Summary:  A newcomer to Virginia City talks the Cartwrights into a decision they wish they’d never made.

Rated:  K+
Word count:  13,184

Story Notes:  A summer 2019 Round Robin Challenge.  Bonanza Brand writers were invited to submit an opening chapter that would leave the reader wanting to know more.  Members voted on their favorite submission and the top three openings were selected for completion.  Over the summer, six to eight authors participated in finishing the story, including working through developmental and line edits and re-writes as needed.

The participants in this story were (in alphabetical order): Bahj, BakerJ, Cheaux, JFClover, MicheleBE, Puchi Ann, and SJR Cartwright.

 

 

 

Regret

 

Prologue

Present Day

 

“Roy,” I said when I opened the front door.  “Kind of early for you to be out this way.”

The sheriff pulled his hat from his head.  “I know, Ben, but this ain’t no social call.”

“Something happen in town?  Someone hurt?”

The sheriff lowered his gaze and gripped the rim of his hat as he mustered the courage to relay a predawn message.  Chair legs scraped the floor when my boys left the breakfast table to flank me.

“Roy?”

“There was an explosion up to the mine.  Word around town is … as much as I hate to say this, Ben, there may not be any survivors.”

I clung to the sideboard in an attempt to stay upright.  My heart beat in my throat as I realized exactly what Roy had said.  My son had ridden up just yesterday to settle a dispute, to negotiate a compromise before the men flooded the shafts and caused weeks of delays.  And now, what was Roy saying?  Was it possible to lose a son in such an absurd manner?  A son who was only trying to help men he called friends?

Warm hands slid across my shoulders.  Two boys were present, but were they hanging on for support while they processed the information or were they trying to keep me strong and not let my knees buckle under me?

Not a word was spoken, not even a protest or the question that formed in our minds over a treasured member of the family.  The shock was too morbid to consider.  Had an entire crew of men been sacrificed, buried alive in the rubble?  There was more to consider than just our own grief.  Families would have to be notified.  That was my job as co-owner of the mine, but how was I to compose myself enough to visit widows and children when my own son was never coming home?

I could’ve gone to the mine with him.  I offered to ride along, but he said he could handle the men on his own.  Paperwork cluttered my desk, and I sighed with relief when he let me off the hook.  The new timber contract seemed so important yesterday that I sent my son off alone.

“Pa.”

The voice was soft and caring, but I couldn’t turn my head.  I didn’t dare glance at the tear-filled eyes that whispered my name, that wanted to take the pain from my heart and comfort my soul.  I fought my own tears.  I was the captain of the ship, and there was work to be done before I could let personal grief overwhelm me and it would.

But as reasonable thought took hold and my mind began to clear, I reached for my gun belt and hat.  I had to see for myself, had to know for sure, and I turned to my two remaining sons.  “Saddle up, boys.  Let’s ride.”

 

 

 

Chapter One

Previously 

 

“I have no interest in owning a mine,” Ben reiterated to the earnest young man for the tenth time in as many hours while he made his way out of a conference room on the second floor of the Storey County Courthouse.

Marcus Albright had cornered Ben at a meeting of the Comstock Mining Commission and dogged him all day.  “You own stock in half a dozen mines,” he said, scrambling down the steps behind his prey.

“Yes, but only as a minority shareholder in companies that hold patented claims.”

“And if you purchase the land on which my shaft sits, sir, we’d be partners and I can get a patent.”

Ben stopped abruptly and turned to face his pursuer, noting the worn, dusty clothing and scraggly reddish beard.  The man’s pallid skin spoke of too little sun, and too many missed meals, but his grey eyes sparkled with youthful exuberance.  While he recognized that filing an unpatented claim for the sole purpose of extracting and developing mineral deposits on land one did not own was not uncommon and, in fact, legal—Ben had no desire to get involved.

“And who are you going to get to invest in your mine?  You’ve admitted it’s not producing.”

“I know.”  Albright’s shoulders sank. “I know the claim has only netted a pittance in revenue to date, but it will.  I know the ore is there.  All I needed is capital to keep digging.”

Ben sighed.  Hard luck cases.  Why do I attract hard luck cases?

“You can help.  People listen to you, Mr. Cartwright.  After all, your son is an engineer.  I heard he worked with Deidesheimer on the square set timbering that shores up all the mines on the Comstock.  If he gave a favorable report, investors would follow.”

“True, Adam is an engineer, but he is a civil engineer, technically a structural engineer, and specifically an architect, not a mining engineer.  You should consult one of those or a geologist.”

“Please.”

Ben felt the desperation more than heard the plaintive plea.   “Do you have a horse?”

“What?”

“A horse.  I’m tired and I’m hungry.  Follow me home and you can speak to Adam.”

*****

Although not the usual caliber of guest, the young man had an appetite that rivaled Mister Hoss and that made Hop Sing happy.  He grinned from ear to ear as he refilled serving bowls and platters, not once but twice.  Other household members were more reticent in their appraisal.

Between mouthfuls, Marcus submitted to an interrogation about his past, present, and his dreams for the future.  He told of being orphaned at 13 and going to work in the gold and silver mines of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula.  At 19, he fell in love with Janie, the daughter of a mine owner in Colorado Territory, and they married.  Curt was born two years later.  Mother and son were living in Denver with an auntie until he struck it rich.  Minus room and board, he sent what little he earned to them each month.

Marcus listened eagerly to the tales of his host.  He had assumed the Cartwrights were born wealthy.  It never occurred to him that the almighty Ben Cartwright struggled for years to build the Ponderosa.  He learned of the death of three wives, and the hardships Adam and Hoss had endured on the journey west.  Only Joe, it seemed, had been born to privilege.  Probably never did a lick of work in his life.

When Hoss stepped away after dessert to attend to the stock, Joe didn’t offer to help and remained upright in his chair, elbows on the table, hand over fist covering his mouth, silently observing as he had for much of the evening.  Thought so. 

Marcus’s skin tingled under Joe’s steady gaze.  He was relieved when the senior Cartwright spoke up.

“Joe, why don’t you set up the chess board at my desk and we’ll leave these two to their discussion.”

“Sure, Pa.   Excuse me, Marcus.”  Joe raised his eyebrows slightly at Adam as he passed.

 

*****

“What do you think?” whispered Ben to Joe after making his opening gambit.

“Don’t know.  Seems plausible, if a little odd.”

“How do you mean?”

“Sounded . . . rehearsed.  You know?”

“Hmm.”

Father and son concentrated on the game for the next 15 minutes.

“He is tenacious.  Kept after me all day.”

“Youthful enthusiasm or practiced liar?”

“I don’t know,” Ben said.

“Checkmate,” Joe grinned.

“What?  Why you little schemer!”

Joe laughed, then drew a sharp intake of air through his teeth before tucking his left elbow into his side and leaning to the left.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, blowing out a slow breath.  “Think I’ll go to bed.”

“Need some help?”

“No, thanks.  Hop Sing changed the bandage before dinner.”

“Don’t lift anything.”

“I know.  Nothing heavier than my pillow.”

*****

When Adam entered the house and bolted the door, Ben rolled up the Harper’s Weekly he’d been reading but kept it in his hand.

“Marcus go back to town?”

“Yes.  I invited him to spend the night, but he didn’t want to leave his claim.”

“Hop Sing just put out fresh coffee,” Ben said, pointing the rolled paper at the plank table.

Adam poured himself a cup and held the pot in the air.

“No thanks.  I’ve had enough.  What do you think?”

“Well, he’s knowledgeable about mining.  He’s definitely worked with ores.”

“Joe thinks there is something amiss.”

“Like what?”

“Didn’t know.  Just a feeling.”

“Mmm.”

Over the years, the family had developed a healthy respect for Joe’s feelings as he often had a sixth sense about people and situations, even if he couldn’t put his finger on it or articulate why.

“I’m going to take a look at the mine tomorrow,” Adam said.

“How far down is he?”

“Hundred fifty feet, more or less.”

“By himself?  That is quite an undertaking.”

“Yes.  Appears to be a hard worker.”

“I told Joe he was tenacious.”  Ben slapped his leg with the paper tube, then threw it on the table.  “Do me a favor?  Stop by the land office when you’re in town and find out who owns that property.”

