One
 

 “...Cartwright, take this woman to be your lawful wife? To love, honour and cherish her for the rest of your natural life?”

 Surrounded by his friends and neighbours and with his family standing, smiling, at his back, Ben Cartwright turned to the woman at his side and gazed into her eyes. They were beautiful eyes of the deepest sea green, and they shone with love and trust and the promise of the future. As always they took his breath away; he felt he could drown in their sparkling depths.

He took a deep breath, “I do.”

“Then, I pronounce you man and wife together.” The preacher closed his book with a snap, “You may kiss the bride.”

For a long moment longer Ben gazed at the woman’s fragile and lovely face, seeing her love for him, freezing the moment in time and sealing at away for ever in memory. Then he took her in his arms, felt her melt against him and kissed her gently and tenderly on the lips.

Sound erupted abruptly around them, intruding on their world: shouts and cheers and whoops and hollers and a deafening round of applause that seemed to go on forever. For a moment of eternity they stood isolated, locked together in that world that contained just the two of them. Then, as the kiss ended, they were swept apart into two entirely separate but interlocking, whirlwinds of congratulation. Ben’s back was pounded until he felt the blows would drive him to the ground. His hand was pumped furiously up and down while a kaleidoscope of faces spun before him. He was aware only that the woman ~ his new wife ~ Jenny, was carried away from him in the arms of the crowd, surrounded by her own circle of admirers.

In turn each of his sons steeped forward and shook his hand. Their pleasure was the equal of his. And each of them made a point of taking his brand new stepmother into his arms and kissing her soundly. Jenny laughed her hearty, gurgling, infectious laugh. She ruffled Little Joe’s curls, especially shorn for the occasion; she squealed and laughingly scolded as Hoss swung her up and around in his big arms; she smiled tenderly as Adam offered his almost shy salute. She was a vision of loveliness in a blue and white brocaded gown, fine lace at her throat and at the edges of the elbow length sleeves. Her long, dark-red hair was loosely coiled into a shining knot behind her head. Her face, while not strictly beautiful in the traditional sense, was strikingly attractive, with high cheekbones and a lean, narrow jaw. Ben found he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Oblivious to the good wishes heaped on him he kept seeking her out among the crowd.

Someone put something cold into his hand; “Ben, you look as though you could do with this.”

Ben looked down - at a glass of ice-cold and mildly alcoholic punch, and then up - into the smiling face of the local doctor, a dear friend for many, many years.

“Thank you, Paul. I think perhaps you’re right.”

“Best prescription I can offer.” The doctor smiled and raised his own glass. “It’s so good to see you all so happy. A complete family again.”

Ben smiled broadly and sipped his punch, “It’s good to be a family.” They were word he had spoken in side his head many times before, in good times and in bad, but never had he meant them more sincerely than now.

“Ben!" Roy Coffee the sheriff and another very good friend arrived with a hearty slap to the back that threatened to drown Ben in the punch glass, “Congratulations! We never thought you’d really go and do it!”

Ben was amazed, “You didn’t?”

“No, sir. Why, they’ve been taking odds in every saloon in town as to which one o’ your sons that lovely lady would marry ever since she swept into town”

Ben held up a hand; “Roy, I don’t think...”

“But no-one thought it’d be you that swept her off of her feet!”

“I wish I’d known about those bets,” Paul said with mock thoughtfulness. “I think I could have made a real killing there.”

“Ah!” The sheriff dug him in the ribs with a sharp elbow. “But that would have been abusing a professional priviledge.”

Ben looked from one to the other of them, saw the sparkle behind their eyes, and abruptly the three men burst into howls of laughter.

The party spilled out of the big log ranch house into the yard where trestle tables groaned with the weight of the food prepared in a dozen local ranch kitchens. The barn had been specially cleared and cleaned for the occasion and strewn with fresh straw. At the far end the local fiddle band had set up all ready to play. As the Cartwrights entered they played a fanfare on their fiddles.

Ben and Jenny Cartwright took the floor first, surrounded and admired by their family and guests. They made a handsome couple, he in his silver-brocade waistcoat and a new, silver grey suit and she in her swirling, ground sweeping dress. He held her, gingerly at first, very much aware of all the eyes on them. Then they melted into each other’s arms, drowning in the love in each other’s eyes. For all they knew, or cared, the rest of the world might have ceased to exist. They circled the floor twice with the automatic steps of a slow waltz, and then each of the Cartwright sons, all handsome young men in their own right ~ together with the lady of his choice ~ stepped out on the floor to join them. Soon the improvised dance floor was filled with colour and laughter as the guests joined in, and the party to end all parties got under way. 

Little Joe pulled at the stiffened collar of his shirt. Hours had passed, and it was now much later in the day. The barn was still cool, but airless with all the people crowded inside, and the music and the rising tide of high spirits were combining to create a wall of sound that was making his head ring. That, and the fact that his best suit was distinctly tight across his still broadening shoulders, conspired to drive him back towards the wide open doors. His retreat was considerably hampered by well-wishers each one of whom, so it seemed, was determined to encompass all of the Cartwrights in their unstinting congratulations. Outside he took a long draft of fresh air, and then let it out very slowly in a long heartfelt sigh.

“What’s the matter, Joe?”

Joe turned at the sound of the familiar voice. His brother Adam, a resplendent figure in new black broadcloth, was standing just outside the barn door, apparently done with socialising ~ for the time being at least ~ and just watching the crowds that milled in the yard. He held a glass of the patent punch in his hand and wore a pleasant enough expression on his face, but Joe, who knew him as well as any man could, could see that the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. Adam, as always, had himself under control.

“I thought you’d have been in there with everyone else having a good time.”

“The same thing could be said for you, elder brother.” Joe’s hazel eyes sparkled with mischief. “I thought you’d be taking that little Moira Turney round the floor another time or two.”

Adam gazed at him with cool, amber eyes. “ I think I’ve about had my fill of dancing for a while. And you?”

“It’s this suit,” said Joe with a half shrug that stretched the seams of his dark green jacket almost to ripping point. “Whenever I think I’ve done growing and get something tailored up, I seem to put on another two inches and nothing fits. And this collar has so much starch in it I think I’m gonna choke!” He tugged at the neckpiece again

Adam laughed, and it was a deep, natural laugh, “You sound as if you could do with getting away from this hum-ding for a while. Why don’t you come and give me a hand rigging up the buckboard for Pa and Jen?”

Joe looked doubtful, “Don’t you think they’d miss us?”

Adam smiled a slightly cynical smile; “What do you think, little brother?”

Joe looked round at the amazing mass of people. Everyone who was anyone in the entire territory seemed to be there in an overwhelming swirl of colour and movement. The piles of food were diminishing at an alarming rate, and the white clad Chinese servants, especially hired for the event and all of them related in some way or another to the Cartwright’s cook, scurried hither and wither to replenish them. The drink was flowing freely, fruit cup for the children and the ladies of the church, beer and brandy for the hard drinking men and punch for everyone else. There was plenty of it. No one had been overlooked and no expense had been spared. It was clear that this party would go on for a very long time without much attention from anyone. Neither Cartwright son would be missed.

Another blast of music and laughter from inside the barn made up Joe’s mind for him. “Let’s go find that buckboard, brother.”

Adam took a last sip of the punch and carefully set the still almost full crystal cup down on top of a post before leading the way round the back of the barn.

 Hoss Cartwright gazed round the barn. A lot of the noise had died down, though the dancing as still going hard and strong. The younger people had taken over now and were setting up square dancing sets with lots of whoops, and hollering and foot stomping. As far as the middle Cartwright son could see, everything was going well. Everyone was having a wonderful time, and it pleased Hoss just fine to know that his Pa and his lovely new wife were having such a good send off. Every face was flushed and smiling with happiness.

Every face that is, except, perhaps, for two. And those two faces were, in fact, one and the same face, that of the Boxer twins, William and Teddy. They were about Hoss’s age with hair the colour of old straw, lean pitted cheeks and sun-washed, almost colourless eyes. They were so alike it was said that even their own mother, when she was alive, couldn’t tell them one from the other. They were watching the proceedings with hostile, almost angry expressions from up against the far wall of the barn. The sight of them brought a frown to Hoss’s own broad and unlovely features. He was determined that nothing, absolutely nothing was going to spoil his father’s great day. With an absent nod to the folk on his left, and then on his right, Hoss made his way through the press of people towards the pair.

The Boxer boys watched his approach with identical expressions of hostility, and Hoss found himself wondering, somewhat inhospitably, why they had been invited to the wedding in the first place. Of course they were neighbours, they, their little brother and their Pa, but Hoss, even with his big charitable heart, regarded them as little more than squatters on a patch of desert land so poor it didn’t rightly warrant being called a farmstead. In fact, Hoss reflected, their land was so poor that it was hard to figure out just how the four of them made a living, especially as it seemed that none of them actually did any work, on the land, or off of it for that matter either.

Hoss pasted a pleasant, if puzzled expression on his round face as he came up to the twins, “It don’t look like you two fellers are havin’ much of a good time,” he said quietly, so that nobody nearby could hear. “Why don’t you go get yourselves some of that punch we got mixed up?”

The two identical faces appraised him, “We don’t want none of your punch, Cartwright,” one of them said. It might have been Teddy but Hoss wasn’t sure. “an’ we’re havin’ just a swell time as it is.”

Bemused by the obvious enmity, Hoss felt the frown settle back on his face. The last thing he wanted was any sort of trouble, today, of all days. “Well you sure don’t look like you are. Where’s your folks at, anyhow? Your brother an’ your Pa?”

“They didn’t come,” the other twin, possibly William, said in a voice identical to that of his brother. “Our Pa, he didn’t feel right well, ‘n our brother ...” his thin lip lifted in a sneer. “Andy was sort ‘a busy today.”

 “Yeah,” The other brother’s lip lifted in a matching expression of contempt. Hoss decided he didn’t like these boys once over, let alone twice. “Our brother got somethin’ better to do than prance around in your barn an’ drink punch.”

Hoss leaned back on his heels, knowing instinctively that something was wrong, but not knowing what it was, or what he could do about it. He was still unwilling to let anything throw a shadow over the day, “You two boys put a grin on your faces an’ try at least to look like you’re havin’ fun,” he said finally.

The Boxer twins smiled thin, mirthless smiles. They understood perfectly, “Sure thing, Cartwright,” one of them said, “Sure thing.”
 

Adam backed the last of the two horses up to the buckboard, and Joe set about fastening the traces. As his big-brother had suggested, it was good to take a break from the festivities for a while, just to get a breath of air and clear his head. Adam, being careful to keep his dark suit spotlessly clean, leaned on the horse and watched Joe fasten the last of the buckles.

