met a young stable hand who looked him up and down and said in slightly patronizing tone, “I’m sorry sir, but this livery is reserved for guests of the Palace.” When Joe did not answer other than to shoot him a hard look, his tone grew even more insulting, almost mocking as he asked, “Well, are you a guest of the hotel?” 

Joe stood with one hand holding onto his saddle horn for balance, nearly out on his feet.  His head was throbbing, his throat felt like it was being stabbed with red-hot needles, and he was shaking with chills and so tired and achy than he almost wanted to cry.  He had no patience left for dealing with some snot-nosed stable boy that was too puffed up by his fancy uniform to be polite.  With a withering glance, Joe flashed his numbered room key right in front of the eyes of the startled boy, causing him to step back to avoid the swiftness of the motion.  Then, Joe shouldered past him and ignored the discomfort of his body long enough to unsaddle and curry Cochise himself, pointedly showing the boy that he did not trust him to care for the horse.  He did not even look back as he grabbed his packages and took the short interior passage from the stable to the lobby.

Someone had lit the huge elegant looking stone fireplace in the lobby to ward off the day’s growing chill and every light, including the ornate crystal chandelier overhead, was burning brightly when Joe staggered into the hotel.  He took a half dozen steps and stopped, overwhelmed by the brightness and the sudden rush of warmth that made him shiver even harder than before.  The soft hum of conversation around him seemed to meld together into a loud confusing babble of voices and Joe grabbed his head and squeezed his eyes shut as the world began to spin out of focus.  From a great distance away, he heard someone calling his name and felt hands touching his shoulders and giving him a mild shake.  Joe forced his eyes to reopen and saw a woman’s concerned face looming only inches away from his own.  A face he recognized. A source of help, perhaps.  He clutched at her, fighting to force his mind and mouth into enough coherency to ask.  “Mrs.…Hill…I…please...” He got no further.  His eyes blinked rapidly and his mouth silently worked as an expression of utter confusion came over his blanched face. The rushing sound in his head grew louder and a ripple of intense heat washed over him, then blackness descended and Joe Cartwright tumbled to the floor as he fainted dead away.



Chapter 4

Joe would have been surprised to see the flurry of activity he caused as he became the center of attention of nearly a dozen employees and guests of the hotel.  He lay still and unresponsive to all attempts at reviving him, not feeling it when Clara Hill took off his hat and rested his head in her lap or when the hands of strangers pressed against his hot face and neck and cracked open his eyelids to look beneath.  He was equally unaware of four sets of arms carefully lifting him and carrying him up the stairs to his suite, removing his dripping coat, muddy boots and gunbelt before laying him down upon the bed.  The first thing he was aware of was a low murmuring of conversation.  Words he could not entirely make out or understand.

“…just fainted…knew he was sick…didn’t…so bad…be all right?”  A woman’s voice.

“How long…unconscious?”  A deep masculine baritone.

“Around twenty minutes.  Nobody…take care…alone…poor boy.”  The woman again, sounding distressed now.

The man’s voice began to speak again, but this time Joe missed what he was saying.  He had tried to swallow and released a helpless whimper at the pain it caused.  Footsteps quickly approached him at the noise and he felt somebody sit next to him on the bed.  “Are you awake, son?”  It was the deep voice, and Joe opened his eyes to see a large white haired man with striking blue eyes and a full white beard leaning over him.  The man bore an amazing resemblance to drawings he had seen of Santa Claus and Joe’s brow wrinkled in confusion, wondering if he was imagining the sight.  His eyes traveled down to a black coat and gold pocket watch and settled on a stethoscope resting atop the man’s ample middle.  The man followed his gaze and smiled kindly.  “That’s right, young man, I’m a doctor.  My name is Dr. Rogers and I’m the hotel physician.  Do you remember what happened just now?”  Joe opened his mouth to try and say something, but the doctor laid a hand on his chest and said, “No, I don’t want you to talk”

Joe made a face.  If he wasn’t supposed to talk, why had the doctor asked him a question?  Slowly, he raised a hand and bobbed it in a so-so motion.  He did remember coming in and the weird overwhelming feelings he had had, but the rest was pretty hazy.  He did not know how he had come to be in his room, but in truth he did not really care.  The only thing that mattered was that he felt marginally more comfortable at this moment than he had in several hours.  Though, given how altogether rotten he felt, that wasn’t saying much.  He tried again to swallow, unable to prevent himself, and another tiny sound of distress escaped him as his face contorted and his hand flew to his throat.  He tried to roll away in a futile effort to escape the discomfort but two sets of hands prevented him.

“Take it easy, Joe.”  Mrs. Hill had come to sit next to him on the opposite side from which the doctor sat and she placed a gentle hand against his face, stroking his cheek with her thumb.  She saw his expression of dull surprise at finding her there and smiled at him.  “You probably don’t remember, but you passed out right into my arms down in the lobby.  Your room key was in your hand, so we brought you up here and I sent for Dr. Rogers.  He’s going to get you feeling better in no time at all, so don’t you worry, all right?”

Joe managed to relax a little, instinctively responding to the motherly tone of her voice and her continuing soft caresses of his face.  He looked from Mrs. Hill to the doctor and back, nodding just a little, afraid that anything more would make his pounding headache worsen.

The doctor saw the wary trust in his young patient’s eyes as they returned to watching him and said, "Thank you,” to the woman.  “Now then, young man, do you think you can sit up for me?”  Joe nodded again and gritted his teeth at the pain in his back and limbs as the others helped him straighten up and swing his legs over the side of the bed.  He clutched the edges of the mattress and hung his head, gasping a little when it immediately started to swim. Dr. Rogers steadied him and helped him scoot back until his back and shoulders rested against the headboard.  The physician continued. “All right, Joe, I’m going to examine you now and if I ask you a question, you just indicate your answer with your head or hands.  Don’t try to speak.  First, though, I want you take a sip of this medicine.”  He pulled a small brown bottle and a spoon out of a black doctor’s bag and poured out a spoonful of light brown liquid. 

Joe thought it vaguely peculiar that the doctor should be giving him medicine before he had done his examination, but he nodded anyway.  Joe was normally as bad about taking medicine as any child, but this time he eagerly accepted the dose, willing to do anything at this point to gain some relief.   To his surprise, the liquid didn’t taste half-bad. It was sort of bitter sweet, but not half as repulsive as most of the potions Dr. Martin back home usually gave out.  Getting it down proved to be a bit difficult, but with some effort, he managed to swallow it.  At first he felt no change, but after a few minutes, during which the doctor gently pressed and probed along his neck and under his jaw, eventually peeping into his mouth to look down his throat, Joe began to detect an easing of the pain.  A wonderful feeling of numbness spread through his throat, not banishing the discomfort entirely, but certainly making it more bearable. 

The doctor immediately noticed the lessening tension in his patient and smiled.  “I take it that medicine is helping.”  Joe nodded gratefully.  “Good.  Now, I can check you over a little better and see if we can get you back on your feet. I’ve been informed that you’ve been doing a lot of coughing and sneezing since you arrived.” 

He did not really seem to expect an answer, but Joe was not sure, so he nodded.  Putting up with having medical instruments poked into his ears and nose and stuck beneath his tongue to check his temperature was not easy for Joe to do, but he forced himself to sit still.  The doctor then made him open his mouth for a more thorough appraisal of his sore throat.  As usual the tongue depressor made him want to gag, but Joe held his peace hoping all of it would be over quickly.

Placing the tips of his stethoscope into his ears, Dr. Rogers told Joe to open his shirt.  It was already undone about halfway, so Joe only had to undo three buttons and pull the hem out of his waistband, but even that seemed to take an absurd amount of effort.  Following orders to take several deep breaths proved harder still as he was unable to completely stop his urge to cough.  The doctor made several grunts and ‘hmmm’ noises, then he allowed his patient to lay back down while he pressed his hands into the area below Joe’s ribs and even into his armpits to check for unusual swelling or tenderness.  Occasionally he would ask a question.  How long ago had Joe first noticed his symptoms?  Joe held up two fingers to indicate two days ago.  Was it only today that he had really started to feel ill?  Joe nodded.  Mostly, though, he just waited while the doctor did his job.

A soft knock sounded at the door and the doctor paused in his examination while Mrs. Hill went to answer.  Matthew from the dining room stood in the doorway holding the packages Joe had brought in with him.  He craned his neck toward the bed and favored the young man with a smile when he saw that Joe was awake.  “I was on my way out when I saw these still sitting on the front desk and thought I’d bring them up,” he explained, holding up the bundles.  “I confess, that was just an excuse to find out how young Joe is doing.”

As before, the old man’s forthrightness made Joe smile.  He had taken a tremendous liking to the waiter in the short time they’d spent together and was glad that the feeling seemed to be mutual. 

“We’re trying to determine how he is right now,” the doctor told him.  “As for going out, I’d like you to stay inside the hotel and spread the word that everyone else is to stay inside as well for the moment, if you would.”

Matthew and Clara Hill exchanged a startled look.  “Why, Doctor?” Clara asked.  “Does he have something contagious?”

The doctor caught Joe’s alarmed gaze and patted his shoulder.  “Take it easy now.  I’m not trying to panic anyone, but all the signs would seem to indicate that you’ve contracted influenza.  You have all the symptoms; muscle aches, high fever and chills, respiratory distress, extreme fatigue and headache. The virus has also given you a secondary glandular infection, which is causing the pain and swelling in your throat.” He turned back to Matthew.  “I would prefer to keep everyone he’s been in contact with in one place until I can be sure they haven’t become sick as well.  It may be too late to prevent spreading the infection entirely, but I’d rather not have to face an epidemic if we can help it.”

Joe moaned softly and fixed stricken eyes on his two new friends.  He remembered his breakfast earlier with Mrs. Hill and her family and reached out to her, snagging her sleeve with his fingers.  He was frightened by the grim possibilities inherent in the doctor’s diagnosis, not only for himself but also for everyone he had been close to that day. “’M so sorry,” he croaked.  “My fault.  You get sick…kids get sick…my fault.”

Mrs. Hill sat back down on the bed.  “Don’t you talk that way now, child.  It’s not your fault you got sick, yours nor anybody else’s.  These things happen and if any of the rest of us gets sick, and I pray that we won’t, that’s not your fault either.  You didn’t know you had anything catching and I’m the one who insisted you eat with us.” She smiled then and stroked back his hair, adding, “Now, you need to stop worrying about us and start taking care of yourself.”

“That goes for me too, son,” Matthew told him.  He laid Joe’s packages down on a chair and reached over to pat him firmly on the lower leg.  “You get to feeling better and I’ll be back to see you in a while, once I go spread the word from Dr. Rogers, here.”  He held Joe’s gaze until Joe smiled acceptance of his words, then departed with a nod to the doctor and Mrs. Hill.

Dr. Rogers began speaking again, and Joe exercised what felt like tremendous effort to tear his eyes away from the door and turn his head back toward the physician.  He could not seem to figure out what it was the man was saying to him as the distress in his body overrode his brain.  The room felt extraordinarily cold, and he wondered why someone didn’t take a moment to light the fireplace.  Though he could not see it since the doctor’s body was blocking his view, the fireplace in his suite had been lighted and the room was actually beginning to feel quite warm to the others.  Joe clutched the two open halves of his shirt together, hunching his shoulders and burying his icy fingers in his armpits as he began to shiver violently.  His teeth were clenched tightly together and he felt as though he would shake apart if he did not get warm soon. 

“W-w-what?” he said, realizing that Dr. Rogers had asked him something.  The man had taken hold of his chin and was shaking it gently to help him focus.

“I said we need to get you undressed and into bed, son,” Rogers told him.  “I asked if you had a nightshirt around here someplace.”

Joe thought a second then pointed a shaking hand to the wrapped packages in the chair.  Mrs. Hill looked surprised, but opened the bundles and looked inside.  The first package held only two shirts and a pair of jeans, but the second yielded two flannel nightshirts in addition to some underwear.  Though his exhaustion had prevented it from bothering him the night before, Joe did not normally like to sleep in the buff and had grabbed the nightshirts while doing his other shopping.  Now he was glad he had. 

“Oh, yes, you’ll be much more comfortable in this,” Mrs. Hill said cheerfully, shaking out one of the garments. 

She and the doctor sat Joe up again and slid his shirt off his shoulders, but when she reached for his belt Joe stopped her, clutching the buckle with wild eyes and a firm shake of his head.  She tried to push his hands away but Joe held on tight.  He might be weak and he might be sick, but there was no way Joe was going to allow a woman he barely knew to undress him like a baby and put him to bed, particularly since he had not had any underwear left and had therefore gone without today.  Keeping one hand firmly on his belt, Joe reached out for the nightshirt and pulled it over his head.  He worked one arm into a sleeve with an assist from the doctor, then switched hands and put his other arm through.  Only when the hem dropped down far enough to allow for modesty did he reach under and unfasten his belt and pants.  Mrs. Hill turned away from the sight of his ‘I dare you’ glare as Joe lay back down and worked his trousers off, tugging the nightshirt down as he went, and he did not realize that she was hiding an amused smile from him.  He did allow her to help him stand up, fearing he would not be able to stay up on his own long enough to pull back the covers. 

Soon enough, he was tucked snugly between the sheets and while the bed and the nightshirt were certainly more comfortable, they did not seem to be doing much to warm him up. He accepted another dose of the strange tasting syrup and a bitter swallow of quinine for his fever from the doctor.  Then he drank gratefully from the glass of cool water Clara brought him a moment later.  “I’m afraid that’s all I can give you for the moment, Joe,” Dr. Rogers told him.  “I’m going to go find out if anyone else has the same symptoms you have.  Mrs. Hill has volunteered to stay with you for now and someone will be here at all times if you need anything. I want you to try and sleep now.”

Joe nodded into the pillow and closed his eyes.  He vaguely heard the door open and close behind him and then someone was moving around the room, rustling as they went.  He supposed it was Mrs. Hill, but was frankly too sick and tired to care what she was doing until he felt a warm weight drop down on top of him.  Joe pulled his heavy eyelids open and watched as the woman settled a thick quilt around his hunched body and tucked it down into the sides of the bed.  He could feel the lovely sensation of heat coming through the quilt as it rested against his cheek and he burrowed further under the covers, wanting to cover as much of himself with the warm blanket as possible. 

Clara had retaken her place on Joe’s bed and she stroked his soft hair comfortingly as the quilt she had warmed by the fireplace began to do its work and he finally began to relax.  After a time, she stopped, thinking him asleep and was surprised to see Joe open his eyes.  He blinked up at her sleepily and smiled.  “Thanks,” he whispered. 

She smiled back.  “You’re welcome, child.  Are you warming up a little now?”

He nodded shallowly and his eyelids began to droop again, when he suddenly dragged them open.  “’M sorry ‘bout the shirt.”

Clara frowned a bit, unsure of his meaning, then she figure out that he was talking about his fight over her helping him into the nightshirt and chuckled.  “I should have realized that would happen, especially since you told me your family is made up of all men.  Don’t you think another thing about it.  Just go to sleep like the doctor told you.  I’ll be right here.”

He nodded and settled back down, then his soft voice murmured. “Would you please do that again?”

“Do what, honey?” she asked, adjusting his covers.

Joe coughed a little and shifted.  “Pet my head again.  Felt nice.” His voice was fading as sleep came to overtake him and Clara had to lean closer to catch the rest.  “Pa does it.  Wish he was here.”

As she resumed her gentle stroking of his head, lulling him the rest of the way into sleep, Clara Hill had a very thoughtful expression on her face.



Chapter 5

Joe slept solidly for hours, insensate to the increasingly heavy winds buffeting his windows with rain, as his exhausted body demanded that he rest.  At a quarter past ten, he stirred, disturbed by a flash of light and a deafening crash of thunder.  It filled the room and seemed to go on and on as even more bright fingers of lightning filled the sky.  Joe’s curtains were closed so he could not see the bolts for himself, but he could picture the storm in his mind.  He had been afraid of thunder and lightning storms in his young childhood; always feeling so small and vulnerable when confronted by such an intense display of nature’s power.  He could still remember Pa coming into his bedroom, hearing Pa’s expression of alarm at not finding his small son in bed where he belonged.  He remembered hiding under his bed, trying to find a place where the scary things could not find him and wanting so badly to call out to Pa, but feeling too frightened to speak and give away his position.  It had been a horrible experience, waiting in the dark for the storm to find him, with help so close by yet so far away. 

Another loud rumble crashed through the night and Joe gasped and cringed, pulling the blankets up over his head.  He felt so strange; as if that frightened child in his soul had been awakened by the storm and was taking over his body.  His head seemed to be floating and ripples of fire and ice were washing through his veins, making him sweat and shiver with their continuous assault.  It was so confusing.  Why could he not think straight?  Was it the storm monsters?  Were they really real after all?  Pa had said they were not, that it was just clumsy clouds bumping into each other in the dark and trying to get their lanterns lit to see where they were going. Pa had promised there was nothing to fear.  Joe remembered…

Once he heard the terrified whimpering under the bed and got down upon his hands and knees to see his small son huddled into a tight ball, too afraid to answer his soft calls, Pa stood and moved the bed to one side, far enough to reach Little Joe.  Little Joe resisted being pulled out and screamed once, fearing that the monsters had found him, then burst into tears of mingled fear and relief when Pa pulled him down upon his lap and held him close.  He felt secure in Pa’s arms, knowing in his heart that not even the nastiest of monsters would dare to come near him if Pa were there to keep him safe. 

Pa picked him up after a while and carried him across the hall to sleep in the big soft bed that still smelled faintly of Mama’s rose water perfume.  As Joe’s sobs quieted, he cuddled close, one hand tightly clutching Pa’s nightshirt and the other pressing a thumb into his mouth.  Pa’s strong safe arms held Little Joe close, one hand gently patting his back to help him over the hiccups his sobs had caused.  His cheek resting against the boy’s tousled curls, Pa then told him all about the nice friendly fluffy cloud people.  He told Joe that the clouds liked to play games during the day, forming themselves into shapes like dragons and boats just for the fun of it, but that sometimes they liked to sneak out on dark nights to play when they were supposed to be in bed.  When that happened, they sometimes got lost and bumped into each other, knocking things over every which way they went. 

“There’s no reason to be afraid, baby,” Pa whispered.  “When you hear the thunder crash and see the lightning flash across the sky, I want you to try and picture those silly little clouds having fun up there.”

“Why does it rain when they play, Papa?” Little Joe whispered; wanting to know more as his usual curiosity began to get the better of his fear.  “Why does the wind get so mad sometimes?”

“The rain is the silly little clouds trying to mop up their mess before Mother Nature catches them doing things they’re not supposed to,” Pa said, a chuckle in his voice that comforted Joe even further.  “And I suppose the wind might be the lecture they get when they do get caught.”

“Silly clouds,” Little Joe mumbled, snuggling deep into Pa’s chest as he drifted off to sleep.

Joe smiled in the darkness, bringing his head back out into the open.  Pa’s little fiction had worked perfectly.  He had never again had the same dread and fear of thunderstorms, though to this day they gave him a strange little thrill in his spine.  His momentary fear had eased as he recalled that lost moment of childhood and Joe settled back down, going back to sleep with the image of frolicking clouds filling his mind.  Thanks again, Pa. 

Nearly four hours later, Joe woke again, his chest heaving with dry coughs that he tried to muffle into his pillow.  Don’t want anybody waking up because of me.  Pa might send for Doc Martin if he thinks I’m sick.  The coughing fit eased and Joe rolled partway onto his back, breathing hard.  He caught sight of the canopy overhead and frowned, confused.  His bed didn’t have a canopy.  Where was he?   God, why can’t I remember?  Pa?  He tried to call, but his voice was no more than a painful squeak and Joe began to feel a bubble of panic swelling through his chest.  His eyes roved wildly around the room and at last he spotted the dark shape of a man, his slumped form silhouetted by the light of the fireplace as he slept in one of the suite’s wingback chairs. Joe could see a glint of silver hair reflected in the firelight and calmed some. The figure in the chair…Pa?…was snoring softly and Joe felt reluctant to disturb his rest, but he felt so lightheaded and hot and he wanted so badly to find out what was going on.  His voice would not work to call to the man in the chair, so Joe decided the only thing to do was go to him physically. 

Joe pushed on the mattress, trying to force himself up on arms that felt weaker than wire pipe cleaners.  He felt heavy somehow, as if each and every one of his joints had been fitted with weights that made even the simplest of movements tiring.  He ached everywhere too, reducing his desire to move still further.  As he struggled, Joe began to feel terribly thirsty, his throat dry and sore and his body so hot it seemed as if he might spontaneously combust.  The heavy blankets, which had been so welcome and comforting when they had been piled over him earlier, now seemed likely to crush him beneath their weight.  He tried to push them off, but it just seemed to take so much effort to move.  Just when he began to feel sure that he would suffocate if he did not escape from under the covers soon, he felt the weight disappear and his body flopped back down to the mattress, weak with relief as much as effort.  Joe felt strong hands rolling him onto his back and looked up, expecting to see his father, but it was somebody else.

“You just hang on now, and I’ll get you settled a little better.”  The voice was as friendly as the face Joe saw smiling down at him, and after a long confused moment, some of the fog fell away from his brain and he recognized his savior.  Matthew.  The waiter smiled and patted his arm, evidently catching the light of recognition in Joe’s eyes.  “Good thing I heard you shifting around and woke up.  You looked like you were having a tough go of it there.”

Joe nodded.  He still felt a little confused but it was getting better.  He was in Sacramento, at the Palace hotel, and that doctor who looked like Santa Claus had promised that somebody would staying with him to help him when he needed something. “H…hot,” he rasped quietly. 

Compassion filled the older man’s eyes.  “I’m not surprised.  You’ve got yourself a real doozy of a fever.  The doctor gave me some medicine for you though and I’ll go get it in just a minute.”  He carefully slid an arm beneath Joe’s shoulders and lifted him up, efficiently piling pillows behind his head and back, then laying him down against the softness.  He had removed all the covers except a sheet and two thin blankets and Matthew knew without being asked what he needed to do next.  He filled a glass from the pitcher of cool water sitting on the tray by Joe’s bed and held the liquid to the feverish boy’s lips.  Joe grasped at the glass, drinking so fast in his eagerness for water that he nearly choked.  Probably would have choked, in fact, if Matthew hadn’t pulled the glass back a little, returning it when Joe’s breathing normalized a bit.  As the glass was emptied and removed, Joe licked his lips and gave the old man a grateful nod.  “You feeling a little better now?” 

Joe’s breathing was harsh and heavy and words were nearly impossible, but he managed to say, “Thanks.”

Matthew smiled.  “You’re welcome.  You want anything?  Soup maybe or some tea?  Kitchen’s open 24 hours around this place, so I can get you anything you like.”

Joe considered the question.  He was not hungry in the least but the thought of having some more of that nice soothing lemon tea was very appealing.  He nodded and mouthed ‘tea’. 

Matthew started to move away to go get it, but the weak grasp of Joe’s hand on his arm stopped him.  “You need something else, son?”

Joe hesitated, not quite sure how to ask for what he needed.  Matthew was a relative stranger and it was a little embarrassing, but Joe had just realized that he really needed to visit the water closet.  His strongly independent nature chafed at needing help to make it there but he felt horrible and knew that if he had been too weak to even move a pile of blankets away by himself, that he’d never make it clear across the room on his own.  Getting help from Matthew would be far less humiliating than trying to get out of bed and falling flat on his face.  Besides, it would be far worse if Mrs. Hill or some other woman was still here looking after him.   Exercising great effort, Joe tightened his grip on Matthew’s arm and pulled until he was sitting upright on the side of the bed.  He pointed toward the bathroom with a shyly pleading look.

Understanding dawned.  “Oh, of course.”  Matthew smiled and gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.  “You haven’t been out of that bed in half a day.  You must be about ready to bust a seam by now.  Come on then.”  The waiter looped an arm around Joe’s waist and pulled the boy’s left arm over his own shoulders, then walked him carefully across the floor.  At the threshold, Joe gently pushed him away with a weak smile.  He could manage the more personal aspects on his own.  There were several solid objects to balance against if he began to feel dizzy again.  “Okay.  Just tap on the door when you’re ready to come out.”

Soon enough, Joe was settled back into bed, feeling a lot more comfortable but still terribly hot.  His short journey had been sufficient to leave him completely exhausted but far from being able to sleep again.

Matthew had lighted a couple of lamps to brighten the room and pulled the room service rope by the door.  A knock sounded and he spoke quietly to someone on the other side for a few seconds, then closed the door and returned to take his place in the chair by Joe’s bedside.  “I ordered up some of that tea you had yesterday and a couple of bowls of soup.  You’ll need to keep your strength up if you want to get well.”  Joe opened his mouth to try and protest that he was not hungry, but Matthew stopped him with a warning finger in the air.  “Ah.  No you don’t.  Don’t try arguing with me now, son.  You haven’t had anything to eat since that little bit of eggs and toast almost a full day ago and you need something in your stomach.”

A smile twitched at Joe’s mouth and for once he decided to give up without a fight.  He sounds like Pa again.  Ignore what I say I want in favor of what he thinks I need.  But, two bowls?  He raised two fingers and an incredulous eyebrow.

“One is for me,” Matthew explained, eyes twinkling. “This nursing duty is hard work.  It makes a man hungry and this hotel serves the best beef soup this side of Texas.”

Curiosity stirred at that last statement.  He had heard the soft twang in Matthew’s voice earlier and had wondered where he was from.  He decided to risk trying to speak again. “You a Texan?”

The old man grinned.  “Born and raised.  I decided I’d had enough of tossing steers for next to nothing and came out here a good 30 years ago with the foolish notion of finding gold and becoming a millionaire.  There was hardly a white man in the whole territory back then, but I just knew this was the place to find my fortune. Who knew it would take another two decades for anyone to find the big strike?”

All the while Matthew spoke, he was taking care of his young charge, straightening his pillows and blankets, giving him another drink of water and another two doses of medicine for his coughing and fever, and sponging off his hot face with a cloth dipped in water.  Joe accepted it all, just sick enough to enjoy being fussed over.  “Why’d you stay?”

“I found a fortune of another kind,” the man told him, his smile growing tender.  “Her name was Anna and she had come West with her pa.  He was a trapper and she used to work right along side him, proud of her work as any man and prettier than any woman I’d ever seen in my life.”

Joe smiled.  He could appreciate that kind of reason.  He pointed to the third finger of his left hand and gave Matthew a questioning look.

“Did I marry her?”  Joe nodded.  “Sure did.  Anna was the most beautiful little bride you ever saw and she just got prettier every year.  We were married for twelve years and as I think I told you, had six children together before she died delivering the last one.” 

Joe deflated, feeling depressed suddenly.  He liked Matthew and had been sure he would say that he and Anna had lived happily ever after or something. 

Matthew saw the look on his face and said, “Don’t feel bad, Joe.  Those dozen years were some of the best of my whole life and I had wonderful kids to keep me going after Anna passed on.  They all married well and I took this job to keep myself busy after the last one moved out.  Turned out to be a good choice, too. I meet some really great folks with this job and occasionally I even get a captive audience whose ear I can bend from here to sundown!”  He nudged Joe’s arm and winked and Joe could not help smiling.

A puzzled look creased Joe’s brow as he thought of something else.  “Why…you here?”

Matthew did not understand.  “Here at the Palace?”  Joe shook his head and pointed to himself.  “Oh, why am I here looking after you!  Well, Mrs. Hill and I talked it over with Dr. Rogers.  We’d already been exposed to you, so we can’t leave the hotel anyway until he’s sure we haven’t caught anything.  Truth is, though, that we’d both taken a liking to you and neither of us wanted to see you left all alone as sick as you are.  So, here I am.  By the way, you’ve got a third shift too who’ll be taking over for me in a couple of hours.  Be nice to her, okay?”

Joe’s eyebrows rose.  “Her?”

The older man’s eyes sparkled.  “You remember young Connie, the front desk girl?”  Surprised, Joe nodded.  “She can’t work the desk for the same reason I can’t work the dining room; too much chance of spreading influenza, so she asked if she could take a turn looking after you instead.  Seems you managed to make quite a favorable impression on the girl, even if she did tell me you sneezed all over her the first time you met.”

Joe looked away, feeling guilty.  “She sick?”

“No,” Matthew reassured him.  “So far, so good.  We tracked down everybody you’ve had any real contact with and Doc has them all quarantined.  Connie and Susan are staying with Mrs. Hill in her suite to help take care of her grandkids.  I’m afraid the two little ones have already shown signs of being sick, not surprising given how they were climbing all over you at breakfast yesterday.  Doc put them right to bed though.  Gave them plenty of medicine and fluids and he thinks they’ll get off a lot lighter than you have.”

“Good,” Joe whispered.  He felt awful about getting those kids sick, but was glad to hear they’d be all right.  It probably hadn’t hurt that none of them had been out in all the foul weather for days on end as he had.  “Who…Susan?”

“The Chamber Maid who works this floor,” Matthew explained  “Told us you had a coughing fit and wouldn’t go see the doctor.  That true?” 

Joe was saved by a knock at the door, signaling the arrival of the food.  Matthew placed a tray on the bedside table and prepared a cup of coffee for himself and honeyed tea for Joe.  He handed the cup over, but one look at the young man’s shaking hands and his efforts to sip the tea without slopping it all over his front convinced Matthew to handle the soup himself.  He tucked a large linen napkin into the neck of Joe’s nightshirt and sat next to him on the bed, spooning the soup into him a mouthful at a time.

For his part, Joe was surprised to find that he actually had some appetite.  It only held up through half the bowl, but his temperature had done another abrupt about face minutes earlier and he was now freezing again.  The hot broth helped, so he stolidly kept eating as long as there was anything left.   His friend saw him shivering and noted the heavy dark circles under Joe’s eyes and promptly laid him back down, removing a couple of the supporting pillows and covering him with one of the quilts.  “Get some sleep now, Joe.”  Joe never even heard the words.



Chapter 6
   
That conversation with Matthew would be the last one Joe would have for some time.  His fever grew higher through the night, and by the time Connie Bryant came by to relieve Matthew, Joe was burning hot to the touch.  His eyelids fluttered half way open from time to time and there seemed to be a plea for help in his glazed green eyes, but he never produced any noise beyond panting breath and an occasional moan.   The doctor arrived again at dawn and dosed him again with medicine but the fever continued to rage. 

“We’ve got to get him cooled down,” Dr. Rogers said grimly, shaking his head at the latest reading from his thermometer.  “He’s going to burn himself out from the inside if we don’t.”

“I just sent down for a couple buckets of ice from the kitchen,” Matthew offered.  He had never left after Connie arrived, unwilling to leave Joe while he was suffering so. 

“Good,” the doctor said.  “Let’s refill the basin with cool water and we’ll add some ice when it gets here.  I’ll need as many towels as you can scare up to make cold compresses with.”

Joe listened, hearing every word spoken around him with an odd level of clarity, but was unable to quite focus on their meaning.  He was so hot!  He could feel the tickling rivulets of sweat as they ran down his face and itched at his scalp and the sticky unpleasantness of wet flannel that stuck to his skin.  He longed to peel it off and get rid of that awful feeling, but his limbs felt so heavy and painful.  “Gotta get out.  Oh, please, I’m so hot.”  He was unaware that he’d spoken aloud or that he was tugging feebly at the heavy nightshirt, his head thrashing on the pillow. 

“All right, help me get this shirt off him,” the doctor was saying, though Joe could no longer focus on the words past his suffering.  “Miss Bryant, if you'd just step outside.”

Connie hesitated, her cheeks flushing as she realized what the man was saying. “No, Doc, I said I wanted to help and I will.  Joe’s going to suffer a lot worse than bruised modesty if we don’t help him.  Just tell me what to do.”

The doctor nodded, smiling his approval of her determination.  “Soak these towels in the ice water, then help Matthew and I place them at wrists, ankles, knees, elbow, armpits, groin, head and neck.  That should even his temperature out while we sponge him off with more cold water."

“Wouldn’t it be easier just to fill the bathtub with cold water and put him in that, Doc?”  Matthew asked, helping Connie draw the rest of the blankets and sheet down over the foot of the bed.

“No,” Rogers said immediately.  “If this doesn’t help that might become an option later, but right now I think the shock of sudden immersion would outweigh the benefit.  Slower is better for now.” 

Together, the two men worked Joe’s nightshirt off, exchanging a worried glance at the heat they could feel radiating off of him.  Connie did her best not to stare, and to concentrate only on the fact that the young man on the bed was suffering and needed her help, but it was very difficult with him lying there, displayed in all his glory.  His entire skin was flushed with fever and slick with sweat and his muscles were flexed tightly in pain, throwing them into sharply delineated definition. The girl was finding it hard to breathe as she looked at him, but then she sternly forced her eyes away and concentrated instead on his contorted face and the sound of his breathing, which was very rapid and shallow.  A series of pitiful whimpers rose from his throat and Connie was able to focus once more on the situation at hand.  She grabbed several towels and soaked them in the icy water from the basin and passed them out, packing some against Joe’s underarms and around his neck and throat. She resolutely kept her eyes diverted from his lower body, but breathed a sigh of relief when the doctor covered him to the waist with the sheet.  Then, she and Matthew carefully wiped away the perspiration from Joe’s face and chest.

Joe stirred a bit when Connie began to stroke his cheek and trickled a little water through his parched lips.  He opened his eyes and she smiled at him.  She said something to him that he did not understand and Joe drifted away once more.  He was caught somewhere between awake and asleep where vision skewed and dreams became reality. 

The room was gone, and so were the people he had sensed around him.  He still lay prone upon the bed, but the walls around him had disappeared, replaced by walls of flame.  He was frightened as the fires grew closer, but he could not move to escape them.  ' Help me', he called.  'Is anyone there?'  The flames were almost upon him, Joe coughed roughly as the smoke and heat began to choke him with their intensity and he could feel his skin blistering in the inferno.  'Please, somebody help me!'  Then, like a miracle, the flames receded a bit, then a bit more and he was hot but no longer burning.  Joe looked around, hoping for escape before the flames could reverse and come for him again.  There was no escape, but then suddenly he caught sight of a girl.  Can you help me?'  She smiled and leaned close to his face and Joe could feel cooling moisture drift over his lips.

