Summary: With Ben away, the Cartwright boys face down poachers, a train robbery, a fire that nearly destroys the Ponderosa, a strange new school teacher and a lost dog. But when Ben returns, the biggest problem of all is gossip.

Rating: T (mild language, mature themes, violence)   WC 109,300

The Lilies Series:

The Lilies of the Field
The Lilies of the Valley
One Scarlet Lily
The Strawberry Roan

The Lilies of the Field – Book 1 of the Lilies Series

Chapter 1

Riding fence was not Adam Cartwright’s favorite job. For Hoss and Little Joe it was a time to be out in the fresh air and at one with their horses. If he had been Hoss, he could simply have taken life as it came while riding fence, enjoying the warm sun and blue sky, looking forward to a good meal. If he had been Joe, he would be reveling in his youth and strength, smooching with Cochise, and planning which girls he would be dancing with at the next shindig. But he was Adam…and today was a day when being Adam was no fun.

Adam had no aversion to fresh air, and he had nothing against Beauty, although he didn’t really regard himself and Beauty as companions. If Beauty could have read even the first page of Don Quixote, they might have had something to talk about, but as things were, Beauty was transportation, the cattle they raised were food and hides, and dogs and cats were annoyances that Hoss was always bringing home to rehabilitate.

Even if he had loved all the things he encountered, he still wouldn’t have liked riding fence, because it gave him too much time with his thoughts. Adam Cartwright had one major flaw: he thought too much. His brain never slowed down and simply accepted what was. Sometimes it moved backwards in time, dwelling on past losses and hardships; sometimes it moved forward and wondered what he was missing out on. Sometimes he wondered why he was nearly 35 years old and not married with children of his own when there were plenty of nice women around, and plenty of them seemed to fancy him…but then, he simply didn’t fancy any of them. Not for long, anyway.

That sagging section of fence was just begging for something to tangle something up. He stopped, untied his tool sack and removed a crow bar. It only took a few minutes to remove the nail, tighten the wire and hammer the new nails in, but it was hot work, and he was drenched in sweat and resentment when he finished.

He heard the high-pitched yelp coming from the woods, and he took his rifle down from the saddle. It was still Ponderosa land, fence or no fence, and if there was some coyote back there it was just a short wait before the calves would start turning up mangled and dead.

His first thought when he saw the clump of fur stuck between two trees was to wonder just what the devil it was. Too big to be a coyote; way too furry to be a wolf; too small for a bear. His second thought was that it must be a dog, though without a doubt the ugliest dog he’d ever seen.

And then he saw the trap the dog was stuck in, and for a moment white-hot fury set in. It wasn’t one of theirs. The Cartwrights kept a careful inventory of their traps, and only set them out after a direct sighting…and they paced off the land and wrote the directions down, so there was no possibility of any of them winding up stepping in one. There was only one conclusion. Poachers were on Ponderosa land, setting traps right next to a well-used trail where anybody could step in them. It could as easily have been his horse—or himself. Somebody was going to pay for this.

The dog yelped again as it tried to move, and looked imploringly at Adam. He took a few cautious steps in its direction, wondering if it might be better to just shoot the thing now and put it out of its misery. Surely it would never have the use of that leg again—and then he chuckled as he realized the dog wasn’t stuck by a leg, but by its too-long, bushy tail.

He looked again. The dog cringed, squinting its almond-shaped eyes—blue eyes, the color of ice—and turning its head sideways. “When a dog goes all squinty-eyed at ya and turns its head, it means she knows who the boss is, and it ain’t her,” Hoss had explained to him once about how you could tell what a dog was thinking by the way it moved. Well, possibly that meant it would not bite. He stretched out his hand to allow the dog to sniff, but it cringed away from his hand, too. He shrugged and went to its hindquarters, grasped the trap, and slowly managed to open it. The dog sprang out as soon as the pressure was relieved, but its tail was a bloody mess. Well, the thing had to have a home somewhere; it might even belong to the trappers themselves. “Go on home,” Adam said. He pulled up the stake anchoring the trap and put the whole thing up in a tree, breaking off a long branch and looking around for other traps. He found three others within a hundred feet of the first; angrily he sprung them, then pulled up their stakes. Then he happened to look back. There was the dog, sitting there staring at him. He waved his arms. “Get!”

A hundred or so feet further, he looked back and realized he was not alone. The dog was following behind him. He pulled up Beauty and turned in the saddle. “GO HOME!”

But the dog stayed on Beauty’s heels. Finally frustrated, Adam jumped off Beauty and waved his hat at the dog, yelling all the while. The dog sat down a safe distance away and just looked at him. “Okay, no more playing,” Adam muttered. He picked up a dead stick and pitched it directly at the dog, who bounded out of the way, hopping on three legs as it did so. Shaking his head, Adam mounted Beauty and went on, relieved to see the dog was nowhere in sight.

At about noon, Adam reached the end of his section. Sighing, he sat down with his canteen and a wrapped ham sandwich.

And the dog—carrying the stick he had thrown—limped up, wagging its mangled tail, and deposited the stick at his feet. Then it sat down and looked hopefully at the sandwich. “Spit fire and save matches,” he muttered under his breath, and tossed the sandwich over.

*

Hoss was chopping firewood and Joe was stacking it into a neat half-cord next to the kitchen door when Adam returned. They turned to wave, and then Joe burst out laughing. “Adam’s got a girlfriend!”

Scowling, Adam jumped down from Beauty and glanced back to where the dog was still following him. “Found it up by the south pasture fence line, and now I can’t get rid of the darn thing.”

“Well, we knew it was only a matter of time, Adam,” Hoss said. “After all, you bein’ so irresistible to women and all…” And Joe burst into a giggling fit that nearly choked him.

Adam rolled his eyes. “How can you tell it’s a girl?” he demanded.

“Well, I know how, and knows how,” Joe snickered. “But I remember you never could tell, Adam!”

At a loss for a clever retort, Adam just sputtered. “I never saw so much fur in my life! Only place it doesn’t have fur everywhere is on its face, and it’s got a face that looks like a wedge of pie!” He led Beauty toward the barn, calling back over his shoulder, “Hey Hoss, might want to look at its tail. It’s hurt.”

By the time he had Beauty clean and eating, the unwelcome visitor was sitting indignantly in a galvanized tub being thoroughly sudsed by Hoss and his ever-present bar of sulfur soap. “You know,” Hoss said, “She is a girl, and once ya get all the hair layin’ down, she’s just a little ole bitty scrawny thing. I don’t think she weighs more’n 40, 45 pounds. Hurt, too, Adam—she’s got a cracked rib and her paws are all tore up, ’specially this one here.”

“Hmmm. So is it really brown under all the dirt?”

“It ain’t all dirt. That funny gray and black color comes natural. It’s like a roan horse, with white hair shot through all the black. The face is brown—except for all them gray and black stripes and dots—and part of her hind legs are brown. But the rest is either that blue roan color or solid white.”

“Solid white?”

“Yep, she got white socks just like Beauty, and a big ole white napkin-lookin’ thing around her neck makes her look like the Queen of England.”

Adam grunted. “What about the tail?”

“Aw, Adam, that’s gotta be cut off. I can save maybe half of it. You wanna help me operate?”

“Not particularly,” Adam replied. “Not my dog.”

*

Joe figured he’d probably hear every possible permutation of the name “Joseph Francis Cartwright” if Pa ever found out what had happened to that fine bottle of whisky. But it wasn’t his fault if his father never kept any cheap rotgut around the house. Besides, with any luck maybe he and Hoss would save a little money and replace it before Pa got back from Kansas. Anyway, the dog had to be calm and quiet if they were going to get rid of that mangled tail, so he figured it was a worthy cause.

“You reckon it’s a sin?” Hoss asked as he held the dog in his lap, with his huge hand pulling the dog’s cheek into a pouch so Joe could pour the whisky in.

“What’s a sin?”

“Well, we’re stealin’ Pa’s whisky, and using it to get a dumb animal drunker than a skunk. An’ this poor li’l girl might not even be a drinker.”

“I don’t think she is,” Joe agreed, watching as the dog wiggled, trying to slosh the whisky out. “But we’re just borrowin’ the whisky. We’ll pay it back before Pa gets home.”

“You hope. I ain’t so sure.”

“Well, I figure the Good Book says if our hearts are pure, it don’t matter what we do.”

“Don’t think that’s exactly what it says. And if you don’t get some of it in her stommick it’s all gonna be wasted.”

“Well, she can’t drink the whole bottle. So, we’ll drink the rest and then it won’t be wasted. And just to make sure she won’t feel any pain there’s another bottle back there if we need it.”

“Hey, Little Brother, I like the way you think.”

“Good,” Joe nodded, helping himself to a swig. “Want some?”

“Not yet, not till after I operate. Well, maybe a little, just to steady my hands.”

*

Adam came down a little before dawn the next morning, and in the dim light he saw three bodies sprawled on the floor. Hoss was flat on his back, arms out at a 90-degree angle, and he was snoring to wake the dead. The ugly dog—also spread-eagled on its back on the floor—was sound asleep as well, and Joe, curled on his side with his arms wrapped around the dog, wasn’t moving either. Adam shook his head and cleared his throat. No response. He sighed. The dog opened her eyes and thumped her heavily bandaged tail weakly at him, whimpering.

“Hey Adam,” Joe yawned. “She’s doin’ just fine.”

“Good,” Adam replied. “And I see you’re as discriminating as ever as to whom you’ll share a bed with.”

“I’d slug you for that one except I can’t decide which one of you I want to hit.”

“How many do you see?”

“Three.”

“Go for the one in the middle.”

“Later. My head’s killin’ me.”

Adam nodded. “Listen, if I tell you a couple things can you remember them?”

“No promises.”

“Do the best you can. I have to take care of some other business in town. Don’t forget to muck out the barn.”

“Right.”

“And listen, Joe, someone’s been trapping on the Ponderosa.”

That made Joe’s head come up. “What? Where?”

“South section, where I was riding yesterday. I set off three of them. That cur you’re wrapped around was stuck in number four. The traps couldn’t have been there that long; they were iron, and there wasn’t enough rust on ’em to have been there more than a week or so. We need to start riding that section daily.”

“Got it.”

“And get rid of that dog by the time I get home.”

“Adam, you are even less fun than Pa when it comes to cute furry things.”

“Just because I wouldn’t let Hoss doctor a sick rat doesn’t mean I don’t have a feeling for animals,” Adam pronounced. “Okay, I’ll be back tonight. Remember, get rid of that mutt.”

“Right, Older Brother.”

*

Well, I do have to go to the bank, Adam told himself. Not my fault if I also need to interview that teacher applicant too. And I don’t need any more guff from my brothers about schoolteachers…they’ve never let me rest in peace since Abigail Jones.

He was not looking forward to the interview. He normally liked talking to schoolteachers. They seemed to be among the few people he could talk to about subjects he found interesting. But female teachers—including Jones, when she started getting that predatory look, the one that bespoke the fear of spinsterhood—were a passel of trouble. They were either looking for husbands and figuring that teaching would enable them to trap one, or they were no match for some of the bigger, rowdier children. Or they were militant suffragettes. He didn’t mind suffragettes for the most part—he even agreed that a woman doing the same job as a man should get paid the same, and as far as voting, he knew plenty of women with intelligent political views and plenty of men with views based on bigotry and presumption. But most of the suffragettes he had met couldn’t stick to the valid subjects; they had to go into territory where they had no business being—things like birth control and free love. Birth control was a matter for God to figure out, and free love didn’t exist. You either got married and begged for it or you paid for it in a brothel like any other decent fellow.

Not that he would have argued those subjects with a woman.

He remembered the letter the applicant had sent in: Mathilde Weston Hoffman, age 27. Twenty-seven and never married…he shuddered, thinking 27 was just the right age when women began to acquire that “lean and hungry look” common to encroaching old-maidenhood. He’d already heard an earful from Dave Jordan, another fellow on the school board. “I know you’ll vote your own mind, Adam, but I’m tellin’ you, that woman has some strange notions.”

“Lately it seems like all teachers have some notions different from what we’re used to. That’s progress. You know, education. Besides, we need a teacher pretty badly,” Adam had replied.

“You’re just sayin’ that because we always get you to substitute.”

Reaching the boarding house, Adam paused outside. Someone was playing the piano. Not a real virtuoso, he reflected, but not bad…and he’d always liked Beethoven’s Andante Favori, even though he’d never quite managed to convert it for a guitar. He went inside to greet Mrs. O’Reilly. “Oh, Mr. Cartwright, I’m glad you’re here. She was in the sitting room just a’waiting for you, pretty as you please, but then she spied my old pianoforte across the hall and forgot all about you. Maybe you should go in?”

“And interrupt a free concert?” Adam replied with a grin. “I’ll just wait in the sitting room. Maybe she’ll remember eventually.” He made himself comfortable on a settee, thinking he wouldn’t mind if she decided to skip the interview entirely in favor of the concert.

And she just might, he thought a few minutes later as the Andante segued into Für Elise, and then some lilting sonata that he thought might be by Hummel—which stopped in the middle and he clearly heard a feminine voice with a slight southern accent cry out “Oh, drat, blast, and tarnation!” Then a rushed clumping of boot-heels and a woman fairly flew into the sitting room, skidding so sharply to a halt on the polished wood floor that she had to grab a chair to keep from falling down.

The first thing he saw clearly was a pair of wide blue eyes like the summer sky; why, her eyes would even give challenge to Hoss, he thought with an odd detachment, reflecting next that her hair was black as a crow’s wing and even curlier than his own. He stood with grave dignity. “Miss Hoffman, I presume?”

She had already blushed a couple of shades darker than his father’s chair, and her voice quavered when she replied, “Sir…I am so sorry for my tardiness and unladylike comportment.”

“Have a seat, Miss Hoffman. I’m Adam Cartwright, and if you promise to play any one of Chopin’s waltzes before I leave, I will accept your apology.”

“Mr. Cartwright…” her voice trailed off, and she sighed. “Again, I am so sorry. I was here early for our interview, but I got nervous, and then I saw the piano, and I always lose track of time when I play.”

“Then I hope you don’t get nervous when you teach. I’d hate to have you miss half a day’s schooling because you were serenading yourself.”

She grinned broadly, revealing a slight gap between her top front teeth that again reminded him of Hoss, and it almost made him laugh. Instead, he carried on. “Why were you nervous? Do I have such a bad reputation? You’ve been here a week; I’m sure you’ve heard the gossip.”

She waved one hand absent-mindedly. “Oh, I heard an earful. How much I believed, that’s another matter. But no sir, I was not nervous so much of you as so much as I was worried because of the way the other two interviews went. Why couldn’t you Board fellows just line yourselves up in front of me like a firing squad, and all shoot at the same time?”

He couldn’t help smiling. “We couldn’t all get together at the same time for it. But let me tell you our situation. For several years we had a good teacher. But eventually she married and of course resigned her position.” At that she gave him a quick, rather severe glance, but dropped her eyes again immediately. Puzzled, he went on, “Since then we’ve had a succession of teachers, none lasting a full year; one stayed only a month. One was tied to the flagpole by a couple of the bigger boys. One became an actress. Three got married; two resigned because they couldn’t get married. For a while, the board refused to even interview women for teaching positions—simply because it didn’t seem that we would be able to keep any teachers of the female persuasion. And now let me come to the main point.” He grinned. “Every time we lose a teacher, I’m the one called in. So you see I’ve got a vested interest in finding a good teacher who’ll stay.”

Miss Hoffman pursed her lips. “It would seem your whole community has such an interest, Mr. Cartwright. But you’re not serving it well. Your colleagues did their best to drive me away. They insisted on asking highly personal questions that had nothing to do with the position for which I applied. Tell me, if you applied for a teaching job, would you be asked if you had any desire to get married? Would you be asked about your appearance at social functions? Would you be asked about the color clothes you wear, or whether or not you frequent saloons?”

Adam sighed. “I will take a chance and say they were concerned because one teacher had been a, um, saloon girl, and sometimes she didn’t seem to be concerned about whether she dressed for a school or a saloon. It’s important to remember that being a teacher  is, well, a responsible position, and those who do it should be mindful of the example they set.”

“I have never been a saloon girl.”

“I’m relieved to hear it.”

“BUT, Mr. Cartwright, if I were a saloon girl, I should expect that to be my business and nobody else’s.”

“That’s a naïve expectation. People never mind their own business.”

“Yes, I’m aware of it. But it seems there is something in the Bible about only people without sin casting stones. One of the men who interviewed me smelled like a distillery. What kind of example is he setting? For that matter, if I were to listen to gossip, I would hear a great deal about the saloons that YOU frequent. I don’t say I believe it, mind you. But plenty of people do, and what sort of example are you setting?”

“I’m not married.” Adam replied smoothly. “And the rules are a little different for men.”

“A fine, upstanding man at that,” the girl retorted with another grin. “A prime catch for a lucky girl. Never mind that you have been charged with murder at least three times and twice were nearly executed. That is, of course, if one were to believe the gossip. Never mind the fact that if even half of what was said about you is true, you would not even be received in society in my home town. And yet here you are on the school board, in the somewhat remarkable position of telling me why I may not be fit to teach the children you don’t have.” She tilted her head—funny, the dog he’d found the day before had looked at him just like that, right down to the head tilt. “Don’t you find that even vaguely ironic, sir?”

“Supremely, but that’s the way things are in Virginia City.”

“And because things have always been so, they must continue to be so. By that line of reasoning we should have no locomotives and no one living on Indian land—and by the way, it’s ALL Indian land.”

“That’s well enough, Miss Hoffman. But while I enjoy a spirited debate as much as the next person, right now isn’t the time or place. I still have no notion what your qualifications are. Can you teach, or not? I told you, the town needs a teacher. Fall harvest is nearly here and then it’ll be school time. I need a teacher. If you can teach, and teach well—and if you can remain a teacher for a while—we can use you.”

“In that case, Mr. Cartwright, I would make an excellent teacher.”

“You attended St. Mary of the Woods College, in Indiana. But you’ve held no teaching positions.”

“I was a student teacher from the time I got to Terre Haute, Mr. Cartwright, and after my graduation I became the governess to a family with seven children ranging from age 4 to age 13.”

“What did you teach?”

“As a student teacher, I mostly graded assignments and engaged in tutoring. As a governess, I taught French, German, English, European history, mathematics, and music.”

“Why European history?”

“Spain—where I lived as a governess—is part of Europe, after all. It was appropriate to teach European history.”

“All right, Miss Hoffman. Now, if you come to teach at this school, you will find more than 25 children ranging in age from 6 to 14. What makes you think you can handle that?”

“I don’t know for certain,” came the steady reply. “But I do aim to try. I think if I can keep them all interested, they’ll be easier to control. And I’ve always been good at teaching in a way that keeps children interested.”

He remembered the words of Dave then. “What particular method do you use that keeps children interested?”

“At home I loved hearing my mother’s stories; they made me feel as if I were living through the times myself. When I got to school I was shocked to find out that a lot of people don’t like history, but then they had been taught nothing more than a list of names, dates and places. No stories; nothing about the characters of the people who made history, nothing of the cause and effect. Why, there are children learning right now that the recent War Between the States was begun in 1861 and ended in 1865. And that’s all they learn—just when and where.”

“Just how deeply impacted were you by the war, Miss Hoffman?” Personal feelings about the war still ran deep.

“I was in Europe from 1859 until two years ago, first simply enjoying my own Grand Tour, and then employed there. If you mean have I ever starved or watched my family die, I haven’t. But my father did lose his business as a result of General Sherman’s visit to Savannah, and my brothers and mother all died as a result of the war.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Never mind. My own particular fascination with history, Mr. Cartwright, simply stems from the fact that it is made by people. Getting children to understand the relevance of such subjects in their lives is the way to instill a love of learning in them. I want children to want to come to school and to look forward to learning.”

He grinned. “You’ll have to go some there, ma’am. I know a lot of those kids. Last year I suggested a history of our own state, seeing as how we’d just become one. I had to fight pretty hard to get the curriculum accepted, and then a lot of kids just weren’t interested at all.”

“Maybe you didn’t teach it the right way.”

“And you’re convinced you could?”

“I would like the chance to try.”

“I think you should have it,” Adam said, “If only to get myself off the hook. I’ll talk to the other fellows.”

“Thank you, Mr. Cartwright—I’m sure you’ll find them at the Bucket of Blood, of course.”

“Of course,” Adam said cheerfully. “I’d offer to have you accompany me, but you’re not a saloon girl.”

“Maybe if the teaching job doesn’t work out, I’ll become one, and then I’m sure the gentlemen on the school board would be very pleased.”

“Probably—but you’d still owe me a Chopin waltz,” Adam chuckled, bowed to the girl, and left.

*

It was dark by the time he got home, and the lamps were all burning downstairs when he walked in—and there was the dog, sitting right by the front door, thumping her short tail anxiously. When he looked at her, she stood and stretched her front paws toward him, lowering the front of her body in a bowing position. And that was when he realized she was wearing two pairs of Joe’s baby booties. She approached him with her head turned a little, and stopped to turn two quick full circles before coming up to him. “Move,” he said curtly, and walked past her.

“Hoss! Joe! What in blazes is this dog still doing here?”

“Hey, don’t get mad at me, Older Brother,” Joe replied as he came from the fireplace. “I remembered everything, but Hoss said he’d pound me into the floor if I sent the dog away.”

“HOSS!”

Hoss came in from the kitchen. “Calm down, Adam, Hop Sing’s already in a state on account of me forgettin’ to wipe my feet. You keep up that bellerin’ and he’ll be lookin’ at boat schedules for China.”

“I gave express orders for this dog to be out of here by the time I came back.”

“Well, yeah, Joe told me that, Adam, but I didn’t do it.”

“I can see you didn’t do it. Why not?”

“I told you last night, that dog’s hurt. She’s got a cracked rib and her paws is all torn up, besides the tail gettin’ half cut off. She ain’t in no fit condition to be turned loose and I ain’t gonna do it. Besides, Adam, we oughtta keep her. She’s the smartest dog I ever seen.”

“Yeah, Adam, you gotta hear this,” Joe put in. “She’s incredible. You know she knows the difference between indoors and outdoors?”

“You mean she goes outside to…go.”

“Exactly. Not a single accident; she didn’t even have to be told. She went to the door and told US that she needed to go.”

“I’ve heard of that before,” Adam said. “It’s not that impressive.”

“It’s more than Cousin Muley’s dogs knew,” Joe muttered.

Adam shook his head. “She’s not staying in the house anyway, so what difference does it make?”

“That’s not the only way she’s smart, Adam,” Joe insisted. “She helped Hop Sing get breakfast AND dinner.”

“Yeah, this is the good part,” Hoss said. “She carried around the bucket with Hop Sing this mornin’ when he went to collect the eggs.”

“Great. Now she’ll start stealing our eggs. Nothing worse than an egg-suckin’ dog.”

Joe shook his head. “She didn’t even try once. Hop Sing said he gave her the bucket and she just followed him everywhere. But the best part—she went out at noon with Hop Sing and rounded up the chickens! I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it. She trotted around ’em and moved ’em over to Hop Sing the way we’d move a herd of cattle. And then, when Hop Sing told her which chicken he wanted, she went right into the middle of the flock and cut that one chicken out. And that was how we got this roast chicken!”

Adam strode past them into the kitchen, bellowing, “Hop Sing!”

“No shout in kitchen!” came the retort as Hop Sing lifted a large pot off the stove. “What you want?”

“What are you doin’ with this dog?”

“Make work! Mr. Cartlight say everybody in Ponderosa pulls own weight. So put dog to work.”

“You just taught the dog to suck eggs and kill chickens!”

“Fau,” Hop Sing exclaimed in disgust. “Boys know nothing of dogs. In China dogs work. Only Imperial Family keep dogs to play. Dogs with round heads play. Dogs with wolf heads work. This dog has wolf head, good to guard flock of sheep or watch baby. Fetch tools. Bring other animals to house. Dog knows how to do, lives in head. Hop Sing only tell; she understand. Not eat eggs or chicken. Eat food we give. Work to earn food.”

Adam wasn’t sure he’d understood everything he’d heard, but at least Hop Sing knew what he was doing…only it still didn’t make him comfortable. “Well,” he told his brothers, “I guess she can stay ’til she’s healed. As long as she works and earns her board. And, no more staying inside. You know Pa will go apoplectic if he comes home and finds a dog in the house.”

“Sure, Adam,” Hoss replied. “Just as soon as she’s fit to go outside, I’ll put her out. But not before.”

“If the dog is fit to go herd chickens, she’s fit enough to stay outside!”

“No, she ain’t. It’s one thing to go out for a few minutes. It’s another entirely for her to have to stay out all day in the heat and have to walk on those sore feet of hers. Adam, I think she musta walked a hundred miles just to get here. I’ve been keepin’ a salve on ’em, and Joe volunteered some shoes for her, but she’ll end up crippled if we make her run on those feet the way they are.”

“You know, brother,” Joe put in, “You have no appreciation for intelligence. And none for loyalty. That dog spent most of the day when she wasn’t working just sitting or lying by the door, waiting for you to come back. She was friendly with Hop Sing and me, and she did what we told her to do, and when Hoss came home she was glad to see him. But you’re the one she was waiting for. And ever since you came in she’s followed you everywhere you went, didn’t you see? She tailed you into the kitchen and back and over to the sideboard when you took your gunbelt off, and now you’re about to sit down and she’s still right behind you.”

Adam turned and looked and sure enough, there was the dog. “Get,” he said firmly, pointing to the door. She limped back to the door and sat down, looking at him with her head tilted.

“You are one cold-hearted—” Joe began, but Adam cut him off.

“That dog has no business on this property. It has no business in this house. But I let you bring it in and doctor it, and now you’re carrying on because I’m not in love with it too. Let me tell you something we were brought up on, Little Brother—dogs do not belong in houses, even if they know how to do tricks. And don’t bother getting attached to it either. When she’s well, she leaves. That’s it. Understood?”

“You’re wrong this time, Adam,” Hoss said gravely. “Dead wrong. That dog is a real little lady with more quality than a lot of the people we’ve had in this house.” He lumbered away and up the stairs, shoulders slumped.

Little Joe turned and stomped outside himself, muttering in disgust, but the dog made no move to follow; she was still looking at Adam.

Chapter 2

For the better part of the week, when she wasn’t working, the dog stayed inside, and whenever Adam came downstairs in the morning she greeted him with a bow and a couple of circles, but he ignored her—or at least he tried. Now that she was clean, he could see what Hoss had meant; her long fur was mostly a silver-gray color with occasional patches of solid black, but her face and the tops of her hind legs were light brown. Her front legs were white all the way up, while the back legs were white up to her hocks. She had an enormous white ruff on her chest like a lion’s mane, but a small brown, triangular-shaped head with hardly any fur at all, except on her ears. Her ears were triangular too, and brown, with wispy gray and black clouds of fur around them, and the ear tips tipped in front like the tulips one saw back East. And straight down the middle of her face, where most horses would have a blaze or a star, this dog had mottled gray and black spots and streaks, giving her face something of a clownish appearance. But her eyes—almond-shaped, ice blue—were intelligent and inquisitive, if disconcerting, and she never looked away from him. It was unsettling. Hop Sing, Joe, and Hoss told him the same thing every day: that while she was friendly with them, and did exactly as they told her, she waited for him each day, right at the door, until he came home. His ignoring her did nothing to cure her affection. She followed him everywhere he allowed, and when he didn’t allow, then she would sit by his chair and wait for him to come back.

Curiosity got the better of him after a time, though, especially when Joe and Hoss excitedly informed him that Lady, as they had dubbed her, was no longer simply carrying the bucket for Hop Sing’s egg collections—she was actually helping with the collections. Hop Sing gave her the bucket each morning and she went out to the yard with him, but because some of the chickens tried to hide their eggs, Hop Sing could not find them all. At this point Lady would sniff out the hidden eggs, pick them up and carry them to Hop Sing. When all the eggs were collected, she brought the bucket in. After two weeks, she had yet to break or try to suck a single egg.

On the days that Hop Sing prepared a chicken for their dinner, Lady would help to get the chicken. Gone were the days when Hop Sing had to creep around or send Hoss galumphing after one. He boldly walked outside while Lady gathered the flock and brought them toward him, and when he pointed to the fowl of his choice, Lady unerringly knew what he meant. The doomed chicken was “cut from the herd” with no panic on the part of the flock, and was “escorted” to Hop Sing, who grabbed it. After her work was done, Lady showed no further interest in the chickens, eventually ending Adam’s worry that she was plotting a way to carry a few off for her own use. Hop Sing gave her table scraps to eat, and Adam had to admit she didn’t eat enough to make the hogs go hungry.

And when they returned from church on Sundays, Lady met them at the door. The first time, Adam was surprised enough that the house was intact and the floors clean, but Lady’s delight at their return was overwhelming: she bowed, she danced in circles, she even barked. In complete surprise, he dropped his hand to the top of her head, and she leaned into it, licking it enthusiastically until he told her to stop. At one point she even took his hand lightly with her mouth, never biting, just holding, which Hoss told him was a sign of affection.

“And is it real love if I bring my arm back and my hand’s not there?” Adam replied with a grin, but Hoss’s reply was serious. “Adam, you must be blinder’n a bat. That dog just plain worships you. She likes the rest of us, but it’s you she loves. Maybe it’s because you got her out of the trap, or maybe you did her some other kindness you don’t even know about. But whether you like her or not, she loves you. You might as well get used to it.”

Being the object of total adoration was both flattering and uncomfortable, Adam discovered as another week passed. Lady grew increasingly helpful to Hop Sing in sort of a pack-mule capacity; he made a saddle-bag contraption out of two woven baskets, and she carried the baskets on her back while he picked vegetables from his garden to fill them. Hoss and Joe even taught the dog a game. While she was standing with Hoss, Hoss would say “go get Joe!” and Lady would run to Joe, barking. Then Joe would tell her to go get Hoss and the performance would be repeated. They thought it was funny as well as more proof of how smart she was, although Adam thought it was a damnfool silly waste of time.

One Sunday when the Cartwrights attended church, Miss Mathilde Hoffman, newly hired schoolmarm of Virginia City, was there. Despite the sniggering of his brothers when they found out she was the new schoolteacher, Adam invited her to have dinner with them at the Ponderosa.

“Won’t that cause gossip, Mr. Cartwright?” she asked with a twinkle in her blue eyes, and he likewise grinned.

“But Miss Hoffman, you never believe gossip, do you? And here’s your chance to see if the gossip is really true about my brothers and me. Besides, I seem to recall leaving a lively debate only half-finished.”

With that she accompanied them home in the carriage, and it was only when they walked into the house that Adam remembered the dog—who suddenly seemed twice her normal size as her fur stood on end and she barked at the newcomer.

“Lady, stop that!” Hoss yelled, but for once the dog disregarded him.

“Dog!” Adam shouted. “Quiet!” At once Lady was silent, but she continued to keep her concerned eyes on Miss Hoffman, staring suspiciously and occasionally emitting a soft but indignant “woof!”

“She’s new,” Joe explained as Hoffman removed her cloak.

“I’m going to water the horses,” Adam muttered. “Dog! Come along.” Lady instantly followed him.

“That’s unusual,” Hoffman said as the door shut.

“What’s that, ma’am?” Joe asked. “That darn mutt loves Adam, so there’s nothing unusual about her being obedient with him.”

“No, it’s not a mutt. That’s why I’m surprised—I’ve never seen a Scotch collie this far west. There are only a few of them in the East, for that matter. But I’m sure it’s a collie, even though the tail is all wrong.”

“It’s called a collie?” Hoss asked.

“Yes, they’re used by shepherds to guard and herd sheep.”

Joe and Hoss exchanged a meaningful glance; apparently Hop Sing was a pretty smart fellow.

“There were a few in Savannah before the War; my uncle Weston had notions of breeding them and getting rich at one point. I could tell you stories about my uncle’s moneymaking schemes that would make your hair fall out.”

By the time dinner was ready, Lady had reconciled herself to Miss Hoffman’s presence and had decided to become friendly with her. Adam, however, found himself deep in another debate with the girl, this one about women in politics. It seemed a lady named Victoria Woodhull back East was running a newspaper and making noises about running for president, even though she didn’t have the right to vote. Hoss and Joe found all this fascinating and began jumping into the argument,  but  Miss Hoffman, far from being unsettled by being outnumbered, gave back as good as she got and even displayed a rather wicked sense of humor that embarrassed the brothers into conceding points they might otherwise have won. When Adam finally called her on it, she shrugged. “I had two brothers at home; I’m used to being in the minority—and fighting dirty.”

“You have two brothers? Where are they now?” Hoss asked.

“I had two brothers, Hoss,” she replied gently. “The first was killed by a Yankee bayonet at Gettysburg. The second got typhoid not long after General Sherman paid his visit to Savannah. I don’t know exactly when.”

“You were in the South during the war?” Joe asked with considerable interest.

“No; I was in Europe until ’66. My father had let me go over with another family in ’59. My last stop was to have been Spain, but I was offered a job there as governess. When war broke out two years later I wrote my father of my intentions to come home at once, but he immediately wrote back to the effect that under no circumstances should I try. Not long after he got the letter out, all the Southern ports were blockaded anyway, so there was no way I could get home. I suppose he saved my life, but I’ll never forgive him all the same.”

“But why on earth would you feel that way about it?” Joe persisted.

She shook her head. “I was the oldest, Joe. I had always promised to take care of my brothers. And I broke that promise.”

At that, Adam became very quiet, and soon after, he asked Hoss to take Miss Hoffman back to town.

*

The next day Hoss took off Lady’s booties for good, and she licked each paw until the white fur glowed and the pink-and-black footpads were shiny. When she finished, Adam, who had been watching, stood up and went to the door. He turned to call her and found she was already at his side.

He opened the door. “Okay, dog, you’re on your own.” Lady looked up at him for some time, looked back at the door, and finally walked through it, where on the porch, she turned and looked steadily at him again. “Go away—go home,” Adam ordered, pointing, and then he shut the door while Joe and Hoss both looked daggers at him.

Suddenly Hop Sing was in the room shouting, “Where dog? Have work for her!”

“Ask Adam,” Joe said venomously. He got up and went outside, slamming the door for good measure.

Hop Sing looked at Adam. “You send Hop Sing helper away?”

“If you mean that dog, I did.”

Hop Sing threw his hands up. “No respect. There, I quit.” He took off his apron and threw it down. “Tell Mr. Cartlight I sorry but no can stay in this house.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Hop Sing this, Hop Sing that. Hop Sing make food. Hop Sing clean house. Hop Sing feed cowboy in bunkhouse. Hop Sing make medicine for injure. Little Joe go for cows. Too many cows, only one Joe. Joe say need help—help come. Hoss goes to dig hole. Hole too big, Hoss say need help—help come. Adam ride to town, meet bandit, say need help and help come. Hop Sing feed everybody, bathe everybody, clean house, no complain, no never get help. Ask for Hoss, he complain, ask for Joe, Joe complain! Help come in shape of dog. Hop Sing happy, Hop Sing take any help can get, and dog no complain! She do work good, she help Hop Sing, but you not care because not you who need help! Maybe someday Adam need help and help not come. You should live in interesting time, but Hop Sing not be there. I quit!”

He spun on his heel and stamped away, a stream of Cantonese issuing behind him.

“Fine,” Adam shouted, a shout that was heard all over the Ponderosa. “Keep the damn dog. But she stays in the barn from now on!”

Hoss grabbed his hat just as Joe came back inside for his gunbelt. “It’s okay, Joe, we get to keep her. I’ll put her in the barn, Adam, right this minute I’ll put her there. Reckon I’ll stay there a while myself, too.” He all but ran outside.

Adam sputtered. “I can’t see what is so strange about—”

“You are one cold-hearted jackass who’d sell his own mother to the Shoshone,” Joe muttered. He thought he said it under his breath, but Adam heard it like a call to battle, and the next minute a roundhouse punch knocked Joe flying. Joe came up pounding, and the fight continued until their wild jumps and swings and crashing pileups knocked over a stack of Ben’s ledgers.

As the two sullenly picked up the books and furniture, Adam said, “I don’t see what you two are so upset about! I said she can stay—just not in the house. What’s wrong with that?”

“Silly me,” Joe muttered. “You know, you and Hoss used to kid me about not havin’ any chest hair. Hoss at least outgrew it. But you know what, Older Brother? Maybe I’ll never grow a single hair, but at least I’ve got a heart inside my chest. And I’d rather stay slick as a baby’s butt than grow the first hair if it means getting hollow inside like you.”

*

For two days the Ponderosa could have been called Fort Frigid. Hoss and Joe greeted Adam each day with the coldest shoulder since cave men crept out from under the Ice Age. Communication between them was terse and businesslike. Adam, of course, was not one to back down from a point. But this time the compliant Hoss and impulsive Joe weren’t going to back down either.

Lady tried to be a peacemaker. Knowing something was wrong, she circled among them, licking and grabbing their hands, occasionally doing her circular dance, hoping to make them happy. Adam did his best to ignore her—and it was getting harder to do, even though she spent her nights in the barn and her days with Hop Sing, Hoss, and Joe. Adam wondered what they used her for but never got a chance to ask, as everyone avoided him. Hoss ensconced himself in the barn with Lady and only came in the house for meals. Joe stayed gone as much as he could, and when he was around, the looks he shot from under his too-long forelock would have burned the Ponderosa brand onto Adam’s backside, and probably earned Joe a punch in the jaw, had Adam deigned to notice.

On the third day, grumbling curses and other rude things behind his hat, Adam crossed to the barn. He still had a bad feeling about that south pasture. He had confiscated all those traps a month ago, and no one had been around to set any more or to retaliate. In the old days of the Ponderosa when they had first acquired the land, there were people who had decided the land was too big for one family to effectively guard, and had made their home hither and yon, setting their traps, even building lean-tos on Ponderosa land, secure in their “knowledge” that the Cartwrights could not possibly protect it. But they had, just by careful patrolling, and over the years they had even purchased and traded for adjacent land, adding more acreage to their home each year until they had stabilized a few years ago with almost a thousand square miles to call their own. But recently someone had set at least four traps near a fence line that was well within the Ponderosa’s bounds. It only stood to reason that at some point they’d come back and find their traps gone, and they would know the next move was theirs to make.

The ugly dog bounded to his side as soon as he opened the barn door. Absent-mindedly Adam put his hand on her head for a minute before going to get his saddle and blanket. Hoss was in the next stall, just finishing currying Chubb.

“Goin’ out to the south pasture,” Adam announced.

Hoss grunted.

“How about comin’ with me? I have a feeling today might be the day.”

Hoss considered. “What about Joe?”

“What about him? He’s got work to do out at the saw mill. Besides, I asked you.”

Eyebrows ready for battle, Hoss muttered, “If you’re askin’ me in Pa’s place with his authority, I’ll go with you, Adam. If you’re askin’ me because you’re my brother and you figure you need my help, I’ll go. But if you’re askin’ as a friend ’cause you’d like the company, then I just as soon not.”

Adam threw the saddle across Beauty. “What does all that mean?”

“It means you don’t get to pick your family. You’re my elder, Adam, and I respect you; you’re my brother, and I love you, but right now I just can’t muster much of a likin’ for you.”

“And all this because of a dog,” Adam returned, hauling on the cinch. “Yeah, I’m sayin’ the dog can’t stay in the house any more. That’s not my rule, it’s Pa’s, and it’s been that way since before you were born. Besides, it’s gotta belong to somebody. The dog’s never going to go home if you don’t make it leave. Is that cruelty, to want the dog to go to its own family? Doesn’t seem that way to me.”

“I’m not gonna argue with you,” Hoss said quietly. “Ain’t no use. You’re too smart to argue with and too stubborn to change yer mind anyway. But just because you’re smart and stubborn doesn’t mean you’re right. And I don’t think you’re as smart as that collie dog, either.”

“Collie? What’s that?”

“That’s what the schoolteacher said. It’s a collie. But it don’t matter to me what she is; she’s smart and helpful and belongs right here with people she loves. You don’t want to keep her, fine. Joe and me’ll keep her. You’ve accepted every mangy useless mutt I ever brought home before; you even liked some of them. I don’t know what you don’t like about Lady unless it’s just that you can’t stand to think of an animal and choosin’ you. Maybe if you just think of her as another one of my strays, and let me have her, everything’ll be fine. But don’t ask me to hang around with you when you’re trying to get rid of my dog.”

“Stay here, then; I don’t care.” Adam swung up on Beauty. Then he grinned perversely. “But as you’ve so often told me, it’s MY dog. Hey dog, come with me. Maybe you’ll find your real owner.”

Lady instantly bounded to Beauty’s side and looked up at Adam. “Let’s go check the fence,” Adam said, and nudged Beauty with his heels. Beauty walked out of the barn and then went into a steady lope, and Lady tore off behind, leaving Hoss scowling fiercely behind them.

*

They were far past the woods where the traps had been found when Lady suddenly bristled and began to growl. “Sit!” Adam commanded, and she did, but she continued growling.

The kid with the rifle didn’t look more than 16, which made Adam hesitate. “Drop it,” he warned instead of shooting. The kid thought about it for a minute and finally complied. “You know you’re on Ponderosa land?” Adam called out.

“Who’s Ponderosa? Do I know him?” came the insolent reply.

“You’re standing on it,” Adam said. “And I’d advise you not to be. Are you the one who put the traps on my property?”

“Nope. Them’re my pa’s and uncle’s traps; now thanks a lot for tellin’ me who stole ’em. What’s your name, buddy? My pa’ll want to know.”

“Tell your pa my name is Adam Cartwright. This land has been held in deed to the Cartwrights for almost 20 years. You can also tell him that he, and your uncle, and you, have no business on this property. Didn’t you see that strand of trees a couple miles back of you? They’re posted, boy. The markers for our land start back there, so you need to turn around and walk back there, and don’t come in here this way again.”

“You ain’t very friendly.”

“Not to people who come in and set traps on my land I’m not.”

“I gotta eat too, ya know.”

“Not here you don’t. The kind of traps you’re using will hurt a man or kill a horse. I’m telling you, and this is as polite as I’m gonna get. Next time I see you on this property, you’re gettin’ a one-way ride to the jail, and if I have to put a few holes in you first, I’m not above doin’ it.”

The boy looked away from him to the dog. “Wouldn’t mind havin’ that in one o’ my traps. Pelt like that oughtta bring some real money. Does it like people?”

“Oh yeah,” Adam said with an evil grin. “Yeah, she likes people—in fact, she prefers people, but mostly we feed her table scraps!” He turned quietly to the dog and said, “Go get him!”

It was a chance he was taking, but Lady charged toward the boy, jumping right through the wire and barking to wake the dead. The boy left his rifle where it was and fled. Lady chased him just long enough to really panic the kid, then turned at Adam’s call and sauntered back, waving her stumpy tail in pride. There was something about the way she held her head, or the twinkle in her eyes, or maybe it was just the stubby tail waving crazily, that made him laugh out loud. The dog was smart—and she had a sense of humor too. Why had no one ever told him that dogs could play jokes just like people? He jumped down from Beauty to give the dog a well-deserved pat, as well as half his ham sandwich. “You were laughing, weren’t you?” he asked, and felt silly as he did so…imagine, Adam Cartwright talking to a dog. He chuckled at the thought, and Lady sat down and looked intently at him. “My Lord, I think you are laughing right now,” he said. “And you know, once a fella gets used to you, you’re not all that ugly either.”

A cow grazing near the fence had stuck her head through the wire, something Adam never liked. He pointed at the cow, and said “You—”

That was as far as he got. Lady ran up to the cow and barked once; a short, sharp command. The cow pulled her head back from the fence and shook her short horns at the dog. Lady dodged behind and nipped both its hind legs in quick succession, and when the cow aimed a kick, she wasn’t there anymore. She circled, barking again, and the cow moved resentfully away. Adam took his hat off to look in puzzlement at the dog. Lady looked back at him, as if desiring further instruction, and Adam decided he had nothing to lose. Hat in his hand, he pointed to the west, where a small clump of cattle had gathered. “Take her over there,” he said. She looked from the cow to the group of cattle, then to the fence, and back at him. Adam pointed again, waving his hat. Lady turned and ran the other way.

Okay, maybe she wasn’t that smart. He replaced his hat. “It’s not difficult,” he said, and pointed. Instantly, Lady rounded behind the cow again and nipped its legs, barking twice. The cow trotted back toward the others, and Adam scratched his ear, wondering what he’d done differently to get the dog to understand. Maybe she didn’t like hats. At any rate, she was a smart dog, he reflected as she trotted up to him again.

“Come on, Lady,” he said, scratching the fuzzy base of her ears. “Let’s go home.”

They arrived in high spirits, with Lady dancing in circles around Beauty as he loped along. When Adam dismounted just outside the barn, Lady reared on her hind legs, putting her front paws on Adam’s chest and trying to lick his neck—apparently she still hadn’t recovered from his earlier display of affection.

“Get off me, you fur ball,” he muttered, tousling the furry cloud of her tulip ears. “Next thing you know, Joe and Hoss will think I like you, and there’ll be real trouble. And—” he took her face in his hands and scratched her jaw—“you still have to sleep in the barn. Sorry, it’s Pa’s rule, not mine. Wait’ll you meet him. If you’re as charming with him as you are with everyone else you’ll probably be sleeping in his bed within a week.” He grabbed her paws and waltzed her about, and she nibbled his hand, making a growling noise that came out sounding like a fog horn.

Hoss and Joe came upon him dancing around the yard with Lady, and although he stopped immediately, and tried to shoo the dog away, it was no use; they both saw him and worse, insisted on getting into the act as well, Joe grabbing Adam for a quick hug, and Hoss clapping him on the back. “But she still sleeps in the barn!” Adam yelled—for all the good it did.

*

“Cain’t figure out what that kid was doing there,” Hoss mumbled around his steak that night. Lady was under the table, quietly grabbing the bits of meat she was sneaked by the three men, each thinking the others didn’t know what he was doing.

“Obvious, isn’t it?” Joe replied. “His family’s trying to make some money trapping on our land. I might not even mind if they’d asked permission, and put the traps in a bad area. We don’t need the money for a wolf pelt. But putting them right near our pasture, and close to a trail we use all the time, there’s no sense to that, and we’re the ones standing to get hurt.”

“Maybe they’re trying to get our attention for some reason,” Hoss said.

“Or maybe, there’s something there that we’re supposed to keep away from.” Adam had finished his steak by now, and had decided to perform an experiment. He slipped Lady a green bean. She accepted that and wolfed it down too. That was fine by Adam; green beans had never been his favorite.

“What would they want us to keep away from?” Hoss countered. “That don’t make no sense, Adam. It’s our land, even past that fence. They can’t keep us away from a part of our own land, now, can they?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s a crazy idea, but none of our other ideas have been really bright either.”

“I think we should just take a bunch of the hands, ride over to the south section and comb the whole woods till we find ’em and drive ’em off,” Joe said categorically. “Otherwise all the other squatters, poachers and outright thieves will think we’re soft and move in on us like locusts. Lord knows it’s happened before.”

“I dunno,” Adam smiled. “I think Lady might have done that for us already. You should’ve seen that kid’s face as he turned tail. I don’t think he’ll be back here for a while, not with this vicious beast patrolling the land.” He rubbed her forehead right between her eyes with his thumb; she groaned audibly, a strange sound that started like a growl and ended like a whimper.

“I think those two wanna be alone,” Joe muttered. Then he grinned. “Hey, does she have a sister?”

That remark, uttered in jest, brought a bleak response from Adam. “I’m really starting to wonder. I thought when I found her that she was just another flea-covered stray. But, well, we’ve all seen how smart she is…”

“Oh, you haven’t seen half of it,” Joe started, but Hoss hushed him and Adam went on as if he hadn’t heard: “And since Miss Hoffman says she’s not a mutt, she might really belong to someone—she might even be valuable.”

“Must be someone didn’t care much about her,” Hoss said with uncharacteristic anger. “She was covered in fleas—and ticks—and half-starved with her paws all torn and a rib broke. There’s no railroad nearby and no stage line closer than Virginia City. If she’s valuable, where’d she come from, how’d she get here, and why ain’t come anyone looking for her in the whole month we’ve had her? I’m tellin’ you Adam, even if somebody did care, she don’t. Do you see her tryin’ to leave, to look for her master? She thinks you’re her master, and me and Joe and Hop Sing, she thinks we’re part of her pack.”

“Arrrrrrrooooooooooooo!” Joe howled, hoping to lighten Hoss’s dark mood a little. Hoss grinned at him briefly and turned back to Adam. “That dog’s ours, Adam. We all think so, but more important, she thinks so.”

Adam sighed and shook his head. “You said Miss Hoffman called her a collie. I’m going into town tomorrow; I’ll see if I can find out if any collies have been reported missing, or if any were advertised in the paper. I hate to admit it, but I’ve taken a liking to the big hairball, and I want to keep her legally.”

“Woo!” Joe exclaimed. “I want to see what Pa says when he gets home and finds a dog in the house!”

“He won’t find her in the house!” Adam retorted. “You think I want to get us all killed? We’ve got between six to eight weeks before he gets home from Leavenworth. He told them he’d go testify, but he also said he had to be back here before Christmas, and knowing Pa, the army hasn’t got a chance. When it gets closer to time for him to arrive, Lady moves out to the barn again.” At his brothers’ crestfallen looks he rolled his eyes. “Come on, fellas, it’s still his house!”

“But you designed it, and you helped build it,” Joe reminded him. “Doesn’t that make it part yours?”

Hoss nodded. “And Pa said you were running the place while he was gone; doesn’t that mean you could make some of the rules?”

Adam sighed. “We still don’t know if she’s staying or not. Don’t count your chickens before they hatch.”

Chapter 3

The next morning Adam rode into Virginia City. On Monday school would start, and he wanted to look at Miss Hoffman’s lesson plans—and maybe find out more about collies. As he rode it occurred to him that she didn’t know he wanted to see her and might not even be there. Well, he had other things to do—he needed to talk to Roy Coffee—but the thought that she might have gone off somewhere was, for some unknown reason, disappointing.

He saw Roy before he got to the boarding house, though, and with a wave, he swung off Beauty, looped the reins carelessly over the rail and clumped up to meet the sheriff.

“Adam, I don’t reckon I’ve seen you in nigh on to a coon’s age. Where’ve you been?”

“Oh, I stay pretty busy,” Adam assured him, providing a hand for the expected shake. “Pa left all the boring stuff for me to take care of while he’s off to Leavenworth.”

“Been gone a good while, ain’t he? Does he even know when he’ll be called up?”

“Not really, but a court martial this big, he didn’t want to miss any of it. It’ll be at least six weeks. He cables every so often, so we’ll know he hasn’t been carried off by bears. But the trial will last at least another month, and even with the railroad to take him part way, it’ll still take him maybe three weeks or more to get back.”

“Railroad…that reminds me!” Roy exclaimed. “I knowed I forgot somethin’ important to tell ya last time you were in town.”

“And what’s that? Don’t tell me the Indians are blowing up track again.”

“Well, that’s what we thought it was, only it weren’t.”

“Huh?”

“Come in and set a spell,” Roy told him with a grin. “I need to be relaxin’ my brain for this one.”

Inside, Roy cleared a stack of paper off a chair so Adam could sit down. “I ortta deputize you again, just fer a day, Adam. I need somebody to take care of all this paperwork and filin’ and Clem’s just plumb useless for that. Come to think of it, he’s plumb useless for lotsa stuff. What was I gonna tell you—oh, the railroad. You know that spur they’ve been workin’ up north?”

“The Virginia and Truckee?”

“Naw, Adam, they ain’t broke ground on that yet, and it’s gonna be south of town anyway. I’m talkin’ about up to the Sierra Nevada.”

“Shoot, that’s another whole state. Why would I be worrying about the railroad over there? You know what Pa says—we’ve got enough problems takin’ care of the Ponderosa.”

“Well, yeah, but this is kind of important.”

“Okay, I’m listening.”

“Well, a train derailed up there, guess it was six weeks ago. It was carryin’ mostly livestock—cows and sheep—and was gonna drop ’em at the end of the line, over to Lake’s Crossing—”

“You mean Reno,” Adam interrupted with a grin.

“Don’t confuse me, boy. Next thing you know that little cow pasture near the old Mormon fort’s gonna get a couple of people livin’ there and then they won’t call it Las Vegas no more either. How’s a man to keep up?”

A chuckle. “You’re doing fine, Roy. You were telling me about a livestock train headed for Reno.”

“Well, yeah, but it never made it that far. Whole thing went off the tracks.”

Adam whistled. “That was hard luck for the farmers expecting the stock. And how many people were killed?”

“Well, there were ten fellas on the train, but it was even worse’n that.” Roy cocked his head and frowned. “That train was also carryin’ mail—with money. There was a little cash box with wages for the railroad workers.”

“How much?”

“Around $25,000. Not that much, not to a big railroad company like the Central Pacific, but it meant a lot to all those poor Chinese and Irish fellers workin’ on layin’ track. That’s several months’ pay for all them people. The thing is, nobody realized at first that the money was gone. The train went right off Luther Pass, so you can imagine there was a pretty big mess there to clean up, and it took a couple days for anybody to even ask about the money. And they still haven’t found it, not the box or the money. They first thought maybe it was ice that caused the train to derail, but now they’re wonderin’ if somebody planned it.”

“Not for only $25,000.” Adam shook his head. “That’s a hanging offense, and a huge crime to plan.”

“Adam, you know as well as I do there are men right here in town that’ll kill a man for $25, let alone $25,000. And I seem to recall you gettin’ robbed once and you only had $5,000.”

Adam stiffened. Even now, talking about the East Gate experience and its torturous aftermath was impossible for him. “I s’pose so,” he said lamely.

“Well, that’s neither here nor there. Thing is, they still haven’t recovered the money, or repaired the tracks, don’t even know who to look for in fact. Pretty excitin’ news, eh? You think they’ll send some Pinkertons out to do a little detective work?”

“I hope not,” Adam said with a grin. “Last one I met was a lout. Well, thanks for that news, Roy. If I see somebody with some unexpected riches, I’ll send you word. But, now I need to—”

“How’d ya like a game of checkers? I owe you after the last whoppin’ you gave me.”

“Can’t today, sorry Roy. I’ve got to talk to the new schoolmarm.”

“Say, she’s a real nice girl, Adam. There’s a couple of fellers askin’ after her already.”

“I hope she’s not interested,” Adam muttered. “We need to keep at least one teacher for a year.”

*

There was a buggy waiting near the mercantile that he thought looked vaguely familiar—enough so that he shook his head in puzzlement—but of course he had an engagement to keep, whether the lady in question knew it or not. At least he knew she was there. The tune wafting from the windows of Mrs. O’Reilly’s as he strode up was unfamiliar, but surely Spanish. It was slow, melancholy, and beautiful, a tune he knew would haunt him for a long time. He didn’t knock on the door, not wanting anything to interrupt it, but apparently Mrs. O’Reilly kept her eyes on the street at all times, looking for potential boarders or maybe just potential gossip.

She opened the door before he even mounted the last step on the porch. “Oh, Mr. Cartwright, it’s good to see you again—maybe you can get her off that awful instrument for a while. She plays them dreadful furrin’ songs from morning to night, and if that isn’t bad enough, she’s taken to singing ’em, too!”

Adam, however, wasn’t listening to her. Miss Hoffman was singing. She had a nice voice, pleasant, easy on the ear. Not strong enough or rich enough for opera, but certainly one that would brighten a Sunday morning service or an evening sing-along—although he had a suspicion the song she was singing now, pretty as it was, wouldn’t be popular in Virginia City. She was singing in Spanish, which was lucky, since although Virginia City’s population was always in flux, he was pretty sure there weren’t many Spanish-speakers in the current mix. He and his family were fairly proficient, just from all the Mexican friends and hired hands they had known over the last 20 years, so he understood the words. It was the chorus that fascinated him, although it almost made him blush.

Ansi ver tu hermozura. (How I long to see your beauty)
Dime niña: ¿donde vienes? (Tell me, girl: where are you from?)
Yo te quiero conocer. (I would like to get to know you)
Si tú no tienes amante, (If you don’t have a lover)
Yo dejara de aprender. (I know where you might find one)

“Shhh,” he said absently to Mrs. O’Reilly. “Mustn’t interrupt a concert.”

“Land sakes,” she muttered, and stamped back to her kitchen.

When the last strains died away, and he waited but she didn’t automatically begin playing something else, he ventured entry into the room where she was just sitting at the piano, looking mournfully at her hands. She started at glimpsing him. “Oh, Lord, Mr. Cartwright, I didn’t know you were there. I’m sorry.”

“You really have to stop making apologies for your playing,” he said with a grin. “I was enjoying the music. That was a beautiful piece. Spanish music is always lovely.”

“It’s not exactly considered Spanish,” she said thoughtfully. “The title is ‘A La Una.’ It’s Sephardic.”

Sephardic…he wasn’t sure if he had even heard that term before. He usually didn’t like asking questions that he couldn’t answer himself, but he had no choice. “I’m not familiar with that term. Is it a region of Spain?”

She smiled. “A people. The Jews who lived in Spain, and were exiled along with the Moors when Ferdinand and Isabella united Spain and began the Inquisition. The Sephards had their own musical style. I’ve loved that song since I first heard it—although it sounds better on a guitar.”

“I thought you did justice to it, but for my own vanity I’d like to learn to play it myself,” Adam chuckled. “I think I could do justice to it as well.”

“Do you sing?”

“I do. And I play a little guitar, too.”

“Hmm.” She tilted her head. “Exactly how little is this guitar? Small enough for Little Joe to play?”

He laughed out loud; he’d forgotten that sense of humor.

“Play it again, Miss Hoffman,” he said. “I have a feeling there’s no sheet music for this song.”

“Oh, but I’ll be nervous if you’re looking—”

“You have no reason to be. Please.” He sat down beside her on the bench, watching the chords she hit. Then she played it again, singing this time, and he joined in on the chorus. “…Si tú no tienes amante, yo dejara de aprender.”

When she looked up at him at the end, he winked. No rules against having a sense of humor of his own. She looked back at the keys, blushing. “You have a lovely voice, Mr. Cartwright.”

“So do you.”

“But you didn’t come all the way to town to serenade li’l ole me!” She jumped up. “So, what occasions this visit, Mr. Cartwright?”

He rose, a little reluctantly; he’d been hoping for another song. “You’re right as ever, Miss Hoffman. But before I come to that, is there no way we can drop these lengthy surnames and legal prefixes? My name is Adam, and I seem to recall yours is Mathilde.”

“True enough, but calling me that would win you my undying hatred,” she said with a grin. “If it means so much to you, you may call me Tilly. I, however, will continue to call you Mr. Cartwright. After all, you are the employer, and I the servant. Now that we’ve taken care of that, what can I do for you?”

For some reason he felt disappointed. He cleared his throat and returned to formality. “I was hoping to get a glimpse of what Monday will bring—Miss Hoffman.”

“Oh, that’s all right,” she replied. “Wait in the sitting room, if you would; I’ll bring everything down.”

That was when they heard the knocking at the door, and before either of them could move to get it, Mrs. O’Reilly had answered and a high-pitched girl’s voice said, “I need to see Adam Cartwright, this very minute!”

Adam felt the blood drain from his face as Peggy Dayton walked in.

“Adam!” Peggy cried, and threw her arms around him.

“Peggy, I—I’m…surprised to see you,” Adam said softly, returning the hug. “You’re all grown up.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m only nine.”

He sat down on the piano bench, his legs feeling a little weak. “Are you just visiting?”

“No; Mama and Will decided to give the ranch another try. I heard them talking when they didn’t know I was around. She never did sell it, and Will said maybe it had been long enough not to matter now. I don’t know what that meant.”

“Me either.” Adam cleared his throat, and then noticed the little silver buckles on the black boots standing next to him. He’d forgotten she was there, and looked up in surprise at the questioning expression. “I’m sorry. Peggy, if you’re going to be living here again, this lady will be very important to you. This is Miss Hoffman, the new schoolteacher. Miss Hoffman, this is Peggy…um, is it Dayton, or are you a Cartwright now?”

Peggy looked darkly at him, ignoring the teacher. “I was gonna be a Cartwright, but you chickened out.”

Adam let that outrage pass with no more than a convulsive swallow. “Will is a Cartwright, Peggy.”

“He’s a different kind of Cartwright. I wanted to be your kind. You were gonna be my daddy. I didn’t want Will. He didn’t want me either. I heard him tell a man in San Francisco it was like buying a mare with a colt.”

“I’ll go upstairs and get my books,” Tilly Hoffman said quickly. “It was nice to meet you, Peggy.” She bolted from the room, leaving Adam with crimson cheeks and Peggy.

“I’m sorry he said that, Peggy,” Adam said. “I’m sure he was only joking. Will jokes a lot. But I know he loves your mother. I’m sure he loves you.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Peggy replied. “I didn’t come here to talk about him. I saw you when I was over at the mercantile, and sneaked away as quick as I could. I had to talk to you. When I left that morning with Aunt Lil you and my mama were engaged and gonna get married, and then I never saw you again. Mama came to the house with Will and said we were all going to San Francisco together. She didn’t tell me nothing, and Will didn’t ask me if I minded like you did. They just got married and when I asked why she married him instead of you she said you chickened out. I wanna know what happened.”

Adam forced himself to stay silent and not tense up or she would certainly feel his anger. Apparently Laura never had learned to take responsibility for her own actions, at least where her daughter was concerned. He smiled and held out his arms, and she climbed onto his lap without hesitating. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out for your mother and me, Peggy. I did love her. There’s a part of me that will always love her. But there are lots of different kinds of love, and the kind I had with your mother wasn’t the kind that makes a happy marriage.”

“Was it my fault? I know you got mad sometimes when I was bad.” She looked away.

“No, it wasn’t your fault, Peggy. I wanted very much to be your daddy. I think…” He swallowed. “I think I wanted to be your daddy more than I wanted to be your mama’s husband. And I think your mama knew that, and that’s why we didn’t get married. Peggy, when a man and a woman get married they ought to love each other more than anybody else in the world, and I don’t think your mama and I loved each other that much.”

She finally looked back. “I wanted you. Sometimes I’m not nice to Will.”

“Well, he’s a good man, and I know he loves your mama. I’m sure he loves you, Peggy.”

A shrug.

“You know, we’re still related,” Adam said, forcing a smile. “We’re cousins now.”

“We are?”

“Sure. Will Cartwright is my cousin. If he’s your father now, that makes you my cousin too.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“It’s true. So you’re still ‘my kind of Cartwright.’ And I hope you know that you and your family are always welcome at the Ponderosa. You can come visit any time.”

“I can?”

“Well—any time your mother and Will say it’s all right for you to come.”

She grinned.

“Now, if you’re going to stay in Virginia City, can you do me a favor?” he asked.

“What?”

“You can be my spy. I want you to tell me how Miss Hoffman is doing. Tell me if you like the way she teaches.”

“Okay.”

“Good—hey, you better get back before your mother comes looking. She’ll be worried.”

“Huh. She’ll never notice I’m gone. Will’s always the one who comes looking for me.”

Adam swallowed and looked away. “I’ll see you soon, Peggy.”

“Okay, Adam.” She kissed his cheek and slid off his lap. “’Bye.”

As soon as the door slammed, Adam turned around. “Mrs. O’Reilly!”

“Yes, Mr. Cartwright?” She appeared so fast he knew she’d been hidden somewhere nearby, listening to the whole exchange.

“Please tell Miss Hoffman she can come down now…and Mrs. O’Reilly?”

“Yes, Mr. Cartwright?”

“You get a lot of business referred to you by the Cartwrights, don’t you?”

“I do indeed, sir.”

“Then, keeping that in mind, I’d think it behooves you to respect our privacy just a little, right?”

“Of course, Mr. Cartwright! Always!”

He managed to say, “Thanks.” But it was pointless; the woman was the biggest gossip in town.

Tilly Hoffman apparently had decided the slammed door meant it was safe to reappear, and she trooped loudly downstairs without waiting for the summons but giving ample warning of her arrival. She had a slate and some written notes and a couple of books in her hands, and an innocent expression that belied just how much of the embarrassing scene she had heard before her flight, or how much of Peggy’s yelling had carried upstairs. “I’m very excited to share all this with you, Mr. Cartwright,” she exclaimed. And for the next half-hour she told him how decimals could dance, and how role-playing enhanced history lessons, and more than he could keep in his head later about ways to keep the students’ interests high. Suddenly he found himself noticing that her blue eyes fairly glowed with excitement as she spoke. She had wonderful eyes, he decided.

