Summary:  Adam returns from college to find that fitting in back at the Ponderosa isn’t as easy as he’d hoped.

Rating: K+ (57,600 words)

 

The Rubicon

Part I: Rumblings of Civil War

“ADAM!”

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

“ADAM!”

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

“Pa sent me to fetch you. He’s gettin’ mad.” Joe looked a little smug.

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

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

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

“Good. How are the men working out?”

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

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

“Yes, sir.”

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

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

Adam nodded, pleased to have successfully diverted the conversation.

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

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

Joe scowled. “Okay,” he said grudgingly.

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

Joe glared at Adam. “You told him.”

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

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

Joe mumbled something.

“Clearly. Please.”

“Didn’t finish my homework.”

Ben waited.

Joe squirmed uncomfortably.

Ben raised his eyebrows at him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, I did just get home, Pa…”

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s enough out of you, Joseph.”

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

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

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

“That was necessary. Not necessarily desirable.”

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

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

Little Joe gave a squeak of glee.

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

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

Adam pushed away his plate. “I’m about done, Pa. May I be excused?”

Ben raised his eyebrows. “No dessert?”

“I’ll have mine later. I didn’t really finish putting up Sport.”

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

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

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

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

“The way you been groomin’ that there animal he’s lucky ta have any coat left.”

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

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

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

“I’ve been without a mount for four years. You’d be surprised how much you miss it.”

Hoss stroked Chubb’s nose. “I reckon. Rode him for ya while you was gone – first couple o’ years anyway.”

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

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

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

Hoss pursed his lips. “Ain’t none o’ my business, I reckon…”

“Go ahead.”

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

Adam struggled with a tangle in Sport’s mane. “I can’t, Hoss.”

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

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

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

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

“Humph.” Hoss pulled at his ear, looking unhappy. “Anythin’ I can do ta help?”

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

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

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

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

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

Hoss shook his head. “Glad I ain’t in yer boots, brother.”

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

“Why not? Full moon.”

“You just finished puttin’ that critter up! You gonna take him out and then start all over again?”

“Nice night. I always liked riding at night.”

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

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

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

“I won’t. It’ll help me sleep.”

Hoss held Sport’s head while Adam tightened the cinch. “Want some company?”

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

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

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

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

 

*

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

*

 

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

“I wasn’t waiting up. Just got caught up in this book.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Anything special you’re finding it hard to adjust to?”

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

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

“Thanks.” Adam got up to go to the kitchen, happy to escape the discomfort of his father’s scrutiny.

“Bring mine too, will you? And I think there’s still coffee.”

Adam paused with his hand on the door. “You didn’t eat yours?”

“Thought you might like some company.”

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

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

Adam looked up quickly.

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

“Yes, sir.”

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

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

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

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

“Must seem quiet.”

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

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

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

Ben nodded again, his expression far away.

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

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

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

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

Adam hesitated. “You sure?”

“Sure. Get some sleep.”

“All right. Night, Pa.”

“Good night, son.”

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

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

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

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

 

*

 

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

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

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

Curly took off his hat and scratched his head. “Gosh, I jest cain’t figger.”

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

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

Hoss took a step forward.

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

Hoss narrowed his eyes at him. “Dadgum it, Adam – ”

“Hoss.” Adam met his eyes squarely. “Please.” Hoss didn’t budge. “Now.”

Hoss scowled, his eyes moving from Curly to his brother. “Anythin’ you say, Adam,” he said at last.

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

Curly’s eyes went blank again. “Reckon not.”

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

Curly shrugged.

Adam clenched his jaw. “Are – we – agreed?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Adam gave him a humorless smile. “Why don’t you try it and find out?”

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

Adam smiled sweetly. “You’re going to have to do better than that.”

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

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

Hoss looked sheepish. “Sorry, Adam. But I done had just about enough o’ his lip.”

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

“I was just on my way, Adam.”

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

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

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

Adam shrugged. “What did you come back for?”

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

“What, that I need my little brother to fight my battles for me? I won’t if you won’t.”

“I know you kin fight yer own battles, Adam.”

“That’s why you came back, huh?”

Hoss wrinkled his nose and looked miserable. “Temper got the better o’ me, I reckon.”

“I ‘reckon‘ it did.” Adam grinned suddenly. “Heck of a right, brother.”

Hoss chuckled. “Somethin’ I kin do ta make it up to ya?”

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

Hoss bobbed his head. “Yes, sir.”

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

 

*

 

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

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

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

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

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

Hoss looked surprised. “No. Ain’t he here?”

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

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

Hoss entered the barn as he was tightening the cinch again. “Hop Sing ain’t seen ‘im.”

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

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

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

“What’ll I tell Pa if he gits here first?”

Adam kneed Sport forward. “I don’t know, but make it good!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But I’m afraid Joseph has been kept after school.”

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

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

Adam looked sympathetic. “Mouse again?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Adam. Please.”

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

Joe bobbed his head. “Yes, ma’am!”

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

“No ma’am.” Joe’s look of contrition was positively soulful.

“I’ll have a talk with him, Ma’am.”

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

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

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

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

Miss Abigail positively simpered. “My pleasure, Adam. I’ll see you tomorrow, Joseph.”

Joe nodded, moving to the door under his brother’s insistent hand. “Thank you, Miss Abigail.”

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

Joe perked up. “What other trouble you in?”

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

“You said you’d help me.”

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

“Well, you’re late gettin’ home, too.”

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

After a minute, Joe nodded. “Pa awful mad?”

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

Joe spurred Shadow into a gallop. “Then what we pokin’ along  for?”

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

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

“Hey!” Joe protested.

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

Joe tried to squirm away. “Hey! That’s a horse comb!”

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

Joe thought a minute, then brightened. “I’ll start my homework!”

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

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

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

Hoss’s grin grew broader. “Well, shoot, Adam, you done told him ta pester somebody.”

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

Hoss chuckled. “Fine lookin’ filly, that Miss Abigail.”

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

“Real well educated, too. Reckon it’s all that book learnin’s gone right ta her head.”

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

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

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

 

*

 

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

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

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

Joe swallowed hard and glanced quickly at Adam.

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

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

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

Ben looked at Joe questioningly.

Joe smiled weakly. “It’s different when I don’t have to.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Unless you know a rainmaker I don’t see what good it will do, Adam.”

“Pa, I am an engineer.”

“I realize that, son.”

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

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

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

“Joseph, after dinner I’ll help you with your lessons.”

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

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

“I’m done, Pa. Can I be excused?”

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

Adam pushed his plate away. “I’m done, Pa. Get your books, Joe.”

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

Hoss looked up from his third helping. “Not me, Pa. I’m just about starved!”

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

 

*

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then what do architects do?”

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

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

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

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

 

*

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

*

 

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

“What’s that?” Hoss asked suspiciously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh-huh. About?”

Hoss put down his sandwich. “Curly Froman.”

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

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

“Can’t blame him.”

“I reckon.”

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

Hoss shook his head. “Reckon they’ll be givin’ me a wide berth, too.”

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

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

Adam grinned. “Hm. I’ll admit that’s one solution that hadn’t occurred to me.”

“It ain’t funny,” said Hoss sourly.

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

Hoss’s eyes brightened. “Ya figger?”

“I’d bet money on it.”

“So Clyde an’ Deever won’t think – ”

“They might think you’re a pain in the butt, but they’ll blame that on me.”

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

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

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

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

“Yes, sir, Adam. If they get me riled I’ll just count ta ten.”

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

“How ’bout you and Curly? How’s that?”

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

Hoss looked dubious. “How you figger on doin’ that?”

Adam took off his hat and stood, rubbing at his tired eyes. “I’m hoping for inspiration.”

“Good luck to ya.”

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

“Only one I ever care ta live under.”

“Right. See you tonight, Hoss.”

 

*

 

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

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

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

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

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

“How’s it goin’?”

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

“I weren’t talkin’ about the horse. I meant you an’ him.”

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

“Know ya both.”

Adam nodded, then said, “Hard to say.”

“You’ll work it out. Just takes a little patience, like ol’ Cochise there.”

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

Hoss pursed his lips. “Need some help?”

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

“Suit yerself. But don’t take too long – it’s pork an sweet taters tonight an’ I’m clear holler.”

“In other words, hurry or go hungry. I’ll remember.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Like the ones we saw in San Francisco?”

“Just like those.”

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

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

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

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

 

*

 

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

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

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

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

Ben returned Roy’s grin. “Probably that food you feed ’em. Enough to make any man ill.”

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

“All right, Roy. Wish we’d see some rain, though.”

Roy nodded. “We could use it, all right. How’re them boys o’ yours?”

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

Roy chuckled. “How’s that? They still livin’ at the Ponderosa, ain’t they?”

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

Roy’s eyes twinkled. “Sounds about normal, Ben.”

Ben gave a short laugh. “You may have something there.”

“So, what all is Adam broodin’ about?”

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

“Uh-huh. How ’bout Little Joe?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Paul Martin nodded. “Ben. Good to see you. Well, Roy, I hear you’ve killed another one.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

The occupant looked eager. “I’m game.”

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

“Yes sir.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Send him over to me if that happens. I assume he’s not dangerous?”

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

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

Roy shook his head. “Couldn’t find anyone ta claim ’em. Just a drifter it seems.”

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

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

“Lunch with us, Paul?”

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

“Everyone’s fine, Paul.” And suddenly he meant it fervently.

“Glad to hear it. I don’t need the business. Give them my best. Gentlemen.”

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

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

“They’re good boys, Ben, all three. You got nothin’ ta worry about.”

Ben nodded. “I know. Just growing pains, I suppose.”

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yer papa ain’t gonna like that.”

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

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

Adam gave him a half smile. “Oh, you’re a bright guy. I bet you can guess.”

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

Smokey shrugged warily. “I don’t control the men.”

“Now, that wouldn’t make you much of a foreman, would it?”

Smokey glared, angry at having missed the trap. “What’s yer point?”

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

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

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

“I don’t like folk what have things handed to ’em.”

“I don’t see anybody handing me anything.”

Smokey shrugged. “I don’t like you.”

“I’m not asking you to. I’m asking you to call off your dogs.”

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

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

*

 

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

Adam shook his head. “No, I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’ll pull them saddles, then. All set up in the pasture. You talk ta Smokey?”

“Oh, yeah, we had a nice little chat.”

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

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

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

 

*

 

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

“He thinks he knows everything!” said Joe heatedly.

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

“Then I don’t want your stupid help!”

Adam threw up his arms in surrender.

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

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

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

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

“Adam!”

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

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

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

“To your face!”

“My face?”

Ben looked at him in exasperation. “Adam.”

“Um. I  – fell, Pa.”

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

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

“Sometimes?” Ben’s eyebrows shot up. “Does this happen often?”

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

“Adam – ”

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

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

“Inside. Eating, I think.”

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

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

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

*

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“WHAT is that young lady’s name?” asked Ben as he slapped the reins.

“Miss Abigail. Abigail Jones,” said Joe helpfully. “She likes Adam.”

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

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

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

*

 

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

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

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

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

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

“What would you think about sending Hoss?”

“Sending Hoss?” Ben stopped working, surprised. “Well, I don’t know. He’s pretty young.”

“Seventeen. He’s got a lot of sense.”

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

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

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

Adam bundled the harness for hanging and nodded slowly. “I think he’ll do a good job for us.”

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

“I’ll finish up with Scotty and Willy and be right in.”

“All right, but don’t be long or those two hooligans will have eaten everything but the bones!”

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

 

*

 

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

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

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

“That ain’t what I’m talkin’ about an’ you know it.”

“Then why don’t you tell me what you are talking about.”

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

Adam smiled a little. “Now, I thought you didn’t want to be my paid muscle.”

“I ain’t talkin’ about hittin’ nobody. I’m talkin’ about support. Havin’ somebody around that’s on yer side.”

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

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

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

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

Finally he said quietly, “Hoss, I’m doing the best I can.”

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

Adam nodded. “I think you’ll do a real good job.”

Hoss looked pleased for a moment. “Well, I’ll be.” Then he frowned again. “But I still don’t like it.”

“No.”

“So don’t you go thinkin’ you got away with anything here, neither.”

“I don’t.”

“An’ I better not come back an’ find you any more bruised than you are right now.”

Adam gave him a small smile. “Well, I don’t know if I can make you any promises there. You are leaving me and Joe without a referee.”

Hoss chuckled, standing up and reaching for a pitchfork. “Well, if’n I’m gonna do this thing, then, we’d better get these chores done. An’ while we work you kin give me some pointers, seein’ as how you got me into this.”

Adam stood up too, pleased to have his brother’s good humor restored, but vaguely dreading the morrow.

*

 

“The EAST pasture! EAST! Why in the name of God would we be moving cattle up to the north range with winter coming on?”

Smokey looked deeply thoughtful. “Y’know, Mr. Cartwright, we was wonderin’ the same thing? But I figger yer the boss an’ it ain’t fer us ta question yer decisions.”

Adam was sure he was going to swing then, it took all his willpower to stop himself, but the smug, watchful look on Smokey’s face told him it was just what he was looking for and he refused to give him the satisfaction. He closed his eyes and counted, slowly. When he thought he could speak calmly he said, “Well, I hope that if I ever suggest something so lame-brained someone will have the good sense to say something about it.” He looked at the sky. “Too late to fix it today, but first thing tomorrow I want those cattle moved to the east pasture. EAST. Would you like me to write it down for you?”

“Well, that’d be fine, Mr. Cartwright, ‘ceptin’ I cain’t read.”

Adam winced. Bad mistake. Most of the men couldn’t read, he kept forgetting that, and pointing it out only served to widen the gap between them. “Then I’ll remind you tomorrow.” The sudden thought of the number of places on the Ponderosa cattle could be “mistakenly” driven almost made his heart fail him. “In fact, I’ll ride out with you to make sure we’re all agreed on where we need to be.”

“Whatever you say, Mr. Cartwright.”

Adam turned away from the gleam of satisfaction in Smokey’s eyes. Of course, while he was doing that something would go horribly wrong somewhere else. There had to be a better way to handle this. Winter was not going to wait while he worked out his problems.

“Mr. Cartwright?”

Adam looked up as another hand came riding toward him on horseback. “Mr. Cartwright, Deever sent me. Him an Clyde need ya out in the south pasture. Say they got a problem what’s come up.”

“South pasture?” Adam glanced at the sky again. He was supposed to meet Joe to work with Cochise before dinner and it was a long haul to the south pasture and then back to the ranch. “What seems to be the problem?”

“Well, now, they didn’t say exactly, just that they needed you ta come.”

Adam sighed inwardly. “All right, all right – “ he skewered Smokey with a sardonic lift of brow. “Think you can handle things here all right?”

Smokey gave him a chilly grin in return. “Well, I’ll sure do my best ta struggle along without ya, Mr. Cartwright.”

That did nothing to quiet Adam’s fears, but he mounted Sport and headed for the south pasture anyway. The day had been worse than he’d even imagined – Smokey was certainly making sure he got his own back. The mishaps had escalated to the point that Adam felt a rising panic – he couldn’t wait the two weeks he had allowed himself. He was going to have to go to his father and admit that he couldn’t make it work. Or start firing people. Or both. If things continued to deteriorate at this rate, without Hoss to help pick up the slack they’d be in deep trouble by this time next week.

He still couldn’t tell who else knew about Curly and Hoss’s run in, but given the absence of jokes and whispers about it, he suspected that no one did. That was a help anyway. Still, he couldn’t really regret sending Hoss to Carson City. After a prodigious breakfast, Hoss had gotten off to an early start, now bursting with eagerness and nerves and a shy pride. Adam smiled a little, wondering what Hoss would say if he knew his big, tough older brother was sorely tempted to cling to him like a three-year-old and beg him to stay.

By the time he reached the south pasture both he and Sport were a little winded and the sun had moved visibly west. He hoped this was nothing too complicated, or he’d be late meeting Joe and he couldn’t afford to break faith with him, either. He spotted Clyde and Deever at the far end of the south pasture by a fence. At least that, hopefully, was finally finished. He dismounted while Sport was still moving and let him bring himself to a stop, sniffing hopefully at the grass. Clyde took the reins and led him over to where the other horses were picketed.

“Well?”

Deever was wearing that same, smug-and-defiant-at-the-same-time expression Adam was getting so tired of.  To him it seemed to say that they had him outnumbered and were enjoying the advantage. “Mr. Cartwright, we been working on this here fence and we got ta thinkin’ – I know you didn’t think two strings o’ wire was enough, but was you wantin’ three or four? We jest couldn’t decide.”

Adam looked at the fence with its three horizontal strands and back at Deever – then at the fence again. He thought about the long ride out here, about having to leave Smokey free to create new chaos to make it, about the pace he’d have to set if he were to have any hope of keeping his appointment with Joe. He thought about the way this summarized his whole life lately – this frantic riding in endless circles for nothing – and for a minute he choked a little on his own bile. “How many – ” he struggled for control and tried again. “How many are on all the other fences on the ranch?” he forced out.

Deever pondered that seriously. “Well, three, I reckon.”

“That’s right. So that would probably work here, too, don’t you think?”

Deever opened his eyes wide. “Well, durned if it wouldn’t!”

Adam turned his back to him for a moment, seeking control, clenching and unclenching his fist. His eyes settled on the upper pasture. “The fencing higher on up – is that done?”

“Now, figgerin’ this out kep’ us right busy.”

Adam took a deep breath. “You’ve been working on this all day?”

“More or less. Well, sir, I jest hated ta do it an’ find out it weren’t what you wanted.”

This time, instinct outstripped reason and Adam was starting to swing as he turned. He managed to pull the punch before it landed, opening his fist and clamping his hand firmly instead on his gun belt. .No. Not this time. He would not be provoked into this again. He waited, poised to defend himself but determined not to start it, more than half-expecting Clyde at his back at any moment. But Clyde seemed more than willing to stay with the horses and after a minute Deever backed up a step, looking puzzled and wary. Adam waited, but Deever just stood looking at him with an expression he couldn’t quite read. Seeing as Deever didn’t seem inclined to fight, Adam relaxed his stance a little, taking another deep breath. “Upper fence,” he said tautly. “Now. Go.”

Deever turned slowly, glancing at the upper pasture and then Clyde. If he had planned to point out the lateness of the hour a look at Adam’s face made him think better of it and he went to join Clyde at the horses. Adam watched them mount and ride toward the upper pasture before following to get Sport. He gathered the reins then stopped, burying his face in the horse’s mane. He gave Sport’s neck a stroke, then moved to his left side and mounted, discouraged and depressed, turning him toward the ranch at a gallop, as if he could outride his problems that way.

He wished he had time to ride off somewhere on his own for a while, think things through, but he’d promised to help Joe with Cochise and he was in danger of being late already. He hoped Joe was in a better mood than last time – he didn’t think he was up to one more adversarial confrontation today. He thundered Sport across the pasture land as far as he could, finally turning onto a thin ribbon of road. If he and Sport could keep this pace he could still be on time to meet Joe and that one part of his day would remain intact anyway.  He let Sport have his head, pounding into a deep twisting curve in the road – then felt a sudden jerk beneath him and found himself air born. The dirt road seemed to fly past his face, there was a quick glimpse of sky, and his teeth clacked together as he thudded in the dirt with an impact that knocked him breathless, his face turned up to the blue Nevada sky.

For a while the sky spun above him in slow circles and he just lay there, trying to get his breath back. The force of his fall threw dust up in clouds around him and he rested an arm over his eyes and closed them against it. When he coughed and felt his lungs kick in again he still lay there, wondering what there was to get up for, anyway. A habit of duty prodded at him though and after a minute he started an inventory to see if he’d broken or sprained anything. Everything seemed more or less in place. Bruised, of course – especially around his pride. Couple of nasty scrapes. Pretty battered in spirit. And he had a good idea of what had happened.

He sat up, dusting futilely at his clothing, and pulled himself awkwardly to his feet. He wasn’t surprised to see his saddle lying a few feet away. Sport was nowhere in sight.

He limped over to the saddle and squatted down to have a look. Broken cinch. And yeah, it had been cut part of the way through. Easy to figure how Clyde had been entertaining himself while Deever was keeping him occupied. He sat looking at it, not even angry anymore, just feeling empty inside. After a minute he sighed and squinted down the road. Well, Joe was waiting and he had a good hard walk ahead of him – he’d better get started.

He picked up the dusty canteen lying next to the saddle and took a swig. And choked and spat. He wiped his mouth, upending the canteen to watch the contents empty onto the road. Sand. He recapped the empty canteen and fastened it to his saddle. Hefting the saddle onto his back, he began to walk.

*

 

“’Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow’,” Adam muttered to himself, peeling off his gloves and chaps and trying to beat the dust out of them. A little rain to wet things down sure would be nice. He took off his hat and scrubbed the back of his hand across his forehead, frowning down the road toward town. He had made it back, weary and footsore and late and apologetic and leading Sport, who he’d found contentedly cropping at some grass along the road about halfway back to the ranch. He’d refreshed himself at the pump and put Sport up in the barn – only to find there was no sign of Joe.

He sure hoped he wasn’t kept after school again. The thought of having to ride into town and deal with Miss Abigail’s uncomfortably ardent attentions made him groan out loud. He sank down onto the porch to wait.

The time had come to talk to his father and he was carefully sifting through, trying to figure out what to say. Full disclosure was out of the question. He knew perfectly well how Pa would view this latest incident – even though he wasn’t really hurt, his father would never be able to get past the image of him lying by the roadside alone, unconscious or with a broken limb, with no water. He would be outraged. It was a pretty safe bet that that would be the end of Clyde and Deever at the Ponderosa – possibly Smokey, too. He leaned forward and let his chin rest on his folded hands. Of course, that might make his life a lot easier, but…he couldn’t do it. Being fired from the Ponderosa around these parts meant you had small chance of ranch work any where else – certainly not at any of the better spreads.

It had been a stupid joke, of course, and potentially dangerous, but he knew nobody meant him any real harm and he couldn’t quite bring himself to turn them in. And his father had enough on his mind with the lumber contract. He would only be adding to his worries when he had hoped to do just the opposite. Besides, truth to tell, before this whole game with him had started they had been as good a group of cowhands as any around – better than most – and he couldn’t seem to let go of the idea that he would somehow find a way for them to work successfully together.

Still, he had to find it soon or the snows would fly and catch the Ponderosa unprepared. He couldn’t remember when he had felt more beaten. Or at more of an impasse.

He stood up and looked further down the road, pulling his watch out and frowning at it. Still no sign of Joe. In his mind, he ran through a list of things that could be holding Joe up, then a list of things he’d rather do than go looking for him. A bath, for instance. Sure could use one. But…he turned and went into the house.

“Hop Sing?” He dropped his chaps and gloves onto the sideboard. “Hop Sing?”

Hop Sing appeared from the kitchen. “You stay where you are. You very dirty.”

“I noticed. Hop Sing, have you seen Joe come home from school?”

“No see Little Joe. I fix you bath.”

“That sounds great, Hop Sing, but I’d better see if I can track down Joe. He’s overdue. Pa back yet?”

“Fatha stay in town until late tonight. Important business.”

“Oh.” Adam had forgotten. Well, that was helpful. Maybe his luck was taking a turn for the better. “I’ll be home as soon as I can find Joe. If he comes back without me, make sure he stays here, all right?”

Hop Sing rolled his eyes.

Adam grinned. “Well, do your best anyway. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Adam walked back to the barn and looked at Sport, contentedly chewing at some straw. Too bad to take him out again so soon. He stroked the blaze on the horse’s face, looking around the barn. “No reason why one of us shouldn’t get some rest.” His eyes rested on Cochise. “And no reason for you to miss your workout. Come on, Cochise. Let’s see if we can’t find your master.”

Adam found a saddle for Cochise, deciding to head to the Devlin’s first. He had some mixed feelings about taking Cochise for what would probably be her longest trip with a saddled rider so far, but he figured it had to happen someday and Cochise was both available and in need of exercise. He swung into the saddle and was pleased to feel her break into a cheerful, bouncy trot. “Good girl,” he said approvingly.

The trip to Devlins proved a pleasant ride – Cochise responded well and seemed bright and eager to please. Personally, he preferred a high-spirited, temperamental mount like Sport, but after a long day, Cochise’ willing good humor was relaxing and pleasant.

His heart sank as he approached and saw Mitch Devlin in the yard, drawing water. No sign of Joe, and he wasn’t much for sticking around for his own chores, never mind somebody else’s. Mitch walked over to meet him.

“Hi, Adam. Isn’t that Cochise?”

“Mm hm. Joe should be ready to ride her full time soon. Was he kept after school, Mitch?”

“That’ll make Joe happy. He sure thinks a lot of that horse. No, Joe rode home with me most of the way. Didn’t he get there?”

Adam shook his head, starting to be really troubled. “Can you tell me where he turned off?”

“Usual place.”

“Usual time?” Adam was doing quick calculations in his head. His heart skipped a beat. That would make him over an hour late.

“Uh huh. Anything wrong, Adam?”

“I don’t know. He hasn’t made it home yet. I’d better get looking. Thanks, Mitch.”

Mitch hesitated. “Need any help?”

“Not yet. If I do, I’ll be back. Hopefully I won’t be. Say hi to Cal for me”

Adam urged Cochise toward the crossing where Joe usually parted from the Devlins after school, wondering if he should have taken a mount he was more sure of. But Cochise responded so readily to all his commands that he couldn’t help smiling, despite his growing anxiety. “Well, you’re a real trooper, girl. Wonder if Joe could start riding you to school. Provided he’s in any shape to ride at all after I find him and have a few words with him.”