The dream shifted.  The only real things in the universe became the heat and the sweat and the girl with the tender cooling hands that were slowly drifting over his bare skin, stroking his chest and making him shiver deep inside…

He had snuck out his window and made his way to their favorite place.  The little strip of land on the Truckee River dividing their fathers’ properties.  He had suggested this midnight rendezvous, knowing it was not proper but needing to see her again.  He tethered Cochise and waited, nervously pacing under the bright light of a full moon, wondering if she would lose her nerve and stand him up.  A soft voice called, 'Joe?'  She had come!  His Amy, his bride to be.  He held her close, feeling her shiver.  It was a warm night, so he knew she was not cold, but caught up in anticipation and the thrill of the forbidden, as he was himself. He kissed her hair and her eyes and her lips, unable to believe how much he had missed her in the few short hours since their last meeting.  Amy wrapped her arms around his waist, squeezing tight as though she would never let him go and he felt so right, so complete in her arms.  They spoke in hushed tones, fearful of being somehow detected, speaking of love and their future.  Of their wedding, the home they would build, the many beautiful children they would have together, and of finding a way to end their fathers’ bitter feud so they might all be happy.  They stayed for hours, sometimes talking, sometimes just holding each other close and wishing the morning need never come.  Near dawn, they stood from the little clearing in which they had sat, huddled together all night long.  They both knew it would not be safe to stay much longer, someone would surely detect their absences if they did, but neither could bear to leave.  Tears welled up in Amy’s eyes and Joe hurried to kiss her, to comfort them away.  She returned his kiss almost desperately and passion ignited in them both. Their hands began to move almost without will, touching and exploring in ways they had not dared to before.  'We shouldn’t', Amy whispered, snaking her hands inside his shirt to feel his hot skin and pounding heart.  'We can’t', Joe agreed, unable to stop kissing her face and throat and the soft swell of breasts visible above her exposed camisole.  The fire raged through them, consuming them in a blaze more demanding than moral lessons or social convention.  Frantic hands fumbled over hooks, ties and buttons, craving and exploring all at once.  When at last, nothing stood between them but their own final doubts, they parted suddenly, caught in a moment of mutual hesitation.  Their eyes studied each other timidly in the dim early light of predawn, seeing the obvious readiness in bodies which trembled with mixed fear and excitement.  Slowly, their eyes met, sharing the fear of their own inexperience and the love they craved both to give and receive.  They smiled then, and drew close again, falling together in the soft grass, sealing their promise of the future, never guessing that future would hold only one more precious day.

Connie gasped when the man on the bed suddenly shot a hand toward her, cupping her head in his palm and pulled her down to kiss her.  He had begun mumbling and tossing his head back and forth and she had leaned closer, trying to understand what he was saying, when he had grabbed her.  His kiss was hungry, demanding but not at all rough and Connie began to respond automatically, then pulled away.  She touched her lips and gave the two astonished men watching an equally shocked look.  Joe mumbled something else and shifted on the mattress, then he went very still as his dreams took him in a new direction.  

“Don’t be upset with him, child,” the doctor advised, regaining his composure and smiling at the stunned young woman.  “I doubt very much he even knew who you were.  He’s out of his head and he probably mistook you for someone in a dream.”

Connie smiled and bit her lip to quell a sudden desire to giggle.  “I guess it’s just lucky Matthew wasn’t up close to him instead of me!”

Matthew chuckled and resumed his patient efforts to cool their patient down.  He shot the desk clerk an appreciative glance and told her, “He ain’t that far gone.” 


For three days, things remained very much the same.  The doctor would come and go and Joe’s three volunteer nurses would take turns sitting by his bedside, sponging him down with cold water when he burned with heat and piling blankets upon him when he shook with chills.  

At times, it seemed to Joe that he could almost break through to the reality around him and strained up through the fog in his mind to try and reach it.  At others, reality was so far away so as not to even exist any more.  The dreams were more compelling and he often spoke out loud, talking to people he did not realize were only there in his mind.

The rain was pounding down and the trail was awash in mud.  The cry of a thousand bawling cattle filled the air as the animals resisted ropes and prods and the shouts of the men around them, not wanting to proceed over the boggy ground.  Three steers had already gotten stuck in the thickly sucking mud and now a forth head was down.  Joe did as he had done every other time.  Ordered the men to keep the rest of the herd out of the way while he and whomever was handiest got down off their horses and slogged into the mire with the animal. Shoving, and pulling and shouting curse filled encouragement to the struggling beast until it finally came unstuck they climbed out and mounted back up, ready to move on to the next disaster.  Joe grew more exhausted with every battle but there was no time to rest.  He was the boss and they had to keep moving.

A different kind of battle was being waged inside room 28.  Clara Hill sat next to Joe in the dim light of evening, helping Dr. Rogers pour the latest dose of medicine into the mouth of a young man who was unable to be still as he wrestled with the figments in his mind. 

“Steady, boy,” the doctor murmured, clenching Joe’s jaw tight in his hand and pouring the liquid down his throat.  He then released a long breath as the patient swallowed and the fight suddenly went out of him again.  “Any idea when the boy’s father is due to arrive?”

Clara shook her head sadly as she began to once again stroke back Joe’s sweat damp curls.  “I sent word that first night, right after he collapsed in my arms in the lobby.  At the time I was worried that I might be jumping the gun and alarming his folks unnecessarily, but now I’m glad I did.  Joe’s brother sent a wire back telling me to expect his father, but that’s all I know.  I just hope he gets here soon.”

“So do I,” said the doctor grimly.  “I’m really worried that this fever has held on so long and with as much severity as it has.  Your grandchildren are already feeling much better but this boy just keeps getting sicker.  I pray to God that his father doesn’t get here too late.”

Clara’s hand flew to her mouth.  “Oh, doctor!” 

Rogers looked frustrated. "The medicines, the compresses, even the ice bath we tried this morning don’t seem to be doing him any good.”  He sighed and rubbed at his eyes.  “Well, it’s time I gave the children their doses.  Will you be all right alone for a while?”

“Yes, Doctor,” she said quietly.  She waited until the physician had departed then allowed the tears gathered in her eyes to fall as she watched Joe’s lips move in silent words, his limbs twitching as he dreamed.  “You hang on, child, you hear me?  Your pa will be here soon.”

Joe’s mind keyed on that last sentence, understanding it as he had not understood anything else in days.  Pa was coming?  Pa would save him!  Joe had been dreaming about being lost in the desert.  The same desert where the Comanchero known as Sam Wolf had captured him.  He began to babble as the memories returned.  “No.  Big white one…Pa’s gift…Emiliano…saved me.  Trusted me…I failed Pa…gift…gift…ran his heart out for me.” 

He felt so weak and helpless as Wolf threw him down and hog-tied him with humiliating ease.  Joe had no strength left as his long trek through the burning desert with no water caught up with him.  He was going to die and there was no getting out of it.  Suddenly, he caught sight of a man silhouetted against the sun.  It was Pa!  He stood like a rock in that desert, facing down the Comanchero with rage radiating from him in solid waves.  Joe heard the man try to escape his fate, telling Pa he’d caught a horse thief, Joe. Joe waited for Pa to tell the outlaw those beautiful words,  “He’s my son!” and for the ensuing gunfight and rescue, but this time they never came.  Pa listened to the words of Sam Wolf, then looked over at Joe with a stricken expression.  “I had no idea.  First you left Emiliano behind to save yourself and now this!”  Before Joe could say anything, Pa turned and strode away, leaving him to the mercy of the killer.

“Pa!  Pa don’t leave me!  Don’t go, Pa, please come back!”  Joe was screaming, his voice hoarse and filled with pain.  He had shot up from the mattress and Clara Hill had managed to catch him before he could tumble out of bed.  Joe thrashed in her arms but she held tight and soon enough his strength gave out and he began to sob heart brokenly against her shoulder.

“Oh, Joe honey, please don’t!  Please don’t cry,” Clara hushed him.  “Your pa will be here soon.  He hasn’t abandoned you, I promise.  Shhhh.”

The lady’s arms felt kind and welcoming.  They made the evil face of the outlaw and the burning memories of the desert fade back into the swirling darkness, but she was not the person he needed to hold him.  Where was Papa?  Little Joe did not understand why he felt so very bad, but he knew there would be no comfort until Papa came.

“I want my pa,” he whispered brokenly around his crying.  “Feel so aw-f-f-ful.  Oh, please, please, I want my pa.”

“Dear God!”  A voice from the doorway startled Mrs. Hill and she turned to see a tall white haired man, dripping rain and beholding the scene with a pale exhausted face and horrified eyes.  “Joseph!”

It took little effort on Clara’s part to discern the man’s identity as he shrugged out of his wet coat and hat and crossed to the bed in four long strides.  “I don’t know how you got here through this weather, Mr. Cartwright,” she said,  “but I surely am glad you’re here.”

Ben ripped his eyes away from the young man still weeping against Clara’s shoulder and looked into her face; seemingly surprised to realize she was there. 

“I’m Clara Hill.  I wired you to come when Joe fell ill,” she explained gently. 

“Oh, yes, of course, Mrs. Hill,” Ben said distractedly.  “I’ve been traveling for days almost nonstop to get here, but…”

She saw his distress at the state of his son and interrupted, “But now you’re here and I know this young man will be very happy to see you.  He’s been calling for you quite a bit.”  She carefully lifted Joe away from her shoulder.  His cries had quieted, but he still softly called for his father.

“I’m right here, son,” Ben said, his voice a bit choked.  He reached out for Joe and Clara gladly surrendered him.

Joe instantly recognized Ben’s touch.  He had forgotten all about Sam Wolf and the desert by now, but his feeling of abandonment had remained.  At the first touch of his father’s callused but amazingly tender hands upon his back and neck as he was gathered into a close embrace, Joe began crying hard again.  He threw his arms around his father's waist and buried his face in his firm shoulder.  “Papa, where were you?  I called and called.  I was scared you’d never come back.”  His voice sounded very soft and young and Ben shot Clara a questioning look.

“He’s been delirious for days,” she explained.  “I don’t think he knows where or even when he is half the time.”

“I see,” Ben whispered, turning his full attention back to his son.  “It’s all right, Joseph.  I’m here now and that’s all that matters.  I’m not going anywhere.”

Joe held tight for as long as he could, never wanting to let go, but his weakened body could not keep up with his will, and after only a few minutes he sagged in Ben’s arms, unconscious.

Ben eased him down onto the mattress and pushed back a tangled lock of damp brown hair from his son’s forehead.  He looked at Clara and drew a shaking breath.  “I’ve been trying to prepare myself for what kind of shape I’d find him in when I got here, but I still wasn’t ready.”

“No parent is ever prepared to see their child suffering, Mr. Cartwright,” she said gently.  “I just thank the good Lord you’ve arrived.”

“Have you been taking care of him all by yourself?” he asked, his concern turning to her as he beheld her tired face and slumped posture.

“No, Mr. Cartwright.”

“Ben, please,” he interrupted.

She smiled and nodded.  “All right, Ben, and you must call me Clara.  As I was saying, I haven’t been alone.  The hotel physician, Dr. Rogers, has been treating him and a couple of the employees have been taking turns tending him.  Two of my grandchildren are also ill and we’ve all been looking after them as well.  Fortunately, Amanda and Joey haven’t been nearly as ill as your son, so we’ve all been spending most of the time here.” 

“Thank you for that,” Ben said sincerely.  “It eases my mind considerably to know he’s been in good hands.”
 
“It was our pleasure, Ben,” she told him, rising to her feet in preparation to depart and leave Joe in his father’s obviously capable care for a while.  “As I told your son not too long ago, I used to have a boy not too many years older than he is.  My own Joseph was killed in an accident along with his wife early this year. Caring for Joe has somehow eased the pain of not being able to help my son.”

It was clear that Mrs. Hill was stating a fact and not fishing for sympathy, so Ben reached across Joe’s body and clasped her hand and said simply,  “I’m sorry to hear of your loss, and I thank you even more for everything you’ve done.”

Clara smiled and walked to the door, then stopped and turned back to Ben.  “Mr. Cartwright, how did you managed to get up here without Dr. Rogers?  There are supposed to be guards posted to enforce the quarantine and keep everyone off this floor.”

Ben’s smile looked slightly guilty.  “They told me I would have to wait for the doctor, so I snuck in past them when they were talking.”

“And it didn’t occur to you that there might be a reason for the quarantine?” she asked curiously.

Ben’s expression hardened as he glanced down at Joe’s still form and began stroking his hair.  “I didn’t care about that.  Joe needed me and I had to come.  Not later, when the doctor says it’s convenient, but right now.” 

Clara gave an understanding grunt.  “Normally, I might disapprove, but somehow I can’t bring myself to fault you.  I’m sure I’d have done the same thing in your place.  I’ll just tell the doctor you’re here.”  They exchanged a smile and Clara left the room.


Joe’s temperature spiked again at midnight.  Lamps burned throughout the room as the doctor attempted to cool him down and Ben and Matthew both struggled to keep Joe still as he bucked and twisted, trying to escape the fever burning through his body.  His cries were terrible to hear as he begged over and over for someone to help him.  He called repeatedly for Pa, but did not seem to realize that Ben was right there with him.  He arched up, trying hard to get away from the grasping hands of the three men by his bedside and Ben was forced to wrap both arms around Joe’s chest to keep him still.  Their struggle was painful to watch.  Then, without warning, Joe suddenly went totally limp.  His skin paled and his labored breathing slowed down to nothing as his head lolled back over Ben’s supporting arm.

“Doctor!” Ben cried, checking the still body in his arms frantically to see if his son still lived.

“Lay him down, Mr. Cartwright,” Rogers ordered crisply.  He pulled out his stethoscope and listened carefully to Joe’s chest, then pulled one of his eyelids up to look beneath.  The doctor placed his hands upon Joe’s face and chest then took another careful listen to the boy’s heart.  He then sat back heavily in the bedside chair and breathed a relieved sigh.  “Thank God.  Your son is fine, Mr. Cartwright.   His fever finally broke and he’s passed out, but it looks like he’s coming back up into normal sleep now.”

Matthew echoed the doctor’s words, “Thank God.”

“Is he going to be all right?” Ben asked anxiously.  His eyes were glued to the still, pale boy upon the bed and his fright was evident.

“Yes, I think he is.  We’ll have to keep an eye on him and hope the fever is gone for good, but I think the worst may be over.” The doctor continued to check Joe over and his smile when he looked into Ben’s worried eyes was genuine.  “He’s still not entirely out of the woods.  He’ll likely be tired and achy for the next several days, and he’ll need to stay in bed for the next week or so, but I think he’ll recover just fine. What he needs most right now is sleep.”

Ben ran a trembling hand over his face and released the breath he had been holding. “Thank you, Doctor.”


Joe slept soundly for several hours.  The doctor came and went, not wanting to leave for long until he was sure Joe was completely out of danger, but needing to check on his other patients.  Ben and Matthew talked into the night, Ben getting the story of how Joe had come to make so many friends so quickly during his short stay, and Matthew finding out more about the family Joe obviously held so dear. Both men dozed off, as the soft sounds of the crackling fire and rain pattering outside the window lulled them to sleep. 

Around dawn, the doctor returned again and a loud crack of thunder from outside boomed through the room, startling everyone and bringing the slumbering men into full wakefulness, their nerves slightly jangled from the easing of the tension they’d been feeling.  Matthew pressed a hand to his chest and took a deep breath.  “Whew!  I didn’t even know it had started storming again,” he said.  “Sound like that’ll scare a few years off you, won’t it Ben?”

“Pa?” The voice was thin and soft, but everyone heard it and instantly moved closer to check on Joe. He looked a little confused and as he saw their anxious faces, he frowned a bit.  “What’s everybody lookin’ at?”

Ben laughed lightly and sat down to take Joe’s hand in his.  “We’re looking at you, Joseph.  You’ve had us all mighty worried around here.  How are you feeling?”

Joe blinked up at his father, surprise evident in his clear green eyes.  “A little thirsty, but my throat feels a lot better.”

“Well, that’s good to hear,” Ben said cheerfully, bringing a glass of water to his son’s lips and lifting his head to help him swallow it. 

Joe watched his father with rapt attention as he drank.  As soon as he finished, he asked, “When’d you get here, Pa?”

“Last night,” Ben told him, gently rubbing the boy’s shoulder with one hand, unable to resist touching him.  “You don’t remember?”

Joe shook his head, a tiny frown line appearing between his eyebrows.  “I remember Matthew telling me about his wife and saying that Connie was going to look after me for a while.  Did something happen?”

Dr. Rogers answered him.  “I’d say so, young man.  You’ve been out of your head with fever for three days.”  He saw the surprise in Joe’s eyes and patted his arm.  “Don’t worry, though.  I’ve already told your Pa that you’ll be perfectly fine in a week or two.”

“Weeks?” Joe squeaked.  The men chuckled at his dismayed tone and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.  He yawned and said,  “Well, maybe I could sleep for one.” 

Joe felt incredibly tired and wanted very much to go back to sleep, but the bed felt uncomfortable and he squirmed, trying to fix the problem.  Ben saw his struggle and asked, “Is there something wrong, son?  Are you in pain?”

“It’s the bed, Pa.  It feels lumpy and kinda damp.  I can’t get comfortable, and I’m cold.” Joe cringed inwardly at the cranky complaining sound of his voice.  He sounded like a querulous child, but he couldn’t seem to help it. 

“Well, I think we can fix that without too much trouble,” Ben said with a smile.  He looked at Matthew.  “Are there any extra sheets and pillows around here?”

Matthew grinned.  “This is a hotel, Ben.  We’ve practically got a lifetime supply of them.  I’ll go get some.”

 “May I make a suggestion?”  Dr. Rogers spoke up.

“Of course,” Ben said at once.

“The boy has been sweating in this bed for the last several days.  I suggest we have some hot water sent up and give him a bath while the bed is aired out and changed.  Then perhaps we can see about getting some breakfast into him.”  He looked into Joe’s eyes.  “Does that sound good, Joe?”

Joe had just about decided that Dr. Rogers was the smartest example of his profession he had ever met.  He nodded eagerly at the suggestion, not knowing which part sounded more appealing at this moment. 

“I’ll take care of that, Doc,” Matthew offered.  “Anything in particular you’d like to eat?  Or should eat?”  That last was directed at the physician.

Rogers stroked his beard thoughtfully.  “It’s been a few days since the boy has had anything more than water and what little broth we could get him to take.  I should probably prescribe more broth until he’s a little stronger.”

Joe scowled to show his disagreement.  “But, I’m starving,” he whined.  “Can’t I have scrambled eggs or something instead?”

The doctor looked surprised by the request.  “You sure you’re up to it?  No queasiness in your stomach or anything?”

“None,” Joe said, his eyes pleading.  “My head and throat still ache a little but my stomach is just fine.  Please, Doc?”

Ben was smiling as he watched the exchange.  “I’d listen to him, Doctor.  My son isn’t such a hearty eater that I take his requests for food lightly.  If he says he’s hungry enough for a solid breakfast then I’m sure he is.”
   
The physician’s friendly blue eyes twinkled.  “Very well, then.  I’m just as pleased to let you have your way in this.  You need some good solid nutrition to build up your strength.”

The three older men went to work.  First Matthew disappeared to find the bedding and place the order for hot water and breakfast, and the doctor left to tell Clara and her family the good news that Joe was awake and talking.  Then, Ben helped Joe out of bed and into the bathrobe he had discovered hanging over the back of one of the chairs and settled him into the soft chair by the fireplace to wait.  Ben worked to make sure his son was as comfortable as he could possibly be, propping his legs up on a footstool, tucking a blanket around him and generally fussing like a mother hen over a chick until he saw the patiently amused smile on Joe’s face and stopped.  He grinned sheepishly and perched on the footstool with his hand on Joe’s knee.  “Sorry, boy, I guess I’m still a little worried about you.”

“I’ve missed you, Pa,” Joe said simply.  “Much as I loved the idea of having a whole week to myself, I still found myself thinking about you all the time, especially when I started getting sick.”

Ben gave him a sympathetic smile.  “You didn’t get much of a vacation, did you?”

Joe snorted and closed his eyes.  His few steps from the bed to the chair had been unbelievably exhausting and though he was loath to admit it, he had needed every bit of the help that his Pa had offered.  His head was beginning to pound again and he allowed it to loll wearily against the back of the chair.  “I was already feeling a little rocky when I got here with the herd and it pretty much went downhill from there.  I only got outside once after I checked into this place and that was just to check on my horse and run a couple of errands.”  He made a face and reopened his eyes to look at his father.  “It really kills me, Pa.  I was totally worn out after the drive and was all set to have the best, most indulgent, most kick back week of my life and here I didn’t get to enjoy a single bit of it because I was feeling so awful.”

“Well, I wouldn’t fret too much, Joe.  Once you’re on your feet again, we can maybe extend that vacation a few days and see a little of the town together.  That is, if you don’t mind hanging around with your old man.” 

Pa’s words were jovial, but Joe could see the worry still lurking deep inside his eyes.  He was trying to tell him to take things easy.  Joe flashed him a smile.  “Long as you don’t try to beat my time with the local gals, I think I’d like that, Pa.  You sure Adam and Hoss aren’t gonna be upset with both of us for taking all this time off, though?”

Ben chuckled.  “They’ll get over it.  I sent someone down with a telegram home after your fever broke last night, giving your brothers the good news, so I doubt they’ll be too upset with us.”

Joe bit his lip.  “Hope I didn’t cause anyone too much worry.  How are things back home, Pa?  Did the rain cause much damage?”

The two Cartwrights chatted amiably for a little while, catching up with each other on the cattle drive and life on the Ponderosa.  Pa was telling him all about the problems they’d had with minor flooding in the lowlands and though Joe was interested, he was having a hard time keeping properly focused on the conversation due to an overwhelming need to go back to sleep.  He fought the urge stubbornly.  He wanted that bath and food he’d been promised first, and besides, he had missed talking with Pa.  Just as he began to feel sure he would lose his battle with sleep, Matthew returned with Clara Hill and two bellhops bearing buckets of steaming water.  Joe could not remember if they were the same men he had seen the other time he ordered a bath, or not. 

Clara crossed immediately to Joe’s side and knelt down, taking his hand.  “Joe, I’m so glad to see you feeling better.  You really had me worried!  The children have been asking about you constantly and you can’t imagine how happy they are to know you’re on the mend.”

Joe was touched by her concern.  “Thank you, ma’am.  I was glad to hear that the kids are getting better too.  I understand I owe you and Connie both a big thank you for looking after me.”

Clara laughed.  “Your being well is thanks enough for me, but you might want to do something a little more concrete for young Miss Bryant.  She’s been through a lot a more than she bargained for these last few days.”

A worried frown touched Joe’s face.  “Like what?”

Her eyes twinkled.  “It would probably be best if you find out from her, but flowers or something of the sort wouldn’t be out of line.”

Joe was not sure if Mrs. Hill was joking or not, but he decided that for right now he didn’t really want to know.  “I’ll do that.  Thanks again, ma’am.”

Soon the bath was ready.  Ben pandered to his son’s dignity before the small crowd of spectators and obeyed his feeble but automatic protest that he could walk when his father began to lift him from the chair.  He could feel the trembling in the boy’s body however and placed a strong supporting arm around his waist, half-carrying him anyway. 

Joe was panting by the time his father got him safely behind the closed bathroom door and settled in the large tub.  The water felt as good to Joe now as it had the first time, though the steam was making him cough a bit as the phlegm in his lungs loosened up.  Even though Joe barely had the strength to sit upright, and therefore understood the necessity of it, it felt extremely strange to have his father helping him to bathe.  Pa did not seem to mind though as he sponged the perspiration off his son’s face and chest and helped him soap and rinse with the same care and gentleness that he had once used to bathe a much younger Joseph.  Pa ordered him to lean forward so that he could scrub his back and Joe complied, drawing his knees up and hugging them for support.  The gentle rubbing of his father’s swirling strokes with the warm soapy washcloth on his back and shoulders felt great and Joe grunted softly in sleepy contentment.  “It’s been a long time since you had to do this, huh, Pa?”

Ben smiled and went on washing, carefully supporting his son as he pulled him back to wash his hair, noticing that the boy was close to falling asleep right there in the tub.   He worked quickly, soaping and rinsing all the sweaty stiffness out of Joe’s long curls and shaking him gently to keep him awake.  “You need yourself a haircut, young man,” he observed.  “Wet like this, it nearly falls past your shoulders.”

Joe chuckled sleepily.  Some things never changed, and Pa’s complaints about the length of his hair were as sure as the rise and set of the sun.  He mumbled his standard reply, “I kinda like it long.”

Ben smiled and pulled the drain plug, then helped his son to get out and dried, and sat him down on the bathroom stool.  “You wait right there for just a minute,” he ordered.  He left the room to grab the nightshirt Clara had found for him; the second of the two Joe had bought on his last day out. By the time he returned to Joe, only seconds later, the boy was sound asleep, the left side of his head resting against the wall as he softly snored.  Ben smiled tenderly at the sight and got his son dressed.  Joe did not stir as he was hefted up into his father’s arms and carried back to his freshly made bed. 

“Is he all right?”  Matthew was the only one left in the bedroom.  He had been on his way out, having just laid out the breakfast he had ordered for Joe.  “I thought he was hungry.”

“He’s fine.  Joe has always been more interested in sleeping late than having breakfast,” Ben told him with a grin.  “Help me out here, will you?”  Matthew drew back the covers and Ben settled the boy into bed.  

Joe woke up again as soon as he touched the mattress.  “Did I fall asleep?” he mumbled. 

“You sure did,” Ben told him.  “Since you’re awake now, though, I’d like you to eat a little of this food Matthew had brought up for you.  After that you can sleep as long as you want to.”

“’Kay,” he agreed.  The food Pa uncovered smelled really good, even though his nose was still sort of plugged up, and Joe’s stomach grumbled.  He obediently opened his mouth and ate some of the scrambled eggs and ham Pa offered him, but halfway through the meal he could no longer keep his eyes open and fell back asleep even as the fork was heading toward his mouth again.

Matthew had been watching and he laughed softly.  “When he’s gone, he’s gone, isn’t he?”

“Always,” Ben confirmed.  “In fact, I was surprised that he woke up just now.  He must have really been hungry.”

Matthew moved again toward the door.  “I’m glad he’s going to be all right, Ben.  That’s a real fine boy you’ve got there.”

Ben smiled and stroked the now nearly dry softness of his son’s fluffy curls.  “I know it.”



Chapter 7

For the next 72 hours, Joe slept almost constantly, unable to stay awake for more than half an hour at a time at first as the exhaustion that was a combination of his illness and the accumulated fatigue from his time on the trail, caught up with him.  As each day passed into another, he became able to sustain his alertness for a longer span of time, but still felt too weak and ill to even want to get out of bed.  It seemed like every time he did wake, someone was shoving food or drink or medicine down his throat, asking how he felt, touching him and taking his temperature.  While he did appreciate their concern, Joe began to wish everyone would just quit hovering and leave him alone.  Finally, on the morning of the fourth day of his recovery, Joe awoke and listened cautiously before opening his eyes.  It was quiet in the room.  Nobody moving around, no dishes clinking or papers rattling and no quietly whispered conversations.  Not even rain hitting the windows.  Just the soft pop and crackle of the logs in the fireplace and wonderful empty silence.

Joe cautiously opened his eyes and lifted his head to look around.  When visual evidence confirmed that he was actually alone, Joe smiled and indulged in a long thorough stretch, listening to his stiff joints pop and crunch.  He still felt tired and that nagging ache seemed determined to stay in his muscles, but Joe felt a hundred times better now than he had when he had first waked after his fever.  Between the blazing fire in the fireplace and the pile of blankets on the bed, Joe felt much too warm, but unlike before, it was an easy problem to solve.  He just flipped back the covers and pulled his legs out into the open.  He felt better almost instantly.  I feel almost normal again.  In fact, the only complaint he could come up with as he lay there scratching a few stray itches and studying the underside of his canopy was that his mouth tasted terrible.  He tried to recall the last time he had brushed his teeth and made a face when he could not remember.  Ugh, no wonder my mouth tastes like I’ve been chewing on old socks!  Well, I can fix that.     

Joe sat up carefully, pleased when the motion did not produce a headache or dizziness and stood up.  His knees felt a little shaky, but not too weak to stand on and as long as he moved slowly, Joe found that he could walk across the room without experiencing any ill effects.  The small case containing his hair brushes and pomade, shaving soap and straight razor, hand made toothbrush and the little jar of crème dentifrice still sat on the platform behind the washstand where he had last seen it.  He checked the water pitcher and was glad to see that it had been freshly filled.  Joe checked his reflection and stuck his tongue out at the pale crusty eyed ghoul who had taken his place in the mirror.  His hair was plastered flat to his head on one side and spiking out in a hundred different directions on the other.  Joe’s brothers always liked to tease him about his inability to grow a decent beard, but an entire week without shaving had managed to produce a rough uneven field of stubble on his chin and cheeks that itched terribly now that he’d noticed it. Taken as a whole, the picture in the glass was pretty frightening and Joe grimaced.  “Yeesh, if you don’t look like the morning after!   Too bad you missed the party.”

Joe poured some water into the basin on the washstand and vigorously scrubbed his face and dampened his hair, slicking his curls back into a semblance of order with his hands and one of his two matching brushes.  He had managed to shave and get halfway through a very thorough tooth brushing before he heard the outer door of the suite open and close and the familiar heavy tromp of his father’s boots striding quickly across the room.  Oops, caught again, he thought.  Pa was always strict about making him obey doctors’ orders and Joe always tried to find ways around them.  He had hoped to finish up with his ablutions and be back in bed before Pa returned.

Ben came to the door and saw him and immediately formed a look of exasperation at finding his son up and going about his morning rituals as if this were any normal day.  “Well, good morning,” he said sarcastically.  “I thought I made it clear that you were still supposed to stay in bed today.”

“I ‘adda uth my heeth, Pa,” Joe said, rubbing dentifrice over his tongue and scrubbing almost hard enough to hurt.  “Dey’re istusting.”

Ben’s eyebrow rose. “Would you care to repeat that in English, son?”

Joe spat and rinsed his mouth out a couple of times.  “Ugh, that’s better,” he muttered, then said louder, “Pa, I said I had to brush my teeth because they felt disgusting.  And I figured as long as I was here, I might as well clean up a little.”

Ben’s mouth quirked.  “I suppose that’s understandable, but I want you back in that bed the minute you’re finished in here. No arguments!”

Joe nodded quickly and his father left him to finish the rest of his routine in private.  Now that he was finally up and moving, Joe found that he did not really want to go back to bed and dragged out his time as long as he could, but at last he could think of nothing more to do and slowly returned to his room. 

Pa had straightened the bedclothes and piled several pillows up in front of the headboard.  As soon as he spotted Joe, he patted the pillows in invitation and shot him a stern commanding look.  Joe sighed softly, his planned pleas to stay up a while longer in the chair by the fireplace dying unuttered on his lips.  He climbed back into bed, sitting up against the pillows and crossing his wrists over his raised knees. “I feel good today, Pa,” he explained, when he caught the expression of disapproval aimed at his posture.  “I’m not ready to run any races, but I feel just fine.  There’s not much point in lying down, even if I can’t get out of bed for good yet.  In fact I don’t see why I can’t just stay up.”

“Joseph, the doctor said you need to rest.”  Ben staunchly ignored the sour expression on his son’s face when he produced a tray filled with food and sat down next to him on the mattress.  “He also said you need to eat and rebuild your strength.”

“I’m tired of resting,” Joe grumbled, a slight whine in his tone.  “I haven’t done anything but lay around this room for a week, resting.”

“Joseph, I would hardly call the three days you were delirious with fever ‘resting’,” Ben said sternly.  “You’ve only been on the mend for a few days and even then you were too sick to even put up your usual round of protests. I don’t think a little more time in bed is unreasonable.”

Joe shifted impatiently against the pillows, bringing his arms up and crossing them over his chest.  “Well, maybe I do think it’s unreasonable,” he snarled. “I’m the one who’s been sick.  I should be able to decide when I feel good enough to get up, and I do!”

“Well, I disagree,” Ben thundered, his jaw taking on the appearance of stone in its rigidity.  Though Ben often compared Joe’s personality to his mother’s, it was obvious to everyone who had ever seen he and his son at odds, where Joe had inherited his stubborn streak.  “The doctor says you’re not completely well and I agree with him.  Your activities have been limited to eating and sleeping and I’m here to see to it that you obey that directive.”

“But, Pa, there’s just no way I can sleep anymore today.  I’m totally slept out!”

Ben nodded, unperturbed by the increasingly petulant tone of Joe’s voice.  “Fine, then you’ll eat your breakfast.”  He pulled the warming lid off the tray.

“Corn muffins and oatmeal?” Joe complained.  He was tired of having food shoved at him already and the choice of fare this morning was even less welcome than usual.  “What are you people trying to do, fatten me up for Thanksgiving dinner?”

“This is good wholesome food,” Ben told him.  “It’s good for you and you might as well wipe that scowl off your face this instant, because you are eating it.”

“Aw, Pa, you know I hate that stuff!  Look at it!  You could mortar a brick wall with that oatmeal and it doesn’t even have any cinnamon on it!”  Joe set his jaw and glowered.  “I’m not a little kid, Pa, and you can’t force me to eat that.  I won’t do it!”

Anger flashed in Ben’s dark eyes.  “No, you are not a little kid, Joseph, but you’re certainly doing a credible imitation of one.”

“Maybe so, Pa, but I think I can decide for myself what to eat and when to eat it.”  Joe did not know why he was being so obnoxious, but the words and the snide tone in which he spoke them just kept flying out of his mouth before he could stop them.  He felt the anger building in him and his inability to control himself simply accelerated the emotion.  He turned his face away when Ben offered him a spoonful of the oatmeal.  “Pa, I said no!”

Ben was running out of patience.  “Joseph, eat your breakfast!  That is an order!”

Joe grabbed the spoon out of his hand and hurled it across the room, where it clanged off the stones of the fireplace.  “I am so sick of everybody giving me orders!  Drink this. Take that. Hold still. Go to sleep. Eat, beg, sit, roll over!”  He was sitting forward now, clenching his fists and shouting at the top of his lungs.  “Leave me alone, Pa.  Just leave me alone!”  He was horrified when tears suddenly welled up out of nowhere and spilled over his cheeks.  With a groan, Joe flopped down on the mattress and turned his back, trying to hide his tears in the pillow.  He hated crying, especially when there was anyone around to see him.  It was humiliating at his age but there were times when he just could not seem to help himself, and this was one of them.  The harder he tried to stop the tears, the harder they fell, and now his chest was beginning to heave with sobs that drew fits of thick harsh coughing along with them. 

Ben simply stared at him, stunned by the sudden rush of rage and raw emotion that had overtaken his son.  The anger in his own expression faded and was replaced with concern as he beheld the boy’s quivering shoulders and listened to his harsh coughing.  Slowly, he stood and replaced the tray on the table, then walked around the bed to sit on Joe’s other side. Joe’s right hand hid his face, not wanting his father to see.  Ben clasped his shoulder and rubbed at the tense muscles with his thumb.  After a last brief spasming cough, Joe managed to draw in a ragged breath.  He still would not look at Ben.  “It’s all right, Little Joe.  I think I understand.”

