"ADAM!"

    Adam Cartwright paused his long strokes with the curry brush and winced. "Coming, Pa!" he yelled back. He ran his hand down the neck of the tall chestnut gelding in front of him. "Sorry, Sport," he murmured. "Going to have to cut this a little short today." He would have preferred to stay in the barn, caring for his horse, but his father hated it when they were late for dinner and he didn't want to invite any questions about his tardiness. He checked the food and water and ran his hands over Sport again to be sure he was cooled and comfortable.

    "ADAM!"

    He gave Sport a final pat and hurried out of the barn. "Coming!" He nearly collided with his youngest brother just on the other side of the door.

    "Pa sent me to fetch you. He's gettin' mad." Joe looked a little smug.

    "Okay, okay, I'm coming." Adam reached down automatically to ruffle his little brother's hair, remembered just in time that Joe's eleven year old dignity didn't take well to that lately, and patted his shoulder instead. Joe shrugged off his hand and hurried inside ahead of him. Adam sighed. He was just making points all over the place lately. He followed at a slower pace. "Sorry, Pa," he said apologetically as he tossed his hat on the sideboard and slid into his seat. "Took me a little longer out on the range today."

    His father fixed him with a stern eye. "And why is that? Problems?"

    Adam unfolded his napkin and avoided his gaze. "No problems. Just took a while."

    "Good. How are the men working out?"

    Adam felt his stomach do a flip-flop. Did he actually know anything, or was he just fishing? "Fine," he said noncommittally, trying to keep his expression neutral.

    "Well, try to be on time for dinner. You keep the whole family waiting when you're late."

    "Yes, sir."   

    Hoss threw Adam a questioning glance and he frowned and shook his head slightly in return. "How are things going at the mill?"

    Ben took the serving platter from Hop Sing. "Oh, fine, fine…a mighty ambitious schedule though. No room for mistakes." He served himself and passed the platter to Hoss. "Knox, the foreman, seems to know what he's doing, though. He's tough, but the men seem to follow him."

    Adam nodded, pleased to have successfully diverted the conversation.

Hoss met his eyes significantly as he handed him the platter in turn and Adam shrugged slightly. Hoss looked back at his plate, his expression uneasy.

“Well, you’re all very quiet tonight.” Ben observed, digging into his meal with vigor. “Joseph, how was school today?”

Joe scowled. “Okay,” he said grudgingly.

“Not kept after again, were you?” Ben watched surreptitiously from under his lashes for the lightning exchange of glances that would tell him the answer before anyone spoke. None came – everyone’s eyes were firmly affixed to their respective plates. Hmph. Worse than he thought. “Joseph…?”

Joe glared at Adam. “You told him.”

Adam smiled a little. “No, but I think you just did.”

“Don’t compound matters by quarreling, Joseph. It wasn’t hard to guess – it’s not as though it’s the first time. What was it today?”

Joe mumbled something.

“Clearly. Please.”

“Didn’t finish my homework.”

Ben waited.

Joe squirmed uncomfortably.

Ben raised his eyebrows at him.

“There was a mouse in Emma Springer’s desk,“ he said at last.

“I see.” Ben put down his napkin. “And how did it get there?”

Joe looked up at him quickly and then back at his plate. “Some o’ the fellas…”

“And by 'some of the fellas',” Ben prodded “I assume you mean ‘you’?”

Joe stuck out his lower lip. “It was just a little field mouse, Pa. Wouldn’ta hurt nobody.”

“Anybody,” Ben corrected “But then, you’d know that if you’d done your homework.” He turned his gaze to his oldest son who was suddenly deeply interested in his dinner. “And you knew about this?” It wasn’t really a question.

Adam shot him a quick glance and returned his eyes to his plate. “Yes, sir.”

“And you didn’t see fit to tell me about it?”

“Well, I did just get home, Pa…”

“So you did. And I suppose this accounts for your being late as well?”

Now it was Adam’s turn to squirm. “Not entirely, Pa. I did have to return to the pasture to finish up a couple of things…” He hated evasive tactics. He wondered if it showed on his face.

"Which you would have gotten to sooner if you hadn't been waiting for your brother to get out of school so you could ride home with him, is that right?"

Adam opened his mouth to answer, then hesitated, wondering what the heck to say. It was true, of course, as far as it went, but -

Help came from an unexpected quarter. "I don't need anybody to ride home with me. I'm not a baby."

"That's enough out of you, Joseph."

"He's right you know, Pa." Even as he said it Adam wondered why he couldn't just learn to keep his mouth shut.

Ben fixed him with a steely eye. "I have managed to raise three sons this far, Adam, without your advice. I'm sure I'm able to finish the job all right. " The words lay uneasily between them and Ben was immediately sorry. That was unfair, and more importantly, untrue. After each of their successive mothers' deaths Adam had had almost as much part in raising Hoss and Joe as Ben had himself. He glanced at his two younger boys as Hoss and Joe became very busy with their food and continued more mildly, "You weren't riding all the way to school alone when you were eleven."

Adam recognized the implicit apology and turned up one side of his mouth. "That's because there was no school here when I was eleven. But I was responsible for looking out for Hoss. Younger, even."

"That was necessary. Not necessarily desirable."

"And when Hoss was eleven he was riding to school without me and looking out for Joe. It's not like he goes far alone - he meets up with the Devlins not a mile from here. I just don't see why it's different, Pa."  

Ben saw his youngest shoot him a quick glance to see if he was softening. Despite himself he smiled a little. Impossible to explain to his sons that it was different because Joe was his baby and that admitting he was old enough to ride to school alone meant admitting that there really was no baby anymore. It was bad enough that Adam had returned from Boston a full grown man he hardly recognized and that Hoss was now out on the range every day, indistinguishable from the other men in his hard work and discipline. If Joseph was shooting toward adulthood…he sighed, picking up his fork again, thoroughly irritated with himself. "I'll think about it," he said at last.

Little Joe gave a squeak of glee.

"I said I'd THINK about it," Ben repeated warningly. "Now finish your supper and then I'll sit with you while you do your homework. Or maybe your brother will show off some of his college education and give you a hand."

Little Joe groaned and Ben eyed him sternly. "Manners, young man, or I'll STOP thinking about it."

Adam pushed away his plate. "I'm about done, Pa. May I be excused?"

Ben raised his eyebrows. "No dessert?"

"I'll have mine later. I didn't really finish putting up Sport."

Ben eyed him thoughtfully, but nodded. "All right. But don't blame me if you're in Hop Sing's bad books."

"No, sir." He was out of his seat and out of the door almost before Ben could stop speaking, only pausing to grab an apple from the fruit bowl on the table in front of the massive fireplace. Outside on the porch he paused and took a deep breath. The evening air was quiet and still with just a hint of coolness, the first few stars showing their faces in the sky. He moved toward the barn at a more contemplative pace.

Sport nickered to him softly even before he had a chance to light the lantern and he smiled, rooting out grooming tools. "You never change, do you boy?" He moved into Sport's stall, offering him the apple. "Brought you something." Sport sniffed appreciatively, then chomped away half the apple in one bite. Adam laughed, rubbing his ears affectionately. "Don't choke yourself." Sport heedlessly devoured the rest of the apple, pushing his nose insistently into Adam's palm. "Sorry. That's it, fella." He moved alongside him and began working a curry brush down his neck. Sport contentedly blew air through his nostrils. Well, that was something. He was making somebody happy anyway. He flipped Sport's mane out of his way as he moved the brush higher and felt the horse's skin ripple with pleasure under his hands. If only it was this easy with everyone else.

The sound of the barn door opening came as no surprise and he didn't even bother to look up as footsteps approached the next stall.

"The way you been groomin' that there animal he's lucky ta have any coat left."

Adam smiled, making his way down Sport's flank. "Yeah? Well, what did you come in here for then?" 

"Figger Chubb's likely jealous o' all the attention Sport's been gettin'. Don't need you showin' me up."

Adam reached for another curry brush, tossed it to him. Hoss snatched it easily out of the air.

"I've been without a mount for four years. You'd be surprised how much you miss it."

Hoss stroked Chubb's nose. "I reckon. Rode him for ya while you was gone - first couple o' years anyway."

Adam grinned. "Well, if you stopped riding him when you got to your current size I'm grateful. Shame if you foundered the poor critter on me." Hoss had always been large, even as a baby, but it had still come as a shock to Adam, over six foot himself, to return from Boston to find his little brother a good two inches taller and God-only-knew-how-many wider than he was.

Hoss returned the grin good-naturedly. "Naw, left that ta more dainty folk. I need a real man's mount, like ol' Chubby here." Adam threw the dandy cloth at him. Hoss ducked, then picked it up and hung it over the stall divider.

They worked in silence for a while, enjoying the rhythmic action. As Adam was exchanging his curry brush for a comb he finally said, "Why don't you just say whatever's on your mind."

Hoss pursed his lips. "Ain't none o' my business, I reckon…"

"Go ahead."

Hoss stopped currying Chubb and leaned against his broad back. "Adam, I think you oughta talk ta Pa."

Adam struggled with a tangle in Sport's mane. "I can't, Hoss."

Hoss stopped pretending to groom Chubb and moved around to rest his forearms on Sport's stall. "You don't gotta do everythin' yerself, Adam."

Adam frowned. "It's not that, Hoss." He saw Hoss's skeptical look and grinned in spite of himself. "Well, not only that," he amended. Hoss waited. Adam hesitated, searching for the right words. After a minute he gave Sport a pat and moved around him to lean against his side of the stall wall opposite Hoss.  "Hoss, I've been gone east for four years. Most of the cowhands here now don't know me and even the ones that do, remember me mostly as a kid. They think I've only got the job because I'm Pa's son, that I've gone soft or snooty or I don't know what all, but if I'm ever going to have their confidence - if they're ever going to follow me and respect me - then I've got to prove myself. That takes time. If I go to Pa and he steps in for me - well, how's that gonna look? Like everything they think is true. I'll lose any chance I have of winning them over."

Hoss's broad face scrunched into a frown. "Reckon there's somethin' ta what ya say at that. Been three months, though. How long ya figger it's gonna take?"