At the crossing he considered his options. Doubtful Joe had gone back to town. He looked thoughtfully toward the mountains. Well, it was the only thing he could think of that made any sense.  He made his way up through the pines, the beauty of the surrounding country lost on him for the first time. It would be dark in a couple of hours. If Joe wasn’t here, he’d go back and ask the Devlins for help – even send someone in for the Sheriff. And – he winced at the thought – to notify Pa. He closed his eyes and shuddered. Pa had warned him that if Joe used riding to school alone as an excuse to wander off or get into trouble he would be held responsible. And now he had sent Hoss to Carson City – if anything happened to Hoss there, he would be responsible for that, too. Adam found himself wishing he’d stayed in Boston. At least there he was responsible only for himself – and there were days when that seemed a little more than he was up for.

He rounded the bend and stopped Cochise abruptly. For a moment he just stared, reassuring himself that it was real, and not his imagination. Then he took a deep breath and swallowed once or twice. Slowly, he dismounted, looping Cochise’ reins around a branch and standing for a minute, stroking her neck. He was torn between hugging him until his ribs broke and shaking him until his teeth rattled and for a second he wasn’t sure which would win out. Finally, he did neither.

After watching him skip stones for a few minutes, he walked over and stretched out on the ground next to him. Joe didn’t look up, but sent another stone skipping across the lake – two skips.

“Not bad, for sitting down. I taught Hoss to do that here.”

Joe was busy looking for another good, flat stone and still didn’t look at him.

“Had a lot of trouble at first. But he got good at it. You know Hoss – lots of patience.”

Joe let his stone fly with force. It lacked the easy rhythm of the others and plunked into the lake without skipping. Adam made no comment. Joe looked disgusted and began to poke around for another stone. He found one, threw it angrily. It splashed noisily into the water.

Adam hesitated, hoping he wasn’t making things worse. Well, nothing ventured…he nodded his head at the well-kept grave marker. “I still come here to talk to her myself. Lot more peaceful than the conversations we had while she was alive, actually. Nobody could get me riled like Marie.” He glanced at Joe significantly and smiled a little. “Well. Almost nobody.” Joe grinned involuntarily, quickly changed it to a frown. “Took us a long time, though. I was just plain determined not to like her.” He picked up a stone himself and sent it jumping across the water in five neat arcs. Joe’s eyes followed, reluctantly impressed. “Seemed to me that we were just fine without her. Couldn’t imagine why Pa thought we needed somebody else around. And…” he hesitated again. This was hard to admit out loud to anyone, especially to Joe. “I guess…I had some idea…well. I think I thought that, as long as I didn’t care for her I could never be hurt if something happened to her. And something always seemed to happen. I think I even thought…” Now he was the one avoiding Joe’s eyes, fishing around for a new stone. “I think I thought that if I didn’t care for her, then nothing WOULD happen. She’d kind of be – safe.” He shook his head, skimming a new stone in three increasing arcs. “Pretty crazy, huh? Anyway, she got through to me eventually. Showed me how wrong I was. And, next thing I knew, I did care for her.”

Joe was silent for a long moment, then he said, “But something did happen.”

Adam nodded. “Yup.”

“So you weren’t wrong.”

“Yeah, Joe, I was.” Adam sent up a prayer to Marie for the right words. “I was wrong because I thought that shutting my heart down would protect me. It doesn’t. It just sort of  – kills you. Inside. When I look back now and think of how I’d feel today if I hadn’t let myself love Marie…well…” He shook his head. “The time I wasted was bad enough. And the grief of losing someone you love is terrible. But nothing like the grief of losing someone you’ve never allowed yourself to love. Knowing that the chance is over and there’s no going back. That’s just gotta be hell.”

Joe was looking at him now, searchingly. Then he turned back to the lake, fingering another stone. “I miss Hoss.”

Adam looked up, surprised. “Yeah. Me too.”

“You sent him away.”

“Just to Carson City. For three days. He’ll be back before you know it. It’s good experience for him.”

Joe snorted. “That’s what Pa always said about you and college.”

“Well. It was.”

Joe let some of the dirt run through his fingers. “People don’t always come back. Even when they mean to.”

Adam glanced again at Marie’s headstone, feeling a quick pain in his heart. “That’s true.” He sat up. “But mostly they do. Think of all the trips Pa’s taken. He always comes back. And – ” he paused, not sure this was good news. “I came back.”

“After four years.” Joe sounded disgusted.

Adam smiled a little. “Well, that’s how long college takes.” He leaned forward, watching the wind ruffle the lake into ripples in the lowering light. “Joe, I can’t promise you that nothing’s ever going to happen to me. I can’t even promise you that I’ll never go away again. Life has a funny way of taking you places you don’t expect. But, well – ” he shrugged. “I’m here now.”

Joe was quiet for a long while. Finally, he picked up a stone and threw it. It skipped in seven beautiful arcs.

Adam smiled. “Show off.”

Joe jumped suddenly to his feet and ran up the slope towards Shadow.

Adam climbed to his own feet and followed more slowly.

Joe stopped dead at the sight of the little pinto mare. “Hey! You rode Cochise!”

“Sport had a rough day. And no reason she should miss out on her exercise just because you didn’t keep your appointment with her.”

Joe looked at him accusingly. “You rode her just to make me mad.”

“Maybe.” Adam winked at him. “A little. I’d let you ride her back, but there’s no way I could manage on that pony.”

Joe looked back at Cochise, stroking her nose. “How’d she do?”

“Real well. Playful enough to make it interesting, but on the whole, really well-mannered and considerate. Unlike her owner.” Without thinking, he reached down and ruffled Joe’s hair.

Joe ducked, but he was grinning. “We’d better get home or Pa’ll be mad.” He gave Adam his most angelic smile. “At you, on accounta you’re the oldest and you’re responsible.”

Adam shook his head, swinging into the saddle. “You were just born to be hanged, weren’t you?”

 

*

 

When they reached the ranch and while they took care of the horses Joe teased relentlessly to ride Cochise to school the next day. Adam was firm that he’d have to wait and take one long ride in his company and get Pa’s nod of approval first. He was afraid Joe would go into a sulk, but instead he began to badger for a time and place to take the ride and talk to Pa until Adam was almost ready to do it then and there just to get him to stop. Joe was still pushing for details when Adam shot a look over his shoulder for the third time. He held up a hand to stop Joe’s chatter, then cast a frowning glance at the barn door.

“Why don’t you go ahead and tell Hop Sing we’re ready for dinner, Joe. I’ll be right in.”

Joe looked at him suspiciously. “What are you waitin’ around here for?”

Adam patted his shoulder absently. Somewhere in the back of his mind it registered that this time Joe didn’t pull away, but most of his brain was focused on listening to the stealthy sounds he thought he’d detected. “I just want to check something. Go on. I’ll be right there.” Joe hesitated and Adam gave him a gentle push. “Go on. I’m right behind you.”

He waited until he saw Joe was well clear of the door and let his hand rest lightly on his sidearm before calling, “Whoever you are, show yourself.”

There was a lengthy pause and a shadowy figure moved in the tack room doorway. Adam narrowed his eyes, trying to identify the outline, then dropped his hand from his gun. “Smokey?”

“Yeah, it’s jest me, Mr. Cartwright.” Smokey moved into the lantern light looking sheepish and – Adam tilted his head, bemused – happy to see him. No, he corrected himself – not happy, exactly – relieved.

“Something I can help you with, Smokey?” Well, this meant he should probably go over all his gear with a fine-tooth comb before starting out tomorrow.

Smokey flushed, as though he could read his thoughts. “No, sir,” he mumbled. “I jest -” he cleared his throat. “No, sir.”

Adam almost smiled. “Not worried about me, were you, Smokey?” Smokey scratched awkwardly at his ear, his eyes on the stall opposite. Adam did smile then, a little bitterly. “No need. I’m not that easy to get rid of. Night, Smokey.”

He turned his back on Smokey and left the barn, almost tripping over Joe hovering in the dark in front of the porch. “What are you doing?” he asked in exasperation. “I thought I told you to go inside.”

Joe stuck out his lower lip defiantly. “What if you needed help? Was there somebody in the barn?”

“Just Smokey.”

“What was he doin’? Why didn’t he just yell out he was there?”

“He didn’t say,” Adam skirted, then smiled for real. “You were watching my back, huh?” Joe shrugged elaborately and Adam’s smile broadened into a grin. He gave Joe’s hat brim a tweak. “Thanks, buddy,” he said lightly. “Let’s go in – Hop Sing’s probably ready to scalp us as it is.”

They entered the house and were indeed met by Hop Sing, obviously worried and relieving his feelings by complaining about dinner being spoiled. “And you still very dirty!” he pointed out to Adam. “Bath before eat!”

Adam removed his hat and kneaded his forehead tiredly. He was famished, but he had to admit Hop Sing had a point. “All right, all right…” he turned Joe to the light to get a better look. “How about you? I guess you’re all right. Why don’t you go ahead and eat, then. I’ll be along.” He strolled the short distance to the bathhouse, stretching his tired muscles. He could hear Hop Sing already emptying water into the tub and smiled to himself. He must have kept the water hot for him all this time. Hop Sing pretended to be an implacable tyrant, but he made sure they were well taken care of.

He entered and started to strip his filthy shirt. Next to the tub he noticed a stack of towels and a pile of clean clothes and he paused, touched. Really, he had to think of something nice to do for Hop Sing. He’d forgotten all about something to change into himself. He eased into the tub and gave a sigh of bliss. Forget about dinner – he might just stay here all night. The steam rose in clouds around him and he breathed deeply, letting the difficulties of the day go with it.

“Missa Adam! Missa Adam!”

Adam sat up straight, sloshing now-tepid water out of the tub, surprised to find he’d been asleep. His heart bounded in his chest. “What’s wrong, Hop Sing? Joe okay?”

“Everything okay here. You gone long time. Worry YOU not okay. You want eat or not?”

Adam laughed, reaching for a towel. “Yeah, just got a little TOO relaxed, I guess. I’ll be right out, Hop Sing.”

Adam found his dinner, a little dry, but still hot, set out for him on the table. Joe was in the great room, chomping on a hunk of gingerbread and poking at the fire. Adam glanced at him, thinking that Pa wouldn’t approve, but unwilling to fight that particular battle tonight. In fact, if they were going to have bad manners, might as well enjoy them. He picked up the copy of the Territorial Enterprise to read while he ate. Books he may have put aside for the time being, but he was at least going to stay current with the news.

Joe was now setting up the checkerboard and Adam glanced up again as he shook out the paper. “You got homework?” He fully expected resistance, but with a martyred sigh, Joe pulled out his books and opened them on the table in front of the fire.

Adam was deep into an article about the coming elections when Joe piped up. “What’s the Rubicon?”

Adam was looking for the next column. “A river.”

“Where?”

“Between Italy and Switzerland. Or between what used to be the Gaul provinces and Italy. Depends.”

“Then what’s Gaul?”

“What’s now France, mostly.” Adam turned the page, thinking he’d have to ask Al where he got his sources. Usually he was reliable, but this story sounded a little farfetched.

“Did Julius Caesar cross it?”

“Mm.” And a little biased. Easy to see which candidate The Enterprise was backing.

“When?”

“Forty-nine B – ” Adam stopped, suddenly catching on, eyes still searching the paper. “If you want help I’ll help you, but I won’t do it for you.”

Joe made a face. “It’s boring.”

Adam lowered the paper and gazed at him, puzzled. “Julius Caesar fought for and won the Gallic provinces for Rome and then decided to run for public office. In order to stop him, his enemy Pompey passed a law that anyone living outside Rome would have to wait five years before running for Roman office. When Caesar objected, Pompey had him declared hostile – leaving him unprotected and open to prosecution by his enemies.

So Caesar either had to stay in Gaul and risk trial and death, or fight and risk being executed for treason. He threatened to march on Rome with his troops. He was warned to stay where he was – that if he crossed the Rubicon to reach Rome it would be considered an act of Civil War. So he stood with his army at the bridge over the Rubicon and gave them a choice – retreat to Gaul and lose their leader, or begin a Civil War and risk losing everything. He knew once they crossed that bridge they’d be considered traitors, subject to death unless they won and established a new government.

The men were loyal to him, and agreed to follow him, no matter the consequences. So he said “Iacta est alea” – “let the dice fly” – and crossed the bridge, beginning a Civil War that changed history forever. How can you possibly find that boring?”

Joe gave him his most winning smile. “It sounds more exciting when you tell it. And if I don’t do my homework right, Miss Abigail will keep me after school.”

Adam rolled his eyes. Little con artist. But the smile was hard to refuse and he put down his paper resignedly. “You know, all you have to do is ask. Bring it over here so I can finish eating.”

So Joe spread his books and papers out on the dining room table and rested his chin on his arms while Adam racked his brain for the details of Julius Caesar’s Civil War. They came easily, once he got going – it was just the kind of story he loved – a man who tried repeatedly to work within the law, generous to his soldiers, merciful to his enemies, using reason, compromise and ingenuity and only falling back on force as a last resort – emerging triumphant to build a new, more civilized realm. He suspected he enjoyed telling it more than Joe did listening to it, but Joe surprised him when he finished by asking thoughtful questions. They both became so involved in Julius and his trials that the striking of the grandfather clock startled them.

Adam gave a low whistle. “You should be in bed.”

Joe frowned. “Pa’s not home yet.”

“Hop Sing said he’d be late. And if he comes home and finds you still up he’s going to kill us – or me, anyway, as you so thoughtfully pointed out earlier.”

“Maybe I could run up to bed as soon as I hear him?”

“Joe – ” Adam suddenly remembered their earlier conversation and checked his temper. “What if I send him up to say good night when he gets home?” he finished more mildly.

Joe looked like he wanted to argue, but after a minute he shrugged and headed for the stairs. At the landing he stopped and turned around “‘Night, Adam.”

“‘Night, buddy.” Adam watched him take the rest of the stairs, then picked up The Enterprise again, settling down on the couch. Maybe he’d actually get to finish reading something.

 

*

 

“Adam. Adam, son. Adam .”

Adam jumped awake to see his father’s face. He rubbed at his eyes, trying to orient himself, saw he was still holding a crumpled copy of The Territorial Enterprise. “Guess I didn’t finish it,” he said huskily.

Ben smiled. “Don’t you think you’d be more comfortable in bed?”

Adam pushed himself into sitting position. “Yeah. You just get home?”

Ben nodded, still kneeling by the sofa. “Joe give you any trouble?”

Adam shook his head. “Positively saintly. I promised him you’d go up and say good night.” He stood, stretching and yawning. “How’d it go with the railroad men?”

Ben pushed up from his knees. “All right. I bought us two more days before the penalty clause kicks in. Not perfect, but every little bit helps. What had Joseph on his best behavior?”

“I’m guessing he wants you to say it’s okay for him to start riding Cochise to school.”

Ben raised his eyebrows. “She ready?”

Adam nodded. “I think so. I told him he had to take one long ride with me and then ask you first. You want to come with us and see for yourself?”

“No, if you say it’s all right, I believe you.” He cleared his throat. “Guess I’ll look in on Joseph and turn in. Think you’d better do the same.”

Adam nodded, thinking he ought to tell him about Joe and his anxiety whenever one of them went away and his predicament with the ranch hands, but his brain was fuzzy and Ben looked exhausted. Ben cleared his throat again and Adam looked at him more closely. “You okay, Pa?”

“Fine, son. Throat’s a little scratchy – probably all that talking I did tonight. Let’s call it a day.”

 

*

 

Adam rose early the next morning and did the barn chores alone, hoping for an uninterrupted opportunity to fill Ben in on his problems and his conversation with Joe, but when he came in from the barn a look at his father sent it out of his head. “You’re not okay,” he said abruptly.

Ben rubbed irritably at his neck. “Throat’s a little sore – probably the night air, or I could be starting a cold.” Adam reached out to feel his forehead and Ben suppressed a smile at the reversal of roles. “Well, doctor?” he asked politely.

“Slight fever. Let me see your throat.”

Ben grumbled. “Now, Adam – ”

“If you want to convince me you’re okay, let me look.”

Ben looked cross, but opened his mouth.

Adam’s face was unsmiling. “Pretty red,” he said slowly. “And I don’t like this swelling under your chin. Why don’t you go back to bed? I’ll tell Joe to send Doc Martin back this way before he goes to school.”

“This is ridiculous. I have to get to the lumber camp.”

“Look, Pa, you keep telling me how good this guy Knox is – he ought to be able to handle things for a couple of days. It may be nothing, but I’d like the Doc to tell us that. If he says okay then I’ll leave you in peace.”

Ben waffled. Deep inside, the thought of bed sounded pretty good. “You should be out on the range,” he said finally. “Especially with Hoss away.”

“I’ll tell Smokey what needs doing. He can take care of things for the morning. Once the Doc’s come and gone and you’re settled I’ll join him.” He hoped he sounded more confident than he felt, groaning inwardly at the thought of having to ask Smokey to go above and beyond the call of duty, wondering what new havoc he’d be able to wreak in his absence. Well, Smokey would probably be glad to be rid of him, even for a morning. “I’ll go wake up Joe. He’s going to have to start a little early.” He gave his father a gentle push toward the stairs. “Go back to bed. I’ll tell Hop Sing to bring you something for your throat.” He watched Ben to be sure he went upstairs, then went into the kitchen to talk to Hop Sing before heading upstairs himself to wake Joe.

Joe was snuggled deep under the covers, looking so peacefully asleep that Adam was loathe to disturb him, but he reached down resolutely and shook his shoulder. “Come on, buddy. Time to get up.” Joe groaned and buried his face in the pillow. “Come on, Joe. Breakfast is ready and I need you to run an errand for me before school.”

Joe opened one eye and glared at him. “What errand?”

“I need you to stop by Doc Martin’s. Ask him to come out.”

Joe sat up at that, rubbing his face. “How come? What’s wrong?”

Adam hesitated. “Pa’s got a little sore throat. Thought the Doc should have a look.”

Joe swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Pa’s sick?”

“Probably nothing. Just thought it would be better to be sure. Get dressed and come to breakfast. Don’t forget to wash your face.”

Joe sat staring at him.

Adam cuffed him lightly on the arm. “I’m sure it’s nothing. But the sooner you get going and get the Doc the sooner we’ll know for sure.”

“Can I come back with the Doc?”

“You have school.” Joe’s lower lip thrust out. “What would you do around here all day anyway? Pa’s going to be in bed, I’ve got to get out on the range, Hop Sing’s going to have his hands full and all your friends are in school. Besides,” he winked at him. “Think of how impressed Miss Abigail will be with your homework.”

Joe didn’t smile. “Can I see Pa?”

Adam sighed. “You’d better not, Joe, until we know it’s not contagious.” He saw the stubborn set of Joe’s jaw. “I don’t have time to argue with you this morning, Joe. Just do what I say, okay?” He waited until Joe actually stood and began to dress before heading back downstairs and out to the bunkhouse to talk to Smokey.

Smokey took Adam’s news in silence, nodding briefly at his instructions. Adam couldn’t decide whether this was a good sign or was going to mean more trouble later and right now he didn’t much care – by the time he had laid out a plan for Smokey, sent a messenger up to the lumber camp, checked on his father, given Hop Sing a hand and bundled a protesting Joe off to school, he felt as though he’d put in a full day. Joe had argued hard to ride Cochise. Failing that, he had tried to extract a promise from Adam to take him for his final test ride after school.

Adam had given a distracted look towards the staircase and shaken his head. “I can’t promise, Joe, but I’ll do my best. Don’t forget Doc Martin. Oh, and Joe – ” Joe looked up woefully. “Do me another favor. Don’t be kept after today?”

Joe nodded listlessly, dragging his feet all the way to the barn. Adam looked after him with some misgiving. Maybe he should have let him come back with the doctor, but he couldn’t imagine trying to keep track of Joe on top of everything else. Frowning to himself, he went up the stairs to sit with his father until the doctor came, his feet dragging almost as much as Joe’s.

 

*

 

Adam paced restlessly in the hall, waiting for Doc Martin to finish his examination. He looked up hopefully as the doctor exited Ben’s room, pulling the door softly closed behind him. His heart plummeted at the sight of the doctor’s face. “What is it?” he asked tensely.

Dr. Martin pursed his lips. “Let’s go downstairs.”

That sent Adam’s heart back up into his throat. “What is it?” he repeated anxiously as they reached the landing. “It’s not good news, is it?”

The doctor made himself comfortable on the sofa and indicated for Adam to seat himself also. Adam shook his head and remained standing. Hop Sing had set out a tray with a coffee service, and Dr. Martin poured himself a cup. Adam grit his teeth to keep himself from shaking information out of their old family friend. “Adam, what do you know about diphtheria?”

“Diphtheria?” Adam rubbed his forehead. “Not a lot. I know there have been epidemics…that a lot of people have…” he choked a little, unable to finish the sentence. “Is that what Pa has?”

Dr. Martin nodded. “I think so.” He stirred his coffee, choosing his words with care. “I treated a man – a drifter – a couple of days ago – for diphtheria, as it turns out. Your father gave me a hand. He has all the symptoms – low grade fever, swollen lymph nodes, sore throat with a membrane beginning to form on it. It’s a highly contagious illness. The man I treated had had a fight with someone the night before – that man is down with it, too. Unfortunately, he tended bar at the Bucket of Blood Saturday night to help pay off his debts to Sam, so who knows how many people he might have passed it to. Cases are beginning to crop up all over Virginia City. We may be headed for a full scale epidemic ourselves.”

Adam leaned back against the fireplace, suddenly feeling the need for support. “Is it fatal?” he managed finally.

“Sometimes. But certainly not always. Most often in children, so Joe should avoid contact with your father. Early detection is vital, so I’m glad you sent for me so quickly.”

Adam nodded, his brain racing. “I sent Joe to school in Virginia City. Should I have him come home?”

“I don’t think so. I’m being cautious, but I’m not ready to jump to any conclusions yet. The gestation period is two to four days. If any of you have caught it from your father we’ll see the signs soon.”

“Hoss is in Carson City. Could he be sick?”

“It’s possible. Let me know where he’s staying and I’ll wire the doctor there to check with him. Don’t need this thing spreading any further than possible. But you should especially keep an eye on anyone who was in town Saturday night. Any of the hands?”

Adam nodded. “Just about all of them.”

“What about the lumber crew?”

“No. Pa had them on extra duty Saturday to meet a tight contract deadline – and he hasn’t been up there since Friday. So probably they’re all right.”

“Good. There are things we can do to keep it from spreading. Avoid unnecessary contact. Scrub this house from top to bottom with lye or borax – wash any blankets your father’s come in contact with. Keep a bucket of water and lye soap in his room and wash your hands every time you leave – you and Hop Sing. I’ll write down instructions for your father’s care. The illness itself is less deadly than the complications that result from poor or late care – toxins build up in the system that can result in heart or lung damage.”

Adam paced in front of the fireplace. “Doc, I have a lot of cattle to move and now a lumber contract to meet. Is there anyone in town you can recommend to come out and help nurse Pa?”

Dr. Martin put down his coffee cup with care. “Usually, Adam, there would be – but with people dropping like flies we have a makeshift hospital set up in the church and all our volunteers there have their hands full.” Adam nodded wordlessly. “You could move Ben into town – ” suggested the doctor tentatively.

Adam shook his head. “No. Too long a trip and – Pa will just feel better if he’s here. Guess Hop Sing and I will manage.”

“It’s a lot of work, Adam.” Dr. Martin’s voice was kind.

Adam shrugged with a nonchalance he was far from feeling. “We’ll be fine. Show me what we have to do for Pa.”

“All right, but first I’m going to check you and Hop Sing for any symptoms. And show you how to check Joe when he comes home. I’ll be out again tomorrow to have another look at Ben.”

 

*

 

Adam and Hop Sing spent the morning taking turns scrubbing the house down and sitting with Ben. A little after noon Adam decided he’d better get out to the range and see how things were going – he stopped for one last look in his father’s room first. Ben seemed to be resting quietly, still not much of a fever, but now that Adam knew that was a symptom of the disease it was poor comfort. He was about to make his way stealthily out again when Ben’s voice, raspy with illness, stopped him. “Adam.”

Adam turned back to sit on the edge of the chair by the bed. “Hey, Pa. How ya feeling?”

Ben shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat. “I’ve felt worse. What did Paul say?”

Adam hesitated, then decided truth was the best. “He says you have diphtheria. Says you helped him with some drifter in town Saturday who turned out to have it.”

Ben grunted at the memory. “Barely touched the man. Contagious?”

“Doc says so.”

“Then what are you doing in here?”

“Pa, somebody has to be in here. Doc Martin gave Hop Sing and me all kinds of instructions to keep from catching it or spreading it. We’re being real careful.”

Ben nodded, but he didn’t look pleased. “Had some outbreaks in New England when I was a boy, now that I think about it. Lot of children were lost. Where’s your brother?”

“School. Don’t worry. He won’t be coming in here.” Ben nodded his approval, twisting his neck, trying to get comfortable. Adam watched him. “Can I get you something? Water? Some of Hop Sing’s tea?”

“No, no…” Ben remembered something. “Shouldn’t you be out on the range?”

“I’m heading there now. As soon as I make sure that you’re comfortable.”

Ben gave a snort of laughter. “I don’t expect to be comfortable for some time to come, so don’t let me hold you up.” Adam smiled a little and Ben studied his face broodingly. “Got your hands full, haven’t you?” Adam looked up, surprised. “Me. Joe. The ranch. The lumber contract.”

Adam straightened his shoulders and gave him his half smile. “Now, I’ve got that all figured out. I’m going out to check on the range now. Hoss will be back by tomorrow night and then he’ll take over the range and I’ll take over the lumber camps. That’ll leave most of the nursing to Hop Sing until evening, then Hoss and I can help out. Joe’s in school most of the day, so that shouldn’t be a problem. So you see? There’s nothing to worry about. You just take it easy and get better.”

“Hmph.” Despite his discomfort, Ben’s eyes twinkled a little. “Your brothers always told me you were bossy.”

Adam laughed. “Good. Then let me be the boss for a while. You get some rest.” He reached out to touch his father’s hand, but Ben gestured him away irritably.

“Careful! Don’t touch me unless you have to. It’s bad enough that you’re in here at all.”