*****

Adam reported his findings at dinner the following evening.  “The shaft is ten feet wide and close to two hundred feet deep, all shored up using square set timbering.”

“Did you go to the land office?” asked Ben.

“I did and I made a sketch.”  Adam retrieved his leather portfolio from the credenza and pulled out a sheet of cartridge paper on which he had duplicated the relevant plat map markings.  “His claim is on this strip of open land here in Crown Point Ravine, north of B Street.  Rocky, hilly.  You could pick up the surface rights for a song.”

Hoss squinted at the markings.  “That the Yellow Jacket?” he asked.

“Yes, and here is the Chollar.  Marcus’ shaft is up slope to the west between the two.  Rough terrain, which is most likely why no one staked it out before, but it is accessible.”

Joe read the details, admiring anew Adam’s architectural penmanship.  Wish I could write like that.  “There must be thirty mines in this section alone.”

Adam agreed.  “More like fifty.  I didn’t mark them all.  The small vein Marcus showed me widens out the further down he digs.  Whether it will pan out is anyone’s guess.  However, the assay report showed it to be of high quality.”

“Silver’s trading at $1.30 per ounce now,” Ben said.

“What happens if that vein goes sideways under another mine?”

“Marcus would still retain the rights, Hoss,” said Adam.  “It’s called the law of the apex. The owner of an unpatented claim has the right to pursue a vein to its point of origin, even if it means tunneling under another’s property.”

Ben snorted.  “That is the law, but it doesn’t mean the Yellow Jacket or Chollar, or any one of a dozen other mines won’t put up a fight.  Marcus could be tied up in litigation for years and lose everything even if he won the lawsuit.”

“True,” Adam mused, “but if we held the patent on the land, people might think twice about taking us on.”

“Your opinion, boys.  Do you think we should obtain the surface rights or go into partnership with Marcus? Or both?”

“Shucks, Pa, I’ll take a three-month cattle drive in a monsoon over goin’ underground.  I say neither.”

“Joe?”

“Well, I still believe he’s hiding something, but if the cost is reasonable, I say yes on buying the land, but no on investing in the mine.”

“Adam?”

“I agree with Joe; purchase the surface rights even if it exposes us to litigation.  However, I also believe securing an equity interest in the mine would protect us better than leaving all decisions up to Marcus.”

“How so, son?”

“He’s young—”

“—he’s my age!” Joe protested.

“—and inexperienced in business.  You, Joe, have been bidding on contracts, negotiating deals, and running our horse operations for a number of years.  You are most definitely not inexperienced!”

“Oh.  Well.  Thank you,” Joe said, mollified.

“You’re welcome.”

Ben stood to look out the dining room window.  When he turned back, he placed his hands on the back of his chair.

“All right, since we are not unanimous, this will not be a Ponderosa investment, but an individual one.   Joe, Adam, and I will purchase and hold title to the land in equal shares.   Adam, you and I will invest in the mine at whatever percentage you’re comfortable with.”

“And we leave operations to Marcus with no oversight?” Adam asked.

“Those details will have to be worked out with him.  Although he pursued my involvement, our proposal may not be what he had in mind.”

*****

The next day, Ben and Adam met with Marcus at his diggings.  Although pleased about the land purchase, he appeared taken aback at the idea of sharing the wealth.  Adam pointed out that he would also be sharing the risk.  After much discussion, he grudgingly agreed to give up a small percentage of his mine in return for currency with which to buy tools and lumber and hire two miners.

As the Cartwrights rode down the hill towards B Street, Marcus’ animated countenance dissolved.  His eyes narrowed to a steely glint and the hint of a smile touched his lips.

That was easier than I thought.

 

 

 

Chapter Two

 

Decision made, the purchase of the land was consummated, and the patented claim registered with the Mining District Recorder.  The Albright-Cartwright mine was born.

It was agreed that Marcus would manage the mine with oversight from Adam.  Marcus hired on two men, bought the additional equipment and got started.

Joe became tenacious in visiting and checking up on the mine.  Whenever Adam dropped in, Joe tried to be with him and otherwise visited when he could alone.  Aware of his son’s preoccupation, Ben wondered.  He didn’t know if this was newfound interest or his need to resolve his ‘feeling’ about Marcus.  Ben suspected the latter.

Joe’s intrusions irritated Marcus.  It didn’t surprise him that the privileged member of the family should have time to waste.  He seemed to have the luxury of choosing when to work and when not to, which annoyed him even more.

The quality of the silver remained consistent.  Marcus assigned one man to dig out the soft ore while he and the other concentrated on deepening the shaft in the hope of discovering the discrete thicker mass.  Whenever Adam visited, Marcus assured him the vein was widening, bringing the anticipated large ore pocket closer.

Months passed, the work on the Ponderosa and the mine fell into a rhythm, and still, Joe kept up his visits.

The vein of silver began to produce a steady revenue and the workforce increased.   As the main shaft continued to descend, pumps were purchased to deal with the water that inevitably flowed into it.

Ben, wary of the rising costs, sent Adam to carry out a review.  This gave Marcus the chance to address his persistent shadow.

“He told you to stop me visiting?”

Adam considered his younger brother and picked his words carefully.  He didn’t wish to offend Joe or deepen the rift that clearly existed between the two men, but he could sympathize with Marcus’ argument.

The man had poured bitter complaints into his ears about mining being a dangerous enough business without some kid getting under his feet.  At the time, Adam had smiled at the reference to ‘kid,’ seeing as the age difference between the two was so close, but Marcus’s words did make him think.  When Marcus then brought up that Joe wasn’t one of the owners, Adam wondered if that was really bothering Marcus.  However, Adam understood how Marcus might find it galling, having Joe looking over his shoulder.

Adam explained, “You have to see it from his point of view.  Marcus is the mine manager.  How would you feel if Hoss and I did the same to you?  It makes him feel you don’t trust him.”

Joe’s almost retorted that he didn’t but bit it back.  Months had passed since they first met Marcus, and Joe’s unsettled feeling still lingered.  Joe couldn’t explain it or understand it.  Marcus gave him no reason to feel this way, other than a hostility toward him which Joe had the grace to accept was mutual.

“I have a right to be there, I’m part owner of the land.”

“But not the mine.”

Adam saw the scowl and flash of anger in the green eyes.  Joe hated being trumped.  This could go either way.

Joe sighed, “All right, I won’t go down the mine anymore.”

Adam slapped him on the back.

Joe’s devilish smile peeked. “Just remember, big brother, the next time you’re tempted to check up on me mending fences.“ Adam crossed his arms and smirked.

Hoss, industriously cleaning his rifle, joined the conversation.  “Say, Adam, how come Marcus ain’t sent fer his wife yet?  He must be missing his family.”

Adam hedged, “He wants to find the main mass first, strike it big before he does.”

“Seems a shame, to be apart from his family for so long.”

When Adam had brought up the subject with Marcus, he’d quickly vetoed the idea.  The young man was adamant that his wife saw him as a success.  Until that happened, he wouldn’t be sending for her.  This did explain his driven approach, but Adam had to agree, it was a shame.

*****

Hoss eased down on the rock.

“Wondered where ya got to.”

Not breaking his rapt surveillance of the mine entrance, Joe grunted.

“Thought you’d agreed to stay away from here.”

“I said I wouldn’t go into the mine.”

Hoss frowned. Little brother could always work around a promise.  “What you got against Marcus anyway?”

“Nothin’!  I mean,” Joe chewed his bottom lip, “I dunno.  It’s . . . .”

“That feeling huh?”

Joe grinned.  Even if he couldn’t fathom why or stop the niggle that scratched at the back of his skull, Hoss always understood him.

“Don’t be late for supper or the only thing you’ll feel is a sore butt.”

Joe laughed.  Pa hadn’t tanned his hide in years.  “Don’t worry, I won’t.”

As he returned to the tool shed, Marcus couldn’t miss Hoss’ solid frame strolling away.  Spotting Joe on the rock, his eyes darkened, and his jaw clenched.  I’d like to swat that pesky fly.

Joe stood up.  It was time to head home for supper.  The rumble under his feet stopped him cold.  Seeing Marcus, he yelled, “What the hell was that?”

