Soft earth folded beneath Cochise's hooves as Joe Cartwright rode over the crest of the hill.  The ground sloped away before him, unfurling in a sun-drenched tapestry of green.  Further in the distance, the jagged caps of the mountains rose above the treeline--majestic peaks erected to a cloud-streaked sky.

Joe followed the fence line, watching for stray cattle, and any rifts in the taut rows of barb wire. He shifted in the saddle, feeling the stiff ache of abused muscles.  It was inching towards noon, and he was operating on a few hours sleep. Lately it was habit--spending the evening in Virginia City, well into dawn.  Somehow poker and friends had taken the place of family and responsibility.  Only this morning his father had given him a delayed lecture on the vices of gambling and alcohol.

Joe grimaced at the memory. He and Ben were drifting apart and he didn't know how to stop the separation.  Joe knew his own restless nature was partly at fault.  He was not the businessman Adam was, nor was he as dependable as Hoss, but he'd always thought there was a place for him on the Ponderosa.  Lately, even that seemed an unlikelihood.  Only last month his father had entrusted him with the ranch's horse operation, but already Joe sensed Ben's disappointment.  It wasn't so much his handling of the business that seemed to bother Ben, but rather Joe himself. Ben started finding shortcomings in everything Joe did and that made him feel more and more a failure.  He didn't see how he could ever measure up to his father's standards.

The acrid reek of smoke brought him back to the present.  Joe nudged Cochise further down the trail he was riding, then over the next hill.  Just beyond the rise, two men reclined in the grass around a camp fire.  A sorrel and black were tethered nearby and an array of tools was strewn over the ground.  The line of fence that wound by the makeshift camp was in bad need of repair.  Two of the posts were busted and the wire was breached in countless places.

Suppressing a sudden stab of anger, Joe rode for the camp and dismounted.  Moving swiftly to the fire, he kicked dirt over the flames, sending a hissing ribbon of smoke into the air.

"Hey, hey! What'dya think yer doin'?"  A heavyset man with thinning brown hair huffed, as he struggled to his feet.  Joe recognized him as Frank McCay, one of the new hands his father had hired only last week.  His partner, still reclining on the grass, was Kent Rudy.  Rudy tipped a bottle of whiskey to his lips and took a long swig.

"He's playing rich kid boss, McCay.  Let him go."

Reaching forward, Joe snagged the bottle out of Rudy's hand.  A snap of his wrist sent it crashing against the nearest post.  Glass shattered over the broken wood and rainbowed in glittering fragments to the ground.  "You're supposed to be mending that fence, not getting foxed.  We told you when we hired you, no alcohol."

Rudy and McCay exchanged a glance.  Unwinding like a cat, Rudy rose to his feet.  He was all harsh, angular lines, with a pinched face and a swath of mud-dark hair.  Bloodshot eyes, glazed by the haze of alcohol, bore into Joe. "Guess we forgot that part."

"Guess again, you're fired." On a normal day, Joe had little tolerance for fools.  This morning, the crackling edge of his temper made that leniency almost nil. "You've got a weeks pay coming.  Pick it up at the house." As he started to turn away, a hand clutched at his shoulder and whirled him around.

McCay's blow clipped him on the side of the face and sent him reeling back into Cochise.  The horse sidestepped out of the way and Joe fell backwards.  Instantly, a hand closed on his shirt front and hauled him to his feet.  A second blow buffeted him below the ribs, doubling him over.  As the pain constricted across his stomach, he was vaguely aware of Rudy approaching from the side.  Lurching forward, Joe barreled into McCay's bulky frame, sending them both tumbling to the ground.  Scrambling to his feet, he snagged McCay by the collar.  Drawing his arm back, he snapped his fist into the larger man's face.  Teeth grazed against his knuckles and he felt the sudden hot flow of blood spread across his hand.

McCay cursed.

With a quick swipe of his foot, he hooked Joe below the ankles, and kicked his legs out from under him.  Joe grunted as his back struck the ground, the jarring impact clattering his teeth together.  He rolled to the side as Rudy moved forward to strike.

Ducking the smaller man's blow, Joe reciprocated with one of his own.  Rudy's head rocked to the side, and Joe followed the strike with an uppercut to the man's mid section.  Almost immediately, Rudy folded in half and dropped to his knees.  Before Joe could move again, he heard the tell-tale click of a gun hammer being cocked.  Slowly, he raised his hands in the air and turned. Frank McCay had drawn his revolver.

"Seems we got us a situation."  The big man wiped a hand across his mouth and spat blood on the ground. "What'dya think, Rudy?"

The thinner man staggered upright.  Grinning wickedly, he cast a sideways glance at Joe.  "I think maybe we don't want that week's pay after all, rich kid.  We'll just take it out of your hide." As he spoke, Rudy eased Joe's gun out of his holster.  Tossing it aside, he moved to his horse and retrieved a coil of rope.  With a backwards glance over his shoulder, he grinned wolfishly at Joe.  "We gonna have us some fun now, Cartwright."

Joe's eyes flickered to the rope.  His chest was heaving with the exertion of the fight, and his hair hung ragged over his brow.  He could taste blood in his mouth; feel more seeping from his lacerated knuckles. Rudy grabbed him on the shoulder and propelled him towards the nearest fence post.  With his back to the splintered wood, Joe's arms were wrenched behind him and secured by the rope.

Rudy gave one last tug to the binding, and stepped back to survey his handiwork. "What'dya think, Frank?"

McCay slipped his gun into his holster.   He crunched the knuckles of one hand against the other, a sadistic gleam in his oatmeal-pale eyes.  Licking his lips, he took a step forward.  "I think the boy needs a lesson."

Undaunted, Joe lifted his chin, his green eyes defiant.  "And who's gonna teach me?  A lazy toad and a skinny drunk?"

"Why you--" McCay lurched forward, driving his fist into Joe's stomach.

The explosion of pain was staggering.  Joe gasped, bending double.  The binding on his wrists snapped taut, holding him in place.  Sweat dripped into his eyes.  At Rudy's urging, McCay hit him again, then backhanded him across the face.  Blood flooded Joe's mouth.

"Hold it right there."

The voice was distant, fogged by the pain-numbing haze in his mind.  Joe waited for another blow, but it never came.  Blinking sweat from his eyes, he lifted his head.  Ten yards away, his father sat mounted on Buck, a Winchester rifle laid over his lap.  McCay cursed and backed away.

A nervous laugh escaped Rudy.  He sniffled and dragged a dirt-encrusted sleeve beneath his nose.  "Mr. Cartwright, this ain't like it looks."

"Then how is it?"

Rudy chanced a quick glance at McCay.  His friend's skin had mottled with rage and his lips were white like the underbelly of a fish.  "We was just--"

"Untie my son."  Ben snapped.

Rudy jumped as though physically prodded into motion.  Moving to Joe's side, he undid the binding, allowing the rope to coil harmlessly to the ground.  Roughly, Joe shoved him away then bent to retrieve his gun.  "Get the hell out of here," he muttered.

Ben jerked his head behind him.  "The road to Virginia City is that way.  I don't think I have to tell you what will happen if I find either of you on the Ponderosa again."

Head bobbing on his skinny neck like a child to eager to please, Rudy snagged his companion by the arm.  McCay turned away wordlessly, but his heavy-lidded eyes bore into Joe as he mounted his horse.  Ben watched as they rode away, then returned his rifle to its scabbard and dismounted.

Joe thumbed blood from the corner of his mouth.  "Thanks, Pa."

"What happened?"  The edge was gone from Ben's voice.  As he moved to Joe's side, his dark eyes narrowed in concern.  Gripping Joe's chin, he tilted his son's head to the side, to better examine the bruise rising on his cheek. Impatiently, Joe brushed his arm away.

"I caught them drinking.  When I told them to pack up and collect their pay, they jumped me."

Ben nodded thoughtfully.  He'd saved his son from a beating, but had been too late to prevent some painful blows.  He could tell by the way Joe was standing, that he favored his left side.  Ben frowned.  He knew solicitousness would get him nowhere.  Joe would brush off the concern as unwanted and unnecessary, all the while bristling to be away.  Ben resisted the urge to touch his son.  "We shouldn't have to hire men like that, but with the competition from the mines--"

"I know, Pa."  Joe's reply came much too quickly.  He wet his lips.  "I've still got a lot of fence line to cover.  I should get back at it."

"Sure, Joe."  Ben watched as he swung onto Cochise's back.  Joe winced with the effort, but composed his face quickly.  Lacing the reins between his hands, he glanced down at his father.

"I'm gonna ride to Virginia City afterwards, Pa.  I promised Mitch I'd stop by the saloon."

"Again?"  Ben hissed and immediately regretted the slip.  He saw Joe stiffen.  Lately they seemed to argue more than they talked.  "You were just there yesterday," he said, trying to keep his tone neutral.

"I know.  I won't be late.  Besides--I can pick up the mail while I'm there.  You're expecting a letter from Adam, right?"

Reluctantly, Ben nodded.  He wished his eldest son were home to council him on the situation with Joe, rather than brokering a cattle auction in San Francisco.  Adam wouldn't return for another three weeks and each day the gulf between Ben and his youngest son grew. "Come home early," he instructed.

Joe grinned.  "I promise."

The grandfather's clock struck 3 a.m., sending a melodic shiver of sound rippling through the great room of the Ponderosa ranch.  With an irritated glance at the timepiece, Ben Cartwright clasped his hands behind his back and continued to pace.  His boot heels scraped against the hardwood floor, eliciting a clipped echo from the plank boards.  In the hearth, the fire had dwindled to a few remaining embers--topaz coals, weakly sputtering thin ribbons of smoke up the chimney.  The light from a nearby hurricane lamp washed a puddle of gold over the floor, chasing long-tailed shadows to the corners.

Ben sighed and laced a hand through his hair.  He'd given up trying to sleep almost two hours ago, when he'd abandoned his bed for a book and a fireside chair.  As the hour inched deeper into the night, those too had been forsaken in favor of the anxious pacing that occupied him now.

Joseph was still in Virginia City.

The thought brought an agitated frown to Ben's lips.  He was uncertain if he was concerned, angry or both.  Certainly his twenty-two year old son was mature enough to set his own hours, but when that included an increasing penchant for late nights, liquor and gambling, Ben feared a line had to be drawn.  It would have been easier had Joe slacked off on his duties at the ranch, but despite the late nights and occasional hangovers, his youngest son still managed to fulfill his obligations at the Ponderosa without fault.  He'd finished his work today before riding into town.  He'd just conveniently forgotten his promise to return early.

Ben jerked suddenly at the click of the front door opening.  He'd been so immersed in his thoughts, he hadn't even heard Joe approach.  His son tossed his hat on the sideboard by the front door, then moved to unbuckle his gunbelt.  As he set the hostler and weapon aside, his eyes caught sight of Ben.