Adam sighed, thinking of how many times over the past months he'd asked himself the same question. "As long as it does, I guess."

"Humph." Hoss pulled at his ear, looking unhappy. "Anythin' I can do ta help?"

Adam shrugged, absently stroking Sport's cheek. "You already are. You pretty much do the work of three men. Since I can barely get the others to do the work of one that's a big help."

"Maybe you could talk ta Pa and just ask fer advice. Tell him ta stay outta it."

Adam looked at him. "And just how likely is that, do you suppose?"

Hoss thought about their father and made a face. "Reckon yer right. What ya expect ta do if they really start draggin'?"

"I don't think they will - they just want to give me a hard time, they don't want to get fired. If they do - " he shrugged again, wishing he had an answer. "Guess I'll have to figure it out when the time comes."

Hoss shook his head. "Glad I ain't in yer boots, brother."

Adam nodded moodily, suddenly restless. On impulse, he grabbed Sport's blanket and threw it over his back. Hoss watched him incredulously. "You ain't thinkin' a goin' ridin', are ya?"

"Why not? Full moon."

"You just finished puttin' that critter up! You gonna take him out and then start all over again?"

"Nice night. I always liked riding at night."

"Brother, you are plumb loco." He watched Adam fetch a bridle and slide it over Sport's head. "Pa's gonna kill you."

"Yeah, well…" Adam finished buckling the bridle and went to get his saddle.

Hoss studied him, still shaking his head. "Better not be long if'n yer gonna put in a full day tomorra - specially if'n you gotta keep cleanin' up after them hands."

"I won't. It'll help me sleep."

Hoss held Sport's head while Adam tightened the cinch. "Want some company?"

Adam looked up from the cinch, his smile grateful. Good old Hoss. That was something else that hadn't changed. Oh, on the outside, of course - the enormous size and deeper voice were new - but Hoss was still his staunch supporter. Quietly, but invariably. "Thanks, Hoss. I was kind of hoping for a little time alone. Besides, no point in Pa killing both of us."

Hoss sighed deeply as he watched him lead Sport out of his stall, trailing him out of the barn. "Suit yerself. I'll leave the lantern turned low fer ya. If yer still alive after Pa gets done with ya I'll see ya at breakfast."

Adam nodded, giving him a quick clap on the shoulder and vaulting easily into the saddle even as Sport broke into a trot. He pulled Sport up for a minute. "Oh, and Hoss - " Hoss looked at him questioningly. "Don't eat my dessert." He gave Hoss a wink as Sport's impatient dancing in place gave way to a canter and he rode into the deepening twilight.

"I ain't makin' no promises!" Hoss called after him. He blew out his breath as his eyes followed his brother, then looked back at the ranch house and winced a little. Might as well go back and finish rubbing down Chubb. Not that he really needed it, but it was a sure bet that Chubb was pleasanter company than Pa was gonna be. He was in no hurry to go back inside.

Adam was tempted to press Sport into a gallop, then thought better of it and let him lope along at any easy canter. Too fast or too long and he'd be half the night cooling him down again. The night was beautiful, silent except for the musical sounds of the night creatures, the moon bright and full. Just a short ride - just enough to give him some breathing space - then he'd go back.

He'd missed this during his four years in the big city, more than he'd ever thought possible -  missed the easy understanding between rider and mount, the quiet companionship. During his teen years Sport had probably heard more of his problems than any other living creature. He wondered if he felt up to listening to a few now.

He eased him down to a trot to let him cool a little. He could just make out the shadows of the mountains in the distance. He'd done a lot of night riding there once upon a time. Pa had been about ready to kill him for it, probably wouldn't be too happy with him tonight either. He furrowed his brows at the thought.

Since his return, his relationship with his father had the earmarks of an armed truce. It wasn't that Adam didn't respect him, but in the four years of living back east with his grandfather he'd gotten used to making his own decisions. Not that his grandfather had been a pushover - he smiled a little, remembering some of his stormy lectures. A retired sea captain of daunting manner and formidable temper, he was fully able to rattle the rafters when he'd felt it necessary to make a point, but, within certain restrictions, Adam had still had a lot of freedom. Even the demanding college schedule had been more flexible than ranch work. There were no animals that needed to be tended to no matter what time of day or day of the week, no seasons or weather conditions dictating the length of the workday. In ranching, Mother Nature called the shots and she was a relentless and merciless mistress.

Well, he could have stayed in Boston. His grandfather had been more than willing and he'd had job opportunities if he'd wanted them. It had been his decision to come back and he didn't regret it, not exactly. He just hadn't expected everything to be so - what? Different? Just plain hard?

The problem with the ranch hands was struggle enough. He'd known all along he'd have to prove himself there - he'd had to do it before, when he was only seventeen and had taken over for his father after Marie, his stepmother, died. He'd managed, in time. Of course, then at least he'd been familiar to them. And probably, he admitted to himself, they'd felt a little sorry for him - stepmother dead, Pa in a deep depression, two brothers and a ranch to look after. No chance of sympathy this time, that was for sure.

The first couple of months with Pa bossing the range hadn't been too bad. Then this big lumber contract had come along and Pa had left him in charge of the range to free himself to run the timber camps. The resentment of older, more seasoned hands had been almost immediate. They mistrusted his fancy education and resented his sudden intrusion and it wasn't going to be easy to get past that. 

He turned Sport toward home at a walk. And then there was Little Joe. The difference there troubled him most of all. The seven year old that he'd read stories to, sung to sleep and taken fishing had become a surly and distant eleven year old who barely had a civil word for him. Maybe he'd been gone too long. Missed too much. He'd loved college, loved traveling and studying, loved what he'd gained. But when he thought of all he might have lost, his heart ached.

He sighed a little. Maybe he was taking it too personally. Maybe it was just the age. He tried to remember himself at eleven. Pa had just married Marie, and oh, how he'd resented her. He pulled Sport up, suddenly thoughtful. Angry at her intrusion into his family, terrified that he'd learn to care for her only to lose her as he had his own mother and Inger, surly and distant were certainly words that would have applied to him as well. And maybe, just maybe, that was how Joe felt about him. He smiled to himself. Well, Marie, wherever you are, I hope you're enjoying this. Looks like the joke's on me.

He loosened the reins and let Sport make his own way home. It was ironic, really. He'd spent two years on the ranch trying to prove he was responsible enough to go east to college, four years in Boston trying to prove that a hick cowboy from a one-room schoolhouse could hold his own with a bunch of prep school boys, and now he was right back where he started - trying to prove that an eastern educated college graduate could still make a good cowhand.  Funny, if you thought about it. But somehow or other, he just didn't feel like laughing.

"Hi, Pa. You didn't have to wait up for me." He had eased the ranch house door open quietly, hoping to make his way up to bed unnoticed, when he'd spotted his father ensconced in his chair by the fire. At least he didn't look angry.

"I wasn't waiting up. Just got caught up in this book."

Adam glanced at the book, noticed he couldn't be more than three pages in and lifted his eyebrows, but made no comment.

Ben caught his look and his mouth twisted into a wry smile. He closed the book resignedly and cleared his throat. "I'd almost forgotten about you and your night rides. Don't suppose you were hunting raccoon with Young Wolf this time?"

Adam smiled back, perching on the arm of the settee, and shook his head. "Haven't even seen Young Wolf since I got back. Not that I think he still hunts raccoon."

"That's what used to get you out. That, and your problems. Was always a sure sign something was eating at you."  Ben looked up at him searchingly.

Adam felt himself flush and shifted his gaze to the fire, taken off guard by such a direct approach. "Still adjusting, I guess."

"Anything special you're finding it hard to adjust to?"

Adam hesitated, trying to think of a way to ask him about Joe without making him feel defensive or the hands without making him want to fix it. At a loss, he finally said, "Nothing special."

Ben looked unconvinced, but said, "Hop Sing managed to rescue your pie from Hoss. Better eat it or you'll hurt his feelings."

"Thanks." Adam got up to go to the kitchen, happy to escape the discomfort of his father's scrutiny.     

"Bring mine too, will you? And I think there's still coffee."

Adam paused with his hand on the door. "You didn't eat yours?"

"Thought you might like some company."

Adam pushed his way into the kitchen before he allowed himself a reluctant smile. So. Pa knew perfectly well that something was bothering him and he also knew that sitting alone with him in the quiet by the fire was almost guaranteed to make him spill everything. He shook his head as he loaded pie and coffee on a tray. He considered Hoss's suggestion, then discarded it. No. If he was ever going to have a chance of making a life here he was going to have to take care of this himself. He picked up his tray and made his way back into the great room.  "If Hop Sing managed to save both our desserts from Hoss he must have had a rough night."

Ben poured himself coffee. "Hop Sing holds his own with your brother. And speaking of brothers, you don't need to worry about getting Joseph into town to school tomorrow. He's going to try it by himself."

Adam looked up quickly.

"Oh, you look pleased now, but if he uses it as an excuse to wander off or skip school or get himself in trouble you won't be smiling because I'll be sending you to take care of it. Remember, this was your idea, that makes it your responsibility."

"Yes, sir."

"And I have yet to meet anyone who can find more ways to get into trouble more quickly than Joseph. Not that you did too badly in your time. Which is why, I assume, you had no intention of telling me about the mouse?"

Adam stirred his coffee and smiled a little. "I kept thinking about those frogs I put in Louise's desk and all the trouble it got me into."

"Richly deserved, I might add," Ben said sternly, but his eyes were twinkling. "Miss Boston?"

Adam swallowed his bite of pie abruptly, a little off balance from the quick change in subject. His father was good at this, he'd forgotten how good. Of course, he'd had plenty of practice. "Some," he ventured cautiously.

"Must seem quiet."

"I like the quiet. Miss Grandfather, of course. And the walk to a bookstore was a whole lot shorter in Boston." He hesitated, glancing at his father a little shyly. "I felt close to my mother there."

Ben nodded, his expression faintly pained. "Boston and your mother will always go together for me, too. I'm glad you got to see where we met and courted, where she was raised…" he trailed off, but they both knew he was thinking 'where she was buried.'

So Adam said simply, "Visited there a lot. To talk."

Ben nodded again, his expression far away.