“I’m not sure.”

The only access into the mine was by the cage which was situated at the bottom of the shaft.   Marcus hit the switch to bring the iron beast to the surface.  Anxiously, the two men waited as the cable slowly wound around the reel. Two men stumbled out of the cage enveloped in a cloud of haze.

“Flood! Steam everywhere!”  The men gasped.

“We’ve must have tapped into a geothermic reservoir,” Marcus yelled, pulling a man clear.

“Who else is down there?”

The miner in Joe’s arms replied, “Four men—Grady and Flynn were at the ore face.  The O’Hara brothers were working the prospecting drift.”

Setting the man down on the ground, Joe jumped into the cage.

“What are you doing?  I’ll send the cage back down.  If they can make it, they’ll signal to come back up.”

“We can’t just sit here.  Come or don’t, I’m going!”

Marcus grabbed Joe’s arm, “Don’t be an idiot!  You’ll do more harm than good down there.”

“Send me down!”

Suit yourself, brat.  Marcus disengaged the brake and let the cage go.

The dark had never bothered Joe, but the confines of the shaft were oppressive, and the temperature rose as he descended.

Reaching the lowest point, he found the tunnel filled with steam.  By now Joe was soaking, the moisture plastering his hair to his forehead.  Two men were at the shaft entrance.

Shouting over the roar, Joe demanded, “Where’re the others?”

A filthy hand pointed the way.  As he pushed passed, it restrained him.

“You’re not goin’ down there?”

“I have to see if I can help.  Go up.”

“No, we’ll hold the cage.  The water will rise fast, there won’t be time for it to come back down!”

Joe slapped him on the arm, “Thanks.”

Scrabbling down the tunnel, he had to fight the urge to turn tail and run.  The noise of the water reverberated off the walls, terrifying in its intensity.  Joe staggered, gasping for air as the steam seared his lungs.

Out of the mist, two figures materialized, one man struggling under the weight of the other.  Joe ducked under the free arm and took half the weight.  They ran.  Scalding water coursed behind them, snapping at their heels.

The cage was set in motion as they approached.  Time was running out; Joe could feel the heat of the rising water through his boots.

Handing the injured man off, Joe gave the other a leg up.  The cage moved faster, and Joe had to jump to catch the bottom.  Hauled aboard, the men lay in a pile, sucking in breaths that held no air; the specter of suffocation clawed at them.  Joe looked up, seeing only blackness.  We ain’t gonna make it.

The cage broke the surface into the light, revealing five unconscious men.

*****

“Where is he?”

The bellow brought a smile to Joe’s stinging face.

Ben strode into the doctor’s room where the sight of Joe and the other miners brought him up short.  Pink, and covered with wet blankets, they were a sorry spectacle.

Ben rested a gentle hand on Joe’s forehead.  “How are you?”

“I’m okay, Pa.”

Ben wasn’t impressed with his youngest since Marcus had told them Joe had gone below against his advice.  “Joseph, one of these days . . . .”

“What?” he squeaked.

“How could you ignore Marcus and go down the shaft?”

Incredulous eyes flicked from Ben to Adam and Hoss.  Seeing the disapproval, Joe’s jaw tightened.  “What did you expect me to do?  Stand by and do nothing?”

“Mr. Cartwright, don’t be angry with Little Joe.  If he hadn’t come down, me an’ my brother wouldn’t have made it out.”  Todd O’Hara, leaning up on one elbow, looked earnestly across at them.  “Mike broke through to the water.  He took it full on an’ I had to carry him out.  If Little Joe hadn’t been there to help me . . . .”

All eyes went to the sleeping young man on the bed next to Todd.  Mike’s face and torso were swathed in bandages.

“How is he, Paul?”

“He’ll be scarred, but he’ll live.  I have him under because of the pain, but he should recover.”

Ben’s hand wrapped around Joe’s.  How close they’d come to losing him.  Could he blame him for what he did?  Wouldn’t he have done the same?

He touched Joe’s cheek.  “Forgive an old fool of a worried father.  I’m proud of you.”

Standing outside the door, Marcus’ intense gaze rested on Ben and Joe.  The interaction between father and son sickened him.  Turning, he walked away.

*****

Ben looked up from the figures he’d been studying.  “These are correct?”

Grim-faced, Adam nodded.

“And Marcus is sure we need this equipment?”

“Yes, the only way to clear that deep thermal water is with the heavier hydraulic pumps.  Even with those, the heat will still be a problem.  We’ll have to construct a cooling chamber.  The workers can then take shifts, working in the heat and recovering in the chamber.”

Ben’s eyes again rested on the paper in his hand.  The cost was extensive.

Adam continued, “Marcus says the vein is widening all the time.  He thinks we’re not far from the mass.”

“Hmm, well, this is more than I can take on.  What about you?”

Adam shook his head.

“We’ll need to start looking for other investors.  But for now, if we’re to pursue this, it’ll have to become a Ponderosa investment.”  Ben looked over at Joe stretched out on the sofa and Hoss sitting on the hearth.  “It’s up to you two.  If you veto it, then that’s it and we close it down.”

Hoss met Joe’s eyes for a fleeting moment before replying.  “We’ll back you an’ Adam all the way.  The vote’s unanimous.”

*****

Marcus looked at the order for the equipment signed off by Ben.  He pondered what it must be like to have that kind of money.  This mine was his chance.  He could almost taste the bonanza he knew was waiting.  Soon he’d be as rich as the Cartwrights, richer even.  His eyes lit with ambition and resolve.

Nothing will stop me, nothing.

 

 

Chapter Three

 

Mining continued.  A cooling chamber had been installed, but, unbeknownst to the Cartwrights, Marcus was squirreling away more profits from the sale of ore than he recorded.  Periodically, he would take his cache to an assayer in Carson City and deposit his money in the bank. The way Marcus comported himself at the mine and in Virginia City belied his cheating.  He looked like an average miner, dirty and sweaty from digging in the depths of the mine.  With the bank account growing quickly, Marcus would soon be able to do whatever he wanted—buy land, travel the world.  Nothing would be beyond his means or dreams.

He had to be careful, though.  There was a chance she might find him and bring his plans to a halt.

In the meantime, passing Marcus’ hotel, Joe’s ‘feeling’ overwhelmed him, and he strode through the door.  The ambitiously named Castle Hotel was cheap but clean.  When the clerk was distracted by an attractive young woman lugging a trunk through the front door, Joe found the room number in the ledger, palmed the key, and headed up the stairs.

His heart was pounding when he entered the room.  He didn’t know what he was expecting to find but having come this far, he couldn’t back out now.

Searching the dresser, he ran his hands under clothes, anxious not to disturb them.  When he reached the bottom drawer, he hit an object.  Withdrawing the maroon velvet box, he opened it, and his mouth formed a soft whistle.  Nestled in black velvet was an exquisite set of jewels.  Surrounded by an impressive gold necklace of linked intricate bows hung with droplets of two pearls and a central diamond, was a matching set of earrings and a brooch.  It would make a lovely gift for any woman – Oh Lord, his wife.  Suddenly, Joe felt like a heel.  Was he wrong about Marcus?

Replacing the box, he almost missed the leather pouch.  The contents made his heart race again.  Carson City Bank deposit receipts for large amounts in the name of the Albright Mining Company.  At first he thought the deposits were made before Pa and Adam invested in the mine, but the dates were wrong.  Joe’s mind whirled at the implications.

The pouch also held a small book containing addresses of various women.  The last entry caught the breath in his throat – Janie Albright.  On impulse, he copied it into his tally book.

Returning everything as he found it, he left the room.  His luck was in.  The front desk clerk was still engaged with the young lady, allowing Joe to return the key and slip away unnoticed.

 

Chapter Four

 

Joe’s anger was on slow simmer as he considered the “evidence” he had found.  He had an idea and would act on his own.  If he created trouble for someone, well, so be it.  Time to find out the truth.

Ben, Adam and Hoss received Joe’s information in grim silence.  While Ben did not approve of Joe’s tactics, he could not fault his son’s tenacity for holding to his own beliefs.