*

He’d picked up his hat to leave when she blushed and said, “You don’t need to worry about me, Mr. Cartwright—I mean, regarding the other visitor. I—”

He took her arm and all-but pulled her outside and down the steps, away from prying ears. “Please, Miss Hoffman, it’s not you I’m worried about. But I’m sure you’ve learned by now that your landlady is one of the major conduits of Cartwright gossip in Virginia City.”

Embarrassment reddened her cheeks, but she said with a slight smile, “It’s not just you, Mr. Cartwright. She’s already paired me up with half the eligible young men in Virginia City, and a few who are not eligible at all.”

“I would expect you’ll get a lot of that, Miss Hoffman.”

“Of course,” she agreed. “For ‘it is a truth universally accepted that a young woman—in any circumstances—must be in want of a husband.’”

“With apologies to Jane Austen,” he murmured.

“You’re familiar with Jane Austen?” She seemed surprised.

“I am,” he replied. “And I cannot tell you how many times I’ve been tempted to use the quote you just paraphrased to pertain to the situation my brothers and I are usually in. We can’t seem to convince anyone that we’re married to the Ponderosa, and she’s a jealous mistress.”

“I thought it had more to do with the family curse,” she said—and then, covered her mouth in sudden horror. “Mr. Cartwright, I’m so sorry. Please for—”

“Apparently some of the gossip does stay with you,” Adam shrugged, with a grim set to his jaw. “Well, you’re hardly the first to suggest it. It’s true that Cartwright wives never seem to last very long. Or engagements. You would think that might slow down all the attempts to pair us up with someone, but it never does.”

“If it helps any,” she said suddenly, “my family is cursed too. Or at least, I am.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. ‘Curses’ are like ghosts and goblins and all the other inventions our minds try to use against us to keep us living in fear.”

“I’m not so sure of that.” She was smiling. “Not any more, at least. Six years ago this time I had two brothers who were engaged to be married—as was I. I also had a mother and a father. Two years ago this time I had two dead brothers, not one but two dead fiancés, a dead mother, and a father who had lost his mind. Now here I am in the middle of the desert, my only relative is an uncle I despise, and yet I’m here.”

He looked at her, wondering at her strange story and wondering what her point was in all of it.

“I don’t imagine I’ll ever marry,” she said, shrugging. “Every fellow I like a little seems determined to domesticate me like a cow. ‘When you marry me, you will quit teaching,’ they all say, and that’s when I know I’ll never marry any of them. I only ever found two men who were willing to accept all my dreams along with me, and they died, but my dreams didn’t. I don’t expect you ever heard this poem, Mr. Cartwright…‘If I have freedom in my love, and in my soul am free—”

“Angels alone that soar above, enjoy such liberty,” Adam finished, smiling, and she looked at him in surprise.

“Mr. Cartwright, you cannot be typical of the men of Virginia City; otherwise, I’ll have to revise my evaluation of this part of the country.”

He shrugged. “I’m probably not too typical, but then I’m not from Virginia City, anyway. I’m Boston born and bred. And educated. Harvard, ’56.”

“Worse yet—a damned Yankee,” she said with a grin that belied her words. “Oh well. Then you studied Lovelace in school?”

“We read some of his poems, but I really learned it from a book that belonged to my mother.”

“I think I would have liked your mother.”

“I often think I would have liked her, too. But you were telling me about your curse.”

“Well, you should know what it is. I’m a teacher, and an old maid. But I’ve discovered there are far worse curses than being an old maid. I refuse to let other people dictate my life to me. I’ll be a teacher until the day I die, and whatever other people expect of me doesn’t matter as long as I meet my own expectations. And I don’t live in fear, either. That’s my blessing.” She laughed and looked up at him. “How about you, Mr. Cartwright? Are you still trying to please everyone except yourself, or have you already learned the ways of wisdom, that it’s not possible to please the rest of the world?”

He chuckled without humor. “We’ll have to compare sad stories someday, but not now. I want to ask you about something far more interesting.”

She looked at him, eyebrows raised.

“Our dog,” he explained. “My brothers said you know all about her breed. I was hoping to learn more about her.”

“Oh, I don’t know much. It’s my uncle who’s a self-proclaimed expert, although he was just the one with the money, backing the investment. He had a kennel man who seemed to know everything.”

“Is there anything helpful you can tell me?”

“Not really, not without seeing her again. She’s called a blue merle—not a very common color. Usually they’re brown and white, or black, brown and white. She seemed to have all the common collie features; her size was right, though she was a bit underweight. She had the standard collie head and ears, and blue eyes are known to happen with merles. But her tail was a disaster.”

“Well, she was a foundling,” Adam explained. “She was caught in a trap, and it mangled her tail. Hoss had to cut it off. Hoss believes she traveled for a long time to get there, which explains why she was so thin. She’s put on a lot of weight since, though. Hoss said he couldn’t have fattened her up better if she was a Christmas turkey. Maybe you’ll come out to the Ponderosa after church Sunday, and you can see if she meets with your approval.”

“I’d like that, Mr. Cartwright. She’s a nice dog.” She didn’t look at him when she said it, though, and he wondered why. Besides, he missed seeing her eyes.

*

He made one more stop—at the Territorial Enterprise, to put in a classified advertisement. “Found: one collie dog. Inquiries accepted at Ponderosa Ranch. Must be able to describe dog & prove ownership.”

He was thinking about Tilly Hoffman again as he rode toward home. It wasn’t just that she had nice eyes. It was the enthusiasm in them that had grabbed his interest. She wasn’t a teacher for money or independence. She really wanted to teach. She even called teaching her dream, her curse, and her blessing.

He loved her passion. He remembered a time when he’d had passion like that. He’d been so young then, coming back from college bursting with ideas for bettering the Ponderosa and full of zeal for carrying them out. There was the day he and Philip Diedesheimer had put in a new support system for the Ophir mine, and the results were even better than they had hoped. That night he and Diedesheimer had celebrated down at the Sazarac in a manner that was still spoken of with shaking heads. They had run into Paul Martin, depressed over losing a patient, and persuaded him to join them…and they had grabbed a corner table and enough rotgut to drown a whale, and sat up the entire night talking about the engineering, architectural, and medical fields, and how they frequently advanced together. Diedesheimer was going on about ways to pump air down into a deep mine, and Paul was pushing the virtues of transferring blood from one fellow to another so people wouldn’t bleed to death. Saloon girls kept coming to the table and trying to join in, and leaving in disgust when they couldn’t follow the conversation.

The next day he’d had a huge hangover…but he could still remember everything they had discussed, and had added them to the list of things he wanted to research for himself…

Then there were the bad memories, outnumbering the good. He remembered all the arguments with his father and constantly having to explain his reasons for every little change, and his father’s griping at how education had ruined his ability to think…and how that had knocked the energy out of him. First he had stopped fighting so hard for the projects he believed in, and finally had stopped even suggesting them. For the last few years he had barely done more than go through the motions of running the ranch exactly the way his father wanted, because “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” The last time he’d gotten genuinely excited over an idea it was a windmill, and the fight with his father that day had been legendary. And then, after finally winning his father’s reluctant approval, he’d gotten into trouble with the Shoshone, and had never finished the trip. That had spelled doom for any other ideas he’d had for bettering the ranch. He was pretty sure his passion for anything had died out when Ruth was taken away, for that matter. But then, his father insisted Ruth was only a dream, and waking up had destroyed her.

He wondered how long it would take before life destroyed Tilly Hoffman’s dreams too, and decided he’d rather not know.

Funny, thinking about Ruth after all this time. Being a “healer” was as important for her as teaching is to Tilly Hoffman. How long did I know Ruth—a week, maybe? If she was even real? Pa didn’t think so…and then how long did I search for her before coming to believe him…how long did it take before the Shoshone discovered that she wasn’t a spirit after all?

If she ever lived, she’s dead now. And as far as it concerns me, she’s just another failure in a long list. Nothing left to mark her existence…except a memory, and even now I’m not sure how much was real and how much was fever-induced hallucination. She deserved better than that.

So did Tilly Hoffman, he thought suddenly. If little slips of girls like Ruth and Tilly were strong enough to take it on the chin when life aimed a blow, why couldn’t he do it too? And why had he given up everything he’d ever wanted just to live his father’s life?

That stops now.

First, he’d start making some of those long-dreamed improvements to the Ponderosa. He had somewhere around six weeks to two months before his father got back.  There was a lot that could be accomplished in that length of time. He started listing things in his head, and by the time he was almost home he had thought of so many ideas that he slowed Beauty down to a walk so he could take out his pencil stub and jot them down in the back of his poetry book.

They came around a curve a few miles away from the house to find Hoss, Joe, and Mutton Jim, the unofficial foreman, finishing the branding of the calves. Funny. He was sure he’d scheduled two other fellows to help. He replaced his book and pencil, and gave Beauty a nudge. Hoss was on the far side of the herd, looking for the unbranded ones; they’d had a lot of late-born summer calves this year that had missed out on the last branding.

Mutton Jim—so called because he had once worked on a sheep ranch—was working the irons. Joe was cutting out a calf now—there went the rope—got him! Joe’s accuracy had always been legendary, and now he was off Cochise tying the struggling calf, and dragging it toward Mutton Jim.

With a sudden hair-bristling sixth sense, Adam realized that the calf’s mother was going to do more than voice her disagreement about this whole branding business. Hoss had seen her too, and was pointing and yelling, but Joe didn’t hear him. Adam raised an alarm at the top of his voice and kicked Beauty into a gallop, but he was too far away and Beauty wouldn’t jump that wire fence. He reached for his Colt—and then saw Lady streaking round from where Hoss had been, faster than he’d ever seen her move before, and without making a sound. The cow was charging Joe, who was afoot. Joe had just realized his danger and was plunging aside fast, but not fast enough. He fell, and the cow had a clear path to him, and Adam’s heart jumped clear into his ears, making his whole head pound as he aimed his gun.

Still a good ten feet from the enraged cow, Lady launched herself through the air, straight at the cow’s face. Her long, thin jaws clamped down tight on the cow’s nose—the tenderest part of its body—the cow, bellowing and shrieking in pain, crashed to the ground, and Adam’s shot went over everyone’s heads. Lady was on her feet again in no time, standing over the cow, snarling.

By now Hoss was there, putting Chubb between the angry cow and her bawling calf, and Joe, laughing as if there had never been anything to worry about, grabbed the calf again so Mutton Jim could apply the brand.

“Hey, Adam’s here!” Joe called out. “Adam, did you see that? What a dog—and you wanted to get rid of her!”

Suddenly feeling weak-kneed, Adam holstered the gun and hunched over the saddle to get his breath back. “Whatsa matter with you?” Joe hollered. “You look like birch bark!”

“And when have you ever seen a birch tree,” Adam retorted as he dismounted, sounding furious in an attempt to cover the fear he’d felt a moment before.

“All right, I ain’t, but you used to bore me with all kinds of nonsense about ’em,” Joe giggled. “Come on, Older Brother, I’m trying to tell you about my heroic dog here.”

“Yeah,” Adam said quietly. “She sure saved your bacon, you big ham.”

Lady, now assured that the humans again had the situation under control, dashed for Adam, barking hysterically, and launched herself at him as she had done at the cow. She didn’t grab his nose, but 60 pounds of collie knocked him flat on his back.

Joe dove under the wire and ran up to him, and Hoss, his shirt torn from where he’d squeezed through the fence, was close behind, concern on both their faces. “You okay, Adam? Your back ain’t hurt, is it?”

“Nope,” he replied dryly, remaining on his back, pushing the ebullient dog and her sloppy tongue away from his face. “I’m fine. Just enjoying a little affectionate female company, that’s all. Get off me, dog…off…OFF!”

Still barking exuberantly, Lady now threw herself at Beauty, and as Adam got up, he watched in bemused wonder as Lady and Beauty touched noses and then began what looked like a strange dance, with Lady darting in and out of the horse’s legs while Beauty pranced about, lifting his hooves carefully to avoid her. “They like each other,” he said in surprise. “Those animals genuinely like each other.”

He didn’t realize he’d said it aloud, and was surprised at the sudden laughter of his brothers.

“And he’s supposed to be the smart one,” Joe cackled. “Come on, Hoss, let’s finish up. Lady, you wanna take the rest of the day off?”

*

“All right, what else do you two geniuses know that I don’t know about my dog?” Adam asked over dinner. Another Hop Sing miracle; he could take the toughest flank steak and transform it into ambrosia.

Hoss and Joe grinned back without a word.

“Come on,” Adam said sharply. “You let me sit there yesterday like Christopher Columbus discovering the New World when I talked about her running that stray back to the herd.”

“And just like Christopher Columbus, you got here and found people already there,” Joe laughed.

“So you’ve been having her work with cows for a while, haven’t you?”

“Only since we took her shoes off,” Hoss replied. “Mutton Jim said he’d worked with a lot of sheep dogs before, and even though he hadn’t seen one that looked like Lady, he was pretty sure she’d work the same way. And he was right.”

“But these aren’t sheep,” Adam said, which made Joe start sniggering and making surreptitious “he’s supposed to be the smart one” murmurings again.

“Same difference.” Hoss manfully ignored Joe, which at least spared him the kick under the table that Joe received. “They’re bigger than sheep, they eat slower, and they don’t gen’rally pile on top of each other when they’re scared. And o’course they got them sharp horns. But shucks, Adam, we figgered when we saw Lady workin’ with chickens that if she could herd them she could herd anything.”

Joe fluttered his eyelashes and clasped his hands together. “They like each other!” he declaimed, his voice like a little girl’s. “Those…animals…really like each other!”

“So what else do you know that I don’t,” Adam sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose; talking to these two, especially when Joe was in one of his silly moods, always brought on headaches.

“Well,” Hoss said, “we know why you had problems at first gettin’ her to move that cow yesterday.”

“Why?”

“You had your hat in your hand, that’s how you described it.”

“What, she doesn’t like hats?”

“Sheep dogs are trained with hand signals,” Joe said. “If you have something in your hand, it confuses the dog.”

Adam thought about this while he sneaked another green bean under the table. The dog seemed to love green beans as much as meat.

“Well, if she’s had training to work with sheep—or cows—and what she’s doing actually is training and not just instinct, that proves she belongs to someone.”

Hoss shook his head. “It proves she used to belong to someone. Maybe they’re dead. Nobody alive who saw any value in that dog would just let her run off into the wilderness for a couple of months, Adam. So either they’re dead or they don’t care. She’s ours.”

“I put an ad in the paper,” Adam confessed, and both his brothers looked askance at him.

“I never thought you’d go through with that,” Joe said. “What purpose does it serve?”

“Look, I made it as difficult as I could to meet the conditions,” Adam said. Then he grinned. “But I had to try. It’s, you know, honesty, not that either of you would know what that word means.”

“Very funny,” Joe said. “Hey Adam, do you mind me goin’ into town tomorrow? I want to buy a new shirt for the dance Saturday.”

“What dance?”

“The one you obviously ain’t going to—AGAIN,” Hoss said. “We’ve been tryin’ to get you to a dance all month long, and all you do is hole up with the account books every Saturday night. Now if it was me and I had a choice between a purdy gal and an account book, I know which one I’d pick, but like Joe says, you’re the smart one in the family.”

“You know Tilly’s been at the last two dances. We saw her there even if we didn’t know she was the new schoolmarm back then,” Joe added.

“Tilly? How’d you end up on a first name basis?” Adam demanded with a sudden illogical irritation.

Joe raised his eyebrows. “She said ‘Call me Tilly.’ I said ‘Call me Joe.’ Hoss said, ‘Call me anything, but do please call on me.’ That’s the way it usually works, Adam.”

“I didn’t really say that,” Hoss interposed hastily. “How come you don’t call her Tilly, Adam?”

Adam swallowed, and then lifted his chin. “Because we’re colleagues, not friends. And of course that’s the way it should be. I’m on the school board, after all, and largely responsible for her being hired. We can’t have anyone misperceiving our relations. It’s a shame, the way the gossips seem to look for things to misunderstand, she even has to be careful at social functions like dances. It makes things difficult for her; she has to watch for anything that could damage her reputation.”

“Oh, of course,” Joe said with a sardonic smile. “I knew that.”

“Look, go buy a shirt and go to the dance, that’s fine, but I don’t want to think about dances right now,” Adam said. “When I was riding home today, I decided I want to try some innovations while Pa’s gone. A few things to make the ranch more productive. Maybe surprise him when he gets back.”

“Did he say you could?” Hoss asked doubtfully.

“Well…in a sense,” came the careful reply. “I mean, he did say to use my own discretion making decisions.”

“Uh HUH,” Joe said. “Now Older Brother, correct me if I’m wrong, but don’t you usually beat the daylights out of me whenever I start an idea by presuming that it’s easier to apologize than to ask for permission?”

“This is different,” Adam replied piously.

“What makes it different?”

“I’m the one doin’ it.”

*

They talked a couple of hours about his ideas. The windmills, the irrigation ditches, the dam on the creek, the standing hay, and all the other things he had jotted down earlier, and although his brothers had a few doubts about what Pa would say, they agreed that starting everything now meant things would be in place before Pa returned, and before he could protest, maybe he’d see the benefit. And…if there wasn’t any benefit, well, it was only their time that had been wasted, not Pa’s.

“I still cain’t see how you’re gonna turn that north section into pasture land,” Hoss mumbled. “I mean, you never did meet Ira Fairbanks.”

“No, but I read his papers and worked out the math,” Adam replied. “I think we can do it. I’ll draw up plans and maybe when you see it on paper you’ll understand it better.”

“I can understand how you’ll water it,” Joe put in. “We did plenty of windmills for those folks in the low country during the big drought. But as to getting grass to grow up there—much less to make it survive long enough to make hay—that’s not something I can picture. That land is all alkaline; there’s very little that’ll grow up there.”

“Wildrye grass will grow in the Great Basin,” Adam said confidently. “If it’ll grow there, it oughtta grow in our north section too.”

“Well, all these improvements we’re doin’ are makin’ me exhausted,” Joe chuckled. “We’re gonna need to go to that dance just to get our spirits up for all that work. And Adam, I bet Tilly will be lookin’ for you there too.”

“I don’t care if Saint Nick and Mary Shelley show up, I’m not goin’ to the dance!” Adam’s eyes were flashing.

“Oh, I wouldn’t mind meetin’ Saint Nick. But I hope not Mary Shelley, anyhow.” Hoss the peacemaker was trying to change the subject again. “I ’member when you came home from school totin’ that Frankenstein book under your arm tellin’ us you had a good story to read us. I nearly wet my diaper.”

“You were 15!”

“I was still ready to wear a diaper after you read that skeery thing, I truly was.”

By then they had retired to the living room, and Adam was actually ready to go to bed. But he did ask why the other two hands he had scheduled that day were not helping in the pasture.

“They quit this morning without a by-your-leave. Didn’t even want to wait until you got back for their wages,” Joe said. “Doesn’t matter. They were worthless, and Lady worked better than both of ’em put together. About the only thing they were any good at was riding fence—or at least, we guess they were good at it since they went out in the morning and came back at night. Come to think of it, maybe they were off nappin’!”

“That’s true,” Hoss put in. “They weren’t good for much. Only reason we got mad when they left was because they didn’t give notice. I dunno, Adam, seems like Little Joe and I are gettin’ of an age where we don’t much care for surprises.”

“Well, get ready for the conversation to take an unpleasant turn, then,” Adam yawned. “I got one devil of a surprise in town today. It seems our cousin Will, his wife, and his child are back, and planning to stay.”

“Who’s his wife—wait a minute, you mean Laura? And Peggy?” Joe cried. “Oh, holy cow.”

Adam had never told them much about that mess, simply that he and Laura had broken their engagement. And to their credit, his brothers had not asked.

“Are we gonna…’sociate with ’em?” Hoss asked cautiously, looking not at Adam, but at Joe.

“I don’t see how.” Joe’s hands were already clenched. “Those two didn’t fall in love the minute after the engagement with Adam ended. I’ve thought about it a lot, and it all comes down to one thing—they were steppin’ out right behind our brother’s back. I feel bad enough that we kept pushing the two of ’em together, but—”

“That thought ends right there,” Adam stated calmly. “I won’t have you talking or thinking like that. Will is family, which makes Laura and Peggy family. And we are Cartwrights—we don’t throw out family with the potato peels.”

Joe shook his head. “But Adam—what are you grinning at?”

Adam cleared his throat. He and Little Joe had fought for years and always would, but in a fight against anyone else, nobody would rush to his side faster. “I’m gonna break my own rule and talk about this situation for a minute. Then, after I say what I need to say, we’re not going to talk about this anymore. I owe our cousin a very large debt of gratitude for taking Laura off my hands. If I had married Laura, I would’ve been the unhappiest man in Christendom. I would have gained a wonderful daughter and a house of my own, but that’s a bad trade for a husband and wife who make each other miserable. I wanted to take care of Laura, but I didn’t love her—not the kind of love that would make a marriage work, the kind I remember that Pa had with Inger or Marie.”

“You gave a durned good impression of it,” Hoss observed.

“I did what people expected,” Adam said. “And I learned a lesson: never mistake the love of helping a person for the love of the actual person. So, we will extend a welcoming hand to the ‘other Cartwrights.’ I expect they’ll probably be at church Sunday, so make a special point to say hello. I have a feeling that the way we treat them will have a large effect on the way the town treats them.”

“I hate it when you’re noble,” Joe said.

“Me too,” Adam said. “That’s why I do it so seldom. Now please let me go to bed. I don’t know about you, but I’ve got a lot of work to do tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Joe agreed. “It must be hard work to draw all them pictures of the stuff me and Hoss are gonna have to carry around.”

Chapter 4

He read a little, thought about his plans a little, and went to sleep. Seven hours later he woke, feeling just fine, and started to sit up. And that was when it happened. He didn’t even hear himself scream; he had no mind for anything but the white-hot pain radiating in every direction from the small of his back.

Joe, Hoss, and Lady were in the room within seconds, to find him panting, his eyes squeezed shut.

“Don’t—don’t touch me!” he cried when Hoss reached for him.

“What’s wrong?” Hoss and Joe both demanded, looking askance at his chalk-white face.

“My back…” he whispered, and couldn’t say anything else for a minute; it took that long to catch his breath. “Oh, Lord…”

Slowly, he felt the spasm coming to an end, gradually the muscles released, and he could breathe almost normally again.

“I’m gonna get Doc Martin,” Hoss said.

“No, it’s okay, I think,” Adam said, tentatively moving his arms, then his legs.  “Owww…whew, that was a revelation. Don’t think I ever realized how good you feel when something quits hurting.”

“You sure you’re okay?” Hoss looked doubtful.

“You sure didn’t sound okay a minute ago,” Joe admonished. “Bellowin’ like a dyin’ cow in a hailstorm. You’re just doin’ this to get outta muckin’ the barn, aren’t you?”

Adam grinned weakly at him. “I’m not even scheduled for that today, baby boy, but it was a nice try.”

“Go figure,” Hoss muttered. “All the times you been shot, stabbed, and hit with arrows, you fall offa one gol-durned roof and that’s the war wound that sticks.”

“You’re right, I don’t make a very good hero.” Adam held his breath then, feeling another spasm—smaller, less intense, but enough to make him groan. Finally he could breathe again. “I’m not sure I want to start moving around any time soon. Maybe I’ll just stay up here this morning. Hoss, can you bring my sketch pad and pencils, and Joe, uh—please move the chamber pot over here.”

“Only if there ain’t nothin’ already in it,” Joe grumbled, but he moved the item to the requested spot.

“I’ll have Hop Sing make up a tray for you,” Hoss offered.

“Hey,” Joe said with a wicked chortle, “how is it I’m the one who nearly got killed yesterday, and you’re the one gettin’ to take the day off?”

“Blame your dog,” Adam replied, glowering. “You get your life saved by her. Me, she nearly kills. Yeah, you oversized tick transport, you puffed up excuse for a peddler’s pelt, I mean you!” The tone was meant as sarcasm, but it came out sounding murderously harsh, and he was looking at the dog all the while. Lady’s head went lower to the floor with each word, and by the end, she had squinted her eyes shut and turned her head away, ears flat against her skull.

“Geez, Adam, look what you did. She didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Adam shook his head. “Come on, I didn’t hurt her feelings—you do remember she’s a dog, right?”

“Right, brother, she’s just a dog. Come on Lady, let’s go.” Lady slunk away, ears flat and tail clamped to her behind, but still turning back to look at Adam. Joe followed, shooting one last murderous glance at his brother.

Adam wondered for a moment if dogs really did have feelings to hurt, and then his memory flashed back: the day she had chased the trespasser away on his command and come back laughing; her joy at his return the day before; her playful dance with Beauty and Beauty’s own response. Good Lord, even horses had feelings. He had trained many a horse, and his body seemed to understand things about them that his conscious mind had not registered; how the training was supposed to “break the will, but not the spirit,” so that the horse’s will became to do the will of the rider. And that was why they gentled the horses before putting a saddle on, and why they never used whips or spurs or the leg-tying methods some other ranches used. He had never really wondered about the “why,” simply accepting what he was told. It had all been purely functional to him. Maybe that’s why Joe and Hoss are better with horses than I am.

He tried to sit up again, and although it hurt like blazes, it wasn’t as bad as the pain he’d felt before, so he tentatively put his feet on the floor and tried to stand. With his hands anchoring his back, he staggered to the door to find Hoss coming back with a food tray and a towel.

“What the dickens are you doin’ out of bed?” Hoss demanded, putting the tray down on the bed and turning to glare at him.

“Where’s Lady? I…” and then he stopped, because no matter what Hoss thought, he simply couldn’t explain that he had to apologize to a dog.

“She’s downstairs gettin’ bawled out by Hop Sing. She just broke an egg. First one ever, and I know why it happened, even though you’d never believe it. Well, I reckon it don’t matter, since she’s just a dog.”

“You get better at sarcasm all the time, Hoss,” Adam snapped. “I liked you better before you learned how.”

“Don’t see why,” Hoss shrugged. “You’re one of my best teachers.”

Adam took another step and knew he’d never make it down the stairs. “Hoss—please help me back to bed. And then bring Lady up here, if you would. I think I’d like her to keep me company this morning.”

“Huh,” was all Hoss said.

A few minutes later Lady appeared, alone, and sat down by the door to his room. He had to call her twice before she came to him, and she was slinking as close to the floor as she could get. She stopped an arm’s length away, and turned her head, squinting.

“Good girl,” Adam said, holding out his hand. Like the first morning they had met, she cringed away. Today, however, he slowly stretched his hand until he touched the top of her head, where he began to rub that spot between her eyes. “Good girl,” he said again.

Joe came back a little later to pick up the tray and announce their departure. He found Lady happily panting on the bed and Adam asleep, curled around her. “And this is the guy who said I’m not picky about who I’ll share a bed with,” he chuckled. “Guess the old dog learned a new trick.”

*

It was Joe’s decision when he and Hoss returned late that night not to tell Adam what had transpired at the International House that afternoon; he was waiting to see just how complete his brother’s recovery had been. They returned to find him in his worn blue chair, with his feet propped up on Lady, the world’s happiest footstool. Adam was working his way through a thick book called Les Misérables that he had special-ordered a couple of months back and that had arrived just the week before. Everybody knew Adam read books that needed to go on diets, but this new one had surprised even Adam, who commented that it was thicker than his Bible—and he didn’t think anything could be thicker than that. His brothers had silently thanked God that their father wasn’t around to hear that particular comment.

“How’re ya doin’?” Hoss queried, and thrust a thumb in the direction of his own back to make his meaning clear.

“All right, I think,” Adam said with a smile. “Hop Sing put enough liniment on me to set fire to my back and then dosed me up with a couple of herbal remedies. Slept most of the morning, sketched and wrote plans and construction schedules most of the afternoon. Finally I got up about an hour ago and tried walking around, and everything was all right, so I made my way downstairs.”

“Good for you,” Hoss observed. “Wonder what Hop Sing’s cookin’…” and he ambled off toward the kitchen.

“Of course now you probably just threw your back out again, carryin’ that heavy book around,” Joe chuckled. “How about Lady?”

“My shadow,” Adam sighed. “Can’t get rid of her. Don’t much want to now, though. I’ll tell you, she’s really changing the way I look at animals. I suppose next thing you know I’ll discover cats are smart, too.”

“Wait’ll Hoss finds out,” Joe said with a smile.

“Huh. I’m more worried about what happens when Pa finds out. You know we can’t keep her in the house much longer. Pa won’t accept a dog in the house, that’s all there is to it.”

“I’m counting on your logic and Lady’s charm to win the argument,” Little Joe replied. “So how are you, really? Any pain walking around? Let me see.”

Adam rolled his eyes but decided to indulge his brother’s whim. He rose, made a circuit of the room, and then did an exaggerated pirouette just to show he was no invalid yet. Joe whistled and clapped—and then said, “Well, that’ll do fine!”

“What will do what?” Adam asked suspiciously.

“Nothin’, Older Brother, really. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. Hey, I had supper at the International House, so I think I’m gonna skip it here. Make my apologies to Hop Sing, will you? I’m really tired.” With that, Joseph Francis Cartwright bounded up the stairs with the speed of a Thoroughbred, and slammed his door.

That was when Adam knew for certain he was in trouble. He went looking for Hoss, but Hoss found him first.

“Hey Adam,” he said, returning from the kitchen with three biscuits in each hand, “I’m glad you changed your mind. Miss Tilly’s real happy, too.”

“Huh?”

“I was surprised at first though. I mean, considerin’ your back and all. Guess Little Joe had it figgered right after all. He said you’d be fine with a little rest.”

“Fine for what?”

“The dance tomorrow night. Joe said—”

With that Adam whirled and bolted up the stairs, two at a time, leaving Hoss behind to reflect that his brother’s recovery had been complete indeed…and that Joe had probably not told him the entire truth back in town.

*

Earlier that day:

“Boy, it’s good to come into town once in a while.” Joe stretched at the hitching post. “Sometimes I think Older Brother intends to make hermits of us all.”

“What would make you think that?” Hoss asked, giving Chubb a final rub on the forehead before turning away.

“How ’bout the fact that we hardly came anywhere near here in two weeks except for church on Sundays?”

“Well, we’ve been kinda busy after all.”

“Yeah, but if Adam wasn’t so cheap he’d hire a few more hands and we wouldn’t have so much to do.”

“I dunno, I asked him about that the other night. He told me a lotta stuff about ‘limited liquid assets’ and plumb made my head hurt. What I think it means is he pulled most of our cash and put it into gettin’ more stuff.”

“I’m bettin’ our assets are gonna get even more limited when he starts putting in all those ‘innovations’ he was talking about last night,” Joe muttered.

Hoss grunted. “So we might as well learn to live with it.”

“You know, Hoss,” Joe considered, “Adam said Pa isn’t like he used to be—that he’s changed over time. Gotten softer, and more willing to bend. D’you suppose that’ll ever happen to Adam?”

“Maybe, but I doubt you and I’ll live to see it,” Hoss chuckled. “Say, ain’t that Miss Tilly headin’ over to the International House?”

“So it is. Think I’ll go pay my respects.”

“What fer?” Hoss asked suspiciously. Little Joe always had an ulterior motive when girls were involved.

“Well, we have to get her to the dance, don’t we?”

“We do? Why? You’re already takin’—”

“For Adam,” Joe cut in.

“You mean he changed his mind? But what about his back? He was hurtin’ pretty bad this mornin’.”

“He’ll be fine by tomorrow. Probably by tonight.”

Try though he did, Hoss could not remember Adam saying anything to indicate a change of opinion about the dance, nor could he recall a time when Adam and Joe had had a private conversation of any length last night or this morning. And, Adam had always struck Hoss as the sort of fellow who did his own wooing, and didn’t ask anyone—even his brothers—for help on that score. But then Little Joe wouldn’t tell a lie. At least, not about something that important. So he followed his brother over to the International House, where Joe was already seating the schoolteacher at a table and insisting that he pay for her meal.

“Well, I won’t let you pay for me, Joe, but I hope you’ll join me all the same.” She looked up as a huge shadow cut into the light. “Oh, hello, Hoss! I didn’t realize you were here too. I hope you were planning to join us?”

Hoss blushed and sat down with a mumbled greeting. While they waited for their food, Little Joe wasted no time getting to the point. “Tilly, has anybody asked you to the dance tomorrow night?”

She hesitated and looked down. “Well…yes. But I’m not planning to attend, so I made my excuses already.”

“You don’t wanna go?” Hoss repeated in surprise. “Why on earth not? Ain’t too many things more fun than a harvest time dance.”

“I like the dances,” she said. “Really. It’s just that…”

“We seen ya at two of ’em before, and you were havin’ a good time, looked like.”

“Yes, I did have a good time. It’s just that people are getting the wrong idea about me. I…” She looked down again. “I overheard some gossip at the store. People are thinking I’m one of those teachers who came here to find a husband. Your brother told me there had been a few of that type before. But I don’t want anyone doubting the legitimacy of my position.”

“Tilly, who cares what a lot of meddling busybodies think?” Joe scoffed. “Tell me who they were and me and Hoss’ll take care of them for you anyway.”

“Hoss and I.” Tilly’s voice was stern.

Joe just grinned. “Oh, you wanna help too?” And they all laughed.

“It’s not just them…the first couple of members of the school board all but said the same thing to me. I know it’s human nature to be contrary, but I’m just aching to prove those men wrong.”

“There, all the more reason to go to the dance with Adam, then,” Little Joe shrugged, with innocent eyes. “After all, you and he aren’t friends; you’re colleagues and professional associates, right?”

“Well, we…”

“There couldn’t be any impropriety in your associating with him, right? A dance is a public place, and—”

“Excuse me, are you saying Adam…Mr. Cartwright…is the actual person issuing the invitation?”

“Let me tell you,” Joe said proudly. “Adam said to me, ‘Joseph, it’s a darn shame that Miss Tilly Hoffman can’t even frequent a dance without having the people of Virginia City up in arms about it. We have to remedy this shameful situation.’”

“Now, Joe,” Tilly chuckled. “Even your brother Hoss thinks you’re spreading the fertilizer a bit thick now. Issuing the invitation is one thing, but I can’t see your brother speaking in that manner.”

“Well, you ain’t spoke with him that much yet,” Hoss cut in, although he also thought Joe was laying things on a bit heavy.

“That is true,” Joe sighed. “Otherwise you’d be wearin’ glasses from squinting so hard. I’ll tell ya, sometimes I listen to him five minutes and it feels like half the day’s gone by. No wonder I’m not more convincing at it. But I do know he would like to see you at the dance, Miss Tilly.”

“Well…in that case I guess I can’t disappoint him. But I’ll come alone; we’ll meet there.”

“That’s great!” He lifted his beer to her, and she shrugged and lifted her lemonade to him. Hoss was already drinking his beer.

“Joe…Hoss…may I ask a question about your brother? I don’t want to pry, but I’m curious about something. If the question is too personal just say so and I won’t mention it again…”

“Ask away,” Joe said, grinning over at Hoss. This could be fun.

“Is he in mourning?”

Hoss nearly spewed his beer at that and looked at her, round-eyed. “Whatever’d make you think that, ma’am?”

“He always wears black.”

Joe smiled, because she had struck a nerve with that question. He didn’t think Hoss had ever figured it out, but he was pretty sure he had. “He actually doesn’t wear it all the time. Just four days a week. He’s got some other shirts too, a couple nice blue ones, and he wears them the rest of the time.” The food arrived then, and they began to eat.

“Four days a week?” Tilly asked between bites. “Is there some special significance to that?”

“Well, I think there is. See, around the time I came along Adam got into long pants, and Pa started giving him some say into how he dressed. And everybody remembers he asked for two black shirts, but nobody ever knew why. Only then, when I was four or five, my mother died. And Adam bought another black shirt.”

“Wait a minute,” Hoss interrupted. “You’re sayin’ he wears a black shirt for each of our mamas?”

Tilly’s head tilted at that, but Joe was looking at Hoss and so did not see. “Nope. Remember, it was five years ago this May that he bought the fourth shirt.”

Hoss’s forehead crinkled in thought. “Good Lord, it was right after Ross died.”

“Yup. That’s my story anyhow, and I’m stickin’ to it. Adam won’t ever talk about Ross anymore; it’s like pullin’ teeth to get him to talk about my mama or yours, and he never even knew his own. But I think he has his own way of missing people. That’s all.”

“Who was Ross?” Tilly asked in confusion. “Was there another Cartwright brother?”

At that, both men’s expressions became guarded.

“No, ma’am,” Little Joe said, knowing he’d stepped over the line now. “Ross was a friend of Adam’s, and he died. That’s all.”

“Well, now I know why there’s so much gossip about your family. There sure are a lot of ‘sub rosa’ things at the Ponderosa.”

“What’s that mean?” Hoss asked.

“It means ‘secrets,’ Hoss.” Tilly smiled. “One could earn a fortune writing that sort of thing in a dime novel.”

“Please don’t ever say that again, Miss Tilly,” Hoss said, with a pained expression. “One feller already tried. Nearly got Pa and Adam killed.”

“I’m sorry…it was just a joke. I never thought…” Tilly pushed her plate away. “My mother used to tell me I had all the tact of a sledge hammer. I thank you for having lunch with me, though. I’ll see you tomorrow night at the dance. I think I’m looking forward to it, now.”

“What are you grinnin’ at?” Hoss asked Joe as Tilly departed.

“Oh, nothin’,” Joe replied, still beaming. Nothing I would say out loud, Big Brother. After all, I just managed to invite Tilly to the dance in Adam’s name without telling a single lie or even using the word ‘invitation.’ And Adam will have to go, to avoid shaming or embarrassing the girl. And if he goes, he’ll end up in a good mood like he does after most dances, and maybe he’ll take it easy on me and you for a couple of days.

*

Adam did go to the dance, albeit with a black eye and a loose back molar. Joe went as well, but sat most of the dances out since his abrupt collision with a chest-of-drawers had done a little damage to his left knee. He didn’t drink much punch either, thanks to the bruise on his cheek that ended in a cut at his lip.

Hoss was there too, with a lump on his head that had occurred after he had intervened in the combat. Not too wise, always playing the peacekeeper, he reflected, especially when you don’t even know what the fightin’s about.

But despite the events of the evening before, or the tense day that followed, everyone did enjoy the dance, even Adam. Tilly, happily ignorant of the state of things, had asked, “What does the other fellow look like?” not knowing that she was looking at all three of the “other fellows.” Joe said quickly, “It’s just amazing how rambunctious those calves get come branding time.” And both brothers fervently agreed. Tilly looked doubtful, but made no further comment, and Adam whisked her off for a waltz.

Tilly wasn’t very good at waltzing. She was nervous and it showed in the stiff, awkward way she moved. On the other hand, she was great at the heel-and-toe, a faster, livelier, and far less personal dance that involved elbow swings, slides, and frequent partner changes. She seemed quite comfortable in the heel-and-toe, so after two of those dances, Adam collected her for another waltz, thinking by now she would be relaxed enough to be graceful. But almost the minute he touched her, she stiffened again, murmuring, “I’m awfully sorry…I think my stays are too tight…would you mind if we just got some punch?”

Puzzled but agreeable, he took her to the punchbowl, where a simple query about whether she was ready for Monday somehow got into a deep discussion of Geoffrey Chaucer, and they spent the rest of the dance sitting in the corner arguing about whether or not the Wife of Bath had made her five husbands miserable. A few brave souls ventured up to them at first, attempting to ask Tilly to dance, but finding her barely able to turn her head from this completely unintelligible conversation, they soon stopped trying. A lively punchbowl conversation soon sprang up, though, trying to figure out exactly what the pair was discussing, and which of them could have possibly been married five times, anyway?

*

Much later, Adam would describe that as the best dance he had ever attended, and the two or three weeks that followed as among the happiest of his memories. It wasn’t that anything special happened. They went to church the next day, and there, as expected, they found Will, Laura, and Peggy. They shut, at least momentarily, the gossiping mouths of Virginia City by the enthusiasm of their welcome to the returning family and insistence that they sit together in church. They even invited the family to dinner, although the new Cartwrights had a previous engagement and were unable to attend. Tilly, however, did attend as she had promised, and after the meal she and the three brothers spent most of the afternoon singing to the accompaniment of Adam’s guitar. Lady even attempted to join in on one of the numbers, but was woefully off-key.

About Lady herself, the supposed pretext of Tilly’s visit, not much was accomplished. Tilly had already told them most of what she knew, and the only thing remaining was to show some of the hand signals she had seen her uncle’s kennel master use while training a dog. Lady responded instantly to each signal easily enough, reinforcing Adam’s despairing thought that somewhere out there, someone was looking for her.

School began on Monday, and it seemed as if all Virginia City held its breath to see if Tilly would last the first day without ending up branded and hogtied on the school porch. When the entire week passed without incident, a few people sighed in relief while others proclaimed they had known it all along.

Adam busied himself with the innovations he had planned for the Ponderosa. He saw Peggy at the mercantile on Saturday, and from her he learned that Queen Victoria was probably going to rule England for 50 or 60 years because queens lived longer than kings and were better at keeping the peace, too. Everybody knew that, Peggy said. “After all, look how long Queen Elizabeth ruled, and how fast the country fell to pieces after she died…” as if she had known of England’s existence before that week. If Peggy had only learned a scrap of British history Adam might have worried, but Peggy also reported a few bits of Nevada history that he recognized from the course he had developed, and she also quizzically asked him why George Washington was such a great general when he hadn’t actually been the one who won any of his major battles. Before he could query her about that, though, she started telling him about fractions, and how they leap-frogged when you tried to divide them, and did he know that?

He resolved to ask Tilly about a few of these things when he next saw her…which turned out to be at the dance that night. He had just gone along with Joe and Hoss; she had turned up on the arm of a bank teller, which irked him for some reason, but he made sure he snagged her at the punchbowl and asked her how the week had gone. The conversation, however, went on a little longer than anyone planned, and at last the young bank teller decided to dance with someone else. After church the next day, Tilly again came home with them, and they sang half the afternoon away. Adam had been trying “A La Una” and played it on his guitar, and Tilly said he played it the way the Sephards had meant it to be played.

Soon it was a regular occurrence…every Friday Adam was in town getting reports from Peggy or one of her friends; every Saturday there was a dance. Adam escorted Tilly to a couple of them; other men escorted her to other dances, but however they started, they ended the same way—with a literary, historical, philosophical or political debate around the punchbowl. A few other brave souls occasionally joined in, but seldom lasted. And every Sunday afternoon, Tilly was at the Ponderosa, playing with Lady, joking with Joe, Hoss, and Hop Sing, and singing or discussing odd things with Adam. The gossip about Tilly and her liking for Ponderosa men grew louder, but the Ponderosa men didn’t know, and Tilly didn’t tell. Besides, the gossips soon found other things to occupy their minds, like the arrival of the Pinkerton detectives in Virginia City—not one or two, but ten.

As for the trespassers, the first sign Adam had found on the day he found Lady, and the last sign which had evaporated with Lady’s chasing off the red-haired boy—Adam was about to declare that danger over. Until he happened to think of one thing Joe and Hoss had mentioned, and he brought it up at dinner one night.

“Those two hands that up and quit…what section of fence were they riding?”

“The south pasture,” Hoss replied with his mouth full, making his answer sound like “showf-pasha.”

Adam rolled his eyes. “Hoss, watching you eat is a sure cure for the appetite. Who’s been riding that section since they left?”

Joe shrugged. “Nobody, I guess, but then if it’s not on one of your schedules nobody does it. You know everybody takes those schedules like holy scrolls.”

“Besides, you said Lady had scared them squatters away good ’n’ proper,” Hoss reminded him.

I’m an idiot. Adam shook his head. “Indulge me, fellas. Joe, I want you to ride up there tomorrow, all the way to the lake and back.”

“That’s gonna take a while.”

“And that’s not all. Then I want you to get outside the fence and make sure there’s no recent signs of anybody being around. Take Lady along; she’s great at that.”

“Hey, I get to go sparkin’ Adam’s favorite lady!” Joe chuckled. “C’mere girl, Adam’s not the only one who knows what you like…wanna green bean?”

“Green beans or no, Lady’s got competition,” Hoss said with a grin. “I’m thinkin’ our little Tilly the schoolteacher might give Lady a real run for her money.”

“Huh? What are you talking about?” Adam’s eyes widened. “Don’t be silly—we’re—”

“Professional associates,” Joe and Hoss said simultaneously, eyeing each other. Joe smiled. “Colleagues. Employer-employee. Only one day you’ll have to tell me, which one of you’s the boss?”

Shooting a glare at his brothers, Adam got up and went to work on his neglected ledgers.

Chapter 5

The weather was changing, and Cochise was prancing and tossing his head, wanting to run. Joe held him in, not by choice but by duty. It was difficult enough to do the kind of inspection/investigation Adam wanted, but at the speed Cochise wanted to go, it was impossible. Unreasonable, Joe thought, that’s what this whole thing is. Adam’s downright obsessed, thinking someone’s living in the middle of our pasture and we don’t know it. Rather a mutinous observation to make, but when Adam got a thought in his head there was nothing anyone could say or do to persuade him different.

The grass on this side of the fence was raggedly chewed; on the other side—once you got past the space where a stubborn cow might poke its head through—it was almost waist high. Soon enough the grass would die, he thought; they needed to round up the bunch up here and bring them down into the eastern valley, where they would pass the winter. Probably in two or three weeks…and again he grinned…of course it all depended on Older Brother’s scheduling. Older Brother ran his life—and everybody else’s—by a schedule.

Cochise twitched nervously, and stared off to the woods on the other side of the fence, close to a hundred yards away. Joe stroked his neck soothingly. “’Smatter, Cooch? Gettin’ fussy in your old age?” Then he happened to look down, to see Lady standing beside him, her fur standing on end, making her look half-again her normal size. “Lady?” She looked up at him, and then out through the fence again. Let’s flush ’em out, then. “Lady,” he commanded softly. “Go get him!” She didn’t wait for clarification, bounding through the fence and disappearing in the high grass. Something was definitely wrong. Cochise, his ears flat against his head, whirled, poised for flight. Joe reined him in and twisted in the saddle, looking around, his hand drawing the gun from its holster, and just about the time he saw the early-morning sun glinting off something metallic, just a second or two before he heard the high-pitched scream, the shot rang out and something smacked into him, knocking him off Cochise and slamming him onto the ground.

When he opened his eyes again Lady had come back, her snout and chest bloody, and she was licking his face with a worried expression on her own. Joe could barely keep his eyes focused on her, but he did know the blood wasn’t hers. On the other hand, the stuff spreading through the brownish grass was certainly his. “Lady,” he whispered, “go get Hoss…go get Hoss. Quick.”

*

Adam and Hoss were going into town together for some supplies Adam had neglected to order. Personally, Hoss thought this oversight was just an excuse for Adam to get into town; he was pretty sure Adam had visited Virginia City more in the last two months than in the previous 12 months combined. He was also pretty sure that Adam’s reason for going to town had more to do with the schoolmarm than any other explanation given—not that he would have voiced that opinion. Adam could be mighty mean when provoked. But he didn’t seem the least bit mean when the teacher was around; in fact, he seemed kinda happy—and a happy Adam was way more fun to be around than a mean, grumpy one.

They were trotting along in companionable silence aboard Beauty and Chubb and had just gotten a couple of miles from the house when they heard a gunshot. There was only one, so it wasn’t a signal from Joe…but it did make them wonder. They reined in. “Think we oughtta go back?” Hoss asked.

Adam thought for a minute. “Yeah…darnfool kid probably shot himself in the foot.”

“Didn’t sound like it came from the house,” Hoss observed.

“He was on his way out to the south pasture—let’s cut through here and see what we can find.”

They began picking their way through the woods—to hear Lady, barking at the top of her lungs, and a minute later she burst through the underbrush like a silver blaze. One look at her was enough to set them staring—her muzzle and ruff were doused with blood.

“Lady, go get Joe!” Hoss ordered, and the dog whirled about to show them the way.

It took a good 15 minutes to reach the fence line, but Joe was visible from a long distance; he was lying on his stomach facing toward the Ponderosa, his green jacket unnaturally bright against the dying grass. He was unconscious when they reached him, and missed their terrified mutterings of prayers and curses; he was still out when they started pushing handkerchiefs and bandanas into his back and his chest in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

But he did come around briefly, while Adam picked him up and Hoss mounted Chubb. “Didya see Adam…” he murmured with a ghost of a grin, “She set that…buzzard straight all right…”

“Yeah, buddy, she did good,” Adam responded, with no idea what Joe meant. Hoss leaned down from Chubb and took Joe then, holding him like a baby in his arms.

“Ride like hell, brother,” Hoss whispered prayerfully. “Bullet was just under the collarbone—there ain’t no way there should be this much blood. And as much pressure I’m puttin’ on, it still ain’t stoppin’.”

Adam nodded, swinging up on Beauty. “Get going. Take Lady with you.” Hoss called Lady and headed back to the house without another word. Adam turned and galloped back through the woods to the road, remembering the day Hoss and Joe had played with Lady out in the corral, teaching her to “go get” each other. Funny, he’d thought it was silly at the time.

But the only thing he could think of as he tore down the road to Virginia City was “Joe can’t die.” He knew Joe couldn’t die, because Joe was the baby, and babies weren’t supposed to die before the old guys. And besides…Pa and Hoss would be devastated.

He didn’t waste time wondering at the effect on himself.

He was bent double over the big gelding, hugging its neck as he urged him to more speed. Virginia City had never seemed farther away than at this minute. He thought of all the other times one of them had had to make the dreaded ride…times like these he missed Boston. They practically had a doctor on every street…he had told Hoss and Joe that very thing once, and they had laughed wildly at the foolishness of such an idea.

It was just a little after nine, and there was Doc Martin coming out of his office, no medical bag in his hand, no harassed look in his expression. He was grinning broadly and carrying a fishing pole of all things. Portrait of a man whose out-of-town trip was about to take a different direction.

Adam pulled Beauty to a skidding halt that had the outraged horse half-rearing in the street. “Doc, you’ve got to get out to the house—Joe’s been shot. It’s bad. He won’t stop bleeding.”

Paul Martin just looked at him for a second. “I’ll get my bag.”

“Get the one that’s got a miracle in it,” Adam said grimly. “I’m going for Roy. Then I’ll have to change horses—but don’t wait for me. I’ll catch you up.”

He woke Roy none too gently from an afternoon nap at his desk, explained the situation as quickly as he could, and then rushed to the livery stable as Roy began to assemble a posse.

Speeding back home, for some reason Adam found his mind going back to the time he, Philip Diedesheimer, and Paul Martin had gotten drunk and toasted the future of mankind in the Sazarac. Mainly, he was remembering the one innovation Paul had been so worked up about…and why in the name of God didn’t it work?

*

When he ran up the stairs and into Joe’s room he knew the news was bad; Hoss had tears coursing freely down his cheeks and had the unfortunate doctor’s arm in a bruising grip. “Not with all that education you got,” he was saying. “Not with all the other times you’ve said it’s up to the Lord and everything was fine. You can’t just give up cold.”

Shivering inside, Adam approached the two. Paul was bent over Little Joe and probing the still-bleeding wound…Little Joe was looking like a wax impression, unmoving, but his breathing was rapid and shallow, like a panting dog. Hoss looked desperately at Adam. “He says there’s nothing to be done—says Little Joe’s lost too much blood…tell him he’s wrong, Adam!”

“He IS wrong, Hoss,” Adam said with grim determination. “Paul, you can fix this.”

“Adam, I’m sorry…do you think I rode all the way out here to tell you there’s no way to save him?” Paul replied gently. “That bullet didn’t just crack his collarbone. It ricocheted off and cut through the subclavian vein—that’s a big vein, as thick as your little finger. I started stitching, but he’ll bleed out before I get done. He’s lost almost 30% of his blood volume already; he’s in shock and his heart’s going faster than a racehorse…as it is I can give him something to make it a little easier…maybe give you time to say goodb—”

“No!” Adam snapped. “Nobody’s saying goodbye. Don’t you remember? That night we talked about transferring blood from one person to another? Well, I’m right here, Paul, so is Hoss, and between the two of us—”

“You mean we can—give our own blood to Little Joe?” Hoss cried, looking from one to the other. “Why didn’t you say so before?”

The doctor shouted, “You were only half-listening, Adam! Yes, we can do it, but it works about one time out of ten! The odds are so bad that in the whole Civil War we only tried it twice, and one of them still died!”

“All right!” Adam replied. “It’s a damned small chance—but it’s better than no chance at all, which is what you’re giving him by doing nothing. I know you’ve got the equipment to do it—you showed it to me that night and said you wished you could have a chance to use it. Well, I volunteer.”

Paul wavered. “It probably won’t work, Adam—and you might die too, if there’s a backwash…We don’t know how or why the process works sometimes and doesn’t others—”

“We’ll argue about it some other time,” Hoss cut in. “Tell us what to do to get ready.”

“Bring a bunk bed in, and a lot of pillows. The donor needs to be up higher than the receiver. Gravity…Blundell used a pump. I don’t have one…” He shook his head. “There’s a guy in France who claims—”

“This ain’t France,” Hoss yelled over his shoulder on his way out. “Figure out how to do it right here.”

“This isn’t going to…”

“Shut up,” Adam said. “Doc, tell Hop Sing what you need from him, and either sew that damn vein or hold it together with your hands until we get back.”

They dashed for the bunkhouse and brought back the one nearest the door. With minimal cursing, they got it to the top of the stairs and into the room next to Joe’s bed.

“Get into your nightclothes, whichever of you is going to be the donor,” Paul said without looking up, continuing to sew. “You’ll be lying down for a long time. And I mean a long time.”

“Hoss, round up the pillows,” Adam ordered. “I’ll get my nightshirt.”

“You get the pillows,” Hoss replied. “We both know who’s got the most blood here.”

“Hoss, I’m the oldest—” that was as far as he got before the huge fist slammed into his jaw and sent him crashing into the wall and sliding down to the floor.

Hoss looked at Paul Martin. “Be right back. You do what you need to do.” Martin glanced at Adam, then returned to Joe as Hop Sing came in with two steaming buckets of water.

“What else I get?” Hop Sing asked, also careful not to pay any attention to Adam, who was shaking his head, trying to see if he had any teeth left.

“Towels…and whatever else you can think of,” Martin replied.

By the time Hoss came back, pillows and cushions under each arm and his nightshirt gripped in his teeth, Adam was struggling to his feet and glaring for all he was worth at his bigger brother.

“Sorry, Adam,” Hoss said quickly as Adam came over.

“No you’re not,” Adam muttered, grabbing a pillow. “Get changed…I’ll set the bed up.”

Paul wiped his hands on a towel and moved to his medical bag. He removed a small glass jar with two large, hollow needles, and a long, thin tube made of cow intestine. “Pour some hot water through this,” he said, handing the tube to Adam. “And wash these.” Paul handed him the two long needles. Wiping his mouth on his fist, Adam complied. When he got back, Paul inserted a needle into either end of the tube.

“Hoss,” Paul said, tying a tourniquet around Joe’s right arm, “this is dangerous, you need to understand. You’re a big fella, you’ve got maybe up to seven quarts of blood in your body. I’m gonna be taking a lot of it to put into Little Joe, because I’ve got to keep him from bleeding to death AND I’ve got to sew that vein up. If I take too much blood from you, you’ll die. If I can’t get you to stop bleeding when it’s done, you’ll die. You also need to understand, if there’s any kind of backwash, and his blood comes back into your body, you might have a reaction to it and then you could—”

“I said we’d argue later,” Hoss said in a low voice. Paul sighed.

“What else can I do?” Adam asked quietly.

“You can get out and let me work. Go pray.”

“No,” Hoss said softly. “He can pray just as well up here as downstairs. And, Adam…it might be askin’ some after that trick I pulled, but…will you stay by me?”

“Of course, Hoss.” He joined Hoss on the other side.

Hoss looked over at the still form of his younger brother. “Sure is quiet, ain’t he. Don’t look natural if he ain’t skitterin’ around like a bat.”

“Yeah,” Adam whispered.

Paul looked over at Hoss. “I’m going to put this needle into the big vein in your arm, Hoss. It’s going to hurt some. Don’t fight it and don’t move.”

Hoss laughed weakly. “He don’t ask for much, eh Adam?”

“I wanted to do this myself, you big galoot—”

“Shhh. Let me work,” Paul said. “Hoss, you keep still and quit yer bellyachin’. If this was Petersburg I’d be stickin’ a syringe into your neck every ten minutes—but we don’t have time for that now.” Hoss winced and the needle was in. Paul pushed it in further, and quickly tied it down with a length of twine wrapped several times around the arm. “Now don’t move. You move, that needle comes loose, we’re in a world of hurt. Anything from yanking the needle out and bleeding everywhere to getting an air bubble.” He released the tourniquet and turned back to Joe, who had already had the other needle inserted into his arm and tied down. Carefully he released the tourniquet on Joe’s arm as well. Looking at Hoss, he asked, “Feel anything?”

“Not much…arm’s a little cold, maybe. I’m okay. Adam, I didn’t hurt you much, did I?”

“Just my pride.” Adam faked a grin.

“I pulled it at the last,” Hoss said in concern.

“I could tell. It wasn’t the first time. At least this time the world didn’t go completely black.”

“Shhhh.” Paul was listening to Joe’s heart. “It’s settling down a little. That’s a good thing. Everybody keep quiet. I’m gonna go back in and finish that vein now, before Hoss loses consciousness.”

“I ain’t never passed out in my life,” Hoss said, swallowing thickly. “Why would I start now?”

“Don’t worry, Hoss, you’ll be fine,” Adam said, hoping he sounded authoritative.

Hop Sing came in, carrying an armload of towels and a glass jar full of salt. He put them down on the bed near where the doctor was standing, and crept back to Adam. “Sheriff here with posse.”

Adam thought for a minute. “I’m not leaving here. Ask Mutton Jim to take them out to the south pasture fence line, and follow the line southwest. Jim knows the way.”

Hop Sing nodded, looked back at Hoss and Joe, and swallowed. “Everything be fine, Mr. Adam.” He smiled; Adam, lost in his own thoughts, just nodded.

“Doc,” Adam began.

“Shhh. This ain’t easy, in case you haven’t noticed. Like trying to sew buttered leather at night in a downpour.”

“How fast will you know if it’s working?” Adam asked anyway, trying not to sound anxious.

“If it’s not working, we’ll know fast enough. At the worst, he’ll have a heart attack. That’s why I keep listening. So far his heart’s still going too fast, but it’s not irregular. There could still be a less deadly but very dangerous reaction, and then he’d be shivering, shooting up a fever, or the puncture site would turn red and burn enough to wake him up from the pain. That’s the way it usually goes.”

“What’ll you do…if he starts showin’ any of those signs?” Hoss asked.

“I shut this whole thing down.”

“No, you don’t,” Adam insisted. “You wash out the tube and needles and start again with me. One of us is bound to be right. We’re family, we ought to have the same kind of blood.”

“That’s not how it works!” Paul’s angry reply came back. “I told you, we haven’t figured out why it works sometimes and doesn’t work others. The best theory is that different people have different kinds of blood, but we don’t know how to tell them apart. And even in a family, it’s not always the same—and it doesn’t matter if Joe is able to accept Hoss’s blood, because Hoss might not be able to accept Joe’s if there’s a backwash. Besides, you’re not even full brothers. You’re only half-brothers.”

“We’re not HALF anything,” Hoss yelled back. “We’re all full-blooded Cartwrights!”

Paul checked the tubing. “Hoss, keep still! Adam, we just don’t know—science has a long way to go before we figure out the human body. Now both of you shut up and let me do this!”

Hoss reached out, and Adam took his hand and squeezed.  “Adam…Adam, I feel funny…”

Adam patted Hoss’s shoulder with his free hand. “Think about it, Hoss—you’re bleeding now, even if you can’t feel it. That’s gonna weaken you, just like if you were bleeding from a wound. You have to keep quiet and still.”

Hoss’s eyes glazed. “Oh, brother…I think I’m gonna be sick…”

Adam grabbed the wash basin and moved it into position just in time. Then he took a towel to clean Hoss’s face…and his own shirt, as Hoss’s aim had been less than perfect. Paul Martin ignored them, his eyes moving back and forth between Hoss and Joe, looking, Adam supposed, for some sign of a reaction. Little Joe was as still as before, limp and unresponsive. Hoss looked seasick.

Looking over at Paul, Adam demanded, “What’s going on? Why’s Hoss getting sick?”

“You said it yourself, Adam. He’s losing blood.”

“Is Joe takin’ it okay?” Hoss put in, craning his neck to look.

“Seems to be,” Adam whispered. Hoss was gripping his hand so hard it hurt.

“Adam?”

“Yeah.”

“What you said before, about me hittin’ you…I’m awful sorry about Regan…and Helen…I knew you was just—”

“Don’t worry about it, Hoss. Over and done with a long time ago.”

“Adam?”

“Yeah.” He had to make a real effort to keep his voice level; Hoss was crushing his hand.

“Is the ceiling moving?”

“Huh?” He looked up at the ceiling and back at Hoss.

“No, the ceiling’s not moving.”

“I was…afraid a’that. What makes people get dizzy?”

“Different things…are you dizzy?”

Hoss swallowed that funny way again, and turned green.

“You need the bowl again, Hoss?”

“Yeah…”

Paul looked up from his stitching, and produced a bloody red finger to shake at Adam as Hoss heaved into the basin. “Keep him quiet! He’s shaking, and when Hoss shakes, the whole damn room shakes. I’m nearly done…”

Adam’s frustration was rising to the surface—the shaking was hardly anything he or Hoss could do anything about—but the last thing Joe needed was for Paul to become distracted. He kept quiet and eased Hoss back against the pillows.

“Adam,” Hoss whispered again.

“Yeah, buddy.”

“I’m tired…”

“It’s okay,” Adam said soothingly, not sure if it was true. “Keep your eyes closed and just relax.”

“Too tired to open my eyes,” Hoss whispered again. “Think I might just…pass out after all. I shoulda wrote Pa last weekend, Adam. I meant to, but…so tired…I think I gotta sleep now. But we ain’t been up that long…”

Adam looked anxiously over at Paul. How long was this process supposed to go on, anyway? How fast was Hoss losing blood? How much could he lose before he was in danger?

“Adam…is it okay to be a little bit skeered?”

Adam swallowed. “Hoss, you ain’t ever been scared of anything.”

“I am now.”

“Don’t be, buddy. Just hold my hand. We’re nearly done, I’m sure of it.”

“Wish…Lady was here. She always…makes me…feel better…”

“I’ll bring her in later. Just stick with me, brother.”

There was no reply, but the painful pressure on his hand relaxed.

“Paul, he’s unconscious!”

“All right, Adam…one more minute…” Adam began flexing his sore hand, keeping the other on Hoss’s arm.

A few minutes later Paul turned back to Hoss, wiping his bloodied hands on a towel. “Okay, Adam, get over there and be ready to put that tourniquet back on Joe’s arm while I do the same for Hoss.” Ignoring the pain in his hand, Adam did so, looking carefully at the part of Joe’s arm where the needle stuck out. It was a little pink, but not red. And Joe’s face was still pale, but it had lost that waxy look.

Hoss was also pale, but Paul listened to his heart and nodded, satisfied. “Just a minute or two longer, Adam. Gotta finish the muscle.”

“Are you kidding?”

“No; he can lose a little more, I think…I just want to be sure Joe’s got enough. Damn, I wish I had some leeches…”

At Adam’s stare he shrugged. “They’d keep the puncture area from getting inflamed. Okay now…” He pulled Hoss’s hand up, removed the needle in one swift motion, and clamped the towel down on the puncture, still holding the arm up. “You saw how I did that, right Adam?”

“Yes.”

“You do the same for Joe—and really hold that towel down. We don’t want all that nice new blood coming back out.” Feeling sick to his stomach, Adam applied the tourniquet and pulled the needle out, pulling up Joe’s arm and pressing the towel down over the puncture site. “Now what?”

“Remove the tourniquet…keep that pressure on and wait and make sure it’s really quit bleeding.”

“Why did Hoss faint?”

Paul laughed without much humor. “Blood loss, of course. I probably took about three pints out of him. Not real sure since we didn’t have a good way to measure it. I was just going by time and how fast I thought the blood flowed.”

“Is he in any danger?”

“Not as long as the bleeding stops where I put the hole in his vein. Lift Joe’s arm a little higher…good.”

Paul pronounced it safe to bandage the arms. “That went well, Adam; better than I expected…Joe’s not out of the woods yet, but I’m thinking that as long as he doesn’t have a major reaction in the next few hours, he’s got a fighting chance. I’m glad you talked me into it.”

“I’m sorry that much persuasion was necessary.”

Paul shrugged. “People get less inclined to take chances as they get older. Twenty years ago I would’ve been pulling at the bit. And yeah, I was still pulling five years ago, too. Look, the important thing is now. If Joe makes it through the night, I’m pretty sure he’ll be okay…provided there’s no major infection of course.”