Slowly Joe responded to the gentle tone of his Pa’s voice and lifted his head to cast an uncertain glance into his dark eyes.  When he saw only compassion and love for him where he had expected to find anger and perhaps shame, he gulped and snuffled, using the back of his hand to scrub at the tears staining his cheeks and beading on his thick eyelashes.  He felt totally ashamed of himself for his outburst.  “I don’t know how you can understand, Pa.  I don’t even know why I did that.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Ben told him, smiling as he slid his hand over to pat Joe’s back soothingly.  The gesture was a familiar symbol of love that he had used all of his son’s life, and it came instinctively now to comfort them both.  “I shouldn’t have been so strict with you right off. You’ve been through a lot the last few weeks and as sick and worn out as you still are, I think you’re just at the end of your rope, emotionally.”

“That’s some excuse, Pa.” He took a swipe at his running nose and sniffled again.  “Just a week or so ago I was congratulating myself over how mature I was.  I heard a couple of the men talking about how I was tough and determined and how I hadn’t folded under pressure during the drive and I was proud that they saw me as a man and as somebody they could respect.  Now look at me!  Pitching a fit over what I got for breakfast and bursting into tears like some four year old!  You’d never see Adam or Hoss acting like that.  God, it’s no wonder everybody still sees me as a little kid.”

“They don’t Joe.  Not really,” Ben said.  “Those men on the drive saw you as you are; as a man with grit and determination and a lot of heart, worthy of the same respect I’m sure you gave to them. What I see is a still very young man, who’s been very sick and very tired and who hates worse than anything in the world being cooped up with nothing to do.  You’re in that half way state between being seriously ill and being completely well and I know that frustrates you.”

Joe bit his lip and averted his eyes.  It amazed him sometimes how easily Pa could read him and how he always knew how to handle him, even in the worst of moods.  “I’m sorry I yelled at you, Pa.  I didn’t mean it.”

“I know you didn’t,” Ben told him.  He pulled out a handkerchief and handed it over.  “Blow your nose, son.”

Joe gave him a slightly watery smile and complied.  “I never can seem to remember to keep these things handy.  I think I must’ve stolen about a hundred of them from Adam when I was a kid.  He was always giving ‘em to me every time I got a bloody nose, or cried or sneezed.  I don’t know why he never asked for them back.”

Ben went along with the change of subject, recognizing Joe’s need to compose himself a little. “He knew he’d get them back eventually when the laundry was done.  Why do you think I always had you boys’ initials monogrammed on the handkerchiefs?”

“Oh,” Joe said softly.  “I guess I never thought about it.  I always used up mine to make sails for toy boats or cut ‘em into eyepatches and flags of truce for my soldiers.”

Joe sat up and brushed a hand through his hair.  His face looked very woebegone and young and Ben responded to it by shifting around to sit next to him and draping an arm around his shoulders.  “I also seem to recall an entire set of brand new handkerchiefs going to make wagon covers for that miniature wagon train you and Adam made for Hoss on his 16th birthday.”

Joe felt better with Pa’s arm around him, glad that he wasn’t mad at him.  “I remember that.  Adam and I spent almost two months making it.  Adam carved little horses and oxen that hitched up with real rope traces and I made the wagons themselves from a design in one of Adam’s books.  He helped me put axles on all of them so the wheels would turn and Hop Sing helped me make tiny little bags and boxes and water barrels for them.”

“That’s right,” Ben remembered.  “You were determined to make those wagons as real as you possibly could and no matter how many problems you had you kept trying until they were perfect.  Hoss loved it too, but I think he loved it as much because he could see the work you put into it as for the gift itself.”

“Yeah,” Joe agreed fondly.  “Hoss really made a big deal out of noticing every little detail.  I was so proud too.  Wonder what ever happened to that wagon train?”

“He keeps it wrapped very carefully in cotton batting in the box you made for it, down at the bottom of his mother’s trunk,” Ben told him.  Joe looked at him in surprise.  “You know he only keeps his most treasured possessions in there.  He showed it to me recently.”

“I had no idea,” Joe said softly.  He fell silent a minute as he blew his nose again and dashed away the last of his tears.  Then he sighed.  “I wish Hoss had been able to come on the drive with me, and not just because we could’ve used his help.  I really miss him, Pa.  I even miss Adam.”

“They miss you too,” Ben said.  “Both of them wanted to come to Sacramento with me when we heard you were ill but there were too many projects going on back at the ranch to allow it.  I’m sure they’ll be more than glad to have us back.”

Joe chuckled.  “Yeah, I bet those chores are really piling up since I’ve been gone.”

Ben laughed.  “Are you feeling a little better now, son?”

“Much better,” Joe said. 

“Well enough to tackle some of that breakfast?” There was a sparkle in Ben’s eyes as he asked the question, knowing it would provoke another laugh and he was not disappointed.

“You don’t give up, do you, Pa?” Joe asked with a smile.  He pulled away from his father’s side and repositioned himself back against the headboard, gesturing with his hands to signal his surrender to the inevitable.  He winced as he moved and saw the sharp eagle-eyed concern that immediately leapt into his father’s eyes.  “I’m still a little stiff and sore, I guess,” he explained, hoping the admission would not earn him another go round with the doctor.

    Ben gave him a thoughtful look.  “I spoke with the doctor earlier and he says he’s going to lift your quarantine a bit.  Nobody else has fallen ill so he thinks you may be past the contagious stage.  You still aren’t allowed to leave your bed yet but you can have visitors, starting this afternoon if you feel up to it.”  He saw the delighted expression on Joe’s face and smiled.  “I was just remembering something else you might enjoy as well.”

“What’s that?” Joe asked curiously.  Right now, he could think of nothing more appealing than a few visitors to take away the lonely tedium he had been resigning himself to face. 

“Well, Mrs. Hill was telling me the hotel employs a masseur.  You said you checked into the Palace because you wanted a little indulgence.  How would you like to try his services?”

A confused frown creased Joe’s brow.  “What’s a masseur?”

“That’s someone who’s trained to give massages.  You know, like a backrub with fancy oils and things, except I believe they work on your entire body, not just your back.”

Joe grinned.  “Just like that book Adam has about those old Roman Emperors, huh?  That sounds really great, Pa.  Do you suppose I can get some girl to stand around feeding me grapes while he works on me, like they do in the pictures in that book?”

His father chuckled.  “I wouldn’t count on it, son, but I’ll make you a deal.  You eat some of those oats and I’ll see what I can do about getting you that rubdown.”

Joe made a face.  “You make me sound like a horse!  Oh, that reminds me, Pa.  Have you checked on Cochise?  I left him down in the hotel stable the last day I was down there.  Do you think he’s okay?”

“I haven’t seen him since the night I arrived, but he seemed just fine then.  I wouldn’t worry about him.  The staff here seems very competent,” Ben observed.

A scowl flitted across Joe’s face.  “Most of them are, but I didn’t think much of their stable hand when I saw him.  I’m not sure I’d trust him to know which end to clean up after.”

“Perhaps you should tell Clara when she comes by to see you this afternoon,” Ben suggested.

“Why would I tell Mrs. Hill?” Joe asked incredulously.  “What good would that do?”

Ben shot him a puzzled frown.  “Well, she does own the Palace.  It seems to me she’d probably be an excellent person to tell.”

Joe gaped.  “Mrs. Hill owns the hotel?  You mean she’s not just a guest here?”  He was absolutely astonished.  “Pa, you aren’t putting me on, are you?”

“Of course not, Joe.  I just assumed you knew that, since the two of you seemed to be such good friends.  She told me she’d arranged for your room and everything else to be on the house for as long as you wanted to stay,” Ben said.  “Are you saying she never told you?”

“No!” Joe said loudly.  His mind was in a complete spin.  “I guessed that she had money, though naturally I wasn’t going to ask, but she told me her husband was a banker!”

“He was,” Ben said.  “Haven’t you ever heard of J & C Hill, Enterprises?  James Hill was an investment banker who was bought out of his share of the business he shared with three other fellows back east.  He came out west about 20 years or so ago and started a small brokerage with the proceeds from his business and made a fortune when the Sutter’s Mill gold strike hit.”

Joe was listening open-mouthed.  “Did you know him?”

“We met,” Ben confirmed.  “I didn’t really know him though, and I’d never met his wife until I got here the other day.  Even then it took me a while to make the connection.  Clara and her son Joseph inherited everything when James Hill had a heart attack around ten years ago.  Turns out she was the real brains behind his business and it’s done nothing but flourish since then.  She has businesses all over the West Coast of the United States, and this hotel is one of them.”

“Wow.”  Joe could literally not think of anything else to say about it.  He tried to come up with something more and the only thing that came to mind was, “She bought me breakfast the first morning I was here and she paid cash just like anybody else.  Why do you suppose she did that if she owns the hotel?  Shouldn’t she be able to eat here for free?”

Ben shrugged.  “I suppose she was setting an example for the children.  Or, perhaps she didn’t want to draw attention to her status.  In either case, it was very nice of her.”

“It was,” Joe agreed.  “I can’t figure out why she’s letting me stay here for nothing, though.  I’ve been nothing but trouble for her and her staff since I got here.  I took them away from their work, and gave the flu to her grandchildren and caused Mrs. Hill a few sleepless nights personally looking after me.  I should be paying her extra, not getting the suite for free!”

“She told me that taking care of you helped ease the pain of not being able to help her son,” Ben explained gently, stroking his hair in a sudden show of tenderness.  “I think that would be worth any burden your stay may have caused.”

Joe looked down at his hands, suddenly embarrassed to have been the center of so much attention, no matter how lovingly provided. “Maybe I’d better eat now if I’m going to have visitors,” he suggested. 

Ben went to retrieve the bowl and eyed its cold congealed contents with an expression of distaste.  It really did look like it could support a brick wall now.  He caught Joe’s eye and they exchanged a grimace.  “I think I’d better order up another serving.”

“With cinnamon,” Joe insisted.  Ben nodded and a sly grin curled Joe’s lips.  “And sugar and extra milk, please.”

Ben went to pick up the spoon Joe had chucked across the room earlier and pulled the service rope.  “This is supposed to be a breakfast, not a dessert!”  Nonetheless, when someone appeared, he placed the order exactly as Joe had specified it, even asking if there were any raisins available.  The answer was yes, so Ben ordered a small dish of them on the side.

Joe grinned brightly.  “Gee, thanks, Pa.  I haven’t had raisins in a long time.  I’m surprised you thought of them, though.  You hate ‘em!”

Ben smiled indulgently.  “Yes, but you love them and I thought it might make you happy.”

 Color bloomed vividly in Joe’s cheeks.  “Sorry I was such a brat this morning, Pa.”

 “Oh, I’m used to that,” Ben said airily. 

Joe gaped at him, then laughed when he saw that his father was only teasing.  “How’d you ever get to be such a great father, anyway?”

“Practice, son,” Ben answered solemnly.  “Years and years of dedicated practice.” 



Chapter 8

 The first of Joe’s promised visitors arrived at noon, interrupting a spirited and very laughter filled game of gin rummy.  Wanting to make up for his childish behavior of the morning, Joe had been very docile about staying in bed.  Privately, he thought the game would have gone much easier if played on a table between two chairs, rather than having the cards spread atop the blankets over his extended legs, but he offered no complaint.  The knock at the door came just as Joe gleefully declared, “Gin!” for the third game in a row.

 Ben eyed the cards with a suspicious glare as he rose to answer the door.  “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think those cards were marked!”

 Joe chortled.  He wagged a scolding finger at his father, his green eyes shining with enjoyment.  “Ah, ah, now Pa, you know better than that.  You’re the one who found these cards, not me, so if one of us were cheating it’d have to be you.  I’m just naturally lucky, is all!”  He leaned back and laced his hands behind his head, grinning as his father harrumphed.  He knew Pa wasn’t really upset over losing to him.  In fact, he could tell by watching him that his father was as glad as he was to be talking and laughing and sharing some fun together again.

 Ben gave up his pretense of disgruntlement and returned Joe’s cheery smile as he opened the door.  His smile grew wider when he saw who was on the other side.  “Come in!”

 Joe finished gathering the cards and set them aside, beaming when he saw that his visitors were Clara Hill and all three of her grandchildren.  The two smaller ones were dressed in nightclothes, robes and slippers, so Joe guessed they must have been permitted to get out of bed expressly for the purpose of this visit and would be returned there as soon as they got back to their own suite.  “Hi Mrs. Hill, hey kids!”

 “Little Joe!” the children chorused, dashing up immediately for hugs and greetings.  Even the shy oldest one, Jane, clasped his hand and whispered hello with a timid smile before taking a seat at the foot of his bed.  Her younger siblings showed no such conservatism.  They scrambled right up into bed with him, happily settling in on either side of him, where a bemused Joe could put an arm around each of them.  He grinned at his father and Mrs. Hill, shrugged and complied with their wishes, rather enjoying the feeling of having their warm little bodies tucked in next to his ribs.

 “Children!” Clara scolded.  “I promised you could see Joe for a few minutes, not camp out with him. You might be courteous enough to wait until you’re invited before you take over his bed.”

 “But, Little Joe is our friend, Grandma,” Amanda protested.  “He don’t mind.  Do you?”  She turned to look at Joe, confident that he would support her declaration. 
Joe winked at her and shot a pleading look at Clara.  “I really don’t mind, ma’am.  Couldn’t they stay here for a little while?”  The children followed his lead and turned matching calf-eyed looks toward their grandmother, adding plaintive voices to Joe’s addition of, “Please?”

 Clara laughed and said, “Oh, all right, but just for a little while.”  She turned to Ben and said, “The doctor agreed to let the children up for a while today if they promised to go slowly.  If all goes well, they can resume their regular activities starting tomorrow and my staff has been cleared to return to work as well.  He says if they haven’t gotten sick after a week surrounded by influenza patients, then it’s likely that they’re not going to.  I asked the children what they’d like to do first and I wasn’t at all surprised when they asked to see your son.  They’ve talked about little else all week!”

 Ben was watching Joe, clearly enjoying the sight of his son being monopolized by a group of small children. “He does seem to have that effect on people.  I’ve never in my life known anyone who was better at making new friends of all ages than Joseph is.  It’s positively amazing to me how he does it.”

 Joe, meanwhile, was paying no attention to his father’s observation.  He was trying to keep up with two different conversations.  Joey prattled on about horses and cows and how much he wanted to see the ones Joe had mentioned raising on the Ponderosa, and Amanda inquired after his health in a very serious and sympathetic tone.  She told him all about her and her brother’s bout with influenza, happily butchering Dr. Rogers’ medical jargon in an explanation that had Joe hard pressed not to laugh. 

 Over the course of the next hour, Joe told stories of his childhood and the ranch, prompted by a multitude of questions and learned quite a lot about the children and their life in Sacramento.  He learned that they lived full time in the family suite down at the opposite end of the second floor from his own room, and that they had no particular idea that their grandmother was any richer or any different than anybody else’s, though they did know she owned the Palace.  After a while, even shy Jane began to talk and slowly bloomed into full animation under the light of Joe’s gentle questioning of her.  She told him the Palace had what she termed a ‘happiness policy’, stating that if you didn’t have a good stay then you didn’t have to pay for it.  It had been she who had suggested to her grandmother that Joe get his stay for free, since having the flu hardly seemed to her to be a good time.  He looked at Clara for confirmation and received a subtle nod.   “Well, then I guess I owe you a special thank you, Jane,” he told her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.  Jane had gradually scooted closer to him bit by bit and was now sitting next to him at her baby brother’s feet, leaning sideways against a knee Joe had raised just for the purpose.

 “You’re welcome,” she said quietly.  “We like you, Little Joe, and grandma always says we should help our friends when we can.”

 “That’s a good rule,” he agreed.  “My Pa taught me the same thing and I really appreciate your doing that for me.  Is there anything I can do to pay you all back a little?”

 “Will you read to us?” Jane asked eagerly, offering him a book she had been holding ever since they had arrived.  “Daddy used to read to us every night and this was one of our favorites.”

 Joe was surprised by the request.  A glance at Mrs. Hill revealed that she was watching and listening to them talk and the girl’s request had obviously caught her by surprise too, but there was something in her expression, a tender wistfulness that bordered on tears, that prompted him to immediately reply in the affirmative.  “Sure, I will.”  Joe hitched himself up straighter against the pillows at his back and picked up Joey to deposit him on his lap and make room for Jane to sit on his right side.  She came happily, snuggling under his arm with her head upon his shoulder, and pointed to a particular story in the well-worn book of fairy tales.  Joe smiled and started reading.  He read through one story and then another and another, not stopping until his voice threatened to give out.   “I’m sorry, but I think I’d better quit now,” he said.  Joey had fallen asleep halfway through the stories and a check of Amanda revealed her to not be too far behind her brother. 

“I think it’s time we were on our way,” Clara said softly, picking up the little boy.

“Let me help you,” Ben offered, scooping up Amanda once she had delivered the hug she insisted on giving to Joe.  She seemed to have no objection to being in Ben’s embrace as she put her arms around his neck and waved to Joe until his father carried her out. 

Clara waited until Jane retrieved her book, shyly kissed Joe on the cheek and ran out, before speaking to him.  “Your father told me you weren’t aware that I owned the Palace.”

“Well, no Mrs. Hill, not until this morning when Pa told me,” Joe admitted.

“He also told me that you didn’t feel deserving of my decision to grant you a free stay here,” she continued.  “Now that Jane has explained things, do you feel any differently?”

Joe was not quite sure where she was headed with the question, but he answered honestly.  “Well, no, ma’am, I don’t really.  I’ve been a lot of trouble to you and to Matthew and Connie and I guess a lot of other people.  I owe all of you a lot for all your kindness, and you giving me the room and things on top of all that just doesn’t seem right.  You should be getting something in return.”

Clara smiled sweetly.  “Oh, but we have, Joseph.  I told you at breakfast that first day we met that you had given us happiness and that hasn’t stopped.  The staff adores you and my grandchildren are completely smitten with you.  I wasn’t lying when I said that having you here brings back a little piece of my son.  For that alone, I’d happily grant you a free stay, but you did something else that I’ll be ever grateful to you for.”

A curious frown flitted across Joe’s face.  “But I didn’t do anything except talk with the kids and read to them a little bit.” 

“Yes, and you got Jane to open up to you and to make the request for you to read them that book,” Clara reminded him.  “You had no way of knowing, but she’s hardly said a word to anyone since her parents died.  Jane loved her mother very much, but she and her father had a special kind of bond.  They were practically inseparable and after he died, she just retreated more and more into herself.  She would speak when spoken to, but little else.”

Joe did not know what to say.  “You’re saying…you mean, Jane hasn’t really talked to anyone until I came here?”

Clara shook her head, tears in her eyes.  “I could tell she liked you from the interest she showed in you when you were shooting those ridiculous paper wads into your water glass that day.  That’s part of why I agreed to invite you over, then the way she watched you all through the meal made me glad I had.  That afternoon, she started talking a little bit, asking me if I knew anything about you and later when she suggested granting you your stay at the Palace for free, I just couldn’t believe it.  It was her first active suggestion of anything in months!”

As his understanding grew, Joe suddenly felt awed.  “Then, when Jane asked me to read from her father’s fairy tale book, that was something really special, wasn’t it?”

“Extremely special,” she confirmed.  “She’s been just eaten up with worry ever since you got so sick and when I told them you were feeling good again and agreed to let the children come see you, well…I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so lit up with joy.  When I saw that book, that’s when I really knew Jane would be all right.  You see that book was her father’s when he was a little boy and he gave it to her when she was just a toddler.  He taught her to read by it and they used to share the stories every night.  Jane has never let anyone else touch that book until now.”  Clara reached out and caressed Joe’s cheek and chin, tipping his head up, then leaned over, careful not to upset the child in her arms, and kissed him softly between his eyebrows.  “You’ve given us more than we can ever repay, my dear.”

There was nothing else Joe could say, except, “Thank you, Mrs. Hill.”

Joe lay there, lost in thought for a long time after the Hill’s left.  His heart felt full to overflowing after his conversation with Clara and her tender gesture kept coming back to him, making him touch the place where she had kissed him.  She couldn’t possibly have known that Mama used to kiss me there all the time.  She used to kiss my eyelids, then the place between my eyebrows and then the tip of my nose, and then my mouth every night when she put me to bed.  I’d forgotten all about that until now.  I don’t think even Pa knows about it.  He had heard Pa come back a few minutes after Clara’s departure but Pa had decided to let him be after seeing the contemplative expression on his face.

 “Pa?”  Joe said at last.  Ben looked up inquiringly.  “Pa, do you think it’s possible for somebody, I mean just an ordinary somebody like me, to be part of an actual miracle?”

Ben regarded the question thoughtfully, taking a seat next to his son on the bed. “Yes, son, I do.  In fact, I would say that miracles are more common than most folks think and are almost always brought about through ordinary people.  Why do you ask?”

Joe repeated the story Clara had told him about her granddaughter and saw the same astonishment in Ben’s expression that he had felt in himself.  “I’m not saying it had to be me,” he explained.  “I guess it could have been anybody who finally made Jane want to come out of her shell, but it was me, Pa.  I chose to try this place out instead of going to the Empire, and I just happened to sit next to the Hill’s table and I just happened to have the same first name as Jane’s father, and…”

“And it stretches coincidence just a little too much for you,” Ben finished for him.  Joe nodded.  “I don’t know, son.  It works the other way too, if you think about it.  You were already getting sick when you arrived in Sacramento.  There’s no telling if you would have found people as kind and caring as these at some other place, and Clara was certainly exactly whom you needed to have close by when you succumbed to your symptoms and passed out.  Perhaps the Almighty saw the potential to do a lot of good in a single act and you and Jane were both the beneficiaries.  Whether it was divine intervention or not, I can’t say, but either way you’ve been very blessed to meet each other.”

“Yeah,” Joe agreed. “It’s just that you’ve always told me that Mama sort of became my guardian angel after she died and I couldn’t help wondering if she was somehow giving me a little nudge in the right direction.” He smiled.  “And even if it wasn’t a miracle, I think she’d be really pleased to know I helped somebody.”

“I’m pleased you did too,” Ben said, touching him on the arm.  “And, I saw something else today that would have pleased her as much as it did me.”

“Oh?” Joe asked curiously. “What was that?”

“I watched you with those children and realized for the first time what a fine father you’re going to make someday,” Ben told him sincerely.  

 “I’d like to think so.  I think I’d really like being somebody’s father one day.”  Joe bit his lip thoughtfully, then flashed Ben a saucy grin, willing to let his somber mood lighten.   “Maybe not right away, though.  It seems like a lot of work!”

 “It is that,” Ben agreed. “It’s worth it, though.  Now, if you’re through pondering the mysteries of life for a while, the doctor is coming by to check you over and I’m told you’ve got a couple more visitors arriving in about an hour to feed you lunch.”

Joe rolled his eyes.  “Anybody else?  Maybe I should sell tickets.”

The fondly exasperated tone in his son’s voice made Ben smile.  “Just one.  I asked Clara about that rubdown, so this evening you have an appointment with the hotel masseur.  Unless you’d rather wait until tomorrow, that is.  You look a little tired still.”

“Tonight sounds just fine, Pa,” Joe said agreeably, shrugging off the hand Pa tried to place against his forehead.  “I wonder what I’m having for lunch that I need more than one visitor to help me eat, though?”

Ben shrugged.  “Well, I don’t know about the menu, but I suggest you rest up and try to conserve your strength, because your visitors are Susan and Connie.  Mrs. Hill tells me they’ve been arguing over whose cooking you’ll find more appealing.  If you’re not careful, you just might get stuffed to death this afternoon!” 

Joe grabbed his stomach and groaned theatrically, then hid his head under a pillow, making his father guffaw.  Joe’s own twittering laughter could be clearly heard even through the thick pillow and soon he pulled his head out and grinned at his father.  “Next time I come here, I’m definitely bringing Hoss along.  If they feed him as much as they feed me around here, he’ll be in hog heaven!”

“Sure, and then he’ll never want to come home, and Hop Sing will quit and the rest of us will starve, and it will be all your fault!” Ben joked. 

“You never know, Pa.  I haven’t tried the girls’ cooking yet.  It might be so bad we’ll go running back to the Ponderosa bowing at Hop Sing’s feet,” he giggled.  “Maybe I should avoid the risk and tell them I’m not hungry when they get here.”

Ben shook his head fondly.  “Now, son, it might be very good and you can’t hurt the young ladies’ feelings by not even trying what they bring.”

“I know,” Joe agreed.  “Besides, if I make ‘em mad, how am I going to talk one of them into sticking around this evening and feeding me those grapes?”

“Why you!”  Ben snatched a pillow off of Joe’s bed and playfully smacked him with it, sending his son into another round of giggles.

“Hey!  Quit beating up my patient.  Are you trying to make more work for me?”  The Cartwrights looked up to see the smiling face of Dr. Rogers regarding them from the doorway.

“Afternoon, Doc,” Joe greeted.  “Pa and me were just messing around.  Come on in.”

The physician came the rest of the way in and took a seat in a chair he pulled up to the bed. “I knocked but nobody heard me,” he said amiably.  “It sounds like you’re feeling a lot better today, Joe.”

“Sure am,” Joe said eagerly.  “In fact, I wanted to get up this morning but Pa made me stay in bed.  Do you think I can maybe get up tomorrow?”

The doctor laughed.  “Well, maybe you’d better let me examine you first, then we’ll see.”

It seemed to Joe that this examination took twice as long as any of the prior ones.  Dr. Rogers carefully listened to his heart and lungs and took long contemplative looks into his ears, nose and throat, poked him, prodded him, asked him questions and sometimes repeated them in a different way.  Joe bit back several protests and impatient comments, not wanting to jeopardize his chances at gaining what he had begun to view as early parole from his cushioned prison.  At last, the doctor was finished, and Joe impatiently demanded, “Well?”

“I know you want me to say that you’re cured and you’re free to go about your business,” Dr. Rogers said solemnly.  “But you still have a trace of temperature and some congestion in your lungs and I can tell both from what you’ve told me and my own observations that you’re still fatigued and are still experiencing body aches.  Now, granted you are making a faster recovery than I expected given your condition a few days ago and your symptoms are quite a bit weaker than they were yesterday, but you still have them.  I don’t think I’ll need to come back and see you again but I suggest that you spend the rest of today and all of tomorrow in bed, keep drinking lots of fluids, eat regularly and sleep as much as you can.  After that, barring any unforeseen complications or relapses, you’re a free man.”

“Day after tomorrow is the best I can do?” Joe confirmed, a note of pleading evident in his voice.  The doctor nodded sympathetically.  “Can I at least wander around the room a little; maybe sit up by the fireplace or something?”

“I suppose we can compromise a little.  You stay in bed today and tonight, and I’ll give you permission to move around the room and try out all the chairs tomorrow.  One thing, though.” Rogers pointed a finger at his patient and speared him with a warning look.  “If you start feeling the least bit worn out, take a nap.  There’s nobody to impress by toughing it out and staying up when you need to rest.  You’ll just prolong your own discomfort that way.”

Much as he hated to give in to even one more day of being sick, Joe reluctantly agreed, knowing that he’d be much more likely to get out from under Pa’s watchful eye in the days following if he obeyed orders now.   “Yes, sir.”

“Good,” the doctor said, packing away his instruments in preparation to depart.  “It was good knowing you, gentlemen.  If I don’t see you again before you leave, then have a pleasant remainder of your stay in Sacramento and a good trip home.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Ben said, shaking his hand cordially.  “We’re in your debt for all you’ve done for Joseph.”

Joe managed a genuine smile for the doctor.  He was disappointed at not gaining his freedom right away, but he really was grateful for all the man had done to help him and knew Dr. Rogers was only looking out for his well being.  “Thanks a lot, Doc.”

Doctor Rogers gave both Cartwrights a friendly nod and took his leave.



Chapter 9

There was a small commotion in the hallway as the doctor departed and Matthew greeted him then came inside Joe’s room.  “Hi there,” he said.  “Mind if I come in for a minute?”

Joe grinned.  He was always happy to see this particular visitor.  “Come on in, Matthew.  I wasn’t expecting to see you today, but I’m glad you’re here.”  As his friend came the rest of the way into the room, Joe could see that he was dressed in his waiter’s uniform of crisp white shirt, black pants and vest and string tie, rather than the more casual pants and rolled cuff shirt he had become used to seeing. “I see you’ve been paroled from Floor #2.  Going back to work?”

Matthew tugged his vest into place.  “Yep!  Clara figured I’d spent enough time sitting around here and ordered me to start earnin’ my keep again.  I just figured I’d let you know so you wouldn’t think I was running out on you.”

"Mrs. Hill and her grandkids were here just a while ago and she told me the Doc had cleared all of you to return to normal life again,” Joe told him.  “I got one more day tacked onto my stay, though.  Doc says I can’t get up for good until day after tomorrow.”

Matthew’s face turned sympathetic.  “Sorry to hear that.  I figured you for the get up and go type, so I can imagine that news didn’t sit too well, did it?”

Joe exchanged a glance with his father.  “Guess you’ve gotten to know me pretty well.  I figured since the Hill kids are going to be allowed up tomorrow, I would be too, but no such luck.”

“Well, what’s one more day?” Matthew said philosophically.  “It’ll give you a chance to figure out who you’re gonna ask to go with you to the Governor’s Ball on Saturday night.”

“The what?”  This was the first Joe had heard of any such event and it was obvious from his father’s expression that he did not know anything about it either. 

Matthew made a face and knocked the heel of his hand against his temple.  “Now you know why waiters write everything down on little sheets of paper.  It’s because we can’t remember squat without something to remind us!”  He felt in his pockets and pulled out a pair of cards on heavy paper with an official looking seal on it and handed it to Ben.  “These are for the two of you.  I ran into Clara and the kids on their way back to their suite a while ago and she asked me to give them to you because she forgot, and here I almost did too!”

Ben broke the seal on the paper Matthew handed him and opened his card.  Joe was given one as well, but waited for his father. “Read it out loud, Pa.”

“To Mister Ben Cartwright,” he began .  “The pleasure of your company is requested at the Palace Hotel’s first annual Governor’s Ball, Saturday evening, September 15th at 7:00 p.m. in the Main Hall.  Dress: Formal. Guest: Welcome.  It looks like we’ve been invited to a party, son.”

“It’s expected to be quite the social event,” Matthew told them, mimicking an upper crust accent and tipping his nose into the air, making the two other men laugh.  Joe popped open the seal on his own invitation and read the words over again silently.  He looked up with interest when Matthew added, “The Governor is evidently an old friend of Clara’s and he wanted to have the party here both to promote the hotel for her and to impress all the rich folks who are invited to come.  She invited all of us who helped take care of you and the kids to come, and she especially wants you as a special guest, Joe.”

Joe’s eyes sparkled with interest.  “Sounds like fun, Pa.  What do you think?”

Ben nodded thoughtfully.  “Well, I don’t know about you, but I didn’t bring any formal clothing with me to Sacramento.  I don’t see that being a real problem, though.  Today is Wednesday, so you’ll be off your bed rest restriction by Friday morning.  That’ll give us plenty of time to go out and buy something suitable to wear for the occasion if you’re sure you’d like to go.”

“Would I!”  Joe enthused.  “It sounds like it’ll be great!  Frankly, though, I don’t care if it turns out to be the stuffiest, most boring party I’ve ever been to.  I just can’t wait to get out of here and have something to do again.”

Matthew smiled at his enthusiasm.  “I wouldn’t worry too much about things being dull.  I can tell you from my experience working them that this hotel puts on a great shindig.  This’ll be my first time attending as a guest and I’m really looking forward to a good time, so I’m sure you’ll fit right in.  Now, about my earlier question, do you have any ideas who you’re going to ask?”  He grinned and whispered conspiratorially, “I’ve heard tell that both Miss Connie and Miss Susan have got their caps set for you, so you may want to give it some thought before they get here.”

 “Susan?” Joe asked incredulously.  “But I only met her once! I wouldn’t exactly say I was at my best that day, either.  First, I startled her by busting in on her, then I could barely get a single sentence out, and then I practically hacked out a lung into her lap.  What could she possibly have seen in me?”

Ben chuckled and raised a sardonic eyebrow.  “Oh, I’d imagine she saw the same things the girls always see in you.”  He reached out and flicked one of his son’s chestnut curls.  “I’ve seen the way the young ladies in Virginia City can’t seem to keep their hands out of your hair and the way they fight over those big green eyes of yours.  Add a dose of your natural boyish charm and a few pitiful sniffles and coughs to the mix and I’ll bet that poor girl didn’t stand a chance.”

Joe blushed, but was unable to hide a smile at his father’s assessment.  He was teasing, but the fact was that he wasn’t too far off the mark and they both knew it.  Even in grade school girls liked to give me the poor baby treatment whenever I had a cold or a little injury, he remembered.  It used to drive the other guys nuts.  It did me too, until I learned to appreciate it.  He tried to shrug off Pa’s opinion.  “Aw, c’mon, Pa. I’m sure Susan is just feeling a little sorry for me because I was so sick.  I think I scared her when I couldn’t quit coughing the other day.  She probably just wants to make sure I’m okay.” 

“Uh, huh,” Matthew said,  “and I’m the President!  If you’d overheard those two young women discussing your finer points the way I did last time I went to visit Clara’s kids, you might just change your mind about that.  Some of it was downright indecent!”  He grinned evilly as Joe’s already red face deepened in color.  “Well, I’ve got to get on to work now.  Try not to break too many hearts before Saturday, all right?”

“See you later, Matthew,” Joe called as his friend left.  He waited until the waiter was fully out of sight before allowing the speculative smile he’d been keeping hidden to surface.  “You know something, Pa?  I don’t think mine is the only potential romance blooming around here.”

Ben looked startled.  “What do you mean?”

Joe tipped his head to one side and crossed his arms over his chest.  “Well, I’m not ready to take a flyer out on it just yet, but I think our friend Matthew has a little something going for Mrs. Hill.”

“Oh, Joe, don’t be ridiculous!”  Ben scoffed.  “He works as an employee in her hotel!  What could possibly make you think he’s interested in her as something other than his boss?”

 Joe sat up straight and crossed his legs under him, supporting his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward, eyes alight.  “Didn’t you notice that he’s suddenly started calling her ‘Clara’ instead of ‘Mrs. Hill’?  He’s been in to see her grandkids several times and he gets a funny look in his eye every time he mentions her.  They are around the same age, Pa, and Mrs. Hill is really swell and really pretty for an old lady.  Why couldn’t he have feelings for her?”