Joe straightened and looked at him. Finally he got to saying what had been on his mind for sometime, “How do you really feel about Pa getting married again, Adam? I know we’ve all talked through it, and through it, but I get the feeling that you’ve never really spoken your mind. For a while Hoss and I, well, we thought it might be you and Jen...”

Adam’s lips quirked, but the attempted smile never got anywhere near his eyes. He had no intention of letting his little brother know that, for a very brief time, he had harboured thoughts along the same lines himself. “I think Jenny is a very lovely lady, and that she’ll make Pa a wonderful wife,” he said carefully.

“You say that, but you never sound as if you really mean it.”

Adam sighed, “Then what do I have to say to convince you, Joe? Pa deserves happiness, and I think that he’s found it. I hope that he has. I’ve seen the way he looks at her, just as you have. I don’t think I could bear to see him torn apart again.” The last, he said as if it came from his very soul.

Joe gazed at him. He knew that Adam was remembering their father’s previous wives, Adam’s own mother, lost in childbirth, Hoss’s mother, killed by Indians, and Joe’s own  dear Ma’ma, dead in a riding accident. Joe had never known the first two women, and sometimes he found hard to remember his own mother, just faint recollection of perfume and a sweet smiling face. “I don’t think I could bear that either,” he said quietly.

Adam put his hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out a large handful of ribbons, white and blue, the perfect match of his stepmother’s wedding dress. He smiled at Joe’s stunned expression, and this time, the light did reach the depths of his tawny eyes. “Then why don’t you help me put these on the bridle and pretty this thing up a bit?”

Joe looked from his face to the ribbons and back, and, slowly, a smile lit his own face as he realised the significance of the gesture his brother had made. It seemed that at last they were really going to be a whole family again.
 

Ben closed the bedroom door and stood for a moment, just holding the cool smoothness of the knob in his hand, looking at the rich polished grain of the dark wooden panels. The noise of the party going on outside could still be heard, under-lain by the sound of high speed fiddling from the barn, but here, in this room, all was quiet and still ~ familiar but somehow strange at one and the same time. This had been his room for so many years. He had built it with his own hands, at first sharing it with Joe’s mother but then, and for so long, occupying it alone.

Now there was another woman here.

He turned slowly, almost reluctantly, and there she was, her hands clasped before her, standing between him and the four poster, the light from the window laying lightly on her ivory-pale shoulders. A vision in blue silk and white lace, watching him with compassion and with love in her beautiful eyes. He smiled wryly at his own sudden shyness and took a step towards her, spreading his hands, “I was just thinking...”

“I know what you were thinking, Ben,” she said gently. “I know what you were remembering. She wouldn’t mind. None of them would mind. They would all wish you happiness. Wish us happiness.”

Ben took another step and put his arms round her. “you’re right of course. They were all wonderful women. I’ve been four times blessed. No man deserves so much happiness in one lifetime.”

“You deserve it, Ben,” she said softly. “No-one could deserve it more.”

She rested her hands, slender and white, fragile looking against his masculine strength, on his upper arms, lightly pressing the bulge of his muscles through the finely-woven cloth. He ran his hands over her shoulder blades and down her back to her waist, feeling the warmth of her body through the cloth of her dress, and through the stiffened thickness of the heavily boned corset that constricted her. Her waist was so small he could span it with his hands. In all his years it had never ceased to amaze him how woman folk could bear to wear such painful contraptions. And then he felt the touch of her breath on his face and smelled the sweetness of the perfume in her hair He became very much aware of the closeness of her body. He forgot about the mystery of the corset.  He drew her tightly too him and closed his mouth gently over hers in a long, and lingering, kiss.

It was she that drew away first. She moved her hands to his chest and pushed him away gently. She opened her glowing green eyes and gazed at him, slightly breathless. “If we’re leaving today, my love, then it’s time we changed and went down.”

Ben barked his rich, hearty laugh, “You’re absolutely right. Once we’re out of the way all those good people can really start to enjoy themselves!”

“And so..” she said coyly, pulling at the strings of his tie, “Can we..”
 

 Adam pulled the team to a halt outside the front door and jumped down. He looked at his brother expectantly; “Are they down yet?”

“No,” Hoss shook his head, “I guess they’ll be a little time yet.”
 

“Well, what’s keeping them?” Joe asked, joining the little family group from the other side of the buckboard.

His brothers eyed him silently, and he felt the hot colour climbing into his cheeks. He looked from Adam to Hoss; “But they wouldn’t be ... I mean they wouldn’t... Would they..?”

Adam sighed and put a hand on his little brother’s shoulder; “Joe, you should know by now, when you find yourself in a hole, you should stop digging.”

Joe, scarlet-cheeked by now, gaped at him “But Adam..”

“Hush up, Little Joe,” Hoss hissed, “Here they come.”

Ben emerged from the front door of the ranch house to the cheers and applause of the assembled crowd. He was a handsome man still, tall, and broad and vigorous looking in a dark broadcloth suit. His silver hair shone in the afternoon sunlight, and his obvious happiness had stripped years of care from his face. His friends and his neighbours, and in particular, his three grown-up sons, were delighted to see the joy on his face. It glowed in the almost black depths of his eyes. The woman on his arm, his brand new wife, in a deep red travelling suit and bonnet, radiated that same unrestrained joy as she smiled round at all the faces. Ben covered her hand with his, and together, they made a stately progress from the front door to the waiting buckboard. They exchanged a word here, and a smile there, thanking their special friends and all the people who had helped make it such a special day. Finally Ben turned to his sons, waiting more or less in line at the buckboard’s side.

“Well, boys, I guess this is it ...”

“It sure is, Pa,” Hoss grinned.

“Time you folks got going,” Joe agreed, hoping almost against hope that his father wouldn’t notice his recent discomfiture.

Ben noticed. He looked with interest at Joe’s ears, which were still distinctly red, but decided to say nothing. He turned to Adam, “I’ll write from San Francisco ...”

“Don’t you bother yourself, Pa. There’s nothing here that we can’t handle.”

Ben drew a breath to re-institute an old discussion, then thought better of it, and smiled.  He knew very well that Adam could run the ranch in his absence, and that there was absolutely no need for him to worry about anything. Not even about Little Joe, “I guess you’re right, son.”  He solemnly shook hands with each of them in turn, and then turned to his wife; “Are you ready, my dear?”

Jenny kissed the last of her girlfriends on the cheek, and with a smile that included all three of the boys, offered Ben her hand; “I’m ready,” she said.

Ben helped her into the buckboard and got up beside her. He set his hat on his head and gathered the reins.

“Goodbye, Pa,” Adam said, stepping back.

“Have a real good time, Pa!” Joe called.

“An’ we’ll see you ’n about a month!” added Hoss with a big beaming grin.

Ben lifted a hand in final farewell and slapped the reins against the horses’ broad rumps. With a rattle of hooves and the flutter of blue and white ribbons from the horse’s bridles, the buckboard started away to the cheers of the crowd and was soon lost to sight.

 Ben Cartwright’s three sons stood close together in the centre of the yard, an isolated group in the middle of the crowd, and watched as the dust settled along the road. Long after the buckboard had vanished, each of them remained isolated with his own thoughts of the future.
 
 

For Joe, with his naturally sunny outlook, it was a  pleasure to look forward to a genuine feminine touch in what, for about as long as he could remember, had been a purely masculine household. It would be good to have her there in the house when he brought his lady friends home to call and good to have the house filled with laughter and pretty dresses. His stepmother’s age was such that he could regard her as a big sister. She would be fun to have around.

Hoss had quietly searched his soul long and deep. A reticent and gentle man, his father’s new wife had won him over with patience and kindness. She had a joyous spirit that had reached out to the big man. Her love of all the Lord’s creatures, while not exactly rivalling Hoss’s own, provided him with a ready ally in his occasional battles with his father and brothers. And her cooking almost equalled that of the legendary Hop Sing, a factor impossible to ignore. Hoss with his placid and optimistic nature, viewed the years to come with contentment.

Adam’s view of the future was darker, overshadowed by his memories of the past. He had forebodings born of those memories. The eldest of the three, he had trekked in with father from the east in the earliest days of the frontier. His own mother had died at his birth, but he remembered Hoss’s mother, and Joe’s, and he remembered only too well how their deaths had all but destroyed the strong man that was his father. In recent months, he had seen twenty years fall from Ben Cartwright’s shoulders, and he hoped with every ounce of his soul that this time, everything was going to work out all right; that no more tragedy awaited them just round the corner. He sighed and put an arm across each of his brothers’ shoulders, “Well, boys, I guess we better go take care of all these folks.”

His voice broke the spell.

“The first thing I’m gonna do, is go inside and get myself somethin’ to eat!” Hoss declared, with sincerity.

“But there’s food all over the place!” Joe gestured round at the tables that surrounded them, “Just grab a plate and help yourself!”

 Hoss screwed up his face, “I don’t want none o’ those fancy itsy-bitsy little bite sized do-dads,” he scoffed. “I want me some real man sized food.”

 Joe and Adam laughed as he headed for the house.

Inside, it was cooler and quieter. Much quieter. For once, no pine-log fire burned in the great stone fireplace. Instead, the hearth was filled to overflowing with flowers, and the whole room was perfumed with their sweet fragrance. There were more flowers on the table and a little bit of prettiness here and there. It sure was going to be a whole lot different, Hoss thought, as he headed for the kitchen, with a woman around.

 He had almost made it when he felt, as much as heard, a sound from somewhere in the big room behind him. He turned, and a frown darkened his face. For a moment he didn’t see anything amiss. Then he spotted one of the Boxer boys ~ Hoss didn’t know which one, and, right then, he didn’t much care ~ standing over in the office corner where Ben kept his desk. He was doing his darndest to blend into the background, and failing.

Hoss took a step forward, his mind wrapping itself round the problem, and coming up with a solution he didn’t much like. He raised his voice in a bellow, “Adam! Little Joe! Get in here quick!”

Hoss advanced across the room, his deep frown developing into a glower of rage; “What d’you think you’re doin’, messin’ with our Pa’s things?”

Adam and Joe, not having moved far from the front of the house and hearing the bark in their brother’s voice, came running.

Adam looked from Hoss to the Boxer twin, “What’s going on, Hoss?”
 

“I don’t rightly know, Adam,” Hoss was angry and uncomfortable, “I found this feller messin’ wi’ Pa’s desk. He was in here all on his own when everyone else was outside.”

“Was he now?” Adam stepped forward. “Then let’s see what he has, shall we?”

The Boxer twin backed away from Adam until he came up against the bookcase and couldn’t back any further. His voice rose in a whine, “You stay away from me, Cartwright!”

“I’ll stay away from you, just as soon as I find out what you’ve stolen.” Adam was very close to him now. He could smell the sharp scent of his fear.

