PART TWO

FIVE

“It’s colder than a hussy’s heart out here!” the tall thin man in the parson’s suit commented as he held his hands over the small fire his companion had kindled only a few moments before.  It had been built partially in the ground to mask its existence.  They hadn’t dared light it until the Sheriff and his deputy passed by on their way back to Virginia City.

Atticus Godfrey shivered as the fat man in the seal skin coat turned and looked at him.  His heavily jowled and scowling face was masked by shadows.  As he struck a match and lighted the cheroot hanging out of his mouth, his exposed skin flared red as a ghoul’s.

“You have personal experience, preacher?” his companion scoffed.  “No, wait, of course you do, since your late parishioners called you a ‘son of Satan’.”

Atticus shrugged.  “They should know.  They made me what I am.”

The other man snorted.

Noyes Runyon, the overweight stuffy businessman who had gotten off the Virginia City stage in front of him, and stayed in the town while he went to the Ponderosa and made preparations, pulled his coat collar up around his fleshy face and shivered.  “When do you expect Rowse?”

The tall thin man sighed.  “When he gets here.  You know Fleet.  He lives on Paiute time.”

“What about that attractive sister of his?” Noyes leered.  “Is she part Paiute?”

“No, but neither is Fleet.  He just lived with them.  The Paiutes took him when he was around four and he was returned to the Rowse’s when he was eleven or twelve.”  Atticus sighed.  “Try as I might, I can’t seem to exorcise the savage demons in him.”

“That’s kind of hard to do, reverend, with those demons of your own set so squarely on your shoulders.”  Noyes chaffed his hands together and crossed to the fire Atticus had kindled earlier.  “I heard that brother of yours evicted you and that’s what brought you out west.”

Atticus moved to the fire and stretched out his hands.  “My brother and I have never seen eye to eye.  Leander always failed to see an opportunity when one was presented to him.”

“Like his friendship with Ben Cartwright.”

The preacher nodded.  “The possibilities were endless.”  A slow sly smile crept across his face and lit his pale eyes.  “Are endless.”

“So there’s no one home but the boy and that girl who came to visit.  Oh, and the Chink.”

“And Aurora,” a low, gruff voice added.

Both men turned.  Atticus spoke first.  “Fleet.”

A man swaddled in a well-worn black woolen coat with a homespun scarf tied around his black hat and chin to hold them on, moved into the ring of firelight.  He nodded at the preacher just as Noyes said, “It’s about time you showed up, Rowse.”

Fleet Rowse didn’t blink.  “You thinkin’ of going somewhere?” the third member of their gang asked.

“Now, Fleet, don’t fly off the handle,” Atticus cautioned.  “Noyes and I were just wondering what was keeping you.”

The man in the scarf and hat stepped close to the fire.  Its light reflected in his eyes lending them a demon gleam.  “I had to check on my sister,” he sneered.  “Gonna pay her a visit in a while.”

Sometimes it was hard to imagine that Rowse had siblings.  Evil as he was, it seemed he’d been spawned rather than born.  His time among the Indians had taught him a great deal – none of it good.

“I’m sure she’ll be looking forward to that,” Noyes grunted.

Quicker than greased lightning, Rowse had the fat man by the throat.

And held a knife to it.

“Temper, temper,” the businessman rasped, seemingly unfazed.  “Where would you be without me?  Preacher there can’t do much to provide supplies, horses, or weapons for your scheme.”  Noye’s piggy eyes narrowed.  “Remember, its me you have to thank for that knife you are holding to my throat.”

Rowse glared.  He snorted.  And then he laughed, long and loud.

Dropping the knife, but still holding onto the other man’s collar, he said, “You show no fear.”

Noyes Runyon met Fleet Rowse’s stare head on.  “I’ll show it when you show me something I need to be afraid of.”

The two men stood there, facing each other like mountain lions disputing territory, and then Rowse released the other man.

“It’s time I go,” he said.

“We’re still aiming for tomorrow morning, early, then?” Atticus inquired.  “There’s no telling when the older Cartwrights may return.  It will be easier with just the boy and the Chinaman there.”

Fleet shrugged.  “What I intend to do, will be done tonight.  If all goes well, I’ll bring the money with me and meet you behind the Cartwright’s barn.  There’ll be no need for you two to even enter the house.”

“Nothing ever goes that easy,” Noyes scoffed.  “There’s always a price to be paid.”

The man who had joined them shifted the scarf that covered his face so the cruel line of his mouth showed.

“Yes.  And the Cartwrights are the ones who will pay it.”

Elizabeth leaned forward on her elbows and rested her chin in her hands so she could stare at Little Joe who was sitting across the table from her, leaning on his elbows and staring at the pretty lady who had come in out of the snow.  Hop Sing winked at her as he picked up her empty soup bowl and bent low to whisper in her ear.

“What you think of Mrs. Aurora?”

The little girl frowned.  She wasn’t really sure just what she thought of Mrs. Guthrie.  She was all right, she supposed.  Nothin’ was really wrong with her.  Still, from the minute the red-headed lady had walked in the door, it seemed like something had gone wrong with little brother.  Elizabeth’s frown turned into a  scowl.  It was like that time Pa stumbled and hit his head on a rock.  It had been kind of funny at first – Pa walkin’ sideways and runnin’ into things and not makin’ a lot of sense – but it had been scary too.

“Don’t know,” she whispered back.  “Do you like her?”

“Mrs. Aurora vely nice lady.  She take good care of you,” Hop Sing answered with a nod.

Elizabeth had to admit the redhead was nice.  In fact Mrs. Aurora, as Hop Sing called her, had gone out of her way to be nice.  After depositing her things upstairs, the pretty lady had come down to the great room.  Taking her in hand, she’d pulled her over to the hearth area where she’d asked her about her family – about Ma and Pa and Jack and when they would be coming to the Ponderosa – about whether she missed them or not, about what she could do for her during her stay….

She glanced at Little Joe again.  He was sitting with his fork halfway to his lips now, still staring.  Elizabeth blew out a breath.  It was little brother that was the problem.  He looked like Jack that time they’d gone into town and her baby brother had pressed his nose up against the general store window where they had all the candy.  Only Little Joe wasn’t drooling.

Elizabeth looked again.

Well, not much….

The redhead put her napkin down and started to stand up.  Little Joe shot out of his chair fast as a jack rabbit and caught the back of hers before she could.

“Here, let me help you, Mrs. Guthrie,” he said as he pulled the chair out.

Mrs. Aurora smiled as she stood.  “Thank you, Joseph.”

Little brother blushed right up to his ears.  “Just Joe, Ma’am,” he said

“Just ‘Aurora’, then,” she answered with a sweet smile.

Elizabeth looked from the one to the other.

Yuck.

The little girl looked up at Hop Sing, who was removing another dish.  “Somethin’s wrong with Little Joe,” she said, her voice hushed.  “I think he’s sick.”

“Number three son fine,” the Chinese man said with a grin.

She frowned at him and then looked at Little Joe again.  They’d had a dog looked like that once.

Pa’d shot it.

“You sure?” she asked.

“Hop Sing sure.  Not know why, but Mistah Ben’s youngest son like older ladies.  Maybe because he lose mother so young.”  The cook shook his head as he gathered an armload of dirty dishes.  “Pretty ladies trouble with capital T for number three son!”

Little Joe had followed Mrs. Guthrie to the bottom of the stairs like a cat trackin’ cream, and now he was standin’ beside her, starin’ again.  There’d been a time – she’d been awful young, but she remembered it – when a pretty redheaded lady had come to work for them.  It was just after Ma had Jack and she was laid up for a while.  That lady’s name had been Rebecca and she was younger than Ma.  Becky, as they called her, was right pretty.  She had big blue eyes and golden hair that reached all the way down her back.  At first she worked in the kitchen and hung out the wash and did all the things Ma couldn’t do.  Funny thing was, when Pa would come in she’d go outside, and then go inside if he went back out.

Elizabeth’s blonde brows met in the middle.  Come to think of it,  Becky had looked kind of like Little Joe did now whenever Pa showed up.

After about a week Becky started acting different.  Whenever Ma fell asleep, she’d take cold drinks and sandwiches out to Pa where he was workin’ in the barn.  Before she did, Becky would  brush her hair and pinch her cheeks.  Sometimes she’d even put on fresh clothes.

One day when they were sittin’, peelin’ potatoes, she’d asked her ma about it.  Ma got a funny look on her face and said Becky was a nice lady and she’d been a big help and there was nothing to worry about.

The next day Becky was gone.

“There’s no force more powerful than a determined woman,” her mother said as they watched the young woman walk away.

Elizabeth looked at Little Joe.  Missy Aurora had gone up to bed and he was standin’ by the fire now, starin’ into it and stirrin’ the ashes with a poker lookin’ sad.  As her blue eyes shifted back to the stairs, a resolute look settled on her young face.

Or a determined girl.

Aurora Guthrie was almost settled in.  She’d been tired and Joseph had said he would see Elizabeth to bed tonight.  It felt like shirking her duty, but she’d agreed as the ride through the snow had been a bit – well – harrowing.

The room the Cartwrights prepared for her was absolute luxury, and their fine ranch house a palace compared to the modest home she had shared with her late husband, Matthew.  Humble and small, their frame house had been located on the north end of Virginia City.  They’d married late – Matt had been near thirty and she, a girl ‘past her prime’, at twenty-four.  Their life together lasted six years and, though no children had come as a result of it, they’d been happy.

Until Matt contracted measles.  Of all the things she’d thought could bring a strong, healthy man down, that was not one of them.  Matt had never had the disease as a child.  When the infection took hold, his temperature spiked.  Nothing would bring it down.  At first he was so silent and sick.  Then, the raving began.

In the end Doc Martin said Matthew had simply burnt out.

The lovely redhead steadied herself with a hand against the bureau that butted up against the armoire.  Matt’s death had left her with little, and most of that was heavily mortgaged.  In the end she’d decided to sell all they had.  She moved in with a lovely widow by the name of Marjorie Minton and took a job at the local dress shop.  Still, she found herself haunted by the shadows of the past every time she walked down Virginia City’s central street or went to a restaurant for supper, or attended church.  In the end she decided she needed something different.

Which was why she intended to go back east.

Aurora turned back into the room.  Her lips curled into a smile at the thought of the family that occupied the house she was in.  She’d seen the Cartwrights in town, of course, but the most she could have called them was acquaintances.  Ben had come out to her place with a few other men to ask her if she needed help after her husband died, and had offered the services of his two oldest boys.  Little Joe had been away at the time.  She’d thanked him politely and accepted his offer.  Hoss and Adam had come out the next day to help set a value on her stock and make suggestions as to who she could sell to who wouldn’t mislead or cheat her.  Hop Sing showed up shortly afterward with a wagonload of goods and food to tide her over during the winter that was shortly to come.  And she was sure Roy Coffee’s frequent visits had come about as an agreement between him and the owner of the Ponderosa.  Much as the sheriff denied it, he’d let it slip once that Ben Cartwright was concerned about her living on the edge of town all alone.

She’d never met Ben’s youngest until tonight.

Aurora thought a moment more and then laughed out loud.  The boy was practically half her age but it was easy to see that he was just as quickly smitten with a ‘pretty face’ as all the women in town said he was.  Joseph Cartwright was a handsome young man, but that’s what he was – young.  Far too young for her.

Besides, there would never be anyone but Matt for her.

She hadn’t failed to notice little Elizabeth Carnaby’s expression either when young Joseph began to pay her so much attention.  When she’d been about Elizabeth’s age her father had brought home a business acquaintance.  It had been before that…terrible day.  At the time her young soul knew nothing of loss and grief and the terrible sense of fear that would soon be part and parcel of it.  The man who came with her father was handsome like Joseph and, like Joseph, he had been very sweet to a little girl who was most obvious smitten with him.  The next day he’d returned with a young woman on his arm and had introduced her to them as his fiancé.

Hell hath no fury like a little girl with a crush scorned.

Moving to the bedside table, Aurora opened her valise and drew out a hair brush. As she sat down with it, running it through her long tresses in preparation for braiding her hair, she considered how she could – subtly – let Elizabeth know she had no romantic interest in young Joseph, while at the same time not hurting the young man’s pride.

