Summary:  His brothers snickered when Hoss drew the short straw and had to clear a beaver dam—a job every Cartwright brother abhorred. Adam and Joe drew the long straws and had the simple task of delivering a bull to a ranch in California…or so it seemed.

Rated: T
Word Count: 7265

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Between the Lines 

In the hour before dawn, barely visible under a new moon, two exhausted horses plodded into the Ponderosa yard and stood silently at the rail with their heads hung low. The riders, each bone weary and oblivious of their surroundings, failed to dismount.  Cochise snorted and tossed her head vigorously in displeasure, sidestepping into Sport. Ever skittish, Adam’s horse reared dumping his unprepared owner onto the ground invoking a string of rare and graphic expletives not usually uttered within earshot of others. The ensuing ruckus roused bunkhouse inhabitants who stumbled out the door in bewilderment at the scene before them.

First to recover his wits, foreman Tom Caruthers ordered “Wake the boss.” This directive proved unnecessary when the front door swung wide and Ben Cartwright clad in bathrobe and boots, gun drawn, hurried grim faced into the yard followed closely by Hop Sing brandishing a cleaver. His shrill Cantonese further upset the agitated equines.

“Get those horses under control before someone gets hurt,” shouted Ben too late.

Adam’s guttural screams filled the air as he rolled from side to side to avoid Sport’s iron shod hooves.

At the same time, unnoticed in the mayhem, Joe hung precariously upside down from his saddle as a terrified Cochise reared and bucked before dislodging his burden and running off into the blackness.

With soothing hands and calm voices, two cowboys moved Sport away from Adam and one chased after Cochise all while Old Charlie lit a lantern so Ben and Hop Sing could assess the damage.

“How bad is Adam?” The old man asked.

“He needs a doctor,” Ben said. “He could be hurt inside.”

Ned Bowden volunteered. “I saw the doc’s rig at the Morton ranch this afternoon. I’ll go there first. Probably attending a birth.”

Ben nodded. “Hurry.”

“Yessir.”

“Hop Sing, we’ve got to stop the bleeding from his head.”

“I go. Get bandages,” the cook replied and scurried into the kitchen.

“Boss,” Tom said quietly. Then he said louder, “Mr. Cartwright!”

Ben looked up sharply and followed Tom’s gaze along his extended arm  pointing to something just outside the circle of lantern light. Something crumpled. And still.

“Joe,” Ben gasped.

**********

A second lantern cast an eerie glow over the youngest Cartwright.

“Wouldn’t move him if I were you. Not ‘til the doc gets here.”

Crouched over Joe, Ben barked, “Who said that?”

“Me, sir. Sam Roberts,” the cowboy said as he lead the paint into the corral.

“Oh, Sam.”

“Why?” asked Tom.

“Joe’s a natural bronco buster and knows how to roll when he’s thrown. But it looked like his pant leg caught on the scabbard and he was hanging upside down. Cochise shook him loose before I could get to him and Joe landed hard.”

“If he landed on his head,” Tom said, “we should wait until he regains consciousness and can tell us what works and what doesn’t. Otherwise—“

“—we could paralyze him,” Ben agreed. He laid his hand on Joe’s grimy forehead then he took in his son’s appearance. His green jacket and tan pants appeared nearly black, caked in filth as they were. He looked over at Adam. Although his oldest son was nearly always dressed in black, in the lantern light Ben could discern the cloth was discolored by clay and mud. “Just where have my sons been?”

*********

A week earlier…

Dejected, Joe shut the book he had been reading and tossed it in the general direction of his saddlebags in the corner of the hotel room. He laced his fingers behind his head and stared at the ceiling. “I don’t suppose there’s a bookstore in this backwater town.”

“What’s the matter? You finish your dime novel already?”

“I didn’t bother. Piece of rubbish.”

“That’s a surprisingly bold statement from a devotee of the genre,” said Adam from the other bed. Why don’t you read an author like Wilkie Collins? His mysteries are challenging. You might find them a welcome change to the drivel you’ve been feeding your brain.”

Joe rolled to his side and propped his head on his fist. “Oh, yeah? How’s he different?”

“His stories are told from multiple viewpoints so you have to figure out who’s telling the truth.”

“Real detective-type stuff, eh? Reading between the lines so to speak?”