“I wasn’t doin’ nuthin’!” Boxer put up his hands to fend him off.

Adam glimpsed the glitter of a blade. Boxer stabbed at him, aiming for his eyes. Adam threw his head back and raised a hand to protect himself. The keen edge of the blade sliced cleanly across the base of his thumb. Ignoring the pain and the blood of the wound, Adam grabbed the knife hand by the wrist and twisted expertly, turning Boxer round. With perhaps more force than he intended to use, he wrenched at the elbow and shoulder and made the smaller man yelp as he all but lifted him off the feet. With his other hand he made a rapid search of Boxer’s pockets and came up with a number of trinkets that rightly belonged in the drawers of his father’s desk. There was an enamelled snuff box that had been his grandfather’s, a huge silver Spanish coin that Ben kept as a lucky piece and a small leather bag that Adam knew contained five dollar gold pieces.

Disgusted, he threw the things down on the desktop and pushed Boxer away from him; “Do you still say you weren’t doing anything?”

Boxer glared at him and rubbed his sore shoulder. He said nothing but his face spoke volumes of hatred.

Worried, Joe looked from the stolen treasures to his brother’s angry face; “ I’ll go and find the sheriff, Adam.”

Adam drew a deep breath and released it carefully. Much as he disliked the whole Boxer clan, he was reluctant to spoil his father’s wedding day with a lot of fuss over what was, after all was said and done, nothing more than an act of opportunist petty pilfering. “No, Joe. Let it go this time.”

Joe protested, “You can’t do that, Adam. We caught him red handed!”

“Yes, we did,” Reminded, Adam lifted his right hand and inspected the cut across the heel of his hand. It was deep and bleeding steadily, “But I don’t want to stir up any trouble today.” He pulled out a handkerchief and wrapped it around his hand.

“But Adam... Hoss...” Enraged by the sight of his eldest brother’s blood, Joe turned to his other brother in appeal, “We have to turn him in!”

Hoss screwed up his face in an agony of indecision; “Well, I don’t know, Little Joe, there ain’t no real harm done, except to Adam. He’s the one that’s cut. It’s up to him to decide.”

Adam glared at Boxer, his face was still dark with anger and his hooded eyes glittered; “You get off our land. You and your brother. And don’t you ever come back.”

Boxer looked from face to face to face and found the same enmity in all of them. For once, the three disparate Cartwright brothers all looked the same.  “All right - all right!” Still rubbing his painful shoulder joint he edged carefully round the three furious men and started to back away towards the door; “I’m going. But you haven’t seen the last of me!” This last was delivered over his shoulder as a challenge as he turned and bolted for freedom.

“Why you..!” Joe set out after him, but Adam caught his arm with his good hand.

“Let him go, Little Joe.” He flexed his sore hand. “We don’t have time right now to worry about the Boxers. We have a whole passel of people that are supposed to be enjoying themselves. I think we’d better go see to it that they are.”
 
 

The last of the wagons pulled out of the yard to the waves and the called goodnights of the Parson family. Ma and Pa Parson were sitting up front behind their oddly matched chestnut pair, and the four smaller Parsons were curled up together on the straw filled sacks in the back. The three Cartwright sons stood in the light of the multicoloured Chinese lanterns strung across the yard and watched them go. As the rumble of the wheels died away a blessed silence descended on the big house. Each of the three let out a pent-up sigh of relief. The last hours of the party had turned into an ordeal of seemingly endless proportions, and they were all heartily glad that it was finally over.

Hoss gazed round at the disarray that filled the yard. There were empty plates and glasses everywhere. One of the trestle tables had partly collapsed under an enthusiastic game of tag played by the children, and there was a litter of napkins and spent streamers all over the place. Never before had the Ponderosa had looked less like a working ranch and more like a Louisiana Dance hall. Hoss heaved a mighty sigh.

“I guess we’d better get to work clearing this mess up,” he said gloomily.

Joe cast a glance at Adam, “Can’t we leave it ‘till tomorrow?” he asked without much hope.

To his surprise, for once Adam agreed with him, “I don’t suppose it’s going anywhere,” he said with a hint of amusement, “I guess tomorrow will do.”

Hoss beamed. “Well, I’m for my bed then. Danged if it ain’t almost midnight already.” He turned towards the house; “You comin’ Adam?”

“In a minute.” Adam took a deep breath of night air. “I’m a little too wound up to sleep right now. I’ll just take a turn around the corrals before I turn in.”

With their arms about each other’s shoulders, Joe and Hoss headed for the front door of the house. Adam went in the other direction, taking his time and letting the peace of the land calm his soul. It had been a day that none of them would soon forget, and he needed time to relax and unwind. Besides, other than feeding and watering, the animals had not had the attention they should, and he felt it his responsibility to check up on them before turning in.

The moon had set, and despite the abundance of stars, it was a very dark night. Adam needed no light to find his way round the back of the barns and on to the holding pens beyond. He knew the layout of the outbuildings and the corrals as well as he knew the pattern of the hairs on the back of his hand. He had, after all, had a large part in designing them himself. That thought brought a renewed memory, and he brought up his bandaged hand, flexing it. His thumb was stiff and sore, and he wondered if he should have asked the doctor to put a stitch or two in the cut before he left for town. It was too late to think of it now.

The half dozen little heifers they had bought just last week to bring about a long-term improvement in the bloodline of the Ponderosa cattle were huddled up against the rail of their corral. They still looked a little lost, and Adam remembered that they were very young. Probably they were still missing their Ma’mas. Although they were just cattle, he felt a little sorry for them, and paused to stroke a their soft noses and to say a few kind words to them.

As he left them and turned back towards the house, he became aware of a stir among the horses in the next corral. He hesitated. From the way they were milling around all of a sudden there was something amongst them stirring them up, and Adam for once, was unarmed. He thought about going back to the house for a gun. Then one of the horses - he recognised it as his own favourite mount - gave a sharp whicker of alarm.
 

Adam squinted through the gloom. Something was among the horses all right. Or rather, someone! He saw a dark man-shape moving around.

“Hey!” With a yell, Adam ran forward, vaulting the corral rail in one stride.

The horses stirred round again, clearly agitated. Adam caught a glimpse of the human figure in the midst of the restless animals. He started to cut through them slantwise. One of the horses reared. Under its belly Adam caught sight of the figure again, turning towards him with the light from the house behind. Adam slapped the rump of a horse out of his way, and then something hit him very hard on the back of his head.
 
 

He must have blacked out for a moment. The next thing he knew, he was face down in the dirt of the corral with a mouthful of grit and blood. The horses milled round him. Their hooves churned up the dust, and their shrill cries of alarm filled the air. Adam knew he had to get to his feet or be trampled. He gathered his wits for the effort, but before he could make it, someone grabbed his shirt by the back of the neck and hauled him partially erect. Someone - another someone ~ by now Adam was neither seeing, nor thinking, too clearly ~ buried a hard driven fist in the depths of his belly, and followed it up with a sharp upper cut to the jaw that jarred Adam’s head back and crashed his teeth together. Pain blasted its way through Adam’s body and then through his face. He reeled and would have fallen but for the rough hands that held him more or less upright. Held from behind he was unable to fight back. He couldn’t do anything other than try to roll with the punches as they came. Several more times the fist smashed into his face. His lips split against his teeth. A cut opened up along his cheekbone. His nose bled onto the ruffled, pristine white of his shirtfront. Then another hard punch caught him a long way below the belt, and he doubled up as agony flared upwards, spread out and encompassed the core of his being. A double handed blow landed on the back of his neck, and the black pit of unconsciousness yawned  open in front of him.

“Adam! Adam!” Hoss’s voice came, it seemed, from a very long way away. Adam clawed his way upwards through the darkness and found himself curled on his side in the corral. The horses were still stamping all around him. His vision was distorted. Everything was twisted and out of focus, and sounds were pre-naturally loud. Despite his pain, his instinct was still to get to his feet. Somehow he struggled up onto his hands and knees, still clutching himself where it hurt most. Then there were hands that were helping him, “Hey, Adam! Adam.”

Hoss’s strong arms were round him, holding him tight against the barrel of his chest. Adam lifted a weak hand as if to fend him off and then shook his head, confused. He struggled to focus his eyes and found Joe on his knees beside him, his face a study of anxiety. He forced words through broken lips, “I’m all right.”

“The hell you are!” Joe exclaimed, angry and confused, “What the devil happened?! Did you fall? Were you trampled?”

“No,” Adam tried to shake his head again, and then thought better of it, “There was someone in with the horses. Hoss, check the horses!”

With a grunt of alarm, Hoss passed Adam over to Joe, and went to where the horses, a dozen or more, were bunched against the far rail.

A whole gamut of emotions ran across Joe’s face, rage; concern; fear and determination. He dabbed ineffectually at Adam’s mouth with his handkerchief, “Who was it, Adam? Did you see?”

Adam frowned. He had the memory of a man’s shape, outlined against the house lights, but no more, not enough to identify anyone, “I don’t know. I didn’t see who it was,” He made an effort to get up, and with Joe’s help, made it to his feet on the second attempt.

Hoss came up, his face as black as thunder, “Whoever it was, Adam, it’s a darned good job you interrupted what they were doing. They were trying to hamstring the horses.” Joe and Adam stared at him with naked fear in their eyes. “It’s OK, it’s OK,” Hoss reassured them gruffly. “There’s no real harm done. Just a few cuts. They must have run off after they - after they done what they done. But heaven help them if I ever get my hands on them.” He took a firm grip of Adam’s arm and started him towards the house. “C’mon. Let’s go get you cleaned up and then we’re callin’ the sheriff.”
 

Two

Hoss hefted the last of the grain sacks off his shoulder and into the back of the wagon before pausing for breath. He pulled out a large yellow bandanna and wiped the sweat from his face. It surely was a hot day. Without doubt, by the time the sun had climbed to its highest point in the sky it would be the hottest day of the year so far. Already the main street of Virginia City was all but deserted. Apart from the Cartwright’s wagon and team, only a few horses stood at the rails, flicking their tails to ward off the flies. Even the die-hards that customarily lined the boardwalk outside the Silver Dollar saloon had abandoned their posts for the cooler interior.

Roy Coffee sauntered across the street, “Howdy, Hoss. How’s you brother feelin’ now?”

Hoss stuffed the bandanna back into his pocket. “He’s pickin’ up just fine, Roy. You know what a darned hard head he’s got. He’s in the mercantile now, payin’ off what we owe.”

As if on cue, Adam came out of the store. Even now, a week on, his face still showed signs of the beating he had taken, and he walked as if he were still sore in the joints. He cast his eye over the neatly loaded wagon, then joined the sheriff and his brother; “‘Morning, Roy.”