"Pa.  What are you still doing up?"

Ben folded his arms across his chest and waited as his son approached.  Joe's thick, curly hair was tousled, the bangs falling softly across his forehead.  There was a flush to his tanned skin and his green eyes were unnaturally bright, but there was nothing to indicate the dull haze of alcohol. Ben breathed a sigh of relief.  Whatever he'd been doing, Joe hadn't been carousing with his friends.  As Ben's eyes dipped lower, he realized his son's shirt was rumpled and the buttons improperly alined.  A hint of perfume clung to his clothing.  Ben's eyes narrowed. There was something vaguely familiar about the scent, as though he should recognize it.  Joe had obviously been with one of the many women who favored his company, but what type of woman kept hours so late?

"Do you know what time it is, young man?"

Joe looked momentarily puzzled by Ben's harsh tone.  He shrugged.  "Sure, Pa.  I know I promised to be home early, but--"

"But you thought it wasn't important to honor that vow?  Have you forgotten you're meeting with a prospective buyer tomorrow?"

"You mean Wingate?"  Joe placed his hands on his hips.  "Come on, Pa, that's nothing.  I--"

"Nothing?"  Ben bit the word off like steel.  "Joseph, do you realize the potential business that one man represents?  If he buys the string of horses you've just broken, it will be the cement to supply not only working stock, but breeding stock as well.  He represents a conglomerate of California-based ranches.  He's only in town for one day, and it's taken painstaking effort to set up this meeting.  Mr. Wingate insists on speaking with you, since you work directly with our stock and oversee the horse operation of this ranch."

"I know, Pa."

"Don't interrupt me!"

Joe ducked his head.  "Yes, Sir."

"I don't need you fouling this up because you're too fog-headed or hungover from a night of carousing with your friends, or God-knows-what-else you've been up to.  I specifically asked you to come home early.  I've given you almost complete control of the horse operation of this ranch, Joseph, but I'm starting to question whether or not that was a sound decision.  Lately you seem more interested in your friends and the night life of Virginia City than you do with the Ponderosa."

Joe raised his head, dismayed by his father's anger.  It seemed no matter what he did, he just couldn't please Ben.  He was partly to blame, he knew.  He had been away from the ranch too frequently, indulging in late nights on the town with questionable friends.  He didn't understand his own restlessness, only knew that it had become so much a part of him, it was erecting a wall between himself and his family.

Joe wet his lips.  "You don't have to worry, Pa.  I'll be fine tomorrow.  And I wasn't drinking."

Ben's demeanor failed to soften.  "What were you doing?"

Joe hesitated, then glanced away.  His eyes dipped to the floor, where he studied the tips of his boots.  "I was visiting a friend."

"And gaining a reputation.  Joseph, do you realize half the women of Virginia City have branded you a philanderer? And what woman, with any type of upbringing entertains a bachelor, until almost three in the morning?"

Joe flushed.  Tight-lipped, he glanced aside.  He could understand his father's displeasure over another late night out, but he hadn't expected this assault on his character, much less the character of his friends.  It was unlike Ben to delve into his personal life, and that wound cut deeply.  "I didn't say I was with a woman," he returned stiffly.

The fire hissed as the last sputtering coal succumbed to darkness.  Wrapped in the halo of light from the hurricane lamp, Ben's face was unnaturally grave.  Deep creases puckered the corners of his eyes and etched a spider-thin webwork of lines around his mouth. His chin was tilted up, creating a belligerent mask-like effect, readily magnified by the frosted glare of his eyes. "If you weren't with a woman, who were you with?"

Joe fell silent.  He could feel his insides twisting.  His father had never grilled him like this before--never made his behavior seem so demeaning.  He knew Ben didn't approve of his recent penchant for gambling and late night saloon visitations, but he'd never before hinted at improper conduct when it came to women.  A burgeoning thread of resentment danced along the exposed edge of Joe's nerves.  He was suddenly tired.  Fatigued by all the confrontations he'd had with his father.  What ever it was that had put them so much at odds, he just couldn't seem to heal the breach, and was weary of trying.  That frustration made his temper grow dangerously thin.

"I'm tired, Pa.  Could I please just go to bed?"

"Oh, I see.  You've been out.  You've had your fun.  Now you want to push all this aside and skip the lecture."

"I didn't realize you were planning on giving me one," Joe snapped.

Ben took a threatening step forward.  His glance was baleful.  "Don't take that tone of voice with me, boy."

Joe caught his bottom lip between his teeth and ducked his head.  His chest rose and fell with the effort to control his anger.  At his sides, his hands had white-knuckled into fists.  Ben was standing much too close now, glowering down at him, making him realize not for the first time, how terribly slight in stature he was, next to his father's tall, broad frame.  Still his chest heaved.  "It isn't fair," he muttered.

"What isn't fair?"  Ben demanded.

Joe's eyes flashed to his father's face, his gaze bristling and defiant.  "You wouldn't do this with Adam or Hoss.  If Adam came home at three in the morning you'd--"

"If Adam came home at three in the morning, I'd know he had a valid excuse."

"And I don't, is that it?"

"Well?  Do you?"  Ben challenged.

Disgusted, Joe glanced away.  He heard Ben swear softly, then stalk from his side.  A moment later his father's curt voice came from the shadows by the hearth.  "Go to bed, Joseph."

Joe didn't hesitate.  He walked briskly to the staircase, taking the steps two at a time as he hurried to his room.  Once inside, he closed the door behind him, and sagged against the stout wood.  Expelling a ragged breath, he raised his head and stared at the ceiling.

Ben had been right about one thing--he had been with a woman.  He just didn't see how he could possibly tell his father that woman was Lorna David--Adam's, steady girlfriend.

"Morning, little brother."

Joe managed a weak nod at Hoss's gap-toothed smile.  He still wasn't awake.  It had taken all his energy to crawl out of bed this morning, but he'd been determined to be up, before Ben had to call him.  He was stiff and sore from the beating he'd taken yesterday, the muscles of his midsection protesting with every slight nuance of movement.  Sliding into his chair at the breakfast table, Joe stole a glance at this father.

"Morning, Pa."

Ben's eyes flicked to his face, then back to his plate.  He muttered a greeting, still obviously nursing his displeasure from the previous eve.  Failing to note the tension between the two, Hoss shoved a forkful of eggs into his mouth.  "I got that fencing loaded on the buckboard, Pa.  Want me and Joe to head up to the north pasture and mend that rift in the line?"

Ben nodded.  His fork scraped over his plate as he pushed fried potatoes to the side.

Joe glanced up, holding a platter of scrambled eggs suspended in the air.  Startled, he glanced from his father to his brother.  "I was gonna pick up the mail in Virginia City, Pa.  Remember-- that letter from Adam?"

Carefully Ben retrieved his knife and sliced a piece of ham from the slab on his plate.  "You were supposed to do that yesterday.  Why didn't you pick it up then?"

Joe set the platter down.  Nervously he wet his lips.  He knew he couldn't tell his father the truth about Miss David.  "I got tied up with Mitch," he lied, inwardly cringing at the falsehood. "The post office was already closed when I got there.  I just figured I'd go back today.  I can still be back in plenty of time to make that 12:30 meeting with Mr. Wingate."

"Well, I'm glad to hear you haven't forgotten that." Ben's voice held the slightest sting.  He chose not to comment about Mitch, though it was on the tip of his tongue to remind his son of his responsibilities.  His eyes shifted aside to Hoss.  "Take a couple of the hands, Hoss.  Your brother wouldn't have much time anyway.  I need him to have that string ready for Wingate to review."

"Sure."  Hoss nodded thoughtfully, suddenly aware of the tension.  Joe had abandoned the platter of eggs, and was morosely pushing a couple of potatoes around his plate with his fork.  His head was bent, his lips slightly parted.  Hoss could see the thick black line of lashes cresting his cheeks and realized with a start there were creases of shadow beneath his eyes. A light bruise feathered the smooth skin of one finely boned cheek.

"So . . . it's all right if I get the mail?"  Joe ventured, casting an uncertain glance at his father.

Pushing his plate away, Ben reached for his coffee.  "Somebody has to.  Just make sure you're back by 12:30."

"Yes, Sir."  Joe drew his napkin over his mouth and stood.  "I think I'll go now.  I'm not really hungry."

When Ben made no reply, but gave a clipped nod of his head, Joe moved quickly for the door.  The atmosphere in the room was oppressing, weighing on his shoulders like lead.  Looping his gun belt over his shoulder, he grabbed his hat and jacket and slipped outside.  A rush of cool morning air greeted him the moment his boots struck the porch.  Closing his eyes briefly, he delighted in the crisp edge of welcoming breeze that ruffled the strands of hair at his collar.  The touch washed away the last clinging traces of sleep, and he strode briskly from the porch to the barn.

Inside, the pungent aroma of horse and hay filled his nostrils.  Cochise whickered a soft greeting as he drew near her stall.  "Hey, Cooch."  Joe stroked strong gentle fingers over the horse's mane, smiling slightly when a soft nose nudged him in the ribs.  Looping an arm over her broad shoulders, he made a soft clucking noise and pressed his face to her neck.  He could feel the smooth satin of her coat against his skin.  Inhaling deeply, he found himself contented by her familiar scent.  "We gotta go, girl.  You ready for another ride?"

It seemed only hours ago he'd returned to the Ponderosa, only to encounter the irate edge of his father's scorn.  Joe was thankful Adam was in San Francisco. He didn't think he could juggle his father's anger and what would surely have been Adam's ridicule for his behavior.

Then there was the matter of Miss David.

Joe frowned.  He buckled on his gunbelt, then slipped into his corduroy green jacket, tugging the collar up around his neck.   "Come on, Cooch."  Joe saddled the mare and led her from the barn.  Once outside, he swung onto her back, grunting a little at the resurgence of pain the action induced.  Tapping his heels lightly to Cochise's sides, he headed for Virginia City, thankful to put distance between himself and Ben Cartwright.

Joe tucked Adam's letter, along with two others obtained from the post office, into his saddle bag.  The sun had risen higher in the sky as the morning inched closer to afternoon.  He could feel the lick of warmth against his neck, displacing the whispering edge of a mid summer breeze.  It was going to be hot today.  Already he could feel the air was weighted with blossoming heat--the kind that made the trees listless, even when the wind rippled through their branches.

Joe dragged the back of his wrist across his forehead, and squinted up the street.  Though early, there were already patrons at the saloon--a few diehards from the previous night and a handful of early risers who needed a shot of rockgut, before venturing into a new day.  Across the street, the mercantile was open--busier than the saloon, but not as active as the livery stable, half a block down.