Adam winced, wishing he hadn't brought it up. "Of course, here I can visit Marie," he offered, poking at his pie. "Got to tell her I finished, with honors. Figured she'd want to know she'd gotten her way. But Marie always got her way. Must be where Joe gets it."

This time Ben smiled a little and Adam gave a small sigh of relief. He sometimes wondered how his father had survived burying three wives. He felt as though he'd barely survived it himself.

Deciding this conversation was taking a distinctly uncomfortable turn, he put his coffee cup on the tray and stood up abruptly. "I'd better get to bed if I'm going to be any good tomorrow. You done, Pa?"

Ben looked up at him, mildly frustrated. He hadn't gotten anywhere, not really. Getting Adam to open up took more patience and finesse than green-breaking a skittish colt and he was out of practice. "Yes, thank you, son," he said resignedly. "Don't worry about the tray. I'll take care of it."

Adam hesitated. "You sure?"

"Sure. Get some sleep."

"All right. Night, Pa."

"Good night, son."

Adam made his escape up the stairs at just a little bit faster than his normal pace. As he entered his bedroom he could hear Hoss snoring lustily in the next room and smiled as he closed the door behind him. He slipped out of his clothes and picked up the book on his night table, turning the lantern low. He frowned at it. Sure hadn't gotten very far. For a man who devoured books it was taking him a long time to make his way into this one. He seemed to fall asleep every night before he'd even finished a page or two.

Tonight the words seemed to be running together by the first paragraph and he finally tossed it aside, exasperated, twisting to look at the new stack sitting untouched on his desk. At this rate he'd never get to read them. He spotted his guitar leaning against his desk, Marie's last birthday present to him, one of the precious possessions he hadn't dared risk transporting to Boston. He wouldn't mind a little music, but it was too late to play without disturbing everyone.  On impulse, he looked back at his night table and picked up his dearest keepsake, the other precious thing he'd left behind. His mother's music box. Except for an old copy of "Paradise Lost" and her picture, it was his only tangible tie to her. Well, not counting his father and grandfather, of course. The only thing that was his alone, though. He lifted the lid. The faint, familiar tinkling of an old waltz filled the room and he tucked his arm behind his head to listen, his eyes studying his mother's picture, wondering if it would have been any easier to talk to her. Maybe. Once he and Marie had finally developed a rapport he'd found himself going to her with his problems. He wondered what she'd have to say about this one.

Ben heard the music when he came up the stairs a short time later and paused outside Adam's door. For a full five years after Liz’s death he had been unable to hear that sound without a rush of rage and grief – for himself, for Adam, for Liz and all she’d missed. It had been Inger who had changed that – Inger with her calm, sensible, down-to-earth heart. Now he heard it with a warm bloom of memory and only the faintest of pangs. He paused with his hand on Adam's door. He had told himself repeatedly lately that it was ridiculous to keep looking in on the boys before bed. With the exception of Joseph, they were well past the age – but the music box made a perfect excuse if Adam was still awake and looked likely to take umbrage.

He eased the door open. No, Adam was fast asleep. The lamp needed dousing, too. He moved silently to the night table and gently eased the music box lid closed. Adam didn’t stir. The thin pool of lamplight illuminated both Elizabeth’s picture and Adam’s face and he couldn’t suppress a smile at the resemblance. Impulsively, he reached down to rest his hand on his son’s dark head, a caress that would've never been tolerated in wakefulness. Adam muttered in his sleep and turned over, throwing off the covers. Ben sighed, wondering what he was dreaming about. Good things, he hoped.  He bent down to blow out the lamp, catching the distant, resonant sound of Hoss’s snores through the walls. Ben pulled the covers back up over Adam's shoulders, chuckling softly to himself. Why pretend? That would be his next stop. 

Adam counted to ten, slowly. He seemed to be doing a lot of that these days. His grandfather had always told him that a man who controls his temper controls the world. He figured he had a long way to go before he controlled either. He took a deep breath. "I seem to recall we had a conversation about this barbed wire just yesterday," he pointed out with controlled quiet.

Curly Froman shifted his feet, but his eyes remained blank. "Mebbe we did."

Adam counted to ten again. "Then why is it still here?"

Curly took off his hat and scratched his head. "Gosh, I jest cain't figger."

"Dadburn it, Curly, Adam done told you yesterday ta get this stuff outta here and down to the south pasture fer fence repair. That some animal ain't got hisself tangled up in it is just pure luck."

Curly switched his gaze to Hoss and this time there was a hint of a smirk there. "Yeah? Well, I figger some folks are jest born lucky."

Hoss took a step forward.

"Hoss - " Adam moved quickly in front of him. "Hoss, take two men and see if you can't get those stragglers rounded up and driven down here. I'd like that done before sundown."

Hoss narrowed his eyes at him. "Dadgum it, Adam - "

"Hoss." Adam met his eyes squarely. "Please." Hoss didn't budge. "Now."

Hoss scowled, his eyes moving from Curly to his brother. "Anythin' you say, Adam," he said at last.

"Thanks." Adam waited until he had walked away with only one backward glare for Curly, before turning back.  "All right. Let's try this again, so there's no misunderstanding. I want that barbed wire moved up to the south pasture. I want it moved in time for the men I sent up there to start working - about two hours from now. It shouldn't take any longer than that. Is there anything about that that's unclear?"

Curly's eyes went blank again. "Reckon not."

"Then we're agreed that in two hours time this barbed wire will be in the south pasture. By the fence. In tact and available to the fence crew."

Curly shrugged.

Adam clenched his jaw. "Are - we - agreed?"

Curly pursed his lips and looked at some point over Adam's head. After a moment he nodded.

"Good." Curly was still standing there, gazing into space. Adam's jaw hurt from clenching his teeth so hard but he willed himself to keep his temper. "Then you'd better get moving." Curly shrugged again, ambling nonchalantly toward the barbed wire. Adam closed his eyes and took a deep breath. One. Two. Three…He made his way toward Sport. Curly was circling the barbed wire as though he'd never seen any before. Four. Five…Adam stopped. "Is there a problem?"

Curly looked up, his expression vapid astonishment. "No, sir, Mr. Cartwright. I'm jest a-gonna transport this here wire."

Six. Seven. The slight emphasis on "mister" was not lost on Adam. EIGHT, damn it…"Then do it."

"Yes, sir." Curly somehow managed to be obsequious and insolent at the same time.

Nine…oh, to hell with it. Adam planted his feet and hooked his thumbs in his gunbelt. "You have ten seconds."

Curly straightened slowly, his expression suddenly alive. Clearly this was just what he had been waiting for. "Oh, yeah? And what you gonna do if'n I don't?"

Adam gave him a humorless smile. "Why don't you try it and find out?"

Curly grinned. "All right, boy. Let's see what yer made of. Reckon I already got a pretty good idee." He took a swing. Adam ducked it easily, neatly blocking the follow up with his left. Curly's eyes narrowed.

Adam smiled sweetly. "You're going to have to do better than that."

Curly erupted with a cloud of profanity, throwing himself at Adam, sending them both piling into the dust. Adam got him by the collar, pulled back his arm to deliver a crushing blow to the jaw - and found himself holding air. There had been a tremendous cracking thud of fist on flesh and Curly had flown off of him before he could even swing. Adam sat up slowly, first perplexed, then sudden conviction dawning.

"Hoss!" he bellowed. Hoss stood rubbing his fist, looking defiant and chagrined at the same time. "Damn it, Hoss!” He leapt to his feet, “I wanted to do that!"

    Hoss looked sheepish. "Sorry, Adam. But I done had just about enough o' his lip."

Adam brushed the dust from his jeans with more violence than effectiveness. "I thought I asked you to go after those stragglers?"            

"I was just on my way, Adam."

Adam opened his mouth for a scorching retort and caught sight of Curly, eyes wide and cheek swelling, crabbing hastily backwards, his eyes never leaving Hoss. He looked back at Hoss, his huge fists hanging loose by his sides, his expression as penitent as a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He couldn't help it. He laughed. Curly's expression became even more frantic and Adam dropped down on a pile of fence rails and laughed harder. Hoss looked at him with some concern. Curly looked at him with something close to panic. He took a deep breath and got ahold of himself, rubbing away a smile and letting his elbows rest on his knees. "You need a hand up, Curly?"

Curly shook his head cautiously, climbing slowly to his feet. "No, sir," he mumbled. "Reckon I'll see ta that barbed wire." He sidled toward it, giving Hoss a wide berth, hefting it quickly and easily into the wagon and climbing aboard. He slapped the reins and took off with as much speed as dignity would permit.

Hoss sat down heavily next to Adam. He cleared his throat. "Sorry, brother. Reckon I did ya more harm than good."

Adam shrugged. "What did you come back for?"

Hoss looked uncomfortable. "That Curly Froman's a hot head." He paused, squirming a little. "You gonna tell Pa?"

"What, that I need my little brother to fight my battles for me? I won't if you won't."

"I know you kin fight yer own battles, Adam."

"That's why you came back, huh?"

Hoss wrinkled his nose and looked miserable. "Temper got the better o' me, I reckon."

"I 'reckon' it did." Adam grinned suddenly. "Heck of a right, brother."

Hoss chuckled. "Somethin' I kin do ta make it up to ya?"

Adam pushed him lightly and stood up. "Yeah. Go see to those stragglers."

Hoss bobbed his head. "Yes, sir."

"Very funny." Adam watched him go for a moment and then made his way back to Sport. It felt good to have his brother stand up for him, but…he mounted briskly and turned Sport around, wincing a little. But Hoss was right. Well intended or not, he'd probably done him more harm than good.

By the time Adam made his way back to the ranch for supper he was bone weary. He led Sport into the barn, brooding about the events of the day. He had made his way down to the south pasture to check on the fence repairs before heading home and sure enough, the barbed wire was right where it belonged. Curly had finally done his part. Unfortunately, Deever and Clyde hadn't quite done theirs and there was a big gap where another level of wire needed to be strung. He'd started to remedy it, but he couldn't manage by himself. He'd have to drag them back up tomorrow and make them finish it right. Lord only knew what would be left partly done somewhere else while his attention was there.