Adam suspected Joe had more investigating in mind and plans he had not mentioned yet. He had a good idea what that might be.  While he kept his thoughts to himself, a small, wry grin crossed his face and he gave Joe a small nod.

“What does all this prove, son?” Ben asked, looking at Joe.

Adam jumped in.  “The deposit receipts may have nothing to do with the mine’s affairs, although I do think a financial review is in order—especially since our costs seem to outweigh the return on our investment.  As part owner, I can request an audit—and I think I will.  If Marcus is being honest with us, he won’t object.”

The next morning in the mine office, Adam broke the news.  Object, Marcus did, and strenuously.  He accused the Cartwrights of not trusting his judgment.  He had justified every expense, and the family had agreed with his rationale.  Why was there doubt?  Wasn’t the mine fully operational and showing a steady, if minimal, flow of high-grade ore?

Adam was cordial but equally adamant in his insistence on an audit.  He softened the demand by insisting Marcus come out to the ranch for dinner the following Saturday after he’d had a chance to look over the accounts.  “Joe will be away on business and Pa has a Cattlemen’s Association dinner that night.  You know how Hop Sing hates to cook for just two people, even if one of those people is Hoss.  We can go over any questions I might have afterwards.”        Reluctantly, Marcus agreed.   Adam gathered up the ledgers and left.

*****

Janie read the strange telegram with curiosity.  She had never heard of the Cartwrights, and she didn’t know why the telegram referenced “her husband, Marcus.”  Her husband, David, had disappeared over two years ago.  She had hired an investigator to try to locate him but with no success.  The investigator had also vanished, taking his substantial fee with him.

Janie was more than curious as the telegram had invited her to come to Virginia City, in the Nevada territory.  All expenses would be paid, and she would be able to leave and return to Denver whenever she wanted.  Her aunt was invited to accompany her as a chaperone, if Janie was concerned with the propriety of the matter.

“Aunt Della, I am curious about all of this.  But it is so strange that this telegram references my husband, but by a different name.  This Joe Cartwright thinks there is something amiss.  I tend to agree.  I think we should go.  Cousin Miranda won’t mind watching Curt knowing how desperate I am to know what happened to David.

“Janie, I have a friend who lives near Virginia City.  Let me contact her to see if she can tell me anything about these Cartwrights.”

Telegrams flew between Virginia City and Denver with the result being that Aunt Della and Janie were soon on a stage to Nevada territory.  This Joe Cartwright person would meet them in Carson—all expenses for as long as necessary would be paid by the same Joe Cartwright.

Soon, Janie thought, she might have some answers to questions that had plagued her life for the past two years.  Would she find David—was he even alive?  And who was this Marcus, her alleged husband?  She was both excited and anxious to hear the answers awaiting her in this outlying western place.  

*****

Joe Cartwright had not entered the mine since the incident with the thermal stream.  Yet, everywhere Marcus went, the youngest Cartwright was there watching him.  Joe was friendly, in a distant sort of way.  All the Cartwrights appeared friendly but wary of him lately.  Did they know or suspect something?  Although he had come up with satisfactory answers to Adam’s questions when they met for dinner, Adam continued to monitor the books closely making it difficult to syphon silver from the mine.  The Cartwrights were not as generous with the funding as they had been, and safety concerns were paramount to them—not production.  Marcus was considering a personal escape plan should a hasty disappearance be necessary.  He had money, he had silver, and he had jewels.  He could start over if he needed to.  But he was close to his own fortune!  His thoughts ran in grim circles.  Damn!  So close!

*****

The evening stage pulled into Carson City right on time.  Janie and Della scanned the waiting crowd to see if they could pick out Mr. Cartwright.  The portly gentleman in the black suit?  The tall, thin man in rough clothes?  The handsome, dapper young man in a trim waistcoat and top hat?  Soon, her questions would be answered, wouldn’t they?  Della and Janie gathered their personal items and alighted onto the boardwalk.

A slender young man in buff pants and a green jacket—about Janie’s age—stepped forward and doffed his hat.  Very polite, she noted.  And very handsome.  “Mrs. Albright, Janie Albright, I presume?”

“Yes, I’m Janie Albright and this is my Aunt Della.  And you would be Joe Cartwright?”  she said looking into his sparkling eyes.

“Yes, I’m Joe Cartwright.  I’ll get your luggage loaded in the buggy and take you to the hotel.  We will have dinner and I’ll try to give you some idea of what is going on and why I wanted you here.  In the morning, we will catch the stage to Virginia City, and I’ll check you into the International House.  Things may turn out to be very interesting, I’ll warn you now. However, I promise you won’t come to any harm.  And, of course, you can go back to Denver anytime you want to.”

“Mr. Cartwright, I don’t intend to return to Denver without answers—and I have many questions to ask you, one of them being, how did you know who I am and how to contact me?”

Joe smiled at the young woman as he guided her and her aunt to pick up their luggage.  Joe knew Janie might be in for more answers than she imagined.  “I’ll get you settled at the hotel, then at dinner, I can start answering some of your questions, and I have a few of my own to ask you, too.”

Joe reserved a small dining room for dinner at the St. Charles Hotel where they would stay the night.  Janie and Della arrived promptly at 7 p.m.  He seated the ladies and signaled for the hovering waitress to take their orders.  The company chatted companionably until the food and wine arrived.

“Now,” Joe said as he sipped his wine, “Let me tell you a story about an eager young man and a silver mine he talked my family into investing in.  The man’s name is Marcus Albright.  When we met him, he told us about his wife and child living in Denver with an aunt.  Some things seemed peculiar as our association with him and the mine developed over time.

“Let me stop you right there, Mr. Cartwright.  My husband’s name is David, not Marcus, and I have not heard one word from him since he disappeared over two years ago.  I am so afraid that something terrible has happened to him. ”  She dabbed her eyes with her napkin. “I need to know if this Marcus is my David.” Janie spoke with soft passion, her eyes fixed on Joe.

Della shifted slightly in her seat.  “You see, Collier—my brother and Janie’s father—had hired David as an engineer for one of his mines.  He was a well-educated and talented professional who had potential and often had very good ideas on how to construct a mine to reach difficult veins and pockets of ore.  Soon, David was practically a part of the family.  He asked Collier for Janie’s hand in marriage.  At first my brother was pleased to have David as a son-in-law, but over time they argued about the management of the mine and David’s willingness to take risks to get the ore out quicker.”

Janie continued, “The arguments grew worse and my husband begged me to let him strike out on his own.  David wanted so much for us—for me and the baby—so as not to be beholden to my father.  We agreed that with his knowledge and expertise, he should go to west to seek his fortune.  I gave him the jewels my grandmother left me as a stake.  I got a letter from him as soon as he got to California and then again three months later, but after that . . . nothing and so  I hired a private investigator to see if he could find David.  I paid him a substantial sum, gave him all the information I could about David.  Then, he, too, disappeared.  Then I received your telegram.”

Joe could say nothing.  For a time, there was only silence in the small room.  He could feel her sorrow, her curiosity, and her quiet anger.  He had done the right thing in contacting her, but he had a feeling whatever they found out, it would hurt this beautiful young woman.  She would go home to Denver and begin a new life, but what would that life be?  As a wife?  As a widow?  Would the young boy have a father or not? Briefly, the thought crossed his mind how life would have been for him had he not had Pa and his brothers.

“What about you, Mr. Cartwright.  Are you married?” asked Della, in an effort to change the subject.

“Call me Joe, ma’am.  Mr. Cartwright is my father.”

Joe told the women about his brothers, their father and their ranch outside Virginia City.  A few glasses of wine helped the story flow as he included several humorous stories about the family. Still, there was some awkwardness, and the dinner quietly ended as the women went to their room and Joe went to his.  He tried to puzzle out Marcus’ story with the pieces of additional information provided by Janie and Della.  Morning would see the beginning of a journey toward the answers that would change lives—one way or another.

 

 

Chapter Five

Unfortunately, Little Joe Cartwright was a man noted for falling in love at first sight and, Adam often wryly accused, proposing at second.  That morning in Carson City, as the first rays of dawn filtered through the curtains of his hotel room, his instincts were running true to form.  He was already feeling a strong attraction for Janie Albright—Mrs. Albright, he reminded himself, and therein lay the rub.  She was a married woman, no doubt about that.  The only thing in dispute was the identity of her husband.  Was it the man the Cartwrights knew as Marcus Albright or was her missing husband David someone else entirely?