Adam held up his hands. “Yes, sir. I’ll see you tonight. Hop Sing will be in to check on you.” He strode to the door, washing his hands elaborately for his father’s benefit in the bucket there and drying them thoroughly. Ben nodded his approval. Adam went downstairs to talk to Hop Sing about making sure that Joe stayed away from Pa, then headed to the barn to saddle Sport.

Despite everything, it felt good to be outdoors and in the saddle. Adam didn’t make his way to meet with any of the crews right away. Instead he rode from point to point, covering places where they had already been, making sure nothing had been left undone. Part of his brain was still back with his father and part of it jumping ahead, trying to plan a time to go over that lumber contract and familiarize himself with the job. He was looking forward to Hoss’s return – and not only for the extra pair of hands, though heaven knew they would be helpful right now. No, even more he was longing for his brother’s sunny, even disposition and willing, patient support. He wasn’t nearly so confident about the task before him as he had pretended to his father and Hoss had an uncanny knack for making him feel as though there was nothing he couldn’t do if he tried.

His eyes swept the length of fence on his right. So far, at least, it seemed that Smokey was keeping things in line and the hands were completing jobs in good order. Maybe they were tiring of the game, or maybe it was a time-out until his father was well, but either way, he was grateful. He was just breathing a sigh of relief when he saw about a dozen head of cattle wandering contentedly on the wrong side of the fence. He pulled Sport up abruptly. There was an enormous mud hole on that side that the fence was meant to separate them from. Picturing drowned animals, broken legs or a long, exhausting rescue mission in the mud, he spurred Sport through the broken, trampled section of fence after them.

Almost immediately he could see that his worst fears were realized – half in and half out of the mud hole, one steer was lowing pitifully, struggling to pull himself up, only to fall back further. Unfortunately, the other cattle didn’t seem to be learning from his example, and two or three wandered around the hole curiously. He drove straight at them, hoping to drive them away without scaring them in. They scattered in every direction. He rode in a sweeping circle, moving them forward and together, then toward the hole in the fence. As the last one disappeared through it he leapt off Sport and pulled the broken pieces together in a makeshift repair. There. That would at least take care of them while he attended to the one in the mud hole.

He climbed back on Sport and reached for his lariat, spinning it in an easy circle and dropping it over the steer’s horns. He fastened the other end around the pommel of his saddle and backed Sport up. For a minute, the steer seemed to get some purchase with his front legs and almost broke free. Then the edge of the bank crumbled and he slid, wailing, back into the mud. Adam took a deep, resigned breath. “Just determined that I’m going to get in there with you, aren’t you?” He dismounted and unfastened the rope from Sport’s pommel, ground-tying Sport and fastening the rope around a nearby tree before striding to the edge of the hole to have a look.

The dry weather had left the mud thick and turgid. The steer was definitely going to need a boost. Irritated, he stripped off his chaps and threw them to the side, then waded in. The mud sucked at him, dragging him up to his thighs before he managed to position himself. Hope I can get out of here, he thought grimly, then pushed with all his might, talking to the animal all the time. The beast scrabbled for dry ground then slid back, pushing Adam deeper. Swearing steadily, Adam settled himself to try again. “All right, fella – let’s give it one more go.”

It wasn’t one more go: Adam lost count of how many times he repositioned himself, driven deeper into the muck each time, mud oozing into the tops of his boots and seeping into the seams of his clothing until finally, with a horrible sucking sound, the mud let go and the steer clambered onto dry land. Adam took a little longer to drag himself free, pausing to scrape off the worst of the mess then reopening the hole in the fence and untying the steer to drive him through, following with Sport. He fumbled in his saddlebags for a few tools to repair the hole, seething as he studied it. Any repair would only be temporary – the whole section needed to be replaced. It was one of the things someone was supposed to be seeing to today – Deever, maybe? Adam decided that he’d had just about enough.

He’d been willing to undergo his initiation if they felt it was necessary, but now it had to stop. His father was ill, his brother was out of town and he had neither the time or the patience for childish nonsense. As soon as the hole was patched sufficiently he’d head back to the ranch and have a talk with Deever  – or knock his head off – whichever seemed more effective. He gave the wire a final, savage twist and yanked himself away from the fence, drawing his breath in sharply through his teeth as he caught his arm on a piece of shredded wire. He stared a moment at the line of beaded blood along his inner arm, then dabbed away the mud and blood with his bandanna. Only a scratch. And that was the price of losing your temper. Grandfather would be pleased.

He dropped to the ground, suddenly deflated, and buried his head in his arms. For a few minutes he allowed himself to sit quietly, overwhelmed with worry for his father and the conflicting responsibilities of keeping the Ponderosa operating, then he lifted his head, running his hand over his face. All right. That was enough of that. He had a lot to do and he wasn’t quite sure how he’d manage it, but there were people counting on him so he’d find a way, that’s all. Wearily, he climbed to his feet and remounted Sport, glancing at the sun. By this time the crews were making their way back to the ranch anyway. He’d meet them there and they could have a nice, long talk about the fence.

By the time he rode into the yard he had any number of tart speeches worked out, but the sight of Clyde standing on the porch, clearly waiting for him, sent them all out of his head. Clyde came forward as he dismounted and took Sport’s reins from him, further puzzling him. “Deever took sick out on the range, Mr. Cartwright,” he explained, his eyes anxious. “Smokey ain’t lookin’ too good neither.”

Adam felt his heart skip a beat. “Where are they, the bunkhouse?”

Clyde nodded. Adam hurried toward the bunkhouse, leaving Sport in Clyde’s hands. All heads swiveled in his direction as he entered, except for Deever, who lay on his bunk unmoving and breathing with difficulty. Another hand, Frank Parkins, was trying to get him to drink some water. Adam moved him gently out of the way. “Let me take a look.” He gave Deever the examination Dr. Martin had taught him to use on Joe, feeling under his chin and looking down his throat and feeling his forehead. Deever answered his questions only faintly. “Smokey?”

Smokey was sitting on the edge of his bunk, looking miserable but stubborn. “I ain’t feelin’ so bad.”

“Good. Let me have a look and I’ll give you a clean bill of health.” Glowering, Smokey stood and walked over to stand in front of Adam. Adam felt the warmth coming off of his skin and the lumps just beginning to form under his jaw. He glanced around at the other men. “Anybody else?” No one answered. Adam felt the thin remains of his patience beginning to give way. “Look, if you’re sick, I’ll see to it that you’re still paid, but you’ve got to tell me. Doc Martin says that diphtheria is going around – it’s highly contagious, so we don’t need any heroes. If you’re sick and you don’t say so, you’re not only endangering yourself, you’re endangering every man in here. If you don’t feel well, tell me now. I’ll look down every one of your throats, if that’s what it takes.”

“I think the rest of us is fine, Mr. Cartwright,” Frank Parkins spoke up. “You want we should get Smokey and Deever to the Doc?”

Adam shook his head impatiently, looking around at the bunkhouse layout. No doors or partitions, everything completely open. “No. It’s too far for sick men. But I would like someone to go fetch Doc Martin. See if you can get him to come back tonight. If not, he’ll be along tomorrow morning. Somebody else get Smokey and Deever in the house and tell Hop Sing what’s happened. He’ll get them settled.

We’re going to have to scrub this place down. Every inch, before we do anything else. The blankets will have to be washed, too. When you see Hop Sing, tell him – never mind. I’ll tell him. You start pulling blankets off the beds.” They were all staring at him silently. Now what was this all about? “I know you’ve had a long day,” he tried, fighting to curb his impatience. Couldn’t they see how serious this was? “and usually Hop Sing would take care of this, but he’ll be taking care of my father and Smokey and Deever. I think we can all agree that that’s more important.”

Still no one said anything, and he turned to see Clyde entering. “You, Clyde. Ride to Virginia City for the doctor. Somebody else give Smokey and Deever a hand and come with me.”   Despite his urgency, Adam glanced down at his jeans, covered with now-dried mud, and batted at them distractedly. He’d be lucky if Hop Sing even let him in the door. He ushered Smokey and Deever and their escorts ahead of him and compromised by standing in the doorway and leaning on the lintel. “Hop Sing?”

Hop Sing bustled in from the kitchen. “You no say when you want suppa. You – ”

“Very dirty. Yeah, I know. Hop Sing, Smokey and Deever here have what Pa has – can you get them bedded down? Use the guest room with the two beds – it’ll be easier for nursing. Then we’re going to need rags and every scrub brush and mop you’ve got and a whole lot of hot water. Lye and borax again. We have to do the same thing to the bunkhouse that we did to the house. I’ll start the laundry tub, too. I’ll be back in to see how many spare blankets we have. If we wash these they’ll never be dry before morning.

I sent somebody for Doc Martin – let me know when he gets here. Where’s Joe?”

Hop Sing accepted the catalogue of duties without blinking. “Little Joe fine, but restless. In bedroom. Nobody to talk to.”

Adam stood up straight in alarm. “He hasn’t been in to see Pa, has he?”

“No, but not easy.”

Adam massaged the tightening muscles at the back of his neck. He knew Joe must be worried and at loose ends, but he had no idea what he could do about it right now. He had to take care of the bunkhouse first. Letting Joe help would only expose him needlessly and he’s promised his father he wouldn’t do that. “Feed him, when you get a chance, will you? I hate to have him eat alone, but I may be awhile. And keep him away from these fellows, too. Tell him I’ll be in to help him with his homework as soon as I can. Maybe he could collect the cleaning stuff for you – that should be safe enough and keep him out of mischief for a while.”

Hop Sing nodded, indicating for the hands to follow him. Adam turned his attention to the bath house, starting a fire under the laundry tub and hauling buckets of water. Wood was looking a little low, too – no wonder with all this washing. That would be another good job for Joe. He wouldn’t love it, but maybe it would keep his mind off of Pa.

By the time he had the laundry tub full there was a good collection of buckets, rags, mops and brushes assembled on the front porch. God Bless Hop Sing, thought Adam. He picked up as many as he could carry and went to arrange his cleaning crew.

 

*

 

By the time the bunkhouse and every bunk and blanket had been scrubbed it was pitch dark and Adam had lost track of the time. The hands had been cooperative, though quiet, helping him scrub down the floor and walls and hang steaming blankets out to dry without comment. Adam wished he knew what they were thinking, but it hadn’t seemed like a hostile quiet, so he let it pass. Probably just worn out and worried, like him. Personally, after today, he didn’t care of he never saw another scrub brush. He made his way to the ranch house slowly, feeling stiff and tired, but that at least things were somewhat in hand. Hop Sing met him at the door. “Bath ready,” he said pointedly.

“Oh, Hop Sing – ” usually he loved a bath, but this evening it just sounded like effort.

“Take bath. Feel better. Kill sickness.”

Well, that was certainly hard to argue with. After all that time in the bunkhouse it would be safer to bathe before going inside. “All right. Thanks. How’s Joe holding up?”

“Little Joe fine. Him unhappy, but him fine.”

“Tell him I’ll be right there, okay?”

The bath looked inviting, but he sternly told himself to keep it short. Joe had been left to his own devices long enough and he still needed to check on Pa. Should look in on Smokey and Deever, too. Thank God Hoss would be back tomorrow – he would be the perfect one to keep Joe busy and out of mischief. He sighed as the warm water enveloped him, then hissed with pain as it stung the scratch on his arm. He should put something on that, too. Briskly, he scrubbed away the mud and dust in short order and reached for a towel.

When he entered, feeling clean but weary, Joe was waiting for him. “Can you help me with my homework?”

Adam hesitated, glancing at the staircase. He was longing to check on his father and set his mind at rest – his fear had been like a gnawing, consistent ache in the back of his brain all day – but Hop Sing would have told him if there had been any change and Joe had been abandoned for too long already. Resolutely, he turned away from the stairs. “Sure thing. What is it tonight, Caesar again?”

Hop Sing appeared from the kitchen with a plate in his hand. “Suppa,” he said firmly, as though anticipating an argument. “You eat.” Adam looked at the plate with distaste. Eating just seemed like one more thing to be done in an already overcrowded day. Hop Sing must have read his expression because he repeated. “Eat. No get sick too.”

Well, if Hop Sing had found time to fix supper given the day he’d had, the least Adam could do was find time to eat it. He nodded tiredly. “Fine. Joe, bring your books.”

Adam talked his way through Caesar’s early realm while he ate, Joe looking gloomy but attentive. When they finished history, Adam studied him, wishing he could think of some way to cheer him up. “What else?”

“Spelling. I hate spelling. It’s boring.”

Adam grinned. “I’ll admit I never found a way to make spelling interesting myself. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Joe pushed a list of words across the table to him. “There’s lemon pie for dessert,” he suggested tentatively.

Adam couldn’t have felt less like dessert, but Joe actually seemed a little animated, so he said, “Can’t imagine how Hop Sing found time to make a pie. Is it good?”

Joe shrugged. “Haven’t had mine yet. Thought maybe…” he trailed off.

It reminded Adam of Pa saving his dessert to eat with him and for a second he had to look down and concentrate hard on the plate in front of him. He cleared his throat carefully. “Why don’t you go tell Hop Sing we’re ready for dessert?” he managed finally. If forcing down a piece of lemon pie would make both Joe and Hop Sing happy, it was a small enough price to pay.

Joe scrambled off to the kitchen while Adam tried to resist the urge to put his head down on the table and go to sleep. Joe hurried back with two pieces of pie and the announcement that Hop Sing would be in with coffee.

“Great.” Now that did sound good. “Did you get together the cleaning supplies for the bunkhouse? Did a good job.” Joe looked a little happier and stuck his finger in his meringue. Adam looked at him. “Use a fork, Joe.”

Joe scowled. “How come I can’t see Pa?”

“Because he’s very contagious right now.”

“YOU see him.”

“Well, Pa’s not too happy about that either, but somebody’s got to nurse him, and k – people your age – are more susceptible. Both Dr. Martin and Pa said specifically that you should stay out.” Joe’s scowl deepened and he poked patterns in his pie with his fork. “Look, there’s nothing for you to worry about.  I know it’s been a rough day for all of us, but tomorrow’s bound to be easier. Pa will be feeling better soon and then you can visit him.”

Joe ate some of his pie, staring at him. “YOU’RE worried.”

Adam chuckled tiredly. “Well, I’m a natural worrier.” That time Joe actually smiled a little. “Let’s hear your spelling, then it’s time you were in bed.”

It was another hour before Adam actually had Joe settled for the night and thought he’d finally have a chance to look in on his father. He was just heading for Ben’s room when he heard a knock on the front door and groaned involuntarily before remembering that he’d sent someone for the doctor. He hurried to the door and made out Clyde standing there. The light from the door showed he was alone. “Sorry, Mr. Cartwright,” he said without preamble. “Doc couldn’t come. Sorry I took so long, but I waited quite a spell fer ’em. He sent you this here med’cin and instructions and said he’d be by first thing tomorra.”

Adam took the bottle and the note gratefully. “Thanks, Clyde. And thanks for making the trip.”

Clyde looked for a minute like he wanted to say something. Adam raised his eyebrows questioningly. “Why don’t you come in? Hop Sing made coffee.”

Clyde hesitated, then shook his head. “Thanks, but I better be turnin’ in. Night, Mr. Cartwright.” He touched his hat to him and was gone.

Adam shrugged. Skimming the instructions, he headed finally for the stairs and his father.

 

*

Adam sat up in bed, not sure what had woken him. He listened for a minute. The house seemed quiet. Nerves, he told himself, rolling over. But despite the rugged day, sleep seemed far away now. Well, as long as he was awake he might as well make himself useful – he threw back the covers and reached for his dressing gown, padding down the hall in the direction of the guest rooms. Hop Sing had left a lantern burning low. Smokey and Deever seemed to be sleeping in relative comfort. He didn’t like the sound of Deever’s breathing, but he didn’t seem to be in any immediate danger – he could tell Doc Martin about it in the morning.

He left the door cracked and made his way down the hall to Joe’s room. Half of Joe’s covers were kicked off and dragging on the floor, his head buried deep in the pillow. Adam smiled to himself. He couldn’t remember a night since he was born that Joe didn’t need his covers replaced for him. He cautiously untangled them, smoothing them out and pulling them up to his neck, careful not to wake him. Since Joe wasn’t able to object, he let himself stroke his head for a minute. Poor kid. This was tough on him. Pa sick. Hoss away. No doubt Joe considered him a poor substitute. He needed to find a way to spend more time with him tomorrow. Well, by then Hoss could be a help. Giving a final smooth to the covers, he eased Joe’s door closed behind him and headed next door to check on his father.

He’d checked him before going to bed, but he felt Ben’s forehead again anyway. Warm, but not hot. His breathing was starting to sound a little labored, too. Adam sat down in the chair by the bed and stretched his legs in front of him. He felt more relaxed here in his father’s company. He leaned his head against the chair back and tried to plan his day tomorrow. Down two more men – and one was the foreman. Wasn’t going to be easy. What would happen if he appointed Hoss to stand in for Smokey? Would they give him an even harder time than they had Adam himself? He grimaced at the thought. But he had to have a look at that lumber contract and ride up to the camp to check on things – not tomorrow, but the next day. He’d left them too long already. Hope this guy Knox is everything Pa says he is.

He let his eyes sink closed. Be nice if he could take Joe out with Cochise, but chances were it wouldn’t be possible. Maybe Hoss would be able to manage it. That should cheer Joe up anyway. He realized he was drifting and sat up straight, just stopping himself from rubbing his eyes. Wash hands first, he reminded himself sternly. And if he fell asleep in here they’d skin him alive – first Pa, then Hop Sing, then Joe for doing exactly what he’d ordered him not to do, then Pa again. With a sigh he rose to his feet.

“Night, Pa,” he said softly, then washed his hands carefully before leaving.
January 2000

The Rubicon
by

Lissa B. 

 

 

January 2000
Part II: The Crossing

 

Paul Martin finished his examination and straightened, trying to relieve the crick in his back. He fished through his bag and pulled out two bottles before turning to face the young man standing sentinel in the doorway.

“It’s not good news, is it?” Adam asked abruptly.

Paul chose his words carefully. “It’s not bad news. It’s worse, certainly, but that is how the disease runs its course. When did the cough start?”

“This morning. Though I thought his breathing sounded labored last night.”

“That’s from the membrane over the throat. It will go away eventually, as long as the toxins don’t build up in his system. That’s what causes the membrane to thicken and – “

Adam shifted. “And?”

“In some cases it can suffocate the patient.” He saw Adam’s face and continued firmly, “It’s usually brought about by poor care or late diagnosis. That’s not the case here, Adam.”

Adam gestured to the two bottles. “And that will take care of it?”

“It will help, yes.” Paul reached over and felt under Adam’s chin.

Adam squirmed away. “I’m fine.”

Undaunted, Paul felt his forehead. “You don’t look fine.”

Adam gave him a ghost of a smile. “Well, you don’t look so good yourself.”

Paul laughed. “I’m sure.”

“How are things in town?”

Paul hesitated. “I need to talk to you about that. Any other signs of illness among the men?”

Adam shook his head. “No. We scrubbed down the bunkhouse and I checked everybody’s throats.”

The mental image made Paul smile, but he hid it from Adam. “Well, Smokey is doing well – looks like a light case so far. Deever’s a little worse off, but I don’t see why he shouldn’t recover with proper care. Why don’t we have some of Hop Sing’s coffee and I’ll explain to you how to use what’s in these bottles.”

Adam flushed. “Sorry. My manners are off today. Breakfast should be ready – why don’t you eat with us?” He let Paul proceed him down the stairs and frowned at the sight of the empty dining room chairs. “Joe must still be asleep. Why don’t you sit down? I’d better wake him up or he’ll be late for school.”

“Adam – “ Paul reached out a hand to stop him. Well, there would be no easing into this. “Joe won’t be going to school today.”

“Not going to school. Is he – ?”

“No, no – ” Paul interjected hastily, cursing himself for handling this badly. He must be tired – his bedside manner was in rags. “I haven’t even seen Joe today. The fact is, we’ve closed the school and are using the building as another hospital. As of last night, nearly twenty percent of the population is down with diphtheria. Virginia City and the environs are officially under quarantine.”

“Twenty percent,” Adam repeated slowly, trying to imagine what that meant in terms of friends and neighbors.

“That’s right. I would like everyone who can to stay out of town for the time being. How are you fixed for supplies?”

“Fine.” Adam was still reeling a little. “We’re fine. I’m just not sure how to keep Joe occupied – thank God Hoss will be back tonight.”

Paul peered at him with some concern. “Adam. Hoss will not be back tonight.”

Adam looked at him with quick alarm. “He – ? Is he all right? What did you hear from Carson City?”

“Adam.” Paul gave his arm a gentle shake. “Hoss is fine. We’re under quarantine, remember? That doesn’t just mean nobody goes out – it means nobody comes in, either.”

Adam stared at him for so long that Paul became alarmed and gave him another shake. “Adam?”

Adam blinked. “I didn’t think – ” he laughed mirthlessly. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.”

“Well, you’ve got a lot on your mind.” Adam nodded wordlessly. “Have you thought of sending Joe to the Devlins until the worst is over?”

Adam glanced at him, then shook his head. “He’d never forgive me.”

“Could be in his best interests, though. As long as they stay clear of illness. So far, so good.” Adam looked torn. Paul patted his arm. “Well, you think about it. I’ll let you know if all is still well there when I check back.”

“Thanks – Hoss’ll be worried when he hears about the quarantine. If I write out a telegram could you drop it off when you get to town?”

“Certainly. Why don’t we have some breakfast and let Joe sleep a little longer.”

Hop Sing was placing platters of eggs and ham and potatoes on the table as they sat down. Paul thought he looked about as dragged out as Adam did – or, as Adam had pointed out – he did himself. Adam glanced up at the cook. “Maybe you’d better have a seat, Hop Sing. Dr. Martin’s going to tell us how to administer the medicine he brought.”

Hop Sing put down the coffeepot but declined to sit. Paul talked them through the correct dosages for the medicine that would be placed in boiling water to help with the cough and breathing, then the one that would be taken internally. Hop Sing took the bottles. “Hop Sing give now?”

“Good idea, Hop Sing, once you’ve prepared the kettles.”

“Here, I’ll give you a hand.” Adam started to rise.

Hop Sing protested in Cantonese. “You eat. Breakfast get cold. Where Little Joe?”

“Asleep. He can’t go to school today – we’re in quarantine. I don’t know how we’re going to keep him busy – think he could help you a little?”

Hop Sing nodded. “Little Joe be big help to Hop Sing.”

Adam knew it was a dead-on lie and that Hop Sing was just trying to alleviate his worries, but he accepted gratefully.

Paul watched Adam push eggs around his plate until he finally said gently, “You know, you really need to eat those and stay well. Your family is counting on you.”

Adam nodded, glancing toward the stairs. “When will we know something one way or the other?”

“Disease runs its course in a week or so, generally followed by some recuperative time.”

“Have you had any  – ” there was no other way to say it. “fatalities?”

Paul was silent.

Adam swallowed slowly. “I see,” he said heavily. “Can you tell me how many?”

Paul added cream to his coffee, stalling for time. Finally he said, “Adam, I know you like the facts, but in this case you’ll only use them to torture yourself. Why don’t you just deal with the cases under your care right now?”

Adam smiled his half smile. “Doc, that’s just the kind of talk that makes my imagination run away with itself. So why don’t you just tell me?”

Paul sipped at his coffee. “Seven so far. Including the drifter.”

Adam paled a little, glancing again toward the stairs. “So fast.”

“It’s like that. Which is why I think you should really consider sending Joe away. For his protection and your peace of mind. You have enough here to contend with.”

“I won’t go!” They both jumped at the sound of the shrill voice suddenly at the top of the stairs.

Adam threw down his napkin and stood up. “Joe – ”

“I won’t!” Joe thundered down the stairs as Adam strode toward him, shoving his older brother with all his slight weight. “You sent Hoss away and you won’t let me see Pa and now you want to send me away too! I hate you! I hate you and I wish you’d never come home!”

“Joe!” Adam held him by the arms, kneeling so he could look into his face. “Joe, I want you to calm down and listen to me.”

“I don’t have to listen to you!” Joe struggled against his brother’s grip, but Adam was much stronger. “I don’t have to do anything you say! I’m gonna do whatever I want and I’m gonna see my Pa!”

“Joe!” This time Adam gave him a shake. “You need to listen to me. You will NOT go in Pa’s room – do you hear me? You will NOT, or I WILL have to send you to Devlins. Not forever – just until it’s safe for you to be here! Do you understand me at all? Do you understand how important this is? Look at me, Joe!” Adam’s voice had risen to match Joe’s volume. Joe raised his eyes reluctantly to meet Adam’s, his lower lip trembling suspiciously.

Adam’s fingers were digging into Joe’s upper arms. He loosened his grip and tried to calm his voice. “All right, I don’t want to scare you, but you need to understand – people can die from this. Now I want you to promise me that you will stay out of Pa’s room. I want you to give me your word – or I will send you to Devlins, Joe – right now, this very minute. Do you understand me?” Joe’s eyes filled with tears. After a long moment, he nodded. Adam relaxed his grip a little more. “Then I have your word?” Joe nodded again. Adam let out his breath in a gust of relief. “Thanks.” He gave him a quick hug, but Joe remained rigid. Adam released him, searching his expression anxiously. “Sit down and eat breakfast. You don’t have any school today, but there are a lot of things you can do to help out. I’d better check on Pa and Smokey and Deever – with all that yelling they probably think we’re under Indian attack. I’ll be back in just a minute.” He watched to be sure Joe had seated himself and Hop Sing was on hand before heading toward the stairs.

Paul finished his eggs and rose to his feet. “I’ll go with you  – one last look before I start out.” With a quick glance at Joe, he followed Adam up the stairs. Once they were out of earshot he said quietly, “I still think it’s a good idea.”

Adam looked at him and looked away. “I’ll think about it.”

“All right then. I’ll let you know if the Devlins are still free of illness.” He pushed open Ben’s door. “Oh, and Adam – ” Adam raised a questioning brow. “Try and get some sleep.”