Sighing, Joe leaned against Cochise.  Propping an arm on her saddle, he lowered his head to his sleeve.  Involuntarily the events of the previous day played through his mind. He'd had all good intentions of picking up the mail and meeting Mitch at the saloon, but on his way into town he'd met Lorna David along the side of the road--her buggy banged up, the rear wheel turned beneath the carriage.  Joe could still recall her reaction when he'd stopped to help her:

"Miss David, are you hurt?"  Joe's voice rose in alarm as he realized the woman was weeping softly.  Jumping from Cochise, he moved to her side and gripped her arm.  The wheels of her buggy had struck a deep rut on the shoulder of the road, and the vehicle was leaning at a precarious angle.  "Let me help you down from there."

Weakly, she tried to fend him off.  "Go away, Joe.  I don't need any help.  I'm fine."

His mouth tightened at the obvious lie.  Stepping up on the footboard, he applied gentle pressure to her arm.  "I'm not going away, Miss David, so you might as well step down."

Watery green eyes lifted to his face.  Though a decade older than him, Lorna David was a stunning woman with delicate features and fawn-colored skin.  Her hair was heavy and glossy, with a sheen like onyx.  She wore it coiled neatly at the back of her head, one single braid dangling free over her slim back.  She had been seeing his brother Adam for close to three months, and the family speculated the pairing grew serious.  Biting her lip to stifle further tears, Lorna nodded and allowed Joe to help her from the wagon.

"What happened?"  he asked.

She waved vacantly at the air, a lace handkerchief clutched in her thin hand.  "I wasn't paying attention.  I was distraught over some news I received and the wheel--"

"What news?"

She looked at him with a measured gaze.  "Joe Cartwright, that's none of your business."

He hesitated, uncertain if he should pry further.  Though he didn't know Lorna that well, he sensed she was a woman not easily given to tears.  She had a certain sternness about her that went hand-in-hand with his brother's proper conduct.  He might have coaxed her from the wagon, but that was all he was going to get.  Reluctantly, he inclined his head.  "At the very least, let me take you home.  This wagon isn't going anywhere without some repairs.  I'll come back and mend the
wheel, after I see you home."

"I couldn't ask you to do that."

Joe smiled.  "You didn't ask.  I offered."

Now it was her turn to hesitate.  One hand plucked uncertainly at the delicate chain of her necklace.  Joe's eyes followed the movement and he noted she wore the locket Adam had given her for her birthday--the one Joe had purchased for his brother in Sunset Draw.  As her fingers worried the chain, a troubled crease furrowed her brow.  Joe waited patiently, until at last she nodded.  "That's most kind of you, Joe."

Smiling warmly, he helped her onto Cochise then mounted behind her.  Lorna had a small home a few miles beyond town where she did alterations and made baked goods for sale at the general store.  Upon arrival, Joe scrounged some tools from the shed behind the house, then went back to the wagon to make repairs.  It was well past the dinner hour when he returned with the newly repaired wagon.  The sun was already sinking into the cradle of the trees, bathing the ground in a milky red glow.

Miss David came onto the front porch as she heard the wagon roll up, a white towel held in one hand.  Joe pushed the brake forward and sprang lithely to the ground.  The earlier stiffness was almost completely gone from his muscles, and his battered stomach gave only the slightest twinge. Grinning crookedly, he glanced up at the dark-haired woman on the porch. "All fixed."

"I can't thank you enough." Lorna stepped to the edge of the porch and wrapped one slender hand around the post.  "There's a pump just around back.  You can wash up there, then come inside for dinner.  I wouldn't send you home hungry after all the work you've done."  She handed him the towel.

Joe nodded.  He'd barely eaten any breakfast, and no lunch.  At the moment, he didn't doubt he could eat Hoss under the table.  At the water pump, he stripped off his jacket and shirt and vigorously scrubbed the dirt from his hands, neck and arms.  The water was frigid, making him shiver, but it felt good after a day of sweating beneath the hot sun.  He used the towel to dry off, then slipped into his shirt, failing to pay attention as he hurried to button the garment.  Tucking the tails into his pants, he grabbed his jacket and headed for the house.

Lorna served a thick meat-filled stew, with fresh baked bread and warm apple pie for dessert.  When he was through eating, Joe sat on the couch nursing a cup of coffee as Lorna cleared the dishes away.  Though clean and well-maintained, Lorna's house was small.  One room served as the focal point, encompassing both living and dining areas.  Thus the circular table where he'd eaten, was just off the side of the couch.  Tipping the coffee to his lips, Joe watched as Lorna moved from the table to the kitchen area, where she deposited the dirty dishes in a deep basin.

"Are you going to tell me what had you so upset earlier?" he asked.

The clatter of dishes stopped as she grew suddenly still.  After a beat, Lorna dipped her head, and returned to stacking dishes in the basin.  "I told you that was none of your business."

Joe set his coffee aside and rose to his feet.  Stepping to her side, he caught her elbow and tugged her about.  Though he was not exceptionally tall, Lorna David barely reached his shoulder.  His lashes lowered as he gazed down at her.  "Look, Miss David--my brother cares about you a great deal, and he's not here right now to help you, so I'm making it my business."

She turned her face to the side.  "Please, Joe.  I don't want to talk about it.  Not now."

There was a tremor in her voice that made him think she hovered on the brink of tears.  His fingers fell from her arm and he turned away.  Expelling a breath, he laced a hand through his hair.  "If there's anything I can do," he said, his back still turned, "All you have to do is ask."

"I know."  Hesitantly she came to his side and embraced him.  He could smell her perfume--a sweet mixture of violet and rose.  "Thank you, Joseph.  Adam is fortunate to have such a loving, supportive family."

Joe wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of his head.  "I should go now."

"You haven't finished your coffee," she said hastily.  Drawing back, she raised her head. Her eyes were large and limpid, underwoven with a sliver of fear.  Her hands still rested on his chest.  Belatedly, she seemed to realize the improperness of their proximity.  Ducking her head, she withdrew, a heated blush staining her cheeks.  "Please stay."

Joe wet his lips, sensing her awkwardness.  What ever was troubling her, it left her frightened to be alone.  Though she wouldn't say it outright, she wanted him in the house.  "Coffee sounds good," he said, and immediately felt the tension slack from her body.  She glanced at him from beneath a veil of lashes, a wane smile flickering over her lips.  Joe watched as she moved back to the kitchen.  He stepped to the couch and retrieved his coffee.

Sometime later, the soft din of the plates clicking together, and the cushioning warmth of the sofa combined to lull him to sleep.  Long nights and early mornings, coupled with the beating he'd taken earlier that day, made his body demand a respite. Though he thought to only rest his eyes, he awakened much later to a dark house.  A thin blanket was draped over his chest.  It smelled faintly of Lorna's perfume.

Joe sat up with a start, his eyes immediately flicking to the clock on the mantle of the fireplace.  A groan escaped his lips when he saw that the hour crept towards 1:00 a.m.  He had promised his father he'd be home early, and now he wouldn't make it until almost three.  Shrugging the blanket aside, he rose stiffly to his feet.  His battered stomach muscles--constricted from lack of use--sent a sharp twinge of pain skittering across his abdomen.  Joe hitched in his breath.

It was obvious Miss David had retired for the evening.  Collecting his hat, gun and jacket, Joe quietly opened the front door and stepped outside.  A rush of cool night air teased a whisper of perfume from his clothing--Miss David's perfume.  Joe frowned as he recalled how frightened she had seemed.  He hesitated, uncertain if he should leave her alone for the night, but knew he had to return to the Ponderosa.

Tomorrow, he vowed, he would have some answers from her.

Joe lifted his head as the last of the memories washed away.  Squinting against the rising sun, he calculated the time it would take to visit Miss David and make it back to the ranch. As long as he was at the Ponderosa by noon, he felt his father would be appeased.  Wingate wasn't arriving until 12:30.  That gave him plenty of time to resolve the situation with Miss David.

Hiking his foot into the stirrup, Joe swung onto Cochise's back.  His stomach was still tender.  It would be awhile before he could manage his favorite vault mounting technique.  "Come on, Cooch."  With gentle guidance from the reins and slight pressure from his knee, he urged the mare around and headed away from town.

Two hours later Mitch Campbell rode at an easy canter up to the Ponderosa ranch house.  As he dismounted, he happened to catch Ben coming out the front door.

"Morning, Mr. Cartwright."  Mitch grinned easily, a habit that brought familiar warmth to his dark blue eyes while dimpling his face.  A swath of copper-colored hair hung forward over his brow.  Rolling his thin shoulders, he lifted a hand and raked it aside.  "Joe around?"

"Oh--morning, Mitch."  Ben buckled on his gunbelt as he neared the hitching post.  Though he tried to reserve judgement on Mitch, he knew that coupled with his youngest son, the two were nothing but trouble.  "Sorry, he left early for town."  Bending over, Ben tethered the holster to his right leg. "Besides--as late as the two of you were out last night, I wouldn't think there 'd be anything you hadn't already discussed."

"I ain't seen Joe, Mr. Cartwright," Mitch volunteered without thinking.  "We were supposed to meet up last night but he never--" He stopped suddenly, realizing abruptly, he'd just placed his friend in a precarious situation.

Ben straightened.  "Oh?"

Chuckling nervously, Mitch backed towards his horse.  "I really gotta go, Mr. Cartwright.  If you see Joe, just tell him . . . um . . ."

"Yes?"  Ben lodged his hands on his hips and adopted his sternest expression--the one that withered most cow hands, including his three sons.

Hastily, Mitch scrambled onto his chestnut.  "Never mind."  With a half-hearted wave, he bolted from sight as though rustlers clung to his tail.  A moment later the front door opened and Ben heard the heavy tread of Hoss's boots against the porch boards.

"Found that wire cutter, Pa.  I'm gonna head back up to the north pasture and finish that fence line."

Ben continued to stare into the distance, only half listening.

"Pa?"  Hoss ventured, drawing abreast.

With an agitated frown, Ben glanced aside.  "I'm going to skin that younger brother of yours, Hoss.  That was Mitch Campbell."

"Joe's friend?"

"Yeah.  The one he said he was with last night.  He supposedly got tied up with Mitch, and that's why he didn't get the mail."

Hoss hesitated.  He knew Ben was agitated, but didn't understand why.  Lately, most everything his younger brother did seemed to irritate their father.  He knew Ben wasn't terribly fond of Mitch, but-- "What's the problem, Pa?"

"The problem," Ben snapped, biting off the word, "Is that Little Joe was never with Mitch."

Hoss swallowed.  He could feel a tightening in his gut as the implication struck home.  "You mean he--he--" He couldn't get the words out.

"I mean your brother lied to me!"  Ben spat with venom Hoss rarely heard.  Angrily his father shook his head.  "It's almost ten o'clock now.  That little rapscallion better get his britches home in the next two hours, or so help me, they'll be hell to pay!"