He folded his arms beneath his head as he lay on his bed at the St. Charles and mulled over everything he’d learned from Janie and her aunt Della at supper.  Many of the details Marcus had told them fit:  his wife’s name, an aunt in Denver, a son named Curt, and the jewels were exactly like those Janie had given David.  But the man’s first name was different.  Was he using an alias for some reason?  But what reason could there be?  A man didn’t use an alias unless he had something to hide, and as far as Joe could tell, David didn’t.  Was the last name simply coincidence, belonging to two completely unrelated men?  No, that didn’t explain Janie’s jewels being in his room.  None of it made sense, and for Janie’s sake it had to.  She deserved to know the truth, and Joe could only think of one way to give it to her.  How best to orchestrate that confrontation had consumed his thoughts through most of the night.

Yawning, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up.  They’d meet for breakfast in the downstairs café and then catch the stage for Virginia City to begin the process that would help them sort out the truth.

*****

The long, bumpy ride in a stage they had all to themselves gave them time to finalize their plans, so as soon as they exited the coach, they moved quickly to the International House.  Since it was only 4:00, Joe assumed that Marcus would still be at the mine and not likely to see them on the street.  Nonetheless, he wasted no time as he signed the register on behalf of the two ladies and collected the keys to their suite.  With instructions to have the trunks sent up to the room when they arrived, he gathered their two carpetbags and led the way upstairs.

Once there, he suggested that the ladies take their supper in the suite.  “I don’t think Marcus frequents the International House much,” he said, “but he could, and we don’t want him seein’ you ‘til we’re ready.”  They were all hoping that if Marcus actually were David, the shock of seeing his wife would stun him into a truthful explanation, but for that shock to take effect, he couldn’t know Janie was in town until that moment.

Aunt Della laughed.  “After jolting around in that stagecoach for what seems like an eternity, I welcome a quiet supper in this lovely room, Mr. Cartwright.”

“As do I,” Janie agreed and then asked, “You’ll set up the meeting for tomorrow?  I am tired, but anxious to know if your Marcus is my David.”

“Suppertime tomorrow, if I can,” Joe promised.  He understood her urgency, but as much as she wanted the matter resolved, she needed a day’s rest after the long stagecoach journey to gather the strength and self-control necessary to face either her errant husband or the disappointment of yet another futile effort to find him.

Her lip quivered slightly, and Joe had to fight back the urge to take her in his arms and comfort her fears.  She’s married, he told himself again as he said goodbye with a promise to send a note as soon as the dinner meeting was arranged.  “Don’t worry,” he said as he twirled his hat in his hand.  “Waiting’s hard, I know, but it’ll all be over tomorrow, and you’ll have your answers.  Then you can decide what to do.”  Get a good lawyer and divorce the bum, he thought and immediately wondered whether he was thinking of her interests or his own.

She nodded, unable to speak her greatest fear: that the morning would only reveal this Marcus Albright to be a complete stranger and leave her with all the same unanswered questions.  As her warm glance followed the handsome and charming Mr. Cartwright to the door, she felt a blush of shame when she realized she wasn’t sure which way she wanted it to go.  After all, it had been two long years without so much as a scribble from her husband.

*****

Marcus frantically flung clothes into his carpetbag, emptying the contents of his chest of drawers as fast as his fingers could fly.  Perhaps he had only minutes to escape!

He thanked his lucky stars that he’d decided to leave work early that afternoon.  After all, he wasn’t some dirt-poor miner; he was the owner and entitled to take afternoon or even an entire day off if he chose.  And thank heavens, he had!  Otherwise, he’d have been caught off guard when that pesky Joe Cartwright sprang his nasty surprise.

He’d been walking up C Street, trying to decide where to eat, when he spotted Cartwright moving toward the International House with two women.  By instinct he ducked into the alley, where he could see without being seen.  He’d leered with contempt at his nemesis, assuming the good-for-nothing was planning an assignation with some women he’d picked up off the stage.  Two of them, no less!  Apparently, only one woman was insufficient to satiate his lecherous appetite.  If Ben Cartwright only knew what his precious youngest son got up to behind his back!

Then the younger woman had turned far enough for him to see her profile and he’d recognized her—Janie!  The other woman was, no doubt, her Aunt Della.  He’d stepped deeper into the alley so quickly that he hadn’t had time for a good look, but it could scarcely be anyone else.

How had they found him, when he’d covered his tracks so well?  Cartwright, of course; it had to be him.  But how had he learned where to contact Janie?  The second he asked the question he knew the answer.  His address book was still here and didn’t appear to have been disturbed, but the little snoop could scarcely have found the information anywhere else.  Cartwright had been in his room, pawing through his things!  Well, he’d pay and pay dearly for that invasion of privacy.

He had to find a way to silence the man before he had a chance to ruin everything Marcus had built up.  Then he realized that Cartwright—curse him—had already ruined it, just by finding Janie, and that he held in his hand the power to take even more.  I was a fool to keep that address book in the first place, he chided himself, and a bigger one to keep my Carson City bank book with it.  Had Cartwright not seen that or, perhaps, not understood its significance?  Unlike his brother Adam, Joe was not skilled with numbers.  If he silenced him soon enough, he would still have time to collect his assets before disappearing and finding a place to start anew.  Grabbing his carpetbag, he cautiously opened the door, and finding the hallway clear, he quickly moved to the back stairs and made his way out to the alley.

As long as Janie didn’t see him, he was still safe, and there were any number of seedy hostelries, where no one would think to look for him.  He’d lay low and—and what?  Hope she gave up and left town?  He still needed to deal with Cartwright.  The infernal pest knew something, maybe not everything, but something, and that made him a danger.

*****

It was late by the time Little Joe arrived at the Ponderosa that night, but he easily persuaded Hop Sing to rustle him up something to eat.  In fact, it turned out that the cook had held back an apple pie, Joe’s favorite, in anticipation of his boy’s return.  The rest of the family returned to the dining table, as well, happy to share it with him, along with steaming cups of coffee, as they heard his news.  Joe filled them in on everything he’d learned from Janie Albright about the disappearance of her husband David.

“Don’t seem like he was much of a man,” Little Joe opined, “runnin’ off like he did.”

“You can scarcely call it ‘running off,’ since she knew he was coming and even staked the venture with her jewels,” Adam observed.

“And to abandon her for two years?  Would you say that was fine, too, older brother?” Little Joe demanded hotly.

“I sure wouldn’t,” Hoss put in.  “I knew there was somethin’ peculiar about him not wantin’ to send for her.”

“Easy, now,” Adam said.  “I didn’t say I agreed with his actions, but Marcus could always claim that he merely came west to find his fortune and intended to return to her once he had.  It might even be true.  Plenty of men out here have wives they’ve left behind for exactly that purpose, and two years, while it may seem an eternity to her, isn’t a long absence among such men.”

“And never writing home?  Not even to let her know he was still alive?”  There was a rough, bitter edge to Joe’s voice that was far more revealing than he might have wished.

“Seems unnecessarily cruel,” Adam admitted, softening his voice, “but perhaps seeing her will awaken his better instincts.”

Little Joe snorted.  The other Cartwrights, being fully aware of the youngest’s feelings about Marcus Albright, ignored it.

“So, how do you plan to handle it, son?” Ben asked.

Little Joe cut himself another slice of pie.  “I thought I’d send Marcus a note, invitin’ him to supper at the International House.  Figured I’d say something like I felt like, maybe, I’d misjudged him, and I’d like to treat him to supper and see if we couldn’t start over, us bein’ partners and all.  Then I’d show up with the two ladies, and we’d see if they recognized him.  If they don’t, then I introduce them as friends and we all have dinner; if Marcus really is David, well, I guess I let Janie decide what she wants to do with him . . . and if it’s a punch in the snoot, I’ll be happy to oblige.”

“No, no, no,” Adam said.  “That won’t do.”

“He’d have it comin’!”

