Part Three

Historical Notes

I cheated on the wedding service. It’s from the 1928 Episcopalian Book of Common Prayer. Only God and maybe David Dortort know what faith the Cartwrights espoused, but most certainly they weren’t sixty-four years ahead of their time.

Musical Notes  

The definitive version of the 300-year-old Irish tune Planxty George Brabazon is on the CD “Water from the Well,” by The Chieftains.

Bonanza Notes

This assumes that the Cartwrights are the ages assigned by David Dortort: Ben was born about 1810, Adam in 1830, Hoss in 1836, Joe in 1842. ~~ Adam’s horse Sport is the original one, the one with attitude, who was in the credits for years, but present only until the middle of Season Two. ~~ The layout of the ranch and barn also is from early in the series, when there were many trees and a bench in front of the house. ~~ And I played fast and loose with geography, just as Bonanza did; the house is up in the mountains, but a only an hour from town—rather an achievement, given the actual distances.

Disclaimer

Ben, Adam, Hoss, Joe, Hop Sing, Paul Martin, Roy Coffee are not mine. Neither is Governor James Warren Nye, who doesn’t even belong to David Dortort; presumably, he belonged only to himself, but as he’s been dead since 1876, let me simply say that I hope he’s been portrayed respectfully. Everyone else belongs to me, whether I want them or not.
Copyright © September 2003 As allowed

Chapter One

BEN CARTWRIGHT awakened in the past. It was not surprising, the morning after the night before … a night which had ricocheted from pure evil to total joy. He didn’t know yet whether evil would claim a victory—an old man’s life—or if the joy, his joy, was more than passing.

It had been a tumultuous few hours. With his sons, he’d faced down the adversaries of statehood and opened the door to the future for Nevada; a beloved old friend and employee had been beaten nearly to death; and the woman he loved had suddenly, miraculously, let him know that her heart might be open to him. It was almost too much to comprehend.

So he awakened far away. In New England, long ago … or perhaps it was here and now. Maybe he wasn’t awake at all. Maybe he was dreaming. Or was he in that strange half-world that sometimes existed between nighttime and the day?

It was as if he’d gone back to observe the beginning of his life … all those years ago, when he’d felt he had the strength to conquer anything. How little he’d known then! In his wildest dreams, he’d never have guessed what enormous fortitude living would take. In his bedroom at the Ponderosa, he watched the sequence of his years unfold around him.

He floated backward to his youthful days aboard The Wanderer, to the joy of first realizing that he was in love with Elizabeth, that she meant more to him than the sea. He could feel their elation when they’d learned she was with child, just as he still knew the devastation of her death and the bleak time of struggle without her. The only positive thing he could recall from those years was Adam … a silent boy with enormous eyes that seemed to reflect his mother. He’d loved Adam more fiercely than anything in his life, with the desperation of a man who had lost his bearings, who didn’t know how to live. But even then, he’d failed his son and he knew that would haunt him until the end of his days. He’d given Adam everything that was in him, but all of himself back then was nothing.

Blessedly, there’d been the redemption of Inger, the invitation to life again. To warmth and happiness and love. She may not have possessed Elizabeth’s challenging intellect, but she’d shared his first wife’s capacity for giving of herself, and better than anyone he’d ever met, she accepted and forgave the shortcomings of her fellow man. She was, in so many ways, life itself. To this day, he would never understand how such goodness could die.

He would never forget her gift to him either; she’d taught him how to hope. At a time when he’d had none, she’d appeared in his life with a lesson that never could be unlearned—that even in the darkest days there is beauty and one must always seek it. She had been his beauty, and even when she’d become his second tragedy, he could not stop hoping that somehow he would find again the love he’d known with her. And with Elizabeth.

He certainly never would have guessed that he’d find it in New Orleans with a beautiful Creole whose background could not have been more different from his. She hadn’t been like his first two wives—or perhaps she had, and it had been he who had been different. He didn’t stop to question it. With Elizabeth, he’d known an equality of partnership; then Inger had taken the lead in restoring his spirit; and with Marie, he’d been allowed to give back some of the love and compassion that had been stored up inside of him. He’d helped her come alive again after the disillusionment she’d suffered at the hands of her first husband. At least he’d never had to question the character of the women he’d chosen. Marie had had to learn to trust again.

The amazing thing, he reflected, was that from all that pain and loss, he best remembered the happiness. Was that the sign of a life well-lived? He had so few bad memories. While it was painful to recall the times when he’d lost the women he’d loved, he had dwelt, overall, on the fullness of their days together.

Thinking of those days, he realized how much he’d withdrawn, gradually and imperceptibly, into himself since Marie’s death. Oh, yes, he’d remained constant with his boys—but that part of a man which related to a woman, which responded to the tenderness and caring of a wife, had slowly folded its wings and settled away into some corner of himself that he’d hardly known existed. It was as if a certain richness was missing from the air, and only now, as he contemplated Lily Mercer, did he realize that loss.

In the darkness of the wee hours, he succumbed again to sleep, or perhaps the dreams merely slipped away, but the images faded and the room became quiet as his past disappeared into the evocative air. Somehow, on the edge of his consciousness, he knew that it all had to do with Lily … life was speeding up, gaining color and brilliance, sailing into a stratosphere he’d known before, so long ago. He just needed time to understand it, and very likely strength. And courage. One more time.

<<<<<>>>>>

Adam Cartwright was dreaming of Henry David Thoreau when he awakened. “Morning is when I am awake and there is dawn in me.” Not a chance. There isn’t even dawn outside yet. “Little is to be expected of that day … to which we are not awakened by our Genius, but by the mechanical nudgings of some servitor.” That’s for sure. So what is that infernal noise?

The infernal noise was the barest scratching at his door. He groaned and muttered, “Come in!” The events of the previous night were coming back to him.

The door drifted open only a slender margin and a young girl’s face appeared around it, her eyes large. “I’m sorry to bother you.”

Michaela. Adam woke up fast, checking immediately to make sure he had on a nightshirt. He did, a black-striped cotton edition that was a concession to the house being full of guests.

“No—that’s all right. Come in.” He pushed the pillows back against the headboard and sat up, pulling the covers over his chest. Then he lit the lamp on the bedside table.

Michaela Van Dine, dressed in her nightgown and robe, with her dark hair braided down her back, slipped into his room. Her feet were bare and she looked a great deal younger and more vulnerable than her ten years.

“I’m sorry, Adam, but I couldn’t wait any longer. I had to know. Is Brownie—is he still alive?”

Adam’s face softened. “He was as of last night.” He tossed one of the pillows to the end of the bed and motioned for her to climb up. “And if no one’s pounded on our front door yet, that means he still is.”

“I wanted to wait till sunup,” she said. “I knew you wouldn’t get much sleep.”

Adam glanced at the window. He rarely closed his curtains and outside, the night’s blackness conceded only to the feathery grey of pre-dawn.

It wasn’t surprising that the brutal beating of the old man she’d grown fond of had upset her, he thought. She’d seen Brownie, bloody and unconscious, where the thugs had thrown him on the front porch, had watched as he and Joe and their father had ridden off on a mission of vengeance, and as Brownie’s helper and Lily Mercer had taken the old man to the doctor. But she hadn’t any way of knowing what had happened after that. She’d been asleep when they’d returned from town or he’d have gone to comfort her then.

“He was still unconscious when we came back, but Doc Martin said he’d send word if there was any change.” He studied her concerned face. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She arranged the pillow against the footboard, crossed her legs under her nightgown and leaned back. “Yes, please. What happened?”

“From what we can tell, some of McWhirter’s men beat him up as an anti-statehood message to Pa. Apparently shooting at you and attacking Pa and Lily wasn’t enough for them.”

“What’d you do when you got to Virginia City last night?”

He ran a hand through the ruffle of black hair that fell over his forehead. “After we left Brownie at Doc Martin’s, we found McWhirter at a political rally. Pa wound up giving a speech that got some attention, so the statehood issue now looks well in hand.” He betrayed a little smile. “You’ll have to ask Lily how she helped.”

For a second, Michaela’s curiosity outweighed her worry. “What’d she do?”

He shook his head. “You ask her. I’ll just tell you she did a good job. I’m not sure Pa would have been as successful without her.”

“Did she and Uncle Ben—you know …”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. They rode back from town together.”

“And you don’t know what happened?”

“No. And if I may say so, it’s just like a woman to ask a question like that.”

She started to giggle and then sobered. “I’m glad that Uncle Ben got statehood taken care of … but Adam, what if Brownie dies?”

His expression darkened. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“Can’t you just go get those people who did it to him?”

“Sweetheart, unless Brownie can identify them—and that’s doubtful because they probably wore masks—we can’t prove anything. We think we know who did it, but our hands are tied.” Before his eyes, the life seemed to fade from her face and she wore only a tight, cold look that was disturbing. “Try not to think about it. The most important thing is that Brownie recovers.”

“But that’s not fair.”

“Mickey, that’s how things are sometimes. What if we punished the people we thought hurt Brownie and we were wrong?”

She swallowed heavily and regarded him with piercing blue eyes that were clouding with frustration.

“If that happened,” he said, “we’d be as bad as the people who hurt him.”

“I understand.”

“I know it’s hard.”

She didn’t meet his eyes, but instead curled her knees up in front of her and wrapped her arms around them, her posture and set face closing out the world.

“Sometimes, I think if I had a gun, I could kill people who hurt others,” she whispered. “Why do some people hurt others? Especially those who can’t fight back?”

Adam sighed deeply. He couldn’t—could not—set her wrong. “Mickey … I don’t know. Maybe the day I can understand that will be the day I can do it, and I don’t want that to happen.”

“Do you shoot people?”

“Sometimes.”

“Why?”

“I can’t remember a time that it wasn’t either self-defense or to defend someone else.”

“How does it feel to shoot a person?”

Adam slipped a hand inside the placket of his nightshirt as if to steady himself.  “If it’s someone trying to kill me or someone else, it’s not too bad, if I only wound him. If I kill him, I never feel good about it.”

“Why not, if he’s trying to kill you?”

He waited until his silence forced her to look at him. “Because a life isn’t mine to take. Not that I haven’t taken men’s lives—I have. But I’ve never come to peace with it.”

She nodded, her face still taut with the effort of comprehending.

He pulled the blanket even farther up. “Come here,” he said softly.

She needed no second invitation, crawling quickly over the covers to lay her head on his chest. For all the times she seemed so grown-up for her age, she was, after all, so innocent and new.

“Adam, is statehood worth it?” He was considering his answer when she rushed on, “I don’t doubt that it is—I’m not saying Uncle Ben is wrong. But I know you’d ask … so I thought I would too.”

Adam rested his head against the headboard, wondering if she could feel the beat of his heart beneath her cheek. Every now and then she simply took his breath away.

“Yes, I think statehood’s worth it. Nevada will be a better place to live on account of it. But is it worth a man’s life, especially one taken so senselessly? Mickey, I don’t think there’s an answer to that.” He stroked her hair. “We have to hope Brownie gets better.”

“If you can’t catch them, will they come and hurt us?”

“I doubt it. That’s all over now.” He wondered what his father had felt when he and Hoss and Joe had asked questions like that, out of the blue, that couldn’t really be answered and yet had to be addressed.

She propped herself on his chest to look into his eyes. “I think you can find them. And you can find a way to prove that they’re guilty.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“I feel funny … like I shouldn’t be happy, because we can’t be sure yet that Brownie’ll be all right.” She subsided back to his shoulder. “But I shouldn’t be sad, because Hoss is getting married and statehood’s okay and all that stuff. It’s a lot to be thankful for.”

“Yeah, it’s hard to balance. Maybe a little more sleep would help.”

“I’m glad you did. But why don’t you close your eyes?”

“Do you mind? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. I have pillows behind me. Now go to sleep …” She had dozed off before he finished the sentence.

Adam smiled. Children, it seemed, were like puppies and kittens. They ran on raw energy forever and then just fell over in their tracks. For a second, his fingers tightened on her thin arm. He was sorry that she’d been exposed to the harsh reality of the attack on Brownie, but at the same time thankful that he’d been there to help her with it. He just prayed he’d said the right thing—and that Brownie recovered. He was questioning less and less his role of substitute parent; he wished that Michaela would talk to her own father about life’s serious lessons, but in the absence of that, he had to do the best job he could to stand in for Aubrey Van Dine.

He shifted subtly to get more comfortable and let his eyes drift shut. Henry David Thoreau had gone, and he settled into a deep and satisfying sleep.

<<<<<>>>>>

The sun was barely up and the house was silent when Ben awakened again, and this time there was no thought of going back to sleep. Even though he knew he’d hardly rested, he was ready, even eager, to face the day.

He washed, shaved and dressed, and came out into the hall, treading carefully so as not to awaken anyone. Noticing that his oldest son’s door was open, he was about to close it when he paused to appreciate the scene before him. Adam was propped against the headboard, his black hair disheveled, his face tranquil. He was sound asleep, his arm wrapped around the child who curled next to him on the blanket. Michaela’s face lay against his chest, her single braid looping over the pillow beyond.

Two faces, he couldn’t help thinking, looking at his son and the little girl, each so articulate in the repose of sleep. Both young, Michaela at the beginning of life, Adam—for all his intellect—only partially experienced in it.

Suddenly he felt as if he were in the vortex of a whirlwind and actually swayed slightly on his feet, grabbing the doorframe and trying to catch his breath. He could almost feel Elizabeth close to him … in the depth of his emotion, in the knowledge of how she would share his pride and his love, in the awareness of how like her Adam was.

She had been a great deal more outgoing than their son, Ben recalled, but who’s to say how Adam would have turned out, had he not suffered so much tragedy as a child? Even with his reserve, he had his mother’s warm heart, a spirit which never knew when to stop giving. Hoss was the one famous for bringing home wounded animals and strays, but really, Adam was about as bad … not only animals, but people. He was always trying to help any downtrodden, misunderstood or mistreated person. Time and again they betrayed his trust, but somehow that never seemed to break him.

Ben swallowed heavily. Somewhere, somehow, a long time ago—probably when he’d endured the loss of three mothers—a line had been drawn around Adam’s heart. The difference in his first two sons was that when Hoss gave of himself, he gave everything, and when he was hurt, he was devastated. Adam, on the other hand, gave as much as he was able, freely and without hesitation, but when he was let down or deceived, he just absorbed the disappointment. There was a part of him that even he couldn’t access, a final level of his feelings that was protected. So far he had never been asked to give it; Ben didn’t believe that any of the women Adam had said he’d loved had really achieved that last inner sanctum.

Sometimes I’ve despaired for him, he thought, as if he were speaking to Elizabeth. He deserves so much more. I couldn’t take away the pain that caused this. Even as he thought the words, he knew the real crime was that no one could have done that. Life simply came as it did and the greatest strength a man could have was the ability to endure it. Adam had that in spades.

He leaned against the doorframe, his head clear now and a warm happiness welling up within him. It’s changing now. I’ve waited so long for him to meet a woman that would unlock his soul, but the job has fallen to a little girl.

Maybe he should have known all along that the key to Adam’s heart would not be found in an expected way; that would have been too easy.  He was sure that his son had not anticipated the far-reaching implications of a chance friendship with a needy child. Probably he didn’t yet realize that once the door to his heart opened, there would be no closing it.

Across the room, he saw Michaela’s eyes open, but like a young animal, she didn’t move a muscle. Her great solemn blue eyes just stared at him. He smiled as he remembered that she was writing a story to show Adam how much she loved the Sierras … she was, on all counts, an unusual child.

And then he noticed that while Adam was under the covers, Michaela was lying on top of them and the bedroom was cool. Tiptoeing to the end of the bed, he unfolded the extra cotton blanket that was there, spreading it over her. She regarded him sleepily and snuggled in closer to Adam, her eyes drifting shut. She probably wouldn’t remember waking up, he mused, and leaving the door open so that Michaela’s mother would have no trouble finding her, he descended the stairs.

The air was clean and fragrant when he crossed the yard. It had been a while since he’d felt the inherent beauty of a Sierra morning, and he wondered just how numb he’d been for the past several months. Now it was as if every nerve ending was drinking in the day. He was happy to be alive—he was happy, period.

Part of it, he figured, was because there had been no knock at the door in the lost hours between midnight and dawn. Brownie must have survived the night, and knowing the old man, that meant he would survive the day too.

Ben stopped abruptly. If he lost Brownie, he lost not only a valued old friend, but a link to his own past. The old scout had known him before … had known those old days of dreams and hard scrabble. He took a moment to pray again that Brownie would recover, adding an admission—a selfish acknowledgement to God—that he needed that connection to his own life.

“Morning, Mr. Cartwright!”

Ben looked up in surprise to find that Brownie’s helper was already cleaning the stalls.

“Morning, Robbie. You’re up early this morning.”

“No earlier than everyday … well, maybe a little bit,” the boy replied. “Gotta make sure everything’s like Brownie wants it when he gets back.”

Ben smiled to himself. Brownie probably had no idea how much his friends cared about him. It wasn’t surprising; the old man was simple and uneducated, but he’d never told a lie in his life and he’d give anyone the shirt off his back—not that his shirt was worth a red cent, but that was just the kind of person he was.

It wasn’t until he had saddled Buck and ridden away from the house that he finally let his mind dwell on Lily, and how their comforting hug had turned into a passionate kiss. “Tomorrow,” she had said—today. He would find out how she felt about him today.

I’ve been falling more in love with her every day, he realized. It had been a mistake to let her go last fall. He knew that now. He still believed that love couldn’t be forced, but he remembered how he’d felt when he’d lost Elizabeth. If Howard Mercer had been as exceptional as Adam remembered, then he could understand Lily’s desolation. He should simply have been patient; the good Lord never gives us more than we can handle, he reminded himself. I could have helped Lily learn that … find her way through the darkness. More than anyone, he knew the joy that could be waiting on the other side of loss.

He turned Buck up a slope of pines which filtered the sun and cooled the air, at last emerging on the crest of the hill that overlooked a little valley which ran south through the ranch. Already clouds were beginning to close over the peaks above, looking like great white crowns in the azure sky. They’d been expecting rain for three days now, and he just hoped it would blow through before tomorrow evening’s wedding reception, which they’d planned for the yard in front of the house.

He shifted in his saddle and his thoughts returned to Lily. The fact was that in addition to loving her mind and spirit, he needed her physically as well, and that was something nature wasn’t letting him escape. It didn’t surprise him; he’d always been a man of appetite, and if he’d tried to behave with decorum and to set a good example for his sons, that didn’t mean he hadn’t known—and on occasion satisfied—normal masculine desires. What had caught him off guard with Lily was that his desire, instead of diminishing with age, seemed to have grown. He was almost breathless just thinking about taking her to bed. Good heavens, one benefit he’d appreciated when he’d gotten older was that while he still enjoyed women, he had more control over how he reacted—he was no longer vulnerable to just any woman. But when his interest was fixed, as it was with Lily, it was a not-so-humorous joke to find himself at the mercy of his body.

Buck snorted, trying to graze, and Ben pulled up his head to turn him back down the hillside. He’d gone farther than he’d intended; he’d be lucky to be back in time for breakfast. Even though he knew that Lily was unlikely to make a dramatic avowal over the bacon and eggs, he found that he was suddenly just anxious to be in her presence. After all, his most important decision already had been made: Unless she had a damn good reason why he should leave her alone, he was going to do whatever it took to win her.

It was well after nine when he rode into the yard and turned Buck over to Robbie. He was just opening the front door when he noticed that he was whistling, and with a charge of pleasure recognized “George Brabazon.” The old Irish tune had been special to him since childhood, and had seemed even more dear when he’d found out it was a favorite of Lily’s as well. But since the previous October, the very thought of it had been too painful to bear.

The stillness of the deserted great room silenced him.

“Hop Sing! Where is everybody?”

The Chinese cook appeared at the hall to the kitchen. “All go out.”

“What’d you mean, they all went out? Where did they go?”

“Mis-tah Adam and Mis-tah Hoss go to town to see if Mis-tah Bwlown can come hom’. Mis-tah Joe take ev’yone else to new house. Last wo’k befo’ wedding.” The little cook peered curiously at Ben. “Where you go?”

“I—uh, the upcountry. Lily went too?”

“She ha’ no choice. Missee Jul-ya say go.”

“I see.”

“You like ham an’ eggs?”

“Ah, no. No, I’m not very hungry. Perhaps just some coffee.”

Hop Sing nodded, and Ben stilled his impatience to see Lily. They’d waited this long; he wasn’t going to die if it took a few more hours. He admitted a little grin. Lily and Julia Van Dine—Michaela’s mother and the wife of an old friend who was now the Ponderosa’s commercial agent—had come from San Francisco to attend Hoss’ wedding. Knowing them, he was not surprised that they had gone off to help the bridal couple be sure everything was ready.

His gaze fell on a leatherbound volume that lay on his desk. Le Comedie Humaine. Lily had suggested that he’d enjoy the French writer Balzac, and she’d been right. For a moment, he considered wiling away the day reading and just waiting for her return, but the stack of paperwork on his desk put an end to those thoughts. He set the book aside and faced the daunting task of bringing the Ponderosa’s records up to date.

Ben was on the porch, papers spread across the table, when Hoss and Adam returned late in the morning. The first thing he noted was the empty buckboard, and he rose to meet his sons with a stab of worry.

“Brownie ain’t ready to come home yet, Pa, but he’s gonna be all right,” Hoss said quickly, reading his father’s expression. “Doc Martin says with the weddin’ an’ all, it’d be best if he stays there for a coupla more days. We can go get him on Sunday.”

Ben smiled crookedly. “We’ll go get him, Hoss, but you won’t be along.”

“No,” Hoss chuckled. “Guess I won’t at that.” He went on inside.

Adam debated following his brother and then threw himself into one of the chairs with such force that Ben glanced at him in surprise. “Is something wrong?”

“Other than the fact that we don’t know who beat up Brownie? Or let me correct that—we know who did it, but we can’t prove it.”

“It’s early yet. Give Roy a chance.”

“He’ll need more than a chance.” Adam’s tone was sour. “The word on the street is that McWhirter’s hired gun, Arch Danhoff, was behind it, but of course no one’s talking.”

Ben regarded his son, noting the tense set of his shoulders and the coiled look of one leg, braced against the table. “You need to calm down,” he said. “Your brother’s wedding is tomorrow and you don’t want to spoil it. There’ll be time to find the men who hurt Brownie, and if Roy needs our help, he’ll ask for it.”

“I know.” Adam exhaled a long breath. “I was even telling Michaela that statehood’s more important than catching the men who attacked Brownie.”

“You’re right, you know—as much as it would hurt to let those men go free.”

“That’s easier to say before you’ve seen Brownie.”

“Hoss said—”

“Hoss went to pick up some supplies. He wasn’t there long enough.”

“And you were?”

“I sat with Brownie for a while.”

Adam didn’t say any more and Ben sat back thoughtfully. All those years ago, when his son was five … how close he had been to the scout who’d led the wagon train on the first long leg of their journey out of Illinois, and then later, for a stretch farther on. Since Brownie had turned up two years ago, broke and not strong enough for heavy ranch work, he and Adam had reclaimed their bond of friendship. But Adam was hard to read; Ben wouldn’t have figured that he was any closer to the guide than Hoss and Joe were, and both of them had taken to the old character immediately. He realized again that his eldest son’s most serious feelings always had to be guessed.

“You know, I got to thinking …” Adam’s voice sounded quietly in the late afternoon stillness. “If Brownie hadn’t had to take the Bensons and the Thorpes and the Franklins down to Vieux Ford, we never would have gotten involved in that Sioux raid. None of that trouble would have happened because Brownie wouldn’t have let it happen.”

Ben fought the sudden wrench in his gut. He knew what Adam was saying. Had Brownie been there, Inger wouldn’t have died. Brownie had stepped lightly over the land, riling neither man—certainly not the powerful Ogalala Sioux—nor beast.

“You’re right, son,” he said a little hoarsely. “I didn’t realize you’d gotten so close to Brownie. I know you’re friends, and you certainly have history—”

“I don’t know exactly how close I am to him,” Adam said evenly, “but he’s one of us and he didn’t deserve what happened to him.”

Ben stared at his son. That was so like Adam, and there was no way to tell if he meant his words or if he simply didn’t care to discuss his feelings. Most likely it was both.

He shut the two ledgers and stood up; the accounting could wait until after the wedding.  “Why don’t we go inside?” he said. They were almost to the front door when he reached out to grip his son’s shoulder. “Promise me you’ll let this go for the time being.”

Adam stopped to meet his gaze. “All right,” he said. “And I know, you’re right about letting Roy handle it too.”

Ben let his relief show. “I’m glad to hear you say that. I know you believe it; I count on that, son.”

Adam grunted impatiently, but he seemed to relax and his eyes warmed suddenly above a quirky little smile. “Don’t worry—I’m not going to ruin Hoss’ wedding day. We’ve waited too long for this and I wouldn’t dream of getting in the way.”

Chapter Two

As it turned out, the final preparation of Hoss and Eleanor’s new home lasted late, and Joe was maneuvered into inviting all of the Vances—including the dreaded Aunt Louise Calthrop—to the Ponderosa for a last celebration before the wedding. Ben had to sit across the table or across the room from the one person he wanted to be alone with, and worse yet, to endure the overly-enthusiastic attentions of Eleanor’s spinster aunt. Only when Lily shot him an understanding glance did he finally relax.

Settled in one of the red leather chairs, relieved of dodging the predatory female only because the others had involved her in a discussion about honeymoons, he allowed a small laugh at himself. He certainly was learning to put his own wishes first; here he was on the eve of his son’s wedding and all he could think about was his own love.

He indulged in just observing Lily.  Hope, like a spring breeze, had blown open a portal inside him and suddenly no detail was small enough to escape his notice. Even after a full day of work, dressed casually and somewhat disheveled because there had been no time to clean up, she looked lovely. He was mesmerized by a slender wisp of auburn hair which drifted in the air by her cheek; if he were sitting next to her, he might tuck it behind her ear for her. And he liked the way her thin linen blouse was open one button at the throat, how it suggested the opulence of her breasts.

Mercifully, it was a short evening, as everyone wanted a good rest before the festivities. With relief, he watched Hoss load Miss Calthrop into the surrey for the trip back to the Vance home, smiling weakly as she declared that she expected several of his dances the following evening. That necessitated a severe glare at Lily, whose eyes were bright with amusement, as were, he noticed, Julia’s, Joe’s and Adam’s.

But then the carriage drove away and Julia shepherded Michaela indoors, Joe and Adam in her wake. When Ben and Lily didn’t follow, they found themselves alone in the yard, looking at the front door as it closed behind everyone else.

Without a word, he offered her his arm, leading her away from the porch. In anticipation of the coming storm, the air had turned balmy, and they were out of the yard, beyond the corral in a stand of pines, before he spoke. “I was beginning to think our ‘tomorrow’ would never happen.”

“So was I,” she admitted. “All I could think last night was that we were both so tired, we hadn’t any business talking about anything important. If I’d known what today would bring, perhaps I’d have reconsidered.”

“No, you were right … as much as I cursed every second that went by without you.”

Her breath came a little faster at his words. “I’d planned to wait till after Hoss’ wedding to—to tell you something.” She blushed. “I—ah, I lost a little control last night, so I suppose now …”

“Before you say anything, let me add that I, too, was waiting until after the wedding to see—well, at least to talk to you.”

Her eyes brightened in surprise. “Really?” But she hesitated, fidgeting nervously. “Would you like to go first?”

He took her hand and realized that she was trembling; she was so tense that already he wanted to take her in his arms. “Lily, last fall in San Francisco, I made a terrible mistake.” The color drained from her face, and his other hand moved quickly to reassure her, his curled fingers brushing gently across her cheek. “I let you walk away from me.”

Her lips parted with a small sigh of relief and just for a second he was lost in what that told him—that she didn’t want to lose him. He was also lost in the shape of those lips and how much he wanted to kiss them.

“I wanted to respect your wishes,” he continued, confidence taking over from hope. “I know now that I’ll always respect you—but I’ll always love you too, and I can’t let you walk away.”

Her luminous eyes filled with tears and the trembling returned. “Hold me, Ben, please …”

He was only too happy to comply, enfolding her against his chest, one hand moving to stroke her hair.

“Just relax, Lily.” He couldn’t even begin to tell her how good it felt to have her in his arms again. He had no idea yet of how she felt—if she loved him—but it didn’t matter. She would love him; he knew that as surely as he knew the sun would come up over Lake Tahoe.

At last her breathing slowed and when she finally looked up at him, he didn’t have to ask how she felt. He could see it in her eyes.

“Please forgive me for last fall,” she said. “It’s no excuse, but I was so terrified. Almost as terrified”—she allowed a timid smile—“as I was when I realized I’d been so wrong. I do love you, Ben. I loved you then and I don’t think I ever stopped loving you, although I did a good job of fooling myself.” Her breath caught. “I love you beyond anything you could imagine.”

He closed his eyes for a second, savoring a profound happiness, before crushing her against him again so that she could feel the race of his heart. He kissed her forehead, her temple, her auburn hair, drank in her delicate scent and deliberately abstained from her lips. There would be time for that soon, but for now it was enough just to hold her.

From somewhere, his old friend the owl shouted a long, triumphant series of notes. It sounded as if the bird were signaling a great event, and as phenomenal as everything seemed with Lily in his arms, Ben found it utterly appropriate. He leaned back against a tree, taking her with him, listening to the wind pick up as it rustled through the pines around them.

“I could stay here forever,” she finally murmured, “as long as you were holding me like this.”

“And I would be,” he said tenderly. “I don’t think I can let you go.”

She raised her head, looking up to see his face. “I can’t believe I was as stupid and blind as I was—that I lost us so much time—”

He pressed a finger to her lips. The long empty months seemed to dissolve in his memory. “Hush. I don’t want to hear it. You’re here now. That’s all I care about.”

“You’re sure?”

He kissed her then, a long, slow, respectful kiss that conveyed his emotions and only hinted at the flood of desire which roiled just beneath the surface. “I’m sure, Lily.”

At first his only feeling was gratitude—to her, to life, to God for bringing her back into his life. His fingers traced lightly over her back, absorbing the texture of the delicate blouse, in their heightened awareness noting the outline of her undergarments and the intriguing way her spine curved beneath his palm. It seemed so natural to be holding her, charting such details as if they would always be a part of him. He was becoming lost in everything about her … and before long, the sensation of her body against his worked its magic. An agreeable heat was rising under his skin.

“There’s something you have to know, Ben.”

“H’m?”

“Tonight … it wasn’t really that I hesitated to tell you how I felt. I’ve been waiting to say that all week.” She looked up at him and her tongue ran hastily over her lips. “But suddenly it was so astonishing. Even I hadn’t guessed how very much I love you and—you know, it’s a scary thing.”

“As a matter of fact, I do know.”

“Thank God,” she said, smiling lazily as she lay her head against his shoulder again. “And then of course there was the simple fact that you were taking my breath away.”

“That’s nice.”

“Nice?”

“Yes.” He chuckled, low in his throat. “I like taking your breath away.”

He shifted involuntarily, pleasurably, against her. Probably he should step back and put her at arm’s length for propriety’s sake, he thought, because she was beginning to have a noticeable effect on him. But he couldn’t move away; instead he widened his stance and tucked her snugly against him once more, his arms low on her back to hold her close. She sighed, her eyes alluring as her hips undulated instinctively against him. Then she slid her hands around his neck, her nails ticklish above his collar. He knew that their play could lead nowhere tonight, but somehow that made it even more entrancing.

“I tried so hard not to love you,” he said gruffly. “I wasn’t any good at it … all winter, it seemed that whatever I did, wherever I was—I was wondering what you’d think of it … how you’d like it.”

“I stayed so busy, thinking I could push you out of my heart.”

“It seemed to me that you’d succeeded. You were so sure of yourself when you arrived.”

“I was sure of myself? Good heavens, I was quaking in my boots! You, on the other hand, were so perfectly at ease!”

They both laughed and exchanged stories of how they’d survived their long separation, chuckling at the pain which had once been so threatening.

“And when I fell off Skylark after riding astride!” Lily recalled. “How did you manage to be there? I was mortified! And then, of course, when you picked me up, it was all I could do not to kiss you!”

“Why didn’t you?” he teased. He moved against her again, enjoying the exquisite torment and the answering flicker in her eyes. “I certainly wanted to kiss you.”

“No!”

“Yes.”

“Even then?”

His smile was quizzical. “What do you mean, ‘even then’?”

“That was days ago. I thought—I mean, I had no idea—I didn’t think you were at all attracted to me …”

“Oh, Lily!”

In the midst of their laughter, a splatter of rain suddenly sounded in the trees overhead. Ben had time only to see Lily’s expression of disbelief before she broke free and bolted for the house. They were both drenched when they gained the front porch, as the long-expected storm opened in the skies over the Sierras.

“Goodness!” Lily said, giggling, and then dropped her voice. “I think the gods are against us!”

“As long as it’s only for tonight,” he returned, his eyes crinkling with laughter as well. “Let’s get inside. The temperature’s going to drop pretty quickly.”

They found the great room deserted, as everyone else had gone to bed. The only lamp burning was on the table by the stairs, but even in the gloom, Ben could tell that Lily’s pale blouse was nearly transparent when wet. Above her corset, she wore only the lightest chemise, and her full, round breasts were clear to his gaze. She was as aroused as he was, and his insides seemed to melt. He wondered if any woman ever really knew what the sight of her body did to a man; he could barely hold on to himself.

Catching a glimpse of her flushed face, he stepped nearer, his arms gently encircling her as he leaned down to kiss her forehead. “My dear, you’re very beautiful,” he said huskily.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the flattery,” she replied, relaxing at his touch and adding with a hint of amusement, “but despite the appearance of this blouse, I’d prefer to choose the time and place to disrobe in front of you. And frankly, the living room of your home is not on my list.”

“You have a list, do you?”

“You’ll be happy to know that I’m compiling one.”

“M’m-h’m.” He nuzzled her throat, liking that she didn’t retreat from the subject of lovemaking.  “Would you like to tell me about it?”

“One of these days,” she murmured, dropping a kiss on his cheek, her breath warm against his ear.

He was simmering, a primitive craving threatening to overwhelm him. “You ought to dry off,” he forced himself to say. “I don’t want you getting sick.”

“That means you’ll have to let me go,” she whispered, “and I’d really rather you didn’t.” She slipped her arms around his neck, pressing her body insistently against him.

“Lily …” he groaned. There was no way she could mistake the urgency of his need for her.

Her nostrils flared and her blue eyes glazed—involuntarily perhaps, but strongly and unarguably a reflection of her desire for him, and in an instant it unleashed his own feelings. His throat constricted and the long months of denial removed his will … just, it seemed, as they did hers.

“My love …” he breathed, and kissed her again, hard, his tongue probing between her lips, invading her mouth in a promise of delights to come.

Her breath escalated roughly and he could hear his laboring as well. He allowed his hand to slide to her waist, deliberately and provocatively over the front of her blouse, and her response to him burned into his palm. Nothing in the room was real but her and he realized dimly that he was losing his reason. He could not have this woman—the woman he loved—tonight. He could not take her here, now, just yards from his sons … their friend … a child. But God, how he wanted her.

From somewhere, he tried to summon the will to master himself. You have no right to risk hurting a child, a faint inner voice finally reminded him—a child who was sleeping at the head of the steps. And he could not escape it. He renounced her lips and buried his face in her hair, praying for the strength to overcome his own drive to have her.

Somehow she knew. “Michaela,” she whispered.

He couldn’t let her go and his breath still was harsh when he finally managed to answer, “Yes … Michaela.”

She kissed his cheek and gently pushed away from him. “I love you,” she said softly.

He took her face in both of his hands, gazing down at her before he kissed her deeply and passionately, but with finality. “I love you, too,” he replied. “Sleep well.”

<<<<<>>>>>

The storm which blew through the Sierras that night was at the end of its run, and the low dark clouds dissipated over the lake. The rain abated within the hour and by dawn, the earth was already beginning to dry. At mid-morning, in bright sunlight, the ranch hands began stringing paper lanterns for the evening celebration and Adam joined Hoss in the barn to clean up the buggy his brother would use to bring Eleanor back from the church.

“Adam, I got a question an’ I need for ya to tell me the truth,” Hoss said as they dragged the vehicle into the barn aisle. He produced rags and a cleaning agent, while Adam found a tin of saddle soap to condition the seat and top.

“I’ll be glad to, but you know I’ve never been married. You might want to try this on Pa.”

“It ain’t that.” Hoss acknowledged his brother’s humor with a grin. “Nope, it’s about Pa.”