Hoss watched Ben stalk away.  He knew his father had an awful lot riding on the deal he hoped to broker with Wingate.  For all their sakes, Hoss prayed Joe would be punctual for a change.

Not for the first time, he wished Adam were home.

"Little Joe."  Lorna looked surprised to see him, then slightly embarrassed.  Dipping her chin, she held open the door and stepped aside.  "Please come in."

Removing his hat, Joe stepped into the living area.  It had undergone an amazing transformation since the previous eve.  Boxes littered the kitchen table, each one packed with knick-knacks and pictures that had been removed from the shelves and walls.  White sheets covered the two wing-back chairs, and more boxes occupied the floor by the door.  Joe bent and lifted a plate from the top of the nearest carton.  His jaw tightened perceptively.  "It looks like you're leaving."

Clutching her hands at waist level, Lorna nervously twined her fingers together.  "I'm sorry.  I would have written to Adam and explained, once I was safely away."

Setting the plate down, Joe tried to calm the helter-skelter reel of his thoughts.  He tossed his hat aside and took a step forward.  As if unable to meet his eyes, Miss David turned away from him.   A prickling edge of anger made Joe catch her arm and draw her roughly around.  "You were just going to leave without telling my brother?"

"Joe, don't you see?  It's the only way."

"No I don't see.  I don't understand what's going on, and I don't understand what you're running from.  I told you last night I'd help you."  Despite his best efforts to control it, his temper was kicking in, as his frustration level grew.  He knew the woman was scared.  He could tell by the wide-eyed gaze of her eyes; the minute trembling of her body.  "I don't have Adam's patience, Miss David, and I'm not very good at guessing games.  What is the matter?"

She seemed to fold in on herself.  The strength he'd always thought so much a part of her, crumbled at her feet.  Sagging to a seat on the edge of the sofa, she pulled a handkerchief from the sleeve of her dress.  Dabbing lightly at her eyes, she raised her head.  "I don't know where to begin," she whispered.

Joe's anger fled as though doused by frigid water.  Taking a seat next to her, he braced his right arm over the back of the sofa.  Sitting sideways, he rested his knee on the cushions, tucking the ankle below his left leg.  "You said you received some upsetting news yesterday, while you were in town?"

"Yes.  A letter."  She pleated the edge of the handkerchief, working it through her fingers.  "I was distraught.  That's why the buggy went off the road."

"Who was the letter from?"  Joe prodded gently.

Lorna drew a breath and Joe heard the air rattle in her throat.  She was fighting tears again.  "A man named Brian Lancaster.  He's my brother-in-law."

"Brother-in-law?"  Joe couldn't keep the surprise from his voice.  He blinked.  Adam had told him Miss David had no family.  Her parents had died when she was young and as far as he knew, she had no brothers or sisters.  "But I thought--"

"I lied, Joe.  I lied about most everything.  I just couldn't tell Adam the truth."

Joe's mouth tightened in a rigid line.  If she had somehow betrayed his brother-- "What truth?"

Uncertainly, her eyes flashed to his face.  "That I've been married before."

"What?"

Lorna rose to her feet.  She paced to the fireplace where she stood with her back to him.  Her hair was loose this morning, secured only by a foam-colored ribbon.  A cascade of glossy black hair tumbled over her back, brushing the top of her small waist.  "Joe, I'm not who you think I am.  I married when I was seventeen, but I was naive and didn't know what he was like.  I know that's no excuse, but my parents were dead and I was living with an aunt and uncle who already had six of their own to feed.  I believed in Del.  I believed he loved me."

Joe rose slowly to his feet.  He was shocked by what he was hearing.  The words came from a great distance, encased in a mind-numbing fog.  Though the name Brian Lancaster meant nothing to him, the name of Del Lancaster did.  "Del Lancaster was your husband?  Del Lancaster, the gunfighter?"

Lorna bit her lip and nodded.  She turned, half expecting to find accusation in his eyes.  Joe's face was troubled but there was nothing malignant in his expression, only concern.  Though her heart belonged to Adam, she was beginning to see why so many of the girls in Virginia City favored the youngest Cartwright.

"Lorna, Del Lancaster died four years ago while trying to rob a Wells Fargo waystation."

"I know.  And after that I thought I was free."  She smiled slightly.  Sadly.  One hand rested on the mantle of the fireplace.  Unable to hold his gaze any longer, her eyes dipped to the floor.  "I was living with Del's father and brother at the time.  Del and I never truly had a home of our own. When I received word that my husband had died, I took some money I had stashed away, and slipped off during the night.  You see, the Lancasters feel that when you marry, you marry the family.  I won't say it was intolerable living with Brian and his father, but it certainly wasn't pleasant. When I left, I changed my name.  I moved from town to town for awhile, until I came here.  That was just last year."

Joe moved in front of her.  "And this letter you received, from Brian--?"

The white line of her mouth dipped in a resigned frown.  "He's finally found me, and now he's coming to take me back."

"You don't belong to him," Joe snapped irritably.

"It doesn't matter, Joe.  I was his brother's woman.  That's why I have to leave.  I can't be here when he arrives, and I can't let Adam know.  Not now, not like this.  When I'm safely away, I'll write to him and make up some other story.  If he knew the truth it would destroy him."

"Lorna, you're wrong!"  Joe caught her hands in his, desperately trying to make her see.  "Adam loves you.  It isn't fair to run out on him like this.  Do you really think he'd just let this Brian Lancaster take you away?"

"No.  He wouldn't, but he'd probably get himself killed trying to stop it.  Brian isn't the gunslinger Del was, but he's fast with a pistol Joe, and Adam's no match for him.  Besides--" The resignation returned to her face. "I don't want Adam knowing the truth.  You must swear to me you won't tell him.  That you won't tell anyone what I've shared with you today."

Joe hesitated.  He thought she was wrong for keeping her past secret, but he sensed her determination it remain that way.  "I promise," he said flatly.  "But I'm still not letting you leave."

"Don't you understand?"  She was exasperated now and the strain came through in her voice.  "There's nothing else for it!"

"I don't believe that," he said.  "We'll think of something."

Joe didn't know how to keep Lorna from leaving, but he knew he owed his brother that much. Adam was due back in a few weeks.  Perhaps by then some conclusion could be arrived at, that didn't involve him learning of Lorna's past. Though Joe didn't think any less of Miss David, he wasn't truly sure how his brother would feel.  Married to a notorious gunslinger would certainly make her fodder for town gossip, should the word ever spread.  In addition, she had told Joe some of the things she'd done to support herself after leaving the Lancasters.  While none were truly improper, most were beneath a lady of standing.  Adam wouldn't condemn her, but he might be inclined to cool their romance.

Despite Joe's insistence, Lorna refused any involvement on the part of the sheriff .  She also declined a temporary stay at the Ponderosa, claiming it would just alert Adam to the situation. After a lengthy discussion, Joe finally convinced her not to leave town until he was able to work something out.  With obvious reluctance, Lorna unpacked the boxes she'd so carefully filled just hours before.  Joe uncovered the chairs, folding the sheets as best he could, then assisted her with the remaining cartons.  Outside, shadows lengthened across the ground, as the day wore on into early afternoon.

"I can't let you stay here alone," Joe announced worriedly, once the boxes had been unpacked and the items returned to their proper places.  "I really wish you'd come to the Ponderosa."

"I'm fine, Joe.  At least for a few days.  If Brian really is coming for me, it will be a week or more before he arrives, judging from the postmark on that letter.  I have work to do--alterations for some of the ladies in town.  As long as I'm staying, I need to make a living."

He grinned slightly.  "Okay."  Resting a hand on her shoulder, he looked down into her eyes.  "We'll work this out.  I promise."

Impulsively, she hugged him.  "Thank you," she whispered.

Only later, when he had mounted Cochise and was heading back towards the Ponderosa, did Joe remember his appointment with Mr. Wingate.

It was almost four o'clock when Joe rounded the corner of the barn.  His throat was dry and his heart thrummed in his chest.  He didn't know how he was going to face his father.  He'd become so immersed in Lorna's complications he'd completely forgotten his appointment with Mr. Wingate.

Dismounting, Joe looped Cochise's reins over the hitching post by the barn.  His eyes skimmed the long path to the house.  Flexing his hands, he struggled to find the nerve to face his father.  He hadn't felt so anxious or afraid since his teenage years, when he'd done something foolish and awaited his father's discipline.  He drew a ragged breath, ready to take a step forward, when he heard footsteps behind him, exiting the barn.  Joe turned.

For a moment the three Cartwrights stood staring at one another.  Hoss held a length of rope in his hand.  He'd been saying something to his father, but when he caught sight of Joe, his pliable face folded in disgust.

Ben glared at his youngest son.  "Hoss, leave us please."  The words were quiet and clipped, causing a quaking ripple of fear to dance down Joe's spine.  He'd never seen his father's face so remote. The man before him was a stranger--the set of his jaw and the frosted-flint of his eyes, like parts of a mask.  Nervously, he wet his lips.  He couldn't think of a single thing to say.

"Sure, Pa."  Hoss shot his brother a vicious glance, then stalked off around the barn.  Joe waited, every muscle in his body strung taut.  He'd failed Ben miserably and he knew it.

Without a word, Ben seized him by the upper arm and dragged him towards the house.  Mutely, Joe stumbled along in his father's grip, wincing slightly as the rough handling sent needles of pain skittering across his battered stomach.  He could feel himself starting to tremble, frightened not so much by his father's harsh demeanor, but by his ominous silence.

Ben opened the door and propelled Joe over the threshold.  Joe caught himself, nearly tripping, then backed into the room until the rear of his legs collided with the sofa.  Ben slammed the door and the echo rocketed along the walls and ceiling.

Joe's chest rose on a jagged breath. "Pa, about today--"

Ben cut the words off with a severing motion of his hand.  His dark eyes glittered with a diamond edge as he stalked in front of his son.  "I don't want to hear it, Joseph.  I've had enough excuses and enough lies.  Mitch Campbell was by earlier and confirmed that you hadn't seen him last night.  Since I can't trust you to tell me the truth, I guess I can't trust you with the workings of the ranch either.  Your failure to keep your appointment with Mr. Wingate only enforces what I should have seen earlier.  I've given you too much responsibility, too soon. I'm taking the horse enterprise away from you."

 "Pa, you can't mean that!"  Joe felt like the floor had just fallen out from under him.

With effort Ben controlled his temper.  It galled him that his son could look so hurt after behaving so irresponsibly.  Joe was past the age when he could take a strap to him, no matter how tempted Ben might be.  "Joseph, do you have any idea what you cost me today?  What you cost this ranch in lost revenues?"

Joe felt sick.  He clenched his hands to still the sudden tremor in his fingers.