Ben shook his head with a sigh.  “Well, I guess now I know what happens when you’re confined in one place for too long.  You turn into a matchmaker!  Joseph, I agree with you that Mrs. Hill is very kind and lovely woman, though I do take exception to your classifying her as an ‘old lady’.  She’s younger than I am.  However, I think you’re inventing romance where none exists.  Even if you’re correct about how Matthew feels, the chances of his wooing or marrying a woman like Clara are next to nothing.  Even if he didn’t work for her, they’re of two entirely different social and financial classes.”

Joe sighed, disappointed. “Maybe you’re right, Pa, but Mrs. Hill doesn’t seem like the sort of woman who would let something like social position stand in the way of her happiness or her family’s happiness.  Matthew would be a terrific grandfather to Jane and the others and I still think he and Clara Hill would be good together.  They’ve both been alone for a long time and it seems to me they’d be perfect for each other.”

Ben blew out an exasperated breath.  “Joseph, let it be.  We’re only going to be in town a few more days and you really don’t have time to be playing Cupid.”

“Yes, sir,” Joe muttered. He was sure he had seen something in his friend’s face and certainly Mrs. Hill seemed fond of Matthew.  He would not tell Pa, but he was not quite ready to give up on his idea so quickly. 

He was still thinking about it half an hour later when his two female callers arrived with lunch, but Joe easily tore his mind away from the subject of middle-aged romance in favor of kindling a little fire of his own.  He had made another trip to the mirror and washstand to insure that his appearance was as appealing as he could make it under the circumstances. When the young ladies arrived, he was sitting back in his bed, lounging against the pillows like a young king awaiting visitors to his throne.  Ben discreetly melted away, muttering something about going out to get a newspaper, and Joe was left alone with Susan and Connie.  Keeping in mind that neither of them had seen him at his best the last time he had talked with them, Joe flashed his very best lightning bright grin at them.  “Glad to see you again, Ladies.”

Connie sat down in the chair and gave Joe a warm smile, blushing a little as she tried and failed to meet his eyes.  Joe could not figure out why she would react that way to him.  She hadn’t seemed shy around him before in the lobby, but then he marked it up to her having apparently seen him raving with fever.  Who knows what I might have said to her when I was out of my head, he thought a little worriedly.  Her smile seemed genuine enough though and he found that reassuring. 

Susan boldly took a seat on the edge of the bed, facing Joe, and took his hand as she smiled back at him, fluttering her lashes just a tad.  “I’m so glad to see you looking better, Joe,” she said sweetly.  “I’ve been worrying about you just terribly since I heard how ill you’d become.  I’ll never forgive myself for not insisting that you see Doctor Rogers that last day.”

Joe nearly rolled his eyes at her vapid delivery.  He had not expected the friendly and seemingly sensible young woman he had encountered changing the linens that day to sound so terribly phony in normal conversation.  “Well, as I recall, you tried your best.  I’m just a little stubborn about things like that sometimes,” he admitted, keeping his tone light in hopes that she would take the hint and tone it down a trifle.  Instead, she became still more vacuous, and proceeded to prattle and gush for a solid ten minutes about how concerned she had been, and how much of a weight it was off her mind to know he didn’t hold her to blame, and how she had not been able to stop thinking of him, and on and on, until Joe thought his eardrums would break from the pressure building in his head.  

 Connie opened her mouth from time to time, trying to interject a comment, but the other girl seemed to have developed some sort of circular breathing technique because she never seemed to run out of air long enough to shut up.  Joe could practically feel the glaze passing over his eyes as he listened to the lilting rise and fall of Susan’s voice and followed the motion of her hands as they waved back and forth almost hypnotically.  He finally snapped out of it as he realized he had been asked a question and was simply sitting there, gaping into the sudden silence.  He blinked a couple of times and looked from one expectant face to the other, embarrassed that he did not have the slightest idea what the question had been or which of them had asked it.  “I’m sorry, would you say that again?”

Joe saw Connie put a hand in front of her mouth and could tell by the way her green eyes were dancing that she knew exactly what had happened.  He permitted his own laughter to shine back to her and they needed no conversation to share the joke.  Susan was completely oblivious to their exchange.  She happily repeated her question.  “I said that Mrs. Hill had personally invited us both to the Governor’s Ball this weekend and that I’d heard you were invited too.  I asked if you were bringing anyone with you.”

 “Oh,” he said, wondering suddenly how he was going to get out of issuing the invitation Susan was obviously fishing for without seeming rude.  He had already made up his mind to ask Connie, but he could hardly do it right there in front of the other girl without hurting her feelings.  “Actually, I only just found out about it a little while ago from Matthew.  I still have to convince my Pa that I’m well enough to go before I start worrying about escorting anyone.”  Okay, so that’s a lie.  At least it doesn’t hurt anybody’s feelings.  The girls were both clearly disappointed, but he could see that they were buying his explanation.

“We brought you something to eat, as kind of a get well present,” Connie said, changing the subject before her companion could begin angling for a possible invitation in case Joe should decide to go to the party.  She seemed a great deal more at ease around him now that her friend had so thoroughly broken the ice. “There’s lots, so I hope you’re hungry.”

“Actually, I am pretty hungry,” Joe said truthfully, smiling at both young ladies as they eagerly began pulling things out of the two small baskets they had brought with them.  “Pa made me eat oatmeal for breakfast.  I hate oatmeal.”  He made a face, even though his breakfast had actually been very tasty once it was doctored up with all the additives he had requested, and the girls appropriately cooed in sympathy.

Joe dutifully sampled everything his callers had brought him, from egg salad sandwiches to strawberry tarts, until he felt sure he would burst if he ate anymore and had to wave them off.  Privately, he had to admit to himself that Susan was a much better cook than Connie was; but unlike his brother, Hoss, Joe’s heart was not ruled by his stomach.  He was in no way swayed from his original choice of escort for the dance. 

“Are you sure you’ve had enough?” Connie asked, making a questioning gesture at the chocolate cake from her basket. 

Joe blew out a breath and laughed.  “Trust me, I’ve had plenty.  If I was wearing pants, I’d have popped a button or two for sure by now.”  The words shot out of his mouth before it occurred to him that they were perhaps not the most appropriate to use in front of two young ladies. He sank down a little, wishing he could call them back as Susan giggled and shot Connie a significant look.  Joe saw the flush of color that immediately filled Connie’s face as she once more seemed unable to look at him. He wondered again at her reaction.  Why was she suddenly so fidgety around him?  The comment hadn’t been that off color, had it? “Uh, what I meant to say is that I couldn’t hold another bite.”

The girls chatted on a while longer, mostly insignificant things, though Susan could not seem to resist interjecting repeated comments about the upcoming ball. Who would be there, what she would wear, and so on, probably in hopes that Joe would offer to be her date.  Joe did not have much to say, but he enjoyed listening to them, especially now that Connie had started joining in the talk a little more.  His full belly and comfortable bed were beginning to work against his ability to pay attention, however, and soon he surprised all three of them with a huge unexpected yawn. 

“Oh, gosh, I’m sorry,” he apologized.  “It wasn’t the conversation, honest.  I don’t know where that came from.”

“We’d better let you get some rest,” Connie said.  “You seem so much better today that it’s easy to forget that you’re still sick.  We’ll see you soon, okay?”  She hesitated, then kissed his cheek.

Susan did the same and smiled into his eyes.  “I really am glad you’re doing better, Joe,” she said, her affected personality suddenly gone again, allowing him to see the concerned young girl he had first met a week earlier. 

“Thanks Susan,” he said, returning her smile.  He looked to the other girl.  “And thank you for everything, Connie.  You never gave me a chance to say it before, but I’m really grateful for everything you did to help me, even if I can’t remember any of it.”

A peculiar look crossed her face.  A curious half sorry, half relieved look that left Joe even more puzzled and concerned over what might have happened during the blacked out portion of his illness.  “I was glad to do what I could,” she said. “I wish I could have done more.”  Another blush and a different kind of strange expression accompanied her final statement and Susan giggled.  Joe did not know why he suddenly felt embarrassed but he did.

“I’ll see you later,” he said.  When they were almost out the door he suddenly remembered the other thing he had meant to ask and called out, “Susan, wait!”

The girls stopped and Susan shot him an eagerly curious glance.  “Yes?”

“Do you happen to know what happened to my laundry?” he asked her.  It had come to his attention earlier that the bundle he had sent out had never been returned.  “I’ve got some other clothes, but I’d really like to have my other stuff back if you know where it is.”

She pouted a little to show him that he had not asked the question she was hoping to hear, but then nodded.  “I think it’s in the storage room down behind the front desk,” she told him.  “Nobody was allowed to come up here during the last week, so it probably got stored away down there.  Want me to look?”

“My Pa should be down there,” he speculated, knowing perfectly well that his father would likely be perched within eyeshot of the stairs in the lobby below, awaiting the departure of the two girls.  There would be no way to miss them from there.  “If you find it, maybe you could just send it back up with him.”

“Sure, Joe,” she said, smiling at him again.  “You have a good evening, okay?”

“Thanks for coming, girls,” he said.  The urge to nap was coming strong now and by the time Ben arrived a few minutes later, neatly string tied bundle of clean laundry in his arms, Joe was having all he could do to stay awake. 

“Well, did you have a nice visit?” Ben asked, setting the bundle down on the table.

Joe stretched and yawned, then reached behind him, removing some of the pillows from behind his head so that he could lie down.  Ben helped him and straightened the covers around him as Joe murmured, “Uh, huh,” and scooted down into the bed, rolling over onto his right side where he could look at his father.  A sleepy smile crossed his face as he told him,  “That Susan sure can talk.  I think I faded out a couple of times just listening to her.”

Ben chuckled softly.  “Yes, I’ve run into her a couple of times since I arrived and I noticed the same phenomenon.  She seems like a nice enough girl, though.”

“Mmm Hmm, she is,” Joe mumbled.  “I’m not takin’ her to that dance, though.  I’d never make it through a full evening.  I’m gonna ask Connie.”

“Probably a wise choice, “ Ben agreed, smiling to see his boy, who had been so vehement about not needing to stay in bed anymore, right on the verge of a nap in the middle of the afternoon.  He absently began to stroke Joe’s hair and Joe smiled, remembering how much he had wished for this when he first began to feel so miserable.  Even now that he felt almost fine again, it was a very pleasant sensation.

“Hey, Pa?  What time is that rubdown?” Joe asked suddenly.  “I still want to try it, but I feel so sleepy, I don’t know if I could enjoy it.”

“I thought evening would be best, since I didn’t know how long your visitors would be staying today,” Ben replied.  “He’s scheduled to come up here around seven o’clock, I think.  It’s only a little after three now, so you go ahead and have your nap.”

“Okay,” Joe murmured, his eyes already closed.  “Thanks, Pa.”



Chapter 10

A solid three-hour nap did wonders for Joe’s physical and emotional well being.  He could admit to himself, now that it was over, that he had badly needed the extra sleep.  Between his emotional upheavals of the morning and his endless string of visitors in the afternoon, he had been feeling pretty frazzled.  He would never say so to Pa, but physically he just had not been up to the challenge.  Now, though, he felt revitalized and more than a little curious about his upcoming massage.  He had been given a few rubdowns in the past, when he had overstrained his muscles working on the Ponderosa and one of his family members had been kind enough to work out the kinks for him, but he figured this would be a little different.

Pa had gone back to his own room, Joe remembered.  He had dimly heard him say that he was going back to his room to catch a little nap of his own and maybe go out for a while in the evening.  Joe was glad.  Pa hasn’t been looking too good lately. Too much time spent worrying about me, I guess.  Glad he’s not gonna stick around and watch the rubdown too.  That’d be about as exciting for him as watching grass grow.  He had been rather surprised when he realized that his father was not sharing the large suite, but had taken one of the regular smaller rooms down the hall.  When he had asked about it, Pa had simply told him that he thought Joe deserved a little privacy and then had teased him about not wanting to be kept awake all night listening to the snoring Joe’s sinus congestion was causing.  Either way, Joe hoped his father was getting a good restful sleep.

Joe glanced at the clock on the mantle.  6:30.  I suppose I should get ready for the guy to show up, he thought, looking around the room.  But how exactly does somebody prepare to get a massage?  I don’t even know if I’m supposed to lie on the bed or the floor or what?  Lacking anyone to ask, he got up from the bed and neatly remade it.  Okay, that used up ten minutes.  Now what?  He spotted the bundle of clean laundry sitting on the table and unwrapped it.  He was glad to see everything clean and fresh and mud free again, especially his beloved green jacket, which was laid right on top.  He sorted through the items, then got dressed in a pair of pants and a loose shirt, which he did not bother to tuck in or roll the sleeves, or even button past the bottom three holes.  If the masseur used oil and things as Pa had suggested he might, then chances were he’d be making Joe take his shirt off anyway.  Joe ran his hands through his hair, trying to decide if there was anything else he should be doing, when a solid knock came from the door.  It was seven o’clock, right on the dot.

Joe opened the door and felt his eyes going wide.  The young man standing in the hallway, balancing a basket of towels and bottles on one arm and a funny looking folding table under the other, was easily as big as Hoss and fairly bulging with muscles.  Joe gulped hard.  This guy could snap me in half like a dry twig and I’m supposed to voluntarily let him get his hands on me?  “Uh…h…hi,” he stammered.  “I guess you must be the masseur, right?”  

 The man smiled and readjusted the basket to reach out a hand for Joe to shake.  “That’s right, my name is Frank Capitani.  You’re Joe Cartwright?”

Joe nodded and shook the proffered hand, trying to ignore the fact that his hand was fairly swallowed up in Frank’s huge paw.  After growing up with Hoss, he was not nearly as skittish around large men as some would have been, but he still could not help feeling a little nervous.  “Come on in,” he offered, backing out of the way so that Frank could get through the doorway with his burdens.  He eyed the table, with its detached legs strapped to the bottom of it by some kind of harness, with curiosity. “What kind of table is that?”

Frank was efficiently setting up the removable legs on the table and fastening the bolts that held them in place.  “It’s a massage table,” he said matter of factly.  “I made it myself.  See, it’s got padding on the upper surface and a removable headrest for the client’s comfort, and it’s solid and the perfect height to allow me comfortable access to the client.”

Interested, Joe came closer for a better look.  “That’s really neat,” he said.  He knew his brother Adam would have greatly admired the design and the simple efficiency of it.  “So, I’m supposed to get up and lay face down on it?”

“Either face up or face down, depending on which areas you need me to work on,” the man told him.  “Is there any particular area that’s been bothering you?”

Joe thought it over.  “I assume someone told you that I’ve been down with influenza for a week?”  Frank indicated, yes.  “Well, before that I’d just come off a two week cattle drive, so everything on me was pretty much hurting already. After I started feeling better from being sick, I noticed that my arms and legs hurt even more than before and my neck and lower back are really sore.”

“I figured as much,” Frank told him.  “I’ve had influenza before, and I remember all the fatigue and aches and pains that go with it.  Your neck and back are probably sore from having to stay in bed with no exercise as well. Fortunately, I think we can get you feeling better in no time.”  He smiled again in his friendly way and Joe responded in kind.  “If you want to go get undressed and jump on up, we’ll get started.”

Joe’s smile vanished, his easing nervousness jumping back up into full life again.  “Uh, I was wondering about that.  I’ve never had one of these before, so, um, just how ‘undressed’ am I supposed to get?”

An understanding grin lit the masseur’s face.  “Only as much as you’re comfortable with.  For my part, the fewer clothes you wear the easier my job becomes.  Some folks are perfectly fine with no clothes at all, while most just wrap up in a towel or a loose robe, but if you’d rather just take off your shirt and leave your pants on, that’s okay too.  It’s entirely up to you. The whole point of a massage is to relax you and if you’re tensing all the way through it, you really shouldn’t bother having one at all.”  He held up his right hand.  “I promise I won’t touch you anywhere you’re not comfortable with.”

Joe smiled sheepishly, realizing he must have had panic etched across his face.  “I’ll be right back.”  He went into the bathroom and closed the door, taking off his shirt.  Then, after a moment’s hesitation, he also removed his pants and wrapped a towel around his waist, holding it securely in place with his right hand.  He felt ridiculously exposed as he walked slowly back out to the bedroom, but there was no point in acting shy at this point, so he boldly hopped up onto the table and sat there swinging his legs as he awaited further instructions.

“Ready?” Frank asked.  Joe nodded warily.  “I’m going to start with your arms and shoulders, so if you want to just lie down on your back, that would be fine.”

Taking a deep breath, Joe complied.  He watched as the masseur measured a small pool of liquid into his palm and rubbed his hands together, then picked up Joe’s right arm and set his wrist up on one brawny shoulder as he began smoothing the oil over the limb from Joe’s forearm, clear to his shoulder.  It felt warm and smelled nice going on and Joe made a small surprised noise in his throat as Frank’s fingertips glided over the knotted muscles in his biceps and triceps.  The muscles twitched slightly as they loosened and Joe began to relax.  Frank worked for several minutes, kneading and rubbing so gently that his hands could barely be felt, then he moved over to the opposite side and did the same with Joe’s other arm.  By the time he went to stand at the head of the table and began to massage the rigid trapezius muscles between Joe’s shoulders and neck, his client had closed his eyes and was thoroughly enjoying the experience.  Frank’s expert hands gripped and manipulated the tightly bunched tissues and seemed to smooth them out into putty like consistency and Joe could feel little spears of sensation, rather like tickling, running all the way down his torso. 

“Mmm, that feels great,” Joe muttered as the man’s strong fingers pushed across his collarbone and a few inches down his chest, while his thumbs simultaneously pushed up against the tense cords in Joe’s neck.  There was no answer from Frank, but Joe really hadn’t expected one.  He sighed contentedly when the hands slid up to the sides of his head and the thumbs began to softly massage his temples while the fingers rubbed carefully against the base of his skull and down to give further attention to his neck.  The low level headache which had been so persistent over the last several days that he had almost ceased to notice it slowly faded away under Frank’s careful touch.  The relief of its absence was incredible and Joe's entire body relaxed even further as released a long breath.  His eyes were still closed so he did not see the satisfied smile that flitted over the masseur’s face at his reaction.  Frank worked for just a short while longer on his head and neck, making sure the muscles were not going to tense back up then moved away.  Joe opened his eyes to look at Frank as the masseur moved down to begin working the soreness out of his legs. 

Frank poured more of the fragrant oil into his hands and began working it into the muscles of Joe’s legs, working his way down toward the feet a few inches at a time.  Joe angled one of his arms behind his head to prop it up for a better look. It bothered him a little to have a man rubbing his thighs clear up to the hip joints, but at this point he had pretty much given up all thought of objecting to anything.  It was obvious that Frank knew exactly what he was doing and he had kept his promise not to touch anywhere too personal so Joe was content to let him do his job.  “How did you ever wind up doing this for a living anyway?” he asked curiously.

Frank glanced up at him and grinned.  “Put your head down.”  Joe smiled and obeyed, closing his eyes again.  Frank was silent a moment, then decided to answer the question. “Everybody asks me that sooner or later.  Massage has been a highly skilled art in Europe since the days of Hippocrates, and my family has been passing the skill down for generations.  There’s been so many doctors in my family that I’ve lost track of them all and I was expected to follow the family tradition, but I can’t stand the sight of blood, so that plan didn’t last too long.”  He kept working as he talked, lifting and manipulating each leg in turn as he worked the stiffness out of the long muscles.  "My parents immigrated to the United States from Italy before I was born and we just kept moving west year after year until they settled in Arizona.  I was not content to settle, so I kept on moving west and wound up here.  I spent a while as a dockworker and a railroad man and many other things, then one day I found myself working at a charity hospital. There was a fellow in that hospital who had been crippled in an accident and my massage techniques relieved his pain better than any of the medication they had available.” 

Frank had begun working on Joe’s feet as he told his story and he stopped when Joe suddenly flinched, jerking up onto his elbows with a startled gasp.  He shot his client a questioning look and Joe told him,  “I’m not sure what you just did, but when you touched my foot, I felt it clear up my leg and into my spine.” 

“What kind of feeling was it? Describe it for me.” Frank ordered.

Joe thought.  “Uh, kind of tingly, I guess.  It didn’t hurt exactly, but it sure did feel weird.”

Frank resumed his massage, watching Joe’s face carefully for reaction as he repeated what he had been doing a moment before.  Sure enough, when he hit a certain spot, Joe flinched again.  “I think something must be out of alignment in your back,” Frank said, nodding as if Joe had just confirmed something he had already suspected.  “I’ll bet it’s been bothering you since your cattle drive, hasn’t it?”

Surprised, Joe nodded.  “It wasn’t too bad, but I figured all that time in the saddle must have jarred my spine out of whack. I thought it was fine, though.”

“Well, obviously it isn’t.  At least not completely,” Frank said cheerfully.  “Roll over onto your stomach and I’ll see what I can do.”

Joe complied, nearly losing his towel in the process.  He grabbed it just as the knot gave way and it began to slide off as he twisted his body over to lay face down.  Frank politely sifted through the lotions in his basket and pretended not to notice as Joe tugged the cloth back into a more modest position.  Joe suddenly realized how ridiculously prim he was acting around a man who had likely seen nearly as many unclothed bodies as any doctor and smiled as he folded his arms under his head and said, “Tell me the rest of your story.  You did some massage at the charity hospital, and…”

Frank smiled and poured some oil onto Joe’s back, kneading it in as he continued.  “And that man was so grateful, he told another man what I had done, and that man got me a job giving massages at a gentlemen’s club, which in turn led my recommendation to the owner of this hotel when word got out that they were looking to employ a masseur full time.  The Palace is the only hotel that I know of to have one, so I wasn’t sure how much work I’d get, but in the four months I’ve been here, I’ve worked pretty regularly.  When there isn’t any massage work waiting, I also play the part of maintenance man and generally just provide a strong arm when needed.”

Though he was still listening, Joe’s attention kept wandering away from Frank’s words to the absolutely magical feeling of his hands as they traced up and down his spine, seeking out tension and pain and then kneading it out wherever they found it.  He could not help the occasional grunts and moans that he gave as the accumulated stiffness and soreness of weeks drifted away from him, leaving him as boneless and contented as a pussycat.  “That feels incredible,” he mumbled softly.  “Do you suppose I could teach my brother to do this for me when I get back home?”

Frank chuckled.  “Well, all it takes is strong hands, a careful touch and know-how,” he said.  “And naturally, he’d have to be willing to do it for free, unless you’re planning on paying him.”

Joe waved a languid hand.  “Aw, Hoss’ll do anything for me, and he’s definitely got those other things.  Well, not the know-how maybe, but the rest of it.  He’s a big guy, like you, really strong but really gentle at the same time.”

“Then I’m sure he’d probably give a good massage once he knew what to do,” Frank said.  He was sliding his hands up Joe’s shoulder blades, out to his shoulders and circling back down to his lower back then beginning again in ever more firm strokes and Joe was practically purring under his ministrations. “What kind of a name is Hoss anyway?”

“Huh?” Joe muttered, dragging his mind away from his body and back to the conversation.  “Oh, it’s just a nickname.  His real name is Eric, but Hoss is some kinda hill folk word for a big friendly fella and everybody’s called him that since he was just a little kid.  I’ve never called him anything else.”

“I like it,” Frank declared.  “I wouldn’t have minded being called that instead of my real name when I was growing up.”

Joe frowned slightly and craned his head to where he could see the man’s face.  “What’s wrong with Frank?”

The masseur made a face.  “It’s short for Francis, that’s what’s wrong with it.  Imagine hearing your parents calling for you to come in and eat and having every other child around hearing you called ‘Francis’!  If I hadn’t grown so big and made everyone afraid to mess with me, I probably wouldn’t have ever gotten past that.”

Joe began to laugh.  “I don’t have to imagine what it was like.  My middle name is Francis and every time I got into trouble, you could hear my Pa bellowing, ‘Joseph Francis Cartwright’, for miles in every direction.”  The masseur joined in his laughter and they grinned at each other, feeling a bond of kindred spirit flashing between them.

Frank glanced at the mantle clock.  “Looks like your time is up, Joe.  I recommend you just dress warmly and lie around for a while tonight.  That will keep your muscles relaxed and warm and help them not to tighten up again right away.”

Joe heaved a sigh of regret.  He had really enjoyed this massage and was sorry to see it come to an end.  Carefully grabbing hold of his towel, he slid off the massage table and rolled his head back, listening to the crunching of his newly aligned vertebrae.  “Thanks a lot, Frank,” he said gratefully. 

Frank began to gather up his supplies and dismantle his table as Joe slipped into his toweling robe and sat down on his bed to watch.  “Are you going home right away or sticking around for that big ball on Saturday night?” Frank asked conversationally.  “Everyone in the hotel seems to be talking about nothing else since it was announced.”

“I’m going,” Joe confirmed.  “I’ve got a problem, though.  I’ve decided to ask Connie Bryant to be my date and I’m not sure how I’m going to do it without hurting another girl’s feelings.  She was hinting pretty obviously that she’d like to go with me earlier, but I want to take Connie.”

“Connie’s a nice girl,” Frank said with a smile.  “Not my type, but very nice.”

Joe grinned.  “Not your type, huh?  Who would you ask if you were in my place?”

A wistful expression darkened Frank’s bright face.  “Have you happened to meet a girl who works here named Susan O’Rourke?”

Joe’s eyebrow rose, an interested light filling his eyes.  “I’m not sure.  Is that the same Susan who works as a Chamber Maid on this floor?”  Frank nodded, looking positively lovesick, and Joe mentally rubbed his hands together in glee.  “Yeah, we’ve met.  She seems very nice too.  If you like her so much, why don’t you ask her to go with you to the ball?”

Frank lifted his table up onto one end and rested one arm and his chin on it as he looked at Joe.  “If I was going, I might, but the ball is by invitation only and I haven’t been invited.”  He shrugged one massive shoulder and lowered his gaze.  “Besides, I’m not sure I’d ever have the nerve to ask her.  She always seems so full of life and energy and I get tongue-tied around her.”

Perfect, Joe thought wryly.  He’s too shy to talk to her and she never shuts up; they’re a match made in Heaven.   “Tell you what, Frank,” he said out loud.  “If I can get you invited to the ball, do you think you could work up the nerve to ask Susan tomorrow?”

Frank looked surprised, but saw the earnestness in his new friend’s expression.  A suspicious look crossed his face.  “Susan wouldn’t happen to be the girl you’re trying to get out of asking, would she?”

Joe’s face gave away the truth before he could manufacture a polite lie, so he reluctantly nodded.  “It’s not that I don’t like her or anything,” he explained.  “But like you said about you and Connie, Susan just isn’t my type.  She just felt sorry for me because she saw me all sick and miserable the other day and now she thinks she’s attracted to me, I think.  What do you say, Frank?  If you’ve got something formal enough to wear to a thing like this, I’m pretty sure I can beg another invitation from Mrs. Hill.” 

Like many before him, Frank Capitani was having a hard time resisting the power of Little Joe Cartwright in full wheedling mode, especially since he was being offered a chance to do what he wanted to do anyway.  “Okay, I guess if you can get me invited, I can work up enough guts to ask Susan.  Oh, and I’ve got a suit.  It’s not as fancy as some of those people will be wearing, but it’ll do.”

Joe flashed his best mega-watt smile.  “Great!”  They shook hands again and Joe showed Frank out.  Alone again, he flopped down across the foot of his bed and grinned at the ceiling.  It hadn’t started out very well, but this trip was turning out to be a very interesting experience.  Adam had once accused his little brother of being a romantic at heart and Joe had denied the title in annoyance, but he could admit to himself that it was probably true.  Not that he was ready to shove anybody toward the altar just yet, but romance certainly seemed to be peeking at him around every corner all of a sudden.  “Hang onto your hats, folks,” he muttered.  The delighted cackle that bubbled up to Joe’s lips and spilled out into the cool evening air would have made his father instantly suspicious, but there was no one around to hear it, so Joe was free to formulate his plans in peace.



Chapter 11

Thursday, Joe woke up already counting down the minutes to his freedom, keenly aware that his enforced rest was almost at an end.  He had gone to bed the night before just an hour or so after his massage, wanting to think some more on his plans and sure he would be awake the entire night to do so after his long afternoon nap.  However, he had not counted on feeling so very relaxed after his session with Frank and had dropped off almost immediately, sleeping soundly and restfully all night long and far into the morning.  It had been the sunshine pouring in through the east window that had finally awakened him.  For a moment, he wondered if he had forgotten to close the curtains again, but no, he recalled making certain they were shut tightly when he had been told to get undressed for the massage.  I suppose Pa probably came in to check on me earlier and opened them for me, he thought with a shake of his head.  Pa never could seem to give up the habit of checking on his boys at least once per night, and Joe knew he would have almost certainly been disturbed by anyone else entering his room.  He was so used to Pa’s visits, that he often did not register it when he heard the familiar tromp of his boots.

Joe felt terrific this morning.  He jumped out of bed feeling energized, healthy and extremely hungry.  The bright sunshine and the clear blue sky outside were beautiful and he wanted nothing more than to be out in the fresh clean air.  He happily went about his morning clean up and got dressed in his black boots and the new black jeans and dark green shirt he had bought along with his duster the day he had gone shopping.  He smiled as he studied his reflection in the mirror.  Yesterday’s frightening apparition was long gone.  His usual tan had paled a bit after spending over a week indoors but he was rosy cheeked from sleep and scrubbing and his eyes had regained their natural sparkle and luster.  The color of his new shirt suited him very well and when he grinned at himself, he knew that he looked handsome enough to break hearts or win them.  There was no true vanity in the observation.  It was simply a fact, but Joe was not above using his good looks and charm to get what he wanted.  His first objective today was convincing his father that he was well enough to ignore the doctor’s final order of one last day of restriction and get back into life again. 

Birds were chirping outside when Joe emerged from the bathroom and he threw his window open wide and took a long deep breath of the wonderful crisp autumn air and shouted, “Good Morning, World!”

“Good Morning, yourself,” a voice answered.  Joe looked down to the street and spotted Frank and another man carting a large wooden case out of the back of a delivery wagon.  He grinned and waved.  Frank called up, “How do you feel this morning?”

“Never better,” Joe said, leaning out and resting his elbows on the windowsill.  “You do good work, Frank.  Speaking of which, what are you doing?”

“It’s a delivery of champagne and other wines for the party Saturday night,” Frank told him.  “I told you I’m also the muscle around here!  Hey, you got my invitation yet?” He gestured his fingers toward his open palm as though asking for money and grinned.

Joe laughed.  “Hey, give me a chance!  I haven’t even seen another human being this morning until you.  I’ve gotta get out of here and talk to Mrs. Hill first.”

“Come on, will you?” The man with Frank complained, shifting his half of the box impatiently.  “This thing is heavy and I ain’t got all day to stand around while you two have a chat!”

“All right, all right,” Frank answered good-naturedly.  “I’ll see you later, Joe.”

“See you,” Joe said.  As he pulled his head back inside he heard the unwelcome sound of a throat being determinedly cleared.  Slowly, he turned around and smiled winningly at his father, who was watching him with crossed arms and an exaggerated look of patience on his face.  “Oh, hi, Pa.  I didn’t hear you come in.”

“No, you were too busy shouting out the window for the entire neighborhood to hear,” Ben observed.  “What was that about getting out to talk to Mrs. Hill?  You know the doctor ordered you to stay here today.”

“But I feel great today, Pa,” Joe begged.  “Can’t I get out of here a little early?  You know how cautious doctors always are.  They want to order you to stay in bed and rest if you get a paper cut!”

“Joseph, I know you’re feeling better and you’re restless,” Ben began.

Joe pounced on the opening, interrupting his father. “That’s right, I am.  I feel just fine and you know I’m only gonna spend the entire day pacing and fretting if you make me stay in here.  How is that going to help me?  It’s a beautiful day, Pa.  Don’t you think being out in the fresh air and sunshine would be better for me than moping around the hotel?”  He unabashedly used every ounce of persuasive power in his body to emphasize the pleading in his voice and he could sense his father weakening.  He turned his wheedling up a notch. “We wouldn’t have to do anything taxing.  We could just go for a walk or for a ride or something.  Please, Pa?  I’m going to go crazy locked up in here.”

Pity and understanding filled Ben’s dark eyes as he studied his son, searching for any sign of unadmitted weakness.  He glanced around the room and nodded.  It was an enormous space for a mere bedroom but it had become Joe’s whole world for an entire week and he could understand how confining it must seem.  “All right, Joe.  Mrs. Hill mentioned to me yesterday that she was planning on taking the children on a carriage ride around the city this afternoon and she asked if we’d like to come along.  I told her you wouldn’t be going out today, but I’m sure she won’t mind if we change our minds.  That way you can talk to her about whatever you were shouting about just now. Would that suit you all right?”

“That’d be perfect!” Joe enthused.  In truth, he would have been happy to go anywhere other than where he was by this time, but this way he would be able to ask Mrs. Hill about the invitation for Frank and maybe also have a little time to plant a few hints about Matthew.  “I promised Frank I’d try to get him into the Governor’s Ball.  That’s who I was talking to outside just now,” he told his father.

“The Governor?” Ben asked, a smile teasing at one corner of his mouth. “I didn’t realize you knew him, son.”

Joe rolled his eyes and laughed.  “No, not the Governor, Frank!  He’s the hotel masseur. We got to talking last night and I sort of promised to get him invited to the party so that he can ask Susan to be his date and I’ll be free to ask Connie to be mine.”  Ben looked a bit confused, so Joe explained further.  “Frank has a big crush on Susan, but he’s too shy to ask her out on his own.  Susan wants me to take her to the ball and I don’t want to, but Frank does want to, so I’m going to get him invited and solve both our problems.”

Ben chuckled, his head leaning to one side as he looked at Joe with a fond sense of wonder.  “I swear, boy, I don’t know how you manage it.  You haven’t left this room in days, and yet somehow you’ve managed to get a free stay, an invitation to one of the biggest social events of the year, made I don’t know how many new friends, got two young ladies vying for your attention and now you’re playing matchmaker for half the hotel!  It’s absolutely amazing!”

Joe grinned.  “Natural talent, Pa.  That’s all it is.  Now, do I get to go downstairs for breakfast or do I have to have it brought up?”

“Let’s go,” Ben said.  “I’ve already eaten, but I’ll keep you company if you like.”

“Okay,” Joe agreed cheerfully.  “We can stop by and tell Mrs. Hill that we’ll be joining her family on our way downstairs.” 

Clara and her family were delighted to hear that Joe and his father would be joining them for their afternoon carriage ride.  The children all wanted to set out right away, but Ben told them Joe had not had anything to eat yet and they reluctantly agreed to wait for him. 