Adam squinted at him with the faintest of smiles. “Right, Doc. Just as soon as you do.”

 

*

 

“Moved that 150 head down to the east pasture, Mr. Cartwright. Clyde and Frank are just scouring up there fer stragglers. Lem and Paint oughter have a chance ta replace that section o’ fence tomorra.”

Adam glanced up from the fence he was examining to Curly and nodded. “There’s a group scattered over the western range that’ll need to be collected, too. Tomorrow. ”

“Yes, sir.”

Adam glanced up at him again. This sudden politeness was almost as unnerving as the past insolence had been – he was actually stiff from holding himself ready, waiting for the next sneak attack – but none had come, not one all day. He half wished they’d just do it and get it over with.

“Anythin’ else, sir?”

Adam shook his head. Sir . It was close to being comical. Well, maybe without their leader the fun had gone out of the game. “Have somebody double-check on supplies, though. With the quarantine we can’t go into to town to collect any unless we’re hard up and someone will have to volunteer if we need them. Hopefully we won’t. Hard to know who handled what and what would be safe anyway. Guess we’re better off than the town residents.” He realized that he was rambling, thinking out loud, and stopped abruptly. His mind wasn’t really here and he probably wasn’t fooling anyone. “Anybody else show signs of being sick?” he asked.

“Not yet.” The “yet” hung in the air, vaguely alarming.

“Well, that’s something anyway. I’d better go see about the ones who are then. Good night, Curly.” Adam started toward Sport.

“Mr. Cartwright?” Adam turned questioningly. Curly hesitated, then reddened uncomfortably.

“Well?” asked Adam after a puzzled minute.

“Um…well…we’ll see to that western range tomorra.”

Adam raised his brows. “Okay. Good. That all?”

Cury’s face deepened to scarlet. “Yes, sir.”

Adam nodded, mystified, then mounted Sport and wheeled him in the direction of the ranch.

The ranch house was quiet when he arrived, so he went directly to the kitchen seeking Hop Sing. He found him straining broth into a large kettle, looking frazzled.

Adam watched for a moment. “That for the patients?”

Hop Sing grunted assent.

“How are they doing?”

“Sick,” answered Hop Sing shortly.

“How’s Joe?”

“Him sulk.”

Adam winced. “Where is he?”

“Room.”

“Not all day?”

“No,” Hop Sing admitted. “Him cut wood. Help in kitchen.”

“Good.” He looked at the tray Hop Sing was preparing. “Who’s that for?”

“Missa Smokey. Nobody else eat. Throats too sore.”

Adam reached to take it from him. “Let me take care of that. I’ll look in on Pa, too. You look like you could use a break.”

Hop Sing glared. “You out working all day.”

“Well, you’ve been in here working all day and you’ve had Joe on your hands. That counts as double duty. Keep this up and you’ll be sick too.”

Hop Sing’s face scrunched into a frown, mortally offended. “Hop Sing never sick,” he said indignantly.

“There’s a first time for everything. Let’s not tempt fate.”

Adam managed to wrest the tray from Hop Sing who grumbled something and turned his attention to supper.

The upstairs seemed even quieter than the downstairs had. Adam balanced the tray on one arm and knocked lightly before entering. The light was dim and the fire low and he waited for a minute for his eyes to adjust, grimacing a little at the hoarse growl of Deever’s breathing. When he could see clearly he made his way to Smokey’s bedside and rested the tray on the night table. Smokey’s eyes had been closed but he opened them and scowled as Adam felt his forehead.

“How you feeling?”

Smokey shrugged indifferently. “Good enough.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet.” Adam felt the lumps under Smokey’s chin and the cowhand jerked back. “That’s what I thought.” He pulled the cork out of the medicine bottle on the night table and measured some liquid into a spoon. “Here. Doc swears by it.” Smokey swallowed carefully, still looking disgruntled. “Hop Sing thought you were ready to eat something.”

“Reckon.” Smokey choked on the word, swallowing uncomfortably.

Adam eyed him. “Better reheat your towel. Deever’s too – I don’t like the way he sounds at all. Think you can feed yourself, or you want help?”

“Myself.”

Adam’s throat hurt just listening to him try to talk. “Okay. ” He helped Smokey sit up and settled the tray on his lap, removing the towel and taking it to the kettle over the fire to reheat. He added Deever’s towel, pausing to check his temperature. Deever sounded bad. He should probably get some medicine down him too. He glanced up to see how Smokey was managing his broth and caught him staring at him. He raised his eyebrows. “Something you need?”

Smokey shook his head.

“That going down all right?”

Smokey shrugged. Adam turned away resignedly. He had heard of people who developed saintly demeanors when ill – clearly Smokey wasn’t one of them. He fished out the two towels, wringing them out with a wooden dowel and letting them cool a bit before returning one to Deever and the other to Smokey. Deever didn’t open his eyes but he seemed to relax a little. Smokey looked cranky, but accepted it.

“Anything else I can get you?” It looked as though he’d made a dent in the broth anyway. Smokey shook his head. “All right. Hop Sing or I will be back to check on you and take the tray.” He washed his hands and headed down the hall to look in on his father.

Ben didn’t seem much better either. He was restless and groggy and Adam spent some time trying to get some water, then the medicine down him. Ben gagged repeatedly, as though he had something stuck in his throat, but after a while managed to swallow the medicine. Adam was pretty sure he wasn’t even aware he was there. He sat with him only briefly, since Hop Sing was probably timing him to be sure he didn’t linger too long. It unsettled him to see his father sick and helpless – he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been bedridden – somehow in his mind he had always seemed invulnerable.

“Missa Adam!” Hop Sing’s voice wasn’t loud, but it carried down the hall. He had been right. Timing him.

Adam stepped into the hall to see Hop Sing at the top of the stairs. “Suppa. Bring Little Joe.” Hop Sing disappeared back down the staircase. Adam paused to refresh his father’s towel and feel his forehead again before washing his hands and rapping on the nearest door.

“Joe?” No answer. He tried a little louder. “Joe? Supper’s ready.” There was prolonged silence. Joe silent was about as unsettling as his father ill. Adam was just about to turn the knob when the door opened abruptly. Joe brushed past him without a glance or word and headed for the stairs.

Adam blew out his breath slowly. Well, evidently he hadn’t been forgiven for that little scene this morning. Just when he’d thought he was making some progress, too. Swallowing his disappointment, he pushed himself away from the door and started slowly down the stairs after him.

 

*

 

Adam sat at his father’s desk with a pot of coffee and the lumber contract spread out before him, the house completely quiet. He poured himself another cup of coffee and rested his head on the heel of his hand, trying to focus on the contract. Off to one side he had his father’s notes, piled neatly under a list of the ranch hands remaining in good health and the list of tasks that they needed to accomplish. He was good at math, but no amount of figuring was going to make the ratio of hands to task look any more promising.

Hop Sing and Joe were in bed – both worn out from the day-long battle of wills. Hop Sing had won – this time – but his resources were already stretched thin and Joe’s stubbornness was legendary – Adam smiled a little – almost as bad as his own. He had to face facts. If Devlins were still clear of illness, Joe would be better off there. He leaned back in his father’s chair and sipped his coffee, unhappy.

When he was eleven his father had gone away to New Orleans for six months, leaving him and Hoss with neighbors. Kind neighbors. His father had written regularly. He had explained why he had to go, and Adam had understood. But what he remembered best was that understanding didn’t help at all – he had still felt bereft and abandoned. When Pa returned he brought a new wife and everything was changed forever. For better, eventually. But for worse for a long time.

He sat up and put down the coffee cup, trying to focus on the contracts. And he was being silly and sentimental – it wasn’t the same situation at all. Joe would have to go away for a few days, tops. Adam could even go visit him, though the thought of trying to fit one more thing into a twenty-four hour period left him with a sinking feeling of despair. Everything would work out, in time. Joe had just been upset this morning. He didn’t really hate him. Probably. He didn’t really wish he had never come back. Eventually Joe would understand and forgive him. He tossed his pen moodily on top of the contracts. When he was, say, forty or so.

He was so troubled by his thoughts that the sound of footsteps on the stairs made him start. Much too heavy to be Joe’s, and nobody else would be up. He stood up behind the desk. “Who’s there?” he asked, a little sharply.

“Jest me, Mr. Cartwright.” The sight of Curly Froman in the great room with his hat clutched respectfully in his hands was so foreign that for a minute Adam wasn’t sure he wasn’t asleep and dreaming. “I was jest visitin’ with Smokey an’ Deever – Hop Sing done let me in.”

“Oh.” He really had to shake this jumpiness. “I thought they seemed a little better tonight. Deever’s breathing isn’t great but he’s sleeping and Smokey actually swallowed some broth.” Curly nodded self-consciously. He didn’t budge, so Adam said, “Would you like some coffee?”

Curly shook his head, clearing his throat. “I was a-wonderin’ if’n you had a minute.”

“Of course.” Adam was curious, then a thought occurred to him. “You don’t have a sore throat, do you?”

Curly shook his head again. “Oh, no sir. Nothin’ like that.”

Adam nodded, relieved. “Then what can I do for you, Curly?”

Curly shifted feet, acutely uncomfortable. “I been thinkin’ about what you said about the quarantine an’ about Hoss not bein’ back fer a while.” He glanced down at the desk in front of Adam. “An’ I know yer Pa was a-workin’ on that lumber contract an’ all.”

“Yes?” Adam heard the slight edge in his own voice. If Curly had come to gloat he had plenty to gloat about.

Curly cleared his throat again, looking longingly toward the door. “Mr. Cartwright, I know I ain’t give you no reason ta trust me, lotsa reason not to, maybe, but I figger yer in a spot. Now, what I was thinkin’ – yer foreman is down an I ain’t never been a foreman, but I done worked here for three years now. I know the men an’ I think they’ll foller me. I was thinkin’ you could give me instructions every mornin’ on what you wanted done, say, an’ I could report back to you every night. That’d free you up ta see ta the lumber while yer Pa’s sick.”

Adam blinked at him, trying to understand what he was suggesting. At his hesitation, Curly hastened on, “I know yer still payin’ Smokey his full wage an’ seein’ as I ain’t got foreman experience I wouldn’t be expectin’ foreman’s pay. Jest figgered it’d be good experience fer me an, well…” he trailed off uncomfortably. “Anyway. It was jest an idee.”

Adam was so taken off guard he was speechless. Was this another prank of some kind? But no, Curly certainly seemed sincere. “It was a good idea,” he said slowly. “But of course if you’re working as foreman you’ll get foreman’s pay.”

Curly relaxed a little, but shook his head firmly. “No, thank you, sir. You jest continue on payin’ Smokey. I’ll take experience in place o’ money.” Eager to escape, he moved toward the door, almost before Adam knew he was going.

“Curly!” he called after him. “I – ” This was awkward for him too. He gestured helplessly. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

Almost to the door, Curly stopped. He didn’t turn around, but even from here Adam could see the red creeping up the back of his neck and the way he was torturing his stetson in his hands. He cleared his throat again a couple of times and addressed the floor between his feet. “Mr. Cartwright – ” He cleared his throat one more time. “Mr. Cartwright, Smokey’s my brother. I count myself thanked.” And he was out the door before Adam could say another word.

Adam stared after him for a long time. Finally, he smiled. Well. That explained a lot.     Tomorrow he would ride up to the lumber camp. He reseated himself and attacked the lumber contracts with renewed heart.

 

*

 

It had been well after midnight before Adam felt he understood the contract and his father’s plans for fulfilling it well enough to turn in, so he was surprised and annoyed to find himself suddenly awake and staring at the black rectangle that represented his window, innocent of even the faintest streak of pre-dawn. He rolled over, hoping to fall quickly back to sleep, then froze at a glimpse of white floating by his bedside. He blinked, brushing away the fanciful notions that had flooded his mind, then pulled himself up on one elbow. Now that his eyes were adjusting to the dark it looked less like a specter than an eleven year old night visitor.

He swallowed a yawn. “What’s the matter, Joe? Bad dream?”

Joe shook his head.

“Need something?” A shiver of prescience ran down his spine and he sat up quickly. “Sore throat?”

Joe nodded and Adam fumbled to light the lantern. “Let me take a look.” He noticed his hand was shaking and forced himself to do it slowly and carefully. “C’mere.” Joe stepped into the light of the lantern and opened his mouth. Adam noticed that his face felt warm. “Not too bad,” he lied, though his heart turned over at the sight of the familiar grey patches. “But you shouldn’t be standing here in your bare feet. Let’s get you back to bed and I’ll get you some of the medicine.”

Joe clutched at his arm. “Adam, I didn’t go in Pa’s room. I didn’t break my word. I swear I didn’t, Adam.”

Adam removed Joe’s hand from his wrist and gave it a quick squeeze. “I know, Joe. You could have gotten it anywhere. C’mon. You need to get back in bed.”

Joe allowed himself to be shepherded back to bed and tucked in. While he tried to get comfortable, Adam went downstairs to heat up a kettle of water and some towels to ease the swollen throat.

It took a couple of hours before Joe was soothed and able to fall back into a restless doze – by that time the windows were showing the first grey of morning. Adam decided that as long as he was up he might as well visit his other patients. He took along the medicine and towels and a pitcher of hot water in case anyone else needed tending.

Smokey seemed to be sleeping peacefully. Adam vowed to take a closer look at him in the daylight and see if he could catch a previously undetected resemblance to Curly. Not that it would prove anything – no one would ever guess by looking that he and his brothers were related. Deever was coughing some in his sleep so he added some medicine to the kettle steaming over the fire and placed a fresh hot towel on his throat.  His father proved to need a new towel as well and his fever seemed a little higher – he wished he knew whether that was a good sign or bad.

He slumped in the chair by his father’s side. No point in going back to bed. In another hour or so he would have to be at the barn chores.

Well, Joe wouldn’t be going to Devlins tomorrow – today, rather – that was for sure. And Hop Sing was going to have a fourth patient – how long would he be able to keep up this pace? And if Hop Sing got sick, what then? He rested his head in his hand and watched his father’s slow, slightly ragged breathing. Sure wish I could talk to you, Pa. I don’t think I’m doing a very good job of keeping things together. He lost track of how long he sat there, but the sky was growing rosy when he heard Hop Sing beginning to rattle pans in the kitchen. He checked his father’s forehead and headed downstairs to tell him the bad news.

 

*

 

Hop Sing took the news as calmly as if spending his days nursing a growing number of patients was an every day affair. He scolded Adam into eating breakfast, scolded Curly into joining him when he came in to get his orders, and then shooed them both out the door – one to the west range and the other to the lumber camp – before going to check on his charges. He found all were looking reasonably quiet and busied himself straightening Mr. Cartwright’s sick room. He was just building up the fire and adding medicine to the kettle when he heard a gruff voice call feebly, “Hop Sing!”

Hop Sing turned around. “Boss! You awake!”

“Of course I’m awake. What’s this miserable thing?” He pulled fussily at the towel at his throat.

“That to help swelling. Me reheat. How you feel?”

Ben glowered irritably. “Could be worse. What time is it?”

“Almost 8 am. You like some breakfast?”

“Hmph. Where are the boys?”

Hop Sing looked sly. “Boys fine. I bring you breakfast. First you take medicine.”

“Medicine.” Ben frowned. “Oh, that’s right. The diphtheria. All right. I suppose the boys are all gone at this hour.” He coughed, then paused to catch his breath. “Anyone looking after that lumber camp?”

“Missa Adam,” Hop Sing reassured him, pleased that he hadn’t had to lie at all so far.

“Good.” Ben accepted the medicine and sank deeper into the pillows. “Knox is competent but I feel better with one of us there. You know, Hop Sing, something to eat doesn’t sound half bad. That and a shave.”

Hop Sing smiled broadly. “You want shave, you feeling better.”

“I believe I am. Everything seem to be going all right?”

“Everything okay. I bring you food, then shave.”

“Send Adam in to me when he gets home tonight, will you? I want a first hand report.”

“Missa Adam handle everything, you see. You relax. Get well.”

Ben smiled. “Sounds like good advice, Hop Sing. But I’ll feel much better, I’m sure, once I have a chance to talk to Adam and hear that everything’s running all right.”

 

*

 

Knox and Adam loathed each other on sight. Knox was a big man – almost as big as Hoss – with a bristling red beard and an angry, strident voice. Adam instinctively mistrusted him. For his part, Knox had gotten very comfortable running things in Ben’s brief absence and disliked the thought of taking orders from his boss’s youthful son even more than the ranch hands had. In fact, by noon Adam had to admit to himself that Smokey’s passive-aggressive tactics were looking downright affectionate compared to Knox’s scathing belligerence.

His brief overview of things only served to enforce his uncomfortable conviction that Knox was not abiding by Ben’s dictums. Knox was offhand and condescending in response to Adam’s questions and evasive and almost hostile to his requests to see petty cash and the daily voucher books. “Got things to do, sonny boy,” he growled. “You wanna take a look around, help yourself. Yer Pa seemed pleased enough.”

Adam glanced about at the groups of men. He was well aware that few professions were more self-protective and harder to impress than loggers and Knox clearly had their loyalty. Outwardly he looked cool, inwardly he took a deep breath. This hurdle was going to be a tall one. “My father can’t be here and I need to acquaint myself with the project. I’ll need to see everything you’ve done so far. If you can’t show me around, who can?”

The men stood silent and unmoving as a wall. Knox grinned maliciously. “Don’t know as I can spare anybody. We’re all pretty busy with that contract and all.”

Adam’s short night and worry did nothing to enhance his remaining store of patience. “Fine,” he said abruptly. He pointed to one of the workers at random. “You. Name?”

The logger looked uneasily from Knox to Adam. “Crawford. Sir.” The “sir” earned him a glare from Knox.

“Since Mr. Knox is too busy to show me around I’m asking you for a tour. I have notes on what my father was expecting to accomplish. I’d like to see how close we are. Later this afternoon, Mr. Knox, maybe you’ll be able to free some time to show me the accounts?” Adam’s voice was brittle with polite sarcasm and a stir rippled through the men, like birds shifting in a tree.

Knox gave him a wolfish smile. “Sure thing, sonny.”

Crawford moved reluctantly to stand, not exactly by Adam, but in his general vicinity. “I’ll get my horse,” he muttered.

Adam’s inspection did nothing to decrease his uneasiness. He checked his father’s map of trees to be cut again and looked around in frustration. “Looks like the cuttings are closer together than the map indicates,” he said finally. “Or am I wrong?”

Crawford looked acutely unhappy. “Knox mighta changed a couple o’ things. To save time. Contract’s mighty tight, y’know.”

“I realize that.” Adam frowned at a patch that looked treacherously bare to him. “But speed and one contract aren’t everything. There are long-range repercussions to clearing too much at once. What else?”

Crawford pursed his lips. “Reckon you’ll be wantin’ to see the mill.”

“Yes, I will.” He eyed Crawford as he remounted. “You trying to tell me I won’t like what I see there either?”

Crawford grimaced. “It’s a tough contract, Mr. Cartwright,” he repeated doggedly.

“All right.” Adam kneed Sport into motion. “I know that.” He continued to study him. “Crawford – ” He watched his face and played a hunch “how do you like working for Knox?”

Crawford looked down and then straight ahead at the road. “Knox is a good lumber man. Tough. Y’know. Does what it takes to get the job done.”

“Crawford, have you ever worked for my father before?” Crawford shook his head. “Then you need to understand that there are things that he’d rather not do – even if it gets the job done. If Knox is doing anything shady or destructive then I need to know about it.”

Crawford looked at him for a moment. “Better get on to the mill,” he said at last.

The mill seemed to be running efficiently enough, though there was something off about it that Adam couldn’t put his finger on. After a while he realized what it was – the workers all seemed quiet – almost sullen. Missing was the singing and joking he was used to seeing on crews. Still, might not mean much – they’d been working a pretty intense schedule. Closer inspection showed a little sloppiness in the safety procedures, too. Adam hated sloppiness, especially in an area that risked lives. He watched Crawford’s face carefully this time when he said, “I notice some of the safety procedures are a little lax and a few of those men look as though they’ve been on shift too long. How’s the accident rate? Still good?”

Crawford avoided his eyes. “Knox keeps all the accident reports.”

“But if there were accidents you’d know. Men always talk about them.”

Crawford’s eyes studiedly devoured a tree opposite. “You’d have to ask Knox,” he said firmly, then, almost as if it were dragged out of him against his will, “Some of the men are still on from second shift.”

Adam frowned, trying to picture the work roster in his head. “I didn’t think we had enough men for two shifts.”

Crawford gave him an odd look. “The men take turns working double shifts.”

Adam raised his head sharply. “Is that safe?” Crawford didn’t answer, which seemed to Adam an answer in itself. But he could see Crawford wasn’t going to elaborate, so he just said, “Where to next?”

Adam was in a quandary. He was appalled at Knox’ tactics and was sure his father would never condone them. But Knox had been left to his own devices with a tight contract deadline to reach – no doubt the means simply seemed a logical way to meet the ends. He’d have to have a conversation with him in private – explain that the long term drawbacks weren’t worth the short term gains. He took off his hat and rubbed at his eyes. That was going to be an exceptionally pleasant conversation, no doubt. He returned his attention to Crawford.

“…we’ve been pullin’ the logs out, bein’ as Snake River’s so low. Runnin’ into a few problems with one of the other river crossins’ on the road out, though – too rocky and deep for the horses to wade, too wide for a bridge that would hold the weight of horses and logs all the way across.”

“Show me.”

The river was just as Crawford had said – a wide slash across the logging road with an abrupt, rocky drop on each side, the stream bed peppered with jagged outcroppings of more rock. Too rocky to act as a substitute for Snake River and moving the wrong direction anyway. Adam glanced around at the surrounding ground, but didn’t immediately see any way to avoid the river all together. “What does Knox say about it?”

“He says he’ll get the logs down the mountain.”

“Mm hm.” Something was tickling at the back of Adam’s mind but the clamor of his conflicting anxieties seemed to be drowning it out. “Does he say how?”

“No, sir, Mr. Cartwright.”

“You know, you could call me Adam.”

Crawford looked at him doubtfully. “Yes, sir.”

Adam sighed. “Let’s go. I need to talk to Knox. And Crawford – ” he hesitated, not sure how this would be taken. “I appreciate the tour. If it gets you in trouble with anyone – Knox, or anyone – let me know, okay? I’ll take care of it.”

Crawford gazed at him blankly, then bobbed a perfunctory nod.

 

*

 

The best thing about dealing with Knox, Adam reflected ruefully on his way home as the sun was going down, was that he made Smokey look so downright friendly and reasonable by comparison. He steered Sport down the mountain road, pressing a hand to the small of his back to ease the ache that had settled there. The planned review of the voucher books had turned into a shouting match, no winners. Knox had a piercing voice, but Adam could work up an impressive volume himself. When he left the rough cabin that served as an office he saw some of the men hastily working with eyes averted, as though they’d been listening.  And as he walked away he could feel their eyes follow him. There was definitely something fishy going on – whether carelessness or dishonesty or both he couldn’t tell yet.

“What a mess,” he said aloud. He needed Knox to finish the contract, but maybe losing the contract would be cheaper than keeping Knox. Wish I could talk to you, Pa, he thought tiredly. Maybe you’d have some answers.

Sport picked his way carefully, as subdued as his rider. Knox hadn’t had a plan for getting the logs across the river either – or at least not one he was willing to share – and Adam had to admit he was drawing a blank as well. Usually he liked a challenge but right now he just felt used up. And if Knox called him “sonny” one more time, he was going to haul off and slug him. He smiled a little to himself. Workers not cooperating? Try a fist to the jaw. The Adam Cartwright method of management. No. He just wouldn’t believe there wasn’t a better option.

The Ponderosa came into sight and Sport picked up the pace a little. He could see someone waiting on the porch and for a moment his stomach clenched, until he recognized Curly. Probably just waiting to give his report. He had to stop anticipating disaster at every turning.

He swung off of Sport and threw the reins around the hitching post. “Hi, Curly. Just let me take care of Sport and I’ll be right with you. Eaten yet?”

“Couple hours ago.”

Adam squinted at the twilight sky. “See your point. Don’t know how it got so late so fast. Why don’t you go in and let Hop Sing bring you some coffee anyway? I’d appreciate the company. It just about echoes in that dining room these days.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Cartwright.”

“Adam,” he corrected over his shoulder, leading Sport away to the barn.

Adam didn’t linger with Sport this evening. He noticed that Hop Sing had persuaded Curly to a little more than coffee and smiled as he sat down.

“You late,” said Hop Sing abruptly.

Adam picked up his fork. “Hop Sing, you’re beginning to sound like a wife. How’s Pa and Joe?”

“Fatha little better. Little Joe not bad.”

“Pa’s better?” Adam started to rise, stopped by Hop Sing’s glare.

“Seeping now. You late. Eat and see later – maybe awake.” He saw Adam’s anguished glance at the stairs and softened some. “Him eat and ask for shave. Little better, but very tired.”

Adam broke into a grin. “Well, that’s the best news I’ve had in days. How about Joe?”

“Little Joe restless, but him always restless.”

“Smokey and Deever?”

Curly answered this time. “Smokey’s sleepin’ a lot too – must be a good sign. Deever’s not rallying so fast, though.”

“What’s the Doc say?”

“Him not come til tomorrow. Eat you suppa.”

“How’s the lumber operation?” Curly asked as Adam obediently plied knife and fork.

Adam made a face. “Not sure. Not so good, I think. How are things on the range?” He meant to actually listen to the response, but Curly had sent his tired mind back to the lumber camp and it was a moment before he realized Curly had stopped speaking and was waiting for some kind of answer.

“Whattya think we should do?” Curly repeated.

“I don’t know. Any ideas?” Adam was buying time, trying to remember all the points of the problem Curly had described to him, so he was surprised when, a little hesitantly, Curly described a possible solution.  Now Curly had his full attention and he nodded. “Sounds good.”