“That’s what the salt is for?”

“Yes, keep it handy. And listen, Hoss is gonna be weak and dizzy for a couple of days. And him being Hoss, he won’t find that easy to take. Give them both lots of broth with the bone marrow in. It’ll help build their blood back. I don’t want to bandage up Joe’s wound just yet. The bullet went in the back and came out the front, and now that the bleeding’s stopped I’d really like to let it dry a bit before I cover it up. So I think in a few hours you and Hop Sing should turn him over, and let the back get a little air, too. Then turn him back again. Tomorrow I’ll see what everything looks like and decide what to do next.”

Adam smiled faintly. “At least you sound like you think they’ll both be here tomorrow.”

“Chances seem pretty good. I need to leave by seven, though; there’s a shipment of morphine coming in on the late stage that I have to sign for. I just gave the last of my supply to Little Joe, so he’ll need another dose in the morning. It’s not likely, but if he wakes up hurting tonight, give him a little laudanum if you have any; otherwise some of the smoothest brandy you’ve got. I’ll be back in the morning, early. Adam…there’s still a lot that can go wrong in the first few hours—wish I could stay longer—although to tell you the truth, at this point, we’re committed. Keep an eye on him.”

“All right,” Adam said. “Paul…thanks. Sorry I was a little, um…rude.”

Paul shrugged, smiling. “Think you’re the first Cartwright to ever disagree with me? By the way, Adam…might not want to publicize what we just did. We still don’t know what makes it work, and I can’t go ’round just trying this at a whim.”

“I don’t see much whimsical about it,” Adam muttered.

Hop Sing stuck his head in. “Everything okay?”

“We hope so,” Paul said.

“Good. Mr. Adam, sheriff here. Also need doctor.”

“Me? What for?” Paul asked.

Hop Sing shrugged. “Bring man with arm bloody.”

Adam clenched his fists and headed down the stairs, closely followed by the doctor.

 

 

Chapter 6

Mutton Jim had taken the posse out to the fence line. Within a few minutes they had located the scene of the shooting, clipped the perimeter wire and gone on to look for the shooter. And to their great surprise they found a red-haired youngster and a man Mutton Jim recognized as Orlow Bender, one of the two recently departed ranch hands.

Bender’s howls of pain had been the main factor assisting them in locating the pair, who, judging from the blood trails in the crushed grass, had been in the middle of the clearing when the shot was fired, and had beat a hasty retreat to the woodline after his injury. And as to the injury itself, he had multiple slashes on his right arm that looked something like wolf bites. Bender himself was in too much pain to explain anything, but the red-haired kid had informed Sheriff Coffee that they were minding their own business when a wolf had attacked them and with no provocation or warning. Sure, they had fired a shot, but they had only fired at the wolf, and it wasn’t their fault if some jackass on a horse happened to get in the way.

All this Roy explained briefly to Adam while Paul muttered and swore and saw to Bender’s arm. And Adam listened in something that might have been incredulous amusement if he hadn’t had two brothers lying unconscious just upstairs. Ignoring Bender, he turned to the red-haired kid, whose name, he had learned, was Dex. “So that’s the way it happened, huh?” he asked quietly, but turned the full power of the Cartwright stare onto the kid—who would not meet his eyes for more than a couple of seconds.

“You callin’ me a liar?” the kid snarled.

“You sure it was a wolf that went after you?” Adam asked.

“It was a wolf all right. Long and lean and big yeller eyes and he liked to tore my uncle’s arm off.”

“What were you doing on our property to begin with?”

Dex looked down at the ground. “Wasn’t no fence.”

“And didn’t I tell you last month when I chased you off that our land was posted, and didn’t I point out to you exactly where it started?”

The kid looked up at him then, and smiled. He looked unfriendly without the smile; he looked hateful with it. “I ain’t never seen you before, Mister. I dunno you from Adam.”

“Funny,” Adam said. “I do believe I introduced myself to you, and I may even have used my name—Adam. But if you don’t remember me, that’s fine. I bet you remember who was with me, though, don’t you?”

“Dunno what you mean!” the kid yelped. “Sheriff, I wanna bring charges. He’s callin’ me a liar!”

“Adam,” Roy said gently, “I can’t rightly follow your line of questioning. It’s plain that some kind of critter did attack them, and I don’t know a wolf around here that’s been tamed. Now I can arrest these two for trespassing if you like, but it’s their word against yours that they shot Little Joe a’ purpose. And you weren’t even there, ain’t that right?”

“Just a minute, Roy,” Adam replied. “Can you come with me for a minute? Someone I want you to meet.”

Roy followed him, looking even more confused than usual. “Adam, what are you up to?”

“Wait here for a minute,” Adam said, opening the barn door and stepping in, to be hit by a silent, silver-white ball of fur that jumped on his chest and bestowed large sloppy kisses everywhere she could reach. Well, someone must have given her a bath; the blood was gone and she was a little damp. He patted her briefly and then said “Off—sit!” Lady sat down reluctantly, quivering all over. “Come on in, Roy,” Adam called.

Lady had learned by now that when her people invited others in, she was not to bark. However, it didn’t mean she had to like their being there. She looked Roy up and down, woofed softly in disgust, and turned back to Adam.

“What the dickens is that?” Roy asked. “It certainly ain’t a wolf, but it’s about the funniest lookin’ dog I ever saw. Where’d she get that long, skinny snout and all them black freckles?”

Adam shrugged. “Pretty well behaved, though, don’t you think?”

“I reckon, but you have her tied up, don’t you?”

“Let’s go outside,” Adam said softly, with an almost wolf-like smile of his own that made Roy uncomfortable. “Lady, let’s go. Lady—close.”

She bunched herself against Adam’s left leg, still darting suspicious glances at Roy, and the three went back outside. She snarled softly at the half-dozen posse members standing around, but went quiet at Adam’s warning.

“Roy, you see there’s no rope on the dog, right?”

“Yeah, guess so! Why?”

“Would you say she’s still pretty well behaved? Obedient to commands?”

“Seems so.”

Lady saw—or more likely smelled—the red-headed kid, and the growl she emitted turned the kid deathly white. She didn’t move from Adam’s side, but he could feel her trembling against him.

“Don’t you do it!” the kid screamed. “I swore I’d have her pelt before and so help me—”

“Oh, but we never met before, isn’t that what you said?”

“Get her outta here or I’ll kill her!”

“I think it might be the other way around. And her eyes are BLUE.”

It was Seddy Williams, first in line to get his face slapped by every woman who misunderstood his mumbling, first to trip over things that weren’t there—a hard luck case’s worst case of hard luck—who had the misfortune to be standing next to the kid, and it was Seddy’s holster that the kid reached for. And for Adam it was all the justification needed. But he didn’t go for his own gun. He just said, “Lady, get him.” And by the time the kid had raised the pistol, 65 pounds of wrathful collie had landed on his chest. The gun blew a hole through the wall of the barn, just under the roof, but Adam’s voice rang out again just as Lady’s teeth tore into the boy’s sleeve. “Lady, OFF! OFF!”

There was no mistaking the look on the dog’s face. Any kid who’s ever been given the toy he wanted most in the world—and then told to eat his liver-and-onion dinner before playtime—had the same expression. But she backed slowly away from Dex: silent, rigid, her blue eyes fixed on him.

“I told you that thing attacked us!” The kid screamed as Roy approached with handcuffs.

“No, you didn’t,” Roy said calmly. “You said it was a wild wolf, and even I can see it’s a tame dog. And this dog doesn’t like you, boy, but she didn’t attack you until her master told her to, and she stopped when he told her to as well—and without even drawin’ blood. This is a trained beast. So I’d just about bet she didn’t go after you this morning unless Joe told her to—and Joe wouldn’t’ve done that without one heck of a good reason. And in case you didn’t know, grabbin’ the gun from the holster of a deputy sheriff is considered an assault on an officer of the law. Iffen I was you I’d be real quiet like a little church mouse from now on, or you’re gonner end up UNDER the jail. Do you understand?”

“Roy,” Adam said in his most level tone, “at some point, I’d just about bet someone’s going to want to post bail on these two. I wouldn’t do it if I were you.”

“That’s for the judge to decide.”

“Okay,” Adam shrugged, his eyes on Bender and Dex. “But I’m telling you for their protection. Because if either of my brothers should happen to die, I’m going to take my dog on a hunt for these two and when we find them, we’ll tear ’em apart, limb from limb.”

*

Adam was sitting in Little Joe’s room watching his two brothers and feeling as if he had just lived an entire week in that one day. He couldn’t remember ever in his life being more tired—and yet he didn’t dare go to sleep, because if he did, something might happen. There wasn’t enough room for a chair between the two beds, so he had pulled it over by Hoss’s bunk. That way he could look at both of them.

They weren’t out of the woods yet, Paul had said. But, so far, Joe’s blood didn’t seem at odds with Hoss’s, although Adam couldn’t see how anyone could object to Hoss’s blood; surely any blood of Hoss’s had to be as easygoing as the rest of him.

The posse was long gone, having borrowed a wagon to take Orlow Bender and the hateful kid, Dex, to jail. No one else had been found in the woods. Both Orlow and Dex insisted there was no one else, but Adam was fairly certain that the other hired hand, Biggs, was hiding somewhere back there, for what purpose he had no idea. “Probably find out soon enough,” he muttered to no one.

He picked up his copy of Les Misérables, hoping Hugo had written some particularly interesting stuff in the section he’d be reading. Otherwise he’d fall asleep right over the book.

Hop Sing came in with a large cup of coffee for him. “Boys wake up?”

“Not yet. They probably won’t, tonight.”

“Then why not you rest? Need strength to care for brothers.”

“In a little while.”

“Fine. I bring up dinner. Then you rest.”

“In a little while.”

“No eat now?”

“In a little while.”

“Mister Adam,” Hop Sing finally sighed. “Not say good in poor English but must try. You not God, even if think so. What happens, must happen. Whether you wish or not. Whether you there or not.”

Adam looked at him. “You said it just fine, Hop Sing. Thank you.” He jerked his head toward the door. “I’ll eat in a little while.”

Hop Sing glided back to the door. After two more vain attempts in the intervening hours, he put the food away.

It was a long and silent night. Neither Hoss nor Joe regained consciousness. In fact, Adam—the worrywart, they had called him more than once—found himself patrolling from one bed to the other time and again, just to make sure they were still breathing. He felt as if the room got smaller with every breath he took. And he couldn’t keep reading. The book’s hero, Jean Valjean, was now hiding in a coffin to escape the police, and the coffin was being buried. The last thing Adam wanted to think of right then was coffins and burials. But perhaps he should write his father…he shook his head. “Even if they let him go, by the time he got here it would all be over one way or another. Worse, if they don’t let him go, he’ll be stuck out there worrying.”

Nope. There was nothing for it but to keep on going as best he could. When—and he had to make himself say “when” and not “if”—both brothers were better, he would write to Pa, minimizing the injuries and assuring him that everyone was fine.

Doc Martin returned at dawn, bringing morphine. Joe had not yet regained consciousness, but he had moaned and shifted several times, enough that Adam knew he was hurting and had risked spooning a little laudanum into him.

“You up all night?” Paul asked.

“Is this the part where you give me a speech about the importance of rest?”

“No, I figure you’ve heard it before,” Paul said. “And if you’re too stubborn, or too stupid, to recognize the symptoms, then it’s a waste of my valuable time. Just make sure you’ve got a couple of hands near the ranch today or tomorrow, because you’re gonna end up on the floor, and Hop Sing can’t lift you by himself.”

Adam smiled. “You’re a good friend, Paul. Tell me about these two. Joe’s been in some pain, but I haven’t heard a peep out of Hoss.”

“I’d say Joe’s about ready to have his arm fastened up. He won’t like it, but we’ve got to start letting that collar bone mend. If he’s moving around, he’ll be conscious soon. But Hoss…I’m not sure.” He shrugged. “I’m in unplowed fields here. Nobody’s ever taken this much blood from a living person before, not that I know of.”

“What?” Adam found himself grateful that he was leaning against Joe’s bed; otherwise the shock might have sent him to the floor.

“I knew I could take at least one pint from him; pretty sure I could get two…but it was that last one that worried me a little. I’d guess that he’s all right, just very weak.”

“But if he’s too weak to wake up…then he won’t be able to eat. And he’ll get weaker still.”

“I’d say let him rest for another 24 hours or so. Spoon a little water into him if you can. I’m just guessing, Adam, but let’s face it, Hoss is a well-nourished man and strong. He ought to be able to last a little while without food, and another two days even without water if he has to. But, if he hasn’t awakened by tonight sometime, try bringing him around. He doesn’t have to stay awake long, just enough time to get some water and broth into him. That’s what he’ll need most.”

“Yesterday you said the only problem was if he didn’t stop bleeding.”

“That was the problem—yesterday. Now the immediate problem is getting them conscious, especially Hoss. I’d be a lot more comfortable if he’d wake up—even if it’s only groaning and shifting around, like Joe. But…let’s not go borrowing trouble. You know what the Good Book says; ‘sufficient to the day is the evil—‘”

“Yeah,” Adam murmured. “I know it.”

“Listen, Adam, do you have anyone who can help you? If your father—”

“If he left today it would take him more than two weeks to get here, Paul. It’s just me.”

“What about your cousin? I know Will Cartwright is back in town—and while I know you two didn’t part under the best of terms—”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Paul shrugged. “I know that business with Laura was a bit ugly, but she’s forgiven you—”

“What business with Laura? Forgiven me? For what?”

“Sorry Adam. None of my business. Anyway, you really do need some help here. I can ask around in town…”

“Paul, that posse was home last night before six o’clock, and I’ll bet the news was on the street five minutes later. People know what happened out here; or at least, they know enough. If they wanted to help, they’d help. And I’d accept it, gratefully. But Cartwrights don’t beg. Nor do they enlist the family doctor to do their begging for them.”

The doctor shrugged and flicked his finger against the big syringe.

“What’s that?” Adam demanded.

“Morphine. He’s in a lot of pain, he’ll need it. Remember I told you I had to sign for a shipment?”

“Um…don’t give him very much,” Adam said, watching as Paul probed for a vein.

“Why not? This stuff is a wonder drug; everybody wants it.”

“Yeah…I’m not comfortable with it.”

“Well, Joe will be, and he’s the one hurting.”

“All right, fine—but no more.”

“Why? Laudanum doesn’t last as long or do as much.”

“And men don’t crave it as much either,” Adam said, feeling his skin crawl as the needle went in Joe’s arm. “I’ve seen fellas in Virginia City that were hurt in the War and they get strange cravings…some people say it’s a craving for morphine.”

“Some people say it’s not.”

“Yeah, but this is my brother here. I’ll let him have this, but from now on it’s laudanum.”

Paul sighed. But, not one to waste his time with a granite-headed Cartwright, he left soon after.

The day dragged. Mutton Jim came over, asking for direction; Adam went over, as best he could, the things he wanted to begin on that day, but he was having difficulty concentrating. Fortunately Jim knew enough of what Adam wanted to figure out the rest.

Adam read a little more. He even got his Bible out and read it for a while, but though he knew that perfect love “casteth out fear” he discovered his love for his brothers was not perfect. It couldn’t have been—because he was afraid.

Hop Sing got Lady for her chores, but she broke another egg, and returned to Adam in disgrace. She slunk into the room and timidly thrust her nose into his hand.

“It’s not your fault if you’re clumsy today,” he murmured. “If you’re even half as worried as I am, you broke every egg you found.” He sighed. “I never said thanks, did I? My Lord, if you hadn’t found us when you did and showed us where to find Little Joe, it might’ve been too late for him anyway.” He held out both hands. Without hesitation Lady leaned against his knee, and he rubbed her forehead the way she liked.

“Hoss, you’re right,” Adam said softly. “She does make you feel better just by being around.” He looked back at Lady, feeling marginally less afraid. “Maybe dogs have perfect love.”

Adam subsisted most of the day on coffee, his stomach in too much of a knot to attempt eating. At a little after eight p.m., he dozed off in the chair.

And when he awoke, at a little before midnight, someone was singing an old French song that Marie used to sing to Little Joe. Adam dragged his head up and forced his eyes open as the singing continued. The first thing he saw was Lady, lying next to his feet. He looked up and saw Hoss, a bit pale, lying on a bunk piled high with pillows and cushions. Then the memory slammed into him, and he whirled his head to see Little Joe, apparently asleep but smiling faintly—and there was Tilly Hoffman, sitting on the side of the bed, holding Joe’s hand and singing.

Adam jumped up, and put two fingers to Joe’s throat. There was a pulse, possibly a little weak, but steady. And there was the faintest hint of color on his cheeks. Tilly Hoffman, still singing softly, looked over at Adam and smiled.

*

Three hours earlier:

Hop Sing heard the cantering hooves coming into the yard, got out of his bed, and pulled on his robe. When he got to the door, he found Tilly Hoffman, shivering in the night air.

“Missy Hoffman,” he smiled. “Please, welcome. I take coat.”

“Hop Sing, is there anything I can do?”

“Maybe. Everyone sleep now. You want see boys?”

“Can you tell me what happened first? I saw Adam gallop in yesterday morning when the children were out for recess, and I couldn’t tell what had happened, but from the way the doctor and the sheriff rode out, it had to have been bad. Later, some men were saying Hoss and Little Joe were shot…”

“Only Little Joe shot. Not know how it happen.”

Tilly swallowed. “Will he…will he be all right?”

“Doctor and Mister Adam not sure. Hop Sing sure, but nobody ask,” he smiled. “Come and see.”

He led her up the stairs to Little Joe’s room where Joe lay unnaturally silent and pale, shirtless, his upper left chest covered by a loose dressing and his left arm tied tightly at an angle across his body. His right arm was covered by a purple bruise. On a small bunk bed a few feet away, Hoss—also very white—lay in a striped nightshirt with one sleeve rolled up and a corresponding bruise on his left arm. And in a small kitchen chair next to Hoss, Adam sat dozing, his head nodding periodically when he shifted as if trying not to fall out of the chair. He had his bare feet propped on Lady’s silver-gray back.

“What happened to Hoss?” Tilly asked, her voice in that automatic muted tone used in the presence of death and disease.

“Uh, he sleep.”

“Adam should be in bed,” Tilly said.

Hop Sing nodded, resigned. “You convince him. Maybe have better luck than Hop Sing.”

“May I have another chair, please?”

“Arm chair in corner. You no want?”

“No. Too heavy and too far away. And too comfortable; I’ll need to stay awake.”

“I bring.” He paused to look curiously at her. “Nice that you come, Missy Hoffman.”

A smile and a shrug. “How could I not?”

Hop Sing nodded and left.

“Mr. Cartwright.” She touched Adam’s arm. “Why don’t you go to bed? I’ll watch your brothers for you.”

“’n’a’li’lwhile,” he mumbled without moving. “’ll eat’n’a’li’lwhile Hopsn…”

Hop Sing carried in another kitchen chair, and beckoned her to step over to him. “Missy Hoffman, when Mister Adam like that, best no wake. He mean sometime when wake up too fast.”

“There are a lot of things about that man that don’t make sense.” Tilly shook her head. “Well, I’ll be staying for a bit, Hop Sing.”

There was a thick book on the floor near Adam’s feet; he had probably been reading when he dozed off. She got up, made her way over as quietly as she could, stopped to pat Lady’s head for a moment, and picked up the book. Les Misérables. She smiled; she had been in Spain when the book was first published in France, and had heard about some of the uproar it had caused. Adam’s copy seemed new; that surprised her. The book had been published almost seven years ago. But it probably took a while for books such as this to find Nevada, she thought, settling down to read.

At one point Hop Sing brought her a cup of coffee; at some other point, she finished it and later, she had no idea when, he appeared out of nowhere with another cup. Downstairs a clock chimed midnight. She was taking a sip from the second cup when she heard the sound, and raised her head in surprise. Little Joe was not exactly awake. He was trying to hum; just managing a phrase here and there, but it was a French song with which she was familiar.

Then he moved just a little—and moaned softly. “Little Joe,” she whispered. “Lie still.”

He moaned again, moving his legs. “Maman…Maman…”

She took a deep breath and began to sing the song he had been trying to hum.

Auprès de ma blonde,
Qu’il fait bon, fait bon, fait bon.
Auprès de ma blonde,
Qu’il fait bon dormir!

Joe smiled faintly. “Maman…” he whispered, and went back to sleep.

Chapter 7

Adam was on his feet, checking Joe’s pulse. “I guess he’s all right,” he finally muttered, and then looked sharply at Tilly. “Why are you here?”

She shook her head. “The real question is, where is everyone else?”

“Huh?”

“In Savannah, people help a family that’s sick or suffering. I knew something bad had happened at the Ponderosa. Everyone knew. In my brief walk from the school to my room and then out to the livery stable, I heard it being talked about in the street. No one really knew what had happened but they knew Joe was shot and they knew a posse had been put together. When the posse returned there was talk that Hoss and Joe had both been shot. I couldn’t come last night or I would have—but even so, I thought others would be here. Why didn’t anyone come? The Cartwrights are held in such esteem that I was sure the house would be full of baskets of food, and people helping out around the clock. Instead I find you, obviously exhausted, and no one but Hop Sing to help. What the devil is wrong with those people? And where is Will Cartwright? He’s your family by blood, and yet he and his wife aren’t even here.”

Her tirade had been spoken softly, but the anger carried, and her slight accent had gotten stronger. Adam smiled. “Settle down, girl. I told you once that you’re naïve. Are you telling me that you’re just being neighborly?”

“Of course, Mr. Cartwright. How can I not? Hoss and Little Joe have been nothing but kind to me since I arrived here. They seem almost to have adopted me.”

Adam had a ghost of a smile. “In that case you might as well call me Adam, after all—‘Cousin’ Tilly.”

She looked at him steadily. “All right, ‘Cousin’ Adam.”

“What happened just now with Little Joe?”

“Oh.” She grinned. “Nothing. He wanted his mama.” A shrug. “Even the biggest, meanest man alive will call for his mama if he’s hurt bad enough.”

“Do you think he was in pain?”

“Must’ve been. He moaned a little at first. But when I sang to him, he went back to sleep.”

“I think I took the laudanum downstairs…dunno why…”

“Hop Sing will bring it up. Tell me what happened, Adam.”

Adam made a face. “Joe got shot. That’s about the size of it.”

“Not nearly. I don’t see any bullet holes in Hoss.”

“Well…he can’t stand the sight of blood, so he fainted.”

“Very funny.”

A sigh. “Joe…needed help. And Hoss being Hoss, he overdid it. My brothers are very generous people, Tilly. I can’t really say more than that about it.”

Tilly decided not to press the issue…for now. “Did Little Joe’s mother really sing that song to him?”

“Yes, they sang it together before he went to sleep, whether it was napping or nighttime. Marie—Joe’s mother—said it was a lullaby, which made no sense to me.”

“Well, for drunks, maybe,” Tilly said with a smile. “That’s been a tavern song in Paris for a couple hundred years. I suppose Joe’s mother was French?”

“French Creole,” Adam replied. “And I guess she’d know the tavern songs. Joe’s mother led an…interesting life before she met my father. Knowing her sense of humor, she probably would’ve called a tavern song a lullaby too.”

“Well then, probably I’d’ve liked her, too.”

“You probably would’ve, since you know tavern songs.”

“Adam, surely you’ve heard the expression, ‘when in Rome…’”

He smiled. “And you said you were never a saloon girl.”

“Only an occasional customer. And only in Paris.” She smiled back. “What was Marie like?”

“Oh, she was charming, all right. Pa doted on her, Hoss worshiped her, and with her and Joe it was mutual adoration.”

“How did you like her?”

His tone became guarded. “She took a little getting used to.” He shook his head. “By the time I was comfortable around her, she was gone.”

“I’m sorry. That would be hard.”

Adam shrugged. “She lasted the longest of any of Pa’s wives. I was just about to start thinking we were going to keep her. I mean, she and Pa were married five years.” And three months…and six days. I know…because after her funeral I took out the calendar and counted. “I wish she could’ve stuck around longer.”

“What about Hoss’s mother?”

He smiled fondly. “Only about a year and a half. She was tall and strong and built like an oak tree. Swedish. Probably the kindest person I ever met. Hoss is a lot like her.”

“And yours?”

“Don’t know. I’ve only known her through my father’s stories, and he doesn’t talk about her much. Pa says I get my love of reading from her. I’m told she died less than an hour after I was born.”

“Oh, my.”

“Pa said…he said she held me before she died. Told me she loved me and that she’d always be with me.” He looked away, wondering why he’d said such a thing. Focusing on Lady, he went on in a philosophical voice, “I’ve often wondered just how much parents dress up distasteful events for their children’s benefit.”

“I’ve often thought the same blasted thing.”

Now that was an answer begging a question, but it wouldn’t have been polite. He only looked curiously at her and changed the subject. “You’re speaking differently.”

She sighed. “It’s late. I watch myself pretty closely most of the time, but I figured I could let my hair down with my ‘family’…even if you are a Damn Yankee, ‘Cousin Adam’. I am from the South, after all, and three years in Indiana and the better part of seven years in Europe didn’t clean it all out of me. You ought to go to bed, you know. I can watch them now.”

“Don’t be silly. You need to get home; I can get one of the hands to drive you back. The longer you’re here, the more your reputation’s in shreds.”

“My reputation’s already in the outhouse,” she declared. “But you know, Little Joe told me I shouldn’t care what the meddlers think, and with all that I see from the ‘good’ people of this town, that’s rapidly becoming the case.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking down.

“Not your fault,” she said. “And besides, I don’t need someone to drive me. I rode Beauty out.”

“What?” His eyes must have widened at that; she grinned broadly.

“Hope you don’t mind. The fellow at the livery knew I was a friend of yours. I guess this is where gossip comes in handy. He said that since Beauty was rested up I could ride him here and just bring Thunder back in the morning, and he wouldn’t charge me that way.”

“You rode Beauty? Are you all right? Is he all right? I’ve been riding him for five years, and he still plays tricks on me.”

“Oh, he’s just tryin’ to get your attention, Adam. He’s a sweety-pie. So is Thunder.”

Joe was stirring uneasily, bringing Adam back to his side. “Is Joe…?”

“He’s trying to sing that song again,” Tilly said. “Do you know the words?”

“Of course; I even know what they mean. But now I know the nature of the song, they make more sense.” They sang the chorus together, softly, one on either side of Little Joe, who visibly relaxed.

“I need to get the laudanum,” he said. “Will you watch them while I’m gone?”

She rolled her eyes. “Heaven help me, didn’t I say that’s why I’m here?”

*

She couldn’t get him to go to bed; he couldn’t get her to go home. She wasn’t tired, she said; she’d taken a nap before riding out. He wasn’t tired, he said; he’d slept in the chair. They talked quietly most of the night. She told him about Savannah and the nearby Okefenokee Swamp—“it’s nearly as big as the Ponderosa, and twice as mean.” (And when he challenged her on the “meanness,” she dared him to pit a grizzly against a ’gator.) She told him of the legend of the Indian Suannee, and how when they were about to hang him he cursed the Okefenokee Swamp to kill all the whites that entered. She told him about the abandoned British fort near Darien, and the mosquitoes there that were so thick in summertime they looked like low-flying rain clouds. Adam noticed, after a while, that she was starting to sound like an advertisement for tourists, and wondered why her parents and brothers didn’t play a larger part in her stories, but he chose not to ask. She, in turn, noticed that almost every story he told featured both brothers and his father. She had not met Ben Cartwright, but she had heard endless stories of him in town; how his glare could melt ice at 20 feet on a freezing winter day; how, years ago when he had first claimed his land, he and Adam had had to fight—legally and literally—to keep it, and the fighting had gone on intermittently for so many years that Little Joe had grown into manhood while the struggles continued. It was hard to reconcile this notion of “Battling Ben” with the kind and wise man Adam described, and she wondered which portrait was most accurate. Whoever he was, and whatever he was like, he had certainly influenced all his boys most heavily, she decided; they always spoke of him in near-reverent tones.

Eventually, the silences between stories and questions began to stretch, and the next step was simply to sit in companionable silence until the dawn surprised them both with the first gray smears appearing through the window. She stood and stretched, remembering too late that it wasn’t polite to stretch in front of people. But Adam didn’t mention it, so neither did she.

“I need to get back and changed for school. Do you mind if I saddle Thunder, or would you prefer someone else do it?” He didn’t miss the jab, but he wasn’t about to let her saddle that big horse, either. He called Hop Sing, asking him to watch “the boys” for a minute while he saddled the lady’s horse, and she shook her head and rolled her eyes while they walked out to the barn. Lady silently accompanied them, pressed close to Adam’s leg the whole way.

“Who put Beauty away?” Adam asked, looking at the big chestnut gelding, who nickered at seeing Adam.

“I did. Didn’t see any hands out and about, but I found the lamp in the barn, and my father always told me the worst thing in the world was just to leave a horse standing after it’s been worked.”

“He’s right…and you did a good job, too. I’m impressed.”

“Does that mean you’ll go and have breakfast and let me saddle Thunder?”

“Not on your life. And I’d really rather you’d ride Pepper Nell.”

“Then I’d have to pay the livery fee.”

“I’d gladly pay it—”

“Adam Cartwright, I’m gonna whop you upside the head in a minute,” she retorted in a voice full of irritation. “Any idiot of a man can put a saddle on a horse. Why can’t I—because I’m a ‘weak and feeble woman’? And why can’t I ride Thunder now, when I’ve rented him from the stable a dozen times before, without your say-so?”

At this display of temper he just looked at her in wry amusement. “I didn’t know you’d ridden him before. So I guess there’s not a reason. You go right ahead and ride him, Cousin Tilly. And if it means that much to you, you may saddle him as well.”

“Well, aren’t you gracious.”

“Yes, I am—but not that gracious. So, if you land on your not-too-well-padded backside because you didn’t tighten the cinch properly, don’t come crying in this direction.”

For a minute, he froze; he couldn’t quite believe he’d said such a thing. If Hoss had heard, he would’ve had Adam hanging upside down by the ankles from the top of Ophir Creek Gorge to apologize. Joe would have employed his usual scream-and-leap attack that could be devastating. And his Pa would have taken a bullwhip to him. Maybe he’d said it just because they weren’t around, or just because he’d been up the better part of 48 hours, or just because this darn girl was getting on his nerves. He didn’t know or care.

But he started to apologize, only to see that she had gone into Thunder’s stall and already had him bridled. He started to follow her into the stall, but she turned then, grabbing the saddle and blanket together in one practiced motion, and heaved them easily onto Thunder’s back. She crouched by his forelegs and reached underneath for the cinch, tapping one foreleg to get the big gelding to move his foot forward. Grabbing the ring and pulling it toward her, she threaded the leather strap through, smiling. Then, with no warning, she jerked her knee into the horse’s belly, and he snorted, air and spray hitting Adam’s shirt as Thunder let go the breath he’d been holding. Tilly looked sidelong at Adam as she pulled the cinch tight and secured it.

“Well, well,” she said with a grin, her southern drawl breaking free again. “Looks like ole Thunder, here, is a gelding. I do wonder how that happened.” She looked Adam up and down. “I hear tell it don’t only happen to horses, Cousin Adam.” With that she led the horse out, and Adam, who hadn’t moved since she’d uttered those last words, got a mouthful of Thunder’s tail when he started to reply.

By the time he finished sputtering, she had scrambled without much grace into the saddle, and was looking at him the same way Marie used to when he’d done something very stupid. “Now, you listen to me, Adam Cartwright. You go eat some breakfast. I will be coming back here at 9 o’clock tonight without fail, and I expect you to be clean, shaved, and NOT smellin’ like a week’s worth of sin in a teacup. If Hop Sing is willing, then you and I will have a little light supper together with the boys. And then I expect you to go to bed, and Hop Sing and I will sit up with the boys—so you tell him to be sure and get a nap this afternoon. It’s called ROTATION, and you can’t do it if you insist on trying to do the whole thing yourself. Those boys need people watching them, not snoring in the chair. And if I happen to see your cousin Will, I’m gonna thrash his high-falootin’ hiney for forgettin’ family obligations. And his little tow-headed wife, too.”

She tapped Thunder lightly with her heels, and he twitched his bottom lip a couple of times and trotted off before the perfect insult Adam had finally come up with could be delivered. And in a combination of fury at her insolence and amusement at her audacity, he began to laugh…but once begun, he couldn’t stop. He laughed until he couldn’t breathe; laughed until his ribs hurt. And then, whether it was something as simple as exhaustion—or worry that neither of his brothers would wake up—or the sheer relief that he might actually get to sleep sometime in the future…or the sweeping sense of thumbing his nose at the Grim Reaper, because it was morning again and his brothers were still alive and fighting to stay that way, Adam fell back into the haystack, crying. Lady leaned close to him and began licking the tears away, and he buried his face in her snowy ruff and sobbed.

When he finally got himself under control again, he felt a large sense of contempt for the weakness he had displayed. But when he looked at Lady, curled in a silver-white circle by his side, covered in his tears and fears, he realized the best thing about having a dog. No matter what she knew about his inner life, no matter what kind of idiotic, childish behavior he exhibited, she would still respect and adore him—and she would never tell a soul.

*

Not because Tilly had given orders, but because he recognized the necessity, Adam did take a bath and shave. And not because she had told him to, but because he was hungry, he did have breakfast.

Will Cartwright rode in early that afternoon. Adam only knew it was Will because he looked out the window when he heard the hoofbeats. He sighed, figuring the last thing he needed right now was a visit from his cousin. And if Tilly really had prompted it, he was going to tan her hide.

Hop Sing brought Will up with no announcement, and then left so he could take his Tilly-required nap. Adam looked at his cousin, who was shifting his weight from foot to foot and grasping his hat in his hands. “Have a seat, Will. Hop Sing’s turned into a bad host; he should have taken your hat. Just toss it over on Joe’s dresser. How’s the family?”

“Pretty good…” Will looked at Joe and Hoss. “Are they gonna be all right? I heard they both got shot.”

Adam cleared his throat. “We, ah, hope so. What can I do for you?”

“More like what can I do for you, Adam. I know your Pa’s out of town for a while and just wondered if I can help out. Sorry it took so long to get over, but I, uh, just found out…”

“I see. Well, I appreciate the offer, Will, but I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? I heard—um, I was—that is, I thought—”

Adam leaned forward in his chair. “Who sent you?”

Will flinched. “Nobody, I just thought, um, we’re family and all.”

“You’ve been here over a month, Will, and haven’t even come for a call. I know you’re busy settling in, and I’m not one to push. But you’re carrying all the earmarks of a fellow who’d rather be anyplace else than here.”

Reddening, Will looked back at Adam. “That bad, eh?”

Adam just nodded.

“Well…that’s mostly because I owe you apology and I’m not real sure how to go about it, because there’s a possibility that you owe me one as well.”

“If you’re talking about things from two years ago, you don’t owe me anything. I told you back then—”

“That’s not exactly what I’m talking about, Adam. I won’t apologize for marrying Laura. It may not have come about exactly in the usual fashion, but I love her.”

“No argument there,” Adam said politely. “I’m glad it’s worked out so well.”

“Well, you and Laura weren’t a good match, Adam,” Will said a little defensively. “You need a woman who wants to stay on your good side. Laura’s the other way around.”

Privately, Adam thought any marriage as one-sided as that would be pretty pathetic at best, but he just nodded as Will sat down and went on.

“It’s just that, there’s some gossip going around in town now that traces back to—well, let me just go ahead and tell you. When Laura and I married, Peggy didn’t take it very well. It was a shock for her, so I don’t blame her. But one day she asked Laura why she hadn’t married you, and Laura told Peggy that you didn’t want her. I guess she thought that would make Peggy turn to me instead. I never asked why. Back then it didn’t seem to matter. We never figured on seeing you again and sure never figured on Peggy confronting you about it.”

Again, Adam nodded in silence. Will fidgeted in his chair.

“I appreciate your being a gentleman about it,” Will said, looking at the floor.  “There were a lot of things you could have told Peggy. But apparently, you didn’t deny it. And the thing is, someone overheard the conversation. Peggy thought it must have been the schoolteacher.”

“The schoolteacher was there for part of the conversation. But she’s not the one spreading it around. She has enough problems dealing with the gossip about her. You know what things are like for us Cartwrights, Will. We’re local celebrities, and that makes us a lot of fun to gossip about.” He shrugged. “On the other hand, it gives us a great line of credit with all the merchants, and our first beer is free at the Bucket o’ Blood.”

“Well, I’m glad you can take that approach to it…” Will thought a minute. “Thing is, it’s like any other gossip; it grows some with the re-telling. What I heard was that you…well, that there was a reason you didn’t want Laura.”

“Not sure I follow you, Will.”

“There are those in town who saw you and your brothers coming over to us at church, and thought it meant you had forgiven us for ‘running off together.’ There’s another group who think it meant…Laura forgave you for sending her away with me after you were finished with her. Is there anything you need to apologize for, Cousin?”

Adam gazed evenly at him although flames were threatening his vision. “Yes, Will. I apologize— because I’m about to break your nose.”

“Well, I knew better, of course,” Will added hastily. “But some people are saying that. It hurts me as much as you, you know. Hell; more. I heard all that just a couple of days after that Sunday in church, and it made me not too happy to face you any time soon.”

Adam thought for a while. Petty vengeance was something he had always frowned on…but…teaching a lesson; that was different.

“Will, do you know Mrs. O’Reilly?” he asked.

“Runs a boarding house downtown, I believe.”

“That’s the one. Do you know, I hear that place has enough bedbugs to populate Mexico.”

“Is that so? I guess it’s interesting after a fashion, but what does it have to do with…” Will stopped for a moment. “Peggy said she talked to you at Mrs. O’Reilly’s.”

“I do believe she did.” Adam said coolly.

“Well, I should warn my friends about that place,” Will nodded. “I mean, nobody likes bedbugs.”

“I don’t blame you a bit. Now, since we’ve cleared the air, I’d like to know how it came about that you decided to pay this call. You didn’t come on your own. Who sent you?”

Will had the decency to look embarrassed. “That schoolteacher was at the front gate when I took Peggy in this morning. We had words.”

“And how’d she persuade you?”

Will crossed his legs uncomfortably. “Oh, you know. She was polite. She just said you needed help and that family was important and all.” Adam watched in mild fascination as Will uncrossed his legs, then cleared his throat and re-crossed them.

“I see. Well, it really wasn’t any of her business, Will.”

“She was right, though. I know if it had been something wrong at my house, you and Joe and Hoss would’ve been there. Ben and you fellas have always been good at making me feel like family.”

“You are, Will. You are. Now that that’s settled, did you mean what you said about helping out?”

“Well, yes.”

“Good. Business is really falling off with me stuck at home and my brothers ill. Will, do you suppose you could run up to the saw mill and see what’s going on up there? Joe usually handles that, and as you can see, he’s going to be off his feet for a while.”

“I can put in a couple hours a day up there, but that’s all—got my own place too, you know.”

“It might take a little more than that. Suppose, in lieu of payment for services at the mill, I send a couple of my fellows over to your place to help out with chores?”

“That would work.”

“Talk to Mutton Jim—he should be in the barn. He’ll give you the key. And keep me posted.”

“I’ll come by tomorrow with an update.” They stood and shook hands.

 

Chapter 8

By the time Tilly returned that night, Adam had gotten several things done. In addition to taking care of the gossip situation in town, the saw mill, and relations with the “other” Cartwrights, he had had Mutton Jim split a log into small bits that he could use to make a rough model of the new windmill design he wanted to try, and he spent most of the afternoon working on that.

About the only thing he hadn’t accomplished by the time she came was waking up his brothers. He tried several times to wake up Hoss that day, but with no luck. Smelling salts didn’t help; cold water didn’t help; being tapped repeatedly on the cheek didn’t help. In another vain attempt, he had read aloud to his brothers—complete with theatrical flourishes that his friend Edwin Booth would’ve been proud of—from Joe’s latest dime novel, Despard the Spy. But the stuff was so melodramatic that he couldn’t read for long without laughing. He could think of a dozen jokes about this silly fluff, but the problem was that no one except Tilly Hoffman ever got his literary jokes. And speak of the devil, he thought as his heart hit the floor with a resounding thud. Thunder was cantering up, with Tilly aboard.

Telling Hop Sing to get that “light supper” ready, he went out to the barn. Thunder was already unsaddled, his bridle replaced by a halter, and she was rubbing him down. Well, this wouldn’t be pretty, but it would be definitive, he decided, and stepped toward her.

“Welcome back,” he said dryly, watching.

“Thanks.” She studiously kept her back to him.

“Miss Hoffman,” he said in terms as stern as he could make them—pretty stern-sounding at that—“We need to reach an understanding here.”

“And what would that be?” She turned and looked up at him.

“That would be that—however welcome we have tried to make you feel here, however much like a part of the family you believe yourself to be, the truth is you were taken in just like this dog.” He jerked a pointing finger down at Lady, who was sitting by his side. “You are no more a Cartwright than she is; you may even be less. You’re not ever going to be a Cartwright, any more than this dog. And you do not have the right to go threatening my blood relatives, however righteous you think your cause.”

For just a second, she seemed almost to shrivel. Then her chin came up, and she grinned. “I do thank you for your kind statement of position, sir. Putting uppity Southerners like me in their places is assuredly a Damn Yankee specialty, and you do it most well—to the extent that, if becoming a Cartwright were on my list of goals in life, I should indeed be crushed. And yet I stand, unmoved. Now, unless you would also like to question the legitimacy of my own good German name, to which Chancellor Bismarck and I should strongly object, perhaps you’ll allow me to venture into the hallowed halls of your childhood just long enough to ascertain your brothers’ continued health.” Sweeping past him, she called back, “And congratulations on endeavoring to smell better today.”

As he trailed her into the house, he remembered Will’s earlier, ludicrous remark that Adam Cartwright needed a woman who wanted to stay on his good side. Suddenly, it didn’t sound half bad.

The light supper of scrambled eggs and fried tomato slices was eaten mostly in silence. Tilly asked if Hoss or Joe had woken at all during the day; Adam replied that they had not. Nothing further was said.

Until, as Adam walked past Hoss with the remnants of the plates, Hoss murmured, “That sure smells good.”

*

It was almost midnight. Tilly and Hop Sing had cleaned up the mess on the floor from the smashed plates and leftover food. Hoss was asleep again. So was Adam—and in his own bed, not in a chair, though he had gone only grudgingly, after breathing fire against Tilly, and after extracting the promise that she would wake him if Joe came to.

It had been a shock-filled few minutes, Hop Sing reflected. He had come up with the coffeepot, just in time to hear Hoss mumble something. Adam, stunned, had dropped the plates he was carrying and grabbed Hoss’s arm; unfortunately he had been nearest the arm with the enormous bruise, and this had elicited a yelp from Hoss. Hop Sing had been surprised that all the craziness had not awakened Little Joe, but Joe had remained motionless.

“Hey, you came back!” Adam exclaimed, next grabbing Hoss by his pinchable cheeks. “Where the devil have you been, boy; I was getting worried about you! You need some water. And Hop Sing, bring up the beef broth, we gotta get some food into this fella.”

“Adam, stop,” Hoss pleaded, his voice raspy. “I’m way…too puny for this kinda…roughhousing.”

“Maybe so,” Adam said with a smile, “but we’ll soon set you right, Little Brother.”

He’d gotten a glass of water into the “puny” brother, followed by two large cups of beef broth. He’d managed to sound convincing when Hoss asked about Joe, saying that Joe was sleeping, but he was doing all right. “Better than you, Hoss. He’s been singing.”

“Huh,” Hoss mumbled. “You know, I dreamed Mama was singing. That song she used to sing when Joe was a baby, remember? I kept dreaming about it and seeing Mama. It made me feel a lot better.”

Adam had not responded to that; he’d just grinned at Hoss until his “little” brother went back to sleep.

After that, he and Tilly had talked for some little time, about what, Hop Sing did not know or care. Whatever their conversation had been about, it finally had the desired reaction of Adam agreeing to go to bed. “Don’t know how, though,” he had said, glaring at Tilly. “I’ll never sleep after all this ruckus.”

But ten minutes after Adam had departed, Hop Sing had gone in to take him a glass of hot milk to help him sleep, and found it unnecessary. Sprawled across the bed, still fully dressed, face buried in his pillow in such a fashion that Hop Sing wondered how the man could breathe, Adam was dead to the world.

So Hop Sing returned to find Tilly cleaning up the mess, and he had joined her, muttering terrible things about the slovenliness of the “boy.”

“Missy Hoffman want coffee?”

“That would be nice, but Hop Sing…I’d be pleased if you would call me Tilly.”

Hop Sing shook his head. “Great honor. But no.”

“Why?”

The man looked at her, then at the floor.

“Don’t I at least get an answer?”

“Cannot say ‘Tiree.’ Please…have enough plobrem with this language. Sounds, structure, no make sense.” He looked at her almost pleadingly. “In China read two languages and speak Cantonese and six dialects. This language, English, not sensible language. No structure. Words not have correct meaning for concept. Sounds cannot be made by Chinese. I speak Engrish twenty years now and still cannot say ‘bocory.’”

“What?”

He made a frustrated noise. “’Bocory’—like cabbage but small trees.”

“Broccoli?”

“Yes. Not a four year old, Missy Hoffman. But I sound like one in your language. You are teacher. Position of great respect in my home land. I dishonor you and your position in saying name and saying it wrong.”

“Hmm.” Tilly thought a minute. “Hop Sing, have you ever heard of ‘phonetics’? It’s the science of sounds in relation to language. About 150 years ago, a Swiss doctor named Amman was able to teach a deaf man to speak, using phonetics. I don’t know very much about the science, myself, but I know enough that I think I could help you a little, if you wouldn’t mind letting me teach you.”

The look on the little man’s face was pure incredulity. “Missy Hoffman teach me say English sounds?”

“Yes. Once you can make the sounds well enough, and you have a better grasp of structure, I think you won’t be so hesitant about expressing your thoughts, even if our language is a little limited.”

“How can you teach in months what I cannot learn in years? And how I pay you?”

“It’s not easy to learn the concepts, so I make no promises there.”  Tilly said thoughtfully. “You probably wouldn’t believe it but even most Europeans say English doesn’t make any sense. The only people who seem able to learn it with any degree of readiness are the Germans, and that’s probably because English and German are related, just like French and Spanish, and I would imagine like Cantonese and Mandarin. Of course I know very little of China or its languages…” She brightened suddenly. “Maybe you could pay me by teaching me a little Chinese.”

“I read Mandarin, but cannot speak—you want speak Cantonese?”

“Whatever they speak in Virginia City. The laundry is forever putting too much starch into my clothes. I would like to be able to tell them, ‘less starch, please!’ How long do you think it would take to learn that?”

Hop Sing waved a dismissive hand. “Never mind. I tell them for you. But I still teach you if you teach me.”

“Then we have a deal!”

“Okay! Want more coffee now?”

“Yes, please.”

Hop Sing nodded and left at once. As he trudged back up the stairs, he saw Tilly bolt from the room, knocking on every door and shouting “Adam? Adam, where are you? Joe’s waking up, he’s waking up!” Quickly he rushed back into Joe’s bedroom, laying the tray sloppily on the side table and looking at Joe—until he heard the commotion in the hallway.

Adam had burst out of his room with his grandfather’s ancient service flintlock in his hand. “Who’s what? Where?” Hop Sing hoped the heavy-eyed man wouldn’t shoot the girl, but he turned back to Joe when Joe began to cough—only to have that drowned out by Tilly’s cry. “Adam, Joe’s coming around! He hasn’t opened his eyes yet, but he’s mumbling and shifting around; I’m certain he’s about to wake up!”

Adam and Tilly dashed into the room to find Joe staring blankly at Hop Sing. Then he saw Adam, and grinned. “Millions of pretty girls in the world,” he said hoarsely, “and I gotta wake up with YOU lookin’ at me.”

“Same here,” Adam replied, laying his hand alongside Joe’s face. “But I’ll tellya, kid, you look pretty good to me.”

“Yeah,” Joe whispered, reaching up to take Adam’s hand. “Me too, Older Brother.”

*

At dawn, while Tilly finished the last of her coffee, Adam saddled Thunder and led him out. Tilly appeared at almost the same minute, thanked Adam, and promised to ride carefully. She pulled herself into the saddle and rode away, making sure she didn’t turn to look back. That man is just impossible to figure out.

The last ten hours had certainly been different, beginning with the exchange upon her arrival. No one could say Adam Cartwright didn’t have a sizable repertoire of insults ready for the unsuspecting. And no one could say he couldn’t take them as well as hand them out. And at least one thing in the town gossip was true: he could be colder than a northeast wind and meaner than a hungry sow.

But after Hoss had eaten, talked briefly with them both, and gone back to sleep, Adam had changed drastically. Taking both her hands in his, he had said quietly, “I know I can be unbearable when I get on my high horse. I’ve heard it from my father and brothers more times than I can count. I’ve never heard it quite so vocally from a girl before you, but I’ve been slapped enough to know better. Even the preacher once told me I had a problem with pride. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”

Genuinely surprised, and more than a little uncomfortable, she pulled away from him. “Why? You were right. I interfered where I had no right or reason.”

He nodded. “True enough—but I’m not apologizing for that. I mean all the hateful things I said along with it.”

“Oh, that.” She waved a hand. “My mother always said gentlemen never hit first, but they are certainly allowed to hit back. I had already bare-knuckled you a few times, at least verbally—”

“And probably wanted to physically.”

“Well, in any case, I owe you an apology as well.”

“If you want to apologize for going to Will, I’ll let you; but for the other—um—spirited words, I took them as a sign of your lively wit.” He grinned. “Are we even now?”

“We will be as soon as you go to bed like you’re supposed to.”

“Oh come on, Tilly. Hoss just woke up for the first time in two and a half days. I wasn’t sure if he would ever wake up! At least let me have a little while to wind down.”

“All right, but no shyster talk here. First define ‘a little while.’ To me it means less than half an hour. To you it could mean all night—and then you’d have another day with no sleep. How long have you been awake, anyway? And I don’t count that little three-hour nap last night before I got here.”

“I don’t know,” Adam said grudgingly. “Ask Hop Sing. He probably wrote it all down.”

“I just might. All right, no more than an hour. Why don’t you get your guitar and sing a while? Your brothers never objected when they were awake, and it might be pleasant when they’re asleep too.”

“Only if you’ll sing with me, and we do ‘A La Una.’ I want to learn the verses too.”

They had sung for a few minutes, and she had taught him all the words to the song, when he said, “Where did you learn this?”

The question made no sense to her, but she responded bemusedly, “Spain, of course.”

“But you said the Sephards were kicked out of Spain centuries ago.”

“Oh!” She laughed. “They were, true, but not all of them left. Some converted to Catholicism. Others pretended to. Whichever they did, there are still a few Jews there. Bensabat taught me the song not long after we met.”

“Ben-sabbath?”

“Bensabat. He was a Sephard.”

“A friend of yours in Spain?”

“My fiancé.” And then it just sort of fell out—“He was killed in Tangiers. Filthy place, Tangiers. I went with his parents to bury him…funny how Morocco’s not even 10 miles from Spain, but once you get across the Straits of Gibraltar you’re in a different world. It’s a horrible place. I won’t ever go back there.”

“I’m sorry, Tilly.”

“That was three years ago,” she sighed. “Nowadays I just try to remember his life, not the end of it.”

“He must have been a great musician,” Adam said thoughtfully.

“He was a merchant. But he was very good with a guitar, and had a beautiful voice. Like your Marie—a real charmer. But then he looked a lot like Little Joe, so you can see how no one could resist him.”

“I don’t know,” Adam grinned. “I can resist Little Joe pretty well. But then, he’s my brother.”

They had talked for a while then about engagements, and how, at least in their cases, they never led to marriage. Tilly’s first fiancé (“Harold—absolutely nobody could call him ‘Harry’”) had been killed by a runaway carriage. Adam, it turned out, had been “officially” engaged only once, although—and why he told her this, he could not afterwards remember—“I was married once, about four years ago…well, it was kind of married anyway.”

“How can you be ‘kind of’ married?”

“I don’t know. I thought I was married. She thought we were married. It’s just that nobody else thought we were and nobody else gave a—”

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry, but you can’t make a statement like that and not expect a question. Can you tell me what you mean?”

“Not really. I don’t remember it very well. I’d just taken a Shoshone arrow. She saved me…her name was Ruth, but the Shoshone of the region thought she was some sort of goddess, and they called her ‘White Buffalo Woman.’ She was a Norwegian girl whose father had died on the trail. Somehow, she became a healer, and got the reputation of being the answer to an Indian prophecy. She encouraged the myth because the Indians left her in peace. But in the end, the Indians took her away and left me for dead. My family found me and took me home…they tried to convince me that the whole thing was just a feverish hallucination. But we recited the passage from the Bible—”

“’Entreat me not to leave thee, neither to forsake thee’?” Tilly asked.

Adam nodded. “As far as I was concerned, we were married. My father…came up with some story to keep me from going after her.” It was the first time she had heard him refer to his father in less than glowing terms. He looked over at Lady. “I wouldn’t have gotten far anyway; I was still feverish and could barely sit my horse. Nearly died on the way home. By the time I came back to myself it was more than two months later. I went looking for her with Hoss; we spent six months out there, and never found a trace of her. I suppose she’s dead; she couldn’t have lived in their midst for very long before they found out. My father still insists it wasn’t real. But it was real, to me.”

“There are those who say perception is reality,” Tilly said.

“Do you believe that?”

“I don’t know…but hearing your story does push me in that direction.” She smiled. “And it’s a very beautiful, if sad, story. She must have loved you very much.”

“Why?”

“Well, I doubt she would have left such an impression on your mind if she didn’t give a hoot,” Tilly said decisively. “And you must have loved her, to spend so much time searching for her. Now tell me about your one ‘official’ engagement.”

“Well, that was Laura. Peggy’s mother. Fortunately, she married my cousin Will instead.”

“That’s what all the gossip’s about,” Tilly realized—and then winced. “I’m sorry…I…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Adam said. “Living where you do, I expect you get a daily barrage of gossip.”

“As well as frequently becoming the subject of it. Were you terribly heartbroken over Laura?”

“Only my vanity. Ask anyone which is more pleasant—jilting, or being jilted. The answer’s always the same.”

“But if you weren’t in love with her, why were you going to marry her at all?”

“Pa calls Laura one of my ‘missionary’ projects…like Sue Ellen Terry. I’m sure you’ve heard of her as well. The girls I wanted to rescue and…well, make things better.” He chuckled ruefully. “I’ve learned my lesson since those days. I don’t think I’ll ever marry. Too much duty and responsibility—and I’m tired of both.”

“What do you mean ‘duty’?”

“How can you ask that? Women are the one who always refer to it as ‘duty.’ Part of the legacy being strewn around by the blessed Queen Victoria.”

“Oh,” she chuckled. “Funny, I never had you figured for that.”

“What?”

“How well do you know Queen Victoria?”

“About as well as any American. I read about her in the papers. Why?”

“Well, in that case you’re ignorant. But when you make judgments based on ignorance, that’s prejudice.”

“I see.” He tried the Cartwright glare. “How well do you know her?”

“I don’t, but at least I’ve met her—and her husband Prince Albert—in 1859. I was part of a group of American girls that had the honor to be presented at Court. We didn’t have a conversation or anything, but I can tell you one thing: she and Albert loved each other. You only had to look at them to see that. I could tell it across the room. And don’t you dare laugh at me; I can prove it.”

“How?”

“Well, they had nine children, for starters. One or even two, I can understand. There’s got to be a succession after all. But nine? Don’t you think that goes way beyond ‘close your eyes and think of England’?”

Adam stared at her—and she saw he was quivering all over. Then the laughter escaped, and she was sure it would wake up both Hoss and Joe. He got himself under control again quickly and stood up, trying his best to look outraged. “I’ll take that nap now. Before this conversation gets any more inappropriate than it already is.”

Hop Sing picked that moment to enter with two cups of coffee. “For me and Missy Hoffman,” he said. “You going to bed now, yes?”

“Yes.” Adam glared at them both. “But how I’m supposed to sleep after all this ruckus, I have no idea.” And off he’d gone to bed.

Drat the man, Tilly thought as Thunder loped along. He’s impossible to figure out.

Then there had been that thing with Little Joe. She had no idea which bedroom was Adam’s, so she had knocked on every door until he appeared—with some ancient blunderbuss or something pointing right at her. When he recognized her, he put the gun down to just stare groggily. “What?”

“Adam, Joe’s coming around! He hasn’t opened his eyes yet, but he’s mumbling and shifting around; I’m certain he’s about to wake up!” As she said “up,” the comprehension dawned, and he grabbed her by the waist and hoisted her about three feet up, grinning like a fool and sweeping her around in a circle. “You’re sure?” he said as he put her down. When she nodded, he didn’t even think twice; he just grabbed her and kissed her ’til she couldn’t breathe. But then the darn dog, thinking a great game was being played, jumped up and put her front paws on his chest, and blast if he hadn’t picked her up and kissed her as well. And to top everything off, he’d sailed into the room smiling coolly and making silly jokes, with no trace of the worry, fear, or anger he’d been showing so consistently for the last two days. He was just as calm and self-possessed as he’d been with Hoss.

Joe had actually stayed awake for a while, even after drinking all his water and downing the broth. He was hurting some; she could see him shifting about trying to get comfortable while Adam had described bringing Paul, Roy, and the posse—and then Joe, whose forehead had been creased in concentration for a while, suddenly asked, “Adam, where’s Hoss?”

“Oh.” For the first time Adam looked uncomfortable. He moved slightly, allowing Joe a clear view of his other brother. Joe’s eyes widened, staring at Hoss, and then the bruise on Hoss’s arm—an enormous bruise that went almost to his wrist. “My God,” he whispered—and looked at his own arm. “I didn’t dream it. Doc Martin put Hoss’s blood into me, didn’t he?”

Adam nodded, and Tilly felt her eyes widening.

“Why would he do that?” Joe asked.

“You were dying,” Adam said roughly. “Hoss didn’t want you to.”

“I don’t remember much,” Joe said faintly. “I remember you arguing, and Hoss—Hoss was crying. You didn’t make him do it, did you Adam?”

Adam laughed harshly. “Since when have I ever been able to make Hoss do anything?”

“Is he gonna be all right?”

“He is now. He woke up just a couple hours ago. Now we just need to get you well, too.”

“Oh, I feel fine except when I move.”

“Then don’t move. Your arm’s strapped to your chest, Joe—the collar bone’s broken, and you’ve got a bunch of stitched together muscles that the bullet went through. Any movement you make right now is going to hurt.”

Joe sighed. He and his collar bone were intimately acquainted; not to mention he’d been shot before too. “I shoulda known.” His eyes roved the room, and for the first time he noticed Tilly. “Hi there. What are you doing here?”

“I’m just payin’ a social call.”

“I thought you were here, but then I thought I dreamed it. Adam, I had some crazy dreams. Mama was singing my lullaby, and then Pa joined in. And somebody with a cold stuck his runny nose right in my hand.”

Adam looked down at Lady, who looked back innocently, blinking. “It was probably the laudanum. You’ll need some more right about now, I think.” He came back with the bottle and spoon, and Joe slurped it up.

“I’m kinda tired, Older Brother…think I just need to sleep for a while.”

“I think you better, too, kid,” Adam said softly.

“Don’t call me kid…”

Adam and Tilly moved away as Joe returned to his dreams.

“He really is going to be well,” Tilly said. “I could almost hear him coming back to himself.”

Adam said nothing, but he crossed his arms and sighed.

“Funny you could be so cool about it,” she observed. “I thought you’d act a little more pleased.”

“I was pleased. I would think you’d know that.”

“I did. But your brothers didn’t.”

“Tilly,” Adam said with exaggerated patience, “If I’d done handstands all over the room, don’t you think they might have guessed just how close to the brink they came? Would you want them to know that?”

“Well…when you put it that way, it makes sense. I’m especially glad Little Joe’s all right though,” Tilly giggled. “I’d hate to think all that kissin’ was for naught.”

Adam looked at the floor, his cheeks darkening. “Um, Tilly…I don’t know what got into me earlier. Hope I didn’t scare you.”

Tilly’s lip quirked up. “Oh, I gathered it didn’t mean much when you kissed the dog too.”

He laughed in embarrassment. “Well, you can’t fault my taste at least. You’re a very pretty girl; she’s a very pretty dog.”

“Maybe,” Tilly said dubiously. “But you’re right, it’s best not to make a habit of it. I can’t speak for the dog, but I’m not engaged to you, and I don’t make a habit of kissing fellas I’m not engaged to.”

“Now that’s a quaint notion. Something you picked up from Queen Victoria?”

“No; something I picked up from my mother.” Tilly smiled. “She wrote me in Spain, after my father’s business was lost. She said we were poor now, and I had no dowry. ‘There’s only one thing you can offer a husband now, and that’s yourself,’ she said. ‘It costs a man something to take a wife, Tilly. Make sure you’re worth the price.’ I still have the letter—it’s the last one she wrote me before she died. It’s what I live by.”

He seemed to turn inward on himself as she spoke, and kept his eyes on the floor when he murmured, “I’m sorry.”

“Adam, don’t fret yourself. The South is gone, and the girls that remain have two choices. We can either say nothing matters, and live our lives that way—or we can say some things still do matter. Things like the way we were raised, and the standards we were raised to uphold. I don’t claim that’s the right way, or the only way, but it’s the way I am, and I don’t apologize for it.”

The look on his face as he raised his eyes to hers was one she had never seen before and could not read, just as dark and unfathomable as the rest of him. But the words were easily understood.

“Tilly, I think I’d have liked your mother.”

Chapter 9

“More broth?” Hoss made a face. “Adam, I gotta have me somethin’ more substantial than that. I done had a gallon of it today and all it’s makin’ me do is fill the chamber pot quicker. I figure since you and Hop Sing are the ones stuck with emptyin’ the darn thing—”

“Since Hop Sing and I are stuck with emptying the darn thing, we want its contents to remain liquid rather than solid,” Adam said. “When you’re well enough to stand up, you can have real food.”

“I ain’t ever gonna be able to stand up if’n I don’t get some real food into me.” And the grumbling went on.

“I liked you better unconscious,” Adam laughed. He’d forgotten how much fun it was to bicker with his brothers.

“All I got is a busted collar bone, and you’re acting like I’m an invalid,” Joe muttered.

“You are an invalid, until Doc says something else,” Adam replied. “Now be nice and I’ll read to you.”

“Shakespeare? No thanks; I’d rather be unconscious again.”

“Actually, I was going to read this.” Adam brandished Despard, the Spy. “But, as you wish.”

“No, no, wait!” they both exclaimed, and Adam, smiling, allowed himself to be persuaded.

Everything was all right again. It had been two days since Hoss and Joe had “returned,” and now both were recovering in typical Cartwright fashion. It was really only the doctor who was holding them down, and Adam’s fanatical insistence on obeying the doctor. Tilly was still coming over every evening and remaining until dawn so Adam could sleep, and Adam was staying with the two all day. But they had all talked, and tonight would be Tilly’s last night. In fact tomorrow, with Adam’s help, Hoss would move back into his own room, although he was reluctant. “Cain’t play checkers by myself,” he muttered.

Adam was almost giddy in his relief, though he made sure no one saw it. Oh sure, he’d have some explaining to do when his Pa got home. Between the letter he’d just completed, detailing the many changes he was making to the Ponderosa—and adding, very briefly, that Joe had been injured and Hoss had been sick but both were doing just fine now—and the fact that the new windmills going up in the north section would be visible from the Virginia City road, he was sure his Pa would be wanting to know plenty.

“Adam, before you send that letter to Pa I want to write one too,” Joe said, as if reading his thoughts.

“Me too, Adam,” Hoss seconded.

Adam nodded. “I’ll hold off sending it—but just for a couple of days, so get well quick. And fellas, be careful what you say in those letters. Remember, we don’t want him worrying needlessly.”

They heard a horse trotting into the yard. “Wipe off the silly grins. That’s not even Tilly,” Adam said.

“Bet ya a stack of my fine literature to just one Shakespeare play,” Joe said.

“You’d lose that bet.”

Adam was right—it was Sheriff Coffee, and he looked grim.

“Glad to know your brothers are healin’ up, Adam,” he began, “because it looks like I’m gonna have to release those fellers out at the jail, and I don’t want you gettin’ in trouble that you can’t get out of.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Read this.”

It was a telegram from the circuit judge. “No court in land will accept a dog as a witness. All else is Cartwright word against Bender word. Waste of my time.”

Adam had to bite his tongue. “What are you going to do?”