Ben stepped past him to the edge of the sofa, and turned his icy stare on the room.  When he spoke, his voice was brittle.  "I delayed Wingate as long as I could, but when he realized I was stalling, he became irritated and left."

Joe hung his head.  "Pa, I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Sorry?"  Ben whirled on him.  Gripping his upper arm, he shook him hard.  "How can you be sorry for what's becoming a way of life for you?  Can you honestly tell me you weren't with a woman or at the saloon?  I can smell the perfume on your clothing, Joe."

"I--"

"You've no idea how you've failed me, boy."

"Pa, please."  His father's words cut as sharply as any knife.  Joe was trembling violently now and made no effort to conceal it.  "You don't understand."

"No, I don't."  Ben's fingers slid from his son's arm.  For a moment the anger left his gaze, replaced by a thread of remorse.  He lifted his hand as though to touch Joe's face, then his arm fell to his side.  The wintry edge returned to his eyes.  Clearing his throat, he straightened his shoulders.  "When you're ready to become a part of the Ponderosa again, we'll talk.  Until then, you may as well stay in town, since you seem to favor it above your family."

Joe blinked rapidly to still the sudden hot sting of tears that flooded his eyes.  Ducking his head, he turned his face away before Ben could see.  "Pa, I'm sorry."  His voice wavered, threatening to crack.  Unable to stand the friction between them, Joe pushed past his father, walking briskly for the door.  Once outside his strides lengthened.  Soon he was racing for the barn and Cochise, his heart hammering wildly against his ribs, his chest so tight he couldn't breath.  Fighting tears, he swung into the saddle and wheeled the horse around.

He never looked back as he left the Ponderosa behind.

Ben folded into the chair at his desk and buried his face in his hands.  Somehow the words had come out all wrong, and he had driven Joe further away from him.  The bristling rage he'd felt earlier that day washed away, leaving a hollow pool in its wake.  Had he really sent his son away from the Ponderosa?

Ben leaned back in his chair and tilted his head towards the ceiling.  "Dear God, Marie, what have I done?"

Lorna David awoke with a start, roused by the unexpected knock on her front door.  Rising from bed, she slipped into a cotton robe and worn slippers.  Easing open the drawer of the bedside table, she withdrew the .44 Colt revolver Del had insisted she learn to use.  A glance at the clock revealed the hour neared 11:30 p.m.

Feeling her way from the bedroom through the darkened house, she fought silent a rippling tremor of panic.  Brian couldn't have arrived already and he certainly wouldn't knock.  Still, any unexpected visitor was a cause of concern for a woman alone.

At the door she hesitated and cocked the gun.  "Who is it?"

"Joe Cartwright."

Surprised, Lorna eased back the hammer.  Setting the revolver aside, she hastily unlocked the door.  "Joe, what are you--?"

"I'm sorry to wake you, Miss David, but I need a place to spend the night."

Lorna barely recognized the man on her doorstep.  His face was drawn--the youthfulness lost somewhere in the age-deepening lines around his mouth and the harsh smudges of shadow below his eyes.  There was something haunted in his gaze--an emptiness that ate at her soul.  His curly hair was disheveled, hanging ragged over his ears and collar.  A distracted part of her yearned to smooth it into place.  Her eyes dipped lower and she realized his shirt was unbuttoned to the waist.  The material gaped against his jacket, exposing faded bruises on the tanned skin beneath.

Concerned, Lorna took his arm and lead him into the room.  "What happened?  You look terrible."

With a shake of his head, Joe waved the statement aside.  Lorna located a lantern on the table beside the couch and lit the wick.  In the dim halo of yellow light, she could see the dull haze of alcohol in his eyes.  Her mouth pinched in a tight line.  "Let me make you some coffee."

"I'm just tired, Lorna."  Joe dropped to a seat on the couch.  Resting his elbows on his knees, he lowered his face into his hands.  The slump of his shoulders made his misery that much more apparent.

Lorna frowned.  She had always considered Adam's youngest brother a carefree gallant.  Only now was she beginning to realize he was far more complex.  Taking a seat beside him, she rested her hand on his arm.  "What happened?" she repeated.

Joe sighed.  Raking his hand back through his hair, he snagged his hat and dropped it on the end table.  His fingers were trembling.  "Could I sleep here?"  He evaded her question.  "On the couch?"

Lorna hesitated.  She wanted to question him further, but it was obvious he was exhausted.  Whether that fatigue was caused by duress or a combination of anxiety and alcohol, she wasn't certain.  There was a scrape on his cheek, fresh since this morning, and she realized he'd probably been in a fight.  Adam had often bemoaned his brother's notoriously short temper.  Wetting her lips, she rose to her feet.  "I'll fetch you a pillow and blankets."

Joe glanced up and a shadow of his familiar grin flickered over his face.  "Thanks."

As Lorna moved away, he shrugged out of his jacket.  Only then did he realize his shirt was open.  Flushing slightly, Joe fumbled with the buttons.  He vaguely recalled a saloon girl at the Silver Dollar who'd been intent on undressing him.  Though he normally didn't go for that kind of public behavior, he'd had one too many beers and was looking for anything that might divert his attention from Ben.  Had it not been for the intervention of a drunken cowhand, the girl might have gotten a lot further than she did.  As it was, the cowhand's intrusion gave him the excuse to punch someone.  He hadn't really cared who, so long as his fists connected, allowing him to expel his frustration. The man hadn't put up much of a fight, but the girl looked more determined at its conclusion.  Joe had deemed it time to move on.

Falling back against the couch, he listened to the soft rustle of Lorna's slippers against the floorboards as she went in search of the promised blanket and pillow.  He blinked up at the ceiling, watching the darkness swirl overhead, as Ben's angry words replayed in his mind. Joe groaned and turned on his side.  He buried his face in the corner of the couch, closing his eyes tightly.  The memories were silenced beneath the weight of fatigue.

Joe was asleep before Lorna returned.

Glumly, Hoss pushed a piece of breakfast sausage around his plate, sopping up the excess maple syrup that had puddled over from his flapjacks. Normally, he would have attacked the meal with gusto--it was one of his favorites--but this morning he ate mechanically, more from habit than need.  Pursing his lips, he stole a glance at Joe's empty chair.  Hoss knew his kid brother hadn't come home last night.  He also knew that Ben had lectured Joe yesterday, and had probably said some things he regretted.

Hoss had never seen his father as angry as he had been when Joe failed to keep his appointment with Mr. Wingate.  Truth be told, Hoss had been fairly incensed himself.  Had he come across Joe at that moment, he might have taken his brother's head off.  But that was yesterday, and this morning the house seemed empty without Joe's bright chatter and infectious grin.  His brother had been far too serious of late and Hoss missed the easy comradery they used to share. Huffing out a sigh, he leaned back in his chair and glanced at Ben.

"Pa, ain't you worried where he spent the night?"

Ben's dark eyes skitted aside and pinned Hoss.  His expression was bleak.  He hadn't touched his food.  "Your brother's old enough to take care of himself, Hoss.  When he's ready, he'll come home."

Hoss scrunched his face up and wagged his head from side to side.  "Dadburn it, Pa.  You know how stubborn Little Joe is.  He ain't gonna come home as long as he's gotta do the bending.  He probably thinks you don't want him here."

"That's utter foolishness!"  Ben gathered his napkin off his lap and slid it onto the table.  "I've got work to do," he said frostily.

Hoss laid a hand across his wrist as he stood.  "Pa, at least let me check the hotel.  See if he's there.  Make sure he's okay."

Ben hesitated and Hoss saw the indecision in his gaze.  Part of him refused the small concession, but the other half ached to know that his son was safe.  At last he gave a clipped nod of his head.  "After you're through with your work."

Hoss grinned.  "Thanks, Pa."  Picking up his fork, he attacked the food on his plate.

Already he felt better.

Ben left his horse tethered to the low-hanging branches of a slender pine and walked the short distance to the solitary grave.  He half expected to find his youngest son kneeling by the stone, his expressive eyes brimming with emotion.  Joe often sought his mother's grave when hurt or confused.  Saddened to find himself alone, Ben squatted before the wind-pitted marker.  At his back, Lake Tahoe glittered in the early morning sun, its rippling surface strewn with a thousand faceted eyes.

"I'm afraid I've really hurt him, Marie."  Gently, Ben traced one finger over the roughly carved letters of his beloved's name.  "My anger got the best of me and I said and did some things I shouldn't have."  Ben sighed as a gentle breeze whispered across his face.  It carried with it the cooling scent of the lake, and t he green cluster of pine at his back.  "He's so full of life, Marie.  Sometimes I lose my patience when I can't rein him in as easily as Hoss or Adam.  He was wrong and he has to realize that, but I never meant to push him away."  Bracing his arm against the stone, Ben hung his head.

He was thankful Hoss would be riding to town.  Though he couldn't admit it to his middle son, he would rest much easier knowing Joe was safe at the hotel.  Perhaps he could even slip some extra money into Hoss's saddlebag, in case Joe needed anything.

Ben closed his eyes.  If only he hadn't made that impulsive remark about Joe staying in town.  He'd practically told the boy he wasn't welcome at home.  The memory sliced through him like a hot knife through butter. Inwardly he cringed.  Somehow he had to find a way to heal the rift between them.  Of his three sons, Joe had always been the most demonstrative with his affections, welcoming physical contact.  Lately, Ben missed that aspect.  Joe had been remote, shying away when Ben moved to touch him.  He silently vowed that endearing trait of his son's, would not be gone forever.

Rising to his feet, he looked down at the tombstone.  "Help me find a way, Marie.  I need to bring him home."

Kent Rudy and Frank McCay were on their way to town when they passed in front of Lorna David's small house.  It was still early in the morning.  The sun inched above a cloud-laced horizon, dusting tree tops with soft beads of golden light.  Already the air was warm, underscored by a chatter of birdsong and the muted clop-clop from their horse's hooves.  Neither man paid much attention to the small homestead until Rudy noticed the horse hitched to the porch rail. Jutting his chin towards the house, he nudged McCay in the ribs.  "Look there. Ain't that Cartwright's pinto?"

McCay narrowed his eyes, then slowly grinned.  "Sure is.  What'dya think that kid's doin' there so early in the mornin', paying court to his brother's gal?  You'd almost think he'd spent the night."

Rudy snickered.  "Might just ruin a fella's reputation with rumors like that.  Not to mention what it would do to poor Miss David."

McCay's grin grew savoring.  "Come on, Rudy.  Let's get to town.  We got people to see and stories to tell."

Joe rubbed his hand over his eyes.  Lowering his arm, he glanced across the table at Miss David.  "I'm sorry about last night.  It was too late to get a room at the hotel, and I didn't know where else to go."