Curly’s expression was ambivalent. “Tain’t the usual way.”

“No. But sounds like it will work.”

Curly looked cautiously pleased. “Yer Pa ain’t much o’ one fer new-fangled notions.”

“I know.” Adam’s tone was so rueful that Curly laughed out loud.

“Smokey’s the same way. He figgers if’n somethin’s worked fer twenty years ain’t no reason why it won’t work fine fer twenty more. Gotta point, I reckon, but how are ya ever gonna know if’n somethin’ else might not work better?”

“Exactly.” Adam pushed away his plate. “You want a brandy? I could sure use one.” He took Curly’s shrug for consent and poured two brandies. Curly sniffed suspiciously, but drank. “So,” Adam savored his own brandy. “How is it you and Smokey have different last names?”

“Different Pas, same Ma.”

“Makes sense. Am I the only one who didn’t know that you’re brothers?”

Curly shook his head. “No, sir. Don’t nobody know. Hearabouts, anyhow.”

Adam swirled the brandy in his glass. “Why the big secret?”

Curly shrugged. “Smokey got the job as foreman here an’ liked the place – sent me word ta come. I got the job on his recommend, so he figgered folks might get the wrong idee about why I was hired.”

Adam choked on his brandy and opened his eyes at him. “You mean he was afraid people would think you only got the job because you were his brother.”

Curly nodded. “Course he knew I could do the job. But you know how folks kin be.”

Adam raised an eyebrow. “I have some idea,” he drawled.

Curly flushed beet red and looked from the floor to Adam and back to the floor. “We was just – y’know – having a little fun with ya,” he squeaked out at last. “Kinda seein’ what you was made of.”

“I’m glad somebody was having fun. Too bad my father and I don’t have different last names.”

Curly grew redder. “Smokey kin be kinda hard-headed – a little on the unreasonable side, like. He don’t mean nothin’ by it.” He took a big mouthful of brandy and grinned a little. “Course, liked ta scare the piss right outta him when he found out Clyde and Deever let you ride off alone that day yer cinch was cut. They was supposed ta be with you ta make sure you didn’t get hurt er nothin’.”

“And to watch the fun, I’m sure. Why didn’t they come with me?”

“Deever said you ordered them ta fix that upper pasture fence and the mood you was in he weren’t about ta argue. He was feelin’ he’d already pushed ya too fer.”

Adam gave a snort of laughter. “Good instincts.”

“Yeah, but Smokey took a good piece outta him instead so don’t know as he was all that much better off. You shoulda seen Smokey’s face. Was sure you was gonna turn up with yer neck broke.”

Adam grinned, remembering. “Yeah, I found him haunting the barn that night.”

Curly chuckled. “Figgered yer horse come back without ya and was tryin’ ta find out if’n he needed ta go lookin’ fer ya. All the time wonderin’ about what he was gonna tell yer Pa.” He tilted his head at him. “You never did tell your Pa?”

Adam shook his head.

“Huh.” Curly nodded. “That’s what I thought.”

They sipped in silence until Curly said, “Reckon you’ll be wantin’ ta check on yer folks. Why don’t we talk about what you’ll be lookin’ to have covered tomorrow?”

Adam nodded, moving to his father’s desk to rummage for his notes. He was going to give them to Curly to follow along, but remembered just in time that Curly couldn’t read and used them for reference instead. When he was done, he added, “How about you? You see anything we should be taking care of?”

Curly shook his head. “Nope. But I’ll keep an eye peeled. Guess I’ll be sayin’ good night.”

“I’ll keep your secret for you if you want, Curly, but seems to me it’d be a lot easier just to tell people.”

Curly gave a low whistle. “And go through what we put you through? No thanks.” Adam laughed and Curly joined in. “Thanks for the brandy.”

“My pleasure.” Adam held his hand out. “You’re doing a good job, Curly. I really appreciate it.”

Curly accepted the hand. “Sure thing, Mr. Cartwright. Night.”

Adam started to correct him, but sighed instead. “Night, Curly.”

Adam stood for a moment, thinking that it was the first pleasant conversation he’d had with anybody in a while. That made him miss Hoss and he remembered that he had wanted to send him another telegram via Doc Martin. He sat down at the desk to compose it, chewing the top of the pen. Hm. Couldn’t tell him everything or he’d worry. Couldn’t tell him nothing or he’d be suspicious and worry even more . He finally compromised and told him that Pa was somewhat better and Joe was under the weather and hoped he wouldn’t read too much into it. He added a post script asking about the grain deal, then marked it for Doc Martin the next morning and headed for the stairs.

Ben did seem to be resting better. Adam added medicine to the kettle and refreshed his hot towel, noticing with pleasure that the swelling under his chin was down some. He dearly longed to shake him awake and tell him all his worries, but both awakening him and burdening him with his problems were out of the question. He couldn’t so much as hold his hand without creating trouble. Frustrated, he decided to leave the arena of temptation and, with one more check of Ben’s temperature, he washed his hands and slipped out the door, leaving it a little ajar in case Ben called for something during the night.

Joe had always been a little afraid of the dark, so a light was left burning low in his room. Adam thought he looked feverish and reached down to feel his forehead. Joe stirred and opened his eyes. “Pa?”

“No, Joe, it’s me – Adam.”

“My throat hurts.”

“Yeah, I know. You want some of Hop Sing’s tea? It seems to help. He left some on the back of the stove.”

Joe nodded. Adam gave him his medicine and a fresh hot towel. “You take it easy. I’ll be right back.”

He made his way downstairs without any lights to avoid disturbing the rest of the household. In the kitchen, he added kindling to the banked stove fire as quietly as possible. Hop Sing’s room was right off the kitchen and heaven knew he needed his rest. Adam sank down at the kitchen table to wait for the kettle to heat, letting his head drop into his hands for just a minute. He could really use a little rest himself.

The stove couldn’t have been banked too long ago, because it only took a short time before the brew was bubbling and letting off a fragrant steam. Adam dug out a teapot and a cup and returned soundlessly to Joe’s room.

He had hoped that Joe would drift back to sleep in his absence, but he was awake and waiting for him. Adam propped him up so that he could drink more easily and perched on the edge of the bed to hold the cup for him. “Better?” he asked when Joe had managed to empty the cup. Joe nodded. “Want a little more?”

Joe shook his head, snuggling down into his pillow. “Adam, can you stay with me tomorrow?”

A hand squeezed at Adam’s heart. “Wish I could, buddy, but I’ve got to be up at the lumber camp. Hop Sing takes good care of you, right?”

“Ain’t the same.”

“Isn’t,” Adam corrected without thinking.

“Whattya doing at the lumber camp?”

Adam reached down to smooth his hair off his forehead and gauge his temperature. “Got a river I’ve got to get some logs across.”

“Like the Rubicon?”

Adam expelled his breath in a laugh. The things Joe happened to remember always surprised him as much as the things he seemed to forget. “Something like that, yeah.”

Joe shifted his head to Adam’s knee. Adam hesitated. He wasn’t even supposed to be this close – prolonged contact was forbidden, especially with Joe in the early contagious phase. But he could no more push him away than he could cut off his right arm. Well, he’d just have to wash carefully, was all.

“Adam, what will we do if you get sick too?”

Adam almost denied the possibility of any such a thing, but he had caught the faint note of anxiety in Joe’s voice and knew he’d never buy it. So instead he said, “Well, Joe, I figure by the time I get sick you and Pa will be well and you can take care of me. See that you do a good job, too – I could really use the bed rest about now.”

Joe actually laughed a little and closed his eyes. “Deal.” Adam thought he was asleep until he said, “Adam, will you sing to me? Like you used to.”

Adam blinked. “Sure, buddy. What did you want to hear?”

“Anything. One of them songs you used to sing.”

“Those,”  Adam murmured automatically, half to himself, rummaging around in his brain until he remembered a song at random. He began to sing softly. He was well into the third song before he felt Joe’s breathing even out into sleep.

He shifted position cautiously. No, Joe was firmly settled on his leg. He was going to have to wait until he was more deeply asleep before moving him. He leaned back against the headboard and closed his eyes, trying to get comfortable. And smiled in the dark.

Because it seemed that Little Joe hadn’t forgotten quite everything they used to have between them after all.

*

There was a noise like a squirrel chattering in his ear and he reached up to brush it away. The noise grew louder, faster – then clearer. “Missa Adam! MISSA ADAM!” followed by a sing-song of rapid Chinese. Adam pulled himself inward. Maybe if he ignored it, it would go away. But now a hand shook at his shoulder, and the voice said, directly in his ear, “Missa Adam!”

Adam jumped, it gradually dawning on him that Hop Sing must need something. “Coming,” he mumbled.

The hand stayed insistently at his shoulder. “You get up NOW.” Adam opened his eyes a little and reached up to rub the grit away. Something knocked his hand aside, followed by a ferocious spurt of Chinese. “You wash first! You crazy, seeping in here? You need wash!”

Adam finally blinked his eyes clear enough to realize that he was lying across the head of Joe’s bed. He must have fallen asleep. He glanced over at Joe to see him slumbering peacefully. Probably rolled off of his leg sometime in the night. He pushed himself into a sitting position, careful not to wake Joe, and eased off the bed. Hop Sing was standing in front of him, sternly proffering the bucket of water and lye. Obediently, he dipped his hands in and scrubbed, then sidled to the door, Hop Sing close at his heels.

“You crazy?” Hop Sing repeated indignantly, as soon as they were on the stairs. “You want get sick too?”

“It was an accident, Hop Sing. I went in to check on Joe and must have fallen asleep.”

“I fix bath. You have bath now.”

“Okay, okay…” Adam’s eyes drifted to the window, and he froze. “Oh, my – what time is it?”

“Hop Sing cook, not clock,” replied Hop Sing tartly. “Fix bath.”

“Hop Sing, the sun is up.”

“Then Hop Sing fix breakfast too.”

“No, I should be finishing the barn chores by now – I’m late. I’ll be late getting to the camp. God only knows what Knox…” he glanced around frantically, as though looking for some magic way to turn back time. “I’ve got to get to the barn chores. Forget breakfast, I don’t have time.”

Hop Sing’s burst of angry Cantonese was ear splitting. He no sooner seemed about to settle down than he launched into a whole new tirade. Adam couldn’t understand a word, but he had a pretty good idea what he was getting at.

“All right, all right!” He held up his hands to stop the flow of angry sound. “If you can fix me something to take with me, I’ll eat on the way. That’s the best I can do, Hop Sing. Now I’ve got to get out to the barn.” He held up a hand as Hop Sing seemed about to go off again. “I’ll wash my face and hands now and then take a quick sponge bath right after the barn chores.”

Probably the pump was not what Hop Sing had had in mind, but Adam gave his face and hands a cursory scrub while drawing water for the stock. He couldn’t believe he had left them unfed this long. What’s more, he was going to be late getting to the lumber camp – something that would not make it any easier for the crew to take him seriously. He didn’t even want to think about the fact that he had exposed himself to a contagious illness for a lengthy period of time – he would face that trouble when and if it came. The more immediate problem was that he was on a schedule that allowed for no missteps or slip ups and lost time was the enemy – it could never be made up and he was falling increasingly behind.

Still half-groggy with sleep, he lugged two buckets into the barn and stopped first to water Buck, his father’s large buckskin. He was so distracted that he stood poised with the bucket for a full half-minute before it dawned on him that Buck was drinking. He put down the bucket and ground his fists into his eyes. The feed bin was also full. Puzzled, he reached up to stroke Buck’s nose, his eyes wandering around the barn. All the animals were munching happily, everything looked clean and in order…his gaze finally stopped on Clyde, in the act of returning a pitchfork to its peg. Clyde nodded to him. “Morning, Mr. Cartwright.”

Adam stood staring, mouth ajar, not convinced yet that he wasn’t dreaming. “You – did the barn chores?” he managed finally.

Clyde nodded. “Curly noticed you wasn’t down at your usual time and figured somethin’ was up. Asked me to take care of ’em afore startin’ out for the east pasture. Anything else you need me to do afore I go?”

“Any – ” Adam was having the worst time catching up. “I don’t – ” He paused to collect his wits. “No,” he stammered at last. “Nothing. Thank you.”

“I’d best be on my way then.” Clyde sauntered past him to the door.

“Clyde – ” he had no idea what it was he wanted to say.  “Thank Curly for me?”

“Sure thing, Mr. Cartwright.” Clyde touched the brim of his hat to him and disappeared outside.

Adam stayed behind, stunned, still stroking Buck. Sport whinnied to him and he walked over to rub his ears. “We’ll be on our way in just a bit, fella.” He couldn’t really understand what was going on, what had brought about this change.

Didn’t matter anyway. Suddenly, he was back on schedule. He was too relieved to question it much. He straightened the kink in his back and started for the bathhouse. A short sponge bath, a shave, a look in on Pa, and he was on his way. He might even have time for a cup of coffee.

 

*

 

Ben’s first thought on awakening was that everything hurt a little less – his throat, his head, his eyes – though he was suffused in an overall weariness. His second thought was that the window was full of sunlight and the day must be well advanced. He was just trying a little experimental movement when Hop Sing appeared in front of him.

“You still!” he said firmly. “Take medicine!”

It seemed like good advice, so Ben swallowed the contents of the spoon floating under his nose before clearing his throat to speak. “Water?”

Hop Sing quickly filled a glass from the pitcher on the bedside table and helped him drink. Ben decided he felt fuzzy, but overall, worlds better.  “What time is it, Hop Sing?”

“Almost noon. Docta Martin coming.”

“Ah. Good.” Ben nodded approvingly. “I’d like a few words with him. Missed the boys again, I suppose?”

“Boys all busy,” agreed Hop Sing firmly. “You like lunch?”

Ben reached up to feel under the towel at his throat. His neck was a little less stiff.  “Maybe a little. How are they doing, Hop Sing? This hard on them?”

Hop Sing’s expression was unreadable. “They worry. Natural. But very busy. No time worry much.”

“Good.” Ben nodded vaguely. “Lots to do. Has Adam said anything about the lumber operation?”

Hop Sing shrugged casually. “Missa Adam come home pretty late,” he suggested evasively. “I fix you lunch.”

“All right.” Ben coughed a little and swallowed – his throat felt raw still, but no longer on fire. “I’d like some kind of report from Adam when he gets home tonight – he can wake me up if I fall asleep.”

“No, he can not.”  The firm voice from the doorway made them both turn. “Absolutely no business chat, Ben – you may be feeling better, but you’re still a sick man and I’d like to keep things moving in the right direction.”

“Hello, Paul,” said Ben, a little guiltily. “Nice to see you.”

“And nice to see you able to see me.” Paul opened his bag. “Glad Hop Sing’s around to make sure that you behave. Why don’t you see to that lunch, Hop Sing, while I examine my patient?” He picked up the towel and felt Ben’s throat, nodding to himself. “Improved. But don’t kid yourself it’s over. I don’t want you even thinking about anything but rest and food until I say so.”

Ben smiled a little. “That’s kind of a tall order, Paul. Besides, I’m sure I’d get well much faster if I could talk to Adam about our business interests and hear that everything’s all right.”

“Maybe.” Paul inspected the inside of his throat. “But the other side of that is I don’t want Adam hanging around you for any long business discussions. You’re still contagious, you know, and the two of you are bound to lose track of time once you get started. I’d like to limit his exposure.”

Ben turned cold. “Of course,” he said slowly. “Of course you’re right. I hadn’t thought of that. Hoss and Joe – ?”

“Have not been in here.”

Ben nodded, relieved. “I don’t suppose Adam’s said anything to you…?”

Paul grinned, feeling his pulse. “All of my conversations with Adam have involved you and diphtheria. I’m serious, Ben. No business for a while. Adam’s as bright and as capable a young man as I know – I’m sure he has things well in hand.”

“Certainly.” Ben watched him pull a bottle out of his bag. “Left him with quite a lot to handle, though. The range and the lumber deal – not to mention Joseph. Oh, I know Adam’s a grown man – and mostly I’ve treated him like one since  – well, since he was five or so, actually –but I can’t help feeling it’s too much pressure. Joseph would be a handful alone, without the lumber contract to meet. And I keep thinking of what happened after Marie died…”

Paul glanced up from the liquid he was measuring. “Managed all right then, as I recall.”

“But it took a toll, Paul,” Ben argued, rubbing at his neck. “Well, I guess he has Hoss and Hop Sing to help him.”

Paul nodded noncommittally. “That’s right. Think good thoughts.” He poured his liquid into a glass of water and handed it to Ben. “This is for you. You are looking better – though not nearly as well as you seem to think, so I’m having Hop Sing enforce my instructions.” He watched Ben drink and gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Let the boys work things out in their own way, Ben. I think you’ll be surprised by the results.”

Ben made a face as he swallowed the medicine. “Good surprised or bad surprised?”

Paul gave him a mischievous look. “You never know. That’s part of what keeps life interesting, don’t you think? Get some rest, my friend. Follow my instructions and you’ll be meddling in your sons’ business again in no time.”

Ben glared at him as he settled back on the pillows. “It’s my business. And I do not meddle.”

“No?” Paul stood up as Hop Sing entered with a tray. “I wonder what they’d have to say about that? Take care of him, Hop Sing. In spite of himself. I know the way out.”

Ben was going to give a crushing retort, but Hop Sing interrupted him with a spoonful of broth and he swallowed instead. “I can see it’s going to be difficult to reclaim proper respect around here when I’m better,” he said sourly.

“Very difficult,” agreed Hop Sing cheerfully. “Eat.”

 

*

 

Adam slammed the account book closed and pushed it away, glaring at it accusingly. Worse than he had expected. Either the man was an idiot, or a cheat. Maybe both. He got up from battered table that served as a desk and paced the small space restlessly.

Knox had finally surrendered the books and the petty cash key that morning before taking off for the riverbank, making it clear that he didn’t have time to fool around with such trivialities. His blustering attitude of yesterday had been replaced by one of smug confidence – as though he knew something was wrong and dared Adam to do something about it. Adam stopped his pacing and sat on the edge of the desk and crossed his arms, frowning at the wall opposite. And he had a point.

His first impulse was to fire Knox and boot him down the mountainside, ending his problems with him once and for all. Along with any hopes he had of fulfilling this contract.

The men were Knox’ men, not his – and replacing them in the midst of an epidemic and quarantine was unlikely, at best estimate. Laughable, at worst. But allowing Knox to continue to cheat and rob and bully the Cartwrights  – not to mention the lumber crew  – rubbed Adam sorely against the grain. He pushed himself to his feet and paced slowly to the door. Even if he kept a portion of the crew, the contract deadline was in jeopardy. He barely had enough men to finish on time now, always assuming he thought of a way to get the logs and lumber where they needed to be.

There was no way around it. He was going to have to try to come to some kind of an agreement with Knox. He strolled over to where Sport was tied and pulled himself into the saddle, kneading at the tension gathering between his brows. A lot like making a deal with the devil. But his father had dealt with him all right. If he could just strike the right note, maybe he could find a way to deal with him, too. He swung Sport around. And maybe not. It hurt his sense of justice to have to cave to a man like Knox.     Be honest with yourself, he thought, smiling reluctantly. You mean your pride. Guess you can sacrifice a little of that to bring in Pa’s contract for him. He steered Sport toward the logging road and the river.

As he approached the river his mind was so busy thinking of what to say to Knox that it took him a minute to note the ruckus up ahead. He heard the sounds of yelling, and a horse’s scream of distress. He pulled Sport up to listen more carefully. These mountains were full of wildlife, though usually they stayed far away from heavy concentrations of men. He pulled his rifle from its scabbard and spurred Sport into a gallop. Sport careened around the bend while he was still above the work site, giving him a full view of the goings on below.

Knox had a team of horses hitched to a load of logs and was trying to coax them into the river. When they resisted, he would beat them with a broad stick. One beast was already covered with pink foam and streaks of blood, striking out with his hooves as far as the harness would allow. While Adam watched, Knox struck him again, full in the face. Adam felt a mounting rush of pure rage, muffling sound and clouding his eyes with a red hot mist.

He later had no real memory of exactly what followed – the next thing he knew he was beside Knox, tearing the stick from his hand. For a heartbeat he thought he was going to use the stick on Knox himself, then he turned away instead, breaking it over his knee and throwing it into the river.

He turned back, taking three quick breaths in an effort to get himself under control. When he thought he could speak he ground out, very, very quietly, “I’ll prepare your wages. Get your things together and get off the Ponderosa.”

Knox glowered at him. “You cain’t fire me.”

“I can. I have.”

Knox’ confidence seemed to shake a little for the first time. “You fire me, you lose this whole dang contract. All these men march with me.”

Adam shifted his gaze to encompass the men standing nearby. Three in front took an instinctive step backward. “Anyone that feels a need to go with Mr. Knox can stop by the office. I’ll give you your wages. Now, Mr. Knox. I want you off my land.”

Knox stood, uncertain, trying to decide whether or not to make a stand. Adam cocked the rifle.

Knox narrowed his eyes, backing up reluctantly. “All right, sonny boy. You got the upper hand for now. But this ain’t over.”

Adam ignored him, moving to examine the horses. One seemed spooked, but otherwise all right. The other was in bad shape, bleeding in a number of places, including one eye, dangling his left front leg in front of him. Adam crouched and ran his hands gently over the leg, feeling for any breaks. He sensed someone squatting beside him and heard Crawford’s voice in his ear.

“Tain’t no use, Mr. Cartwright. He’s gotta be put down.”

It was exactly what Adam had been thinking, but his mind rebelled against it anyway. “I don’t think it’s broken.”

“Tain’t the point, sir. It’s the only merciful thing to do.”

Adam nodded painfully. Hoss, maybe, would have been able to think of a way to save him, but he didn’t know of anyone else who could. And to keep the poor creature hanging on in agony while he waited for Hoss to return…he unfolded his knees slowly and raised the rifle. “Unhitch the other one and lead him away, will you, Crawford?” He waited, cold with resignation, while Crawford took care of the other half of the team, then stroked the horse’s quivering neck, talking to him soothingly, noticing again the blood in his mouth and eye. If he had to die at least there was no need for him to die scared. When the harness was off and the horse seemed calm, he took careful aim and fired.  The horse dropped to the ground.

Adam stood staring at the corpse. “What did he think he was doing, anyway?” he asked of no one in particular.

“River’s calmest here – fewest rocks. Figgered maybe the horses could swim.”

“Pulling logs? Logs are buoyant. They’d – it doesn’t make any sense. And even if they could, the condition that animal was in…”

Crawford’s voice was philosophical. “There’s some folks as likes to cause pain. Cain’t stop once they start. Makes ‘em feel strong. I can take care o’ this here, sir. You get on back to the office.”

Knox’ pay envelope . Adam nodded wordlessly, wondering where he’d left Sport. He glanced around blindly, someone pressed reins into his hand.

He didn’t remember mounting, didn’t remember riding back to the camp, didn’t even remember carefully figuring Knox’ wages, setting things up to settle with the rest of the men.

But when Crawford entered, he was sitting there quietly with one foot resting on the desk, his mind shrouded in a black cloud.

He had lost his head. He had lost his temper and ruined everything – ruined his father’s chance at his carefully calculated contract. And now the Cartwright reputation would be besmirched and he would have to tell his father about it – about his foolishness and lack of control – his failure when his father needed him most. Worst of all, at the very heart of his being he knew that if it happened again, he would respond in exactly the same way. He glanced up at Crawford as he entered.

“All taken care of, Mr. Cartwright.”

Adam nodded, shuffling through the papers in his hands. “Want to know how much I owe you, Crawford?”

Crawford shrugged. “Payday ain’t till Saturday.”

Adam looked at him directly for the first time. Then slowly lowered his foot and looked at him again, trying to decide what it was that made him seem so different.

He had it. Crawford was smiling. It was, he realized, the first time he’d ever seen him smile. He leaned forward on the table. “You sticking it out with me, Crawford?”

“Just came by to tell you the horse was taken care of and to get orders for the men, sir.”

Adam shook his head. Sir . Would he ever get used to that? “No one’s stopped by yet. How many men you figure we’re down?”

“Less Knox?”

“Right.”

“None.”

Adam squinted at him. “None,” he repeated. “None left or none gone?”

“None gone, sir. Just need to know where you want us.”

Adam felt his back straighten. “The mill,” he said automatically, “so we don’t waste any time while I try to think of a way to transport what we have to port. Find out how many board feet we need to finish, and how many rough hewn. Keep a small crew aside to scout stands of trees nearer the river – might save us some time to start cutting there instead. Remember, no clear cutting. Crawford – ” he hesitated, not sure he’d understood right, but afraid to hear otherwise, “except for Knox, we didn’t lose anyone?”

“Not a one, sir. I’ll get to it now.” He moved to the doorway, turned back, grinning. “Mr. Cartwright, I don’t mean to be personal er nothin’ – “

Adam raised his eyebrows. “Go on.”

“Well, sir, I gotta say – when yer in a temper, you sure are the spit o’ yer Pa.” He bobbed his head genially and disappeared through the doorway. Adam stared after him for a minute. Then he dropped his head into his hands and laughed.

 

*

 

“Docta say Missa Cartwright seem betta. But no business talk.”

Adam glanced up the stairs and back at Hop Sing. “None? I – well, I made some decisions today he should know about.”

Hop Sing shook his head firmly. “Docta say business talk very bad. Worry Missa Cartwright.”

“Doc doesn’t know the half of it.” Adam lowered himself onto the stairs and rested his elbows on his knees. He had just arrived home from the lumber camp and it was well after dark. He had collected all kinds of information, but had yet to come up with a single workable idea. He was grateful to still have a crew – more grateful than he could say – but in another day or so he wasn’t going to have a lot of work for them unless he came up with some kind of a solution. “Doc take my telegram for Hoss?” Hop Sing nodded. “I have something else for him to bring into town for me if I miss him – a pay envelope for one of the men. He can leave it at the bank.”