He loosened Sport's cinch, shaking his head. Well, he had to hand it to them. They were pretty ingenious. Never let quite enough slip that it could cause serious problems and alert his father, never were quite rebellious enough that he felt he had grounds for firing. Not that he was looking to fire anybody. He was hoping it wouldn't come to that. He undid Sport's cinch. He had to give them points on teamwork, too. While someone kept him busy solving one problem someone else was always creating another. They would really be able to accomplish a lot if he could ever get them to work with him instead of against him.

 He started to pull the saddle, then paused, frowning. Something about the barn was bothering him and he couldn't put his finger on it. He looked around more carefully, then it struck him. Oh, no. No, no, no, no. He hurried out of the barn and glanced hopefully in the corral. He saw Hoss walking up, leading Chubb.

"Got them stragglers all taken care of, pretty as you please, Adam," he said cheerfully.

Adam nodded, barely hearing him. "Hoss, have you seen Joe?"

Hoss looked surprised. "No. Ain't he here?"

Adam shook his head. "Shadow's not in the barn or the corral. Would you check with Hop Sing?"

Hoss nodded, handing him Chubb's reins and striding into the house. Adam secured Chubb at the hitching rail and paced back to the barn and Sport’s stall. "Sorry about this, fella. I know you've earned a rest, but I don't have time to start from scratch with another horse."

Hoss entered the barn as he was tightening the cinch again. "Hop Sing ain't seen 'im."

Adam swore softly. "The only good news is Buck isn't here, so Pa's still out, too. You ride over to Devlins’ and see if he's there. I'm going to follow the road into town and see if I meet him on the way."

"Sure thing." He hesitated at the set look on Adam's face. "I know you're mad, Adam, but he could be in trouble."

"He'd better be," Adam muttered grimly as he led Sport back out of the barn. Hoss looked so distressed he relented a little. "Look, he's probably been kept after school again. I'm just going to get him back here - before Pa gets home, I hope. Otherwise Pa's going to be deciding which one of us to whip first. If you find him, get him home and I'll be back as soon as I can." He remounted.

"What'll I tell Pa if he gits here first?"

Adam kneed Sport forward. "I don't know, but make it good!"

His first impulse was to press Sport into a gallop, but the horse had already had a hard day and wearing him into a lather wouldn't solve anything so they made their way at an easy lope, Adam scanning the roadside for any sign of Joe. With luck, he was with the Devlins, but given the quality of his luck lately he wasn't counting on it. As they reached Virginia City he dropped the pace to a resigned walk, figuring Sport was probably about as tired as he was himself.

The schoolhouse was near the center of town and his approach showed him Shadow still tied outside. He released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Well, he was all right – that was something, anyway. All right for now - until his big brother got his hands on him. He stopped Sport alongside Shadow and dismounted slowly.  John Lawson, his old teacher, had been replaced, taking a well-deserved retirement. Joe’s teacher was a new one  - a Miss? -  Miss Jones. That was it. Abigail Jones. He had seen her a few times at church and at an occasional social, and he had a vague impression of a prim, fastidious woman with rather prominent blue eyes, somewhere about his own age.

He looked down at himself and grimaced, realizing that he hadn’t cleaned up at all since coming in from the pasture. Not exactly the best way to present himself to a lady, especially a lady he was hoping to coax into letting him spring Joe. Wiping the worst of the dirt from his hands on the front of his vest he removed his hat and made a quick pass at straightening his hair. Well, that was going to have to do…he took a deep breath and trudged to the schoolhouse door.

Miss Abigail was sitting at her desk with her head down, reading. Joe sat alone at one of the double desks, swinging his legs impatiently and writing something. Adam cleared his throat. Miss Abigail looked up and Joe twisted in his seat, his face brightening for a minute, then dissolving into a scowl. Miss Abigail hurried to her feet. "Why, Adam Cartwright!"

Adam nodded politely. "Miss Jones. I hope you'll forgive my appearance, but I came here straight from the range. I was hoping to collect Joe." He made his way down the aisle to Miss Abigail's desk, offering her his most charming smile.

Miss Abigail returned his smile with interest. "There's never any shame in the dirt of honest toil, Mr. Cartwright," she said graciously.

Adam breathed an inward sigh of relief. That was a good start. And there really was no distaste in her eyes - though there was something else there he couldn't quite put his finger on.

"But I'm afraid Joseph has been kept after school." 

"I see." He let his gaze rest on Joe with mock severity. Joe ducked his head to hide a grin. "What seems to be the problem?"

"Joseph created a disruption in class this afternoon." She frowned at Joe disapprovingly.

Adam looked sympathetic. "Mouse again?"

"No." Miss Abigail deepened her frown at Joe. "Crickets. In Maisie Collins lunch pail."

Adam bit the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning and adjusted his face into stern lines. "That does sound disruptive." 

"It certainly was. They hopped everywhere - half the girls were standing on benches screaming - it took me a full thirty minutes to restore order."

Adam choked a little and cleared his throat to cover it. "That sounds very bad." He didn't dare glance at Joe. "But - if he's been here since the close of school, then surely he's had ample time to reflect on the…er…error of his ways?"

Miss Abigail beamed at him. "You have such an excellent way of putting things, Mr. Cartwright! So erudite!"

"Adam. Please."

"Adam." She lowered her eyes and smiled coyly. Taken aback, Adam shifted uneasily. Joe looked from one to the other with speculative interest. "Well, I suppose…Joseph, have you finished your assignment?"

Joe bobbed his head. "Yes, ma'am!"

"This is the second day in a row you've disrupted class, Joseph. I can't have this every afternoon."

"No ma'am." Joe's look of contrition was positively soulful.

"I'll have a talk with him, Ma'am."

Miss Abigail's face melted with gratitude. "Oh, would you, Adam? I'm sure that would helpful. And perhaps you could talk to him about his studies, too? Joseph doesn't seem to fully appreciate the importance of a good education. And since you're a college graduate, surely you could help him understand - "

Joe glared. Adam shot him a warning glance. "Certainly. Now, if it's all right with you, I'd like to get Joe home in time for supper."  

Joe popped hopefully to his feet. Miss Abigail nodded. "Very well. But I don't want a repeat of this incident tomorrow, Joseph."

"No, ma'am," Adam answered for him, back-stepping hastily to Joe, taking him by the shoulders and turning him to the door. "Thank you for being so understanding."

Miss Abigail positively simpered. "My pleasure, Adam. I'll see you tomorrow, Joseph."

Joe nodded, moving to the door under his brother's insistent hand. "Thank you, Miss Abigail."

They were well out of town before Adam said plaintively, "I'm not in enough trouble, you gotta get me in more?"

Joe perked up. "What other trouble you in?"

Adam could have kicked himself. "Never mind…" he amended hastily "…but if you're going to make a habit of this you'd better finish training Cochise. Can't make any time at all on that pony."

"You said you'd help me."

Adam sighed. "I will help you. But you've got to stop being kept after school. By the time you get home there isn't any time."

"Well, you're late gettin' home, too."

Adam was silent. True enough. "I'll make a deal with you. You don't get kept after school tomorrow and I'll try not to be delayed either and we'll work with Cochise. I could manage Saturday, too, if you're interested." He wasn't quite sure how he'd manage it, but he'd think of something.

 After a minute, Joe nodded. "Pa awful mad?"

"Pa doesn't know yet. At least, he didn't when I left. And he doesn't have to if you get a move on."

Joe spurred Shadow into a gallop. "Then what we pokin' along  for?"

Hoss was waiting as they walked into the yard, leading the horses the last stretch to cool them.

Adam raised his eyebrows at him. Hoss shook his head. Adam released his breath in relief. "Hoss, can you get started with the horses? I'll give you a hand in a minute." He took Joe by the arm and led him to the pump. "Hold still." He took off his bandanna and ran it under the pump, then applied it vigorously to Joe's face.

"Hey!" Joe protested.

"Will you keep still?" Adam surveyed his handiwork. "It'll have to do. Wash your hands." While Joe half-heartedly ran his hands under the pump, Adam tried to remove the first layer of dirt from his own face. He fumbled for his handkerchief and used it to dry himself and then Joe before heading to the barn with Joe trailing. Hoss already had both horses unsaddled and had set to work on Shadow. Adam started in on Sport, while Joe hung over the stall watching. Adam glanced up at him and frowned. "Come here." Joe approached cautiously. Adam took his face in one hand and dragged a curry comb through his hair.

Joe tried to squirm away. "Hey! That's a horse comb!"

"Well, unless you've got another one on you, it's what we've got. I guess you'll do. Go in the house and try to look as though you've been there for a while."

Joe thought a minute, then brightened. "I'll start my homework!"

Adam rolled his eyes. "Yeah, that won't make anybody suspicious. Think of something else. Act natural. Pester somebody."

Joe waited until he was well out of reach at the barn door before turning around and smiling sweetly. "Miss Abigail likes Adam," he announced. "She's downright googley-eyed over him."

Adam glared up from his work with Sport and took a threatening step toward him. Joe turned and fled. Adam debated pursuit for a moment, then slowly turned back to Sport. Out of the corner of his eye he caught Hoss grinning at him questioningly. He turned his glare on him. "You got something to say?"

Hoss's grin grew broader. "Well, shoot, Adam, you done told him ta pester somebody."

Adam threw down the curry brush and picked up a dandy cloth.

Hoss chuckled. "Fine lookin' filly, that Miss Abigail."

Adam's jaw tightened, but he refused to be baited.

"Real well educated, too. Reckon it's all that book learnin's gone right ta her head."

Adam drew his breath in to say something, then shut his mouth stubbornly.

Hoss smiled slyly. "Figger if'n Joe keeps gettin' kep after school thisaway, she could have you roped and tied by spring."

 Adam's head reared up. "Listen - " He saw Hoss's face and let his shoulders relax, turning away with an exasperated sigh. "Oh, just - shut up and finish, will you?"  

If Ben had had his wits about him he would have noticed the air of angelic diligence pervading the great room upon his entrance and had the presence of mind to be suspicious. But he had had a long and difficult day and his mind was occupied with other things, so he only took a moment to be grateful that all his sons seemed to be present and ready for supper. He glanced over at Hoss and Joe, engaged in a quiet game of checkers, and Adam, perusing the Territorial Enterprise , as he removed his gunbelt.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, boys. I'll be ready to sit down in just a minute." A chorus of docile murmurs as he went to wash his hands and tell Hop Sing that they were ready to eat tugged at his alertness, but he quickly dismissed it.