“Adam,” The sheriff nodded to him, scrutinising his face. The cuts had closed but the bruises and swellings were still clearly in evidence. Roy was heartily glad that Ben wasn’t around to see them. “You had any more thoughts on who might have done that to you?”

Adam worked his still bandaged hand; “I’ve had some thoughts, Roy, but nothing I’d care to turn into accusations.”

Hoss scowled, clenching his big hands into fists; “I’d sure like to get a hold of those fellas. We’ve still got some pretty sick horses over at the ranch.”

Adam and Roy exchanged glances and shook their heads in amusement. It was just like Hoss to stay mad longer over what had been done to the horses than the injuries caused to his brother.

“You heard from your Pa?” Roy asked, following the earlier thought.

“I just picked up a letter from him.” Adam pulled a slightly rumpled envelope out of a pocket.

“He says they’re having a real good time, but San Francisco isn’t the place to be in high summer.”

Roy considered a long moment. “Well, I guess I’d better talk to you two boys. Come on over to the saloon, and I’ll buy you both a beer.”

Adam and Hoss looked at each other, agreeing silently that it was an offer they couldn’t refuse. Roy gave them both a clap on the shoulder that raised twin clouds of dust and led the way.
 

Joe pulled his horse to a halt in the shade of the trees, took off his hat, and wiped his sleeve over his sweating forehead. That morning, when he had drawn the short straw that meant he checked the lower pastures while his brothers drove into town for supplies, he had been nothing short of delighted. Now, some six hours of hard riding later, he was wondering if his luck was quite what he’d thought it. He took a mouthful of brackish water from his canteen and pulled a sour face. No doubt about it, Adam and Hoss would be in a saloon by now, with one cool beer already inside them and another one on the table in front.
 

He hung the canteen back on the saddle horn and spent a minute fanning himself with his hat. Then a slow smile spread across his handsome face. Upon consideration, he decided that he had got by far the best of the bargain after all. The view he had in front of him, of lush pasture-land turning brown and gold in the raw summer heat, of rolling hills and clumps of shade trees, of a blued brass bowl of a sky upturned overhead and the dazzling bright orb of the sun, by far outweighed the inside of any saloon. The fact that his drink was warm while his brother’s would be icy-cold, in no way compensated the difference. He smiled, and sat his horse, and let his eyes rest lightly on the landscape. He was secure in the knowledge that all he could see, as far as he could see, and for a long way beyond, all the way to the foothills of the Sierras, was his family’s land, by deed and in fact, held by the law and the strength of their hand.
 

Afar off in the distance, something moved in the shimmering heat haze. Three steers were walking one behind the other across the grassland. Joe squinted up his eyes. There was something odd about the way they were moving ~ a purposefulness that was strange in the middle of the day, when, generally, the cattle would be holed up in a draw somewhere where it was cooler. Cattle, Joe thought, usually had a darn sight more sense than people, but these three mavericks certainly seemed to have something on their minds.

Then Joe stiffened, sitting up in the saddle. Out from behind the hill, following at a walk in the wake of the cattle, was a horseman. Joe couldn’t see who the rider was, nor could he make out the horse other than that it was a dark one. A gut feeling told him he didn’t know either man or horse. Certainly none of the Ponderosa hands were working the cattle down this way today.

Someone was sure as heck herding those steers towards the nearest fence line.
 Joe gathered his reins and, keeping carefully in the shadow of the trees, nudged his horse forward.

The fence had been cut. Joe held the shiny end of the wire in his hand and studied the tracks in the dirt. The three steers, and the lone rider, had passed through the gap not an hour ahead of him. The trail led out onto the dry scrub-land that lay out to the west of Virginia City. Joe had no doubt that he could have caught up with them easily had he had his pinto, but the mare was back at the barn still feeling sore in her legs. The black gelding he had with him was walking tender on a forefoot. He had no choice but to make a temporary repair to the fence and head for home before he found himself afoot.

Joe put his foot in the stirrup and was about to swing up, when something else caught his eye. Stepping down again, he hunkered down and studied a patch of ground close to the fence post, where the grass was thinner. There in the dirt was a strange mark, as if the horse ridden by here just a short time before had a splayed out hind hoof.
 

Roy Coffee took a long sup of cold beer. “There’s somethin’ I think you boys aught t’ know.”

Hoss wiped foam off his upper lip. The beer sure was good. “What’s that, Roy?”

Roy pulled a face; “There’ve been a fair few killin’s to the north o’ here: bush-whackings.”

“Anyone we know?” Adam asked.

“I don’t think so. Men from the silver workings mostly. Shot from ambush, robbed an’ left t’ die. ‘Seems to be a gang operatin’ and lately they’ve been working their way further south. Just thought you boys aught t’ know. You got a lot of country out there, just about right for them no goods t’ hole up in.”

“Thanks for telling us Roy. We’ll tell all the hands to keep their eyes open.” Adam finished his beer and set the glass down. The cold drink had been good on his still sore mouth, but now it had started the pain off again. He rubbed his jaw with his hand. “I guess we’d better make a move and get those supplies back to the ranch, Hoss. Thanks for the beer, Roy.”

“Any time,” The sheriff said cheerfully.

Hoss contemplated appealing for another beer, but his brother was already on his feet and didn’t look likely to acquiesce. Besides, this beer was already his second. Hoss finished his drink and got up, gathering his tall hat. The three of them made for the door.

Outside in the street, the heat of the day had just about reached its peak. The air itself was warm to breathe, and the reflected sunlight coming up off main-street was dazzling. Sweat broke instantly from their skins, and they all put their hats on against the glare.

There were several more horses now, hitched to the rails: a bay and a roan outside the store, two more dark bays and a rangy chestnut at the bank.

The two Cartwright men said goodbye to the sheriff and started across to their wagon. Hoss was starting to wonder just what might be for supper that night, while Adam was thinking about the six little heifers and how well they were settling in to the small home pasture behind the house.

All of a sudden there was a ruckus over by the bank. The door flew open and slammed back against the wall. Three men tumbled out of the doorway. Their hats were pulled well down over their eyes, and their mouths and noses were covered up by their neckerchiefs. One of them fired off his gun, aiming back into the bank. The retort was loud in the street. Roy Coffee shouted and came pounding back up the boardwalk. The three men rushed for the horses tied at the rail. Austin Damier, manager of the bank, came to the door, grasping at the frame for support. His hairpiece was twisted awry, and there was bright blood on the front of his dress coat.

“Stop them!” he raised an unsteady hand. There was blood on his fingers as well. “They’ve robbed the bank! Stop them!”

The robbers wheeled their horses, two of them setting off at a pounding gallop down the centre of the street. The third, the man on the chestnut gelding, swung his mount round again in a tight circle. He aimed his gun at the bank manager.

A second shot rang out, and the robber toppled slowly, backwards, out of his saddle.

The whole thing, from beginning to end, was over in just a few seconds.

Adam, ready to fire again, realised that it wasn’t necessary and eased back the hammer of his Colt .44. Lightening fast with a gun, and nearest, he hadn’t been about to stand by and watch Damier, whom he’d know for years and like well enough, shot down in cold blood.

Roy Coffee was the first to reach the fallen man. Adam and Hoss came close second. The sheriff turned him over. Adam’s bullet had taken him full in the chest. He was quite dead.

Roy sat back on his heels, “Nice shootin’, Adam. Let’s see who this fella is,” He pulled the mask down off the robber’s face, and they all looked at him silence for several seconds.

Adam felt a cold knot of nausea forming in his gut. He holstered his gun slowly and took off his hat, turning it slowly by the rim. He knew the man he’d just killed. Knew him very well indeed.

Hoss looked at his brother and knew from his face just what was going through his mind, “Hey, Adam! You had to do it. You couldn’t just stand by and let him kill Mister Damier.”
 Roy straightened up, “Hoss is right, Adam. It would ’a been murder. You did what you had to do.”

Adam drew a long, careful breath, “But that’s Andy Boxer, Roy. He was just sixteen years old!”

Roy picked up the well-stuffed gunnysack that had fallen alongside the body and pulled it open. It was crammed full of banknotes. “He was old enough t’ rob a bank. Old enough t’ shoot a man.” He nodded to where Damier was being led away to the doctor.

Adam lifted his face to look at him, for the first time looking away from the man he had just killed. Self-disgust was clearly evident in his golden eyes, “He was just a kid,” he said tightly, and walked away.
 

Three

The stage was only a few minutes late arriving in Virginia City, and all of Ben Cartwright’s sons were there to meet it. The team of four sweating horses came to a halt outside the stage line office. Ben opened the door and stepped down. He looked well, relaxed and happy in a smart, new, dark-blue suit. He turned and offered his hand to his wife as she alighted. Jenny smiled at the boys, her pleasure at seeing them again obvious on her face. She wore a bright blue costume with a very tight nipped in waist and a long straight skirt that flared at the bottom. It was the very latest fashion on the west-coast. Her dark-auburn hair was teased into a cascade of loose curls that tumbled from beneath a jaunty matching hat.

Ben turned to his sons. “Adam. Joe. Hoss,” Smiling, he shook hands with each of them in turn.

“Pa. You sure look as if you had a good time,” Adam said, including his father’s wife with a pleasant look.

“We sure did!” Ben put his arm loosely round Jenny’s tiny waist, “And now we’re back, and I’m ready to start work!”

His sons met this announcement with an uneasy silence.

Ben looked from one to another of them, “You do have something for me to do?”

The boys exchanged doubtful glances. Joe and Hoss both looked away, by their silence electing Adam as their spokesman. Adam looked uncomfortable; “Well, Pa, we’ve got it fairly well nailed down at the moment,” he said slowly. “But I guess... We could find something for you to do.”

Taken aback ~ even shocked ~ by the response, Ben stared at him with his mouth open.

Jenny’s pealing laugh filled the air; “Oh, Ben! Can’t you see how they’re teasing you?!”

Ben saw the glimmer of amusement breaking through in his sons’ faces and finally caught on to the joke. “Well, I certainly hope they are!” He joined in the laughter.

Stepping back, he made room for his sons to greet their stepmother, each with a hug and a welcoming kiss on the cheek.

When the hellos were over, Ben looked round at the huge pile of boxes that had come down off the roof of the stage. “I hope you boys brought the wagon with you. We seem to have accumulated rather a lot of luggage.”

“We brung it, Pa,” Hoss started tucking boxes under his huge arms. “It’s over by the International House. Why don’t you, and Jen, go get yourselves a coffee while we take care of all this stuff?”

Ben smiled at his wife as willing hands started to demolish the pile of baggage; “I think we might just do that.” He offered Jenny his arm. “Mrs. Cartwright?”