“Well, I’ll hold ’em as long as I can on trespassin’. They were on your land when the posse found ’em so there’s no doubt on that one at least. But if they can post bail on that one I’ll have to let ’em out, won’t I?” Roy hooked his fingers into his belt. “I’m sorry, Adam. I would’ve said the same thing as the judge a few weeks ago, but your dog made a believer out of me pretty fast. Still, the judge has a point, and anyway there ain’t nothin’ I can do about it.”

“Did you ever find out what they were doing on our land? I scared that kid off a month ago, and pulled their traps a month before that. They’ve been squatting, somewhere, on our place—and moving around, not in just one spot, but around one spot, for a while now.”

Roy shrugged. “They won’t say anything except that they were trappin’.”

“After I took their traps?”

“They said there’s other ones you ain’t found yet.”

“Oh Lord!” Adam cried, not knowing if it was a curse or a prayer. “You mean we can still walk through that pasture and break our legs?”

“I hope not. I thought me and the posse tore the place up pretty good, but we didn’t find anything.”

“Then can you tell ’em to leave town, at least?”

“Well, I can, but in case you ain’t noticed, your ranch is hardly in the city limits. If you’re a’fearin’ they’ll come back here I wouldn’t think you’d want me to tell ’em to leave town. Besides, Adam, I’ve got no way of enforcin’ anything right now. There’s been a passel of Pinkertons out here the last month and—”

“What?”

“Yeah, remember when I made that joke about ’em showin’ up? Well, the joke was on me when they did. Them Pinkertons made Virginia City their headquarters and spread out from here to Lake’s Cr—I mean Reno—and Placerville and even east as far as Mason Valley.”

“Is this for the $25,000 taken in that train wreck? Seems like much ado about nothing.”

“Tell it to the Pinks. They ain’t takin’ it lightly at all. I can’t hardly take a bath Saturdays without one of them in the tub with me.”

“Well, in that case, I’m sorry we Cartwrights bothered you with our mundane little problems.”

“Don’t go gettin’ nasty with me, Adam. I’m doin’ the best I can without much to work with.”

Adam grimaced. “It’s just a little frustrating to think the law’s on the side of the people who nearly killed Joe.”

Roy sighed. “The letter of the law may be on their side, but I enforce the spirit of it, don’t I?”

“I’m sorry I doubted you. You want to stay a while? Have dinner with us?”

“Nah, I can’t, Adam. One o’ them Pinks may start missin’ me and then they’ll think I’m the one robbed the train.”

*

It was an unwilling, unwitting, and totally innocent conspiracy of events, but before it was over, the lives of the three Cartwright boys would be shattered, and by none other than their father—also an innocent participant. The only truly guilty parties were perhaps Lady, and definitely the good folk of Virginia City—not that anyone would have blamed them for a minute. After all, Lady only did what any dog would do, while the humans only followed human nature.

It began when Joe wrote his letter. He had to write it right-handed—which he could do with some difficulty—and because of his collarbone, much movement at all caused him to wince, but he could not bear the thought of someone else writing his Pa for him. So he marshaled his strength and took pen in hand.

Dear Pa,

Well, I know you are looking at this and thinking WHY IS MY FAVORITE SON RIGHTING WITH HIS WRITE HAND? It’s a long story, and way too interesting for any old letter, but to make that long story short I broke my collar bone again. Fortunately we have a dog now. Her name is Lady. She pretty much saved my life but we’ll tell you all about that when you come home. Doc said I need to not run around too much so I’ve got her to do a lot of my fetchin and carryin. Funny I call her my Lady, Hoss calls her his Lady, and we both know she’s Adam’s, but of course he ignores her even though she loves him. She’s been so helpful around here Pa, even Hop Sing praises her to the skies. I wish you could see her. She’s a little funny lookin, that is what Adam says, with a long skinny nose that makes her look like a wolf, but she does have beautiful blue eyes and Hoss says she has a great smile, and when the sunlight catches her hair just right it fairly sparkles. She’s wonderful sweet, about as sweet as you can imagine. Since I got laid up she’s been sleeping with me most every night. Adam said you wouldn’t like it but I’m betting you’ll make an acception when you meet her. Tilly, the new schoolmarm, has been up here a lot, she just showed up the first night after I was hurt and they say she and Adam talked all night long and sang to me. She knows that French song that Mama used to sing to me. She’s a good person for all she is a teacher and talks about as funny as Adam.

Well my hand hurts so I’ll quit now. Hope you get done with all that court marshal buisness real soon.

Love from your son,

Joseph

A totally innocent letter, except perhaps of the crime of creative spelling. But it was the beginning of the apocalypse.

Hoss stomped in. “You done yet? I been waitin’ an hour!”

“I’m an artist. I gotta create my masterpiece. What’s Lady barkin’ about?”

“She and Adam’s havin’ a disagreement,” Hoss grinned. “He wants her to take a bath, and she thinks rollin’ in pony pills IS a bath. Right now I think Adam’s winning, though—he got her in the tub at least.”

Hoss was fretting at the bit. He and Joe were both up and around now, eating solid foods, and pretty much behaving like everything was normal…except for the small detail of Joe’s collar bone. Any danger from the blood transfusion seemed to have bypassed them. Hoss was ready to begin work again Monday—if his “trial” today went well. He would drive the wagon into town, pick up the mail and some supplies (with the help of his cousin Will), and if he had no problems then, as Adam had said “I’ll put you to work so hard you’ll wish you were still flat on your back.”

Lady, who would be the major agent of sabotage in the conspiracy, charged into the room barking merrily, her heavy coat soaked through from the bath she had just escaped. She skidded to a halt next to Joe and Hoss, gleefully shook herself with gale force energy, and water flew everywhere—including on Joe’s letter. Adam, himself drenched, burst into the room a minute later, issuing threats and damnations that should have made the collie’s fur fall out in bunches, but she seemed unfazed, even jumping up and planting sloppy kisses all over him before Adam managed to immobilize her. “You know, you could still get kicked out,” he blustered as he dragged her back down the stairs, and she just barked at him and tried to wiggle away again.

“Yeah, he means that all right,” Joe said soberly.

“Oh sure. He was serious,” Hoss agreed—and then the two brothers looked at each other and burst out laughing. “Joe, does it seem to you that Adam’s changed a little?”

“Only from northwest to southeast,” Joe replied with a grin. “Do you suppose it was what happened to us that brought it on?”

“I don’t know. I’d venture a guess that he started before that…maybe the night of that dance you lied about.”

“Me? Tell a lie?”

“Don’t give me the innocent green eyes, Little Brother, we both know what you did. I think the change started then, but somethin’ happened in between that set it in stone. Well, I hope it’s set in stone. I’m findin’ this Adam’s a little easier to get along with than the one we’re used to.”

“I think Adam started changin’ as soon as he found Lady,” Little Joe commented. “He just had to get worse before he got better is all. But you’re right—on a good day, this Adam’s almost even likable.”

“Ah, you quit yer gigglin’ and gimme that letter. Good Lord, Joe, it’s soaked.”

“Just blot it downstairs, and nobody’ll ever know. My hand’s way too tired to try writin’ it again.”

Hoss took the letter downstairs, set it on the blotter, and then realized he’d forgotten his own letter. He galloped back up the stairs, grabbed his letter, returned, and stuffed both letters into the package Adam had prepared, omitting the original step of blotting the letter, and thus becoming the third part of the conspiracy. Now all he had to do was get to town, mail this thing, pick up the supplies, and that would prove to Adam that he was in as good shape as he’d ever been.

In town there was a letter waiting from his father to all three of them. Not wanting to wait until he got home, Hoss tore it open and discovered the trial had been temporarily adjourned pending the recovery of another witness who had suddenly taken ill. Hoss frowned and looked at the calendar. It was now the last of November; if that trial didn’t finish soon his father wouldn’t be home in time for Christmas. Since Adam had come back from college, there had never been a Cartwright Christmas spent with the family apart. He sighed and stuffed the letter into his pocket.

*

Twelve days later Ben Cartwright received the package from Adam. He read the letters from his sons in “age” order, noting first with a combination of irritation and pride all the grandiose plans his eldest had implemented for “improving” the ranch. There was a brief mention that Joe had broken his collar bone—“Again!” Ben muttered—but was doing fine now.

Next he read Hoss’s note—all one paragraph of it—talking about how great it would be for Pa to get home where he belonged, and oh by the way, he (Hoss) had been laid up for a couple of days with some undisclosed ailment. “But Im fine now and if Adam ever quits bein such a old woman about it Ill be back to work again tomorrow.”

Joe’s letter, though, looked as if a typhoon had hit it. The paper had been covered with water-droplets at some point, and either poorly blotted or not blotted at all. The ink had smeared in several places and was completely illegible in those spots. But the rest was all too clear, although it made no sense to anyone who had raised his boys the way Ben Cartwright had.

“Mist’ Cartwright, are you okay?” The bellhop’s voice brought him back to the confines of his current world.

“I’m, uh, fine, Domino, I’m just having a little trouble reading my son’s letter.”

“Well, the light ain’t any better anyplace in the hotel than right here, suh.”

“I know…thanks, Domino.”

“It say anything interesting, suh?”

“Oh, yes…apparently some lady saved my youngest son’s life. She seems to be a schoolteacher.” And he’s sleeping with her? And boasting to me about it? And Adam is allowing it because Joe thinks I’ll make an exception?

He read the letter again, and finally one more time. Surely something was wrong; the ink was smeared, it had to be covering something vital…

I’ll get to the bottom of this right now. “Domino, will you send a telegram for me?”

“Sho’ thing, suh. You write it down here and I’ll take it over at the office, suh.”

Ben wrote a few terse words, which Domino flinched on reading. “Uh, Mistuh Cartwright, suh, you cain’ say that word in a telegram.”

“Change it to whatever you think best,” he snapped, and stamped away.

*

 

When Will Cartwright stopped in town that day he picked up the mail, the supplies, and everything else he could think of for his cousins, as Adam and Hoss had been out with the new hands working on the north section for the last three days.

Adam had asked him to hire five new hands. It had come as a surprise to Will, who had looked at the books for the saw mill, the mines, and the ranch, and he knew there was only about $280 to spare for the month after all the operational expenses were met. “I’ll pay for the men myself,” had been the terse reply to the question. Will knew Adam had his own bank account, but it still didn’t make sense.

“Why don’t you just take out a loan against the ranch account?” Will had asked. “I know the Cartwright credit is good. Cyrus even bankrolled me lately, with nothing but a reference from you.”

Adam shook his head. “The new men are for my own projects, and they’re not projects that Pa approved. He shouldn’t have to pay for them.”

So Will shrugged and took Mutton Jim into town to hire five new men.

That had been four days ago. Now picking up supplies and such, Will also decided to check at the telegraph office. Sure enough, there was a wire from Ben. “What the devil do you think you are doing” was all it said.

Little Joe, wearing a sling that strapped his left arm completely to his chest, was the only one at home and he was bored stiff. The telegram Will brought him was the antidote to boredom, however, as the two speculated on what it meant.

“Well, only thing that makes sense is that it was one of the letters in the last package we sent,” Joe ruminated. “And since my letter was as innocent as a little furry puppy, and Hoss’s was probably as boring as listening to the Widow Hawkins talk about her days in the circus, it had to be something Adam said. And since Adam always plays it safe, the only thing it could be is that he told Pa about the windmills and stuff—he said he was going to—and Pa’s mad about Adam doing it.”

“Shall I take this out to Adam?”

“No; I’ll reply. And then, if you’d just send it next time you’re in town…”

“Sure.” Dubiously he looked over Joe’s shoulder as the reply was composed. “Don’t you think that sounds a little saucy?”

“Nah, he knows I always talk that way.”

The reply read “Pa: it is called progress and with Adam’s help I’m learning all about it now that you are gone. Come home soon and we can be old-fashioned again but the Ponderosa will be a lot less interesting. Love Joe.”

*

Hoss found his limits a little quicker than he expected, Adam reflected as the two heaved another plank into place. For a minute he considered teasing his brother about it. Then he shook his head. It was his own fault anyway, for giving in to Hoss’s demands and putting him back to work too early.

“What’re you shakin’ yer head fer?” Hoss demanded, breathing heavily.

“I was just thinkin’ how crazy the weather is,” Adam said. “Any other year this time we’d be buried under a few feet of snow. But it’s acting like Indian summer.”

“I think there’s been a few flurries at night.”

“Yeah, but they’re gone by daytime and then the mercury’s in the 60’s again. Last newspaper I saw said this is the warmest, driest weather we’ve ever had for the time of year. Even though it’s been overcast the last couple days, it’s too dry, and not cold enough to snow…Makes a man sweat too hard to hold a hammer.”

“Huh. Speak fer yerself, scrawny boy,” Hoss said. “I got plenty a’ spunk left in me.”

“Not me,” Adam replied. “I guess you can finish up here if you want, but we’ve been up here four days straight and I’m about done in. I’m goin’ home. And tomorrow being Saturday, I vote we take the weekend off, as well. C’mon. Look at Beauty here. This boy’s anxious to go home, aren’t ya?”

And Beauty, who would be dead in less than 24 hours, nickered and butted his head against Adam’s chest. “Ever notice, Hoss,” Adam said as he scratched behind Beauty’s ears with both hands, “just how much some animals like being touched? It’s kind of funny when you think about it—especially with horses, since they’re prey animals. You’d think they would like a lot of empty space around in case they need to make a run for it. It must take a lot of trust for a horse to actually want contact with a human.”

“Adam, you’ve been gettin’ hit with more blindin’ flashes of the obvious than I can shake a stick at lately. Now, if you’re goin’ home…I guess I could use a bath, at that. But Adam…I know what yer thinkin’, so don’t try this on me again.”

“I have no idea what you mean. Let’s go home. I’ll break out Pa’s good whisky. Wonder if horses drink whisky.”

“Well, Joe and Cochise could tell you some stories…” Hoss suddenly recalled something horrifying. “Oh…er…Adam, about that good whisky of Pa’s…’member when we first got Lady?”

Doc told me people with a lot of blood loss get tired easy. Anemia, maybe, Adam thought, scarcely listening as Hoss explained the fate of the “good whisky.” I think I’ll find some easy work for him next week. And we’ll all take it easy this weekend. Maybe Tilly will come out tomorrow and we can sing…just stop that! You’ve been working too hard too, Adam boy.

Chapter 10

Tilly did come that next day, but Adam didn’t know it. He only knew, when he had the chance to think about it later, that it was one of the most awful days of his life.

It began before dawn, with Lady whining. Not anxious to put his bare feet on the cold floor, Adam tried to sweet-talk the dog into settling down, but she was whining and pacing restlessly and would not be silenced.

Finally he sighed, pulled on his shirt and pants, and picked up his boots, hoping he wouldn’t need them. “You’d better have a serious need to go outside, dog.” He opened his door and followed her downstairs with his boots under one arm, buttoning the shirt as he walked. He hopped around to put his boots on, muttering the whole time, and Hop Sing came out in his nightshirt and slippers. “What happen?”

“Ah, her majesty needs to go outside.”

“No,” Hop Sing insisted. “Something happen in yard a few minutes ago. Woke me up.”

“You heard something?”

“Yes, but I do not know what. Maybe wind blow over some cans. Sounded like cans.”

“I’ll check.” Adam yawned and put on his gunbelt out of habit, thinking distractedly that Hop Sing was saying the letter “l” a lot better these days. He grabbed his hat and jacket and opened the door. Instantly Lady shot through it and ran out to the middle of the yard, fur standing on end and her stubby tail straight up and bristling.

“If you’re going someplace you could wait for the two-legged guy to catch up,” Adam called, but she wasn’t listening; or at least, she wasn’t listening to him. She whined uneasily, her head held high, nose twisting and turning to get the scent of whatever it was that she was looking for. Adam shook his head as she suddenly cantered off into the dark. “Lady, get back here! Lady, come!”

For the first time since he’d known her, she didn’t instantly reappear. “Damnfool mutt,” he muttered, and went to the barn, which was at least warmer than outdoors. Beauty, the only current resident, jerked his head up and nickered in recognition. Sleepy as he was, Adam still grinned. He wondered if he’d ever get used to the idea that his horse was glad to see him. “You must be lonely,” he murmured. “All your buddies out in the pasture tonight and you stuck here ’cause you have to work tomorrow too…” He tickled Beauty’s nose, grinning as the horse wiggled its top lip at him. “Technically, it’s tomorrow now. In a few hours we’ll ride into town and see how Tilly feels about coming out for a musical afternoon…of course, the damnfool fur ball’s gone off on a hike…How do you feel about an early morning ride right now?” he asked, laying the blanket across Beauty’s back. “Real early. I think it’s only a little after three.” A few minutes later he had Beauty tacked up and was leading him from the barn. It was cold, but not as cold as he had thought it would be. The air was heavy and still, a funny smell in his nose that he couldn’t identify…and he began to understand Lady’s profound sense of unease. He shook his head to clear it, but the cobwebs were still there. He closed the barn door and walked over to the pump to splash some water from the horse trough on his face.

Hop Sing was still at the door of the house, a strange look on his face. “Mister Adam…” he called, in a doubtful tone.

Adam, unhearing or unheeding, mounted Beauty and murmured, “Come on, fella, let’s go find our dog.”

Hop Sing’s eyes suddenly shot open, and he cried, “Mister Adam, come back—there—” but Adam didn’t hear him. Hop Sing raced back into the house to wake up Hoss and Joe.

*

In the night silence Adam could easily hear Lady in front of them, even occasionally catch a white blurry movement as she zig-zagged through the night. With sudden clarity Adam realized something:  Lady was heading directly for the south pasture. And what was stranger, as they trotted along, he could—not consistently but periodically—detect whiffs of kerosene. Someone carrying a kerosene lamp? Whoever it was, he had come and gone, and Lady was tailing him. Briefly he wondered if he should return to the house and get Hoss and Joe, but Hoss was still exhausted from their previous work, and Joe didn’t need to be bouncing around in a saddle with his injuries. Besides, by the time they caught their own mounts Lady would be long gone.

It took longer than usual to get to the fence line because of the darkness; he let Beauty have his head and pick the way himself, though, since obviously the horse had figured out the intent here was to follow his dog friend. But when they did at last arrive at the fence…it wasn’t there. Oh, the posts were there. So was the wire. But the wire was lying in long wavy lengths on the ground, and the posts had been torn from the ground and were lying flat. The cattle were in and out of the fence—and beginning to bunch uneasily, trotting about and lowing in distress. And that kerosene smell was getting stronger too—and then he knew, just about the time he heard the shot. Lady whizzed by him, yelping, running for home at top speed with her tail clamped to her butt and blood dripping from her flank—but by then he could see the flames coming from the west. He kicked Beauty into a gallop and headed toward the fire. It was still small; maybe he could contain it before it got out of control.

Contain it with what? I don’t even have my bedroll…

Beauty stopped dead, Adam nearly flying over his head but grabbing the saddle horn just in time. He jumped off the horse, dropping the reins to ground tie him and hastily pulled the saddle off, grabbing the blanket. “Just stay here. Just don’t run,” he murmured, trying to sound calm, like the fear and rage he felt weren’t there. He sprinted like mad toward the fire. But when he topped the rise, he saw what he hadn’t seen before—there was more than one fire. There were dozens of them. Whoever had done it—and he had no doubt who that was—was setting small, scattered fires randomly, and with drops of kerosene soaking the dry grass in between it wouldn’t take long for it to spread like…well, like the wildfire it was going to become. And it was heading right for the house. Only it would get to him first, if he didn’t move fast. Three of the smaller fires had converged into one big one even as he looked.

He ran back to Beauty, who was already dancing in a nervous circle, ears flattened against his head, eyes rolling in fright. Another minute and you’d have bolted, wouldn’t you, he thought. I don’t blame you a bit. “Thanks for waiting…let’s get outta here.” Not bothering with the saddle, he vaulted up on Beauty’s sweating back and turned him toward home. Needing no encouragement, Beauty sprang forward as if fired from a cannon.

Behind him he heard the explosions of more kerosene igniting. Before it got refined it exploded a lot, he remembered this from the mines, but it didn’t stop him—or Beauty—from jumping half out of their skins with each muted “pop.” And to make matters worse, the little moonlight there was had now been completely obscured by the clouds overhead, the ones that had been threatening the area for days but had never seen fit to rain. We could sure use some of that rain right now, Lord, he thought as Beauty plunged onward. But no rain came.

Adam had never been the best bareback rider, but tonight he finally knew what Joe meant when he talked about “being part of the horse.” He hunched low over Beauty’s neck and gripped the horse’s sides with his knees and—

—a metallic CLANK ripped through the night and Beauty, screaming as no horse was ever meant to scream, plunged head over heels into the darkness.

*

“Who was here?” Hoss demanded as he fetched another bucket of water. Hop Sing had roused him and Little Joe from a sound sleep and now had both of them pumping up water and forming something akin to a moat around the house.

“Not know!” Hop Sing bellowed. “But there is kerosene every place! Must move faster…”

“Your shoulder okay?” Hoss asked as Little Joe trudged by with his own pail.

“I’m fine,” Joe said sleepily. “But this must be a dream anyway because there’s no girls at all, and Hop Sing’s talking almost like a regular guy.”

The galloping of a horse coming up the road startled all three of them, and they whirled to see Will riding in.

“Hoss, there’s a fire out in your south pasture!”

“Huh?” Hoss straightened at once. “How bad?”

“I couldn’t tell exactly. Couldn’t see well enough. It’s almost like an oil fire, there’s a lot of smoke. Besides, your cattle spooked, Hoss; they’re out all over the place. Tore through old man MacDonald’s place, busted his corral; a couple of ’em are in the ditch by the road and there’s a couple hundred more heading toward my land. My men are trying to gather them up right now. Where’s Adam?”

“Good question. Where is Adam?”

“Maybe with the schoolteacher,” Joe yawned.

“Bite your tongue, Little Brother. Hop Sing! Where’s Adam?”

“He ride out with Lady, almost one hour ago. Lady very worried.”

Will snickered. “Isn’t Lady the dog? What did he mean, she’s worried?”

Hoss looked at him. “Cousin, when Lady worries, the whole house worries with her.”

“In that case, I sure hope she took him south. That’s something to worry about.”

“Dadburn it, I don’t doubt it. Hey, Joe! Think you might be up to some work?”

“What does it look like I’m doin’?” Joe called back across the yard.

“Will, I’m gonna go catch up our horses; will you go over t’the bunkhouse and get everybody up? We gotta get movin’.”

Will turned and headed off on his mission.  Joe looked blearily at Hoss. “It’s gonna take you forever to catch ’em. You know how they like to play when it’s cold. And you should never have put ’em out in the pasture.”

“Sorry, Little Brother, but I was under the impression that I had the weekend off. And Cooch’s been out there ever since you had yer accident. Hey, you think you can ride one handed?”

“I can ride better with one hand than most guys can with two,” Joe replied. “You want me to ride out to the south pasture?”

“No, Joe, I want you to get into town and see about gettin’ any help you can to fight the fire.”

“I’ll go, but not many people are gonna ride all the way out here to help us,” Joe replied. “How many head are in the south pasture?”

“About thirteen-hundred, spread all over the place too. We’re gonna lose some for certain sure.”

*

Adam came to with Lady anxiously licking his face. “Came back, huh. Very gracious of you.” He wondered why she had run away. And why in blazes he was lying on the ground instead of his bed…He started to sit up and oh God! The pain shot out from his back to every corner of his body. Bad enough he was seeing two of everything…and there was a roaring in his ears…blood dripping from his head…and a funny orange glow in the southern sky…

Fire! We gotta get outta here! He started, hearing the strange, almost unearthly groaning nearby. He pushed himself up, gasping as the back spasm continued, and he realized something was wrong with his left wrist. “Beauty,” he muttered. “You got some answering to…” and he gasped as he realized the bizarre groan was coming from Beauty, who was lying some 15 feet away.

Unable to put any weight on his left hand, Adam used his elbows to drag himself over to the horse, who groaned again, and in the faint moonlight he could see what had happened. Not too surprising, he thought, wondering why he was still surprised. Beauty had stepped squarely into a steel trap.

Beauty squealed again and tried vainly to get up. Quickly Adam stretched himself across the horse’s neck, forcing him to stay down. “Easy fella…easy.” There was really no point in looking; he knew what he would see. He looked anyway…for a second. “Oh dear God,” he whispered, and put his head down on Beauty’s neck. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…” Here he was in the middle of nowhere, with a fire coming at him and he was apologizing. To a horse. He knew better. You don’t have time to philosophize over it. It’s just a horse. It’s just transportation. Get it over with.

But he’s not “just” anything! He’s a friend…and how many of my friends do I have to shoot in this life?

Sensitivity, loyalty, and practicality merged in that instant: all the more reason to do it. Horses can’t live through a broken leg—it’s shattered in pieces, and he’s in agony…and I’m prolonging his pain by being a coward.

“Beauty…” The horse groaned again, and looked up at him, his eyes rolling in pain, fear, and lack of understanding, his ears pinned back. “I’m sorry…I can’t do anything for you but this…my friend.” The gun was in his hand as he spoke. He knew he would lose his nerve if he waited. So he didn’t.

Lady yelped as the gun went off, and ran a few feet away. The fire was still headed for them; Adam tried again to get up, but when he got to his knees, dizziness overcame him and his vision blurred.

“Lady…” he shook his head as she approached. Another spasm hit his back and he fell back on his side, gasping, knees drawn up to his chest. Between the dizziness and the blood from the gash on his head he could no longer see at all. “Lady,” he choked out, and then the blackness took him.

*

It was six a.m., and daylight was fast approaching. Tilly had taken a bunch of work home with her the night before and was on her way to return it all to the school before she rented Thunder for the day. Lately the boarding house seemed strangely silent; a great many of Mrs. O’Reilly’s boarders had, for some reason or other, moved elsewhere all of a sudden. Well, a boarding house was only a place to stay, anyway—a good place to visit, however, was the Ponderosa. Only thing that house didn’t have was a piano; otherwise it was the perfect house and certainly as close to a perfect family as she could find. The way Hoss and Joe acted reminded her of her own little brothers, and Hop Sing was both a great cook and a lively conversationalist when people took the time to talk to him. And of course Adam was there; she was certain Adam was the Ponderosa’s version of the Rock of Gibraltar, as well as being an interesting if irritating fellow. The two had come to a tacit arrangement since Joe’s injury; each Saturday he would ride into town, rent Thunder for her, and escort her back to the ranch. After dinner he rode back to town with her, and then left for home again. He never asked; he simply showed up with Thunder. And somehow she never had other plans.

The funny thing about Adam was that after he got to know a person, he started trying to take care of them. Tilly wasn’t exactly certain what she was to him, but one thing was certain: she didn’t want him looking on her as another missionary project. So today, she was going to surprise him. She had a few dollars of her own; she’d rent Thunder herself.

She dropped the papers off at the school house, and headed over to the livery, only to have to dive away from the road as Little Joe Cartwright barreled into town at full tilt. He headed for the jail, rushing in and coming out with the sheriff, both of them talking a mile a minute. He then ran to the home of Mr. Cass, who owned one of the town’s general stores, then proceeded to yell and pound on the door until Cass finally showed up.

“Good Lord,” she muttered to herself, “last time anybody from the Ponderosa came into town like this, all hell had broken loose out there, and this must mean it’s happening again…”

She ran over to Little Joe, who was handing Cass a list.

“I’ll have everything by the door by the time you get a team over,” Cass said. Joe nodded his thanks and headed back to the street.

“Little Joe?” She had to run to keep up with him. “What’s going on?”

“Ponderosa’s on fire,” he said tersely, and jumped back on his horse. Cochise whinnied a bit indignantly and wheeled to gallop over to the livery stable. Tilly charged down the street after him, her skirts hitched and flying, and she arrived, panting, to hear the argument going on.

“Not with one arm you ain’t,” Otis Watts was yelling. “It’d be suicide, and more important, it’d get my horses killed and my wagon wrecked.”

“I can—”

“Yeah, everybody knows you Cartwrights crap marble, but you can’t drive a team one-handed! Maybe if you had a couple months to practice with nice weather and a good wide road—”

“I can drive a team,” Tilly put in. “My Pa let me drive from Savannah to Charleston. Four horses. More’n a hundred miles.”

“There,” Joe practically spat. “Now come on!”

“But she’s a girl!” Otis whined.

Joe grabbed him by the collar. “Yeah she is, and I’m gonna hold you down and let her snatch you bald-headed and kick you to death if you don’t get us goin’ right now.”

“You won’t need to hold him,” Tilly retorted. “I can kick his kind to death with very little assistance. Otis, in case you didn’t know, there’s a fire on the Ponderosa. Get moving!”

Neither she nor Joe looked to see if he would.

As they left the barn, Tilly said, “I really can drive a team, Joe.”

“God, I hope so,” Joe wheezed, slumping against Cochise. “I half busted a gut to get out here and if I’d had to put up a fight, it wouldn’t’ve been much of a showing, even against Otis. If I could just get my arm outta this thing it’d be easier, but the way Doc’s got it slinged I’m all off balance. It’s been three weeks, you’d think a bone would heal by now—”

“Got a pocketknife?” she asked.

“Yeah, but—you’re not gonna give me a lot of guff about how I need to keep my arm like this?”

“No; I know a different way to do it that should help. Take off your jacket and shirt.”

“I’ll need a little help,” he said dryly.

He unbuttoned his coat and shirt and un-tucked the empty arm from his pants; she pulled them from him and cut the sling off. He gasped a little as his arm came loose from its tightly bound position. “You sure you know what you’re doin’?”

“Not really—I just saw a Spanish doctor do it and it worked really well. Woo, it really is cold this morning!” She took the length of cloth and wound it around his bad shoulder and under his armpit several times, then yanked back hard, eliciting a surprised yowl of pain from Joe. Then she stretched the remaining cloth across his back and under his other armpit, winding it around and tying it at the top of his good shoulder. “How’s that?”

“I’ll tell you when I can breathe again,” he gasped, flexing his left hand for the first time in three weeks. “Hey, it still works!”

She helped him put his shirt and jacket back on just as Otis walked up with a two-horse hitch. “Take ’em over to Cass’s,” Joe instructed. “I gotta get up to Sheriff Coffee’s; I’ll meet you at the store.”

Mr. Cass was at the store front when she arrived. “Best I could do was thirty blankets, twenty-five sandbags, eleven buckets, six pick-and-shovel sets, and five axes.”

“And a partridge in a pear tree,” Tilly muttered, but Cass just looked blankly at her as she started loading the wagon.

“You gonna pick those sandbags up by yourself?”

“I am if you won’t help me,” she said, and kept working. He grumbled and climbed up to help. By the time Joe and Roy got back the wagon was only half-loaded, though, and Roy climbed up, tsking and shooing Tilly away, to lend a hand.

“Where is everybody?” Tilly asked Joe.

“We got three volunteers,” Joe replied darkly. “And they said they’d come up after they have breakfast and if I pay them 50 bucks apiece. And the Pinkertons said we’re not part of their project so they don’t care.”

“I’ll pass ya in a few minutes,” Roy called as he jumped back onto the store porch. Tilly nodded acknowledgment and heighed the horses out. They left Cochise at the livery.

Eight miles from the house Joe pointed to a narrow trail uphill. “That cutoff will take us right to the south pasture.”

“Won’t we be on the other side of the fire from everyone else?”

“Not if the wind hasn’t changed. We may have to cut the wire to get through the fence but the way Will talked, the cattle may have taken the fence out for us already.” As he spoke they heard a frantic barking in the distance, and a few minutes later saw about twenty cows coming toward them at a good clip. Tilly pulled the team hard over and into the trees as the cows tore past.

“Adam’s in trouble,” Joe said, looking around. “That’s Lady barking.”

“Are you sure?”

“Drive,” Joe said. “Head for the noise.”

As it happened all they had to do was follow the trampled grass—and then they saw where the trampling hooves had cut into two columns, leaving a patch of untouched grass in the middle, and there was Adam, lying across a dead horse. Lady was standing over him, her left side was streaked with blood, and she was still barking wildly. And at the sight of Joe and Tilly, she snarled and headed right for them, teeth bared.

*

A day and a half later Adam awoke in his own bed, and this time he was almost lucid. It was getting dark outside, which confused him into thinking very little time had passed. His head ached, he still couldn’t see straight, and he was lying flat on his back, which hurt like blazes. His left wrist was awfully swollen, and he couldn’t even feel his right leg. Joe was sitting on one side of the bed, reading Despard the Spy; Tilly was dozing in a chair on the other side, and Lady was on the bed with Adam, her left side bereft of much of its silver fur and displaying a long red row of stitches.

“Hey,” Joe said softly, giving him a lopsided smile and wondering how much, if any, Adam would remember this time. “I’m takin’ bets on how long you’ll stay conscious. Wanna place one?”

“Wha…happened?”

“You wouldn’t stay awake long enough to hear the story, Older Brother, trust me. We’ve tried to keep you awake, but you’ve been in and out so much the last 24 hours—”

Adam sighed. “Beauty’s dead, Joe…I hadda…”

“I know. I saw.” He didn’t bother mentioning that it was the first thing Adam told him every time he woke up. “I’m real sorry. He was a fine horse, too. But you did right by him.”

There was something else, but Adam couldn’t remember what, so he just kept looking at Joe. Joe shrugged; he had told him everything six or seven times already. But once more couldn’t hurt.

“The fire’s mostly out.”

“Fire.” He squinted at Joe. “Wha…fire?”

Paul Martin had told Joe that with head injuries like Adam’s there was frequently a lot of short-term memory loss, but it was still unnerving to see. Especially from Adam, who probably remembered his own birth and all nine months before.

Joe put on a brave face. “There was a fire; started in the south pasture. That’s where you and Lady were when we found you. Hoss took a bunch of guys out and they fought it with everything, Adam—digging ditches, using wet blankets, some of us formed a little bucket brigade. It was rough, though, since there were only about 30 of us.”

“That many?”

“Will came over with his men, and a couple other folk helped. Roy couldn’t get a posse together and the Pinks wouldn’t come either. In the end, though, it all came down to the good Lord. Guess he got sick of seein’ what was happenin’ to all those trees.”

“Rained…?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe. But not until we were about ready to give up. Fire got up to the house, but luckily we’re still okay; barn’s a bit scorched, but that’s it. Whoever said the Lord moves in mysterious ways sure wasn’t jokin’. About midnight the rain turned to slush, and by this afternoon it was snowing. Guess whichever angel is in charge of the weather finally remembered it’s winter.”

“Where’s Hoss?”

Seeing Adam really did seem to be fully conscious, Joe told him. “He’s in bed. He took the first shift with you and wanted to stay, but he was pretty tired and Tilly and Hop Sing and I ganged up on him and made him lie down. The rest of us have been rotating shifts with you. That is, me and Hop Sing and Tilly and Will.”

“But is Hoss okay?”

“Doc says he is. His eyebrows got singed off, so no jokes about ’em when you see him. And he needs more rest and lots of red meat and beef broth. Hop Sing and Tilly have been makin’ sure he gets plenty of both. They keep pushing broth in my direction too, but I wouldn’t take any until Hop Sing told me his English was good enough to land him a job at the International House and he was tempted.”

“What happened to Lady?”

“Doc Martin says somebody took a shot at her. Fortunately it only grazed her side. Shoulda seen Doc’s face when I asked if he’d tend to her.” Joe chuckled. “Said he’d thought nothing the Cartwrights do could surprise him, but he was wrong again.” He pointed a finger at Adam. “You owe me, Adam. That dog was stark raving mad when I found you. She’d just split a group of cows down the middle so they wouldn’t run over you, and when she saw me and Tilly coming it was as if she just couldn’t stop. She ran at me, and if Tilly hadn’t smacked her with a shovel I’m thinking Hoss might have had to foot the bill for another bloodletting.”

“Lady…attacked you? But she loves you!”

“I know. When I told Hoss about it, he said between all the pain from bein’ shot and the constant worryin’ with keeping the critters away from you, that she was just overwrought and mistook us for some more critters wantin’ to step on you. Anyhow, once she got up she was a little unsteady on her feet but she remembered who we were.”

“How did you get us home?”

“Tilly. We picked you up and heaved you into the back of the wagon with the other soggy blankets, and Lady jumped up on her own.”

“What do you mean, you and Tilly picked me up?”

“Like a side of beef, that’s what I mean.”

“You with one hand, and her a girl?”

“Well in case you ain’t noticed before, Older Brother, I’ve picked you up before. And I happen to have two hands, just ’cause one of ’em don’t work good at the moment doesn’t mean it’s not there. Besides, I wanna tell you about the lady schoolmarm over there…” he lowered his voice to a stage whisper. “She’s strong as a horse and can use words that would make our pa the sailor hide under a barrel. She apologized later and said it was ‘under duress,’ whatever that means, but I just told her I was gonna write everything down since I think I learned some new cusswords. What the heck is a pastanaga?”

“What are you talking about?” Adam’s voice was fading, and he couldn’t stay awake. He tried to focus. “Why was—what…”

Joe shook his head in irritation and looked at the clock. Then he grinned at the still-sleeping Tilly. “You owe me five dollars.” But the grin faded as he said it. He’d joked around with Adam because Adam was used to it. And if he’d gotten all serious, Adam might have figured out just how close a shave he’d had.

*

Tilly was awake the next time Adam woke up, and Joe had nodded off, so this time she had the honor of repeating most of what Joe had told him. “Adam, listen,” she finally said, slowly and clearly, “you have a bad concussion. We’re pretty sure you hit your head on a metal box. That’s why your eyesight is blurry and your head hurts…and why your memory is shot full of holes. You need to relax and not worry about anything right now. Plenty of time for that when you’re up to it. Right now all you need to know is that everyone you care about is safe.”

“Beauty’s not,” Adam whispered. For some reason, he had no problem at all remembering that.

“That’s true, but you couldn’t help that. I saw him too; that leg shattered like a china doll.”

“Lady saw me do it…she ran away.”

“Lady may not have understood what was happening, but she forgave you and came back. Otherwise she wouldn’t be with you now. And you were brave to end his suffering.”

Adam sighed. “Tilly…I can’t feel my right leg.”

“Yes, you mentioned that before,” she said, and he wondered about that; he didn’t know he’d spoken to her before. “We told Doctor Martin; he feels it’s a result of the back injury you had a couple of years ago. He thinks there’s a pinched nerve in your back.”

“Can he fix it?”

“Not really. He said if you could stretch your leg a little it would help your back. He said you should remember the exercises. The way you’re shifting around you must be in some pain, though—can I do anything to make you more comfortable?”

“No, I’m all right.”

“Don’t be silly; you’re not all right,” Tilly said sharply. “I just told you, you have a concussion, and a pinched nerve, and a bad sprain on that left wrist. We haven’t bandaged it yet because it’s so swollen. I think you should try to sleep on your side, Adam. It would probably help because it would stretch your back.”

“I would love to lie on my side; but, I can’t turn over right now.”

“Here, I’ll push you from the back and we’ll get you on your right side. Then we’ll pull your legs up and—”

“Tilly, stop right there. You can’t go pulling on my limbs—it’s way over the line. You shouldn’t even be here!”

“Why? Because you’re the one hurt and nobody’s allowed to know? When it was Hoss and Little Joe you sure welcomed my company.”

“But…” and then he just couldn’t think of anything else to say. She pushed him over onto his side, and then took pity on his embarrassment. “Joseph, wake up and pull your Damn Yankee brother’s right leg up; it’s numb.”

Joe jerked awake. “Oh, I love listening to you two sparkin’.”

“Well, there’s some sparks all right,” Tilly said. “Grab up under the knee, that’s the best place.”

“You’re as big a know-it-all as Adam, anybody ever tell you that?” Joe asked with a grin.

“Do you mind?” Adam shouted.

“Oh, excuse me; I was just leaving anyway,” Tilly snapped. “I’ve got to take the wagon back to town.”

“You’re not driving a team on snow-covered roads, are you?” Adam demanded. “That’s—”

“Let me guess; it’s something only a man can do,” Tilly retorted. “I’m sure you’d love to do it yourself. Doesn’t it stink to be helpless and dependent on other people—especially women—to do you a good turn?”

“I’ll take her, Adam,” Joe replied quickly, seeing Adam’s face redden as Tilly stamped out of the room.

Tilly’s voice floated up the stairs: “You’re not taking me anywhere, you little Cajun shrimp!”

“I’ll tellya, Adam, it’s a good thing you like ’em mean.” Joe charged after Tilly. “Hey, don’t you know the difference between a Cajun and a Creole?”

She had only stopped to throw on her cloak, but she looked back at Joe and smiled. “Not really. Loo’siana’s not my neck o’ the woods. And one Frenchman’s pretty much like the next to me. But Joe, I am sorry for mouthing off. Especially since it’s your Damn Yankee brother who’s got me so angry.”

“You have that much in common with every other Cartwright ever born,” Joe replied, allowing Tilly to help him put his jacket on. “I got a great idea. You help me hitch the horses. It’ll plain-out infuriate my brother.”

“Well in that case, lead on, Green Knight,” Tilly grinned. “Do you suppose Adam will remember any of this tomorrow?”

“The part with me, no. The part with you, I’m sure he’ll never forget. I want to do something very unusual, Tilly,” Joe said with a grin. “I want to say something good about my oldest brother. I never say anything good about Adam when a pretty girl is at stake, but I’ll take a chance just this once: he’s bossy and mean, but he’s only that way with people he cares about. If he didn’t care, he’d just be mean.”

“And I suppose you didn’t mind the least if I took the wagon back to town on my own?”

“Oooh, toasted on my own retard, or whatever that thing is Adam says.”

“’Hoist on my own petard’?”

“I might’ve figured you’d know it too. Does this mean you’re also bossy and mean, Tilly?”

“That’s what my little brothers always said.” She laughed. “I was just trying to take care of them, though.”

“Yeah, just like Adam. He means well,” Joe admitted. “And part of me appreciates it. But he also tries to take care of people when they don’t need takin’ care of, and that is the quickest way to rile a fella.”

“Or a girl,” Tilly chuckled. Joe found himself casting a glance her way as a little confusion entered his head. He’d known girls who were tomboys, but Tilly didn’t seem like a tomboy. Then again, grown women were supposed to wait and let men do things for them. Women who were still women, but who could exist independently and function on their own, were out of his experience. And for all he was certain she had some tender feelings for Adam, she didn’t display them well.

As he buckled the harnesses on the horses, he remembered she hadn’t gone to pieces when Lady attacked him. Or when they saw Adam draped across Beauty’s body and covered in so much blood that they didn’t know whether it was his or the horse’s. She’d discerned pretty quickly the gash in Adam’s scalp, and while Joe was wondering if he could, or should, ask for a bit of petticoat to bandage his brother’s head, she’d hiked up her skirts without a second thought and yanked off a huge section, even instructing him on the most effective way to wrap it.

He wondered if she ever cried. But since he had overheard Adam telling Hoss a couple of weeks ago—with a strange kind of totally inappropriate admiration—how Tilly had threatened both himself and their cousin Will with gelding if they didn’t behave properly, Joe decided not to ask her anything.

He dropped Tilly off at Mrs. O’Reilly’s and returned the wagon to the livery stable, but as he led Cooch out he saw Mike closing up the telegraph office and called down to him to see if anything had arrived for the Cartwrights.

“Yeah—actually it’s for Adam, and marked private. But if you give me your word that you’ll deliver it to him unopened, I’ll let you sign for it.”

Joe made his promise and took the telegram, wondering what Pa had to say that couldn’t be said in front of him and Hoss.

 

 

Chapter 11

The next time Adam opened his eyes he was greeted with Joe’s smiling countenance. “Wanna hear what’s wrong with you? I mean, aside from the obvious fact that you’ve got such a scary beard now that even Lady won’t lick your face?”

“I hurt all over and I’m madder than hell, that’s what’s wrong with me.” He tried to sit up and fell back, gasping. “Dammit! Has Roy been out? That fire—you know it was deliberate, right?”

“Adam, I know stuff that’d make your hair fall out,” Joe said decisively. “For example, I know Roy caught Orlow Bender and Cassius Biggs less than a mile from our property with a drum full of kerosene and a mule—hey, Adam? Are you really awake?”

“No promises on how long—but I’m awake,” Adam muttered. “I remember some. I remember smelling kerosene. Lady had scented someone and was on their trail, but they must have seen her coming and shot at her…I had some foolish notion of stamping out the fire, but I hadn’t brought anything to use. So I unsaddled Beauty and was going to use his blanket, but by then it was too late. Only thing I could think of was getting back to warn everyone, but all I did was kill my horse.”

“Don’t blame yourself, Adam,” Joe said softly. “May not be a good recommendation coming from me, but I can’t see where you did anything different than I would’ve done.”

“Do we have a good working damage tally?”

“Looks like the fire destroyed somewhere around fifteen hundred acres of pasture and forest; there’s about four hundred head of cattle known dead; another four hundred or so still unaccounted for. Will’s boys found some of ’em and there’s others wandering around that we haven’t gone after yet. I’m figuring we should probably replace the south side of the barn, but the good news is that the fire didn’t damage the structure, just the outside.”

“Any horses lost? Besides Beauty I mean.”

“No. All in all, it coulda been worse. Hoss is better today. He went out this morning to look at everything.”

“He shouldn’t have done that without Doc Martin’s okay.”

“Nope, he’s as duty bound as you. With you down, he’s going out all guns to get everything fixed. Listen, Adam, you got a telegram from Pa. It’s marked private, so…here. Can you read it, or are you still seein’ two or three of everything?”

“I’ll give it a shot,” Adam said, wondering what on earth could be stated in a telegram that Hoss and Joe couldn’t read. The words blurred and jumped around and gave him a fierce headache, but he was eventually able to make them out.

Adam—gravely concerned at reports from home. Demand a full accounting of activities. Joseph answer inadequate and disrespectful. Repeat what the devil is going on. Leaving 12-28 expect to find things normal repeat normal and proper repeat proper.

Adam frowned and reread the message. It still made no sense. “Did Pa send a telegram last week when Hoss and I were out working in the north section?”

“Yeah.” Joe chuckled. “All it said was ‘what the devil is going on?’ I figure you must have set him off talking about all those improvements you wanted to make, so I just told him we were trying to make some progress and modernize the place.”

Adam made a mental note to yell at Joe another time for replying to something that wasn’t his business, but still, he couldn’t see that Joe had said anything to get Pa so up in arms.

“Pa’s leaving on the 28^th,” he said instead.

“Well, shoot. He won’t be here for Christmas or New Year. It’ll be middle of January at the earliest. And if the passes get snowed in, he won’t make it home before March,” Joe mumbled.

“With the temperatures being so much higher than normal this year, maybe it’ll be a warm winter, too,” Adam suggested. “Don’t worry, Joe; I’m sure he’ll be home soon.”

*

Adam’s return telegram read, “All books will be available for complete accounting. As for any other questions all will be revealed.”

He then set about writing a letter in which all would be revealed. The problem was that his head still hurt and his vision was still blurry, so he could write very little at a time.

Dear Pa,

This is the last letter I will have time to send before you begin your return trip, but I hope it reaches you in time because there is a lot you need to know before you get here.

You will find the Ponderosa very changed, in both good and bad ways. We recently found ourselves battling a fire that destroyed more than 1500 acres of pasture and forest, and killed some 400 head of our cattle. Others are missing. It was only due to Providence, and a lot of work by the ranch hands, ourselves, a couple of neighbors, and a dog, that we were able to stop the blaze before it reached the house. The smoke is still hanging about the place. You may remember a couple of drifters hired prior to your leaving for Kansas; they were bad news for the Ponderosa. They set the fire. We don’t yet know why.

I told you before about some of the innovations I have been working on. These have gone well, for the most part, so I will leave the descriptions alone; we’ll take a tour when you get home. As to your concerns about the cost, I will absorb a good deal of it. The rest, I hope, will pay for itself. If it does not, I will cover those costs as well. In any event I’ll make sure the account books will be up-to-date so you will be able to have that “full accounting” you wanted.

That was as far as he could get before his eyesight gave out and a pounding headache started whenever he spent more than a moment trying to focus. Doc Martin had given him all kinds of grief about doing too much too fast. That was also depressing, but not something he could tell Little Joe. However, he was less successful in keeping the information from Hoss. Although keeping busy in taking up the slack Adam’s injuries had caused, as well as taking on Joe’s chores (Doc had been intrigued by the new sling technique, but no more amenable than usual to having Joe do anything with his injured arm or hand), Hoss had worried about Adam, and he took every chance to visit him. And he had always been good at reading his brother’s moods.

“I ain’t gonna pry, Adam,” he said quietly after sitting in total silence with Adam one afternoon. “But I’d sure like to know what’s troubling you.”

Adam gave him a lopsided smile. “There are very few things not troubling me at the moment, Hoss.”

“Well, why don’t you reel off a few of yer bigger grievances? Maybe we can get them outta the way at least.”

“My biggest worry is Pa.” Adam shook his head although that made him see double. “Hoss, he left me to run things while he was gone, and look at the hash I’ve made of it. Joe nearly died; you nearly died; the south pasture and God knows how many trees burned to the ground, we’ve lost or killed nearly a thousand cattle, the barn’s half destroyed, a valuable horse is dead, I can’t see straight…if things go on at this rate, we’re gonna dynamite the house on New Year’s and that’ll be all she wrote.”

“Now you wait just a dadburned minute. Brother, do you mean to tell me you think it’s your fault all this happened?”

“I was in charge. The responsibility was mine. That means the blame is mine.”

“Why don’t you go blamin’ yourself for the Noah’s Ark flood, too? You caused the one as sure as the other. Adam, nobody knowed what was gonna happen and nobody coulda prevented it.”

“Joe wanted us to go comb the woods for the squatters the day Lady chased that kid away. We should’ve done it; if we had, maybe Joe never would’ve gotten shot and you would never have had to give him your own blood.”

“I suppose that’s true, Adam.” Hoss scratched his ear. “But if I recollect right, a sheriff and posse combin’ the same woods when Joe got shot only turned up two of ’em. And we’ve only got two of ’em in custody right now. The woods behind the south pasture are deep and thick and fulla places to hide. So even if we had gone lookin’ there’s a good chance we wouldn’t’a found nobody. And as for me, I do seem to recall it was my choice to give Little Joe my blood, and in fact I had to beat you for the privilege.”

“Is that so?” Little Joe demanded, walking in.

“It sure ’nuff is,” Hoss proclaimed. “I had to give him a tap on that dainty jaw of his to get the message through ’cause he was determined to do it himself. Fortunately it’s only the top part of his head that’s made outta granite.”

“Well, hey, you should’ve asked me,” Joe said with a grin. “I’d rather have your blood any day, Hoss. Can you imagine if I got some of his? I’d be usin’ words nobody understands and puttin’ a ton of bear grease in my hair to hide my pretty curls.”

“Nice to know my sacrifice would’ve been appreciated,” Adam grumbled. “If I had lost three pints of blood on your account, I’d probably be as little and scrawny as you now, too.”

“The word you’re lookin’ for, Older Brother, is WIRY. Not scrawny—WIRY.” And all three ended the conversation with a grin.

Just before dinner Tilly arrived, and Hop Sing took her upstairs. “Heavens, Adam,” she said on looking at him. “I don’t think you could look worse if you tried.”

“Thanks a lot,” he retorted. “What’s wrong with me?”

“For starters, I never saw a face crying so loudly for a shave.”

“Oh.” A sheepish look. “Yeah, I’m at the mercy of my brothers. Can’t see well enough to do it myself.”

“Well, I see plenty well.”

“And since when have you ever shaved a man?”

“I’ve shaved lots of men. My father’s late brother was a barber. Uncle Johann. He told me I should learn how because lady barbers could make a lot of money. Of course, Pa found out about it and gave Uncle Johann a black eye, but by then I was already an expert. Hop Sing, can you bring some hot water and a shaving kit?”

“Hop Sing very happy to do.”

“What did I tell you?”

“Sorry—I am very happy to do.”

“Better, much better.”

Hoss and Joe arrived a few minutes later to tell Adam that supper was ready, but when they walked in Joe began to giggle, and however many times the red-faced Hoss smacked him with his hat, Joe would not be hushed. “Boy,” he finally gasped. “I sure remember the last time I saw a lady givin’ you a shave, Older Brother. The other one was—quit it, Hoss!—the other one was—”

“I have told you again and again, Joe, nothing happened!” Adam shouted. “Ow! Blast!”

“And I told you to be still!” Tilly fussed.

“Get him outta here,” Adam yelled, and Hoss bodily picked up Joe, slung him over a shoulder and carried him back downstairs with Joe laughing the whole time.

Soon enough, though, the laughter was coming from another quarter. Joe and Hoss having been banned from Adam’s room, Hop Sing took up a tray for Adam and Tilly. Joe and Hoss—with Joe still giggling intermittently—ate at the table downstairs.

But before long, they found themselves looking up in puzzlement at the sound of nearly hysterical laughter coming from both the occupants of Adam’s room.

Joe jumped. “That can’t be Adam. I never heard him sound like that in my life.”

“I’ll go see,” Hoss resolved.

A few minutes later, he returned with the dinner tray. For the first time in two days, Adam had apparently made a real stab at eating.

“Did you find out what was going on?” Joe called out while Hoss was still on the stairs.

Hoss moved one shoulder in a helpless shrug. “Something about somebody that wanted to be a wolf.”

“That’s BEOWULF!” Tilly bellowed after him, and Adam’s convulsive laughter redoubled.

“What’s that mean?” Hoss asked quietly.

“Means they’re nuts, that’s what it means,” Joe said with a roll of his green eyes, and upstairs the laughter grew louder.

*

Adam didn’t say anything, but Joe and Hoss knew something had changed. They could see it when they looked at him. Tilly didn’t know anything—but something had changed. Lady saw and knew it all, but she would not have told, even if she could. And if she was jealous, she never let it show. Her heart was big enough to share.

Joe and Hoss would always believe it was the Beowulf joke—whatever that meant—that pushed Adam over the edge. (“Who else can he marry?” Joe asked Hoss on learning Adam’s intentions. “Nobody but Tilly even speaks his language.”)

But the truth, and Adam had finally accepted it, was that he’d been falling for quite a while, and fighting it most of the way. Adam had never been an easy mark when it came to love. Unlike Joe, who could fall in love in the barest moment if the girl had a pleasant face and a well-turned ankle, Adam had wanted more. A lot of women had found him attractive over time, and he had found a lot of attractive women very pleasant company—for a time. But very few had touched him where it counted: Rebecca Kaufman, Regina Darien, and Ruth Halverson. (Little Joe called them the three R’s of Adam’s love education.) He hadn’t really had time with Rebecca; on seeing Adam’s interest, Rebecca’s father (not one to hold with inter-faith marriage) had removed her. Regina had been a woman of possibility, but again the barrier of religion proved insurmountable. And worst of all had been Ruth, because his family never understood what had happened. It was easier to think she had been a feverish delusion than to find her and bring her back, and by the time Adam had recovered, it was too late to track her. He had tried it, and he had failed. And so Adam had kept company with a lot of women for a short time, but while there were plenty of women interested in him, he could find nothing of interest in them.

Until Tilly. From their first conversation, she had kept him hopping. She had a sense of humor he found refreshing, after years of listening to polite laughter from witless beauties. In fact, her wicked wit occasionally crossed the bounds of propriety—another wakeup call, but one he enjoyed without an ounce of guilt. The fact that she was as well read as he was gave him someone to really talk with, debate with, and laugh with; her musical talents made her perfect for an evening concert. She had a strength of character and determination that made her difficult, but then after all the women Adam had known who had been “easy” in one way or another, “difficult” was good. She had brought about a resurgence of interest in his job because of the passion she had for hers. It seemed that every day brought about some new discovery about her, and he liked everything he discovered.

More and more of late, Adam found the house had taken on an empty feeling when Tilly wasn’t in it. She finished his sentences; he finished hers. She made him feel all kinds of things—in addition to the purely physical reaction she had always caused. But none of this was anything he could explain to his brothers, and he never would have tried anyway. He just agreed with them that he loved her because she made him laugh. There were plenty of worse reasons to love someone, after all. He just had to declare his feelings for her…but there were other things that needed to happen first, so he resolved to wait until the time was right.

Tilly came back the next evening as well, to find him with a headache and mighty frustrated at his bedridden state; there were so many reasons why he needed to be out of bed and back at work, he said. She, however, had no patience for any of that, and was worse than Doc Martin any day because she made threats way more horrible than anything Paul would have come up with.

“But there are things I need to have done before my father gets home,” Adam said urgently. “And things I need to do in town. I’ve gotten behind on the ledgers; I need to talk to the bank about our debt; I have to ride out and check the damage to the place and how much it’ll cost to get everything fixed; and I have to buy some clothes, too, I—”

“Ah.” Tilly seemed to have realized something. “I reckon you think you need a new black shirt.”

“Well I do get one every now and then…” he looked up at her, wishing his vision would clear so he could read her face. It was something he had gotten pretty good at doing, before.

“Don’t,” she said softly. “Beauty was a red horse, Adam. Get a red shirt—a nice deep red shade like an angry sunset. That’s the color you want.”

He didn’t reply; he just wondered what had brought that on, although, come to think of it, he did like a deep red color…. “And I need to finish my letter. Tilly, I don’t know what’s going on, but Pa’s gotten worried about the state of affairs out here. Unfortunately, he’s right. Letting the ranch get burned down wasn’t a particularly responsible act. But I’d like to reassure him somehow. And there are other things…I…wanted to talk to you about…” He looked up at her and wished again that he could read her face right now, because even if he could have asked her right then, he had no idea how she would answer. She certainly never seemed to have that silly love-addled expression that so many women had. In fact, he realized he had no idea what—if anything—she felt for him. He couldn’t see her clearly enough to make a guess now. And so he said nothing more.

In the end she offered to help by finishing the writing of his letter. (She offered to handle the ledgers as well, but Adam was pretty sure his Pa would have a cow if someone he thought of as a stranger had gone into the Ponderosa’s books.) He needed to get the letter finished and in the next day’s mail; any later and he feared it would not arrive in Kansas before his father’s departure.

“He’ll know something funny’s going on if you write it,” Adam argued.

“Sure, and he won’t think anything at all if it’s your handwriting all over the page like a squashed bug.”

At that he subsided, grumbling. He gave her the unfinished letter and began to dictate.

You might as well know that I was recently injured too. In the fire I mentioned, Beauty broke his leg, throwing me, and I sustained some injuries—

“MINOR injuries,” Adam fussed. “Be sure you write MINOR.”

“If they’re bad enough that you can’t write your own letter, don’t you think he’ll know?”

—that have laid me up for a week or so. Happily I am recovering in hardy Cartwright fashion, although the handwriting has probably alerted you to difficulties in writing. But I want you to get this letter, Pa, because some of the changes we’ve undergone here will affect you profoundly.

This may well end up being the most important bit of information. We have taken in a stray dog. She turned up the week after you left, and Hoss named her Lady. No one has claimed her, so that makes her ours, although she seems to think she’s mine. I have to tell you that she has been living in the house with us, and while you might not be overjoyed to hear that, believe me when I tell you she has more than earned the privilege.

“Underlined ‘earned,’ please, Tilly,” Adam said. “Pa doesn’t like dogs in houses, and he needs to understand that this is no ordinary dog.”

In fact, it is due to her that you still have the house, not to mention me (she saved my life last week) and Joe (she has rescued him from certain death twice, and the way he lives you can never know but what he may need her again soon).

I also must reluctantly inform you that I withheld some information regarding Little Joe’s broken collarbone. You may be angry that I did not wire you, but I knew you could not have left and even if you had, by the time you returned it would all have been over, for good or bad. The truth is that we nearly lost Joe. He was shot and his life was saved twice on that day, once by Hoss and once by Lady, the dog I mentioned. I’ll let the full story wait until you return, as it is a little unusual, and let it suffice to say that Joe is back to his usual self: head in the clouds, arm in a sling, and his bottom will be as well if he doesn’t quit raising so much Cain. Situation normal for Joe. As to his injury, as well as the subsequent fire, I take full responsibility for allowing these things to happen. The people who shot Joe are the same ones who tried to burn our place down. Two are in jail now and one is still at large, but we hope to find him before long.

Pa, it’s been an eventful few months, many parts of which I would not want to repeat. It makes me glad you’re the one in charge here. I’ve made my decisions, for the most part, as I thought you would, and the remaining decisions were made with the hope that you would approve of the outcome. I can tell you this—the conversation we’ll have on your return will not be boring. And I look forward greatly to that return, to sitting down and having one of our talks, or chess games.

My friend Miss Hoffman the schoolteacher is writing this for me.

“When you get home I’m sure you will meet her as she has become something of a family member—”

“Adam, you can’t say that!”

“Isn’t it true?”

“Of course not. I…”

“Don’t be silly. You’re practically a Cartwright now. If any of the three of us had any blood to spare at the moment, we could conduct an Indian ceremony and make you a Cartwright blood brother, but unfortunately the only one of us with plenty of blood to spare right now is Hop Sing, and we haven’t even had the ceremony for him yet.”

Tilly laughed, but left out that part, beginning instead at his next words, and blushing even then.

When you get home I’m sure you will meet her. She proved herself a valuable nurse when Joe and Hoss were under the weather and has even attempted to run the blockade caused by my own Yankee granite-headedness during my illness.

“Um…I guess that’s all, Tilly. If you’d just give it back to me, and ask Little Joe for the address…and send Hoss up, please.”

“Don’t you want to sign it?”

“I’ll do that while you’re gone.” He took the pen and as fast as he could, he began writing a postscript.

PS—Pa, I plan to get married.

His vision blurred and the pen danced across the page as Hoss walked in. “You wanted me, Adam?”

“Hoss, can you write something for me? My eyes are going out on me again and I have to finish this letter.”

“You ain’t kiddin’, brother. Your handwriting’s all over the page. You sure I’ll be able to do any better?”

“Maybe not, but I want to finish this, so just write and don’t ask questions. And swear not to say anything.”

“Huh?” Hoss looked at the last line of the letter and his blue eyes grew large and round. “Adam?”

“Don’t say anything. JUST WRITE, Hoss!”

My intended is the girl who wrote most of this letter for me, the Virginia City schoolteacher, a young lady by the name of Mathilde Hoffman. We call her Tilly. The only reason I haven’t yet asked the girl is that I want you to meet her first. I know I don’t need your permission, but I do want your blessing, and I have no doubt that you’ll provide that when you meet her. She is beautiful,

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Hoss mumbled. “Pretty, I could go for.”

“You just don’t know how to spell ‘beautiful.’ B-E-A-U-T-I-F-U-L, next word, intelligent—”

“C’n I say ‘smart’?”

“I-N-T-E-L-L-I-G-E-N-T. Now write.”

—spirited, musically inclined, and able to hold her own in most battles; virtuous, loyal to a fault (and as I mentioned before and you will appreciate, she showed herself a capable nurse during the various injuries with which we were forced to cope). You know that I have never given my affections lightly. My most fervent desire in a marriage—

“How do you spell marriage?”

“M-A-R-R-I-A-G-E. Write.”

—was always to find the kind of affection, partnership, and respect that I saw between you and Inger and later, you and Marie. It should not surprise you that you were always my example. Maybe that is why it took me so long to find someone. You were a high standard indeed, but I am certain my choice will be everything you hoped for me,

“I’ll write the last part, Hoss. Thanks.”

His hand shook and his sight blurred again as he wrote,

and I only hope I am worthy of her, praying to God that she’ll say yes when I ask.

In all the things I look forward to when you come home, foremost is having you meet Tilly and Lady, as Hoss calls them the two women in my life. I hope you’ll come to love them both as I do. They have saved me in so many ways.

Your devoted son,

Adam

As Adam painfully signed the postscript, Tilly returned with an addressed envelope. Adam looked almost pleadingly at Hoss, who couldn’t stop grinning at Tilly.

“Miss Tilly,” Hoss said, ignoring the strangled sound from Adam, “can I ask you one question?”

“Sure, Hoss.” She handed him the envelope.

“What’s your favorite color?” He crossed his fingers, thinking not-blue-not-blue-not-blue-please-not-blue….

“Green. Why?”

“Praise the Lord,” he sighed.

*

The telegram Adam had sent to his father was received two days later but the effect was not what Adam would have hoped. Ben’s eyebrows drew together in a hopelessly puzzled frown…and then his jaw set in grim determination to find out what in blazes was going on under his roof.

The letter, however, met a different fate. It went into town the night of the 21^st and was in the mail stage the following morning.