He allowed himself to look more closely at their faces as they served themselves, but noticed only that they all seemed unusually tired. And quiet. "Well, Joseph," he said with forced jocularity by way of starting conversation. "You made out all right riding to and from school yourself, I see."

Joe swallowed hard and glanced quickly at Adam.

"Actually, he rode home with me, Pa," Adam interjected smoothly.

Ben raised his brows in Joe's direction. "I understood you preferred not to have your brothers ride home with you."

Adam jumped in again. "I had to be in town and stopped by the schoolhouse. Just for company."

Ben looked at Joe questioningly.

Joe smiled weakly. "It's different when I don't have to."

Ben nodded. "I see." He didn't, but he wasn't up to trying to reason out his sons' peculiarities tonight. "And how about you two boys?"

Adam and Hoss stopped chewing and exchanged glances. Between them, they couldn't think of a single thing about this day that wasn't better left unsaid. Adam cleared his throat. "Nothing special, Pa. How about you? You're pretty late getting back tonight."

Ben grunted as he helped himself to more potatoes. "Running into a few problems. Could use a little rain, to tell the truth. The river's getting low. Gets much lower and we're going to have to find another way to get that timber off the mountain. Not really something we have time for."

Hoss nodded, glad to have a safe topic. "Been a real dry summer all right. Fall ain't much better so fer."

Adam looked up from his dinner. "Want me to have a look, Pa?"

"Unless you know a rainmaker I don't see what good it will do, Adam."

"Pa, I am an engineer."

"I realize that, son."

Adam fought to curb his impatience at his father's absent-minded tone. "Pa, that's what engineers do. Solve problems like that."

The frustrations of the day made Ben short tempered and inattentive. He'd had enough of business for one day - now he only wanted to eat in peace. "Adam, I gave you a job to do. If you want to help, then please attend to it. Knox has a great deal of experience in these matters - I'm sure that between us we can work something out."

Adam bit back a retort and fixed his attention firmly on his plate. Everything on it seemed to have lost its appeal.

"Joseph, after dinner I'll help you with your lessons."

"Adam told Miss Abigail he'd help me." Joe gave his eldest brother a look of limpid innocence. The look his eldest brother returned showed that he was less than amused.

"Well, that's fine then. I should go over that contract again anyway - see how much breathing room we have. If you haven't quite finished cleaning that platter, Hoss, would you pass it this way, please?"

"I'm done, Pa. Can I be excused?"

Ben glanced at Joe's plate in surprise, then nodded. "May I - yes, if you're sure. Homework next, though - I'm sure your brother will give you a hand as soon as he's done."

Adam pushed his plate away. "I'm done, Pa. Get your books, Joe."

Ben shook his head. "Well, either you're all suddenly eager to study or nobody has an appetite tonight. Hoss?"

Hoss looked up from his third helping. "Not me, Pa. I'm just about starved!"

Ben watched his other two sons settle at the desk in his study, feeling clearly for the first time that something was slightly out of kilter. "Hop Sing can serve your dessert there." he offered. Joe made a face at his books but cheered up at the mention of dessert. Adam didn't look up at all.  

Over an hour later Joe glanced from the grandfather clock to his brother, seated silently next to him resting his cheek on his fist while Joe fought his way through long division. He was pretty sure he'd lost his tutor's attention - he'd barely blinked in the last five minutes - should be the right time to make good his escape. With elaborate casualness he closed his book with a flourish and slid to his feet, heading toward the checkerboard.

An iron hand on his belt stopped him cold. "Finish," Adam said firmly.

Joe opened his mouth to say he was finished, but something in Adam's expression froze the words on his tongue. He flopped back into his chair, sighing gustily. "I hate math," he complained.

"You can hate it all you want, as long as you do it."

Joe flipped the book back to the right page and scowled at the remaining problems. Well, that tactic hadn't worked, but maybe he'd do better with another one. He glanced at his brother out of the side of his eye. "Adam, what do engineers do?"

Adam looked surprised at the question, but after a moment said, "Build things."

"Then what do architects do?"

"Build things." And, seeing Joe's expression, "Different things. Houses and buildings. Engineers build bridges and tunnels and roads. Mine shafts. They solve different kinds of problems."

Joe looked from his math problems to his brother, a little interested in spite of himself. "You gonna build things on the Ponderosa, Adam?"

Adam was silent for so long that for a moment Joe thought he hadn't heard him. He was just about to repeat the question when Adam stirred and spoke quietly. "You've only got two problems left. Finish up and you still have time for a game of checkers with Hoss."

Joe was going to point out that that wasn't an answer, but a look at Adam's profile changed his mind. Shaking his head, he relinquished all strategy and returned to his long division. Older brothers. He'd never understand them.

Joe would have been surprised to know how his question had stuck with his brother. It was still nagging at him hours later as he sat up in bed and abandoned all pretense of sleep. Throughout his four years in college, somewhere in the back of his mind he had always assumed that he would come back to the Ponderosa and make use of his education - researching and applying modern techniques, working out and solving the problems inherent in running such a large spread. The two things meshed so clearly in his head that it had never even occurred to him that his father might see things differently. For an uneasy moment he wondered if his father even understood what it was his new training had enabled him to do - not just in a general way - but specifically, where the Ponderosa was concerned.

He heard the grandfather clock chime downstairs and winced. He'd pay for this tomorrow. Maybe if he read a little he'd be able to relax. He turned up the lamp and reached for his book, then sat staring at it. Was this what Pa thought he'd been doing for four years? Reading poetry? Talking philosophy? Oh, he'd done plenty of that and enjoyed it, too, but it had been more than just some self-indulgent odyssey. At least, he'd meant it to be. He ran his hand thoughtfully down the cover of the book and, after a small hesitation, put it aside. Not back on his night table, but on his desk with the stack of unread books. Then he lay down and tucked his hands behind his head to think.

Maybe he needed to let go of books, at least for a little while. The thought brought a pang, but he could barely stay awake long enough to read anyway. And everything seemed to be sliding out of control. He needed to make some kind of progress with the hands soon or they would begin to fall behind, by slow but sure increments. Whatever questions lay between him and his father, he owed him better than that in return for his trust. Owed the Ponderosa better.

Maybe it was time to start over from scratch. Forget everything he thought he’d built before he went away and go back to the beginning.

Not a good time to approach his father with his problems while he was worrying about the lumber contract, but if he didn’t see some improvement on the range in the next two weeks he would go to him anyway and ask his advice. He’d also talk to him about his degrees and their potential impact on the future of the ranch. Pa could be stubborn and old-fashioned, but he was a good businessman. He just had to make him see.

He turned on his side and closed his eyes, willing sleep to come, pushing down a creeping sense of failure. After a minute he reached out and flipped open the lid of the music box. The jingling melody wasn’t loud enough to disturb anyone, but something about the sound seemed to ease the hollow feeling that had settled around his heart. Before the song had played through once, sleep had claimed him at last.

Adam caught up with his brother at the far end of the south pasture where he was breaking for lunch after a hard morning of digging post holes. Adam dismounted, hiding a grin at the size of Hoss’s bundle of sandwiches. “Hey, Hoss? I need a favor.” He peeled off his gloves and sat down under a tree on the ground next to him.

“What’s that?” Hoss asked suspiciously.

“I promised Joe I’d be back in time to help him with Cochise before dinner provided he wasn’t late getting back from school, but I need to make sure Clyde and Deever actually finished that fence. Could you swing by and take a look for me?”

Hoss chewed meditatively. “I could…” He looked unhappy at the idea.

Adam was surprised. “If it’s a problem I guess I could make time for it, I just wanted to…” He trailed off. Hoss, with his easy good nature, would never understand his difficulties with Joe.

Hoss made a face. “It ain’t no problem, Adam. Reckon I can do it.”

Adam nodded, studying his expression curiously. “Okay, thanks.” It was so rare for Hoss to be perturbed. “Something the matter?”

Hoss actually stopped chewing for a minute and grimaced. “I was just thinkin’.”

“Uh-huh. About?”

Hoss put down his sandwich. “Curly Froman.”

“Oh.” Adam chuckled. “That was quite a hit you gave him. Looked like a squirrel storing nuts in his cheek this morning.” Hoss nodded glumly. Adam tilted his head at him. “He giving you a hard time?”

“No, he’s givin’ me a pretty wide berth, matter o’ fact.”

"Can't blame him."

"I reckon."

Puzzled by his disheartened tone, Adam crossed his arms on his knees and looked at him. "Clyde and Deever?" he offered finally. "They giving you a hard time?"

Hoss shook his head. "Reckon they'll be givin' me a wide berth, too."

"Okay." Adam leaned back against the tree and tilted his hat over his eyes. "I'm running out of guesses. Want to help me out?"

Hoss's face went through a series of gyrations, then he burst out, "Dadgum it, Adam, I know it's my own fault an' I done it ta myself when I hit Curly fer not doin' what ya said. So's now if'n I show up ta check up on Clyde an' Deever they'll most likely figger I'm there ta do the same ta them unless they do their job. I don't want folks thinkin' I'm yer paid muscle."

Adam grinned. "Hm. I'll admit that's one solution that hadn't occurred to me."

"It ain't funny," said Hoss sourly.

"C’mon, it's at least a little funny." Hoss's expression remained grim, so he said reasonably, "Listen, Hoss, if you're thinking Curly told everybody about what happened, I think you're wrong. I'm not sure what he did tell them, but I'll give you good odds it was a lie. No cowpoke worth his salt wants to admit he was taken down by one punch from a seventeen year old kid - even a really big seventeen year old kid. I can promise you he's not spreading this story around the bunkhouse. He'd be a laughingstock and he knows it."

Hoss's eyes brightened. "Ya figger?"

"I'd bet money on it."

"So Clyde an' Deever won't think - "

"They might think you're a pain in the butt, but they'll blame that on me."