“Mister Cartwright.” She placed her hand on his forearm and together they set off towards the town’s premier hotel.

It was the best part of an hour later, and the sun was angling towards the west when, with the wagon loaded to capacity, Ben and his wife started out on the last leg of their journey home. Their sons, on horseback, formed a mounted escort round them, and heads turned as impressive little procession drove out of town.

Ben was surprised at just how much Virginia City had grown. In the few short weeks he had been away, new buildings, new streets and whole city blocks had appeared where before there had been scrub-land and thorn brush. Building work was still progressing apace, with timber frames being thrown up in a day and ready for habitation inside a week. Adam had told him that the town was growing just as fast to the north. With the discovery of rich silver deposits in the northern hills, the town was booming and would soon become a city in more than name.

If he were honest with himself, Ben would have confessed to having a belly full of the cosmopolitan life. San Francisco had become a frantic, noisy, blight on the face of the earth.

He’d enjoyed the theatres and the restaurants and the grand hotels, and he’d marvelled at the new gas lighting that lined the streets and turned night into day, but the place never slept!

Even in the more select districts on the hills above the harbour, the traffic noise had gone on all night, every night. Jenny had relished the big city atmosphere, and Ben had enjoyed escorting her, although, he thought wearily, having sat for hours in every dress shop in town, he must have the patterns of their little gilt chairs permanently imprinted on his backside. Ben had found himself longing for the peace, the beauty and the silence of the Ponderosa. He was more than a little disquieted to find this frenetic bustle invading what he thought of as his home-town.

But the Ponderosa was still there. As soon as he crossed the boundary line onto his own property he felt the difference deep down in the very core of his being. The majesty of the land with its vast pastures, rolling hills and towering trees brought him peace. With his beautiful wife at his side, and his tall sons riding beside him, he was truly content.

The sun had set by the time they reached the house, and the sky had become a deep cobalt blue. Inside, the lamps had been lit, and the light glowed in the gathering darkness, welcoming them home.

Ben helped his wife down and walked her to the front door, while the boys took the horses away. He turned to look at her. The light from the porch lantern was shining on her flawless skin, a soft golden glow that highlighted the look of love in her eyes. He kissed her gently on the lips, then swept her up in his arms and carried her, giggling, over the threshold.

The boys joined them for supper, and the gathering around the table was a happy one. Hop Sing had excelled himself, and the meal he presented was superb. Try as he might, Ben found it difficult to make sense of the disjointed snippets of information dropped by his sons in conversation. It was not until later, with Hop Sing clearing the table and Jenny gone upstairs to start putting away her multitude of new dresses, that he was able to settle into his favourite armchair with his pipe, and begin to gather the reins back into his hands.

He found that his son’s teasing outside the stage office had not been so far short of the truth. The ranch was running smoothly, the contracts for beef and timber were on schedule, and the boys, apparently, had got along together remarkably well. In fact, in their own different ways each of them was brimming over with enthusiasm for new projects. It was Hoss that got in first.

“Pa” the big man hunkered down on his haunches beside his father’s chair. His broad features contorted with the effort of putting his thoughts and emotions into coherent words. Ben just sat and waited. He knew his middle son wasn’t the fastest talker and needed time.
“Pa, that idea we had about making a plantation for little pine trees is working out just fine. I’ve got a whole half section all planted out, an’ those little trees are all growing away like all-git-out. I reckon we can aim to put in two baby pine trees for every big tree we cut down.”

“Well, that’s real good, son,” Ben was genuinely pleased. The land had to provide them with a living, but he hated to see its resources depleted. “Now you have to plan where to plant the trees so that they’ll be easy to log when the time comes.”

“But, Pa,” Joe hooked his knee over the arm of his chair. “No one’s going to log those ity-bity little trees for more than a hundred years.”

“That’s as may be,” Ben said. “But we have to think about it now.”

Adam joined the little group, nursing his second cup of coffee; “Anyway, it’ll be closer to two trees and a half for every tree we cut.”

“Dad-burn it, Adam,” Hoss scowled at his elder brother as he struggled with an unknown concept. “How can you plant half a tree?”

Little Joe whooped, and Ben smiled indulgently. Nothing had changed, “I’ll explain it to you, Hoss. Now tell me about that other plan.”

“Yes, sir,” Hoss frowned, composing his thoughts, “I think we could set aside the whole of that section up by the lake and sort of - do nothin’ with it. Just leave it to be as the good Lord intended, for the trees an’ the plants an’ the animals. We don’t really need to use all that land, and heck, the way folks are flooding into the territory, there plumb won’t be no land left for the wild things if’n we don’t set some aside.”

Ben sucked on his pipe. “I see what you mean, son. But it might be kind of hard just to keep that land untouched.”

“The land would need managing, Pa,” Adam put in,  “Dead trees felled, scrub cleared away, drainage maintained. It would be a lot of work for someone for no return.”

Hoss looked up at him, unwilling to see his project put down,  “I could do that work, Adam.”

“I’ll give it some thought and see if it can be done,” Ben said. He turned his eyes to his youngest son, “What about you, Joe?”

Joe swivelled round straight in his chair, his youthful face alive with enthusiasm, “Pa, how about we start to breed the horses we need right here on the ranch, rather than rely on the mustangs we can catch. That way we can improve the stock the same way we have with the cattle...”

Ben listened as Joe talked on about bloodlines, and brood stock, and eventually, to Joe’s delight, agreed to finance the purchase of a stallion, but his attention had centred on Adam. To Ben’s experienced eye, there was clearly something troubling his eldest son. Adam wasn’t saying much, but Ben knew from the look on his face, that he had something clammed up tight inside. It wasn’t any use trying to force the pace. Adam would talk to him, but only when he was ready.

It was getting late when Joe and Hoss finally said their goodnights and went up to bed. Ben tapped out his pipe and contemplated refilling it. Adam sat tucked in a chair staring into the empty fireplace. Ben could follow his thoughts. He missed the dancing flames as well and wondered what visions his son saw. He lay the pipe down.

“Joe mentioned something about rustlers,” he said, “Have we had a lot of trouble?”

Adam turned his head, and his dark eyes focussed on his father’s face. Ben could see him mentally changing tracks from his own thoughts to the question asked. “Not really, Pa. Just a few steers from the west section. Two or three at a time. Probably just the dirt farmers taking
a few head to feed their families.”

Ben frowned. He knew how strongly Adam felt about the plight of the poorer families, and he knew that a few steers could easily be spared, but he had his own equally strong principles and theft was theft.  “It’s not something we should condone.”

“It’s just a few head, Pa.”

“Never the less, I want those fence lines watched a lot more closely. If we can put a good scare into them, we might not have to call in the law.”

Adam drew a deep breath, and Ben prepared himself for an argument. But Adam let the breath ebb away in a long sigh. “Yes, Pa,” He lowered his eyes and resumed his focus-less gaze into the fireplace.

Now Ben knew for certain that something was wrong.

“Well, what is it?”

Adam looked at him again. His eyes were hooded and his face shuttered, an expression Ben knew too well. “Pa?”

“I’ve heard about Hoss’s trees and his plans for a nature reserve, and I’ve heard about Joe’s horses. What I haven’t heard about is the irrigation system you were designing for the lower pastures, or the logging road you were planning to lay, or the railroad spur you were so full of before I went away. So what is it? What’s eating at you?”

Adam wrapped his arm around his knees and drew them up tight against his chest. It was an attitude he had adopted since childhood when in need of comfort but unwilling to ask for it. The three brothers had agreed to gloss lightly over the events of the night of the party, but the bank robbery, and its fatal consequences, were another matter entirely, and not something he could, or would, keep from his father. The problem was how to tell it. Despite numerous attempts, he still found it difficult to make sense of his confused feelings, so haltingly, in an emotionless monotone that didn’t fool Ben one bit, he told it in a few simple sentences, exactly the way it had happened. At the finish of it his voice cracked on the words; “I killed a man, Pa. Except that it wasn’t a man. It was Andy Boxer, and he was just a kid.”

Ben wished now that he had re-lighted his pipe. It would have given his something to suck on, something to do with his hands. It was no use telling Adam that the Boxers were a bad lot and had been destined for trouble since birth, even though it were true. He had to say something to assuage the personal guilt that he knew his son, however unnecessarily, was feeling. He fixed Adam with his dark, almost black irised eyes, “Adam, I can only tell you that I believe that what Roy said to you was right. You might have killed a man, but that man was guilty and you saved another, innocent, man’s life.”

Adam hugged himself tighter. Although the summer’s night was warm he felt cold on the inside as well as out, “He was so young.” He said it so softly that Ben had to strain to hear the words, “He looked like Joe did only a couple of years ago.”

“There comes a time in every man’s life when he has to choose his own path. For some it comes sooner than others.”

“I keep seeing his face. Every time I close my eyes I see his face.”

“I know. It’s something you’ll always remember. But the memory will fade if you’ll only give it the chance.”

Adam sighed, “That’s just it, Pa. How much longer are we going to live by the gun? When is this territory finally going to be civilised?”

Ben knew Adam had harboured these feeling for a long time, ever since his days at college in the east. They were feelings that he was not at all comfortable with himself, but he knew that his son held them sincerely. “Civilisation will come soon enough,” he said slowly. “But I think it will be a long time before we can give up the gun.”

Adam unwound himself from the chair and stretched his long limbs. This was a conversation he’d had with his father before, and he knew where it headed,  “I guess you’re right. It’s something I’ll just have to come to terms with.”

Ben got up and touched him lightly on the shoulder, far from sure he had convinced his son of anything. The two of them turned together towards the staircase.

Ben was both surprised, and pleased, to find that Jenny had waited up for him. She had thrown a loose soft robe over her under things and was sitting at Marie’s mirror ~ now her mirror, Ben reminded himself sharply ~ brushing out her hair with long slow strokes. The lamplight was soft on the angles of her face, and he saw her smile at him in the glass as he closed the bedroom door.

“I’m sorry I’m so late, my love.”

“You needed to spend some time with the boys,” Jenny lay down the brush and turned, rising from her seat. She saw the trouble in his face and crossed the room to him, “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I’ve been talking to Adam.” He rested his hands lightly on her shoulders. “He had to kill a man involved in a robbery. He’s having a hard time dealing with it.”

Jenny watched his face earnestly, seeing there the deep concern for his son and loving him all the more because of it. “Adam will be all right,” she said gently.

Ben brought his eyes to focus on her beautiful face. “I think he will. He’s a strong man. It just might take a while.” His frown eased, and he reached out for her, running his finger tips lightly up her arms to her shoulders and then down the soft curve of her back.

Jenny smiled, her green eyes were fathomless. All thought of his son fled from Ben’s mind as she let the robe slip from her shoulders to the floor. “Time for bed, Mister Cartwright,” she whispered.