“What now?”

“Well, you saw ’im this mornin’ at breakfast. Don’t it look to you like he’s right smitten with Miz Lily? Just like we wanted ’im to be?”

“What makes you think that?”

“The way he looks at ’er. Did I look that way when I first fell fer Ellie?”

A slow grin rose from Adam’s lips to his eyes. “Yeah, brother. You did.”

Hoss’ blue eyes lit with pleasure. “Well, I’ll be. Our pa. Finally.” Then his expression clouded. “Question is, does she love him? She ain’t jus’ funnin’ with ’im, is she?”

“No, she’s not funnin’ with him,” Adam replied. “She loves him.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“Well, I’m not Lily and I’m not Pa, so I can’t be one hundred percent sure. But she—look, Hoss, this is none of our business.”

“She told ya, didn’t she, Adam? That’s why you haven’t wanted to talk about it all along, ain’t it?”

Adam nodded. “Yes, and if it were anybody but you, I wouldn’t have said this much.”

“I’ll keep my mouth shut.” Hoss worked up a foam of suds on the buggy’s leather top, and in a few seconds, giggled delightedly. “Our Pa … if that don’t beat all.”

Adam smothered a grin. Hoss’ wedding day, and his brother was concerned about their father’s romantic future.

“Joe’ll be happy. He likes Miz Lily right well.” Hoss stroked steadily with the sponge and then glanced up at Adam, catching him with a serious glance. “An’ so do you, an’ that’s what I’m countin’ on.”

“What’d you mean?”

“Aw, you know Joe. It don’t take too much for him to be real high on a gal. But you’re pretty hard to please, Adam. If you like Lily like you said the other night, then she’s got my vote.”

Adam was touched. “Yeah, Hoss. I like her very much.”

“Good.” Hoss grinned and this time Adam noticed a wicked gleam in his eye. “Then I want ya to make sure Pa and Lily make somethin’ public before Ellie an’ I get back from our honeymoon.”

“Huh?”

“Well, now, you gotta admit that the one thing that’d make Ellie’s Aunt Louise stay home is if she thought Pa was spoken for.”

Adam began to snicker.

“Otherwise, I figure she’ll turn up just about ev’ry Sunday for dinner. Don’t laugh. I’m serious, brother.”

But Adam just continued to laugh, finally slumping against the buggy and wiping his eyes, not quite sure why he thought the idea of his sweet, long-suffering brother afflicted with the overbearing Louise Calthrop was so funny. He was, he realized, just ready to release the tension of worrying about his father and Lily.

When he’d finally sobered and returned to work on the carriage, Hoss surprised him yet again. “How come it is, Adam, that you’ve never married?”

Adam’s head came up, his eyes suddenly guarded. “Ah … I guess because you found Ellie first.”

Hoss gave him an appreciative chuckle, but didn’t let the topic go. “Yeah, I did get lucky there.” He ducked his head and went on, half-mumbling, “So maybe this is a good time to say I wish the whole thing with Regan Miller’d never happened.”

Adam stopped polishing the buggy. Just the thought of the insincere woman Hoss had loved made him flush uncomfortably. Even though she’d belonged to his brother, he hadn’t been immune from her charms. He’d wanted to discover her true intentions, but it had been at the expense of Hoss’s feelings. “Ah … that wasn’t my finest hour.”

“No, but lookin’ back, I don’t reckon you started out to make trouble.”

“Yeah.” Adam struggled with his words. “But I didn’t like hurting you. That was the last thing I wanted.”

“I know that, Adam.” Hoss’ voice was calm. “An’ maybe that’s why I’m sayin’ what I’m sayin’ now. If I hadn’t got outta that, I wouldn’t a-been here for Ellie.” He nodded his head in the self-effacing way that was so natural to him and his eyes twinkled happily. “An’ that woulda been a shame.”

Adam met his gaze. “Maybe we both learned something.”

“Yeah. But y’know what, older brother …” Hoss’ voice turned serious again. “It occurs to me that you seem to know a whole lot more about what kinda woman not t’marry than the kind you should marry.”

“Well, to each his own.” Adam went back to polishing, moving on to the buggy’s shafts.

“One o’ these days, Adam.”

“One of these days, what?”

“It’s gonna happen to you.” Hoss gave him a silly grin. “An’ let me tell ya, brother … there ain’t no feelin’ in the world like lookin’ at a woman the way Pa was lookin’ at Lily this mornin’.”

<<<<<>>>>>

The morning flew by, the only surprising development Hoss’ lack of interest in lunch. The meal was just a quick repast of sandwiches, but it was almost comically apparent that it wasn’t what was on the table that was stealing Hoss’ appetite.

Then it was time for everyone to get ready for the ceremony.

“I know it’s terribly untraditional,” Aurora Vance had explained to Julia and Lily. “A wedding should be held in the morning. But out here, so many of our guests have more than a full day’s work to tend to, we wanted to make it as easy as we could on them. We thought five o’clock was better for everyone.”

Lily had assured her that while the time might be unusual back East, it would not have caused remark in the South, where the heat put off almost all weddings until the evening.

Now, as Julia began buttoning the back of her dress for her, she groaned. “I wish this wedding had been last week! I can barely breathe!” The bodice of the rich Prussian blue dress fit like a glove atop a long, full skirt. “My corset’ll have to be tightened.”

Julia laughed. “Blame Hop Sing’s good cooking!” She set about unhooking the buttons to reach the corset ties. “But you still look lovely.”

“No dinner for me tonight!”

Outside in the hall, they heard Ben’s and Joe’s voices as they went to find Hoss for the trip to the church.

“Oh, Lily, that’s silly!” Julia whispered. “The way Ben was looking at you this morning, he’s hardly going to notice a fraction of an inch!”

“Perhaps you haven’t looked at Ben lately,” Lily retorted, her face flaming. Since breakfast, everyone had been treating them strangely and she wondered how obvious they’d been. “He lost weight over the winter—not that he needed to, but he’s looking awfully … well, he’s very fit.”

Julia’s eyes sparkled and her lips twitched with humor. “Yes, I agree, he’s looking very fit.” Lily glared at her. “All right, I do understand, you want to look your best. But honestly, you’re just fine.”

They heard Hoss respond, and the sound of retreating footsteps as everyone but Adam, who would drive the women, left for town. When they’d finished the corset adjustments, Lily helped Julia into her dress and then they hung out the gowns they would wear at the reception in the evening.

Down the hall in Adam’s room, Michaela presided over tying his tie, declaring that his previous attempts might have been fine for dinner at home but were hardly satisfactory for his brother’s once-in-a-lifetime wedding. Adam, enjoying her concern, sat quietly while she fashioned an acceptable bow with the slippery black silk tie. He fought a grin at her focused expression.

She stepped back and held up a hand mirror. “There.”

“Perfect, as usual.”

“You’d think a grownup would be able—”

“You’re really starting to like this teasing stuff, aren’t you?”

Her eyes gleamed. “You said you wanted me to.”

He squeezed her shoulder as he stood up to put on his jacket. “That I did, and you’re very good at it.”

She turned to his desk, running her fingers lightly over the sextant that lay there and then turning her attention to the brass astrolabe. “If I’m careful, would it be all right if I pick this up?”

“Of course.” He threw her a quick, affectionate glance. He’d never known her to be careless about things, particularly not objects of personal value, as his grandfather’s old navigational instruments were. Only Captain Stoddard’s telescope was missing, lost somewhere in the years between his daughter’s death and his own. They were Adam’s most cherished possessions, along with his mother’s framed image and her music box.

Michaela studied the astrolabe, a flat disc engraved with numbers around the outer edge, with part of its center removed.

“That’s a ‘star-finder,’” he told her. “An astrolabe, from the Greek words for ‘star’ and ‘grasped.’ You figure the altitude of the sun or a star with it, and when you’re at sea, it helps you know where you are.”

“I see. Lily and Uncle Ben told me that the sea can be like your life … they said because it’s so big and doesn’t seem to have any limits.” Her eyes gleamed. “Does an astro—astrolabe—help with that?”

“’Fraid not, sweetheart.”

She examined the instrument and set it down. “Adam, how come Hoss found a wife before you did?”

He grinned. “I’d guess he’s just better with the ladies, Mickey.”

She gazed at him solemnly. “Why don’t you get married?”

Looking into her clear, candid eyes, he sighed. “I don’t know that I ever will.” 

“Why not? Don’t you want to?”

“Ah …” He’d promised himself he’d always be truthful with her. “Yes, of course I do.”

“You don’t sound very sure.”

“It’s not really a case of being sure. I don’t think I’ll be sure until I meet the right woman and that hasn’t happened yet.”

“Nobody?”

He shifted uncomfortably. “I’ve come close a couple of times.”

“How do you figure out who’s right for you?”

“There aren’t any hard and fast rules, Michaela. It differs for different people—what’s right for you might not be right for me.”

“Okay. So what sort of woman would you marry?”

He studied her face; her gaze had become sober and questioning. “All right. I don’t know if I can answer you, but I’ll try. … For me, the important thing is honesty. If a woman isn’t honest with me, I’m not interested.”

“Have you been lied to?”

“Once or twice. But it’s not so much that I’ve had bad experiences as it is that being honest with someone about who you are, what you believe, how you feel—it’s all a mark of respect. And I believe that you can’t have real love, at least the kind of love I want, without respect.”

“I think I understand.”

“Mickey, if you never hear anything else I say, remember this. Respect is the single most important thing between people. If you really believe that someone else has every right and reason to be that you do, you’ll build strong friendships, and one day, maybe, a strong love. Think about it: every right and reason to be that you do. It’s not easy. You have to do it even when you don’t agree with them.”

She nodded. “I see. But that’s good for everyone. How do you pick which ones, you know, to marry?”

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. She wasn’t going to let him dodge away. “That’s where the differences come in. There’s always that last indefinable little thing that makes one person especially attractive to another. I hope I’ll know it when I see it.”

She fiddled with the satin streamer that belted her dress. “Do you really look, Adam?” When he didn’t answer, she stared him in the eye. “I mean, I wonder if anyone knows you might want to love them?”

“I’m not gonna go around wearing a sign, Michaela.”

“No, that would look pretty silly.”

“You just have to wait for it to happen.”

“Yes, but … Adam, do you give everyone the chance you gave me?”

“What d’you mean?”

Her face was a study in concentration. “Do you treat anyone—a lady, I mean—the way you treat me?”

“Of course not. There’s not a woman that I love like I love you.”

“Well, but … you do so many things for me and I know you care about me. Maybe if you did that for some lady, you’d find out that she was your someone special.”

“Mickey, it doesn’t quite work that way.” He ran a hand lightly over her hair. “You’re unique.”

“Is it because I’m not grown up?” She searched his face. “Remember when I thought Uncle Ben and Lily were sweet on each other and you said people like that lots of times wait to say how they feel because they’re afraid to be hurt?  Well, I mean, I can’t hurt you or anything. Is that it?”

For a second, Adam had trouble breathing. “No, Michaela, I treat you differently because you are special to me.”

Her eyes seemed to look right through him, and he was forced to admit to himself that she’d struck close to home. She was very special to him—that was no lie. But he also felt more comfortable around her because he was safe with her, whatever that meant. He pushed the thought out of his mind.

He squeezed her shoulder. “Now, come on, we have a wedding to go to.”

“I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“You weren’t rude.”

“I care about you.”

“I know, sweetheart—and I care about you.” His eyes twinkled. “If I ever find a woman like you, you can bet I’ll fall in love.”

<<<<<>>>>>

“Sure seems funny.” Hoss shrugged uncomfortably and unbuttoned the collar of his shirt. “Don’t seem real, somehow.” He tried to pace in the tiny vestry of the church, but the room where the Reverend Culbertson stored his cassock and hymnals allowed for only a few strides.

Ben smiled sympathetically. “Getting married, you mean?”

“Yeah. I’m s’ happy it scares me to death. In fact, I’m so scared, I’m scared o’ bein’ scared.”

“What’re you afraid of, son?”

“I don’t rightly know, Pa. I mean, it ain’t like I don’t know Ellie. I love ’er—I can’t wait till we’re married. And it ain’t like I’m afraid of standin’ up in church and sayin’ so. Worst thing that can happen is I get nervous and don’t say the right thing, but Tom’s gonna marry us no matter what I say. So what’s got me s’ spooked?”

Ben leaned back in his chair, his expression understanding. “Hoss, that’s a question that will never be answered. But if you didn’t feel this way, I’d be worried about you.”

“You mean you felt like this too?”

“Every time. Of course! I think perhaps it’s just something within ourselves reminding us of what a serious thing we’re doing, marrying a woman. It isn’t something to be taken lightly.”

“Well, I sure ain’t doin’ that.” Hoss’ voice was fervent.

“You’ll be fine, son.”

Hoss swiped a hand over his slicked-down hair and sighed softly, descending from his anxiety and turning pensive. “Y’know what? It’s been a long time since I thought about how much I wanted my ma here. Not that I don’t think about her, ’cause I do.” His hand traveled over the soft leather cover of the Bible that lay next to the Reverend Culbertson’s vestments. “I don’ know if I can make sense of it, Pa—not a day goes by that I don’t think about ’er. But sometimes it just hurts too much t’ wish she could be here with me.”

Ben’s voice was soft. “I know how it is, Hoss. But I think on your wedding day, it’s right that you’d want her to be with you.”

Hoss looked up gratefully. “Yeah. That’s what I figured.”

For a few seconds, Ben was in another world, in the past again. He could see Inger’s face, so gentle and loving, as if she were standing next to their son. Her pale blue eyes—the ones she’d bequeathed to Hoss—were glistening with pride.

“I think she’d be crying, son,” he said, surprising himself with his words. His lips curled into a smile. “Not with sadness, of course … but because she just couldn’t be happier for you. She had the biggest heart—she had a heart that was your size … and today, it would be overflowing with love. I’m sure of that.”

“What else, Pa? What would she be thinkin’ today?”

Ben’s eyes twinkled. “She’d probably be buttoning that collar you just undid. Smoothing your coat. Telling you to stand up straight. Telling herself you were a grown man and didn’t need to be treated like a boy.” He stood up and went to Hoss, pushing his son’s hands out of the way and refastening the open collar. “One thing she wouldn’t be doing would be giving you advice on how to treat your wife.”

“Yeah? Why not?”

“Because she’d know you. She’d know that when you love, you take your loved one into your heart. She’d know that Eleanor already lives there within you, that you will care for her and put her before you for the rest of your life.” Ben cleared a certain huskiness from his voice. “Hoss, many’s the time that I’ve worried about you, feared that because of your kind nature, someone might take advantage of you. But your mother would know, as I do, that in marriage, you need all that kindness—even when you love someone as you love Eleanor … as I loved your mother. We would both know that you’ll be a good husband.”

“She’d like Ellie, wouldn’t she?”

Ben nodded. “She’d like her very much. Your mother read people better than anyone I’ve ever known. She could tell whether someone had a good heart or not. She gave the weaker ones more chances than they deserved, but she was never fooled about what they were. She just gave them an opportunity to be better.”

Hoss ducked his head and grinned shyly. “She was pretty special, wasn’t she?”

“She was a lot like you, son, so I’d say yes, she was very special.”

Chapter Three

By the time Adam handed Julia, Lily and Michaela down from the surrey at the white clapboard church, the hand-pumped organ had begun to play the prelude which announced that a wedding would be beginning soon. He and Joe conveyed their guests down the aisle to a front pew and then returned to the door to attend to their duties as ushers.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” whispered Michaela, who sat next to Lily.

It was indeed, Lily reflected. The little church was elegant in its simplicity. Its walls were white—the startling, pristine brightness of whitewash—which set off the brass cross and the two modest vases of daisies that decorated the altar. Candles glimmered here and there, and the graceful, stirring notes of the organ lent an aura of purity to the whole setting.

For the first time since her own marriage nearly twenty-four years before, Lily considered how significant a wedding was. She’d attended countless ceremonies since then, but today, with all of her senses on alert, even the smallest details registered. Had she been this sensitive when she’d married Howard Mercer? Probably not. She’d been so in love that she’d seen nothing in the chapel but his face.

And then as if it were again her wedding morning, she recalled her husband, tall and proud in his dress blue uniform. She smiled faintly; the uniform had been nothing short of dashing, cut close at the waist, with its long tails, brass buttons and gold epaulets. She’d been young and much less sure of herself then, and only the strength of Howard’s gaze had gotten her down the aisle. Listening to an old favorite hymn that the organ was playing, she knew a sudden wave of melancholy; he’d been gone three years now and the lyrics of the song, like poetry, came to mind with startling clarity. Time, like an ever-rolling stream, bears all its sons away; they fly, forgotten, as a dream dies at the opening day …

Did real love die? Was the love she’d shared with Howard limited only to the time they’d had with each other? No … it couldn’t be. Certainly not what they had known together. She saw again her husband’s face: kind, loving, inspiring … he’d been her teacher, her confidant, her lover, her friend. Whoever—whatever—she was now was due in large part to him, to his wisdom, to his caring. And she knew that her love for him would never die, not as long as she was able to care for another human being. Howard had taught her how to love, and although he was gone now, he would always live within her. Just, she knew, as Ben’s wives remained a part of him.

She realized then that she was asking herself if the love she shared with Ben would die … or if she would lose him as she’d lost Howard. She waited for the devastation such a thought would bring—but for once, she was visited only with a calm serenity. Whatever the outcome of their lives, she could not run away from Ben Cartwright. She could not give up what they’d found. You might lose the person, she thought, but you never lose the love. The music resonated through her again.

Finally, as the medley of hymns drew to a close and Joe dropped into the pew next to Julia, she realized that the church behind them had filled to capacity. Adam delivered Mrs. Vance across the aisle and then he slipped in by Lily, gripping her hand briefly as he sat down. In a moment she saw why he’d reassured her. Hoss and Ben were just coming through the vestry door. Her pulse quickened.

Ben stood not a dozen feet in front of her, gazing out over the wedding guests, and he looked—incredible. He was dressed all in dark grey, with a shirt the color of snow. His silver hair swept back from his tanned face and his brown eyes, as they looked out over her shoulder, were clear and very happy. And then they focused on her, and with a warm sense of appreciation, she could see the extra spark that suddenly invaded them.

Then Aurora Vance stood up and the organ erupted into the wedding march. Lily rose with everyone else and turned to watch the processional.

Perhaps it was the holy music, or more likely, the radiant happiness of the bride, but the church suddenly seemed alive with beauty. Eleanor was glowing; her strawberry blonde hair was pulled back and dressed with little star tulips, their ivory petals gathered close in a band. Her white gown, Lily thought, was exactly perfect. Like the woman who wore it, it was uncomplicated but not plain, with a long, sweeping skirt and a bodice of simple lace.  She clutched a bouquet of wildflowers.

But if Eleanor looked lovely, it was Hoss who gave the ceremony its hallowed feel. His genial eyes were lit from within, his expression as he watched his bride approach almost  worshipful. Lily couldn’t help squeezing Adam’s hand to make sure that he saw it too.

And then she realized that as she was gazing at Hoss, Ben was watching her and she almost stopped breathing. The music, the sweet scent of the candles, the bride and groom, the friends and neighbors—even Adam and Michaela—seemed to recede into someone else’s life, and all Lily could see was Ben Cartwright. In those eyes I have found my horizon, she thought, and I need no other. Then the organ rose to a crescendo, Eleanor came to a stop beside Hoss, and Ben turned to his son.

It seemed like no time before the vows were being repeated. Eleanor’s face was transformed as she turned to Hoss and the minister intoned, “Wilt thou, Eric, have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor and keep her in sickness and in health; and forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”

Hoss clasped both of Eleanor’s hands in his. “Yessir, I will.” His voice reverberated through the church.

Then Mr. Culbertson turned to Eleanor. “Wilt thou, Eleanor, have this man …”

Lily felt the blood rush to her cheeks. She could focus only on Ben, on the strong, solid lines of his back and the clearly-sculpted profile of his face. “Wilt thou love him …” Yes.  “Honor and keep him …” Yes.  She was almost light-headed. She swayed slightly and felt Adam’s arm slide around her. “So long as ye both shall live …” And beyond.

First Hoss’ strong voice and then Eleanor’s soft one sounded in the stillness.  “… To have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish …”

The words were as soothing as the beautiful hymn had been. Lily felt herself start to relax and realized suddenly that Adam’s arm was still around her. Belatedly, she wondered if she’d made a spectacle of herself and without moving her head, she cast him a quick glance, feeling her cheeks heat. He dropped her a slow wink, a little smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

And then the Reverend Culbertson, his face a reflection of his pleasure, reclaimed their attention. “You may kiss the bride.”

<<<<<>>>>>

The Ponderosa was dressed in its Sunday best for Hoss and Eleanor’s reception. Overhead, strings of paper lanterns crisscrossed the yard, an atmospheric combination of yellows and reds and oranges among the pines. A dance floor had been constructed in the small corral next to the barn, with a little platform for the assorted musicians rounded up by Jimmie Bellows, otherwise the town’s tobacconist. Tables and chairs dotted the clearing, and on the porch, large, makeshift tables draped in muslin displayed Hop Sing’s elaborate wedding feast.

In the deepening twilight, Ben Cartwright stood to one side, surveying the gathering and glad to go unnoticed if only for a few minutes. Across the yard, his middle son leaned closer to his bride to hear something she was saying, his face serene. Then Adam lifted Michaela high enough to pin a handful of wildflowers on Hoss’ jacket, and the child’s voice carried to him, “But it has to be a bunch! One flower would barely show up on Hoss!” All the trials and heartaches of daily living seemed offset by just one night like this.

And then Lily followed Julia through the front door. Momentarily he lost his breath and stood quietly, just appreciating her, pleasantly aware of the possessive pride that rose in him. He had never seen her look more beautiful; her dress was extraordinary, a rich olive raw silk that appeared to change shades with the light, ranging from almost black to a coppery dark green. Its neckline made up for the afternoon’s sedate outfit, baring her shoulders and skimming low between small sleeves, with a deep red embroidery for accent. For once, he didn’t give a damn what the Virginia City matrons thought of it. He did give a damn, however, that its neckline was liable to attract every man at the party, and he stepped forward to join her, already picturing her on his arm.

What he had not counted on was Louise Calthrop, who swooped in on him like a bird of prey the moment he left the seclusion of the porch.

“I do believe this dance has our name on it,” she trilled, turning him toward the dance floor. Did the woman have no manners at all? But he was well and truly hooked and took his medicine with only passable grace, accompanying her to the floor for the next number.          

Joe, returning from dancing, joined Lily and Julia.

“It’s wonderful!” Julia exclaimed.

“Oh, just wait,” he counseled her. “The best show tonight may be Pa, trying to dodge the Widow Hensley and Eleanor’s aunt.”

“Oh, no!” Julia bubbled with laughter. “How’s he doing?”

Joe pointed to the corral. “It’s not a pretty sight.”

That, Lily thought, was an understatement. An austere blonde, Louise Calthrop might have been attractive had she been the slightest bit cordial. But she was one of those females who became personable only in the pursuit of a man, and tonight, as the night before, she obviously had focused on Ben Cartwright. She appeared spellbound as she hung on his every word.

Belinda Hensley, on the other hand, was a buxom woman of awesome personality. Lily, recognizing her from the Thursday evening political excursion and remembering that she’d liked her then, determined to keep on liking her, even if tonight she might account for some of Ben’s time.

“Ah, yes, you see what you’re up against,” purred a rather mocking voice at her side, and she looked up to find Adam, whose eyes were alight with laughter.

“I see … yes, I do. Do you think he’d kill me if I just left him to his fate?”

“Undoubtedly.”

“Well, there’s very little I can do.”

“On the contrary, there’s plenty you can do,” he replied with a roguish wink. “You can start by dancing with me.”

A spark of mischief stirred within her. Across the yard, one number was ending and another was beginning, and as Ben managed to free himself from Louise Calthrop, he was ambushed by Mrs. Hensley. “I’d be delighted.”

It wasn’t, she thought, how she’d expected to spend her evening, but certainly the attentions of Adam Cartwright were sweet consolation for having to watch two other women pursue the man she thought of as hers. She enjoyed the look of surprise and, dare she remark it, annoyance on Ben’s face when he saw her with his son.

Then when the dance ended, Joe cut in and she spun around in a rollicking polka with him, laughing so hard when they finished that he had to steady her as they left the dance platform. Adam and Julia greeted them in the yard, and Adam deftly transferred her hand from his brother’s arm to his own.

“Come on,” he said playfully. “I think I’ve found someone to help you pass the time a little more enjoyably.”

Joe opened his mouth to protest, and then perceiving what Adam had in mind, he snickered. “Older brother, you have a truly diabolical mind.”

“Thank you, younger brother,” Adam rejoined. He escorted Lily across the clearing to where a tall, white-haired man was holding court. “Governor Nye, I’d like you to meet a friend of ours from San Francisco.”

<<<<<>>>>>

It took Ben some time to realize that while Belinda Hensley and Louise Calthrop originally had competed only against each other, Louise was adding a campaign to keep Lily away from him. The few times he’d managed to reach Lily’s side, the relentless Miss Calthrop had descended upon him from nowhere and found an excuse to steer him away. His temper was rising and it wasn’t at all relieved when he observed Lily dancing with Adam or Joe or Jim Nye, her head thrown back with laughter, her shoulders so tantalizingly bare in that amazing gown that he could hardly keep his eyes off of her. Other men were noticing too—she didn’t lack for partners, but it was Nye who eventually led her from the floor and sat down to supper with her.

He could see Miss Calthrop making her way through the crowd toward him again and knew suddenly that he’d reached his limit. It was as good a time as any to get on with the traditional tributes to the bridal couple; he motioned to Hop Sing to strike the dinner gong that hung nearby.

“Friends and neighbors,” he called out when the buzz of conversation had quieted expectantly and everyone had gathered around. He noted that Adam, Julia, Joe and Sara Spencer, whose father owned the Flying J, had closed ranks around the governor and his lady, and he smiled inwardly. It was the perfect excuse to move to that table, as Adam would be the next to speak. He came to a halt behind Lily’s chair. “I believe it’s a best man’s duty and certainly a father’s privilege to toast his son and new daughter-in-law on their wedding day,” he said, “although, I must say, I was beginning to think I’d never get the chance.”

He allowed a grin as everyone laughed. “I’ve often wondered what kind of advice I should give my sons—or whether I’d do best to speak to the women who were courageous enough to marry them. It would be easy with Adam … I could just tell her to read up on her Shakespeare.” His eyes twinkled at his eldest son before he turned to his youngest. “With Joseph, I’d probably say to the girl, ‘Just don’t forget your sense of humor, because life’s certainly not going to be dull.’” The crowd of guests roared appreciatively. “But with Hoss, I was always stumped.”

Ben sobered and the guests felt his subtle shift in mood. “A father likes to be proud of his boys, and I can certainly say that I’m proud of all three of mine. I can also say that I’ve never met anyone that I’ve found to be a kinder soul than my middle son, Hoss. Over the years, my only concern was that he wouldn’t find a woman who understood and valued that.” His eyes came to rest on Eleanor. “If I’d given it the proper thought, I’d have realized long ago that there was really only one woman—that the best choice to be Hoss’ wife was the daughter of one of my dearest friends.”

He lifted his glass to the bride and groom. “To two of the most deserving people I know: Eleanor and Hoss Cartwright, love and a long life together.”

The clearing was filled with the applause of the surrounding crowd. Then the attention of the gathering turned to Adam, who rose from his seat next to Eleanor and regarded his brother with a glimmer of amusement.

“Whenever I think of Hoss getting married, I’m reminded of something that happened when we were children. Not unlike many other times in his life, my brother had found an orphaned animal out somewhere and brought it home. This time it was a young bighorn sheep, a thin little thing that if I remember correctly was mostly all legs and not half as convinced as Hoss was that the Ponderosa was where he needed to grow up. Our father had just remarried then and our new mother was—understandably—not too thrilled about the idea of a bighorn living in the house in front of the fire. Hoss, of course, was sure that this was necessary, as it was early May at the time and it was still chilly.

“So my brother organized his animal infirmary in a shed we had that served as a barn, and I sat up all night with him on sheep watch. Now, usually Hoss didn’t argue too much about what happened to him, but that night, he was furious. He stewed and muttered for hours and finally declared that no matter what he did in life, he certainly wasn’t going to get married.”

The crowd laughed gently and Hoss’ cheeks turned crimson.

Adam looked judicious and impartial, but his eyes gleamed. “Of course I asked him why he was so sure he’d never take a wife and he replied, ‘Because if a wife won’t let you have critters in the living room, it’s not worth it.’”

Such a reaction was so easy to picture that the guests erupted again into laughter. Adam smiled at his brother. “I’m happy to see that over the years, Hoss rethought that resolution. If I’d given it any consideration, I’d have predicted this wedding about four years after he brought home that sheep … when we rode over to Providence Ranch to see the Vances, and found Eleanor nursing a family of orphan squirrels in front of their fire.” Hoss’ arm encircled Eleanor’s shoulders as his brother continued, “And so, Hoss and Eleanor, I wish for you a long and happy life together, filled with love and the friendship of all God’s creatures.”

Once again a round of applause went up, and Ben noted that several of their guests were dabbing at their eyes.

Finally, as the clearing quieted and Adam sat down, Joe rose. He glanced at the party with a mischievous grin.

“Y’know, it’s hard living in this family, where everybody’s such a good talker. I mean—how do you follow my father and brother? All those pretty words …” He winked at Hoss. “So I’ll just say what needs to be said. Eleanor—you’re gettin’ a great guy, and you know it. And I can tell you that Hoss is real aware that he’s gettin’ the finest woman in the territory. Now, there’s only one thing you need to know so this stays a happy marriage; Hoss is a lot simpler than Adam and I are—you won’t have a bit of trouble. Just keep him well fed. That’s it. That’s all. He gets real testy when he’s empty, so just don’t let him get hungry!”

Again the crowd burst into laughter, ending in enthusiastic applause, and when that finally died, Hoss rose.

“Here I am havin’ to foller my family talkin’ … an’ if my lil’ brother was worryin’ about it, you can imagine how I feel. But there’s one thing I’d be happy to talk about, an’ that’s my bride.

“Now, I know that there’re a whole lot o’ you folks here t’night who’re wonderin’ how come y’er celebratin’ my weddin’ and not Joe’s ’r’ Adam’s. I know an’ I’m not offended, ’cause I’ve spent my life growin’ up with these two smoothies and between ’em, they can charm the skin off a snake. So I guess maybe I’m surprised too, but I’ll tell ya what, I ain’t gonna complain about it.

“For some reason I’ll never know, the good Lord decided that he was gonna give me the greatest gift in the world, and that’s Ellie. We been best friends since we was kids, and we’ll be best friends when we’re so old even the ol’ Ponderosa owl don’t recognize us.” He looked down at his new wife fondly. “If I was to have to describe Ellie to ya, I’d just say, take a real good look at Lake Tahoe when the sun rises … or the water falls on the Divide at a time when the light’s comin’ through the spray. Catch a herd o’ deer in the early mornin’, when they’re feedin’ and the babies’re playin’ … or stop and watch the colors on Monument Peak when the sun goes down. They’re all o’ those things miracles o’ God, and so’s Ellie. I reckon I’ll be spendin’ the rest o’ my life just tryin’ to live up to ’er.”

He raised his glass. “So I’d like to ask ya all to drink a toast to my bride and the only woman I know brave enough to have me.”

This time, no one laughed. The entire clearing simply broke into applause, long and sustained and genuine. Ben tried to swallow past the lump which had risen in his throat.

Then the hum of conversation resumed in the crowd, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Louise Calthrop bearing down on him. With the governor’s table already filled, there was no way he could join Lily. Hastily he turned to Eleanor’s mother. “Aurora, may I have this dance?”

Mrs. Vance spotted her sister over his shoulder. “Of course, Ben.” She waited until they were on the floor before adding, “I hope you know that Eleanor and I are both very embarrassed at Louise’s behavior.”

Ben betrayed a smile. “Just be prepared to save me once in a while,” he requested. “And I apologize if that sounds a bit rude, but now that we’re family, I hope you’ll forgive me.”

Aurora laughed. “Ben, I’d forgive you if you were my worst enemy! But we’d better find someone else to save you too, because when this dance ends, I’m sure you’ll be in her sights again.”

Julia was the next to come to his rescue, but after that, he once again was vulnerable to Miss Calthrop. Only the appearance of Judge Henry Perkins and Clementine Hawkins—once known for her stamina in the matrimonial pursuit of Ben Cartwright—saved him, as they issued an invitation to join their party for supper. With the further protection of Tom Culbertson and his wife, Eliza, he was allowed a measure of calm … but he did need to let Lily know how much he wished he could be with her. And so when the musicians next took a break, he stopped Jimmie Bellows as the band leader passed on the way to Hop Sing’s tables. What couldn’t be said privately in words could be said to all in music.

<<<<<>>>>>

Across the clearing, Joe nudged Adam. “Don’t you think we’ve let this go on long enough?”

“I thought it’d gone on long enough before it started,” Adam retorted. “You got any suggestions about how we can get rid of Aunt Louise and Beloved Belinda?”

Joe snorted and then wiped the grin off his face. “You’re not gonna like the only one I have.”

“Try me.”

Joe was right. Adam didn’t like it one bit, but once his younger brother sweetened the plan by exchanging duties, he was game. “You’re serious!” he marveled.

“Of course I’m serious!  Holy crow, Adam, you think I’d do this for anybody but Pa?”

“Keep your voice down!” Adam glanced around to see if they’d been overheard. “No, I just mean—you’re serious.”

Joe nodded mournfully. “Well, aren’t you? I mean, it’s criminal how Louise and the Widow are takin’ up his time. I’d like to quit feelin’ bad about it and just enjoy the party.” He glanced longingly at Sara Spencer.

“Yeah, well, I read you there, brother.”

A few minutes later, as the musicians filed back to the bandstand, Eleanor appeared at Ben’s shoulder. “I wonder if I might steal my father-in-law away for a dance?” she inquired amiably of his table companions. “I promise to take good care of him.”

Even the Widow Hensley and Louise Calthrop hesitated to snatch a gentleman away from the bride, and Ben made it safely to the dance floor. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted that Hoss had invited Lily to dance—and then nearly stopped short in wonder when he saw that Adam was with Belinda Hensley and Joe, looking like a man sentenced to die, was squiring Eleanor’s aunt. There was, blessedly, no chance of their finding some way to cut in. Then the orchestra struck up a waltz and he realized how light and agile his new daughter-in-law was. In fact, for the first time that night, he truly enjoyed a dance.

And then next to him he noticed his middle son. Hoss’s face was a study in inattention, his eyes fixed on a far horizon as if a dancing master had forbidden him to look at his feet. But those blue eyes began to twinkle, and suddenly Ben realized that through no fault of his own, Eleanor was slipping away. It took him a moment to comprehend that at the same time, Lily was being propelled into his arms, looking just as surprised as he was. Hoss’ triumphant grin was the last thing Ben was aware of as his son claimed his new wife.

He flushed with pleasure, holding Lily to him and letting the delight of the occasion wash over him. Her eyes beamed up at him, clearly all the more delighted for being caught so unaware.

“I’ve missed you,” he said under his breath.

“As I’ve missed you,” she replied, squeezing his hand as they whirled to the cadenced melody.

Ben wondered dimly if their contentment radiated off of them—or did everyone else on the floor move about without realizing the perfection of the moment? That was hard to believe. He was sure he looked foolishly happy, and Lily’s dark eyes glowed with an extra depth. It seemed, against his hand, as if her back were just a hair’s-breadth straighter for dancing with him.

Then the music came to an end and in the swirl of dancers preparing for the next number, Ben offered his arm to Lily. He didn’t care how rude he had to be, he was not letting her go.

Almost immediately, he was called upon to be rude. Leaving Joe with barely a thank you, Louise Calthrop appeared before him. “You dance so divinely, Ben Cartwright! I wonder if Mrs. Mercer would mind releasing you so that I might enjoy your abilities?”

Lily’s fingers tightened on Ben’s arm; he wasn’t sure if she was protesting Louise or signaling him to be polite and he didn’t care—although he made a split-second decision that he’d try courtesy first. “I’m afraid Mrs. Mercer has no say in the matter, Louise,” he returned smoothly. “I promised her a walk and I’m sure you’ll agree that a promise shouldn’t be broken.”

Louise smiled stiffly. He knew a momentary twinge of guilt at the lie but he hadn’t a chance to indulge it. Adam appeared at Miss Calthrop’s side to ask her to dance, and with no real sign of grace, she accepted him.