Aurora laughed again.  She had to admit that a romantic triangle was the last thing she had anticipated when she’d agreed to Ben Cartwright’s proposal!

Laying the brush down, she gathered her thick hair in her hands.  She had just begun to braid it when a sound in the room startled her.  It was one of those sounds you can’t easily place.  A shuffle.  Perhaps a sigh.  Maybe the movement of cloth against skin.

It was one of those sounds that let you know you were not alone.

Rising to her feet she headed for the door.

A gruff male voice stopped her.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the man said.

Aurora froze.

“Now, turn around slowly and come over to the window.”

There was something about the voice.  It had a familiar ring, though she couldn’t place where she’d heard it.  She was sure it wasn’t any of Ben Cartwright’s sons.  Aurora drew in a sharp breath.

Maybe it was one of the ranch hands, come here to do her mischief.

Maybe it would be wise to shout right now, before the man could lay a hand on her.

“Don’t think about it,” he said, as if reading her mind.  “I have a gun.”

The redhead kept looking as she walked, but she couldn’t see anything.  Whoever it was, was hidden by the shadows that masked the back corner of the room.

“What…what do you want?” she asked.

“I won’t hurt you.  I just want to talk.”

Her jaw tight, she demanded, “About what?”

“How about old times?” whoever it was snorted.

Aurora’s eyes narrowed.  “Do I know you?”

This time he laughed.  “You might say that.”

She thought furiously, trying to place the voice.  Who could it be?   Who would have known she was here?  And how could they have found their way into the Cartwright household and then found her room and her in it?

Who?

Then, suddenly, she knew.

Aurora’s  fingers went to her throat as fear gripped her.  No.  It couldn’t be.  She had to be mistaken.  He was in prison.

Had to be in prison.

As she watched the man shifted and left the shadows behind.  Or rather, he brought them with him – the shadows of the life he had chosen, of the evil he had embraced; of the innocent souls he had sent too early to their graves.

“Cat got your tongue, Rory?” he asked.

No.  Not a cat.  Fear.  Fear for herself and for the others in the Cartwright household, for little Elizabeth, for Hop Sing, and dear sweet Joseph.

Breathless, it was all she could do to utter her brother’s name.

“Fleet….”

It seemed to Elizabeth that she’d spent an awful lot of time since coming to the Ponderosa with her chin anchored on her hands and her elbows on a table.  She was doing it now in the great room.  She and Little Joe had been playing checkers and he’d upped and fallen asleep on her.  When he did, she went over to sit in front of the fire and wait for him to wake up.  She’d decided to let him sleep for a couple of reasons.   First off, she figured he was tired bein’ old as he was.  Second, he was dealin’ with that crushed foot that was still painin’ him.

Last of all, she just wanted to stare at him because….

Well, just because.

From her position on the floor, leaning on the table in front of the hearth, she eyed him.  Little brother was awful handsome. She sure loved those dark brown curls that covered his head and spilled near over his eyes at times.  His eyes were beautiful.  They were big and green as Spring, and his eyelashes were longer than hers.  Little Joe’s skin was smooth as Jack’s – she knew that ‘cause she’d run her hand over his forehead when he’d been sick and they’d first met.  He had pretty lips, though there was a tiny little scar beside them on the left-hand side that she wondered about.  It was deep enough you coulda put your fingernail in it.  Elizabeth scowled as she examined it.  Whatever had happened, must have hurt him somethin’ fierce.  She had one not half that deep that’d been left when she whacked her thumb with Pa’s hammer, and that was about the worst pain she’d even known.

Rising to her feet, the little girl moved closer.  Carefully, she reached out and touched Joe’s curly hair.  Up close and in the firelight, little brother’s hair looked like it had gold threads running through it.  So did his eyebrows.  They were just about as thick as wooly bears and kind of moved like them too, rolling toward the middle and scrunching up and down whenever he was puzzled or thought something was funny, or got real mad.  Squinting, she considered Little Joe’s nose.  The first time she’d looked at it, she’d kind of laughed.  It was just about the cutest nose she’d ever seen.  It was little and turned up kind of funny at the end, just like the ones those pixies had on the Christmas postcard her Grandpa Carnaby had sent her when she was little.  Elizabeth let out a deep, long sigh as she walked back to the fire.

She didn’t think there could be a prettier man in the whole wide world.

Little Joe’s cute little nose twitched.  His wooly brows worked up and down and then he blinked.  Those green eyes looked at her all confused for a second and then he grinned just like Jack did when Ma caught him lickin’ fingers covered with jam.

“I fell asleep, didn’t I?” he asked.

She nodded.  “I figured you needed it, you bein’ old as you are.  Ma always said old people sleep a lot.”

His lips twitched, making the scar dance.  “Oh, so you think I’m old?”

She shrugged.  “Well, ain’t you?”

Little brother moved in the big red chair.  “I gotta admit I feel ancient right now,” he laughed.  Then as he shifted and moved his foot, he added, “Ow!”

“Your foot hurtin’?” she asked.

As he stood and put his weight on it, he admitted, “A little.”

“It probably wouldn’t hurt so much if you hadn’t been followin’ Mrs. Guthrie around like a puppy.”

Little Joe frowned.  “Huh?”

Elizabeth chewed the inside of her lip.  She’d meant that to come out soundin’ like Pa.  Instead, she’d sounded like Ma in one of her moods.

“Nothin’,” she replied as she looked at her toes.

Joe hobbled over to where she was standing.  “Elizabeth, look at me.”

Nope.  She wasn’t going to.  Instead, she started counting hearthstones.

Little Joe took a seat on the table beside her.  He reached out and took hold of her hand with one of his.  “Will you please look at me?” he pleaded.

Elizabeth hesitated.

She didn’t want to ‘cause then he’d see the tears.

Joe looked up at Elizabeth and swallowed hard.  He was still shaking off sleep and his head was mud, but he was pretty sure this was that moment Pa had talked about.

“Come on now,” he said, keeping it light.  “You’re gonna make me stand up again and that hurts.”

Elizabeth refused to look at him.  Her jaw was clenched and one tear had escaped to trail down her cheek.  “Didn’t seem to hurt you none when you were standin’ with her,” she said,

Joe drew a deep breath and let it out slowly.  He knew now he’d made a big mistake before when he told her that he’d wait for her to grow up and then marry her.  At the time he hadn’t wanted to hurt her feelings and, truth be told, he’d found her crush on him just about as cute as a bug in a rug.  Looking at her now, he realized Elizabeth wasn’t a child.  She was a girl on the cusp of bein’ a woman like Pa had said, and try as he might to dismiss what she was feeling, her feelings for him were all too real.

Thinking back Joe remembered the time, when he was ten, that he’d been sweet on the young school teacher who’d filled in for Miss Jones for a month.  His brothers had laughed at him, but it hadn’t stopped him taking her flowers and offering to stay after school to clean the boards or sweep the floor.  When the month was up and she left without so much as a ‘goodbye’, he thought his world had ended.  He’d been mad and sad at one and the same time, and had taken it out on everything from the corral fence to a china plate at the supper table that he’d slammed down so hard it broke in two.  His pa’d tanned his backside for that and he’d decided to run away.  ‘Course he only made it to the stable where Adam found him sittin’ in the back stall cryin’ his eyes out.  Joe smiled.  Adam hadn’t said anythin’ about the plate or the school teacher.  He’d just started talking about the time when he thought he was in love with Inger, Pa’s second wife.  She’d been so kind to him and so sweet.  He thought that meant she loved him just like she loved Pa.  His older brother laughed when he told him he’d figured he’d marry her some day.

‘There are all kinds of love, Little Joe,’ Adam had explained.  ‘There’s the love of a man for a woman, and its deep.  But there are ties that are deeper still.  The ties of family.’

Looking at Elizabeth now, he knew that was what he felt for her.  Not love as a man feels for a woman, but the love he would have for a sister.  It was as if there was a knotted cord that ran from his heart to hers.  It wasn’t one to be broken, like a lover’s by the fickle winds of desire and self.  It was a tie that erased all differences and left two people one.

How could he make her understand?

Joe drew a breath and tried again.  “Elizabeth, I – ”

“Joseph?” a light voice called.

Both he and Elizabeth turned to look at the staircase.  Aurora was descending it.

“It’s time for Elizabeth to get to bed.”  Aurora smiled as she stepped onto the floor.  “We ladies need our beauty sleep.”

The little girl seemed to melt.  “Little Joe, do I have to?”

It wasn’t quite a whine, but it was close.

Joe hid his smile.  “We fellers need our beauty sleep too, you know.  I was gonna suggest we turn in too.” He pursed his lips and frowned.  “You want me to look even older than I do now?”

Elizabeth looked at him like she thought that would be mighty hard.  “You’re going to bed too?”

He nodded.  “Sure am.  If I don’t pretty soon, Hop Sing will come out here and chase me upstairs with that kitchen knife.”

The blonde girl looked from him to Aurora and back.  “I guess its all right…if we all go.”

The redhead stretched out her hand.  “Come on, then.  We’ll get you all washed up and tucked in safe in your bed.”

As the little girl began to move, Joe turned his attention to the pretty woman on the stairs.  There had been something about the way Aurora said that last part.  Her voice kind of quivered.  Now that he thought of it, she looked sort of drained.  Pale, even.  Joe shook his head and dismissed it a moment later.  Aurora had ridden out through a storm.  She was probably just tired.

“Will you come in and say good night, Little Joe?” Elizabeth asked as she took the redhead’s hand.

“Give us about half an hour,” Aurora said.

Joe nodded.  “Will do.  I’ve got a couple of chores to do before turning in.  See you in a few.”

Two hours later the ranch house was quiet.  True to his word Little Joe had finished his work and then headed back inside.  He ran into Hop Sing in the kitchen when he went to get a cup of tea to warm himself before heading to bed.  The man from China told him he had a little cleaning to do yet and then he would go to sleep as well.  Joe stopped by Elizabeth’s room as he’d promised to plant a goodnight kiss on her forehead, and then dropped into his own bed and fell asleep in minutes, worn out after a long day.  Outside the perimeter of the Ben Cartwright’s rustic but elegant home, several ranch hands keep silent  vigil, patrolling the tall Ponderosa pines that surrounded it, watching for anything or anyone out of place; doing their best to keep the ones their boss held dear safe and sound.

Little did they know, they had already failed in their duty.

No punishment, of course, would await them when their failure was discovered.  They weren’t to blame, after all.  How could the ranch hands possibly know that, before his departure, the right reverend Atticus Godfrey had unlocked one of the upstairs windows, providing access to a spirit darker than the night?  How could they possibly know that the woman Ben Cartwright had trusted to care for little Elizabeth Carnaby and his son had a brother who was wanted by the law in both California and the Nevada territory, a brother she had not seen for five years – a brother who, without her knowledge, had recently escaped from the territorial prison and joined forces with two common thieves named Atticus Godfrey and Noyes Runyon who had been headed to Virginia City for the sole purpose of relieving the Cartwrights of a goodly portion of their money?

No, there was no way they could have known.

Unfortunately, all too soon, they and everyone else, would.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

SIX

As the tall case clock in Ben Cartwright’s house struck midnight, Fleet Rowse stepped out of his sister’s room, drawing Rory after him.  Gripping her arm just above the elbow, he forced her down the steps and toward the old man’s office.  Atticus had done his work well.  Not only had the ex-reverend left the upstairs window open as ordered, providing him access, but he’d drawn up a map showing him the layout of the house and where the safe was.  Atticus told him as well that the ranch hands were out on patrol and there would be no one home tonight but the cook, the little girl, and Cartwright’s youngest son, who was barely more than a boy.

Oh, and of course, his beloved sister.

Moving quickly through the darkness, Fleet propelled Rory into the office and told her to stand by the desk as he knelt and checked the lock on the safe.  Not surprisingly, it was a good one.  It would take a while to crack the combination, but then again, he had all the time in the world.  It was barely past midnight and no one should be up until four-thirty at the earliest, and even then that would be the cook.  If the Chink discovered them, well, taking him out would be as simple as snapping his fingers.  No, this was going to be an easy one.  Safe-cracking was his specialty.  Well, Fleet thought, his lip lifting in a sneer.  One of his specialties.