“First things first,” he murmured softly in her ear as his increasingly experienced hands began to unlace the mysteries of the corset.

Adam closed his door quietly and released a long held breath. The room was comfortable and familiar. His personal possessions made it intrinsically his, his books, his pictures, his guitar, his mother’s musical box on the dresser together with the silver backed hair brushes his father had presented to him on his thirtieth birthday. Polished wood glowed warmly in the glow of the lamp, and the bed, with its’ native blanket throw, looked inviting. Adam moved past it to the window. Despite the tiredness pricking at his eyes, he was unwilling to lie down just yet.

Adam had killed men before. Not many, admittedly, but enough to know that while you never forgot their faces, after a while they did sort of slip into the back of the mind. The ghost he was living with now was not ready to be laid to rest quite yet. He sat down in the chair by the window and gazed out into the night. It was a long time before he relaxed enough to consider sleep.
 

Four

Benjamin Cartwright, silver haired barrel chested patriarch of the Ponderosa was frightened, and like all big powerful men, when he was frightened he became angry, covering his fear with shouting and bluster. He stood now in the centre of the ranch house living room, hands on hips, his expression as black as a thunder storm and his dark eyes blazing. “I forbid it!” his mighty voice boomed through the house. “I absolutely forbid it!”

Hop Sing scooped up the last of the breakfast things and scurried for the kitchen. The tirade of Chinese muttering was cut off abruptly by the slamming of the door. Ben’s sons would have liked to make an equally expeditious exit, but their irate sire had stationed himself between them and the front door, and none of them felt inclined to challenge him. Instead, each of them was keeping a low profile and trying to avoid becoming embroiled in the argument that raged around their ears. Their stepmother, Jennifer Cartwright, stood in front of the stone built fireplace. She was several inches shorter than her formidable husband, and of much slighter in build, but her stubbornness, her determination and her physical attitude exactly mirrored his.

“Who do you think you are!” she yelled back furiously. “You’ve no right to forbid me anything!”

“I’m your husband!”

“My husband ~ not my gaoler!” The sea-green eyes spat savage sparks. “You’re turning this house into my prison!”

“Don’t be absurd!” Ben bellowed. “You can go anywhere, anytime you want to!”

Collectively, the Cartwright boys winced, knowing from experience that their father’s rage was approaching apoplectic proportions.

Jenny clenched her teeth.  How dare he treat her like a small child? She resisted with all her might the temptation to stamp her foot on the floor and prove him right. “And how pray, do you expect me to do that?” she asked icily. “Grow wings on my back and fly?”

“If you want to go out I’ll drive you!” Ben said in a more reasonable tone, something just short of a roar. “Or one of the boys will drive you!”

“Wherever I want to go?” she demanded. “Whenever I want to go? And how are you going to run this ranch with one of you waiting full time on me? Suppose it’s not convenient? Suppose none of you happen to be here? No, Ben!” She help up her hand to forestall another explosion; “It won’t do! I’ve made up my mind! I want a horse of my own!”

For Ben, time flipped back more than twenty years.

It was another bright summer’s day, early in the afternoon. He smelled the sharp scent of Jasmine from the vine that climbed the front of the house and felt the heat of the sun on his face. He heard the rattle of hooves coming into the yard ~ too fast ~ too fast! He saw a flash of gold in the sunlight as the chestnut mare stumbled and fell ~ saw the woman thrown through the air and heard her scream abruptly cut off. Marie ~ his own, dear, sweet Marie ~ would be dead before he could reach her. He closed his eyes but the vision was still there, burned into his brain.

He heard his wife’s voice as if from a long way away; “I know what you’re thinking, Ben.”

He opened his eyes and looked at her; “If you knew what I was thinking you wouldn’t ask this of me,” he said heavily.

Jenny gazed at him with sympathy and love, but she wouldn’t give way, “I won’t be held prisoner by another woman’s memory, Ben.”

He felt his face begin to crumple; “I couldn’t bear to lose you to.” His big voice was scarcely more than a whisper.

 The anger in Jenny’s face finally faded away; “You won’t lose me, my love. I used to be a good rider when I was a little girl. With a little practice...”

Ben sighed, knowing that he was defeated. He was still frightened, but his anger was dissipating like smoke in the wind. “You’ll ride only the horse I choose for you,” he said firmly. “And you won’t go out alone until I’m satisfied that it’s safe. And you won’t ride side
saddle. Not ever.”

With each condition imposed Jenny nodded, love, and a glimmer of amusement, shining from her eyes.

“Very well. You shall have a horse.”

Ben’s eyes moved round the room as he realised that his sons were still present, and not only were they avoiding his eyes, but they were all trying very hard not to laugh. It was rarely they saw their father bested in an argument, mainly because he could shout louder than anyone else they knew.

“Well, what are you three still doing here?” Ben barked crossly. “Don’t any of you have work to do? Doesn’t anyone in this house do as I tell them any more?”

He stepped smartly aside as Hoss and Adam with muttered, “Yes, sirs!” bolted for the door.   Joe was a little slower and Ben caught him by the arm; “Joseph, when you have time, cast your eye over the riding stock and let me know which horses might be suitable for a lady.” He shot his smiling wife a severe look. “I want a nice, quiet horse.”

“Sure, Pa.” Joe grinned at his stepmother, and caught her look that said as plainly as words, ‘Don’t you dare bring me old Dobbin,’ He winked at her. “I’ll do that, Pa.”

Suspecting the exchange but not certain of it, Ben sighed again, loudly, picked up his hat and followed his sons out of the house.
 

The hillsides, cloaked in pine trees and blued with the haze of distance, rose steeply, straight up out of the icy blue water of the lake. A cool breeze came up off the water, ruffling the manes of the horses. Ben sat back in his saddle and took a long deep breath. The air was sweet with the smell of pine and summer flowers. This spot on the headland, with its magnificent, breath taking view, was the place on Earth that he loved the most. The view was one of the things that had caused him to settle this land and that had made him stay and fight for it when times had been hard. One of the things that called him back whenever he had been away for too long. A God fearing man, it was the place he felt closest to his Lord.
 He looked across at his wife, sitting quietly on her horse beside him. He could tell by the expression of pure rapture on her face that she too, had been captivated. The spell had worked again, and the lake had entranced yet another Cartwright with its magic.

Ben looked out again over the water. Despite his misgivings, he had to confess that Jenny, and his sons when they had sided with her, had been right, and he had been wrong. The horse that he had been manoeuvred into choosing for her was the perfect mount for a lady. The gelding was intelligent and responsive and very well mannered, and although it was a touch livelier than he would have liked, if he were honest the only thing about it he could really object to was its colour. It was a sun bright chestnut.

His eldest son, Adam, had found a sturdy fore-and-aft rigged saddle and fitted it out with new buckles and straps and oiled and polished it until the leather glowed. Joe had gentled the horse, and Ben himself had helped his wife step into the saddle for the very first time. True to his word, Little Joe had taken it on himself to teach her, and once she had become accustomed to sitting astride, Jenny had learned quickly and well. Ben admitted, but only to himself, that she could now ride as well as any man on the ranch.

When they had looked their fill, Ben reined his horse round and led the way down onto the narrow strip of sand that edged the water. They dismounted and led the horses.

Ben indicated with a sweep of his arm the whole of the southern shore. “That’s the section Hoss wants for his nature reserve.”

Jenny gazed into the misty distance, “Can we really set aside all that?”

“We can afford the land, but Adam keeps telling me how much management a project like that would take. I’ll have to give it some more thought.”

She turned and looked him straight in the eye. She knew that while her husband was not averse to change in principle, he could be very slow to get started. “Don’t keep him waiting too long, Ben.”

Ben frowned. “You think I should let him go ahead?”

“Hoss is a man, now. Every man has his own dream. Yours was the Ponderosa and you built it with your own hands. Hoss’s dream is to work with, and care for the wild things. Perhaps it’s time to let him try.”

“It’s a lot of work for one man.”

“If he encounters difficulties, then he’ll overcome them ~ with our help if he wants it.”

“In the same way I’m helping Joe with his horse breeding project?”

A slight smile touched her lips. “Sort of,” she said.

“And Adam?”

“Ah yes, Adam.” Jenny scuffed her boot in the sand and studied the patterns she made. “Adam the engineer, Adam the architect, Adam the poet. Ben, I fear that all this...” She raised her eyes to encompass the whole of the landscape. “may not be enough to hold Adam’s dream.”

Ben objected but Jenny insisted. She pulled off her high riding boots and peeled off her stockings. She squealed at the icy bite of the water and laughed as the sand squeezed between her toes. She waded out until the water came half way up her calves, holding her skirts high above her knees. Then she sat on a grassy bank and dried her feet on Ben’s handkerchief.
 Feeling rather foolish, he lowered himself down beside her, and they sat side by side in silence for a while watching the ever changing aspect of the lake.

“I think you’re right,” Jenny said at last, reading, as she often did, his innermost thoughts. “This has to be the most beautiful place in the world. I love it!”

Ben lay back on his elbow in the grass. “And I love you,” he said, meaningfully.

Jenny gazed at him, a slight frown on her face, a slight smile on her lips. “Here? Aren’t we a little old for this?”

“I’m told, reliably,” he said, “that I need to be more innovative. Now come on down here and I’ll show you just how innovative I can be.”
 

In an effort to avoid the worst of the ruts, Adam steered his horse to the side of the track, and then let it pick its own way among the stones and the weeds, while he cast his eyes over the farmstead. The colloquialism ‘dirt farm’ was an apt one, and the place looked all but derelict. The fences were broken, and the fields, which had once been planted with a corn crop, lay un-harvested and un-watered. Even the weeds were having a hard time in the poor dry soil.

The house, if the two-roomed shack at the end of the track could be called a house, leaned at a distinct angle. Windows were broken and patched with scraps of old canvas, and one end of the roof was almost totally bare of shingles. Even the door of the outhouse was hanging from only one hinge.

The corral was another matter. The rails and the gate showed evidence of recent, if slip shod repair. There were no animals inside it, but there was fresh manure from both horses and cattle that had not been cleared away.  The only other sign of recent habitation was a line of grubby  laundry strung from a corner of the shack to a solitary cottonwood tree.

Adam let his horse come to a halt a few yards from the shack’s single door. His dark handsome face wore a frown and bore the ravages of any number of sleep-deprived nights. He was uncertain of his own motives in coming here, and he had no clear idea of what he hoped to achieve. A compulsion had been building up inside him for days. He’d just felt the need to see for himself what it was like to live like this. Well, he thought, looking round at the abject poverty, now he’d seen, and he didn’t much like it.