Joe spotted Matthew right away as he and Ben entered the busy dining room.  He caught the waiter’s eye and Matthew gestured to a small table for two in the corner.  The Cartwrights wove through the crowd and sat down to wait.  Matthew was soon by their side, smiling broadly.  “So, you got the Doc to change his mind, eh?”

“Nope,” Joe said smugly.  “I got Pa to change his.  We’re going out for a ride with Mrs. Hill and the kids after I have something to eat.”

“Good for you,” Matthew approved.  “I hope you have a wonderful time, as I’m sure those youngsters will.  So, what would you like this morning?”

“Do you have waffles?” Joe asked, after a moment’s debate.

“We have great waffles,” the waiter declared.  “With whatever you want from fresh fruit to powdered sugar on top and maple syrup on the side.”

Joe grinned.  “I’ll have one with just the syrup and some butter, if that’s all right.  Some sausage and coffee too, please.”

Matthew smiled and jotted down his order.  “How about you, Ben?  Ready for round two?”

Ben patted his middle and laughed.  “No, I think one breakfast per day is more than enough for anyone, unless it happens to be my son, Hoss.  I will take some more of that good coffee, though.”

“Coming right up,” he promised and hurried away.

Ben intercepted the calculating smile his son was shooting toward Matthew’s retreating back and frowned.  “Please, Joseph, tell me you aren’t still thinking of trying to set Mrs. Hill up with Matthew.  Oh, don’t give me that innocent look, either!  I saw the way you brought up Clara’s name at the first possible opportunity.”

“Pa, I was just telling him about our plans for the day,” Joe tried, putting on his best show of wide-eyed guilelessness.  He saw that his father was not buying it and shrugged.  “It worked, didn’t it?  Did you see the way he perked up when I mentioned the Hills?”

“He said he hoped you’d have a good time with them,” Ben reminded him sourly.  “I would hardly define that as the behavior of a man in love.”

“Aw, come on, Pa!  Why are you so down on this idea?” Joe pouted.  “They’d made a great couple. Why shouldn’t I at least find out for sure if they’re interested or not?” 

“Joseph, you know why not,” Ben said sternly.  “We’ve already had this discussion.  Like I told you before, the two of them live in two different circles and it isn’t likely they’ll ever cross those lines.  Besides, it isn’t your place to meddle in the lives of two people you barely know who I’m sure are perfectly capable of deciding their own minds.”

“Maybe you’re right, Pa,” Joe said with a sigh, resting his chin in his hand and looking very dejected.  Ben looked surprised by his easy capitulation, but chose not to comment.  “I guess I just hate the thought of a nice lady like Mrs. Hill spending the evening alone with just a few boring old politicians to talk to.”

Ben smiled at his comment.  “I’m sure she’ll have plenty of nice people to talk to and plenty of offers to dance and have a good time.  As you say, she is a very lovely and interesting woman.” 

Joe suddenly gave him a sly grin.  “Say, if you don’t think Matthew is a good choice for her, why don’t you ask Mrs. Hill to be your date for the ball, Pa?  The two of you seem to be becoming pretty good friends and that way you won’t have to spend the evening running away from a bunch of old widows and spinsters.”

Ben tried to glower, but his dancing eyes gave him away and Joe’s cheeky grin showed perfectly well that he was not fooled by his father’s threatening expression.  “You keep a civil tongue in your head, boy,” Ben warned him.  “Or else, I won’t allow you to go to the party at all.”

“Give it some thought, Pa.  The two of you would probably have a real good time,” Joe advised.  Matthew returned with their coffee and a small plate holding butter and a syrup pitcher.  Joe very pointedly turned away from his father and smiled at Matthew. “What do you think of that, Matthew?  My Pa being Clara Hill’s escort for the Governor’s Ball!”

A fleeting scowl crossed Matthew’s tanned face, almost too quick to register, but Joe’s carefully watching eyes caught it and inwardly he exulted.  A smile quickly replaced it and Matthew said, “I’m sure the two of you will have a real fine time, Ben.  Have you asked her yet?”

Ben frowned at Joe, this time for real.  “No, I have not.  It’s all my son’s idea that I ask her, not mine.  He seems to be unusually worried that Clara will become a wallflower if I don’t do something about it.”  His sarcastic tone was aimed straight at the boy sitting across from him, but Matthew bristled. 

“She’s a fine woman, Ben, and if any man in that room has eyes in his head, she won’t be any danged wallflower!  You should be proud to have the opportunity to be her escort!”  His voice was beginning to rise and people were looking over.  Matthew abruptly shut his mouth and turned on his heel, stalking back toward the kitchen, muttering something about getting Joe’s order and how some people didn’t appreciate what was right in front of them.

Joe cackled and slapped his palms down on the table.  “I knew it!  I knew he had feelings for her!  Thanks a lot for the help, Pa.”

Ben gawked at him in disbelief.  “You did that on purpose!  Joseph, that was a thoroughly cruel and underhanded thing to do to someone whom you supposedly consider to be your friend.”

An uncomfortable expression clouded Joe’s triumph and he squirmed in his chair.  “I wasn’t trying to hurt his feelings.  I just wanted to be sure I was following the right track before I said anything to Mrs. Hill.  I’ll apologize, Pa.”

Before Ben could stop him, Joe jumped out of his chair and followed his friend’s path back to the kitchen.  There was a sign reading ‘Hotel Staff Only’ on the door, but Joe ignored it and barreled right in.  He avoided a pair of servers who shot him a curious glance, but otherwise ignored him, and zeroed in on Matthew.  The old waiter was standing with his back to Joe, his arms pressed rigidly against the countertop.  “Matthew?” Joe said carefully.  “I’m awfully sorry.  I wasn’t trying to upset anybody.  Pa never even thought of asking Mrs. Hill until I suggested it.  He told me to quit trying to play matchmaker and leave you and Mrs. Hill alone, but I thought…well, I thought you and she…oh, shoot, I guess I didn’t think at all.  I just did like I always do and plunged in without considering the consequences.  I’m really sorry, Matthew.”

Matthew listened to Joe’s entire contrite speech without looking at him, but finally he responded to the miserable sound of the young man’s voice and turned around.  He was smiling; a chagrined and unexpectedly understanding smile.  “Well, you didn’t force me to make a fool of myself out there with your Pa.  How did you figure out I was in love with Clara?”

Joe was shocked into momentary speechlessness by the question.  He had not expected to hear his friend actually say the words and he did not know how to respond.  “You are?  I mean, I could see that you liked her.  You just seemed fond of her and then you started using her given name and I just…I don’t know how I knew,” he finished lamely.  “Does she know?”

Matthew shook his head.  “I don’t think so.  I hope not, anyway.”

Joe was puzzled.  “I don’t understand.  Wouldn’t you like to find out whether or not she feels the same way about you?  I’ve got an idea that maybe she does.”

“Joe, love changes a little when you get older,” Matthew explained gently.  “Especially when you’ve had a really special love with someone, and had a family with them and lost them, like Clara and I both did.  You get to be a little afraid of losing those memories if you fall in love with somebody else and as time goes by you start to feel a little less sure of yourself.  I know how I feel about Clara Hill, but I also know just how far apart we are.  She’s one of the wealthiest women in America, Joe, and I’m just a waiter in a hotel that she owns.  You tell me, what can I offer a woman like that?”

“You already told me the answer to that,” Joe reminded him.  “You love her.  She’s wealthy, Matthew, but I don’t think that’s what’s really important to her.  She’s a really sweet, warm, loving lady and I’ll bet that if she didn’t have a dime to her name she’d still be just as wonderful. She needs somebody like you in her life.  They all do, she and the kids both.” 

“That’s pretty easy to say from where you stand,” the man said, regarding him with some doubt.  “You’re just coming into your manhood and you’ve got a lot of years ahead of you.  Everything seems possible when you’re young.”

Desperate to get his point across, Joe grabbed Matthew’s arm as he started to move away.  “I am young, but I’m not that naïve.  My Pa was already a rich and well propertied man when he met my mother.  Not as much as he is now, but enough to have a pretty far reaching reputation.  My Ma was a young widow, a half-Creole woman from what some people considered the wrong side of town.  In the eyes of a lot of people, she wasn’t good enough for Pa, but in Pa’s eyes and my brothers’ and later in mine, she was perfect.  They loved each other, and that was all that mattered.”  Joe dropped his gaze.  It was hard sometimes for him to talk about his most personal feelings, but he wanted to make his friend understand.  “I’ve been accused of being a spoiled rich kid more than a few times.  People who don’t know me just see me as one of those rich Ponderosa Cartwrights and I know some girls have assumed I wouldn’t be interested in them because they don’t have money too, but I don’t look at it like that.  If I loved somebody, I wouldn’t care if she was the poorest girl in town or the richest as long as she loved me too.”

Matthew squeezed his shoulder.  “You make a pretty convincing argument.  I tell you what.  I’m not gonna make any promises, but I’ll go to the ball on Saturday and ask her for a dance.  If I feel the time is right, I’ll talk to her, but that’s all I’m prepared to do right now.”

“Okay,” Joe said reluctantly.  Part of him wanted to see his friend make a bold declaration of his feelings and have everything go like one of those fairy tales he had been reading to Clara’s grandchildren, but his more practical side knew that slower was almost certainly better.  If things didn’t work out, at least he had done his best.  “Will you at least let me feel out Mrs. Hill and find out what she thinks?”

He looked reluctant, but slowly he nodded.  “All right, but try to be a little easier on her than you were on me just now, will you?”

Joe blushed.  “Sorry about that,” he said again.  “I promise I’ll try to be more subtle.”

“Okay.” Matthew put a hand on Joe’s back and turned him around, giving him a little push toward the kitchen door.  “You’d better get out of here before you get me into trouble, now.  I’ll bring your food right out.  And Joe, thanks for caring.”

Joe started out the door, then hesitated, feeling he should say more.  There was nothing more to be said for now, though, so he kept walking.   He went out and took his seat across from Pa. 

“How did it go?” Ben asked.  He still looked a little annoyed, but Joe thought he could see a hint of sympathy for his motives too. 

“He loves her, Pa,” Joe told him quietly.  “He told me so, but he’s afraid to say anything to her for all the reasons you pointed out to me.  I told him I’d try to find out how Mrs. Hill feels without being so intrusive, but the most he would promise to do is ask her for a dance on Saturday night.”

“That’s more than I expected, given what you just did,” Ben said sternly.  “Joseph, when will you ever learn to stop meddling in affairs that don’t concern you?  It just so happens that in this instance you were correct about Matthew’s feelings, but suppose you had been wrong?  You could have seriously embarrassed two very fine people who have been nothing but kind to you and even ruined their working relationship and whatever friendship they’ve managed to develop these last few days.”

Joe sighed and sank down into his chair.  “I know.  I told him I was sorry and he’s not mad, but I just felt that I was doing the right thing.  I hope I didn’t mess it up instead.”

Ben raised his clasped hands to his mouth, regarding his son with disapproval.  “Well, what’s done is done.  You can’t change it, but I hope you’ll mind your own business next time.” 

Joe managed a small grin.  “No promises, Pa.  I still have to ask for that invitation for Frank, but as for asking Susan, he’s on his own.”

“I guess that’s all I can ask for,” Ben concluded.  He glanced toward the kitchen and announced, “Here comes your breakfast.”

Matthew set the plate of sausage and waffles before Joe and refilled his coffee cup.  Joe found he couldn’t look him in the eye as he mumbled, “Thanks.”  The waiter gave him a pat on the shoulder and then went back to work.



Chapter 12

Joe lowered his head and gobbled down his breakfast as fast as he could manage without choking on it.  It was excellent, but he didn’t really enjoy the food as much as he had figured to.  His conscience was kicking in big time now that he had delivered his apology and Pa had finished his scolding.  That happened to Joe sometimes.  He rarely felt guilty over anything until it was all over and done and everyone else had forgiven and forgotten.  He really felt genuinely sorry for having baited and embarrassed his friend and even though Matthew did not seem inclined to hold a grudge, he was not looking forward to seeing him again right away.  Ben did not comment on his son’s eagerness to finish his meal, other than to caution him to slow down once.  He simply sipped his coffee and waited, seemingly unsurprised when Joe pulled out some money, more than enough for his meal and a decent tip and stood up.  Joe drained the last of his coffee and looked expectantly at his father.  Ben finished his own beverage and followed him out without a word.

The two men climbed the carpeted staircase quickly, stopping back at Joe’s room just long enough for him to grab his hat and jacket before heading for the Hill family’s suite.  The children greeted them with enough enthusiasm to belie the fact that they had parted company less than an hour before.  Joe swung his little namesake up into his arms and spun him around a few times then tossed him over to Ben for more of the same while Joe swung Amanda up.  The two small children screamed delightedly, protesting when they were set back down.  Joe saw Jane watching the fun with a wistful expression, probably wishing she was small enough to join in, so he surprised her by scooping her up under her back and knees and twirling her a few times too.  Jane giggled and gave him a hug as he set her gently back down.

“I’ve already arranged for the carriage and it should be waiting for us now. Are we all ready to go?” Clara asked, as she finished pinning her hat in place and checked over the children. They all looked neat and tidy and were bouncing up and down in their eagerness to get moving. 

“Yes, ma’am,” Joe said.  “Could I ask you a favor first, though?”

“Of course,” she answered with a smile. 

“Do you think you could let Frank Capitani off duty on Saturday night and invite him to come to the Governor’s Ball?”  He asked hopefully.  She looked surprised by the request, so he tried to explain.  “Yesterday, when he was doing my massage I found out that he’s really got a bad crush on Susan O’Rourke and I was kind of hoping I could help him out and get them together by giving him a chance to ask her to the party.”

Clara laughed gaily.  “Why, Joe, are you becoming a matchmaker in your spare time?”

“You have no idea,” Ben commented wryly, causing his son to shift uncomfortably in place.

“Well, I need him to help set up for the event,” Clara explained.  She saw Joe’s dejected face and reached up to pat him softly on the cheek. “But I think I can see my way clear to giving him a few hours off to attend.  He isn’t scheduled to be part of the clean up crew anyway, so I don’t see where that would be a problem.  Besides, like all the others, Susan’s invitation included a guest so it isn’t as if there isn’t room for him.  Yes, Joe, I’ll be happy to extend Frank an invitation.”

Joe flashed her a blazing grin.  “You’re one in a million, Mrs. H,” he told her.  “I’m sure Frank will think so too when I tell him.”

She smiled and moved to a large writing desk in one corner of the room.  Pulling open a small drawer, she withdrew the same kind of thick cream colored paper that had been delivered to the Cartwright men the previous day and quickly wrote something on it.  She then sprinkled a little sand to dry the ink and presented the paper to Joe.  He looked inside and saw that it read exactly as his own had, except that Frank’s name was filled into the blank space provided for the guest name.  “Why don’t you just leave this at the front desk for him on the way out,” she suggested.  “I’m sure someone will see that Frank gets it in plenty of time for him to speak to Susan.  In fact, I’m sure Connie will be more than happy to deliver the message.”

She batted her laughing brown eyes innocently and Joe laughed, realizing he was not the only matchmaker around.  “I’ll be sure and do that,” he told her, tipping his hat down low.  He offered Clara his arm.  “Shall we go, ma’am?”

The two families went down together and Clara politely ushered the children off to one side, giving Joe a chance to talk to Connie.  “We’ll meet you in the stables, Joe,” Ben told him. “Try not to take too long.”

“I’ll be right there, Pa,” he promised.  “I want to check on Cochise before we leave, though.  He must be thinking I’ve forgotten all about him by now.”

“All right,” Ben agreed.  “Be sure and introduce him to Joey while you’re at it.  I’ve been listening to that boy and I think he must be nearly as crazy over horses as you were at his age.”

Joe grinned and glanced over at the little boy who was engaged in tugging on his grandmother’s skirt and asking questions, as usual.  “Sure thing, Pa.  I’m sure Cooch would like that too.  I’ll be out in a minute.”

Ben took the hint and departed.  Connie’s pretty face lit up when she spotted Joe approaching the desk and she automatically straightened her blouse and patted her hair as he drew closer.  “Hello, Joe.  I was hoping I might see you today,” she said.  “How are you feeling?”

“Just fine,” he said, leaning his elbow on the desk.  He held out the folded invitation, his eyes shining.  “Would you mind giving this to Frank right away?  Tell him his way is clear to ask Susan to be his date for the Governor’s Ball.”

Happiness and hope filled Connie’s face as she accepted the paper.  “You mean, you aren’t going to ask her yourself?”

“Nope,” he said, then lowered his voice to whisper; “I’m going to ask you.” 

“Oh, Joe, I was hoping you would,” she admitted.  “Susan is my best friend, so I didn’t want to get in the way if you were going to ask her.”

“Trust me, I like Susan just fine, but I have absolutely no interest in dating her,” Joe said sincerely.  “I was more than happy to help set her up with Frank.  I just hope he can work up the nerve to ask her.  I’m gonna feel pretty lousy if she shows up alone.”

“Let me work on her,” Connie suggested.  “If I let Susan know that you’re out of the running and that Frank wants to ask her, I guarantee his shyness won’t stand up against her determination.”  They both laughed, though Connie looked a little guilty at the man-eater image she had given her friend.

“In that case, let me make this official,” Joe said.  He straightened up and took off his hat, sweeping it across his breast and bowing slightly.  “Miss Bryant, will you do me the very great honor of agreeing to be my date for this Saturday’s Governor’s Ball?”

Her green eyes twinkled merrily at his exaggerated courtly manners and she dipped into a shallow curtsy.  “The honor is mine, Mr. Cartwright.  I accept.”  She seemed to be debating with herself, then leaned across the desk and gestured Joe forward.  He complied readily and Connie quickly checked around to see if anyone was watching, then planted a swift kiss on his lips.  “I suppose that was terribly shameless of me, but I’ve wanted to do it since I first saw you,” she admitted, “especially after…”

Joe was confused when she abruptly cut her sentence off, but suspected she was referring to whatever had happened during that frustratingly blank time when he’d been so feverish.  He tried to catch her eye, but like the day before, she suddenly could not meet his gaze. “After what?  Connie, did I do or say something when I was sick that I shouldn’t have?  Is that why you seem so skittish around me?  I mean, one minute you’ll be fine and the next, you can’t even look at me.  What happened?”

He looked and sounded so worried that Connie immediately rushed to reassure him. “You didn’t do anything wrong at all, Joe.  I’m just being silly.  You see, I volunteered to help nurse you when you got so sick and I…I guess I just wasn’t prepared for it.”

“Joe!” A small voice called plaintively.  “Come on!” 

Joe looked over his shoulder and saw Amanda standing a few feet away looking impatient.  Great timing, kid, he thought with a quiet sigh.  For now, he would have to be satisfied with Connie’s non-answer to the mystery of what had gone on between them.  “I’ve got to go,” he told Connie.  “Are you working on Saturday before the party?”

“No, I switched shifts with one of the other clerks,” she told him.  “I’ve got that day off so that I’ll have time to get ready for the ball.”

“Oh, but that won’t take the entire day, will it?” he asked.  She shook her head and he added, “Cause I was thinking we could out for a while Saturday.  On a picnic maybe, or if the weather won’t allow that, I can rent a buggy and we can go for a ride somewhere.  Maybe then, we could talk. What do you say?”

Connie smiled and nodded happily.  “That would be very nice, Joe.  I’m supposed to meet Susan at three o’clock so we can get ready, but I’m free until then.  We could meet here in the lobby.”

“It’s a date,” he told her.  Impatient tugging on the hem of his jacket drew his attention back down to Amanda.  She had obviously had enough of the long moony-eyed stare he had been engaged in with the desk clerk and was having no more of it.  Joe smiled and picked the child up.  “I’ll see you later, Connie.  I have another date to keep right now.”

Connie sighed dramatically, pretending to pout.  “Cut out by another girl already, am I?” She tweaked Amanda’s knee.  “You have a good time and don’t let Joe out of your sight, okay?  He needs looking after.”

The child nodded emphatically and Joe made a face.  “Thanks a lot!”  Shaking his head, he turned and carried his small friend out to join her family.

“She’s really pretty, isn’t she Little Joe?”  Amanda whispered in his ear as they approached the stable corridor.  “Is she your girlfriend?”

Joe returned her interested gaze with a smile of his own.  “No, I wouldn’t say she was my girlfriend.  We have a date for Saturday, but that doesn’t make her my girlfriend.  I do agree with you that she’s pretty, though.”

Amanda giggled.  “I’ll bet she’d like to be your girlfriend.  I heard her tell Susan she likes you a lot.”

“Really?” He was pleased, but not inclined to take her words too seriously, as a six year old child’s version of liking someone would almost certainly not be the same as his.  “And what else did she tell Susan?”

Amanda thought, scrunching her face up tight as she tried to remember.  “She said you were handsome and nice and she felt sorry for you cause you were really sick.”  She smiled triumphantly and peered down into his face to see if he was pleased by her report. 

Joe nodded and smiled at her.  “Well, that’s nice to know.  If that’s true, though, I wonder why she still seems embarrassed to be around me?”  His mind was still caught up in trying to fill in the curious blank in Connie’s earlier statement and the question was rhetorical; spoken more to himself than the child in his arms.  He was not expecting an answer from her, so the one she gave him nearly caused him to drop her in shock.

“Oh, that’s prob’ly cause she saw you naked,” Amanda said complacently.

“What?” he squeaked, his voice rising up shrilly as he came to a dead stop in his tracks.  “Who told you that?  Are you sure?”

The child looked surprised by his reaction.  “Sure I’m sure. One night when I was s’posed to be sleeping, I heard Connie tell Susan.  She said you were way too hot and really hurting so they got you naked and put ice on you.”  Amanda delivered her news very matter of factly, and seemed puzzled by the growing redness creeping up Joe’s face and neck.  “Connie said she was real scared you’d die if you didn’t cool off but the ice helped you get better.”

 “Oh, my God,” Joe said softly.  He felt completely stunned, unable to think of anything past the incredible and humiliating fact that a strange girl, a girl he had just made a date to spend all day and evening with on Saturday, had seen him, touched him in fact, when he was naked and helpless.  His mouth worked silently then said again, “Oh, my God.”

The door to the stable opened and Ben appeared.  “Oh, there you two are.  Let’s get a move on, shall we?”  Joe did not move. Ben took one look at his red face and shocked expression and the tears beginning in Amanda’s blue eyes as she realized that she had upset her friend and immediately came to their side, his concern showing.  “What’s wrong, son?”

It took great effort for Joe to gather his reeling thought together and pay attention to his father.  “Uh, no…nothing, Pa.  I’m fine.  Let’s get going.”  He was not fine, but absolutely no way was he going to tell Ben what he had just learned.  Before his father could protest, Joe gave Amanda a reassuring hug to let her know he was not mad at her and strode out to the stable. 

Clara saw Joe come in carrying her granddaughter, who was sniffling and crying, and saw them closely pursued by a very concerned looking Ben and immediately demanded to know, “What’s wrong?  Did something happen to Amanda?”

“Grandma!” Amanda wailed.  She held out her arms and was immediately passed to Clara. 

“She’s okay,” said Joe.  “I guess she could see that I was a little upset about something that happened between me and Connie and it got her all upset too.”

“Did Connie refuse to go to the ball with you?” Clara asked in surprise.  “I thought she couldn’t wait to see you again.”

Something about those words, spoken in Clara’s soft sympathetic voice, triggered the hysteria that had been lurking just below the surface of Joe’s emotions and he started to laugh.  First he snorted, then there was a snicker that he could not hold back, and then a fit of uncontrollable mirth took him over.  “I think she’s already seen just about all I got,” he giggled.  His own observation made him laugh harder, the sound growing more and more shrill and chittering the longer it lasted. First the children, then the adults started laughing with him, though they did not know what the joke was.  The sound was simply infectious and they could not help themselves.  Joe was dragging in wheezing breaths and he was forced to sit down on a large tool chest as he tried to get himself under control.  He wiped away the tears streaming down his face and leaned his head back against the stall wall behind him.  “Oh, gosh,” he gasped, fighting the snickers that still welled up from time to time.  “What am I gonna do?”

“Son, what happened in there?” Ben demanded.  “Despite what you told me a moment ago, it obviously is not ‘nothing’.  Now talk.”

Joe blew out a long breath and sat forward, leaning his elbows on his knees and looked at the three curious children and the two concerned adults watching him.  He shook his head and said.  “I just found out that when I was sick, you know, when I was out of my head, Connie saw me.”  He paused and gritted his teeth, forcing himself to go on.  “She was helping to nurse me I guess and she saw me…uhm.”  He flipped his hand in a sweeping gesture indicating his entire body.

“Naked,” Amanda supplied helpfully, honestly believing he had forgotten the word.

Clara closed her eyes and put a hand to her mouth, but was unable to completely hide her smile.  “I see,” she said.  “I was afraid you might find out and I was even more afraid you’d feel exactly the way that you do.”

Joe’s shoulders stiffened as he picked up the implication of her words. Slowly, he lifted his downcast eyes and shot her a wary, pleading look.  “Oh, no.  Oh, please Mrs. Hill, please don’t tell me that you saw me that way too.”

She smiled sympathetically.  “Well, not at that time.” Joe dropped his flaming face into his hands with a groan. “But you have to understand that you were simply burning up with fever, Joe.  Your temperature just wouldn’t go down and we all had to do whatever it took to cool you off, Connie and myself included.”

Ben laid an understanding hand on his back.  “You don’t know how close we came to losing you, Joseph.  Matthew and Connie and Clara all helped Dr. Rogers save your life by doing what they did.  I’m afraid modesty never entered into the equation at all.”

“I know,” Joe sighed, lifting his head to offer them a rather sickly smile.  “I’m grateful for what you did for me and all, but it’s still awfully hard to swallow that practically everyone I’ve met on this trip has seen me with no clothes on.”

“I didn’t,” Joey offered helpfully.

“Me neither,” Amanda said.  “But Connie and Susan gave Joey and me a bath.  They saw us naked too, and Joey’s a boy.”

Joe chuckled at the childish reassurances.  His laughter had caused his nose to start running again and he fished in his pocket for a handkerchief.  As usual, he did not have one, but when he looked up, his Pa, Clara, and even Jane were holding some out to him.  He accepted one from Jane and blew. “Thanks,” he told them sheepishly.  He looked at Jane, who had as yet not spoken a word, but was biting her lip and watching him with the exact same sympathetic but amused brown eyes he saw in Clara’s face.  He smiled at her, figuring he might as well check. “How about you?  See anything you shouldn’t have?”

She giggled and shook her head. “I didn’t see you either, and neither did Susan if that makes you feel any better.”

Joe laughed.  “Actually, that does make me feel better!”  His face fell again and he leaned forward to rest his chin in his hands, realizing he now had a new problem.  “What am I going to do about Connie?  I wondered why she was acting so strange around me yesterday and this morning, and now that I know I don’t see how I’m going to ever face her again. I’m supposed to take her on a picnic and then to the ball on Saturday.  What do I say to her?” 

“I think you should tell her that you know what happened,” Clara advised, surprising both Joe and his father.  “She’s got a good head on her shoulders and she did what she had to do in a crisis.  That’s nothing to be ashamed of on either of your parts, and if you accept what happened and tell her that, I think you’ll both be able to move past it.  Even if you can’t, though, wouldn’t it be better to be honest than to spend the day dancing around, pretending not to know something that’s making both of you embarrassed to face each other, or worse yet, canceling your date because of it?”

Joe nodded slowly, realizing she was absolutely right.  “You’re pretty smart, Mrs. Hill.”

Clara held out a hand and helped him to his feet, then patted his arm and led him to the waiting carriage.  “I still remember what it was like to be young, Joe, and I know what I would have wanted you to do if I were in Connie’s place.  Now, let’s take that ride and forget about it for a while.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Joe said gladly. 

“Don’t we get to see the horses first?” Joe’s attention was refocused by the sad little voice of Joey.  He was looking back toward Cochise’s stall and his lower lip was trembling.  “Grandma said I could see the pony ‘fore we left.”

“Oh, sorry little buddy,” Joe said.  He exchanged a smile with Clara and his father and swooped down to lift the little boy into his arms.  “I’ll bet Cochise would never have forgiven me if I’d left without even saying hello to him.  Thanks for reminding me.”

Joey beamed as he was carried over to the stall housing Joe’s black and white pinto horse.  Cochise immediately perked up and nuzzled at Joe’s hand and coat when he came near.  It was obvious that he had missed his rider in the week since they had last seen each other.  Joey was clearly delighted to be up close to the pretty pony and patted Cochise’s head, as he would have done a dog’s.  “Nice horsy,” he said.

Joe grinned.  “That’s not quite the way to pet a horse, Joey.  You do it like this.”  He reached up and scratched a bit between the pinto’s ears, then stroked his hand down the long muzzle. Joey watched carefully and imitated the gesture, which Cochise was clearly enjoying.  “See, he likes you, don’t you boy?”

“I like him too,” Joey said.  “Can I sit on his back?”

Joe glanced at Clara for confirmation, then said, “Sure you can, but don’t do this without me or some other grownup with you, okay?  At least not until your grandma says you’re big enough to ride alone.”  He placed Joey on Cochise’s smooth back and held the child in place with a hand on his back.  Joey was delighted by his new perch and grabbed a double handful of mane as he bounced up and down, undoubtedly riding at a fast gallop through his imagination.  Cochise merely looked over his shoulder at the small rider, as if surprised to find him there.  He fixed Joe with a comically quizzical look and Joe patted him on the neck.  “It’s just for pretend, Cooch.  We’ll leave you alone in a minute.”  The horse seemed satisfied with the answer, for he went back to the feeding he had been engaged in when the humans had entered the stable. 

All too soon for the little boy, he was lifted off Cochise’s back and sent trotting back to his grandmother.  “I was on the pony, Grandma!  Did you see me?”

“Yes, darling,” she told him.  “It was very nice of Joe to allow you to sit his horse.  What do you say to him?”

“Thanks Little Joe,” he said, his sunny smile thanks enough for anybody.

The two little girls declined the chance to follow in their brother’s footsteps and sit on the horse, though Jane did venture up to pet Cochise’s nose.  Soon all six of them were settled into a large black carriage with two facing padded seats, a removable top, a matched team of Morgan mares and a driver who sat up on a raised platform, ignoring everything except his job.  Ben and Clara sat on one side of the carriage with little Joey tucked securely between them, facing Joe and the girls, both of whom had insisted on sitting next to him.  They spent the entire afternoon driving around the ever-growing city of Sacramento and seeing the sights.  The streets were still a bit muddy and puddles were visible everywhere after the weeks of rainfall that had swollen the Sacramento River to flood stages, but the sun filled skies of the past two days had helped immensely.  The river had receded and things were beginning to look normal again.  They had all agreed that the riverfront would be a good place to spend the afternoon and Clara pointed out the sights along the way.  A great civic improvement boom was underway, resulting in public parks and museums and even, Clara told them, a rather ambitious plan to bring in tons of soil by wagon load that would literally lift the city above flood levels to combat the constant damage of the heavy rains.  Ben was fascinated to see the myriad changes that had overtaken Sacramento since the days when it had been overrun and ravaged by thousands of men infected with gold-fever.  He was most interested in the brand new Capitol building, which had just been completed that May, while Joe was content just to enjoy being outside in the crisp air and sunshine again after his enforced confinement. 

“I sure am glad it’s finally quit raining,” he said, closing his eyes contentedly as he sat in the warm sunshine beaming down upon the carriage.  “I was getting really tired of slogging through puddles and mud on my way here with our herd.  The rain made what’s usually a week long trip take twice as long and I’m sure it had everything to do with me getting sick.”

“I’m glad it stopped too,” offered Jane.  “Specially the thunderstorms.  They were really scary.”

Joe squeezed her shoulders.  “There’s nothing to be afraid of in thunderstorms.  The lightning gets carried away sometimes but it’s mostly just noise.”

“But it always sounds so mad,” offered Joey.

Joe grinned at his father and said, “When I was your age, my Pa told me that thunderstorms were just little cloud people stumbling over things in the dark and the lightning was just them trying to get their lanterns lit.”

“Really?” Joey asked, his eyes growing large.

“Yep,” Joe said.  “He told me the rain was from them mopping up the things they knocked over and that the wind was Mother Nature giving them a talking to.  Didn’t you, Pa?”

Ben looked flabbergasted.  “I had no idea you still remembered that!”

“Actually, I just remembered it this week,” Joe admitted.  “When I was sick I heard the storm blowing outside and that memory came out of nowhere.”

“I think it’s neat,” declared Jane.  “Next time it thunders I’m gonna remember that and not be scared.” 

“Me too,” her siblings chorused.  Just then, Amanda spotted a shop with a pink frilled awning and squealed.  It was an ice cream and candy store.  “Will you take us in for ice cream, Mr. Cartwright?” she asked eagerly.  “Please?”

All three adults were slightly surprised that she had chosen Ben to ask, but Joe was less surprised than the others were.  He had noticed that the little girl seemed to be forming a particular attachment to his father.  Good choice, he thought in amusement. Pa likes to think he’s stern and tough but when it comes to little kids he’s the original soft touch.   Clara agreed to the request and the driver pulled the coach over.  Both Joe and Clara declined Ben’s invitation to join them and he disappeared into the shop with the three children.

The two of them sat in comfortable silence for a moment, then Joe asked, “Mrs. Hill, can I ask you something serious?  You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to cause it’s kind of personal.”

Though clearly surprised, she said, “You’re welcome to ask me anything.  If it’s too personal I’ll let you know.”

Joe had been considering all afternoon how to broach the topic of Matthew and had finally decided to follow Clara’s advice to him about Connie and how a direct, honest confrontation could be best for a sensitive topic.  "Ma’am, do you have any romantic type interest in Matthew?”

“You mean Matthew Garde?”  She said in surprise.  “The waiter on my staff?”

Joe nodded, though without the qualifier he would not have been sure. It had just occurred to him that he had never heard Matthew’s surname before.  “I know it’s probably none of my business, but he’s my friend and so are you and I thought I saw something between the two of you these last few days.  I think Matthew really cares about you.”

To Joe’s delight a pink blush rose in Clara’s cheeks and she did not look at all offended or displeased by his observation.  “Suppose that I told you that I did feel something for him,” she asked carefully.  “What would you do then?”

“I don’t know,” he told her.  “I already told Matthew he should talk to you about this, but the most he’d promise was to ask you for a dance on Saturday.  I think he’s afraid you might not want him because you’re rich but I told him you were the kind of person who cares more about what’s inside.”  Joe knew he was stepping way beyond the boundaries of politeness, but since he’d already opened up the subject, he figured he might as well go for it all.