He wielded a mean knife and was pretty good with a pistol too, as the dozen or so notches on Bessie’s burled Maple handle attested.

“What are you waiting for?”  Rory’s whisper was furious.  “Just take what you want and get out of here.  Leave these people alone!”

Fleet looked up at her.  Rory was just as pretty as he remembered and looked kind of like their ma when she was riled.

“Don’t tell me you’re sweet on that Cartwright kid.”  He’d seen him in town.  Joseph Cartwright was a pretty boy.  His sister’s man had been another of them – pampered, privileged, and soft.  “A year or two more and you could be his Ma.”

Rory scowled at him.  “There’s a child in this house, Fleet!  I don’t want her to get hurt.”

“Oh come on, sis,” he said as he sent the dial whirling and listened to the clicks, “you know I don’t hurt kids.”

“I know nothing of the kind!”  Her voice trembled.  “As I know nothing of you anymore, nor do I want to!”

He scowled as he tried again.  It was a new kind of lock that had a different sound.  “Is that any way to talk to your brother?”

“You stopped being my brother when you decided to return to the savages who took you.  When you brought them to our home that day and they…did what they did.”  The redhead paused. “I hate you!”

He frowned as the combination continued to elude him.  “Well now, that’s too bad since you’re gonna have to come with me.”

“What?”  His sister bristled.  “I will do nothing of the kind.”

“You know I can’t leave you here, Rory,” he said, glancing up.  “You’ll give me up to the law.”

She crossed her arms.  “I will not go with you.”

“You will – or everyone in this house is gonna die.”  He waited until she met his gaze.  “You know I’ll do it.”

“Without your savages to back you up?” she snapped.

Fleet growled.  The tumblers simply would not fall into place.

“Damn!” he cursed as he rose to his feet.  Turning to his sister, he sneered, “I thought you knew.  The Paiutes don’t travel with me no more.  I scared them off.”  Looking at the staircase, he added, his tone hushed and menacing, “Seems like I’m gonna have to find someone who knows the combination to the safe to open it.  Maybe that pretty boy….”

Fleet fell silent.  Rory’s eyes had gone wide.  It took a moment, but then he saw it too – a light was advancing down the second floor hall.

“No…” she whimpered.

“That your feller comin’?” he snickered as he pulled his six inch knife out of his boot.

The moonlight falling through the window behind the desk struck his sister’s terrified face.  He caught her arm and pulled her back into the shadows.

“You keep your mouth shut, Rory, and pretty boy might just make it out of this alive.”

Joe yawned mightily as he made his way down the steps.  He held an oil lamp in his left hand to light his way.  The other one he used to comb through his thick brown curls in an attempt to tame the riotous mass his father always complained about.  He needed a haircut, but if he was careful – and continued to curtail his errant curls inclination to run wild – he could probably make it another week or two before an ultimatum was issued.  Joe shook his head.  He really didn’t understand what his pa had against a man having hair below his ears.  After all, most everyone in the Bible had long hair and Pa always said they should pattern everything they did after the Good Book.  Take Samson, for example.  Samson got his strength from his hair.  Maybe if he had hair long as Samson’s he could do the work of two or three men.

Joe snorted as his feet hit the floor.  He might just try that argument the next time.

Crossing to the fire, Joe put the lamp on the table and then checked to see if it needed tending.  Hop Sing had banked the coals against the hearth wall and they were still glowing.  This time of year they never let the fire go out since it took so long for the stones to heat back up again.  Going to the wood box, he lifted the lid and selected a slender log.  Placing it in the center of the fire, he used the poker to push it to the back of the hearth.  Almost immediately the tiny branches with their dead leaves and dry needles caught and flared, and the scent of pine filled the room.

Sitting on the table in front of the settee, Joe watched the flames lick higher for a minute as he considered the nightmare that had awakened him.  While he knew there was nothing to it, his pa and his brothers had been under threat and he couldn’t get it out of his head that something was wrong.  Joe scratched the back of his head, looked toward the kitchen, and yawned again.  He’d thought maybe coming down for a glass of milk would help.  His mama always gave him milk to get him back to sleep.  The night was flying and he needed to be up early so he could get his chores done before Elizabeth came down.  He’d promised her a horseback ride in the snow.  He’d given her a pretty little pony named Freckles for her own while she visited, and she’d been pestering him to try the animal out.  Joe thought he might even take her to the lake.  It was beautiful this time of year and he wanted his young friend to see as much of the Ponderosa as possible before her time on the ranch was over.

Joe poked at the coals again, shifting the log so the other side of it caught.  He felt bad for ignoring Elizabeth the night before.  She’d been right.  He’d been acting like a lovesick pup.  Aurora Guthrie was just about as pretty as it got, but she was almost twice his age and had already married and buried a husband.  He realized now all that smiling she’d been doin’ wasn’t flirting.  It just meant she was nice. Joe snorted as he broke the log up and shifted the coals to the back so they rested against the hearth wall.

Elizabeth would have told him – and rightly so – to stop bein’ ‘silly’.

As he replaced the poker, he paused.  There’d been something.  A sound – soft – like feet shuffling, or maybe cloth brushing up against something.  Joe turned into the room and stood still, listening for close to a minute.  When the sound wasn’t repeated he decided he was just being jumpy.  It was probably that nightmare he’d had.  It had been a whopper!  Pa and his brothers had been on a cattle drive, just like they were now.  Something spooked the cattle and they stampeded.  He’d watched as Pa, along with Adam and Hoss, rode out to round them up.  As they drew near the bottom of a cliff, there’d been a sound.  Not a soft sound like he’d just heard, but a loud crack!  And then a roar.

And then a mountain of snow had come down burying everything and everyone below.

The curly-haired young man drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly.  Then he shook his head.  Yeah, that had to be it.  That’s why he was jumping at shadows.

Leaving the lamp on the table, Joe walked past the dining room and went into the kitchen.

Aurora Rowse Guthrie was terrified, not for herself but for everyone else in the Cartwright household.  She’d breathed a little easier when Joseph entered the kitchen, but knew such relief would not last long.  Her villainous brother stood close behind her.  She could feel Fleet’s hot breath on her neck.  He  had one arm locked around her waist, holding her in place, while the other was extended and ended in a clenched fist that held a long, deadly blade.  As the redhead stood there, barely breathing, her heart hammering in her chest, she whispered a silent prayer.

Please God, she mouthed.  Please keep Joseph from discovering us.  Please let him go back upstairs unaware and unharmed.  Fleet will kill him if he feels threatened.  You know that!

Please….

Even as the words crossed her lips, Joseph returned.  He was carrying a glass of milk and heading for the lamp he’d left by the settee.

Yes.  Yes!  Dear Lord, please….  Please, send him back upstairs to bed!

Her mother had assured her when she was little that God heard every prayer.  She’d also assured her that the Lord knew best and that when things didn’t go the way she wanted, she had to give thanks anyway.  If a prayer went unanswered, God had a reason.

Joseph had stopped beside the settee table, milk glass in hand.  He was frowning and looking back their way.

Aurora hoped this was not one of those times.

No, Joseph…. She mouthed.  Go upstairs.  Run upstairs. Don’t be brave.

Joseph, hear me….

He didn’t.

Like a moth drawn to flame, Ben Cartwright’s youngest boy headed for his father’s office.  The beam of silver moonlight struck him as he did, revealing his, oh, so young face.  It wore a puzzled look.

Boldly, she shook off Fleet’s hand and stepped into the light.

Joseph stopped, startled.  “Aurora?”

She smiled prettily as she slipped in front of the desk.  “Yes, it’s me.  I’m…sorry if I frightened you.  I couldn’t sleep.  I was….”  She thought furiously.  “I was looking out the window at the stars.  It’s such a clear night.”

The young man’s dark brows rolled inward until they nearly met in the center.  “What were you doing?,” he snorted.  “Standing on Pa’s desk?”

Oh, dear.  She hadn’t thought of that!

“No, I….”  Aurora hesitated.  God.  Words.  Give me words!   “Well, yes, I was.  Not standing on it.  On my knees really.”  She chuckled.  “Like a little girl.”

Joseph’s brows dipped down into a frown.  “Why not just open the door and go outside?”

“I didn’t want to….”  It was all she could do to keep from turning to make sure her wretched brother was where she’d left him.  “I didn’t want to unlock it.  Your father…told me not to.”  Taking another step toward him, she indicated the milk, “Couldn’t you sleep?”

“I could, and did until a bad dream woke me up.”  Joseph lifted the glass he held and grinned.  “Mama’s cure for a nightmare, and Pa’s cure for just about everything else!”

Oh Lord!  He’s such a beautiful young man.  Preserve him from evil.

She heard Fleet shift – anxious, restless – behind her.

Thank God!  Joseph didn’t.

“Well, then, since you have your ‘cure’,” she said, forcing a smile, “you’d best get back to bed,”

“What about you?” he asked after taking a sip.

Aurora hesitated.  “I’m not quite sleepy yet.”

“I can keep you company if you like,” he offered.

“No.”  She said it quickly.  Too quickly.  Lord, she was stupid!  “Thank you.  That’s all right.  I’ll follow in a few minutes.”

Joseph’s unusual green eyes narrowed.  He regarded her for a few seconds and then shrugged.  “Now don’t you go climbin’ up on that desk again, you hear?  It ain’t safe!” he laughed.

“I won’t,” she promised.

“See you in the morning then.”

Relief flooded through the redhead as the handsome young man turned and took a step toward the stairs.

It vanished a moment later as he pivoted sharply and called her name, “Aurora!”  Joseph took a step forward. “ Duck!” he shouted.

Fear choked any reply she might have formed as she did what he said.

A determined light had entered his eyes.  Before she could cry ‘Stop!” Ben Cartwright’s youngest son threw the glass of milk.  It whizzed past her and struck Fleet in the face.

Joseph’s fists followed right behind it.

Joe’d left the kitchen somewhat unsettled.  For some reason Hop Sing wasn’t there.  Even though the man from China was probably out looking at the stars, their cook’s absence left him uneasy.  He almost went outside to look for him, but realized that meant he would be leaving Elizabeth and Aurora alone – and for some reason, that was something he felt he shouldn’t do.  His pa had taught him early on to pay attention to his instincts.  He said they could save a man’s life.  So, when he returned to the great room he’d been listening for anything out of the ordinary.

It was then Aurora stepped out of the shadows.

He’d realized something was wrong the second he saw her.  The oil lamp he’d left on the table lit the space in front of his pa’s desk and he could see as he approached that she was shaking like a leaf in an October wind.  As the redhead spoke, his mind rolled over the reasons she might be standing there – she could have lost her way in the dark, ending up at the desk instead of the stairs, or maybe, like him, she simply couldn’t sleep and had been walking the floor.  It was even possible she’d been snooping around.  Women were like that.  They always wanted to know what made men tick.  It was when she’d given him the lame excuse that she was looking at the stars, that he’d known his first impulse was right. Something was terribly wrong.

There was someone else in the room.

Whoever it was. they were hiding in the shadows behind the desk.  He had no idea who it might be or how they could have gotten into the house – unless, of course, Aurora had let them in.  He’d kept his eyes on the shadows as he talked to her.  There’d been a glint of something.  Could be a belt buckle.  Might have been a button.

Or maybe a gun.

His gaze shifted then to the credenza by the door.  His gun belt was laying on its top.  Since Elizabeth’s arrival he hadn’t worn it much.  He hadn’t needed to.

He sure wished he was wearing it now.

Asking Aurora if she wanted company – and having her refuse – was his last and final confirmation that what he was thinking was right. He’d decided by that time that she was in trouble, but was more afraid for him than for herself, and that was something he just couldn’t let stand.

Besides, whoever it was had invaded his home.

Joe’s nostrils flared.  He squinted his eyes and took aim even as he shouted her name.

“Aurora!  Duck!”

Before the milk-filled glass found its mark he was flying after it, toward the shadow of a man who was reaching for the redhead’s arm.  Joe leapt over the desk and came down on the man hard and started hammering. Whoever it was, he thought he had him, but then he realized he was wrong.  The man had been playin’ possum.  The stranger struck out suddenly and caught him on the chin and drove him to the floor.

Then he pinned him to the pine boards with his knife.

Joe sucked in air as the knife went into his shoulder and was abruptly withdrawn.  Seconds later the bloodied edge of the sharp blade was pressed against his throat.