“A good mystery should not only stimulate the readers’ imagination but challenge their deductive reasoning. I ordered his latest book. You can have first crack at when it arrives…if you want that is.”

“Maybe I will. What time are we leaving for home tomorrow?”

“As soon as we deliver the bull to Frank and collect our stud fee.”

“Ugh! You know how he likes to talk, Adam. We’ll be lucky to get on the road by noon.”

“Ah but think of Wilhelmina’s Wiener schnitzel and strudel. Hoss will be doubly sorry he drew the short straw and had to clear the beaver dam.”

“Maybe. He does like strudel, but schnitzel? Not so much.”

“If we get out of there by midafternoon, we can overnight at O’Neil’s Crossing and make it home in time for supper on Thursday.”

“That’s pushing it a bit given the terrain. Cochise will be fine but Sport’s liable to be cranky. You really ought to do something about that horse’s attitude.”

“You leave Sport to me.”

“Gladly,” Joe yawned. “Now, blow out the lamp and so I can get some shut eye or I’ll be the one who’s cranky come dawn.”

“And that’s unusual?”

“Shut up.”

**********

“LANDSLIDE!”

The shout rolled through O’Neil’s Crossing like a tidal wave. Those waiting to cross the Truckee River—tradesmen, settlers, prospectors, lumbermen, travelers with a purpose and aimless drifters alike—all stumbled out of their wagons, tents, or bedrolls to gather by the bridge anxious to hear details.

“Help! Up at the Central Pacific’s new track,” the messenger said breathlessly. “Between the old and new lines… hundreds of workers buried alive.”

Stunned silence ensued and then organized chaos reigned. On both sides of the Truckee riders set out to spread the word and recruit volunteers. On the north side of the crossing, it took only seconds for the Cartwright brothers to confer before jumping into a lumber wagon headed to the site.

**********

Adam found his brother sitting on a log, head in hands, and sat down wearily next to him dangling a half empty whiskey bottle between his knees. They leaned shoulder to shoulder drawing strength from each other for several minutes before Joe choked back a sob.

“Damn.”

“I know,” Adam said, taking a swig of the rot gut. “Look, I need you to do something.”

“What?”

“Climb up the hill and see if there is any more track to the east to be cleared.”

Joe raised his head. “It’s starting to rain.”

“It’s just mist. Mountain fog. I’d go myself but you’re more agile than I am… and you weigh less so….“

“So… what?”

“You’re less likely to trigger another slide.”

Joe’s eyes narrowed then he grabbed the bottle and drained its contents. “Fine.”

**********

Present day

Adam drifted in and out of consciousness but assured his father that nothing felt amiss inside. Nevertheless, Ben thought it prudent that neither of his sons be moved until Paul could examine them. Each brother was kept warm with blankets from Hop Sing’s well stocked supply room.

Ben told the hands that they could go back to bed but no one did. Old Charlie formed a circle out of rocks between Adam and Joe and started a fire to ward off the early morning mountain chill. Tom and Sam examined the horses for injuries and fed them as well as the other stock. Hop Sing trotted back and forth to the kitchen with hot coffee, eggs, bacon, and biscuits for the men.

Ben applied splints to Adam’s left arm and right leg. The head wound proved more challenging to treat as bandage after bandage soaked through despite constant pressure.

When the sun’s rays reached the yard, Ben was appalled to see that what he had taken for mud was, in actuality, blood. On Adam, the head wound could account for his bloody clothes. But Joe… Dear God! Had he been bleeding all this time from unseen wounds?

“Tom, help me!”

“What’s the matter?”

“That’s not just mud on Joe, it’s blood!”

“I thought we weren’t going to move him until the doc got here?”

“We won’t, but I need to see where he’s bleeding.”

Carefully, Ben undid the toggle holding Joe’s green—now black—jacket closed. The fabric was stiff and Tom had to tug from one side and Ben from the other before the jacket would lay open. The shirt was no better.  Ben slowly undid the buttons and felt Joe’s chest and abdomen but found nothing wet or oozing.

“Sir, his pants and boots … mostly mud. A few drops of blood maybe, but no more than that.”

Before Ben could answer, he heard the sound of a carriage approaching.

“Thank God!”

Tom wasn’t sure whether the response related to his comment or the arrival of the doctor.