Then the orchestra struck up a tune and Lily’s hand gripped Ben’s arm even before she pulled him around to face her.

“‘George Brabazon,’” she whispered.

He smiled faintly. “Without harps. I’m afraid there aren’t any in Virginia City.”

“The fiddles are lovely,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. “It’s so beautiful.”

“If my sons hadn’t taken a hand, I had to find some way to let you know I was thinking of you.” He covered her hand with his.

“Oh, Ben.”

The tears rolled down her cheeks and he realized that the next words out of her mouth would be don’t let me look like a fool; with a suppressed grin, he fished a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her.

“And don’t,” he said in a low voice, “tell me you’re looking like a idiot.”

She sent him an exasperated glare as she patted at her face. “I am some kind of idiot! I’m crying at the drop of a hat. Do you think we might go somewhere a little more private? I promise not to attack you—I’d just rather not be right out in public.”

“Your wish is my command,” he said lightly. “But I insist you reconsider on the promise not to attack.”

<<<<<>>>>>

Feeling inordinately virtuous, Joe and Adam congratulated themselves with a surreptitious whiskey after their dancing duties.

“Did you see Louise’s expression when you asked her to dance, brother?” Joe hooted. “I thought she’d kill you!”

“I just thought she was lame from dancing with you,” Adam returned, but they both laughed.

Julia, observing, rolled her eyes. “Boy, am I glad there’re twelve years between you two.”

“Why?” asked Joe innocently.

“Well, for heaven’s sake, it’s perfectly clear that you’d have been a menace if you’d grown up closer together! As it is, you’re both doing wonderful impressions of eight-year-olds.”

“Eight?” he objected. “Why, anyone can see that we’re ten at least.”

“The jury’s still out on that one,” Julia informed him with a chuckle.

“You have to admit—”

“Oh, I’m not complaining! Something had to be done!”

“I hope you’re referring to my insufferable sister,” said a voice from over Julia’s shoulder.

They all swallowed their laughter as Aurora Vance regarded them with interest.

“Aurora—” Adam began.

Her lips quivered. “Insufferable, Adam. I couldn’t support you more—at least, assuming that what I saw was by your design.”

“Well, Joe’s, actually—”

“Congratulations, Joseph. Well done.”

“You—uh, you’re not mad?” Joe gaped.

“Of course not. I’ve watched her bully people all my life, and it was very pleasant—no, absolutely delightful—to see her defeated for once!”

“Oh, well, ma’am, we aim to please,” Joe breathed feebly.

“Now we have just one problem,” Aurora continued breezily, “and that’s what do we do when Ben and Lily return?”

“What do we do?” Joe and Adam echoed.

“Yes—well, goodness, you don’t think Louise gives up that easily, do you?”

“Ah … I don’t think we thought,” Adam admitted.

“Well, I should think she’s done enough damage to your father and Lily, and as their friends, shouldn’t we, you know, try to help?”

Adam was the first to recover. “Aurora, I’d do just about anything for my father, but I have to say, that may not include dancing again with your sister.”

Julia giggled unhelpfully.

Aurora frowned thoughtfully. “That’s too bad. Can’t you think of anything?”

But the fact was they couldn’t, and neither could Hoss and Eleanor when they happened by. They were still pondering the dilemma when Michaela interrupted with the suggestion that they at least serve Hoss and Joe’s exciting new dessert, as after its spectacular explosion in the kitchen the week before, she was very curious about it.

Adam ran a hand over her hair. “Sweetheart, I think you’d better pass on it. It’s kind of an adult dessert.”

“What makes food adult?” Michaela inquired.

“Well, it—ah, it contains—well, it has a kick,” he replied.

Aurora Vance’s eyebrows rose. “A kick?”

Adam flushed. “This is your project,” he said pointedly to Joe.

“Well, you see, ma’am … it’s …” Joe shrugged uncertainly.

“You mean it has spirits?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He winced in preparation for her tirade.

But the outburst didn’t come. “You don’t say. What does it taste like?”

Puzzled, Joe replied honestly, “It’s kind of sweet, but not really. Fairly fruity …” He scrunched up his face. “It’s hard to describe.”

“Does it taste like liquor?”

“No, ma’am. It just tastes—different. And you don’t have to worry about it getting anybody drunk. You eat it with ice cream, so you don’t really have enough of it to—well, you know, to—”

“Oh. That’s too bad.”

Beginning to catch her drift, Adam grabbed Joe’s shoulder. “But maybe—what if we eliminated the ice cream? Would it still taste good?”

“Sure, it tastes great, it’s just—oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

A smile began to dawn on Joe’s face. “Oh.”

“I don’t imagine it would take much,” Adam said. “I mean, your sister’s probably never had much to drink, has she, Aurora?”

“Much? She wouldn’t know spirits if they sat down beside her. Not even wine. Why do you think I was so concerned over someone overindulging at the party? We discussed it the night you brought Julia and Lily to dinner. That was because I didn’t want my sister to bring it up for the rest of my life!”

Adam and Joe exchanged glances. “What a creative mind you have,” Adam finally told Aurora. “You just leave it to us.”

“I will not. You’ll leave it to Julia and me,” the matron announced.

“We’ll what?” Adam almost stammered.

“If something should go wrong, you can’t be blamed.” She twinkled at Julia. “I don’t imagine anyone would criticize Mrs. Aubrey Van Dine of San Francisco—and as for me, even if I’m caught, it’ll be worth the effort!”

<<<<<>>>>>

“You know, I really hate to tempt fate, but have you seen Louise Calthrop?” Ben asked Adam nervously when he and Lily returned sometime later.

“Louise? Ah … no, last I saw of her, I think she was eating dessert. Over there by the bunkhouse.”

“Well, she’s nowhere to be seen,” his father muttered. “That’s wonderful, but I can’t help being afraid that just when I let down my guard, she’ll turn up.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry, Pa. Just relax and enjoy the evening.”

“I second that,” Lily said and led him away for a dance.

Even after a pleasant Virginia Reel, Ben still couldn’t shake the dread of another assault by Louise Calthrop. He asked Julia if she’d seen Eleanor’s aunt.

“Oh, gosh, no. Not since, oh, it’s been more than half an hour ago. She was by that wagon, eating dessert with Dr. Martin. Poor man.”

He chuckled. “Yes, poor man.”

“Don’t worry, Ben. Just thank your guardian angel that Louise has apparently found something to occupy her other than you.”

“I am, Julia—believe me, I am.” He turned to relinquish Lily to Tom Culbertson for a dance and persuaded Julia to accompany him to the floor.

But following the dance, as he and Lily crossed the yard to sample the punch, his fears surfaced again. He stopped Joe to ask if his youngest had seen Miss Calthrop.

“Nah—not since she was eatin’ dessert. Over there by the dance platform.”

“Well, she’s not there now—thank goodness. We just came from there.”

“Well, I wouldn’t worry,” Joe assured him jauntily, as Adam wandered up, his face a careful blank.

Ben eyed them suspiciously. “You know, I’m beginning to think that losing Louise Calthrop might be just a little too convenient,” he said. “And besides, you can’t even keep your stories straight. Dessert, indeed—no one could have eaten that much! Exactly what have you two done?”

“Us, Pa?” Joe’s voice achieved a random high note before returning to normal. “Why, nothing. Nothing at all. And that dessert’s real good. You should tr—” But whatever he was going to say was lost in his brother’s noisy fit of coughing.

When at last Adam had recovered, Lily noticed the betraying glow in his eyes and caught his gaze with raised eyebrows. He shook his head infinitesimally.

Ben was perplexed. “I must say, it’s a fine thing that Belinda Hensley’s deep in conversation with Clementine Hawkins—I wouldn’t be surprised if Clementine hasn’t taken her to task—but I can’t imagine Louise just going away.”

“Oh, she hasn’t gone away,” Michaela informed him as she appeared at Adam’s side and slipped her hand into his. “She’s on the settee in the great room.”

“Not far enough away,” Ben said dejectedly, abruptly sorry that he’d asked.

“Sleeping.”

“Sleeping?”

Julia was close behind her daughter. “Be thankful for small favors, Ben.”

His eyes scorching, Ben regarded his sons. “What have you two done? And can I at least assume that you didn’t involve your brother in this, at his own wedding reception?”

Adam put his hand on his father’s shoulder. “Pa, you can relax,” he said in a voice that radiated calm reason. “We had nothing to do with anything about Louise Calthrop. I haven’t even spoken to her since I danced with her and Joe hasn’t either.”

“Right, Pa,” Joe chimed in. “We wouldn’t do anything to mess up Hoss’ party. You know that.”

Ben stared from one to the other of them. “I’d like to think I know you well enough to know that.”

There was a pregnant silence, after which Lily linked her arm through Ben’s. “Now I see why a lady has to ask a man to dance here in Nevada,” she said, pouting until he focused on her. “If we waited for the men, the party would be over.” With one smooth motion, she turned him toward the dance floor.

“You can’t possibly believe those two are innocent,” he fumed as he allowed her to lead him away, so distracted that he missed the triumphant wink she directed at Joe and Adam over her shoulder.

“Perhaps not completely, and for that I applaud them! But you’re not going to find out what happened right now, so why not just enjoy your freedom?”

He stopped for a moment and then chuckled, shaking his head. “Good advice, my dear.” He slipped his arm around her shoulders as he led her to the floor. “I think it’s only fair to warn you that I’m about to take a page from Louise’s book. I don’t intend to give you up for the rest of the evening.”

“I hope you’re half as persistent as she was.”

He was as true to his word as he could be, releasing her only to Jim Nye, Roy Coffee and Paul Martin. But he was with her when Hoss and Eleanor finally climbed into the buggy for the trip to their new home, and for the sight of Louise Calthrop emerging from the house with a dazed look and markedly less energy than she’d exhibited earlier in the evening. By that time, he’d nearly forgotten she existed.

At last, around midnight, Jimmie Bellows and his men played “The Old Folks at Home,” traditionally their closing number, and most of the guests began gathering their belongings and finding their wagons for the trip home. Ben was congratulated and thanked by countless friends as they pulled away into the trees, and gradually the yard, still rosy with the light of the lanterns, fell silent. Hoss Cartwright’s wedding was consigned to history.

<<<<<>>>>>

On the front porch, Ben slipped an arm around Lily. Finally they were alone. “I was beginning to think we’d never really get a chance to talk,” he said, aware of the satisfaction rising within him. This was one thing he had missed—the comfort that at the end of the day, there was someone with whom to share his thoughts.

“It’s been a beautiful day.”

“Yes, in more ways than one. I couldn’t be happier for Hoss and Eleanor—and for myself, I feel very, very blessed.”

She smiled up at him. “I do too … but Ben, I think I owe you an apology for last night.”

His brows furrowed. “Why?”

A slow color enveloped her face, so that he could feel the heat when he stroked her cheek with his fingers. “Ah … I don’t exactly know how to say this, but—I think I was very inconsiderate of you. I should have been more … circumspect.”

For a moment, he just stared at her in confusion, and then a smile danced on his lips. “Lily, do you mean because we became a little—demonstrative?”

He had to tip her chin up with his finger to see her eyes. She nodded.

“Then the apology should be mine. You have to believe that I have the utmost respect for you—”

“Oh, Ben, you owe me no apologies.” She giggled. “What a strange conversation. I assure you, this subject was not covered in my deportment classes.”

He chuckled as well. “No, I don’t imagine it was. But I think we should agree on something: Anything may be said between us. There’s nothing you can’t tell me.”

“All right, then, I’ll just say how I feel and if I go too far, you can stop me. Ben—I’ve only been in love one other time in my life and that was with my husband. I didn’t mean to be forward last night—or wanton, or whatever you might call—”

“You were not wanton, Lily.”

“Good,” she rushed on. “Good, because I didn’t feel that way. What I’m trying to say is that in my context …” She cleared her throat and went on, “Well, wanting to express that love—ah, as we were last night … well, it’s a good thing. It’s …”

“I know,” Ben interjected softly. “It’s not anything cheap or tawdry or disrespectful, and I never thought of anything we did that way.” He gathered her closer to him. “Expressing your feelings like that is beautiful.”

She smiled. “I think so too. But I also know that I could have been less selfish. It just felt so good when you were kissing me … I let it go to my head.”

“I did too.” He ran a thumb lightly over her lower lip. “Lily, I’ll respect your wishes on this matter; you have to understand that. I would never do anything to upset you. I love you—your heart, your mind, your soul … but I’ll admit it, I want you. That’s a part of love, too.”

“Darling—” she began.

He quieted her with a fingertip to her lips and went on, his voice soothing and melodious. “I believe in an Almighty Creator, my dear, and I believe in the sanctity of love. Ordinarily, I suppose I’d say that marriage sanctions the physical act of real love. But in the deepest part of me, I think it’s the love, not the marriage, that’s sacred. I couldn’t hold you in any higher esteem if I’d married you seven times over. … But I also can truly say that if I’d had my wishes, if there hadn’t been other circumstances, we’d have spent last night in my room … in my bed. And I would’ve loved you like you’ve never been loved before.”

Her breath caught and a becoming pink flooded her cheeks. “You’re expressing my feelings perfectly … right down to spending the night in your bed.”

Ben glanced away, not yet ready for her to see the elation that he was sure was on his face. He knew that many women—not, thankfully, the ones he had married—regarded coupling as a tiresome duty. He was so grateful that Lily seemed to think of it as joyously as he did.

She reached up to touch his chin and reclaim his attention. “I do so want that too.” Her lips parted slightly and her eyes conveyed how deeply she felt about what she had said. “And that brings us back to my apology. I—ah, I’m not an inexperienced girl, Ben. What we were doing—I know where all that leads, and when you were wise enough to try to slow us down, I should have helped. I didn’t mean to cause you—”

He silenced her with a kiss. “I love you,” he said. “In the future, we’ll help each other, but we’ve no apologies over last night.”

“Except Michaela. What if she’d come out for a drink of water?” Lily shuddered.

He nodded reluctantly. “No matter what we feel entitled to, it doesn’t include hurting others. As much as I hate to say it, that very much limits what’s available to us.”

“Yes.”

Ben sighed. “It’s not a chance we’ll take again.”

“No … and I can’t see us sneaking around, either. I love you and I’d give my right arm to show you. But I just can’t see us doing anything clandestine.”

He played with the lazy curl of hair that dangled near her face. “I can’t either.” Finally he allowed a rather lopsided grin. “I guess we’re just going to have to behave ourselves.”

“Well, then.” She focused on his shirt and tie. “M’m … so what do we do now?”

“I suppose we go to bed.”

“We what?” For a second, she misinterpreted him.

He laughed, a deep, rumbling appreciation of her surprise. “Separately … you to your bed and I to mine.” He kissed her temple, her cheek, her lips. “As much as I want you, you may be assured that our first time is not going to be when we’re both exhausted and there’s a house full of guests.”

She chuckled, about half-dizzy from his kisses and his humor. “You’re just afraid that you’ll make me cry out with pleasure and you’d have to explain it to everyone in the morning.”

He looked down at her teasingly. “And do you expect to cry out with pleasure?”

She took a deep breath and ran a finger provocatively along the edge of his jaw. “Well, let’s see … in the service of your kisses alone, I’ve whimpered, moaned, groaned and on occasion wailed a bit. How in the world do you think I’ll react when you—”

His nostrils flared as he exhaled abruptly and his lips came down on hers with deliberate force, inciting, as she had mentioned, an appreciative moan. When he raised his head, he had to hold her up as she swayed on her feet. “My dear, when the time comes, I’ll do my best to make you cry out,” he said. “And no, I don’t want to have to explain it to anyone in the morning.”

Chapter Four

As soundly as he slept, Ben was surprised to awaken before dawn. He lay quietly in the bed which had seen so many lonely nights and for once enjoyed the tranquility of the early hour. The only thing that could have made the morning more perfect would have been to have had Lily lying there beside him. That would come soon, he told himself, and stretched luxuriously. Very soon.

His thoughts spun lazily in his mind. Hoss was married. The business of their guests’ visit—his first obligation to his family—was done now. For the remainder of Lily’s stay, he could focus only on seeing that she enjoyed herself, that she got to know his sons and their way of life better. He wanted her to love it all.

The only cloud in the sky was that the men who’d attacked Brownie had to be apprehended and punished. The issue of statehood was as assured as it could be, but equally important to Nevada was the unfailing rule of law and order. He hoped that Roy Coffee made some arrests soon, because he hadn’t liked the edge on Adam’s voice when his son had returned from town on Friday. His boys had been raised to do the right thing and he knew it wouldn’t set well with them if Brownie’s assailants went free. It wouldn’t set well with him either.

It was becoming clear that sleep would be elusive; throwing back the covers, he grabbed the wine-colored velvet robe that lay across the foot of the bed and lit the lamp by his big chair. He padded out into the hall, half wishing that Lily was unable to sleep as well and they could run into each other. Then a slow smile curled on his lips. That was unlikely; in his experience, a woman rarely awakened before dawn unless chores called … or the man next to her in bed gave her a reason to greet the day.

The next best thing, he decided with a sigh, was to lose himself in his book. He retrieved Balzac from his desk and went back to his room, settling comfortably in the chair. Perhaps it was time to start “The Study of a Woman.” Then he shook his head ruefully. What truths could such a study offer? No two women were ever alike.

<<<<<>>>>>

An hour later, it was still quiet out. Adam expected to find the kitchen deserted, Hop Sing having worked late to clean up after the wedding, but the cook was already there, a pot of coffee on the stove. They grunted discordantly at each other as Adam poured a cup and took it with him. He stopped to check the downstairs guestroom; it was neat and orderly, prepared to receive Brownie when they brought the old man home.

Pensively, he inhaled the scent of the coffee. Now that Hoss and Eleanor were married, there was nothing to take precedence over finding the men who had nearly killed Brownie. He hoped mightily that Roy Coffee solved the case soon. It was going to be hard facing his friend, hard acting as if everything were all right as long as those men were free.

Fighting his impatience, he carried his coffee outside; perhaps an early ride would allay the frustration. But once in the barn, he felt the churning inside him quiet. Michaela was already up and grooming Sport.

“You know, when I told you you’d have to care for your own horse here, I didn’t mean you’d have to care for everyone’s,” he said.

“Not everyone’s,” she corrected him. “Yours and mine.”

“Well, don’t think I don’t appreciate it. I’m just wondering when you sleep.”

“I only have a month here. I don’t want to miss anything.”

“You’ll be coming back, I hope.”

“I hope so too.” She threw him a grateful smile. “Adam, where all have you been? I mean, where have you traveled?”

Adam dragged a chair from the harness room to the post of the stall across the aisle before he replied. “I’ve seen a lot of the country between here and Boston, some of California, and parts of Europe.” He wondered at her question, but he didn’t like to push her. She’d tell him when she was ready.

“I was just thinking about all the different kinds of places there are in the world. How did you get to Europe?”

“Well, after I graduated, my grandfather arranged for me to work my way to Liverpool on a friend’s ship, and that captain got me a job on a packet to Genoa. I traveled until my money ran out—I saw as much as I could between Italy and England. It was kind of like going from Nevada to Boston.”

She leaned against Sport. “I want to go all sorts of places when I grow up. What was your favorite?”

He frowned in concentration. “I think maybe Venice … it’s unlike anyplace else I’ve ever been.” His voice turned thoughtful. “If you get up early and go down to the basin to see the sun come up, you’ll never forget it. There’s a church there called the Salute, and its walls almost turn gold.”

Her eyes were wide. “I’d love to see the—the—”

“‘Sal-oo-tay.’”

“The Sal-oo-tay … what else did you like?”

He sorted through his mind. “It’s hard to say. There’s great architecture all over Europe and I haven’t seen half of it yet.” He grinned. “I went through the Alps. You’ll have to go there and see how you compare them to our Sierras.”

She giggled. “I will someday, but they’ll have to go some to beat the Sierras!”

“That’s my girl.”

“But like Venice … what other places did you really love?”

A half-smile flirted on his lips and his hazel eyes rested on her so that she stopped brushing Sport and just stared back him. “All right … my best memory was at St. Paul’s. That’s a cathedral in London designed by a man named Christopher Wren. There was no one there at the time and it was very silent, except”—his eyes glimmered—“for the sparrows. A few must have gotten in somehow, and I could hear these little birds …”

Then he stopped to recall the memory more clearly and Michaela stood still by Sport, transfixed with interest.

He cleared his throat. “And then the organist must have come in to practice. Wren once called the organ a ‘box of whistles,’ but he must have had very high standards. … That day, I could understand how sacred music can be … God had to be there listening.”

“Did you go back every day to hear it?”

He leaned back in his chair. “No, I came home.”

“Because of the music at St. Paul’s?”

“Indirectly. It made me think of home—of the mountains and the trees around here … of what Lake Tahoe looks like from the hills.”

“Did you like any of those places you saw better than here?”

“No.” Adam shook his head. “There’re interesting places all over the world, Michaela, and I doubt I’ll ever stop wanting to see them. But I think it’ll always be the same. The more wonderful, the more unique another place was, the more I enjoyed it”—his voice went soft—“the more I loved my home.”

Michaela’s eyes gleamed. “Adam, what makes a place your home?”

“I’d guess it’s another of those things that’s different for different people, Mickey. What makes San Francisco your home?”

“Papa and Mama and Ted and Maddie are there. Would the Ponderosa be your home if Uncle Ben and Hoss and Joe weren’t here?”

Adam’s eyebrows rose as he contemplated her question. “I don’t know,” he finally said quietly. “I don’t think I can distinguish between us and the Ponderosa. Wherever we are, it’s a part of us … and we’re a part of it.”

She stared at him, a little smile on her face.

“And now it’s about time we went into breakfast,” he told her, standing up and moving the chair aside. “Governor Nye’s probably up by now and he’ll be going soon.”

“Why can’t I just stay here with Sport?”

“Because you have better manners.”

She grimaced. “But we’re getting to be such good friends. I could ride him, Adam—he wouldn’t hurt me. I know he wouldn’t. Please?”

“No, Mickey.” He ruffled her hair and smiled down at her. “Okay, I’ll admit, you two are becoming good friends. And that’s a good reason for you to come in to breakfast. Sport’ll be here when you get back.”

<<<<<>>>>>

After breakfast, Joe and Adam hitched up the buckboard and headed to town to pick up Brownie. They’d fitted it out with a mattress and pillow, and when they pulled up at Doc Martin’s, the physician pronounced it adequate to transport the old man.

“I’ve given him a heavy dose of laudanum,” Dr. Martin said. “He should be all right, but mind, you try not to hit any holes. He’s pretty sore.”

They took extra care to make Brownie comfortable, and then Joe waited with the horses while Adam went back in to note down the doctor’s instructions and collect vials of medicine. Brownie lay silently in a drug-induced doze.

It took Joe a minute to realize that the branch of a bush beside the house, just at the edge of his vision, was waving insistently. An almost soundless pssst confirmed his curiosity. He stepped over to find a wizened old miner crouched behind the bush and the trunk of a tree.

“Stewmeat? What’re you doing back there?”

“Keep yer voice down!”

“Why?” Joe lowered his voice. “What’s going on?”

“I jus’ heard somethin’ you an’ yer fam’ly might be in’ersted in.”

“Yeah? What would that be?”

“It’s that Danhoff feller. Y’know, the one what was hangin’ around with McWhirter an’ causin’ trouble about yer daddy’s wantin’ statehood. I ’uz in the Bucket O’Blood last evenin’ and he commenced to talkin’ about it.”

“Did you hear what he said?”

“Yeah. Ya know how it oughta be done with now, since yer daddy made that speech? Well, Danhoff was sayin’ somethin’ about ‘if them Cartwrights think it’s over, they’re wrong, it ain’t by a longshot over.’ It sounded like he meant it, Joe.”

Joe’s browed furrowed. “You hear anything else?”

“Nope. They moved away then, and I’d a-looked pecul’ar if I’d a-followed ’em.”

“Thanks, Stewmeat. I really appreciate it.” He extracted a dollar from his pocket. “You stay outta sight now, but you have a drink on us. Much obliged.”

“Thank ya, Joe. You’re a gent, y’ are.” The old man faded into the shrubbery just as Adam came out.

Joe waited until they’d pulled away from the house and were down the road before he mentioned Stewmeat’s news to his brother.

“This thing’s not really going to be over until statehood’s approved by popular vote,” Adam said meditatively.

“No, but Adam, if they go after Pa again—”

“I don’t think they’ll try anything that obvious. That fellow from the Miners Union put them on notice they’d be liable if anything happens to us.”

“You mean it’ll be more like an accident, something we’d know wasn’t an accident, but it’d be hard to prove?” Joe glared out at the passing landscape. “I wish we didn’t have to tell Pa.”

“I do too. But we can’t have him riding around the countryside with Lily, not knowing what’s going on.”

“I guess. And I guess we keep our eyes and ears open.” Joe pulled his revolver out of its holster, checking to make sure it was fully loaded.

“It’ll be good if Roy can lock up the guys who went after Brownie. If Danhoff’s one of them, that’ll put a stop to it.”

“The sooner the better,” Joe muttered.

By the time the buckboard rolled into the yard, the sun was well into the afternoon sky. The old man barely roused when he was carried into the downstairs guestroom. He was hideous to see; his face, usually a weathered tan, was shaded purple from the bruising. Adam saw Julia swallow painfully as they transferred him to the bed, almost as if she could feel the damage of the beating. Lily went immediately to the kitchen for cool water and compresses to bathe his forehead. But there was little more they could do for him, and presently they all withdrew from the room so that he could sleep.

Julia and Lily disappeared into the kitchen and Adam, having selected a book from the shelves by the window, dropped into one of the red chairs. He was surprised a moment later when a shadow fell across the open pages on his lap.

It was Joe. “Adam, I got to thinking,” he said in a low voice. “A couple of the guys say they’re gonna ride into town tomorrow, see what they can find out about the attack on Brownie. With what Stewmeat says, I think I’ll go along. How ’bout you? You in?”

Adam glanced around; Michaela had gone upstairs and it appeared that they were alone. “I’d advise you to leave it to Roy Coffee,” he said. But his unrest with the situation must have been apparent to Joe.

“I’d like to leave it to Roy,” his brother said tightly, “but it’s been three days and he hasn’t done anything.”

“I thought Hoss said he was asking questions Friday morning.”

“Yeah. Asking questions—not making arrests. Something has to be done.”

“Joe, you don’t just go taking the law into your own hands.” Adam heard the faint note of anger in his voice and cursed silently; it sounded like condescension. Truth was, he didn’t appreciate having to remind Joe of that any more than he liked having to repeat it to himself.

“You know me better than that, Adam. I don’t plan to. We’re just gonna help Roy out a bit.”

“Who’s ‘we’?”

“Eli and Thad Barrigan—and me. You know how much they like Brownie.”

Adam frowned. “Tomorrow’s Monday. They have jobs here and if they want to keep them, that’s not going to include running around like a bunch of vigilantes.”

“What’s wrong with you, Adam?” Joe managed to keep his voice even, but his anxiety showed in his eyes. “Don’t you want to see the men who almost killed Brownie punished?”

“Of course I do. But the Barrigan brothers are hotheads—not to mention, they work for the Ponderosa and I’m not paying them to be Roy’s deputies.”

“The last time I looked, you weren’t the only Cartwright running the Ponderosa,” Joe informed him. “At least they care. I’d think, with you knowing Brownie since you were a kid, you’d want to do something for him too.”

“Don’t be a fool, Joe,” Adam flared. “You know I care about Brownie! But what the Barrigans have in mind won’t help anyone.”

Joe stepped back. “That’s your opinion. You do what you have to do and I’ll do what I see fit.”

“If by ‘doing what you see fit’ means you plan to ride with them, you’re needed to help move the shipment from the sawmill into town tomorrow.”

“Well, you know what, older brother? You can do my part. You’re the one who’s taken all the time off lately, playing around at bein’ a father—you haul your own weight for a change. I have other things to do.”

Adam sprang up out of the chair, his eyes dark. “If you have a problem with the way I do my job, little brother, we can take it up outside. In the meantime, if you’re bent on going off and acting like an ignorant hothead, that’s your affair, but you leave our guests out of it.”

Joe glared back at him. “Yeah, sure, big brother. But maybe you’d better take a good hard look at your loyalties.” He spun away and stalked to the door, grabbing his hat before jerking the heavy panel open and then slamming it behind him.

Adam, his hands motionless at his side, glanced around the room and then sighed heavily. He sank back into the chair and only became aware of his father when Ben rose from the desk and crossed to the settee. He exhaled again, his disgust evident. “That was entertaining, wasn’t it?” he said sarcastically.

“Immensely,” Ben replied, his voice cool with displeasure. “I certainly hope our guests didn’t hear it. It wasn’t what I’d call good Ponderosa hospitality.”

“Sorry, Pa.” Adam’s voice was subdued.

“Don’t be sorry. Just be sure that at dinner, you two are not only civil, but perfectly normal with each other. I don’t want a lot of dissention in the air. You can solve that however you want to—but get it done.”

Adam nodded, but added with exasperation, “I just have a hard time believing Joe’d go off half-cocked with the Barrigan brothers. He knows better than that.”

“You know Joe. He cares a great deal about Brownie.”

“And the rest of us don’t?” Adam questioned sharply.

“I’m not saying that and you know it. I’m not particularly pleased with the way Joe handled this, but I’m even less pleased with how you did. Adam, you’re older—you know better. I heard the tone you used.”

Adam rubbed his forehead wearily. “I know.” He was silent for a moment before finally admitting, “I’m worried about him, Pa. The Barrigans are good cow hands, but they don’t think things through—in fact, they hardly think at all. There’s no telling what kind of trouble they could get into.”

“Did it ever occur to you that it might be good that Joe’s there? You know your brother; he might be upset about all this, but he’s not going to do anything wrong. Can’t you at least trust him that far?”

“I trust him. That’s not the trouble.”

“Then what is the trouble?”

Adam shook his head, becoming frustrated with Ben’s brusque tone. “I don’t know. Don’t you worry that he might be getting involved in something he can’t handle? Something that might get out of hand? The Barrigan boys are really hotheaded. I think he’s in the wrong crowd.” He stood up resignedly and followed in Joe’s steps to the door. “Forget it. What’s gonna happen’s gonna happen. I’m just glad Mickey wasn’t around to hear it.”

Ben rose as well. “What’s Mickey got to do with it?”

“Why do you think I lost my temper? I was afraid she might hear what Joe said. Her confidence in herself is uncertain at best; all she’d need is to think that she’s taking up my time.” He shook his head.

Ben’s tone softened. “I realize that, son. But you can’t blame your brother. He has no way of knowing how Michaela looks at things.”

“I blame myself for letting it go that far.”

“And you have to agree, riding with Michaela and Lily, you’ve taken more time off than the rest of us.”

Adam’s face suddenly lost all expression, as if he’d abruptly moved beyond reach; in a second, he was through the door and gone. Ben just stared after him.

A quiet voice sounded in the void. “Are you all right?”

He turned to find Lily standing in the dining room.

“I’m fine,” he said and sighed. “Not even a day from the wedding, and we’re having family squabbles.”

She came to him, running her hand along his arm and drawing him to the settee with her. “All families have them.”

He gazed into the vacant fireplace. “I know better than to push Adam like that. I criticized him for how he was with his brother and then I turned around and did the same thing with him.”

“I’m sure he’ll live,” she replied and paused before adding, “but I think you should know that most of the time we were out riding, he was just helping me. I was having a hard time being so in love with you and having to keep it a secret.”

“Then I owe him an apology,” Ben said soberly. “I should have known he had a purpose.”

“Well, in any case, one has only to see your sons to know that whatever you’ve done over the years has worked. Isn’t that all you can ask?”

Her tone was gentle and soothing and he stared into her eyes gratefully, allowing a little smile.

“I have to agree with Adam about Mickey, though,” she continued thoughtfully. “It’s good that she didn’t hear it; she’s just beginning to have a little more confidence in herself.”

“Joe knows nothing about—”

“Oh, I know. He’d never hurt Mickey.” She allowed a little smile. “It’s rather too bad that one of them couldn’t be completely right—it would be easier to solve it all.”

His eyes glinted. “I may have taken Adam to task for how he handled it, but Joseph’s not right. I didn’t raise my boys to take the law into their own hands.”

“Perhaps not. But you raised them to be responsible, and Joe’s devotion to Brownie is admirable. Even Adam sees that.”

“Yes …” His frustration with the situation was evident.

“And as you said, perhaps it’s good that Joe goes with those two men … so that nothing bad can happen.”

“I hope so.” But a nagging doubt would not go away. “I hate to say it, but Adam did have a good point—the Barrigans are volatile. If they go off in the wrong direction, it’ll be a big job for any man to slow them down. I hope Joseph can keep his head in all of this.”

<<<<<>>>>>

The issue of civility at dinner was solved when Adam manufactured a previous engagement in town. Nothing more was said about the expedition to find Brownie’s attackers, and with their guests present, Ben was unable to take Joe aside and explore his youngest son’s intentions more fully. Adam didn’t return until after eleven, when everyone had gone to bed except Ben. Seated in the red chair, he waited as his son unbuckled his gunbelt.

“Waiting up for me?” Adam’s tone had an ironic twist to it. “That’s going back a few years, isn’t it?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“Pa, look—”

Ben held up a hand. “Hear me out,” he interrupted, his voice still calm and reasonable; he could feel his son’s tension, almost see the walls that had gone up around him.

Adam dropped into the blue chair.  “All right.”

“Let me start by saying I owe you an apology. I handled our conversation this afternoon very badly.”

“We can have different opinions—”   

“I know. But I was unfair to you. Lily told me how you helped her last week and I’m grateful to you.” He settled farther back into his chair. “And that’s not all.”

Adam’s bewilderment showed clearly on his face.

“Son, all of your life, ever since you were old enough to have a sense of what was going on, you’ve been my right hand. I couldn’t have accomplished anything here—well, truthfully, I couldn’t have gotten through my life—without you. That doesn’t make you any more or less important to me than your brothers; you know I love you all equally. But Adam, you’ve been different. Our history together is different. That’s caused problems sometimes for Hoss and Joe, and I’ve tried to compensate for it as much as I could. I’m sorry if sometimes that’s made it seem as if I didn’t appreciate you and everything you’ve done for me—for this family.”

“You don’t owe me any apologies. Any of us would have done the same thing.”

“I know that all of us care very deeply about the family and the Ponderosa,” Ben nodded. He struggled for the right words. “I know that I expect a lot from you, but that’s probably because you’ve always delivered. Sometimes I forget that you’re just a man, like any of us … that you can be hurt too, or that perhaps you aren’t always perfect …”

Adam grunted. “Always perfect? Come on, Pa.”

Ben’s eyes gleamed and he tendered a lopsided smile. “Well, that might be carrying it too far, I agree.” He allowed for a moment of comfortable silence before continuing, “The fact is, I’m worried about your brother. You know I don’t condone his taking the law into his own hands—and I hope to God that’s not what we’re seeing.”

“If you really believed that was what Joe was after, you’d have stopped him yourself.”

“Yes, I would have, and in the morning, if that’s what seems to be happening, I will. But Adam, we need to let him handle this himself. He’s a grown man. I can’t always be thinking for him—and neither can you.”

Adam settled back in the chair. “I guess I can’t argue with that.”

“He’s twenty-two years old. I know you helped raise him … but it’s hard enough for him to accept my authority now, let alone his brother’s.”

“I know.” Adam sighed, and Ben felt himself relax a little. They were back on a man-to-man footing, as they’d been so many times before when they’d sat up late and discussed the problems of the Ponderosa. It was exactly the sort of thing that made Hoss and Joe feel that Adam had a special relationship with their father, but Ben didn’t know how he could ever give it up.

“I heard the tone in my voice and I just couldn’t help it,” Adam confessed, and then his voice reflected his anger. “What was he thinking, getting into a crazy scheme like that?”

Ben frowned. “I don’t know, but your attitude didn’t help any. You know very well that principles and theories govern your actions. Your brother operates from his feelings. It’s just the way he is.”

“I know.” Adam’s eyes were honest, if a little impatient. “I do know that. And believe it or not, I remember what it was like trying to be my own man when you didn’t agree.” His eyebrows rose dramatically. “It’s not an easy job.”

Ben chuckled. “I suspect that part of the reason you two butt heads as often as you do is that while Joe is coming into himself, he isn’t quite up to defying me as often as he’d like. It’s easier to stand up to you—you’re only his brother, in the end his equal.”

Adam considered the thought. “I suppose.” A smile flitted briefly on his lips. “Lucky me.”