“I wouldn’t move if I were you, Cartwright,” a gruff voice ordered.

Joe’s mind whirled.  Who was this?  Why were they here?  Was Aurora involved?  He wondered if Hop Sing had heard anything.  He hoped not.  And Elizabeth.  When he was little, he could have slept through a train whistle blowing right next to his head.

God, let her sleep through this!

The shock of the knife going in and out of him so quickly made Joe pant even as blood soaked the upper left side of his nightshirt.  “Who…who are you?” he asked, faltering.  “What do you w…want?”

“Well, let’s see,” the man replied, his tone mocking, “I’m standing next to a safe full of money and it ain’t open.  Do I have to spell it out?”  Before he could react, the man lowered the knife and hauled him to his feet.  Once he was up, the knife returned to his throat.  “Now you just be a good boy and open it.”

“Joseph, do as he says,” Aurora pleaded.  “He’ll kill you.”

He shot her a look.  “Are you in this with him?”

The redhead looked as if he had struck her.  She shook her head.

Accepting that, Joe’s eyes rolled back to the man who held him.  “Tell me who you are,” he demanded.

The knife blade nicked his skin.  “Now ain’t we the high-and-mighty Cartwright?  One more thing, boy.  You say one more thing that ain’t answerin’ a question I asked, and I’ll go upstairs and get that little girl out of bed and hold this knife to her throat.  You hear me?”

“Believe him, Joseph,” Aurora breathed.  “Fleet will do what he says.”  She paused.  “He’s killed before.”

Fleet.

Who the hell was ‘Fleet’?

Joe fought to remain on his feet as he met the outlaw’s hungry stare.  He was losing blood and it was leaving his head empty.  “So I’m answerin’ your question,” he sighed.  “It ain’t gonna do you any good to have me open the safe.  It’s empty.”

“Sure it is, Cartwright.”  The knife tip cut in deeper.

“I’m telling you the truth,” he choked out.  “Pa took it to the bank before he left on the drive.  He didn’t want it here in the house since I was gonna be alone with two women.”

“And I would believe you…why?” Fleet snarled.

Joe blinked.  “Cause its the truth.”

The outlaw’s fingers caught his wounded shoulder and squeezed the wound until tears rolled out of his eyes.  “Humor me, Cartwright.  Open it anyhow.”

Fleet shoved him to his knees and then placed the end of the knife blade just under his ribcage on the left side.  As he worked the combination, Joe’s mind flew fast as Cochise on a summer day.  He was telling the truth.  There might be a few hundred dollars in the safe, but that was all.  Pa really had taken the payroll money to the bank.  The problem was, from the sense he had of the outlaw, the man wasn’t going to be content with a few hundred dollars.

He was gonna be mad as a rabid dog.

“Hurry up!  You better get it open before that Chink of yours catches wind something’s up and ends up dead.”  Fleet paused.  “Or that little girl.”

Joe finished with the combination and opened the safe.  When the outlaw withdrew the knife, he rose unsteadily to his feet.

“Look for yourself,” Joe said.

Fleet glanced down.  Anger erupted on his face when he saw what Joe said was true.  Grabbing him again, he demanded, “Where’s the rest of it!?  Atticus said the safe was full!”

Joe frowned.  Atticus?

The Reverend Godfrey was in it with this man?

“Like I told you, it was,” he replied.  “Pa took it to the bank on his way out yesterday.”

The knife pressed against his heart.  “I should just stick you like a pig and let you bleed out.”

It was all he could do to remain upright, but he wasn’t going to let Fleet know that.  Tightening his jaw, Joe countered, “You could.  But that ain’t gonna get you any money!”

Too late.

Too late, he realized what he’d said.

“That’s right,” Fleet mocked.  “Thanks for reminding me, Joseph.  Killing you ain’t gonna bring me anything, ‘cept maybe pleasure.” The outlaw snorted at his stricken look.  “And important as that is to a man, money’s even more important.  Having your daddy buy you back would make me a rich man.”

Joe bristled.  “Pa won’t pay –”

“Stuff it kid!” the villain snarled.  “It ain’t worth your breath.  Every one in Virginia City knows that Pa of yours would do anything for one of his boys – even sacrifice himself.”

Joe quailed at the veiled threat.

Aurora had been quiet up until now.  Joe wondered what her connection to this man was?  Had he been wrong?  Had she come to the Ponderosa to provide a way for him to come in and rob them?  Was she a part of this in spite of what she said?

Her next words dispelled that notion.

“Fleet,” Aurora began, her voice trembling, “don’t do this.  Please, leave Joseph and Elizabeth alone.  Take what’s in the safe and go.  If you take Joe, you’ll bring all of Virginia City down on your head.   Please, as your sister, I’m begging you….”

Sister?

Dear God….

The outlaw turned to her.  “You know what, Rory?  I knew you were here.  I asked around town and heard you were at the Cartwrights.  I wanted to see you before the robbery went down.”  An odd note entered his contemptible voice.  “ I…  I want you to come with me.  You’re the only family I got left.”

The redhead’s jaw was tight.  “You have no family, Fleet, because you killed them.”

Joe’s eyes went from one to the other.  He wondered what had happened – what had wounded Aurora so deeply and transformed this man she had grown up with and loved into a monster?  He wondered too as he watched them, if this might be the only opportunity he would get.  The outlaw seemed distracted and his grip had lessened on his arm.

If there was a chance…

Aurora must have sensed his thoughts.  Her eyes went wide.  She met his gaze and gave a little shake of her head.

“Come with me, Rory,” the man pleaded again.

The redhead’s eyes never left his.  “If you let Joseph go.”

Fleet sighed.  “You know I can’t do that.”

“Yes.  Yes, you can,” she implored.  “Prove to me you’re not the man I think you are.  Prove that there is some good left in you – that those savages didn’t drive it all out of you!”

The moonlight spilling in the window caught in the desperado’s eyes.  Joe shuddered at what he saw.  If Fleet wasn’t a demon, then he was demon-possessed.  He’d seen that look before in the eyes of a mountain lion crouching for the kill, in a wolf’s as he sprang for a man’s throat  – in that man’s when his blood was up and nothing would satisfy him but the kill.

“You’re right,” Joe said suddenly.  “My Pa would ransom the Ponderosa to save me.  I’ll go with you.  Just leave the women alone.”

Fleet scoffed.  “Well, now, aren’t we the knight gal–ahnt.”

Aurora was shaking her head.  “Joseph, no.  You don’t know what he’s capable of.”

Joe met her desperate stare.  “You take care of Elizabeth, you hear?” he told her.  “And don’t let Hop Sing come after me.  Make him get Pa.  Aurora, you promise me!”

Fleet’s grip tightened on his wounded shoulder, causing his head to spin.  “No tricks, Cartwright.”

“No tricks.”

The outlaw grunted as he pulled him around the desk.  Joe’s mind was racing as quickly as his heart.  Once they were on the road and away from the house, he’d take Fleet on.  It would be tough with his wound, but he was sure he could overpower him.

Well, he was pretty sure.

Fleet halted just in front of the desk and looked toward the door.  To Joe’s surprise, it was opening.  As he watched two well-bundled men stepped into the ranch house.  One was tall and thin, the other shorter and stout.  Even as he identified Atticus Godfrey, a sense of movement drew his gaze up.  Something was coming down.  Something above his head.  Just before it struck him, Joe recognized it as the bone handle of Flee Rowse’s knife.

And the lights went out.

Roy Coffee shook himself like a dog, dislodging the piles of snow that had settled on his shoulders and hat.  He glanced at Luke Warren who was doing the same thing beside him and smiled.  This was Luke’s first big snow and his eyes were about as wide as the near-full moon shining over their heads.  He’d done his darnedest to get the boy back to that wife and those twins of his, but nature just wasn’t in a mood to cooperate.  They’d made it about ten miles down the road afore they’d realized there was just no going on in the dark.  At first they’d tried to make camp, but finally had decided a night spent at the Cartwrights with a fire in the hearth, one of Hop Sing’s nice hot toddies in their stomachs, and a soft bed under them , sounded a whole lot better.  On a normal day it would of taken ‘em maybe two, three hours to back track, but with the roads drifted as they were, it had taken somethin’ like five.  It was well past midnight by the time they drew their cold and weary horses up to the Cartwright rail and tied their animals off.  There was a light in the front room.  He could tell ‘cause it was shinin’ through the window above Ben’s desk.  Most likely it was the fire, or maybe Little Joe had left a lamp burnin’ in case that little girl had to come downstairs in the middle of the night.  Roy sure hated to wake them all up, but short of breakin’ and enterin’ there wasn’t any other way in, and he sure didn’t want to spend the night camped out on the porch.

“You think anyone’s awake?” Luke asked as he came to his side, chafin’ his hands together and blowin’ out steam.

“Hard to say.  I seen a light.”

“Should we knock?”

Roy eyed the little bell that hung near the door.  He’d try knockin’ first, but if that didn’t work, they could always pull the string. Ben’s boys had been taught to recognize the ringin’ of that bell as a sign of danger and knew when they heard it that someone was in need of help.

Suppressin’ a shiver, the lawman walked to the door.  He lifted his hand and brought it down on the wooden surface – and drew in a sharp breath when the door slowly opened on its own.  He exchanged a look with Luke.

A second later both of their guns were out.

Roy stepped up to the door.  Pressing his shoulder against it, he called, “Little Joe!  It’s Roy Coffee.  Little Joe, you there?”

His deputy opened his mouth to speak.  Roy held up a finger and pressed it to his lips.

Somethin’.  There was somethin’.

“Little Joe!”

When no reply came, Roy signaled Luke to stand to the side where he couldn’t be seen.  Then he put his hand to the door and shifted it in about six inches more.  A single oil lamp was burnin’ on the table in front of Ben’s big hearth.  The fire was just about done, which was another warnin’ that somethin’ was up.  Hop Sing didn’t never let that fire go out in the winter, ‘specially not one this cold this early.  Roy paused on the threshold, listenin’.

Then he heard it.  A muffled sound.

Someone was cryin’.

With a nod to Luke, Roy counted down with his fingers from three to one and then the two of them stormed into house, guns drawn.  At first he saw nothin’.  Then, he saw two things – someone was layin’ on the floor between the dining room and the great room, and someone else was sittin’ at the table.

Seemed like a funny time to be eatin’.

With a signal to Luke to head up the stairs to the second floor and see what was goin’ on up there, Roy made for the dining room.  As the moonlight spillin’ in the window struck the figure on the floor he realized it was a good thing mother nature had turned them around.

Or maybe it was God.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

SEVEN

Kneelin’ by the figure on the floor, Roy took hold of the gag that had been stuffed in the Chinaman’s mouth and removed it as gently as he could.

“Sheriff Roy!  Sheriff Roy!” Hop Sing shouted as soon as he was free.  “You no worry about Hop Sing!  Bad men take Little Joe!  You go find him!  Find Little Joe!”

Why did it not surprise him it was Little Joe who’d gone missin’?

Ignoring the Chinaman’s tirade for the moment, Roy untied his wrists and helped him to sit up.  Not that he wasn’t worried about Little Joe, but things had to be done in an order.  As he finished, he glanced at the person sittin’ at the table.  Danged, if it wasn’t that pretty Widow Guthrie and she was tied up too!  He’d heard Ben had hired her to come out while he was gone to help with the Carnaby girl.

“You leave Hop Sing!” Ben’s cook pleaded as he rose to his feet.  “You go after Little Joe!  Bad men take him!”

He’d gone over to Mrs. Guthrie.  The poor thing looked like she was just about all in.  Tears were streamin’ down her face and she was shakin’ harder than a cat starin’ down a dog.  There weren’t no color left in her cheeks or lips and she looked like she might be sick.

As her gag came away, she echoed Hop Sing’s fears.  “Sheriff, he’s right.  You have to go after Joseph.  My brother will kill him if he so much as looks at him the wrong way!”

Roy chewed the inside of his lip as he loosened the tie holding her to the chair.  “Your brother?”

She nodded.  “Fleet Rowse.”

Fleet Rowse?  Now why did that name sound familiar?