"Huh." Hoss picked up his sandwich again and began to chew vigorously.

"Just don't go knocking their heads together if you think they don't show me the proper respect, or you will have a reputation."

Hoss smiled his gap-toothed smile. "No sir. Not me. Thanks, Adam."

"I mean it, Hoss. I appreciate the support, but from now on, let me handle it."

"Yes, sir, Adam. If they get me riled I'll just count ta ten."

Adam made a face, remembering. "Might want to try something else."

"How 'bout you and Curly? How's that?"

"Oh, he's being careful around me, but probably just to avoid tangling with you. I'm going to try and have a talk with Smokey. If I can get him on my side the rest should follow."

Hoss looked dubious. "How you figger on doin' that?"

Adam took off his hat and stood, rubbing at his tired eyes. "I'm hoping for inspiration."

"Good luck to ya."

"Thanks. I'll see you at supper." He was about to remount when he paused, gazing thoughtfully at the dazzling arch of blue overhead. "There really is nothing like a Nevada sky, is there?"

"Only one I ever care ta live under."

"Right. See you tonight, Hoss."

“Easy, easy - don’t push. Come on, Joe, you don’t like it when anybody pushes you – neither does she. Just take it easy.”

Joe glowered, but he eased up on the little mare. Adam leaned against the corral to watch, then nodded. "That's better. Don't forget to let her know you're pleased." He ducked between the rails and walked over to give Cochise a pat himself. "Nice work. That's probably enough for today."

Joe looked stubborn. "I could get her to do it. Just a little more."

Adam shook his head. "Look, Joe, I know you're anxious to have her as a full time mount. It's easy to forget that even though you know what you want her to do, she doesn't know what you want her to do. You need to give her a little time to catch up. She'll get there - she's got a real sweet temperament. She'll make you a first rate cowpony someday." Joe opened his mouth to argue, but Adam was firm. "It's almost time for supper. Walk her around a little and cool her down. I'll help you put her up for the night."

Adam watched Joe lead Cochise out of the corral, following to close the gate behind them and making himself comfortable with his back against it.

"How's it goin'?"

Adam glanced over his shoulder at Hoss, propped companionably next to him. "All right so far, I guess. Joe's a little impatient but Cochise is real good-natured. Seems to balance out."

"I weren't talkin' about the horse. I meant you an' him."

Adam turned to look at Hoss, then smiled a little. "Know me pretty well, don't you?"

"Know ya both."

Adam nodded, then said, "Hard to say."

"You'll work it out. Just takes a little patience, like ol' Cochise there."

Adam's eyes followed Joe and the pinto. "I guess you're right." He'd promised himself last night to start from scratch, and that meant with Joe, too. Especially with Joe. If Joe'd forgotten everything they’d had between them before he'd gone away, well, what did he expect? He was just a little kid. Okay, it hurt - just a little - but he could get past that. He was supposed to be the adult here. He saw Joe reach down to feel Cochise' chest then lead her toward the barn and he pulled himself up to full height. "Well, looks like it's once more into the breach. Tell Pa we'll be in to supper in a little while."

Hoss pursed his lips. "Need some help?"

"You mean a referee? No, thanks, Hoss. I think it's better if I work this out with baby brother without a buffer."

"Suit yerself. But don't take too long - it's pork an sweet taters tonight an' I'm clear holler."

"In other words, hurry or go hungry. I'll remember."

Adam found Joe already busy currying Cochise. He was talking sweet nonsense to her, but stopped at the sight of his brother. Adam picked up a brush without comment and got busy on the horse's other side. They worked together in silence. After a while, his eyes still intent on his work, Adam ventured, "So, feel like telling me why you're so mad at me?"

Joe didn't answer, just bent down to pick out one of Cochise' front shoes.

"Or maybe," Adam continued conversationally, "You're mad at the world and I'm just a real handy target." He gave Joe a surreptitious glance and saw one corner of his mouth quirk upward. That was a little better.

Joe moved to the next hoof, his gaze fixed there, concentrating hard on what he was doing. "You see any of those big ships when you were in Boston?"

Adam was almost startled into dropping his brush, but he forced himself to keep working as if nothing special had happened. It was the first time he could remember Joe showing any interest in anything that might have happened to him in the four years he’d been gone. "The clippers? Sure. Grandfather lived right near Boston Harbor. I used to watch them come and go all the time."

"Like the ones we saw in San Francisco?"

"Just like those."

Joe nodded and worked his way to the back hooves. They fed Cochise and finished in silence. They were halfway to the house before Joe spoke again. "Can we work with her again tomorrow?"

Adam smiled faintly. "I don't know. Think you can avoid being kept after school two days in a row?"

Joe shrugged. "I can do it." He slid a sideways glance at Adam. "Miss Abigail'll be awful disappointed, though."

Adam took a mock swing at him and Joe ducked, grinning. Adam reached out automatically to ruffle his hair, stopped himself and put his hand in his pocket instead. "Don't push," he reminded himself softly.

Ben took off his bandanna to wipe down his neck. Indian summer. If only things weren't so dry he might have enjoyed it. He moved out of the warm Virginia City sun and into the relative cool of the Sheriff's office.

Roy Coffee looked up from his desk and nodded his greeting. "Hey, Ben, you old reprobate!"

"Hello, Roy. Was just in town and thought I'd see if you had a minute for lunch with an old friend."

"Reckon I can tear myself away from these wanted posters for an hour or two, if'n you don't mind havin' lunch here. I'm waiting on the Doc - one o' my prisoners back there ain't lookin' so good. Can't have people dyin' in my jail. I'll get a reputation."

Ben returned Roy's grin. "Probably that food you feed 'em. Enough to make any man ill."

"Well, can't have 'em gettin' too comfortable in there neither - I'd be overrun with prisoners wantin' to live easy on the Territory. Have a seat, Ben." He nodded toward a small boy waiting patiently by the door. "I was just sending Tommy here over to order some grub. Make that two servins', Tommy, of whatever Mamie's dishin' up today." Ben pulled up a seat while Roy cleared a space on his desk. "How things goin', Ben?"

"All right, Roy. Wish we'd see some rain, though."

Roy nodded. "We could use it, all right. How're them boys o' yours?"

Ben frowned. "Not sure I know the answer to that myself, Roy."

Roy chuckled. "How's that? They still livin' at the Ponderosa, ain't they?"

Ben nodded. "Oh, they're still there all right: Adam's brooding, Joe's sulking and Hoss is eating me out of house and home."

Roy's eyes twinkled. "Sounds about normal, Ben."

Ben gave a short laugh. "You may have something there."

"So, what all is Adam broodin' about?"

"Wish I knew. I was trying to figure it out when I got distracted by this problem at the lumber camp. And you know Adam. If you want to get something out of him that he doesn't want to give up, you'd better have a pry bar and ten clear hours."

"Uh-huh. How 'bout Little Joe?"

"Can't figure that one out either. Complains about school, complains about his chores, complains about his brothers - nothing seems to make that boy happy these days. He’s a lot more vocal about it than Adam, but I still don’t feel I have any idea what the real problem is."

“As for Hoss, you kin just blame yerself fer that, Ben. Bound ta happen if ya insist on growin’ a boy that big.”

Ben nodded, but his expression didn’t lighten. “Hoss has his own battle, I think. Doesn’t seem to know his own strength after that latest growth spurt last year.”

Roy got up and poured Ben a cup of coffee. "Maybe you should just be countin' yer blessins'. Like that it's Hoss's temper in Hoss's body and Joe's in Joe's body and not the other way around."

Ben laughed. "You do have a way of putting things in perspective, Roy."

He stood up to accept the coffee just as Dr. Martin bustled in. "Paul!" he said pleasantly.

Paul Martin nodded. "Ben. Good to see you. Well, Roy, I hear you've killed another one."

The Sheriff looked aggrieved. "Now, you see what I was a-sayin', Ben, about a reputation? You come back here, Doc, and have a look for yerself. Still alive and kickin'."

"All right, but I warned you about that jail chow. Better come along, Ben. May need your help."

“Yeah, come along, Ben. I may need a witness.”

Smiling, Ben followed the two men, who were still scrapping genially.  

Roy's jail showed only two prisoners. One lay quietly on the cot, the other paced restlessly in the next cell. The pacer stopped as they approached. "When can I get out o' here, Sheriff?"

Roy searched his key ring for the right key. "Soon as you can pay for damages to the Bucket o' Blood. Owner's talkin’ about lettin' you work 'em off, if'n you got no other way an' your game."

The occupant looked eager. "I'm game."

Roy found the right key. "All right then, I'll send you over to 'em with Clem. Reckon he can use the help tonight, bein' as it's Saturday. But you work hard and look sharp. I don't want ta see you back here tonight or I won't be so easy on you."

"Yes sir."

Roy unlocked the first cell and gestured Paul inside, then turned to the next one. "Just let me take care o' this, Paul, while you have a look, an' I'll be right back. Ben, you give him a hand if'n he needs anything?" He unlocked the second door and escorted the shabbily dressed prisoner back to the office.

Ben knelt down next to Paul and watched him examine the prisoner, thinking about how many times he'd watched him do the same to his own boys. He was grateful that this time it wasn't one of his own, but surely this man belonged to someone - was somebody's son, or husband, or father.

Paul was feeling under the man's jaw, his face thoughtful. "Get me a bucket of water and a dipper, will you, Ben?"

Ben nodded and went to fetch the water. When he returned, Paul was looking down the man's throat and asking questions. The man replied after a fashion, but seemed to have some difficulty speaking.

Roy reappeared just as Paul was finishing his examination. "Whattya think, Paul?"

Paul studied his patient. "Don't know. Could be a lot of things. Pretty bad throat. And I don't like this swelling under his jaw. Not much fever, though. I'm going to make him comfortable and check back later to see how he's progressing. I'd like to keep him isolated until I know more. Think you can do that?"

Roy shrugged. "Now, yeah. But it's Saturday, Paul. Once this town gets swingin' tonight I could be full up and three deep by sunrise."

"Send him over to me if that happens. I assume he's not dangerous?"

"Heck, no. Just got into a brawl with that other feller and did some damage to the Bucket o' Blood. Between us, I don't know how Sam can tell the difference, way he keeps that place, but it's not for me ta question. Anythin' else you need?"