"You need some coffee, Joe."  Retrieving the pot from the center of the table, Lorna refilled his cup and inched it forward.  He was obviously feeling the effects of last night's binge, but whether that was from alcohol or fisticuffs, Lorna wasn't certain.  Her guest was slightly bleary-eyed this morning, his thick hair tousled over his  brow.  Color flushed the high bones of his cheeks, almost concealing the scrape below his left eye.  He lowered his gaze to the cup, and his lashes dipped in
a lush, dark line against his skin.

"I've been thinking about your problem," he said.  Diverting the conversation helped him evade the situation that had brought him here.  "You said the Lancasters believe when you marry, you marry the family, and that's why Brian is coming to take you back."

Lorna nodded, uncertain where he was headed.  She watched as Joe took a sip of the coffee, then set the cup aside.  He leaned back in his chair, hooking his right ankle over his left knee. "If Brian thought you were married, I think he'd leave you alone."

"But I'm not married," she protested.

Joe grinned.  "He doesn't know that.  If he thought I were your husband--"

"Joe, please!"  Lorna rose to her feet, unable to believe what she was hearing.  Dismissing the idea with a frown, she started to turn away.

Joe reached across the table and snagged her wrist. "All right, maybe that's stretching it.  But if he thought we were going to be married, it would probably be enough for him to leave you alone."  Tugging her closer, Joe stood.  "Look Lorna, half the town knows you're in love with a Cartwright.  We'll just let Brian think I'm Adam Cartwright.  That way even if he asks around, there's nothing to poke holes in the story."

"Joe, that's silly."

He frowned.  "Listen to me."  Cupping his hand beneath her chin, he tilted her face up.  "I'm not going to let this man chase you away.  If you don't want Adam to know about your past, this is the easiest solution."

Still she hesitated.  "It's too dangerous."

"Lorna, I'm as close to a gunslinger as this town has.  I'm the fastest draw in Virginia City, and you know it.  No one's going to stand a better chance against Lancaster, than me.

Clamping her hand down on his wrist, she shoved his arm aside.  "Don't you understand?  I don't want it to come to that.  That's why I have to leave."  Once again she started to turn away. Snagging her arm, Joe swung her around.  With a startled cry, Lorna bumped up against his chest.  Her eyes flashed in sudden anger.  "Release me!" she cried.

Joe looked down on her, the corner of his mouth lifting in a half-grin. "Not until I have your promise that you'll play along with my charade.  Come on, Lorna, admit it--you just might like being my girl."

A descriptive retort was on the tip of her tongue when she saw the teasing look in his eyes. Slowly, she relaxed.  Leaning forward, she rested her head against his chest.  "Joe, I don't want you to get hurt.  I'd never forgive myself if anything happened."

Joe smiled.  Hooking a finger beneath her chin, he raised her head.  "Nothing's going to happen.  And once I take care of Brian, I expect you to point my brother towards the altar." He kissed her lightly on the forehead.  "I'm counting on having you as a sister-in-law, Miss David, and I'm growing weary of waiting."

Lorna smiled hesitantly in return.  When all was said and done, she hoped he'd still feel the same way.

Ben shuffled through the stack of papers on his desk, irritated by the ever growing sheaf of reports.  He would be glad when Adam returned and took over the books.  The older he got, the less patience Ben had for record keeping.  Sighing, he dropped his pencil and rubbed tiredly at his eyes.  His mind was elsewhere, unconcerned by livestock expenditures and mining profits.  What he really wanted to know, was how his youngest son fared.  With any luck, Hoss would return
shortly, providing an update on Joe's whereabouts.

Deciding he needed more coffee to help him through the muddle of paperwork, Ben headed for the kitchen.  He was almost to the dining area, when he heard the arriving thunder of hoofs beyond the front door.  Shoving his cup aside on the table, Ben hurried to the door.  He caught Hoss just as he stepped over the threshold.

"Well?"  Ben demanded, trying not to appear too eager.  "What did you find out?"

Hoss's mouth dipped in a one-sided frown.  Closing the door behind him, he moved to unbuckle his gunbelt.  "He wasn't at the hotel, Pa."

"Not at the hotel?"  There was no disguising the alarm this time. "Where else would he go?  With Mitch?"

Setting his gunbelt on the sideboard, Hoss lifted both hands to ward off his father's growing agitation.  "I didn't say he ain't at the hotel, Pa.  I said he wasn't at the hotel."

Ben's temper was on a short fuse.  "Well is he, or isn't he?  Make sense, Hoss."

"He's checked in, but he wasn't there when I got to town.  Thing is . . ." Hoss scrubbed one thick palm over his chin, not sure how to continue.  "There's some rumors floating around town, about where Joe spent last night."

Ben's eyes grew narrow.  "What kind of rumors?"

Hoss shrugged.  "Well, Pa, there's some folks saying Joe spent the night with . . . um . . ."  Hoss bit his lip.  " . . . Miss David."

"Lorna David?"  Ben was taken aback.  When Hoss nodded, he was suddenly struck by a memory of the perfume clinging to Joe's clothing.  Abruptly he recalled where he'd encountered it before--he'd been with Adam when his son had purchased it in Placerville. Ben swore softly and turned aside.  Joe had done some foolish things in his day, but he'd never two-time his own brother.

"Pa, it ain't like most folks are listenin'."  Hoss attempted to smooth over the news.  "Them cowhands you kicked off the Ponderosa--Rudy and McCay--they're the ones started the rumor.  Most folks know they got it in for Joe.  It's just well . . . if Adam were to hear of it--"

Ben waved him off.  He couldn't even begin to contemplate the damage that might arise.  "I should never have sent Joe away."  Yet even as he berated himself, a prickling thought resurfaced at the back of his mind: why had Joe's clothing--his rumpled, disheveled clothing--smelled of Lorna's perfume?

Ben drew a ragged breath.

One thing was for certain. He had to bring Joe home.

The following morning Joe arrived at the Ponderosa.  Not bothering to stop at the house, he went to work on the new string of horses that needed breaking.  Since rumors had already circulated regarding his dismissal as head of the Cartwright's equine enterprises, most of the hands were uncertain how to respond to his directions.  Joe eventually gave up trying to give guidance, and merely concentrated on the mounts that needed breaking.

Hoss and Ben found him shortly before noon.  Joe had taken a particularly nasty fall and was dusting himself off, when he saw his brother and father draw rein at the rail fence.  A couple of hands snagged the bronc he was working on, and pulled the horse aside.  Settling his left hand on his right shoulder, Joe drew his arm forward, trying to work out a knot of pain. With a perturbed frown for his visitors, he crossed to the fence.

Ben dismounted, ill-at-ease.  He'd seen the spill Joe had taken and had to restrain himself from touching his son to assure he was all right.  Lacing Buck's reins between his hands, he sought to stop the wayward stray of his fingers.  Just seeing Joe again brought a lump to his throat.  His son looked tired and wane.  Though he'd always been slender, Ben thought he looked thinner than usual.  Pressing his lips together, he inclined his head.  "Joseph."

Joe's green eyes skitted from his father to his brother.  Turning his face to the side, he hooked his hands through the back of his belt, and gazed off in the distance.  "You don't mind if I work here, do you, Pa?"

The words were like a handslap across Ben's face.  He felt Hoss squirm beside him, miserable to have two people he loved so at odds with one another.  Before Ben could answer, Joe turned away.

"Joe, wait!"  Ben was surprised by the desperate sound of his voice.  When his son turned back, he drew a breath, trying to compose himself.  "I was just wondering . . . if there's anything you need.  Anything at all son.  I--"

"No, Pa."  The reply was as clipped as the steel edge in Joe's eyes.  Turning his back, he headed across the corral, calling for the hands to bring the next bronc.

Hoss kicked viciously at the dirt.  "Dadburn it, Pa, I know he's hurtin', but his attitude ain't helpin' either.  You let me talk to him, and I'll pound some sense into that dadblame stubborn head of his."

"Leave him alone, Hoss."  Ben's voice was low, thick with remorse.  He'd brought this on himself.  He'd placed entirely too much emphasis on the deal with Wingate, holding the business transaction over his son, like a failure Joe could never right.  In retrospect, Ben realized the deal meant very little to him.

Next to Joe's affection and respect, it was worthless.

The following week replayed in much the same pattern.  Joe arrived each day at the Ponderosa to attend to his chores and responsibilities, and left each evening to spend the night at the hotel.  Throughout the duration of the stressful week, he never set foot in the house and avoided Ben at all cost.  After that first awkward encounter at the corral, Ben respected his son's wish for distance and made no further effort to speak with him.  For his part, Hoss silently fumed at both men.  Though rumors of Joe's involvement with Miss David had cooled, new gossip regarding the rift in the Cartwright family readily took its place.  When Adam arrived unexpectedly at the end of the sixth day, Hoss thought things might finally be on the mend.  If anyone could set his father and brother straight, it was Adam.

"If this don't beat all, Adam!"  Hoss's bright grin set his blue eyes dancing.  "We didn't expect you for nigh on another two weeks."

"Two weeks?"  Puzzled, Adam glanced from his brother to his father.  The three conversed in the great room of the Ponderosa ranch house, while outside the sun dipped between the trees. Seated in the high-backed blue chair by the hearth, Adam stretched his legs before him, crossing them at the ankles.  "Didn't you get my letter?"

"Your letter,"  Ben murmured.  He nodded knowingly.  In all the confusion with Little Joe, his son had never given him Adam's missive.  Clearing his throat, Ben shifted in his seat and set his coffee cup aside.  "We had a little mix-up and I never received it."

"Oh?"  Adam looked questioningly to his brother.  Seated on the couch, Hoss shook his head, warning him from the topic.  "Well--" Adam rolled a hand in the air.  "Basically I was able to wrap everything up a lot sooner than expected.  We made a nice profit, and I've got a bank draft that should more than offset our expenses."

Ben tried to smile.  "That's good news."

Leaning back, Adam propped an elbow on the arm of his chair. He could sense his father's distraction.  Idly, he tapped a knuckle against his chin.  "Where's Little Joe?"

Ben jerked as though awakening from a fog.  Rising from his seat, he made no effort to hide his inattentiveness.  "It's been a long day, Adam.  I'll see you boys in the morning."

Adam watched his father walk to the staircase.  He knew without being told, whatever was troubling his father, his youngest brother was the cause of it.  Murmuring a "good night," he waited until he heard Ben's even tread fade down the hallway.  His eyes slewed aside to catch Hoss.

"All right, out with it.  What's going on?"

Hoss drew a deep breath.  "You ain't gonna like it," he said.  Quickly, he told Adam what had transpired during his stay in San Francisco, omitting the part about Miss David and Joe.  When he was through, his brother looked thoughtful, his face set in a grim expression.  Wordlessly Adam rose to his feet and walked to the sideboard by the front door.  Retrieving his gunbelt, he fastened it around his waist.

Surprised, Hoss half turned on the sofa.  "Where are you goin'?"