Roy thought a moment and then snapped his fingers.  He’d be danged if that wasn’t the name of the ugly hombre on the wanted poster he’d showed Little Joe just that day!  Rowse was wanted for just about everythin’ bad on God’s green earth as well as a few other planets.  The outlaw had escaped from the penitentiary.  A fellow lawman in Carson City had sent him that poster so’s he’d know Rowse if he saw him.

Roy took hold of Mrs. Guthrie’s arm and drew her toward the settee.  “Now you two come over here and sit down and tell me what happened.”

“Little Joe gone!” Hop Sing shouted.

Roy winced.  That little Chinaman could bellow loud as Ben when he wanted to.

“First off, Hop Sing,” he said, keeping his voice down, “I don’t think we want to wake that little girl upstairs, so keep your voice down.”  When the China man looked properly contrite, he continued, “Now, I know Little Joe’s been taken by somebody, maybe this here Rowse, and the boy’s in a heap of trouble, but I need you two to tell me all you know before I can go out and try to –”  The lawman stopped.  Luke was comin’ down the stairs.

“Anythin’?” he asked.

“Just the little girl and she’s asleep,” his deputy answered.  “There’s no one else upstairs.  I did find a window open at the end of the hall.”

“That’s how Fleet got in,” the pretty redhead sighed.  “There were two other men.  One of them was here before.  He left the window open.”

“Two other men working with Rowse?”  Roy sat down.  He and Luke were still wearin’ their winter gear and it was heavy and he was tired.  “What’d they look like?”

“One tall like beanpole!” Hop Sing declared.  “Other fat as Christmas ham!”

“I think the tall one was the preacher that came into town with Elizabeth on the stage,” the woman said.  “Joseph seemed to know of him.”

“Stick man not man of God.  Man of Devil!” the Chinaman added.

Roy nodded.  He remembered them both.  The short and stocky businessman had gotten off the stage before Elizabeth and the tall, thin parson had followed.  At the time he hadn’t realized they were together.  Now that he thought of it, he remembered seeing a poster on a similar pair.  They were conmen, not particularly dangerous so far as anyone knew, still there were suspicions that they’d been involved in several schemes where someone ended up dead.  Working with someone else, most likely, who did the dirty work.  He wondered now if that ‘someone else’ was Rowse.

Roy sighed.  If Fleet Rowse was the man who took Little Joe, then Hop Sing had a reason to be shoutin’.

Turning to Luke, the lawman said, “Boy, why don’t you go into the kitchen and see if you can rustle us up some grub and maybe put on a pot of coffee.  I think we’re gonna need it.”

Ben’s cook was on his feet.  “Hop Sing get lawmen food….”

“You sit your hind end right back down there on that settee, Hop Sing,” Roy ordered.  “I need to hear what you have to say about everythin’ that’s happened.”

As Luke headed for the Cartwright’s kitchen, Hop Sing and Aurora Guthrie began to tell their tales.  So intent was Roy Coffee  on what they were saying, that he failed to notice a shift in the shadows at the top of the stairs and a pair of small hands gripping the rails. Elizabeth Carnaby had been sound asleep, dreaming that it was summer and she and Little Joe were at the lake.  They’d been skipping stones and she’d been winning.  Little Joe had just turned to challenge her to another game when a sound made her jump.  Opening her eyes, she realized she’d been asleep but was awake now and someone was opening the door to her bedroom.

Thinking it was Little Joe or Mrs. Aurora and either one of them would be mad if she was still awake, she’d hunkered down under her blankets and watched from under her lids as a  man she didn’t know walked into the room and came to the side of her bed.  He stood there for about half a minute looking down and then went back out, closing the door behind him.  Elizabeth listened as the man’s steps went down the hall.  It was silent for a couple of minutes, and then they came back and went downstairs.  When it was quiet again she slipped on her slippers, went to the door and opened it a crack, and looked out.  Seeing no one in the hall, she went to the top of the staircase and looked down and was surprised to find Hop Sing and Mrs. Aurora sitting on the settee and Sheriff Roy Coffee occupying one of the chairs across from them.  She thought about joining them, but then remembered that grown-ups, while they didn’t exactly lie, were awful good at pretendin’ nothing was wrong when there was a little kid around.  If she really wanted to know what was happening, she needed to stay put and out of sight!

Elizabeth hugged the shadows as she leaned her face against the rail and listened.

“Now, Hop Sing, why don’t you tell me your story first?” Sheriff Roy asked.  Elizabeth noticed a big old winter coat laying next to the lawman on the hearth, so she figured he must have just come in from outside.  The man who had been in her room was sitting next to him, leaning forward and pouring coffee.  It was Luke, the sheriff’s deputy.  When the man from China didn’t answer, the sheriff asked again, “Hop Sing?”

What she saw when Hop Sing looked at Sheriff Roy sent shivers down Elizabeth’s back.

Little Joe’s friend was crying.

“Hop Sing fail in duty,” he said, his voice so soft she almost couldn’t hear him.  “All Hop Sing’s fault.  Bad men take Little Joe!  Kill him!”

Elizabeth’s knuckles went white where they gripped the rails.  Something had happened to little brother while she’d been sleeping!  She felt almost as guilty as Hop Sing.

“Slow down, now.  Tell me what happened,” Sheriff Roy tried again.

The Chinese man sighed.  “Hop Sing get ready for bed after finish cleaning.  Glance out window at cold night.  Stars so clear it seem one could hold them.”

The sheriff guessed.  “So you went outside?”

“Take walk.  Look at stars.”  Little Joe’s friend scowled.  “Hop Sing see plenty of stars when someone hit over head.”

“Someone hit you?” Luke asked.  “Did you see who?”

He shook his head.  “Hop Sing see no one then.  See man while he tie Hop Sing up.”  Anger crackled in his black eyes.  “Man called Atticus.  He betray Mr. Cartwright who welcome him as friend.”  Hop Sing drew a ragged breath.  “Take Mr. Cartwright’s number three son.”

“Did you see anyone else?”

The Chinese man nodded.  “Outside see fat man.  He do no work, just follow.”  His voice fell.  “Inside see devil.  He standing over Little Joe.”

Elizabeth bit her lip to stop from crying out.  That meant little brother was laying on the floor.  What had the bad men done to him?

“So the boy was knocked out?” Sheriff Roy asked.

“Joe was stabbed too,” Mrs. Aurora said softly.  “I saw Fleet do it.”

Stabbed?

That meant Little Joe had been bleedin’ when the bad men took him outside!.  Elizabeth swallowed over her fear.  She had to help him!

The lawman stood and began to pace, all the while shaking his head.  “That’s not good.  Not good at all.”  He turned to the redhead and asked, “Tell me, did they bundle the boy up at all?  Before takin’ him out into – that, I mean?”

Elizabeth looked where he was looking. The drapes were pulled back on the window over the dining room table.  Snow was falling steadily outside.

Mrs. Guthrie shook her head.  “No.  Fleet ordered the other two men to tie up Hop Sing and me and then they carried Joseph out into the night.  He had his nightshirt on and, I think, maybe a light pair of pants.”  Her jaw was tight.  “If you turn the lamp up and look by the desk, you’ll see.  He was bleeding.”

Elizabeth felt her world turn upside-down.  Some mean old man hurt Little Joe and stole him right out from under her nose! She stood and backed up into the corridor and began to pace – back and forth, back and forth.  Sheriff Roy was going to go looking for little brother and sure-as-shootin’ he wasn’t going to let her go along!  He’d probably make her go back to town with Mrs. Aurora so she’d be safe.  The little girl halted.  Well, she wasn’t going to let that happen.  Just let him try to make her go somewhere safe while her little brother was out in the snow with some bad man threatenin’ to hurt him!  Elizabeth drew a deep, steadying breath and let it out slowly.  She knew Little Joe better than the sheriff or Mrs. Aurora.  The first thing he’d do would be try to get away.  Since he was hurt, he’d need someone to help him.  She’d dragged him a mile uphill from the creek to her house after the bad men had left him in that burning house.

She’d saved him before and she could do it again!

As she stood there, thinking furiously, Elizabeth realized it had grown really quiet.  Moving back to the stair she held to the shadows and glanced down, only to find Sheriff Roy looking up.  The lawman looked kind of puzzled, like maybe he thought he’d heard something.  As he started up the stairs, she bounded back to her room and dove under the covers.  Pulling them up to her chin, she closed her eyes.  Little Joe told her Roy Coffee didn’t have any children of his own, so she figured foolin’ him wouldn’t be too hard.  As the door to her room opened, she evened out her breathing and smiled a little smile like she was havin’ a good dream.  The lawman came to her side, reached out and touched her head, and then left the room.

Elizabeth sat up as soon as he was gone.  She looked around her room, wonderin’ if she had everything she needed.  Fortunately, her winter coat, hat, pattens and warm gloves, were in the wardrobe rather than hanging on a peg downstairs like Little Joe’s. They’d planned on going for a horse ride and a walk in the snow today and Hop Sing had brought them up so she could get ready.

She wasn’t gonna use them to take a walk in no snow.   No, siree!

She was goin’ on a manhunt.

Joe shivered uncontrollably on the snow-covered ground and groaned, and then groaned again as someone kicked him in the ribs.

“Shut up!” Fleet Rowse snarled.

He’d like to have complied, but the first two groans had come on their own and the next one did too.

“I told you to shut up!”  This time Rowse bent over and took hold of him.  “First thing someone comes ridin’ up here ‘cause they heard you, Cartwright, you’re dead.  I don’t care how rich your pa is, ain’t no amount of money worth going back to that hell hole of a prison!”

Joe bit his lip so hard it bled in order to stifle the next cry.  He supposed it wasn’t worth trying to explain that if the outlaw wanted him to be quiet, he shouldn’t have put a hole in his shoulder in the first place.  In the second place, he shouldn’t touch it.

Like he was now.

As tears streamed down his cheeks, Fleet Rowse scoffed.  “Pretty boy’s hurtin’ bad, ain’t he?”  The outlaw’s hand hovered over the wound.  “Here, let me make it all better.”

Joe sucked in air and held it against the torture of his touch.  For a second the sky descended and all he could see was stars.  Then it went black.

Seconds later, unfortunately, Rowse swam back into view.

“Leave him alone, Fleet,” a high-pitched nasal voice whined.  “The boy’s no good to us dead.”  Atticus Godfrey came to stand over him.  “And for God’s sake, give the boy a coat.  If your torture doesn’t kill him, the falling temperatures will.”

Rowse rose to his feet.  He went nose to nose with the fake reverend.  “So you’re givin’ the orders now?”

The tall man hesitated.  He pulled at his white collar.  “It was only a suggestion.”

“A suggestion?  Well, now, that’s right.”  The outlaw pulled himself up and adopted what he thought was an elegant air.  “We’re just havin’ a disagreement between gentlemen, ain’t we?”

“You two bicker like an old married couple,” Noyes Runyon groused.  “It’s obvious the  boy has to die no matter what.  He can identify all three of us.  Still, let’s try to keep him alive long enough to write that note to, and be seen by his father, shall we?”

Well, that was discouraging.

Joe’d kind of been hoping at least one of them was on his side.

“I’m not writin’ any note!” he snarled with all of the ferocity a very tired, weak, and nearly frozen-solid seventeen-year-old could muster.

Rowse dropped to his knees beside him.  He picked up his bound hands and tapped on the left one.  “I noticed you’re a Southpaw.  How about I break every finger on that hand, slowly, one by one until you do?”

“He won’t be able to write the note then, you ignoramus,” Noyes barked.

The outlaw was on his feet in a minute.  “Who you callin’ an ‘ignoramus’?”

“You, you cretin!”  Noyes didn’t seem to be the least bit intimidated by Rowse, which was interesting.  “Perhaps it would have been better to say, ‘savage’.  After all, that’s what you are, just like the Paiutes who raised you.”  The fat businessman shook his head.  “What sort of animal are you that you think of cruel pleasure first?”  Joe watched the fat man’s face as he turned and looked at him where he was laying on the ground.  There was almost….  Well, almost sympathy there.

Fleet Rowse had grown very still.  His knife was in his hand.  “I can show you what kind of a man I am if you want.”

Joe heard a click!  Faster than he could follow, Noyes had drawn.  There was a small derringer in his hand.