He turned his horse and was about to ride away when a movement caught his eye. For a moment a face appeared behind one of the grubby quarter panes, and, seconds later, the door opened. A woman stepped out into the yard. She was small and thin, starved looking, with painted pink lips and loose lank yellow hair. She wore a man’s pants and a low cut pink blouse with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows.

She stood hip-shot, with her arms folded, and looked him over. “You want somethin’, Mister?”

Adam touched the brim of his hat to her. “I was looking for Nathan Boxer.”

“Well, he ain’t here. He’s off’n someplace with his boys. What he’s got left of ‘em.”

Adam looked away towards the cottonwoods across the fields and drew a long steadying breath. Just what he needed right now was another dose of guilt. When he looked back the woman was still watching him with narrowed cat-like eyes. He nodded to her and started to gather his reins. “I’m sorry to have bothered you, ma’am.”

“Don’t go.” The woman sauntered towards him across the yard. “Nathan won’t be back for quite a while, but you’re welcome to come in an’ set.”

She reached out a hand and fingered the tooled leather of his saddle flap, moving close. His horse shied away. The woman watched as Adam regained control and kneed the gelding around. He knew the kind of look she had in her eyes. He had seen it a dozen times before, and it was an offer he was not currently inclined to accept. He pulled out his billfold and started to peel off some notes.

The woman recoiled as if he’d slapped her. “We don’t want none of your damned money Mister Adam Cartwright!” He reacted to his name, and she laughed at him. “Oh, I know who you are! I bin expectin’ you! I’m surprised it took you so long to get here. I know your sort. You just couldn’t stay away!”

The woman’s shouting upset Adam’s horse again, and he danced away from her. Adam stuffed the money back into his pocket and fought for control.

“Ma’am.” He touched his hat again and turned the horse away.

The woman spat at him.

As he rode away Adam could feel her eyes burning into his back. On reflection, he decided, coming here had not been a wise move. Had Nathan Boxer and his grown sons been at home, or had the woman managed to delay him until their return, his reward might well have been a shotgun blast.
 

Ben stared at his son as if he just suggested something totally preposterous, like a flight to the moon. “What do you mean, give cattle to the dirt farmers?” he demanded, his voice already taking on an edge of anger.

Adam, still holding his hat and wearing his gun belt, stood on the other side of the desk. He held his father’s gaze steadily, “I mean just what I say, Pa. If those folks don’t get some help this winter, they’re going to starve.”

“I suppose next you’ll suggest we provide firewood and building lumber?”

Adam looked uncomfortable. Already he could see which way this discussion was going. “It wouldn’t hurt us any.”

“While we’re about it, why don’t we just open up an account for them at the General Store?” Ben’s voice was heavy with sarcasm.

Adam sighed and glanced briefly heavenwards, a look that was not lost on his father. “Pa, if you’ll just listen to me...”

“No, I won’t listen to you!” Ben’s mighty voice had swelled to a bellow. “All this is because of what happened to Andy Boxer, isn’t it?”

“It’s not just the Boxers.” An edge of exasperation was creeping into Adam’s voice now, and nothing he could do would keep it out. “There are a dozen families who aren’t any better off.”

“Now let me tell you...” Ben’s voice dropped dangerously, and he pointed his finger for emphasis. “We’ve put a great deal of time and effort into fencing those pastures, and now we have to patrol the fences! And we are still losing cattle from that west section. Your dirt farmer friends are already helping themselves to our beef without any help from you!”

“They’re not my friends, Pa.”

“That’s not the way it sounds to me! This ranch raises cattle as a business, not for charity. And don’t tell me again...” Ben held up a forbidding hand as Adam opened his mouth. “that it’s only a few head. It looks like we’ve lost more than a hundred head in the last few months!”

Adam closed his mouth, shocked. He’d been so concerned with his own personal turmoil that he hadn’t realised the losses had been so severe. His mind took another track. “That sounds like a full scale rustling operation.”

“You’re darned right it is!” Ben muttered, settling back into his chair. His eyes still burned with anger. “What we have to decide, is what we’re going to do about it.”

Adam leaned his butt against the desk and turned his hat in his hands. “If that many cattle were being slaughtered in Virginia City then the sheriff would have to know about it.”

Ben harrumphed and pulled a sour face. “I’ve talked to Roy, unofficially. He says no. My guess is that the dirt farmers have something going with the mining camps. An unofficial contract to supply them with our beef.”

“What do you want to do, Pa?”

Ben looked up at him. Now that his son seemed to be back on his side, his anger was abating. “We’ll have to watch that fence line closer. Find out who’s taking those steers and where they’re taking them too. And then, if I have to, I’ll call in the law.”

Adam looked unhappy with that. “That would mean sending men to prison. It would make it even harder on the families.”

Annoyed again, Ben shot him an angry glare. “In the old days we’d have hanged them where we found them. That was the only law there was!”

Adam sighed and acquiesced, glad that at least his father wasn’t advocating a return to barbarism.
 

The stallion that Joe brought back with him from his trip east was a truly magnificent animal. Tall and deep chested, he had a fine head and a spirited eye. His coat was coal black and had the sheen of silk. As Joe walked him back and forth in front of his admiring family huge muscles rippled fluidly beneath his skin.

“He's seven years old and a three quarter bred Morgan,” Joe informed his father. “When we cross him with our mares, we’ll get sturdier, stronger saddle stock without losing any lightness of foot. We can sell off any surplus colts and by the time his fillies are grown we’ll be able to buy in another stallion to avoid in-breeding.”

Ben ran his hand over the horse’s powerful shoulder. “You’ll have to keep careful records, Joe, of which horse you cross with which.”

“I know, Pa.” Joe’s youthfully handsome face radiated enthusiasm. “Adam loaned me a book on it. You write everything down in a big book like a ledger. They call them stud books.”

Hoss, who had been at the horse’s head making friends, joined them. “That sounds like a whole lot of work for cow ponies, Little Joe.”

Adam, at the other end examining hoofs, straightened up and dusted off his hands. “I hope you get you money’s worth, Joe.”

“What do you mean?” Joe was immediately concerned that his brother had found something amiss with the horse.

Adam leaned on the black horse’s rump. “I was reading in the paper ’bout a fella in Germany, called Nikolaus Otto, talking about building an engine that runs on powdered coal. Reckons it could revolutionise transport, do away with the horse altogether.”

Despite the sunshine Ben felt suddenly cold, as if a dark shadow from the future had fallen across him. “I hope that revolution doesn’t come anywhere near the Ponderosa,” he said. “At least, not in my lifetime.”

“Have you thought of a name for the horse?” Hoss asked his brother.

Joe shook his head. “I thought I’d let Jenny name him.”

Smiling, Jenny stroked the stallion’s nose. He snorted softly and nuzzled her. “We’ll call him Monarch,” she said.

Ben smiled. They made a lovely pair, the woman and the horse. He had to admit, his youngest son had become the finest judge of horseflesh he’d ever met, and the woman ~ the woman was just perfect. He slapped Joe on the shoulder. “He’s a fine horse, son.”

Hoss sidled up to his older brother. “Adam - is that Germany, Europe?”

Adam laughed. “It’s the only one I know, Hoss. The only one I know!”
 

Jenny and Hoss sat their horses on the hillside overlooking the carefully fenced pasture behind the house. They both wore silly smiles on their faces as they watched the small, shaggy animals that dotted the grassland.

Hoss shook his head in disbelief. “I never thought I’d see the day when my Pa would allow a sheep to set foot on Ponderosa land.”

Jenny laughed musically. “Believe me, Hoss, it wasn’t easy!”

“No ma’am.” Hoss joined in the laughter. They both remembered well the rows that had threatened to lift the roof off the ranch house.

Ben had been adamant. No sheep on the Ponderosa! Absolutely no sheep! They were tic infested; they contaminated the land; they broke down the banks of the water courses; and, most condemning of all, they cropped the grass to the roots, or at least far too short for the cattle to be able to graze it after them. It was impossible for the two animals to share the same range, Ben had maintained, loudly and at considerable length. The cattle, mainstay of the Ponderosa’s business, would starve.

It had taken Jenny a long time and a lot of extremely heated argument, together with a certain amount of documentary evidence, to convince him that a small, carefully maintained flock would do no harm at all. Ben had insisted on the fences and on a dedicated water supply and a ruthless examination of the animals skins, but eventually he had given way, somewhat gracelessly, to his wife’s wishes and allowed her to purchase her heart’s desire, a two dozen strong flock of Jacob’s sheep.

When they had arrived Ben had admitted, grudgingly, that the little creatures with their four in-curving horns and their cream, russet and brown spotted coats were somewhat endearing. Now they were grazing peacefully in their allocated field and showed all the promise Jenny had hoped for.

Hoss shifted in his saddle. “Ma’am, some of those little sheep ’re getting awful shaggy. Do we have to get in one of those specialist sheep shearers to cut them coats?”

“No, Hoss.” Jenny shook her head, smiling again. “They shed their hair all year round. You can just pull it off in handfuls, and if you keep the colours separate you can make patterns in the cloth as you weave it. If you’d like, I’ll make you a coat from the first piece off the loom.”

Hoss gave her his broad, gap-toothed smile, “I’d like that real fine, ma’am Real fine!”
 

Five

The summer days were stretching, long and golden, into autumn. The weather held hot and dry and the grasslands were brown.

In the main street of Virginia City the temperature, in the early afternoon, had reached oven-like proportions. Joe Cartwright leaned on the post that supported the board walk awning and mopped his face with a black handkerchief. He took off his hat and fanned himself with the brim. The sky was brassy and the sunlight so bright that he had to screw up his eyes to watch the heat devils dance.

Joe had been looking forward to getting away from the ranch, even if for just a few hours. Hot or not, work on the Ponderosa followed, of necessity, a set pattern, and that pattern dictated that preparations be started for the winter to come. The second crop of hay had to be cut and stored for winter feed, cattle had to be gathered and bunched, building repairs made and, Joe’s least favourite task, a whole winter’s firewood laid in beside the house. His father, while allowing his sons more authority and freedom these days than ever before, believed firmly that they should work alongside the hired help, and he wouldn’t hear any arguments to the contrary. No, on the whole Joe was glad to have come to town, even if the town was sweltering and airless.

Hoss came out of the hardware store and pulled out a huge red and white bandanna to wipe the sweat from his face. He had loaded most of the wagon, and he was even hotter that Joe.
“Sure is hot,” Joe ventured.

“Sure is.” Hoss looked up the street, then down. It was very quiet.

“You reckon Pa wants us to head straight back with all this fencing gear?"

Hoss looked over the wagon, neatly loaded with wire and a couple of kegs of nails. “Reckon so.”

“You think Pa would notice if we were just a half hour late?”