“Missa Curly stop by, but he no wait. Say he talk in morning.”

Adam nodded blankly.

“Suppa in stove. You eat now.”

Adam rubbed his hand over his mouth. “Not right now, Hop Sing.”

Hop Sing frowned. “You very late. Eat.”

Adam stood up slowly, shaking his head. “Not now. Maybe later. I’m going to check on Pa and Joe.” He could feel the wall of Hop Sing’s silent protest behind him as he went up the stairs. The fact that he wasn’t scolding told Adam that he was worried about him and he was sorry for that – but the mere thought of food revolted him. He stumbled to his father’s room and stood just inside the door, afraid to sit down and risk falling asleep. In the thin light of the moon his father seemed to be resting peacefully. He leaned his head back against the door lintel and closed his eyes. “Oh, Pa,” he breathed.

“That you, Adam?” The hoarse voice from the bed made him jump.

“Yeah, Pa.”

“What time is it?”

“Not sure.”

“You’re not just getting home, are you?”

“Been home for a bit.”

“Good.” Ben closed his eyes again. “Everything going all right?”

I fired a man today, Pa. I didn’t have any choice and it was the right thing to do but a man is out of work because of me and it doesn’t feel good.  “Everything’s fine.”

“Everything all right up at the lumber camp?”

And I had to put down a perfectly good horse that might still be alive if I’d made the decision sooner. And I have no idea – none – of how to meet this contract. I don’t think you’d be very proud of me, Pa. “No business talk, right, Pa?”

“Right.” Ben laughed a little. “And you aren’t supposed to stay in here too long. Just tell me how your brothers are. Joseph behaving?”

“Well. You know Joe. They’re worried about you, but they’re okay.” And I’m not sure you’ll ever be able to forgive me for lying about that one – especially if anything happens to Joe. “How about you? Doc says you’re a little better.”

“Much. Tired and bored mostly.” He peered into the shadows, trying to make out his son’s face. “You sound tired.”

“A little.”

“Better get off to bed, then.”

“All right. You need anything?”

“Nothing. Nice to talk to you.”

Adam took a deep breath. “You too, Pa.”

“Sleep well, son.”

“Night, Pa.” Adam eased the door closed behind him. He checked Joe and straightened his covers, then looked in on Smokey and Deever before finally going to his own room. He pulled off his boots and sat on the bed, back against the headboard, his head buzzing with weariness but too keyed up to sleep. He was thinking about what his father had said about Hoss and how it might be difficult for him to get respect just because of his age. And wondering why it never seemed to occur to his father that he might have the same problem. Then he remembered what Ben had said about things coming easier to him than his brother and nearly laughed out loud. He certainly hoped Hoss was having an easier time of it than he was.

To be fair, though, he thought, yawning, Hoss probably told Pa when he had problems, and he certainly hadn’t shared his. Now that he wanted to he couldn’t. His own fault. He tried to remember when and why he had first fallen into the habit of keeping things from his father.

He let his eyes slide closed, seeing a young widower, torn by grief, struggling west, taking odd jobs to feed and shelter himself and his small son. Trying to do it all alone. He couldn’t really remember when he had figured out that it made it a little easier on his father if he didn’t mention things like “hungry” and “cold” and “tired”. Pretty early, he thought. And it had pleased him – made him proud that he could help that way. Now it wasn’t really necessary, but he couldn’t seem to stop.

He sat forward and shook himself, irritated with the turn his thoughts were taking. After a moment he reached for his guitar and fingered it. It never failed to remind him of Marie. Maybe if he played very, very softly…he strummed a chord experimentally and was pleased at how quiet it was. Hoss’s room was between his and Joe’s and it was empty – maybe if he played for a little while it would relax him enough to sleep. He strummed for a few minutes, then began to pick his way into a melody at random. It was a few minutes before he realized that it was a little Swedish song Inger used to sing while she baked or sewed. He picked quietly into the chorus, thinking about Inger and Marie, and then his own mother. He’d been lucky in his mothers, he decided. Not everyone could strike gold three times in a row. He smiled. Four, to be fair. Hop Sing had certainly earned a place on the list. It would have been nice to have known his own mother a little better, but he felt sometimes as if he did – just from his father’s and grandfather’s stories and the few things she’d left behind.

He tried to remember other songs he’d learned from Inger…there was a lullaby he recalled her singing to Hoss when he was a baby…he was picking his way easily through the melody when a movement in the doorway startled him. He put his hand across the strings to stop the sound and stood up guiltily. “Joe! You shouldn’t be out of bed! Did I wake you?”

Joe shook his head, rubbing his eyes. “I was awake and I heard the music. Can I come in and listen?”

“No,” said Adam firmly, hurrying over to him. “You have to get back in bed. I’m sorry I disturbed you.”

Joe stood pat. “If I get back in bed, will you play for me?”

“We’ll wake up Pa.”

“Not if we’re quiet. Besides, I think Pa would like it.”

Adam looked at his brother’s bare feet on the cold floor. “All right, but back in bed, now!” He put a hand on Joe’s back to steer him down the hall. Joe climbed in bed and let Adam tuck him in. Adam felt his forehead, then his neck, and gave him some more medicine. Joe rolled onto his side and got comfortable. “What were you just playing?”

“A lullaby. It’s Swedish. Hoss’s ma used to sing it.”

“Play that. It’s pretty.”

Adam focused on playing as quietly as possible. He snuk a glance at Joe, whose eyes were closed, and cautiously tapered into silence.

He was just about to leave when Joe said, “Don’t stop. Are there words?”

Adam resignedly picked up the tune again. “Yes, but they’re in Swedish. I don’t really know them.” Joe snuggled down to listen. Adam played the chorus through twice, then said, “That’s it. Why don’t you go to sleep now?”

Joe opened his eyes and gazed at him pleadingly. “Play something else? Please?”

“All right. One more.” Adam tried to remember something Marie used to sing. After a minute he recalled a cheerful French song she had used to help keep Joe still while she was bathing him and started that. He wondered if somewhere way back in his memory Joe remembered it too. Joe’s eyes were tightly closed when he finished and his breathing was deep and steady, only a little ragged with his illness. Adam counted to five this time before standing up.

He was just turning to leave when Joe’s eyes sprang open. “Don’t go yet.”

Adam almost laughed. Darn kid. He should have known better. He could vividly remember going through this routine almost nightly when Joe was about three or four. Every time he’d thought he had him to sleep he would pop up again, like Lazarus.

“Joe, you need to get some sleep.”

Joe scowled. “I sleep all day.”

“You need to, so you can get better.”

Joe smiled his most innocent smile. “I’ll bet a song would put me to sleep.”

“Guess I walked right into that one.” Adam sat back down and resettled the guitar across his lap. “Just one more, or I won’t be worth much tomorrow.”

Joe grinned his satisfaction and cuddled down again. Adam was about halfway through another song when he asked, “Did you cross the Rubicon?”

Adam paused, lost for a moment, then remembered their previous conversation. “Oh.” He shook his head, fingering his way into the musical bridge. “Fraid not.”

Joe yawned mightily. “You will.”

“Well, thanks for the vote of confidence, buddy, but I have my doubts.”

Joe shook his head. “You will.” His tone of absolute conviction made Adam smile. “Tell me that story again?”

Adam slowed his playing, narrowing his eyes at him suspiciously. “Caesar and the Rubicon?”

Joe nodded.

“I thought you said that story was boring.”

“Naw. I like it. I just wanted to make you tell me.”

Adam gave a gust of reluctant laughter. “You little con artist.”

Joe shot him a mischievous look then closed his eyes in an angelic expression. “Go on.”

Adam worked his way through the story of Caesar and the crossing of the Rubicon, his fingers absentmindedly picking out a musical riff to underline the action here and there. This time, Joe seemed really on his way to sleep at last.

Adam put down the guitar and reached over to arrange his covers, lowering himself into a crouch until he and Joe were eye to eye. He ran a hand over the curly head. “Joe?” he whispered.

“Mmm?” Joe didn’t open his eyes.

“Next time you want something? You could just ask.”

Joe smiled, half asleep. “Not as much fun,” he murmured.

Adam grinned. “But faster,” he suggested.

Joe pushed his face into the pillow, yawning again. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good. Night, buddy.” Joe muttered something in return. Adam stayed where he was for a minute, stroking Joe’s hair, his expression thoughtful. Good advice, actually. Maybe I should give it a try myself.

*

 

Adam stared out over the river as though the mere act of staring could affect an idea. He had spent the morning scouting the area for alternatives and come up empty – right back at the riverbank. The Rubicon. He smiled to himself, remembering Joe. Well, easy for you Julius – at least you had a bridge. And even when you didn’t, you had some of the best engineers the world has ever known. I remember reading about a campaign where you actually built a bridge en route…he shifted slowly, the germ of a thought scratching at the back of his mind.

“Crawford,” he said after a minute. “You said this was the slowest point on the river. The fewest rocks.”

Crawford nodded, wrinkling his nose at the river before them. “Course, it’s all pretty slow right now, bein’ as the water’s so low.”

Adam leaned his shoulder against a tree, his brain starting to click. “And you’re sure about the rocks?”

“Yessir. Fer what it’s worth.”

“Could be worth a lot.” Adam hardly dared breath while his idea took shape – fuzzy shape, to be sure, but it was a beginning. He turned it over in his mind. It would mean abandoning a lot of his father’s carefully laid plans…not enough I fired your foreman, Pa, you should see what I’m up to now. It’s a gamble, and I could lose the contract all together or suffer a terrible penalty…and it’s not an idea I’m sure you’d like. But it’s the only one I’ve got, Pa, and given the time …he stared out across the river, weighing the risks against the potential gains. “Crawford. You ever raised a barn?”

“Sure. Everybody has.”

“Good. I want you to find me our best builders. I’m going to need as many as we can spare without losing too much time at the trees and the mill. We’re going to raise a bridge.”

Crawford looked doubtful. “Won’t hold all the way across the water.”

Adam grinned, slapping him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’re going to make the water work for us. Ever hear of a pontoon bridge?”

Crawford looked even more doubtful. “No sir.”

“You will. Start talking to the men for me. I need to take some measurements. Then stop back by the office and we’ll talk about scheduling.”

Crawford shook his head. “Whatever you say, Mr. Cartwright.”

Adam took a deep breath and looked out across the water one more time, wishing he could talk this through with someone, wishing he were more certain it would work. But – “’Let the dice fly,’” he murmured under his breath.

“How’s that, sir?”

Adam smiled over at Crawford’s puzzled face. “Nothing, Crawford. Just – nothing.”

 

*

 

Dr. Martin found him busy at his father’s desk when he stopped by later that afternoon, scraps of paper riddled with math calculations and large sheets with rough sketches spread out before him. He stood and watched for a moment, realized Adam was completely unaware of his presence, and approached the study area.

“Well. You’re home early for a change.”

Adam glanced up, reluctantly dragging his eyes away from his work and rising to greet him. “I needed my drafting tools. I’ve rescheduled everything and Crawford can keep the crews going until tomorrow. I’m hoping to have this ready by then.”

“What are you designing?” the doctor turned one of the pages so he could look. “A dock?”

“A bridge. I may have finally hit on a solution to our problem of moving the lumber. I need to be careful, though – it has to be wide enough and strong enough and stable enough.”

“Hm. Interesting.” Dr. Martin turned the picture back to Adam. “But I won’t pretend I understand what I’m looking at. How are the patients?”

“Pretty good, I think. Sleeping, last time I checked. Joe’s reached the coughing stage. You should hear it around here nights.”

“I have a telegram for you from Hoss.” Dr. Martin pulled a folded telegram out of his pocket and smiled at Adam, then frowned abruptly, taking in his face for the first time. “Good God. You look terrible.”

Adam smiled reassuringly. “I’m okay. Just covering a lot of territory.”

Dr. Martin moved to feel his forehead. “You’re warm. Let me see your throat.”

“My throat’s fine. Probably just the fire in here – it’s pretty high.” He waited patiently while the doctor looked down his throat and felt under his chin.

“Hm.” Dr. Martin shook his head. “Your throat does seem fine. But I don’t like the way you look. Are you sleeping at all?”

Adam perched on the edge of the desk and shrugged. “Sure. Some.” Dr. Martin looked at him and he dropped his eyes. “Okay – Joe’s kind of restless nights.”

“I have something I could give him to help him sleep.” Adam frowned. “Very mild. Just a little something that I’d add to the steam kettle – completely natural, but he’d sleep through the night. And you could too.”

Adam looked uncomfortable. “Look, Doc, as soon as Hoss is back and everybody is on the mend I plan to sleep for a week straight – but right now…” he hesitated, his ears reddening. “I think Joe wakes himself up on purpose. I mean, he loves Hop Sing, but Hoss is gone and he can’t see Pa and I’ve been getting home so late…I think he just needs to feel secure – that something in his world is a little normal – he’s just a kid after all, and everything is so…so he wants to see one of us at some time during the day – to reassure himself. And the only one around is me, and that’s about the only time I’m available.

We don’t talk for that long, really, but he seems to feel better afterward. So, in a way, it’s actually good for his recovery. Don’t you think?” He glanced at the doctor hopefully.

“Joe’s doing very well, Adam, and he can sleep during the day. I was thinking about you.”

Adam looked at him sheepishly, then away again. “I think maybe he’s not the only one that needs to feel like things are a little bit normal. I feel better afterward, too.”

Dr. Martin paused thoughtfully. The hardest thing for a doctor to remember sometimes was that patients were made up of more than just physical symptoms. He sighed resignedly. “All right. But I’d like to see you fit in a little more sleep somewhere. And don’t stay with Joe too long – he’s still contagious, you know. Take me to my patients.”

Adam led the way upstairs, glad the doctor didn’t know about the night he’d inadvertently spent in Joe’s room.

Dr. Martin hesitated at the head of the stairs. “Come to think of it, why don’t I do this alone while you get back to work?”

Adam raised his brows. “Why?”

“First of all, I don’t want you and your father starting into some long business conversation while I examine him. Secondly, if you’re run down I don’t want you in there when you don’t have to be. And thirdly, if your father gets a good look at you in daylight he’ll worry, and that’s the last thing he needs.”

Adam grinned. “I don’t look THAT bad – besides, the curtains are drawn so he can sleep.”

“Just do as I ask – I promise I’ll give a full report before I leave.”

Adam hesitated, then nodded and made his way back down the stairs. In truth, he was a little relieved – he felt awkward about facing his father until he had his plan in place and knew it would work. Seemed like there were so many things he couldn’t say to him he could hardly think of a safe topic – except maybe the weather.

He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, remembering Hoss’s telegram. He slit it open with his thumb and read it walking back to his father’s desk.

HEY ADAM STOP
ALL WENT WELL HERE STOP
EAGER TO GET HOME STOP
GOOD NEWS ABOUT PA STOP
TAKE CARE OF JOE STOP
HOW ARE THINGS WITH THE RANCH STOP
HOPE TO BE THERE SOON DON’T STOP
HOSS
PS YOU DON’T SAY HOW YOU ARE STOP

Adam sat down at the desk to write a reply for Dr. Martin to take back with him.

HI HOSS STOP
CONGRATULATIONS ON THE GRAIN DEAL STOP
PA AND JOE IMPROVING STOP
ALL WELL HERE STOP
MISS YOU DON’T STOP
ADAM
PS I’M FINE STOP

He offered it to the doctor when he reappeared less than an hour later. Dr. Martin tucked it into his vest pocket. “With any luck it won’t be too long before we can lift the quarantine and Hoss can come home.”

“Things better in town?”

The doctor removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fewer new cases being reported.”

Adam studied his face. “Anyone else…?”

“Four more.” The doctor sounded bitter. “It’s hard on the old ones and the children.” Then smiled faintly as he caught Adam’s anxious glance at the stairs. “Don’t worry. Joe seems to have a light case, and your father would not thank you for putting him in that category.”

Adam didn’t smile back. “Still, he’s not that young anymore.”

This time Dr. Martin smiled fully. “It’s relative, I suppose.” He became brisk. “But this isn’t the time to take chances. I don’t want any carelessness causing complications. Plenty of quiet and fluids. I’d say Ben is officially on the mend – Smokey, too. If all goes well, they’ll be able to come downstairs in a day or two.”

“Then we’ll have to tell him about Joe.”

“When the time comes. Not before.” He saw Adam’s expression and added kindly, “I know it’s difficult, son, but it’s not forever. And it’s for his own good.”

Adam grimaced. “Hope he sees it that way. There’s sure a lot I’m keeping from him, Doc.”

“Yes, well, think of it as a form of medication. Where’s Hop Sing?”

“Taking a nap. Since I was home early I thought he could use a break.”

“I’m sure he could.” Dr. Martin gave Adam’s arm a pat. “Things seem well in hand here.”

“The credit for that goes to Hop Sing, not me.”

“He’d make a good nurse. Any of the other hands come down with it?”

“Not so far, no.”

“Well, hang on a little longer, Adam. I think we’re almost out of the woods. I’ll come out or send a messenger as soon as the quarantine lifts.”

“Thanks, Doc.” Adam walked him to the door, then returned to his sketches.

*

 

Adam refused to look at the clock when he finished, as though not knowing the time would keep it from being as late as he feared. But there was no avoiding the faint lightening of the sky, so he stood and stretched and walked over to the window to have a look. Dawn was almost upon them. No point in going to bed now.

Despite the sleepless night he had a sense of satisfaction. His design was done – now it was just a matter of building it. With enough smart men, that should only be the work of a day or two. And if it worked – and it had to work – then the worst of his troubles were over. Pa was on the mend and Joe looked likely to be soon as well. They might even be able to come downstairs in a few days – sure would make things less lonely around here. Curly was doing a good job bossing the range and the end of the quarantine was in sight. That meant Hoss would be home. And then he would eat as much as Hop Sing wanted him to and sleep as much as Doc Martin wanted him to and things would return to normal.

He walked back to the desk and flipped through his sketches, feeling a warm bloom of accomplishment. In the cold light of morning they still looked good. He spread out his new cutting maps and carefully refigured the time needed to finish the contract before the penalty kicked in. And gave a low whistle. Sure was cutting it close. Still…

“No turning back now, right Julius?” He shook his head at how loud his voice sounded in the empty room. Another week like this and he’d be nutty as a fruitcake.

He should let Joe know that he’d inspired him – that he might just cross his Rubicon afterall. He glanced at the stairs and hesitated. Joe’s cough had kept him sleepy and irritable – disinclined to conversation. But he didn’t have to be at the barn chores for at least another half hour…he sat down at the desk and pulled out a fresh piece of paper, beginning a picture of an army of loggers, with himself at the head, crossing a pontoon bridge. He’d title it “Adam crosses the Rubicon” and leave it on Joe’s night table for him – at least he’d know he’d been thinking of him. He whistled softly to himself as the picture came to life, paused to place the tune and smiled. It was Inger’s lullaby.

 

*

 

“Mr. Cartwright, that is the darndest thing I ever done seen in all my born days. Think it’ll hold all them horses and lumber?”

“Should. I did all the calculations and mathematics are one of the few things that don’t lie. Besides, I figure anything that could hold armed soldiers in bronze breastplates and horse drawn chariots can handle a few horses pulling lumber.”

Crawford folded his arms and shook his head. “Mr. Cartwright, half the time I don’t foller a single word you say.”

“Never mind, Crawford. And I wish you’d call me Adam.” They stood watching as the men put the finishing touches on grading the steep bank for easy access. The pontoon bridge stretched, broad and imposing, across the face of the water. The light was fading now, but tomorrow they would try it out – drive the first load of logs over it to the other side. Adam felt his heart lift at the thought.

It had taken two days to build, if you didn’t count Sunday – close to his estimate. The loggers had proved a willing, if curious, crew – and if the design had them questioning the sanity of their boss they hadn’t said anything about it. As long as they got their wages they seemed content.

The builders glanced at the sky and began to pack up for the day. Adam moved a little closer. “I’m going to walk it. Care to join me?”

Crawford frowned. “Gettin’ kinda late, Mr. Cartwright. You oughta be gettin’ home. Time enough for that tomorrow.”

Adam grinned at him and shrugged. “You go, then. I kind of have an itch to try it out. Just across and back. I’ll see you tomorrow, Crawford. Good work.”

Crawford shook his head at him. “Night, sir.”

Adam watched him walk away. Poor Crawford. But he seemed determined to follow Adam whatever crazy place he led. And that was a lucky break.

The last of the men were carrying away tools and they touched their hats to him as he stepped onto the bridge. He felt the small movement of the surface underneath him. They’d have to speed up cutting to compensate for the lumber they’d used to build this, but he’d planned for that. Some of the builders would be switched to cutting crew tomorrow – some to transport. He was walking a fine line, but he had every hope that he could keep his balance. He strode out toward the middle of the bridge, enjoying the solid feeling underneath him. He wondered if this was how Caesar had felt in 49BC – unsure, elated, terrified – alone.

Watching the bridge take shape and span the river had been one of the most exciting days of his life. He had only wished that there were somebody he could tell about it. Joe seemed to be turning the corner of his illness and was sleeping now almost all the time. His father was doing well – approaching convalescence, in fact – but he was still forbidden to discuss anything that might upset him or even linger with him for very long. With the town off limits, it had made for a long and empty Sunday. The hands played cards and horseshoes around the bunkhouse, but Adam found himself too restless to join them. After a while, he had taken Sport out to ride the range and check how things were going. If his father did come downstairs he was going to want a report, and Adam wanted to be able to answer with first hand knowledge. Things looked in good order and he had Curly to thank for that. He’d tell his father so.

If he were honest with himself, he looked to his father’s questions with a mixture of relief and trepidation. He wouldn’t be sorry to turn some of the responsibility back over to him, but he wanted to be sure that some of the decisions he’d made were sound first.

Somehow, his ride had ended up at the lake by Marie’s headstone and he’d spent a couple of quiet hours there, looking out at the water. He had expected to have a rambling chat with her, to maybe tell her about his bridge, but instead he’d just sat there, not sorting through his problems, not even thinking. By the time he’d mounted to return home he had found some measure of peace.

He reached the opposite bank of the river and started back. The sun, a ball of pink fire, was just disappearing behind the mountains. Crawford was right – he should be getting home.  He crossed back over the bridge and swung onto Sport, making himself comfortable in the saddle. “Let’s call it a day, boy.”

The long ride home was so filled with the endless revolving of his busy thoughts that he was surprised to see how dark it was when he dismounted outside the Ponderosa. Even for the shortening autumn days it must be late. Hop Sing wouldn’t be very happy with him.

He led Sport into the barn and undid his cinch. He told himself that it was important to take care of his horse first, but part of him knew he was avoiding Hop Sing’s wrath and he chuckled, feeling six years old. Maybe by the time he’d finished with Sport Hop Sing would be in bed. He took his time making the horse comfortable and checking to see that all the animals were fed and watered. He was just thinking that he couldn’t really stall any longer when he saw a light coming from the tack room. He frowned. He was sure he hadn’t left a lantern burning. Could one of the hands have been so careless? Or maybe, since he was late, someone had turned it on for him. He sighed. Either way, it needed to be turned out. A lantern left burning in a barn, even in the tack room away from the hay, was a terrible fire hazard.

He pushed the tack room door open. The lantern was sitting on a tack box at the other side of the room. Seemed a funny place to put it and a funny place to forget it, but he was too tired to think about it now.  He strode over to it and bent down to turn it out. Then there was a high, whooshing sound and a thud of impact and he was face down in the dirt.

He lay for a second, half-stunned, trying to figure out how he had tripped, but a wide, stinging band of pain across his back told him something had knocked him down. He tried to push himself up and look around, but a brutal, thumping weight between his shoulder blades forced him back against the icy floor. This pressure he identified as a man’s broad boot, even before he recognized the familiar voice;

“Hello there, sonny boy – who’s got the upper hand now?”

Knox.

Of course. Knox was trapped in town by the quarantine, with nothing to do but feed his anger and resentment. How could he have been so careless as to not think of watching his back?

Knox drove his heel into Adam’s spine. “Whatsamatter, sonny boy? Not happy to see me? And here I went to all this trouble to surprise you.” The relentless vice of Knox’ boot squeezed the air from Adam’s lungs and he tried to shift, struggling for breath. He felt Knox pluck his gun from its holster and lean in harder, laughing softly. “Now, don’t git all impatient – I cleared the whole evenin’, just for you. NOT that I have any place to go – thanks to you.” Knox’ tone grew ugly, and he crushed down with such violence that dots swam before Adam’s eyes and he half-expected to hear the sound of his ribs and spine cracking. Just as he felt consciousness slipping from him, Knox eased his weight.

“Don’t give in so easy, sonny. You’ll spoil all my fun.”

The blood sang in Adam’s ears along with Crawford’s words…There’s some folks as likes to cause pain. Cain’t stop once they start. Makes ‘em feel strong. The memory made him feel a little sick. He coughed, trying to grab a breath while he could, caught the pervasive smell of cheap whiskey. Knox was drunk. That probably made him more violent, but it also made him slower. If Adam played his cards right, he might be able to make it work for him.

“So, how are things at the lumber camp? Miss me?” He nudged Adam in the ribs with something. Adam peered through his eyelashes, saw him dangling a thick board from one hand. He couldn’t see much else from this vantage point, but he was biding his time – letting Knox get cocky. “You disappoint me, sonny boy – thought you’d have more fight than this. Guess you’re not so tough without yer fancy – “ While he spoke, Knox lightened the pressure on Adam’s back just enough. Adam looped his arm around the leg planted in front of his eyes and pulled. Knox tottered with a yell.

Knox was drunk, but he was as solid and massive as the trees he cut and he only tumbled into the wall. Adam, for his part, was regretting all those short, ill-slept nights as he found his reflexes slow. But despite the throbbing ache in his back, he made it as far as his knees before Knox recovered and, with a howl of rage, swung his board.

It caught Adam under the jaw and sent him flying, white lights exploding behind his eyes. He landed hard and lay still, blood filling his mouth, the world rocking under him, clinging to shreds of consciousness. He sensed, rather than heard, Knox moving to stand over him, tapping the board on the dirt floor by his ear.