Christmas came and went—a bit of a subdued Christmas at the Cartwrights’ in spite of Tilly’s being there to help with the celebration. She wondered why Hoss kept looking at her and grinning, but she didn’t ask. And when Adam—whose left wrist, now tightly wrapped and unable to make chords on his guitar—had to pass on playing, Tilly got his guitar and began to play it herself. She was, Adam was delighted to learn, almost as good on it as he was. After she left he decided he was going to have to learn piano since, as he told Hoss, he wasn’t going to marry someone who was more musically inclined than he was.

Ben Cartwright concluded his testimony on Christmas Eve and checked out of his hotel, leaving over the Army’s objections. “I’m a civilian who gave four months of his life to come here at my own expense for this trial,” he told the general. “You now have what you needed from me. I will not be recalled; I am needed at home.” He spent a depressing Christmas at a swing station 40 miles from Fort Leavenworth, and was underway again in the morning. And so on December 28^th, the day he should have checked out of the hotel, and the day Adam’s committee-written letter arrived, Ben was on a train and well into his journey home. Faithful Domino, turning the letter over and over in his hands, finally decided to pay his own money to return the letter to the Ponderosa. It might be important, after all.

The letter began its way home on the 29^th, but with the five-day difference, the holiday, and the snow in the Rockies, it did not reach the Ponderosa before his arrival.

Chapter 12

Tilly didn’t come out the week between Christmas and New Year. She was using her five-day holiday to grade assignments and plan for the new term. Her absence, however, was made up to some extent by two other events.

Hoss and Joe rounded up the green colts from the western pasture near the lake, and Lady helped them cut a muscular chestnut gelding from the herd and bring him back to the corral. Then they brought Adam down to see. He was still a little shaky, and walking more than a few feet at a time cut into his back and leg. Still, his head injury had receded to no more than an occasional headache, so he ventured outside with his brothers.

“We call him Sport,” Hoss announced. “Um…we call him that because…well, he’s just a good sport, that’s all.”

“Codswollop!” Joe laughed. “We call him that because he spends all his time chasing the fillies.”

Hoss changed the subject quickly. “He’s another one of Corsair’s sons. Three years old.”

“Another half-brother to Beauty,” Joe said with a grin. “But you can see that.”

Adam could. The two were very similar; the newcomer was perhaps a little bigger-boned and had another white sock, but Hoss had pronounced the horse’s hooves to be sound, and that was good enough for Adam. He looked long and hard at the gelding, its head and tail lifted high and proud as it trotted back and forth in the corral, and Adam swallowed hard and pushed his emotions back into their proper place.

“He’s a looker, all right, but how’s his performance?” he asked with the proper skepticism.

“That’s up to the rider,” Hoss said. “You oughtta know that by now, Older Brother. You got more willing cooperation out of Beauty the last few weeks of his life than you ever did the first few years.”

“But I can tell you this,” Joe put in. “I green-broke him. He’s good—powerful, fast, turns on a dime—I even thought of keeping him for myself. Only thing is, he’s got the same temperament as Beauty. He’s got his pride, and he wants to feel like he’s doing you a favor letting you ride him. He wants a friend, not a master.”

“Well,” Adam said softly, “I reckon he’ll do. I’m short of friends these days, anyway. Does he…does he have any interesting mannerisms I should know about?”

“Funny you should ask,” Hoss chuckled. “He’s about as bad a head-tosser as I ever saw. Bad as Beauty any day.”

Adam smiled, and wondered if his concussion was back; the horse seemed a bit blurry all of a sudden. “He’ll do,” he said again, and leaned on the corral post as both his brothers clapped him on the back.

Two afternoons later the second event occurred when Adam, taking another stab at updating the ledgers, opened the safe behind his father’s desk and saw an unfamiliar metal box gleaming dully in the pale winter sun. A large crusted splash of dried blood covered one corner of the box—and on the lid, in small raised letters, it read “Property Central Pacific Railroad.”

For a minute, he just stared blankly at the box, and then called Hoss and Little Joe in a voice that left no doubt of his seriousness. Both left their other pursuits and trotted in to find their brother delicately holding the small metal box with his fingertips, as if he feared breaking it.

“Where did this come from?” he demanded in quiet, near-deadly tones.

“South pasture,” Little Joe replied. “Tilly and me found it when we found you. She thought you mighta’ hit your head on it on account of the blood and the tracks we saw.”

“We ain’t opened it,” Hoss said. “Well; nobody has, you can see by the lock. Tilly gave it to Hop Sing and he gave it to Joe. Joe put it in the safe, and there it’s been.”

“Okay.” Adam thought for a minute. “Get Roy out here, and see if he can bring whoever’s in charge of the Virginia City Pinks along with him.”

He sat down and, his eyes on the box, began thinking. And so he was still doing more than two hours later when Roy arrived with the Pinkerton. Lady, curled around Adam’s feet, barked once before recognizing Roy. But the other fellow, from her growls, was clearly not welcome. Well, Adam thought, I never liked Pinkertons either.

“Adam Cartwright, this here’s Jasper Musgrave, from San Fran—” Musgrave waved off the introduction as soon as he saw the box and made a grab for it, demanding, “Where did you get this?”

Adam sat still, looking at the man. “This is the box that went missing after the train crash, then?”

“It most certainly is.” Musgrave looked him over suspiciously. “And I’d really like to know how it came to be in your possession, sir.”

“I have a feeling it’s been on the Ponderosa for a few months now,” Adam said. “Ever since Orlow and Dex Bender and Cassius Biggs took it out of the wreckage of that train.”

“What makes you think it was them?” Roy demanded.

“It was in the south pasture, surrounded by metal traps,” Adam said. “My father hired Orlow Bender and Cassius Biggs the week before he left for Kansas. Just a couple of drifting cowboys, or so we thought. But right after they got here I found steel traps in the south pasture. A while later I chased off that boy, Dex Bender, in the same area. I think when they took it from the train they knew there would be an investigation, so they couldn’t just start spending the money. I assume the bills are marked, Mr. Musgrave?”

A curt nod.

“They had to hide it for a while,” Adam continued. “And they had to make a living while they waited for things to die down. So they kept that kid Dex in the vicinity to watch, and they volunteered to ride fence in that area, just to make sure nobody was noticing. I imagine it was buried somewhere around there. Only things didn’t die down—just as soon as Orlow and Cassius quit their jobs and made preparations to leave, a bunch of Pinkertons showed up.” He grinned at Musgrave, who scowled back. “And you Pinkertons stayed. Finally I think they got tired of waiting. They thought if they created a big enough diversion, like wildfire, everyone would be too busy to notice them trotting away with the box. Only the plan backfired, since nobody in Virginia City cared if the Ponderosa burned to the ground, and since the Pinkertons couldn’t be bothered. The fire got out of control too fast for Bender and Biggs, and Lady went after them…so they dropped the box and ran.”

Adam smiled his most friendly smile to Mr. Musgrave. “Think I’m on the right track?”

“Not really, but go ahead if it amuses you.”

“It does.” Adam turned to Roy. “You might want to wire the sheriffs where the money was originally put on the train…maybe even check with the railroad itself, and see if anyone matching the descriptions of Bender and Biggs ever worked there. Don’t bother using their names, though; I don’t think they’re real.”

“Why not?” Roy asked.

“Biggs, Bender. Say that five times fast.” Adam grinned at Musgrave. “Am I getting closer?”

Musgrave didn’t reply, but Roy, having said “Biggs Bender” the requisite five times, grinned broadly.

“One last thing,” Adam said. “I’d like the railroad to pay for damages to the Ponderosa. I think $30,000 ought to cover it.”

“Mister, you’re out of your gourd. Those guys only stole $25,000 to start with,” Musgrave said.

Adam shook his head. “I never heard of a whole wagonload of Pinkertons getting called in on anything less than a hundred thousand dollars, Musgrave. So when I remembered that, I started looking at your box.”

“You didn’t find a thing. It’s still locked,” Musgrave said.

“You’re not familiar with the Ponderosa, Mr. Musgrave,” Adam replied gently. “A big-city fellow like you, I suppose you think the Cartwrights are just your average country boys. That’s how most city fellas regard us. And so we are, except for one thing. Unlike the railroad, while we also employ all kinds of people here, we regard them all the same. In fact, one of the fellows who works for us is a Chinese man whom we regard as a part of the Cartwright family…” He broke off as Hop Sing entered the room to stand beside him. “Hop Sing, I hope your ancestors are not offended.”

“No, Mister Adam,” Hop Sing said with a smile. “My ancestors understand that they are family of my old home, and you, like my cousins, are family in my new home.”

“I’m glad to hear it. By the way, your English has improved. So has your pronunciation.”

“Thank you, Mister Adam. Miss Tilly is teaching me.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Roy bellowed—but Musgrave was pale.

“The Chinese have a real affinity for puzzles,” Adam explained, and extricated the box from Musgrave’s suddenly-boneless hand. He gave it to Hop Sing, who moved his fingers a couple of times, and suddenly a thin shelf slid out of the box. On it rested two large yellow certificates.

“Where are the other two?” Musgrave yelped.

“Oh, my, were there two more?” Adam replied with a smirk. “Search me.”

“I will.”

“And I wish you luck. Bearer bonds—as I understand it, Roy—have been around for a while, but it wasn’t until the war that everyone started using them. And that’s because everyone can use them; or to be more accurate, anyone can use them. It’s a great way to anonymously carry a large sum of money in a single piece of paper. Each of these bonds is the equivalent of $100,000. So, for $400,000, three men derailed a train, burned down a large part of our ranch, destroyed a large portion of our cattle herd, devastated a forest that will take years to replace, and damn near killed my two brothers and me. We found the box while we were trying to save our land—this land that the Pinkertons couldn’t be troubled with when it was ablaze.

“And now, I’m returning your box to you, and the only thing I’m asking for is recompense for the physical hardship that we’ll be put to in order to replenish the land and cattle. I’m not asking anything for the lives of my brothers, because if they had died on account of your little box, there aren’t enough bearer bonds in print to replace them. And I’m not asking for anything for myself, because I don’t care about the money. All I want is to be able to tell my father that his hard-won ranch is not in danger of financial collapse. So there you have it, Musgrave. I think the railroad can spare $30,000. But if it can’t, the board member you’re working for who decided to transport his money in this box, well, he seems to be out $200,000.”

“Seems? What do you mean?”

“I mean, I never said there were two other bonds. So if there are, I can’t vouch for their safety. There might even be another fire, leaving those two certificates mere piles of ashes. Now of course I’d never see a cent of them, but it doesn’t matter to me. What matters to me is the safety of my family and my father’s financial solvency.” Adam dropped the box back onto the desk, where it landed with a bang, scratching the varnish. “Your choice, Mr. Musgrave.”

“That’s extortion.” Musgrave took a step toward Adam. Lady’s low growl made him back up again.

“Roy, is it extortion to expect the railroad to reimburse property damages, especially when the railroad’s property being here is what caused all the property damages?”

“Um…Nope. It’s not extortion to expect the railroad to reimburse property damages, not as far as I know, Adam.” Roy had a peculiar grin of his own. “An’ I never heard you sayin’ you had the other bonds, or even that you knew about ’em before.” He’d never liked Pinkertons either.

“There.” Adam turned back to Musgrave with a smile.

“You small-town cowboys are always in collusion,” Musgrave muttered. “I will communicate with the railroad and let you know their decision.”

“Don’t take too long. And don’t get notions of arresting me. After all, you wouldn’t want anybody else to know about these boxes, would you? Make a nice little carrying system, don’t they? Have a nice trip back to town.”

Musgrave’s look would have rotted cheese. He seemed to be wondering what exactly to do, when a sudden movement made him look down. Lady was ardently licking her behind. Adam glanced down as well. “My thoughts exactly, old girl.” Musgrave spun on his heel and walked out.

*

On New Year’s Eve, the three Cartwright boys piled into a wagon, since Adam was not yet able to ride, and with five armed ranch hands flanking them, they drove into Virginia City. There they handed the box—complete with its four pieces of paper—over to Jasper Musgrave and received a bank draft for $30,000. Musgrave and his troop of Pinkertons took the box without a word and made their way out of Virginia City.

“Well, I’m a lot gladder to see their backs than their fronts,” Roy declared, watching them ride away. “Adam, don’t make a habit of pullin’ stunts like that—but between you and me and the kitchen cabinets, they don’t call you the smart one of the family for nothin’. What you asked for never even occurred to me.”

“It occurred to me,” Hoss said. “But I don’t know as I would’ve had the nerve to do the askin’.”

“I would’ve had the nerve,” Joe added. “But I didn’t have any bargaining power. How in heck did you figure out the trap door in the box, Adam?”

Adam shrugged. “Hop Sing found it. I just thought it might be there. I couldn’t get past the notion that Pinkertons never come in on small cases—and there were a couple of small Chinese symbols scratched into the bottom of the box. So I was certain there was something else there…but if I unlocked it, they could’ve arrested me. On the other hand, nobody is supposed to know about these trick Chinese boxes, so I thought I would probably be safe if I could just figure out how to open it. Fortunately we had Hop Sing, and he did.”

“And that’s why Adam’s the bull of the woods,” Hoss chuckled. “Hey Adam, wanna come over to the saloon and moo with us?”

“No; you go ahead. I’m going to deposit this draft before Musgrave changes his mind, and then I think I’ll walk over and see if Tilly’s still planning to come over for New Year’s dinner.”

Hoss looked at the clueless Joe and back at Adam with an eager expression. “Hey, are you gonna—”

“No, I’m not!” Adam gave both his brothers an iceberg-melting scowl. “I’ll meet you in an hour, all right?”

“Moo,” Joe and Hoss replied meekly, and as they walked away, Joe said “what was all that about?” Roy and the five ranch hands accompanied them over to the Sazarac for celebratory beers; Adam, leaning on his father’s cane, watched them go and then hobbled to the bank. He met Cyrus there and handed the draft to him.

“I heard about this,” Cyrus chuckled. “I hate the Pinkertons too, so you should’ve seen me laughing when Roy told me the story. In the Ponderosa account?”

“No,” Adam said after a little thought. “Put it in my savings account. That one’s interest-bearing. The money’s presence there can serve as collateral if we need a loan anytime soon, and since I’ll leave it there for six months, when I transfer it to my father there’ll be another few hundred dollars to go with it.”

“That’s true. Hadn’t thought of that. Adam, anyone ever tell you that you should work at a bank?”

“I’d settle for being able to persuade my father to open an interest-bearing account.”

“He’ll never do it as long as the bank has a minimum deposit time.”

“I know,” Adam sighed. He shook his head and left to pay a visit to Mrs. O’Reilly’s boarding house.

“Happy holidays, Mrs. O’Reilly. May I speak to Miss Hoffman?”

The landlady looked down her disapproving nose at him, “She hasn’t been down in two days.”

“Is something wrong?”

“How would I know? She won’t talk to me. She hasn’t said a word since she came back from the telegraph office day before yesterday. Made plenty of noise, though, I can tell you. If she hadn’t already paid me next month’s rent and if I could only afford to refund it, I’d have her out on the street.”

Something was wrong. “Mrs. O’Reilly, please escort me upstairs.”

The alarm in his voice had no effect on her. “Oh no. What you do with her out at your big fancy ranch is one thing, but I’ve already lost most of my boarders through malicious—”

“Gossip?” Adam turned frigid eyes on her. “You’d know all about malicious gossip, wouldn’t you? You’ve been tying Miss Hoffman into all sorts of evil since she’s been here.”

“I was concerned about the poor girl’s reputation!”

“You’re the one dragging her reputation through the mud, Mrs. O’Reilly. Tilly’s conduct has been above reproach. Take me upstairs now or I’ll go up alone.”

“Then I’ll call the sheriff!”

Adam looked at her for a bare moment longer. Then he leaned close to her. “Mrs. O’Reilly, how much of the gossip about me do you believe? Do you believe I told Sam Bryant to do what he liked with my father since I never liked him anyway? Do you believe I shot Sue Ellen Terry in cold blood—and then had the sheriff set up to take the blame? If all that is true, how smart is it to get me riled? I’m going to give you ’til I count to three to give me her room number, and then I start breaking things.” He pointed his cane at a nearby picture.

“Room six! I’m getting the sheriff!”

He turned and painfully climbed the stairs, hanging onto the rail and cursing his leg.

Knocking on the door, he called in a low and urgent voice, “Tilly, it’s Adam. Will you let me in?”

There was no response.

“Tilly, I know something’s wrong. Please answer.”

No response.

“Tilly, in another minute I’m going to start breaking your door down. And you know I’m not in the best of health, so you really don’t want me trying that, do you?”

A dragging step on the other side of the door told him she was coming. Finally he heard the lock turn, and the door opened a tiny crack. “Adam, I don’t want to see anyone today. I’m sorry.”

But it was too late; he had seen, just from that slit in the door, the room beyond, and more importantly, the condition of that room. He pushed the door open.

The room looked as if someone had set off a stick of dynamite. Books were scattered on the floor, sheets of paper thrown everywhere. The dresser had been turned over and was lying at an angle, its partially-opened drawers holding it up.

“Who did this?” he asked dangerously—and then, for the first time he looked at her. And with the sight of her, the answer was not surprising.

“I did,” she replied quietly, and turned away from him to sit down on her bed, since both chairs had been broken. The clothes she wore had been on her a while…probably this was the third day, he realized, and she had torn the lapels off her suit jacket. Her hair, usually pinned in some fashion, had never been taken down, but it hung out of its arrangement in large frizzy chunks. Her eyes and nose were swollen and red, her knuckles were blood-stained and her hands were bruised.

He swallowed. “What happened?”

“Appomattox,” she muttered.

“That was three years ago.”

“Yeah…I just found out.” She laughed, and any other time he would have joined in, but then the laughter turned into sobs, and she buried her head in a pillow.

For a minute he just stood there, at a loss for what to do. They weren’t engaged; he wasn’t even supposed to be in the room, and if the O’Reilly witch made good her threat then Roy—probably accompanied by Hoss and Joe—would be there any minute. Then he realized it didn’t matter much, and he sat down beside her, pulled her into his chest, and held her while she cried.

And that was how they were when Roy, Hoss and Joe galloped up the stairs.

For a few moments it seemed as if no one knew what to do. Well, not “no one”—Tilly didn’t even know the others were there. But Roy was looking around the room in embarrassment. Hoss and Joe milled about in the doorway, looking for a minute as if they would come in, but Adam shook his head.

“Adam…” Roy cleared his throat.

“In a minute, Roy,” Adam said. “Please. I’ll come along quietly…in a minute.”

Roy did the only thing he could do: he shut the door.

“Tilly, tell me what’s wrong,” Adam said.

The whisper was so quiet he almost didn’t hear it. “My father’s dead.”

He’d forgotten she had a father. What had she said…“he lost his business and he lost his mind.” Back then he had wondered what she meant; he had an unwelcome feeling that now he was going to find out.

“I’m two thousand miles away…there won’t be a funeral. There won’t even be a grave. There’s no money for a burial, so he’ll be in the pauper cemetery…I shouldn’t have left him. I didn’t want to…but I couldn’t stay. So he died alone and surrounded by strangers. And all they knew about him was that he was crazy. ”

“I’m so sorry, Tilly…” He always hated condolences, knowing from experience that they were worthless.

Outside he heard O’Reilly, loudly insisting upon his arrest. He happened to look down and see the telegram from the Randolph Home for the Insane, and the seeds of a plan hit him.

“Tilly…I kind of raised a ruckus to get in and see you,” he said. “I don’t think I can stay any—”

“Adam.” Roy pushed the door open. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid you’re going to have to come with me now.”

“Not just him!” O’Reilly screamed. “My complaint is on them both! Look at that room! I’ll be lucky if I can ever rent it out again!”

“You’ll be lucky if you ever rent any room out again,” Adam replied.

“He threatened me, Sheriff! He threatened my life!”

“No, Mrs. O’Reilly. I’ve threatened your business. The Ponderosa used to refer a lot of customers your way. Now just think what will happen when we refer them away from you.”

“Did you hear that, Sheriff?”

“Adam, let’s go. Miss Tilly, if you don’t mind, I have to ask you to accompany me as well.”

Tilly stood up and stumbled to the door.

“You’ll need a coat, Tilly,” Adam said, looking around. Seeing nothing serviceable, he sighed and put his own yellow barn coat around her shoulders. Not noticing, she continued downstairs, with O’Reilly following and berating her the whole way.

“We’ll have you out in a jiffy, Adam,” Joe said.

“No,” Adam replied. “First, I want you and Hoss to clean this room up as best you can. Pack Tilly’s things—even the stuff that doesn’t look salvageable—and put it in the wagon. If the Widow Hawkins can’t take her, then take everything out to the Ponderosa. Then, Joe, I want you to go down to the mercantile—I don’t care if it’s New Year’s Eve—and get them to send someone over to estimate the damages on this furniture. I’ll cover the repair and replacement costs, but I want an objective opinion. Roy, do you approve?”

“I think that’s a fine idea.”

“And Hoss, you stay here. The room stays occupied until the estimate’s done. Understand?”

“Sure do, Adam.”

“Okay, after everything’s taken of here, then go see Hiram and see if he can take our case. Roy, any notion how much bail will be?”

“I gotta look in my book, Adam, sorry.”

“Fine; you two will know where to find Tilly and me. And by the way, I want you to stop and tell everyone you meet that the O’Reilly place kicked out a girl for the crime of being distraught over her father’s death.”

Hoss and Joe exchanged a look.

“One more thing…” Adam handed Joe the telegram. “Wire this place and tell them we’ll pay for a grave and a tombstone. See if they can find out where Mrs. Hoffman is buried and put him next to her. Ask them for a bill…and a photograph for Tilly.”

“Sure, Adam.”

As Adam and Roy descended the stairs, Little Joe looked around the room. “To think I wondered once if she even knew how to cry,” he muttered.

*

Roy devoutly refused to put them in the same cell (“’twouldn’t be proper”), and with a thick wall between them, it would have been silly to have a conversation. Not that Tilly was in the mood for one. She periodically lapsed into crying again, and Adam wondered if that was how she had spent the last two and a half days.

About two hours later, Hoss and Little Joe came to the jail with Hiram Wood in tow. Bail was set and paid; Adam and Tilly had to agree not to leave the area before the arrival of the circuit judge or until the charges were dropped; and they were released. Strangely, or perhaps not so strangely, a lot of people happened to be passing by when they came through the doors…and more than one person was heard to say, “I don’t know that I want a jailbird teaching my child.”

Widow Hawkins was more than willing to take Tilly as a boarder, but “I don’t ’ave a single room open until the fifth, Ducky. Can you put ’er someplace else until then?” The International House was full of holiday guests; thus Tilly, who couldn’t have cared less if she stayed in a hotel or a pig trough, accompanied the Cartwrights back to the Ponderosa where she was ensconced in the downstairs guest room.

New Year’s Day was quiet; Tilly kept to her room and hardly came out. The day after, though, one of the hands went into Virginia City and came back with a wire for her, from one Blake Weston in Reno. Adam remembered that Tilly’s middle name was Weston, and that she had an uncle; he put two and two together eventually but it still really seemed to equal three. She’d been at their house every weekend, even accepted their invitation to Christmas without a qualm, never mentioning that she had other family within sixty miles. Then he remembered what she had said the day they talked about their respective curses. “Here I am in the middle of the desert, my only relative in the world is an uncle I despise, and yet I’m here.” But even that didn’t make sense, since he wasn’t her only relative; her father had still been living then. Of course…Randolph Home for the Insane. He felt a little queasy just remembering the name, and wondered if that was why she hadn’t counted her father as being alive.

“Tilly,” he called almost shyly, knocking on the door. “Can we talk for a minute?”

The door opened. Well, at least she’d cleaned herself up and taken a shot at fixing her hair. She squared her shoulders and looked him in the eye. “I guess it’s about time I started acting human again, is that what you’re going to say?”

He shook his head. “When Marie died everyone in this house—and I mean everyone—went to pieces. It lasted for weeks. Don’t apologize for grieving for your father.”

“I’m not sad,” she said, walking out to the living room and sitting down by the fire. He followed and sat down on the coffee table.

“I lost my father a long time ago, Adam. And I’ve lost him again every day since then. That telegram was only the last of many times.”

“Tilly, I’m having a hard time following you—but you don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to. I mainly just came to tell you that you have a new telegram—and I think it’s from your uncle.”

She nodded, looking into the flames. “No death is ever complete without a few vultures. Adam, will you think less of me if I tell you some things about my family?”

“Of course not.” He laughed softly. “Remember we’re the ones who thought a tavern song was a lullaby.”

She nodded again. “My Uncle Blake is Mother’s baby brother. She adored him. Mother was a wonderful woman, Adam, and I’ll never think a bad thought about her, but she just wasn’t capable of seeing the people she loved as they really were. Blake is a liar, a cheat, and much worse. In the early ’50s he was financing slave transports, but he wasn’t much good with money so he lost his shirt. Pa had a little import-export business in Savannah. Mother talked Pa into taking Blake as a partner. The profits started declining, largely due to Blake. But then the war began, and Blake got in with the blockade runners. Suddenly business was booming—but Blake was stealing the profits so even then Pa was losing money. And then General Sherman showed up and started burning a path across the state directly to Pa’s front door. Blake took off for Lake’s Crossing, Nevada—with most of the money. And when Sherman got to Savannah, the first businesses to be torched, the first houses to be razed, the first families to be thrown into jail, were the ones who had consorted with blockade runners.”

“Tilly, are you sure all this was your uncle’s fault?”

“Oh yes. Even mother’s letters would say things like ‘I am so proud of my little brother; he has contacts in the shipping industry that your father never knew about, and he’s making a great impact on the business.’ Then my father’s letter would say ‘young Blake has fallen in with a rough crowd who dare take on the shipping blockade. I hate all of those hooligans, but the operation is his to run, and what can I do save fire him and break your mother’s heart?’ Do you remember, Adam, when we talked about how much our parents dress up distasteful events for their children’s sakes?”

He nodded.

“There’s more,” she went on, with venom in her voice. “There’s way too much more to tell to nice people in their own home. But that man caused most of the tragedies in my family’s life. He even talked my little brother Geoff into fighting for the glory of the Cause at age 15. Well, that ended pretty ingloriously at Gettysburg…he’s in some mass graveyard…but I’m rambling again. That telegram, that’s why I’m here.”

“It’s why I called you out here, yes,” Adam said, puzzled.

“No; I mean why I’m here in Virginia City. Mother’s last letter…was so beautiful, so full of poetry and all the things we loved…but the ending was strange. She told me not to come back to Savannah. She was sure she’d be dead within a couple of months. She was worried about Pa, though—he had taken to acting strangely. She put it nicely…but he just wasn’t himself, she said, and she thought that when she was gone he would be better cared for by professionals than by a spinster daughter.” She clasped and unclasped her hands. “How much can a man lose before he goes over the edge? He lost his sons, his business, his home; he was losing his wife. The only thing he had left was me, and I was three thousand miles away.

“By the time I was ready to sail from Spain, mother was dead. And when I got to Savannah, Pa was in the Randolph place already—a hellhole—and except for a couple of times, he never recognized me, much less let me take care of him. I couldn’t get him out.

“I look a little like Mother in the face, even though I have black hair, and he thought I was Mother’s ghost. The last few times I tried to sit with him he attacked me, and one day when he went for me the attendants—vicious beasts—beat him half to death. I thought ‘I can’t take this another day…seeing him but him not knowing me—and causing him pain by those awful caretakers as well’ and I left. I had paid for a ticket to Reno…and I just started riding west. Only…well, on a stagecoach you end up doing a lot of thinking, and chief among my thoughts was the overriding notion that I had left my own father with people who beat him and I was on my way to live in Reno with my uncle, a man I would just as gladly see dead and buried.”

“Tilly, you don’t mean that…family is all we have in the end. Maybe he’s changed. And you weren’t there, you don’t know everything…maybe hearing it from his perspective would help. He’s stayed in touch with you—that must mean he has some feeling for you.”

At that she looked at him, round-eyed, and her face went fishbelly white. “You really don’t know what you’re talking about, Adam,” she finally said in a low voice. “But I expect you’ll learn soon enough. I imagine that telegram is to arrange a meeting. He was keeping something for me, and I never had the nerve to go and get it before. Well, I won’t be in the same room with him alone. So either you’ll come with me or I’ll need to borrow one of your shotguns.”

“You want to kill him?” Adam found himself grinning involuntarily. “Tilly, this is not like you. Even if he’s as bad as you say, nothing you’ve just told me justifies killing him. And you’re not like that. I’d like to think I’ve gotten to know you pretty well these last four months. You’re—”

“I didn’t say I want to kill him. But…well. You know, I got off the stage in Virginia City just to stretch my legs. I really was going to go to Reno, at least to talk to the man, to confront him about a few of the things I wanted him to account for. But when I stopped here, I heard about the teaching job, and thought, well, I don’t want to be that close to Blake Weston anyway. So I stayed here and wrote a letter of application…and Lord bless you for getting me hired, Adam.”

“You got yourself hired,” he said. “Even the fellows who didn’t like you thought you were the one for the job.”

“As you say,” she replied with a shrug. “We know the real story.”

“It’s true, Tilly.”

“I had really come to like it here, Adam. I never had much need for what Blake had for me anyway, and it was easier to pretend he didn’t exist…and easier to pretend my father was already gone than living in that hell I left him in. Only now Pa’s dead, and it’s all real, and I should have stayed with him. He deserved better than to have such a coward for a daughter. And he went to his death wondering why he was alone…”

“Tilly, his death wasn’t your fault, and your being there wouldn’t have changed anything.”

“He wouldn’t have been alone.”

“He would,” Adam replied, forcing his voice to stay steady. “If he didn’t even know who you were, and thought you were there to do him harm, he’d have been even lonelier and more scared. Your being there would have been worse than not being there for him.”

“It would have meant something to me, though.”

“Not if you watched him shrinking back in terror from you.”

She swallowed. “He was my father. I loved him.”

“Then leaving him was the kindest thing you could’ve done.”

She looked up at him, smiled and shook her head. “I think if you ever leave the Ponderosa, you could make a fine living practicing law. Anyway…now I’m going to have to see Blake Weston again. I don’t much like the thought of him coming here…seems like it’ll desecrate the town somehow, like herding swine into a temple. But I’ll meet him—if you’ll be with me—and I’ll get what he’s coming to give me, and it’ll be over.”

“Tilly, I’ll be honored to attend you when your uncle visits,” Adam said, leaning over to take her hand in what he thought was purely innocent camaraderie, but she jerked away and cringed, and in some awful way it reminded him of the day he had first found Lady.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “You just took me by surprise. I’m a little jumpy right now. Thinking about him gets me that way. I’ll be glad when I don’t have to think of him anymore.”

He cast around for something to say, and found nothing, so while she read the telegram, he got his guitar. He still had his hand wrapped, but at least she would be able to play, and he was pretty sure that would make them both feel better.

She smiled when she saw it. “Doc, you always have the cure. And it looks like we’ll have to get the disease tomorrow after church.”

Chapter 13

If the reception the Cartwright boys and Tilly received in church that morning was a little cool, they didn’t notice. And when Tilly, in a somber black mourning dress, requested prayer for the loss of her beloved father and an unspecified “trial” she expected to soon endure, she aroused a little sympathy and more curiosity.

“Adam, there are two things I need to tell you before we meet him,” Tilly said as they crunched through the snow and down to the International House after the service. “I was named for my mother, and she was also nicknamed Tilly, so I was called ‘Little Tilly’. But when I was small, I couldn’t say it properly. And my unfortunate baby-name was preserved by Uncle Blake. If he calls me anything other than Tilly, please don’t laugh.”

Puzzled, Adam agreed, but before he could ask her what it was she went on, “Second…you are my shotgun.”

“I’m not going to kill him for you, Tilly,” Adam chuckled.

“You don’t use a gun just because you have it—but I’ll bet it’s a great comfort to you just having it there. That’s all that I mean. But you are also not there to negotiate or intimidate or carry on a pleasant conversation. In fact, I’d just as soon you didn’t talk to him at all. Can you do that?”

“Seems a little silly,” Adam muttered. “And rude.”

“Nevertheless, it’s what I’m asking.”

“All right, Tilly. Today you’re the boss.”

Only a few people were inside the International House already, but apparently one of them was Blake, because after a minute’s searching she headed right to an occupied table. The man there was just a few years older than Adam, and blond, with distinctive blue eyes. He rose to his feet instantly with a broad smile when she approached. “Lily Tilly!”

Adam, just behind her, saw her hesitate; almost felt her shrink, and that was enough to keep him from smiling. “Blake,” was all she said, and that in a voice devoid of emotion. He reached out to hug her; she stopped in her tracks. “Don’t even think about it. Just sit down.”

“I haven’t seen you in more than 10 years! You grew up bossy,” Weston said with a grin. He didn’t sit down. “I booked a room for our discussion.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“I’m sorry, but that’s where the box is. I also have some things to say, Lily—of a delicate nature. I’d rather not do it in this hotel lobby.” He strode off, not waiting for her.

She turned and jerked her head at Adam. He half-shrugged and followed, wondering what was going on in this strange family, and how Blake Weston had managed to book a room in the International House when two days before they had told Adam they were full up. Weston unlocked a door to one of the meeting rooms, thus answering the question; these rooms had only tables and chairs and were rented by the hour. Tilly walked in and Weston started to shut the door. Adam pushed the door open with an apologetic glance at Weston, and followed Tilly inside. Weston shut the door and turned to look at Tilly.

“My condolences on the loss of—”

“Spare me the hypocrisy, Blake. I just came here from church; this is as dirty as I want to get.”

“Are we going to discuss family matters in front of a stranger?” he asked quietly.

“He’s not a stranger to me,” Tilly replied, glancing at Adam. “And I don’t intend to discuss anything with you. Just give me what you came to give me and I’ll leave.”

“Then you won’t even introduce me to your friend?” Weston looked appraisingly at Adam. “Lily Tilly, I’ve only been here since I got off the early morning stage, but I’ve already heard a lot of gossip about you. How you’ve allied yourself with the most powerful family in this area and have them all doing your bidding; how you destroyed a boarding house room after a lover’s quarrel with one of those fellows, and how you spent New Year’s Day in jail. I was hoping that we could have a long talk, and you could perhaps explain. After all, these days I’m your only kin, and I feel responsible for you.”

Adam, leaning against the wall and watching them both, had to fight an inclination to defend Tilly’s honor. He was still as puzzled as he’d been the day before, but for Tilly, he’d take the chance and continue following instructions. He did quickly decide that he was going to buy the mortgage on O’Reilly’s boarding house and throw the woman out into the street if he got a chance, though. Or maybe better yet, he wouldn’t do it, but he’d make her think he was doing it. Oh, yes, that would be lots more fun.

Tilly actually laughed briefly at the accusation, and didn’t bother defending herself. “You’ve never been responsible to or for anybody, and I don’t owe you any explanations. What I do is my own business. If either of us owes anything in that realm, I would think you might explain to me why you took 90% of my father’s money out of a company that you only owned 40% of, and ran off and left him to face the Yankee army alone.”

“Tilly, I give you my word—”

“You gave your word to Mother that you’d quit drinking and running around on your wife too. And I’m not going to remind you what you promised me. Your word is a wooden nickel.”

“Lily Tilly! What would your mother think if she heard how you’re speaking to me?”

“She wouldn’t believe it, any more than she would have believed it than if I had tried to tell her about you.” A flush crept into her cheeks. “I’d like to get this over with, Blake.”

Weston sat down and put his feet up on another chair. “I need to tell you a couple of things, first, my Lily…little…niece. Your mother sent me some things to give you when you and I next met. Do you know what they are?”

“Yes,” Tilly said. “She wrote me about it. Does this interfere with your plans, Uncle? I’m sure you pulled out anything of value and auctioned it off already.”

“Everything your mother put in that box is still there. Tilly, this is all very distressing to me. You used to be very fond of me. Remember when—”

“Don’t bring up the past unless you want to face down all of it.”

“I named one of my collies for you, you know. Her name was Gray Lily of the Westons. I had such plans for her; I was going to breed her to Black Clover of the Westons. I’ve still got five of my flagship collies, you know. Lily died, unfortunately, but her insurance check came in last week so I’ll be buying a new female. I have great hopes for the program. I’m going to start my own Western line of Scotch collies. Do you know, nobody this side of the Mississippi seems to have ever seen one?”

At that, Adam nearly broke his promise; he definitely wanted to hear more about the collies. He stayed silent, although Tilly’s next words almost forced an exclamation from him.

“I wish they had all died,” Tilly spat. “It’s better than what you’ll do to them. I saw what you did to the ones in Savannah. I want the things my mother left me, Blake, simply because it’s the only part of her that’s left to me. But I do not want to talk to you anymore, and if you intend to keep me here any longer then I’ll just walk out and leave the box here.”

“I don’t have the money,” Weston said. “I borrowed it for some investments—but when they mature—”

“I never had the illusion that you would have the money. I’m not my mother. May I have the box?”

Weston sighed. “All right.” He handed her the heavy wooden crate with little regard for her size, but she took it.

“Thanks a lot, Blake. I’m leaving now—please don’t ever contact me again.”

With that she swept out of the room, a puzzled and irritated Adam trailing in her wake.

*

“Tilly, I won’t pry,” Adam said, “but—”

She ignored him, heading back down to the wagon as fast as she could without running. Adam estimated the crate weighed around 35-40 pounds, but it was the unwieldiness of it rather than the weight that bothered him. No; he couldn’t let her carry it anymore.

“I’ll take it.” Almost to his surprise, she surrendered it—practically threw it at him—and then she did run, flat out, for the wagon, and when he got there with the box she was digging her fingers into the mane of one of the horses, leaning on its neck.

He put the box in the wagon and went up to her. “Hey,” he said. “You can get up on the seat or I can just drive along with you clinging to the mane and waving alongside like a ribbon—” She wasn’t crying, but she looked like she was about to, and here they were on the busiest thoroughfare in Virginia City at midday.

“Everyone is normal,” she said quietly. “Until you get to know them.”

He chuckled. “That’s pretty profound.”

“Señor Lopez Chavarri…Don Fernando…used to say that. He was the father of the family I worked for in Valencia. Well, Adam, I don’t ever expect I’ll see you again. I’ll miss your family.”

“What are you talking about? You’re coming home with me, aren’t you?”

“Sure.” A short, humorless laugh. “I’ve got nowhere else to go. I’m an orphan, remember?”

“Quit being silly and get in the wagon. I don’t know why you were so rude to your uncle, but that’s your business, and I’m hardly going to kick you out of the house over it.”

She looked at him for a minute, her eyes wet. She scrubbed them on her sleeve and said softly, “Tickling is funny as hell when you’re a little boy, three years old. It’s a lot less funny when you’re a little boy of nine and you don’t want to be tickled. I know what kind of character that man is. Just before I was to leave for Indiana, I caught him with my brother Eddie. Eddie was crying and begging him to stop, and he wouldn’t. I got him away and told him I’d tell my father. Blake promised never to do it again, if only I wouldn’t tell. But then I found him with Geoffrey.  I took a frying pan to Blake Weston that day and damn near killed him. And I told him I’d never be in a room with him again unless there was someone to protect him from me, because I would kill him if he got within ten feet of my brothers again. Now you know why I’m rude to him.” She grabbed the side of the wagon and started to climb on, but he pulled her back down.

“Take it easy, Tilly,” he said soothingly. “Easy.” He put his arms around her and just held her for a few minutes, until her heart slowed down. She looked up at him and smiled a little, her face red. “I’m not as big a crybaby as you think I am, honest.”

“Tilly,” he said quietly, his hand on the butt of his Colt, “You let me know if that man ever gets within ten feet of you, and I’ll kill him myself.”

“Oh, don’t worry about him, Adam. Just put a skillet in my hands, and he won’t stand a chance.”

It was a pleasant, if cold, ride back. Tilly was almost in good spirits. So was Adam…until he started thinking, for no reason, about Gray Lily, Weston’s dead dog. And he wondered how she had died.

*

Two days later, on Tuesday—the 5^th of January—Hoss brought Tilly back to town and took her to Widow Hawkins’ place. He was in something of a rush because time was running short; the Cartwright boys expected their father back by mid-month. And Tilly was anxious to get back to school. “I’m sure sorry you had to leave so soon, Miss Tilly,” Hoss apologized as he handed her down from the wagon and took down her carpetbag. “I’ll carry this in for you and then I’ll get your trunks. We sure will miss you. I’m lonesome for you already.”

Tilly smiled. “Hoss, you and Adam and Joe have all been so sweet, I don’t even know where to start thanking you.”

“Aw, shucks.” Hoss blushed. “You know me and Joe think of you as our little sister. And ever’body knows about Adam.”

Tilly had no idea what that meant; she didn’t know what “everyone” knew about Adam, nor was she aware that there was anything to know about Adam. She therefore accepted the great compliment Hoss had paid that she did understand, and bestowed a sisterly kiss on one cheek. “That’s for Joe,” she said. She kissed his other cheek. “That one’s for you.” After a little moment’s thought, through the spreading blush on his face, she gave him a final kiss on the chin. “And that one’s for Adam. See you soon.”

“Yes ma’am.” Hoss got back in the wagon, turned the team about in a large U, and headed out of town. He didn’t notice that the morning stage had just passed him on its way through town…or that his father was on it.

Chapter 14

It was something of a superhuman feat, Ben thought, getting from Kansas to Nevada in 12 days—quite a lot shorter than the first time he had traveled that route. He had heard it said that by the end of this year it would be possible to travel all the way from New York to California in only 10 days. Transitioning from the train to the stage coach had felt like going from a run to a crawl, and that was when he had realized just how fast they’d been going on that train. He tried to imagine going that fast without a train. No, not possible.

He had slipped the stage driver a couple of extra dollars to make sure their stops were not too long. And, going through the pass when he had was the purest luck; the mountains had gotten some six feet of snow the very next day, and all the passes were blocked.

He still couldn’t believe the craziness in Little Joe’s letter was true, but then the two telegrams since had not been reassuring, and he hadn’t received any more letters.

Only…just now…surely that was Hoss they had just passed. Who was the woman he was bringing into town at first light, and why was she kissing him? He started to call out, but at the speed they were going and the noise the stage was making, he knew it would be a waste of breath. By the time the stage had stopped at the station, Hoss had turned the team around and was trotting out of sight.

At first he cursed his bad luck, missing a free ride home—now he’d have to rent a horse. But then again, this would give him a chance to get a bath and buy some clothes. The railroad had lost his trunk; it was probably somewhere in California now. And maybe he’d drop by Roy’s office, or Paul’s, and maybe find out what they knew about what was going on at home. He didn’t want to just walk into the house and start demanding information—usually when he did that, he ended up losing his temper if the information was not exactly what he wanted to hear, or if it was not provided quickly enough. That had long been a problem he and the boys had had; they had certainly complained to him about it more than once, and he didn’t want his homecoming after a four-month absence to be a shouting session. He’d already missed the holidays with them. He drank a cup of coffee at the International House, wondering just how much else he had missed.

The people at the table behind him were annoying; their laughter was boisterous and their subject in poor taste. “He did, I’m tellin’ you—he was gonna kill the guy if she wanted him to. Had his hand right on his gun.”

“No, really? And on a SUNDAY?”

“Yes! And then she said she’d take a frying pan to him. Tell you what, I thought I’d better get outta range quick.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time that guy’s killed somebody. I heard he murdered a trollop once—and framed the sheriff for it. I guess when you’re rich, you can do that.”

More raucous laughter. Ben stiffened. He got up, tossed a coin on the table and walked away.

“No, it was definitely Adam,” he heard as he left. “Coffee was draggin’ him and that schoolteacher right to the jail.”

“C’mon, are you sure it wasn’t Little Joe?”

“Aw, honey, he ain’t been fit to do no fightin’ these last few months anyhow. Gettin’ shot really took the wind outta his sails.”

What had happened to his boys? Was any of this true? And why were all these people talking about his sons right in front of him? Ben rubbed a hand over his face. Sure, he needed a shave, but he wasn’t that different…only then he realized that he hadn’t recognized any of these people, either. Virginia City’s residents apparently had changed again; the peril of a town that grew like a heartbeat, pumping new people in and old people out at crazy speeds.

He went down to the sheriff’s office, but Roy wasn’t in. “Pris’ner escort to Placerville,” Clem told him. “Finally got enough evidence on them two guys, you know. He’ll be back tomorrow though. But I’m sure he’ll want to talk to you, Mr. Cartwright. Between your boys and the train incident and the Pinkertons and all that business, he’ll have a lot to say. ’Course Adam can fill you in on most of that I reckon, since it was all his idea. You seen him yet? Is he doin’ any better? He was still walkin’ with a cane when we had him in here Thursday.”

“A cane? What do you mean, ‘had him in here’?”

“Oh you know, we had to arrest him last week. Him and the schoolteacher.” Clem laughed. “Boy, was Adam fussin’—Roy wouldn’t put him and the schoolteacher in the same cell. Said it wouldn’t be proper. Adam said he didn’t give a damn about proper and that Roy was a heartless son of—well, his brothers bailed him out pretty quick. Schoolteacher, too.”

Ben started to ask more questions, but the answers Clem had already provided left him confused. In the end he just wished Clem a pleasant day and continued on—but there was no getting away from the mayhem. There were always more strange tales to hear. While browsing through the shirts at the mercantile, he heard the story of how Little Joe and Hoss had been gunned down—and then a different version where they had shot each other. Still another version from a fellow who claimed to have been on the posse that investigated said that two men were arrested, but they had been mauled by a wolf and one of them had his arm taken off.

In the trousers and long johns section, he learned that Hop Sing was giving himself airs now and acting like a dandy because one of the town prostitutes was teaching him English. At the bath house, he heard that the Ponderosa had burned to the ground. No one would help them, he heard later, because the Cartwright boys charged everyone $50 for the privilege of coming out to fight the fire. Well, the outrageous claim of an admission price at least convinced Ben that there could not have been a fire at his place.

Strangest of all, there was talk that Adam had caused a train to be derailed in California; that he had robbed the train, and that he had made the railroad pay to get back the money he had taken. Well, that was all poppycock too, Ben was certain, but it did at least remind him to go to the bank.

There was Cyrus in his big posh office; Ben waved, and Cyrus beckoned him in. “Hey, welcome back, Ben,” he called, and Ben grinned, glad someone had recognized him at last—even Clem had taken a minute before saying, “Oh, Mr. Cartwright.”

“How are you, Cyrus?”

“Better than fine. I’ll tell you, Ben, those boys of yours sure have kept us entertained in your absence. I’m sure Adam’s written you all about it, of course, but I just have to put in my own good word.”

Thank God, a good word about one of his boys. Ben breathed a little easier.

“Beating the Pinkertons at their own game like that—the whole town’s been having a laugh. I’ll tell you, with Adam those still waters really do run deep. Losing that train was—”

“Train? Waters? Pink—”

Oblivious, Cyrus went on, “And the money came at the right time, too, since I’ll tell you, the Ponderosa would’ve been facing a pretty bleak future without it, what with the loans and the fire and all. Of course, I was a bit flummoxed when Adam put it into his own account instead of the ranch account, but when I got to thinking—oh, excuse me, Ben, but that new teller is hopeless. Heaven help the man if he has to count higher than his fingers.”

It was late afternoon when Ben headed for Doc Martin’s office. He passed by Cass’s General Store, and Cass himself was out sweeping the sidewalk. “Ben!”

“It’s good to see you, Cass.” They shook hands.

“Listen, Ben, I don’t want to hit you with problems right after your return, but would you mind taking this note up to Adam when you go? Nothing serious, just a reminder.”

“Of what?”

“Oh, I had to send up a lot of emergency supplies last month, to fight the fire. Adam still hasn’t paid yet. I know that with everything else, he’s just forgot, but you know, I have bills of my own.”

“Fire? What fire?”

“Oh, you haven’t heard? Yeah, a pretty bad fire up at your place a couple weeks before Christmas. They’re still collecting all the cattle after the stampede. Poor MacDonald’s place won’t be the same again soon. Will Cartwright’s, neither. Anyway, if you’d just give this note to Adam, I’d appreciate it.”

“How much do we owe? I have some cash on me—”

“That’s okay, Ben, I can carry you a little longer.” Cass grinned and winked. “Wouldn’t be the first time, eh?”

Paul. He had to see Paul Martin, he thought, dashing to the doctor’s office. Surely he would be able to tell a sensible tale.

Paul was in with a patient, so Ben sat down in the waiting room by two women he didn’t know, who were so deep into their gossip they didn’t even see him. And he didn’t want to hear their conversation, but he listened anyway.

“What did he say then?”

“He told her she’d never rent a room to anyone again if he had anything to do with it!”

“Can he do that?”

“I heard he’s been asking around town who owns her mortgage. If he buys it he can toss her out on her ear.”

“But would he really be so cruel?”

“Honey, the things I’ve heard about Adam Cartwright, he could give Geronimo a few lessons on meanness.”

Ben glanced up sharply at the women, but neither of them noticed.

“And all that over the schoolteacher,” the first one went on. “You know, I liked her at first. My Billy was twelve years old and still couldn’t read. Once that Hoffman girl, that Tilly, got hold of him, he was reading like a professor. It’s a shame she had to go bad.”

“I’m not so sure she wasn’t like it all along,” came the reply. “I heard she was married five times.”

“FIVE times?”

“And what about this. Why was she even keeping that room at the boarding house when she was out at the ranch all the time?”

“What do you mean ‘all the time’?”

“She’s been spending almost every single weekend out there. And a lot of weeknights, too—O’Reilly said she’d go home after school, take a nap, and then ride out and spend the whole night at the Ponderosa.”

“You know, my Billy said she was nodding off over the lessons a few times.”

“Wonder which one she’s scheming to get for husband number six?”

“None, I hope! I heard tell Old Ben Cartwright, the father of the whole bunch, is coming back soon. Maybe he’ll put a stop to it.”

“Suppose he joins in? Wouldn’t that be something? After all, he’s the one who owns everything. Why take the little Banty cock when you can get the full-grown rooster?”

“You are so wicked!”

Paul stepped out of his office then. “Mrs. Flaherty, Mrs. Miggins, I’m sorry, but I just had an emergency come through the back door; I’ll be tied up in surgery for the rest of the day. Hey, Ben Cartwright, welcome back! Sorry I can’t talk now, but I’ll come by your place tomorrow if that’s all right. I need to check on everybody up there anyhow. Say hi to Tilly for me.” The door slammed.

Ben gave the two ladies a glare that would’ve turned an apple brown, and headed for the door thinking red thoughts. The two ladies looked at each other, wide-eyed, hands over their mouths…and began to giggle wildly.

*

Otis Watts stiffened in fear when he saw Ben Cartwright coming toward his stable. Last time Ben had a scowl like that he had nearly thrown Otis across the barn. Darn those Belgians and darn Barney Fuller anyway.

“Otis,” Ben bellowed as he stamped in. “Saddle up Thunder! I need to get home!”

Oh dear God. “Mr. Cartwright, I’m sorry…I can’t.”

“What, is he lame? He’s here; I’m looking right at him!”

“Thunder is no longer available for rental, Mr. Cartwright.”

“You mean someone bought him?”

“Er…not exactly. But he’s been leased for the next six months and paid for up front.”

“All right, fine. Do you have another horse as fast as Thunder?”

“No sir, but I do have Mr. Blue. He’s a good horse.”

“He’s blind in one eye and can’t see outta the other!”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Cartwright, but he’s all I have available tonight.”

Ben sighed. “Who paid for Thunder? I’ll go talk to him.”

Otis began to quake. “Um…Mr. Cartwright…it was Adam.”

“Adam. Adam…Cartwright?”

“Yes sir.”

“If the contract is with Adam, one Cartwright is good as another.”

“He didn’t rent him for the Cartwrights, Mr. Cartwright—he rented him for Miss Tilly.”

“Miss Tilly?”

“The schoolteacher, Mr. Cartwright. She’d been renting him just about day and  night, and then one day in December Adam came down and made me sign a contract with him. I can’t release Thunder to anybody but Miss Tilly until the first of May.”

“I’m not riding that cursed blue roan creature, Otis.”

It was a tough decision Otis Watts faced. Adam had changed a lot since the day he had politely requested the Belgians and let his father come back to finalize the deal. Now, Otis wondered who he feared the most: father or son. Ben spared him the decision.

“Just tell me where I can find this ‘Miss Tilly.’ I’ve got a bone or two to pick with her, anyway.”

“Um…well, she’s just now moved back into town since Mrs. O’Reilly kicked her out and she went to the Ponderosa…I think she went to the Widow Hawkins’ place but I’m not sure…”

It was Ben’s turn to quake in fear.

*

As he was walking to the Hawkins boarding house, his dread increasing with every hint of forward motion, Ben noticed the lamps were all lit at the schoolhouse. He gave a satisfied grunt, pulled his heavy jacket collar up around his throat a little more, and headed toward the schoolhouse. This should be easy enough, provided the little strumpet didn’t give him enough provocation to take her by the throat.

He could see her through the windows, a little slip of a thing who wouldn’t quite reach Joe’s shoulder. A good wind would blow her away. She had black curly hair. He remembered Joe’s letter describing hair that sparkled in the light, but he didn’t really see that; nor did he see the long, thin nose that made her look “like a wolf.” She was in fact rather pretty—if you bothered to look twice. Still, she was the schoolteacher, and there was only one. So this was the girl who was sleeping with Joe by Joseph’s own admission—and according to the town gossip, cavorting with Adam as well. And—heavens, wasn’t she the one Hoss had brought into town that morning and kissed farewell? She didn’t look like a seductress—but then, those were the worst kind, the ones that didn’t look the part. What kind of charm did she have that all three of his boys were under her spell? And now he, Ben Cartwright, was going to her to beg to use a horse that wasn’t even hers? He set his jaw, knocked a couple of times on the door and yanked it open.

She turned from the chalkboard at once (the chalkboard that HE had purchased for the school, he couldn’t help thinking). “Sir, I did not say you could come in.”

“I didn’t ask, either,” he replied ominously. “That knock was a notification of intent, not a request for permission.”

“I see.” She had blue eyes like a summer sky, and he felt a wave of homesickness. She sat down behind her desk and just looked at him without a word.

“Look, Miss,” he said, “I need a horse. Otis tells me the big chestnut has been rented to you until spring. Well, the only other horse he has available right now is half-blind, and I’m tired and cold, and I still have a 20-mile ride to make in the darkness. I’m willing to pay you twice the normal livery rate for the use of that chestnut tonight. I’ll bring it back tomorrow.”

She said nothing, just looked at him with her hands folded primly on the desk.

“Well?” he asked.

“No.” A rather cold, but very simple, answer.

“Why not?”

“I don’t know you. Sir, I do not make a habit out of even speaking to men I have not been introduced to, but here you are in my school, attempting to tell me what to do with my horse. I’m not making any deal with you. You could be halfway to San Francisco by morning and I’d be out a horse and the money a friend paid for it. And don’t bother making yourself look mean and threatening. My answer is still no.”

He deflated slightly. “Would you do business with me if I introduced myself?”

“Only if you can prove that you’re who you say you are.”

“Why isn’t my word good enough? A man’s word should be his sacred oath.”

“You must not’ve lived in Virginia City very long, Mister.” She grinned—she did have a nice smile, just as Joseph had said—and for just a second he involuntarily grinned back.

“I’ve lived here for 20 years and some, Miss. My name’s Ben Cartwright.”

That made her mouth drop open—but only for a moment. “No you’re not,” she sighed. “And I’m getting less impressed with you by the minute, because I have a strong dislike for liars. So I hope you’ll just go now. I am armed.”

“You? What kind of gun do you carry?”

“I don’t carry a gun.” Just that fast, she was on her feet, brandishing a cast iron skillet 12 inches in diameter. It was a monster that must have weighed a good 10 pounds. “Now Mister, I am busy as sin and tired to boot, so I think you need to shuffle outta here.”

“But I am Ben Cartwright!”

“Prove it! I know all three of his boys very blessed well, and you don’t look like any of them.”

“Yes,” he said tightly. “I’ve heard that you know all my sons. Perhaps even in the Biblical sense.”

Her eyes widened at that, but then she just shook her head, looking amused.

Coldly furious, he went on: “So maybe my sons have told you a little about me. They might have told you that I have a temper. And that while I consider patience a virtue, it’s not one I possess a great deal of. Or that while I consider myself a gentleman for the most part, I do not care for sassy women and I’ve been known to spank them when they required it.”

She tilted her head. “Likewise, sir, I don’t care for uppity men. The real Ben Cartwright is not due here for two more weeks, and from what I’ve heard is a kind and wise man. A kind and wise man would not come blasting into a schoolhouse trying to accuse and intimidate a woman in the middle of the night. So march outta here, Mister; my patience is exhausted!”

And then she pitched the skillet right at him. He barely had time to hurl himself out of the line of fire; that sent him tripping over a bench and sprawling on the floor. And worst of all—there was another skillet in her hand. “I warned you, Mister. I’ve got four more of these things under my desk, so you better make yourself one with all outdoors now!”

When the second skillet came his way, he decided it might be best if he made himself scarce.

A little later he limped back into the livery just as Otis was closing up. “I’ll take the blue roan,” he said flatly. “Now, please.”

*

Bad enough to see the trollop his sons were consorting with openly admitting that she spent time with them; unimaginable that she had attacked him with cookware. Now it was after seven, and at the pace the roan gelding took it would be close up on ten p.m. before he got home. There was no moon, and he supposed it wouldn’t have made any difference even if he had borrowed Thunder; no point in going faster than a walk with this visibility.

What a day, he thought bleakly. Instead of spending a day with my boys I spent it listening to a bunch of sick people and old cats gossiping. But…some of that couldn’t be gossip. Cass would know if there was a fire…Clem was an eyewitness to Adam being arrested…What did Cyrus mean about a bleak future without money—and Adam getting money to save the ranch and putting it in his own account? I should have just gone home and questioned them; at least the yelling would be over by now and we would all be on good terms again. And I’d be sleeping in my own bed instead of riding this nag over territory that’s not familiar. But at least soon I’ll be home…I’ll just take the key and let myself in and go to bed. They’ll all be asleep, no point in waking them.

Before he even got to the south pasture cutoff trail, he smelled the leftover smoke-smell and dead animals and trees; oh God, the trees! He could see a few stubby, blackened stumps. The roan became skittish and that, coupled with its bad vision, became one more thing to fight. And when they finally rounded the last curve and the ranch house came to view, all he could see that one entire side of the barn had been ripped out, the burned planks in a pile near the corral and a thick canvas tarp nailed to the roof to provide a modicum of protection from the wind. Ben felt half-frozen. The stalls were full on the good side of the barn; there was Buck, and Chubb, and Cochise, but who was this bulky chestnut? Where was Beauty? What were his boys up to? How had the fire started?

He rubbed the roan down and tied a lead rope to its halter, then tied the rope to a two-by-four that ran across the wall. Finally he limped slowly to the front door, thinking how good his bed would feel. It was good the boys were asleep; right now he was too tired to talk. He unlocked the door and pushed it open. From somewhere deep within the house he heard a low, throaty rumble, but he ignored it.

He took two more steps toward the stairs, and then all hell broke loose.

Chapter 15

Adam, Hoss and Joe had gone to bed at about 9 p.m.; they had been working on the barn since Hoss got home and still weren’t finished. All the burned boards had been taken down, but only about a third of the new ones were in place. Now that nature had remembered the season, she seemed to be making up for lost time.  They were frozen stiff in spite of the backbreaking work when Adam had called a halt. He had tried to make it easier for Hoss and especially Little Joe, who still did not have full use of his arm, but they were both trying to make things easier for Adam, and in the end nothing was easy and little was done. Bone-tired, they had eaten in near-silence and gone to bed. Joe and Hoss were too tired for their checkers game and Adam, for a change, was too tired to even read in bed, much less try to bring the long-neglected account books up to date. He made a mental note to forego anything that could be construed as pleasant in the next few days until the ledgers were finished.

Lady jumped up on the bed beside him and he curled around her, appreciating her warmth but wishing wistfully that she was someone else. He wondered how Tilly would feel about Lady sleeping with them when they were married. “You know, she’s always griping about her feet being cold,” he said with a yawn. “You could do some real good there, Lady old girl.” That morning, he’d had Hoss take Tilly into town. He and Lady had gone out to the little canyon property his Pa had signed over to him two years earlier, when he had thought he and Laura would be living there. Hoss and Joe had quietly dismantled the place after Laura had gone away, and he’d never been back since. But he wanted to put his mind straight about the place, since he’d have to start building again pretty soon. If his back and leg ever got right. Today was the first time he’d been on a horse since Beauty’s death, and between Sport’s green energy and Adam’s own aches and pains, it had been a heck of a ride. Sport would take a lot of work before he was up to Beauty, he thought, but he was going to be a lot of fun to work with—and then he grinned because he could remember a time, not so long ago, when he wouldn’t have thought like that.

Now it felt later than it was. He was aching everywhere; he had returned from his ride with his limp even more pronounced, and working on the barn all day hadn’t made it any better.

He was sound asleep when Lady growled loudly. “Shhhh,” he told her without really waking. He didn’t notice that she had fluffed out to half-again her normal size in worry, and he didn’t feel her slide out from under his arm, or jump off the bed to pad silently down the stairs.

Lady had learned a lot in four months—she knew all the ranch hands, and had become friendly or at least tolerant of them. She loved the other occupants of the house, thinking of Hop Sing, Joe, and Hoss as members of her pack. She loved Adam. She knew Adam loved Tilly, which meant Lady loved her too. She knew that Will Cartwright was allowed to come and go as he pleased, as were Doc Martin and Roy Coffee. She knew that guests who knocked on the door were usually allowed in. This, however, was a new situation—a man she had never seen before, but whose scent was vaguely familiar from a long time ago when she had first come to the house, was here. He did not knock at the door. He did not make any noise. His every movement was quiet and almost furtive. Perhaps he had been here before and her pack had chased him away, like those people out in the pasture. But whatever he was up to, he was up to no good. She growled, but he did not heed the warning, and so with two barks, she launched herself at him.

*

At the first bark, Adam was annoyed; at the second, he was wide awake and moving. But his leg had already stiffened and as soon as he forced himself to his feet, his back spasmed mildly in protest; he kept moving only because he had to. The ferocious snarling could only belong to Lady, but who in the world had such a high-pitched scream? Maybe that wretched kid Dex, he thought as he limped for the stairs.

He staggered down the stairs behind the fast-moving Hoss and the even-faster-moving Joe; both were yelling “Lady, get off!” and as usual when Adam was in the house, Lady ignored them both, acknowledging only one leader. “Lady!” Adam cried—feebly, he realized later. “OFF, Lady!” The dog grudgingly backed down, continuing to snarl, and Hoss grabbed the newcomer by the collar and hoisted him none too gently to his feet as Adam and Joe lit the lamps.

“All right, you varmint—Pa?” Hoss gasped.

“What the HELL is THAT?” Ben Cartwright thundered, and the house seemed to shake right down to its foundation. There were some words Ben Cartwright never used, and the very fact that he had just said one of them was perfect proof of the seriousness of the situation—even if the mere loudness gauge on his voice hadn’t registered somewhere in the vicinity of a dynamite explosion.

His three sons, nightshirt clad and confused, just looked at him for a minute. Joe was the first to recover. “Pa, welcome home!” He threw his arms around his father. Hoss quickly followed suit. Adam thought about it, but decided it might be best to get Lady out of the way first.

“Lady, go to bed,” he said quietly. Reluctantly she looked at the intruder, and back at Adam. “Go to bed,” he repeated firmly, pointing. She headed for the stairs.

“Are you okay, Pa?” Hoss asked. “I don’t see any blood, but your jacket’s a little tore.”

Ben saw Lady climbing the stairs and repeated, “I want to know what that THING is and why it just attacked me in my own home!”

“She didn’t know it was your own home, Pa,” Joe said quickly. “She’s never seen you before.”

“She’s just real protective is all,” Hoss assured him. “She’s never attacked anybody before unless they needed it.”

“Adam.” Ben’s voice was low enough to dig a tunnel right underneath Adam, and if it had, Adam would gladly have fallen into it.

“Welcome home, Pa,” he said weakly. “Sorry about the, um, reception. We didn’t expect you home so soon.”

“Obviously. I’m surprised your girlfriend isn’t here too. Or is she yours—or yours?” Ben shot a glance at each of the boys, which only set them all talking at once, Adam demanding to know what he was talking about, Joe asking who he meant, Hoss saying “Pa, Eudora ain’t been over here in months!”

“Stop it!” Ben bellowed. “Bad enough you’ve set my home on fire. Bad enough that you’re harboring some miscreant mongrel in my house—and I want that THING out of here now!—but you’ve made the family name a laughingstock in all of Virginia City! I spent years building our reputation as good men here, and all I’ve heard since I’ve been back is how—”

“Lady,” Adam said softly, and the dog bounded back to him.  “Let’s go outside.”