Adam shook his head with a wry smile.  “I wasn’t talking about the punch in the snoot; I meant the whole idea.  The note shouldn’t come from you, Joe.  Feeling about you the way he does, he’d immediately be on guard, and you’d lose your element of surprise.”

“He’s right, Joe,” Hoss said, and Ben nodded in solemn agreement.

“Why don’t I write the note, instead?” Adam suggested.  “I’ll tell him my assessment of the books this week, while basically fine, shows a couple of small discrepancies I’d like to discuss over dinner.  You and the ladies can come in later, and we’ll play it by ear from there.  How does that sound?”

“Better,” Little Joe agreed.  “He would be suspicious if I suddenly wanted to make friends.  So, you didn’t find anything in the books, huh?  I thought sure you would.”

“Oh, I did . . . finally,” Adam said.  “He hid it well, so it took me awhile to see what he was doing.  I’ve already found indications that several thousand dollars are missing.  But I’ll play it down, and given his ego, I think he’ll believe that I wasn’t able to discover his expert manipulation of the numbers.  If he thinks he’s put one over on us, that should further drop his guard for your little surprise.”

Little Joe grinned.  “I like your thinking, older brother.”

 

*****

As it turned out, however, that well scripted meeting at the International House never took place.  Adam’s note of invitation was a masterpiece of conciliatory persuasion but having seen Janie and her aunt entering the hotel, Marcus suspected that the meeting had an entirely different purpose than the one Adam suggested.  It also raised another specter of concern, for Adam’s writing the note suggested that, in addition to Joe, the oldest Cartwright brother knew about her, too.  Perhaps all the Cartwrights did, but for now Marcus would hope that he had only two men to dispose of, in order to keep his secret.  Accomplishing that would be no small task, but the fate he’d been planning for Joe could just as easily accommodate the demise of his older brother, as well.

He took great pains with the response he crafted to Adam’s invitation:

 

My dear Adam,

How gratified I was to receive your kind invitation and how I wish that I could accept.  However, I find myself, instead, appealing to you for help with a grave situation that has arisen at the mine this morning.  A crew of men has holed themselves up at the lowest level and is threatening to flood the mine if their demands, which I consider completely unreasonable, are not met.  I appeal to you to come as soon as possible.  The respect accorded the Cartwright name and your skill in handling people may be the only thing that will turn the tide.  Indeed, I fear failure is almost certain without it.

I’m sure you must realize how it pains me to make this additional request, but some of the men are insisting that they will only talk with your brother Joe.  The leaders seem to be the O’Hara brothers, whose lives he saved in the previous incident.  I am enclosing their note to him.

I know I said I wanted Joe to stay out of the mine, and that remains my preference, but now I find I must ask his help, too, and he may be reluctant to give it.  Would you kindly help persuade him and bring him with you?  After all, we all stand to suffer great financial loss if we cannot resolve this situation favorably.  I am assured that nothing will be done until you and your brother arrive.  Please make all haste to come directly to the mine.

Marcus

 

A sly smile spread across his face as he folded the letter and slipped it into an envelope, along with a much more roughly crafted one, signed with Todd O’Hara’s name.  He addressed it to Adam Cartwright, and then found a messenger to take it to the Ponderosa, paying extra to encourage its speedy delivery.

*****

Along with Hoss, Adam had left the ranch early that morning, so he never received the note.  Exhausted from his long journey, Little Joe had been allowed to sleep in and had just finished his late breakfast when the messenger delivered the envelope into his hand.  “Wait here,” he told the boy, gesturing toward the porch, “In case there is a reply.”

“It’s addressed to Adam,” he told his father as he carried the envelope into the office alcove.  “Ordinarily, I wouldn’t open another man’s mail, but this is probably Marcus’ answer to his invitation to dinner, and I kind of need to know if it’s happening.  You think it’d be okay?”

“I think we have to,” Ben said, offering his letter opener to his son.  “You’ll need to get word to the ladies, so they’ll be prepared.”

Little Joe slit the envelope and removed two pieces of paper.  By chance, he opened the note from Marcus first, and his brow immediately furrowed.

“Well,” Ben said.  “Did he agree to join Adam for dinner or not?”

Little Joe shook his head.  “Guess that’s called off for now.  There’s trouble at the mine.”  He handed the letter to his father, and while Ben read it, he opened the second note and scanned its contents.

“From the O’Hara brothers?” Ben asked, his chin gesturing toward the paper Joe held.

“From Todd, yeah,” Little Joe replied.  He folded the letter and stuffed it in his pocket.  “Guess I’d better get up there pronto.”

“I doubt we should take time to send word to Adam.  I suppose I could take his place,” Ben said with a sigh, as he thought of all the paperwork cluttering his desk, including an important timber contract in need of amendment before it was concluded.

“No need,” Little Joe said.  “It’s me the men want.  They trust me because they don’t see me as part of the management the way they would you or Adam and, well, ‘cause I did sort of save Mike’s life.”

Ben smiled.  “No ‘sort of’ about it.  Sure you can handle it on your own?”

“Sure.  They’ll listen to me,” Little Joe said confidently.  “Send a message to Mrs. Albright for me, all right?  She and Miss Della are expecting to hear from me, but I need to get to the mine, sooner the better.  Messenger’s on the porch.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Ben promised.  “You be careful, Little Joe.”

Little Joe tossed him a cocky grin.  “Aren’t I always?”

Ben landed a light swat on his youngest’s backside.  “Get on with you,” he scolded with a chuckle.

“I may spend the night in town once it’s all over, have myself a drink or two to celebrate my negotiating skills,” Joe said as he scooted out the door.

*****

Joe kept Cochise at a steady pace all the way from the Ponderosa to the Albright-Cartwright mine, while trying to slow his racing thoughts.  The workers had always had a good relationship with the management, at least the Cartwright part of it, so he immediately suspected that Marcus was responsible for whatever problems had surfaced today.  Ordinarily, he’d have been only too pleased to rip into the man with accusations and demands for explanations; today, however, he was reluctant to do anything to drive them further apart.  He didn’t dare risk a rift that might make Marcus reluctant to come to the planned dinner, whether it took place tonight or, possibly, the next.

Then Joe laughed at his foolish concern.  The invitation was, supposedly, from Adam, so it really didn’t matter whether he himself quarreled with Marcus; in fact, the man might become suspicious if he didn’t go in with both barrels loaded.  Well, maybe one barrel.  It couldn’t hurt to hold back a little, could it?  No, it might even help, later on.  Yeah, that was the way to go: show some irritation but try to come across as wanting to set things right again, for all their sakes.  That settled, he let Cochise run a little faster, eager to get there and set the plan in motion.

He slowed down only when he reached the Geiger Grade and followed its steep path into Virginia City.  Traffic kept him to a slower pace through town, and he waved at Roy Coffee as he took the turn that led up to the mine.  Once he reached it, he sprang off the horse and stalked over to Marcus.  “What’s this about, Marcus?” he demanded.

“Where’s your brother?” Marcus demanded right back.

“He’d already left the house by the time your note came.”  Joe shrugged.  “It’s me the men asked for, anyway, isn’t it?  I figured I could handle it myself, not bother Adam.  He’s got his own work to manage.”

Arrogant fool, Marcus thought.  Typical of this privileged brat!  Still, for now, it suited his purpose to feed the fool’s ego.  “Yes, that’s right.  The men seem to feel they can trust you.”

“Exactly,” Joe said, “so I’ll ask again—what’s this about?  We’ve never had this sort of problem before, so it must be something you’ve done.”  He thought he’d measured the level of aggravation just about right.

Marcus released an exaggerated sigh.  “Well, I did mention a slight decrease in pay, given the higher expenses we’ve experienced lately, but it was only fifty cents an hour.”

“Oh, is that all?” Little Joe scoffed.  “You got any idea what four dollars less a day means to men like these?”

More than you do, rich boy, Marcus thought.  “I was only trying to protect our assets,” he said.  Having baited his hook, he decided to wiggle it a little more.  “Of course, they seemed more concerned about my suggestion of a slight extension of the time between trips to the cooling chamber.”

“Are you crazy?”  Joe took a deep breath to control his genuine anger at the ludicrous idea.  “Sorry.  Didn’t mean to yell,” he said, “but that chamber has made all the difference to the men at the lower levels.  You should have known that they would balk.”