“Now, that’s more like it.” Knox pulled back his foot and booted him solidly in the side. Adam choked on the blood, coughed, trying to clear his mouth and breathe. He waited for the coup de grace, wondering if there was anything he could do about it. And waited. After a moment he tried to pry his eyes far enough apart to see Knox. He was just standing there, holding the lantern in one hand and the board in the other, staring at him.

Knox smiled. “Didn’t think you was finished just yet,” he remarked conversationally.

Adam tried to lift his head and fell back under a wave of dizziness. Somehow, Knox’ stillness disturbed him more than the attack.

Knox swung the lantern casually from his hand. “Reckon you’ve been in the camps long enough now to know what every lumber man fears most – fire. When the wind’s right and it’s been dry – say like tonight – it can strip a mountain in a matter of hours. Once it takes hold, ain’t a whole lot a body can do to stop it.”

Adam tried painfully to focus on the lantern and Knox’ chillingly matter-of-fact words, though everything looked and sounded as though he was under water. Was Knox going to set fire to the lumber operation? He had to stop him! He struggled to sit up, but he couldn’t even lift his head.

“Nasty way to go, fire. Course, it’s usually the smoke that gets you first, but on the floor like you are, maybe not. Figure a strong young feller like you could last quite a while. Maybe even long enough to burn to death. And with the wind blowin’ like it is, shouldn’t take long for the rest of the place to catch. Water supply’s got to be low.”

Adam’s heart beat suffocatingly in his chest. Images raced through his mind – of the animals in the barn, the men asleep in the bunkhouse, Pa and Joe and Hop Sing, Smokey and Deever, sick or asleep in the ranch house – by the time anyone knew about the fire…he felt a core of sheer stubbornness harden inside of him. No. He wouldn’t allow it. Somehow or other…he tried to calm his racing, aching brain. If Knox was stupid enough to start the fire in the tack room instead of, say, the loft, it would take longer to take hold. Once Knox made his break for safety, he would put it out before it got out of hand. Pile saddles on it, blankets – something. If he had to drag himself he’d find a way . He lay very still, his eyes barely open, watching. Let Knox think he was finished. He wasn’t. Not yet.

He saw Knox toss the board aside and pull Adam’s gun from his waistband. For a second his heart faltered. Was Knox going to settle for a quick death? But the gun wasn’t pointed at his head or his chest, it was leveled somewhere around his kneecap. He turned cold. Son of a bitch sure wasn’t taking any chances on him going anywhere. And paused.

A gunshot. That was bound to bring somebody. If only he could make the gun go off – preferably, he thought grimly, without getting shot.

Knox pulled back the hammer. “Here tell this hurts a mite,” he offered with a smirk.

Adam watched through narrowed eyes, waiting until Knox’ attention was focused on his aim, a little unsteady in his drunken state, then gathered all his strength and kicked out. Knox tumbled backward, the shot going wild. Adam managed to roll onto his side and get his hands under him to push himself up, but he was slow, too slow, Knox was faster. He felt the hard muzzle of the gun dig into his temple, and Knox’ voice, cold with fury, grate in his ear.

“You just gotta be smart, dontcha?” he hissed.

Adam caught a glimpse of Knox’ eyes and closed his own briefly against the look in them. This was not going to be fast and it was not going to be pleasant. He steeled himself. Then heard the distinctive click of a rifle cocking.

“I wouldn’t.”

For a second neither Knox or Adam moved, unsure as to what was happening. “Put that gun down, nice and easy-like.” Adam felt Knox’ finger waver on the trigger and grit his teeth. “I mean now, mister.” There came the chatter of half a dozen or so more rifles cocking. The gun barrel shifted slightly on his temple and Knox was yanked out of his line of vision. Adam sagged in relief, letting his forehead slump forward onto his arm for a moment before fumbling for the tack box to pull himself up.

Then someone was helping him, lifting him. He had a glimpse of Curly Froman’s face as the tack room walls swooped past him in a swooning circle. He clutched at Curly to steady himself, then felt the tack box beneath him but was afraid to loosen his grip lest he be thrown off of the wildly spinning earth.

“Mr. Cartwright? You okay? Can you hear me?” Curly’s voice was a little clearer now. “Are you hit? Mr. Cartwright?” He felt Curly dabbing at his chin with a handkerchief or a bandanna and, a little unsteadily, took the cloth from him and tried to clean some of the blood out of his mouth. The room was slowing down and Curly’s face, anxious and questioning, was coming into focus. “Where are you hurt? Mr. Cartwright?”

Adam felt tentatively along his jaw. It hurt like hell, but nothing seemed to be dangling or creaking, so probably it wasn’t broken. His hand came away bloody and he moved the bandanna to press it there instead, clearing his throat experimentally. “Curly, you think you’re ever going to call me Adam?”

Curly stared at him for a moment, then gave a crack of laughter. “Lordy. He’s all right. Somebody help me get him into the house.”

 

 

Curly whistled through his teeth as he watched Hop Sing prepare to rub ointment into the welt across Adam’s back. “Nice. Should make ridin’ a lot of fun tomorra. Hope you’re plannin’ on stayin’ around here. “

Adam pulled the ice pack away from his jaw and explored the area inside his cheek with his tongue. “Tomorrow? The first load of lumber goes across my bridge tomorrow. You better believe I’m going to be there. Where’s Knox?”

“If you mean the feller we pulled off’n you, Clyde and Frank are givin’ him an escort to the sheriff’s. Figgered it was urgent enough fer a trip ta town, even with the quarantine. Who is he?”

“Was the lumber foreman. I fired him a few days ago.”

Curly’s eyes twinkled. “You sure got a way with people. Anybody else’s back you set up that me an’ the boys should be keepin’ an eye peeled fer?”

Adam chuckled, than groaned, as the laugh made pain ripple through his injuries. “Not that I know of. It’s hard to be sure. Where are the rest of the fellas?”

“Bunkhouse. They’re more comfortable there and you got sick folk in here. But they appreciate the whiskey.”

“Least I could do. They saved my life. Probably more than mine. Gunshot bring you?”

“Yup. Thought I heard a yell, earlier, but figgered it was the wind.”

“Glad you – ouch!” Adam jumped as Hop Sing began his ministrations. “Easy, Hop Sing.”

“You hold still,” said Hop Sing sternly. “Should have docta.”

“Doc Martin has a whole town full of patients with diphtheria. He doesn’t need to ride all the way out here to look at a couple of my bruises. Nothing’s broken – a little ice and a good night’s sleep and I’ll be fine.”

Hop Sing grumbled something in Chinese. Adam had no idea what he’d said, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t flattering. He decided to change the subject. “How are the patients? The ruckus disturb them at all?”

“Everybody seeping,” Hop Sing admitted grudgingly, finishing with the long welt. “Big bruise tomorrow.” He prodded where Adam had been kicked in the side and Adam let out a grunt of pain. “Bruise here too. Very bad. Crazy business. Fatha no like.”

“Well, I didn’t like it much myself.” He turned to try and get a glimpse of Hop Sing’s face. “You won’t tell him about this, right?”

Hop Sing’s face was unreadable. “Too many secrets. Very bad.”

“I know…” Adam stopped him as he moved to dab at the cut on Adam’s jaw. “He’ll worry, Hop Sing. And there’s no need to. It’s all over. Doc says in a couple of days he can come downstairs and I can tell him everything. Or everything that matters anyway.”

Hop Sing held his gaze for a moment. “Docta leave note for you,” he said finally. “And telegram from Missa Hoss. I get.”

Curly watched Hop Sing leave the room. “You need anythin’ else? A hand up the stairs?”

Adam shook his head. “No. Thanks.”

“Well, if’n yer determined ta go up ta the lumber camp tomorra I’ll have one o’ the boys see ta the barn chores. That oughta give you an extra hour sack time, anyway.”

Adam thought about protesting, but it sounded too good to refuse. “Thanks,” he said meekly. He held out his hand. “And thank you for what you did tonight.”

Curly chuckled. “My pleasure, Mr. – Adam. Gotta say you keep things real inerstin’.”

Adam smiled wryly. “A little too interesting for my tastes. I’ll be glad when things settle down.”

Curly’s smile broadened. “I’ll be curious ta see that. Night, sir.”

“Night, Curly.” Adam watched him leave then reached for his shirt and began to ease painfully back into it. Hop Sing would fuss all night if he let him. He had just gotten the shirt back over his shoulders when Hop Sing returned and handed him two pieces of paper.

“Suppa spoiled,” he announced.

“Just as well. Don’t think I’ll be chewing anything tonight. Thanks for everything Hop Sing, but I think I’ll be going up to bed. Sorry to wake you.”

Hop Sing looked like he wanted to say something, but threw his hands up instead. “Crazy business,” he muttered. “You go bed. Me clean up.”

Adam nodded gratefully and rose cautiously to his feet. The room gave a quick dip and he grabbed for the fireplace but after a second he felt able to manage the stairs. Hop Sing watched without comment, though his expression was eloquent. Under his skeptical scrutiny Adam was careful to take his time, making good use of the banister as every step pulled on his sore back. Curly was right. Riding tomorrow was just not going to be any fun. He was relieved to make it into his room and close the door. Now that he was alone, he admitted to himself that everything hurt. He painstakingly removed the shirt again, hoping Joe slept through the night tonight. He wasn’t sure he’d even be able to wake up, never mind respond, if he needed him.

He paused to take inventory. The welt across his back burned, the bruise on his ribs ached, his jaw throbbed, his left arm felt stiff. He itched absently at the inside of his arm, noticed the redness around the scratch there. He’d almost forgotten about that. Thought it’d have healed by now, but it looked a little infected. He’d have to put something on it, but not tonight. Not at the cost of another trip down those stairs. He bent over to take off his boots and nearly cried out at the pain it caused. He sat for a moment, breathing carefully. Okay. Nice and easy.

He almost laughed at how slowly he had to do everything, except laughing was a little too painful to contemplate. After a time he was undressed and under the covers, trying to find a comfortable position to read his notes. He finally ended up on his unbruised side and unfolded the one from Dr. Martin.

“Dear Adam: Your father is progressing very well and if nothing changes, I plan to let him get up and move around a little on Wednesday. At that point Joe should also be moving towards convalescence and you can tell Ben about him. Go a little slowly with other information at first. Smokey is teasing to go back to the bunkhouse and I will probably allow him to at about the same time – possibly Deever, too –  but no range duty for a while. I’ll let you know.
I have had no new cases of diphtheria in two days. If this continues, we will lift the quarantine and I will wire Hoss immediately. I will give you a full update on Wednesday. Best Regards, Dr. Martin.”

Wednesday. Day after tomorrow. Adam smiled and opened Hoss’s telegram.

DEAR ADAM STOP
THANKS FOR THE NEWS STOP
DOC MARTIN SAYS IT SHOULDN’T BE MUCH LONGER STOP
MISS YOU TOO DON’T STOP
HOSS
PS HOW ARE YOU REALLY STOP

Adam grinned, stopping quickly to press at the twinge it caused on the injured side of his jaw. Hoss wouldn’t be very happy with him. He had told him that he’d better not come back to find him any more bruised than when he left and he certainly was that. He fumbled for the pen on his night table and drafted a reply on the back of the telegram:

DEAR HOSS STOP
PA GETTING UP DAY AFTER TOMORROW STOP
DOC SAYS JOE DOING WELL STOP
LOOKING FORWARD TO HAVING YOU HOME DON’T STOP
ADAM
PS VERY FUNNY STOP

He put it on his night table and reached to carefully turn out the light. He felt tired, and sore, but thankful. He was still alive. Pa was still alive. Joe was still alive. And by all appearances, they looked to stay that way for a while. He gazed at the music box and after a second’s hesitation, reached out and raised the lid. The soft waltz was still playing as he drifted into an exhausted sleep.

*

 

“Well, ya done it. Beats me all holler as ta how, but ya done it.”

Adam smiled a little at Crawford’s words, despite the hammering throb gathering behind his eyes. Beat him all hollow, too, but the logger was right.

He had arrived early yesterday to watch the men prepare the first team and the first load of logs for transport. The horses had hesitated at the base of the bridge and Adam’s stomach had given an odd flutter, but with some urging they had finally lifted their feet and started across. When they reached the other side Adam had felt his heart begin to beat again.

Crawford had grinned at him. “Mr. Cartwright, you look at that there bridge the way some men look at a purty woman.”

Adam’s eyes drank in the next team beginning their cross. “Well, Crawford, I’ll tell you – I can’t remember the last time I saw a woman half as pretty as that bridge looks to me right now.”

“If’n that’s so, sir, then once this here contract’s set I’ll take you ta where I know there’s some real purty women – seems ta me you need yer memory jogged. Among other things.”

Adam had just laughed as he felt an enormous weight shift from his shoulders. “It’s a date, Crawford.”

If he had thought that seeing the bridge completed made for a wonderful day it was nothing compared to the feeling of seeing it in action – watching it serve the purpose it was designed for. Despite his aches and pains and worries, Adam had gone home that night giddy with bliss.

Loads of lumber had continued across the bridge and down the mountain all day yesterday and the first shipment would be taking off late today. As fewer loggers were needed to cut they moved to the mill or transport. Eventually, Adam planned, they would all be on transport and the last shipment should be in place just in time to avoid the penalty. Barely, but barely was good enough. “Looks like we could just about make it.”

“What in tarnation made ya think o’ such a thing? A floating bridge.”

Adam shook his head. “Long story. How’s the cutting?”

“Cutting’s near through – I’ll be moving some ta the mill and some ta transport tomorra, most likely, like ya said.” Crawford narrowed shrewd eyes at him. “How’s yer face?”

Adam shrugged. “‘Bloody, but unbowed.’”

“Shoulda warned ya about Knox. I know the kinda man he is. Forgot about the quarantine though – thought he’d a moved on.”

“My fault. Should have thought he’d have to go into Virginia City if I paid him in script but I didn’t have enough petty cash on hand.”

Crawford pursed his lips. “Wouldna mattered. Here tell the Marshall’s got a good sized perimeter staked off for that quarantine – can move pretty freely within it, but can’t step outside it. He probably wouldn’t a got nowhere anyhow.

Got things well in hand here, sir, if’n ya wanted to set out early. Take a rest.”

Adam rolled his shoulders to relieve some of the stiffness in his bruised back. “You think so? Doc’s letting my father come downstairs today and I’d kind of like to be there.”

“Got things all covered. Figger I can handle anything that comes up.”

Adam gave him a swat on the shoulder, then flexed his elbow abstractedly. Arm was still stiff. “I know you can. You’ve been a wonder, Crawford.”

“Then git on home and let me show off what a wonder I am.”

Adam grinned, then groaned at the pain that ricocheted through his jaw. “Good idea.” He took one last look at a load of logs being driven over the river. Was it like this for you, Julius? Triumph? Relief? Some hard decisions made and some stiff prices paid…with victory at hand, was it still only bittersweet?

But victory was incomplete – he still had to tell his father the whole. His pleasure tempered with caution, he went to get Sport, turning up his collar against a sudden chill. Indian summer was over – fall was definitely here. He pulled himself into the saddle with something less than his usual grace, his head suddenly accelerating the dull hammering it had been threatening all morning. He sighed resignedly. Too little sleep and that pounding Knox had given him were taking their toll. No wonder Crawford was sending him home.

He pointed Sport down the mountain. “Nice and easy, boy. Not feeling up to anything too energetic today.”

 

*

 

Ben opened his eyes, trying to place what it was that had woken him, then forgot that thought almost immediately as he realized his throat no longer hurt. In fact, nothing hurt, not really, and the terrible, enervated feeling of the last few days seemed to be gone, too. He lay for a minute, enjoying a sense of well being, when the sound that had woken him came again. The sound of coughing – not his. It came to him slowly that he had heard that sound more than once over the past week – somehow, in his fevered confusion and exhaustion, he had always assumed it was coming from him. Now that he had his wits about him he knew it was coming from nearby. He narrowed his eyes to listen.

After a minute, his suspicions roused, he threw back his covers and reached for his dressing gown. He was pleased to find himself fairly firm on his feet and, belting the robe tightly, stepped to the room next to his and pushed the door open.

“Pa!” Joe stopped coughing and looked up with an expression of pleased surprise. “Pa, are you better?”

“Joseph.” Ben moved to his bedside, automatically feeling his forehead before seating himself in the chair by the bed. “Well, no fever. That’s good. I’m fine, son. How about you? Have you caught cold?”

Joe shook his head, beaming at his father. “I got diphtheria, like you. Are you really better? I sure missed you, Pa.”

“Much better, son.” Ben felt his forehead again more anxiously, stung. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you when you were sick. Where are your brothers?”

“That’s okay, Pa. Hop Sing and Adam took good care of me, but they wouldn’t let me see you. Adam’s at the lumber camp, I guess, and Hoss is still in Carson City.”

“Carson City!” Ben’s brows drew together. “But – what day is today? How much time has gone by? Surely – ”

Joe rummaged cheerfully through some papers on his night table and pulled out a hand drawn calendar with the days crossed off. “It’s Wednesday. We been sick for more than a week. Adam made me this so’s I could count the days – he said the Doc would let us up in about a week if there weren’t no compli- comp…” he wrinkled his nose, struggling for the word.

“Complications,” Ben supplied. “Any complications.” He frowned. “You’re telling me you’ve been sick for over a week and I knew nothing about it? And why is Hoss still in Carson City?”

“On accounta the quarantine. He can’t come home till it’s lifted, Adam says. Think it’ll be lifted soon, Pa? I sure miss him.”

“Certainly, son. I’m sure – quarantine, you say?”

Joe nodded brightly, happy to see his father and delighted to have someone to pass the time with. “Virginia City and the environs is quarantined. What’s environs, Pa?”

“The surrounding area.”

“The school was made into a hospital. Maybe they’ll never be able to open it again, huh, Pa?”

Ben smiled. “Somehow I doubt that, so don’t get your hopes up.”

“Would you play checkers with me, Pa? It’s sure boring being sick.”

“Yes, Joseph, it sure is. I suppose we could have a game, but I’d like to talk to your brother and find out exactly what’s been going on around here.”

Joe made a face. “He won’t be back for hours and hours…he gets home real late.”

“I see.” Ben’s frown deepened.

“I got my little set Hoss made me.” Joe busily pulled a small checkerboard and a sack of checkers from his night table drawer and pushed the papers out of the way to set it up.

Ben reached over to help him and caught sight of a drawing lying on top of the stack of papers. He picked it up to study it more closely. “What’s this?”

Joe leaned over to look. “Adam drew that for me. That’s him crossing the Rubicon.”

“The what ?”

“Well, not the real Rubicon. That’s just what I call it.”

“I see.” Despite all the questions colliding in his brain, Ben couldn’t help being a little amused. “And how do you know about the Rubicon?”

“I learned in school,” answered Joe airily. He positioned himself so that he could point to the figures in the picture. “Adam had to get some logs across the river and this is how he finally did it. See? It’s a floating bridge. Can I ride up and see it, Pa?”

“I suppose…not today, of course…” Ben’s forehead puckered, trying to make sense of the picture. The bridge did indeed seem to be resting right on the water, and while he knew Adam might be casual in his representations of people, he would never be less than accurate in the way he depicted structures. Maybe he was reading it wrong. He studied it a little longer. That was definitely Adam, marching at the head of a troop of loggers carrying peavey hooks and saws and axes in place of swords and lances and wearing flannel and wool caps in place of breastplates and helmets. Well, it was an amusing picture, no doubt, but it gave him an uneasy feeling about his lumber operation. Surely Adam knew better than to waste lumber building a bridge when they needed every log available to fulfill the contract on time? Of course he did. Adam was a responsible boy. Though building things was a bit of a weakness…Perhaps Adam had simply drawn it to divert Joe? To help make the history lesson stick? That sounded like something Adam would do.

The sound of a strangled gasp from the doorway made him look up. Hop Sing was frozen there, his expression uneasy.

“Ah, Hop Sing.” Ben smiled, enjoying his chagrin.

“You no supposed to be up!” Hop Sing exploded at last. “You supposed to wait for docta!”

“I feel perfectly well, Hop Sing, and I’m sure Paul would have let me up anyway. I’m finding out so many interesting things – maybe you’d like to fill me in further?”

Hop Sing glared at him, regaining his composure. “You supposed to wait for docta! Very bad!”

“Joseph and I are just going to play a little checkers – we won’t go any further than that without Paul’s permission. We’ve both had more than enough of our own company – at least I know I have, and I assume Joseph too – since I hear he’s been ill almost as long as I have?”

“Little Joe only little sick. Docta say no tell Fatha – worry.”

“I see. And I hear Hoss never made it home from Carson City?”

“Docta say no tell,” Hop Sing repeated firmly. “Missa Hoss home soon.”

“Mm hm. And exactly what else don’t I know?”

Hop Sing lifted his chin. “Missa Adam tell everything when docta say okay – not before. Boss maybe want to disobey docta – not Hop Sing. Wait for docta say okay.” He picked up a quilt from the bottom of Joe’s bed and threw it over Ben’s lap. “You play checkas – okay. I build up fire and bring warm tea. Docta come soon. Missa Adam come later. Tell you everything.”

Ben looked at the drawing once more and set it carefully off to the side. “That,” he said thoughtfully, “should prove interesting.”

*

 

Adam swore softly to himself as he stooped to pick up his saddlebags and sling them over his shoulder. That made the third thing he’d dropped. Somehow or other, his left hand just wasn’t working the way it ought to. He kneaded it firmly with his right. It was stiff and tight – wouldn’t quite close into a fist. He held it up next to his right hand. Swollen, that was why. He shivered, tugging the edges of his collar together. Well, as soon as he got out of this cold he’d have a look at it. Temperature sure had changed fast.

He gave Sport a final scratch behind the ears and headed toward the house. No sign of Doc Martin yet, but no way of knowing when he’d come. No sign of anyone, really. He pushed open the front door and was met with silence. No Hop Sing either. He hung his hat on the peg by the door and removed his gunbelt, struggling a little with the fastenings. He decided to keep his coat on. The chill wind on the road down from the mountain seemed to have settled deep in the marrow of his bones.

There was a fire roaring in the fireplace and he moved to it, lowering himself slowly onto the table in front of it and stretching out his hands to catch the warmth. That was better. He pressed his fingers against his eyelids, trying to push the headache growing there back under control, but the fire was relaxing him a little too completely and he pulled himself hastily to his feet. It would never do for Doc Martin to come and find him asleep in front of the fire. He strolled over to his father’s desk, partly to distract himself, partly to see if there was anything he’d left undone. There was an unopened telegram lying there, addressed to him. Had the doctor been out here already? It seemed possible, though not likely – his schedule was so erratic these days. He frowned as he picked it up and sat on the edge of the desk to read it. It was from Hoss, and his frown gradually turned to a smile as he read.

DEAR ADAM STOP
DOC THINKS THE QUARANTINE IS OVER STOP
SAYS I CAN COME HOME IF I BYPASS VIRGINIA CITY STOP
WILL START OUT TOMORROW MORNING STOP
TELL HOP SING I MISS HIS COOKING STOP
MISS ALL YOU FOLKS TOO STOP
SEE YOU SOON DON’T STOP
HOSS

Adam glanced at the transmission date. Yesterday afternoon. Hoss could be home for dinner. Now, there was news worth coming home early for. He pushed himself away from the desk and headed for the stairs. Better check on the patients – see if the Doc had already been by. Better change for dinner, too – maybe into something warmer. Sure had gotten cold. He massaged his temples as he made his way up the stairs. Boy, he was tired. But the worst was over now. Hoss being home would make a huge difference.

He stopped suddenly at the top of the stairs, drawing his brows together. There were voices coming from down the hall. Couldn’t be Doc Martin – his rig wasn’t here. He paused, leaning against the banister to listen.

“King me!”

He smiled. Joe. Maybe Hop Sing had joined him in a game of checkers.

“This game isn’t over yet, young man!”

Adam raised his eyebrows. Pa. Doc must have been here if he was up. He hesitated. Well, no point in telling him about Joe now, and the doctor had said to take it slow with the rest – but what was safe and what wasn’t?

He could just tell him that the ranch and the lumber camp were okay…his hand went automatically to his jaw. The swelling had gone down some, but there was no missing the jagged gash and the deep blue-black bruise that spread like a stain there. Pa would ask, and he doubted he’d accept another story about him falling. Not that he had any illusions that he’d accepted the first one. That would take him into the whole story about Knox…and what about Hoss? If Hoss came home tonight would Pa think he’d been out on the range, or would he know about the quarantine? He blew out his breath thoughtfully. Oh, what a tangled web we weave. Wish Doc Martin had left another note.

He lingered uncertainly in the passageway. Well, he couldn’t just hang around out here forever…a burst of laughter sounded from Joe’s room, along with Joe’s excited voice, “I won! I won!”

“You won this game, you scalawag – I demand a rematch!”

Adam glanced at Joe’s door and back at the floor. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard Joe so happy. Actually, he could remember – before Hoss went away and Pa got sick.

That was what he would do, then. Joe and Pa hadn’t seen each other in over a week – the least he could do was give them some time – alone – without interruption. He slipped quietly into his room and pulled the door closed, shrugging out of his coat and unbuttoning his shirt.

Removing the shirt was still a slow business and the sleeve snagged on his left arm. He cursed under his breath and peeled it off carefully – it really was getting tender – then glanced down to take a look. Well, no wonder – that scratch didn’t look very good at all. He itched it – a little infected  – he’d have to soak it or something. Have Doc Martin take a look on his next trip out. But right now he was freezing and he was tired and his head ached and nobody needed him for at least a little while – maybe he’d just stretch out for a minute and close his eyes – try to decide what he was going to say to Pa. He gave a chuckle of self-amusement. The rate his heart was beating he must really be nervous – if he had to defend his actions to his father he should be as calm as possible first.  He struggled to get his boots off and lay back on the bed, pulling his quilt around him. God, he was tired. And cold. And – but he pushed that thought away, refusing to give it credence. Still, a little company wouldn’t be a bad thing…without opening his eyes, he reached over and pushed open the lid of the music box.  Though he was already drifting, the musical chime brought the tug of a smile to his mouth. The next best thing, he thought drowsily, as the music became a part of his dreams.