“Where do you think you’re going, young man? I’m talking!”

“You need to figure out your priorities, Pa,” Adam said, his voice hoarse, putting on his coat and boots. “I can’t put the dog out and stand here and listen to you at the same time. Come on, old girl.”

He took her out to the barn; the last thing he heard was Joe shouting “You mean you’re listening to the town gossip?” and his father’s very loud, harsh reply, “Is it gossip if our friends are saying it too? What about Cass? What about Clem? What about…”

He pointed Lady to the haystack, pulling down one of the saddle blankets for her. She looked at him, her forehead crinkly with concern. He had a feeling she was more worried about him going back into the house with that very loud man than she was about being left in the barn. “He’s not as bad as he sounds,” he said softly, reassuring her as best he could, although truth to tell he was feeling a bit in need of reassurance himself. He rubbed her ears. “I’ll be back in a little while,” he said with a smile. “If things go well, I’ll come to bring you back inside…if not, then I’ll sleep out here with you.”

He got back to find Little Joe yelling, “What lady are you talking about? I never said any such thing!”

“That belligerent little tart in town—I read your letter until the ink was ready to come off the page! You boasted about it!” Pa was yelling.

“Can we stop this?” Adam cut in. “We’re not going to get anywhere just screaming at each other.”

“Adam’s, right, Pa,” Hoss said promptly. “You both need to calm down. Ain’t gonna help nothin’ if we all just yell without thinkin’ like you’re doin’.”

“I’m yelling without thinking?” Ben roared. “I’ve been thinking about this for a month! I sent two telegrams! I got flippancy from him—” a thumb jerked in Joe’s direction—“and from him I get talk about ledgers!”

“Of course,” Adam said, puzzled. “You said you wanted a full accounting. The books were up to date until December, but a lot’s happened—”

“And there you go again!” Ben barked. “I have had enough of this and I want a straight answer to my questions.”

“You haven’t asked me anything,” Adam retorted. The cold had woken him completely and his father’s complete lack of reason was beginning to irk him. “Pa, obviously you’ve had a long, hard trip. I think you should get a good night’s sleep. It would help us out as well—”

“Amen,” Hoss said fervently.

“—and I think it would be better if we talk this over in the morning with cool heads and hot coffee.”

Ben glared at him. “You’re right. I’ve had a very hard trip and a cold reception. We can talk about this in the morning. I hope you’ve got better excuses than you have tonight.”

“Fine. I’ll go get my dog.”

“What do you mean, you’ll go get—are you referring to that aberration that jumped me?”

“She’s a dog, Pa,” Joe said quickly. “And the smartest one in the world.”

“I don’t care if she’s a Harvard graduate!” Ben shouted. “That dog is not to come in this house again!”

With that he stomped up the stairs to his room, and Joe and Hoss turned to Adam.

“What do we do?”

“You go to bed,” Adam said. “Let’s try to tackle this again tomorrow. Hoss, my pants are on the chair by my bed; would you toss ’em down here? I don’t want to go clumping up there in my boots.”

“Whatcha need your pants for? You’re goin’ to bed, ain’tcha?”

“I’m going to sleep in the barn. Lady was worried about me, and I don’t want to leave her right now.”

“I’ll sleep out there too,” Joe declared. “I don’t like some of the stuff that was said to me.”

“Well, I’ll sleep there with ya,” Hoss said. “The more bodies in there, the warmer it’ll be.”

*

The next morning Ben overslept; for a minute he couldn’t believe it. Daylight was streaming through the window. Cold and pale daylight it was, but it was daylight all the same.

There was no noise from downstairs to tell him breakfast was on the table, no noise from the boys’ rooms to tell him they had simply overslept as well. He went looking. Every bedroom door was wide-open, every bed unmade and slept-in. There were no boots and no coats to be found. He wouldn’t have believed they would sneak away like so many cowards. No, there had to be some explanation, just as there had to be a rebuttal for the stories about this girl…and by Jehoshaphat, he was not above shouting until he found both.

Hop Sing came in with the coffeepot and four mugs. “Good morning, Mister Cart…wwwrrright. I wish you welcome home. Your absence was verrrry missed.”

Ben stared at him for a minute, his ire momentarily appeased, and he grinned involuntarily. “Thanks, Hop Sing. I hope you mean my presence was missed.”

Confusion passed across the man’s brow. “Absence…not here. Presence…here. Yes, right. Your presence was missed. Verrrrry sorrrry.”

For a minute Ben wanted to ask who he’d been studying with, but if town gossip was true, he didn’t want to know. “Where are the boys?”

“They still sleep. Verrrry tired. Cold, too. When it is cold to sleep, makes—no, it makes—a man colder.”

“I just checked their rooms. They’re not there.”

Hop Sing shook his head. “They sleep in barn with Lady—”

A sharp intake of breath. “What lady?”

“Dog, Mr. Cartwright. She is doing chores now, but they still sleep.”

Ben looked at him with raised brows. “The dog is doing chores. And the boys…are asleep. In the barn?”

“Verrry tired, Mr. Cartwright. Yesterday bad day. All hurting. Want coffee?”

“Why were they hurting?”

Hop Sing shrugged. “Many kinds of pain. Mr. Adam has back and leg. Little Joe have colllllllar bone. Hoss still singed and tired from when he give his blood away. Also have heart pain, all three. They miss teacher. Hoss took back to town yesterday. We was…were…most sad to see her go. Whole house sad.”

“The schoolteacher…” Ben rumbled. That was the only part of Hop Sing’s soliloquy that made any sense. With an effort, he kept his voice level. “How long was she here?”

Hop Sing smiled. “She here—she was here—very much while you was…no, were…gone. Make big difference in everybody. Much laughter, much play. Daytime, nighttime. All boys love her. Hop—no…I have much appreciation for her too. She make me speak English much more better.”

Ben’s voice came out colder than he meant it to, but the anger was getting harder to control. “I see.”

He spun on his heel and stamped out to the barn. If Hop Sing was telling the truth about the girl…and he had no reason to lie…those boys were going to be re-filling outhouses at every house in Virginia City by the time Ben Cartwright got done with them. And he was certainly telling the truth about the boys and the dog (what an ugly dog!); it was carrying a bucket toward the house, and all three of his boys were spooned together in the haystack.

“All right, everybody UP!” Ben bellowed. Across the yard, Lady saw the intruder yelling at her adored master and the other pack members, and she dropped the bucket with a snarl, galloping to their aid. Ben saw her coming at him with her hackles raised and big fangs bared; he remembered just how close to his throat she’d gotten the previous night, and pulled his gun straightway. But before he could fire it, Adam had plowed into him with a loud cry, knocking him over backwards. The gun went off, blowing a hole through the tarpaulin and falling into Mr. Blue’s muck—and Adam suddenly yowled as his back went out again.

The day went downhill from there.

“Oh, God…get the dog,” Adam gasped, and Joe and Hoss grabbed Lady before Ben could find another weapon. Hoss carried her away and took her to Hop Sing, who quickly hid her in his room with the door locked. Joe helped Ben get up, and they both went to see to Adam, who was by now practically insensate, curled in a ball rocking from side to side and panting for air.

“What’s wrong with him?” Ben asked sharply.

Joe put a soothing hand on Adam’s shoulder. “Adam, hang on a minute, just ride it out. That’s right, try and relax—you know it’ll go away on its own if you just let go….”

“What’s wrong with him?” Ben repeated.

“It’s that old back injury from falling off the roof. It’s flared up a couple times lately, and he ain’t recovered yet from the last time.”

“Well, let’s get him up and inside,” Ben said. “At least he’ll be warm.”

“You try to move him right now and it’ll just hurt him worse. The spasm has to finish first.”

“I’m all right,” Adam whispered tightly, holding his breath.

“No you’re not,” Joe replied. “You’re lookin’ like birch bark again. Just wait a few minutes and relax.”

Adam rolled onto his hands and knees, and, leaning heavily on Joe, got to his feet. Ben came to the other side and started to put his arm around Adam’s waist, but the look in Adam’s eyes stopped him.

Back on the trail all those ages ago, when Adam was a small boy, there had been no time for soothing and comforting every child’s skinned knees or scraped and splintered hands. And in those days Ben had done what he could, but when the injuries came at an inconvenient time Ben would just chuck him under the chin and say, “bear up, son. You don’t want people to think you’re a mama’s boy, do you?”

“Don’t touch me,” Adam whispered. “And if any harm comes to that dog, you’ll find out whether I’m a mama’s boy or not.” He straightened, and shook off Little Joe. Limping, he went back to the house, where Hoss grabbed him and helped him to the stairs.

For a minute Joe looked after him, and then he turned to face his father with a face so full of hurt and fury that Ben almost took a step backward.

“Pa,” Joe said, “I don’t know who you’ve been talking to in town, or what’s been said. But I think you’d get a damn site more accomplished if you listened to your own sons.” With that he walked away.

Ben looked to the heavens and wondered how a day could look so normal and feel so wrong.

In the kitchen Hop Sing had burst into a long stream of Cantonese and was now pouring oats into a pot.

“Hop Sing, I’d like some fried eggs,” Ben announced as he came back in.

“You get oatmeal! Everybody get oatmeal!”

“Why? Look, I’ll put an extra dollar in your pay if—”

“I put an extra dollar in your hat if can find one egg not broke! Why you not listen to me? Did not I tell you, dog is doing chores?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, dog gets eggs each morning. Today you scare her, she drop bucket, no eggs! Oatmeal in one hour, that’s it!”

That dog was from hell; he was certain of it.

He heard an approaching buggy then, and went out to the yard to see Paul Martin driving up. Martin pulled his mare to a halt and clambered out, extending a hand to Ben.

“Thought I was seeing things when I spied you in my waiting room yesterday,” Martin said as they shook hands. “I’ll bet you’re glad to be home.”

Ben just grinned weakly, but Martin went on. “I just came by to make sure my three most frequent patients are all doing better. I’ll tell you, Ben, I must have spent more time the last few months on those boys of yours than any other family in a year. Heads bashed in, gunshot wounds, broken bones, burns, smoke inhalation, back injuries, leg injuries—even the dog was shot.”

“Paul, I’d like it if you could tell me how some of these injuries came about.”

“Oh, the usual way, I guess. Joe got shot, Adam busted his head during the fire, Hoss got burned besides the other thing, and everybody breathed way too much smoke. Poor Adam’s not getting any younger and that back problem of his is flaring up a lot…I need to start checking on everybody—can’t stay long, I’ve got a baby due at the Logans’—fortunately it’s a first, so I’m hoping to have a little time. Tell me, how long did your trip take?” He walked off toward the house without waiting for Ben, who quickly strode off after him.

“By the way, Ben,” Paul said, “About that incident with Little Joe and Hoss…it was Adam’s idea, not mine. I wasn’t too sure about it at all; I frankly was thinking I’d be telling you that you’d lost both boys instead of one…I’m pleased it worked out the way it did, but I sure hope I never have to do it again. Although knowing your family, if I do have to do it again, it’ll probably be right here, so I thought I’d let you know I’ve been digging up as much literature on the subject as I can find.”

The only thing Ben could think of as they opened the door was, everyone I talk to might as well be speaking Chinese for as much as I understand them.

“Where’s Adam?” Ben asked Joe as they came in.

Joe clenched his fists. “Hoss had to carry him up to his room. His back’s getting worse, not better.”

Martin raised an eyebrow and trudged up the stairs. Ben started to follow him, but Joe grabbed his arm. “I think we’d better stay here.”

“That’s my son up there, young man!”

“You coulda fooled me,” Joe replied. He stared at his father with eyes like gaping wounds. “You’ve been home twelve hours and you’ve been talking to all of us like dogs the whole time—oh, except you don’t talk to dogs; you shoot ’em. Pa, you left for a long time and we’ve dealt with it the best we could. Maybe everything we’ve done hasn’t been right, but we tried. I’d think at least we rate a fair trial.”

“There’s been no trial!” Ben shouted.

“No,” Joe mumbled. “If it was a trial we might be found innocent.”

He pushed past his father and went upstairs, where Adam was grasping at Hoss’s arm as Martin examined Adam’s back.

“He never got the letter,” Adam was saying urgently. “He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know anything, oh my God, Hoss, he doesn’t know anything. You have to tell him—owww, dammit—Paul, you murdering quack! What was in that needle? Hoss, you have to tell Pa about the letter, and everything that…ohhhh…Paul, that better not be morph…” His voice faded away.

“Well, that’ll relax him, anyway.” Paul put the needle back in its carrying case. “Maybe if he stays off that leg a couple of days it’ll have time to heal.”

“That’s what you said last time!” Hoss protested. “And all he did was walk around usin’ a cane until the pain got too bad for him to walk on anymore!”

“Yes, but he fought it. He won’t fight it this time,” Paul said with a grin. “That injection should keep him out until tomorrow morning, and I’ll come and give him another if he still insists on moving around.”

Paul gave Hoss a quick and cursory examination; Little Joe’s was only slightly more thorough. “Well, the scar hardly shows,” he muttered. “And I have to say I like that European sling. I think I’ll steal the design and modify it. How much motion do you have, Joe?” Joe moved his arm in a hesitant three-quarter circle. “Good. Downright great for six weeks. I may let you out of it at eight instead of twelve; we’ll see. I need to go now…it’s another baby day!”

As Joe and Hoss put their shirts back on, Hoss said to Little Joe, “Did you hear any of what Adam said?”

“Only something about Pa not knowing anything. What did it mean?”

“Adam wrote Pa one last letter. Tilly and I helped him write it. He told Pa about the fire, and you gettin’ shot, and he told him all about Lady and her living in the house. I read the part Tilly wrote,” he confessed, blushing. “Felt like I had to on account of what Adam made me write about her.”

“Huh?”

“Adam told Pa he wants to marry her, Joe. Please don’t tell Adam I done told you. He didn’t want nobody to know—includin’ Tilly—until he got Pa’s blessing.”

“Adam wants to marry Tilly?” Joe laughed out loud. “Well, why not? She’s the only one who even speaks his language. But Hoss, Pa does know—about Lady, anyway. I told him in my own letter. I also told him about Tilly helping to nurse us. So he ought to know those two things at least—instead of listening to the town bunch.”

“But we need to talk to Pa—maybe he misunderstood your letter or maybe he didn’t get it either.”

“I’m done talking for now, Hoss. You heard what he accused me of last night. Not to say it ain’t been true at one time or another, but never with nobody in our house!”

“He said a lot of things last night, but I’m sure he didn’t mean ’em. He was just tired.”

“Yeah? A little while ago he looked at me in the barn like I was a polecat.”

“I cain’t believe that, Little Brother. We all know you’re still the baby as far as Pa’s concerned. There ain’t no way he could stay mad at you.”

“Well, some of the things he’s said were not things you’d say to a baby, in case you didn’t notice, Hoss. And I’m sick of begging. You talk to him if you like—you’re about the only one he doesn’t seem ready to lynch.”

But Hoss had no more luck with his father than Joe or Adam. He found Ben looking through the cabinets and muttering about his best whisky couldn’t “just disappear,” which put the fear of God into Hoss worse than a dozen Sunday sermons ever could.

“Please, Pa, forget about the whisky. I think there’s some things need explainin’ here and I’m here to explain…”

Ben eyed him. “Good. Maybe you can start by explaining to me just whom you were kissing on the doorstep at Widow Hawkins’ place yesterday morning.” And Hoss lost any composure he’d ever had.

*

“I don’t think the morphine is working,” Ben observed beside Adam’s bed.

“It’s workin’ all right,” Hoss said dourly. “Adam ain’t never liked morphine. Said it gives him nightmares.”

A strange sort of quasi-truce had been tacitly declared—there would be no more shouting until all three boys were capable of arguing. But it was not peace, by any means. Nothing had been resolved. Ben spoke to Hoss and Joe in terse politeness, and they responded likewise…if there was no other choice. Otherwise they stayed well away from him and didn’t talk at all.

“Who is Lily, anyway, and why does Adam keep calling her? Is that the name of this schoolteacher you’re all keeping company with?”

Hoss glared at Ben and did not reply, but Ben saw the way Hoss’s huge hands tightened on his knees at the question, and he saw the fire in his big son’s eyes. Ben hadn’t seen a look like that since the night Hoss had beat Adam half to death over Regan Miller…and so he didn’t ask any more questions.

When Mutton Jim came in that afternoon with the mail, he brought a letter. But not the letter Adam and Hoss would have hoped. It was addressed to “Owner, Ponderosa Ranch. General Delivery, Virginia City, Nevada.” And upon reading it, Ben Cartwright was convinced that at least half his worries were over.

Dear Sir:

My name is Blake Weston, and I am a resident of Reno. Last week I had occasion to come into Virginia City on a matter of personal business. On the way out of town, I happened to pick up an old copy of the Territorial Enterprise on the stagecoach floor, and upon scanning it an advertisement caught my eye. I am enclosing the advert with this letter.

I believe the collie dog referenced herein may be mine. To briefly describe the dog, she is a Scotch collie, blue merle—you might refer to her as silver or gray—in coloring, with black speckles on her face. Both her eyes are blue. She has tan underpinnings and a little bit of tan about the face; all four legs are white, as is the tip of her tail. She may perhaps remember her name, as she is rather intelligent for a dog: her transfer papers declare her to be Gray Lily of the Westons, but we simply called her Lily.

You may wonder why it took so long for me to look for her here. There are two reasons—chiefly, I thought she was dead. She was being shipped to me from New Jersey. She traveled by boat around the Cape, and was sent by train from San Francisco. She is no ordinary dog; I had intended her as foundation stock for the Weston Kennel of Scotch collies. However, her train derailed at Luther Pass. My kennel master visited the accident site and saw the slats from her crate at the bottom of a ravine, giving him every cause to think she could not have survived. The second reason, Luther Pass being some 75 miles from Virginia City, I have no idea how she could have ended up there.

If you still have her, and agree that the dog is mine, I will make arrangements to visit your ranch and pick her up. You will of course be reimbursed for any reasonable expenses you have gone to on behalf of my Lily.

Please contact me as soon as possible.

Your servant,

Blake Weston

 

Chapter 16

The nightmares were awful, but waking was worse.

He’d only had morphine a couple of times, but it invariably gave Adam nightmares. They ranged from the stupid kind that were not scary but still made no sense, to the truly horrible ones that left him nauseous and terrified.

He was riding up to a castle. He was wearing armor and riding a white horse. When the drawbridge dropped and he rode across, his horse suddenly turned red and fell dead under him. He found himself fighting a dragon then—one with long, gray fur. Then he was fighting a knight in black armor, but the Black Knight turned out to be Blake Weston.  There was a damsel in distress that he was supposed to rescue, but when he found her it was only Tilly, and she didn’t want to be rescued. She was wearing nothing but huge orange flowers. His father was King Arthur, but after Knight-Adam vanquished the dragon, his father only said “your armor is tarnished.”

Then he was back at college and in botany class. He was reciting a long string of Latin names: Lilium columbianum, Lilium rubescens, Lilium martimum, Lilium pardalinum, Lilium canadense, Lilium superbum, Lilium bulbiferum…the lilies went on forever. And then Jesus was there in the middle of the botany class, saying “behold the lilies of the field…” and then Lady burst into the classroom, galloping across the flowers, flattening them—and his father was chasing after her.

The scene shifted again, and Adam was in the barn, freezing cold, but instead of a haystack he was sleeping in a huge pile of lilies. They were all cold and dead. And Lady was there, but then she wasn’t, and when he got up to call her she wouldn’t come back. She kept trotting off toward the south pasture, and he followed her on Beauty, knowing he was killing his horse, knowing he was hurting himself…and not able to stop. The south pasture was covered with bear traps and lilies. Fire lilies, mostly. And there was Tilly in the midst of them, dancing with a horrible red-headed kid. It was Dex. Lady ran up to Tilly, and suddenly Lady grew three feet taller. Tilly sprang up on her back then, and nudged her with her heels. They galloped away with Dex shooting at them. He and Beauty sped after them—and his father, riding a bear, was chasing everybody. He heard a metallic clank, and Lady and Tilly both disappeared from view, but he could hear an unearthly howling from the dog. Again and again she howled…another metallic clank followed, and Beauty, screaming as no horse was meant to scream….

Two days of this, Ben thought, sitting by the bedside of the son he was angriest at. Two days of no explanations from anyone; Joe’s avoiding me completely, and Hoss is barely opening his mouth. Two days of Adam crying out for “Lily;” I wonder how he knew the dog’s name.

But at least, for the moment, Adam was quiet. Ben risked a glance. Adam was awake, looking at him with the incurious calm of the very tired and ill. “How’re you feeling, son?” Ben asked in what he hoped was a kindly tone.

Finally, Adam spoke—his voice hoarse and slurred. “Please, Pa…I want my dog. She makes me feel better just bein’ here.”

“Not right now, Adam,” Ben replied, and looked away. He didn’t say, “Never again,” but Adam must have heard it. He shifted uneasily. “What day is it?”

“It’s Friday afternoon.”

“What? It was Wednesday….”

“When the doc put you under, it was Wednesday morning,” Ben said. “He felt—and we agreed—that your body would mend itself better if you just kept still and rested. You came around briefly yesterday morning and wanted to get up, so he injected you again. This morning you got a smaller injection, but Paul said you should under no circumstances get up before Sunday. I hope you’ll listen to that advice.”

Adam looked at Hoss, his sense of unease growing. Hoss had his hat on his lap and was absentmindedly plucking at it, fraying the brim unmercifully. Hoss loved that hat.

“Hoss,” Adam said quietly, “tell me where Lady is.”

Hoss’s big fingers moved faster on the hat brim, picking at it, turning it around in his hands, but his eyes would not meet Adam’s. “Well Adam…it’s just that…remember that ad you put in the paper about Lady?”

Oh, no…no…Adam’s sharp intake of breath surprised even himself. “Someone answered the ad.”

“Yeah…but he seemed like a nice feller, Adam, and he was real concerned about her. Turns out her real name is Lily.”

“Oh Jesus, no!” Adam cried and before his father could yell at him for cursing, he saw the horror in Adam’s eyes and realized it was a prayer. “Not him. Not Blake Weston!”

“You knew?” Ben exploded, hating himself as he did. “You knew he was her owner, and you didn’t give her back? He told me she was worth $3,000—before all those injuries—”

“Oh God…” Adam rolled over and forced himself into a sitting position. “Oh dear heavens…Hoss, did she put up a fuss, or did I dream all that?”

Hoss looked at the floor. “I’m the one that done it, Adam. I’m sorry. She didn’t want to go, but I called her and put her in the crate, and she went. But when the wagon pulled away, well, she started barkin’ and she started howlin’ and—oh, Adam, it was my fault. She musta been howlin’ for miles.”

The room whirled and his father pushed him back down, but Adam knocked the hands away and stood up. “When?” He tore off the nightshirt and confusedly put on the hay-covered, sweat-stained shirt and pants he’d collapsed in two days before.

“About two hours ago,” Ben said in befuddlement, again trying to push Adam down. “Don’t put those on—they’re dirty. You need to lie down, Adam—the man’s probably in Virginia City by now. He said he wanted to visit someone before leaving town again.”

“No doubt! He wants to gloat,” Adam said, his eyes smoldering with murderous rage. He squirmed away from his father’s grip. “I hope she’s got every skillet in the Widow’s kitchen ready for him too, that no-good boy-touching bastard!”

“Adam, what’re you talking about?” Hoss demanded.

Grunting, Adam pulled on his boots. “Weston. He’s Tilly’s uncle. The one who breeds collies. I didn’t know it before I met him, but I wondered after if Lady was the ‘dead’ collie he was talking about.”

“But Adam, he seemed real concerned about her.”

“He was concerned about the cash she represented,” Adam snapped, jumping up again and swaying dizzily. His head was pounding. “He already collected more than he paid for her in insurance, so what claim he has on her now I don’t know—”

“He’s the dog’s legal owner!” Ben snapped. “Why on God’s earth any dog would be worth $3,000 is beyond me, but she still belongs to him. He showed me the papers!”

“Did he show you the insurance check too? The man’s a fraud, a thief, and a liar and he tried to force himself on Tilly’s little brothers when they were too small to fight back. Given that kind of treatment to humans, what kind of dog owner do you think he is?”

“What kind of nonsense has that mad schoolteacher told you? Don’t be ridiculous. They’re gone now, and it’s all legal, and you get back in that bed or I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” Adam exploded. “What can you do to me now? Call me another name? Blame me for something else? Remember, Pa, I’m the one who spent all your money! I’m the one who burned down your ranch! The one who destroyed your damn trees!”

Ben caught the edge of the chair he was standing next to, feeling as if he’d been hit in the gut. “That was one rumor I couldn’t bring myself to believe…until now.”

Adam shook his head. “You didn’t even let me say goodbye to her. You must hate the hell outta me.” He spun around and headed out of his room and down the stairs, with Hoss and Ben on his heels.

“I never said I didn’t love you, Adam!” Ben grabbed Adam’s arm as they reached the bottom of the stairs, and Adam’s rage fueled a move his strength would not have otherwise permitted: he flung his father across the room.

“If I don’t have your trust, I don’t want your love.” Then he grabbed his hat and jacket and was gone. Hoss helped Ben to his feet.

“What hold does that…that dog…have on him?” Ben asked in utter confusion.

“Pa…” Hoss swallowed. “I reckon she’s got the same hold on him that she’s got on me, and Joe, and Hop Sing. And I don’t apologize for none of it, because she’s worth it. You asked me how a dog can be worth $3,000, I’m here to tell you that dog is worth ten times that. I’m goin’ after Adam now.”

Joe, who was angrily chopping wood in the yard, saw Adam, looking like the fourth day of a three-day drinking binge, storm over to the barn. Presently he saw Adam come out again, leading a rambunctious, but saddled and bridled, Sport. “Hey, where do you think you’re goin’, all crippled up still?”

“After Lady. Pa just sent her off with a no-account like you never saw.” Without further ado Adam hauled himself into the saddle and walloped Sport with the reins. Sport tossed his head and tore out of the yard, leaving Joe with only one thought—“I better go pick up the pieces.”

Hoss blasted out of the house like a cannon, joining Joe on the way to the barn. “Adam’s gone off his rocker, Little Joe. He come outta one a’ them morphine dreams and he’s been ravin’ ever since.”

“You know he hates that stuff,” Joe said. “He says it gets into his head in a weird way. Whenever I have it I feel good. Funny, huh?”

“Not this time. He’s plumb distraught. Thought he was gonna really hurt Pa for a minute. Yellin’ about how Pa hates him and stuff.”

“Why’d he say that?”

“On account of Lady.”

“Well, he’s got a reason there,” Joe snapped. “That was a dirty trick, and I didn’t like that guy. Way too snake-oil smooth. Hoss, we should’ve hidden her. I can’t believe you just handed her over like that.”

“Never mind that. Adam’s gone off and didn’t even think to take his gun belt. He’s sick, and he’s headin’ for trouble, and I’m worried what he might find.”

*

Tilly and Weston had not had a talk, but they had “had words.” When the Widow Hawkins told her she had a visitor—and who that visitor was—Tilly had refused to meet him in the sitting room and had gone into the kitchen instead. Looking out the window she saw the wagon with Lady in a crate, and knew instantly what had happened and why Weston was there. She picked up a cast-iron skillet and went to meet him.

“Lily,” he said reproachfully, and it set the dog to howling.

“Double jeopardy, isn’t it?” Tilly retorted, hefting the skillet. “What are you going to tell the insurance company? And are you going to return the check? I’d love to see the day you ever do something honest.”

“Hah. Do you see a dog here that looks even vaguely like one of mine? The tragedy, my dear niece, is not of my making—the people who had this dog cut its tail off and shaved half its side. The fur on that side is ruined, the tail is ruined—and she was supposed to have been one of my flagships, Tilly, you know that! Look at her now; never a chance of impressing a soul. That leaves only one use for her, but at least they didn’t ruin her for that.”

Tilly knew exactly what he meant. Back in Savannah Blake had had two kennels. The first, the one for his “flagship” dogs—the ones he showed to potential buyers—was large and roomy and well kept. The dogs in it never got any attention or affection, except perhaps from the kennel master, but at least they were well-fed and groomed. The ones who had problems that kept them from being flagships—lameness, or scars—were “producers,” kept in the second kennel and used strictly for breeding. The second kennel was a disgusting undersized place, seldom cleaned, and the dogs ignored in their tiny runs, but visitors never saw or smelled it. Tilly had come across the second kennel once by accident, when they were drowning the “surplus” puppies, the ones who would never find homes. She had had nightmares about it for weeks.

“You do remember, Lily Tilly, that these dogs are investments?” Weston looked at her.

“I remember. So this dog—as good and smart as any of your flagship dogs—is going to become a factory for producing puppies. That’s all you think she’s good for.”

“This particular dog cost me $3,000, and another $1,500 to get her here from Scotland to Bayonne and from Bayonne to San Francisco. The insurance check was only $2,500, which didn’t even cover all my expenses. I have to get my money back somehow.”

“Why didn’t you sell her to the Cartwrights? They would have paid that much, I’m certain.”

“I waited for them to make an offer, but the old man seemed anxious to be rid of—how did you know my dog was at the Cartwrights’, dear niece?” He was looking at her with sudden interest.

“I knew they had a collie. I didn’t know it was yours. But I recognize her.”

“I wonder, would you have told them, had you known?”

She was spared having to answer by a bellowed, “WESTON!” and Adam was galloping up. He looked terrible, and she couldn’t imagine what had happened to him, or for that matter, why he had let Lady go in the first place.

“Why, it’s your gentleman friend from last week.” Weston’s interest increased. “The very rude fellow who wouldn’t even speak to me. Why is he here? Does he have a magnet to detect whenever I am near you?”

“He’s the dog’s real owner, Blake. He would have asked you about her last week, but I stopped him.” She grabbed her uncle’s arm. “It was my fault. Don’t take it out on him. Please, Blake, I never begged you before—”

Lady’s joyful barking split the town wide open as Adam yanked Sport to a halt and jumped down.

“Weston,” Adam said. “My father was out of line. He should have asked if the dog was for sale. I’d very much like to buy her.”

Weston crossed his arms. “Your, ah, face is vaguely familiar, sir. I seem to recall it from last week, only then you were clean-shaven, if silent and ominous. Today you look like some trail boy, or whatever the term is. Last week you wouldn’t even speak to me, and now you’re ordering me about. I don’t do business with men I haven’t been introduced to. So who might you be?”

“Adam Cartwright, of the Ponderosa ranch. Ben Cartwright, the man you spoke to earlier, is my father.” Apparently determined to be diplomatic, Adam hesitated a minute and then went on, “I apologize for my appearance and my tone of voice. I’ve been sick in bed the last two days. I just found out about Lady…Lily. I’m the one who found the dog and placed the ad. But to tell you the truth, the dog and I are downright fond of each other, and I also use her as a working cattle dog. I’m prepared to pay you well, if you’ll consider selling her.”

“You know, she was going to be one of my flagship dogs,” Weston said meditatively. “You’ve ruined her appearance. Her tail, and that long scar on her side with the fur growing back a different color….ugh.”

“Her tail was crushed before I found her. It never would have healed, and it probably would have gotten gangrene and killed her. Amputation was the only option. And the scar on her side was from the night some thieves attacked our ranch. I couldn’t stop it. But since she’s ‘ruined’ as far as being one of your flagship dogs, I hope you’ll sell her to me.”

“Just because she doesn’t look right doesn’t mean she’s of no value to me, Mr. Cartwright. I can make far more money off her as a producer of champion puppies than you could pay.”

“Possibly, if collies were a well-known breed,” Adam said. “I don’t know how long you’ve been in the West, but new things take a while to be accepted here. In that area I could be helpful to you if I kept Lady—Lily. I could provide prospective customers, or demonstrate the dog’s herding abilities.”

“I see,” Blake said with a peculiar smile, one that made Tilly bite her lip and clutch the skillet in her hand. “And how much are you willing to offer, Mr. Cartwright.”

“Five thousand dollars,” Adam said without hesitation.

She could see that her uncle was impressed, and hoped in spite of herself that he would take it. But then he glanced at her, and she knew what she had already suspected.

“That’s a most generous offer. I’m humbled that you think so highly of my Lily. But as much as you regard her, I assure you I regard her even more. I couldn’t think of parting with her.”

“Yes you could,” Tilly said quickly. “You owe me $5,000. I could take you to court for it and show mother’s letter. I’ll take the dog in lieu of your debt.”

“And I’ll still pay you $5,000,” Adam added.

For a minute, Blake Weston almost wavered. But then he smiled and shook his head. “No court would accept that letter, Lily-Tilly. I didn’t sign it promising to pay. Your mother said I promised to pay. That’s hearsay evidence and can’t be used against me.”

“You worthless, skunk-spawned—”

Adam put a hand on her arm. “I’ll pay you $10,000, myself, Weston. All you have to do is wait until the bank opens tomorrow. You can stay in the International House and I’ll pay your bill.”

Weston grinned. “You don’t understand, Mr. Cartwright. We of the South consider this a point of honor. I cannot possibly do business of any kind with you, because you were rude and mean to me last week. Gentlemen do not operate that way.”

It was in Tilly’s head to tell him how gentlemen such as himself operated, right in the middle of the street in front of all the passersby. But it would only have made her look worse, not him. She settled for drawing back the skillet. And then Adam had her arm and wouldn’t let go.

“If you should ever change your mind,” he said very softly to Weston, as if he was not the only thing keeping Tilly from killing him, “My offer stands.”

“How kind,” Weston replied. “No. But perhaps I’ll give you a discount on one of her puppies.”

“You can’t just replace one dog with another, Weston. Not if the dog means something.”

Weston only smiled, and got in the wagon. As Weston situated himself, Adam walked to the wagon and put his hand to the wooden slats of the crate, and Lady looked through and licked his fingers—and then Weston drove off. Tilly shouted “abusananos!” and from there burst into a long spate of other curses, only half of which Adam understood. He barely heard them anyway; in the wagon, Lady was scratching at the door of the crate, whining, barking, and finally howling again, a hollow, unearthly sound that made the wolf and coyote calls he’d heard all his life sound familiar and comforting.

Joe and Hoss galloped up then, but one look at Adam told them there was no use. And so Blake Weston departed, and Gray Lily of the Westons went with him.

*

Little Joe had done all the mathematical calculations, and it all came down to one thing: what all three Cartwright boys needed was to let off a little steam. With the exception of a few dances back in the fall, and a few—very few—beers with lunch, there just hadn’t been any time for fun. Unless of course he counted the one night he and Hoss and Lady got just a little drunk, the night of Lady’s “surgery.” And he didn’t count that because it had been strictly medicinal.

He had been telling Hoss that all the way into town—and reminding Hoss that Adam probably needed it even worse, because he was the one with the biggest cloud over his head at the moment, and because Adam let off steam even less often than his brothers. Being a Cartwright meant all things in moderation, and self-control came first—Pa had said so many times over the years—but Joe’s philosophy was that sometimes it was self-control that needed to be practiced in moderation. And from the look on Adam’s face as Blake Weston and his Lily departed Virginia City, today was definitely that day.

Joe and Hoss dismounted and came up to stand on either side of their brother. “Sorry, Adam,” Hoss said. Adam looked at him, and then at Joe, as if he wondered who they were, and then, with a tight-throated swallow, he shook his head. “You did the best you could, Hoss. I’m sure Weston will treat her well—she’s valuable property after all. Don’t worry.”

“That’s the spirit,” Joe agreed, while privately seeing a lot of drinking in Adam’s future, because when he lied like that, the only cure was a large quantity of alcohol.

“Sure,” Adam said, a little hoarsely. He looked over at Hoss. “Come on, Hoss, forget about it. It’s a dog. That’s all…just a dog….”

“Yeah,” Hoss whispered.

“There you go,” said the voice of false cheer, Little Joe. “Adam, why don’t you come down to the ole Bucket with us and we’ll put the first round on me. Pa’s already mad at us, so if we get drunk and raise a little Cain tonight it shouldn’t make much difference.”

“Not just yet,” Adam replied, studying the ground. “I’d like to talk to Tilly for a little while. Who knows, we may yet find something to celebrate.”

Hoss and Joe exchanged a glance. After all this time, now Adam seemed ready to take the plunge. Only now, they were pretty sure, was not a good time, and they wondered why their cool, thoughtful brother didn’t realize this.

*

Well, he didn’t have Pa’s blessing, but then, as things stood, he wasn’t likely to ever get it, either. He’d lost just about everything he’d ever cared about—but he still had Tilly. Adam turned to her. “I appreciate your trying.”

“Fat lot of good it did.” She turned and walked back into the house; Adam rushed to open the door for her, but she didn’t seem to notice. He followed her to the kitchen, where the dropped the skillet and looked up at him. “I’m sorry, Adam. I’m sorry I didn’t kill him when I had the chance.”

“Well, if you had killed him in Savannah all those years ago, I never would have known Lady—or you—at all,” Adam pointed out. “And that would have been the real loss. Tilly, can I talk to you, seriously?”

Tilly laughed a little. “I don’t know why not. We’ve talked about nearly everything under the sun, serious or not. Of course, you usually—not always, but usually—bothered to clean up and shave first.”

He shook his head. “I wasn’t lying to your uncle. I’m sorry about the way I look, but I’ve spent the last two days under morphine, having nightmares like nobody’s business. Waking up was only another nightmare.”

“What was wrong?”

“My back again,” he said impatiently. “And it hurts worse now than it did when Paul knocked me out. Tilly, my Pa came home unexpectedly Tuesday night, and I’ll tell you, everything that could go wrong has gone wrong. It hasn’t been a happy homecoming.”

“Adam…” Tilly looked up at him in sudden realization. “Is your father around your height, but bigger built, with gray hair and dark eyes? Large nose…powerful voice?”

“That’s him,” Adam replied. “And he’s been using that voice to great advantage ever since he got home, too.”

“Oh, my…” Tilly saw it all, and put a hand to her forehead. “Oh, Adam…I think I’m the one who put him in that mood. He came over to the school that night, wanting to rent Thunder from me. I didn’t know who he was and…well, we had words.”

Adam grinned. “Does that mean you threw a skillet at him?”

“It means I threw two skillets at him.”

“Well, that’s dandy,” he said. “The last few days we could’ve all got together and had a skillet war. I would have been throwing as many skillets at him as you. But, Tilly, that’s not what I want to talk about…”

And then Adam stopped dead. For weeks now, he had intended to do this…but while most people were certain that he had planned out every detail of his life, including his own potty training, he suddenly realized he had never planned out a marriage proposal. Well…he’d wing it. “Tilly, do you still think you’ll never get married? I remember saying that myself a few weeks ago, but I don’t feel that way anymore.”

She looked at him, nonplused. “I haven’t given it any thought. Do you feel well, Adam?”

“I’ve been wanting to ask you something for a while. What’s that Spanish saying—son uña y carne?”

“They are the fingernail and finger,” Tilly translated. “Yes, that’s it. It means inseparable. You’re describing you and Lady.”

“No…haven’t you ever thought that way about us? Tilly, I have. SOMOS uña y carne. WE are inseparable. It makes sense.”

The look she gave him was a bit suspicious, as if she wondered if maybe the morphine hadn’t worn off. “Adam, you don’t look well; you’re not acting well, and you definitely don’t smell good. I think you should go home…convey my apologies to your father, if you would. I’ll see you at church Sunday.”

“No, Tilly, don’t you see?” He grabbed her hand and continued quickly. “I want to marry you. I know I’m not saying it very well. But that doesn’t make it any less true, it’s just that…”

There, there, he’d done it! She had tears in her eyes. Women always got tears in their eyes when a proposal got to them. Then they could kiss, and hopefully she’d forgive his bad breath, and he’d tell her about the house in the canyon and how she could still be a teacher as far as he was concerned and—

She jerked her hand free of his and in the process backhanded him across the face…which, he was pretty sure, was not what was supposed to happen. Even Laura had never done that. And as he stared dumbly at Tilly, she swallowed. “Adam…you told my uncle that you can’t replace one dog with another. Please take your own advice…and go home. And…I think it’s best we don’t see each other anymore.” With that she ran from the room.

Chapter 17

Hoss and Joe commandeered a corner table and a bottle of 160-proof whisky. (Hoss wanted something stronger, but Joe was worried that Hoss might still be too “puny” for such nourishment.) They reserved an empty glass for their brother, having a feeling he’d need it. They were not disappointed.

Adam limped in, his slightly dazed expression even more telltale than the red blotch on his cheek. He joined his brothers at the table. Joe slid him the bottle and glass without comment; Hoss was not so wise. “Guess it didn’t turn out quite like you planned.”

Adam gave him a silent look that spoke volumes, then tossed the glass into the nearby fireplace and confiscated the bottle. He took a long swig while Joe went for another bottle, then smacked his lips and sighed. “She gets a lot of credit for originality, Hoss,” he said. “She said no because she thinks I don’t know the difference between her and Lady. But I know the difference. Lady would never have turned on me like that. Lady forgave me. She loved me even as I let Weston take her away.”

Hoss’s heart dropped into his boots, and it showed on his face. “It wasn’t like that, Adam. Tilly just didn’t know you cared. You keep a pretty good poker face. It wouldn’t’a hurt you none to tell her you loved her every now and then. Or even to tell her one single time. But…she is like Lady. She’ll forgive you.”

“Huh,” Adam huffed, and kept drinking. And drinking.

Joe returned to the table with another bottle. “There oughtta be something we can do.”

Even if he hadn’t named the subject, Adam knew what he meant. “Name something.”

“Well…we could give him a few miles and then hold him up.”

“Yeah, ’cause he’d never recognize the three of us. And the Ponderosa’s the last place he’d look. And Pa would be only too glad to help us.”

“What about somethin’ legal?” Hoss suggested. “You said it was insurance fraud.”

“Hoss, I know deep down he’ll never give the insurance money back. But that’s not something I can prove, especially not now. He could always say he had every intention of returning the money after he got home.”

“Then we wait a couple of weeks!”

“We have no way of knowing,” Adam shrugged. “He might surprise me and do it, just so I’ll be wrong.”

“Well…” Hoss thought some more. “If he’s as bad a man as you say…I don’t think he’ll be very nice to his dogs.”

“Didn’t I say that?” Adam pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

“But…ain’t that against the law?”

“Are you kidding? In civilized countries, sure. England has laws against cruelty to animals. We don’t. We barely have laws against cruelty to people. No. Lady is property, and can be treated any way Blake Weston wants to treat her, and if he wants to keep her pregnant and producing champion puppies the rest of her life, that’s his decision to make.”

“It’s not fair,” Joe muttered. “There’s got to be something…maybe Roy…”

“I hardly think Roy can get an arrest warrant because Blake Weston is a disgusting individual who refuses to sell us his dog. Just drop it, and get another bottle.” He snorted. “Get three more bottles.”

The night passed. The following day’s sun rose and set. And the long-overdue springtime binge (albeit about two months early) continued. Hoss joined a poker game. Joe found a pretty red-haired saloon girl that he decided to spend some time with. And Adam sat at that same table and kept drinking. Slowly. Deliberately. Inexorably.

The Saturday night girls came on duty at around four p.m., and Adam was still firmly affixed to that chair; having added a deck of cards to his whisky bottle, he was playing solitaire with great determination. And the girls couldn’t help but be curious. After all, Adam Cartwright’s gossip was known well enough, but there were so many versions of each story, and so little of the real man was known, that it was impossible not to be curious.

One thing that was very well known was that it was very seldom that Adam was ever lured “upstairs.” Maybe once every seven years, said one legend. But that would make it a couple of years early, since it was widely rumored that he had gone upstairs with not one, but two girls over at a place called Bella’s out in the middle of nowhere a few years ago. How on earth the girls had managed that, no one ever knew, but it made the man—even as dirty as he was—quite a challenge. A guy who was a challenge was motivation in himself. But a rich guy. A guy who needed a bath, which cost extra. A guy who cleaned up to be pretty good-looking. Even better.

Adam knew they were orbiting him. He was used to women looking. It was annoying, but better, he supposed, than being ignored or ridiculed. But he wasn’t blind drunk; when he drank he liked to do it very slowly. And getting drunk also always made him a more uncomfortably intellectual. And few enough people appreciated his intellectual bent even when he was sober.

He beckoned one girl over.

“I’ll give you five dollars,” he said conspiratorially, “If you can tell me who Persephone was.”

“Who? I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, Mr. Cartwright.”

“Well, remember the old adage, knowledge is power. Knowledge is money, too. You just lost your shot.”

The girl muttered something insulting that only made him smile. And he kept drinking.

By now Joe had returned from wherever he’d been, and he grabbed another bottle and a glass and sauntered over to Adam, sitting down without an invitation. “Ain’t you had enough yet?” he asked with a grin.

“Ain’t you?” Adam replied foggily.

“I took a break. Now I’m back.”

“Cheer up.” It sounded more like “shirrup.” “Maybe I’ll ‘take a break’ too.”

“Yeah, and if that happens, I’ll have to go run outside and look up at the moon.”

“Why?”

Joe laughed. “To see if it’s blue. What you really need is to get yourself a bath and a shave, and go mend things with Pa so it’ll be safe for Hoss and me to go home.”

“Me? I may need the bath and the shave.” Adam shook his head fuzzily. “But mending things with Pa’s not…something I have an int’rest in anymore. I believed in Pa. I always—” he shook a finger at Joe—“ALWAYS believed in Pa. Even when I shouldn’t’ve.  Even when I knew he was wrong. Like with that sheep fella, that Jeb Drummond…or when I held off a posse so he could fix things with Katherine Saunders’s boy…lotta help that was…but, Joe, I even told Pa to go ahead and court a married woman—remember Joyce ’n ’Tom? Dammit, Joe…Pa shoulda believed in me. Even without that letter, he should have given me at leash enough ben’fit of the doubt to lemme tell my side of the story. He owed me an’ he didn’ pay.”

“He was just upset,” Joe said. “Eventually he’ll think things through and realize he was disregarding his own advice—listening to gossip, not giving us a chance to explain. He’ll come through as soon as he cools down.”

“Oh? Tell me you weren’t mad as hell when he was talkin’ to you, accusin’ you of stuff you hadn’ done, Kid. Tell me you were thinkin’ he’ll be okay once he thinks things through. I wanna know why we always have to trust him, and give him the benefit of the doubt, and it doesn’t work both ways.” Adam smiled. “Well, it ain’t gonna go on. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consh’lation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. Thomas…Paine said that.”

“Ain’t he the new blacksmith?”

“No; thass Thomas Crane.”

“I didn’t think that had anything to do with horses.”

“Forget horses. Thomas Paine was one of the fellas who started the ’Merrikan Revolution. Well, I’m starting one of my own. I’m declaring myself independent from Pa. I’m pushin’ 40, Joe. Issa ’bout time.”

“You ain’t even 35. And maybe you still can fix this,” Joe encouraged, choosing to ignore the slurry speech.

“You din’t listen to me. I don’t wanna…anymore. I’m too old to stand around with my hands in my pockets and my eyes glued to the ground sayin’ yes Pa and no Pa to everything he says. This is Pa’s mess. He’s…” He hiccupped. “He’s the one who came home in a bad mood, and without waiting to find out from us wha’ happened, he pronounced judgment, found ME guilty, an’ deported my dog.”

He looked at the table. “And because I happened to propose to my girl right after I lost my dog, I then lost my girl. You know why? Because I think she thinks I think she’s a bitch, but not the right bitch.” His eyes, unfocused, watery, slid back to Joe’s. “Tilly told me, you know…she said her father went off his head. But she unnerstood that. She said, ‘how much can a man lose before he goes off the edge?’”

“You haven’t lost anywhere near as much as Tilly’s father,” Joe said. “Let’s be realistic, as you like to tell me all the time. The thing with Tilly is sad. But you never had Tilly in the first place, and you can’t lose what you’ve never had. Don’t go making excuses.”

Adam smiled, but it looked more like a grimace. “I lost my childhood. Lost three mothers. Lost Rebecca, Regina, Ruth—poor Ruth. The Ponderosa. I lost Beauty. And I lost my father’s trust. And then, oh by the way, I lost my dog and my girl. Appropriate, I guess. I found Lady and right after that I found Tilly. I lost Lady and right after that I lost Tilly. You know something, Jos’ph? Seems to me that the quickest way to lose something is to care about it. Especially if your name’s Cartwright. I reckon that entitles me to a little self-pity.”

Another girl came up just then, and Joe couldn’t help but look questioningly at her. She didn’t look right—she looked way too uncorrupted to be a saloon girl, with her cherubic expression, innocent blue eyes, and curly dark brown hair.

“Mr. Cartwright,” she said timidly to Adam, “Persephone was the Greek goddess of the Seasons, and of the Underworld.”

Adam looked at her with interest. “You are absolutely right, my dear. Here’s your money; you earned it fair and square. Wanna drink?”

She sat down with a nervous smile. “Thanks.”

“Where’d you pick up your outta-the-way knowledge?”

“Catholic girls’ school, believe it or not.”

“I’d believe it. What else d’you know about Persephone?”

“Well, she was kidnapped by Hades and taken to the Underworld…Hermes rescued her and she came back, but not before Hades tricked her into eating four pomegranate seeds, and so she had to go back to the Underworld for four months out of every year…and that’s where winter comes from.”

“It is delightful to come across a lady of intellectual pursuits,” Adam declared, and Joe pretended not to notice that it sounded more like “innellecshul purshootsh.” He wondered if maybe he should go over and see if the International House had any available rooms, since obviously none of them would be going home tonight. He remembered they had church in the morning, and wondered just how much more trouble the three of them could get into with Pa. Hoss was still deep into his poker game and appeared to be winning—now that was unusual indeed. Well, maybe as long as they made church nothing more would be said.

He turned around to look at Adam and the girl again, and realized he must have missed something. The girl had blushed appealingly and was saying, “How you do talk, Mr. Cartwright—I’d have to pay YOU for that.”

“Flora,” Adam said in that husky voice he used sometimes when he wanted to get a girl’s attention, “you wouldn’t have to pay me one thin dime.”

Joe’s eyebrows shot into his hairline as Adam stood—a little wobbly but apparently otherwise fine—and put an arm around Flora.

“See ya tomorrow, Younger Brother,” Adam announced. “I am going to take a bath with little Flora, here. You know her name means ‘flowers.’ So I’m gonna get prettied up and make myself smell like flowers. Don’t wait up; I’m paying for the night.”

“Adam, you can’t. Pa’s gonna be coming into town early in the morning for church. You can’t be here then…well, he’d know.”

Adam just smiled. “Wouldn’ be doin’ ennathing that I haven’t already been blamed for by ever’body in town. Includin’ Pa. And if I’m gonna get blamed for it anyway, I don’t see any need to deprive myself of the cuppalibitty…cuplabillytude…dammit…fun.”

*

Ben had hoped against hope that the boys would come home Friday night; a part of him even hoped they would bring the dog along. He could never have imagined Adam getting so upset about a dog, but then, when he stopped and really thought about it, he knew there was more going on than the dog. He had, in spite of his best intentions, allowed the town gossip to get to him, and he had flown off the handle and started leveling accusations at everyone without giving anyone a chance to explain. And he couldn’t help but wonder now if maybe all the gossip had been without foundation; Joe and Hoss had been merely confused by his slander of them, but outraged by his slander of the notorious Tilly. Hoss and Joe didn’t seem to think they had burned the ranch down or started a stampede, and he had never believed to start with that Hoss and Joe had shot each other. And Adam…who knew. He had said, clear as daylight, “I burned down your ranch.” Maybe he he’d been serious; or maybe he’d been sarcastic. It was often impossible to tell.

Well, it wasn’t the first time they’d all gone to town, stayed for a couple of days, and raised a little Cain. They’d still be in church tomorrow, as would he. And they’d go home as a family, and he would sit down with them and this time he’d keep calm and listen.

He never considered the possibility that part of his family was no longer interested in talking.

*

A hesitant Joe and even more nervous Hoss went to the door they’d been referred to on Sunday morning, and knocked.

“Adam,” Joe called out softly.

Flora came to the door and smiled. “He’s asleep. What can I do for you?”

“Well, Miss,” Hoss said with his eyes glued to the floor, “Our Pa’s down at the International House and wantin’ us to all have breakfast together before church, and we thought Adam might best come with us.”

“He told me he didn’t want to go anywhere,” she whispered. “Not even church.”

“Miss, I don’t think you understand,” Hoss said with a swallow. “This is our Pa we’re talkin’ about. ‘No’ is not an answer he takes real easy, especially from any of us.”

Flora shook her head; this situation had not been covered in her instructions.

“It’s okay,” Joe said, handing her a $5 gold piece. “Why don’t you go get yourself some breakfast, and we’ll handle this.”

Flora left quickly, and Hoss turned to Joe. “Adam’s gonna be mad.”

“He’s been mad about somethin’ or other most of his life,” Joe replied. He opened the door and went in to find Adam completely buried in the bedclothes. Joe grinned and slid into the bed next to his brother. He tapped lightly on what he presumed to be a shoulder, and, raising his voice to a convincing falsetto, said, “Adam honey, oh Adam!”

“In a little while,” Adam mumbled.

“Adam! Sweety-pie! Oh, Adam, mah darlin’!”

That was when Adam’s head finally appeared. “You are utterly contemptible,” he muttered.

“And you are utterly hung over,” Joe replied. “C’mon, we gotta go eat breakfast with Pa before church.”

“No.” Apparently he had bathed—and shaved—but Flora must not have had any “bear grease” for his hair; curls were hanging in a million question marks all over his head.

“C’mon, Adam. Pa’s wavin’ the white flag. He found out we were in town all weekend and didn’t even get mad. He just said he’s willing to listen if we want to talk.”

“Is that so,” Adam said. “Did he know where I was?”

“Not exactly,” Hoss said. “We had a room at the International House, and…”

“Well, you tell him where I am, and if he wants to talk to me he can come meet me on my own ground.”

“Adam, Pa’s givin’ us another chance,” Hoss put in. “We’d be silly not to take it.”

Adam sat up then, and the look he shot Hoss sliced clear through him. “Another chance? Are those his words, or yours?”

“His!” Hoss replied proudly, unable to understand why this was not a good thing.

“Another chance,” Adam almost spat. “All right, fine. I’ve got clean clothes in my saddlebag. I won’t meet him for breakfast, but I’ll be at church. I’ve always wanted to go directly to church from…another chance. How wonderfully forgiving of our father. Excuse me for being a bad son, but don’t you need at least one chance to start with before being given another chance?”

Joe, standing up, looked worriedly at Adam. He had thought the same thing at first, but filial loyalty had won out. Now he was remembering all the unjust accusations, and how his father was now willing to “forgive” him for things he hadn’t done. Adam looked defiantly at him, and Joe lowered his eyes, unwilling to meet his brother’s steady gaze.

*

Tilly was in church, and ready to throw about twenty skillets at Adam Cartwright. The news of where he had spent the night was all over Virginia City. Of all things; he had proposed to HER, and then gone right off to some floozy. But then, maybe the gossip wasn’t true. It usually wasn’t, as she had reason to know. She’d spent a lot of time thinking since her first meeting with Ben Cartwright and realized that most likely, Ben had arrived in such high dudgeon that night because he had been listening to gossip about her. It didn’t raise him in her estimation, but it at least provided a reason.

She wondered, for just a minute, if Adam’s proposal to her had been serious. Of course not. Rich landowners didn’t propose to the daughters of bankrupt merchants. And he’d never once told her he loved her—even when he proposed—never once looked at her in that special way Bensabat used to or even so much as held out his elbow for her to put her hand through like Harold. How could a man love somebody and never do anything at all to let it show? She huffed, and that made every person in the first three rows turn to stare at her in disapproval.

Little Joe and Hoss came in, and Tilly gasped to see Ben Cartwright with them. She’d already known, but it was still a shock to see them together, and she blushed. Hoss waved at her and Joe grinned; neither noticed the dark glare this brought to their father’s face. And then Adam came in. Well, he’d certainly managed to clean himself up for somebody, although his head looked like it was full of angry rattlesnakes. The wild curls were even more unruly than Joe’s, and his attempts to water them down had only made them curlier. He wasn’t in his Sunday best, either, but in clean black canvas work trousers and a dark red shirt…the color of an angry sunset…and she swallowed hard and looked at him, but he didn’t seem to realize she was in the room. All his attention was on his father, and that was when she saw the resemblance. Physically, it was not a terribly strong resemblance. But in mannerism, and stance, and attitude, they were identical.

She remembered a story Hop Sing had told her once. She had been trying to explain to him the concept of “contradictory.” He had smiled, finally, and said, “Yes, I see. We have a story in my country. A salesman tries to sell a warrior a spear and shield. The salesman says ‘this shield can stop any spear, so you can never be hurt!’ and the warrior is most impressed. And the salesman says ‘and this spear can penetrate every shield, so you can kill all your enemies!’ and again the warrior is impressed. And then the warrior thinks for a long moment. And he asks the salesman, ‘what would happen if this spear is thrown at this shield?’ And the salesman could not answer.”

She was looking at the shield and the spear, the immovable object and the irresistible force. And the irresistible force, in his dark red shirt, apparently was still at odds with the immovable object. Something big was about to happen…and Little Joe and Hoss, it seemed, were thinking of joining their brother in the planned mutiny.

The preacher was on fire this morning. Well, it was the second Sunday of the year; apparently he liked to get the New Year off to a powerful start. Last week’s subject had been chastity and purity. Her first reaction was to wish that Adam had paid a little more attention. Her second was to remember some of the titters and glances that had been shot in her direction that day.

But this week, at least, was not a subject they could pin on her, although she thought Adam would probably benefit in listening.

“My drinkin’ days,” the preacher proclaimed, “still bring shame to me. I know I have been forgiven, but alas! I blame most of the evils we face on alcohol. It is the devil’s juice and no good can come of it!”

A weak “amen” sounded from somewhere in the congregation, and the preacher went on, “Imagine how much sin we could blot from us if we could but get rid of alcohol! My brothers and sisters, if only I could, I would take every ounce of beer ever brewed, and I would throw it all in the river!”

Another weak “amen.”

“My brothers and sisters, if only I could, I would take every ounce of wine ever squeezed, and I would throw it all in the river!”

A woman in the back feebly said “glory!”

“And most of all, my brothers and sisters, if only I could, I would take every drop of whisky ever distilled, and I would throw it ALL in the river!” He turned to the choir leader. “And now, let us sing our closing hymn!”

The choir leader mumbled, “Sir, maybe we should—”

“Just sing it!” the preacher muttered, and pointed at the #175 printed on the small slate by the altar.

“Please stand as we sing,” the choir leader said weakly, “Shall We Gather at the River.”

Adam Cartwright was the first one on his feet. “AMEN!”

Little Joe glanced at his father and jumped up behind Adam. “GLORY!”

Hoss stood. “Hallelujah!” And every miner, cowboy, and saloon manager joined in the chorus.

*

“I can’t believe you did that!” Ben bellowed, standing by his horse. “If you wanted to publicly defy me, why didn’t you just not come here in the first place? What is this supposed to mean?”

“What’s it supposed to mean?” Adam repeated, standing just inches from his father and yelling back just as loud. “I’ll tell you what it means. It means I’m nearly 35 years old with a college education and I’m sick and tired of being treated like a four-year-old child who doesn’t have sense enough to find the outhouse. Our father, who art on the Ponderosa, Cartwright be thy name!”

“You stop that sacrilege! You’ve already shamed me throughout the entire state of Nevada! You could at least show a little respect in church! Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right. Ephesians 6:1, in case you forgot!” Ben thundered.

Adam smirked. “Better to rule in hell than serve in heaven. Milton, Paradise Lost, Book 1, Line 263. In case you forgot.” He slapped Buck, Ben’s dun gelding, on the flank. “Why, look, Pa; old Buck here is a gelding. And it doesn’t only happen to horses—but you know what? I’ve just barely still got mine, but I intend to keep them!”

“Then take them with you and go someplace else,” Ben said. “When you live in my house under my roof, you live under my rules.”

“The roof I built? The house I designed?”

“Feel free to leave.” Ben’s voice was covered in ice.

“Thanks for your permission, but I don’t need it,” Adam returned, equally cold. “Joe…?”

“Yeah,” Little Joe said, looking nauseous. “Go ahead.”

“Adam,” Hoss said faintly, holding out a wad of bills, “You might need this.”

“Your poker winnings?” Adam smiled as their father glared at Hoss. “You’re a good man, Hoss. No, why don’t you use them to buy a couple of trees. You know how Pa loves those little saplings, the ones that bend over backwards with every strong wind.”

He mounted Sport, and the energetic chestnut reared and came down running. Joe and Hoss looked miserably after him, and then turned back to their father.

*

As he galloped along, Adam fought back a desire to cry like a child, but another part of him had never felt so free. All he had to do was last until the spring thaw. And Little Joe just had provided him the means to do just that.

He remembered back all those years ago when Joe had been a kid—a real kid, probably not yet 18. But a kid who knew his heart all those years ago just as well as he did today, Adam thought. The girl he had determined to marry that particular month was no great beauty, but she was good-hearted and sweet-natured, and had the singular virtue of having loved Joe for many, many years. Better still, she had the other extraordinary virtue of dying while Joe was still infatuated with her, which made her one of “the great loves of his life,” and Joe was prone to advertising and bemoaning this on occasion if he got drunk enough.

But that one love affair boasted a singular accomplishment: it had given Joe a house, something neither of the other Cartwright boys had ever managed. Pa had never thought it necessary to provide any of them with land until such time as he thought they would have their own wives and, one would suppose, their own seeds to sow. Hoss now had an empty spot by Rocking Chair Butte; Adam had a little canyon place that at one time had almost had a house, and Joe had a sweet little lover’s cabin in a field of snow stars. Adam had nicknamed the acreage Edelweiss, after a white snow flower he’d read about that grew in the Alps. It turned out that the real edelweiss flowers looked nothing like the Nevada snow stars, but the name had stuck. It was not far from the lake, and was near a heavy wood full of rabbits and deer. And during their time in town, Adam had idly suggested Edelweiss would make a great haven if they really got kicked out. After the church incident, Joe had hesitated; Hoss had downright chickened out. But Adam knew better than to think he could return home.

He certainly had nothing to keep him here. He’d wanted to leave for years, and now, somehow, by doing the very duty he was accused of shirking, he had achieved his father’s willingness to let him go. He almost sighed in relief. He loved his father deeply but sometimes he thought it was like being in an avalanche and loving the very rock that crushed you. He could have stayed…Tilly could have kept him here gladly; even Lady, since big hairy dogs generally weren’t welcome in houses, hotels, and passenger ships. Even the innovations he had planned for the ranch could have kept him—for a while. But there was no point, now.

The little cabin was covered in snow on the outside and cobwebs on the inside, but otherwise in good repair. He and Hoss had tossed a bunch of sheets over the furniture after the girl’s death, and put some extra tar on the roof and sides to keep the rain and snow out. Tomorrow when the bank and stores were opened he’d venture into town, take a little money from his own account, and buy some supplies. He couldn’t get to San Francisco before spring. But come the thaw, he’d be gone.

*

On Monday, Ben requisitioned Little Joe and rode into town, where he talked with his many business associates. “Adam has fallen by the wayside,” he told them gently. “He needs a little shepherding to be brought back into the fold. It would be of tremendous help to me if you could help him see the need to return to his family.” And with only one notable exception, they met with great success.

When Adam got to town, there wasn’t a store in town that would do business with him. Even Flora would not buy groceries for him. Pa had been thorough, Adam thought in admiring anger. Pa wanted him to come home, but he didn’t want to come and get him. He wanted Adam to return with his tail tucked in. That would not happen.

He thought a while. Roy was not a possibility; he had been Ben’s friend before he was ever Adam’s. Cass seemed to be hiding amusement behind the embarrassment. Beth Cameron, the widow who still kept her husband’s store years after his shooting by Farmer Perkins, had never liked Adam anyway. But there was one person left in Virginia City who would be pretty tough to charm or intimidate. Of course, she’d also said she didn’t want to see Adam again, either. Well, he’d chance it. He hung around town, sitting in the Sazarac and nursing one beer until it was time for school to be over.

When he saw a couple of kids running up the street, he took his chance and trotted Sport down to the schoolhouse. Tilly was inside, mopping the floors—one of the less glamorous aspects of the job. He went to the doorway and knocked. “Hi, Tilly—no skillets, please. It’s Adam.”

She put the mop in the bucket and just looked at him.

“I, um, don’t suppose my father’s been around to see you?”

“He has,” she replied slowly. “He brought Little Joe with him. I told him Hoss would’ve made a better shield if he thought I was gonna start chuckin’ cookware.”