“And it doesn’t hurt that you’re as pigheaded as he is. Makes you an easy target.” Ben’s voice was dry, but it had the calculated effect, as Adam chuckled in response.

“All right. I understand what you’re saying. I’ll try to stay out of it tomorrow. I’ll be busy at the sawmill, anyhow, and I’ll leave early so that nothing comes up at breakfast.”

“Thank you … Now, that said—Joe knows nothing about Michaela’s feelings. It was unfortunate that he mentioned the time off you’ve taken—”

“Forget it. He didn’t mean anything by it. He was just mad.”

“Do you really believe that?”

Adam shrugged. “You get in an argument with someone, you say whatever supports your case. If Joe’d had any real problem with the time I spent with Lily or Michaela, he’d have said something long before now.”

Ben gripped his son’s shoulder briefly. “I’m very glad you feel that way. And I’m thankful that Mickey didn’t hear what was said.”

Adam rose to go upstairs. “I am too. G’night, Pa.”

“Good night, son.”

But on the second step, Adam turned back. His expression had darkened, and Ben knew the first whisper of a misgiving he couldn’t place. “There’s just one thing that Joe needs to understand. I don’t care if you want to call it being a father, or a big brother or a friend—it’s not something I’d play around with.”

Chapter Five

Of all the times Ben might have wanted to rise early, on Monday he found himself indulging in a full night’s sleep. Even so, he was up and dressed before eight, but it was not in time to talk to Joe before his youngest son left on the dubious errand with the Barrigan brothers. He frowned in frustration; before they’d turned in the previous night, Adam had told him about the warning that their statehood troubles were not over, and he was particularly concerned that Joe was careful about whatever he did. The fact that his son had saddled Cochise and ridden out without discussing the matter told him that the boy had doubts about what he was doing.

The young man, he reminded himself. Thinking of Joe as a boy was half the problem. He might be the youngest, but he was a grown man.

Ben stared at Cochise’s empty stall for a moment or two and then turned back to the house. In the early morning stillness, only the sound of the birds in the surrounding trees granted a sign of life. He sat down in a big chair on the porch, crossing his legs and propping his chin on one hand.

Will it always be like this? he asked himself, unconsciously recalling Marie and questioning her too. Joseph was so like her—so passionate about everything. Ben couldn’t imagine him any other way; as an old man, their son probably still would be leading with his heart, just as his mother had.

But he’s a man, he argued to her in his mind. Joe can’t live by his good heart alone. Somehow I have to temper his headstrong energy without breaking his spirit … and how do I do that?

He wondered if he’d been too lenient with his youngest after Marie’s death. Had he caused Joe’s willful nature, simply by trying to make up for the loss of a mother? Adam and Hoss had lost mothers as well—but their childhoods had been marked by a deprivation that had taught them early to analyze situations, to watch others, to define goals. Well, perhaps Adam had learned those techniques better than Hoss, but Hoss had had his overwhelming size and strength to fall back upon.

Joe had been different. He’d been the only one to spend time with his mother that he remembered—however little, at a bit more than four years, that had been. He’d been the first to know the security of a sturdy house and a warm bed from his earliest days … the first to grow up with mostly the same neighbors, attend the same church—all those little signs of stability which lent him a devil-may-care optimism that his brothers lacked.

He’s hard to manage right now, Ben admitted in his mental conversation. Not that he’s disrespectful or unpleasant … it’s just that he’s old enough that when he gets into trouble, it’s too often not boyish pranks anymore. He’s living in a man’s world, doing a man’s work, without a man’s experience.

For a second Marie’s beautiful face swam before him, her radiant eyes gazing back at him with such understanding that he found himself speaking again in his mind … You remember, darling—you remember how badly you were hurt when you believed that Jean D’Marigny’s love meant that he knew the real you, trusted you because you were incapable of deceit? And your cousin D’Arcy—he disappointed you as well. You remember how long it took for you to believe in people again? With a man, he thought, the situation was more complicated. Of course a man wanted to guard against such hurts as the betrayal of a love or a misplaced trust, just as a woman would. But it was also imperative that he learn how to avoid other perils as well—he could be injured or killed if he made the wrong decision or dove blindly into the wrong cause.

Ben sighed. He could almost feel Marie beside him, her fingers cool on his arm … her voice reminding him that she had survived … that her fragility had been deceptive, that beneath her exotic demeanor had been a strong and enduring soul. Get past his handsome face, beyond his bright personality, a voice seemed to be saying to him. You’ll find the same grit and strength that you see in his brothers … perhaps he’s not as wise yet, but he’s there to be counted upon. It’s time for you to trust now, Ben. Trust that Joe’s a true Cartwright …

So powerful was the sensation that he felt tears building in his eyes and swiped them away impatiently. But inside, the terrible knot of fear seemed to dissipate. He was not above offering a quick prayer for his son’s safety, but he knew a certain assurance that Joe would acquit himself well. There were no guarantees—there were never any guarantees. But he’d raised a good boy, a smart boy … a strong man.

He rose slowly, surprised to find that in his distress, his muscles had stiffened abominably. A small, reluctant smile rose on his lips. At this rate, he could dispense with fretting over his sons; soon enough, they’d be worrying about him. He eased the kinks from his legs and headed inside. He’d promised Julia he’d drive her and Michaela to Aurora Vance’s this morning, and he had a little work of his own to do. He wanted it all completed by the time Joe got back from his dangerous endeavors.

<<<<<>>>>>

Ben and Lily were on the settee in the great room when Joe returned in the late afternoon. It was apparent from the drawn look on his face that the day had been difficult, and Ben said nothing, giving his son time to settle in. The important thing was that his boy was alive—that nothing had gotten out of hand, as Adam had feared.

But as Joe hung up his hat, deposited his gunbelt on the credenza and crossed the room to the blue chair, it was apparent that he was deeply disturbed.

“Want to tell us about it?” Ben asked.

Lily rose. “I think I’ll just leave you two for a bit. Hop Sing was going to—”

But Joe stopped her with a weary shake of his head. “You don’t have to go, Lily. You’ll hear about it anyway.” He turned to his father. “It all went wrong, Pa. Adam was right. Eli and Thad were out for blood and I couldn’t stop them.”

Ben’s stomach constricted with fear for Joe, anger at the Barrigans and a frustration that Adam’s tone of voice had made the whole issue about him and Joe. “Son, I’m just glad that you’re here—alive and well. Whatever went wrong, we’ll fix and we’ll fix it together. But you have to tell us what happened.”

Joe’s face was almost a mask. “It didn’t start out so bad. We rode into town and talked to several guys who’d been around the Sazerac and the Silver Dollar last week when Hec McWhirter was saying his worst about you. It was like we’d thought—some of ’em had heard something about that hired gun, Arch Danhoff, getting together a group of men to make some strike against us. They figured there were three, maybe four. Two fellows that everyone seemed to agree were in on it were named Harris and Ulman, and they were pretty sure Frank Aldershott was with them.”

“So you went looking for those men?”

“Yeah.” Joe looked away, his face still blank. “We found Harris and Ulman just outside town. At first, everything was all right … we asked them where they’d been last Thursday evening, but they wouldn’t tell us. Ulman even got tough with Eli—and that’s when Thad pulled a gun. He said he’d shoot anyone who got in their way, and told Eli to get the truth out of Ulman.”

Ben’s brows furrowed, more alarmed at his son’s lifeless voice than the story he was telling.

“Pa, you know Eli Barrigan. There isn’t a man in the territory can take him on in a fist fight, other than Hoss. He beat Ulman until the guy couldn’t stand up … until he finally confessed. I tried to stop it and that’s when I found out that Thad meant he’d shoot anybody who got in their way. I don’t know if he’d have shot me or not, but I knew I couldn’t do anyone any good if he did, so I just stood there and watched it.” He ran a hand through his hair. “It was awful.”

“There was nothing else you could do, son.”

Joe looked at him bleakly. “We’ll never know, will we? Because I didn’t do anything.” He dropped his gaze to stare at his hands. “After they finished with Ulman, they started in on Harris. He didn’t get hurt as bad because he confessed pretty quick.”

Ben fought a rising sickness at the despondency in Joe’s tone.

“So then they tied Harris and Ulman on their horses and we went looking for Aldershott. I didn’t like dragging those guys around like that—they were both bleeding and pretty well busted up—but I didn’t want to leave them with Eli and Thad. We ran across Aldershott on the way back into town.” His voice died.

“And what happened then?”

“They nearly killed him, Pa. I’ve never seen anyone take such a beating. But Aldershott wouldn’t confess—he just wouldn’t give in, and Eli kept belting away at him. Finally”—Joe cleared his throat—“finally, I got a break. Thad got so angry with Aldershott not giving ’em what they wanted that he let his gun down. I got mine out real fast and fired off a round to get their attention. There wasn’t much they could do after that. I told them to put Aldershott on his horse and we went back to town. We gave all three of ’em to Roy Coffee.”

Joe sat back in the chair, clearly not happy, but relieved to have told his story.

“Is that all?”

“Yeah—do you need any more? Adam was right—it wound up being a vigilante posse and I was part of it.”

“I wouldn’t put it like that. If you hadn’t been there, there’s no telling what might have happened to Frank Aldershott.”

Joe shook his head disgustedly. “We didn’t accomplish anything—oh, yeah, we might have found the guys who beat up Brownie, but the only way we did that was by beating them up. Even I can see that that makes us no better than they are.” He leaned forward again, propping his elbows on his knees and glancing up at Lily, his eyes bitter. “All I can say, ma’am, is don’t take me as an example of this family.”

Lily stood up and crossed the room. “Joe, I’m afraid I agree with your father. The fact that you were there may have saved Frank Aldershott’s life.” She sat down on the arm of his chair and gripped his shoulders, her fingers kneading the rigid muscles.

“I guess. I don’t know what to say. It just all happened so fast.”

Ben leaned back against the settee. As if Lily’s fingers were massaging him instead of his son, he felt a peace begin to settle through him. Joe was home, safe and sound; he’d learned a lesson that would remain with him for life, and although the whole project had been misguided from the start, he had instinctively done the right thing. It was over—that was what counted.

“Things have a way of happening just that fast,” he said matter-of-factly. “Perhaps in time, you’ll be able to look on this as experience, a lesson learned.”

Joe just clamped his jaw, his eyes stormy, but softening just the slightest bit at the rhythmic touch of Lily’s hands on his shoulders.

“Joe … son, I want you to think of something for me,” Ben said slowly. “I want you to imagine how you would have felt if you’d stayed here all day or gone off and worked with Adam … and then someone rode in and told you that Eli and Thad Barrigan had killed some men in town. What would you have felt then?”

It was barely five seconds before Joe spoke and the tone of his voice told his father that he had made the connection. “I guess … I never would have known if I could have stopped it by being there. I’d have hated myself for not going.” A spark of life returned to his eyes.

“You know, Joseph, sometimes we can’t question why things happen,” Ben went on kindly. “I’ll admit to having my doubts about your going along with the Barrigans, but in the end, it’s worked out for the best.”

“Thanks, Pa.” A fleeting smile crossed Joe’s face and he relaxed again into Lily’s hands. “Now just tell that to Adam.” He grimaced.

Ben chuckled. “One of the most aggravating things about your brother is how often he’s right. But you know, Adam was just concerned about you—”

“Yeah, and why? Because he thinks I’m too young to know better? And then what do I do, but go out and prove him right?”

Ben shook his head. “It’s not that, Joe.”

Just then the front door opened and Adam came in. His eyes swept the room, noting Lily on Joe’s chair and his father on the settee, and then he turned back to take off his hat and gunbelt. No one said anything and Joe just looked away.

When Adam crossed the room, he regarded them all expectantly. “Am I interrupting anything?”

Ben shifted. “Of course not. Did you get the millwork into town all right?”

“Yeah. Preston Gatwick ordered another load.” He dropped onto the settee and glanced at Joe. “Good work. I still think you went off half-cocked, but as it turns out, it’s a good thing you were there.”

Joe’s face came up in confusion. “What’re you talking about?”

Adam’s eyes traveled from Joe to Lily to his father, but everyone simply stared at him. “Don’t you know?”

“The last thing I know is that you were right about taking the law into my own hands,” Joe said. “So say what you’re gonna say and get it over with.”

Adam’s hazel eyes softened. “Maybe I was right in principle, but if you’d listened to me, three men would have died on account of it. I meant the ‘good work.’”

“Three men? What—”

“Frank Aldershott collapsed in Roy’s jail and they rushed him to Doc Martin. Paul’s still not sure he can save him—he thinks there’s a broken rib and it’s punctured a lung. But one thing they know for sure, if you hadn’t stopped the Barrigans from beating up on him, he’d have died … no medical treatment, no second chances.”

Joe’s eyes reflected his bafflement as he tried to sort out what Adam was saying. “That’s only one man. Harris and Ulman weren’t hurt that bad.”

“No, but Eli and Thad would have been—and might still be—up on murder charges,” Adam replied. “Roy Coffee’s on his way out here to take them into custody. Now, I’m the first to say those two needed a good lesson, but they don’t need hanging.”

“Adam, I can’t prove I didn’t—”

“Maybe not, but Harris and Ulman can. When Roy got back from Doc Martin’s, Ulman was giving him a hard time about it. I don’t know your side of the story, but his rendition doesn’t do you any harm.”

Joe sank back into the chair gratefully, but his voice was hoarse when he spoke. “If Aldershott dies—”

“If Aldershott dies, it’s nothing to do with you,” Adam said. “You’re the only reason he’s alive now to fight for his life.” He pressed the bridge of his nose and looked as if he wished he could avoid saying any more. “And, ah, that’s not quite the whole story.”

Everyone looked at him.

“One reason Ulman was giving Roy a hard time—and the way they gave him a confession on top of what they apparently told you—was that they said Aldershott wasn’t there Thursday night. He had no part in what was done to Brownie.”

The blood drained from Joe’s face and his eyes took on a haunted look.

“Don’t you say a word,” Adam countered, leaning forward toward his brother. “You saved an innocent man’s life, Joe. Thad and Eli Barrigan were going on that witch hunt whether you were with them or not—so just this once, forget what I’ve said about principles and laws, because it doesn’t apply.”

Instinctively, Joe looked to Ben. His father’s eyes were deep and warm, and he offered a sympathetic smile. “This is one time, son, that you can be glad your brother is so unconscionably right.”

Joe swiped both hands through his hair and stood up. “I’ll just be glad when this day’s over.”

Adam rose too. “Well, what about we put in a little more work before we call it done? Rob had to pick up the buggy from Hoss’, so I told him I’d feed for him. Care to help?”

Joe stared his brother for a moment. “Yeah. Sure.” He glanced at his father, turned around to smile gratefully at Lily, and followed Adam to the door.

For a long moment, silence reigned.  Then Lily rose from the blue chair and returned to Ben. With no one else in the house, he pulled her down next to him on the settee, his arm going around her.

She smiled up at him. “I hope I didn’t interfere.”

“Interfere? Not at all.”

“Joe’s so dear.” She turned to face him, resting her head against his shoulder and running her hand over the front of his vest. “I hope he and Adam talk. They’re so good when they’re a team, as they were at Hoss’ wedding.”

Ben chuckled. “From what Julia said, they were—what? A menace?” He kissed her temple lightly. “But I hope they talk too. As different as they are, they’re alike in many ways.”

“You know, the way they are says a great deal about their father—that you could raise such different young men, and yet have them so much alike in the important ways.”

“I’ve been very lucky.”

“It’s been more than that.”

“I’m not perfect, my dear,” he said dryly, “as much as I’d like you to think that.”

She laughed. “It’s been some little while since I thought you were perfect. Every one of your sons has warned me about your temper.”

“My temper? Well, I suppose I get a little loud sometimes, but—”

Her lips quivered. “M’m-h’m.”

“What’s so funny?”

“Don’t worry … they all assured me that your bark is worse than your bite.”

“All three of them?”

“I suppose they were afraid I’d cut and run before I got to know you properly.”

“All three of them?”

<<<<<>>>>>

It was quiet in the barn as Joe and Adam distributed hay and refilled some of the water buckets before moving on to the back barn to perform the same tasks there. Although their differences had been settled, a strain remained in the air, due mainly to Joe’s dissatisfaction with the day. Adam remained silent, figuring his brother would talk when he was ready.

“Sometimes it makes sense, you know,” Joe finally said, “and sometimes it doesn’t.”

Adam glanced up, but said nothing.

Joe pushed a horse aside and dumped water in an empty bucket before he continued, “The part about being proven guilty—I don’t argue with that, and I wouldn’t defend what Thad and Eli did. I didn’t want any part of it. But the fact is, they got the guilty men; if they hadn’t thrown a few punches, we wouldn’t have gotten anyone.”

Adam nodded. “I know.”

“Anybody, Adam. We wouldn’t have locked up anybody. Those guys would’ve gotten away with nearly killing Brownie.”

“I know.” Adam looked at his brother. “I do know, Joe. You think I haven’t thought about that?”

“Well, that’s why I’m asking you. I understand the principle of law and order and I know being a vigilante isn’t the answer—I knew all that before I ever rode out with Thad and Eli. But make sense of it for me. When everything doesn’t fall into place, how do you justify letting criminals go free?”

“I can’t make sense of it,” Adam answered wearily, and added, “Maybe the person to ask is Frank Aldershott.”

Joe stopped and the energy seemed to drain out of him. “Yeah,” he mumbled, his face tight. He turned away.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Joe.” Adam waited a second before going on, “I’m just saying that that’s the only sense I can make of it—if you make a mistake, you have a Frank Aldershott on your hands.”

“So what’s your answer, older brother?”

“I don’t have one, younger brother.” Adam regarded Joe with a wry smile that didn’t reach to his eyes. “Make you happy? I don’t have an answer.”

Joe shook his head and grinned. “Heck of a time for you to say that. I was kinda countin’ on you knowin’ everything.” Then he sobered. “I understand it all, Adam, but I still want to get the other guys who beat up Brownie. I can taste it, I want it so bad.”

“So do I.”

<<<<<>>>>>

The next couple of days passed in a haze of activity, particularly for Michaela.

“I know you have a lot to do,” she told Adam. “So if you don’t mind, Uncle Ben and Lily asked me to go riding this afternoon and Joe says he’ll take me out to the herd tomorrow.”

“That’s fine, sweetheart,” he replied. There were several ranch duties that needed his attention. “I’ll see you tonight. How about a little chess?”

“Yes, please.”

The chess game had to be postponed, however. Their evening schedule picked up with a succession of guests; one night they all picnicked down by the pond and another they entertained Aurora and Eleanor’s sister Edwina. And as the days went on, Michaela settled into a schedule of reading to Brownie every morning. Afternoons were devoted to helping Hop Sing in the garden or riding with Ben and Lily or accompanying her mother on social calls.

Despite his involvement in his work, Adam became increasingly worried when there was no news of any arrests in Brownie’s case. More than once he looked up to find Joe’s eyes on him, and although neither said anything, he knew that his brother felt the same deep frustration. He stopped to see the old man every day when he came in, heartened to find Brownie comfortable enough that they were beginning to reduce his laudanum.

One afternoon Brownie was more animated than Adam had yet seen him; his eyes glittered with excitement as he spoke about the book Michaela was reading to him—a story of a great whale and the man who hunted him.

“Moby-Dick?” Adam asked.

“That’s the one. It’s right invigeratin’.”

“Michaela’s reading you Moby-Dick?”

“Yeah. Yer pa had it. She said I’d like it better’n that fella Shakespeare.”

“I agree with her.” Adam hid his grin. Michaela had yet to read Shakespeare, but she was right.

Propped up on a pile of pillows, Brownie waved his hands, which were bandaged like paws. “Could I trouble ya fer a glass o’ water?”

Adam poured the water and helped Brownie steady it as he slurped noisily. “Thank ya.” The scout frowned. “I gotta be gettin’ on with recov’ry. Ain’t nothin’ gonna slow down for me.”

Some of the water dribbled down his chin and Adam found a towel next to the bed, there to wipe up such spills.

“Sorry. Ain’t got used to havin’ s’ few teeth. Makes m’ lips act funny.” Brownie presented a little grin. “Gonna ruin m’ pretty looks too. Gotta find another way to please the ladies, ya might say.”

Adam chuckled appreciatively, but he couldn’t stop a twinge of concern. The old guide had never had many teeth; now there were so few that he wondered how Brownie would chew his food. Undoubtedly there would be other longstanding reminders of the beating as well. He sat down on the side of the bed. “How about it? A game of checkers?”

“Sure. Yer lil’ girlfrien’ said she’d play with me tomorrow, so I’d better sharpen up some. Reckon she’s liable to be a reg’lar terror at it.”

Adam smiled. “Wouldn’t surprise me. She’s darn good at chess.”

In fact, he would have liked to play chess with her that night. They’d never found a moment for the game they’d planned, but this apparently was not the time either. Sometimes when he caught her eye, she looked away after a second or two. He wondered if she was upset with him for being so busy, and had to remind himself that he’d checked each morning to make sure that she was occupied before going off to his own chores.

It was no different the next day. Michaela went with her mother to visit friends of the Vances’, so Adam decided to ride into town. It had been more than a week since the attack; it was time to push Roy Coffee for developments on Brownie’s other assailants. His younger brother rode in just as he was saddling Sport, and without asking, said he was coming too.

All they’d learned to date, Roy informed them, was that there was only one other man, not two. Nearly everyone thought it was Arch Danhoff, but there was no proof.

“Keep yer shirt on, boys, we’ll get ’im,” the sheriff counseled. “It’s only a matter o’ time before Harris or Ulman gives ’im up. Closer they get t’ their trial, they’ll be thinkin’ about who’s responsible for the job that put ’em there.”

Adam argued that Danhoff could leave town any day, but Roy didn’t seem too worried about that.

“If he does, no tellin’ what Harris ’n’ Ulman’d say. This way, he can keep an eye on ’em. Just relax, boys. We’ll get ’im.”

They swallowed their impatience and stood on the sidewalk, looking at the peaceful street, wondering if it was as safe as it seemed. “There’s gotta be something we can do, Adam,” Joe said, trying to curb his anger.

“You’d think,” Adam muttered, equally irritated. “Well, we might as well make the trip worthwhile. I’m going over to the general store and pick up a few things. You want to get the mail?”

“Sure.”

 Adam watched Joe walk off. He could tell by the set of his brother’s shoulders that Joe was tightly wound, and he hoped that didn’t mean trouble.

Although neither of them really expected that Danhoff and his men would cause any problems in front of everyone on the street, they were both on the alert for any danger. As Joe walked the two short blocks to the post office, the only person who seemed as if he might have bad intentions was a wiry man in a dusty black frockcoat, lounging against the wall of the assay office across the street. His face was unshaven and it seemed to Joe that the man’s eyes were trained on him. It was not hard to recall that when his father and Lily had been attacked in Chinatown, they’d described a heavyset man and a skinny one. They’d all figured that Arch Danhoff was the big man; it seemed very possible that the man in the black coat might be the other one. From the corner of his eye, Joe remained aware of him—so aware of him that when he reached the post office, he almost ran into the woman coming out.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he mumbled.

She swayed uncertainly and for a moment it seemed that she might faint; she was unnaturally pale and slender—the peculiar sort of thinness which resulted from too little to eat. But she steadied herself and when she stared up into the brightness of the street, a sudden recognition transformed her expression. “You’re Joe Cartwright, aren’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’m Pris Aldershott—Mrs. Frank Aldershott.”

Joe lost his breath and struggled not to lose his voice too. “Ma’am, I’m real sorry—”

But she stopped him with a light touch on his arm. “I want to thank you. If it hadn’t been for you, my husband would have died.”

He tried to compose his face. “I feel real bad about what happened, though.”

He managed a little smile. “Mr. Cartwright, this isn’t the first time we’ve had bad luck. At least the doctor could save him. We don’t know how soon he’ll be able to work, but then he didn’t have a job when this happened, so maybe it’s not so different.”

Trying to quell his pity, Joe asked, “What does he do?”

“He was a farmer back east, but times were bad,” she answered. “We came out here, hoping for Frank to find work in the silver mines. He was coming back from there when he ran across you and those men who beat him up. But he’s not really a miner either. He tried, but he’s just not strong enough for it, so it wasn’t like he was coming home to tell us things had changed.”

Joe didn’t miss the “us.” “You have children, ma’am?”

She nodded with a spark of pride. “Three—a boy and two girls. The girls help me. I take in sewing.”

“Well, look, you don’t fret about Doc Martin’s bills. They’ll be our responsibility.” When she started to protest, he held up a hand. “It’s the least we can do; those were Ponderosa hands who hurt your husband.”

She offered as large a smile as she could muster up. “Thank you, Mr. Cartwright. You’re a fine man.”

“And there’s something else. Tell Frank to come out to the ranch when he’s well again. I think we can use a hand that’s as honest as he is—there was no way he was going to say he was guilty when he wasn’t. I can’t help but respect a man like that.”

Her face clouded. “That’s right nice of you, but Frank doesn’t know a thing about cattle.”

Joe smiled. “Forget the cattle. We’ve got a whole section of crops, down in the lower part of the ranch. Man named Sparky Anderson runs it for us, and I’ll just bet he could use a good hand who knows farming.”

For the first time, her face actually lit with happiness. “God bless you, Mr. Cartwright.”

“Now maybe you’d better go on home to your children,” Joe said, “and don’t forget to tell your husband what I said.”

She had no more than walked away when a cold voice said from the street, “Think you can buy off your conscience, Cartwright?”

Joe turned slowly to see the disreputable-looking man in the black coat.

“What I think is that it’s no business of yours,” he replied levelly.

“I make it my business to see that all criminals are punished,” the man said.

“Then put yourself in jail—and your friend Arch Danhoff too.”

“I’d say you’re a criminal, and as to jails, I’d just as soon kill you as lock ya up.”

Joe watched his adversary, every nerve sharpened, noticing that the man’s hand hovered near his gun. “Well, that’s a good way to get yourself locked up.”

“I don’t know about that. Self defense, you know. What’s the matter, Cartwright? Afraid to draw on me?”

A cool voice sounded from over Joe’s shoulder. “He’s got more sense than to draw on you.” Adam came up beside his brother and added dismissively, “You’re not worth going to jail for.” He turned toward the post office door.

Only Joe caught the hint of movement as the man went for his gun, but before the roughneck could get it beyond its holster, Joe’s revolver was flashing in the afternoon sun, roaring as it went off, neatly searing the man’s wrist. The unused gun fell to the street. Adam spun around in surprise.

“I didn’t want to shoot him,” Joe said, “but he was gonna kill one of us.”

“Under the circumstances, you’re forgiven.” Adam turned to the crowd which was gathering. “Somebody get Roy Coffee!”

In a few minutes, the sheriff came hurrying down the street, already alerted by the sound of gunfire.

“Arrest this man, Sheriff,” the thin gunman said. “He tried to kill me.”

Roy glanced at Joe, the man holding his forearm, and the revolver in the dusty road. “I doubt it, mister. ’Pears t’ me you started some trouble you couldn’t finish. I know Joe Cartwright an’ how he handles a gun, and if he’d wanted t’ kill ya, you’d be dead.” He turned to Joe and Adam. “I know this fella. Down on his luck now, but he used t’ hang around with Frank Aldershott. Ya wanta press charges?”

Joe crossed glances with his brother and shook his head. “No. We’ve all had enough trouble already.” He turned to watch the thin man sidle away, his left hand vainly trying to stem the flow of blood from his right arm. “I thought he was one of Danhoff’s men,” he said in a low tone.

“So did I,” Adam replied, and frowned. “We’re starting to jump at shadows.”

Joe exhaled a long breath. “Well, maybe we should get the mail. I’ve been trying to ever since we split up.”

“It kills me to admit this, but that was well done,” Adam said. “I think we’re making progress on that hot head of yours.”

Joe contrived a smile. “Just don’t let it go to your head. Look, how about you get the mail? I’ve got some business at the general store.”

When Adam joined him there a few minutes later, he heard Joe ordering a box of food and other supplies to be delivered to Mrs. Frank Aldershott on the Cartwright account.

“And Alf,” Joe was telling the owner of the mercantile, “if she comes back in here and wants anything, put it our bill.”

<<<<<>>>>>

The ride back to the Ponderosa was long and silent, with each brother lost in his own thoughts. They were nearing the house when Adam finally spoke. “Why didn’t you press charges?”

Joe rode on a few strides before answering and even then his voice was slow. “I got to thinkin’. Roy said that fellow was a friend of Aldershott’s who was down on his luck.”

“So?”

“So he looked like he could be one of Danhoff’s men—but maybe that was just because he was down and out. Maybe he was just another guy out to pay back what happened to his friend.” Joe looked at his brother. “Y’know, right now it’s a little hard for me to get too judgmental about that.” He glanced away. “And … maybe I’m just bein’ crazy, too.”

Adam sketched the barest smile. “I don’t think so, Joe.”

Flushing, Joe turned back to the trail. “Adam, what if Danhoff leaves town? What do we do then?”

“We hope that Harris and Ulman talk and then we ride with Roy to make sure he gets back here to stand trial.”

“That’s leaving an awful lot to chance.”

“Yeah.” Adam changed the subject. “Wonder where Michaela is?”

“She said something about goin’ out with Pa and Lily when she got back from the Vances’,” Joe replied. “Something going on between you two?”

Adam glanced up in surprise, suddenly guarded. “Why?”

“Yesterday she spent the morning with Brownie and the afternoon over at Providence with Julia. Today she was with Brownie again and then she went out with Pa and Lily. Usually she’s following you around.”

“I think she just wants to get to know everyone better.”

“Good.” Joe swung down off Cochise. “I wouldn’t wanta think she heard what I said the other day. I didn’t mean—”

“I know you didn’t,” Adam cut in, “and I don’t think she heard it anyway.” 

But for the first time, Adam felt a ripple of misgiving. Joe was right; it had been several days since he’d spent any real time with Michaela. He was happy that she was getting to know the rest of his family better—but something was wrong. He took extra care settling his horse for the night, waiting until Joe had finished with Cochise and gone on to the house.

Alone in the barn, Adam leaned moodily against the post of Sport’s stall. Was Michaela avoiding him? Possibly. She had virtually disappeared during the day and in the evening … he tried to recall the evenings in detail. There was that strange business when she’d had trouble meeting his eyes; he’d thought it was just his imagination. Now he realized that it wasn’t. As impossible as it seemed, the ease that was so much a part of their friendship had disappeared.

Of course, maybe he was just in a bad mood because he was beginning to fear that even with the best intentions, justice was not always fully served. He resolved to see what happened when Mickey came back. Maybe the fault was his. Maybe he’d somehow given her the impression that he hadn’t time for her.

But the night was inconclusive. Michaela seemed to want to be with him. In fact, her effort was all too apparent and she knew it; again, she could hardly meet his eyes. Tom and Eliza Culbertson came to dinner, something for which Adam became more grateful as the evening went on. He and Mickey were not allowed a lot of time alone. At that point he wasn’t sure either of them could have stood it. He saw his father shoot him a worried glance, but he had no answers and turned away.

When Michaela had gone up to bed, he went out on the porch, his mind a whirl of speculation. It was amazing how much he missed her already; he knew that he cared deeply for her, but he hadn’t realized how much, in the time she’d been there, he’d come to enjoy her presence in his day. And it was beyond frustrating that she could be right there in the room with him and yet seem so many miles away.

He grappled with what had happened, rigorously combing his memory. What had caused the strange, painful void between them? He revisited every day, every night, every conversation … there was no reason. There was only one thing he could think of and that was that Joe’s unease was justified; somehow, she’d heard the words about their spending too much time together. Perhaps she’d been in the hall, preparing to come down the steps, when he and Joe had spoken, and she was taking her own measures to ensure that she didn’t account for any of his working hours. But then, after dodging him so diligently, she was finding it hard to be normal with him in the evening. He knew a chill of disappointment so sharp that it took his breath away. He couldn’t stand the thought of her feeling that she wasn’t important enough to be included in his day.

He ran a hand over his face. She’d made plans to go out with her mother the next morning, so there was nothing he could do until the following night … but he would not wait a second longer than necessary before he talked to her.

Chapter Six

It’s all right—you go on and have your meeting,” Lily told Ben the next day when his neighbor, Barclay Spencer, arrived with concerns about a section of Flying J grazing land that bordered the Ponderosa. “I’ll bet I can talk Joe into going for a ride.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Ben retorted, remembering that Joe had been scheduled to deliver supplies to the mining camp. But he couldn’t stop a little smile.

“Don’t worry, Pa, I’ll take good care of her,” his son assured him. “I can run up to the mine tomorrow morning.”

Ben waved at the door. “Go on, the two of you!”

Lily knew from the start that it would be a pleasant afternoon. After a downpour just before dawn, all the colors of the landscape seemed extra-bright. In the barn saddling the horses, she and Joe teased Adam about having to work and made a production out of deciding where they’d ride, finally settling on a trail above Beargrass Creek.

Ben came in just as they chose their route. “Watch out, now—the ground’s going to be soft after the rain,” he warned them as he picked up a new bridle he wanted to show Spencer.

Better soft ground than some of your Virginia City gunmen, Lily thought later as she turned Skylark to follow Joe up the incline from the meadow by the creek. The towering pines created a world of their own and the dangers of the past few weeks seemed very far away.

“We’re supposed to have a logging crew up here this week,” Joe commented. “Guess they’re on the other side of the hill.”

“I can hardly imagine cutting down any of these trees,” Lily declared. “They’re all so beautiful.”

Joe nodded. “Good thing there’re plenty of them, but even so, Pa always sees that we replant whatever we take out.”

For a long while, they angled across the hill, eventually coming out on a logging track that had seen some use. From openings in the trees, they gazed out over miles of varied greenery, dark forests and brilliant grasslands, and in every direction, mountains that soared above them.

“It just never changes, does it?” Lily murmured appreciatively. “Or perhaps I should say, it’s always changing … but it’s always beautiful.”

“You bet.” Joe pointed out in one direction. “Look over there. You can see the way we came. See? There’s the bridge across the creek.”

“We’ve come almost in a circle.”

“Yeah.” He grinned at her. “Tell you what; we’ve got a flat stretch of trail here. I’ll race you to the big pine by the boulder.”

“You’re on!” she laughed and booted Skylark away before he realized her advantage.

“Hey!” he cried belatedly, but she was already down the trail ahead of him.

The track was barely wide enough for two horses, so it wasn’t easy for Joe to pass when Cochise ranged up alongside Skylark, and he found her ethics somewhat questionable as she made no effort to give him room to go by. Cochise was clearly faster than Skylark, but sharp riding held him off until the big granite boulder loomed up on the right.

“I win!” Lily cried as she slowed her mare, laughter bubbling up inside her again as Cochise cut his speed as well, Joe already shouting his objections.

And then suddenly, unexpectedly, their contentious banter was interrupted by a loud crack that echoed around them. Lily halted Skylark abruptly as a large pine limb came out of the air to hit a granite boulder and hurtle downward in a fusillade of rocks. Joe had time only to slap the mare’s rump so hard that she bolted forward, escaping the debris by inches. A deluge of spiky needles landed practically under Cochise’s nose.

The gelding screamed in alarm and reared so high that he nearly fell over backward. The sound of rock on rock reverberated noisily as chunks of pine hit him like a hail of bullets. He came down and leapt sideways, Joe clinging tenaciously to the saddle, and for a second it appeared that somehow they had avoided danger. But they hadn’t counted on the rain-soaked earth at the edge of the trail; as Cochise tried to find his footing, one hoof sank into the loosened mud and it gave way, destroying his balance. With a guttural protest, he tumbled sideways, his legs waving in the air.

For Lily, time seemed to stand still as she watched Joe thrown off like a loose piece of equipment, his body whirling perilously close to his horse. The two slid awkwardly, flattening saplings and low brush, before coming to a stop thirty yards below the trail. Mangled leaves floated to earth in the silent air, the bright sunshine and beautiful countryside magnifying the violence of what had happened.

“Joe!” Lily jerked Skylark around and pushed her down the hill, the danger becoming even more clear as they slipped wildly on the uncertain surface; the mare almost sat down to slither the last stretch to the level patch where Cochise was climbing shakily to his feet. The figure next to him did not move.

Throwing herself off the horse, Lily ran the few strides to Joe, her heart pounding out of control. Her hands were shaking, and she chewed hard on her lip, using the pain to steady herself.

Joe lay on his back, a large gash over one eye beginning to trickle blood down his face. Thankfully, his chest rose and fell gently. He was alive.