Clara smiled.  “You’re pretty smart, Mr. Joseph Cartwright,” she said, a teasing tone in her voice.  “I’ll tell you what.  If Matthew Garde asks me for a dance, I’ll accept it, but I’m not promising anything else.”

“That’s good enough for me, ma’am,” Joe told her.  He felt enormously satisfied by her answer.  It was almost identical to Matthew’s, but now he had found out what he wanted to know.  Clara did care and his friends had a chance at a future, even if he probably would never see the results of his so-called meddling. “That’s more than good enough.”




Chapter 13

By the time the little party made its way back to the hotel, dusk had fallen and stars were beginning to show in the clear ever darkening blue of the sky.  The three children were tired and happy following an afternoon spent walking and exploring in the large public park down by the riverfront.  Ben had insisted that Joe take it easy and not do much running around, so he had appointed himself scout master on the youngsters’ expedition and had given them lessons in nature and land conservation while Joe had strolled along the riverfront and had talked at length with Clara.  By silent mutual agreement, both of them avoided the topic of Matthew and Connie, but they did talk of past loves and future dreams.  Joe told her of his family and his life back in Nevada and Clara told him about her son who had run away from home to get married at the age of 16.  His father had recently died and the boy had been in a state of full rebellion.  He had run away with Ruth and lied about his age to get married without his mother’s consent.  By the time Clara had caught up with her son, it had been too late to determine whether or not the young couple might have conceived a child and so the marriage had been allowed to stand.  Fortunately, as it had turned out, because Jane made her appearance almost exactly nine months later. 

“So, he was only 26 when he died?” Joe asked, feeling intensely sorry for both his friend and for her son and his wife who had been cut off in the prime of life, and even sorrier for their children who would grow up orphaned so young.  He had felt a stab of sympathy for Joseph Hill as Clara had related the story, recalling a few times in his own life when had been absolutely certain that he had met the woman he would spend his whole life with.  Somehow, fate had always intervened before his dreams could become reality, but he knew that if he had been in that other Joseph’s place he would not have done any differently. 

“Not quite,” Clara said sadly.  “He had another month to go before he turned 26.”

They walked in silence for a while.  Joe could not remember ever having had grandparents and his memories of his mother were very hazy, so perhaps that was why his heart yearned toward Mrs. Hill as he reached out instinctively and took her hand, linking their arms as they moved together.  Eventually, they rallied from the depressing turn their conversation had taken and allowed it to range far and wide, covering every subject from the gold rush to the best place to purchase fancy dress clothing for the ball to a detailed description of Joe’s horse operations on the Ponderosa. 


'You miss it, don’t you?” Clara had asked, patting the arm that was threaded through her own. “Your Ponderosa.”

 Joe had been a little surprised himself by the blatant longing that had risen up inside of him as he talked of home and he was not surprised to find that his friend had been able to read it in his face.  “Yes, ma’am, I do.  It’s hard to explain, really, but no matter how much I sometimes hate the constant demands the ranch places on my time, or how mad I get at my brothers for pushing me around, I miss them like crazy every time I go away.” He shook his head at his own confession.  “I don’t know what it is.  There are places I want to go, like New York, or New Orleans or even Europe, and a thousand things I want to see and do someday, but a part of me always feels empty when I’m away from the Ponderosa.  I sometimes wonder if I could ever truly be happy anywhere else.  Crazy, huh?”

 “I understand,” she had told him.  “You were born there, grew up there, saw your mother buried there. Your roots are buried deeply in that land and it always hurts to pull up roots, even if it’s only for a little while.”

 Joe fell silent for several moments, pondering, then he said, “Pa and I will be going home in just a few days.  I’m looking forward to it, but think I may have put down a couple of brand new roots here that are going to hurt an awful lot when I pull them up.”

 Clara squeezed his arm.  “We’ll miss you too, my dear, terribly, but just remember that we’ll still be here when you want to come back for a visit.”

 “I’ll come, too, you can bet on that,” Joe promised.  “And if you want to, I’d really like to have you and the kids could come out to the Ponderosa one of these days and meet the rest of my family.”

 “I’m sure the children would enjoy that,” she told him.  “Though frankly I think you may find them a bit harder to keep up with running wild on your ranch than you do here.”

 He laughed.  “Ah, but you forget, I’ll have help from Hoss and Adam then.  Kids always love my brother, Hoss.  He’ll play with them till they drop and Adam is particularly good with lullabies and bed time stories.  Trust me, my brothers helped Pa raise me, so I know these things from experience.  Please say you’ll come.”

 “Very well, then.  Someday, I promise you’ll get us out there for a visit.  For right now, though, I think we’d better find them before they manage to run your father ragged.”

 It did not take long to reunite with Ben and the children.  It was clear that all four had been having a marvelous time together and Joe smiled to see his father hefting Joey on his shoulder just as he had once done for his youngest son, with both girls closely flanking him.  One of us is gonna have to get busy and have some kids one of these days, he thought, stifling a laugh.  After this, Pa is sure to start hinting around about grandchildren! 

Everyone was hungry after their exercise so Joe insisted on treated everyone to dinner at his father’s favorite steakhouse, then everyone had piled back into the carriage and headed back to the hotel. Joe felt nearly as tired and every bit as happy as the three children as he helped his father and Clara herd them inside and up the stairs for their baths and the bedtime story he had promised them.  He had agreed to Pa’s suggestion of an early night but they did spend a little time in Ben’s room first, unwinding over a last cup of coffee.

Ben had stopped by the front desk to check for messages on the way up and he handed three slips of paper to Joe with an amused raise of the eyebrow, then unfolded a telegram which had arrived for himself.  He scanned the paper and then announced, “It’s from Adam.  He says the timber projects are back on track and to tell you that string of horses we’ve been breaking for the fall contract with the Army are about half finished.”

“Half!” Joe cried indignantly.  “What the heck is he doing?  Those horses should be nearly done by now!  I told him before I left that I’d already green-broke the worst ones.  The others just needed a little time and effort to bring them up to standard.  At this rate, they won’t be ready until Christmas!”

Ben watched his son fume and pace as he launched his tirade, calmly sipping his coffee while he waited for it to end.  As soon as Joe noticed and flung himself back into his chair with a challenging look on his face, Ben said, “I’m sure your brothers are keeping the deadline firmly in mind, Joseph.  I know that Adam’s horse training style is different and slower than yours is, but he always gets the job done well and on time.  Don’t forget, all that rain put quite a delay on the available hours when the horses could be worked, plus your brothers have had a lot of extra work to do with both of us gone.”

Joe instantly looked guilty.  “I guess I shouldn’t complain.  After all, it’s partly my fault things have fallen behind.  If I hadn’t gotten sick, you wouldn’t have had to leave the Ponderosa and I’d probably be on my way home by now.”

 “Joseph,” Ben said easily, “You know as well as I do that what happened was not anybody’s fault.  You certainly didn’t ask to become ill and as I told you before, your brothers can handle everything just fine.  However, I do think we should think about starting back soon.”

Joe nodded.  “I was telling Mrs. Hill today that we’d be going home pretty soon.  I invited her to bring the kids out to the Ponderosa some day.”

“That’s a fine idea, son,” Ben said agreeably.  “When do you want to start back?”

“Well,” Joe said slowly.  “With good dry roads and no cattle it should only take us about three or four days to get there, so I was thinking maybe Sunday afternoon or Monday morning?”

Ben recognized Joe’s hint that he did not wish to cut his evening short on Saturday to prepare for departure Sunday morning, and smiled.  “I think an early start on Monday will be soon enough.”  Joe grinned and his father went on.  “In the meantime, we’d best decide where to go shopping for something appropriate to wear to the ball.  We’ll want to look our best, meaning that you, young man, will be getting a haircut tomorrow.”

 Joe scowled.  Might have known he wouldn’t forget that.   “Mrs. Hill gave me the address of a place called ‘Roget’s’ that specializes in formal stuff,” he said, passing a small scrap of paper to his father. “They don’t open until nine, though, so maybe I could meet you downstairs around eight thirty for breakfast tomorrow morning.  Is that all right?”

At home, Joe would have been expected to be up, washed, dressed and downstairs to eat by seven o’clock at the latest, so he expected his father to protest his obvious hint toward sleeping late, but Ben surprised him.  “That sounds fine, Joe.  You might as well enjoy the last few mornings of your vacation and I realize that for you that means sleeping in and lazing around awhile.” 

 Joe shot his father a grin as he shuffled through the messages in his hand.  “You’re all right, Pa, you know that?”

“Well, I try, son.  Say, who are all those messages from, if you don’t mind my asking?  Been giving advice to more lovelorn hotel employees?”

Joe waved two of the papers.  “Well, sort of.  One is from Frank, thanking me for the invitation and telling me Susan accepted his offer to escort her.  The other is from Susan saying pretty much the same thing, only to read hers you’d think I had done something really noble and self-sacrificing by encouraging Frank to ask her instead of doing it myself.  I hope he knows what he’s getting into!”

Ben laughed heartily at his exasperated assessment.  “And the third?”

“That one’s from Connie, just confirming our date on Saturday.” Joe squirmed in his chair and his color rose just a bit, making him shake the reaction off in irritation.  “Look at me!  I’m acting like I’m still fourteen and going on my first date or something!  After this morning, I’m reacting like this every time I think of her.  Hope it stops soon, or I’m going to make an ass of myself next time I see her.”

“You’ll be fine,” Ben reassured him, checking his watch.  “You did nothing you need be ashamed of and neither did Connie.  It just seems much more embarrassing than it needs to right now because the news came as such a shock to you.  Why don’t you go and get some sleep?  I’m sure you’ll feel better about it in the morning.”

“I hope you’re right, Pa,” Joe said, sighing gustily.  He rose and waved his hand as he walked out the door.  “Night.”

 Joe’s hopes for a restful night’s sleep were not to be.  He had successfully avoided thinking about Connie all day, but now, alone in the very place where the whole humiliating incident had taken place, he tossed and turned, unable to get his mind off of the morning’s revelation.  No matter how often he told himself that it had all been necessary; he could not stop the hot flush that swept over him every time he thought about it. After an hour he gave up trying to sleep and got out of bed, not bothering to light a lamp as he went to sit by the dimly burning fireplace. Maybe I’m going about this in the wrong way, he decided.  If trying not to think about it makes me think about it more, then maybe if I deliberately do think about it, I can move on.  That logic seemed a little skewed somehow, but he was getting frustrated with himself.  He sank down further in his chair, twisting so that one leg could hang over the armrest while he stared into the flames.  How would I have felt if I was Connie?   He tried to picture the scene, to imagine how it must have been for her, and compassion finally began to erase some of his unease. He had seen fever victims in his time and had even helped take care of them.  Pa was right; modesty was not a factor.  You did what you had to do to ease their suffering.  If their positions had been reversed, Joe knew he would have done the same for Connie, and he would not have wanted her to feel bad afterward.  I would have kept it a secret, the same as she did.  Besides, he thought with a trace of humor, I’d have had an advantage.  It might not be a big number but I have seen a few naked women in my life. Poor Connie is only about seventeen or eighteen.  She’d probably never seen a man more than shirtless in her entire life!  Bet that’s not how she would’ve chosen to get her first look, either!

In time, Joe went back to bed, finally having eased his mind enough to sleep, but his slumber was far from peaceful.  Instead it was filled with dreams.  Half-formed images of himself writhing on an uncovered bed, nude and vulnerable and aching with a need far beyond simple nursing, and of Connie easing his discomfort in ways entirely different than any doctor would have prescribed.  By morning, his bed was a tangled mess and Joe had a whole new reason to feel uncomfortable facing Connie.  He could not help smiling as he recalled the dreams, though. 

Ben Cartwright grinned as he watched his son descend the staircase with a light step and a cheery whistle on his lips.  Joe looked happy today and there was something mischievous dancing in his emerald eyes that made Ben ask, “What’s going on with you?  You look entirely too chipper, given your usual morning demeanor.”

“I had a good night, Pa,” was all he would say.  He spotted Connie behind the front desk and went over to speak to her, practically bouncing as he walked.  “Morning, Connie!”

She looked surprised by his enthusiastic greeting.  “Hello, Joe.  You look well this morning.  Did you sleep all right?”

He gave her his best smile.  “Best night’s sleep I’ve had in a long time.”  Joe suspected there was something wrong with him somewhere, because instead of feeling embarrassed following his night of intimate dreams with Connie, his emotional equilibrium had been returned by them.  A little turnabout really was fair play, especially since there was no need for anyone to know about his dreams.  A perverse part of Joe felt that he had evened the score and could start fresh today with Connie.  “Are you looking forward to tomorrow?”

 “Oh, yes,” she said eagerly.  “I’ve got my dress all ready and I know a perfect place to have the picnic tomorrow if the weather holds up.  Let me take care of everything and let’s meet here tomorrow morning at the same time, all right?”

Joe took her hand and kissed the knuckles gallantly.  “I’ll be counting the hours,” he purred.  Connie blushed and they exchanged a long look.  Then Joe bounced back over to his father’s side.  “All ready, Pa.” 

“Well, you certainly have done an about-face this morning, son,” Ben observed.  “What happened to all that agonizing you were doing over you and Connie?”

“You were absolutely right about that, Pa,” Joe told him with a sunny smile.  “It all seems a lot less serious today.  Ready to eat?”

Ben looked a bit suspicious, but let it go.  “Absolutely.  What do you say we go out and have breakfast at that little French pastry shop we passed yesterday instead of eating in the hotel dining room?”

“Okay.”  The idea suited Joe fine.  He was afraid he might burst out with his news about Clara’s returned interest if he were to see Matthew today, and he had promised himself he would stay out of things now that he had planted the seed of romance in both their minds.  Besides, he loved pastries and could think of nothing better to have on a fine sunny Friday morning. 

One hour and half a dozen pastries and cups of coffee later, Ben and Joe tethered their horses outside of Roget’s formalwear shop and went inside.  Instantly, they knew they had come to the right place.  On display was a wide variety of clothing for every occasion from a formal tea to a grand ball and more hats and shoes and varieties of accessories than either of them had ever seen.  The two Cartwrights exchanged a grin.  This promised to be fun.   



Chapter 14

“May I help you gentlemen?”  Ben and Joe turned to find a small, middle aged man with salt and pepper hair and a goatee standing before them. 

“Yes,” Ben answered.  “My son and I have been invited to the Governor’s Ball at the Palace hotel tomorrow evening and we need to find something suitable for occasion.”

“A friend suggested your shop as a good place to find what we’re looking for,” Joe added, narrowing his eyes as the little man looked he and his father up and down, eyeing their casual range style clothing and cowboy hats and boots with a hint of disdain. 

“The Governor’s Ball, you say?” the man said doubtfully, eyeing Joe as though he suspected he had crawled out of a mud patch somewhere and was only around to gawk at the sights. “I’m not sure we would have anything in your price range. This is a very exclusive men’s shop.”

Joe’s dander rose instantly.  He despised being treated like a yokel. Even if he was not the most sophisticated man in the world, he did not appreciate being reminded of it in a rude way, and even less did he appreciate anyone making such an assumption about his father.  It irritated him, so he drew himself up to his full height, which while not overly tall, absolutely towered over the salesman.  Tipping his head back and looking far down his nose at the little man, he said, “Perhaps Mrs. Hill was mistaken.  She assured me that this was a fine and courteous establishment.” Ice fairly dripped from his tone and he was rewarded by seeing the man’s color rise. Joe flicked his chin dismissively, turning from the clerk as though enough of his precious time had been wasted speaking with him.  “Father, I’m certain Clara will forgive us if we ignore her suggestion and do our shopping somewhere else.”

The clerk’s eyes had fairly bulged at Joe’s casual mention of Clara Hill’s name and now he hurried to rectify his earlier attitude.  “Gentlemen!  I assure you that Roget’s is the perfect place to find exactly what you’re looking for.  We provide the very finest selection in men’s formal clothing.  All the latest fashions from here to Paris.  If we do not have it, it simply does not exist!”

Joe stifled a smile at the man’s abrupt change from contemptuous to fawning and pasted a doubtful expression on his face.  He slowly paced around the shop, fingering the merchandise with a falsely expert eye.  He knew that he had good taste in clothing, but if he were being honest he would have had to admit that he did not even know what some of the items he was looking at were for.  Honesty, however, was the last thing he was interest in showing to the salesman.  So, instead of admiring the expensive material and fine cut of most of the suits he saw, he dismissed them with his best look of arrogant disdain.  He took his time, sighing, pouting, shaking his head and generally putting on a show that would have done a professional stage actor proud.  “I just don’t know.  It all seems so bourgeois.  Father, what do you think?”

Ben was biting his lip as he watched his son handle the poor salesman like a true effete snob.  He had been a little unsure of Joe’s motive at first, especially when he had started in calling him ‘Father’ but now he was hard pressed not to laugh and give the game away. Despite his casual dress, Joe fairly reeked of wealth and pomposity, as though nothing he found would possibly be good enough for him.  Ben’s mouth had literally trembled as he tried to keep his humor in check when heard his son use that bored supercilious tone.  He quickly schooled his expression into something along the lines of an indulgent father used to handling the whims of the creature Joe was portraying when his son and the clerk both turned to him.  The clerk looked a little desperate, but hopeful that he could talk the men into remaining and patronizing his shop and Joe stood behind him and cast a gleefully wicked grin toward his father.  He pointed to the little man’s head then made a gesture with one hand as though he were hanging himself, eyes crossed and tongue sticking out one side of his mouth.  When the clerk turned back to him, Joe instantly resumed his haughty expression, his hand planted firmly against his hip. 

Ben cleared his throat, the sound slightly strangled as he choked down his laughter.  “Now, Joseph, I’m certain we can find what we need if we keep looking.” He turned to the salesman. “Do you have something more you can show us?”

The little man nodded so eagerly that his head looked to be in danger of flying right off his shoulders. “Yes, indeed,” he enthused.  “You must forgive me for my initial behavior.  I don’t see many gentlemen of such obvious taste and breeding as yourselves dressed so simply.”

Joe seemed to draw himself up even further, his expression one of extreme injury.  “How dare you make any assumptions at all!  Do you know with whom you are dealing?”  The man’s eyes widened and he shook his head.  “This man happens to be Benjamin Cartwright, of the Nevada Cartwrights.  You have heard of us, haven’t you?”  The iciness in his tone dropped several degrees as he eyed the salesman like a specimen under glass.

Though it was more than probable that the poor little man had never heard the name before in his life, he nodded and looked suitably impressed by the statement.  Ben was nearly turning purple with suppressed mirth, all the while doing his best to look puffed up with dignity.  The salesman lightly placed a hand on his elbow and steered him toward the back of the shop.  Joe trailed behind, quivering with silent laughter.  “Obviously only the finest will do for two such discerning gentlemen as yourselves.  The items out here are merely for showing the average customer.  Follow me, and I’ll show you something truly special!”     

By mid-afternoon, the Cartwrights had seen every item of clothing in the entire shop and had tried on half of it.  Joe had begun really enjoying his role playing after a while and had delighted in finding something wrong with nearly everything he was shown.  He had insisted that Ben be outfitted first, and had offered plenty of opinions, some honest, some merely to keep the harried salesman on his toes.  Ben had played along with it all, not having appreciated the man’s initial treatment any more than his son had.  The poor clerk looked to be in serious danger of having a nervous breakdown when Joe again suggested that they leave and find someplace better, and Joe relented with a great show of reluctance.

At long last, both shoppers had found something to satisfy them.  Joe was very impressed with his father’s new suit.  It was a handsome and finely cut black frock coat with black trousers and a copper brocade vest. A crisp white silk shirt with elegant garnet cufflinks and a silk ribbon tie, along with Ben’s own freshly polished black boots, completed the outfit.  Another employee had been called over to fit the coat to Ben’s broad shoulders and the two Cartwrights exchanged an amused glance as he fussed.  When he was finally finished, Ben turned to Joe.  “What do you think, son?”

“You look wonderful, Pa,” he said sincerely, forgetting his role for the moment in honest admiration for his handsomely attired father.  “You’ll be beating the ladies off with a stick.”

“You look magnificent, sir,” the salesman gushed.  Other customers had drifted into the store, many of them obviously shopping with the same purpose in mind, but the clerk helping the Cartwrights was not about to move from their side.  Joe smirked, reading the dollar signs in the man’s eyes.  Must be one of those guys I’ve heard about who get a percentage off what they sell to the customers, he mused. His father’s suit had been quite expensive, though certainly not more than he could afford, and Joe had been rather surprised when he had chosen it.  Pa tended to be a bit conservative about spending money on clothes but he could understand in this case.  It was a matter of pride. 

Joe took his time selecting his own outfit.  If the truth were known, he was having considerable trouble making up his mind.  Several of the suits he had tried on appealed to him, but it was really down to two.  A tight peacock blue suit with flared legs and a short bolero jacket was his first choice.  It fit as though it had been made just for him and the mirror proved that it looked incredible on him, but he was not sure.  It was something that might get a lot of wear at home, for socials and occasional trips to the theater, but somehow it seemed both a bit too simple and a bit too bold for something as presumably refined as a Governor’s Ball. 

The other suit was far more elegant, but Joe could not think of anywhere he would be likely to wear it outside of this one event. It was very different from his usual style.  The pants were dark gray, nearly black, and fit tightly down his legs to the knee where they widened a bit to show off a razor sharp crease.  The hem of the pantlegs was quite long, falling about an inch past his ankles to show off the slightly raised heel of the highly polished black shoes the salesman recommended.  He also recommended a lighter gray silk shirt and a cravat the same shade as the pants, topped by a fitted coat of olive green.  Joe had disliked the color of the coat at first glance.  Its not quite green, not quite brown color was about as unappealing as anything he had ever seen.  It had therefore come as a considerable surprise when he tried it on and found that it suited his own coloring perfectly.  The golden highlights in his brown curls seemed more defined, his lightly tanned skin fairly glowed, and his golden green eyes looked positively brilliant.  The coat was nipped in at the waist, flattering the long slender lines of Joe’s body, and fell to mid-thigh, making him look a bit taller than he really was.  He liked both suits and he simply could not make up his mind.  He turned from the mirror and looked to his father.   “Which do you like better?”

“For this particular event, I’d say the green one,” Ben advised.  “The other looks good on you but it might be a little out of place.”

Joe thought it over for a long moment, studying his reflection carefully.  He still had his entire pay from the cattle drive, plus most of his generous bonus.  He could afford both outfits and normally he would not have hesitated but with his father standing right there, watching, Joe’s conscience prickled.  “I’d get a lot more wear out of the blue one,” he suggested tentatively.

Ben smiled.  “You want them both, don’t you?”  Joe grinned sheepishly and nodded.  “Well, it’s your money, son.  You do what you want to.”

Joe turned to the eagerly listening salesman.  “I’ll take both.”

Ben paid for his own suit while Joe was in the back getting changed into his regular clothes again, then Joe waited while the little man wrapped his purchases.  He felt another little pang of guilt when he saw the amount of money he was handing over for the fancy suits, but shrugged it off.  He would have spent a lot more of his money by now anyway if he’d been paying for his suite at the Palace as he had originally planned.  He had to indulge somewhere!

The two men carefully tied the packages onto their saddles and mounted up.  As soon as they were out of sight of the clothing shop, Ben started to laugh.  Joe looked at him curiously and Ben peered down his nose and sneered.  “This is so bourgeois!”  Joe joined him in laughter and Ben said, “Do you have any idea how hard it was to maintain a straight face when you were acting that way?  Where on earth did you ever learn that word, anyway?”

Joe grinned.  “From Adam.  It was during one of his infamous lectures on how I don’t appreciate the finer things in life.  Think he’d have been proud of me in there?”

“Undoubtedly,” Ben chuckled.  “Do me a favor, son.  When we get home, recreate that scene for your brothers, because I will never be able to explain it to them with any true justice.  Now, we should just about have time for that haircut before we get some dinner.”

Joe groaned loudly. “Aw, Pa, do I have to?  Nobody else minds it long.”

“Well, I mind,” Ben said firmly.  “You want to look your best for the ball tomorrow night and you won’t be doing that with your hair falling half way over your collar.  It needs trimming and you will get it taken care of today.”

A deep sigh showed Joe’s feelings about the order quite clearly, but he reluctantly nudged Cochise into motion and followed his father to the nearest barbershop.  He was not surprised to find that Pa seemed to know exactly where to find one, but grumbled to see it all but empty of customers.  There would be no escaping his fate today by dint of an overcrowded shop.  Grudgingly he waited his turn and took a seat in the high adjustable chair.  There was a minor argument as Ben declared his wishes for the length and style of the cut and Joe protested, wanting it longer.  Finally, a compromise was reached and the barber went to work.  When it was all over, Joe checked his reflection carefully.  Privately, he could admit that it really did look better than it had.  His hair had grown rather uneven in the weeks since his last trim and had started to grow past the point of his being able to manage his curls.  Still, he was reluctant to voice his approval in front of Pa.  “Not too bad, I guess,” he said finally. 

“Well, I’m glad you approve,” Ben answered wryly.  “Now that I’m through torturing you for the day, are you hungry?”

“Starving,” Joe replied cheerfully, his bad mood dispelling in an instant.  “I wanted to buy a couple of presents before we went back but I guess they can wait until tomorrow. Right now food sounds fantastic.”

“Who are you buying presents for?” Ben asked curiously.

“Well, the first one is for Adam’s birthday next month.  I want to get something here because he always seems to guess what I’ve gotten him before the day arrives when I buy him something in Virginia City.  And the other one is to thank Hop Sing for his lifesaving packing skills.”

Ben smiled, understanding immediately the reference to Hop Sing.  He had had cause more than once to thank the Chinese housekeeper for his packing ingenuity on a long trip.  The desire to buy a gift for Adam’s birthday came as no surprise either, but he asked, “What, nothing for Hoss?  That might hurt his feelings, son.”

Joe nodded.  “You’re right.  Okay, I’ll find something for him too, but like I said, for right now all I want to do is eat.”

“Agreed,” Ben stated. “What do you say we go find a good saloon and have a couple of beers and something to eat?  I think I’ve had more than enough elegance to last until tomorrow night.”

“Sounds good to me,” Joe agreed happily. 

“Just do me a favor and don’t get yourself in any bar fights or all night gambling sessions, all right?” Ben said sternly

Joe blinked at him innocently.  “Gambling?  Me?  Why, Pa, you must be thinking of someone else.”  Ben cuffed him lightly on the arm and Joe laughed.  “Let’s go!”

The Cartwrights spent the next few hours exchanging conversation and stories over tall frosty beers at the Cracked Jug Tavern.  Joe had seen the name and recalled hearing the hostler speak of it on his first day in town.  Figuring that any place that rented rooms over the bar must also serve food, he and his father decided to give the place a try. The tavern was clean and neat, but still loud and rowdy enough to satisfy Joe’s fun loving soul and he felt instantly at home.  The food was a simple stew but both men found it tasty and filling and ate heartily.  The saloon girls were pretty and friendly, the beer was cold, and the only game going this early in the evening was a low stakes game of five card draw that Joe virtually cleaned out in only half a dozen hands.  Both men were very happy with their choice and eventually they agreed to split up and find what entertainment they could in the increasingly crowded building.  Joe went to spread his charms among the saloon girls in the back room, while Ben played a few rounds of checkers with one of the other saloon patrons. 

Somewhere during the evening, in celebration of his restored health and good spirits; Joe had started joining in a series of toasts proposed by the girls and had begun drinking shots of whiskey.  He rarely drank hard liquor at home, and never in the company of his father.  He had too much respect for Ben’s low opinion of whiskey to indulge in it too often, so Ben was considerably surprised when he went to collect the young man and found him deep in the grip of way too much alcohol.  Realizing it was much too late to do anything useful about the situation other than get the boy back to where he could sober up, Ben lifted his son under the arms and walked him outside. Darkness had completely fallen and street lamps had been lighted to supplement the dim lights shining in various windows and doorways.  Joe turned suddenly in his father’s hands and lurched back inside the bar.  Ben gave chase and found him trying with extreme concentration to pick up the hat he had left sitting on a table by the bar. With a sigh, Ben picked up the hat and plopped it on Joe’s head then took a firmer grip and took him out again.  Joe cheerfully waved at the bartender and the girls as he wove and stumbled past them and Ben was forced to steer him along the board sidewalk toward his horse.  Joe had come home tipsy a few times after a night on the town with his brothers, and once when he was fourteen he had accepted a dare to drink the corn liquor his friend Jimmy’s father had brewed in a homemade still.  He had been sick for two days afterward, but Ben had never seen his son so thoroughly drunk as he was this night.  Joe was completely oblivious to his father’s disapproval as he laughed and talked to nobody in particular and periodically burst into short stanzas of a very loud and very rude song.  Ben had to practically lift him into the saddle and even then he rode close and held a steadying hand on Joe’s back to keep him mounted as they slowly made their way back to the hotel. 

Joe maintained a continuous slurred monologue most of the way, which his father did not understand half of.  Then he began grumbling about his stomach hurting and the world spinning and Ben had just enough time to get him down on the ground and into an alley before Joe lost all the alcohol and everything else he had consumed that night.  From there, Joe’s preferred method of communication became groaning as he was helped back into his saddle and escorted the rest of the way to the hotel.  It was a relief to Ben when they finally reached the stable.  He dragged Joe down and propped him up on the tool chest he had occupied the day before. Then he quickly took care of the horses, and balanced their packages of clothing under one arm while he hoisted the pitiful creature that had replaced his son to his feet and ran the other arm around his ribs.

“Is he all right?” The question came from a concerned young man in the uniform of a bellboy as Ben entered the lobby, practically dragging his son along with him.

Ben smiled sourly.  “Yes, he’s fine, or will be once he sobers up.  He got a little carried away tonight.”

“Do you need some help getting him upstairs?” the man asked uncertainly. 

“No, I can handle him, but I’d appreciate it if you’d take these packages and follow us up,” Ben replied.  He surrendered the bundles and fished Joe’s room key out of his pocket; just as the boy surrendered his tenuous hold on consciousness and passed out in his arms.  With a sigh and a shake of his head, Ben lifted his son’s lax body over his shoulder and carted him up the stairs, grateful that none of Joe’s new friends was around to see it. 

Though the distance to Joe’s suite was neither long nor taxing under normal circumstances, Ben was puffing a bit by the time he reached it and dumped Joe’s heavily limp body on the bed.  The bellboy set the packages down on the table and beat a hasty departure, doffing his cap in acknowledgement of Ben’s tip.  Joe had landed on the bed lopsided; his head and left arm dangling over the side.  Ben righted him, then stripped him down to his drawers and rolled him into bed, recoiling when Joe sighed suddenly, leaving him awash in a cloud of alcohol soaked breath.  Ben left his son long enough to make sure the curtains were closed, Joe’s new clothes were hung up neatly and all the lamps but one were blown out, then returned.  He saw that Joe had rolled halfway onto his side, mouth open, head resting on his folded right arm, completely off the pillow.  He looked very contented like that and Ben smiled a bit at the sight, then grimaced when he realized that Joe was drooling.  Ben resolutely straightened the boy out and used a handkerchief to wipe off his face and arm, then blew out the last lamp, leaving him to whatever rest he could get. 



Chapter 15

“Room Service!”  The loud call aimed at the still bedcurtains surrounding the large canopy bed produced a faint moan from inside of them, and Matthew Garde smiled as he drew the curtains back and shook the form on the bed lightly.

“Mmmmm.”  The sound was long, drawn-out and filled with protest as it emerged from beneath a mound of rumpled bedclothes.  To the casual observer, the sound would have been rather startling, as there was no other indication that the lump of covers contained a human being. There was simply a large ball of quilts and sheets scrunched up in almost the exact center of the bed.  To the man who stood patiently to one side of the bed, however, there was no doubt that there was someone beneath the fabric.  He waited a moment to see if there were any further signs of life, but none was forthcoming. He tried again, placing both hands firmly on the still form and shaking briskly. 

That got a response.  The mound twisted and squirmed and finally a long leg covered in gray wool fabric kicked out, followed by one bare arm and shoulder.  The arm flailed a moment then managed to yank at the covers hard enough to free the head that went with the limbs, and Joe squinted up with a decidedly unhappy expression on his boyish face.  Slightly bloodshot green eyes blinked sleepily at the one who had intruded on his slumber as he pressed a fist to his temple.  “Ohhh, my head,” he groaned.  “What are you doing here, Matthew?  It can’t be more than the middle of the night.”

“Wrong!” Matthew announced cheerfully.  He walked over to the window and yanked open the drapes to allow the morning sunshine in.  This action produced a much louder groan and a very choice expletive from the man on the bed as Joe rolled over onto his stomach and hid his splitting head underneath his pillow.  The older man chuckled.  “Come on, now, is that any way to talk to a friend who’s only trying to help you?”

“Go help somebody else, will ya?” The voice filtering out from under the pillow was decidedly grumpy.  “Just leave me alone and let me die in peace.”

“You ain’t dead yet, boy,” Matthew reminded him as he came back to sit beside him on the bed.  “Though from what your Pa was telling me downstairs just now about how you were slamming home the whiskey last night, you probably wish you were.”

Joe pulled his head out and opened one eye enough to glare at his friend, thinking it was absolutely obscene for anyone to be so bright and cheerful, then dropped his face back down onto the pillow.  "God, Pa must be furious with me,” he moaned.  “I didn’t mean to get drunk last night.  I was only gonna share a couple of toasts.”

“Guess it got away from you,” Matthew observed.

A shallow laugh shook Joe’s shoulders and he made a small sound of distress at the spike of pain that shot through his head.  “Boy, did it ever! I remember some guy betting me fifty bucks that I couldn’t match him shot for shot after I’d already had about half a dozen.  By then it seemed like a great idea, so I accepted.  I think he passed out about five shots in, cause I remember drinking one more and getting the money, but from there it all gets pretty fuzzy.”

Matthew’s face wrinkled, suddenly showing far more sympathy for Joe’s state as he blew out a silent whistle.  “You had a dozen shots on top of the beer you’d already been drinking? No wonder you look like you’ve been run over by a stampede!  What’s the last thing you remember?”

Joe thought the question over carefully.  He rolled his head to the side, though he kept his eyes tightly closed, trying to become used to the brightly lit bedroom.  “Um…I sort of remember Pa putting me on my horse, and…then I think there was an alley somewhere, cause I remember throwing up a lot, but nothing after that.”  He smacked his lips and grimaced at the fuzzy sour taste in his mouth.  “Where is my Pa anyway?”

“He said he was going out for a few minutes to get a couple of things and that he’d be right back,” Matthew explained.  “He should be here any time.”