“Did he, ah, tell you about the…tensions in the family?”

She just sighed. “What do you want, Adam?”

He sighed, too. “Groceries. My father’s made it impossible to do business with any of the local merchants.”

“And you need someone to get them for you.”

“Yes; I thought he would have told you.”

“Oh, he came in makin’ those big brown eyes of his like a hound dog. I tried to apologize to him for the skillet incident and he just said it coulda happened to anybody. And that’s when I knew he was after something from me. Then he gave me some guff about you needing to return to the fold, and what-not. So I told him if all the stuff I’d heard about him from his sons was true, he oughtta let you make your own decision about whether, and when, to go home, and I wasn’t going to be part of anything.” She chuckled. “And then Little Joe leaned over and said, ‘I told you so, Pa,’ and your Pa just about took his head off. But I made my message plain enough. I never cared for bullies, even when they dress it up pretty.”

“I, ah, thank you for that.”

“I’ll get whatever you want, Adam. Just make a list.”

“Tilly, I—well, thanks. Look, Tilly, I know I’ve brought a lot of trouble on you. I want to…”

“There won’t be any more trouble.” She snickered. “I’ve lost my job.”

“What? Why?”

“Well, it seems the good citizens of Virginia City can’t have a jailbird and a trollop like me teaching their children. Being a saloon girl would be a step UP from my current social standing. The School Board called an emergency meeting last night, to which neither you nor I was invited. They voted 3-0 with one abstention to annul my contract. They’ll let me stay until the end of the term, simply because they don’t have a substitute since you’re out of the business. I’ve started sending out letters already, but frankly, if word of my time here gets out, I believe my teaching career is over.”

Adam clenched his jaw; suddenly the grocery problem seemed rather small. “Who was the abstention?”

“I’ve heard it was your father. Said he didn’t know the situation well enough to participate. I figure he probably knows as much as any of the gossips, but…well, what the heck.”

“I’m sorry. Seems like your association with my family has been one long tragedy, and the Cartwright curse is still firmly in place.”

“Curses, shmerces. I wouldn’t change a minute of my time with your family. Well, except maybe those few minutes with your pa last week…and what happened with you and me.” She leaned over to wring out the mop. “Write down what you need. I’ll have it waiting here tomorrow.”

“Tilly, I—”

“Hush. Just write your list and go.”

Chapter 18

Tuesday morning before dawn Ben awakened Hoss. “I want you to take me out and show me all these ‘improvements’ Adam was making—and I want to see the fire damage.”

Gloomily, Hoss saddled the horses.

The first place they rode to was the windmill site in the north section.

“They’re not finished,” Ben observed.

“Nope,” Hoss agreed. “I figger about 90%. That night was when the fire started, so we didn’t get back up here.”

“Take them down.”

Hoss looked at his father. “Why?”

“I don’t want them there.”

Hoss shook his head. “Pa, it would take longer than it’s worth. They’re nearly done.”

“It was a foolish idea from the start—this land won’t grow decent quality grass.”

“We already planted wildrye up here, Pa! Come spring we’re gonna need water somethin’ desperate, and the windmills are the only way to get it. Adam’s thinkin’ was to put more cows up here, but now with half the south pasture destroyed, we’ll need this section just to make up for what was lost.”

“Hoss…are you questioning me?”

The hesitation was only momentary. “Yessir, I am. Even if yer all steamed up at Adam don’t mean all his ideas were bad ’uns. We talked about all this long an’ hard before doin’ it, and the reasoning is sound.”

Ben hauled on the reins and Buck, his mouth open in pain and annoyance, wheeled about and took off at a lope. He had little to say for most of the rest of the tour. He let Hoss explain everything and listened without comment, biting his lip and wondering why he’d never had these ideas himself, why Adam hadn’t mentioned them before…or wondering if he had, but Ben hadn’t listened…

Seeing the south pasture fire in daylight was a nightmare.

“How could this happen?” he demanded, his voice hoarse. “I know it had to have been an accident, but—”

“It weren’t no accident,” Hoss replied shortly. “It was as deliberate as I ever seen. It was a kerosene fire, Pa—there was more smoke than flame, made it dang near impossible to see to fight—”

Hoss was still talking about the fire when Ben rode away. He didn’t want to hear any more—this was ridiculous.

Adam had confessed to burning the ranch, but…there was no way he could have done it deliberately.

Nothing made sense.

*

Tilly had everything he wanted waiting when he came the next day, but the look on her face when she saw him was sheer disbelief. “Adam, you idiot, where is your coat?”

The simple truth was that he had somehow forgotten it and hadn’t realized until he was halfway into town. But he grinned. “It’s not that cold out. Besides, I’m hot-blooded.”

Wrong joke to make. “So I’ve heard. Get your stuff and get out.”

“Tilly, I’m sorry, I—”

“Just scat, before I remember those six frying pans I keep under my desk for boys that make trouble.” She turned and went back to her work, and he rode back to the little cabin.

Hoss and Joe came out to Edelweiss the next day, having sneaked Les Misérables out of the house for him, along with a clandestinely prepared meal from Hop Sing (Adam was renowned for many things, but cooking was not one of them). They apologized for backing down, but that was easy enough to forgive; he had never expected them to follow through. After all…Pa still trusted them; it was himself Pa was blaming for everything, and he was the one with nothing to lose.

“You’ve got nothing to lose anyway,” Joe said. “Pa’s let everything go.”

“When did this happen?”

“Tuesday night, when he and Hoss came back from lookin’ at all the ranch.”

Adam looked at Hoss, who shrugged. “I dunno, Adam. All of a sudden he didn’t wanna see no more, didn’t wanna talk no more. Said he didn’t feel good.  When we got home, he said we weren’t gonna give you no more trouble…and he didn’t expect to talk about it anymore.”

“Is that good or bad?” Adam wondered.

Little Joe shrugged. “Well, he won’t block your store access.”

Adam looked long and hard at the two. “There’s something you’re trying real hard not to tell me. Out with it.”

A shaky sigh from Hoss. “He took your name off the bank accounts.”

“Did he happen to notice the $30,000 that wasn’t there when he left?” Adam asked with outward calm. “I would think that made up for any bad bookkeeping of mine.”

Joe looked at the floor. “Um…Adam, you deposited that money into your own account, remember?”

For a moment Adam just stood there, clenching his fist so hard that his nails dug into his palms and made them bleed. Then he nodded. “I’d forgotten. I don’t suppose he’d believe me if I told him why, either.”

“Pa said…he said if you had just asked, he would have mortgaged the whole ranch for you. But you didn’t ask.” Joe sighed explosively. “Honest, Adam, I tried to tell him about the interest, but…he doesn’t want to talk about you anymore.” He didn’t tell him the rest of what their father had said: “it hurts too much.”

“You know,” Adam said softly, “I’m used to Pa losing his temper and flinging accusations around. Only, there used to be a time when he was just as compassionate as he was temperamental, and as interested in justice as he was in vengeance. There was a time when he’d blow up and then it would be over and we could talk it out. I never thought this could happen…or if it did happen, I’d never recover. But I’m a little older now. And I’m more like Pa than he knows. Okay, he’s opted not to forgive me for whatever it is that he thinks I did. The joke is…I don’t care. I can live without him. And even if he came out here right now with his arms wide open, I don’t think I could ever forgive him.”

The horror in Hoss’s voice made it tremble. “Adam, you can’t mean that…he’s our Pa.”

“I could forgive him, even though he’s wrong,” Joe said quietly. “And I have. We didn’t react very well either, you know—yelling back at him and getting stubborn and refusing to talk at all. I didn’t see it when I was doing it, but I see it now.”

Adam laughed shortly. “You get mad even faster than he does. What I’ve never understood is that you forgive a lot faster and easier than he ever did or than I ever could.”

“That’s because, if forgiveness doesn’t happen fast and easy, it ain’t forgiveness at all,” Joe replied.

“Yeah—that’s why we call you the baby.”

“Maybe,” Joe said. “But I’m still right. I only hope to God you can figure it out someday, too.”

“You mean, I should forgive Pa?”

“That’s exactly what I mean,” Joe offered. “Think about it for a little while, at least. We’ve pushed him into a corner as much as he’s pushed us into one. The question I’ve been asking myself is, ‘if I died right now would I want this to be my family’s last memory of me?’ I wouldn’t want you all at my grave thinking how I’d gone to my death mad at you. Would you?”

*

He went into town twice more the next week. He remembered the coat once. Once he went to the bank for a complete listing of his accounts—he had three different ones, and he wanted to be sure how much money he was working with, as well as attempting to pay his father whatever he had used from the ranch account for his improvements and make arrangements for the $30,000 plus interest to be directly transferred to the Ponderosa account as soon as the six-month hold period was up.

And the second time…

Tilly was in a cleaning frenzy. Since the day she had kicked Adam out of the school she had been sweeping, mopping and dusting the place twice a day. Today little Anthony Holcomb had told her she’d turned into a meanie, and then thrown up right in front of her. And no matter how many times she scrubbed it, that spot on the floor wouldn’t seem to go away. She was down on the floor scrubbing it again and muttering “Out, out, damned spot…” when she saw Adam standing silently in the doorway.

“What are you doing here?” she asked coldly when he walked into the schoolroom without knocking. “Pantry need re-stocking again?”

“I had an idea,” he replied. “I was hoping to help you save your job.”

“You’re presuming I want it saved. I told you before that I was only here because of my mother. I don’t see anything holding me here now. I’m not interested in your idea.”

That stopped him in his tracks. For a moment he stood silent, seemingly uncertain what to do. Then he shrugged. “All right,” he returned gently, and started to go.

“One question,” she said, so abruptly that even she was surprised by it. She got up, leaving the scrub brush and soapy wet spot, and faced him squarely, her cheeks flaming. “I swore I’d never mention this, but I have to know. Why did you do it, Adam?”

“Because I got you fired; I wanted to atone.”

“I’m not referring to saving my job.”

“Then there are a lot of my actions to which that question could apply. You’ll have to be more specific.”

“All right, I withdraw that question. New question: is the town gossip true; that directly after you visited me—the day you proposed to me—that you went to see a fancy lady?”

He looked at her, a funny half-grin in place. “No.” He didn’t give her long enough to sigh in relief. “I went to the Bucket o’ Blood and went on a two-day drinking binge. Then I saw the fancy lady.”

“Why?”

“Ah, that’s a separate question. You said you would only ask one.”

“I mean it. How could you? How could you go from me to…her?”

He half-raised one hand. “Point of order, teacher. What is the relevance of this question?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean, quite simply, that it’s none of your business.” He turned to go again.

“It is too my business,” she shouted. “You proposed to ME. And then you went to some floozy!”

“Yes,” he said softly. “I did propose to you. But you turned me down, remember? You even backhanded me across the face to make sure I knew you meant it.”

“I just wanted my hand back. I didn’t mean to hit you.”

“And yet the bruise was just as dark. At any rate, you made it plain that I was to have no part in your life. So what difference does it make to you what I did after that?”

“I’ll tell you,” she said, struggling to get the words past the lump in her throat. “It confirms that what you said to me was just what I thought—that you didn’t mean any of it, that it was just a momentary lapse of control out of sadness for a lost dog.”

“I see.” That dark, unfathomable look was back again, not just on his face but wrapping his whole body in a black cloak. “The fact that Hoss had known about it for weeks and had been driving both himself and me crazy trying to keep it quiet, of course, does not matter.”

He took a step toward her, dropping his hat on a bench. “Nor does it matter that the letter you helped me write contained a post script to my father, stating my intentions to him in plain English. You couldn’t know any of this, and of course I can’t prove it, having neither the letter nor Hoss, who wrote that part. Not that you would believe Hoss anyway.”

She thought back, briefly, to the way Hoss had been looking at her around Christmas time, like he had the greatest gift-wrapped present in the world for her hidden away somewhere, and the day when he dropped her off at Widow Hawkins’ place saying “You know me and Joe think of you as our little sister. And ever’body knows about Adam.” She shook her head and looked back at Adam.

“You never even said you loved me!” she cried, and it sounded petulant, even to her.

“Never knew I needed to. I thought it stuck out all over me like a cold sore,” he replied. “I thought it was obvious to the entire world. I couldn’t imagine people looking at me and not seeing it…and it seemed inappropriate, somehow, to go parading around with it shining out of me like that. Almost as if it was indecent, to be so full of joy when everything else, absolutely everything, was going so wrong.”

Tilly snorted. Adam looked at her silently for a minute, and then went on.

“It also doesn’t matter that, had you said ‘yes,’ or even ‘let me think about it,’ the fancy lady you’re so worried about would have had to find different company that night. It doesn’t matter, does it, Tilly, that I would have made the Widow Hawkins rent me the use of her bathroom just so I could get myself clean enough to spend the rest of that night sitting somewhere near you in that awful little sitting room of hers.” His voice had gone from a flat, emotionless statement of fact to a strange, husky tone she had never heard before. “Because I wouldn’t have left. I would’ve had my arms wrapped around you from twilight ’til dawn, until we caused another big scandal. The fancy lady wouldn’t have happened, because whatever else I am, I try damned hard to be faithful to people I care about, and also because if you’d said yes, I would never have had occasion to walk any more than ten feet away from you.”

He took another step forward. “And just suppose, if we truly were engaged, and the unthinkable had happened, so that you really had the right to ask me this stupid question. Do you know what would’ve happened then?”

“I’d have taken a skillet to you, that’s what!”

“And you’d have had a right to—then. But do you know what after that?”

“No,” she whispered.

“I’ll tell you what would’ve happened. Now if we were engaged, and I’d been so all-fired stupid as to be indiscreet, why, sure, we’d have a scene. You’d chase me with a skillet, you’d slap me and cry, and you’d have every right to. I’d say it didn’t mean anything, because it would be true. I’d feel terrible, of course. You’d tell me I was a no-good dog, and I’d whimper and grovel and say I’m sorry and I’ll never, ever do it again. And then you’d give me one of those sidelong looks out of your big blue eyes and say ‘well, you big lout, I never can stay mad at you for long.’ And I’d know I was forgiven.”

“And then what would happen?” she asked in spite of herself, as he took another slow step forward so now he was within an arm’s length of her.

“And then? Not much.” He looked at her, that invisible cloak still around him. “Not much at all. I’d probably just reach out kinda slow, and I’d haul you over to me…” and just then she looked down, and that elegant hand was passing by; there was a pleasant pressure on her back, and involuntarily she was moving over to him. He looked down at her, one hand holding her face up to his. “And then I believe I’d kiss you. Slowly.” He kissed her…slowly, and with a pent-up heat that made her quiver all over. And somewhere down in her stomach, a fire began to burn and her liver started tap-dancing, and she forgot that two plus two equaled four and that every sentence had to have a subject and a predicate…or maybe she remembered, but she had no idea why any of that was important since the whole world was falling away as he pressed her into the wall and leaned against her so that they were touching everywhere, from their lips all the way down to their toes….

Then the kiss ended, but they stayed that way for a moment longer, and he was looking at her with that strange expression and now she could see his eyes—directly into them—and for the first time since she had known him, they were completely open and she could see right down into his soul. It wasn’t a beautiful soul, dear God no. It was like an old battle flag, frayed, ripped, torn full of shell-blasted holes, badly mended, with powder burns at the edges, left out in the rain once too often…but never dropped that it wasn’t picked up again, never giving up on hope…never giving up on love…and still ready to charge back into the fray, next time the call was sounded…

Then he stepped away from her. She could no longer see his soul, or even his eyes. He jammed his hat back on so that now his whole face was dark and hidden, and she felt deprived in every possible way.

“Well. Too bad we’re not engaged,” he said casually, and turned away to limp out to Sport, mount up, and trot down the street.

*

Four miles from Edelweiss, Adam could contain himself no longer. He untied his bedroll and wrapped it around his shoulders for the little warmth it could provide. Still shivering, he re-mounted. It was getting harder to ride, too, with his bum leg…

“Sport,” he addressed the muscular neck in front of him, and a red ear flicked back to listen. “Let me ask you a question. Here’s a context you can understand. Suppose one day you wake up with a real taste for oats. Day in and day out, you devoutly wish for oats. You subsist on grass and desire. One day I come up to you carrying a nose bag. And you rejoice—you would have your oats at last. But then the bag is tied on and you find it full of barley. Being half-starved, you eat the barley. Now, do you curse yourself for being so weak as to eat the barley, feeling you should’ve starved rather than settle for less than you wanted? Do you curse the barley for its inability to be oats? Do you curse the one who fed you because he didn’t provide what you wanted? Or do you curse the oats for not making themselves available?” Adam listened to the sound of his own voice in the silence of the snowy woods for a minute, and then sighed. “Maybe you just wonder if you’re a damned fool for wanting oats in the first place, and find yourself in the middle of nowhere talking to a horse.”

He was so cold. What had happened to his memory, he had no idea, for riding 20 miles with no coat was not the act of an intelligent person. Maybe it was the pain that had become such a part of his life that he imagined missing it if it should ever stop. His back screamed with each step Sport took, and his leg stayed numb for hours at a time, only to wake in an agony of jabbing pains, as if someone was stabbing his thigh with a fork. That was his life nowadays, and he accepted it because the only alternative was to end his life, and he wasn’t that desperate. Paul had said if he continued with the exercises the pain might go away. Adam continued the exercises, but no longer believed the pain would end. Nowadays he almost welcomed it, because it was an absorbing alternative to the constant gnawing emptiness under his left hand where Lady used to be, and worse in his gut where Tilly used to be. Most people would’ve said someone they loved lived in their heart. Tilly had always been in his gut, the place where the laughter came from when she’d been around—Lord, he’d laughed with the abandon of a child with her—and now, the place where the hurt resided since she wasn’t there anymore.

His hands had turned red…his gloves were in the pockets of that forgotten coat. Pointless, of course, to miss what he didn’t have, but he missed the coat anyway. And Lady. And the gloves. And Tilly; oh Lord, he missed Tilly.

He tensed, hearing his father’s voice up ahead, and brought Sport to a halt. These were his woods, not Pa’s. Joe had told Adam to stay there and treat the place as his own. That meant Pa was trespassing in his woods. His jaw clenched—and then he heard the other voice. Pa wasn’t talking to Hoss or Joe, but it was still a familiar voice.

It was that red-headed kid, Dex.

Chapter 19

Four hours earlier:

“Pa, I brung the mail,” Hoss said as he stumped up to the big desk. “Ain’t but one thing.”

Ben looked up at him and nodded curtly. More than a week ago, he had told his two remaining sons that whatever had happened while he was gone was now over, that he had no interest in knowing about it, and that whatever mistakes they had made were no longer to be worried about. “From now on, we’ll move forward,” he had said.

He didn’t quite understand the doubtful look that had passed between Hoss and Little Joe. It was as if they didn’t agree, but at the same time they knew it was useless to argue. Well, that much, at least, was true. He was sick and tired of the arguing and fighting, and it was his ranch; therefore, things would be done his way, and there would be peace between his two younger sons and himself.

As for Adam…not only had he not apologized; he had picked the most public and sacred place he could to stage a rebellion, and then carried it out into the street like a fishmonger with all of Virginia City looking on…

Furthermore, the “accounting” Adam had been promising was nonexistent—the ledgers were a mess. They had barely been touched since the middle of December, and the last figures logged showed the ranch with less than $200 cash available. Supposedly Adam had managed to get some money from the Pinkerton Agency, although Ben had not found out how or why. He wasn’t sure he would believe anything Hoss or Joe said about it, and hadn’t yet had a chance to talk to Roy. “Judas sold out the Messiah for thirty pieces of silver,” Ben muttered. “Adam, what did you do for that $30,000?”

If Adam had apologized back then, rather than turning on him so loudly, so finally, perhaps there would have been hope…but now…well, there was no use going over it now; it was done. Adam was gone. Even if he had returned and begged forgiveness, it would have been granted only with a lot of difficulty. Adam’s accusation had been wrong—even if the boy had burned down the ranch and stolen the money, Ben couldn’t imagine ever hating his oldest son, but how could he talk to him after such a deliberate, public rebellion?

He had gone into Adam’s room that morning, and seen Elizabeth’s copy of Paradise Lost on the table near the music box and the old painted miniature of her. He picked up the picture for a minute, and it seemed to burn his hand. “Liz, how could this happen?” he murmured. He looked at the book, and suddenly the irony hit him in the face like a barber’s hot towel. “Adam…” he closed his eyes. Liz had loved that book so much, and known huge sections of it by heart…but while the book’s message for her was always one of hope, he had always wondered just how God felt, throwing the first Adam out of the Garden of Eden. Well, he had a fair idea of it, now.

The previous day, Hoss had said, “I sure do wish you’d got the last letter Adam wrote you. He told you all about it. Most everything that happened.” And he had replied without interest, “I told you, all that’s in the past.”

And now he was just sitting at his desk, trying to wrestle the books back into order, and here was this one piece of mail to deal with. The brown package was marked from the Hotel Waterloo in Leavenworth, Kansas. Wondering if he had left something behind, he opened it. Two things fell out: a sheet of note paper, and another, smaller envelope.

The note said “Deer Mr. Cartwright sir—this paket arrived 3 or 4 days after you departed from this hotel and I thowt it cud be importent. So I send it back to you sir cows you was ever good to me. Fathfulee yrs, Domino.”

For a second Ben considered consigning the smaller envelope to the flames. Why stir up trouble. But before they clammed up and stopped talking to him altogether, Joe and Hoss had been all but desperate for him to know. And in the first couple of days after his return, all the fights that weren’t about that dog had been Joe’s accusing him of refusing to listen. Why should I listen when they didn’t make sense? But along with that question came the crashing answer: they might have made sense, if you had only allowed any of them to finish a sentence.

Finally, he took a deep breath and opened the envelope. At first he didn’t even think the handwriting was Adam’s—Adam had a bold, clear script. This writing was awful: the words were badly out of alignment, as if they were being written in the dark, and by an old or sick man with a shaky hand. Here and there he could see enough of Adam’s handwriting characteristics to believe it was his—that odd way of making the letter “J,” the loop in the “o.” If it hadn’t been for that it wouldn’t have seemed like Adam’s writing at all.

Dear Pa,

This is the last letter I will have time to send before you begin your journey home, but I hope it reaches you in time because there is a lot you need to know before you get here.

You will find the Ponderosa very changed, in both good and bad ways. We recently found ourselves battling a fire…

And so he read, with difficulty, of the fire…and the squatters who had started it? The squatters—the two ranch hands that he had hired before leaving for Kansas. Why on earth had Adam claimed to have burned down the ranch if these people had done it?

The handwriting changed. Now the words were neat again, in a confident but decidedly feminine hand.

You might as well know that I was recently injured too. In the fire I mentioned, Beauty broke his leg, throwing me, and I sustained some injuries that have laid me up for a week or so. Happily I am recovering in hardy Cartwright fashion, although the handwriting has probably alerted you to the fact that I find it somewhat difficult to write.

So that was what happened to Beauty. And he supposed this feminine hand belonged to that rude Tilly Hoffman. He and Joe had gone to see her the previous week, when he still had hopes of bringing Adam home, to warn her about helping Adam to bypass him. She had stepped right up to him as if his size, bulk, and voice didn’t matter to her at all, and told him pretty much to mind his own business. Little Joe hadn’t even been surprised. But in something of a wakeup call, Ben realized he had gotten entirely too used to having his own way.

We have taken in a stray dog. I’ve mentioned her before, earlier in this missive. She turned up the week after you left, and Hoss named her Lady…In fact, it is due to her that you still have the house, not to mention me (she saved my life last week) and Joe (she has rescued him from certain death twice….

Wait a minute, this was ridiculous. “Hoss!” He bellowed. “Hoss, get in here!”

Hoss duly reported, looking worried, as he usually did these days.

“Do you know what this package is?” Ben demanded, and before Hoss could reply, he continued, “It’s supposed to be Adam’s last letter to me, the one that was going to explain everything. Are you aware of the ridiculous claims made in this letter?”

“Are you gonna let me talk about it?” Hoss seemed surprised.

“I’ve already started reading it; I might as well talk about it.”

Hoss’s jaw came out. “No sir, you might as well let me and Joe talk about it. We’re the ones that knows. Not you…sir.”

“Watch your mouth, boy. What I want is an explanation of the tomfoolery in these pages.”

“I helped Adam write part of that letter, and I read the whole thing before I mailed it,” Hoss said. “And Pa, I love you, but don’t you go callin’ me no liar. Everything in that letter is dead true.”

“That dog saved Adam’s life? She saved Little Joe’s life?”

“Twice.” Hoss nodded emphatically. “First time she saved Joe was at branding when an angry mama cow charged him. Lady come barrelin’ outta nowhere and jumped on that cow and took her down to the ground. Pore Adam nearly had a heart attack, but Joe thought it was the greatest thing he’d ever seen.”

“And the second time?”

“That was when Little Joe was shot, in the south pasture where the squatters was hidin’. Lady chased ’em away so they couldn’t finish off Joe, and then she come and got me and Adam and took us back to where Joe was layin’.”

“That’s preposterous.”

“No it ain’t! I was there, dadburn it!” Hoss retorted, standing up straighter. “Pa, we are the Cartwrights. We done seen leprechauns and knights in shining armor and elephants and gypsies and self-powered wagons and one time an angel of God come to our church. Why’s it so hard to believe a dog could be smart or helpful? The night of the fire, Lady’s the one who told Adam about it, and when he durn near killed hisself tryin’ to get back to warn us, Lady was with him and stood guard over him all night and chased off the stampedin’ cows when they tried to run him over.”

“Sit down,” Ben ordered, and continued reading. “It says here that you also saved Joe’s life in relation to the shooting incident. What’s this about?”

Hoss blushed. “Well, it was really Adam’s idea. Joe was bleedin’ to death and I couldn’t think what to do. Doc Martin didn’t even want to do it. It’s a blood confusion or somethin’—taking some blood out of me and puttin’ it into Little Joe. Adam practically sat on poor ole Doc to make him do it, and then Adam and I had a little disagreement over who was gonna provide the blood since we both wanted to. I ended up winning, though.”

Ben shook his head.

As to his injury, as well as the subsequent fire, I take full responsibility for allowing these things to happen….

At those lines, Ben remembered Adam’s near-hysterical cry again: “I’m the one who burned down your ranch!” and suddenly, he understood what it meant…and something inside him seemed to break open, and he groaned and dropped his head into his hands.

“Pa…you okay?” Hoss was anxiously standing over him.

He swallowed and waved Hoss back to his chair. Taking a deep, shaky breath, he read on.

My friend Miss Hoffman the schoolteacher is writing this for me. When you get home I’m sure you will meet her. She proved herself a valuable nurse when Joe and Hoss were under the weather and has even attempted to run the blockade caused by my own Yankee granite-headedness during my illness.

“She was nursing,” Ben whispered. “Hoss, is that all it was?”

“All what was?”

“Tilly Hoffman—she only came up here to nurse you and Joe?”

“Shucks, no, Pa. She used to come up every Sunday for dinner and then Adam would get out his guitar and we’d all sing and tell stories ’til our voices give out, and then we’d take her home. But then, when me and Joe was both laid up, Adam plumb wore hisself out lookin’ after us, and none of the townfolk offered to help. Tilly was the only one who came. Seems like the good folk of Virginia City thought we was too far away. Funny, ain’t it, that it was never too far for anybody to travel when we was havin’ a party.”

“Funny, indeed,” Ben said with a trace of anger. “How did Tilly manage it every day?”

“She’d take a nap for a few hours after school, and then ride Thunder up here. Then Adam would go to bed and Tilly would look after me and Joe ’til first light. Sometimes Hop Sing would stay with her and I’d wake up and they’d be practicing English. Then Hop Sing would wake Adam up and he’d be back with us until night again and Tilly would go back and teach school. She said it weren’t hard to do but sometimes I think she was as tired as Adam. After I was able to be up and around, she went back to just comin’ up on Saturdays or Sundays to visit and have dinner, leastwise, up ’til the fire. Then she was here as much as she could be, I guarantee you. She was real worried about Adam. In fact, she and Joe found Adam. She’s the one who got Adam home.”

Ben stored that fact for future reference. “And after Adam recovered from the fire…?”

A shrug. “She was here Christmas Day for dinner. And then she got a telegram that her pa had died. I think that was New Year’s Eve. She got all hysterical the way girls do, only she…tore up her room at Mrs. O’Reilly’s, and that woman kicked her out on the street. And then…” he blushed. “Then Adam got in trouble with Mrs. O’Reilly for stickin’ up for Tilly, and the sheriff put Adam and Tilly in jail. Joe and me got Hiram and he got them out, and since the Widder Hawkins didn’t have no rooms open ’til the fifth, we brought Tilly here. She stayed in the downstairs guest room and didn’t show her face at all for a couple of days. Finally she came back out and Adam brought out the guitar and we spent the last couple of days singin’ again until I had to take her back to town. Kinda like when we brought Little Joe’s friend Sarah out here after her pa died, remember?”

And so the rumors were true…and they were all lies.

“But Little Joe…did he…did he have a love affair with this woman, this Tilly?”

“What?” the shocked voice was Hoss’s, but it was echoed by Little Joe himself, coming in with a load of firewood.

“Who in tunket said that?” Hoss demanded.

“You point me at that guy and I’ll pound him so hard his whole family’ll die!” Joe shouted.

“But…but you said it,” Ben stammered. He reached in his desk drawer, removed the water-stained page and handed it to Joe.

Well, I know you are looking at this and thinking WHY IS MY FAVORITE SON RIGHTING WITH HIS WRITE HAND? It’s a long story, ****** I broke my collar bone again. Fortun ******* Lady ***** saved my life but we’ll tell you all about that when you come home. ************ I’ve got her to do a lot of my fetchin and carryin. Funny I call her my Lady, Hoss calls her his Lady, and we both know she’s Adam’s, but of course he ignores her even though she loves him. She’s been so helpful around here Pa, even Hop Sing ****. I wish you could see****little funny lookin, **** long skinny nose ******utiful blue eyes and a great smile, and when the sunlight catches her hair just right it fairly sparkles. She’s ********** sweet as you can imagine. Since I got laid up she’s been sleeping with me most every night. Adam said you wouldn’t like it but I’m betting you’ll make an acception when you meet her and be******s ****** ******** just showed up the first night after I was hurt and they say she and Adam ***********French song that Mama used to sin******** a good person for all she is a teacher and talks about as funny as Adam.

“I said the DOG saved my life! This is all about the DOG! She’s the one with blue eyes and a long nose!”

“And is she a schoolteacher, too?” Ben yelled.

Joe stood his ground and yelled back. “No, for Pete’s sake, Pa, I was talkin’ about the dog up to HERE and then HERE I was talkin’ about Tilly. Somebody didn’t blot my letter!”

Father and youngest son looked at middle son, who bristled. “Well it ain’t my fault Lady came runnin’ in all wet and shook herself all over everybody! And maybe you should learn to use paragraphs like Adam always says!”

“I can’t believe all this started from my letter!” Joe’s head whirled. “I know what they were sayin’ about us and Tilly in town, but I couldn’t believe you’d buy off on any of…”

“So none of you…”

“Well now, hold your horses, Pa,” Hoss put in hastily. “Adam’s in love with her. He ain’t ever done nothin’ to be ashamed of about it, but he’s in love with her all the same.”

“And how do you know this?”

“Read the rest of the letter. That’s the part I helped write.”

P.S. Pa, I intend to get married…

“Oh sweet Lord,” Ben murmured, reading the rest of the post script. “They’re going to get married. He wanted my blessing…”

“No, Pa,” Joe said. “He gave up on getting your blessing and asked her the night Weston took Lady away. Tilly didn’t seem to think he meant it, and she turned him down.”

“Didn’t seem to think he meant it?” Ben cried. “Have you ever known Adam not to be sincere?”

“No, Pa,” Hoss mumbled, “but then you ain’t ever known him to not be sincere either, and it didn’t stop you from disbelievin’ every word he said since you got home.”

Ben just sat looking at them, his eyes wet.

“I can explain about the money, too, Pa,” Joe said softly.

“Devil take the money! I don’t care about the money…this was never a question of money!”

“Pa,” Hoss went on, “Joe and I rode out to see him a couple days ago and he’s determined to leave. He means it this time—says he’ll never be his own man until he does.”

“But, but, you boys are the reason I built all this. What’s it for if not for you?”

“Adam’s nearly 35,” Joe finally said. “Pa, by the time you were that age you had been married three times, had all three of us, and were building up the Ponderosa. You tell everybody you raised us to be men, men who make our own decisions, but when our decisions don’t line up with yours, you have this scary habit of taking us over your knee, with words if not with a strop. Adam’s been fighting you for a long time, and he’s tired of it. I can’t say I blame him—and I can’t see it continuing. If you want him to stick around, he’s going to have to have a little more of your trust, even when his decisions aren’t yours…” Joe took a deep breath. “And while you’re at it, Pa, I’d like some of that myself. I know I’m just 24, but I don’t intend to be treated like a baby forever, either.”

“And me,” Hoss put in. “I never raise much fuss, but that don’t mean I ain’t much of a man. I respect you as much as the day is long, but a feller’s gotta grow up. You ride us gentle, most of the time, but you ride us all the same.”

“Leave me alone for a moment, please,” Ben whispered, and both Hoss and Little Joe left the room.

“What do you think?” Hoss asked Joe as they put their jackets on and went outside.

“What do YOU think?”

Hoss scratched his head. “Pa’s a good man. Sometimes his temper runs a bit high. And the way Adam provoked him that one day, he had reason to let his temper run high. But when he thinks things through…”

“I think we oughtta saddle Buck,” Joe replied with a grin.

Hoss grinned back. “Race ya to the barn.”

*

The boys had read his mind. They had saddled Buck—and only Buck—and he had thanked them…and apologized profusely for judging without all the facts, and for not trusting them. Now he was on his way to see Adam and do the same.

Edelweiss was deserted, and Sport, Beauty’s replacement, was gone. Ben hesitated near the clearing, wondering whether to go home and try another day or whether to go inside, make himself at home, and wait. And as he considered, the decision was taken from him. He heard a crunch in the snow, but before he could turn, the world went black.

It couldn’t have been more than half an hour later that he awoke, but it felt like longer, and he was bound hand and foot. But I’m not gagged, he thought, and wondered why until he realized there was no one to hear him. There was a red-haired youngster standing nearby, going through his wallet.

“So you’re Ben Cartwright. You don’t carry much cash.” The kid threw the wallet aside.

“I’m on my own land. I don’t have to pay for anything here. Who are you and what do you want?”

“You owe me $425,000.”

“And how do you figure that, son?”

“I’m nobody’s son, Cartwright. I’m 25 years old, and I’d think you’d give me a little respect. I’ve got your gun, your horse, my own Bowie knife, and a bigger brain than you’ve ever met. Six months ago I worked for the Central Pacific. I heard about a train carrying a payroll—with a little something extra tucked away inside—and I decided the railroad didn’t pay enough. I got a couple of guys together, we got that train off the rails, and we got the box. And we got away. And now, my partners are in jail and likely to stay that way, and I’m broke, stranded, and on foot. Yup, now I have your horse. And gun. But I think you owe me a little more than that. I know the railroad got that box back, but there were four unsigned bearer bonds and $25,000 cash in that box. That was my box. I stole it; that made it mine. Your boys took it from me. I want the money back.”

“I’ve never quite understood why a thief is offended when someone takes from him. That’s the system you work in—taking means possession. If my boys took the money away from you, it became theirs.”

“Maybe. But I took you. And if your boys want you back, there’s a price to pay.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Dex, but my boys have standing orders that we will not pay kidnappers under any circumstances.”

“Not even if I send you back to them, one piece at a time? I think they’ll change their minds then. I always knew that knife would come in useful for something.”

The sun was low in the sky, but Ben dimly saw a shadow moving among the trees.

“I wouldn’t bank on that, Dex,” Ben said. “My oldest boy makes all those decisions. And if you decide to send my fingers or toes to him, he’ll only come after you. I may die, but you will as well. Adam’s always done what I expected. He’s always made me proud.”

The kid snorted—and 185 pounds of muscle and bone suddenly hit him from behind. The fight was short but ferocious—hearing something at the last second, Dex had shifted slightly to the right, and although Adam’s jump knocked him to the ground, Dex rolled and was up immediately; Adam a second later. No Marquess of Queensbury rules—punches were low; knees were used to good advantage. Ben saw something flash in the reddening sky, and gasped as he remembered the Bowie knife. But suddenly Dex screamed at the top of his lungs, and then Adam was on top of him, tearing the kid’s belt off and using it to bind his arms together. That done, he hauled Dex over to Buck and, keeping one arm across the kid’s throat, he detached the rope from Buck’s saddle and used it to hogtie Dex completely. He left the kid lying on his side, whimpering in the snow as he turned to his father. “You all right?”

“Fine,” Ben said weakly. “Just a bit ‘tied up’. What did you do to him? I never heard a scream like that before.”

“I took a lesson from Lady,” Adam said faintly, and picked up a handful of snow to put in his mouth. He swirled it around for a moment, letting it liquefy, then spat it back out, and the ground turned pink. A huff. “Think I took off the top of his ear. Hope I don’t get rabies.”

Adam retrieved the Bowie knife and cut his father loose, then helped him up. Ben extended a grateful hand, but Adam turned away, his shoulders hunched. Ben wondered where his coat was, but he could hardly ask with Adam being so concerned about being treated as a 34-year-old child.

“If I were you, I’d take him back to the house and then let Hoss take him into town.” Adam pointed at the kid. “This is the third member of the bunch that derailed that train, killed 10 people and Lord knows what else—believe me or don’t, but Roy needs to get his hands on him quick.”

“I believe you, Adam,” Ben said quietly. “I believe everything you say.”

Shivering, Adam looked sharply at him. “Don’t get carried away. I’d’ve done as much for a drunk on the street.”

“I know. Adam—”

“You need to get going, Pa. It’ll be dark soon.”

“As soon as you tell me you’re all right.”

“I’m fine,” Adam said with a little shrug. “My leg doesn’t even hurt anymore.” He started back to Sport, leaving a trail of red behind, and then Ben noticed what the dark shirt and the fading daylight had concealed before.

“Adam!” he cried just as Adam pitched face-first into the snow.

Chapter 20

Will and Laura Cartwright had just had the mother of all fights. He adored her, but there were times—like this one—where he knew that staying in the same room with her would land him in jail for murder. And that last thing she had said was too painful to be borne.

Needing someone to talk to, the first person he thought of was his cousin, Adam Cartwright. Funny—Will had stolen Adam’s girl, and yet now Will was turning to him as a friend. He wondered vaguely if the feeling was reciprocated. Adam had been the one who encouraged Will to take Laura, and had assured him many times that there were no hard feelings. But it still didn’t make things any easier, especially with fights like this between him and Laura, and he wondered sometimes if Adam would have had a happier marriage with Laura than he did.

For reasons unknown to Will, Adam had been staying the last two weeks at a little cabin near the stream. Adam called the place Edelweiss, and it was on Ponderosa land, but it was still strange that he wasn’t up at the main house. Will had missed church the last two weeks, so he hadn’t seen Ben since his return from Fort Leavenworth—something he needed to remedy soon. He had heard, though, that Adam and Ben had had a falling-out—in the middle of church at that, but he wasn’t sure whether to believe it or not. Maybe Adam would let Will bunk out there with him tonight, and maybe by the time he came home Laura would have gotten over being mad.

Such were his thoughts when he came upon Ben Cartwright, coatless, frantic, his brown sheepskin jacket wrapped around most of Adam while Ben picked up the hard-packed snow and pushed it into Adam’s side.

“He’s bleeding.” Ben didn’t even seem surprised to see Will there. “That—that—thing over there stabbed him and I thought maybe the snow would slow it down but now he’s freezing to death AND bleeding.”

“Let him freeze for a minute,” Will said quickly. “You’re right; that will slow the bleeding. You get back to the house and send Joe for the doctor and the sheriff, and then get back here. I’ll watch and when I see the bleeding start to slow down I’ll bring him inside the cabin.”

“No, no,” Ben mumbled distractedly. “I can’t leave him. You go…get somebody.”

“Ben, you’re not thinking straight. He needs to stay out here for a few more minutes, and there’s no time. If we both wait so I can help you get him inside, that’ll delay getting a doctor. If I leave right now, you’re not going to be able to get him in by yourself.”

“But it’s my fault.” There was a tone in his voice Will had never heard before—despair.

“Ben—you don’t have time for this!” He grabbed his uncle’s collar and bodily yanked him to his feet. “You know I’m right. Go now!”

Looking dazed, Ben murmured, “Of course…you’re right. I’ll go.”

Will watched him ride away. “He just needs something to do. Nothing worse in the world for him than just sitting around being powerless.”

“You’re right,” murmured Adam, and Will jumped a little; he hadn’t realized Adam was conscious.

“You keep quiet.” He looked at the wound. Left side. Too low for the heart or lungs. What other organs were in that part of the body? He wasn’t sure, but at least the blood was oozing now instead of pouring.

“Will,” Adam whispered. “Would you…deliver a message for me?”

Off his head. He’s off his head. “Sure, Adam. Anything you say.”

“Tilly Hoffman. You know who she is…”

“Yes, she’s the schoolteacher.” Who threatened to turn all my male parts into pig food.

“Tell her it was never the dog.” Definitely off his head.

“Sure, I’ll tell her. But I imagine she’ll probably come and see you, you know.”

Adam just looked evenly at him. “It would be nice, but I don’t think so.”

“I think I better get you inside. You’re pretty cold.”

“Not a bit.” Adam’s voice had none of its usual force; it was unnaturally soft, with a little wheeze at the end. “I’m warm enough. But I miss Tilly.”

Will turned his head so Adam couldn’t see his expression. “Any chance you could get up, Adam?”

No response. Adam had drifted off. Will took a deep breath and gathered Adam into his arms and pulled him up. Will had a couple of inches on Adam, and a few pounds, but Lord, the man felt heavy right now.

As gently as he could, Will got him inside and laid him on the bed. He pumped a bucket of water and got a washcloth and a glass. When he returned, Adam’s eyes were open again. “Sorry to be a bother.”

“I was coming out to see you,” Will said. “No bother at all. Listen, you’re not considering dying now, are you?”

Adam’s voice was so soft Will could barely hear him. “Hadn’t given it much thought.”

“Good. I won’t have you dying. Too many complications.”

“Everything is complicated. Why…are you here?”

“Aw, Laura and I had a fight, and I walked out. Lucky for you though, Cousin.”

“You and Laura have too many fights,” Adam observed, and Will stiffened—but any response was deferred when Adam clenched both fists as a wave of pain swept through him. “Tilly and I fought too. You know why she won’t marry me, Will?”

Will had never known Adam to be interested in Tilly, and he couldn’t imagine why any man in his right mind would be, so he just shook his head. Adam smiled feebly.

“Storgi…that’s why,” Adam went on. His eyes had taken on a glassy appearance, and Will hastily undressed him and put him under the covers. “That’s Greek, Will—means love. But the Greeks were smarter than us…they had different words for love. Storgi was the kind of love you might feel for your cousins, or your little sister, or the family dog…”

Will looked out the window as he put another bucket of water on the stove to heat. He was pretty sure it would be better to keep Adam conscious, but when he got to one of his philosophical ramblings like this, things were bound to be uncomfortable.

“So what are the other kinds?” he asked brightly, with dread.

“Philea…it means the love you have for your friends and comrades…like you and Mateo I guess…and then there’s eros—and that one should be obvious.” He tried to wink, but ended up closing both eyes and nodding off. Will gently slapped his cheeks until he came around again.

“You didn’t tell me what ay-ros means,” Will prompted.

“What were we talking about?”

“You were telling me about Greek words. For love.”

“Strange subject for a conversation.” He blinked. “Ohhhhhhh…Will, either the room is spinning or my head…”

Where the hell is Ben? “Just tell me the Greek words, dammit!”

Adam sighed. “Storgi, philea, eros, agape. There’s one other, but….”

“Okay, what’s eros, and what’s ah-gah-pay?”

“Eros…is what you feel for women, you know, upstairs…and agape is the kind of love that’s always wanting the…best for the other, even if it means sacrifice.” He blinked a couple of times. “Tilly won’t marry me, Will. You know why? She thinks I feel storgi for her. She doesn’t understand.”

“So you mean you really feel…what, eros?”

“No, no. Good Lord. Always said I’d never marry a woman unless I felt all four.”

Will wondered if Adam was dying; surely he would never talk like this otherwise. And considering what Laura had said that night, Will wondered how it would affect him. But he had to ask. “Is that how you felt for Laura?”

“Laura…no. I broke my own rule with her. I’m sorry, Will.”

“So what did you feel for her, then?”

“Never got past storgi and agape…”

While Will digested that one, Adam slipped into unconsciousness.

*

Ben sent Joe, the lightest man with the fastest horse, into town for the doctor, and dispatched Hoss with a wagon and team to pick up Dex. Then he was back on Buck and racing in that direction himself.

Will was doing his best to clean the wound. “He’s out, Ben. He faded off a little while ago and I couldn’t bring him back.”

“How bad does it look?”

“I’m hardly a doctor,” Will observed. “The bleeding’s slowed to just a little ooze, which I’d say is good.”

Ben seated himself by the bed, picked up a hand and slapped it. “Adam, can you hear me?” A few tries later, he got Adam to open his eyes.

“Listen, son,” Ben said quietly. “I was coming to see you when that boy jumped me. Adam, I want to apologize. I spoke to Hoss and Joe—and your letter came. I shouldn’t have needed all that to trust you, Adam. I meant what I said a little while ago—you always make me proud. I don’t know how I could’ve ever doubted it. It all seems so obvious, now.”

Adam nodded and closed his eyes again.

“Adam, please talk to me. I’ll listen.”

“Not much to say right now, Pa. I’m tired.”

“But…but…”

“If you’re still trying to…apologize…it’s okay. Forget it,” Adam whispered.

“Forgiveness from you…as easy as that, Adam?”

“Joe told me once…if it wasn’t…easy, it wasn’t forgiveness. Funny, learning something deep from Joe, ain’t it…I love you, Pa…but I’m tired.”

In what seemed like an eternity but was only half an hour later, Paul Martin made his arrival, and then Joe returned as well. Hoss left Dex in the wagon and covered him with gunny sacks to keep out the worst of the cold. No one could drag Hoss away from Adam at a time like this.

“This doesn’t look too bad,” Paul said. “Single-edged knife, went in between a couple of the lower ribs, and the skin’s puckered at one end and trying to close on the other. Typical. He’s breathing too easy for a lung hit, and it went too low for the heart. Too high for the kidneys. If it had hit the pancreas we’d know by now…that only leaves the spleen. Let me just…” He gently probed the area, and Adam almost bolted from the bed, shrieking. “Ah. Spleen. I’ll need to either fix it or if I can’t fix it, I’ll remove it. Spleens aren’t good for much anyhow. Ben, heat up some more water; Hoss, bring some towels. This should be easy.”

He took the cloth Will had been using, wrung it out, and took out a bottle.

“Ether?” Ben asked.

Paul nodded. “Will, you can hold this over his nose and mouth, please…The rest of you fellows go sit down. This shouldn’t take long.”

And it wouldn’t have taken long, except that a moment after Paul made the incision, Adam cried out right through the ether, and suddenly blood was belching out of the wound. Paul swore as Ben, Hoss and Joe rushed back into the room. “It’s hemorrhaging—now of all times!”

All thoughts of saving the spleen were abandoned; Paul removed it immediately, but while the bleeding slowed, it didn’t stop; that was when Paul found the Bowie knife had nicked a small artery as well. While the other Cartwrights stood watching in mute terror, Paul managed to pump out the blood that was suddenly everywhere; then he located the damaged artery and stitched it back together.

“He’s not right,” Ben whispered. “His breathing’s off and…” He indicated the pulse jumping in Adam’s throat; it was going too fast to count.

“He’s in shock,” Paul muttered. He pulled out a packet of sewing needles. “All four of you—prick your fingers and squeeze as much blood as you can into one of these.” He handed them the needles and four small glass vials. As they each dripped a little blood into their vials, he dripped some of Adam’s blood in as well. “Now swirl them around.”

The blood in the vials Hoss and Joe held began to clot almost at once. The blood in Ben’s and Will’s vials stayed liquid and red. “Okay,” Paul said. “I’ve got to get some more blood into him; that hemorrhage was bad. Will and Ben, you two have the best chance of donating. It’s not certain, but it’s an even 50-50 chance. Hoss and Joe, you’re out. Ben, Will, this can be dangerous both for Adam and you. Who wants to vol—”

“He’s my son.” Ben stepped forward. “I’ll do it.”

“You’re no spring chicken, Ben; you sure? Never mind; we’ll try. Hoss, you and Joe slide that couch over here. Hoss, you know what to do; you’ve been through it before. Ben, I won’t be takin’ as much from you as I did from Hoss, but let me just tell you…” and he began to list all the dangers to both Adam and to Ben. Will, listening, remembered visiting Adam the day after it had been done between Hoss and Joe, and he remembered his shock at seeing Hoss down like a worn-out prize fighter. He couldn’t fathom undergoing something like this and thanked his stars that Ben had volunteered…but…Laura….

Ben climbed up on the couch—there were no extra pillows in the house, and Hoss had brought in a bunch of hay and a saddle instead. “Just sit up,” Paul said. “Hoss’ll catch you if you pass out.”

“Pass out,” Ben huffed.

“I’ve been reading up on this since I tried it with Hoss and Joe,” Paul said as he put the tourniquet on Ben’s arm. “That’s where I found out about the clotting test.”

“You can write a paper about it later!” Ben growled, and then jumped as the needle went in.

“Okay.” Paul released the tourniquet and they watched the white tube darken as Ben’s blood began its journey to Adam. “Now be still—no more wiggling.”

Ben watched, a fascinated—and slightly queasy—expression on his face. “A person could bleed to death this way and never know it. Paul, is this legal?”

“It’s not illegal,” Paul replied.

“It’s real easy, Pa,” Hoss said. “Don’t worry. When I done it Adam stayed by me and it was over in no time.”

And then everyone in the room jumped as Adam’s whole body jerked; a high-pitched whimper came from his throat, and when Paul rushed to look at his arm, there were red blotches everywhere. The needle’s entry point had turned crimson; Adam’s face was flushed and covered with sweat. He was shivering violently. Swearing, Paul yanked the needle out and held it straight up, then turned back to Ben and pulled out his needle. “Well, that frosts it,” he muttered.

“What happened?” Ben demanded—and then he gave a short, sharp bark of pain and began clawing at his arm.

“I made the mistake of thinking because I beat the odds once I could do it again.” Paul swatted Ben’s hand away and grabbed a whiskey bottle from the table nearby. He poured the whisky all over both Ben’s and Adam’s arms and then handed it to Ben for a drink while he looked back at Adam.

“I sure thought you two would be compatible,” he muttered. “Ben, you didn’t get enough to hurt.”

“Are you joking? I thought my arm would come off.”

“I got the needle out before the backwash posed any real threat. As for Adam…we won’t know for a while. Right now he’s still fading.” He looked at Will. “Adam’s chances are slim and none. I won’t ask you to try, but if you don’t….”

Will Cartwright had been thinking ever since the doc had said he and Ben were the most likely donors. Whatever fear he felt, he could not get the argument with Laura out of his head, or the things Adam had mumbled about in his strange discourse about love. And for those reasons, he could not let Adam die.

He grinned. “Sure, I’ll try. Ben…tell Laura I love her.”

*

 

It was almost four in the morning when Hoss brought Dex into Virginia City and left him at the sheriff’s office. “Well, I’ll get him to Placerville tomorrow,” Roy fussed. “You done interrupted my beauty sleep.”

Hoss ignored the grumbling. “Pa said that whatever charges are already against this fella, he wants to add the kidnappin’ of Ben Cartwright and attempted murder of Adam. Pa was there and saw everything and he’ll be more’n happy to tell you about it. And Roy…that ‘attempted’ murder could still be murder. We don’t know if he’ll make it yet.”

As he turned the wagon, Hoss considered swinging by the Widow’s to see if Tilly wanted to come, but from all he had heard, he had no idea whether she would even want to see him. He sighed, and passed the house without stopping.

When he got back to Edelweiss, Laura was there with Will, and Joe was looking irritated, as he usually did when Laura was around. He took Hoss by the arm and led him into the kitchen. “I think all Will’s marital problems would be solved if he’d just backhand her.”

“What’s she up to?”

“She didn’t even want to come when I went to get her. Said it was too cold out. Then when I told her Will had been hurt—”

“He wasn’t hurt. He just gave some blood. Not that much either. Pa was hurt worse.”

“Well, the good news is, Pa’s okay. He’s all heartsore, though—says every time he tries to do something for Adam he nearly kills him. Doc’s still waiting to see what’s gonna happen.”

“But Adam didn’t have a reaction to Will’s blood.”

“No, but it depends on how much he got of Pa’s as to whether or not he’ll be okay. Adam still ain’t breathin’ easy, either.”

“What about Laura?”

Joe rolled his eyes. “She comes in like Adah Menken strutting on the stage, and throws her arms around Will and says ‘I’m so sorry darling! I never meant it when I said I should’ve married Adam!’ And since then she’s been carryin’ on about how noble Will was to save Adam’s life, and poor Will’s just wriggling like a puppy with a new bone.”

Hoss chuckled. “Poor Will.”

“He wants to go home now; says he’s a little dizzy but otherwise fine. Doc says he just took about a pint and a half. After you left he took a bunch of boiled water and put salt in it, and then started injecting that right into Adam’s veins with a big glass syringe to make up the rest.”

“How’s he doing?”

“Still don’t know. Doc says the biggest danger right now is from the little bit of Pa’s blood that went in him; it might shut down his kidneys.”

“They weren’t hooked up that long…” Hoss mused.

“That’s what I’d think too, but I’m not a doctor.”

“How do you tell whether the kidneys are workin’ or not, Joe?”

Joe made a face. “Only one way I know.”

“That’s what I was afraid of.” They went into the bedroom to find their unconscious brother with one hand in a bowl of water, and Paul Martin was swirling a glass jar around and critically examining the contents.

“That’s somethin’ you don’t see every day, eh boys?”

“Well…not that color, anyway,” Hoss said doubtfully.

“Gee,” Joe muttered. “Guess there’s a reason the town folk call him the Man in Bla—”

“You hush!” Hoss whispered. “Doc, you gimme that and I’ll take it off someplace. It’d prob’ly make a cactus bloom.”

“Nothin’ doin’,” Paul said, putting a lid on the jar. “This goes with my other specimens.” He indicated the vials from the previous night. “If I ever get to go home, I’m gonna take all this with me and put it under the microscope. The good news is, looks like your brother’s getting rid of all the toxins in his system. So maybe we’ll keep him alive yet.”

Joe crossed the room to his father, who still looked stunned. “You oughtta buck up, Pa. At least you tried.”

“I thought we were so much alike, we’d surely have the same kind of blood,” Ben said.

“Naw, Adam must’ve got his blood from his mother. Same reason he reads all them strange books.”

Ben’s expression slowly changed from haunted to determined. “Well, there’s one way we’re alike. We don’t give up. He’s going to get better.”

By evening, Laura and Will were gone, and the stuff in the latest jar was a more normal color. The next day, Adam seemed better. The day after that, they chanced taking the wagon and moving him back to the main house. But as the sun set again and the three unwounded Cartwrights started to breathe easy, they found Adam out of his head and a fever setting in; the skin around the wound was inflamed and hot to the touch.

“Infection.” Paul’s pronouncement confirmed what they already knew. “Why can’t anything be easy?”

 

Chapter 21

The buckskin gelding with the ornate bridle was one Tilly recalled seeing before…and the small “pine tree” brand on his flank was familiar, if not welcome. It wasn’t Adam’s horse, but things had gotten so messed up in her mind that any mention of the Ponderosa or any of its inhabitants came down to a swirling reenactment of Adam pressing her against the wall and kissing her until she couldn’t have told north from south.

She tucked her emotions safely away and tried to listen to the girl in front of her, but still she kept looking out the window and wondering about that horse.

Then the door opened quietly and 25 children craned their necks to see the visitor. A low murmur swept through the classroom, but Tilly ignored it. “Please continue reciting, Darla. You were at ‘I love thee with a love.’”

“I love thee with a love I seemed to lose

With my lost saints—I love thee with the breath,

Smiles, tears, of all my life!—and, if God choose,

I shall but love thee better after death.’ You quit your sniggerin’, Jimmy Marsden!”

“Darla, you were fine up to a point. Can you tell me when your recitation went out the window?”

“Prob’ly when I told stupid Jimmy to shut up, Miss Hoffman.”

“Exactly. Now, you have dreams of being a great actress. Great actresses don’t get frazzled when silly people in the audience annoy them. Remember what I told you about Edwin Booth. And Jimmy, you’re going to get the most romantic bit I can find for your next recitation. How do you think you’ll like that?”

“Not one bit, Miss Hoffman!”

“Good, then maybe you’ll think twice about annoying other people when it’s their turn.”

She finally allowed herself to look at the back of the classroom, where Ben Cartwright was standing, hat in his hands. Honestly, the man thought he could go anywhere and do anything. Probably why Adam was so confounded arrogant.

Then she looked closer. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in a week. The dark circles under his eyes made them look huge. His shoulders slumped and he was playing with the hat, turning it around and around by the brim with shaking hands. She made her decision. “Children, I’d like you to work on your writing assignments for a while.” She made her way to the back of the classroom.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

*

Returning to the Ponderosa, Tilly riding silently alongside him on Thunder, Ben wondered for the hundredth time about the girl. Instead of the typical female, or even social, pleasantries, she had gone right to the heart of the matter. “What’s wrong?”

“Adam is ill. He’s asking for you.”

She took the news without comment, dismissing the class with the announcement that school was out. She grabbed two sheets of foolscap and made one into a sign which he nailed to the door: “School out until further notice.” While he put up the sign she wrote a note to Otis at the livery stable. “Please allow Ben Cartwright to take Thunder.” While he went to the livery stable to pick up Thunder, she ran back to the boarding house and emerged with a small carpetbag. He wondered about the wisdom of putting her up on Thunder, but if Adam had had enough trust in her abilities to rent that horse for her, he could hardly argue. She gave him a brief moment’s panic at the way she scrambled up on the big horse, but once in the saddle she had as good a seat as any he’d seen. Barely taking time to secure the carpetbag, she was ready to go.

And still no questions. The melting ice on the road had gotten slippery and they slowed to a walk. He wished he could think of something to say to her.

Adam had been sick four days. Sometimes he was lucid and sometimes delirious. Paul had said that riding around like a damn fool without a coat had probably lowered his resistance, and who knew what kind of nastiness had been on that knife. Certainly having a hemorrhaging spleen, being transfused with the wrong blood and being sick as a dog after that hadn’t helped. His kidneys were all right now, the doctor said, but his lungs weren’t; he was close to pneumonia.

That morning Adam had thrown a bowl of creamed wheat across the room, screaming that he would never again eat barley when he wanted oats. A couple of hours later he’d been muttering about the lilies of the field again. Paul had thought Adam was quoting the Bible for comfort; Hoss thought he was calling his dog. But then Joe remembered Adam mentioning that Tilly’s childhood name had been Lily Tilly.

“I want to apologize, Miss Hoffman,” Ben said at last. “Our acquaintance to this point has not gone well, and that’s largely due to my own impatience.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Impatience is one thing. Bullying is another.”

“True enough.” He went blank for a moment; fear for his sons could do that. Then he blurted, “He was stabbed last week, Miss Hoffman.” His voice cracked. “The surgery didn’t go well, and the wound was infected. He’s had a fever all week. And—”

“He’ll be all right,” Tilly said.

“I hope you’re right, Miss Hoffman.”

“You might as well call me Tilly, sir. You’re going to get to know me better than you ever wanted to and in a very short time, because I won’t be leaving until he doesn’t need me anymore.”

Well, the Tilly Adam had described in his letter was probably worth getting to know better, even if the Tilly Ben had met a few weeks ago had been quite different. Perhaps picking up on his thoughts, she went on: “I would give an awful lot, sir, to start over with you. I hate to make assumptions, but would I be correct in guessing that when you came to see me about Thunder that night, you’d gotten a good earful about me in town already?”

“Among other things,” he harrumphed, and looked at the ground. “But the skillets didn’t help any.”

She blushed. “I’ll own up to that. But, sir, not that you have any reason to believe me, but I’d say most of what you heard about me is not true. There just are not enough hours in the day to be as depraved as I’m supposed to be and still hold down a job.”

“I know that, Miss Tilly.”

“And…I had no idea what to think of you. All three of your boys told me such Herculean tales of your wisdom, courage, and love, but what I heard in town was such a mix of admiration, hatred and fear, that I just couldn’t put it all together.”

“I’ve since heard a few other stories about you,” Ben offered. “For instance, you were the one who got Adam back to the house during the fire. That alone would’ve occasioned at least a little trust, had I known before.”

She looked over at Ben. “Is there any chance at all of just starting from scratch again?”

“I’ll tell you what I would rather do,” Ben said. “I’d like us to be friends.”

“Friendship usually requires the friends to have at least one thing in common.”

“The way I see it, we have at least one very important thing in common.”

Tilly lowered her eyes at that, and said nothing.

“Adam loves you,” Ben offered.

“Don’t believe everything a sick man babbles.”

“I got a letter from him that was sent before Christmas, telling me he intended to ask you to marry him.”

She glanced at him, and back at the road.

“Miss Tilly,” Ben said, “Modern science is a wonderful thing, but the will to live is still the best medicine of all. Please help him.”

*

Adam opened his burning eyes, more irritated than soothed by the sudden cold descending on his face. “Get that off me.”

The voice that responded was not one of the ones he had expected. “Make me, you puny thing. ‘O mighty Caesar, dost thou lie so low?’”

He grinned involuntarily, and looked up through a red haze to see Tilly. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been wondering…do you think King Lear was a misogynist?”

*

Peggy Dayton was moping along on her pony when she saw Johnny Caldecott and Jimmy Marsden near the creek.

“What’re you playing?” she asked them.

“We’re playin’ Civil War,” Jimmy replied. “He’s Grant and I’m Lee, and this time he’s gonna get his fanny whupped.”

“Can I play?”

“How the heck can a girl play Civil War?”

“I could be Queen Victoria. Remember what Miss Tilly said—if the South could’ve got England involved, the South might have won. And if the North could’ve got England on their side they might have won the war sooner. You both have to try and gain my favor so I’ll send my army and navy over to help, because remember I’m so powerful that the sun never sets on the British Empire.”

“Ooh, that’s great. We can spy against each other too, to see who’s doing better with you!”

“I wanna play too!” Simon Elden ran up. “What’re you playing?”

They quickly explained. “Who are you gonna be, Simon?”

“I’m gonna be the Territory of Nevada.”

“You can’t be a territory!”

“Hey, if she can be England, I can be Nevada Territory! Besides, my huge silver mines are gonna make me important. If I come in as a free state the Union gets my money. If I stay a territory we can sneak money to the Confederacy!”

Dave Jordan, of the Virginia City School Board, came home from his day job at the bank to find his sons Orrin and Lorrie delightedly describing to their mother how they had played Civil War with nine other kids down by the stream.

“Who won?” he asked.

“Everybody!” they replied.

Orrin explained. “The Prussians decided to invade and the North and South had to band together to get the Prussians out. Meanwhile the Canadians made a deal with the Confederacy where they would send down people every fall and winter when it’s too cold in Canada, and so they would have free workers in the fields, and the Mexicans would send people over every spring and summer when it’s too hot in Mexico, and the South would free their slaves but the North had to pay to educate them and all the states had to give them jobs.”

Lorrie added, “The North had to eliminate all those taxes on cotton, too. And England had to set Canada free just like they freed us, and they also had to give India back to the real Indians.”

“Uh…huh,” Dave managed. “Who were you?”

“Canada and Mexico.”

He turned to Orrin. “And who were you?”

“Clive of India. But I had to get special defenestration from the Pope to come back from the dead.”

“You mean special dispensation!” Lorrie cried. “That’s easing up on the law. Defenestration is throwing somebody out the window.”

“Defene…what?” Dave asked. “Are these words you learned in school?”

“Yeah, before Miss Tilly quit she taught us. She knew lots of words. History too.”

“What do you mean she quit?”

“She let us out early on Tuesday and put a note on the door that school was out until further notice. Since we knew she was getting fired anyway we figgered she quit.”

“Yeah—how come you fired her, anyhow? Pa, she was the only teacher we ever had that wasn’t boring.”

“She wouldn’t dare quit!” Dave cried. “You two haven’t been in school since Tuesday?”

“No, Pa. The school house’s been shut up tight as Ebenezer Scrooge.”