“Joe … come on, Joe, open your eyes,” she begged anxiously. “Say something, please … please, Joe.” But Joe didn’t move—not the flicker of an eyelash or the gasp of a word.

Lily found her handkerchief and tried to wipe away the blood, but like a wellspring, it kept coming, a thin but constant flow. Probing it gingerly, she tried to determine how deep it was, but she couldn’t tell. There was only the unrelenting pulse of red.

Her hands still trembling, she focused on checking for other injuries. Leaning down to rest her ear over his heart, she was rewarded with a strong, if erratic, rhythm. Carefully, she ran her hands over his legs and arms … no broken bones, or at least, none that were apparent. But he showed no signs of returning to consciousness.

And there was still that cut. Quickly, she tried to tear a strip off her skirt, but the twill was too tough, so she ripped impatiently at her sleeve, finally shearing away a section long enough to wrap around Joe’s head. A similar piece from the other sleeve doubled the makeshift bandage’s capacity; it would have to do, and she just hoped it would slow the bleeding until help could be summoned. But she could almost taste her fear as thoughts rebounded in her mind—good God, if something awful has happened to him, I’ll never forgive myself.

Belatedly, she felt the stab of another kind of fear. Was this Danhoff’s work? An accident on the trail? Were there men even now watching her? Her stomach suddenly turned nauseous. She had to get help, but there was no way she could get Joe on a horse and no way Cochise could carry him right now—the gelding, standing to one side, was favoring his left hind leg. She almost choked on the panic constricting her throat; if Danhoff wanted to make a second strike at Joe, there was nothing she could do.

She willed herself to remain calm. Perhaps this had been just an accident. She could at least get Joe out of the sun, which had turned merciless, and ride for help. Slipping her hands under Joe’s arms, she tried to drag him backward, but found that to be tough going; for such a slender man, his limp weight was almost beyond her power. She managed only to get him into the meager shade of a few pines which bounded the little meadow.

Then whispering that she’d bring help as quickly as possible, she scrambled up on Skylark and headed back toward the bridge Joe had pointed out from the overlook, kicking the mare into a run where she could and slowing to a lope or even a trot over the rougher parts. It seemed to take forever to reach the house, even though she knew that she made good time. It was pure luck that had put them this close to home in the first place; half an hour earlier, they’d been lots farther away. Skylark was awash with white lather when she galloped into the yard.

Just dismounting from Sport, Adam was talking to Ben. He dropped his reins to seize Skylark’s, holding the mare while Lily leapt to the ground.

She struggled to keep her voice even. “Joe’s been hurt! We have to hurry!”

“Joe?” Ben’s voice underlined his surprise. “Where? What happened?”

“Up above Beargrass Creek, by that boulder on the trail. Something happened—an accident maybe, I don’t know, but Joe rolled down a hill with Cochise. He’s unconscious and bleeding. Ben, I hated leaving him—”

His arms closed around her. “It’s all right. There was nothing else you could do. Adam—”

“I’ll get the buckboard.” Adam pulled Skylark toward the barn, shouting over his shoulder, “Hop Sing! Bring some blankets!”

“Ben, I—”

“Calm down, Lily; everything’s going to be fine.”

She knew he didn’t believe that—his heart was beating so rapidly beneath her fingers that she was afraid for him—but she was grateful for his composure.

“Are you all right?” he queried.

“Yes, of course, I’m fine. But we have to get Joe!”

Adam reappeared with the buckboard just as Hop Sing came running; together they roped blankets and pillows to the flatbed of the wagon as Ben helped Lily up onto the seat, climbed in beside her and picked up the reins.

“Robbie’ll ride in for Doc Martin,” Adam told them and mounted Sport. “Near the boulder?” When she nodded yes, he bolted ahead of them.

“I forgot to tell him I dragged Joe into the trees,” she said as Ben slapped the wagon team hard with the reins. The buckboard jerked sharply and Lily grabbed the seat to hold on.

“He’ll find him. Thank God we log up there and there’s a track big enough to take a buckboard through.”

They barely spoke for the more than half an hour it took them to reach the meadow where she’d left Joe. Ben pushed the horses hard and Lily found it all she could do to cling to the jolting wagon, which somehow managed to hold together when she was afraid it would splinter apart on the rough terrain. She relaxed only when she saw Sport standing calmly beside Cochise and Adam huddled over a prone figure at the edge of the meadow.  Now she just prayed that Arch Danhoff hadn’t been behind the mishap, and if he was, that he hadn’t come to search for Joe. Her prayer was answered by one look at Adam’s face; nothing had happened to his brother in the interim that she’d been gone. But the improvised bandage was now red with blood.

Joe’s eyelids were fluttering and he was murmuring something when they pulled up. Adam rose to lift Lily down while Ben crouched beside his youngest son.

“Joseph—”

“’M okay, Pa,” Joe managed. “Is Lily all right?”

“Lily’s fine, son. We need to get you home. And we need to get this bleeding stopped.”

“My head hurts … Pa, it was crazy. Something just came out of the air at us.”

“Don’t talk, Joe. Just lie still and let me make sure there’s nothing broken. Save your strength.”

Adam turned to Lily. “What happened?”

She pointed to the trail above them. “We’d just raced to the boulder when something huge—some big tree limb or something—came down right at Joe. There were a lot of rocks, too, and Cochise reared up to get away from them. He lost his footing, and the whole side of the trail gave way under him. They slid all the way down here.”

Adam stared grimly at the mutilated vegetation on the steep slope. “It’s a miracle he didn’t crush Joe.”

“Thank God. And Adam—Joe got me out of the way first. If he hadn’t, I would have been caught in all that. He might have escaped it.”

Adam smiled briefly. “Sounds like Joe.” He continued to stare broodingly at the hill. “I’ll ride up there and look around, but let’s get Joe loaded up first.”

“Joseph, are you up to it?” Ben searched his son’s face. “Think we can get you on the wagon?”

Joe moaned, closing his eyes for a moment.

“Son, we need to get you home.”

“The sooner we get him to Doc Martin, the better,” Adam prompted, but his eyes remained focused on the logging track above the hillside. Lily shot him a quick, questioning glance; he said nothing, but she felt a chill run up her spine. He, too, was concerned that Danhoff was behind the mishap.

Adam and Ben transferred Joe onto the back of the buckboard as gently as they could, and then Adam lifted Lily onto the buckboard. “I’ll bring Cochise back,” he said. “Now get going.”

<<<<<>>>>>

They got Joe home, encouraged that while he was very sore and so unsteady that he couldn’t walk by himself—Robbie and Dr. Martin helped Ben get him upstairs—he appeared to be in no long-term danger. The physician performed an examination and concluded that the head wound, while bloody, was shallow. He poured medicinal powder on before adding a bandage, and said that although the loss of blood would cause dizziness for a few days, Joe was otherwise uninjured. Having dressed the network of cuts and bruises on his patient, he had just finished giving Ben his opinion when Adam returned.

Running a hand over the oncoming shadow of a beard, Adam pleaded a quick shave before dinner and sprinted upstairs. But before he went to his own room, he detoured into Joe’s, glad to find that although his brother’s eyelids were drooping with a sedative Dr. Martin had administered, he was still awake.

Adam stopped by the side of the bed. “You feel up to talking?”

“Sure.” Joe tried to approximate a grin. “But I don’t guarantee I’ll make any sense.”

“Since when is that new?”

“Come on. You gotta be nice to me. I’m hurt.”

Adam sat down on the side of the bed and turned serious. “How do you feel?”

“I’ve felt better a few times in my life,” Joe replied, his voice lazy with the drug.

“You gave us a scare.”

“Sorry about that. Is Lily okay?”

“She’s fine. She thinks you’re a hero.”

Joe grinned weakly. “She’s pretty smart. What about Cochise?”

“He’s sore right now, but a few weeks of rest should take care of him.”

“I’ll be up by tomorrow,” Joe informed him, trying to sound determined, but his voice betrayed him.

“Maybe. … Look, did you notice anything in particular when you up on that ridge?”

“You mean something that could be Danhoff or his men?” Joe shook his head once and winced. “No, nothing. But we really weren’t paying any attention. Then all that stuff came out of nowhere.”

Adam rose. “Okay. Get some rest. I’m glad you didn’t get hurt worse.”

“Better me than you,” Joe murmured hazily. “I’m younger. Heal faster … your age, it coulda done some damage.”

Adam snorted derisively and closed the door quietly behind him.

As it was almost time for dinner, Paul Martin was persuaded to stay, and with Julia and Michaela at the Vance house for the evening meal, conversation turned to whether or not the afternoon’s upheaval was an accident.

“I checked the trail,” Adam reported. “It’s hard to tell. Looks like part of a tree came down on Joe, along with a lot of rock. It wasn’t apparent where the branches came from—I couldn’t find their base. The rocks might have been loosened intentionally, or they could have been a result of the tree hitting the hill higher up.”

Ben frowned. “So it could have been a freak accident … or it could have been our friend Mr. Danhoff’s handiwork.”

“But how would Danhoff have known where we would be?” Lily asked.

“How does he know anything?” Adam queried back. “He could have people watching the house; they could have seen you ride off.”

“Ben, do you really think Danhoff would try anything against you?” Paul Martin interjected. “As I heard it, that fellow Hodges from the Miners’ Union made it pretty clear that he and McWhirter would pay if they made any more trouble.”

Ben frowned. “I don’t know, Paul. We got word that it might happen, but who knows? Men like Danhoff make threats and boasts; you never know what’s bluster and what they’d really do. We can’t afford to take a chance.” He stared pointedly at Adam. “That’s one thing I’m trying to make very clear around here. We stay prepared and watchful; we don’t go out looking for trouble.”

It was not long before Julia and Michaela returned and the tale of the violent ride was repeated. Adam saw Michaela’s eyes widen with surprise and then darken with apprehension. Her glance darted to him and then away, but she remained silent.

At last Paul Martin rose to take his leave. Adam, stretched out in the blue chair, watched Michaela retire to the table by the stairs. She fingered the portfolio she’d left there that morning, extracted a few pages and opened a bottle of ink. For a few minutes, the only sound in the room was that of the pen scratching across the paper.

He knew she had questions about what had happened to Joe. If nothing else, she’d want to find out what he thought; she’d want to know if they were in danger. But she hadn’t been able to bring herself even to meet his eyes.

Enough, he thought. He couldn’t tell whether Joe’s injuries were the result of an accident or the scheme of unscrupulous men, but either way, they were a reminder that one never knew what might happen from day to day. He couldn’t let the mystifying estrangement between himself and Michaela go on.

“C’mon,” he said in a low voice. “Let’s take a walk.”

He was chagrined to see that she was at first startled and then hesitant. But she slipped her writing back into the portfolio and followed him to the door, a sort of remoteness apparent in her tense posture. He guided her to the little bench by the pine tree, letting the silence extend as it would have if nothing had been wrong between them, hoping its familiarity would pierce her shell. But he still felt awkward when they sat down.

“You’ve been real busy this week,” he finally said.

His neutral tone seemed to relax her. “Yes, it’s been really fun. There’s an awful lot to do around here,” she replied.

“I noticed.” He let a little smile play on his lips. “And I’m sure Brownie’s appreciated all your attention.”

“He’s feeling better, you know. It makes me feel good to be able to do something for him.”

He let the silence fall once again. A few days ago she’d have had all sorts of things to say to him, but tonight, she merely looked increasingly uncomfortable.

“Look, Michaela …”

“Yes?”

“Maybe you should tell me what’s going on. There seems to be some sort of distance between us and I don’t like it.”

She glanced up, alarmed at his statement, and then covered brightly. “No, Adam … I’ve just been busy—and I know you’ve had a lot to do.”

He wanted to say Don’t lie to me, but he held his tongue and instead coaxed softly, “Mickey, honey … I’m not so busy that I don’t have time for you. Have I done something to hurt your feelings? Make you angry?”

“Oh, no. But I don’t want to take up your time.”

“You’re not taking up my time.” He reached out to push a long, airy lock of hair away from her face. “You’re not taking up my time and you never will. Don’t you trust me on that?”

“Of course I trust you, Adam.”

“But on that particular subject? Do you trust me?”

“Yes …” She returned his gaze bravely. “But I know you’ll always put me first.”

“What you’re saying is the same as not trusting me.”

“That’s not how I mean it.”

For a second, he closed his eyes against a knife-like pain inside him. There were walls around her, huge, insurmountable barriers, and he knew a mounting helplessness; she wasn’t fighting him, or pouting or manipulating him. She’d simply decided that for his own good, she had to withdraw from him.

She made up a hopeful little smile. “But wouldn’t it be okay? I mean, if you can put me first, can’t I put you first?”

“No.” He tried a chuckle, hoping to jolly her into letting her guard down. “I’m older, so it’s my call as to who gets to put whom first.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Yes, and we all know you’re very in favor of fairness …” He tried another approach. “We can talk about it. Will you go riding with me in the morning?”

She shook her head. “I promised Mama that after I read to Brownie, I’ll help her with some cooking. Hop Sing’s showing her some recipes to take home to Cook. But maybe we could play chess after dinner? I’d like that, if you would.”

He nodded, the laughter that had bloomed within him dying. “Yes, I’d like that.”

“Good. I’ll look forward to it.”

The statement was so formal that it stopped him cold. He stood up. “I need to check on Sport.”

She hesitated. He knew she wanted to go with him, but was unsure of what to say after their conversation. Perhaps if he asked her—

But it was too late. She nodded, ducked her head and turned to go inside. He should have called after her, stopped her, but his voice died in his throat. He just wasn’t sure how to handle it. He was afraid of pushing her too hard, driving her away … and very aware that she could walk away from him of her own free will.

<<<<<>>>>>

After the disturbing day, nearly everyone turned in early. Lily, already dressed in her nightclothes, was returning from a chat with Julia when she heard a muffled cry from behind Joe’s door. Knotting the sash of her robe more tightly around her, she knocked lightly. “Joe? Are you awake? Do you need anything?”

When he bid her come in, she found him struggling impatiently with a stack of pillows, his hair disheveled above his bandage. His nightshirt seemed wound in the sheets and frustration was written clearly on his face.

“Let me,” she said lightly, reaching around him to rearrange the pillows against the headboard. Even a few hours of sleep appeared to have done him a world of good.

He sank back against cushions. “Thanks. It’s boring, lying here.”

“I’ll bet—but I’m just glad you’re here to complain about it. How’re you feeling?”

His eyes gleamed. “Not bad, considering I rolled down a hill under my horse.”

“You scared the bejesus out of me,” she confided.

He couldn’t help a little grin at her choice of words. “Yeah, well, don’t tell Pa and Adam, but I scared myself too.”

“Maybe if we hadn’t been laughing so hard, we’d have heard it coming,” Lily said thoughtfully and then returned his smile. “Perhaps next time you’ll admit defeat a little sooner.”

He started to shake his head and grimaced.

“Does it hurt?”

“A little—not much. Just a headache, and I must’ve wrenched something. I was gonna say, you ladies make it hard on a guy. I mean, being a gentleman an’ all. But you’ll notice I did let you win.”

“Let me win! I won fair and square—”

“Fair and square? You hogged the whole road or I’d have been way on past you before we ever got to the boulder!”

Lily was choking on her laughter. “All right, Joe Cartwright. When you feel better we’ll race again, but you have to promise me two things. You can be a gentleman all you like, but not in a horse race! And no—listen to me, I mean it—no trick riding acts down the side of a hill.”

“You’re on.”

His face was cheerful as he grinned up at her, and in the dim light of the kerosene lamp, she couldn’t help noticing the clear, almost translucent cast of his cheeks. Even this late, after a long, hard day, he barely needed a shave. Indeed, had she not known his age, she would have wondered if he had begun the ritual yet. It was such a contrast to Adam, whose dark stubble had been apparent hours earlier. She came out of her reverie only when Ben cleared his throat behind her, and she wondered how long he’d been standing there.

She smiled down at Joe. “Feel better, cowboy.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She slipped past Ben, trailing her fingers against his as she went by.

Joe looked up his father. “Sorry about this. Guess I just didn’t get out of the way fast enough.”

Ben stood next to the bed. “You didn’t get out of the way fast enough because you were making sure that Lily did. I’m very grateful, son.” Knowing that Joe didn’t want sentimentality, he tried to let his eyes glow with a little humor. “Of course, I wish you hadn’t been hurt in the bargain.” Then he sobered again. “You were asleep when I stopped by before—how’re you feeling now?”

“Not so bad. I’m just glad Lily’s okay.”

“It was a very selfless thing you did.”

“Actually, Pa, I didn’t even think about it. I’d like to take some credit, but it just happened.”

“It happened because you made it happen,” Ben emphasized, “and I’m not only grateful, but very proud of you.”

“Pa, could you write all this down—you know, for the next time you wanta call me a lazy, good-for-nothing—”

Ben’s voice turned authoritarian. “You know I’ve never called you that.” But he smiled, his eyes warm. “I’ve come close, but never that. … Now, you get some sleep.”

In the hall, Ben reflected that the real sign that Joe would be all right was that his son hadn’t lost his sense of humor. The anxiety he had felt since Lily had galloped into the yard began to fade away.

He dusted his hands on his trousers; although still in his work clothes, he had one last stop before going to bed. He knocked tentatively at Lily’s door and was pleased to hear a low “Come in.”

He found her sitting up in bed. Her cream silk robe was tossed over a chair, but its matching nightgown more than covered her, a stand-up collar of lace reaching to her chin. Setting aside the book she’d been reading, she removed a little pair of spectacles to fold them on the night table.

He closed the door behind him and took in the long auburn hair that curled over her shoulders. Presently, when she offered an amused smile and patted the edge of bed, he realized that he was still standing distractedly across the room. He went to sit next to her, feeling a familiar peace permeate through him.

“I haven’t had a chance all day to say—to say properly—how glad I am that you weren’t hurt,” he began.

She reached out to run her fingers through the hair at his temple. “The important thing is that Joe’s safe.”

He nodded. “You know how I feel about that. But Lily, I could have lost you—if things had gone differently, it could have been you taking that fall. You could have been hurt, or—” He couldn’t bring himself to say the word “killed.”

“Well, I wasn’t, thanks to Joe.” She studied his expression, which was so worried that she said no more, just waiting for him to speak.

“I suppose I’m a little concerned,” he finally said hesitantly, “about what you’ll think of Nevada. We—have our dangers here.”

“There’re dangers everywhere, Ben,” she observed. “Oh, let’s see, maybe not so much in little towns in Massachusetts anymore. Or perhaps New York, I don’t know, it was safe enough when I lived there. But we both chose to leave all that. Perfect safety wasn’t our priority.”

“I can agree with that, but San Francisco—”

“Ah. Let’s compare San Francisco with the eastern side of the Sierras. I do acknowledge that a tree can fall on you here, and that’s unlikely to happen in San Francisco, at least right in town—although with all the building going on, any number of other things might come right out of the sky at you. And around here, perhaps some villainous person might try to hurt you. Ben, I don’t want to disillusion you, but undesirable people live in San Francisco too. It’s the same everywhere.”

He lifted her hand to his lips, breathing in her scent of roses and jasmine. “I just thank God that you and Joe are all right.”

“Then let me see you smile. If you were this serious with Joe, you probably set him back three days.”

He couldn’t help a chuckle, his eyes affectionate as his face relaxed. “All right.” He glanced at her nightgown, at the sleeves which reached to her fingertips and the lace at her throat. “Are all of your nightgowns like this?”

Her eyes glinted. “Of course not. Some are cut much differently. I trust you’ll see them … soon.”

“I hope so too.” He inhaled dramatically. “Now I think it’s time I said good night.”

She stifled a smile. “I agree.”

Chapter Seven

Adam awakened the next morning feeling sick inside. He had no interest in breakfast, and mouthing some inanity about running late, he gulped a quick cup of coffee and headed to the barn. He had Sport’s saddle in place before he realized that the horse had been groomed to perfection, far beyond the cleanliness that would have resulted had Rob run a brush over him. He rubbed his forehead, applying pressure over his eyes; Michaela had been there before him. Absently, he tightened the cinch and was getting ready to mount when Ben entered the barn.

“Where’re you off to?” his father inquired idly.

“Into town. I want to see if Roy has anything on Arch Danhoff yet.”

“Son, are you all right? Is there—”

Adam was curt. “Everything’s fine, Pa.” He swung up on Sport. “You need anything from town?”

“No.” Ben stepped back to let him pass. “No, I don’t need anything.”

Adam ignored the concern in his father’s tone and rode off without looking back.

Watching him go, Ben shook his head. He had started back across the yard when he saw Lily come through the front door. She had on a pale green day dress, and at this distance he had to imagine the tiny gold cross that rested between her collarbones. He liked knowing that it was there; he’d fastened the minute catch on its necklace for her that morning.

“You looked so worried when you left,” she said.

“I’m afraid you’re right,” he muttered.

“It’s Adam and Michaela, isn’t it?”

“What makes you say that?”

She ran a hand down his arm. “Because Adam’s growing more distant by the minute and Michaela’s as brittle as an icicle in winter. Ben, could Mickey have heard what Joe said?”

He sighed at her intuition. “I suppose … I can’t imagine any other explanation, although Adam isn’t talking. How do you think she feels?”

Lily chewed her lip. “If that’s what happened, I’m not sure. She’d begun to trust that she’s worthy of the time Adam spends with her … and then she hears that he’s neglecting his work over her.” She frowned. “I daresay she might even think if he got into enough trouble, he’d have to give her up.”

“Surely not.”

“I don’t know. Mickey’s very mature in certain ways, but she’s still just a child. And in a child’s world, that’s what happens. If her association with Adam weren’t good for her, she’d be made to give him up. She’d think that if she weren’t good for him, the same would apply.”             Her fist clinched involuntarily. “She so needs confidence in herself. I could strangle Aubrey! He has no idea what his daughter thinks or feels, and I’m sure his belief that little girls have nothing to offer except their ability to be decorative—”

Ben clasped her hand, his eyes gentle.

She broke off, but her expression confirmed her frustration. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to get carried away. Aubrey doesn’t mean any harm in the way he treats Michaela. He loves her and he’s delighted that she and Adam are friends.”

“Lily, are you absolutely sure that their friendship doesn’t bother Aubrey? Julia supports it, but Aubrey?”

She smiled. “I haven’t changed my opinion about that … if anything, I feel more strongly. Aubrey isn’t stupid; he realizes that he’s better with his sons and that he doesn’t quite understand Michaela. I think he’s rather relieved that Adam does. If it makes you feel any better, Julia told me that Adam’s insisted that Michaela try to talk more with her father. Mickey asked Julia for her help when they get home to San Francisco.” Her eyes twinkled. “And you know if Adam asks it of her, Mickey’ll try her best.”

Ben nodded. “That’s good. I’ve known Aubrey nearly all my life, and although he loves all of his children very much, I have to admit he’s better at making money than being a father.” For a few seconds, he seemed lost in thought.

Lily sat quietly, studying the flickering depths of his dark eyes as he seemed miles away. Finally she said softly, “You’re not telling me everything.”

He glanced up in surprise and said a little gruffly, “Perhaps not. It’s Adam. He’s very private.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed that. I find it interesting that the only person who seems to have pierced his armor, so to speak, is a child.”

Ben nodded. “You’ve expressed my thoughts exactly.” His eyes turning meditative. “It’s a funny thing about Adam; he can be very reserved, but children never seem to notice. I was hoping that his friendship with Michaela would make him more available to others as well. She’s the first person outside the family that I’m sure Adam’s really loved. I don’t think he could care more for her if she were his own daughter.”

“And you don’t want to see him lose that.”

“No, I don’t. … It may not be apparent, but Adam’s personal barriers can be impenetrable.”

Lily regarded him. “It’s possible that this situation is not quite as dire as you might think,” she said. “Michaela has walls equally as large … and this time, it’s Adam who must scale them.”

<<<<<>>>>>

As the morning went on, Adam’s mood turned darker and darker, and he was powerless to stop it. It seemed as if the drive to arrest the ringleader of Brownie’s attack had taken over his thinking. His mind suggested and rejected plan after plan for getting proof against Arch Danhoff.

He was so deep in his own thoughts that he never caught the gleam of sunlight on steel about thirty yards in front of him, to the left of the road. So when he felt Sport stumble on a hardened wagon track, he leaned down to see if the horse was hurt—a mere second before the high-pitched whine of a rifle shot cleared his mind of everything else. Twisting just in time to see a spit of dust settling on the hill behind him, he pitched out of the saddle and scrambled to the nearest cover. It was a rock not nearly large enough to protect him.

Berating himself for his distraction, he searched the rocky incline ahead for any sign of the gunman. But the hill remained deserted and the only sound was Sport, ambling away and snuffling the barren ground for grass. Lying flat in the dirt, Adam felt his heart hammer, and it wasn’t long before his shirt was streaked with sweat. By now the gunman could be anywhere, and the inadequate rock left him feeling exposed.

He squinted, straining his eyes for some hint of movement, some tiny sound that would indicate where his assailant was … but there was nothing, just an eerie silence that was almost more frightening than the shot. His insides contracted painfully—he’d never liked the game of waiting someone out, and he liked it less when he was below the shooter and behind cover that would barely shield a dog.

Just then a man with a rifle rose from the boulder and another shot plowed though the earth near Adam. This is almost too easy, he reflected with surprise as he fired off a round and watched the silhouetted figure crumple like a rag doll. The gunman plunged forward to land on the hard edge of the trail, his rifle clattering down beside him.

Adam didn’t holster his revolver. It had been too convenient that he’d nailed the man with such little effort, and he was well aware that if he hadn’t leaned over Sport’s shoulder to check on his horse, he’d be a dead man now. There could be two gunmen out there.

Or maybe not … the person lying in the trail was little more than a kid, his face a mixture of resentment and fear as he struggled to get his feet under him.

Adam advanced on him carefully. This had to be Arch Danoff’s work, although it was hard to figure why the thug would enlist so inexperienced a shooter. “Who hired you?” he asked.

“Nobody.” Belatedly, the boy grasped his shoulder, wincing a little before he remembered to scowl.

Adam watched as blood began to seep through the spread fingers on the ragged plaid shirt. “Then maybe you’ll tell me why you tried to kill me,” he said, a faint anger coloring his voice.

His prisoner was sullen. “You nearly killed my brother.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“Paul Harris. You beat him near senseless.”

Adam exhaled a long breath. “Paul Harris,” he repeated with annoyance. “He  attacked an innocent old man. Your brother deserves to be in jail.”

“Yeah, easy for you to say. You don’t know what it’s like to see your mother wastin’ away ’cause there’s no money for pills … and livin’ like she does. All spring her teeth chattered at night, she was so cold. Wasn’t nothin’ Paul or me could do.”

“That doesn’t mean your brother can injure people for no good reason.” Adam jammed his gun back in its holster.

“You think it was for the fun of it? What kind o’ loony are you? Paul woulda never done it if he didn’t need the money so bad.”

“Another bad excuse. What’s your name, anyway?”

“Ray Harris, not that it makes any difference to you.”

Adam’s lip curled disgustedly. “Come on, I’ll get you to the doctor and you can figure some other way to work off your anger—unless you want to sit in jail by your brother.”

He reached out to grab his prisoner by the arm, but Harris jerked away. The unexpected movement compounded the boy’s pain, and he folded over suddenly, his good arm clamped over his middle. But that didn’t stop his oncoming sickness; in seconds, he was retching uncontrollably—the harsh, straining vomit of bile-like fluids from an empty stomach. Finally he stood up, fighting the tears that built in his eyes, humiliated as he wiped his mouth on his sleeve. He was even more defensive than before.

“I don’t need your help,” he quavered. I hope you rot in hell! An’ I hope sometime you see your family start to die from havin’ nothin’!”

“Finding a job might be a good start,” Adam retorted, his sympathy vanishing.

“How? Pa’s been dead a year now. Paul tried to find work, but he can’t write nor do sums and he don’t know anything about cattle. I tried to get on as a clerk, but nobody wanted somebody like me, dressed like I am. They said I wouldn’t be any good  with the customers.” The boy’s tone was bitter.

That Adam could believe. Ray Harris was filthy with long-term dirt; his shirt was threadbare, his pants too short, and his scuffed boots were likely too small for him. No Virginia City merchant would have hired him—or the hundreds of others like him who’d come to the Comstock with prosperity on their minds, wide open to the tragedy of failure.

He massaged his forehead in frustration. We can’t be hiring every down and out person who tries to kill us, he thought. But now he couldn’t help feeling sorry for the kid. On top of everything, Ray Harris was turning pale and the sweat stood out on his face.

“Y’know what’s real funny about it?” the boy sputtered. “My brother never got paid for that job. Guy who hired him just hadn’t got around to it. An’ then he wound up in jail and the swine says he’ll kill him if Paul says his name.”

“Do you know his name?” Adam asked sharply.

“Huh-uh. Paul wouldn’t tell me; said it was safer that way.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. Get your horse.”

“I don’t have to take orders from you,” the kid bristled.

“Get your horse. I’m not gonna say it another time.”

With surly bluster, Paul Harris turned away. “Goddam bigshot—”

“One more swear word out of you and I won’t care if you are wounded—you’re not going to enjoy sitting in your saddle!”

“I’m too old—”

“You think your mother would be proud of you?”

The boy dropped his gaze and said no more. In a few minutes, he came around the boulder on a bay mare who’d obviously seen better days. Adam was almost surprised that he’d come back at all. But then, the kid’s eyes were dull and he swayed in the saddle, holding tightly to the horn.

Adam picked up the fallen rifle and stepped up on Sport with almost embarrassing ease—and then he dismounted. Without a comment, he hauled Ray Harris out of the saddle and lifted him up on the chestnut gelding. Then he tied the mare’s reins together, lengthened them with a strip of rawhide and knotted them to his saddle. Guiding his horse with one hand and holding the boy securely with his other was the best he could manage. Still, by the time they reached Doc Martin’s, Ray had passed out.

“Just remember one thing,” he said as he slid off of Sport and the kid woke to fight against his hold. “If anything happens to any of us, you’re gonna be the first person Roy Coffee looks for.”

Harris nodded mutely.

Dr. Martin helped Adam lift the boy to the examination table and peeled off the remains of the plaid shirt. “Looks like you’re in luck,” he told his new patient with a little smile. “Bullet went right through you. Means two holes, but I don’t have to poke around inside you looking for a little piece of lead.”

He cleansed and dressed the wounds and then went out into the entry hall, where Adam waited. “You do this?”

“I didn’t have much choice.”

“Adam, that boy’s no more than sixteen—probably younger. He’s darn near starved and that shirt is useless now. What’d you want me to do with him? I can keep him here for a couple of nights, but after that, he’s going to want to be on his own.”

Adam nodded. “Paul, I need for you to do something for me.” He searched in his pocket and handed the doctor a small wad of bills. “Part of that’s your fee. But can you go down to Alf Daily’s and get him a shirt and a pair of pants? Maybe you could tell Alf about him and see if he could give the kid a job; with his new clothes, Ray won’t be that bad looking—if he has a bath. As his doctor, you might be able to make him take one.”

“Why don’t you do this, Adam?”

Adam eyed the doctor levelly. “Because he wouldn’t take it from me.”

“I suppose I could tell him that another patient forgot the clothes when he left town,” Dr. Martin said doubtfully. He regarded the money in his hand. “You sure about this? It’s a lot.”

“I hope it’s enough for the boy to move his mother to some decent rooms and have her come see you. The rest can be for food.”

“Adam, look … I know you mean well with this and you did shoot the boy. But you can’t be trying to fix things for every poor soul in town. There’re just too many of them.”

“Not every poor soul in town, Paul. Just this one,” Adam said. He was halfway out the door when Paul Martin stopped him.

“Adam, what’s this kid’s name? Ray? Ray what?”

“Ray Harris.”

Paul Martin looked startled. “Any relation to the fellow who’s in jail for nearly killing Brownie?”

“His brother.”

The doctor just shook his head. “You Cartwrights …” He eyes suddenly gleamed. “I’m gonna guess that you don’t want me to tell Ben about this.”

<<<>>>>>

Ben tossed the pencil on the desk and sat back disgustedly. The ledgers were no more up-to-date than they’d been when he’d opened them, and now there was a strong possibility that they contained more errors than they had before. It was difficult to concentrate when you were worried about a son, he concluded. Nearby, the grandfather clock chimed half past ten, just as the hollow ring of footsteps on the stairway announced Lily’s arrival. His brows rose in surprise; she was dressed for riding.

“Do you think we might go out for a while?” she asked him. “A change of scene would do us good.”

He allowed a little smile. “Trying to distract me?”

“Something like that.”

“If you think I’d pass up a ride with you to work on accounting, I’d wonder at your sanity,” he said dryly and closed the ledgers. “Where would you like to go?”

She chose a grassy incline that overlooked a shallow valley in the lower part of the ranch, an agreeable half hour’s ride from the house. Skylark and Buck seemed happy to stretch their legs and just as happy to stop and rest when they got there. Leaving the horses loosely tied, Ben and Lily walked quietly along the crest of the hill.

“You haven’t said a word,” he finally observed. “I thought you were going to distract me.”

“You were the one who used the word ‘distract.’ I just thought being outside might help clear your mind.”

He slanted a gaze at her. “You know me very well.”

“I’m trying to learn you,” she acknowledged, but directed her attention to the low swoop of a bird returning to the trees at the edge of the sloping meadow.

With a glance of comprehension, Ben also withdrew into his own thoughts and the silence that extended between them was as comfortable as their ambling walk was aimless. Presently he came to a halt, slipped his hands into his pockets and just looked out to the hills on the other side of the valley, absorbing the sunshine and the clouds that drifted across the sky.

Lily meandered on alone, enjoying the tranquility. Only when she neared the trees that marked the meadow’s end did she stop, and even then she didn’t realize that Ben had joined her until his arms wrapped around her from behind. For several minutes they stood that way, quietly sharing the satisfaction of being together.

At last he leaned around to kiss her cheek. “You’re right, you know … my mind’s been going in circles. This is restoring some order—no answers, but at least a little peace.”

She slipped her arms over his where they encircled her and after a few seconds ventured, “I know you’ll find a way to help Adam.”

“I appreciate your faith, my dear, but I wish I were as certain. The trouble is I’m never sure exactly how he feels.”

“Is he always so private?”

“Not always. Most often it’s over the important issues. Actually, the amazing thing is that even though he’s difficult to read, he seems to read others well and very charitably. When someone fools him, it’s usually because of his compassion; he’s hoped for the best in them. Given his past, I can’t really explain that.”

“You’d like to see him as accessible as he allows others to be?”

“At least more than he is.” He squeezed her more tightly against him. “I wish I could help, but Adam’s only one part of this situation. Michaela’s another, and in something of this nature, I hardly know her.”

“Perhaps knowing your son is enough.”

He was silent for several minutes, mulling over the confusion of emotions. “I suppose I could just stick to that … and trust him to handle the rest.”

She turned in his arms and looked up at him, her eyes reassuring. “Then trust yourself to know what to do when the time comes.”

A little breeze lifted an errant curl near her face and Ben restored it carefully behind her ear, his fingertips lingering near her cheek. “Did you just do what I think you did?”

“What do you think I did?”

“Lead me to a decision?”

“Heavens, no! You make your own decisions.”

He eyed her appraisingly and turned her to walk back across the hill, his arm around her shoulders. “I think I’m going to have to watch you very closely. You’ll have me doing Lord-knows-what and thinking it’s my idea.”

“You’re so full of nonsense, I wonder how you get through the day!”

The sun was overhead when they reached the horses and a light wind stirred the grass, trying to dissipate the heat of the day. Unwilling to give up the serenity of the valley, they hesitated to mount up, and Ben struggled to express his appreciation in a way Lily wouldn’t lightly dismiss. At last he just pulled her to him, enjoying her casual reception of his embrace and the way her hands rested naturally on his arms.

“What would I do without you?” he asked in a low voice.

“Ben, you’ve lived your whole life without me,” she returned with a laugh. “Quite well, I might add.”

“Sometimes,” he agreed, his eyes fixing on hers to let her know that his mood was far from playful. “But not others.”

“You worked all this out for yourself. You don’t need me for that.”

“You make it easier,” he countered softly.

For a long moment, he just stared at her, beginning to accept that he was no longer alone, remembering the comfort that even his sons couldn’t provide. A warm pleasure was rising within him and he knew suddenly that there was only one way to thank her properly. He bent to kiss her, his lips guiding hers gently, grateful to feel her so inviting in his arms. Lazily, he dropped little kisses across her brow, over her cheeks, down her neck toward the open collar of her shirt. She seemed to melt into him—perhaps not surprisingly, he reflected; holding her was inspiring other feelings in him as well. When he drew back to examine her face, his breath came more quickly as he watched her clear blue eyes turn smoky.