"To town."  Adam's tone was gruff.  "I'm going to try to talk some sense into Little Joe."  Grabbing his hat, he opened the door.  "For Pa's sake, someone has to."

Joe closed his eyes, trying to drown out the noise of the saloon.  No matter what he did, he couldn't block the incessant chatter.  He didn't even know why he was there--just that sitting in that wretched hotel room had made him feel boxed in and alone.  He'd never realized how truly important family was before. Only this week, bereft of those he'd taken for granted, did he begin to understand how fortunate he'd been.

Absently turning his beer glass in a circle, he watched the amber liquid slosh against the sides of the glass mug.  A few drops spilled over the edge, sprinkling the pitted surface of the bar and puddling in the deep grooves of the worn wood.  Joe stood at the far end, away from the other patrons.  He'd intended to get good and drunk, but after two beers had abandoned the idea for foolishness.  He'd just about decided to return to the hotel, when someone bumped into him from behind.  Glancing over his shoulder, he encountered Kent Rudy's pinched face.

The older man swayed, a half-empty beer glass clutched in his hand.  He guffawed suddenly and swung back to the table behind him.  "Lookee 'ere, McCay," he hailed his seated friend.  "It's that pretty rich kid from the Ponderosa.  Hey, pretty rich kid--" Rudy shuffled up to Joe, craning his neck forward, until his nose was inches from Joe's own.  "What's the matter?  Daddy cut off your allowance?"

Joe looked away.  "You're drunk."

Rudy laughed, plunking his beer glass on the bar.  "Is that why you're shacking up with that prim Miss on the outside of town?  Can't pay for your whores anymore?"

The words were barely out of his mouth when Joe's fist slammed into his jaw.  Lifted by the blow, Rudy reeled backwards, sprawling across McCay's table.  The big man came to his feet, instinctively reaching for his pistol.  His fingers were halfway to the handle when Joe's revolver cleared his holster.

McCay paled.  The saloon had grown deathly silent.

"Get him out of here," Joe told McCay with a nod for Rudy.

Quietly seething, McCay hauled his friend to his feet.  His pale eyes narrowed in a malignant stare.  "You ain't heard the last of this, Cartwright.  You just remember, you ain't got Daddy behind you, no more."

Joe waited until they were gone.  With a reflexive twirl, he returned his Colt to its holster, then leaned an arm against the bar.  Already the noise in the saloon was returning to regular volume.  Joe was just about to leave when he saw Adam step through the swinging doors.  His brother hesitated on the threshold, then glanced in his direction.

"Oh, hell."  Joe turned his back.  Behind him he heard the even footsteps that signaled Adam's approach.  His brother stepped to the bar and leaned forward, bracing both arms on the pitted surface.

"Give me a beer, Sam," Adam hailed the bartender.

Reluctantly, Joe turned around.  "Back kind of early, aren't you?"

Adam's beer arrived and he took a sip.  "Not really.  I sent a letter explaining I'd be back sooner than originally expected."

"Oh."  Joe thought of the letter still neatly stored in his saddlebag.  Like a number of the other things he'd forsaken or fouled up, it had fallen by the wayside.  Silently, he tried to calculate what Adam's arrival did to the plans he'd made with Miss David.  "What are you doing here?  Pa send you?"

"No."  Adam's tone was measured.  He tilted his head to look up at his brother.  "Just wanted to see for myself what a fool looks like."

Joe's chest heaved with sudden anger.  "I don't need a lecture, Adam."

"Mind telling me what you do need?   Do you have any idea what this little rebellion of yours is doing to Pa?"

Joe's expression soured.  He didn't understand how his father could be effected.  His father was the one who wanted him away from the ranch--the one who had told him to remain in town.  But then Adam would side with Ben, making it seem like Joe was at fault.  He knew he'd fouled up where Wingate was concerned, but he hadn't thought Ben would value that deal above his own son.  Joe felt his stomach constrict.  A dull ache bloomed in his temples, induced by stale beer and
unwanted memories.  Swallowing thickly, he forced down bile.

"Good seeing you, Adam." Shouldering past his brother, Joe threaded his way through the crowd and stepped outside.  He hesitated on the edge of the boardwalk, trying to regain his composure. Slipping two fingers beneath the brim of his hat, he massaged his forehead. The ache persisted. Glancing across the street, he noticed the puddle of yellow light spilling through the front window of the International House.  Though warm against the darkness, the beckoning glow did nothing
to ease his bleak constitution.

"Joe,"  Adam said quietly.

He hadn't heard his brother approach.  This time he didn't turn.  "Adam, please leave me alone."  His emotions were a conflicting knot, and he knew if he didn't escape, he'd say or do something he regretted.

Silently Adam watched his brother move away.  The gulf between Joe and his father was unnatural.  Though all the Cartwrights shared a special bond of closeness, Adam had always
thought Ben hovered a bit more protectively over his youngest son.  Maybe that was due to Joe's uncanny penchant for trouble, or the frightening ease with which his temper flared.  Whatever the reason, having the two of them at odds was as abnormal as snowshowers in the summer.

Little Joe was needed back at the Ponderosa.

Adam scowled.  The problem would be convincing Little Joe.

Joe stepped through the front door of the International House, intent on reaching his room.  He wanted nothing more than to fold into bed and forget everything that had happened to him over the last couple of days.  As he started for the steps, his attention was snagged by a tall man at the registration desk.  Though the hour was late, the stranger had obviously just arrived, evidenced by the travel bag at his feet.

"There you go, Mr. Lancaster," Joe heard the hotel clerk say, as he handed over a key.  "Room number three at the top of the stairs."

With a grim nod, the man pocketed the key.  Tall, and broad through the shoulders, he had pale hair and raven-black eyes.  Dressed in a black suit with white ruffled shirt and a light blue vest, he seemed more dandy then gunslinger.  Joe's eyes dipped to the holstered revolver riding the man's right hip.  He wore the gun low, a practice Joe favored himself, for a faster draw.

"Brian Lancaster?"  Joe asked, stepping forward as the man moved towards the stairs.

The blonde haired man hesitated, obviously surprised to be addressed in a town where he considered himself a stranger.  His dark eyes skewed aside to catch Joe.  "Do I know you?"

Up close, Joe could see fine lines about his mouth and eyes.  The man was older than Adam by a good five years.  "My name's Cartwright.  I'd like to talk to you."

"What about?"

Joe considered how much detail he wanted to divulge.  He glanced aside to the reception desk, thankful to note that the clerk had disappeared into the dining area.  The lobby was deserted. "About Lorna David."

Lancaster's eyes narrowed thoughtfully.  "What's she to you?"

Joe wet his lips.  "My fiance.  We're to be married next month."

"Really?  Kind of young, aren't you?  I didn't realize Lorna's taste ran to boys."

Joe flushed.  He knew the man was goading him.  Fueled by his own problems with Ben, and his subsequent encounters with McCay, Rudy and Adam, Joe's temper was on a short fuse.  He didn't want to make a scene.  Not in the lobby, where anyone passing by could easily blow his story.  For that matter, the desk clerk would be returning shortly.  "Just leave Lorna alone," he snapped.  "She's not going anywhere with you."

"We'll see," Lancaster responded.  His smile was silk--a malicious caress that made Joe's skin crawl.  Without another word, he turned and walked slowly up the stairs.

Joe swore softly and released a pent-up breath.  This was not going to be as easy as he thought.

Joe operated on a few hours sleep that evening.  He knew he had to be at Lorna's early if he was going to head off Lancaster.  The man had no doubt already discovered where she lived, and would plan on an early arrival.  Though the sun was still struggling through the sky when he knocked on her front door, Lorna was already up and dressed.

"Joe!"  Catching his arm, she drew him across the threshold.  "You look like you've barely gotten two winks of sleep.  What are you doing here so early?"

He tossed his hat on the couch and ran a hand through his ragged hair. "It's Lancaster.  He's in town.  I saw him last night."

Lorna's mouth worked into a startled "O" of surprise.  Lifting a hand to her lips, she sank into the nearest chair.  Joe knelt on the floor and gathered her fingers in his.  "It's gonna be okay, Lorna.  I've already told him he's not taking you anywhere.  He thinks I'm your fiance."

Lorna was mortified.  "Joe this is never going to work!  I shouldn't have involved you.  I should have left like I planned. I--" She stopped suddenly as the thunder of hooves announced an approaching rider.  The color ran from her face leaving a bloodless shell.  "Dear God, it's him!  It must be."

Moving quickly to the window, Joe flicked the curtains aside.  His mouth tightened noticeably.  "He doesn't waste any time, I'll give him that.  Stay here."

"Where are you going?"  Lurching from her chair, Lorna snagged Joe's arm as he moved towards the door.  "I've changed my mind.  I'm going to go with him.  I'm--"

"Lorna!" Joe snapped, all the anger and frustration of the last couple days tumbling through in the name.  He saw the woman flinch and immediately regretted his tone.  Lifting a hand, he grazed his knuckle over her cheek.  "Please, Lorna.  Trust me."

Her face was upturned to his, her eyes wide and swimming with fright.  She bit her lip and Joe saw the indecision in her gaze.  Finally she nodded.  Her fingers slid from his arm.  Turning aside, Joe drew open the door and moved onto the porch.  Shielding his eyes from the early morning glare, he watched Lancaster approach.  When the man had almost reached the porch, Joe stepped into the grass, blocking his path and forcing him to draw rein.  Seething, Lancaster glanced down at Joe.

"You're an ornery cuss, ain't you, kid?"  Shifting slightly, he eased his coat back over his gun, exposing the handle.  A thin smile lifted the corners of his mouth.  "A trait like that's, liable to get you killed."

Joe swallowed uneasily, his heart racing, as Lancaster's hand drifted towards the revolver.

Adam yawned.  He'd been too tired to ride home last night, so he'd taken a room at the International House.  Having deposited his room key at the desk, he was turning to leave when the registration clerk hailed him.

"Oh, Mr. Cartwright--did the blonde-haired gentleman find you?"

Adam stared blankly.  "Who?"

"Mr. Lancaster.  'Said he talked with you last night.  I told him you were staying here.  Though I have to admit--" the clerk winked, "--I didn't know you'd made an official engagement to Miss David.  'Course I didn't tell him that--him being a family friend of the lady's and all."

Adam shook his head.  "What are you talking about?"

It took awhile to get the information from the befuddled clerk, but in the end Adam was able to decipher the story.  Apparently Brian Lancaster had questioned the clerk regarding Lorna's relationship with a 'Mr. Cartwright', and the clerk had readily confirmed the union.  What Adam didn't understand, was who Lancaster had spoken with the previous evening, and what the man was doing there in the first place.