“Who’s Ebenezer Scrooge?”

This set both boys to laughing so hard that Dave was unable to get anything further from them, but it did start him thinking.

*

Ben began to wonder when Tilly slept. She was by the bed morning, noon and night. She only left when Adam made her, and she didn’t stay gone long then. A man couldn’t ask for a better nurse, Ben thought, whether it was administering medicine, helping him eat and wash, changing his linen, or reading to him. About the only things she couldn’t do were those forbidden by propriety, and he had an idea that she only observed the proprieties because of Adam’s insistence on it. He also noticed Adam’s weak laughter several times.

The funny thing was she never seemed to exhibit any feelings, one way or the other. “I know Adam loves her,” he said to Joe, “but has she ever said how she feels about him?”

“No, but, uh, I wouldn’t advise you to ask, either,” Joe replied with a grin, just as Hoss came in with a telegram.

Ben read it aloud. “Price is firm at ten thousand.”

“I don’t like it, Pa.” Little Joe crossed his arms. “I’ll agree that Adam did go as high as $10,000 for her…but we don’t even know what shape she’s in.”

“Yeah, she was sheddin’ huge hunks of fur off her coat right after you come home anyhow, Pa,” Hoss said, uneasily twirling a piece of straw in his big fingers. “Don’t make no sense for a dog’s fur to come out in chunks like that, not in the middle of winter. She must’ve been sick.”

“It’s a chance I’ll take if it means helping Adam. One of you should come along—she doesn’t even like me.”

Hoss looked doubtful. “I don’t like the idea of leaving him, Pa—even if he does seem better.”

“That’s true, Pa…he’s only actin’ better ’cause Tilly’s here.”

“No,” Ben said. “Tilly says he’s going to be better. And she seems pretty determined. I’d even guess that he wants to be better, now. I’ll take the chance.”

Hoss threw the piece of straw into the fireplace and sighed. “Well then, I’ll go. Lady likes me, and I’m the only one big enough to carry her anyway.”

“Okay, you two hitch the wagon and Hoss, pack a bag. We leave within the hour. Joe, you’re in charge.”

At the doorway to Adam’s room, Ben paused for a quick prayer. Then he went in. Adam was sleeping restlessly. Tilly was looking out the window; she jumped as Ben entered the room.

“Miss Tilly…urgent business calls me away. Hoss and I will be gone about four days. Will you be all right with Little Joe and Hop Sing?”

She just looked at him for a minute. “I wouldn’t be comfortable leaving him if I were you, sir.”

“I’m not comfortable. But I hope I can trust you to take care of him.”

“You could do that anyway. But I don’t advise leaving, at least not before the fever breaks.”

“You said it had gone down.”

“That’s true. But it’s not consistent, and he’s very weak—”

“Miss Tilly, I told you once before I intended to do everything I could to make my son well. That’s what I’m doing.”

She looked at him silently. Ben had gotten used to being stared at over the years; his various rivals and outright enemies had tried that tactic on him many times. They were never successful. But Tilly was. He looked away, swallowing. “I have to go. That’s all I can say.”

“If you’re going after Lady, as I think you are, I can tell you the man who has her is a lying, thieving—”

“So I’ve heard. But he has set a firm price on the dog and I’m willing to pay it. I took out a loan this morning.”

“You took out a loan?” Tilly’s face darkened. “I hope that man roasts over hot coals…But listen to me, Mr. Cartwright, please. You’re Adam’s father. He needs you here. If you want Lady, I can go and get her.”

“I don’t think so. I’ve already heard too much about your strained relations with your uncle. And besides…” he looked at Adam for a minute, then down at the floor. “Adam recently reminded me that he is a grown man….”

“That’s no reason to leave. He needs his family here.”

Ben said tightly, “I have no idea how you regard my son, Miss Tilly, and it’s your business, so I won’t ask. But I know he loves you. A few years ago there was another girl he loved, and because I wasn’t sure the girl existed, and because Adam was sick, I wouldn’t let him look for her. I’ve been losing him a piece at a time since then. I’m still not sure she existed, but I know what I did to him ran a lot deeper than his feeling for the girl. He thought I was telling him that I didn’t have the trust in him to let him make his own decision. And what I’ve done since going to Kansas only reinforced that. Well, I’m not in Kansas anymore. I can’t always have my own way. I can’t move mountains. I couldn’t even save Adam last week when he was bleeding to death. I had to let Will do it. And now…I know Adam loves me, and his family, but I also know we’re not enough right now. So I’m doing everything I can to bring in the others he needs to even the odds. I brought you to him for two reasons, Miss Tilly. For one reason, because he was asking for you. But for the other…sometimes, no matter how hard it is, a man has to let his children go. I’ve been hanging onto Adam for most of 35 years now. It’s time to let him go—and you’re the one he wants to go to.”

With that he took one last look at his firstborn, then turned and walked out.

Chapter 22

Hop Sing had spent the last week praying to every god he could think of, and once he had run through all the Cantonese gods, he started on the Mandarin gods as well: all eight gods of the Ba Xian, Chu Jiang, the god of the underworld, Di-Cang, the Buddhist god who released souls from the underworld, Gong De Tian, the goddess of luck—and especially Wei-Tuo, the god of teaching. He hoped Wei-Tuo had been watching Tilly, and if so, perhaps Tilly’s wishes counted with him. Hop Sing even took a chance on praying to the Christian God, although He was a bit scary since He had the reputation of not liking other gods. But drastic situations called for drastic measures, so Hop Sing prayed.

He was concerned about Adam’s survival, of course. But he never had believed Adam would die. Hop Sing was sure he could tell people’s fates—although he never did—and he knew Adam would live for a long, long time. He was more concerned about Adam’s spleen. The Chinese, unlike Westerners, believed the spleen had a purpose. It was the center of the sense of humor. Adam had always had a different spleen, Hop Sing was certain, and that was why so many people, even within his family, misunderstood him. How would the man get by with no spleen at all? Would he give in completely to the world and become one of those dour, humorless fellows that went through life alone?

He heard Tilly make some offhand remark that made no sense. Then a sudden burst of Adam’s laughter startled him, followed by Adam saying, sternly, “Don’t do that again! It hurts my side!”

Her not-terribly-contrite reply followed: “I’ll never be funny again, I promise.”

Hop Sing smiled then, understanding. Tilly would be Adam’s spleen now—if she stayed. He sent another prayer to Wei-Tuo, the god of teaching, in hopes that she would.

*

“You’re not Blake Weston,” Ben said to the fellow who greeted him. “I’m not giving my money to anyone else. The telegram never stipulated anything about that.”

“I’m the kennel master, sir. Abe Tate. Mr. Weston has taken ill. I’m to have you sign this contract and I’ll take your money, after which I will release the dog to you and provide a bill of sale.”

Ben had no intention of doing business along those lines, but out of curiosity he took the contract.

“‘I agree to pay the sum of $10,000 to Blake Weston for the purebred whole Scotch collie, Gray Lily of the Westons, henceforth known as Lily. For this sum I shall receive the dog herself and one wooden crate for transport.

“‘All progeny of Lily belongs to Blake Weston and shall be returned to him after weaning…’ What?”

Hoss, sitting in the wagon, didn’t like the look of the place. It was clean and well-kept but artificial. The five collies he saw were beautiful, but they seemed detached from their surroundings, uninterested. He hated the wire runs they were imprisoned in. And he didn’t see Lady. He applied the brake, tied the reins, and got down. While his father and the kennel master were in conversation he decided to stretch his legs.

“Lily is a producer, Mr. Cartwright. She was in full season when Mr. Weston returned with her and so was bred immediately.”

“Bred? She was ill when she left my ranch—she was losing large patches of fur in midwinter. Don’t you know it’s bad to breed a sick animal?”

Tate sighed. “Mr. Cartwright, the condition you’re describing is called ‘blowing coat’ and it’s common when a female collie comes into season. Lily was just entering her season when she left you. By the time she got here, she was ready. If things went well, she’s carrying a litter now.”

“What do you mean, ‘if things went well’?”

Tate looked even more uncomfortable. “In spite of her condition, Lily had to be restrained,” he shrugged. “But, Mr. Cartwright, had I accompanied Mr. Weston to Virginia City as I wished, I would have advocated simply selling the dog outright, and if you had not wanted her, I probably would have had her shot. Collies are unusual dogs. They become attached to one family, and all their training and loyalty goes to that family. It’s very difficult to send them elsewhere and have them become attached.”

“But this dog is full-grown. Why did she bond with Adam, why not someone before?”

“Lily was a kennel dog. She received her training there at the hands of many different kennel men and trainers. Mr. Weston intended Lily as an exhibitor. Her training, intelligence and beauty made her ideally suited to represent the collie breed, as long as she never really bonded with anyone. It’s a shame she was so damaged while in your care, and a shame she bonded with your family. In fact, she is the reason for Mr. Weston’s illness, and the only reason she is still alive is that your telegram arrived in time to stop him shooting her.”

“You’re telling me she attacked Weston.”

“She did. He and she had only met a couple of times before her arrival here, and when he attempted to hold her still for breeding, she didn’t react well. She attacked both Mr. Weston and Black Clover.” Tate took a deep breath. “You may as well know that Mr. Weston beat her pretty severely after we got her away from him.”

“Will she live?”

“I think so. But if she’s carrying, the litter may be compromised.”

“Tell me, Mr. Tate, do you approve of what your employer is doing here with these dogs?”

Tate looked at the ground. “It’s not my place to approve or disapprove. They’re his dogs.”

“Pa! Hey, Pa!” Ben looked around; Hoss was nowhere to be seen. He started off after the voice.

“You can’t go back there, sir!” Tate cried, running after him.

Ben looked almost amused as Tate grabbed him by the arm. “Mr. Tate, I hope you brought some butter and jam along for your hand, because if it stays there I’m going to feed it back to you. Hoss, where are you?” He trotted in the direction of Hoss’s voice.

He smelled the place before he got there, then he heard it—the din raised by the other 12 dogs was ferocious—but seeing it was worse. Lady’s “run” was more like a chicken’s nesting box, just a little bigger. The dog was lying in her own filth. She hadn’t bothered to lift her head on Hoss’s arrival.

Ben turned to Tate, who arrived, panting, behind him. “What is the meaning of this?”

Tate shrugged helplessly. “This isn’t my area of responsibility. This is the producer portion of the kennel, not the flagship; I work up front. I was instructed to get the check from you.”

“Weston said she was a $3,000 dog. This is how he treats his $3,000 dogs?”

Tate was beginning to look frightened. “Sir, Weston decides all this. Not me. I know she has refused food almost since she’s been here and yesterday she wouldn’t even drink any water. I would advise you to just let her die and not involve yourself.”

“Not involve myself? Not INVOLVE myself? And even knowing as much as you do, you neither approve or disapprove because they’re not your dogs? Mr. Tate, I’m nobody’s idea of a dog man, but even I know that if you want decent progeny, you keep the producers healthy. You have two choices, Mr. Tate. You can either go get your employer and I’ll tell him my plans or you can listen yourself—which do you want to do?”

“Mr. Weston is not reachable.”

“All right, then you make the decision. I can send Hoss into Reno right now and come back with the sheriff and have Mr. Weston and you jailed for fraudulent business practices.”

“The contract specifies—”

“I happen to keep a couple of lawyers in regular business myself; do you really want to tangle with me? You don’t charge $10,000 for a half-dead animal. I can also bring a charge of insurance fraud since we know that Weston was already paid off for this dog’s supposed death and he never reimbursed the insurer. Now either I go for the sheriff and you and your employer both go to jail, or we will renegotiate this contract.”

“Um…what do you mean, renegotiate?”

“Part one—Lady is sold to me outright. I will pay $5,000, not ten, and you’re still getting a healthy profit considering the insurance money Weston collected. Part two—any and all puppies this poor dog may give birth to, if she lives, and they live, are also mine. Part three—if Blake Weston ever shows his face on the Ponderosa, I will shoot him outright. Now would you like to make out a bill of sale or do I bring the sheriff?”

“I…I don’t have that authority.”

“Then get Weston.”

“I can’t!”

“Then I’m getting the sheriff.”

“You can’t!”

Ben smiled. “Oh, yes I can.”

“All right! I’ll make out a bill of sale!” He pulled a book from his jacket pocket. “I’ll lose my job for this…”

“The greatest shame about that is that you want to continue working for the man!” Ben snapped.

Hoss unlatched the kennel door. “Lady, come. Come on, girl.”

Lady looked at him. Her nose twitched a couple of times, and then she lifted her head and looked again. She got up on three legs and limped out, whimpering in fussy tones at Hoss the whole time, but she came to him with her stubby tail wagging. “I’m so sorry, little gal, I didn’t know.” He let her lick his face while he felt her all over. “Front right leg’s broke, Pa. She’s lost a good 15 pounds. Think she’s got a couple of busted ribs, too. But that’s okay; we fixed her up once. We’ll do it again. And we’ll skip the crate. I’ll hold her on my lap.” He picked her up and carried her back to the wagon.

Ben counted the cash and held it out to Tate, who handed him the bill of sale. Ben took it and placed it in his pocket, then tore the contract in half and returned it. “You can convey a message to your employer, Mr. Tate. I’m a God-fearing man but this needs saying. You tell your employer that I stood in the middle of his kennel surrounded by dogs and puppies, but the only sons of bitches I know of are walking on two legs and calling themselves ‘mister.’”

*

Tilly didn’t know if it was the fever making him restless and bad-tempered, or the unexplained absence of his father and brother, or if there was some other reason entirely, but Adam was sweating and shaky, with no appetite. She was able to bully him into eating, or occasionally able to use her humor to get him to eat, but today nothing worked. He was irritable with everyone…and even in his sleep he was still mumbling about lilies. She never wanted to hear the word or see that particular flower again.

She picked up a volume of “collected poetry” and randomly started reading.

“Had we world enough and time,

This coyness, Lady, were no crime.

We would sit down and think which way

To walk and—”

“Not that one,” Adam snapped.

“I thought you liked Marvell. He was friends with your buddy Milton, for Pete’s sake.”

“Dammit, Tilly, do not make me repeat myself. I don’t want to hear that one.”

“You just repeated yourself anyway. What’s got you so riled up?”

“I just don’t want to hear it!”

Tilly sighed and took up Les Misérables instead, and read from it a full 45 minutes, until he went back to sleep. As usual it was a fitful sleep. She wondered how long this fever could drag on. The thought occurred to her that maybe that was why Adam didn’t want to hear that poem. There was never enough world, nor enough time.

She picked up the volume again and read for a while, quietly.

And then she smiled, almost involuntarily, and said softly,

“Let us roll all our strength and all

Our sweetness up into one ball,

And tear our pleasures with rough strife

Through the iron gates of life…”

Adam awoke while she was reciting, and she looked quickly to see if he had heard, or was upset. His eyes were unguarded as he looked at her, and again she saw that bottomless, shell-blasted soul.

He closed his eyes wearily and whispered,

“Thus, though we cannot make our sun

Stand still, yet we will make him run.”

She laid a gentle hand on his forehead.

The fever had broken.

*

It was late at night when Ben, Hoss and Lady returned to the Ponderosa. They had been gone five days, a little extra snow slowing them down. It had been hard finding places to stay on the way home as well, but they had managed to get Lady bathed and her leg splinted.

They sneaked in as quietly as they could. Joe was in bed, sound asleep. Tilly was sitting by Adam’s bed next to a nodding-off Adam, as she read aloud from Les Misérables. “There is also a difference in the intensity of heat; insurrection is often a volcano, revolt is often only a fire of straw.

“Revolt, as we have said, is sometimes found among those in power. Polignac is a rioter; Camille Desmoulins is one of the governing powers.

“Insurrection is sometimes resurrection…” She glanced at Adam, smiled, and closed the book. Then she looked up and saw the new arrivals. Putting one finger to her lips, she crept out of the room. “He couldn’t sleep, so I read to him. Hugo’s great for putting people to sleep. The man got paid by the word.” She looked at Lady in Hoss’s arms. “Welcome back, troublemaker.” She rubbed the dog’s cheek, and Lady licked her fingers. “Why don’t you put her on the bed with Adam? He always said she was good to wake up to.”

Ben asked anxiously, “How is he?”

A grin. “Right as rain. Fever broke day before yesterday.”

A “whoop” escaped Ben’s lungs before he thought about it—and likewise, before he had given it any thought, he tossed Tilly in the air and kissed her full on the mouth before she ever hit the ground.

Tilly crossed her arms and looked up at him, grinning. “What do you know. Like father, like son.”

“He’s really well? He’s up and—”

She shook her head. “Just like a man. Fever broke, and so he decided he needed to be up and about. First thing he did was start planning out a couple new projects. Not only that but he was determined to start on implementation, too. Joe wasn’t having much luck persuading him to stay down, but Hilliard and I finally convinced him.”

“Who the devil is Hilliard?”

Tilly pointed back to her chair; sitting next to it was an evil-looking cast-iron skillet. “You might want to keep Hilliard there handy until Adam really is well. I’m pretty sure you’ll need him.”

“Aren’t you staying?” Ben asked as Hoss took Lady over to the bed. Lady immediately crawled over to Adam and licked his face all over. He didn’t wake up, but he smiled, turned on his side and curled around her, laying one arm over her side.

Tilly shook her head, pointing at the contented pair. “He’s fine now; he doesn’t need me anymore. And I have things to do in town.”

“But surely you’ll wait until morning—”

“No; I need to go.”

“Then let me saddle Buck and I’ll ride with you.”

“You will not; you’re half asleep now.”

“You listen here, young lady…”

She grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the door. “You’re gonna wake up everybody with this racket. Now listen; Adam and I have already been through this. I don’t need an escort and I do need to leave. I thank you kindly for your concern, but you need to go to bed. I’ll see you soon.”

“Tilly, wait—” the anxiety on Ben’s face stopped her. “I shouldn’t butt in this way, but…you didn’t mean that, did you, that he doesn’t need you now…you do know he loves you, don’t you?”

“Do me just one favor, sir…don’t ever let him start calling that dog Lily. Her name is Lady.” She gave him a lopsided smile and patted his arm. Then she galloped down the stairs, grabbed her carpetbag and cloak, and was gone.

*

Tilly really was desperate to get back to the boarding house. Whether simple cabin fever, the fact that her monthly had caught her unprepared that morning, or her increasing desire to say something to Adam about their last encounter (while having no idea what to say), she could only think of “fight or flight.”

Adam had never once mentioned his proposal earlier that month, never mentioned that kiss in the schoolhouse that had practically sent her into the sky. He was acting as if nothing had ever happened and they were just the friends they had always been. Well…the friends he thought they had always been. She had fallen for him months ago.

Not at first sight, heavens no. He wasn’t her physical type. Little Joe was more the type of man she gravitated to. The first time she’d met Joe she had felt an uneasy resurrection of a long-dampened spark. He had been drawn to her as well, but within half an hour they both knew they’d never be more than friends. They had nothing in common, and her mother—who had always been remarkably open, if abstruse, about marital matters—had once told her, “Beware handsome men, Tilly. They may be pleasant to look upon, and they may be wonderful lovers. But at some point you’ll simply have to talk to them.”

Adam was handsome enough, but in a dark, almost sinister way she had never liked. Besides, the man was arrogant as a tomcat. Difficult to believe he was related to—much less the brother of—the angelic-looking Little Joe. (Almost as difficult to believe the giant cherub Hoss was related to them both.) But when she met Adam, he had neither patronized her nor propositioned her…and he’d ended their interview with that jaunty challenge about owing him a Chopin waltz. Somehow, that left her smiling. (Maybe, she told herself, it was just that she seldom met anyone who had heard of Chopin.) When he had told her the position was hers, there had been a real warmth in his indefinable eyes when he had said “You earned it.”

He had invited her home for dinner one Sunday, and she had enjoyed the whole afternoon—until he got all quiet and moody and told Hoss to take her home, and she’d wondered what she had said to offend him. But Hoss—kindest man she had ever known—had told her, “Don’t let Adam get to you, Miss Tilly. He’s a lot like you in one regard. The same way you worried about your little brothers, he worries about me an’ Little Joe, even though we’re as grown up as he is. And any time somebody talks about having little brothers who died…well, let’s just say Adam thinks too much.”

She could understand that. She was the oldest child herself, and a girl in the home of a man who had desperately wanted a houseful of sons. Rheinhard Hoffman was a good man, but he had no idea what to do when his wife of five years finally carried a child to term and it was only a girl. She’d grown up in an odd fashion, learning romance and literature from her mother, learning things boys normally learned from her father—how to drive a team, how to keep an account book, how to stand her ground against bullies, how to negotiate a hard deal (“never, Lily Tilly, can you let other people know what you are thinking. It is death to anyone in business”) because he thought he would never have any sons. She had been seven when her twin siblings—the long awaited boys—finally arrived. And since those two little boys mattered to her father more than she did, she swore to take care of them no matter what…a promise she had failed at. Just as she had failed at the female side of things—no husband, no children.

She remembered Adam walking in on her one Saturday when she was moodily reminiscing about Bensabat and playing “A La Una.” He’d had no idea anything was wrong, of course, and she ended up having a wonderful time teaching him the song. Lord, the man had a lovely voice—and he seemed to think all people were just people. It that was a refreshing notion.

There were many things she remembered about that particular meeting with Adam. His quoting Lovelace…the arrival of Peggy Dayton…the absolute field day Mrs. O’Reilly had had, speaking of the situation afterwards. “And to think, I always thought it was true when they said that Laura and Will were slipping out on Adam. I guess we know now, don’t we?”

She remembered the completely impassive face Adam had turned to her when she mentioned the Cartwright curse—but for one unguarded moment, the hurt showed. And she remembered the sudden glimmer that had flared to life in his eyes, giving them a strangely passionate look, when she had told him how she felt about teaching. She remembered thinking that he was a man who understood the deeper feelings…and she remembered that it was hard to look him in the eye, for fear of what he might see there.

And then there had been those dances…darn those dances! She loved to waltz, and had always been good at it…but as soon as he touched her she’d frozen. He accepted her two left feet as a matter of course; he even seemed a bit irritated when she had begged off future waltzes. Only then, they started talking about…Chaucer, was it? They’d had so many literary discussions since then, and oh great heavens, the way they’d talked, making points and jokes that no one else understood.

Somehow their subsequent meetings had all melded together after that, because when she wasn’t with him, she was wishing for it, and when she was with him, their whole time together was one long and passionate discussion of everything she loved, one long joke about everything she found funny, and just how often did you meet anyone whose brain had the same ticklish spots as your own?

Tilly had always assumed the Ponderosa had a lot of regular visitors; their parties were legendary. Surely the house would be full when Hoss and Little Joe were hurt, she’d thought—and had been shocked to find Adam alone and reeling on his feet with only Hop Sing to help. She’d sworn then to come back every night until the boys were able to do for themselves again. Sometimes she wondered how she had managed it herself, getting by on four hours’ sleep each day…but how could she leave anyone, especially Adam, alone and in need?

So many talks. She discovered his family—so unlike hers—had many points in common anyway: the wise but sometimes overbearing father, the responsible oldest child, the shy and sweet second child, and the wild and crazy youngest one (half an hour younger than his brother), and in a sense felt as if she had found a new family. Adam had done her a real favor that day, in whatever anger he was in, reminding her that she was an outsider; she had started getting way too comfortable, way too open, around him—after all, the man was still a member of the school board. The night Hoss and Joe came around, Adam had kissed her. Thank God he had kissed the dog too, or Tilly might have kissed him back. And that would never do…but it was getting harder not to let it show. Her reputation was already plummeting all over town as gossip spread about her nightly trips.

Then the fire…oh Lord, that fire! Finding him sprawled across Beauty, covered in crusting blood on the freezing cold ground had turned her insides to sour buttermilk. But Little Joe had been there, making her keep her focused. She remembered crying on Hop Sing’s shoulder when they were waiting for the doctor; thank goodness Hoss and Joe hadn’t been around then. Hop Sing seemed to know it all anyway. “Don’t worry, Missy Tilly. He will be fine and mean as ever very soon, wait and see.”

He’d made her mad in those days, trying to do too much for himself, not letting her take care of him, and worrying endlessly about her instead of himself. She’d just about had a cow that night he’d gotten all concerned with propriety. And then she thought he’d probably been right, because she was starting to look for excuses to touch him…and becoming wildly envious of the dog who could press against him, sleep with her head on his chest…and no one ever thought a thing about it.

“Beowulf…” somehow, it seemed something clicked into place. Sometimes she would catch him with that dark, unfathomable look, and she wondered if it meant what she was starting to hope it meant. But he’d never said a word.

He had been her Rock of Gibraltar when her father died—steady, comforting, almost affectionate—but she’d been too wrapped up in her own grief and guilt to think about it. And while he hadn’t understood what was going on with Blake, he’d been awfully forbearing about it. He hadn’t even run screaming into the night when he found out the truth.

And then had come that awful day nearly a month ago when he had shown up looking like death. She’d tried so hard to help him keep Lady…and then Adam had, completely out of nowhere, after changing the subject three times or more, just casually suggested that they get married. As if it was something they had both planned and discussed, as if it was not a shock from the blue sky. And he was so obviously sick, and in pain about the dog, she’d come close to saying yes. Never marry someone if you’re not absolutely sure you both love each other, her mother had said. She knew she loved Adam; she had no idea how he felt about her. He had still never said “I love you.” In fact, he hadn’t said it the day he’d kissed her in the schoolhouse, either; he’d just taken for granted that everyone knew. The myth of “everyone knew” had become the bane of her existence. “Everyone knew” they were intimate. “Everyone knew” that she had been married five times. The only thing she knew for sure was that she loved him—everything about him, his strength, integrity, humor, intellect…even the stubbornness, occasional arrogance, and the mean streak that she seemed to bring out in him. It wasn’t fair to feel that way and have him, without saying a thing to her or asking how she felt, to assume that “everyone knew.”

Everyone knew he’d gone to see a fancy lady too, but at least that—however horrifying—was true. And it wasn’t all that horrifying, either, when she thought about it. The Spaniards had a saying, “When you can’t be with the woman you love, love the woman you’re with.”

That kiss in the schoolhouse had been an eye-opener. Once things got past a certain point, Tilly had had only a vague idea of how things worked between mating couples. Her mother had put so much poetry and so few details into their talks that it was easy to walk away confused. In the end she had only the barnyard animals she’d seen, and some girlish gossip…except that it sounded rather frightening, more emotionally than physically. She wasn’t sure she could stand allowing herself to be that vulnerable, unless the man in question was vulnerable as well, and that wasn’t likely. Men didn’t like being vulnerable. Bensabat and Harold both had acted as if they were immortal. But it was different with Adam—maybe it was just because he had seen death, or been close to it himself, so often.

Strange, that God would put so many feelings into a kiss, and then invent something genuinely mysterious after it…only, for something she knew relatively little about in spite of all her mother’s discourses, she knew when Adam had kissed her silly and stood heart to heart there with her, she knew she didn’t just love him anymore; she wanted him, too. And she knew from that one little look at his battered soul that even if it wasn’t brand new and sparkling clean, it was the soul that she wanted to accompany hers in life’s journey…and that it would be one long and empty trip otherwise.

*

She took the sign down from the schoolhouse door that night, and the next day eight children were there. The following day all 25 had shown up. Then it was the weekend, and it felt oddly lonely, not having anywhere to go. She supposed she could have gone to the Ponderosa, but she really had no notion what kind of reception she would receive. While she liked them all, she was back to not knowing what to expect from Adam. He hadn’t renewed his proposal even when he was well enough to have meaningful conversations, so she had no idea what he thought now. He had certainly not showered her with kisses or even favored her with any of those intense looks. Maybe as far as he was concerned she had turned him down and hurt him; he had hurt her and walked away, so they were even. And in that case, maybe he didn’t intend to do or say anything.

She didn’t expect him to be up and around yet, so there was no possibility of his showing up with an invitation back to the ranch, even in the friendly way he used to do. And she was a woman; it wasn’t her place or her right to go chasing after him. So, a lonely and empty life it would be, but while pining away and dying for love made for great novels, in real life it wasn’t fun or practical. She began planning her last two months as a teacher in Virginia City, for the winter term would be over in April, and so would her job.

She found two pieces of mail waiting at the post office—rather a surprise as she seldom received mail. One was a letter from Spain; the second, a large wrapped package from Savannah. Both piqued her interest. But as she was carrying them back to the boarding house, she saw Cochise and Chubb in front of the Sazarac, and she headed for the swinging doors, fueled by her loneliness combined with the thought that she’d certainly been accused of visiting saloons often enough.

“Well, look who’s here—the goodbye girl,” Joe called out with a wave from his table, and she instantly headed his way.

“Miss Tilly, this ain’t gonna do your reputation no good at all,” Hoss said in concern.

“I have no reputation to hurt these days,” she replied cheerfully. “How’s the sick boy?”

“Do you think we’d be relaxin’ like this if he was still in any danger?” Joe grinned.

“I just mean, how is he feeling now?”

“A bit torn,” Joe replied. “You wouldn’t’ve believed how glad he was to see Lady there. On the other hand, you also wouldn’t believe what happened when he found out you weren’t there.”

“You oughtta go pay a visit to the Ponderosa today, Miss Tilly,” Hoss said. “He’d be awful glad to see you. So would Pa.”

Tilly chuckled. “The idea of your father being glad to see me takes a bit of getting used to.”

“Well…” Hoss shrugged. “You took some getting used to as far as Pa was concerned too. But Cartwrights warm up fast once we decide to like somebody.”

“Did you bring us a present?” Joe asked, pointing to the package in her hands.

“I don’t know what it is,” she replied. “I just picked up my mail, and here it was.”

“I think I know what it is, if it’s from Savannah,” Joe said, and she looked at him in surprise.

“It is…and how do you know?”

“Would you mind opening it?” he handed her his pocketknife. “If it’s what I think it is, Adam will want to know.”

She cut the string and removed the heavy brown paper to find a picture sandwiched between two pieces of thin wood. The picture—a photograph, not a painting—was pressed between several more sheets of heavy brown paper.  A small envelope fluttered loose during the unwrapping process, but she ignored it in her curiosity about the photograph.

The photograph showed two tombstones, side by side, in a place she had visited once before—the Bonaventure Cemetery, right outside Savannah. Her mother had been some distant relation of Peter Wiltberger and thus had been buried there…but how had her father found a resting place there as well? But there he was; the second tombstone was a matching red granite, probably mined in Elberton like her mother’s, and there was her father’s name on it: “Rheinhard Hoffman, Beloved Husband and Father, April 9, 1809 – December 27, 1868.”

A couple of tears leaked from the corners of her eyes as Joe looked over her shoulder.

“Good job.” He retrieved the forgotten envelope and handed it to her.

Miss Hoffman,

We have carried out your request of January 2, 1869 from Messrs A. & J. Cartwright, regarding final disposition of your father’s mortal remains. Per the Cartwrights’ request I have arranged for this photograph to be taken and delivered to you as well. As I do not have any contact information for them other than the address of their bank, I hope you will convey to the Cartwrights that their instructions were fully obeyed.

My condolences on your loss.

Yrs, etc.

Milton James

Director

Randolph Home for the Insane

She stared at Joe. “How…”

“Adam’s idea,” he replied. “He gave the instructions before Roy carted him off to jail that day.”

“I can never pay this back,” she whispered.

“Adam thought he’d be marrying you,” Hoss said quietly. “He figgered any feller would do as much for his girl.”

The tears were welling faster than she could blink them away. “I have to go.” She headed blindly out the door.

Joe grinned at Hoss. “Boy, you know how to spread it pretty thick, yourself.”

“Well, it was true,” Hoss said, winking. “It ain’t like I was tryin’ to trick her into comin’ to a dance.”

Chapter 23

From having no choices Tilly was about to have a great many. She had finally gotten up the courage to open her mother’s box. She knew what she would find, but seeing it all proved that her mother and father were gone just as much as the photograph Adam and Joe had procured.

She carelessly tossed aside the thick, heavy paper-wrapped cloth package, knowing exactly what it was and having no use for it. She took a quick inventory of a small jewelry box. Blake had lied, as usual—he’d left the less expensive stuff for her, and probably thought himself generous. The emerald broach was gone, of course; so were the sapphire earrings that her mother said matched her Lily-Tilly’s eyes. “Well, Blake, you actually left me the green cameo with the carved white Athena.” And the thin green-gold Dahlonega band her mother had worn was still there—as if I could ever have worn it, Tilly thought as she surveyed it. Her mother’s ancestry was Scots and Alsatian, God rest her, but in build she’d been Hessian through and through—a tall, big-boned woman, with white-blond hair, eyes like Lake Tahoe, and hands the size of a dinner plate; she and Rheinhard had often wondered how they managed to produce such a wispy creature as Lily-Tilly.  She looked back at the Dahlonega band, remembering the story of how it had come into the family—and thinking, with a crazy grin, that it would just about fit Adam’s finger.

There were several poetry books—a Richard Lovelace volume she had also seen in Adam’s bookcase; both of Elizabeth Barrett’s 1844 books (before she married that Browning fellow), a German volume of Heine that she had always been especially fond of…all of Jane Austen’s novels were there…she settled down to read, and before she knew it the clock downstairs had struck two in the morning. She knew she should give it up for the night as she wasn’t even halfway through, but “Just to the end of this chapter,” she murmured, turning another page. And then she noticed another paper—definitely not part of the book—sticking out from between two more pages a few sheets down. She found the other paper and carefully extricated it.

It was a signed and notarized promissory note from Blake Weston to Mathilde Weston Hoffman, Senior. But it was not for the $5,000 her mother had told her about. It was for $50,000. Her mother had never been very good with math. The real miracle was that it was still in the box. For a few minutes, she just sat there, absorbing all the implications, and then the idea hit her.

“Blake, you filthy pig, it serves you right for hating to read,” she muttered. Not because she wanted Blake’s money, oh no. She had little use for money; as long as she could pay her room and board and occasionally rent a horse or go to a concert, she didn’t need it. But she was going to make sure Blake Weston’s “legacy” was wiped clean, that was for sure. She’d need a couple of days out of town, but she was certain she’d never be missed.

When she got up from the floor and started to undress, she saw the forgotten envelope from Spain.

It was a letter from her beloved previous employer, Don Fernando Lopez-Chavarri. Both his two older daughters were getting married, and he wanted her to be there for the occasion. “I make myself so free as to demand it, Little ’Tilda,” he had written. “You made the promise years ago and perhaps have forgotten, but they have not, and I have not.”

It was a tempting notion. In Spain there would be no possibility of the Virginia City gossip following after her, as it certainly would wherever else she tried to go in the United States. And in Spain she would have no problem finding a position as a governess or a teacher. Maybe she’d go for the wedding, and then come back to the States…some other state, one she’d never visited before.

Wherever she ended up going, whatever she ended up doing, she decided she’d be happy doing it. And maybe she could forget Adam Cartwright, too…in about 40 or 50 years.

*

On Sunday morning early, she set out on Thunder for Reno, without a word to anyone except another note on the schoolhouse door. A visit with the sheriff of Reno led to a visit with Blake. The man still hadn’t recovered from Lady’s attack, but he was still dead-set on keeping his flagship collies…until he found out he would lose everything else he owned if he tried. She would have taken the producers too, but they were no longer suffering—the pitiful things had been infected by distemper a few days earlier and were all dead.

“You owe me $50,000, Blake,” Tilly said. “I don’t want to take everything you’ve got—I’ll be far kinder than you were to my family. I just want your dogs—and a sworn statement that you’ll never even pick another mongrel up off the street. No champion racehorses, either. No animals at all, except whatever it takes to pull your wagon…and by the way, Sheriff, my uncle is also quite demonstrative in his affection for children…you might want to be sure that he doesn’t have occasion to be around any.”

The five surviving flagship dogs were worth only $17,000. Blake had either to turn them all over to Tilly, or lose his house, his land, and the two hotels in which he had invested. Wisely, he gave the dogs to Tilly, and gave up on his great idea of introducing collies to the West. Late Tuesday night, she returned to Virginia City in a rented wagon with the five collies. Black Clover and Red Rose instantly took a liking to the Widow Hawkins, and one of Hop Sing’s relatives agreed to board the other three until Tilly could find them homes.

On Wednesday she was back in school, and she announced that all age groups would have a little oral test on Friday. Amid the groans and pleadings of other students, the two sons of Jordan were heard to say, “Hey, this is just what Pa’s been waiting for!” Tilly had no idea what that remark meant, but one thing was certain—it was no threat. After all, she had already been fired without a character reference. There was something liberating in that.

Friday morning the 25 children duly reported in at 8 a.m. The surprise was that at a few minutes before 10—the time announced for their test—all five members of the Virginia City School Board trooped in and lined up against the back wall. Ben and Adam were there too—Adam looking a little peaked, still—but again, when she saw Ben’s jaw come out in a defiant set and Adam’s shoulders come back at the same time, she had to smile inwardly at the strange resemblance. As for the remaining trio, she didn’t bother to look.

“Today is just a little test, nothing to be concerned about. I just want to make sure you are all taking in the teaching that I’m supposed to provide. April ends this term, and as most of you know, I will not be back for next term. I want to be sure you’re where you’re supposed to be for the new teacher. Each of you will have to answer a total of three questions on any of the subjects we’ve covered so far this school year.”

She started with Peggy Dayton Cartwright, having her come to the chalk board and work out a math problem about the weight of horse shoes, then moved to Darla Norris for the names of the two current Nevada senators. Anthony Holcomb had to define “impediment” and “tempest.”

She looked back at Adam; he was still standing, and looked shaky.

“Billy McKenzie, divide 25 by 12.”

“That’s way too easy, Miss Hoffman. It’s 2.08.”

“Good. But now give it to me as a remainder.”

“Two, with a remainder of one.”

“How many children are in this classroom?” she asked him.

“Twenty-five.”

“And how many benches are there?”

“Twelve.”

“And so we have how many students per bench?”

“Two—except for the bench up front where you’ve got three.”

“All right, Billy, now what would happen if the last two benches were suddenly taken away?”

“Then it would be two with a remainder of five.”

“And what does that mean?”

“Um…that the rest of the kids would have to share with the four kids in the back?”

“Excellent idea, Billy, thanks for that suggestion! Let’s do that.”

The four children from the two back benches rose in some confusion and moved up to other benches.

“And now, since it seems I’m being tested as well,” Tilly said, “Why don’t we let the five eminent gentlemen from the School Board take seats on the back benches.”

Looking a bit shamefaced, the five took seats.

“All right, let’s continue…”

Peggy next recited a segment from Coleridge’s Rime of the Ancient Mariner and Johnny Caldecott did a math problem with long division at the chalkboard.

Lunchtime was upon them but Tilly gave no sign of stopping until each child had answered three questions.

Finally, she said, “All right, Jimmy Marsden, we’ll finish with you.”

Jimmy trooped up to the front and picked up a piece of chalk, apparently expecting a math problem.

“Do you have your recitation ready?” Tilly asked with a grin.

“Aw, Miss Hoffman, not today, please!”

“Why not?”

“I don’t wanna say it in front of all them men! They’ll think I’m a sissy!”

“I assigned this piece two weeks ago. Do you not know it?”

“I know it,” he said sullenly. “But first kid makes a face at me I’m takin’ a poke at ’em.

“‘Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Admit impediments. Love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds—hey, Mr. Cartwright, you quit that!’”

Thirty pairs of eyes turned to Adam Cartwright, who blushed. “Sorry, Jimmy. That’s one of my favorite sonnets. I didn’t think you’d mind if I recited along with you.”

“I might mind,” Tilly put in. “This is a test, remember?”

“True. Sorry,” Adam said meekly.

Tilly’s eyes gleamed suddenly. “On the other hand, if you want to come up here, face the classroom instead of Jimmy, and recite along with him, I’ve got nothing against that.”

“Do you mind, Jimmy?” Adam asked.

“No, sir,” Jimmy said in wonder. Adam Cartwright was his hero—the man had been an acting sheriff, he’d ridden in countless posses, fought Indians, been nearly hanged a couple of times, and even outdrawn at least one professional gunfighter. And he liked Shakespeare?

Adam trooped up to the front of the classroom and stood beside Jimmy, putting his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You’ll correct me if I mess up, won’t you?”

Jimmy looked up and nodded—and so he was the only one who saw the wink Adam gave Tilly. The rest of the room only saw her blush.

“From the beginning, please,” Tilly instructed.

As they recited, Jimmy looked back up at Adam. Jimmy had said everything mechanically, but the strange, husky tone of voice Adam had been using did not escape his notice…or anyone else’s.

“Thank you.” Tilly’s voice was flat and a bit ominous. “Lunchtime, children.”

As the children grabbed their lunch pails, the four remaining board members approached Tilly at the front of the class.

“Miss Hoffman,” Dave Jordan began, “how did you come up with this test?”

“Just as I explained to the children, Mr. Jordan. Knowing my time was limited, I wanted to leave a firm foundation for the new teacher. I began working on the questions last weekend, and—as you’ll see here…” She showed her notebook with its list of questions, divided by the groups of students for which the questions would be most appropriate… “I assigned the questions by aptitude, or rather lack of it. For example, I gave Peggy a recitation that she had a lot of problems with, and Johnny Caldecott has problems with long division.”

“Then how do you account for the students all doing so well?”

“I’m a bit surprised at that myself, Mr. Jordan. Still, it proves what studying can do.”

“So you didn’t provide the answers in advance?”

Tilly’s eyebrows came together and her hand twitched, clutching an imaginary skillet. “Mr. Jordan, they all had the answers in the sense that we have worked on these assignments before and they should have picked up the material by now. Past that, if you mean, did I go to Billy last night and say ‘tomorrow you’ll have to divide 5081 by 47,’ the answer is no. And while I’m ashamed that you asked that, I’m not surprised. In fact, I am at least grateful that one accusation in this town was made to my face and not behind my back. Now if you gentlemen are finished, I’d very much like it if you’d all exit the way you came in, and don’t let the doorknob—”

“You’re misreading my intent, Miss Hoffman,” Jordan said. “I found out a while back that my own boys had picked up quite a lot from your teaching. I just wanted the other members of the Board to see it. I thought perhaps our decision to remove you might have been…premature.”

Adam jumped in. “I certainly think it was, and if you pompous windbags hadn’t recused me—”

Tilly held her hand up. “Am I to understand you’re considering keeping me on?”

“Yes, that’s what I mean.”

“I see. And how does the rest of the board feel about this?”

“You know how Adam and I feel, Miss Hoffman,” Ben said gently, and Tilly could have kissed him.

“We’re considering,” muttered one of the two holdouts.

“Well, let me save you the time and trouble,” Tilly said. “You didn’t fire me for my teaching ability. You fired me for my questionable morals. And my morals have never changed. They’re as questionable now as they ever were, and I have no intention of teasing your imaginations by either defending myself or addressing your charges. And while I thank you for the magnanimity of your gesture, you’re presuming I still want this job. I don’t.”

“But you had a five-year contract!” Dave Jordan protested.

“I’m not the one who broke the contract. You are. When the term is over, so am I. Now, I thank you for your time, and for your ‘test.’ Please leave now. I’d like to eat my own lunch, and once again, time is running out.”

Ben and Adam hung back as the other three departed. “Tilly,” Adam began, “I’d really like to—”

Tilly gave them a stern look as she pointed to the door. “Please. Not now.”

Chapter 24

That afternoon, as she was scrubbing the floors, two horses trotted up and two riders dismounted. There was a polite knock on the door before they entered, and Tilly had to grin at that, remembering times when the knock had been less than polite, or there had been no knock at all.

Ben came in, followed by Adam, and once again the odd, nonphysical resemblance between them startled and bemused her. “Good afternoon,” she said. “Did you stay in town all day, then?”

Ben was either taking the lead, or maybe Adam didn’t know what to say; he was certainly acting awkward.

“Miss Tilly, we wondered if you would join us for dinner tonight at the International House,” Ben said.

“Thank you for the invitation,” she responded, wondering what the devil was going on. “I’d be very happy to.”

“Good.” Ben looked at Adam, who shot back a rather sullen glare. “That’s good. Well, I’ll take the horses to the livery, then. I’ll meet you over there.”

With that he made himself scarce, fast, and Tilly looked at Adam, who was staring at the wet floor with his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

“Nice to see you’re wearing a coat today,” she observed.

At that he flashed a quick, embarrassed grin, showing the dimples she loved, but said not a word.

“I noticed earlier you’re not limping, either. What happened?”

“Not really sure,” he said, still looking at the floor. “When I jumped the guy—the one who stabbed me—I felt something snap inside my back, and suddenly all the pain was gone.”

“That’s wonderful, Adam. Guess there’s something to be said for getting into knife fights, eh?” It was difficult to make a joke of something like that, but she’d known him and his brothers long enough to know they always joked about nearly getting killed. “So what prompted you and your father to stay in town all day? I know it wasn’t just to take me out to dinner.”

“We…um…we’re taking the late stage out,” he replied. “The trial begins Friday for the train robbers, and we’ve both been called as witnesses. I’m surprised you weren’t called as well, since you found the box.”

“Joe found it. I just thought it was probably what you hit your head on.”

“Well…in any case…we have to go. Joe’s going too. California has jurisdiction on the case, and they combined the kidnapping and attempted murder charges on us with that, so…” his voice trailed off. “You left pretty fast last week, Tilly. Hoss said as soon as he brought Lady in, you vanished.”

“The one had very little to do with the other,” she chuckled. “I just had other places I needed to be.”

“You don’t really think I can’t tell the difference between you and Lady, do you?”

She couldn’t help smiling. “No, but I was always terribly jealous that you never scratched my ears.”

No effect at all. His eyes stayed fixed on the floor, his posture rigid and defensive.

She wrung out the mop and took the bucket out, passing Adam on the way and taking care not to notice how pale he seemed. She stopped. “How’s Lady doing, anyway?”

“Hoss wrapped her ribs and put a good splint on her leg. Still don’t know if the puppies will make it, but she’ll be all right.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” she said, and proceeded out with the bucket.

“Shall we head over?” she asked on her return. “I need to get cleaned up first.”

“No, not yet,” Adam said with an awkward sigh. “Pa’s waiting.”

“Yes, I thought that’s why we should go.”

“No, you don’t understand. He’s taking his sweet time. I love my father, but sometimes I just don’t…well, never mind. He’s waiting because he thinks if he leaves us alone, ‘nature will take its course’—his words, not mine.”

“Oh. And what does that mean?”

“My father is a master manipulator,” Adam said firmly, not looking at her. “I don’t mind what he wants to happen, I just object to the way he’s going about it.”

“What’s he going about? What is it that he wants to happen?”

“Well, it just happens he’s a great believer in marriage, as well. My own, especially.”

“Really.” Her tone became ominous.

Adam laughed shortly. “Hear me out. He knows I want to marry you. He still has reservations, but…he says the best and the worst traits of the whole Cartwright clan are embodied in you. It seems you have Joe’s temper, my independence and intelligence, Pa’s stubbornness, and Hoss’s kindness. He further says you are an excellent kisser, for which I may one day forgive him, although I am far too much of a gentleman to ask him or you just what the devil he might mean by that.” He looked up at her with an almost bashful grin, and back at the floor. “Also, Hop Sing has added considerable weight with some incomprehensible argument—”

“Ah, yes,” Tilly chuckled. “Go si ni det sen.”

“Don’t tell me; it’s Cantonese for ‘I am your spleen.’”

“It is, in fact. I was instructed to tell you that.”

“Did he also tell you that if I don’t marry you, I’ll forever lose my sense of humor?”

“He did. Not the strongest argument I’ve heard.”

“Not that I needed argument.” He looked at her, that dark strange look that used to worry her…“Tilly, I never have changed my mind. Have you changed yours?”

“About…Adam, is this how you propose to people? No wonder you never got married. Good Lord!”

She started to flounce away in exasperation, but turned back at his barked command: “Tilly, stay!”

“You sure you don’t have me mixed up with the dog?” she retorted, turning away again.

A sudden steel grip on her arm immobilized her, and he said, “I know what you want.”

“What do I want?”

“What you want—what all women want—is some one-kneed declaration of undying love and that there’s no way I can live without you. Well, the problem with that is that I’ve lived too long and seen too much not to know better. I watched my father bury two women he couldn’t live without—and ever since then I’ve watched him live without them. So I’m sorry to squash the romance, but I can live without you.” He looked down again. “But I’ll be miserable. Even with the dog.”

“You’re not the only person in the world who ever lost somebody, Adam Cartwright,” she snapped back. “You have some idea of what I’ve lost. I think I’m a pretty good example of how a person can live without love. I can even be happy without it…sometimes. I don’t need to hear how you can’t live without me, and I wouldn’t believe it if you said it. But—call it a vanity, or merely social convention—I would like to hear you, just once in this life, say ‘I love you’ to me.”

“You know I do.”

“No, I don’t! You won’t even say it with us alone in this room; how on earth can you stand up in a church and say it out loud in front of God and your family?”

“What do you think I was doing this morning in your classroom? Who do you think I was reciting Sonnet 116 to, anyway? That’s about as public as it gets. And don’t you get me started on God, Tilly Hoffman. Every time I get the nerve up to love somebody they either die or leave. And every time it happens I hear some bunch of tripe about how it’s all God’s will.”

“Quit blaming God for everything that goes wrong. I think it’s pretty presumptuous of people to assume that everything that happens is both God’s will and God’s fault. It is not God’s intent to make you as miserable as possible and then kill you.” She sighed. “Sometimes you’re just a pastanaga.”

The silence stretched out for a while. Finally, he gave her a sidelong glance. “This wasn’t meant to be another debate. I’ll say it if you’ll say it first.”

“I can’t say it first. I’m the woman.”

“Oh, you can’t pull that on me, Mathilde ‘your royal highness’ Hoffman,” he chuckled. “In the first place, from the time we met you’ve made it your mission in life to tell me that women can do everything men can. And second, after all your ranting about Queen Victoria I went to the library and read about her. And I know she proposed to Prince Albert.”

“She’s the Queen! Adam, in the world I come from you’re the aristocrat and I’m a commoner.”

“The world you come from doesn’t exist anymore; you told me that yourself. And you may not have noticed, but there’s dirt under my nails at the end of a hard day, just like everybody else’s. And why do I have to do all the work? There were times, right after the fire, when I almost asked you…but I kept thinking, ‘I don’t know how she feels about me.’ So do you love me, or not? You can certainly say it—if you mean it, and if you’re not scared to.”

“Fine,” she retorted. “I’m mad as a hornet, Adam, and you frequently affect me that way, but God help us both, I love you anyway. And if you ever asked me in even a partially proper fashion, I’d marry you if I had to do it at midnight in a swamp full of ’gators, and I’d live with you in palace or a mud hut, and devil take anybody who ever tried to come between us. Now, I just gave you a whole paragraph—and all I’m asking in return is three words! How’s that?”

“That’s just great,” he said quietly. “All right, here are your three words. How’s your Greek?”

“Huh?”

“Ese kato apo tin storgi mou.”

She stiffened. “I am not, and you will not.”

“You certainly are under my protection, whether you like it or not, and I will take care of you. Ese fili mou.”

“You’re my friend too, Adam, but…”

“Ese erotas mou. Ese to pathos mou.”

She blushed beet red and said nothing.

“Se agapo.”

“I love you, too,” she murmured. “And…and… you’re my lover and my passion as well…or at least I’d like you to be.”

“And you’ll marry me?”

“Well…yes, but…”

“What do you mean, ‘but’? What happened to that midnight in a swamp and mud huts?”

“I’ll marry you, Adam, but I wasn’t lying this morning. I have some business to tie up in Nevada, but then I promised Señor Lopez-Chavarri I’d go back to Spain. Not to live,” she added hastily. “But his two oldest daughters are getting married, and I promised to be there.”

“Well…” Adam leaned against the wall. “I’ve never been to Spain. But I kinda like the music. And I’ve always wanted to see some genuine Moorish architecture.”

“You’ll come with me?”

“If you’ll have me.”

“Only for the rest of my life,” she breathed, and then she was in his arms, with no idea how she’d gotten there, and once again the Pythagorean Theorem and Euclid’s Elements went right out the window while he kissed her face, her neck, and pretty much every place else she had exposed skin. “Adam?” she finally said into his ear.

“Hm?”

“What about Lady?”

“Who?”

“The dog, Adam. She needs to come with us.”

“She does?”

“Sure. She loves you too, you know.”

“After the pups are weaned,” he murmured into her hair, tightening his arms around her. “Tilly, I warn you, I no longer believe in long engagements. I’ll give you a month to get a dress made, if it’s absolutely necessary…”

“I have a dress. Remember the box from my mother? That was one of the things inside, carefully wrapped in nice brown paper. We don’t have to wait for a thing, except for you to come back from California.”

“Well it took you long enough,” said a gruff voice in the doorway. “Adam, I swear, it took me fifteen minutes to win over your mother—and she was from Boston. You’ve got a lot to learn.”

“Don’t worry,” Adam said, still refusing to let go—not that Tilly wanted him to. “I’ve got a good teacher, Pa. I’ll learn fast.”

As the three walked over to the International House, Tilly grinned at Ben. “How are you getting along with Lady these days?”

“Well, she hasn’t attacked me,” he said. “From all I’ve heard about her, she’s something of a wonder dog.”

“What would you say if I told you most collies share her good traits?”

“I don’t know any other collies, so I couldn’t reply.”

“Adam,” Tilly said, “Do you know why my Uncle Blake decided to become a collie breeder?”

“Possibly because of Queen Victoria,” Adam said thoughtfully.

Tilly laughed in delight. “You are a smart one. It’s true. HRH has collies, and is touting them to the skies.”

“Yes, I read as much in those articles,” Adam agreed. “And of course every fashion that catches on in Europe is bound to find its way here.”

“Exactly,” Tilly said flatly.

“Well, the collies out at Weston’s place were a sad lot,” Ben put in. “I don’t call myself a dog person, but I was shocked and appalled at the way they were treated. And even as someone who’s not a dog man, I truly wanted to help those dogs.”

Tilly grinned. “I’m glad to hear you say that…”

*

Adam, Ben and Joe were back from California by the end of the following week, and by that time Hoss had acquired two new best friends—both of which had long fur and cold noses.

“They don’t seem to have a name preference,” Hoss told them. “So I dropped all that silly colored flower stuff and just gave ’em regular names. The brown and white girl is Honey, and the mostly-black girl is Gumbo.”

“It figures you’d name ’em after food,” Joe muttered. “Now where’s the little boy dog?”

“Mutton Jim took him and named him Scooter. Joe, this is gonna be great. Jim’s a fine dog trainer, and if he can get these three half as good as Lady we’re gonna have some great workin’ dogs here.”

“Is Pa gonna let ’em live in the house?”

“Why don’t you ask ‘Pa’ that question?” Ben stomped in, prompting growls from the two new collies and a hesitant approach by Lady. He looked at the two new arrivals. “Hoss, I hope part of the training involves teaching them who’s the leader of this pack.”

“Soon as you start hangin’ around, Pa. They just need to get used to you is all.”

“That’s not the question. The question is, will I ever get used to them?”

*

While Ben and Joe had gone straight home, Adam had stopped to see Tilly, and as he had threatened once before, he did end up spending the entire night talking with her in the widow’s gaudy sitting room. “Just family at the wedding…which of course includes the ‘other’ Cartwrights…and maybe Roy and Paul,” he said with a wink. “And Hop Sing. Oh, and I think Lady would want to be your matron of honor…”

“Not your cousin Laura? Then I’m honored indeed,” Tilly grinned.

He made a face. “Well, you understand that I’ll still have to invite them. After all, Will’s saved my life twice now.”

“I know about the blood transfusion, but I didn’t know he saved it another time.”

“Oh yes…when he took Laura off my hands and left me available for you.” He picked up her left hand and started playing with her fingers. “When you come by the house tomorrow I have something to show you…we haven’t talked about rings. Did your mother leave you one? I have my mother’s ring, and if you don’t already have one… well, I’d love to see my mother’s ring gracing your finger….”

She looked at his elegant, long-fingered hands, and an idea hit her.

“Adam…” it was now her turn to be hesitant and a bit shy. “I know it doesn’t happen here, but you know in some cultures, the man and woman both wear rings…”

“Do you have something in mind?”

“Just a minute, I need to go up to my room.” She returned with one hand clutching a pale green-gold band. “If you don’t want to, I’ll understand…”

“That’s a Dahlonega band, isn’t it?” He took it from her and examined it closely. “I’ve heard about them, but never seen one…”

“My mother was 15.” Tilly swallowed. “Her father was one of the ones who came down in the rush, but he died not long after they got there. My father had the adjacent claim…he was 29. Somehow the two of them got together. Everyone thought it was an odd match, but they loved each other. He always said he got just enough gold out of his claim to make that ring.”

“Tilly, I’d be honored to wear this ring, although I can’t imagine it would fit…only, it does.” He chuckled. “Now I know I would have liked your mother.”

Chapter 25

For once, Virginia City didn’t know what the Cartwrights were up to, and the Cartwrights intended to keep it that way. The four of them—and Lady and Hop Sing—had driven in, and Tilly had walked over to the church, carrying a wrapped parcel with her. Laura and Peggy met her and took her to the preacher’s tiny, cramped office to help her change. Used to softer dresses, the stiff fabric of this one made her jump each time it rustled, and she was already jumpy.

Unable to pick a best man, Adam asked both his brothers to hold the rings. Joe and Hoss already thought the notion of a man wearing a wedding ring was funny. But they hadn’t seen Tilly’s ring before, and both started giggling at its color.

“Looks like it fell in the sink,” Joe muttered.

“I wouldn’t expect you Philistines to recognize Dahlonega gold,” Adam said.

“I remember hearing about the big strike while you and I were heading west, Adam,” Ben murmured, turning the ring around in his hand, looking at the pale-green cast. “Of course, by the time Joseph came along, all the gold in Georgia was mined out and the big strikes were in California.”

Tilly came in then, and for a minute the four stopped talking about gold and just looked at her.

“I like a woman in white,” Adam said appreciatively.

“Do you think it’s white?” Hoss asked. “Looks more like the color of an eggshell to me.”

“Naw, it’s like cream,” Joe returned decisively.

“Nonsense,” Ben said. “It’s ivory, can’t you tell?”

Tilly and Adam just looked at all three of them.

“For Pete’s sake, it’s white,” Tilly said in exasperation, at the same time Adam said “Gee, fellas, how many shades of white are there?”

“Bout as many as there are gold, I reckon,” Hoss giggled, looking back at the ring.

“They never heard of Dahlonega gold,” Adam told her.

“Most people haven’t,” Tilly shrugged. “But it’s the reason there’s no Cherokee living in Georgia anymore.”

“True enough,” Adam agreed. “Just like the reason the Paiute here are all in an uproar—”

“Not to mention the Sioux in the—”

Joe turned to Ben. “Now I hope you know why we were such a mess when you got home, Pa. Once those two get to talkin’ there’s no shutting them up—”

“And no makin’ sense of anything they say within five minutes,” Hoss added. “Now they’re gonna up and forget to get married ’cause they’re too wrapped up in a debate.”

Ben managed to pry the two debaters away from each other as the preacher came in, and for a few moments the air was appropriately solemn. But then came the vows, and at “love, honor and obey” Tilly’s whispered “would you settle for two out of three?” threatened to stop the ceremony. “No, I would not,” Adam whispered back.

“How about ‘most of the time’?”

“Not unless you’re willing to accept my ‘forsaking all others—most of the time’.”

Tilly sighed. “Love, honor, and obey.”

Then came the ring part, which the preacher harrumphed about because he had had to re-write it for two rings…and then came the catastrophe. Joe and Hoss forgot which ring they had, and both jumped forward when the preacher called for the first ring; they bumped into each other, and both gold bands jumped out of their hands and proceeded to roll merrily down the aisle.

“Lady! Go get ’em!” Adam directed, and the dog followed Hoss and Joe, who were falling all over each other in their attempts to recover the jewelry. Lady only retrieved one ring; Joe got the other, and Hoss got Joe when he fell over a pew.

“I suppose you’re right,” Ben acknowledged later. “She did save the day. She’s not a bad dog—but I think Honey is better looking.”

“Honey has a more traditional face,” Tilly said. “With brown eyes…Lady’s eyes are a little unsettling for people who aren’t used to blue-eyed dogs.”

“What are you lookin’ at?” Adam asked Joe.

“You and Tilly. Your eyes are a shade lighter than Honey’s, and Tilly’s eyes are about a shade darker than Lady’s. I’m just wondering whether your kids will be blue-eyed or—”

Adam burst out laughing. “We’ve been married 15 minutes, Joe. Give us a little time, okay?”

“It’s easy to answer your question anyhow, Joe,” Tilly said. “We’ll have some of each.”

“Some? How many are you planning on having, anyway?”

“I was thinking nine—like Queen Victoria.”

“Nine?” Ben asked weakly. “Um…Adam?”

Adam raised an eyebrow and grinned at Tilly. “Guess I’ll have to close my eyes and think of England.”

*

Three weeks later, Lady had six puppies. Four were stillborn; the last two, a sable male and a blue female, were a bit “puny” but with Hoss as a nursemaid and Lady to mother them, they soon shaped up nicely. Tilly named them Bruce and Ceirdwyn. By the time they were weaned, school was out…and it was time to leave for Spain.

“You won’t be gone long…” Ben said as they left.

“Two years at the most,” Adam said. He was wrong, but of course he didn’t know it then.

“I just have to show him a little bit of all that architecture he studied in school…Pa,” Tilly said. “And he needs to stay in Spain long enough to lose that awful Mexican accent. The Spaniards will be horrified.”

“So when you come back he’ll have an awful Castilian accent, and all the Mexicans will be horrified,” Ben replied. “And you do realize that while he speaks a little French and enough Italian to listen to an opera, he has no idea at all what to do with the German language.”

“But he’ll learn, remember? He’s got a good teacher.” She grinned, and Adam put his arm around her.

“How about that,” Joe muttered. “Married nearly three months, and they still like each other.”

Adam heard him, and he raised his voice a couple of octaves, clasped his hands, and fluttered his eyelashes. “Those…animals…really do like each other!”

Joe giggled. “And your memory isn’t gone yet, either, Older Brother!”

*

The hugs were over, the goodbyes said, and the Santa Maria was on its way out of San Francisco harbor.

“Valencia, here we come,” Tilly murmured as Adam waved one last time at the crowd left behind.  “Adam, part of me wishes they could come along too.”

“Why? Scared of being alone with me?” he asked with a wolfish grin.

“It was nice, being part of a family again,” she said wistfully.

“You still are part of a family, and always will be. I’m glad you like being married to me, though. I was afraid you’d find marriage—well—too much duty, not enough fun. Did your mother ever give you any words of wisdom for that?”

Tilly smiled. “She told me that at worst, it was a minor inconvenience…and at best, being married to the right man was like living inside a kaleidoscope.”

“Marie had one of those. I never tired of looking into it. The best part was that every time it shifted, even a little, the pattern changed and everything was new again.”

“You are a good student.”

He shrugged, smiling. “I have a good teacher. Want to go below and have an apple?”

“Only if it’s an Adam’s apple.”

They turned and headed off to their cabin, with Lady marching alongside…and that was fine, because no matter what happened next, she would never tell a soul.

*

On the dock, Hoss Cartwright shivered violently.

“What’s the matter?” Ben asked. “Sad already?”

“I guess so,” Hoss replied slowly. “I just had one of those funny feelings, like when a ghost passes through ya. Do you really think they’ll be back in two years?”

“Why not?”

“I dunno.” He shook his head. “I just had this feeling like…maybe they won’t come back for a long time…”

“Don’t be silly.” Joe clapped him on the back. “Two years is a long time. But at least it’ll give us plenty of time to find some girls of our own. Nice, normal girls that don’t talk about Bismarck and start gossip about being married five times just because they read some book.”

“All right, Tilly is a bit different,” Ben observed. “But she seems a good fit for Adam, so I expect he finds her normal. I hope you two find girls who’ll be a good fit for you.”

“Yeah,” Hoss said, still uneasy. “Me too, Pa. Well, if we don’t get started back home, all the dogs are gonna drive Hop Sing and Mutton Jim clear distracted.”

“And we’ve got cattle to move and fences to fix…and trees to plant,” Joe added. “And that money Adam put in the savings account will be in the ranch account next week, so we’ve got a lot to do.”

“You’re right.” Ben put a hand on each of his sons’ shoulders. “Let’s go home.”

 

Next Story in The Lilies Series:

The Lilies of the Valley
One Scarlet Lily
The Strawberry Roan

 

Tags:  Adam Cartwright, Ben Cartwright, dog, ESA, ESB, Hoss Cartwright, Joe / Little Joe Cartwright, SAS, school teacher, SJS, wife / wives