Daily living, problems, devastations and happiness, loving and making love . . . How is it possible, he thought, that I need her as much as I do?  And making love … it was a joy beyond reason to know that she wanted him, that she felt the same stir of excitement he did. He whispered her name before he kissed her again, this time more forcefully. They’d been together for so many days with barely a kiss and their forbearance fueled the passion churning inside of him.

Mastering his senses, he broke their embrace to lift her arms and wrap them around his neck, and then couldn’t control a long, vulnerable groan as he knew the full length of her body, her breasts soft against his chest. His decisions and his gratitude faded from his mind and he covered her mouth with his, this time giving her no choice as he kissed her hungrily. But she didn’t need a choice; her ardor was as great as his and she responded with every inch of herself, from her fingers winding into his hair to the insistent push of her hips against him. Her lips parted under his, drawing him in, the steamy feel of her sending a surge of power through him and snapping his tenuous restraint.

“You have no idea how much I want you,” he said thickly, taking her again with his mouth, and she arched against him, straining to get even closer.

Without a thought, his hands slipped down her back to her waist and then below, pressing her to him intimately. She moaned, a little sound deep in her throat that ended in a whimper, and he bent her back enough to slide his splayed fingers over the front of her blouse. Only briefly had he ever touched her as he’d wanted to, and this time he couldn’t stop. His hand slipped over her breast, delighting in the clear proof of her need that he found there, and a masculine sense of possession washed over him—she was his. His breath came raggedly and he was nearly delirious that her eyes implored him for more. Leaning into his arms for support, she shuddered as his thumb once again teased her breast.

“You’d better stop that,” she finally whispered, “unless you want me unbuckling your belt.”

In spite of himself, he chuckled. “My dear, you’re welcome to unbuckle my belt and anything else you’ve a mind to.”

She tried to make light of their sensual interlude, her voice shaky. “Have I distracted you yet?”

“What do you think?” he murmured.

“I think we should stop. … Please.”

As far as he was from reason, he still heard the plea in her soft, husky tone. Reluctantly, he tried to still his desire, issuing a long and expressive sigh.

“You know that I want you,” she said and trembled in his arms. “But when we—well, I want nothing else on your mind. I’ll share you with your sons any other time; their claim on you is far more longstanding than mine.  But in bed I will share you with no one.”

He stared into her vibrant eyes and then down at the ground. She was right. To take her here might answer their physical desires … but he wanted more than that. He’d waited for more than that—not just the days he’d known her, but all the long years of his widowhood. His gaze was understanding even as he tried to slow the rapid, erratic beat of his heart.

<<<<<>>>>>

Adam hoped fervently that when he arrived at the jail, Roy would tell him that Harris and Ulman were ready to testify against Arch Danhoff.

But such good news was not to be. At the Sheriff’s Office, he found Thad and Eli Barrigan glaring impotently at the two men they’d brought in, and Roy Coffee becoming increasingly frustrated that he couldn’t break the stalemate. He told the sheriff about the threat on their lives that was preventing the two prisoners from telling what they knew, and then, with nothing more to do, he left. He stood on the plank sidewalk, staring out at the Virginia City street and listening to the roar of the silver mines on the surrounding slopes.

On a hunch that he knew was probably foolish, he strolled down to the Sazerac and ordered a beer at the bar. It was not long before he heard a deep, mocking voice from a table behind him.

“High ’n’ mighty Cartwrights, y’might call ’em … don’t practice what they preach, although ya gotta give ’em their due, they do preach a lot … don’t they, men?”

The nervous muttered agreement behind him told Adam that whoever was sitting with the speaker—probably Arch Danhoff—didn’t really care what was being said; they just didn’t want to be involved in a fight. He turned around to contemplate the heavyset man who stared offensively at him from a chair two tables down.

“Yeah, y’know, they whine about how one o’ their ranch hands got hisself beat up last week,” the man went on, his eyes roaming the room and coming to rest on Adam. “An’ then they go out an’ beat up a few guys, too. Now, I’m one who says what’s sauce for the goose is sauce fer the gander. Wrong’s wrong, whoever’s doin’ it.”

Adam just stared at him, pleasantly aware that the nervy impatience he’d suffered all day was settling into a cool comprehension inside of him. Walking into the Sazerac had not been his wisest move, but now that he was here, he meant to make something of it. His right hand drifted unobtrusively to his gun while his left lifted his beer with unconcern.

“What about it, Cartwright? Cat got yer tongue?” The heavyset man shifted in his chair, his eyes scornful.

“Just listening to you, Danhoff,” he finally said, his voice casually unaffected. “At least, I’m assuming you’re Danhoff—there can’t be two loudmouth boors with the same song and dance.”

Danhoff grinned reluctantly. “Y’re the smart one, ain’t ya? Well, maybe with all yer book learnin’, you can explain to these here gentlemen how it’s a big, bad crime for somebody to beat up on a Ponderosa man, but it’s just fine an’ dandy fer Ponderosa men to near-kill other folks?”

Adam’s eyes lit briefly. “Well, that’s a fine point that even you should be able to understand. It’s not. You take a walk over to the jail and you’ll see two Ponderosa ranch hands sitting there big as life.”

“But not a Cartwright! No—never a Cartwright!” Danhoff sneered.

Adam continued to lean on the bar. “I’d say your friends should be grateful my brother was there. He was the one who put a stop to it all.”

“Tell that t’ the innocent man.”

A little smile played on Adam’s lips. “Interesting—that you’d know who was innocent. Must mean you know who’s guilty, too.”

Under a stubble of beard, Danhoff flushed. “You’d like me to say somethin’ about that, wouldn’ ya, Cartwright? Well, you can jus’ keep wishin’.” He rose to his feet unsteadily, pushing away a nearly empty bottle of whiskey.

Around him, men began to shove back their chairs, watching Danhoff’s hand hover closer to his revolver. Adam slowly straightened, his eyes never leaving his adversary. Good, Danhoff, he couldn’t help thinking. Let’s get this done now … the easy way.

But Danhoff just stared at him, a smirk dawning on his face. “You’d like it, Cartwright, if you could just shoot me now, wouldn’t ya? You figure yer pappy can keep ya outta jail. Might be hard, though, with all these witnesses.” He laughed insolently. “I can see it on ya. Ya want it over now. Ya wanta quit havin’ to look over yer shoulder. Well, I ain’t givin’ it to ya. Y’re gonna hafta watch yer back, an’ yer pappy and yer little brother and that pretty lady, too—’cause you don’t know which one’ve us it’ll be.”

Adam’s nostrils flared at the insult, but other than that momentary slip, he rigidly controlled his expression.

Danhoff laughed again. “Not so much fun not runnin’ the show, is it, boy? Yeah, ’cause you ain’t. Fact is, I’m gonna have a lotta fun watchin’ you all squirm. At least, till I move on. And don’t you tell yerself any different. When I wanta leave town, I’m gonna, and there ain’t nothin’ you can do about it.  Nothin’, boy. You jus’ think about that.”

Today, however, the big man hadn’t any plans for violence, and when he lurched down the aisle to stop next to Adam, thrusting his face up close and breathing a wave of whiskey fumes, Adam realized why. Drunk as he was, the hired gun knew better than to start a fight in which he might need speed and accuracy.

“You just go on wishin’,’” the man said, the stench of his sweat and stale alcohol, had he but known it, having as much of an effect on Adam as the glittering hatred in his eyes. “You ain’t got nothin’ on me … and ya won’t get anything, either.”

“You come up around Beargrass Creek again and we will,” Adam said, choking the anger out of his voice for a shot in the dark. He was rewarded with a fleeting confusion in Danhoff’s eyes.

Then the hoodlum stepped back, reeling slightly from the effort he’d expended, and leered again. “I go where I please, Cartwright. An’ here’s a message ya better take back t’ yer pappy: Ya might get your statehood, but by damn, we’ll make ya pay for it.” He issued a raspy laugh.

With a final unfocused glare, Danhoff made his way down the bar. Only the faint whack of the swinging saloon doors allowed Adam to relax. He felt the edginess return; he was more sure than ever that Danhoff was guilty of beating up Brownie and just as incapable of proving it.  But the slight hesitation at the mention of Beargrass Creek made it doubtful that the gunman had engineered Joe’s accident.

“Bart?” He motioned for the bartender, forcing a calm indifference as the saloon’s other patrons stared at him. “Was Arch Danhoff in here yesterday?”

“Yeah, Adam. He was over at the table in the corner, swillin’ whiskey all afternoon.”

“Thanks.”

He exhaled briefly in annoyance. Danhoff easily could have hired the sabotage that had sent Cochise and Joe down the slope above Beargrass Creek; the information neither confirmed nor denied his guilt. Adam threw coins on the bar and left the beer half-finished. He flung himself up on Sport and headed back to the Ponderosa.

It was going on five o’clock when he came in from the barn and the house was quiet. He wondered where Michaela was. A hundred images of their time together, of what they might do if she were there, flooded his mind. She might be laughing, chatting about horses, asking endless questions about places she wanted to go when she grew up … or maybe scowling over a drawing that wasn’t turning out, glad to take a break, to notice that in the day’s heat, the smell of the trees made up for the discomfort of the temperatures. Or better yet—he smiled faintly as he remembered—perhaps she’d want to play the guitar. Just before the wedding she’d seen the instrument and begged him to play, but there hadn’t been time. After the weekend, he’d promised her …

But Michaela wasn’t there.

Swallowing his disappointment, he stopped in to see Joe and found his brother playing both sides of a checkers game. “Having a good time?”

“It’s the best game I’ve had in a while,” Joe replied and set the board aside. “You been out doing my work?”

“If I had, I wouldn’t tell you. It’d be a month of Sundays before you got out of bed.”

Joe smiled but he didn’t miss the sour expression on Adam’s face. “What’s going on?”

Adam pulled a chair up to the bed and propped his legs on the coverlet. “A kid shot at me on the way to town.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” Adam sighed. “It was Paul Harris’ brother. I took him to Doc Martin.”

Joe was silent for a moment, digesting the unexpected information. Then he whistled under his breath. “What are the odds that when Thad and Eli went to beating up on fellows, two of them would have friends or relatives that’d make you feel sorry for ’em? I wonder who’s gonna turn up for Ulman? His mother?”

Adam was sarcastic. “Now we have to watch out for Danhoff, plus some connection of Ulman’s, who, if he’s like Aldershott’s friend and Harris’ brother, won’t be able to shoot straight and we’ll have a hard time not killing him by mistake.” He rubbed his eyes wearily and turned serious. “And we have to remember—maybe Frank Aldershott got a bad deal, but Paul Harris confessed to a crime. Don’t waste too much sympathy there.”

Joe was thoughtful. “No … but it sure seems a shame that so many people are gettin’ hurt just because McWhirter and Danhoff and all those folks decided they’d fight to stop statehood.”

“It’s always that way.”

“Y’mean innocent people get hurt.”

“Some way or another.”

Joe grunted. “So what else did you come in here to tell me?”

“Who says there’s anything else?”

“I can tell by your face.”

“Look out. We’ll get a crystal ball and hire you out as a seer.” Adam ran hand over his chin, as if contemplating a shave. “I stopped in the Sazerac. Saw Arch Danhoff.”

Joe tried to look disgusted. “You really take your own advice, don’t you?” But he couldn’t carry it off and met his brother’s gaze seriously. “What’d you find out?”

“Nothing we didn’t know, except that I’m not sure he had anything to do with what happened to you. I mentioned Beargrass Creek to him and I’d be willing to bet he didn’t know what I was talking about.”

“Then it could have been an accident.”

“Or maybe Danhoff just doesn’t know the country around here.”

“Darn it,” Joe murmured. “They would know if they hit Lily it would really get to Pa.”

“They’d know that if they hit you, it would get to him too,” Adam said, “and speaking of Pa, don’t say anything about this to him. He’s already worried enough about it.” He didn’t add and how we’re handling it.

Joe suddenly eyed his brother closely. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Adam considered the wisdom of saying anything more.

“Adam, you pompous—”

“All right, all right! It wasn’t really anything new; Danhoff just got pretty insulting. He was trying to goad me into doing something.”

“Better you than me,” Joe muttered. “I’d’ve answered him back.”

Adam looked away and admitted, “I almost did.”

Joe stared at him. “You?”

“I almost drew on him.”

Joe lay back on his pillows, an impudent smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Nice to know you’re human sometimes. Shooting him would’ve solved all our problems—well, except for gettin’ you outta jail—and just think of the lecture I could’ve dreamed up when you came home.”

Adam, struck with how quickly Joe could change moods, recognized that at the moment, his brother seemed to be the single ally in his world, the only one who shared an unrelenting desire to bring in Brownie’s assailants. He let a little smile dawn in his eyes. “Well, save the lecture. The way things are going, you might need it sometime.”

Joe sobered. “So what’re we gonna do about it?”

“You get your strength back and I keep my eyes out.” Adam kicked his feet off the bed and stood up. “We may have been sidetracked a little, but we still need to get Arch Danhoff. I don’t care if his sainted old aunt is dying in the desert, Roy takes him in or we do.”

He was almost to the door when Joe said wryly, “Well, next time try and practice what you preach, will ya? At least till I’m strong enough to make sure you don’t get into any more trouble.”

<<<<<>>>>>

Closing Joe’s door behind him, Adam stood thoughtfully in the hall, once again prey to his rising frustration. He felt helpless as well and it didn’t set well with him. He collapsed on his bed, hoping that he could sleep, perhaps clear his head. But his thoughts were tumbling over each other. If they were going to catch Brownie’s third assailant, they had to get on with it; they had no evidence; he had to do something to reach Michaela; he couldn’t just let her think she wasn’t important enough for his time. It was all the worse because he’d always been able to keep his head—to analyze situations and determine his course of action. His thoughts now seemed beyond his control.

At last, more exhausted than before, he got up, splashed his face with water and descended to the great room. He ignored his father’s curious glance as he poured himself a double bourbon, and thankfully, the whiskey took effect immediately—perhaps not surprising, he realized, as he hadn’t eaten all day.

After dinner, glad when Lily solicited Michaela to play checkers, he pleaded tending to Rio and retreated to the barn. Working on the horse, he tried to focus his mind. If there’s one thing I can do, it’s solve problems, he assured himself. He was a grown man—he could provide the support a ten-year-old girl needed. Certainly he could do that … or could he? If there were time, he knew he could win her back. But he hadn’t time; Michaela would go home in less than two weeks.

Could this be nature’s vengeance, he wondered suddenly, for his usurping the role of her father? For a second, his mind went completely numb. Not that. No God he believed in would work that way—hurt a child just to teach him a lesson. And then a secret part of his mind countered, why not? Michaela has a father; she wouldn’t be hurt—she doesn’t need you.

Joe had accused him of playing at being a father. Was his brother right? Just the thought of it sent a wave of revulsion through him. He thought, he concentrated, he committed every ounce of his considerable will to evaluating his behavior … and concluded that he didn’t think he’d been playing at parenting. But he couldn’t be completely sure; what did he know about being a father?

He finished with the horse Brownie had been treating and started back to the house, dismally aware that if things had been right between them, Michaela would have helped him with Rio or at least played with Sport and kept him company. He sighed, only coming out of his abstraction when he noticed his father standing on the porch, leaning against the big wooden post by the planter.

Ben’s arms were folded over his chest. “Got a minute?”

Adam stopped. “Sure.”

“Let’s take a walk.” Ben slipped an arm around his son’s shoulders, turning him away from the house. It was some time before he spoke again. “Adam, you know I don’t usually intrude on your private affairs.”

Adam nodded.

“But somehow I feel that this time I should. It’s apparent to me that something’s bothering you.”

Adam hooked his fingers on his belt, staring at the ground in front of him, and Ben let the night noises fill the silence until his son finally looked up, his face guarded but his stance marginally more relaxed. “You do have second sight sometimes.”

Ben smiled faintly. “Only when it comes to my sons. Want to tell me about it?”

“I don’t know that there’s much to tell.”

“It’s Michaela, isn’t it?”

Ben watched the tension start to fade out of Adam’s body; he was glad that he’d played a hunch and pushed his son into talking.

“Yeah. I think she heard what Joe said the other day. She’s taken it upon herself to see that she doesn’t account for any of my work time … and then she seems to feel so uncomfortable about it that she can’t be normal with me in the evenings, either.”

“Have you talked to her about it?”

“Last night. It didn’t do any good.” He looked at his father, for a second letting his frustration show before assuming a more stoic façade.

“If it helps, Lily thinks Michaela’s afraid of losing you.” Ben outlined Lily’s idea that Michaela feared Adam would be made to give her up.

“That makes sense.” Adam shook his head and smiled briefly, without humor. “And I’d like to believe she doesn’t want me to go away.”

“You know she doesn’t.”

“I’m not sure what I know about all this. I was even beginning to wonder if it isn’t some divine retribution for my overstepping my bounds with her.”

“You mean because you’ve become like a father or—how did you say it?—a big brother, a friend, to her?”

“Yes.”

“That’s absurd.”

“I know. Or at least, I think so.” For several seconds, Adam was lost in thought. Then he turned to his father and asked hesitantly, “What would you do?”

“If this were happening to me? And it was you or Hoss or Joe?”

“More or less.”

“What’s your instinct telling you to do?”

Adam offered a mild grin. “Shake her and tell her to cut it out.”

Ben chuckled. “Now you know how I felt many times in your boyhood.” He sobered. “Adam, I can’t tell you how to handle this; you know Michaela far better than any of us do. I can only tell you what a father’s duty is, and while Mickey has a father of her own, your friendship with her is similar in many ways.”

“That’s all I’m asking.”

Ben nodded. “All you can do is put her first. Put her first—and if that means that you lose her, you have to live with it. You have to do your best by her, but you can’t control how she takes it.”

“The problem is figuring out what’s best for her.”

“I don’t think so, son. What’s best for her is having the confidence you were giving her.”

“You think so?”

“I do and so will you if you can look at this situation objectively.”

Adam couldn’t stop a self-deprecating sigh. “I’m afraid I’m not as objective as I ought to be in this case.”

Ben’s eyes were understanding. “Gosh, I guess you really aren’t perfect,” he teased and was encouraged when Adam relaxed enough to smile. “Think about it, son.”

“Well, suppose you’re right … but if I push her, she’s liable to withdraw into herself, and if we go on the way we are, she’ll go home to San Francisco and we’ll hardly be speaking.”

Ben’s eyes glimmered. “Sounds like someone I know. I wish I had a dollar for every time I wondered whether to push you or not.” He turned back to the house. “My point is, you won’t know if you’re right or wrong, but you have to try. That’s your obligation, Adam. No matter what it costs you, you have to try to do what’s best for her.”

<<<<<>>>>>

 Long after Adam had gone inside, Ben remained on the porch, enjoying the cool air and carrying on a mental conversation with the owl, who was particularly vociferous in the trees overhead. He wondered if the bird had a mate, had sired a family … and if as a father, he ever worried about his offspring. More likely, owls simply followed the laws of nature and once their babies learned how to eat and hunt and defend themselves, gave little thought to family life. What a blessing to be a bird, he thought dryly.

He had just decided that the night was too pretty to waste when the front door opened and Lily appeared.

“I was just coming to look for you,” he said. “There’s a full moon tonight and it shouldn’t be missed.”

“And I was thinking that it should be quite spectacular about now. It was almost three-quarters on that wild ride to town.”

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and guided her to the path that led down toward the pond. “Has it been that long already? Time flies … but I don’t want to talk about that right now. Tonight I just want to enjoy you.”

She slipped an arm around his waist. “These Sierra nights are so beautiful. I think I’ll never get enough of them.”

“I love hearing you say that,” he replied. It was several minutes before he spoke again, changing the subject but curiously sure that she followed him. “You know, it’s funny, being a father. My sons are grown; you’d think I could just let them live their own lives.”

“But you do.”

“You know I don’t—you saw that today. I know them, Lily … I worry about them. This time it’s been Adam on my mind, but it’s the same for all of them.”

“And why do you worry?”

“They’re so predictable sometimes. Joseph—I could have guessed, I should have known, he’d be the first to take off after the men who attacked Brownie. That’s how he is. His feelings are right there”—he clasped his fist in the air—“right there to be seen and touched. I can’t help wondering if one day he’ll move too fast. It could happen, you know.”

“Yes … but Joe’s an intelligent man and he’s gaining more experience every day. There’re no guarantees for any of us, but I think he’s more capable than most at taking care of himself.” She imparted a little smile. “And he has a secret weapon—a father and two brothers to back him up when he needs it.”

Ben nodded. “I know … and I don’t usually dwell on things like that. As you said, we’ve none of us any guarantees out here.”

“And what about Adam? It can’t be just his friendship with Michaela.”

“It’s what I’ve been struggling with all day.” His voice turned momentarily wistful. “All that rational intelligence is misleading; deep down, he feels things as strongly as his brothers. Push him to the edge and I’m not sure what we’d see. I know that edge is there, even if Adam doesn’t.”

Lily whistled under her breath. “I see. … And Hoss?”

He smiled again. “Hoss. Do you know, sometimes I worry the least about Hoss? I was concerned that he could be hurt inside, he has such a trusting nature. But with Eleanor in his life, I honestly don’t think there’s much that could get to him now. As for physical danger, Hoss may not be as smart as Adam or as quick as Joe, but he can handle himself. Most of the time, he makes good decisions.”

“Ben, I think what you’re saying is completely normal. You’re a father—you love your family. Why wouldn’t you be concerned that things go right for them? And it’s not as if you hover over them—”

“Certainly not!”

She ran a finger up the front of his shirt, staring intently at his chest. “May I make a suggestion?”

His arms went around her. “Of course. Your suggestions have been very productive today.”

She looked up to meet his gaze. “Well, ever since I realized that I love you, it’s seemed to me that everything is a little more vivid. I feel as if I’m seeing things that have been around me forever as if they’re new. Some things which were very important to me before I knew you don’t count at all anymore, and others which were truly important to me are ever so much more dear now.”

“My dear—”

She covered his lips with her fingertips. “If you so much as think that I believe you need me around to appreciate your sons, I’ll strangle you. I’m merely saying that we don’t love in a vacuum, Ben. Each time, each way we love is bound to flavor everything else in our lives. Perhaps you’re just letting yourself indulge your feelings for your boys.”

His arms tightened and he planted a kiss on her forehead. “This time, if you don’t let me say how wise you are, I’ll strangle you.”

“Oh, fiddle!”

They walked farther down the path, along the rim of the pond, and Lily gazed out over the mirror-like body of water. “I’ve loved every moment of my visit,” she said finally. “The Ponderosa is so incredible, I can’t put it into words. And Adam, Hoss and Joe … I love getting to know them. But the best thing has been the time we’ve spent together.”

“There was something missing from my life before you came into it, Lily. You have to know that.”

She stood on her toes to brush a kiss across his cheek, a gesture which seemed so natural that he wondered at it. In its own way, it was as precious to him as the fervent kisses they’d shared that afternoon. He tucked her hand over his arm and they followed the dim path farther along the shore. Only when a cloud chased past the moon and reminded them that it was getting late did they return to the yard.

“Having you here still seems like such a happy dream,” Ben mused as they came near the house. “I’m half-afraid I’ll wake up tomorrow and find that you’re gone.”

She chuckled. “That’s not possible, Ben. At least, not for a while, and even then, I’ll be only a few days away.”

“I think we need to talk about that,” he said, “but not tonight.”

Chapter Eight

Adam slept fitfully. His father’s words—or perhaps it was just the conversation itself—had led him to hope that he could restore his friendship with Michaela. But before he could do that he had to take care of the Arch Danhoff problem, and he had no clear plan. He knew only one thing and that was that justice had to be served.

Harris and Ulman weren’t talking, so that left only two sources of information: Brownie and Danhoff himself. Adam buttoned his black leather vest high over a white shirt and hoped that this one morning, Michaela wouldn’t be reading to Brownie.

Downstairs, the house was quiet. He knocked gently on the door to the guest room, and at a wheezy “come in,” found the old scout alone, the bandages on one hand drawn back just enough to allow him to the turn the pages of a book. Adam recognized his father’s collection of John James Audubon prints.

“Mornin’, boy. Why ain’t ya out workin’ already?” The door to the outside was flung wide and the sunlight streaming through it highlighted the old man’s frailty.

“You know how it is, Brownie—you own the ranch, you set your own hours.”

“Yeah.” Brownie was skeptical. “But you fergit, Adam—I know you, too. Most days, that means ya work from before ever’buddy to after ever’buddy.”

Adam propped both hands on the footboard and made himself chuckle, trying to jolly the guide away from his suspicion. For a while it worked. They talked about the horses and the crew, and when Brownie brought it up, about Michaela.

“She’s a good kid, Adam,” the old scout said. “She says she reads to me ’cause if I’m not bored to death, I might recover.” He rasped a little laugh. “Can you figger it? She don’t need to be worryin’ about an ol’ man like me.”

“That’s just the way she is, Brownie. Get used to it.”

“Yup. I reck’n.” He eyed Adam shrewdly. “Seems like somethin’s on yer mind. Why don’t ya spit it out?”

Adam stood up, slipping a hand into his pocket. “All right …” He studied Brownie’s gaze, trying to make out if his friend was strong enough for what he was about to ask. Brownie stared back, his pale brown eyes watery and squinting, but calm; there was no better time than now. “I hate to ask this of you, but I want you to think about the night you were attacked.”

Brownie closed the book of prints. “I don’t mind. It’s over now. I wouldn’ cry like a woman.”

“No, I don’t imagine you would,” Adam said. “Think about it, Brownie. What happened? How did they get you?”

“Le’see … Clear’z I can remember, I was down by the crick. I was kinda walkin’ Rio around, seein’ how his foot was healin’.” The old man was silent for a minute. “Musta been then they got me. Sumbuddy grabbed me from behind, put a hand o’r m’ mouth.”

Adam nodded.

“After that they dragged me up on a horse, ridin’ in front o’ someone. Oh, yeah, they had a neckerchief o’er m’ eyes. Fell off when they went to beatin’ on me.”

“Do you remember what they looked like, Brownie? Did anyone use any names?”

The old man concentrated and then shrugged helplessly. “It’s all kinda a blur. They hit on me real hard fer a bit, and then the biggest one—real heavy an’ tall he was—commenced t’ using a bullwhip. I don’t recollect much after that.”

Adam flushed with anger as he imagined the old man, reeling away from the acid-like sting of a whip which chewed the flesh raw. He forced himself to calm down.

“Take it easy, Brownie. I don’t want you reliving the pain here; just look around in your memory. Do you remember anyone calling that big man by name?”

Brownie was shaking his head when he suddenly stopped. “Y’know … mebbe when they was done whippin’ me. I thought mebbe they were tellin’ me to ‘march.’ But it coulda been they wuz talkin’ to sumbuddy o’ that name.”

“‘March’? Brownie, could you have heard ‘Arch’?”

The old man looked at him, his eyes narrowing further. “I s’pose. Adam, what’s this all about? D’ya know ’n Arch?”

“Was it the heavyset man they were calling Arch? Think, Brownie!”

Brownie squirmed uncomfortably. “I think so, Adam. I’m near sure, but not all th’ way. Why? Why’s it s’ all-fired import’nt?”

“Because we have the other two men in custody. But the leader, a man named Arch Danhoff, is still a free man.”

“Adam, I don’t know as anybody’d b’lieve a busted-up ol’ codger like me. I’m only jus’ barely sure m’self.”

Adam grunted softly. Brownie was right—in court, his testimony would be thin, and certainly Danhoff was not going to confess. He started to the door.

“Come back here!” Brownie objected. “Now, you slow just down here, boy. You ain’t never—”

“Brownie, just ease off.”

 “I know you, boy. Y’er wantin’ to go after this Arch feller an’ Adam, ya can’t do it.”

Adam came back to the bedside. “Don’t worry,” he said quietly. “Getting all riled up isn’t going to help anything.”

“But Adam, don’t ya go t’ town. Ya know y’er not gonna get no admissions outta that black-hearted hooligan. Ya can’t do somethin’ you’ll regret, boy. Don’t let yer ol’ friend down now!”

“Brownie, there’s no call—”

“There is!” Brownie reared up from his pillows, his eyes bright and his voice rising. “Lis’en, boy—I know what you got on yer mind and there ain’t no reason for ya to do this, not reely. I didn’ die, I jus’ got hurt a bit, I’ll get better—”

Adam carefully pushed the old man back, still trying to restore calm with his tone. “That’s not the point. The point is that someone broke the law when he attacked you.”

“Well, jus’ this time, let it go. Ya can’t win this one—it ain’t no good! Adam, y’er too smart fer this—”

Adam’s voice rose sharply. “It has nothing to do with smart—”

“Yes, it does. Don’t ya know that? Y’er dif’rent! You don’t settle things with guns till there ain’t no other way—you know laws. Ya think. Adam, it’s folks like you’s gonna make this country better—ya can’t go actin’ like this—”

“We’re all important to the future here, you included.” Adam’s irritation glittered in his eyes.

“That’s where y’er wrong, boy. There’s lots o’—o’—what’s his name? Arch Danhoff? There’s lots o’ Danhoffs out there. What’s the difference, one more ’r less, when ya compare it to you, boy. Y’er what’s import’nt—all that learnin’ o’ yers, all that doin’ things right. It’s what makes ya who ya are—”

“Brownie, just lie back and quit worrying!” Adam finally exploded. “You know I’ll be careful.” He turned toward the door and stopped short.

Michaela stood in the opening.

Adam glared at Brownie over his shoulder, willing the old man to understand, Don’t drag her into this.

But Brownie wasn’t paying any attention. “Mickey,” he coughed, “take him ridin’, girl! Take ’im away with ya.”

Michaela stared wide-eyed at Brownie, straining futilely from his pillow. And at Adam, standing like a stone carving before her. “Do you want to go riding?” she finally asked.

Adam gentled his voice. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I have an errand in town. We can go riding when I come back.”

“Okay.” She turned away.

He crossed the space between them in two long strides, grasping her shoulder and turning her back around to him. “Mickey, something’s come up that won’t wait. We’ll ride when I come back.”

She looked at Brownie and then back at Adam. “Brownie doesn’t think you should go.”

“Brownie doesn’t know everything,” he said gently. “This is something important that has to be done.”

“It’s not!” Brownie cried. “It could be left alone! Ya don’t need to do it, Adam!”

Adam didn’t shift his eyes from Michaela. “It’s about fairness. That’s important, isn’t it?”

She nodded but her eyes were troubled and full of questions.

“Child!” the old man railed. “Make him go with ya!”

Adam and Michaela just stared at each other.

“What’s going on here?” Ben’s voice resonated suddenly in the momentary silence, authoritative and demanding. He stood in the doorway to the great room.

No one answered.

“I said, what’s going on here? Adam?”

“Brownie and I were just talking,” Adam replied tautly and glanced at Brownie.

The old man’s gaze was desperate, disregarding Ben and pleading silently with Adam.

Ben took in Brownie … Michaela … and his son. Adam’s stiff, unreachable posture disclosed his tension—and it was more than his problems with Michaela. It had to be about Brownie, about the beating and about justice, which in this case appeared so elusive.

“Adam—” Ben demanded incredulously. “Are you thinking of doing what I’m afraid you are? Son—”

“No, Pa,” Adam’s voice hard-edged with annoyance. “I’m not gonna take the law into my own hands. I just mean to get a confession out of Arch Danhoff. That’s all.”

Ben looked his eldest in the eye. “And how’re you going to do that?”

“That’s it! That’s why ya can’t go!” Brownie cut in. “Adam, this Arch fella ain’t got no honor. He won’t let ya do it by the book!”

When Adam didn’t answer, Ben said, “He’s right, you know.”

“I have to try.”

“We have a sheriff for things like this.”

Adam’s expression said he knew better. “When it’s too much for one man, we’re all responsible for the law out here.”

“I agree, but not like this. Roy’ll ask if he needs help. He always has before.”

Aam just turned away.

“Adam!” Ben’s voice demanded that he wait. “I can’t stop you … but I want you to promise me something, and that’s that you’ll know when to stop.” He lay his hand on his son’s shoulder. “I know your reasons for this. It’s about the rule of law and it’s also about Brownie. But the rule of law says that we let go anyone against whom we have no proof. There’s no disgrace in that.”

Adam issued a long breath and for a moment stared away, focusing on nothing.

“And you have to remember …” Ben reclaimed his son’s attention. “There’re other important things in life.” His glance shifted significantly to Michaela.

For one instant, Adam softened. “Don’t worry, Pa. I won’t forget.” He stepped out on the porch, at the last minute stopping to look down at Michaela. She stared back up at him, her eyes wide, no longer distant, just shocked and concerned and probably a lot of other things he couldn’t identify. He ran a hand over her hair. Then he went on.

<<<<<>>>>>

Ben stood on the porch, listening to the silence. The sound of Sport’s hooves as Adam disappeared around the barn had been comforting; at least while he could hear the chestnut gelding, his knew his son was safe. Then, unable to stand the sight of the deserted yard, he walked back into Brownie’s room. The old man lay wordlessly against his pillows, his eyes blurring with tears that escaped to flow down the deep creases of his face.  Michaela, her chin set against crying, found the towel by the bedside and carefully dried his cheeks.

That simple act tore at Ben. Instinctively, he turned to look for Lily, only to find her already standing in the doorway to the great room. For a second, he saw the fear in her eyes, and then her expression changed to concern—a change, he knew, that she made only to be strong for him. She was too fond of Adam not to be terrified of what might happen.

He followed her into the main room and gathered her to him, holding her against his chest as her arms encircled his waist, offering him strength with her embrace. For what seemed like the longest time, they just stood there, as he refused to let her go. He didn’t even notice that his heart was hammering until it slowed and he found his breath coming more easily.

“You want to go after him, don’t you?” she murmured.

“More than anything in the world,” he replied hoarsely, almost choking on the words. “I lost their mothers, Lily—I can’t lose my sons.”

Her hands stroked his back lightly. “Then why don’t you go?”

There was not a hint of censure or encouragement in her voice, he realized. She was just calm, providing support for whatever course he chose. She could have argued if she disagreed—she was frightened enough for him. But she just watched with sympathetic eyes and he felt a rush of gratitude that she said no more.

He moved away and let out a long, shaky breath. “It wouldn’t do any good. I can’t stop him; he’s well beyond the age that I could have told him what to do.”

“You’d only distract him if you were there.”

“Yes.” He sighed again, his voice turning pensive. “Hoss or Joe could go, but I can’t. I’m almost glad that Hoss is away and Joe’s not well yet. To have all of them in town would be …”

“Unimaginable.”

Ben nodded slowly. Somehow the word sounded more acceptable coming from her.

Lily came to his side and ran her hand gently up his arm. “The hardest part is going to be the waiting, Ben.”

“I know,” he replied, staring at the empty hearth.

She let a moment of silence pass between them and then rose on her toes to kiss his cheek. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”

She was almost to the dining room when he spoke. “Lily, please don’t go.”

<<<<<>>>>>

Adam forced himself to slow down. He could feel the tension within himself—the result, he knew, of doing something his father disapproved of.  Hell, it was something that he disapproved of, but there seemed to be no other choice. He had to nail Arch Danhoff and he had to do it lawfully … but there was no way to tell if that was possible unless he tried. He refused to consider letting Danhoff walk away because of no proof; even to think of it invited defeat.

The first order of business was to calm down, he determined, and slowed Sport from the irrational gallop they’d maintained since leaving the house. The gelding was blowing and appreciated the respite, and Adam tried correspondingly to curb the maddening pace inside himself. If he couldn’t think clearly, he was liable to wind up on the wrong end of a gun.

For a few minutes, he just settled into the rhythm of Sport’s canter, ordering his mind and letting his thoughts return naturally to the task at hand. He was sure that Roy Coffee had talked to those who might have known anything about the attack on Brownie. That included everyone from the barflies in the Silver Dollar the night Arch Danhoff had recruited his accomplices, to Davis Ellington and Matt Harrison, who’d originated the plan to block statehood and introduce slavery into Nevada.

So his only chance lay with Danhoff. It was a little after eleven when he reached Virginia City, but he had a fair idea of where he’d find his adversary. He pulled up at the Sazerac and stood by Sport for a moment, his mind traveling into the past, seeing again the wagon train scout who’d befriended him. Brownie had been there to encourage his interest in horses, understanding that in his loneliness, he needed the animals … the guide had taught him about the country around him and how to traverse it without disturbing the creatures who already lived there. And when his father was exhausted beyond measure from moving the family west, Brownie was the first after his stepmother—his mother—to talk to him, to listen to him.