“Well, perhaps so,” Marcus conceded.  Time to land the fish.  “I thought the changes I proposed were small and that they’d prefer a little hardship to the loss of their jobs, which could happen if we can’t control expenses, but I may have misjudged, being new to management.  That’s why I need you to talk to them, Joe.  They’ve barricaded themselves down there, determined to have their way, and they made it clear they wouldn’t talk to me.”

Little Joe rested a conciliatory hand on the other man’s shoulder.  “That’s why I’m here, Marcus, to help.  I’ll go down and talk to them, and I’m sure I can explain that you were only making suggestions, not laying down rules.”  His voice hardened slightly.  “That is right, isn’t it?”

“Yes, yes, of course.  Whatever you advise, Joe.”  Marcus was meekness itself.  “I’ll wait here, so as not to antagonize them and to give you a free hand.”

“Yeah, probably best.”  As Joe turned and strode toward the mine entrance, he failed to see the smirk of satisfaction aimed at his back.  He rode the cage directly to the lowest level, oblivious to the bell immediately summoning it back to the surface, intent only on what to say to the men once he reached them.  Only belatedly did his ears catch the familiar sound of picks striking rock at the end of the tunnel, and it took even longer for him to realize that what he was hearing was the sound of men at work, men who supposedly had refused to work and were holding the mine hostage to a threat of flooding.

Spotting Todd O’Hara ahead of him in the passage, which showed no sign of a barricade, he moved briskly toward him.  “Hey, Todd, what’s up?” he asked.

“Just about to ask you the same thing, boss,” the Irishman said with a grin.  “Thought you wasn’t allowed down the mine.”

“I’m here in answer to your note,” Joe said, grinning back, “though it looks like I’m not needed anymore.  You decided to go back to work, huh?”

“I’ve been workin’ here since sunup, Joe,” Todd said, looking puzzled, “and I’ve got no notion what you mean about a note.”

Joe drew the crumpled paper from his pocket.  “You didn’t send this, sayin’ I was the only one you’d negotiate with?”

“Negotiate?  What about?” Todd asked.

“The pay cut?  Your threat to flood the mine?”  Joe took one look at the other man’s stunned face and drew a quick conclusion.  “You don’t have a clue what I’m talking about, do you?”

“Nary a one,” Todd said.

Joe scratched his head.  It made no sense, but obviously Marcus had lied to him.  What could he possibly have to gain from such a tall tale?

Just then, with a deafening blast, a cloud of dust and debris surged toward them.

“Cave in!” someone yelled, and men began rushing, futilely, up the stope toward the shaft entrance.

Three levels above them Marcus issued commands to get out of the mine.

“There’s men trapped down there!” one of the miners yelled.

“We’ll try to get them out, once things settle,” Marcus said.  “Get yourselves to safety first!”  It was a shame, of course, that the crew on the lowest level had to be sacrificed, but it couldn’t be helped, and it was worth the death of a few insignificant pawns to silence Little Joe Cartwright forever and secure his own personal wealth.  If only that smart aleck Adam had shown up, as well, so he could have swatted two pesky flies with one—Marcus grinned—with one load of dynamite, a highly effective fly swatter.

Once he and the men surrounding him reached the surface, he gave out new orders.  “Wait ‘til you’re sure it’s safe before going back in, men,” he said.  “Then do what you can without endangering yourselves.  I’ll run down into town and get help.”

“Thanks, boss,” a man called as Marcus headed down the hill.  “We need all the help we can get.”

He ignored the thanks, knowing he wouldn’t be earning them.  He was confident that the few men here couldn’t possibly reach the lowest level in time, and he had no intention of summoning help.  He headed, instead, for the livery, where he had a horse and a packed bag waiting and was soon on his way to Carson City, determined to empty his secret bank account and get out of the territory before anyone, particularly anyone named Cartwright, realized he was gone.

 

 

Chapter Six

Present Day

Marcus pulled up short just outside of Carson City.  His horse was all in a lather from running the last few miles.  After lighting the fuse Marcus had headed toward Virginia City full of confidence.  He had thousands of dollars squirreled away in the bank, enough to start a new life back East, maybe Boston or New York, but the little voice at the back of his mind kept nagging at him.  The Cartwrights were a self-righteous, nosey, interfering bunch, and even though he’d taken care of Little Joe and left enough devastation to keep the rest of the family occupied for weeks, he couldn’t manage to keep the roiling knot of worry from the pit of his stomach.  He’d kept pushing his horse to move faster and faster until finally they were at a full gallop.  Now the poor beast stood with heaving sides and foam-caked mouth and chest.  He quickly tied it to a tree, brushed himself off, and walked toward the city.  He didn’t even look back when a few seconds later the horse thudded dead on the ground.

Trying to keep calm, Marcus entered the bank.  The amount of people in line made him groan.  The teller he’d picked chose to treat every customer like a long-lost relative rather than concentrate on the transaction.   As he tapped his foot to the rhythm of the large clock, ten and then fifteen minutes passed and there were still two people in line. The stage would leave in a half hour and he intended to be on it, but when the town sheriff started through the front door, his legs nearly buckled.  The sheriff headed straight for him.

“Howdy, sir,” the sheriff said, “I wonder if you’d mind coming over to my office with me?   I’ve got a few questions you might be able to help me out with.”

Marcus’s head was reeling.  How?  Before he even realized what he was doing, he grabbed the lady in line in front of him, shoved her toward the sheriff and made a run for the back door.  It was locked.  In a panic, he rushed the teller who was pulling a revolver from under the counter.  He wrenched the gun away, aimed at the teller’s head and then crumpled to the floor, his eyes open and lifeless as blood oozed from the wound above his left ear where the sheriff’s bullet had entered his skull.

*****

A search of the man’s body revealed his name:  Marcus Albright.

“Albright!” a young woman who had been in line exclaimed.

“Do you know this man, Miss?” the Sheriff asked.

“N-No, I’ve never seen him before, but there was a Mrs. Albright staying at the St. Charles a few days ago.  I work in the restaurant there.”

“Is she still at the hotel?”

“No.  She and the other lady she was with checked out.  I think they went to Virginia City on the stage.  Joe Cartwright was with them.”

By this time two deputies had arrived, and the sheriff instructed them to remove the body to the undertakers.  “Then one of you high tail it to Virginia City, find that woman, and bring her back here pronto.  If you can’t locate her, find Joe Cartwright.”

*****

The rap on the door startled Janie.  She’d been staring out the window of the hotel, gazing on the hills to the east, thinking about home and her son.

“I’ll get it Aunt Della.  It’s probably Joe.”   She patted down a few stray hairs and pinched her cheeks before opening the door to a man with a badge.

“Mrs. Albright?”

“Yes.”

“I’m Deputy Stone from Carson City.  I need you to come with me, please.”

Della stepped in front of her niece.  “What is this about, deputy?”

“There’s been a . . . an accident.  We have reason to believe you may be able to identify the body.”

“Body?”

“Yes, ma’am.  A man with the last name of Albright.”

Janie swooned and was caught by the deputy who placed her in a nearby chair while Della fetched a glass of water.

“Oh, dear, I wish Joe were here,” Janie said when she recovered.

“I think we should go with the deputy.  You’ve waited long enough for answers.”

Janie nodded slowly.

“The sooner we get started, the sooner I can have you back here,” the deputy said as he escorted the women to the buggy and settled them in.

“What’s all the excitement about?” Janie asked the deputy as the buckboard passed the Crown Point Ravine on the way down to Carson City.  There were men scrambling all over the hill while a siren blared.

“Cave in, Ma’am.  It happens.”

“Oh, my!”  Della grabbed her niece’s arm as Janie clutched her throat. “I’m sure he’s all right, my dear.”  But for whom does she fear?  David or Joe?

*****

Three hours later the women were standing in front of a window on Carson Street.  The sign said:  Samuel C. Wright, Undertaker.

“You wait here, my dear.  I’ll go in.”

“No, Aunt Della.  I can do this.  I must do this.   Deputy, your arm if I may?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Deputy Stone escorted Janie to a room inside the building where a pine box rested on two sawhorses.  The lid had been removed.  As she approached, Janie covered her nose with her handkerchief, and stared at the moldering corpse.