“Rock crushes scissors,” the fat man sneered as he moved to Joe’s side while waving Rowse away.  “Now, why don’t you go see to the horses?  Oh, and while you’re there, Fleet, please restrain your urge to  kill any of them.  We do need the animals to get away.”

Like they said, if looks could of killed, Noyes Runyon would’ve been dead.

Once the outlaw had disappeared, Runyon crouched at his side.  The man was dressed in a near-black seal-skin coat.  Just looking at its promised warmth made Joe feel even colder.

“You seem like a smart boy,” Noyes said without preamble.

Joe said nothing.

“I want to draw a picture for you, young Joseph Cartwright, and then we’ll see if you are feeling any more cooperative.”

“Why should I cooperate if you’re just gonna kill me?” he demanded between chattering teeth.

“I regret the necessity of  your death, young sir, but you can see where I am coming from, can you not?  Without your witness, everything is hearsay.”

Runyon was a strange man.  Maybe even stranger than Rowse.

The fat man sighed.  “While I have some control over the prison escapee we were regrettably forced to employ while he is in my presence, I have none over him if he chooses to strike out on his own.  He has already made threats against your family for holding his sister hostage – ”

“Aurora isn’t a hostage!” Joe shot back.  “She doesn’t want to go with him.  She’s terrified of Rowse!”

“And with good cause.”  Noyes made a face.  “Fleet is slightly…unhinged.  Even if I can keep him from killing your family outright, he says he will burn your house down with everyone in it, if you don’t cooperate.”

Joe paled.  “What?”

Noyes shrugged.  “He has a thing about fire.  I can assure he’ll carry it through.  He had plenty of practice when he rode with Red Pony.”

Hearing that name was like steppin’ on a rattler.  Red Pony was chief of a renegade band of Paiutes who’d made burning and looting almost a profession.

“Rowse rode with Red Pony?”

“Lived with him.  Fleet was taken captive when he was around five years of age.  His people found him when he a young boy.”  He paused.  “Fleet ran away from them and returned to the Indians.”

Joe swallowed over a lump of fear.  “Aurora said he’d…killed his family.”

“It’s true.  Everyone of them but the girl. She was away at the time.”  The fat man’s thick eyebrows danced up toward his thinning hair.  “It was his way of proving himself to his new family.”

“Why isn’t he with the Indians now?” Joe asked.

Noyes Runyon snorted.  “Rowse is a lunatic.  He took too many risks and they turned on him too.”  The businessman held his gaze.  “You may not be able to understand this, young Cartwright, but a man who has no ties has nothing to lose.” Runyon reached into his pocket and produced a pencil and paper.

“Now, about that note….”

Roy Coffee woke with a start.  He shifted and sat up.  He’d been sittin’ on Ben Cartwright’s fancy settee, feelin’ mighty guilty that he might muss it up, when he fell asleep.  Runnin’ a hand through his thinning hair, he glanced out the window.  The first rays of light were just beginnin’ to penetrate the tall Ponderosa pines surroundin’ Ben Cartwright’s grand house.  Shiftin’ his hand to his face, he ran his fingers across the stubble and then pulled at his chin.  Last night when he made the  decision to rest up for a few hours, he was sure he’d heard Ben bellowin’ at him to get on the road and look for his boy.  Much as he wanted to, it just didn’t make no sense.  It had been black as the minister’s coat outside at the time and there was no way they could have looked for a trail, let alone found it.  He’d just had to trust to God and what he knew of Ben’s youngest.  Little Joe was hot-headed and would as soon jump in a lake as look at one, but he was also resourceful.  That boy had just about the best luck he’d ever seen, at least when it come to gettin’ out of scrapes alive that would have left any other man dead.

Now when it came to cards and women, well, that was a different matter.

Chuckling at his own joke, Roy rose to his feet and went to wake Luke, who was twisted up like one of them there Sturgis pretzels in Ben’s big blue chair.  As the young man unfolded and found his feet, Roy went to the window and looked out.  Sometime during the night it had stopped snowin’.  The land was blanketed a good foot deep, but at least no more was fallin’.  He was gonna send Luke back to town with Mrs. Guthrie.  He’d talked to Hop Sing about sendin’ the little Carnaby girl with her, but it seemed the girl’s folks were due any time and the China man was worried what they’d think if they didn’t find her where she was supposed to be.

Still, it rankled with him leavin’ Hop Sing and the girl alone.

As for him, he had to make a choice.  Odds were there’d be a ransom note comin’ this way sometime soon.  If he set out to look for Little Joe, he just might miss it.  If he missed it – and there was no one to get it to his Pa – well, then, those men might just do somethin’ bad to the boy.  He’d told Luke, once he’d delivered the widow to town, to take time to visit his wife and young’uns and then to hit the trail and head up into the high country to let Ben and his older boys know what was goin’ on.  No, it seemed like the best thing he could do for the moment was co-ordinate, as they’d say.  In the thirty-odd years he’d been a lawman, he’d learned a thing or two.  One of them was how to wait.  A young’un like Luke, why, he’d head out faster than a cat lappin’ chain lightnin’, never thinkin’ about the thunder that came before and after.  That thunder, why, it was the most important of all.  It rolled slow over the land, rattlin’ even the bones of the earth, revealin’ the things the lightnin’ was just too dang impatient to find.

Roy lifted his head and sniffed.  Hop Sing was up and cookin’ breakfast.  It was always interestin’ to him how men coped with worry.  Some pretended it didn’t exist.  Some took their worryin’ out on others.  Hop Sing, well, it sounded like he was takin’ it out on them fancy pans what Ben had bought him,  The sheriff shook his head.  That Chinaman of Ben’s loved all three of Ben’s sons somethin’ fierce, but there was somethin’ special between him and Little Joe.  After Ben’s third wife died, there was many a day there was no one in the house but Hop Sing and Ben’s youngest.  Whenever he’d come to visit, he’d find the boy sitting on the block table in the kitchen, his legs danglin’ down, talkin’ the China man’s ear off while he peeled potatoes or shredded bread for crumbs.  He knew Hop Sing wanted to go with him to hunt for Little Joe, but the cook wasn’t a lawman or a tracker and odds were, he wasn’t gonna last long in the cold.  Maybe it was a good thing that Carnaby girl was visitin’.  It’d keep the Chinaman out of his hair by givin’ Hop Sing someone to worry about while he looked for Joe.

Roy drew a breath and let it out slowly as his eyes returned to the white world beyond the window.

The lightnin’ had done struck.

Now he had to give the thunder time to do its job.

Elizabeth stood at the top of the stair, watching Sheriff Roy’s deputy leave the house with Mrs. Aurora on his arm.  They were both all bundled up against the cold.  Seeing them, in their heavy coats and scarves, while little brother’s coat hung on the rack by the door was almost more than she could stand!  Shifting her gaze, she looked at the dining room table in front of the window.  Sheriff Roy was seated there reading one of Mister Ben’s papers while Hop Sing poured him coffee.  How, she wondered, how?

How could they act so…normal?

Well, if they could do it, she could too – at least long enough to fool them that she was okay with things like they were.  Before coming down she’d made sure she had her winter coat, hat, and all the other stuff she’d need in one place, and then gone to Little Joe’s room and unlocked the window. Little brother had told her stories about all the times he’d climbed out of that window and gone out to do somethin’ after he was supposed to be asleep.  He’d started doing it when he was younger than she was, so she knew she could make it too.  She was sure Sheriff Roy would be riding out soon to see if he could find any of the bad men’s tracks.  She’d wait until he did and then slip out and go to the barn and saddle Freckles.  She was gonna follow the sheriff.  From what he’d said the night before about waitin’ on a ransom note, she was sure he’d come back to the house before doing anything about any tracks he found.  She wouldn’t.  She’d ride straight on until she found Little Joe and get him away from those bad men and bring him back home.

But for now….

“Morning!” Elizabeth chirped as she bounced down the stairs.  “That coffee sure smells good!”  When both men turned puzzled looks on her, she laughed.  “That’s what Little Joe always says when he’s comin’ down the stairs.”  She finished her trek to the table before asking, innocently, “Where is Little Joe?”

“Well, now, good morning, Miss Elizabeth,” Sheriff Roy said as he put the paper down.  “Don’t you look right pretty.”

She had her teal-green dress on – the one Mister Cartwright had bought her.  It was pretty, but it was also the warmest and widest thing she had.  She’d piled layers and layers of petticoats on underneath it until it stuck straight out.

In fact, she felt kind of like an upside-down parasol.

“Thank you, Sheriff,” she replied as she took her seat.  When neither man said anything more, she asked again, “Where’s little brother?”

Hop Sing’s eyes flicked to the lawman.  “Little Joe go out early, Missy Elizabeth.  He….”

“…went to town to see if there were any telegrams from his pa and brothers,” the lawman finished for him.

Elizabeth looked from one man to the other.  Both of them looked guilty as Jack had when Ma found that frog he’d brought in and put in the stove to keep it warm.  So that was how they were going to play it.  They weren’t going to tell her anything.

Grown-ups!

A little smile quirked her lips.  So she guessed she didn’t have to tell them anything either.

“Oh,” she said, looking sad.  “When’s he comin’ back?  Little Joe told me he’d take me out ridin’ today.”

Sheriff Roy shook his head.  “Hard to say.  The road’s gonna be right tricky this mornin’.  Might take him longer than usual.”

“Hop Sing take Missy out in snow later if she want.  We have fun,” the Chinese man offered.

Hop Sing was the one part of her plan she felt bad about.  She didn’t want to hurt him, and she knew when he found she was gone, he’d feel right guilty about it.  Like he’d done somethin’ wrong instead of her.

Elizabeth thoughts flew.  What would convince them that she didn’t want to go?  Maybe she shouldn’t have bounced down the steps with a smile on her face.  Then she could’ve said she didn’t feel good.  As Hop Sing served her some eggs and bacon, she considered what her friend Josie would have done in a situation like this – one where she needed to be sneaky.

After taking a few bites – with a little frown – Elizabeth shoved the plate away, pressed her fingers to her forehead, and let a little moan escape.

“Somethin’ wrong with Missy?” Hop Sing asked immediately.

Josie said this worked with men, since they didn’t have them very often.  “I’ve got a headache,” she moaned.  “Must be the weather.”

Keep it mysterious, Josie said.  Don’t give a reason they can do anythin’ about.

Little Joe’s friend was frowning.  “What weather have to do with missy’s headache?”

“I always get headaches when it snows big.”  She poured every ounce of pain and a desire for understanding into the look she gave him.  Josie would be proud, even her eyes were tearing up. “I…don’t know why.”

Sheriff Roy was eying her.  “You have that there headache when you woke up?”

Men are dumb, Josie’s voice scolded in her head.  Don’t make it complicated.

They’ll believe just about anything.

“No.  But my head felt kinda funny that’s why I was kind of goofy.”  She sighed.  “Sometimes I have to be up for a while.  You know, its like when you fall off a horse, you get up fine but the next day everything hurts.”

He might not be a pa, but Sheriff Roy was a lawman.  He was frowning.  Or maybe it wasn’t because he was a lawman, but because he’d been married.

Maybe his wife had headaches too.

“So what are we gonna do about it!  This here headache of yours?” he asked.

“I just need to go lay down somewhere dark,” she answered meekly.  “The light hurts my eyes.”

“What about little missy’s breakfast?” Hop Sing asked.

He’d bring her a tray later if she didn’t eat something.  Grabbing a biscuit, she replied, “I’ll take this with me and eat it later.  The headache kind of turns my stomach.”

The Chinese man was frowning.  “Hop Sing see Missy Elizabeth back to bed.  Bring tea up for tummy and then let sleep.”

That was as good as it got.

She smiled.  “Thank you, Hop Sing.”  Turning to the lawman she asked, “What are you gonna do today, Sheriff Roy?”

“What?  Me?” he huffed and then answered.  “Thought I’d take me a nice long ride.  I’ll be back afore supper.”

“Maybe Little Joe will be back by then too,” she threw in, just for good measure.

They thought she missed it, but she didn’t.  The two men exchanged glances.

“Maybe,” Roy said.

“Maybe,” Hop Sing echoed.

They didn’t believe it, but she did.  Little Joe most certainly would be home for supper.

After all, how hard could it be to find him?