"Water and the blanket should do it. Know if he has any family?"

Roy shook his head. "Couldn't find anyone ta claim 'em. Just a drifter it seems."  

Ben watched Paul hold a dipper of water for the man, feeling pensive. He didn't have much to complain about, really. His sons were healthy and with him - he wasn't alone and ill, like this man. "Let me know if there's anything he needs, Paul," he said quietly.

Paul looked up at him, then nodded. He covered his patient and climbed slowly to his feet. "That's all I can do for now, Roy, but I'll be back. Send Tommy or Clem for me if there's any change." He led the way back to the office, stuffing things back in his bag.

"Lunch with us, Paul?"

Paul looked at Roy's desk where Tommy was setting down a lidded bucket and shook his head. "Thanks, Roy, but no time today. Just keep an eye on my patient for any changes. I'll see you later." He smiled at Ben. "How's the family, Ben? Must be pretty quiet out there lately. Haven't had to tend to one of that accident-prone brood of yours in a while."

"Everyone's fine, Paul." And suddenly he meant it fervently.

"Glad to hear it. I don't need the business. Give them my best. Gentlemen."

Ben looked after him while Roy pulled out a couple of plates. "We're in luck, Ben. Mamie's chicken and dumplings. Sit yourself down."

Ben sat down slowly, his face thoughtful. "Takes something like that man in there sometimes to make us think, doesn't it? Made me decide I don't have any troubles at all." He smiled, a little sadly, shaking his head. "But I tell you, Roy, I don't know where the time went. It was just yesterday Adam was about Joe's age and Hoss was tagging along after him and Joe toddling after both of them. Just yesterday, I swear to you. I see it so clearly - sometimes more clearly than I see them as they really are today."

"They're good boys, Ben, all three. You got nothin' ta worry about."

Ben nodded. "I know. Just growing pains, I suppose."

Roy chuckled. "Well, I hope yer referrin' ta Joe, because I think Adam's done growin' and I sure hope Hoss is!"

"The boys, Roy?" Ben raised his brows at him. "I was referring to myself." 

Adam listened to Hoss’s report of their progress and nodded, satisfied. “Good work. We may come out all right yet.”

Hoss gave him a dubious glance. “Reckon things are under control here, Adam, but you sure this is a good idee?”

“Nope.” Adam touched his hat to him and proffered a nod before riding off. He felt his father’s trip into town couldn’t have been more opportune for his purposes. He had over two hours before he had to help Joe with Cochise and he intended to take full advantage of them. With Hoss keeping an eye on the men driving part of the herd down from the upper pasture, Adam could ride down to talk to Smokey, who was doing an equipment check before taking the afternoon off. 

Adam rode up as Smokey was making his way from the storage shed to the bunkhouse and dismounted quickly, slinging Sport’s reins around the hitching rail. “Hi, Smokey. I’d like to talk to you for a minute.”

Smokey’s expression was not welcoming. “I’m on my own time.”

Great start, thought Adam grimly. “My watch shows another hour.”

“Oh, well, see, we ragged ol’ cowhands don’t tell time by watch. We’re too ig’rant. We tell by the job. An’ I done finished the job ya done give me.”

“All right.” Adam folded his arms over his chest. “Then I’ll pay you for the time.”

“Yer papa ain’t gonna like that.”

“I'll worry about that. Let’s use the bunkhouse, shall we?”

Smokey paused, torn between stubbornness and extra money. After a minute the money won and, swaggering, he led the way to the bunkhouse.  Inside, he propped himself against a bunk and stared at Adam. "So. What-all you wanna talk about?"

Adam gave him a half smile. "Oh, you're a bright guy. I bet you can guess."

Smokey just stared. Adam half-sat on a saddle rack and contemplated his square countenance. "Smokey, you're the foreman here. I figure if I have trouble with you, I'll have trouble with the men. If I don't have trouble with you, I won't. Make sense?"

Smokey shrugged warily. "I don't control the men."

"Now, that wouldn't make you much of a foreman, would it?"

Smokey glared, angry at having missed the trap. "What's yer point?"

Adam paused. "I know I've been away. But that doesn't make me a stranger to ranching. I've been working the Ponderosa since I was twelve. I'm working it now - the same work you're doing, the same conditions, same hours, same weather. So what's your beef with me exactly?"

Smokey’s glare grew sour. "Three long years I been foreman o' this ranch. All o' a sudden I'm supposed ta be takin' orders from some wet-behind-the-ears pup. Don't set with me."

"You mind taking orders from my father?" Smokey narrowed his eyes, trying to follow where this was going. "I'll take that as 'no'. My father's orders are to take orders from me. I worked this ranch from the time I was twelve until I left at nineteen - that's seven years. I figure that gives me seniority, too. You got a problem with the way I run things?"

"I don't like folk what have things handed to 'em."

"I don't see anybody handing me anything."

Smokey shrugged. "I don't like you."

"I'm not asking you to. I'm asking you to call off your dogs."

Smokey’s lip curled in a sneer. "Or what? You sic that big ol' dumb brute o' a brother o' yearn on me?"

Adam had promised himself that he'd count to ten. He had vowed to keep his temper. He didn't even realize he had failed to until he saw Smokey go flying across the bunkhouse on the end of his fist.

Hoss found him at the pump when he rode in an hour later. He saw Sport still standing at the hitching rail as he dismounted and glanced over at his brother. "You goin' out again, or you want me ta put him up with Chubb?"

Adam shook his head. "No, I'm not going anywhere."

"I'll pull them saddles, then. All set up in the pasture. You talk ta Smokey?"

"Oh, yeah, we had a nice little chat."

"Good." Hoss gathered up both sets of reins. "Mebbe we're past it, then." He led the horses over to the pump on his way to the barn. "You fellers reach some sorta understandin'?"

Adam looked up at him and Hoss took a step backward. "Lordy, Adam."

Adam smiled wryly, then dabbed at his split lip where the smile had restarted the bleeding. "Yup, I'd say we understand each other just fine." He took Sport's reins from Hoss's unresisting hand and, limping slightly, led him to the barn.      

When Ben rode into the yard after lunch with Roy he found Adam and Joe at the corral working with Cochise. Neither noticed him at first and he paused to watch. Joe was putting Cochise through her paces. Adam called out some direction. Joe called something back. Adam ducked into the corral and approached him, gesturing with his hands and explaining something. Ben couldn't hear the actual words of Joe's answer, but he winced at the tone. Oh, no, here we go. Adam's reply was too low to make out, but Ben felt the chill from here. Joe's voice rose in return. Ben's mouth formed a grim line as he moved Buck forward, the warm glow he'd felt about his sons after his talk with Roy fraying a little at the edges. Joe jumped off Cochise, yelling about something, and landed in the dirt. From where Ben was sitting, it almost looked like he actually stamped his foot. Adam's voice rose a notch in volume and Joe yelled louder to be heard over it. "Boys!" Both jumped at the sound of his voice, Joe looking up at him defiantly and Adam looking away. "Now, what seems to be the trouble?"

"He thinks he knows everything!" said Joe heatedly.

"Joe, you asked me to help. If you want my help, then let me help you."

"Then I don't want your stupid help!"

Adam threw up his arms in surrender.

Ben hesitated. His eldest and youngest sons were a volatile combination sometimes: he needed to tread gently. "Well, Joseph, your brother may not know everything, but he has trained a few more horses than you have. This is your first, and you did ask him to help."

This time, Joe really did stomp his foot. "You always take HIS side!" he blurted, and turned and dashed from the corral.

Ben stared after him. "Joseph, I am not taking sides! Come back here, son!" Joe ignored him, disappearing behind the barn. Ben frowned. "What on earth is this all about?"

Adam sighed, patting Cochise as his eyes followed Joe. "I don't know, Pa. Sometimes I think Joe feels like there's one Cartwright brother too many."

"Adam!"

Adam winced at his father's shocked tone, shocked himself to realize he'd said it out loud. "Sorry, Pa."

Opening his mouth to respond sternly, Ben looked directly at Adam for the first time and did a double take. "What on earth - " he jumped off Buck and hitched him to the corral, approaching for a better look. "What happened!"

"Happened?" Adam stalled, irritated that his fight with Joe had exposed him before he'd come up with a plausible alibi.

"To your face!"

"My face?"

Ben looked at him in exasperation. "Adam."

"Um. I  - fell, Pa."

"You fell." Ben reached for his chin and grabbed it firmly as Adam tried to duck away. "Hm." He winced at a darkening bruise on Adam's right cheekbone. "That looks painful."

"It's fine." Adam took a step backward, releasing himself in the process. "I'm going to finish up with Cochise. Sometimes Joe comes back."

"Sometimes?" Ben's eyebrows shot up. "Does this happen often?"

Adam grit his teeth, wondering just what it was that made him so stupid today. "Not often. Sometimes."

"Adam - "

"Pa, maybe you should see to Joe. He seemed pretty upset."

Ben took a deep breath. "All right," he said at last, "Maybe you're right. Where's Hoss?"

"Inside. Eating, I think."

Ben closed his eyes and shook his head. Of course. He picked up Buck's reins and went to lead him away, then turned back. "Are you at least going to tell me where you fell?" he asked, a little sarcastically.

Adam's expression was bland, the dark eyes opaque. "On my face, Pa. Where else?" He turned back to Cochise with an air of finality.

Ben turned toward the barn, feeling suddenly very old. What he wouldn't give for a pry bar and ten clear hours.

The Reverend Smith’s sermon, though eloquent, was wasted on the Cartwright family the next morning. Ben was still puzzling over his boys – he peered over Joseph's head at Adam's profile, still and unmoving, the swollen lower lip noticeable even from here. He knew full well that Adam had been in a fight, but with who? And why? He had noticed some of the ranch hands looking pretty bruised this morning as well and had toyed with that theory for a moment before discarding it. Probably the result of the usual Saturday night’s revels – Adam was their boss, after all, they wouldn’t be fighting him. Ben sighed. Well, maybe Adam had been telling the truth – or part of the truth – and it was just some silly accident that his boy’s pride wouldn’t let him admit to.