Adam recalled the present, too … the sight of the old man’s body on the porch, miraculously not dead but hovering close to it.

Then he focused his mind and pushed open the saloon doors. On the ride into town, the merest spark of a plan had dawned in his mind—a dangerous one and a longshot at best, but the only one he had.

He had stopped halfway down the bar when a familiar voice called his name.

“Hey, Cartwright, lookin’ fer me?”

Adam ordered a beer before he leaned against the bar and turned to face the beefy man two tables down. “Should I be, Danhoff?”

“Ya might, seein’ as how I got ya on the run.”

“Unless I’m greatly mistaken, you haven’t seen much running out of us.” He picked up his glass with insolent disregard. “In fact, it seems to me that you’ve failed at that, which makes you just one more arrogant—no, let’s make that narcissistic—loudmouth.”

“Narciss—istic, huh?”

Adam was patronizing. “A little too big a word for you? If you knew what a dictionary was, you could look it up, but as I’m sure that’s a little beyond your comprehension, I’ll tell you. It means you think of nothing but yourself because you’re really too stupid to think of anything else.”

A stifled titter of amusement ran through the saloon’s customers and Danhoff’s cheeks darkened. For a second, hatred blazed in his eyes, but he rapidly masked it, turning his dull, flat face blank.

“Ya c’n use all the big, fancy words ya want, Cartwright, but we all know why y’er here. Y’er here ’cause I’m leavin’ town, an’ y’er all het up ’cause ya can’t pin anything on me. I told ya I’d leave town when I pleased, an’ now I please. On the noon stage.”

Adam fought a sudden shortness of breath. Within the hour, it would be over and there wouldn’t be another chance. “Got any guarantees about that, Danhoff?” he inquired with false ease.

“Course I do, Mister Almighty Adam Cartwright. Ya ain’t got no proof against me, no matter how much ya’d like to. I reckon it’d be real sportin’ of ya to come down to the freight office and see me off.”

Adam took a long, casual sip of his beer and composed an amused smirk on his face.

“Well now, I wouldn’t be all that sure about the ‘no proof’ idea,” he said, waiting until the room’s faint buzz of conversation died and he had Danhoff’s undivided attention. “I was talking to your cohorts over at the jail before I dropped in here, and it seems that your paid help has put two and two together. You see, they heard that you were leaving town—I suppose because you can’t keep your big mouth shut.” He eyed the gunman disparagingly. “It seems that they’re not too partial to facing a judge all by themselves.”

But Danhoff refused to be baited. “An’ why d’ya think they’d have anythin’ to say against me?”

“Because you forgot something important, of course. You might have threatened them with killing if they talked, but you’re leaving town. Kind of removes that threat, doesn’t it?”

For the first time, Adam saw Danhoff hesitate, but again, the man recovered quickly. “If I’d done somethin’ like that, Cartwright, d’ya think I don’ have friends to take care uv it for me?”

“Actually, Danhoff, I don’t think you have any friends at all,” Adam replied, his voice contemptuously relaxed. “But you forgot something else. You forgot to pay your help. They’ll be convicted of beating up our hand without any compensation and the man who hired them will be getting away scot-free. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that they’re willing to talk.”

“So you say.”

“So I say. You must be as dumb as you look. You didn’t do any research into those men you said you’d pay to help you. In case ‘research’ is too big a word for you, it means just learning a little about something—and you didn’t learn anything about them … anything, as in that one of them has a family that’s going hungry. I think he was especially amenable to Sheriff Coffee.” This time he didn’t explain the fancy word; Arch Danoff had figured out what it meant.

The gunman rose slowly from his chair. “Cartwright, you ain’t got nothin’ on me, but I’m gettin’ real tired o’ hearin’ ya talk. So I’d say this is where I shut ya up. Unless, o’ course, you wanta take back all them words an’ walk outta here.”

“Not a chance,” Adam returned coldly. He stepped away from the bar, letting his hand hover near his gun. Even though he’d planned for this, he felt a knot of fear that threatened to paralyze him. He wondered just how fast Arch Danhoff was with a gun and how many drinks had been poured from the open whiskey bottle on the table.

In the silence, the bartender’s words carried to the crowd of observers. “Jed, go get Sheriff Coffee.” A young cowboy disappeared through the swinging saloon doors.

With surprising agility for a man of his size, Danhoff moved to the aisle in front of the bar, planting his feet wide and glaring at Adam. “Then I say losin’ a son might be jus’ what it takes t’ make yer daddy pay for his statehood.”

“I’m not going to draw against you.”

The sound of the man’s mocking laughter reverberated through the saloon. “Y’er a coward! I mighta known! But it’s a little late fer that, boy. Ya’ve done made me mad, and by God, y’er gonna pay. You’re scared, but a man don’t stand there waitin’ to die. You’ll shoot all right.”

Adam shook his head slowly, staring the tough in the eye. “No. You kill me and you’ll be up for murder, with more witnesses than Sheriff Coffee’ll ever need.”

Danhoff’s response came with lightning speed—but not before he’d telegraphed it to Adam with the flicker of an expression in his eyes. Even as his opponent reached for his revolver, Adam was throwing himself sideways, crashing over a table to land heavily on the narrow-plank floor. Poorly aimed, a bullet demolished the beer glass he’d left on the bar. A second shot exploded a bottle of whiskey on the table behind him, blasting shards of glass in all directions. Behind the overturned table, he drew his gun just as a third shot splintered a post well beyond him and a fourth ripped into an oil painting of a nude woman.

“Cartwright!” Danhoff was enraged. “Stand up like a man!”

In answer, Adam mustered his strength and shoved the table, rolling on its side, a few feet across the floor. Instantly Danhoff put a shot into it and one over it, which lodged innocuously in the far wall.

Six shots … but there was always a chance that the gunman carried a second fireman, hidden in his clothes. Adam was rising carefully just as Roy Coffee appeared at the door with a rifle in his hands.

“What the hell’s goin’ on here?” the sheriff demanded, and eyed Danhoff’s revolver. “You put that down, mister! Right there on the bar, where I can see it—an’ Bart, you go get it.” He waited until the bartender had complied before repeating, “Now somebody’d better tell me what’s happened here, or I’ll lock up the lot o’ ya!”

“Mr. Danhoff tried to kill me,” Adam said, his voice so calm that it didn’t betray the sick feeling in his stomach and the wild pounding of his heart. He took a deep breath before anyone could notice that his lungs were heaving like bellows.

“Ya don’t say?” Roy scowled. “Anybody here wanta back up Adam’s accusation? Bart? Any o’ you folks?”

Bart nodded. “That’s the way it happened, Sheriff. Adam said he wasn’t going to draw against him, but this guy shot anyway. Said he’d kill Adam, and he fired off six shots tryin’.” A few others muttered in agreement.

Roy turned back to Danhoff. “Well, sir, I hear y’er plannin’ to take the noon stage west. I’d say you’d best not count on it. We got ya on two complaints o’ attempted murder. I figure we c’n make at least one of ’em stick.”

“Two?” Adam echoed.

“Yup.” Roy directed a sardonic glance at Adam. “Seems Harris cracked jus’ like I figured. He ain’t s’ ignorant that he’ll stay b’hind bars fer somebody like this here fella.”

“I see …” Adam felt a flush stealing over his face. To make matters worse, his shoulder, which had taken his weight when he hit the floor, was throbbing with a force that made his fingers tingle.

“You’d better come with us,” Roy said. “Ya’ll have t’ swear out a complaint.” Keeping his rifle on Danhoff, he motioned for the gunman to precede him out the door.

It was a short walk from the Sazerac to the jail. Roy didn’t speak as he pushed Arch Danoff into the last empty cell, and made only the most essential conversation when he slapped a paper and pen in front of Adam. For several minutes the only sound in the office was that of the pen on the rough paper.

Absently handing the official complaint to Roy with his left hand, Adam winced, feeling his fingers weaken under the pain from his shoulder. But he covered quickly and asked if the sheriff needed anything more from him.

“Nah, that’ll do it,” Roy answered, but he followed Adam out onto the sidewalk with an inquiry of his own. “Maybe you’d like t’ tell me what you were tryin’ t’ do in there.”

Adam looked away. “I was trying to see that Danhoff didn’t leave town without paying for what he did to Brownie.”

“By gettin’ yerself killed?”

“I didn’t get myself killed.”

Roy snorted disgustedly. “Yeah, an’ that’s only by the grace o’ the good Lord.”

“If we couldn’t get him on the attempted murder of Brownie, we could get him on the attempted murder of me.”

“That’s the goldurn stupidest stunt I’ve ever heard of! I tol’ ya what would happen and it did.”

“But what if it hadn’t?”

The sheriff just shook his head, but there was an perceptive glint in his eyes. “Get on outta here.”

<<<<<>>>>>

 Adam cantered Sport slowly as he approached the yard at the house. He had no doubt about what his father would think of his activities, but he had no regrets—even though he knew that his actions had been foolhardy in the extreme.

He left the horse tied to the rail and was starting across the porch when Curley came through the door. The ranch hand nodded to Adam as he passed, but Adam had already looked beyond him to the figure of his father in the doorway. Neither spoke as he hung up his hat, and with his face averted, unbuckled his gunbelt. He set his jaw against the pain in his shoulder that now wouldn’t let up. Then he turned back, noticing for the first time that Lily was on the settee and Joe in one of the red chairs, looking apprehensive. The white bandage around his brother’s forehead stood out against the tan of his face.

“You want to tell me what you just did in town?” Ben asked with ominous calm.

“I think you already know,” Adam replied.

“I know what Curley told us. Perhaps you didn’t know he was on the street in front of the Sazerac. What I want to know is why you took Arch Danhoff on in a gunfight and nearly got yourself killed.”

“Let’s just leave it that I got reason to put Danhoff in jail and I did it legally.”

“But very dangerously.” Ben’s voice was hard. “And Roy Coffee didn’t need your proof.”

Adam hadn’t the strength or the will to argue with his father. “Maybe not,” he replied evenly and started toward the stairs.

Standing by the end of the settee, Ben tried to quell his frustration, realizing that he had even clenched his hands against the tension of the past few hours. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax. The look on Adam’s face told him that his eldest would not explain what he’d done and would not change his mind about it. “Just hear me out,” he finally said, and his gaze encompassed Joe as well. “Both of you.”

Adam stopped and Joe shifted uncomfortably. Even the moment of silence their father employed to let emotions settle seemed too long.

“We’ve had a lot of upheaval lately,” Ben said, his tone low but affecting. “I want you two to know something. I don’t agree with what you did—either of you—but I’m proud of you.” 

His sons exchanged confused glances.

“I’m proud because you defended the principle of the law—not the way you did it. Just look at where that got you both! By trying to ‘help’ Roy Coffee without his asking, you could have been killed—Joe, when you rode with the Barrigans, and Adam just now, going after Danhoff.”

He regarded them soberly. “Adam, even you can make mistakes, and in not letting Roy call the shots, I think you made one.” His voice grew almost pleading. “I don’t care how clever or brave it was, or how well it came out in the end. Was it worth risking your life?

“And Joseph, I hope you learned an important lesson here, and I hope it’ll temper your actions if anything like this ever happens again. There’s a good reason for having a sheriff and for the rule of law—they exist because they’re right; they give us a course of action to take. When we go off of that course is when we get into trouble.”

Joe started to say something, but Ben held up a hand. “I need to know that if something like this ever happens again, neither of you will do what you did. I need your support on that … I—count on your support.” He sighed deeply,  for the first time letting Joe and Adam see how weary he was from worrying about them. “God knows, there’ll be many times that we’ll put our lives on the line, some of them for good causes. But we can’t do it unnecessarily.”

“You have my word, Pa,” Joe said in a low voice.

Ben looked to Adam, but his oldest son just gazed back at him. “I’ll try, Pa. … I know you’re right and I’ll try to support you, but I can’t say what I’ll do if something like this happens again.”

Ben drew himself up. “I suppose if you just guarantee me that law and order will come first, I’ll live with that.”

“You know it will,” Adam replied. “It always has.”

He had started up the stairs when Ben spoke again. “There’s something else you need to know. Nate Barringer came by. Turns out they were logging just over the crest of the hill above Beargrass Creek a few days ago, and one of the trees they’d cut somehow fell the wrong way. It hit an outcrop of stone and came on over. Arch Danhoff had nothing to do with Joe’s accident. His threats were empty.”

Adam just nodded distractedly and turned back to the staircase. As the strain of the morning faded, he had only one thought and that was to find Michaela. No matter how strongly he felt about justice, he couldn’t lose her.

In the silence that followed his father’s words, footsteps sounded in the hall above and she appeared at the top of the staircase, her eyes automatically seeking him. Hesitantly, she descended the steps to search his face, her fingers clutching nervously at the folds of her skirt.

Adam brushed one stray curl of hair away from her face, his expression suddenly tender. “Go change your clothes,” he said softly. “We’re going riding.”

She nodded, slipped from beneath his hand and retreated up the stairs. He had started to follow her when Lily stopped him.

“If you’re going riding,” she said, “I think we’d better fix that shoulder first.”

Ben’s eyes narrowed and Joe’s face illustrated his surprise. Lily rose and turned Adam toward the kitchen, pointedly using his right arm.

“Surely you didn’t miss that Adam’s been injured,” she said. “I suspect he’s very lucky his shoulder isn’t dislocated. Hop Sing should have some bandages. We’ll need to make a sling.”

<<<<<>>>>>

His left arm bound to his side, Adam was leading Conejo from the barn when Michaela burst from the front door, slid to a halt when she saw him, and adopted a ladylike walk. Guiding Conejo to the mounting block, he hoped that the run was a good sign.

“Your arm’s been hurt,” she said.

“It’ll heal.”

“Where’re we going?”

“Just follow me.” In his distraction he hadn’t given it a thought, but he swiftly decided on a quiet hillside that overlooked a little valley of aspens. It was nothing exciting or spectacular, but it provided stillness and solitude. Tying the horses to the branch of a fallen tree, they walked a little way down the hill, to a flat space, where he motioned her down and dropped into the grass beside her. For a few minutes, they just sat side by side, not looking at each other, listening to the faint sound of the wind and watching the sun on the leaves of the trees across the valley.

Adam propped his knees up in front of him and rested his arm on them. “I don’t want to lose you,” he said simply.

“I don’t want to lose you either,” she replied in a small voice.

“You’re not going to.” He gazed down at her then and made her meet his eyes. “Not even if you go on trying to shut me out.”

“I’m not doing that.”

“Mickey … don’t lie to me. Don’t tell me half-truths … don’t even just omit things. We have to be honest with each other.”

For a second, she seemed lost in the low, soothing tone of his voice. Finally, she nodded and Adam watched as her eyes filled with tears. She brushed them away.

“You’ve been shutting me out,” he continued carefully. “I think maybe you heard something Joe said.”

She nodded mutely, staring out at the grey stone peak across the valley.

He let out a long breath. “The fact is, it wasn’t true. Joe and I were having an argument. You know how things get said.”

She nodded again.

He touched her chin. “Why didn’t you come to me?”

“I knew you’d put me first.” She swallowed. “And then you’d have to not see me anymore. I’m sorry if I disappointed you.”

He would like to have put his arm around her, but she too had drawn her knees up in front of her. “You didn’t,” he said.

“It was hard, seeing you every night.”

He reached out to slide a hand over her hair. “It was hard for me, too. Talking is better.”

“I know, Adam. I really do know that now.” 

“Well, there’s something else you need to know. I don’t regret what I did today—but it was wrong. I should have stayed with you after all.”

She gazed up at him curiously. “But you needed to catch that man who beat up Brownie.”

He nodded. “Yes, we did.”

She frowned. “Then what d’you mean, Adam? That man is bad. He has to pay for what he did to Brownie. It’s only fair.”

“Yes, but remember when you and I discussed law and order? There’re ways we do things and ways we shouldn’t.”

“I don’t understand. You said you shouldn’t have done something, but you did it anyway.”

Adam plucked a long blade of grass and chewed it thoughtfully. “I haven’t got an answer, Michaela. I felt so strongly about catching the man who hurt Brownie that I did it … but that doesn’t make it right.”

She just sat silently. Adam could tell she was puzzled—and how could she not be? He wasn’t even sure how he felt. He couldn’t remember that he’d ever confused his feelings with his principles. Maybe, he realized, that was because he’d always adhered to his principles and today had been no different; this time, however, his feelings had clouded his vision of how to do it. But all of that was probably too complicated for a ten-year-old girl.

“I guess it’s the way we went about things,” he tried to explain. “Our intentions were good, but Joe went about it the wrong way and I did too.”

“Then what was the right thing to do?”

His lips curled upward ever so slightly. “That’s my girl; that’s the question I’m trying to answer. Even though what I did was legal, it was without the approval of the sheriff. This time it turned out to be unnecessary. Next time, who knows? It might be needed—in the end, there has to be justice. … I’m just wondering, if you go about it wrong, whether it’s worth a man’s life.”

Michaela looked at him earnestly. “It’s not worth your life.”

His eyes, as they rested on hers, were warm. “Sweetheart, if it comes to it, the basic principle of law and order is worth dying for, however you have to defend it. But …”

“What do you think?”

He had to clear his throat before he spoke. There was another element in his uncertainty now. “I think … if I’d died … that the idea of never seeing you again is unacceptable.”

Michaela reached out to touch his hand. “I don’t want it to be like it was before you were my friend.”

Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he pulled her to him. “I don’t want to be without you either.” He held her tight, as if she could disappear, wondering how he was ever going to right the balance in his life again. He’d thought he’d known his priorities, but now, he reflected, they all had changed.

She buried her face against him. “I was so afraid. I didn’t know how to get you back.”

He stroked her hair for a moment and then tipped up her face to make her look at him. “I’ll always be there for you.”

She lay her head against his heart again.

After a few moments, Michaela sat back and Adam stretched out in the grass, folding one arm behind his head. Overhead, the sky was a cloudless, piercing blue, and the countryside around them was silent.

“Adam?”

“H’m?”

“Are you gonna let me ride Sport?”

“Don’t push your luck, Mickey.”

Chapter Nine

It seemed that after Arch Danhoff was locked up, the Ponderosa breathed a great sigh of relief. The California guests had settled into the routine of the ranch, and with the acquaintances they’d made through Aurora Vance and the Culbertsons, had even begun to enjoy a social life beyond the boundaries of Cartwright land. On Monday, as Julia and Lily convinced Adam to drive them into town, Ben acknowledged that they’d become so familiar, they would leave a void when they went home—and it wouldn’t be just Lily. He pushed the unpleasant thought from his mind.

In the quiet of the empty house, he finished up paperwork at the desk before treating himself to a break with Balzac. He was surprised sometime later when Michaela descended from her bedroom.

“How’d you get out of the trip to town this morning?” he inquired.

“My project,” she replied, waving a collection of buff-colored pages. “I have to finish the story I’m writing for Adam before I go, so Mama let me stay home to work on it.”

“How’s it coming?”

“I’m almost done.” She wrinkled her brow. “Uncle Ben, I have a favor to ask … I really need to see the cattle herd again and watch the men work. Do you think—?”

He smiled. “I’ll be glad to take you out there. And, ah, should I assume we need to do this while Adam’s away?”

“It would be best.”

He set the book aside, trying to hide his sense of anticipation. He was definitely going to miss the presence of youth at the Ponderosa. They were just saddling up when Joe rode in and was persuaded to come with them.

Sitting back in his saddle, enjoying the easy rhythm of Buck’s lope, Ben felt so relaxed that for a moment he thought his lack of sleep lately was catching up with him. But it was nothing like that; it was simply that great tensions had faded out of him. He chuckled when Buck threw up his head and snorted, as carefree as Adam’s Sport. He checked the gelding at the top of a little hill overlooking the herd and listened as Joe volunteered to teach Michaela to cut cattle. Conejo already knew how, he assured her; she only had to learn to sit through the horse’s quick, nimble movements.

Her face was beaming. “May I, Uncle Ben?”

“You may—but you pay attention to what you’re doing, young lady.”

“I will, I promise!”

He smiled affectionately as they cantered away down the slope, and then proudly as Joe demonstrated the work for Mickey. Chubb was probably the best cutting horse on the ranch, but Hoss’ weight slowed him down, leaving the honor to Cochise. Today Joe rode a brown mare who eased into the herd and removed her chosen cow with little fuss. Buck, while he could handle cattle, was not as quick as he’d been when he was younger, and Sport’s legs were too long to squat down as low as the best cowponies did. That was the kindest thing he could say about the chestnut, but he couldn’t help shaking his head ruefully; against his will, he was coming to like Adam’s quirky, crazy horse simply because Michaela was so unimpeachably enthusiastic about him.

He was still there several minutes later when Michaela galloped back up the hill, her face flushed with pleasure.

“Did you see me, Uncle Ben? We got a cow! Conejo did it! It was such fun!” She turned the bay gelding parallel with Buck and reached down to pat his neck.

“I did indeed. We’ll be hiring you on before you know it.”

She grinned up at him, her eyes sparkling with such eagerness that his heart turned over. “Thank you for bringing me out here. It’s just what I needed to finish my story.”

“You have me very curious about this story. Would it be considered impolite to ask about it?”

“Oh, no, it’s not impolite. I’d love to tell you.” She eyed him hesitantly. “But you must say if you get bored. I won’t mind. You see, it begins when Roland comes to Nevada. You know Roland, our lead carriage horse—he’s smart and sensible and handsome, actually rather distinguished, kind of like you.”

Ben’s lips quivered.

“I promise, that’s not an insult to be compared to Roland, even if he is a horse. If he were a person, he’d probably be the president!”

“Michaela, Adam told me how you feel about Roland and I’m certainly not insulted. I thought you were being awfully flattering to me. Why does he come to Nevada?”

“That’s the trickiest part. I mean, it’s hard for horses to just do what they want. And so in my story, he’s been stolen and brought here, but he’s gotten away from his captors. As he’s trying to get home to San Francisco, he gets to know Nevada—well, actually, the Ponderosa, because he meets Sport and Conejo and Buck.”

“And what does he think of it here?”

“Oh, he loves it. How can you not love it?” she answered artlessly.

“Well, it’s certainly different from San Francisco.”

“Yes, and he notices that. But you see, Roland was born in England, in Yorkshire. He came to California on a ship, so it’s not like he’s never been out of the city.” She grinned. “Roland loves the ocean. It’s fun to watch him when he goes down near the shore; you can see how he likes the smell of it all.”

“Roland’s a very unusual horse,” Ben commented, leaning one elbow on the saddle horn and enjoying Michaela’s enthusiasm.

“Yes, of course he is. Well, anyway, each of the horses he meets teaches him something. Buck teaches him patience, because as perfect as Roland is, he does have his faults, and he isn’t always very patient. He learns that he can’t just have what he wants overnight.

“And then Conejo.” She smiled affectionately. “He teaches Roland to be persistent.  Roland’s used to having everything come easily, so Conejo teaches him that if something is really important to him, he must try and try and try for it. It’s like the fight for statehood; you just keep trying as hard as you can and finally you get it done. You never give up.”

Ben watched the child with interest, wondering where all the wisdom came from; kind and intelligent as each of her parents was, neither exhibited the kind of introspection their daughter did.

“But you mustn’t think it’s all about horses,” she continued. “There’s a bit about the owl that’s out every night, and the squirrel who lives in the barn.”

“I didn’t know we had a squirrel in the barn.”

“You do, a whole family of them actually. Brownie feeds them—well, I have since Brownie’s been hurt, because he’s trying to teach one tricks and it wouldn’t help if that one went out and got himself killed. And there’s a lot about the land here, too; while Sport and Buck and Conejo are teaching Roland all this stuff, they take him around and he sees all the beautiful places … the lake, the streams, the wildflowers … And he loves that funny rolling place on the way to the overlook.”

“Michaela, what a beautiful story.”

She shrugged self-consciously. “Oh, I don’t know. I just want Adam to know how much I like it here.”

“I imagine he knows that already, but just the fact that you’d write this for him will mean more than anything.” Ben’s eyes twinkled. “You haven’t told me what Roland learns from Sport, and I must admit, nothing comes to mind.”

Michaela giggled. “You’ll never really like Sport, will you? But he’s easy. From Sport, Roland learns about doing what pleases him.”

“I’ll just bet … How does it end? Does Roland get home to San Francisco?”

“No, because you see, a curious thing happens. He realizes that he doesn’t want to go back to San Francisco anymore, because he’s really home in Nevada.”

“Mickey,” Ben couldn’t help asking, “what do you mean when you say ‘home’?”

“I’ve given that a lot of thought and I’ve asked several people. They all say it’s where you live or where you were born, but I don’t think so. I don’t mean it can’t be those things, but I think it’s really what you love … where you love.”

“You mean, if you love a place very much, then it’s home?”

She nodded. “Yes, if you love it more than anyplace in the world. And sometimes a place is home because the people you love are there. I talked to Adam about it. I guess it’s just the one place in the world that’s a part of you. He says no matter where you are, it’s inside of you.”

“You have given this a lot of thought.”

“Yes.” Michaela looked at him solemnly. “I didn’t start out to. But I figured if I was going to write a story for Adam, it had to say something.” Her eyes began to dance. “But I’m going to put pictures in, too, in case he thinks the rest of it’s silly.”

“Michaela, you can trust me on this—Adam will not find your story silly.”

<<<<<>>>>>

Much against Ben’s will, the days flew by faster and faster. He began avoiding the calendar on his desk; when he came down on Tuesday morning, he was well aware that Lily had only eight days left in her visit, but he didn’t need to see it in print.

He was glad when it became clear at the breakfast table that something special was in the air for the day. Adam had been feeling better since his wrenched shoulder was on the mend, and no one could miss his enigmatic smile; Julia’s face was possessed with curiosity and Joe made an excuse to postpone his trip to the logging camp just so that he could see what was brewing. But Adam said nothing, behaving just as usual, and only Michaela seemed oblivious to the sizzle in the air.

“Aren’t we going for a ride, Adam?” she asked after they’d cleared the table, as everyone hovered in the great room, trying to look inattentive.

“Of course we are.” He dropped into one of the red chairs before he caught her eye. “But you’ll have to change your clothes.”

She stopped in front of him and glanced down at her habit in surprise. Her mother had insisted that she ride sidesaddle again, pointing out that she shouldn’t get so used to riding astride. “But Mama said—”

“I’m sure your mother will make an exception this once,” Adam said calmly. “The horse you’ll be riding today doesn’t wear a sidesaddle.”

The room fell completely silent as Michaela’s face scrunched in bewilderment, her eyes baffled until Adam’s lips quivered teasingly.

“Sport? Sport?” Michaela’s eyes flew open wide and her mouth dropped. Then she couldn’t control a huge grin as she threw herself at Adam, wrapping her arms around his neck. “You’re going to let me ride Sport? Really? Adam, I can’t believe it! I can ride Sport?”

He held her to him and laughed before he finally set her on her feet and swatted at her. “Only if you behave yourself. Now, go change your clothes.”

Michaela’s infectious excitement lit up the room. Joe cancelled his plans and offered to drive Julia so that she might watch her daughter ride, and Lily, with a meaningful glance at Ben, hastened upstairs to change into riding clothes as well.

“I suppose I’d better saddle some horses too,” Ben said dryly.

By the time Michaela and Lily came down, Sport, Buck and Skylark stood in the yard, along with the buggy Joe had hitched up. Robbie was throwing Adam’s saddle on a blood bay stallion named Orion who needed exercise.

Adam accompanied Michaela to the mounting block. “Now just be careful to sit up straight,” he told her. “Don’t lean too far forward over his neck; he has a tendency to throw his head, and I don’t want him breaking your nose.”

“Do you think this is safe?” Lily asked in a low voice as she joined Ben by Skylark’s side.

Ben glanced at Sport. The chestnut stood quietly, his head up and ears cocked toward the house. He wore an old English-type Somerset saddle the ranch had taken in on trade from an easterner, the only equipment small enough for Michaela but big enough to fit the gelding.

“I’ll trust Adam’s judgment,” he replied. “It’s not like Sport can’t be ridden—I’ve been on him and so has Joe. He’s just not long on manners.”

“I’ve seen horses take care of riders they could sense were vulnerable in some way.”

“So have I, although it’s not that Michaela’s a bad rider; actually, she’s excellent. It’s just that she’s not as strong or experienced as Adam, and Sport can sometimes be a handful.”

But that day, Sport was not a handful. Like a little boy in Bible class, the gelding was on his best behavior. He seemed to be paying attention to his young rider, responding to her different, more formal, riding style.

To accommodate the buggy, the party stayed on a wagon track or meadow for much of the ride. When Michaela grew restless with the sedate pace, she and Sport were allowed to gallop, but only with Adam and Orion by their side.

Watching Sport switching leads—reaching first with one foreleg and then the other—every few strides, Ben snorted in disgust. “He’d get away with that just once if I were riding him.”

Lily’s eyes twinkled. “You think a horse should be more—disciplined?”

He shot her a glance. “Of course I do. We have a working ranch here, not a circus.” He nodded approvingly as Michaela put Sport on the correct lead and kept him there, but before he could say more, the buggy rolled up beside them.

“Oh, Ben, I don’t think anything could have made her trip more special,” Julia sighed. “She’s been begging to ride that horse the entire time we were here; I actually should have insisted she mind her manners.”

“Yeah, but manners won’t get you very far with Adam,” Joe deadpanned. “You have to be persistent. It’s that hard Yankee head of his.”

“Well, it’s very good of him.”

But it was apparent that Adam was having nearly as much fun as Michaela. Ben realized with a sudden pang that he hadn’t seen Adam smile that much in a long time.

“I don’t see what all the fuss is about!” Michaela laughed. “He’s a big lamb!”

“And he’d better stay that way,” Adam rejoined.

“But I still want to ride him fast—a real run! Just once, Adam? Please?”

Adam cocked an eyebrow at her, clearly preparatory to saying “no.”

“Please? I promise I’ll be extra-careful and not take any chances.”

“Michaela, I know you’ll be careful, but that’s not—”

“Please, Adam.” She pleaded with her eyes.

He sighed. “All right. Just down to that big pine at the end of the pasture, there.”

It was obvious that Michaela thought they should be able to go farther, but the look on Adam’s face told her not to ask for more. She turned Sport to canter a circle or two, calling playfully, “Will you race us?”

“No, I won’t. Now you pay attention to what you’re doing.”

She stuck her tongue out at him, a gesture fortunately missed by her mother, who was talking to Joe.

They all turned to watch Michaela, who suddenly squeezed Sport with her knees as she shifted her weight forward and leaned close to his neck. The big chestnut flung his tail delightedly as he bolted away, the grass providing a cushion that was level, and he gathered speed as the meadow opened before him.  He ran with a fluid ease and Michaela rode him that way, tuned to his movements as if she’d ridden him a hundred times before.

At the old pine tree near the end of the pasture, she sent him in a graduated turn that allowed for his momentum as they altered direction, but even at a distance, her gallery of observers could tell that Sport didn’t need a competitor that day. No one could have caught him. He was like a flame as he came around the big old tree, unfurled his long red legs and devoured the ground under him, his tail streaming out behind and Michaela caught like a wisp in his mane.

And for a fleeting instant, Ben saw Sport as Adam and Michaela did. It was impossible, he knew, but somehow the horse seemed to be all business and all play at the same time. His nostrils were blown wide with the effort, his head bobbing rhythmically as his legs simply reeled in the grass before him. It was mesmerizing.

Then the pair flashed past and Michaela sat up in the saddle, slowing Sport gradually. No one spoke until Joe finally murmured, “Good thing you didn’t race her, brother. You’d a-had a hard time winning.”

Ben glanced at Adam. His son’s lips curved just barely into a smile. He couldn’t be unimpressed with Michaela’s performance, Ben thought, and then realized that no, it was the opposite. Adam was so moved that with his natural reserve, he appeared even more matter-of-fact than usual.

“How’d we do?” Michaela’s face was bright, her eyes sparkling as she brought Sport to a stop beside Adam. “He’s wonderful, Adam! It’s the most fun I’ve ever had in my whole life!”

“That was fine, sweetheart,” he replied.

But Michaela was staring into Adam’s eyes and Ben knew she read beyond the conservative words. He transferred his gaze to Sport, who stood alertly, pleased with himself and ready to do it again. But there was something else, too; it was apparent from the kind cast of the gelding’s dark, mobile gaze that he would never try to hurt the child.

Ben couldn’t help shaking his head. Sport had admitted only two people into his equine world, but when he gave his heart away, he did it completely and without reserve.

“I never thought I’d say this,” he said for Lily’s ears alone, “but I’m actually beginning to like Sport.”

Her eyes glimmered. “After that, it’s hard not to. He’s lovely with Mickey—and she’s wonderful with him.” She glanced at Michaela, who was giggling happily, her face flushed and her eyes alight. “‘Thy soul was like a star, and dwelt apart,’” she murmured. “‘Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea: pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free …’”

“Milton,” Adam said quietly.

“Written about John Milton—”

“By Wordsworth.”

Ben watched the sudden recognition that passed between Lily and Adam. Milton. He’d forgotten that the writer who’d been Elizabeth’s favorite—from whom had come the inspiration for Adam’s name—was a favorite of Lily’s as well. It had been so long ago that she’d mentioned it, long before he’d guessed she would ever be more than a charming acquaintance.

Lily held his son’s gaze. “But rather appropriate for a girl like Mickey, don’t you agree?”

Adam finally let a smile warm his face. “I do, indeed.”

<<<<<>>>>>

After that, it seemed to Ben that Adam and Michaela were rarely apart—just as he spent little time away from Lily. The days were slipping away and somehow it did no good to remind himself that future trips would be arranged. He found it increasingly difficult to sleep as well, as if something inside of him protested at losing any waking hours. On Thursday night he was especially restless, listening to the grandfather clock chime midnight, and then the quarters until one, and finally one-fifteen and one-thirty. Disgustedly, he threw back the covers and grabbed his dressing gown. Perhaps a cup of tea or a brandy would help.

Outside his door, the hall was quiet—remarkably so, without Hoss’ symphony of snoring. He descended the stairs, surprised to find a lamp burning in the kitchen and Adam at the table with the remains of a sandwich and a glass of wine.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Adam asked rhetorically.

“No, I thought a cup of tea might help.” But eyeing the bottle on the table, he poured himself a glass of claret.

For a few moments they occupied a comfortable silence, each lost in his own thoughts, until finally Adam spoke. “Y’know, it’ll be good to get back to work, but it’s sure gonna seem strange when they go home.”

“M’m.”

Adam’s lips only suggested a grin, but his eyes were alight with humor. “How soon’re you going to San Francisco?”

Ben frowned, started to phrase a retort, and then sighed. “Not soon enough. The statehood convention begins July fourth.”

“Ah.” Adam considered the matter. “Why do I have the feeling that no time could be soon enough?”

A moment passed and then Ben replied, “Because you’d be right.”

“You know she loves you.”

“And I love her.”

“Are you going to ask her to marry you?”

“When the time is right.” Ben heard himself with a start and then realized that he wasn’t surprised. The only question had been when. He smiled crookedly. “Yes … yes, I am. But I don’t want to scare her. I want to make sure I get the right answer.”

“Is there any doubt?”

“She’s a woman, son. You never really know what they’re going to do.”

Adam’s eyes twinkled. “According to Immanuel Kant, ‘The desire of a man for a woman is not directed at her because she is a human being, but because she is a woman. That she is a human being is of no concern to him.’”

Instead of laughing, Ben grew thoughtful. “There’s a great deal to that … and maybe that’s how I know Lily’s different. Your mother, Hoss’ …  Joe’s … they were all not only women to me, but human beings as well. Lily’s like that.”

Adam rose to set his plate beside the sink and returned to his chair. “I’ve always wondered why you never married again,” he said. “Lord knows you had enough opportunity. I just assumed it was because you never found the right woman.”

“That’s why.” Ben looked into his son’s eyes. “You know, it’s funny. The good Lord’s never allowed me to keep wives, but he gave me sons. I’ll be eternally grateful for that … but the day I don’t need a woman in my life is still a long time coming.”

“The right one’s hard to find, though, isn’t she?”

Ben’s face softened in understanding. “I’m convinced of one thing, and that’s that you can’t go out looking for her. She’s a blessing—a gift. You can only receive her.” He grinned wryly. “And if life is as it usually is, your gift turns up at the most unexpected time.”

Adam nodded and glanced away. Unobserved, Ben watched his son. I want that for you, son, he thought. I want you to know the completeness of it … it’s like finding a missing part of your soul. He sighed. How did you explain that? How could you ever convey the contentment of it?