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

EIGHT

Ben Cartwright pulled his hat down over his eyes and his collar up close about his throat.  It had been a long and cold night.  He’d been delayed in Virginia City when, of all things, he’d had to prove to a young upstart of a bank manager that he was Benjamin Cartwright before the fool would let him deposit the payroll money in his own account!  The manager he’d known for more than a decade was gone on holiday until after the first of the year and the board had chosen a young whippersnapper to fill in for him. A man with ‘new’ ideas.

“I have an idea,” Ben grumbled.  “How about hiring someone with experience….”

“You say something, Pa?”

Ben turned to look at his oldest son.  He’d ridden hard all morning, following the road to the tower of rocks that marked the area of the closest line shack, and then heading due north to join the others.  He caught up to Adam and Hoss more quickly than he expected.  They, like him, had been slowed down by the ferocity of the sudden storm and had not yet met up with the other men on the drive.  His sons were about halfway to the place where the cattle were gathered and had been breaking camp when he appeared.  After greeting him, Adam threw another log on the fire and heated up what remained of their breakfast.  While he ate, his the boys completed their work.

The older man was grateful for both the food and the company. He had tossed and turned throughout the long snowy night, his sleep troubled by nightmare images of his Little Joe and his young charge stumbling into some kind of trouble.  A broken axle on the carriage, stranding them in the frigid cold.  One or the other of them coming down with pneumonia because of it.  Or – and this was the most disturbing – Joseph ending up buried alive by a steady and silent fall of snow.

That was the one that woke him and kept him awake.

“Did I say something?  I certainly did!” the older man groused as he took a sip of coffee and relished both the taste and the warmth it lent him.

“Still mad about what happened at the bank?”

Ben scowled as he swirled the dark liquid in his cup and took another sip.  “ I am,’ he admitted.  “I don’t know why the board thought some foolhardy youngster of thirty could manage a bank!”

“Er, Pa….”

“What kind of experience can you have when you are barely out of diapers – ”

“Pa!”

Ben rounded on his oldest son.  “What?”

Adam pursed his lips and waved a hand.  “Me.  Here.  Thirty.”

“Oh…yes….  Well, I didn’t mean you…” the older man sputtered.  “Besides, you’re an old thirty.”

“Never heard a better description, Pa,” Hoss snorted as he came to their side.  “Truth to tell, you’d think Adam was on the high side of fifty ‘cause he’s so crotchety and stuffy most of the time!”

Ben hid his smile behind his cup.  Waving his free hand, he said, “Me. Here.  Fifty.”

They all shared a laugh over that.

Some fifteen minutes later the camp was broken, the campfire extinguished, and his sons were ready to go.  Adam came to find him.  He’d slipped away at the last minute to check on Buck.  His faithful horse had been in need of a quality period of rest before starting out again and he wanted to make certain it had been long enough.  Finding Buck in good spirits, he’d begun to check the tackle.  As he adjusted one of the straps, he’d been suddenly and unexpectedly overwhelmed by a deep, rising fear.  The older man stood now, one of the leather straps hanging loose in his gloved hand, staring toward home.

“He’ll be all right,” a soft voice said.

It was Adam.

With a start, Ben turned to find his oldest boy regarding him with an affectionate smile.  “Who are you talking about?”

His son pursed his lips and shrugged.  “Little Joe.  Who else?”

With a harrumph Ben went back to tightening the strap.  “Do you aways assume your younger brother will be in trouble the minute he’s out of our sight?”

Adam was a man of many talents – hiding his amusement at his father’s concern for his baby brother was not one of them.

“Don’t you?”

Ben pulled on the strap one last time.  “Your younger brother can take of himself.  Why would you assume that I’m worried about – ”

“Uh…Pa,” he replied with a shake of his head.  “I’m not assuming.  It’s written all over your face.”

“I’m not worried, son.  It’s just….”  He hated to admit it – that  he was an old man who’d had a bad dream he couldn’t shake.  With a sigh, he did anyhow.  “I had a nightmare about your brother.  What happened in it has left me…well, unsettled.”

“That must be where Little Joe gets it,” Hoss said as he joined them.  “I keep tellin’ Adam Joe’s got a lot of you in him, Pa.”

“Thank you, son,” he said, and meant it.

Still, remembering his own wild and misspent youth, that statement did little to soothe his fears.

Adam snorted.  “I doubt Pa ever caused his parents’ nightmares.”

“There you’re wrong, son,” Ben laughed.  “I gave them plenty of sleepless nights.  I guess….  Maybe its because I see myself in Joseph that I worry so about him.”

“A rake makes the shrewdest parent, is that your theory, Pa?” his oldest asked with a grin.

He had to admit it.  After all, he had gotten by with ‘murder’ as a boy.  He knew well all of the avenues that could lead a young man into trouble and anticipated them with Marie’s son.  Ben smiled.  At least Joseph had an excuse with his vivacious and untamable mother.

His had been quite the solid, steady, woman.

“So what’s got you riled, Pa?” Hoss asked as he stamped his feet and pulled his collar up around his chin to seal what lay beneath from the chill.

“In the dream Elizabeth and Little Joe were out in the snow.  Something happened and your brother was left behind.”  His voice became hushed.  “Joseph was slowly buried under it.”

Adam shrugged it off.  “Sounds like a reasonable enough nightmare for a man sleeping out in the snow.”

“Sure does, Pa.  You was probably just feelin’ the cold.”  Hoss’s smile was as reassuring as the big man could make it.  “I know I felt like I was buried under a heap of it while I was curled up in that little thin blanket last night.”

They were right.  To start with Little Joe’s foot was not healed.  If he and Elizabeth had gone out, it would have been in a sleigh.  There would be no reason Joseph would be on foot.  Plus he had told his son to take Hop Sing with them.

Two children and a Chinese cook.

That did a lot to steady his nerves.

“You want me to ride home and check?” Adam asked.

Ben hesitated.  Did he?  All three of them were needed to help drive the cattle through what was bound to be treacherous terrain.  But they weren’t there now and the men were getting by.  Still, it would take his eldest the better part of a day to get back to the house, and then another to return.  So, two at least that Adam would be gone.

And he didn’t know for certain that anything was wrong….

“No.  No, son.  Thanks for asking, but there’s no need.”  Ben put his foot in the stirrup and mounted.  Pointing the buckskin’s nose north, he began to move.  “Come on.  It’s time we caught up with the others.”

Behind his back, Adam and Hoss Cartwright exchanged glances.  “I’ve got twenty in my saddlebag,” Adam said.

Hoss pursed his lips and squinted.  “I only got fifteen.”

“Fifteen it is then.  So how long do you think?”

Hoss looked after their father.  “Thirty”

Adam shook his head.  “I say twenty.”

Ben Cartwright’s middle son stuck his hand out.  “Bet.”

His older brother shook it.  “Deal.”

In the end they both lost.

It wasn’t ten minutes later that Adam was on the road and riding back to the Ponderosa.

Roy Coffee stood at the front door of Ben Cartwright’s house with his hand on the knob.  His heart was hammerin’ in his chest.  He’d been sittin’ pretty as a jay bird at the dining room table, sippin’ coffee and readin’ the paper, when somethin’ struck the wood door hard.  The sound made him jump clean out of his chair and toss the coffee out of the cup he was holdin’.  The hot liquid hit Hop Sing square in the chest as he came runnin’ out of the kitchen yellin’ somethin’ in that there gibberish language of his, stunnin’ the China man into silence.  He was silent still as he stood beside him now – holdin’ his breath, he imagined.

That was okay, so was he.

Roy knew what he found when he opened the door could change the lives of the people in Ben Cartwright’s house forever.  With a glance at his old friend’s cook, he opened it slowly.

Only to find an arrow stuck smack in the middle of it.

Roy scowled.  There weren’t too many Indians left in these parts nowadays.  Most of them had done been run out by settlers or soldiers.  Weren’t fair, of course, but that was how life was – there were conquerors and there were the ones they done conquered. Wasn’t always one side good and the other bad.  Lots of times there were what people liked to call ‘extenuatin’ circumstances’.  That was a term those city lawyers was awful fond of.  Roy wondered about the man what had let loose the arrow stuck in Ben’s door.  He didn’t think he was a city slicker – just like he didn’t think any of those extenuatin’ circumstances would have applied.  No, there were two things about that arrow stickin’ in the Cartwright’s door that told Roy whatever man had shot it had been acquainted with the Indians, and he was the bad man what had taken Little Joe.

Upwards of five inches of the arrow’s shaft was painted in blood and there was a note attached to it.

“What happen?  You see Little Joe?” Ben’s cook asked.

Roy held up a hand to signal it would be just a minute as he narrowed his pale blue eyes and scanned the tree line at the front of the house.  Then he pulled his gun and stepped out onto the porch.  When nothing happened, he turned back to the arrow.  It didn’t want to come out of the door, so he undid the bit of rawhide holding the note to the shaft and took it off.  Then, with a last look at the yard, Roy stepped back into the house and closed the door behind him.

As he read the note, Hop Sing pressed him, “Sheriff Roy tell Hop Sing what note say.”

Roy scowled.  He hated to show the dang thing to the China man, but he had to be sure.  Before he handed it over, the lawman said, “Now, Hop Sing, I don’t want you going off half-cocked, you hear me?  You just take a look at this and tell me for sure that it’s Little Joe’s handwritin’.”

As Hop Sing read the note, tears entered his eyes.  When they came to the last line, several fell.

He couldn’t blame him.  The note had tears on it too and the last line and signature was written in the boy’s blood.

Hop Sing handed the paper back.  “That Little Joe’s handwriting.”

Roy nodded.  He’d thought so from the way it was bent west instead of east.  He read it again.

Pa, I’m sorry.  I had to do it to save Elizabeth.  Three men are holding me.  Fleet Rowse is one of them.  Rowse says you have to come alone, Pa, and you have until dawn day after tomorrow to bring ten thousand dollars to the Paiute graveyard.  Leave it under the crossed spears and ride away.  Rowse says to tell you his quiver holds 10 arrows.  He says he’ll be watching and if he sees any lawmen or anyone else coming around before or with you, when you find me, the other nine will be in me. 

I love you, Pa.  Joe.  

“What we do?” Hop Sing breathed.

Roy didn’t say anythin’, but he knew about Rowse and he knew full well the minute the outlaw got his hands on that money Little Joe would be dead.  Rowse was the type who’d take pleasure in makin’ Ben Cartwright and his other boys hurt.  Fleet Rowse had had a hard row to hoe.  He’d admit that.  But there’d been plenty of men plowin’ harder ground who’d turned up nothin’ but rock and still managed to plant seeds that had grown into some kind of good.  Rowse had thrown nothin’ but venom and hate into that row and them there weeds had grown up high enough to choke not only him, but any man who had the misfortune to stumble into them.

That man bein’ Little Joe Cartwright at the moment.

As he opened his mouth to respond, Hop Sing said, “Bad man not let Little Joe go no matter what.”

Roy pursed his lips.  “That’s right, Hop Sing.”

The China man thought hard for a moment.  “Then you and Hop Sing must go after Little Joe!”

“Now, you wait here a minute, Hop Sing,” the lawman said, holding up a hand.  “I’m goin’ but ain’t nothin’ you can say will make me take you with me.”

“Hop Sing no stay home!” the other man declared with a stubborn shake of his head.  “Come after sheriff Roy if no take!  Hop Sing responsible for number three son.  Hop Sing go!”

He could have quoted him all kinds of things about a lawman’s responsibility and him bein’ too close to the boy to be of any help, but Roy figured he didn’t have to.  All he had to do was ask one question.

“What about Miss Carnaby?”

Hop Sing looked like he’d done been struck in the face by a fish.

Roy laid a hand on his shoulder.  “The best thing you can do, Hop Sing, is make sure you keep that little girl out of trouble.  She’s got too much of Little Joe in her and I’ll be danged if she won’t find some way to get into it quicker than you can say jumpin’ Jack Robinson.  Now, why don’t you go upstairs and make sure she’s all right and then, if you’ve a mind to, I’d be awful happy if you could rustle up a little grub for me to take along on the trail.”

“What if bad men see you?”  The China man’s black eyes flicked to the note he still held.  “What if they hurt Little Joe because they see you?”