“That most definitely is not my husband.  That is the man I hired to find him.”

*****

Roy sat at his desk and considered the telegram he held.  Towns near and far were still abuzz with the story of David Albright’s imposter, and the near-death of the men in the mine explosion.  Roy couldn’t blame folks.  They hadn’t had excitement like this in a long time, but Roy knew the suffering behind the gossip.

The look on his friend’s face wasn’t something he’d easily forget as Ben waited in quiet agony, praying for the lives of his youngest son and those men.  He’d gone up to see Ben at the mine, to pass on the news about the death of the man they thought was Marcus Albright.

Deputy Stone had ridden over to Virginia City with the story of what had happened.  One of Carson’s younger citizens had been out picking berries when he’d seen the imposter ride in, tie up his horse, and then walk away as the animal dropped stone dead.  The boy had run to the jailhouse with the tale and pointed out the fake Albright in the bank.  Approached by the sheriff, the man had panicked and met a quick end.

The incident started to get interesting when Mrs. Albright identified the dead man, not as her husband, but as the investigator she’d hired to find him—William Meade.

The Carson City sheriff searched Meade’s bag and found not only the jewelry set Mrs. Albright claimed as hers, but also an onyx signet ring engraved with her husband’s initials that was her gift to him on their engagement.  Also discovered was a copy of the mining claim affidavit signed by David Albright and an address book.  Making inquiries at the bank, the sheriff found out Meade’s account held a sizeable amount of money.

Curious to know more, Roy had requested a copy of the address book and dispatched telegrams to law officers in the cities listed, seeking information on Meade.

It turned out his full name was William Marcus Meade.  His middle name had been real at least, even if nothing else about him was.  A serial con man; his marks of choice were married women whose husbands had gone missing in the goldfields.  These poor wives all paid him substantial sums to find their loved ones only to never hear from Meade again.

The telegram in his hand confirmed yet another victim.  Roy laid it down atop the others, got up, and poured himself some coffee.  Taking a sip, he ruminated on Mrs. Albright.  He’d never tell her his thoughts—lordy no, that young lady carried enough guilt believing her husband had run out on her, only to find it was no such thing.  No, he’d never tell her what he suspected—that it was her telling Meade about the jewels her husband carried that caused the crook to break his usual mode of working and sent him scuttling out in search of the man.  His intent was probably just to rob him, but you could never be sure.  When Meade found Albright and realized he’d dug himself a promising silver mine, avarice kicked in.  The habitual con man hit on his most ambitious scam, one which would eventually ensnare the Cartwrights.  On that day, the fate of both men had been fixed.

Roy leaned on the door frame of his jail and gazed up at Mount Davison, his eyes dark with somber reflections.  Meade’s fate ended on the floor of the Carson City Bank and, in his gut, Roy knew somewhere in that mine was the last resting place of David Albright.

*****

Several weeks later, Ben stood on the front porch, one hand leaning against the post, the other holding a steaming cup of coffee Hop Sing had brought him.  He heard a rider approaching and tried not to let Roy see him flinch when he realized it who it was.

“Don’t worry, Ben,” Roy chuckled, “no bad news this time.”

Ben smiled and sat down, waiving for Roy to join him.  “So, what brings you out all this way?”

“Thought you might like to know that the judge awarded Mrs. Albright full ownership of her deceased husband’s assets.”

“As it should be,” Ben said.

“Including the mine where Little Joe, well, er . . .”

Ben shivered.  Thank God Roy had been wrong about no survivors.

“. . . it seems that explosion Meade set off opened up a pretty good-sized vein of silver.”

Ben’s eyes widened. “Well, isn’t that something.

 

Epilogue

 

I should’ve felt joy when Roy mentioned the new vein.  Since we’d been the only investor, the Ponderosa would profit but at what price had the influx of wealth come?  I nearly lost Joseph, and no amount of riches was a likely substitute for the life of a son.

Joe and four other men were buried alive for almost twenty-four hours, long enough that the air they breathed had become thin and stale.  Their chests would have heaved, their bodies convulsed, and their fingertips would have bled from scratching through rubble to survive.  Five men would’ve died if not for Adam’s engineering prowess and Hoss’s undying love for a brother trapped in the depths of the mine.

Given how agonizing each hour would have been, I was also aware that my elder sons might discover five motionless victims when they broke through the wall of rock and debris.  Adam insisted I wait near the mine entrance rather than clambering down slippery shafts and becoming an added casualty.  I agreed with the plan but waiting and doing nothing to help went against my nature.

Three healthy sons were in danger because of one man’s greed.  If Marcus hadn’t been killed at the bank, I would’ve struggled with the strict righteous behavior I’d preached over the years and sent the man to an early grave before the law could intervene.  My fury was that intense.

A shout echoed through the cavernous walls.  “They’re alive.  They’re all alive.”

Another half hour passed, and I could feel the earth rumble as five dirt-faced men rode the cage up to solid ground and unlatched the gate of the bulky, iron contraption.  They moved forward as one.  Patting each other’s backs, they blinked away tears as they each coughed up particles of dust that had filled their lungs.

I stared at each man’s face, but there was no spark of recognition.  I knew none of the men standing in front of me, and my anticipation forced me to step forward and plead for answers.  “I’m Ben Cartwright,” I said, and all five men turned their heads my way.

“Joe made us come up first, Mr. Cartwright.”

“He’s okay?  My boys are okay?”

“They’re all fine, Sir.  If it weren’t for your sons, I don’t think …”

The miner’s voice trailed off and another man seemed to pick up where he left off.

“We’re mighty grateful, sir.”

“Yes, yes of course,” I muttered, not sure of my own voice.  The roar of the cage heading down the shaft caught my attention, and the conversation dropped like a dead weight.  We all turned and stared and waited for it to rise again.

Steadying Joe between them, all three of my sons stepped into the sunlight and the glorious abundance of fresh, clean air.

Tears welled in my eyes as I approached the sight of a stalwart young man who tried to do the right thing, who cared more about the people he considered friends than his own safety.  “You okay, Son?”

“I’m fine, Pa. Tired and hungry but I’ll live.”

I looked toward Adam.  “You’re the last to come up?”

“Yeah, thanks to your baby son.”

I smiled as Joe rolled his eyes at his brother’s comment.  Relieved with the knowledge that everyone survived the blast, I turned back to my youngest boy, who stared upward as if he wasn’t certain he’d ever see blue sky again.  “Sure you’re okay?”  Though I didn’t expect an answer, I slid my hand across Joe’s shoulder and grabbed hold.  I needed to touch.  I needed to know I wasn’t dreaming.  As I guided him toward the buckboard, which I brought in case one or several men were injured, Adam and Hoss followed, both swiping at telltale remains of dirt and grime that saturated their shirtfronts and the knees of their trousers.

Pride in all three sons filled my heart like the air Joe gulped to fill his lungs when he stepped away from the cage.  All three boys had worked as one to make our family whole again.  My sons were safe.  Marcus was dead, and Janie’s questions had been answered.

“I guess Janie and her aunt will return to Denver now that everything’s settled.”

Joe looked me in the eye.  My idle chat appeared to make him uneasy.  “She tell you that?”

“No.  I assumed.”

“Oh.”

I was just making conversation, but something was off, and Joe’s demeanor changed in an instant.  “Joseph?”  He slipped his fingers through Cochise’s mane.  I swear he’d tell his horse hidden secrets before he’d tell me.  I questioned him again.  “Joe?”

“It’s nothing, Pa.”

Oh, but it was.  I wasn’t born yesterday, and I’d seen that look before, but delving into my son’s personal affairs was none of my business.  Getting Joe home and washed and filling his stomach should’ve been my only concern, but there was more to the story than he let on.  Fine, Joseph.  Tell your horse and leave me in the dark.

I shrugged off my foolish thoughts and helped Joe to the seat of the buckboard.  I had everything I needed or wanted.  My sons escaped a tragedy that could have changed the dynamics of our family and brought sorrow none of us would ever escape.  Call it a miracle or call it fate.  Whatever the term, I was thankful, and we started for home.

 

The End