“He’s probably mad and didn’t want to waste a lecture until he knew for sure that I was sober enough to listen to it,” Joe grumbled, rolling carefully onto his back and squinting up at Matthew.  “How did he talk you into coming up here to wake me up, anyway?  Back home, everybody fights to avoid being the first one to face me in the morning.”

Matthew raised an eyebrow.  “And why is that?”

“I dunno,” Joe sighed, rubbing his face.  “I guess I’m hard to wake up and I’m not real fond of it either.  Adam’s always threatening to put dynamite under the mattress to blast me out of bed.”

Matthew loosed a hearty peal of laughter, causing Joe to moan and grab his head.  The waiter ruffled his hair affectionately but gently.  “Sorry, son, I forgot.  I brought you some willowbark tea and some food and coffee.  It’ll help, I promise.”

Joe slowly struggled up out of his blankets and into a carefully balanced sitting position.  His left hand reached up to rake his hair away from his eyes and his friend smiled to see it springing out in every direction.  He accepted the tea right away and knocked the foul tasting liquid back in two large swallows, making a face at the flavor.  “I’ll figure out what else I want in a second,” he grunted.  His head swam a bit as he struggled out of bed and wove his way to the bathroom.  After ten minutes, two tooth brushings, a solid dunk of his hammering head into the cold water he pumped into the bathtub, and what felt like the longest urination in the history of mankind, Joe felt as though he just might live through the day.  He made his way back to the bed, mopping water droplets off the goose pimpled skin of his chest and arms and squeezing more water out of his hair.  Adjusting the legs of his underdrawers, he plunked down to sit cross-legged on the bed and took the hot plate of bacon, eggs and toast Matthew had just uncovered.  He eyed the scrambled eggs with doubt.  “You’re sure I’ll feel better if I eat this?”

“I’ve had a hangover or two in my time,” Matthew told him with an understanding smile.  “That first bite is always the hardest, but afterward you’re usually glad you ate something to soak up the leftover booze.”

Joe forked up a mouthful of eggs and studied it, then lowered it back down, looking a little green.  “What time is it, anyway?”

Matthew checked the mantle clock behind him.  “About five minutes to eight.”

Joe nodded, taking a deep sip of coffee and closing his eyes as he waited for the medicinal tea to do its work.  Then, his head snapped up and his body jerked so suddenly that he sloshed coffee onto his chest. He yelped as the hot liquid splashed onto his skin and hurriedly set the plate and cup aside to grab the napkin Matthew handed him.  “Did you say eight?”  Matthew nodded.  “Oh, man, I’m supposed to meet Connie downstairs at eight thirty!”

“I took care of that,” Ben said, as he walked into the room and caught his son’s words.  “I left a note at the desk telling her you might be a little late.”

“Oh,” Joe said, considerably relieved, but secretly wondering how he’d manage to spend the day with Connie when all he really wanted to do was go back to sleep so he couldn’t feel his head pounding so badly.  “Thanks for covering for me, Pa.”

“You’re welcome,” Ben said sourly.  “Though if you hadn’t tried to pickle yourself last night, I wouldn’t have needed to cover for you at all.  Joseph, what were you thinking?”  He brushed his son’s hands aside to examine the reddish marks on his chest where the hot liquid had fallen and immediately went to pull a tiny pot of Hop Sing’s all purpose salve out of Joe’s saddlebag.  All the boys carried them at the cook’s insistence and Ben spread the cooling cream over the slight burns carefully. 

Joe thought that his father’s caring impulse contrasted oddly with the obvious annoyance in his expression and tone.  “To tell the truth, I’m not sure there was any thinking involved, Pa.  I surely didn’t intend to go back to feeling this rotten after I just got to feeling better.” He sighed and flopped back down, loosely lacing his knuckles to cover his eyes with the backs of his hands.  “It’s like I told Matthew.  I didn’t mean to get drunk.  I was drinking a couple of toasts with the girls and the alcohol just hit me way faster than I’d expected.   I’m really sorry, Pa.”

Ben looked into his son’s bleary eyes as he uncovered them long enough to give him an apologetic glance. Between the obvious pain in his head and his washed out complexion, he looked dreadful.  Ben’s frown melted away into a rather sympathetic grimace.  “Well, if you feel anything like you look, I’m sure you are sorry.” He sighed and touched Joe’s arm.  “I suppose it’s partly my fault anyway.  If I hadn’t got so caught up in arguing politics with that fella I was playing checkers with, I’d have kept a closer eye on you and it might not have happened.”

“It’s not your fault, Pa,” Joe said “I’m old enough to keep an eye on myself.  I just didn’t do it.  Don’t worry, though.  That’s the last time.”

“See that it is,” Ben ordered sternly, not believing it for a moment.  He had heard that particular vow too many times in a wide variety of situations to have much faith in it.  He held up a little pouch to Matthew and asked, “Did you bring up the hot water?”

Matthew brandished the small silver teapot. “Right here.”

Ben opened the package and poured a serving of crushed leaves into the water.  Joe’s nose wrinkled at the harsh but somehow familiar smelling brew that resulted.  He levered himself up on his elbows and demanded, “What is that?  It stinks.”

“There’s a little Chinese herbalist shop not far from here, and I went in and picked up the ingredients for Hop Sing’s hangover recipe,” Ben told him.  He handed over the cup he had poured the murky looking brew into.  “Now, drink.”

Joe gingerly sat all the way up again as he accepted the cup. Hop Sing’s hangover cure.  Of course, that was where he knew the smell from.  He had never been so bad off that he required it before, but he could recall a very surly Hoss and Adam being forced to swallow the noxious liquid after staying out all night drinking once when he was fifteen.  He had delighted in their predicament at the time, thrilled not to be the one on the receiving end of Pa’s ire for once. Now, he silently begged their pardon for laughing at them as he pinched his nose shut and choked down a mixture that tasted like turpentine that had been strained through someone’s dirty laundry.  He coughed and gagged but managed to get it all down his throat. “Ugh!  Now I’m going to have to brush my teeth all over again.  That stuff is sickening!”

Ben smiled as he watched Joe vigorously scrub at his tongue with the napkin and gulp down the rest of his cup of coffee hurriedly, trying to mask the aftertaste.  “I know it isn’t pleasant, but I guarantee you’ll be feeling like your old self in no time at all.”

Joe poured more coffee and made a face.  “I’m not sure it’s worth it.  What do you do, carry that recipe around with you?”

His father chuckled.  “No, but once you’ve mixed it up once or twice you don’t forget it.”

Joe managed to eat most of his breakfast after that.  It was a little cold by now, but every bite seemed to make him feel a little better, as well as taking away the remains of the taste of the hangover cure from his mouth.  Matthew and Ben chatted companionably while he ate, then Matthew gathered up his dishes to take back downstairs.  Joe was feeling much more alert and more like his usual self by now, at the medicine did its work, and he looked at the waiter curiously.  “How come you brought that stuff up to me, Matthew? Isn’t room service someone else’s job?”

“Usually, yes,” Matthew told him, “but exceptions can be made now and then in a good cause, and I made an exception for you.  After all, I owe you one.”

Joe looked at him in complete noncomprehension.  “You owe me?  Why?”

Matthew looked around the room nonchalantly.  “Oh, for nothing much.  Just opening the door for me to get a date for tonight’s ball, is all.”

Joe’s eyes widened.  “You mean Clara? You actually asked her?  She said yes?” His voice was rising higher with each question and Matthew just nodded and grinned throughout.  Overjoyed for his friends, Joe whooped, then cringed at the pain it caused his head, then laughed and shook Matthew’s hand.  “I thought you were only going to ask for one dance.  What happened?”

“I just decided that life is too short to be timid, especially at my age,” Matthew explained.  “She had asked to see me yesterday after I got off work, so I went up as soon as my shift was done.  When Clara told me you’d talked to her about me, I was sure she was about to fire me, but she didn’t.  Instead, we go to talking about this and that, mostly you and all that’s happened since you got here.  Things were going so well, that before I knew it I found myself asking her to be my date for the ball.  You could’ve knocked me over with a feather when she said, yes!”

“That’s fantastic!  Isn’t it, Pa?  I’m really happy for you,” Joe enthused.  Ben nodded his agreement, looking a little bemused.  “You gonna let me have a dance with her still?”

Matthew laughed.  “Well, since I’m pretty sure Clara would fire me if I tried to keep you away from her, I’d have to say you’re welcome to ask her for a dance.  I’d better get going now, Joe.  Hope you feel better, cause if you don’t get a move on and go meet Connie, you’re the one who’s not going to have a date tonight, note or no note!”

“You’re right,” Joe said, hastily wiping his lips with his napkin.  “See you at the ball, Matthew.”

Matthew made his exit and Ben shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched Joe get up and dress in his favorite gray pants, brown shirt and his brown boots.  Joe moved a bit gingerly still, but it was evident that the remedy was beginning to take effect.  “I would’ve bet serious money that you were doing the wrong thing when you appointed yourself hotel romance broker, Joseph, but everything seems to be working out just like you planned.”

Joe flashed him a triumphant smile.  “I know, and to be honest, I’m not even sure most of it had to do with me at all.  I was just the catalyst.  Everyone else did most of the work.  It’s like we talked about the other day, Pa.  Fate just decided I was in the right place at the right time and now everything is working out great for everyone.”

Ben glanced at the clock.  “It’s almost a quarter to nine, son.  You’d better get going before Fate decides to change her mind.”

Joe disappeared long enough to rebrush his teeth and comb his hair, then came back. “You gonna meet me back here so we can get ready for the ball tonight or do you just want to meet up there?”  He asked, struggling into his jacket and grabbing his hat.

“I’ll meet you here around 6:30,” Ben decided.  “Hot water is going to be at a premium tonight with everyone getting ready, so I’ve already ordered some sent to each of our rooms around six o’clock tonight.  Be sure you’re back on time.”

“No problem,” Joe declared.  “Connie has to be back by three to meet Susan, so I’ll be back in plenty of time.  What did you do with my suits?”

Ben pointed to a clothing rack standing in the corner of the room by the full-length mirror.  “I unwrapped them and hung them up last night after I put you to bed.”

Joe looked abashed at the reminder of how he had gotten to his room the night before.  “I’m really sorry I’ve been such a pain to you this trip, Pa.  Thanks for taking care of me.”

Ben raised a rueful eyebrow.  “I’ll always take care of you if you need me to, son.  Though, last night I could’ve sworn that you’d put on some weight when I was dragging you up those stairs.”

Joe’s only answer was a sheepish smile as he brushed past his father with a pat on his back. 



Chapter 16
   
Connie was waiting in the lobby when Joe finally appeared on the landing and she stood up from a small sofa to greet him.  “Good morning, Joe.”

“Hi, Connie,” Joe said, taking her hand.  “I’m sorry I’m late.”

“That’s all right,” she said easily.  She took a good look at him and her brow creased in concern.  “Are you feeling all right, Joe?  You look kind of sick.  You’re not having a relapse, are you?”

Joe was tempted to say, yes.  His headache had decreased to manageable levels and the queasiness in his stomach had eased almost completely, but he still wasn’t feeling very well.  He opened his mouth, right on the verge of telling her a polite lie, then hesitated.  The honest concern in her green eyes made the fib stick in his throat.  Besides, he wanted very much to spend the day with her, no matter how he felt.  “Pa and I went out last night and I had too much to drink,” he confessed.  “I’m a little hung over this morning.”

There were some girls he knew who would have dropped him like a hot rock after such an admission.  Connie merely looked a little surprised, then took his arm.  “We’ll take that buggy ride nice and slow then, okay?”

Joe shook his head, flashing her an admiring look.  “You’re a sweetheart, you know that?”

She smiled and showed off the picnic basket on her arm.  “I’ll even feed you later, if you feel up to it.  Since the weather is so warm and beautiful today, I know the perfect spot for a picnic.”

“Sounds good,” he said happily, leading her out to the stable where he introduced her to Cochise then had no trouble renting a horse and buggy for the afternoon.   Soon, he and Connie were on their way.

Connie kept her word and took things slowly when Joe turned the reins over to her, shading his eyes with his hat as the bright sunshine proved to be too much for his throbbing head, and leaning back, content to let her do the driving.  They drove for only a few short blocks through town before Joe requested a halt.  “Is something wrong?” Connie asked.

Joe grinned.  “No, something is right.  I told my Pa yesterday that I wanted to buy a birthday gift for my brother Adam while I’m here and I think I just spotted it.”  He hopped down from the buggy and aided Connie down as well.  They had come to a small curio shop and as Joe knelt down outside the shop window to have a better look at what he had seen, Connie breathed a rapturous sigh.

“Oh, Joe, that’s beautiful!  Does your brother like to play chess?”  The gift in question was a small beautifully crafted chess set, each playing piece hand carved in wood, mahogany for one side, golden oak for the other. The largest piece was no more than an inch tall, the pawns maybe half that big, and the detail was exquisite, right down to the faces carved upon the tiny human forms of the kings, queens, bishops and knights. 

“He and my Pa play chess all the time,” Joe responded.  “He taught me to play when I was just a little kid.  Adam would love this!”

The young couple went into the shop and inquired about the chess set.  The price was high, but not nearly as dear as Joe had feared, given the workmanship, and he bought it after only the most minimal of haggling sessions.  The proprietor invited them to look around while he wrapped the gift and by the time they left the shop, Joe had found gifts for his father and Hop Sing as well, though nothing had particularly appealed to him on behalf of Hoss.  For Hop Sing, he had purchased an intricate blown glass wind-chime, which the shopkeeper had obligingly wrapped in multiple layers of soft padding and put in a hard wooden case when he heard how far it would be traveling.  Joe had not intended to shop for Ben, but a scrimshawed shark’s tooth had caught his eye and he had been unable to resist.  It was very much like one he had snuck out of his father’s collection of curios from his travels at sea when he was eight years old.  Joe had been forbidden to touch those things without his father or Adam present, but he had done it anyway and had managed to lose the tooth somewhere.  He could still recall the whipping Pa had given him for that and he had never again gotten into his father’s personal things without permission, but he never had found the tooth.  He had a feeling Pa would appreciate this gift.

“Too bad you didn’t find anything you liked for your other brother,” Connie commented as they got back into the buggy.  “Maybe we can look someplace else. What’s his favorite thing to do?”

Joe grinned.  “Eat.” 

Connie laughed.  “Oh.  Well, then I believe I know just the place.”  She snapped the reins and drove him to an open-air marketplace.  Dozens of merchants lined the streets with carts of fruits and vegetables; stands of roasted meats and rolled cheeses, displays of cakes and cookies and a thousand other varieties of food. 

Joe was delighted.  This was the perfect place to find a gift for Hoss!  They tied up the rig and went searching; sniffing greedily at all the wonderful smells drifting from the carts.  Joe forgot all about his hangover as he explored the booths, accepting samples from many of the vendors as he questioned them about their wares.  He was tempted to buy all sorts of things, knowing Hop Sing would have a field day if he were here, and was only stopped by the knowledge that he would have to get everything home on the limited space provided on Cochise’s saddle.  Finally, he settled on an enormous Polish sausage wrapped in multiple layers of protective waxed paper.  He paid for the meat and hefted it, then grinned at Connie.  “This ought to keep him busy for a while!”

She laughed back at him.  “It certainly should.  I don’t suppose you’re hungry enough for a picnic now, though, after all that sampling you were doing.”

“Sure, I am,” he said, offering his arm.  “By the time we get wherever you wanted to go, I’m sure I’ll have found some room.”

Connie cast a critical eye on his flat tummy and shook her head, then laughed.  “You’re just a growing boy, huh?”

“Absolutely,” he agreed cheerfully.  They returned to the buggy and Joe took the reins, giving them a hearty snap that set the fat pony at their head off with a startled snort.  They trotted along for some time, enjoying the day and each other’s company.  They speculated a bit about the upcoming ball and Joe told her all about the trick he and his father had played on the snooty salesman at Roget’s the day before.  She laughed heartily at his recreation of his behavior towards the clerk and asked him all about the suit he had chosen to wear.  Connie refused to tell him what she would be wearing, only revealing that she and Susan had both accepted the offer to borrow jewelry from Clara Hill to wear with their gowns.  Joe did not press for details.  Truthfully, he did not care what she would be wearing, though he assured her that he knew she would look wonderful in whatever she had chosen.

Connie directed Joe to a grassy flower strewn meadow just outside the city limits.  It was a lovely area for a picnic and as Joe helped the girl down from the buggy and spread the blanket out for her to lay the food on, he glanced around at the scenery.  Just over a small rise, he could make out the side of a mountain, rising tall in the distance, but what he saw gave him pause.  The whole side of the mountain was bare and black, showing rocks and roots sticking out here and there, but not a single sign of grass, flowers or trees on the entire surface.  He stood, studying the scarred mountain for a long time, when he felt Connie’s hand gently clasp his arm and looked at her.  “Are you all right?” she asked gently.  “You look so sad.”

Joe sighed and gestured to the bare ugly face of the strip-mined mountain.  “Just look at that.  I’ll bet it’s been ten years since that happened, and there’s still not a single living thing growing on that whole mountain.  It just makes me sick to see that kind of destruction.  Pa worked really hard to keep the same thing from happening to our place and the lands around us when silver was first discovered in the hills of Nevada, and he taught all of us to understand and to take care of the land.  We don’t even cut down a tree on our land without planting another in its place.”  He shook his head.  “It’s just hard to understand how anybody could look at this kind of damage and then want to go someplace else and deliberately create more of it, just for a quick profit.”

Connie took a long look.  “I guess I’ve never really thought of it that way before.  My folks are farmers and until I crossed this far west, I’d never even seen a mountain.  I slept most of the way on the stagecoach and it all looked just like this when I got here.  I guess I assumed it always had.”

“That’s kind of sad,” Joe commented, drawing her down to sit on the picnic blanket.  “I wish you could see it the way I do.  You should travel east of here about a hundred miles someday and take a good long look at the Sierras.  Then you’d see mountains the way they’re supposed to be.  The Ponderosa is just about half again as far once you get there, and we’ve got some of the prettiest country God ever put on this earth.  Rivers, valleys, mountains, plains, timber country; you name it, and all of it just bursting with life.”

Connie smiled at the dreamy sound of his voice.  “It really sounds beautiful.”

“It is,” he said softly.  Then he turned to her and stroked her cheek with his thumb.  “But even that isn’t as beautiful as you are.”

A blush reddened Connie’s face.  The admiration in his eyes was obvious.  “If that’s a come on,” she murmured. “It’s just about the best one I’ve ever heard.”

Joe smiled and leaned close.  He brushed his lips softly over hers, giving her ample opportunity to pull away if she so desired.  Pulling away was the last thing she desired, however, as she wrapped her arms around his neck and returned his kiss with interest.  Joe leaned her back onto the blanket and indulged in a long thorough exploration of her mouth, then tenderly brushed a loose tendril of hair away from her eyes as he drew back for air.  “I’m glad you let me do that,” he told her.  “I wasn’t sure you would after what you did for me when I was sick.”

Connie’s eyes widened.  “You know about that?”

He nodded, averting his gaze and coloring slightly.  “I wasn’t supposed to find out, but Amanda overheard you talking to Susan and she told me.  I understand what happened and why and well…it’s okay.  I needed your help and I’m grateful for all you did.”

“Oh, dear,” she said, covering her hot face with her hands.  “I knew I shouldn’t have talked so openly to Susan with the children around, but I thought they were asleep.  You also know that you kissed me, then?”

Joe’s eyebrows rose in surprise.  “I kissed you?  When?”

Connie groaned softly at her own unintentional confession and sat up.  Reluctantly, she told him all about the events of his delirium, leaving nothing out.  “I don’t know who you thought you were kissing,” she added.  “I’d love to think it was me, but considering how intense it was I don’t think it’s likely, given that we barely knew each other at the time.”

Joe rested his chin on his folded arms across his knee.  “Could you understand anything I was saying?”

A small frown formed between her brows as she struggled to recall.  “I’m not sure, but once I thought you said something about your Pa and some land, then the words, ‘no more fighting’.  I thought it was kind of a strange comment considering what came next.”

Joe thought the words over, repeating them silently a couple of times as he tried to remember. At last he thought he might have the answer and closed his eyes, a flicker of pain pinching his expression.  “I wonder if I thought you were Amy Bishop,” he said quietly.  He reopened his eyes and saw the curious, yet compassionate look in Connie’s eyes and felt compelled to explain.  “Our fathers had been feuding for years over a little strip of land separating our two properties.  Then one day while I was in the area chasing down some stray cattle, I met Amy and we fell in love.  We wanted to get our Pas to quit fighting so we could tell them about us, but things were just getting more and more heated due to a couple of killings among our hands and Luther Bishop’s hands.  It was beginning to look like Amy and I might never get together unless we took matters into our own hands.  So, I asked her to run away and marry me.”  He stopped speaking, letting the memories of what came next, his midnight meeting with Amy, wash over him. There was no reason for Connie to know about that part, but it was such integral part of that time.  His first expression of physical love, the pain when all the promise of a love that had filled his heart and mind and body had been so abruptly ended.

Connie was watching him carefully, content to wait until he felt ready to go on. 
   
He shook off the pain; gulping down the emotion that suddenly swelled his throat.  “I told Pa about me and Amy wanting to get married the very next day.  He was great about it.  We went together and talked to Mr. Bishop.  It looked like everything would be all right, and I went to tell Amy the news but I found her in the barn being attacked by one of Bishop’s men.  He was jealous of Amy’s feelings for me and we got into a fight.  He threw a pitchfork at me and it hit Amy.  She died a few hours later.”

Connie covered her mouth with a hand.  “Oh, Joe, I’m so sorry.”

“That was a long time ago,” he said after a moment, smiling to show her that he was all right. He hated seeing her look so sad and rushed to reassure her. “Please don’t feel sorry for me, Connie. Amy was my first love and as much as I wish things had been different, I guess we weren’t meant to be.  I had to move on and eventually I found other loves in other places, though I haven’t found the girl yet.  I just wanted you to know about Amy so you would understand.  I’m sorry I mistook you for her if it bothered you.  I honestly didn’t know what I was doing.”

“Joe, please don’t apologize,” she begged. “I knew there was nothing personal involved.  It’s just that I…well, it’s wicked of me to say so, but I quite enjoyed it.”  She blushed at her own confession.

Joe grinned.  “In that case, may I kiss you again, now that I do know exactly what I’m doing?”

She accepted without hesitation.  Joe stoked a finger over her lips and down to tip her chin up, drawing her forward to kiss her.  His lips barely grazed hers at first, then pressed more firmly, moving gently as he sought the perfect fit with her own lips.  Connie melted into his arms with a soft sigh, demanding more and getting it.  Joe nibbled and teased at her mouth, loving the soft noises she made as she played with his hair and deeply explored his own mouth.  He sighed, a throaty moan of enjoyment.  The world was reduced to just the two of them, and the feel of lips pressing, tongues intertwining, and hot panting breath, each kiss growing longer and deeper with every passing minute. 

Connie lay back down on the blanket, pulling Joe down with her, her hands splayed to slide over his broad back and strong shoulders.  Joe felt almost dizzy as his passion rose higher, caught up in his partner’s excitement, and allowed his own hands to go exploring.  He could feel little flames igniting all through his body as Connie touched him.  She worked a few of his shirt buttons free and traced her fingers over the well developed muscles in his chest and shoulders, eventually working her way lower to trace whisper soft lines across his tightly clenched abdomen.  Joe moaned quietly and responded by flicking open the last button of her blouse and rolling onto his back, carrying her with him.  Her breasts were straining at the thin cloth of her camisole, pulled tight above her corset, and he took them into his hands, kissing and massaging the soft flesh.  The nipples became sharply defined under his expert attention, and Joe brought his mouth up to them, scraping the sensitive skin with his teeth and suckling her through the cloth.  Connie gasped and clutched his shoulders tightly.  Her reaction as much as the slightly clumsy motions of her hands upon his body alerted Joe that he had been right in his assumption that Connie was a virgin and he stopped what he was doing, suddenly regaining his senses. “I’m sorry,” he panted.  “Oh, God, I’m sorry. We have to stop this.”

“Please, Joe,” she whispered.  “I’ve wanted to be with you ever since I first saw you, and even more after that day in your room. Please, don’t stop now.”  She kissed him hungrily, her right hand reaching down to stroke his left hip, tracing across to feel the thick bulge at the front of his jeans.  Joe groaned softly.  The material of the pants felt paper thin as her questing touch drew further tingles of excitement from his lower regions and he desperately made a grab for her hand, drawing it up to join its mate in an unbreakable hold against his chest.  He was breathing raggedly as he brought her hands up to his mouth and kissed them. 

“No,” he said, the pain of his restraint clear in his cracking voice.  “We can’t take this any further.  Connie, we can’t.  You don’t love me and I can’t just take you this way.  Not when I’m leaving so soon.”

Connie became very still as she looked down into his face.  “Leaving,” she whispered.  “I…I forgot.  I’ve never felt this way about any of the other boys I’ve been out with, Joe.  I’ve never wanted to give myself to anyone with no thought of tomorrow…but I do with you.”

“I know,” he said.  “And you’ll never know how much I want to accept, but I can’t.  I’m going home soon and I can’t let you give yourself to me knowing I won’t be here with you.  You might spend all of those tomorrows regretting it.  You might even come to hate me.”

She could read the sincerity and the terrible fight between naked desire and self-restraint that was raging behind his eyes.  She suddenly dropped her head, hiding her face against his chest.  “You’re right,” she whispered.  “Oh, my God, you must think I’m a regular wanton!”

“No, Connie, I don’t think anything like that.  You didn’t do any more than I did, and I should know better.” He rolled her back over and drew a deep breath, trying to calm his pounding heart.

Connie let go a little moan.  “You’re the one who stopped,” she reminded him.  “I would have let you go right ahead and do whatever you wanted to.”

“It’s not your fault,” he whispered.  “I shouldn’t have told you about losing Amy.  It probably made you feel sorry for me and do things you normally wouldn’t have.”

A sudden snort of laughter from Connie surprised him.  “You’re just determined to make this out to be all your fault, aren’t you?”  She sat up with him and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.  “You really are a true gentleman, Joseph Cartwright, and one day I’m sure I’ll really appreciate that quality in you.”

Joe laughed softly and held her close, then pulled back and began rebuttoning his shirt.  “Well, tonight after the ball, when I’m all alone in that great big bed and I’m kicking myself over lost opportunities, I’ll remind myself you said that.”

Connie straightened her own hair and clothes and smiled at him.  They looked at each other for several long seconds, neither knowing quite where to go from there.  Things were beginning to grow a bit tense, so finally Joe reached out and picked up one of the sugared apple fritters Connie had baked for their picnic, and raised an eyebrow.  With a sigh and another smile, Connie nodded and handed him a plate. 



Chapter 17

The drive back to the hotel was a mostly silent one, with both young people not quite sure what to say to one another.  The awkwardness between them seemed to be growing instead of lessening the further away from their almost encounter they got.  Every now and then, one of them would begin talking and the conversation would commence in a rapid relieved burst, then fade again as they quickly ran out of things to say.  Joe returned the horse and rig to the stable hand who greeted them upon their entrance and walked with Connie into the lobby.  Finally, knowing their evening would be completely unbearable if he did not, Joe stopped and turned Connie to face him.  “Are you upset with me about today?”

“No,” she said quickly.  She saw the doubt in his eyes and offered him a self-conscious smile. “I’m not upset.  I guess I’m just sorry about what happened.  Funny thing is, I don’t know if I’m sorry for my actions or yours.”  She touched his face and pulled him closer to kiss him softly on the mouth.  “I’ll meet you back here at seven.”

Joe stood watching her open-mouthed as she hurried away to meet with Susan, who had been waiting for her across the lobby.  He saw Susan grab Connie’s arm and their heads lower together. The sound of giggling floated back to him as they scurried out the front door.  After a moment, his mouth twisted up into a grin, and he began to laugh.  A couple of passerby smiled at him, not knowing what the joke was, but enjoying the merry sound just the same.  He turned and pelted up the stairs, two steps at a time, suddenly eager for the evening’s festivities.

Back in his room, Joe unloaded his packages and took advantage of his free time to get in a nap.  His slumber the night before had not exactly been restful, given that he had been more passed out than asleep and Joe wanted to be fully refreshed for the Governor’s Ball.  He slept well and soundly for the next few hours and by the time his bath water arrived promptly at 6 o’clock, he felt energized and rearing to go. 

Joe bathed quickly; giving himself a hard scrubbing that left his skin tingling as he toweled off.  He carefully shaved and dressed in his new clothes, wanting to look his very best, and was critically fussing with his hair when Ben arrived.  “Evening, Joe.  I see you’re almost ready,” Ben greeted. He was very neatly attired in his new suit and it was clear that he, too, had taken pains with his appearance.

“Hi, Pa.  You look great,” Joe said, smiling at him in the mirror as he carefully arranged his front curls to fall just right across his forehead.  He turned his head first to one side, then the other and decided he was satisfied.  He sat down to pull on his new shoes, then stood and tried unsuccessfully to fasten his cravat.  After a moment he gave up and held it out to his father. “Would you please help me with this thing?  I can’t seem to get it on straight.”

“Sure,” Ben said, taking it from him and drawing it around his neck.  He tied the cloth in place, then carefully arranged the folds of dark gray silk against Joe’s chest, pinning it in place with a small diamond stud he produced from his pocket.  “There you go.  Perfect.”

Joe fingered the stud in surprise.  “Where did this come from?”

“I bought it for you this afternoon,” Ben said.  “It just suggested itself to me as I was looking in a shop window and I thought you deserved to have something special.  I think you’re mature enough now to appreciate something like this.”

“Thanks, Pa,” Joe said, admiring the sparkle as the tiny pin caught the light from the lamp.  He was touched by the gift, knowing his father was saying that he trusted him and had taken note of how hard he had been trying lately to maintain an adult face.  “I promise I’ll take real good care of it.”

“I know you will,” Ben agreed, giving his shoulder a squeeze.  “Now, put on your coat and let’s have a look at you.”

Joe complied, donning his olive coat and adjusting it as he buttoned it over his lean abdomen and smoothed it into place.  He smiled at the image in the mirror.  He was pleased to note that he looked older somehow, much more refined than usual and there was no denying he was extremely handsome.  Ben came to stand behind him in the long reflection and clapped a hand on his shoulder.  Joe grinned, admiring the attractive picture they made.  “We Cartwrights don’t clean up half bad, do we, Pa?”

Ben chuckled.  “Not bad at all, son.  Got your invitation ready?”  Joe grabbed it off the table and waved it.  “Let’s go, then.”



Chapter 18

Joe caught his breath as he descended the short staircase and his eyes fell on Connie.  She was dressed in a sea green gown of layered tulle, gathered tight against her curves at the top and descending into a full skirt to the floor from her tiny waist.  It seemed to float around her as she turned to face him.  Her hair was pulled high away from her face into a crown of golden braids from which long soft waves fell to glide along her back.  The braids were held in place with a series of tiny aquamarine studded pins, matching the silver and gemstone necklace around her throat.  The necklace highlighted her bare shoulders and the upper swell of breasts teasingly revealed by the tight bodice of her gown, and Joe felt his body respond to the sight instantly.  He suddenly felt very glad he had chosen to wear the suit with the longer coat. He crossed to Connie’s side and kissed her hand with a courtly bow.  “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she said, eyes shining, as she looked him over.  “You do too.”

Joe laughed.  “Not exactly what I was going for, but thank you anyway.”  He gestured to Ben.  “I believe you know my Pa.”

Connie nodded to Ben with a polite smile, though it was clear that she had eyes for only Joe.  “It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Cartwright.”

Ben was watching the starry eyed and almost too polite interaction between his son and the girl with evident entertainment.  “You’re looking lovely tonight, Miss Bryant.  My son may have a fault or two, but clearly lack of appreciation for rare beauty is not one of them.”

Connie blushed prettily at the compliment and Joe raised an amused eyebrow at his father’s smooth delivery.  Don’t be so surprised, Joe, he told himself.  You know all that charm you’re so famous for had to come from somewhere!  He offered Connie his arm and the three of them made their way to the large ornate ballroom located at the rear of the hotel’s main floor. 

The ballroom was ablaze with light from a dozen chandeliers and couples were already dancing as the 20-piece chamber orchestra on the small raised platform in the east corner played a lively tune.  Chairs and small tables lined the long rear wall of the enormous chamber and Joe could see food and drink laid out in dizzying quantities to either side, leaving plenty of room to walk and mingle without disturbing the main section of the floor where the dancers were.  “This place is really something, isn’t it?” he asked, his eyes wide as he took in the splendor, trying his best not to gawk like a corn fed bumpkin in the presence of all the richly dressed folks surrounding him.  Ben ran into several business acquaintances as they made their way across the floor, and stopped several times to shake hands.  Joe and Connie waited for him each time, neither of them comfortable enough in their surroundings to strike out on their own just yet.  Joe was glad when he spotted Clara and Matthew at the head of a long reception line.  He caught Clara’s eye and she immediately gestured for him to come over.  “Good evening, Mrs. Hill,” he said politely he drew near enough to be heard.

Clara touched the arm of the short mustached man who was standing next to her, shaking hands with some of the people in the line.  “John, this is the young man I was telling you about.”  He turned and favored the new arrivals with a smile.  Clara made introductions.  “Governor John Downey, may I introduce my friends Joseph Cartwright, his father Ben Cartwright, and Miss Connie Bryant.”

 The governor shook hands with each of them.  “Delighted.  Clara was just telling me that you nearly caused the entire hotel to be put under quarantine last week, young man.  Trying to shut things down and ruin my party?”

Joe could see that the man was only teasing and he smiled.  “No, sir.  That part was an accident, but it did bring me a few new friends and an invitation to this ball, so I guess it turned out to be a good kind of accident.”

Downey laughed.  “Well, I’m glad to know you’re doing all right again.  Enjoy the party.”

“Thank you, sir,” Joe replied.  He turned to Matthew, who was standing slightly off to the side looking uncomfortable to be so close to such a prominent political figure.  Clara was presently busy making introductions, so there wasn’t much for him to do just yet.  “How are you, Matthew?”

The waiter smiled, looking glad to have somebody to talk to.  “Just fine,” he said a trifle too enthusiastically.  “Glad you all made it.”  He shook hands with Ben and Connie. 

Ben motioned Joe toward the increasingly crowded dance floor, indicating that he would stay and keep Matthew company a while.  Joe happily took the hint and led Connie out just as the orchestra struck up a waltz.  They moved into each other’s arms, making sure to stand only as close as society deemed proper as they began to dance.  A smooth rhythm defined their pairing and they moved easily together, as graceful as if they had been dancing partners for years rather than just a few moments.  Soon one dance became two, then three, then they lost track as they locked eyes and simply glided along. The rest of the crowd might as well have melted away for all the notice they took.  Then Joe felt a tap on his shoulder and looked around to find his father smiling at him.  Connie gave Ben a polite nod and curtsy and Joe released her to his father’s arms with a small pang of regret. 