 

*

 

Adam. Adam. Adam. Someone was calling his name, over and over, from a long way away. ADAM. He rolled over and away from it, trying to return to the inky womb of insensibility, but the voice had started his brain in motion and now it nagged at him, insisting on recognition. A voice he knew, but couldn’t place…someone…something important he had to do…Adam…and now there was another voice, chattering over the first one, no words he could make out…he wished they’d either talk so he could understand them or go away and let him sleep…ADAM…something gripped his arm, startling him with a sudden flash of pain and he cried out, striking out. But the pain cleared his head for a minute and he remembered – there were sick people in the house – somebody must need him – he had to get up…but somehow he was still lying there, the voices droning on and on but not making any sense. He tried to focus on them, but his heart was beating so rapidly in his eardrums that it drowned everything else out. He tried to ask them what they wanted but gradually realized he wasn’t actually making any sound. His breathing was coming too fast – he tried to slow it down so he could talk, but it kept rushing along, faster and faster, to the beat of the little waltz that was either playing on the music box or in his head – he couldn’t be sure which… Adam… there was some kind of hubbub – some flurry of activity – and more talking, more voices, but they didn’t seem to be talking to him now and he pulled away, seeking a return to sleep…and now the voices were farther away, fainter and fading…he hardly noticed when they weren’t there at all anymore.

 

*

“Adam?” he had been rocking peacefully on a becalmed sea, but this voice startled him awake. He remembered that someone had been calling him – it seemed like a while ago but his sense of time was skewed. He opened his eyes a little, not really ready to let go of the peaceful darkness of slumber but teased by the feeling that he’d put something off too long already. “Well, hello.”

He thought about rubbing his eyes, rejected it as too much trouble. “Pa?” he mumbled.

“That’s right. How are you feeling?”

“Okay. Kind of tired. Guess I fell asleep, huh?”

Ben smiled a little. “Something like that.”

“Sorry. Meant to be awake when Doc Martin got here. What time is it?”

“About midday.”

That didn’t sound right, but something else was bothering him more, something about his father…”You okay?” he squinted at him. “You’re dressed,” he added after a minute.

“That’s right. For a couple of days now.”

“Days?” He was missing something. His brows pushed together in a frown, trying to play back time in his mind, frame by frame. He turned his head, looking for clues – his eyes came to rest on his night table, littered with bottles and a spoon and basin and some cloths…his frown relaxed and he settled back on the pillow. “Oh. I finally got it, huh?”

“Diphtheria? No, by some miracle you dodged that. Gave yourself a nice case of blood poisoning though.”

Adam stared at him, perplexed, then remembered his left arm and realized with a creeping sense of alarm that he couldn’t feel it. He pushed back the covers to look, released his breath in a slow sigh of relief. It was mummified with bandages, but it was there.

Ben followed his gaze comprehendingly. “You were lucky. A little longer, however…”

Adam turned his face into the pillow and closed his eyes. “It was just a little scratch.”

“Out here? I taught you better than that. How did you scratch it?”

He could hardly remember any more. That terrible day when everything seemed to fall apart at once…”Fence wire,” he said after a minute. Not very bright, now that he looked back on it. Probably best not to mention the mud hole.

Ben was horrified. “Oh, Adam – ”

His eyes opened a crack. “There was a lot else to think about,” he interrupted defensively. “And I did take a bath. I kept meaning to put something on it, but somehow something always came up.”

“All right. I know.” Ben took a deep breath. “You’re lucky you don’t have lockjaw.” He shook his head. “I certainly would have made sure that you washed it out with boric acid, though, so I guess you still need your old father for a few things.”

“A few?” Adam thought back on the past days, closed his eyes again and shuddered. “You just don’t know.”

“No? Well, that’s something to hear. Like to go back to sleep?”

Adam shook his head. Now that his memory was in motion, it was pricking at him – he had dozens of questions.

“Where’s Hoss? He get home?”

“Oh, yes – he’s dying to tell you the story of his grain deal when you’re up to it. He’s the one who found you, in fact. Said he hopes you’ll find a better way to welcome him back next time. When he couldn’t wake you up he was really frightened. Said you were burning up but kept saying over and over that you were cold.”

Adam smiled. “Poor Hoss.”

“Yes, well, you’re lucky he heard the music box playing or it may have been a long while before anyone found you. From what Joe said we weren’t really expecting you back till evening. As it is, Hop Sing slapped a poultice on you and poured one of his teas down your throat and had things pretty well under control by the time Paul got here a couple of hours later to lance it. Paul says he may have saved your arm. Not to mention your life.”

“Hop Sing’s been a life saver for me in more ways than that. I don’t know how I would have managed without him. He did most of the work of taking care of Little Joe – ” he glanced at his father uneasily. Confession #1. “Sorry I couldn’t tell you about Joe, Pa,” he finished carefully.

Ben nodded. “Never mind, son. I know how Paul can be.”

“You couldn’t have done anything anyway and it just would have worried you. How long have I been out of it? How’s Joe doing?”

Ben smiled. “Few days. As for Joe, Paul claims he gives diphtheria a bad name. He shot out of bed as soon as he was allowed and has been busily underfoot ever since, pining for that ride on Cochise.”

Adam pushed himself up on his good arm to stare at him. “Poor kid is still waiting for that? Is he well enough? Couldn’t Hoss take him?”

“Oh, he’s well enough. And Hoss has offered. I’ve offered. But you know Joseph once he gets an idea in his head. Evidently it’s you or nobody.”

Adam frowned, not sure he’d understood. “He’s waiting for me?”

“Mm hm.” Ben pushed him gently back against the pillows. “So do us all a favor and heal quickly before he drives us to distraction.”

Adam let his father resettle him, swallowing carefully around the funny ache that had risen suddenly in his throat. “He wanted it so bad,” he said at last. “He shouldn’t wait.”

“Well, you can try telling him if you like. Anything I can get you?”

“No. You shouldn’t be – how well are you?”

“I’m very well, thank you – allowed some light duty. Everything seems in good order on the range.”

Adam nodded. “Thanks to Curly. He should have a raise or something. Guess you know about Smokey?”

“And the diphtheria? Yes, Paul told me, then Curly filled me in.” That hadn’t been exactly what Adam had meant, at least not all he’d meant, but if Smokey chose to stay closed mouthed about their friction that was okay with him. “Curly tells me the men were very impressed with the way you looked out for them during the epidemic.”

Adam gave him a searching glance. Was that what the sudden change in attitude had been about? “What else could I do? Besides,” he turned on his side, trying to get comfortable, remembering Knox and the barn chores, “they did a pretty good job of looking out for me, too.”

“Glad to hear it. Glad that went smoothly anyway.”

Adam closed his eyes again, thinking that “smoothly” might be more than a slight exaggeration of the truth, but that glossing over it would probably be better for both him and the hands. The significance of his father’s emphasis took him a little longer. Oh. Confession #2.  He opened his eyes to try and read Ben’s expression, but it gave nothing away. “Guess you know about Knox?” Ben didn’t answer. Adam rolled onto his back with a sigh, trying to think of a way to explain. “I had to fire him, Pa. Or maybe I didn’t have to. But it seemed like the right thing at the time. He couldn’t accept my authority and I couldn’t accept his way of doing things and we were running out of time.” His father’s gaze was making him uncomfortable and he turned away. “Anyway, I did the best I could.”

“Yes, I see. Hard thing to do, firing a man.”

“It was. After.” He glanced at his father with a glimmer of an apologetic smile. “Of course, it’s a little easier if you’re in a temper at the time.”

Ben laughed. “Crawford told me about it. I would have done the same.”

Adam rubbed his face sleepily. “Well, it probably wouldn’t have happened if you’d still been in charge.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. We’ll never know. But I’m sorry for what happened after. Sorry that I exposed you to such a man.”

Adam looked at him sharply. “I’m not a kid, Pa.”

“No. I suppose you’re not.”

He sounded sad, and that puzzled Adam. He was trying to figure it out when something else finally registered with him. “You  – saw Crawford?” he asked tentatively.

“Oh, yes. Paul let Hoss drive me up to the lumber camp yesterday.” Adam stared at him. “I saw your bridge, too.” Adam had a hundred questions then, but he couldn’t seem to put even one of them into words. Ben must have understood because he said quietly, “I thought it was extraordinary.”

Adam’s slow smile almost blinded him. “Did the job.”

“Did indeed.”

“The contract – are we still – ?”

“Oh, we’ll make it. Crawford stuck with your outline, even in your absence. Loyal as a dog, that man. To you, at least. Wouldn’t budge on cutting down by the river without your say so – said you had it all planned.”

Relief was giving way to drowsiness and Adam missed the note in his father’s voice. “Mm. Thought if we were cutting closer it would save us some time.”

“I wouldn’t mind leaving a thicker stand by the river though, and there’s a patch a little further over that could use some thinning. Won’t cost any real time.”

Adam yawned. “You should tell Crawford.”

“I can tell him, then, that it’s all right with you if he takes a few orders from me again?”

This time Adam caught his tone and he opened one eye warily to study him. “You mad, Pa?”

Ben took a breath. “No, son, I’m not mad. I’m very proud of you.” He smiled sadly. “Guess I just have a little adjusting of my own to do.”

Adam yawned again, sinking into the pillow. “What are you adjusting to?”

Ben gave a short laugh. “That my son is twenty-three.”

Adam was fuzzy with sleep but he murmured, “That’s not new.”

Ben sighed a little. “You wouldn’t think so, would you?” He straightened Adam’s covers and reached over to feel his forehead, lingering to smooth back his hair. “Want the music box?”

“Mm hm.” Adam was too far gone to wonder how he knew. “Tell Hoss and Joe – ”

Ben waited patiently, but the rest of the sentence was lost to sleep.

He lifted the lid to the music box and released a hundred memories with the little waltz – to him it sounded like a remnant of Elizabeth’s voice and foolish and sentimental though it may be, he would always believe that it was Elizabeth herself who had called Hoss to find his brother that day. He wished, passionately, that she were here now.

Parenting alone, Liz, has its drawbacks, he thought dolefully. Sometimes you just can’t be all the places you need to be.

He leaned close to examine the marks on Adam’s jaw, wincing a little at the reminder of his confrontation with Knox, fading some now. Probably wouldn’t even leave a scar, but Ben had been appalled to discover all that had happened while he had lain ill and powerless to help, even more appalled to realize that he probably hadn’t discovered everything and most likely never would. As father and protector he was feeling woefully inadequate.

Of course, everything was fine, really – Joe was fine, Adam would be fine, Hoss was home. The ranch was still running and the lumber contract would be met. He smiled a little as his eye snagged on Elizabeth’s picture. Yes, I know, love, and probably that’s the part that is really smarting. I’m not so indispensable as I supposed. All my boys are growing up – our boy is grown. I just don’t quite remember how it happened. He sighed heavily, turning his gaze back to Adam.

So odd, my love, that I never fully see him as he is now. I look at him asleep and I see the baby you showed me that first golden day, the toddler I tucked into bed in a hundred different boarding houses, the little boy I put to sleep in a covered wagon, the youngster that designed his own room at the Ponderosa. How is it that I worked and planned and scolded and pushed and prayed that he’d grow into a fine, smart, independent man and now that he has, I yearn for the little boy who needed me? Why didn’t someone warn me that even as my heart swelled with pride it would be torn in two? You would have had something wise to say – something healing – you always did. Help me, Elizabeth, my love, not to hold our son back because I am afraid of losing him.

“How’s he doin’?”

The voice started Ben out of his thoughts and he glanced up to see Hoss in the doorway. “Oh, fine, fine. He woke up and talked for a little while, then fell back to sleep. Could be recovery, but I think maybe he’s just tired out. Was quite a time for him.”

Hoss nodded, coming to stand by his father. “Fer you, too. Why don’t you get on and take a rest, Pa? I can sit here fer a while.”

“I’m fine, Hoss.”

Hoss gave a snort. “Durned if I don’t know where Adam gets it.”

Ben looked at him suspiciously. The remark did not sound like a compliment. “Gets what?” he asked challengingly.

“This thing he has about doin’ everythin’ his own way. Not takin’ help from nobody.”

“I do nothing of the kind!”

Hoss pursed his lips and looked thoughtful.

Ben scowled. Maybe there was some truth to that. A very little. In a small way. He’d had the run of things for so long – maybe he was having a hard time adjusting to having to lean on someone else – even his children – even for a little while. What was it that Paul had said about letting them work things out their own way? And being surprised by the results? He looked at Adam again and cleared his throat. “I don’t suppose he really needs anyone to sit with him. He’s sleeping and there’s been no sign of fever all day.”

Hoss shrugged. “I could use a little quiet company. Fer a boy that’s supposed ta be recoverin’ that Little Joe has more energy than all o’ us together. In fact, he’s threatenin’ ta help tend Adam – somethin’ about a deal they made. Takes a man in his full strength ta survive Joe’s tendin’. He’s gonna need me ta protect ’em.”

Ben’s heart constricted. That’s my job.

“You feelin’ okay, Pa? Yer lookin’ kinda down.”

Ben shook his head wryly. “I’m all right. Just feeling a little sorry for myself over something I seem to have lost.”

Hoss dragged a chair over next to Ben’s. “Well, Pa, the past couple weeks we coulda lost you and Joe and Adam. Cain’t figger anything else ya mighta lost can be too important, all things considered. Pa, you look tuckered. I got things under control here. You git.”

Ben narrowed his eyes at him, but he was smiling. “You know, you’re getting to be almost as bossy as your brother.”

Hoss made himself comfortable. “Ain’t nobody bossy as Adam,” he said cheerfully. “You git some rest. I’ll look out fer him.”

Ben paused, then nodded quietly. “I know.”

“Later on I’ll help ya look fer whatever it is ya done lost.”

Ben gazed at him, his expression thoughtful. Maybe you don’t ever really lose anything, he thought – anything important anyway. For clearly here was Inger’s calm, sensible, down-to-earth heart, alive and beating in Hoss.  He looked at Adam. And there was Elizabeth’s bright, inventive, sensitive spirit.

He rose slowly to his feet. “Never mind, Hoss – you’re right – ” he rested a hand gently on his big son’s shoulder, “I haven’t lost anything that matters.”

 

*

 

Adam stood leaning against the porch post, waiting. Dr. Martin had allowed him up and about a couple of days earlier and it was good to be out in the fresh air again, crisp with the first real touch of fall. He glanced around to see if anyone was watching, then flexed his left arm experimentally and flinched. Still a little sore. He wouldn’t be doing too much with that arm for a while yet.

He smiled to himself. Ironic. He had managed to avoid diphtheria, he had survived Knox’ attack, only to be brought down by a bothersome little scratch. Pretty funny, really, though when he had remarked on this to his father, Ben’s expression told him that he did not find anything about it even remotely amusing. Well, never mind. He’d save it for Hoss. Hoss would think it was funny.

He was looking toward the barn for the glimpse of Hoss that would tell him that their horses were saddled when he became aware of a presence over his left shoulder. He twisted to look, turned back to the barn.

“Smokey,” he said casually. “How ya feeling?”

Smokey made himself comfortable a little behind him and shrugged. “Well enough, I reckon. Ready fer the range again this week, Doc says. Lucky thing. I done fixed and cleaned every bit o’ tack and done every small repair this ranch’s got ta offer. A little longer an’ I’d-a had ta start breakin’ things just ta have somethin’ ta do. You?”

“Fine. Arm’s a little stuff.”

Smokey scratched at his forehead and grimaced, still studying the barn. “Oughter thank you, I reckon.”

Adam shifted a little, also still firmly focused forward. “Don’t see why. Just doing my job. Curly did a real good job bossing the range.”

Smokey nodded. “He’s a nice young’un.”

Adam smiled. It was hard for him to think of a man at least ten years his senior as a young’un, but then, he could imagine that he’d always see Joe that way, too.

Smokey seemed to have something caught in his throat, but he coughed a little and squeezed out, “Figger I owe you an apology. Not – ” he added hastily, “about the range er nothin’ – feller’s gotta learn ta take his licks. But about what I said about yer brother. I was outta line. I was put out about him sluggin’ Curly an all an – well – you know how it is with kid brothers.”

Adam grinned. “Guess I know something about it.”

Smokey rubbed reminiscently at his jaw and chuckled. “Reckon you do at that.”

They stood in silence, still not looking at each other, until Smokey said, “Hear you done a good job at the lumber camp. ‘Spose yer Pa’ll be movin’ ya up there?”

Adam shook his head. “Probably not. Contract’s about done. Expect I’ll be back on the range. That a problem for you?”

Smokey seemed to find something very interesting in the dust by his feet. “Not specially.” He returned his eyes to the barn, squinting. “Reckon yer not sech a bad feller ta work fer.” He glanced at Adam quickly. “That don’t mean I like ya.”

Adam dropped his head to hide a smile. “Understood.”

Smokey nodded, almost smiling himself. “See ya round the range, then.”

“I’ll be there.” Adam watched him thoughtfully as he strode away to the bunkhouse.

“Well, young man.”

He turned at the familiar slap on his shoulder. “Pa. Doc.”

“Adam. Good to see you on your feet. How are you feeling?”

“I’m doing fine. How’s everybody else? Pass muster?”

“Let’s just say that if I can figure out a way to bottle the Cartwright constitution I’ll be able to retire a wealthy man. It’s positively indecent.”

“Tough stock, Paul,” said Ben glibly, but he peered closely at his son anyway. “Sure you’re ready for this?”

“More than ready. Where’s Joe? He’s the one that was so all fired crazy to get going.”

“Getting your lunch from Hop Sing, I think. Now, there’s no reason to hurry. You’re not running a race. And if you get tired just turn around and come home. You and Joe haven’t been up and around for all that long.”

“Don’t worry, Pa – I’ll be along to keep an eye on our poor little invalids.” Hoss strolled across the yard, dusting his hands together. “Go away fer a few days and the whole passel o’ ya go ta rack an ruin. It’s downright pitiful. Guess you’ll know bettern’ ta leave this one in charge again.”  He jerked is thumb toward Adam.

Adam gave him a withering look. “Nobody left me in charge, I was elected by default. But you’re right – next time you can stay home running from stem to stern and I’ll spend my days trying out every eatery in Carson City.”

Hoss smirked. “Problem with you, older brother, is you just don’t know how ta delegate. You like ta do everything yerself.” He grinned slyly at Ben and Dr. Martin. “Poor leadership.”

“That so. Now, it’d’ve been really helpful if there’d been more than a handful of people to delegate to. And I didn’t do anything alone.” Adam grew serious suddenly, remembering. “I couldn’t have. Believe me.”

Hoss met his eyes for a moment and they exchanged a glance of mutual understanding. “So? Where’s that ornery whippersnapper we’re doing this whole ride fer, anyhow?”

“Getting your lunch, so think twice before you complain. Horses all saddled?”

Hoss nodded. “Yup. Nothin’ like comin’ home ta find you gotta do eveythin’ yerself.”

Adam raised his brows at him. “Thought you were the expert on delegating?”

Hoss scowled good-naturedly. “Oh, yer funny. Ta who?”

Adam smiled. “My point exactly.”

“I’ve got lunch!” Joe barreled out of the front door, slamming it loudly behind him.

Ben winced. “Joseph!”

“Sorry, Pa,” said Joe cheerfully. “Let’s go! Where are the horses?”

“In the barn,” answered Hoss pointedly. “Ain’t enough I saddled ’em, you want ’em brought around fer ya, too?”

Joe gave him an innocent smile. “Doc says I can’t do anything too strenuous yet, right, Doc?’

Dr. Martin held up his hands in protest. “Don’t drag me into this!”

“If you’re so enfeebled, Joseph, maybe you aren’t up to this ride today,” suggested Ben ominously.

Joe looked at him, wide-eyed. “I’ve been savin’ all my strength for it, Pa. After today I can ride Cochise full time, right?”

“If your brothers think you’re ready, yes. And they’ll be twice as tough on you as I’d ever be, so behave responsibly.”

“I’m ready!” said Joe confidently. “And I’m responsible. I took care o’ Adam while he was sick, just like I said I would, didn’t I?”

Adam glanced at him. “If that’s what you call all that bouncing up and down on my bed and talking my ear off, I guess you did at that.”

Joe’s smile broadened. “Oh, say, Adam – Miss Abigail was real sorry to hear you weren’t feelin’ well. She wanted to make you some sugar cookies. I told her you weren’t contagious or nothin’ so she shouldn’t be afraid to bring ’em out herself.”

Adam reached up languidly and tugged at his hat brim. “You know,” he said conversationally to no one in particular, “I’ve let you get away with that so far. But that could change at any time.”

Joe looked at him, a little uneasy. “What could you do?” he said suspiciously. “You couldn’t do anything.”

Adam pursed his lips in a soundless whistle. “You never know. Consider yourself warned.” He stepped lightly from the porch and started toward the barn at an easy gait. Joe looked after him, uncertain.

“Say, Adam – ” Hoss called. He hurried to catch up halfway across the yard and lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Adam, what you gonna do to ’em?”

Adam looked innocent. “To Joe?”

Hoss nodded. “Yeah. What you got up your sleeve ta do?”

Adam considered without breaking stride. “Nothing,” he said finally.

Hoss wrinkled his nose. “Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

“But – he’s expectin’ ya ta do somethin’.”

“Uh huh.”

“But – ” Hoss began to grin “that’ll just about drive him crazy!”

Adam gave him a slow smile. “Yup.”

Hoss shook his head in admiration, reaching out to open the barn door. “Adam, you gotta mean streak a mile wide. ”

“Yup.”

“Hey!” Joe jumped off the porch to follow them, clutching the package of sandwiches. “Hey! You can’t do anything! What you gonna do? C’mon, Adam, tell me!”

Adam winked at Hoss and disappeared into the barn without a backward glance. He looked over at Sport, saddled and waiting. “You know, I could get used to this.”

“Yeah?” Hoss dropped the door abruptly. “Well, don’t.”

Ben stood watching from the porch, smiling faintly as Adam strode toward the barn with Hoss running to catch up and Joe pelting after them.  For a moment time telescoped for him, the voices he heard were high and treble; he half expected to see Marie come out the door.

“Ben? Ben, you seem a million miles away.”

Ben shook himself. “Ten years, actually. Sorry, Paul. What were you saying?”

“I asked where they were going.”

“Oh. Lumber camp, to see Adam’s bridge. And give Joseph a workout on Cochise. Two birds with one stone.”

Paul nodded. “I remember he was working on some sort of bridge.”

“Amazing thing – though he tells me it’s only meant to be a temporary structure. Can’t imagine how he came up with it. Oh, he gave me some long, complicated explanation about Julius Caesar, but I’ll never really understand the way that boy’s mind works. Guess I should just be glad it does, hm? I’ll tell you, Paul, makes a man feel old and behind the times. Obsolete.”

“I don’t know.” Paul reached over to refill his coffee cup from the pot Hop Sing had left. “Experience and innovation. Sounds like a winning combination to me.”

Ben nodded, accepting a refill for his own cup. “Maybe you’re right.”

He jerked his head up at the sound of elevated voices from the barn, followed by the unmistakable tumult of a scuffle. He half rose to his feet. Really, those incorrigible – what were they thinking? Adam still only had the use of one arm for all intents and purposes and Joe – he stopped himself in mid-thought and forced himself to sink back into his chair.

Hoss would see to it that nobody got hurt –  by brute force if necessary. He took his current, self-appointed job as nursemaid to his brothers very seriously. He had returned from Carson City with a new air of confidence and, with Adam down and Ben still convalescing, had taken up the slack with a determination and authority that had first astonished, then impressed his father.

Ben shook his head. His sons didn’t need him as they once had – at least not in the same way – that was inescapable fact. But if in exchange he had boys who could be counted on to look out for one another – and for him – it didn’t seem like such a bad trade. Given a little time to get used to it, he might even come to enjoy this growing up.

The noise escalated and Paul looked at Ben questioningly. Ben steeled himself and leaned back in his chair with exaggerated nonchalance. He didn’t have to know everything his boys were up to. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to.

Paul cleared his throat. “Uh – Ben…Adam’s stitches…”

Ben sipped his coffee. “It’ll be fine, Paul.”

Sure enough, a few minutes later all three appeared, leading their horses. Ben and Paul watched as they mounted, looking a little disheveled, but otherwise no worse for wear.

Adam paused his horse briefly by the porch and leaned forward in the saddle. “We’ll be heading out now,” he said formally, a suspicion of a twinkle lurking deep in his eyes as he reached up to touch his hat. “Doc. Pa.”

“Have fun, boys,” agreed Ben placidly. “Don’t be late.”

“No, sir,” chimed in Hoss, touching his hat. “Doc. Pa.”

“Bye, Pa. Bye, Doc,” chirped Joe, touching his hat in imitation of his brothers.

Paul watched them ride away, shaking his head. “I’ve got to hand it to you, Ben – raising three boys alone. Don’t know how you do it. Makes dealing with a diphtheria epidemic look like child’s play.”

Ben’s eyes followed his sons, peaceful and amused, stretching out his legs and propping his feet on the chair in front of him. He was thinking of the way Hop Sing and Adam had looked out for him and Joe, then the way Hoss in turn had looked out for Adam, even Little Joe trying to do his part…and of the distinct, lingering, comforting presences of Elizabeth, Inger and Marie. He recalled Adam’s words to Hoss and smiled to himself.

“Not alone, Paul, believe me,” he said softly. “Never alone.”

The End
January 2000

 

Tags: Adam Cartwright, Ben Cartwright, Hoss Cartwright, Joe / Little Joe Cartwright