“Joe, I think our Pa knows where we are every second, of every hour, of every day.”

“I guess you're right,” Joe sighed. “I sure could use a beer.”

“Me too.”

Joe looked sideways at his big brother. “Hoss, I don’t think Pa would begrudge us a cold beer on a hot afternoon. After all, we are grown men.”

“Sure we are.” Hoss gazed speculatively at his brother. “I’ll buy the beer, but if Pa yells at us ‘cause we’re late you can be the one to tell him we was in the saloon.”

“Sounds fair.” Joe grinned boyishly, and the two set off along the boardwalk, headed for the Silver Dollar.

They had just reached the first intersection when a door opened behind them, “Hoss ~ Hoss Cartwright!”

It was Johan Schulzer, the draper, beckoning urgently.

Hoss nodded to Joe. “You go on and get those beers set up on the bar. I’ll be there in just a tick,” he turned back to the draper’s shop. “Hey there, Mister Schulzer, what can I do for you?”

The little Austrian draper smiled and bobbed. “I have the package of silk fabrics your mother ordered from Boston, Mister Cartwright. If you would just come inside...”

Hoss followed him into the cool, slightly scented depths of the shop and Joe, amused, went on towards the saloon.

He had crossed the intersection and reached the front of the harness and leather goods store, recently bought and refurbished by the Kylle brothers, when two figures moved out of the shadows, neatly bracketing him, one on either side. It was the Boxer twins. The two identical faces were smiling but it was not the sort of smile Joe liked. The best way out of this, he thought to himself, was the fastest. He made to step round them but Teddy, Joe thought it was Teddy, moved to block him.

“Where are you goin’, Cartwright, in such a hurry?” The other one, possibly William, inquired with a smirk.

Joe backed off a step and they followed him, toe to toe, crowding him into the saddles and harness that hung on display outside the store. He tried to step round them again, and again found himself blocked. He raised his hands to fend them off as they moved in on him threateningly. “What do you fellas want?”

“What do we want?” One of the twins leered across at the other. “Joe Cartwright wants to know what we want.”

“We want you, Cartwright.” The other twin gave Joe a push in the chest that sent him stumbling back. There was some more pushing and shoving that ended in Joe’s back slamming into the wall hard enough to rattle his teeth. Some of the harness fell off its pegs and tangled round him. He could feel his nose starting to bleed.

“Your brother killed our brother!” one of the twins snarled. “Shot ’im down in the street like he was a dawg!”

Joe tried hard to keep his voice level; “Your brother was robbing the bank.”

“You Cartwrights want to mind you own damned business!”

“We’re gonna find our how much you Pa likes it to put his boy in a hole in the ground.”

“We’re gonna kill us a Cartwright.”

“We just gotta find the right Cartwright.”

“You need some help there, Joe?”  The question came over the Boxer’s shoulders, from behind and above them. As one man they turned and found themselves face to shirt buttons with the man-mountain that was Hoss Cartwright. Hoss stood casually, his thumbs hooked in his pants belt, but his pale blue eyes were like chips of flint.

At one and the same moment both the Boxer brothers thought about the guns on their hips. Their hands twitched spasmodically, but Hoss was quicker. Faster than the eye could follow his huge hands whipped out and caught both of them, one by the wrist and the other by the throat, lifting him up onto his toes. Hoss looked beyond them at his brother; “You all right?”

Joe disentangled himself from the harness and dabbed at his face with his sleeve. “I’m fine. But I think you’d better let that fella down. He’s goin’ a sort of funny colour.”

“Oh, yeah.” Hoss admired the Boxer twin’s slowly purpling face. “Guess you’re right.” He lowered the smaller man until he could just take his weight on his own feet. The other twin was whimpering, white faced with pain and sweating. Hoss eased his grip just a little.

“You boys havin’ a problem?” The slow drawl belonged to Roy Coffee. Wherever there was any sort of trouble, the grey-haired sheriff was never far away.

“No problem, Roy.” Joe cocked him what he hoped was a grin. “We was just funnin’ around.”

Roy eyed the blood spots on Joe’s shirtfront. “Just funnin’? Right.”

“He’s breakin’ my arm!” squeaked the Boxer that Hoss had by the wrist.

“Let go ’o them, Hoss,” Roy ordered. Hoss sighed with reluctance and let go of both Boxers. One staggered, clutching his throat, the other rubbed furiously at his wrist. “It don’t look broke to me,” Roy said without sympathy. “You two boys get on home.”

With a glare and some muttered curses, the Boxer twins gathered their hats and started to move off. One of them, possibly William, looked back over his shoulder. “Make sure you tell your brother what we said, Cartwright!”

Roy Coffee watched their retreating backs until he was sure they were going without more trouble, then he turned to Joe and Hoss; “Sure is hot, boys. You look like you could do with a beer.”

A huge smile spread across Hoss’s face. “Dad-burn-it, Roy! That’s just what we was thinkin’!”

Hoss retrieved the brown wrapped parcel that contained his step-mother’s silks, and a few minutes later, the three of them were seated at a table in the Silver Dollar saloon. Three tall glasses of dark beer stood in front of them.

A frown troubled Hoss’s face. “Roy, you reckon those Boxer twins could’ve been the men ridin’ with their brother the day he was shot?”

“Nope.” Roy supped his cold beer, and picked up a second moustache of white foam. “Those boys keep some pretty bad company, but they got what they call an a-li-bi.” He sounded the strange word out carefully. “They was in a saloon three blocks over, as drunk as lords and with two dozen men as witness. But it was those two other fellas I wanted t’ talk t’ you ’bout.”

Joe and Hoss exchanged looks and prepared to listen. They might have known the beer would not be for free. Roy wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “That Andy Boxer, he was mixed up with some real tough hombres from up in the mining camps. I have an idea that they might have been the gang that have been doin’ all the killin’s up that way.”

Hoss’s look of concern deepened, “That still goin’ on, Roy?”

“Three in the last couple o’ months. They’re still keepin’ t’ the north of town and with the winter comin’ on I expect they’ll go t’ ground pretty soon now. You boys be sure t’ remind your Pa to keep a look out. You got a lot of line shacks up among all them pine trees. Ideal places fer a bunch ’o killers to hide out.”

“We’ll remind him, Roy,” Joe said.

Roy finished his beer and smacked his lips. “Sure was good.” He gathered his hat and nodded to the Cartwright brothers. “G’day, boys.”

When he had gone Joe took a long swallow of beer, but Hoss merely frowned into his glass. It was plain the big man had something on his mind.

“Joe, do you think those killers might really be hidin’ out in our hills?”

Joe shrugged. “I suppose they might, but they’re more likely to hang out around the mining camps this time of year.”

“I was wantin’ to take a ride up into that section that Pa says I can set aside. Take a few days to look around before winter sets in.”

Joe grinned at him, he was as pleased as could be to see his big brother embarking on what looked like being his life’s work. “Sounds like a good idea, Hoss.”

“I was wonderin’ if Adam would come with me if’n I asked him. I’d kind of like him to explain to me about this land management he keeps on talkin’ about. Might be easier to understand if we have the land right there in front of us.”

“That sounds good as well.”

Hoss looked up at Joe, his expression both troubled and hopeful. “Adam’s been actin’ kind o’ funny lately, ever since that run in with Andy Boxer. You reckon he’d come with me?”

“Sure he would. Some practical problems are probably just what our older brother needs”

“I’ll ask him then.” Hoss made up his mind, “Now we’d best be gettin’ back, Joe. We’ve still got all that fencin’ to deliver, an’ tomorrow Pa wants me to check up on those six little heifers we put down in the water meadows. They should be comin’ on a real treat by now.”

The two Cartwrights drank up their beer, picked up their hats, and the parcel, and headed back to where they’d left the wagon.
 

Adam came down the staircase freshly bathed, and shaved, and all dressed up for his trip to the big city. In his hand he carried a book bound in well-handled green leather. It was one of his favourites.

With a smile in her eyes Jenny met him in the centre of the room. With a proprietary air she brushed the tiniest speck of lint from the lapel of his dark, broadcloth coat and stepped back admiringly. She was pleased at how smart her tall, handsome stepson looked.

He held out the book to her. “This is the novel we were talking about yesterday. I thought you might like to read it while I’m away.”

“Why, thank you, Adam.” She took it from him, well aware of how much Adam’s books meant to him and what a privilege it was to be loaned one. “I’ll just have time to finish it before you get back. Adam, I’ve written some letters to my family. Would you be kind enough to post them for me?”

His deep amber eyes smiled warmly into her green ones. “It will be my pleasure to, Ma’am.” He took the small stack of neatly addressed, cream coloured envelopes and turned to his father, holding out his hand. “I’ll be gone about two weeks Pa. That’ll give me time to talk to our lawyers and visit Major McKenna in the hospital.”

Ben shook hands with his son. “Give Peter my best wishes, and make sure you get us the best price for that lumber.” He handed over a briefcase full of papers. “You take care of yourself, now.”

Ben slipped his arm round his wife, and smiling, they watched as Adam shook hands with his brothers, gathered his hat, and his gun belt, and went out of the door. 

Two pistol shots in rapid succession, fired into the air. That was the Cartwright family’s signal that something was wrong, and that everyone should come running. Ben and Joe pulled up and exchanged looks of alarm. As one, they turned their horses and set off at a gallop in the direction of the shots.

Hoss was in the water meadows, down in the thigh high grass near the stream. He had stepped down from his horse and was looking down at something that lay out of sight on the ground. Ben remembered that this was the field where they were grazing the six yearling heifers to get some meat on their bones before winter. He looked round anxiously. The heifers were up on the hill in a little group ~ but not enough of them.

Hoss looked up when he heard their horses, his broad face strangely puckered up. Ben was off his horse before it had stopped moving. He could see now that two of the heifers lay on their sides in the long grass, and he could tell from the amount of gore around that they were not going to get up again. He joined Hoss, and a second later Joe came up beside him. The three of them stared in horrified disgust at the remains of the young cows.

“What did this?” Ben asked, his voice low and gravely. “Varmints?”

“It was varmints all right, Pa.” Hoss hunkered down and showed his father some of the grisly details. “It was two legged varmints. No cat ever did this.”

“What about the others?” Joe looked up the hill to where the remaining four cows huddled forlornly against the rail. “Are they all right?”

Hoss followed his gaze. “I ain’t looked yet.”

“Go look them over, will you, Joe?”

As Joe stepped back into the saddle, Ben turned to Hoss. “Son, I know you were planning to ride up into the reserved section with Adam when he gets back, but with this trouble,” He gestured round. “I don’t think I can spare either of you.”

“I know, Pa.” Hoss pulled a face. “Don’t you worry about it none.”