He stood back to one side of the room, near one of the food tables, content for the moment to simply observe the action.  The orchestra had switched to something lively, some kind of reel by the sound of it.  Joe smiled to see Connie and his father sharing an amiable chat as they moved gracefully around the floor, and wondered what they might be finding to talk about.  His gaze wandered and he watched interestedly as he spied Governor Downey galloping around the floor with a lady he supposed might be Mrs. Downey, though he had not seen her with him before.  Dancing was clearly not the politician’s strong suit, but he looked to be enjoying himself.  Realizing that if the governor was thus engaged, his two friends might be also, Joe scanned the dancers carefully, looking for Clara and Matthew. His smile widened when he caught sight of them laughing as they spun around the floor, clearly having fun.  They looked good together, he decided.  Clara was lovely in a slightly prim but stylish gown of midnight blue silk set off by simply crafted sapphire jewelry.  Her silvery hair was elaborately puffed and coiled.  With her eyes and cheeks bright with exercise and fun and the familiar sweetly dimpled smile Joe had come to love so much on full display, he thought he had never seen her looking lovelier.  Clearly, Matthew agreed, for he was looking at her with the kind of expression normally reserved for rare wonders of the world.  Matthew’s suit was an old-fashioned black one that looked as though it might have been purchased for some long ago funeral, but it somehow suited his spare frame and neat, freshly clipped hair and moustache.  Clearly, Clara had no objections to his appearance.  Joe was delighted to see her regarding her partner with obvious fondness after he said something to make her laugh. 

“Hey, Joe!  Don’t tell me you arranged to get dates for everyone else, then wound up a wallflower yourself!”  Joe turned and found Frank Capitani grinning down at him.  Susan was right behind him and added, “Where’s Connie?”

“She’s out there,” he said, pointing out Connie and his father.  “Pa cut in on me for a dance, so I decided to take a little break and have a look around.”

“I can’t believe I’m actually here,” Susan commented, her tone revealing her awe.  “A few minutes ago, Mrs. Hill introduced Frank and me to the Governor of California, just like we were really somebody!  He’s an Irish immigrant, just like my folks were. Can you believe that?  It makes me feel right proud.  I just couldn’t get over it, then after he talked to us, he introduced us to a couple of other bigwigs, just as casually as you please!”

Frank winked at Joe.  “Susan was actually struck dumb for five entire seconds, she was so impressed!”

“Wow, I guess that must have been some experience,” he answered, tone implying that he’d just heard tell of a rare phenomenon.

Susan made a face and gave both young men a playful slap on the arm.  “Oh, go on with you.  You’ve probably met with important gentlemen before, but I hadn’t.  It was very impressive!”

Joe held her out at arm’s length.  “No, you are impressive.  You’re as pretty as anything I’ve ever had the privilege of seeing, Susan.”

“Or imagining,” Frank added hurriedly, scowling a bit as the girl blushed at the smooth compliment and cast admiring eyes on her handsome friend.  Susan truly was a vision in her rose taffeta dress.  Like Connie, her shoulders were bare, but a demure ruffled silk gauze sash covered up any hint of cleavage as it bordered her bodice all the way around, forming small puffy cap sleeves that emphasized the pale slenderness of her exposed arms. Her reddish brown curls were artfully arranged to bounce and tease at the skin of her shoulders, seeming to somehow invite the men to touch them, though of course neither of them dared to do it.  Her only ornaments were a matched set of pearl drop earrings and necklace.

“You look very nice too, Joe, “ she observed, reaching up to brush a bit of imaginary lint off of his coat. 

Her fingers seemed to linger on his shoulder just a trifle too long, and Joe saw the sleeves of Frank’s tight fitting black suit coat strain as he unconsciously flexed his huge arms in annoyance.  Joe did not think Frank would actually hurt him, but decided a little preventative maintenance was in order, just in case.  “Say, aren’t you two going to dance?  I think Pa must be about ready to let me cut back in on Connie by now.”

Frank calmed instantly at his suggestion and pulled his date toward the floor.  Susan cast one last lingering gaze back at Joe, looking him up and down with a predatory smile and an unabashed boldness that made him squirm and pull at his collar, feeling suddenly hot.  He looked for Connie and frowned to see her dancing with a young man he did not recognize.  His father was off the dance floor and looked to be deeply engaged in conversation with a group of his peers.  Joe immediately went to cut in on the dancers and the other man released Connie with obvious reluctance.  “Who was that?” he demanded grumpily.  “I thought you were still dancing with my Pa.”

She looked surprised by the tone of his voice.  “I don’t know who he was.  Just someone who requested a dance.  You were over talking with Susan and Frank, so I accepted.  You’re not upset, are you, Joe?”

“No, of course not,” he lied.  “You can dance with anyone you like.”

Connie smiled and slid her arm up around his neck to dance closer, laying her head on his shoulder.  “That’s what I thought.”



Chapter 19

As the evening wore on, Connie was asked to dance by quite few different partners.  A few times she accepted, most of the time she declined, but in both cases it was clear that Joe was her partner of choice for the evening.  His initial bug of jealousy faded with her continued devotion and even when he danced with other ladies, many of who were very pretty, none drew his attention like the girl in the gauzy green gown.  He danced once with Susan, feeling it would be only polite.  It made him a little antsy when she insisted on dancing with her arms around his body, rather than the proscribed way, especially knowing that Frank was likely watching the whole thing, but after the third time her hand ‘accidentally’ slid down and grabbed him by the ass, he ended the dance quickly and turned her back over to her date with a haste that bordered on outright rudeness.

Frank glowered darkly as the girl was returned to his side.  He looked at Joe with an expression that made him a little nervous and said, “Can I talk to you a minute, Joe?  In private.”

Oh, boy, here we go, Joe thought as he gestured for Frank to lead the way.  He prayed that Frank was not going to become belligerent to the point of starting a fight.  Not only would that ruin the ball for everyone but Joe knew he would not stand a chance against Frank in a fistfight.  Besides, he had no wish to fight with his friend.  Frank stalked over to a quiet corner by the veranda door and turned to face Joe.  Joe held up his hands defensively.  “Now, Frank, calm down,” he said carefully.  “I promise I wasn’t doing anything to encourage Susan to come after me that way.  She just got a little carried away is all and I’m sure she didn’t mean anything by it.” 

“Joe, I’m not mad at you,” Frank said calmly. 

Joe hesitated and bit down on his next string of reassurances.  The other man did not look all that upset now.  He actually looked more resigned than anything.  “You’re not?”

Frank sighed and ran a hand through his black wavy hair.  “No.  A man would have to be blind not to see that Susan has been on the prowl for you all night.  She’s been watching you and Connie like a hawk and I don’t know how many times she’s mentioned your name tonight.  You’re the man she wants, Joe, not me.  I should have known better than to think a big ape like me stood any chance with her.”

Responding more to the regret in his friend’s voice than his words, Joe clasped Frank’s large shoulder and led him over to sit in a chair.   He took a seat next to him.  If the masseur had reminded him a little of Hoss before, because of his size, he did even more now, because of his demeanor.  Joe and Hoss had experienced the same problem with women in the past, when the girl couldn’t see past Hoss’ less attractive exterior to the tender heart within and had used him as a way to get to his handsome younger brother.  Joe had a feeling the same thing was happening now, though Frank was certainly not what he supposed most women would deem unattractive.  “Frank, I’m sorry,” he said.  “I really hoped things would work out between you two, but I promise you that I have no interest in Susan.  I told you that before, and after tonight I feel even more strongly that way.”

“Why?” Frank asked, curiosity apparent in his voice.  “Because of Connie?”

Joe nodded.  “I like Connie.  She’s a really special girl, and we don’t have much time left to spend together before I go back home.  It wouldn’t do Susan any good to chase me even if I was interested in being caught, cause I’m leaving.  But beyond that, I can’t respect a woman who would deliberately try to hurt both her date and her best friend just to get at me.”

Frank’s lips pursed in thought as he slowly indicated his agreement.  “You’re right.  I guess she’s not the girl I thought she was, but this is the first time I’ve ever known her to act this way.  She always seemed so nice before.  We’d talk after work sometimes and have lunch together once in a while and I really thought she might like me, though naturally I never said anything.”

Joe frowned as a new thought occurred to him. “Never?  You’ve known each other for several months and you never said anything to her about how you felt?”

“No,” Frank said slowly.  “Why?”

Joe answered his question with another question.  “Tell me something.  Exactly what did you say to Susan when you asked her to be your date for this thing?”

His friend looked confused but told him, “I said that you were taking Connie and that you had gotten me invited so I could ask her.”

“You didn’t tell her you’re crazy about her, or that you’d dreamed of taking her out somewhere or anything good like that?” Joe confirmed, wincing a little.  Frank shook his head.  Joe hid his face in his hand. “Don’t you get it, Frank?  You implied that I’d only gotten you the ticket because I couldn’t ask both of the girls to go with me.” 

Frank looked thunderstruck.  “You mean, she thinks I’m here as some sort of pity date?”

Joe looked sick.  “I’ll bet she does.  I’ll bet Connie told her all about my being too much of a gentleman to take advantage of her this afternoon, too.” Frank’s eyebrows twitched curiously at Joe’s statement, undoubtedly wondering what had gone on between he and Connie, but was too polite to ask about it.  Joe continued to outline his speculation.  “You know, I’ll bet Susan thinks I’m not really interested in Connie and is waiting for me to make a move I have no intention of making on her .”

“I’ve got to tell her,” Frank said urgently.  “If you’re right, then I have to let her know how I feel about her.  Otherwise, she’s going to keep after you and your date with Connie will be ruined.”

“Not to mention you’ll be throwing away a perfect opportunity to sweep her off her feet,” Joe comment with a smirk.

Frank looked blank and Joe sighed.  Clearly, he was not exactly dealing with Don Juan here. “What do you mean?” Frank asked nervously.

Joe grabbed Frank by the arms, flinching a little when his hands did not go even halfway around the enormous biceps.  “Girls like a man who knows what he wants and goes after it,” he explained, drawing his friend closer and lowering his voice, as though imparting some great secret.  “Neither one of us wants the girls to get hurt, but Susan has to realize by now that she has no chance with me.  If you go out there and don’t tell her how you feel, then what is that going to say to her?  That you don’t care, right?”

“Right,” Frank said doubtfully, glancing back to where they had left the girls.  “But how do I tell her, Joe?  I don’t just like, Susan.  I love her.  How do I tell her how I feel without looking like an idiot?  Suppose she tells me to drop dead or something?”

“Take the risk, Frank,” Joe ordered.  “You’ve got nothing to gain by staying silent and maybe everything to gain by speaking up.  At the very least, she’ll be flattered.”

“You really think so,” the big man said, pulling nervously at his stiffly starched collar.

Joe thought he sounded a bit more hopeful than before, so offered up a silent prayer for strength and dramatically declared,  “Go, Frank!  Don’t let Susan get a broken heart over me.  I don’t deserve it.  She doesn’t deserve it.” Frank nodded a strange mesmerized look in his eyes.  Flicking his own eyes heavenward for an instant, Joe plunged on.  "Tell her how you feel.  Everything!  How you think of her night and day, and how you always feel better just because she’s walked into a room, and how crushed you’d be if you thought she cared more for someone else than you.  Frank…she deserves to know.”

“You’re right. I’ll do it!  Thanks, Joe,” Frank said with feeling.  “You’re a real friend.”
   
“I hope so,” he muttered as Frank rushed away to make his declaration, all afire with the righteous flame of his love.  Joe breathed a quiet sigh, praying that Susan really did deserve all this effort.  He had made up all that dramatic nonsense just now half out of pity for Frank and half out of hope that Susan would see the truth in Frank’s declaration of love and leave himself alone.  Shaking his head over his narrow escape, Joe straightened his clothes and headed back to find Connie, just hoping that Frank would not chicken out at the last second.  This matchmaking stuff is harder than it seems!



Chapter 20

“Joe!  Is everything all right?” Connie asked anxiously as her date returned to her side.  Frank and Susan were nowhere in sight.  “When Frank came back without you I was afraid he might have hurt you!”

Joe draped his arm around her and led her to the refreshment area.  There were precut servings of cake and ice cream laid out on a series of small plates and he grabbed a couple for he and Connie as they moved to sit on one of the long benches against the wall. “He didn’t want to fight.  He just needed a little encouragement.”

“Encouragement?” She looked confused for a second, then smiled brightly.  “You mean with Susan?  Is that why he dragged her off somewhere a minute ago?”

He nodded.  “I hope I did the right thing by making him go after her.  She doesn’t seem to be very interested in him.”

Connie waved his concerns off.  “That’s because he hasn’t acted very interested in her.  She thinks he doesn’t care.  That’s why she’s been chasing you tonight.”

It was Joe’s turn to be confused.  “What’s why she’s been chasing me?”

“To make him jealous, of course!” Connie said, as though it should have been perfectly obvious.  “She’d never have seriously gone after you, Joe.  Not after I told her some of what happened between you and I this afternoon.  Besides, she’s completely head over heels in love with Frank.  Has been for I don’t know how long.”

An incredulous frown marred his expression.  “She’s in love with him?  You’ve got to be kidding!  Then why all the hinting around for me to take her in the first place?  And did you see the way she was looking at me earlier?  I felt like a rabbit who’d just been spotted by a wolf!”

“I saw.  I also saw her grab you when you two were dancing.” She looked a little less happy with that part.  “She was so excited when I told her that you’d gotten Frank invited to the ball tonight that she’s hardly been able to contain herself, since.  She told me that he still didn’t seem very interested when he asked her to go, though, so she asked my permission to pay a little extra attention to you tonight.  We figured that if Frank still didn’t say anything, we’d know for sure.”

Joe was getting a little ticked off as he listened to her explanation.  “And you didn’t think it would be nice to tell me about this?  I thought Frank was going to knock my block off out there!  It’s only by the grace of God and Frank’s own long fuse that it didn’t happen.  Do you know he was ready to surrender Susan to me and go slinking right out of the ball?  She really hurt him acting like that, and I was afraid you might have been hurt too!  I never suspected you were in on it.”  He was getting more upset as he listened to himself outline the deception.  Flashing her a cold glance, he stood and began to walk away when Connie grabbed his arm and dragged him back down onto the bench.

“Don’t be like that,” Connie begged.  “Joe, I’m sorry.  You’re right, I should have told you, but I never expected it to go this far.  After you told me how Frank felt, I thought for sure he’d say something to her tonight, especially when she started flirting with you.  Joe, please don’t go.”

He was holding a silent debate with himself.  On the one hand, it really annoyed him to be used as bait, especially with Connie’s full knowledge and permission.  On the other, he supposed that it was his own fault for trying to manipulate the situation in the first place.  He looked at Connie.  Her eyes pleaded with him not to go and his annoyance suddenly melted.  He had done worse in his time, and Connie was so very beautiful.  He leaned closer and planted a soft kiss on her cheek, then another much more lingering one on her lips.  She responded enthusiastically, looking down with a blush when they parted.  She laughed suddenly and Joe’s brow wrinkled.  “What’s so funny?”

She lifted her untouched plate for him to see.  “You’re melting my ice cream!”

He looked at the quickly spreading mass of thick strawberry goo on her plate and then at Connie and both of them giggled.  “Do you want to go out on the terrace?”

She happily agreed.  Setting their plates aside, they clasped hands and quickly moved through the crowd and outside.  The air was unusually chilly for late September in Sacramento, but it felt wonderfully refreshing after the crowded stuffiness of the ballroom.  Both of them breathed deeply surprised by the faint frosty plume their breath created when released.  “It smells lovely out here, doesn’t it?” Connie commented.  “It’s worth facing the cold just for a few breaths of it.”

Joe sniffed the flower scented breeze and had to agree.  When he looked at Connie, he noticed her shivering, her pretty gauzy gown offering little protection from the crisp night.  Quickly, he unbuttoned his suit coat and removed it, draping it over her bare shoulders.  “This should help.”

Connie smiled.  “Like I said this afternoon, a true gentleman.  Aren’t you cold without it, though?”

He shrugged, affecting nonchalance.  “I’m used to being out in all kinds of weather.  I’ll be fine.”

“But I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to risk a chill so soon after being ill,” she protested.  She stepped closer and circled his waist with her arms, laying her cheek against his chest.  “How’s that?”

“What a good idea,” he murmured softly, kissing her golden hair as he drew her tighter against him.  Connie tipped her head back, joining him in a long sweet kiss. 

“I wish you weren’t leaving,” she said sadly when they parted.  “I’ll miss you so much.”

He sighed, resting his cheek against her head.  “I know.  I’ll miss you too, but you know that it’s probably for the best. I think things would just get harder for us the longer I stayed.”

Connie’s arms tightened around him.  “You’re probably right, but that doesn’t make it any better.  I keep thinking about the look on your face when you talked about the land today and the beauty of your home, and I know there’s no way I could ever compete with that.  I’ve never felt that way about any place, but I know how much a part of you it must be.”

“You’ve never felt that way about a place,” he repeated.  “What about a person?”

“You said that I might regret what almost happened today, because I’m not in love with you,” she whispered.  “I think I could fall in love though, very easily.  Especially if I could see you every day.”

“Me too.”  He wanted to say more, to promise her he would return, or say something wonderfully romantic that would leave her with a dream to hold onto until they met again, but he could not.  The words stuck in his throat, shocking him as he realized that he wanted Connie as much now as he had this afternoon, but he did not love her.  His mind raced to fill the silence with something, some excuse that would let her down easily.  “I couldn’t live here, though. I like to come to the big city now and then for visits, but I’d come to hate it if I had to live here.  How would you feel about living in the country?”

She let go a laugh that was very nearly a sob.  “About the same way you do about living in a city.  I lived in the country growing up on my folks’ farm and I hated it.  It’s nice to visit, but give me two days and I’m dying to get back to civilization again.”  She felt the shaky breath he released as he nodded against her head, accepting what she was trying to say.  In a choked voice she added, “We’d probably make a terrible couple anyway.”

“Probably,” he agreed not believing it any more than she did.  He was glad to realize she was willing to let him go.  They did not need words to make their feelings clear to each other.  Nonetheless, despite not being in love, he had come to regard Connie in a very special light and it was very hard to let go.  He had begun stroking her hair while they talked and now he tipped her face up to place a string of soft kisses along her hairline and temples.  “Maybe it’s best that we won’t see each other any more.”

“Yes,” she sighed, encouraging his kisses to continue down her face and neck by leaning her head back, exposing the soft skin of her throat.  Her fingers slid up to bury themselves in his silky curls as he slowly nibbled his way down, brushing the coat aside to touch his hands and lips to her shoulders.  Connie swallowed hard.  “I…g-guess it’s lucky we have only tonight.”

Joe grunted softly when Connie began to nuzzle his throat and drop warm little kisses along his jaw and collarbone as she succeeded in opening his cravat and the top two buttons of his silk shirt.  “Lucky,” he breathed.

The expensive coat fell to the ground unnoticed as their passion increased and soon they were locked in a fierce embrace, bodies melding as their mouths ground together in a kiss that rocked them both clear through.  A gasp sounded behind them and they yanked apart, startled by the sound.  An old couple stood watching them with equally startled eyes, then the lady blushed and the man gave a curt nod, winking at the disheveled young couple as he led his wife away.  Joe and Connie looked at each other and laughed in resignation, realizing how close they had come, again, to falling from grace.  They both willed their panting breath and hammering hearts to slow down, and the inner flames to die. 

“We’d better go back inside,” Connie said shakily.  “Somebody else is sure to come along soon and we’ll be missed if we stay much longer.”

“I suppose so,” Joe agreed reluctantly, his voice so quiet he could barely be heard.  “Help me fix this tie, will you?”

Connie knelt first to retrieve his coat and brushed it off before handing it back to him with a shy smile.  She then rebuttoned his collar and smoothed the cravat into place.  Joe checked to make sure his father’s gift was still in place, relieved when he saw the small diamond winking in the moonlight.  He put on his coat and fastened it then ran his hands back through his hair. “You look perfect,” Connie declared.  “Not at all like a man who’s just been ravished by his date.”

Joe laughed and kissed her forehead.  “I might say the same for you.”

Behind them, the glass door connecting the veranda with the ballroom opened again and Clara Hill stood looking out.   “Oh, there you are!” she declared.  “I was afraid you might have left without saying goodnight.”

Joe led Connie back inside, and addressed the older woman.  “I wouldn’t do that, Mrs. Hill.  We just wanted a little air.  Besides, you know I’m not letting you get away from me without collecting that dance you owe me.”

He gave her a saucy wink and kissed her cheek.  Clara blushed like a young girl and playfully pushed him away.  “You behave yourself or I’ll tell your Pa.  Why don’t you dance with your date, you young rascal?”

He fixed her with sad puppy dog eyes.  “I’ll go, but I’ll be back.” 

The two women grinned at each other as Connie dragged her mock reluctant date back onto the dance floor.  They joined the other couples in a spirited German folk dance not unlike the country dances he knew from home.  They danced the night away, determined to make their time together as fun and memorable as possible, until at last Connie laughingly begged for a rest.  While she left to freshen up, Joe walked back to where Clara and Matthew were standing, watching the entertainment.  They both greeted him warmly and Matthew gracefully turned his partner over when Joe bowed to Clara and said,   “May I have this dance, ma’am?”

“Of course you may,” she said, taking his arm.  He led her out onto the floor and they began a graceful waltz.  “Are you having a good time tonight, dear?”

Joe smiled.  He liked the way she used little pet names for him, just the way he had often imagined a grandmother would have if he’d had one.  “It’s a wonderful party, Mrs. Hill,” he said honestly,  “but to tell the truth I think I’m just about done in.”

She laughed.  “I’m not surprised!  Between your rocky start this morning and dancing for hours this evening, you must be ready to drop.”

Joe grimaced at her mention of his overindulgence the previous night.  “Who told you?”

Clara needed no clarification to know what he meant.  “Matthew and your father were discussing it.  We’ve been keeping an eye on you tonight, you know.”

 “Oh,” he said flatly, not exactly pleased to know that they had felt he needed looking after. “You’re not still worrying about me, are you?”

She touched his cheek fondly and his annoyance faded. “Perhaps just a little.  Really, though, we’ve all been enjoying seeing you and Connie having such a nice time.”

“I noticed that you and Matthew seemed to be getting along very well tonight, too,” he said with a teasing grin.

Clara’s chin rose primly, though her eyes sparkled at him.  “He’s a very decent and personable man,” she said.  Joe’s eyebrow rose as if to say, ‘Is that all?’ and Clara laughed, dropping her façade of disinterest.  “We’ve had a marvelous time, Joe.  Once he got over being shy with John, he warmed right up and everyone has been thoroughly charmed by him, including me.”

“John?  You mean Governor Downey?” Joe asked.  “What did they find to talk about?”

“Well, you see John used to be a gold hunter in his day and it turns out that Matthew was as well, so that got them started.  In fact, I met John years ago when he hit a small strike and came to my late husband’s company for some investment advice.  The two of them became friends, and after my husband passed away John and I stayed friends. J & C Hill helped him open the drug store he wanted to start several years ago and when he eventually decided to give politics a try, I supported his campaign. Turns out that Matthew’s oldest son is a storekeeper so they talked quite a bit about that.  Now, if only John would quit trying to draw Matthew into a political debate, everything would be wonderful.” 

Joe was pleased.  “So, Matthew and Governor Downey really got along, huh?” He had not thought much beyond getting his two friends together, but if Matthew got along well with Clara’s friends then so much the better.  “That’s great. And you and Matthew were definitely having fun when I saw you dancing earlier.  See?  I knew you two would have a good time together.”

“Well, you needn’t look so smug,” she scolded, seeing his cat-who-ate-the-canary expression.

He laughed.  “Why not?” 

She thought a moment, then joined him in his laughter.  “I suppose you’re right.”  They danced silently for a while then she said,  “Ben tells me you two are leaving on Monday morning.”

Joe nodded.  “I asked for one extra day, but I almost wish I hadn’t.”  He colored as he realized how ungracious that sounded.  “Not that I won’t miss all of you.  I will, very much.  It’s just…”
 
“Homesickness getting worse?” She asked compassionately.  “Or is it Connie?”

Joe was surprised by her keen insight.  “Both.  Connie and I already know that there’s no future for us.  We just don’t have that kind of feeling about each other.”  He bit his lip, then decided to tell her the rest.  “But we do have another kind.  We were kissing this afternoon and we came closer than I like to admit to crossing the boundaries of simple friendship.  I’m afraid we won’t be able to avoid doing something we shouldn’t if we spend much more time together.”

“And this evening, you almost crossed those boundaries again, didn’t you?” Clara asked, spearing him with a piercing gaze.  She smiled at Joe’s start of surprise.  “I wasn’t born yesterday, Joe.  I remember how it felt to be young and full of fire.  You didn’t just go out on that terrace for fresh air, did you?”

Joe sighed and shook his head, smiling wryly.  “No, ma’am.”

“Then perhaps it might be best if you did leave tomorrow,” Clara said gently.  “Connie is all alone in this city, Joseph, and her folks are a long way away so I’m going to butt in and act on their behalf.  If it’s as you say, and you two already know you don’t have a future together, I don’t think you should see each other again, feeling as you do.”

A great pang of regret vibrated through Joe at her words, but he knew she was right.  “I’m gonna miss you, Clara Hill,” he whispered.  “All of you.  Matthew and the kids too.”

The music ended and Joe was surprised when instead of moving away, Clara stepped closer and gave him a hug.  “We’ll all miss you too, very much, but we’ll come and see you soon, and I promise we’ll all come and see you off in the morning.”

Joe nodded at her but could not speak past the sudden lump in his throat.  He took her hand and slowly walked her back to her escort.   Matthew and Joe’s father were talking with Connie when Joe and Clara returned.  Joe knew Pa must have read something in his face, for he instantly looked concerned and asked, “Is something the matter, Joseph?”

Joe cleared his throat.  “I, um, I was just telling Clara that we’d be leaving tomorrow morning, Pa.  She said she’d come see us off.” 

Ben looked confused at Joe’s words and opened his mouth to say something, but a soft poke in the ribs from Clara drew his startled attention to her instead.  She raised an eyebrow and nodded shallowly at Connie.  The girl had a sad yet resigned look upon her face as she and Joe exchanged a shallow nod.  Ben nodded, understanding the situation at once.  “Well, if we want to get an early start tomorrow then we’d best be going, son,” he said, trying to ease the somber mood that had suddenly settled over everyone. 

“I’ll take you home, Connie,” Joe offered.  “Susan told me you don’t live far from here.”

“N-no, I don’t,” she faltered.  “It’s a little boarding house about four blocks from here.  I just need to get my wrap.”  Turning, she walked quickly away and Joe thought he saw her dash at her eyes. 

He quickly bid everyone goodnight and followed her out.  A room had been set aside to hold all the guests’ coats and wraps and he found Connie there, holding a long blue cloak in her hands.  “I’m sorry,” he said, coming forward to help her into the garment.  “I should have said something to you privately before just announcing I was leaving.  I didn’t even ask if you wanted to stay at the ball a little while longer.”
   
Connie turned and flung herself into his arms.  “I don’t want to stay.  I just don’t want to think that this is the last time we’ll ever see each other,” she whispered.  “As soon as I saw your face when you came back from dancing with Mrs. Hill I knew what you were going to say.  It has to be this way, doesn’t it?”

Joe felt his own throat choking up in response to the tears in her voice.  “It has to.”

After a short time, they both took a deep breath and pulled apart, leaving the hotel silently and staying equally silent all the long four blocks to Connie’s home.  Neither of them had even suggested doing anything other than walking, and they did that as slow as possible.  On Connie’s doorstep, Joe tenderly stroked back the little tendrils of golden hair that had fallen from her braids to frame her face and bent close for one last kiss.  Then they parted and Joe turned to go.  “Goodbye, Joe,” Connie said quietly.  He turned to smile at her one last time, then quickly walked away.

Joe did not return to the hotel immediately.  He was too restless for sleep and too keyed up for company, so instead he walked.  For nearly two hours he roamed the streets of Sacramento, thinking over all that had happened to him since the day of his arrival.  At last, he turned back and made his way back to the Palace, knowing he would need to at least try to sleep if he was going to get up early in the morning.  The ball was over by the time he returned and the last few lingering guests were making their way out the large front entrance.  Joe slipped in past them, only realizing when he hit the warmth of the fire lit lobby that he was chilly.  His heart gave a small pang when he looked over at the front desk.  There was an older man working the desk in Connie’s absence, but Joe pictured her there just the same.  With a quiet sigh, he trudged past it and up the stairs, hesitating outside his father’s door.  He knocked very softly, in case Pa was asleep, but the door opened immediately.  Without a word, Joe went in and took a seat on the foot of the bed.

“Were you with Connie all this time?” Ben asked carefully, looking as though he was afraid to hear the answer.

Joe sighed and rumpled his hair up.  He had long since removed the cravat, stuffing it in his pocket after pinning the diamond stud carefully to it, and had unfastened the choking upper buttons of his shirt.  Now he took off his jacket as well and rolled his sleeves up.  “No, Pa.  I only stayed with her long enough to say goodbye.  I’ve just been walking around since then.”  He sighed again and offered his father a lopsided smile.  “Guess you’ve figured out why I want to leave tomorrow, huh?”

Ben sat down next to him.  “I think so, and if I understand the situation correctly, I don’t blame you. I think you’re doing the right thing, son.”

“If everyone knows it’s right, why do I feel so lousy about it?” Joe asked disconsolately.  “I think I really could have fallen hard for Connie given enough time, Pa, but for right now it’s just not there.  I just can’t imagine spending my life here with her any more than I can imagine her living on the Ponderosa.”

“And you can’t imagine leaving the Ponderosa to live with her somewhere in between,” Ben concluded.  Joe shook his head, studying his clasped hands in his lap.  “Then you definitely did the right thing, Joseph, and in time you’ll know that too.”

“I guess,” Joe said quietly.  They sat together for a moment longer, then Joe rose and moved to the door.  “G’night, Pa.  I’ll see you in the morning.”



Chapter 21

The following day, Joe was up much earlier than he had expected, and much more awake given his late night.  Ben found him trying to figure out how to repack all his increased belongings in the two small saddlebags and having no success.  He had already solved the problem of the huge sausage by rolling it up in his bedroll, but the two additional suits, the duster and other new clothes and the gifts he had bought were proving to be a problem.  He had finally decided that his green jacket would take up far less room than the duster and had elected to wear the latter home, but that still left the other things. 

“Problems, son?” Ben asked with a smile.

“I just can’t figure out how I’m going to get all this junk home, Pa,” Joe complained.  “I barely got the things I started with in there!”

“Well, I have an idea,” Ben suggested as he produced two more saddlebags, only one of which was full.  “I managed to get my new suit in here along with the other things.  I packed light when I came to the city, since I was in a hurry.  You’re welcome to the other bag.”

“Thanks, Pa,” Joe said, his face brightening.  The empty saddlebag proved just barely big enough for all of Joe’s belongings, especially since he used extra care packing the wind chime for Hop Sing.  “Oh, by the way, this is for you.”

 He held out the shark’s tooth and he and his father exchanged a grin.  “Thank you, Joe,” Ben chuckled.  “I think I know what this reminded you of.  I appreciate you thinking of me.”

“You’re welcome,” Joe said, gritting his teeth as he shoved one last item into the bulging bag.  “Perfect!  Let’s get out of here.”

The two men quickly checked the room over to make sure Joe had not left anything behind then left.  They ate a quick breakfast in the dining room then went to leave; only to find the entire Hill family and Matthew Garde were waiting for them in the lobby, as promised.   The children all began crying the moment that Joe came into view and he knelt down to receive their tearful hugs, unable to help brimming up himself.  Joey was inconsolable at the thought of his leaving until Joe reminded him that his grandmother had promised that they would all make a trip out to the Ponderosa before too long.  He brightened up a bit at that though the tears still rolled down his cheeks in fat drops as he was passed over to say goodbye to Ben.  Amanda clung to Joe’s neck tightly for a moment, then turned and hid her face in her grandmother’s skirts.  The last up was Jane and she too hugged Joe tightly.

“Are you going to be all right?” he asked her, remembering Clara’s story about the girl’s attachment to her father. 

She nodded and managed a smile for him.  She hugged him again and whispered.  “Thank you for everything, Little Joe.” 

Joe stood, wiping his eyes on his sleeve in some embarrassment as he turned to face Clara and Matthew.  He need not have felt embarrassed though, for both of them also had tears in their eyes.  Matthew shook his hand firmly then gave him a solid back-thumping hug.  “Sure going to miss you, youngster,” he said gruffly.  “You’ve done more for me than I can ever repay and I’m grateful.”

“What do you mean?” Joe asked with a faint smile, snuffling as they parted.  “All I did was get you a date.”  They exchanged an understanding nod as Matthew put his arm around Clara and gave her shoulders a squeeze, then pulled the children to one side.  Already acting like their grandpa , Joe mused with a deep sense of satisfaction.

Clara wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight, then kissed him gently.  “Goodbye, my dear.  We’ll see you very soon.”  Joe hugged her back, hard, then moved away and waved at all of them, not trusting himself to speak. 

A few minutes later, Joe and Ben emerged from the stable on their horses and began walking them down the street towards the road home.  Joe turned in his saddle when he heard someone frantically calling his name.  It was Susan.  He stopped and allowed her to catch up.  “I couldn’t let you go without saying goodbye and thank you,” she said breathlessly.  Her face was bright and beaming.  “Frank asked me to marry him last night, Joe.  All this time I thought he didn’t care and he’s loved me all along!  We never would have found out the truth if it weren’t for you and I’m so grateful.”

“Susan, that’s fantastic,” Joe said happily, his mood bouncing away from the sadness his good-byes had caused and buoying up into cheer again.  “When are you getting married?”

“Probably not until the summer,” she said.  “We need a little time to save some money first, but I wanted to be sure and invite you to the wedding.  After all, you are responsible for bringing it about.”

“Write to me, care of the Ponderosa ranch, Nevada Territory,” he told her.  “Let me know when you have a date set and I promise that if I’m free, I’ll come.”

“Thanks again, Joe,” she said, waving as she hurried back to the hotel, undoubtedly going to spread the news.  “Have a safe trip home!”

Joe took a deep breath and smiled at his father.  “Home.  It’s a nice sounding word, isn’t it?”

“It sure is, son,” Ben agreed, kicking his horse into a faster pace as Joe did the same.  “It sure is.”

 
 
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