“I wish I could put it into words,” he said. “The most beautiful part of loving the right woman is something that you can’t possibly know until you’ve experienced it. Of course there’re all kinds of drawbacks—knowing she worries about you when you’re perfectly all right, finding corsets and chemises among your socks and shirts … arguing over the most inane matters … having to put up with her being irritable or moody or downright strange once a month.” He smiled hopefully. “With any luck, Lily’s past that now. At any rate, it’s all worth it.”

His mind drifted, again remembering his wives, wondering how Lily fit in. She led him sometimes, just as she followed him others; in the end, although it might never be apparent in public, she was his equal partner. Inside himself, he smiled. Had he come full circle? It was like coming home … after all these years.

He roused himself to find Adam studying him curiously. “Well, it’s a wonderful feeling.”

Adam drained his glass. “I believe you.”

<<<<<>>>>>

In spite of the late night, Ben and Adam were both up early. With the crew two men short, they met after breakfast to make sure that the ranch operations were still on schedule. Ben spread a map of the Ponderosa on his desk and they evaluated the tasks on their list.

On the settee with a ladies’ magazine, Lily listened distractedly to the business discussion.

“I’m assuming Donovan’s having no problems at the mine, and none of us’ll need to be up there,” Ben said, his voice a little sharp.

“He’s fine,” Adam replied, “and Sparky says he’s a day or two ahead with the crops. If we want to pull a couple of guys off there to help with something else, we can, but they’re not cowmen, so I don’t know that it would do us any good.”

“Nice that someone’s ahead of schedule! Did Daggett and Jake get the lengths of chain delivered up to the logging camp?”

Adam shook his head. “No—”

“And why not?”

“I’m don’t know; I guess something came up.” Adam regarded his father with interest, wondering if the lack of sleep was catching up with him. “They’re gonna do that today.”

“Have you talked to Nate? Are they on track?”

“I talked to him four days ago. He said they were running a little behind—that rain really soaked the Beargrass Creek area. But he figured to be caught up by now.”

“I hope they’ve gotten over felling trees in the wrong direction and trying to kill people! …  So as long as Joe got the new horses moved over there, we’re all right. Tom needs to shift cattle to the north meadow today and tomorrow. We’ll need everyone for that.”

“I think we’re in good shape, Pa. I can help Tom, too, if need be.”

“I’d hate for you to miss time with Michaela—”

“I’ll take her with me. We’ll just be moving them and if she stays close, she’ll be fine.”

Just then there was a brief knock at the door and Tom Gentry, foreman of the cattle operation, came in.

“Morning, Ben—Adam,” he said. “I thought I’d just check before we go to movin’ the herd this mornin’. You still want that done?”

Ben’s brows furrowed. “Why wouldn’t we, Tom?”

“Well, sir, the horses’ve still gotta be moved. I wondered should I send Curley and Hargate and Steve over to do that, ’cause if I do, I could use a few more hands for the drive.”

“Joe didn’t move the herd to Beargrass Creek?”

“No, sir.”

For a second, silence hung heavily in the room and then Ben said acidly, “No, Tom, you boys go on and move the herd. I’ll find out what the story is with the horses.”

“Yes, sir.”

Watching from the corner of her eye, Lily saw the front door close behind Gentry just as Adam said, “Pa, now calm down. You know there’s a reason if Joe didn’t move the horses.”

“Like that little Sara Spencer over at the Flying J?”

“Come on.  Joe might be sweet on her, but he wouldn’t forget his work over it—at least not now, when we’ve taken so much time off.”

“Can you be sure of that?” Ben’s anger was evident. “Just when you think he’s grown up enough to be treated like a man, he pulls a fool stunt that’s enough to—”

“Pa—”

“Adam, I’d suggest you get Michaela and head on out with Tom. I’ll take care of Joseph when he comes in. We’ll move the horses tomorrow, even if I have to do it myself—but you can be very sure it’ll be the last time your brother gets away with something like this.”

Adam shook his head and went to get his gunbelt and hat. At the door, he paused as if he would say something more, but one look at his father’s face stopped him. He shook his head again and left. In the silence, Ben grunted discontentedly, rolled up the map and shoved it into the bookcase.

“At the moment, I could throttle Joseph,” he muttered, moving over to pace between the settee and the stairs. “He wanted more responsibility and I gave it to him, and look what happens!”

Lily’s lips quivered. “You’re being a little hard on him, aren’t you? He may have an explanation for it.”

Ben grimaced. “Joe can be a very good worker—or he can be distracted. You saw him at the wedding reception with that pretty little blonde girl. He’s been wanting to get over to see her for days now.”

Her eyes twinkled. “And he may still be wanting to.”

“More likely he just has a short memory for work!”

“Oh, Ben—”

He stopped abruptly. “My dear, with all due respect, I know you like Joseph and he’s fine young man. But you don’t know how aggravating he can be sometimes, and this is one of those times.”

“Oh, I imagine he can be very aggravating,” she agreed reasonably and rose to join him. “But you haven’t even considered—”

He turned away. “Lily, this isn’t the time for you to start explaining my family to me.”

“I wouldn’t think of it, but don’t you think you’re going just a bit overboard here?”

“A bit overboard? Are you telling me I don’t know my own sons?” he bit out, his voice rising as he jerked around to look at her. His eyes smoldered with frustration.

Lily halted, blinking in surprise. “No, of course not. But even I know enough about Joe to know there may be a reason, and you do too, if you’ll just think about it. So what’s this all about?”

“What d’you mean, what’s it all about? I’m angry that my youngest son, who should know better, can’t be counted on to get his work done! There’s nothing complicated about that!”

“But Ben, are you listening to yourself?”

For a second, it appeared that he would snap at her again, but then he stopped and took a deep breath, the anger slowly dying out of his eyes. “I’m sorry, Lily,” he said gruffly. “You’re right—I got carried away. The last thing I want to do is fight with you.”

“That’s all right; don’t worry about it. People fight.”

“I’d rather not.”

She ran her hand up his arm. “Ben, what’s going on? What’s really bothering you?”

He met her gaze and she saw a sort of helplessness rise in his dark brown eyes. “You’re right again … it has nothing to do with Joe,” he answered softly. His hands closed on her shoulders. “It has to do with putting you on a stage Wednesday morning. Marry me, Lily.”

Looking up at him, she lost her breath and for a moment the room swirled.

“You already have my heart,” he said. “I want you to take my name as well.”

“Ben—” She struggled to organize her thoughts. She’d known—hoped—that this would happen sometime, but its suddenness took her completely off guard. It was a second before she realized that he was waiting for her answer, his eyes an anxious reflection of his hope, his love, his vulnerability—all the sensitivity that complemented his strength. She had no need to keep him waiting. “Yes … yes, of course, I’ll marry you. I love you.”

His hands dropped to pull her against him, and beneath her cheek, she could feel his heart pounding wildly as she wrapped her arms around him as well. For a few minutes they just leaned into each other, until at last he stood back to see her face. His eyes were so bright that she nearly lost her breath again, and she was sure that hers looked the same.

“I was planning something much more special,” he said huskily, “and I have to apologize for the rather sudden nature—”

She shifted a finger to silence his lips. “Never apologize for a proposal.”

“I thought perhaps champagne and flowers … you deserve that.”

“I don’t need champagne and flowers,” Lily replied. She kissed his cheek gently. “I just need you.”

<<<<<>>>>>

Julia, who’d been visiting Aurora Vance for the day, was the first to return in the evening, followed shortly by Adam and Michaela. Lily and Ben were in the great room, having spent the day in blissful disregard of everything but themselves, something Lily found humorous in light of Ben’s earlier discourse on Joe’s irresponsibility. On a ride to their favorite overlook, they’d settled much of the immediate future, while the late afternoon had been devoted to longer-term plans, a conversation frequently interrupted by kisses that would have to be withheld when the rest of the family returned.

Adam, hanging up his hat as Michaela went upstairs to change, directed a quick, inquiring glance at Lily, but she offered only an enigmatic smile.

“Joe back yet?” he asked, dropping into the blue chair.

“Not yet,” Ben answered easily.

Adam’s eyebrows rose inquisitively, but Lily ignored him.

It wasn’t long before Joe arrived.

“Where were you off to today?” Julia asked him innocently.

“Over to the Flying J.” He smiled breezily, his eyes alight. “Figured it was about time I paid a call on Sara Spencer.”

Adam and Lily crossed glances and closed their eyes.

“How nice,” Julia remarked. “She was very pleasant at the reception.”

The utter silence as Adam and Lily stared at the fireplace, the table, the ceiling and off into space—anyplace except at Ben, Joe or each other—was like another presence in the room. Even Joe caught the unusual atmosphere.

“Something going on?” he inquired.

Ben cleared his throat. “I seem to remember something about moving the new horses to Beargrass Creek.”

“Oh, yeah. Skates and Jackie and I are gonna do that tomorrow morning. I was talkin’ to Nate; his crew was finishing up on that stretch of ridge right above the pasture today.” He caught the gathering thundercloud of his father’s expression and swallowed. “An’—an’ those horses, Pa, I don’t know if you’ve taken a look at them, but they’re pretty wild. …  Well, I had this vision—you know—horses and—and trees falling … and  … well, it didn’t look too pretty to me. So I thought maybe we should wait till the loggers got out o’ there.”

Adam winked at Lily and she chewed her lip to prevent a grin. Joe’s eyes were beautifully guileless, but the better show was Ben’s face as his temper faded into confusion. “Well, son … that was good thinking.” A slow flush crept over his cheeks.

“And I know I probably should have come back and helped Tom with the herd, Pa—I’m sorry. It was just such a pretty day, and it’d been a while since I’d seen Sara, and I knew Tom had it under control.”

“No, no—that was quite all right. Tom was fine, and Adam and Michaela helped as well. No, it was all right that you took a little time off.”

“Thanks.” Joe grinned. “Well, I’d better get cleaned up for dinner—”

If he heard the hoots and shouts of laughter that burst out as soon as he’d disappeared upstairs, he didn’t turn around to find out what they were all about.

Chapter Ten

Saturday. A day to get away, Ben decided, and planned a picnic with Lily in the meadow on the Divide. He packed the little trunk that fit on the back of the buggy with blankets and cushions, and directed Hop Sing to assemble a basket of food.

Turning the vehicle into the large, rolling meadow, Ben smiled to himself again. It was a day with no cares and no obligations.  He guided the horse over the grass until a stand of pines obscured the road, and then pulled up under an old aspen next to a stream. While he unhooked and hobbled the mare, Lily set out the blankets and cushions and picnic basket. The temperature had risen considerably, making the light breeze which stirred the tree leaves welcome.

Ben removed his vest and folded it on the seat of the buggy, tossed his hat after it, and sank down on the blanket next to Lily. As she stared down the meadow, he stole a glance at her; dressed in her olive skirt and a white shirtwaist, her hair caught up in back, she had a classic, timeless look about her.

“Can you imagine a more perfect day?” she murmured and turned to look at him. “I know they won’t always be like this. I know that normal days at the Ponderosa aren’t holidays … but that just makes ones like this all the more special, don’t you think?”

He leaned back on a pillow she had propped against the tree. “I do. I wish I could say that everyday would be a holiday.”

“I don’t,” she responded. “I rather like life as it really is.”

He smiled. “You won’t mind if I take a little more time for us than I’ve taken for myself, will you?”

“No, of course not,” she laughed.

Ben looked out across the stream and the meadow to the slopes of trees beyond. “Things are changing, Lily,” he finally said, “just as we talked about in San Francisco. Hoss has a wife. I’m seeing Adam begin to open up a little. And Joe may sometimes be as wild as a young mustang, but he’s becoming a very strong man, like his brothers. I’m proud of him.”

He glanced back at her and smiled. “I’m finding that with you here, instead of wondering where all that leaves me, I welcome it—as, of course, I should.”

Lily moved closer to run her palm over the front of his shirt. “And you see how they’ll always need you.”

He nodded. “It looks that way—and I’ll always be there for them.” His lips twitched in a smile. “But I’m also learning to appreciate time to myself. Time with you.”

“I’m glad you feel that way.”

“Believe me, it’s my pleasure.” He grew contemplative. “What do you want? What’s important to you?”

She giggled. “Right now, if I had my druthers, I’d take my shoes off. Very simple and most improper, but there you are.”

He chuckled. “I think that’s allowed.” He watched as she struggled with the line of tiny buttons on each shoe and then stripped off her hosiery and wiggled her toes in the cool grass.

“You men have it so much easier with your boots,” she said and tucked her feet under her skirt. “And to answer your question, I have no great desires or plans of my own. If we hadn’t met, I probably would have carried on in San Francisco and tried to do something worthwhile for people who need it. But that’s because after Howard died, I had no mission in life.”

She smiled sheepishly. “I was raised to take care of a man—of my husband, whoever he may be. I’ve been lucky that the men I’ve loved have been the sort that I’d want to care for and support and put first.” She shrugged. “Don’t think that means I haven’t a thought of my own, because I do. I’ll argue with you all I want if I feel like it … but I don’t expect I’ll feel like it much.”

“Why is that? It’s not like you haven’t your own opinions. I’m sure there’ll be times that we’ll not agree at all.”

“I’m sure, too. But Ben, at this point in my life, so many things I’d once have argued about just aren’t that important. I don’t mind that we won’t always agree.” She smiled straight into his eyes. “And if I didn’t already know that you value my opinions and my feelings, I wouldn’t be marrying you.”

“You don’t mind that life here doesn’t have many of the conveniences of San Francisco? You could keep your house there, you know. I’m not insisting you sell it.”

She shook her head. “I don’t need a foot in both worlds; my life is here now—although I’ll enjoy going back to visit friends now and then. And as for the house, I was going to sell it anyway. It’s too big.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yes, I do, and thank you. But I choose to look ahead to Virginia City, rather than back at San Francisco.” She shot him a questioning glance. “Are you quite sure you’re ready for me? For a woman in the house?”

“Is there something about you I don’t know?”

“All kinds of things.”

Ben’s eyebrows met in consideration. “Tell me the worst and see if you can change my mind.”

“Well … I’m very sentimental—I cry at the drop of a hat. But then I guess you already know that.”

Quite well.”

“Um … it’s hard to predict what I’ll spend money on. Sometimes I’m shockingly profligate and other times I’m quite the miser.”

“We’ll survive.”

“I can’t cook at all.”

“We have Hop Sing.”

“Sometimes I sleep late.”

“I’ll either be quiet when I leave”—his eyes twinkled—“or I’ll give you something to wake up for.”

She reached out to run her fingertips lightly over his lips. “I love you so much.”

He clasped her hand, turning it outward to kiss her palm. “And I love you. We’ll learn to live with our differences, Lily,” he said and pulled her down beside him.

At first they just lay together, her head resting on his shoulder, her arm curled over his abdomen. He dropped a kiss into her hair, indulging in the feel of her body along his and listening to the light whisper of the wind in the trees as the minutes slipped lazily by. It had been so many years since he’d known this kind of peace, he thought … and then realized that such a peace was fragile. Already, the feel of her was setting fires within him.

He kissed her forehead. “Perhaps we’d better have lunch,” he said, amused at the slight hoarseness in his voice.

She pushed against his chest to sit up. “I think that’s a very good idea.” She opened the picnic basket and burst into laughter. “There’s enough here for four people—or Hoss.”

“Hop Sing wants to make sure you get enough to eat.”

“He’s done that only too well,” she said ruefully and filled two plates, while Ben opened a bottle of burgundy.

They lingered over the food and the wine, their conversation low and languid, all the more valued because they didn’t feel they had to include everything in one afternoon. There would be other days for their discussions, other times to exchange their opinions.

Finally Lily forced herself to rise. “I’ve eaten nearly as much as Hoss,” she said. “Let me clear these dishes, and then shall we take a walk?”

“Good idea,” Ben agreed, corking what was left of the wine while she carried their plates to rinse them in the stream. They stowed the remains of the food and set off along the bank hand in hand.

Glancing down at the woman beside him, Ben smiled reflectively. “Now just tell me … when we met last September, would you ever have guessed that by summer, you’d be walking barefoot by a Nevada stream with me?”

“Oh, my! No, I’m afraid not.” She glanced up at him. “But I did think you were terribly impressive, so I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised at anything that might happen with you. Don’t think too much about that day, will you, please? I believe I was a bit better groomed than I am today.”

Ben’s eyes gleamed. Yes, that day she’d been impeccably groomed, her yellow silk dress the embodiment of elegance. Today wisps of auburn hair floated in the air around her face, her blouse was open at the collar and her feet were bare. He liked each version equally well.

They returned at last to the aspen, lunch settled but Lily still protesting that she was too full and it was all Hop Sing’s fault.

“Why don’t you try a little more impropriety?” Ben suggested. “Take off your corset.”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly.”

“Why not?”

She blinked. “Really?”

“Of course.”

“Well, I suppose … and it’s not really that improper—I mean, you might not even notice. I wear a French corset, because it’s the most comfortable of these dreadful things, but it leaves rather little to the imagination, so going without …”

“I’ve noticed,” he informed her dryly. The French corset was cut under her bustline, allowing for the natural shape of her breasts, rather than pressing them back or up as ordinary undergarments did. Even before their encounter in the meadow, it had played havoc with his concentration.

“Well, then, turn around.”

“Lily!”

“Oh, that’s right,” she giggled. “We’re going to be married …”

“Not to mention that you have on your chemise—unless that’s a French edition as well.”

“No, it’s regular American. Perfectly concealing.”

Even so, nothing quite prepared him for the sight of Lily in the simple act of unbuttoning her blouse. The jolt of adrenalin that flooded through him brought a flush to his face. Perhaps it was knowing that he would see it again, that it would become familiar—and that he would know, intimately, what it would reveal—but he felt the flame of excitement as surely as if he’d held her in his arms.

She glanced up to catch him watching her and their gazes locked. Her eyes glazed slightly and her lower lip dropped, just marginally, but enough to send a further ripple of desire through Ben. He let out a long, slow breath and she turned back to her blouse, allowing it to fall open so that she could struggle with the front closure of the corset.

“I must hold my breath!” she complained, trying, he knew, to distract them both.

The corset fastened with five hooks; he could only assume that its laces were in back. But he couldn’t care less. His eyes were riveted to the swell of her breasts, outlined by the thin chemise, and his palms suddenly felt hot.

At last the final clasp opened and Lily removed the corset, flinging it to the buggy seat. But Ben was still entranced with the smooth expanse of her skin above the chemise, the shadow of demarcation between her breasts, the slender ribbon on the front of the garment. And he knew a longing so fierce that he nearly cried out.

“Lily,” he finally breathed.

She swallowed. “We’re alone, Ben.”

He glanced around them … to the mountain slopes, down the emerald meadow to the forest beyond, to the cloudless blue sky. There was only the sound of the mare as she swished her tail indolently, but otherwise, the silence was ethereal. The Ponderosa was at its most beautiful—the one place on earth that he belonged as nowhere else.

“And we’re home,” he said, his passion for her clear in his gaze.

He would remember that moment for the rest of his life; it was almost as if it were a dream. The late afternoon sun was golden behind her as she reached up to loosen the white satin ribbon … and slowly the thin cotton panels separated, weightless in the somnolent air. All he was aware of was Lily, her cobalt eyes wide, her lips full with the need to kiss.

There was only one more way to make her his, and finally, the time was right.

<<<<<>>>>>

They stayed late in the meadow that day, far into the long summer twilight. It was their last real time alone together, beyond a few stolen kisses and the occasional late-night walk, as the day of Lily’s departure approached.

In no time it was Wednesday morning, and they were standing on the sidewalk by the freight office, waiting for the stage to be brought around from the livery stable. Joe escorted Julia to make a last minute purchase for her husband at the tobacconist’s shop, while Adam and Michaela dealt with their own apprehension at the coming separation.

Saying good-bye—even ‘so long’—was the worst part of any visit, Ben concluded. It would be easier if Lily could just get on the stage now and leave; they’d already said their private farewells, and standing around only made it more difficult. She was as edgy and distracted as he was.

He turned to her. In the public street, he couldn’t even hold her hand, let alone put his arms around her. He knew it would be no more than a couple of months before he saw her again, but for some reason he couldn’t seem to focus on that. He could only consider how empty the house was going to be when they rode back to the Ponderosa and she was not there.

More to make conversation than anything else, he asked her in a low voice if she knew what had happened to Michaela’s story. “She showed me a little of it,” he said. “Do you know when she’s going to give it to him?”

“No, I don’t, Ben,” Lily replied. “Perhaps she didn’t finish it—you know how she wants it to be perfect. She can always send it back from San Francisco.”

“Yes. Yes, I suppose.” Silence fell again between them.

“Stage is coming,” Adam said suddenly, and sure enough, the big red coach of the Overland line appeared with a clatter of hooves and harness. The wardrobe trunks having been forwarded a few days before, he reached for the carpet bags on the rear seat of the surrey and helped the freight agent load them in the vehicle’s canvas boot.

Disregarding convention, Ben took Lily’s hands. “I’ll come to San Francisco the moment the statehood convention is over,” he told her, even though she knew it already.

“I’ll expect you,” she answered in a hushed voice, her eyes beginning fill. Impatiently, she brushed them away and tried to smile. “But don’t you dare neglect the Ponderosa. It’s going to be my home, too, and I won’t appreciate it.”

He allowed a small, wistful grin, the pain of missing her already welling up within him. “I’ll do my best.”

“And if you have a moment, perhaps you’ll drop me a line to let me know how the convention goes.”

“Of course.”

“We can’t have Adam and Michaela providing all the mail between Virginia City and San Francisco.”

“No …” He sighed deeply, reining in his emotions for the simple reason that he knew she was trying to be strong for him too. He drew himself up, lifted one of her hands to his lips and kissed it. “I’ll be all right, my dear, but I’ll be thinking of you every day. Take good care of yourself, and I’ll be there to do that myself just as soon as possible.”

Julia was already aboard the stage, wedged next to a sour-looking woman of some proportion. Ben leaned down to kiss Lily on the cheek and then handed her in to sit at the window across from Julia. He was watching her when he saw her eyes widen, and followed her gaze to see Joe walk over the mare he’d been riding since Cochise’s injury. His son withdrew a rectangular package from his saddlebag, and with a conspiratorial wink, handed it to Michaela. She turned shyly to Adam.

“This is for you,” she said, holding it out to him. “Please don’t open it till I’m gone.”

Adam stared at it curiously, his long fingers encompassing the parcel as gently as they would hold a small animal.

“What is it?” he inquired, his voice low. Behind him, the freight agent called for everyone to get on board. Adam ignored the order, his eyes intent on Michaela’s. He could feel the import of the gift—obviously it meant a great deal to her.

“Just a present,” she said, struggling to be casual. “Just something I wanted you to have.” Tentatively, she smiled up at him. “Even if you don’t like it, I hope you’ll know how much I’ve loved it here.”

“And I hope you understand how much I’ve loved having you here,” he replied. “I’m going to have to trust you to know that I’ll value this.”

“Yes.” She blinked suddenly and flushed, and turned to the stagecoach. “I have to go now.”

“Not so fast.” He tipped up her chin. “I’ll see you before long—and I expect a letter when you get home. Got that?”

She nodded mutely.

“Then give me a good-bye kiss.” He bent down and she stood on her toes to brush a kiss across his cheek. “And a smile.”

She grinned finally and giggled. “You sure are bossy.”

“That’s my girl.”

A few minutes later the driver called to the horses and the stage lurched forward. A couple of folks in front of the freight office waved good-bye as it lumbered down the street and Joe, Ben and Adam watched until it turned the corner and disappeared from view.

“Aren’t you gonna open your present, Adam?” Joe asked when they’d returned to the surrey. He tried to suppress the anticipation in his smile.

Adam just stared at the gift, his face a study in concentration. “Yeah.” But he climbed into the surrey without loosening the ribbon, holding the package gingerly. Through the paper covering, he couldn’t tell what was inside and he wondered what could have been so important to Michaela that she wouldn’t let him open it in front of her.

The surrey swayed suddenly as Ben pulled himself up into the seat beside him. “Well, son, I don’t think it’s going to bite you.”

Adam smiled briefly, unfastened the tie and folded back the wrapping. A thin leather volume stared up at him, bound on the left with a strip of rawhide. A folded piece of paper was tucked into the lacing.

Dear Adam

Thank you for a lovely holiday. I wrote this story so you would know that your Sierras are my favorite place on earth.

Love, Michaela

His eyes began to burn. He opened the cover and flipped through the neatly-cut stack of pages, realizing he’d seen her writing them, remembering all the times that she’d shuffled them away from his view. The schoolgirl Spenserian was uniform and precise, closely penned and augmented by tiny ink sketches of their favorite places … the undulating alley of trees, the vista of mountain peaks, the aspen at the Havana Divide, the tall pine where she’d raced Sport. At the beginning was a simple little watercolor of the first place he’d taken her, the magnificent view of Lake Tahoe.

“She was quite concerned that you’d like this,” Ben said quietly.

“Like it?” Adam managed.

Ben glanced at Joe, not surprised to see that his younger son’s eyes were glistening.

Adam ran a finger over the watercolor and transferred his gaze to the facing page. Chapter One. When Roland got his first look at Lake Tahoe, he couldn’t figure out where the water ended and the sky began, or the sky ended and the water began, or how come there were more trees than he had ever seen anywhere in his life.

Sitting beside him, Ben watched his son, waiting for him to go back to the message which was, in a father’s view, most important. “I know Adam feels this way, and I’m doing the story for him,” Michaela had told him when she’d written it, “but I think it’s really true for all of you.”

At last Adam realized that he’d skipped the opening sheets and turned the pages back to the beginning. His dark hazel eyes rose to meet his father’s and then returned to the dedication.

To Adam, he read, for whom the Ponderosa will always be home.

Epilogue

The sky was a clear, faultless blue, windswept with the chill of autumn. Despite the fact that he was late to meet his sons—two o’clock at the hill facing Monument Peak—Ben slowed Buck. They’d been pushing the whole way from the house, and the big buckskin needed a breather. He leaned down to slap the horse’s neck, shrugging a little farther into his heavy jacket as a sharp breeze reminded him that it was the first week in November. Nevada had been a state for six days now. Lily had been his wife for a little more than a month. Life was settling into its new routine.

Allowing Buck to walk through the dry grass of a deserted meadow, he let his mind drift idly back over the past few months. Despite his fears, the summer of 1864 had passed quickly. He hadn’t just dropped Lily an occasional line about the statehood convention, he recalled with a mental grin. He’d written to her nearly every day, relieving his loneliness by spending time with her in his mind, granting himself a respite from the hectic business of politics.

My dear, sometimes I despair of our ever accomplishing our goals. It is not that anyone opposes Mr. Lincoln so much as they simply want to argue. Do you think this is just a part of human nature, that we cannot seem to agree on the smallest things?

Or Darling Lily, are you sure you will want the vote? Here you ladies will be able to cast your ballot on a free and equal basis with your men, and the first thing you are likely to discover is that there are no good candidates to vote for!  At least Jim Nye will be running for the Senate, which ensures there will be one fine man among all the disappointing ones. 

Or finally, in late July, My dear, thank heavens the end is in sight, and perhaps it will not be as bad as I had feared. Jim has held us all together and I believe we will prevail on our most important points. It is, however, disheartening to know that it is stamina and not reason that is carrying the day.

He laughed at himself as he recalled his trip to San Francisco when the convention was over. The three-day journey had never taken so long. He’d felt like a small child before Christmas and he’d probably acted like one too.

He’d stayed with Aubrey and Julia, grateful that they were such good friends they paid no attention to his comings and goings, because he’d spent most of his time with Lily. And he’d been just as grateful that Aubrey already had begun to extricate her from her San Francisco holdings. By the time he’d returned home in late August, her house had been sold and much of her furniture either sold or packed for transport to the Ponderosa. Some would be used in their new bedroom, some went to Hoss and Eleanor, and still more was carried with great effort to a storeroom, where it would be available when Adam or Joe married.

When he’d gone back at the end of September to bring her home, her servants had been placed in new positions, the brownstone on Clay Street turned over to its new owners, and the paperwork signed on the properties she was selling or liquidating. At the ranch, the boys had finished round-up without him.

Buck threw up his head, snorting heartily in the crisp air. “Yes, boy, life is good,” Ben murmured.

He smiled with satisfaction as he recalled that first week at home. Tom Culbertson had married them before the fireplace in the great room, with only his sons and Eleanor, her mother and sister, in attendance. Then there had been a party for their friends that had rivaled Hoss and Eleanor’s, and led Hop Sing to inform Adam and Joe that if they so much as considered marriage any time soon, they should plan to elope.

But the best had been yet to come. He and Lily had debated a wedding trip and finally concluded that neither felt any desire to leave the Ponderosa. One of their gifts from the boys had brought Lily to tears: For the first week of their marriage, Adam and Joe had stayed with Hoss and Eleanor. For the seven days of tranquil privacy, only Hop Sing remained to care for them.

Ben patted Buck again contentedly. Lily’s touch on their home had been subtle … another overstuffed chair near the stairs … some oil paintings, including the Haydon Young seascape he’d so admired, which had hung over the mantel in her San Francisco study. Joe and Adam had barely noticed the changes when they’d returned, taking in only what turned out to be everyone’s favorite addition—Howard Mercer’s big brass telescope, set up on a stand at the dining room window.

Of all the things he loved best about her, he thought, there was her serenity … that she could come into their world and transform them, and yet never seem to have changed anything at all. Life had gone on seamlessly, with perhaps a bit more laughter at dinner, a bit more grace in the air. And for himself—he knew a sense of wholeness, a deep-seated happiness so thorough it almost made him dizzy to think about it.

<<<<<>>>>>

“I wish Pa’d get here,” Joe grumbled, slapping his arms against the chill. He hadn’t figured on standing around in the cool wind that washed the prospect and had worn only his green jacket over woolen clothes and longjohns.

“So what was it you was sayin’ about dinner?” Hoss asked, trying to take his brother’s mind off the cold. He didn’t notice that Adam gazed elaborately at the view. “When Hop Sing went t’ town for his day off?”

Joe stopped to think. “Oh, yeah … well, nothing would suit Pa but that Lily make dinner, and Hoss, all I can say is it’s a good thing you weren’t there. You’d a-died. There wasn’t one thing on the plate you could get down your throat.”

“You didn’t go an’ hurt Lily’s feelin’s, did ya?”

Joe snickered explosively and Adam choked with laughter. “Hoss, ah, that was fortunately not possible,” Adam explained. “In fact, that was the best part of the whole thing. Pa was dying of disbelief that nothing was edible, and Lily just looked him straight in the eye and said, ‘maybe you’ll believe me next time.’”

“And you could tell that Pa wanted to say something like, ‘how could a woman not know how to cook?’” Joe took up the story, “and Lily realized that his manners had gotten the best of him, and so she told him that back when she was living at home, her mother had assumed she’d marry some rich planter because that’s what nice girls did down South and so she didn’t learn how to cook, she just learned how to oversee cooks. And then of course she married a sea captain and when they were at sea, the ship had a cook …”  He brimmed over with laughter. “The one year she lived alone in New York, she said she lost a lot of weight.”

“And apparently Howard was smarter than Pa was when it came to Lily’s cooking skills,” Adam continued. “The moment they settled in San Francisco, he hired a chef and a  housekeeper who cooked on the chef’s day off.”

“Well, then, so what happened about dinner?”

“I made eggs,” Adam said.

Hoss whistled through his teeth as the full impact of Adam’s words sank in. Finally he grinned. “Did Pa give Hop Sing a raise?”

“The minute he returned.”

“He ain’t really mad at her, is he?”

“No, of course not,” Adam replied. “He’s just astounded that she can’t cook.”

“Sounds t’ me like Hop Sing’s got ’n awful lot t’ do,” Hoss worried. “He ain’t gonna up and quit, ya don’t reckon?”

Adam and Joe crossed glances again and smothered their laughter. “Well, ah, I think we’ll be getting more help before long,” Adam said. “Lily’s a lot better at cleaning than she is at cooking, but the house is pretty big. I’d be willing to bet Wu Lee’ll be coming in a couple of days a week.”

“That female cousin o’ Hop Sing’s?”

“That’s the one—the one who’s so silent, we’ll never know she’s around.”

“Yeah?” Joe interjected. “Ya really think so?”

“Haven’t you been listening to Pa and Lily?” Adam’s lips twisted in a grin. “The more she says ‘let’s wait and see,’ the more Pa insists on it.”

“She playin’ some sort o’ game with him?” Hoss inquired.

“Not really. It’s not so much that she doesn’t want a maid—she probably does. But this way, she makes sure Pa wants it.”

Hoss nodded understandingly. “Oh, you mean ’cause she knows he’d probably give her pretty much what she wants, whether he wants it or not?”

“Exactly. Well, anyhow, it’ll make things easier for Hop Sing. She can do the cleaning and help Lily, and he can just do his gardening and cooking. And have a little more time to play Fan Tan.”

“There goes the raise,” Joe predicted.

The muffled sound of hoofbeats cut short their conversation and presently Buck loped down the hill behind them.

“Sorry I’m late,” Ben said. His eyes traveled over his sons. “Joseph, aren’t you cold?”

“Who, me?”

His dry tone was not lost on his father. Ben directed a pointed glance at him, but didn’t comment on the virtues of being prepared. Instead, he launched into a brisk report. “I talked to Tom before I left. The boys covered the area on the northwest slope this morning and even got down to the lower meadows, while you three took care of the territory on the Divide—am I right?” When they all agreed, he went on, “All right, that leaves only this south draw. We should be able to see to most of that before nightfall. We aren’t missing that many head; what we don’t find, we’ll just have to let go.”

“Okay,” Hoss grunted. “Let’s get goin’.” He backed Chubb out of the group as Joe and Cochise pivoted and cantered ahead up the slope.

“Adam, wait,” Ben called as his oldest son started after his brothers. “I need to talk to you for a moment.”

Adam checked Sport, who fought the bit, incensed that he couldn’t follow the other horses.

“I have something for you,” Ben continued. “Lily was unpacking some things this morning and found something she wanted you to have.”

Adam’s face reflected his curiosity.

“I told her she should give it to you herself, but she thought this way was better. It’s something that was entrusted to her by an old friend many years ago. Apparently, she was to give it to her first-born son, but as you know, Lily couldn’t have children.” His dark eyes twinkled. “And she says that if you so much as joke that she stands in the place of a mother to you, she’ll see that you regret it.”

“Somehow that thought never crossed my mind.”

Ben reached into the pocket of his jacket and withdrew a slim velvet pouch of deepest navy, which he handed to his son.

Cautiously Adam loosened the silken drawstring and extracted a gleaming brass telescope, about six inches long. His eyebrows furrowed, he extended it to its full length and gazed out over the valley, smiling with appreciation as the images leapt into sharp, foreshortened relief. Entranced, he retracted the instrument and rolled it over in his hand. Engraved down its top section in banker’s lettering was the name A. STODDARD.

“Grandpa’s telescope,” he murmured and caught his father’s eye.

“The personal one that he carried everyday,” Ben said softly. “He gave it to Lily long before you decided to go east to school, when he hadn’t any idea he’d ever see you again.”

Adam shook his head bemusedly. “It’s been a hell of year, hasn’t it, Pa?”

“Yes,” Ben agreed, looking out over the countryside. “I’d say that’s a fair assessment. But a good one.”

“Yeah.” Adam slipped the telescope back into its pouch and carefully stowed it in his pocket. “I’ll thank Lily. This means a lot.”

“I think she knows, son.”

Adam nodded. He picked up Sport’s reins. “See you at home.”

Ben watched him ride away and returned his gaze to the vista before him. “A hell of a year,” he repeated to Buck. “Yes, I’d say so.”

The cool breeze ruffled the long dark streamers of his tie and he was glad he’d fastened the silver conchos of his vest. The fair sky notwithstanding, winter was on the way.

He slipped a hand inside his jacket to his vest pocket and removed the heavy gold watch which rested there. He didn’t usually bring it with him when he was working; there was too much danger that it would get damaged. But today, as he’d tucked away Adam’s telescope, he’d had a premonition that he’d want to look at the timepiece. It had been a wedding gift from Lily.

He cradled it in the palm of his hand, marveling at its weight and at the intricate, swirling design that decorated its casing. Then he snapped it open, his eyes traveling over its face—twenty-five minutes past two—and finally focusing on the words engraved inside its cover. 

            A woman knows the face of the man she loves like a sailor knows the open sea.

                                                          HONORE DE BALZAC

The End