“I done more stake-outs than you’ve baked pies, Hop Sing.  Those outlaws ain’t gonna see me.  I need to find out how many there are for sure and see where they got Little Joe, and then I’ll ride back to town for help.  Like I said, you just keep that little girl out of trouble, you hear?”

Elizabeth was astride the horse Little Joe had given her and riding as fast as she could through the snow, following the stranger she’d seen in the Cartwright’s yard.  She’d climbed out the window and had just finished harnessing her pony when she saw a bundled up man with a bow in his hand.  He let loose an arrow aimed at the front door and then, without waitin’ to see if it hit, disappeared into the trees.

A minute later she heard a horse’s hooves pounding the hard ground.

She’d been trackin’ before.  Her pa had taken her out into the woods to teach her even though her ma said it wasn’t proper and she swore – even though Ma never really swore ‘cause she said God was always listenin’ and He’d tan her hide if she did – well, Ma swore Pa’d be teachin’ her to wear britches and suspenders next!

Pa said a girl needed to know how to track.  ‘Ma’, he’d said, ‘suppose Bella’s here alone and Jack goes wanderin’ off.  She’ll need to be able to find him fast before somethin’ nasty like a bear or mountain cat does.  Or suppose she’s all growed up and she’s got livestock that’s wandered off?’  In the end Pa won, like he usually did, and he’d started takin’ her out with him day and night to teach her how to look for sign.  He taught her how to tell how old the sign was and what had made it and so on.  Lots of it was yucky and by the time they was done, she was just about sure she didn’t ever want to track nothin’ bigger than a bunny rabbit.  And now here she was!  Little Joe was missin’ and she knew how to follow the man on the horse even though there was snow on the ground.

Pa would be right proud of her when she told him!

She knew, of course, that keepin’ out of sight was more important with a bad man than a bunny rabbit, so she was traveling just inside of the trees and not on the road.  While she might end up with no supper if a bunny got wind of her, she was gonna end up in a whole heap of trouble if whoever took Joe did.  That Fleet Rowse feller sounded awful mean.  She wasn’t so sure about the reverend.  He’d seemed harmless as a tick on a stone.  She hadn’t liked that other man – the one names Runyon.  She’d spent most of the stage coach ride with him.  He’d patted her head and talked nice to her and even offered her candy, which she refused.  He was like a snake and she supposed that just by touchin’ it, he’d probably poisoned the candy and she didn’t want any of it or him.  It was funny.  Him and the reverend had introduced themselves and acted like they were strangers but, now that she thought of it, they kept lookin’ at each other like they were talkin’ with their eyes the whole time.

She should’ve known somethin’ was up!

Elizabeth swallowed hard as she tightened her grip on the reins.  Hop Sing and Sheriff Roy were gonna be mighty mad when they figured out what she was doin’.  She would have gone to them, but she knew neither one of them would have let her join in the search for little brother.  They’d of said she was ‘too little’.  The blonde girl scowled.  She didn’t know about Sheriff Roy, but she was pretty sure Hop Sing had never got Little Joe out of a burning building and into the water where he was safe like she had!  Ma always said  it takes a heap of licks to hit a nail in the dark.

She had experience saving Joe Cartwright and that had to count over size and strength!

The sun was just crestin’ over the top of the mountains, casting long orange-red fingers across the snow.  The man was riding hard and fast and doing nothin’ to cover his tracks, so it she was pretty sure he either didn’t know he was being followed or didn’t care.  Even if he did, she had one advantage no one else would.  If there’d been a ransom note tied on that arrow the outlaw shot, then he’d probably told Mister Cartwright in it that no one was to follow him.  Of course, the bad man would be lookin’ for grown-ups – men, most like.  He probably wouldn’t think much of it if he looked back and saw a little girl comin’ up on his tail.  He might even ignore her.  After all, the bad man probably thought the same thing as Sheriff Roy and Hop Sing.  First off, she was a girl, and second, she was ‘too little’ to do anything about anything.

With a snort, Elizabeth Carnaby pressed her heels into her pony’s sides.

Right.

Joe didn’t think he’d ever been so cold in his life.  His captors had taken refuge in one of their deserted line shack and had even lit a fire, but it seemed the warmth just couldn’t make its way to his bones.  One of the men had pressed a wad of filthy cloth against his wound and bound it to his chest, and another tossed a moth-ridden blanket his way, which he was wearing now over his nightshirt and long johns.  The place where Rowse’s knife had penetrated his shoulder throbbed.  The pain thrummed through his body and pounded in his head as well, beating in tune with his heart.  Slowly Joe uncurled the fingers of his left hand, noting the ugly cut near the top of one finger and the congealed blood that ran from the jagged wound onto his palm.  Rowse had split it with his knife and made him use the blood to pen the last line on the ransom note to his father.

Like a baby, he had cried while he wrote it.

The outlaw took hold of him by his bad shoulder afterwards and threw him against a low-lying cot in the corner and told him to stay there.  As he crawled up onto it, Rowse had painted his face like a warrior on the red path and headed out the door.  It seemed the man was caught between two worlds, bein’ a part of both, but not belonging to either one.  Joe wondered if it was because neither the Indians nor the settlers would accept him, or if it was because Rowse wouldn’t accept either one of them.

From what Aurora said, he kind of figured it was the last one.

It was hard to think of someone as pretty and nice as Aurora Guthrie being related to Fleet Rowse.  They were just so different.  He and his brothers were alike in so many ways – in the things Pa had taught them about being good Christian men such as love, sacrifice, service to others and all. They fought over just about everything else, but when it came to the important things they were, like Adam said, ‘on the same page’.  On top of being one of the prettiest women he had ever seen, Aurora was so gentle and sweet.  She’d taken good care of Elizabeth and he hoped she was still doing so now that he was gone.

Joe wondered if his pa even knew he was missing.  If he and Hoss and Adam had made it to the place where the cattle were waiting, they’d be on their way north and there’d be no one at the house to get that ransom note.  No one but Hop Sing, Aurora, or Elizabeth.  He knew his ‘big sister’ well enough to know that it was gonna take a lot to keep her in that house once she knew.  Bella was just about as headstrong as he was, and she sure thought she could take care of herself come Hell or high water.  He knew what she’d be thinkin’, that he was her responsibility.  He’d played along with her treatin’ him like her ‘little brother’ ‘cause it was cute.

Another mistake.

Joe’s weary gaze flicked to the shack door.  Unfortunately, Fleet Rowse was Hell, high water, a cyclone, drought, and a few other things all rolled into one.  Leaning his head against the wall, Joe closed his eyes and his lips parted.  Whispered words came from between them.

“God, you keep that little mischief safe and where she needs to be.  Don’t you go lettin’ her get it in her head that she’s gotta save me.  You make her mind Hop Sing and keep her nose out of trouble and – ”

Joe paused, suddenly struck by all the times his pa has spent askin’ God the same thing about him.  He snorted and shook his head.  At that moment bustin’ the orneriest bronco looked like a walk in the park compared to bein’ a pa.  He’d have to let his father know that.

If he lived to see him again.

Joe shifted and moaned.  He heard a movement in response and opened his eyes to find Atticus Godfrey coming toward him.  The former reverend was carrying a bowl of water and some clean bandages.  He sat the bowl on a bedside table and then sat in the chair next to the low frame and reached out to check the linens covering his wound.

“The cloth beneath is soaked through,” he said.  “It needs to be changed.”

“What do you care?” Joe shot back.  “You’re just gonna kill me anyway!”

The tall thin man flinched.  “So Noyes says,” he replied as his long fingers reached out and pulled at the linen strap binding the wad of bloody cloth to his wound.  He frowned as he pulled at the wad.  It was stuck to his skin. “This is going to hurt.”

Joe gritted his teeth and nodded.

Atticus sprinkled the area with water first. Then, grasping his good shoulder in his right hand, he pulled quickly, tearing the bandage away from the wounded one.  Joe’s stomach rocked and tears entered his eyes.

He denied them.

As the thin man began to prepare the cloth to replace what he had removed, Joe examined him.  Atticus Godfrey had a tired face.  Not a mean one like Runyon, or crazy like Noyes, just tired.  He was really thin, almost to the point of lookin’ sick.  There were shadows under his eyes and they had a funny faraway look.  As he paid more attention, Joe noticed that the man’s hands shook as he worked.  Either he was sick or he was uncomfortable with what he was doing.

Which might give him an edge.

“So how’d you end up working for a maniac like Fleet Rowse?” he asked.

Atticus’ pale eyes shot to his face.  Then he turned and looked at Runyon who was leaning back in a chair, snoring.  As he tucked the wad of cloth into place, he said, his voice pitched low.  “I didn’t lie about my brother knowing your father.  He did.   He and your father kept up a correspondence for a time, so I knew how wealthy Ben Cartwright was.  My…associate and I make a habit of removing some of a great man’s money from his pockets so the temptation to sin won’t be as great.”  Atticus met his dumbfounded stare.  “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God, after all.”

Joe was scowling.  “Are you a real reverend?”

Atticus sighed.  “I was.  Until my…weekday activities were found out.”

”You mean you being a thief?”

“Young man, I am not….”  The thin man paused.  “Yes, me being a thief.”

“But you’re not a murderer,” he stated plainly.

The former parson sucked in a breath and let it out slowly through his nose.  “No.”

“So are you just gonna stand by and let Rowse kill me when my usefulness is done?” Joe demanded.  “That’d make you an accomplice to murder at the very least.”

The thin man leaned back in the chair and stared at him.  A second later he ran a lean hand over his face and sighed.  “Runyon hired Rowse.  He’d heard he was a good man to have in a tight saturation.  My connection with your father got us in, but we needed a hired gun, so to speak, to be sure we got out.  Of course, it didn’t hurt that Rowse had worked the Ponderosa once upon a time.”

“But you got more than you bargained for with Fleet Rowse.”

He nodded.  “Rowse is…unstable.  I fear he finds more pleasure in a deal gone wrong then one well done.  He’d….”  Atticus paused.  “He’d rather kill you than have the money.”

Joe had guessed as much.  It was all a game with Rowse.  Take him, have him write the note to his pa, get the money, and then leave his corpse for his family to find.  Every inch of it was meant to cause pain.  Pain from which Rowse drew pleasure.

“So you just gonna let him kill me?” he asked again.  Adding, “I know Noyes agrees, but do you?”

The reverend opened his lips, but it was Noyes Runyon who spoke. “What are you doing over there, Atticus?  What’s taking so long?”

“I’m putting a fresh binding on the boy’s wound,” he replied.  Standing, he added, “It won’t do us any good if he dies before his father sees him.”

“I suppose…” the fat businessman said as he rose and headed for the stove where a pot of coffee sat.

“Noyes, the price of murder is hanging,” Atticus said quietly.  “Robbing someone, that’s another matter.  If we leave the boy high up in the hills or in an abandoned mine shaft, we can get away before anyone finds him.  We can send word back….”

Runyon chewed on some stale bread as well as Atticus’ words.  He swallowed.  “Too dangerous.”

“We’ve done it before.  What’s different now?”

“He’s a Cartwright for one.  They never give up.  And in the second place….”  The fat man’s eyes went to the door.  “There’s Rowse to contend with.  If he doesn’t get to have his fun with this one, it will be us!”

“If you let me go my Pa won’t hunt you down, I promise,” Joe insisted.

“If we let you go your pa won’t need to hunt us down, Rowse will kill us,” the businessman snorted.  The man’s piggy eyes went to the reverend.  “Besides, Atticus, it will be Rowse who does the killing.  Our hands will be clean.  They’ll find the boy’s body and we can tell them that it was Rowse who did it over our protests.  After all, his reputation speaks for itself.”  The fat man paused and then concluded, “Aren’t you finished yet?”

“Just so,” Atticus said as he pulled the linen strip that bound Joe’s chest taut.  Leaning over him, he reached for the thin blanket to draw it up.

Joe caught his arm above the elbow.  “Help me,” he whispered.

“I’ll hear your confession later, son,” the thin man said as he straightened up.  “You need to be absolved of your sins and be at peace before the end.”

Atticus’ eyes were fastened on his.

“God will find a way.”

As Joe watched the near-skeletal man walk away, he felt the first flicker of hope since he had been kidnapped.

Maybe he would live to see another day.

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