Determined to get to the bottom of the confusion, Adam headed to the livery stable.  He planned to retrieve his horse and ride out to see Lorna.  Aside from the sweet reunion he anticipated, he hoped she'd be able to explain who Lancaster was and what he wanted.  Anxious to settle his bill, Adam paid the stable hand, then turned to saddle his horse.  As he reached for his gear, Frank McCay and Kent Rudy rounded the corner, obviously intent on the same business.

Catching sight of Adam, McCay snorted.  "Look Rudy, it's another one of them Cartwrights.  You'd think they'd have enough to do out there on the Ponderosa without having to stick their noses in Virginia City."

"I don't know."  Rudy worked a wad of tobacco around the inside of his mouth.  "I hear tell this one's been away in San Francisco too long.  Guess he don't know what his kid brother and that little filly of his have been up to."

Adam swung his saddle onto Sport's back and bent to tighten the cinch.  He really wasn't listening.  Rudy and McCay had been hanging around Virginia City doing one menial job or another for the last five months, and Adam knew the two were nothing but trouble.  Since his return, he'd already heard rumors they'd tangled with Joe.

"Yeah."  McCay stretched the word into feigned consideration.  "It'd be a real shame if he went out there and caught them in the act."

"All right."  Adam straightened.  He'd had just about enough of the double talk, especially since the two gave no indication of departing.  "What is it you're trying to say?"

Rudy and McCay exchanged a glance.  The thinner man worked his bony shoulders into a shrug.  "We thought you knew."

"Knew what?"  Adam snapped.

"About that kid brother of yours--the runty one."  McCay pursed his lips together, savoring the tale.  "He and your lady friend, Miss David, have been sharing the same bed."

"What?"  Lunging forward, Adam grabbed McCay by the shirtfront.  Though the larger man outweighed him by a good eighty pounds, Adam's sudden rage made him reckless.  "Take it back," he hissed, "Or so help me, I'll--"

"Hey, hey!"  Rudy caught his arm.  "It ain't gonna change nothing.  Half the town knows about it.  While you've been off in San Francisco, your brother's been two-timing you behind your back.  You think he's been at the hotel all this time?"  Rudy snorted.  "Why stay in a lonely bed when he can get cozy with a willing partner?"

With a howl of rage, Adam released McCay and drove his fist into Rudy's face.  The skinny man reeled backwards, tumbling up against a bale of hay, then sliding to the ground.  Seething, Adam struggled for breath.  He knew he had to get out of the stable before his temper got the better of him.  He was normally able to control his emotions, but he didn't always think clearly where Lorna was concerned.  To hear her discussed like a common trollop . . .

Reaching behind him, Adam snagged Sport's reins and pulled the horse from his stall.  McCay was already helping Rudy to his feet.  Adam felt both men's eyes follow as he stalked past.  They were lying, of course.  Lorna loved him, and Joe would never do anything so unforgivable.  But coupled with the desk clerk's revelations about Brian Lancaster, Adam was beginning to grow very troubled.  Hiking a foot into the stirrup, he swung onto Sport's back and spurred the horse out of town.

Alone in the barn, McCay and Rudy broke into laughter.  Rubbing his jaw, Rudy indulged in a relishing smile.  "That was worth a punch or two." He spat a wad of tobacco juice from his mouth and glanced aside at McCay.  "Guess we don't have to take Joe Cartwright out, after all.  His brother's gonna do it for us."

"Still . . ."  McCay's heavy brows climbed into his thinning hair.  "It wouldn't hurt to make sure it's done proper."

Rudy's smile thinned.  Together the two men saddled their horses and rode from Virginia City.

Joe's left hand hovered near his holstered revolver.  Pinpricks of lightning danced the length of his arm, tingling the tips of his fingers.  His green eyes narrowed as he studied Lancaster's body language--the set of his shoulders, the barely perceptible tremor of muscle in his gunhand, the slip of his tongue across his lips--all were signs that signaled the man was ready to draw.  An unnatural calm settled over Joe as he readied to reciprocate.

"Brian!"  Both men jerked at the unexpected intrusion.  Lorna David rushed from the porch into the yard.  She'd been the wife of a gunslinger too long, not to recognize the betraying signs of a man ready to draw his weapon.  Possessively, she slipped her hand through Joe's arm. Her face was flushed as she stared up at her brother-in-law.  "I didn't realize you were in town."

"Lorna."  Lancaster flicked one finger over the brim of his hat in acknowledgment. He relaxed his gunhand, returning it to rest on his saddlehorn.  His expression remained watchful. "I've met your beau," he said with a scornful glance for Joe.

Joe tried not to bristle.  Beside him Lorna wet her lips.  "Then you know why I'm staying.  Why I can't leave with you."

Lancaster shifted slightly and his horse side-stepped with the movement.  With a barely betraying flick of his wrist, he brought the animal under control.  "My brother's grave is in Texas.  His family too.  That's where you belong."

"I belong with the man I'm going to marry," Lorna said quickly.

Lancaster jutted his chin at Joe.  "This boy?"  His lips curved in a thin, contemptuous smile.  "You disappoint me, Lorna.  I'd have thought after my brother, you'd want a real man, not some snot-nosed brat."

Joe cursed, and lurched forward.

"J-Adam!" The slip was almost past her tongue before she caught it.  Lorna snagged his arm and wrenched him to a halt.  The two exchanged a quick glance, fearing the momentary lapse had cost them credibility.  Lorna knew Joe struggled to control his volatile temper.  She could feel the tension in his body--the hard ridge of muscle drawn taut in his arm, just beneath her fingertips.

"I told you before, Lancaster," she heard him say.  "Lorna's staying here.  She's to be my wife. What she had with your brother is in the past--"

"I don't see it that way."

"Brian," Lorna said sharply.  When the man glanced at her, she released Joe's arm and stepped forward.  Drawing near the horse, she placed a hand on his leg and gazed up at him.  "I loved Del, but it was a long time ago.  In the end it was bad, and you know it.  Del spent more time with any girl who smiled at him, then he did with me.  Your Pa would want me to come home if I was still single, but not if I'm a married woman.  I'm going to be married, Brian.  You have to go back without me."

Lancaster's gaze was withering.  "You ran from us.  You left in the middle of the night--"

"I was scared.  Del was dead.  Maybe it was a foolish thing to do, but it's how I felt at the time."

"And now?"

Lorna's eyes returned to Joe.  Wordlessly she stepped to his side and slipped her arm around his waist.  "Now I've found someone else.  Go home, Brian.  Please don't make this ugly."

For a time no one said anything.  A gentle breeze blew from the east, sighing through the leaf-heavy canopy of the oak tree beyond the porch.  Lorna listened to the soft creak of the aged branches, unconsciously holding her breath.  At last Lancaster dipped his head.  "We'll just see," he said quietly.  The ominous tone of his voice sent a shiver dancing up Lorna's spine.  When he vanished behind the ridge of trees fording the road, she wilted against Joe.

"It isn't going to work," she mumbled.  "Dear God, Joe, I must be insane to think I can pull this off.  You're much too young for any union between us to be credible.  He doesn't believe us."

"He's not sure."  Joe caught her shoulders and turned her about to face him.  "All we have to do is keep at him and convince him."

"How?  If I know Brian, he's up there behind that ridge of trees, watching us right now.  He's waiting for us to make a mistake."

"Then we can't make one."  Joe tugged her nearer, into the circle of his arms.  "Especially if he's watching."  Bending his head, he pressed his lips gently against her own, folding her in his embrace before she could shy away.

Immediately, Lorna stiffened, every muscle in her body going ram-rod taut.  She pressed her hands flat against his chest, ready to lurch away, when she realized what he was doing.  Slowly, she relaxed, willing herself to remain calm.  She could feel his body pressed to hers, the muscled line of his thigh wedged tightly against her hip. The musk of horse and sweat clung to his clothing, mixed with the wind-washed fragrance of his hair. The scent was oddly intoxicating, and a distracted part of her mind found it surprisingly pleasant.  Though his kiss was not open-mouthed, it left her breathless all the same.

Joe drew back, a wicked grin on his face, and winked.  "What do you think?  Did we convince him?"

Lorna lowered her eyes.  She could feel the heat rising to her cheeks.  "Joseph, please, you mustn't do that.  It isn't right.  Adam--"

"Oh, hey, I didn't mean anything."  He stopped suddenly as a horrible thought crossed his mind.   "Lorna, you didn't think . . . I mean . . . you're attractive and all, but Adam's my brother--"

She pressed her hand to his lips before he could say anything further.  "Let's forget it.  You set out to convince Brian and hopefully you have.  Come into the house?"

Joe hesitated.  The troubled crease had yet to ease from his brow.  He was frivolous with his affections, yes, but this was role-playing on his part.  He was mortified to think that Lorna might view it differently. Turning towards the house, he slipped his arm around her shoulders.  "We won't have to do this much longer," he said, as he steered her towards the porch.  His voice was troubled, and Lorna could see the wounded dismay in his eyes.

For both their sakes, she prayed he was right.

Adam had just reached the treeline at the edge of Lorna's property, when he realized she was not alone.  Even from this distance, he recognized his brother's distinctive green jacket and sand-colored hat.  Perplexed by Joe's presence, Adam drew rein beneath the sheltering canopy of an elm.  Lorna and Joe stood just beyond the front porch of Lorna's small rancher.  As Adam watched, Joe drew Lorna towards him and bent his head to kiss her.

The bottom fell out of Adam's world.

Lorna loved him.  Though he'd never committed to her in so many words, the unspoken promise had always been there.  He'd always felt it was just a matter of time before he made her his wife.  And Joe--dear God, Joe!

Adam could still recall the giggling child with soft curls and luminous eyes, who had worshipfully looked up to his older brother.  Though time had muted that adoration and complicated their relationship, it had not blunted the underlying affection. Somehow throughout the years, Adam had never stopped playing the role of surrogate father.  To find that trust usurped, left him swimming in the black depths of despair. He might forgive Lorna her weakness, but he'd never forgive Joe his.

With a brutal lurch of the reins, Adam swung around.  He rode blindly, uncertain where he was headed, uncaring where it left him.  The rage built in his chest, pushing against his throat, until at last he dispelled it in a harrowing scream against the sky.  The sound echoed down the road, chasing birds from trees and blunting the furious thunder of Sport's hooves.

Adam wilted in the saddle, empty inside.

Brian Lancaster never saw Adam approach from the other side of the treeline, but he did see Joe kiss Lorna.  Frowning, he bided his time until Joe mounted Cochise and headed away from the house.  Lancaster let him go a few hundred yards down the road before hailing him.

"Cartwright."

Joe twisted in the saddle.  Catching sight of Lancaster, he drew to a halt, waiting until Lancaster pulled rein beside him.  The thin-lipped smile was back on the older man's face, edging the corner of his mouth upward in sardonic amusement.  "Let's just cut to the chase, kid.  I ain't leaving wi