He glanced down at the hunched figure between him and Adam, drooping with misery, and smiled involuntarily. When he was happy, nobody could look happier than Joseph, and when he was miserable, nobody more miserable. He had tried talking to him yesterday behind the barn, and while the conversation had been long and loud, he felt no more enlightened than before. He couldn't figure out why he would keep asking his brother for his help and then, just as surely, push him away. He doubted Joseph understood it himself.  

Ben leaned against the back of the pew and let his eyes drift to his left. Hoss's usually placid face was scrunched into a frown of deep concentration. Ben couldn't decide whether he was feeling the strife between his brothers or had some new problem of his own.

Reverend Smith's booming voice cut through his restless thoughts. "And I say to thee! Your greatest burden shall then become your greatest blessing…" Ben sat up straighter, slowly taking in the three heads around him, from Hoss's fuzzy reddish one to Joseph's curly brown one to Adam's wavy black one, his good humor miraculously returning. Well, well, well. He slipped his arm loosely around Joseph’s shoulders. "And that which you have cursed, you will then bless…" He chuckled. Good the Reverend Smith. Truer words were never spoken.

Adam saw Ben’s arm go around Joe and smiled a little, wincing as the motion pulled on his split lip. Well, that was better. He’d felt uncomfortable since yesterday, as though he’d somehow betrayed his youngest brother to their father. Now, if only he could think of what to do about Hoss.

It had upset him to find out that Curly had told Smokey about his run-in with Hoss – he had been sure he wouldn’t want that story noised around – and maybe it wasn’t. Maybe only Smokey knew. But why tell him at all? He fidgeted restlessly, caught a reproving glance from his father and stilled. If his troubles were starting to spill over and make trouble for Hoss, too, then they had to be stopped. Now.

His head throbbed from his altercation yesterday but he took comfort in the thought that Smokey must be feeling at least as bad. Of course, chances were the fallout from the fight would make his workday tomorrow even more unpleasant. He groaned softly at the thought and reached up to rub some of the ache away from his eyes. He saw his father glance his way. This time Joe was looking at him too. Perfect. He had gotten Joe in trouble, he had gotten Hoss in trouble and now he was setting a bad example in church. Yup, he was doing a great job as older brother, all right. He wouldn’t blame them if they packed him up and sent him back to Boston before he could do any more harm. 

Everyone shuffled to their feet for the final hymn and Adam joined them, just a heartbeat behind. He was following without actually singing until he saw his father looking at him again and forced himself to half-heartedly join in.

Ben was thinking how little he had heard Adam sing since his return. He hadn’t thought about it before, but now that he did, the once frequent sounds of guitar and its beautiful baritone accompaniment had been curiously absent. He missed it, he realized. Of course, Adam was probably tired after a day on the range – but today was Sunday. He’d ask him to play for them tonight. He ushered his charges out in front of him, shaking his head and wondering what else he wasn’t noticing.

Ben made his way back to the buggy through a crowd of friends and neighbors, greeting and shaking hands. He was just climbing aboard himself when he heard a voice calling his name. He turned as a young lady, rather breathless, stopped at his side. "Mr. Cartwright," she gasped. "Mr. Cartwright. I know you're on your way back to the ranch but I just couldn't let this opportunity go by without telling you how much Joseph's work has improved."

It clicked, finally. Joseph's teacher, of course. Miss…? The name escaped him. "Well, I'm very glad to hear that." He glanced at his youngest son, who managed to look both smug and virtuous at the same time.

"Yes." The young woman patted self-consciously at her hair. "I think Adam's help with his studies has been invaluable."

"Indeed?" Ben glanced at his eldest son, taken aback at the look on his face. He had the exact same expression he'd seen on the face of a deer caught in his rifle sites. "Well, I'm glad to hear it. I did notice that Joseph seemed to be home on time recently."

"Oh, my, yes. Joseph has been beautifully behaved, he - oh, my goodness, Adam. What happened to your face?"

Adam opened his mouth to answer, but by now Ben had heard the sniggers exchanged by Hoss and Joe and seen Adam's uncharacteristic, silent panic. Odd. Usually Adam was very deft with girls. A little more deft, frankly, than his father would like. "He fell, Miss." For the life of him, he still couldn't remember her name. "Isn't that right, Adam?"

"Oh, I knew it had to be something like that. I knew you wouldn't be involved in anything as vulgar as a brawl. Where on earth did you fall?"

Adam opened his mouth again, but Ben interjected, "On his face, of course. Isn't that right, son?"

Adam gave his father a look that spoke volumes and smiled weakly at the young teacher.

"You two must have a lot in common. You're both so well educated." This time Adam looked so alarmed that Ben took pity on him. "Unfortunately, today we're in a hurry, but perhaps some other time. I'm sure you'd have a lot to say to each other."

    "I'm sure we would." The young lady positively beamed. "Good-bye, Mr. Cartwright. Hoss. See you tomorrow, Joseph." She saved a special smile. "Good-bye, Adam."

    Adam managed something relatively gracious and tipped his hat before climbing back in the surrey next to his father. Hoss and Joe were still snickering and he gave them one smoldering glare before hunching down with his arms crossed and his long legs stretched out in front of him.

    "WHAT is that young lady's name?" asked Ben as he slapped the reins.

    "Miss Abigail. Abigail Jones," said Joe helpfully. "She likes Adam."

    "Yeah," grinned Hoss. "Mebbe there's hope o' Joe gettin' through school yet. Wish she'd been around fer me. "     

    Ben felt Adam shift next to him and put a quick hand on his arm to stop any precipitous moves over the seat into the back. "All right. That's enough. Don't tease your brother."

    Adam stared at him in patent disbelief, then returned to his slumped position, tilting his hat over his eyes and pretending to sleep.

    Joe and Hoss clamored out of the buggy as soon as it pulled to a stop in the barn. "Hop Sing said he's fixin' chickens today!" Hoss announced gleefully. "With biscuits an' gravy! I kin jest about smell 'em from here!"

    Joe dodged in front of him. "Well, you ain't gettin' all of it! That's my favorite!" He raced out of the barn with Hoss in hot pursuit.

Ben smiled after them. "Like a storm cloud one minute and a sunbeam the next. I'll never understand that boy."

Adam jumped down without comment and began to help him unhitch the horses. After a minute he said, "Pa, you remember Maxwell, that feed and grain man that's supposed to be in Carson City tomorrow? Had a real good offer on winter feed."

Ben frowned, then nodded. "That's right. I'd forgotten all about it. Guess one of us will have to make the trip. And I have to meet those railroad men in Virginia City tomorrow – try to get an extension on that contract. You’ll have to manage without me. Maxwell's only supposed to be in Carson for a couple of days."

"What would you think about sending Hoss?"

"Sending Hoss?" Ben stopped working, surprised. "Well, I don't know. He's pretty young."

"Seventeen. He's got a lot of sense."

"I suppose." Ben led the horses out of the traces. "But sometimes it's hard for a young man to be taken seriously simply because of his age - no matter how smart or capable he is."

Adam stared at him a moment and started to say something, then changed his mind and said instead, "I think it would be good experience for him. It's a good deal for us, but the whole future of the Ponderosa doesn't rise and fall on it. I think it would be a good place for him to start. Get some confidence."

"I don't know." Ben held the horses' heads while Adam removed the harness. "You have to remember, things don't always come as easily to your brother as they do to you." The look Adam gave him was so peculiar that Ben finally said, "Well, maybe you're right. It would certainly solve a problem for us if we could both stay. Let's give it a try."

Adam bundled the harness for hanging and nodded slowly. "I think he'll do a good job for us."

"Well, then. Shall we have dinner and tell him?"

"I'll finish up with Scotty and Willy and be right in."

"All right, but don't be long or those two hooligans will have eaten everything but the bones!"

Adam watched him go, then leaned against Scotty with a sigh of relief. All right, that gave him three days to find out if any of the other hands knew about Hoss and Curly and then to convince them that any teasing, tormenting or taunting they might want to try on Hoss as a result would be a very bad idea. He rubbed his sore jaw thoughtfully. If he had to take on the whole bunkhouse, smiling would be painful for some time to come. Well, no matter. He didn't have a whole lot to smile about these days anyway.

"I thought it would be good experience for you. What are you so mad about?"

"You know dang well what I'm mad about. That stuff may work with Pa, but it don't cut no ice with me, Adam."

"Look, I know you prefer the outdoor aspects of ranching, but sooner or later you're going to have to learn the business aspects, too."

"That ain't what I'm talkin’ about an' you know it."

"Then why don't you tell me what you are talking about."

Hoss scowled at him. "You had that fight with Smokey an' now you're sending me away when you know full well there could be trouble fer you tomorra. I should be here. I don't like it."

Adam smiled a little. "Now, I thought you didn't want to be my paid muscle."

"I ain't talkin' about hittin' nobody. I'm talkin' about support. Havin' somebody around that's on yer side."

Adam kneaded at the back of his neck and sat down wearily on a bale of hay. They were supposed to be doing the evening barn chores, but they'd barely gotten underway before Hoss had exploded with scarcely suppressed anger. He’d taken the assignment from his father calmly enough, but the look he'd given Adam at the time told him that he'd have plenty to say to him later, and now here it was.

"Look, Hoss, it's not like I'm in any danger or anything - these are our hands, afterall. The worst that's going to happen is that they're going to be annoying and petty. I'm a big boy. I think I can handle that."

"Yeah, you think you can handle a lot of things. I just don't get why you always think you gotta handle 'em alone."

Adam hesitated. There was no way he could actually explain to Hoss. He knew his younger brother was already struggling to come to terms with the problems of his massive size and strength - he was sensitive enough about it. He didn't need any new hecklers making it any harder. Problem was, Hoss knew him a little too well. For his own sake, there was nothing Adam wanted less than to see him go away - even for three days. He felt as though he was losing his only friend. But for Hoss's sake, he didn't see any way around it.

Finally he said quietly, "Hoss, I'm doing the best I can."

Hoss caught something in his tone that cooled his anger a little. He had trouble staying mad for any length of time anyway. He sat down on a bale nearby, picking idly at some loose straw at the corner. "You really think I kin do this, huh?"