**********

Paul nodded in approval at the makeshift accommodations and praised Hop Sing’s triage efforts before quickly brushing away Ben’s confession concerning Joe’s clothing with a wave of his hand. Parents always blamed themselves and this father in particular held the record for self-recrimination.

After examining Adam, he gave the go ahead for Sam and Ned to carry him up to his bedroom. Hop Sing went along.

Ben and Tom stayed with the youngest Cartwright as Paul carefully examined Joe’s extremities and then his torso feeling for broken bones.

“He hasn’t regained consciousness at all?”

“No,” Ben said.

Paul placed two fingers on the side of Joe’s neck and the same to the inside of his wrist while consulting his pocket watch. He then lit a match and lifted Joe’s eye lids one by one to check the dilation.

When Joe grimaced, the doctor tapped his cheek. “Wake up, Joe.”

“Open your eyes, son.”

“Pa?”

“Yes, it’s your pa. You’re home.”

“Home?” Joe asked, confused.

“Can you raise your arms?”

He did.

“What about your legs?”

Joe moved both legs side to side and rotated his ankles. When he attempted to lift his legs, however, he cried out.

“What hurts?” Paul asked.

“My chest.”

“All right. We’re going to sit you up, Joe. Let us do the work.”

On each side, Ben and Tom put a hand under Joe’s armpit and raised him to a sitting position. Paul again felt along Joe’s ribs, shoulders, neck and clavicle, and spine.

“Nothing broken. I suspect the impact with the ground bruised your chest wall. You’ll be plenty sore for at least a week. Willow-bark tea will help, along with hot compresses.”

“What about Adam?” Joe asked.

“Sport knocked him around a bit, son, but he’ll be fine.”

“Sport? No … wait.” Joe placed his hand on Ben’s arm. “Adam’s hurt bad.”

“Yes, son, we know.”

“Before.”

“Before what?” Ben asked.

“Before we got home. He did battle with a 200-pound railroad tie—”

“—a rail…what?”

“Tie.  Tie won,” Joe said and began to shiver violently. “Cold. I’m cold.”

Paul and Ben exchanged glances.

“He’s going into shock,” Paul said. “Let’s get him inside and warmed up. And I’d better have another look at Adam.”

Nothing was ever simple when it came to the Cartwrights.

**********

Hop Sing had removed the bloody clothing Adam wore and tossed the items out the window to be burned later. To his way of thinking, the numerous cuts and abrasions on number one son’s body were more extensive than a few moments in the dirt under hooves would account for.  He had just finished cleaning and bandaging the worst of them when Ben entered the room.

“Little Joe all right?”

“Yes, Hop Sing. He’ll be bed bound for a few days, but nothing broken, thank God. Would you mind heating up some broth? He’s cold to the bone.”

“Already on stove, Mr. Cartlight. I go get.”

“Thank you, Hop Sing. And could you make some—“

“Beef stew in oven. Be ready by time doctor finish with Mr. Adam.”

“Bless you. With Hoss clearing that beaver dam, I don’t know what I would have done without you and the men today.”

“I make plenty for them too.”

**********

The simple fractures of Adam’s left arm and right leg were easily set and splinted again.

“If there’s no swelling, I’ll cast them tomorrow,” Paul said. “Now, let’s do something about that head wound. I’d like to get the area as clean as possible before poking around.”

No sooner had he spoken when Hop Sing arrived with hot water and an armload of towels.

“I’ll need a razor, too.”

“Paul, my son is not going to be happy about this. When it comes to hair, people may think Joe’s the vain one, but Adam runs a close second, if not first in that department. It’s Hoss that cares not a whit about hair.”

There were indeed creosote-treated wood splinters embedded in Adam’s scalp and their removal along with the remains of prior suturing was labor intensive. It took quite a long time for Paul to be certain he had gotten out all foreign objects given the amount of bleeding. In fact, the profuse bleeding likely helped keep the wound clean. When he was finished, he sprinkled some morphine powder into the gash before suturing it.

Paul saw Ben’s raised eyebrow. “Trick I learned from an Army doctor. It will relieve the pain faster. Did Joe tell you what happened?

“Briefly. They were on their way home when they heard about a landslide that took out a portion of that new track the California Pacific is building.”

“And they went to help.”

“Of course.

“Is it a problem he didn’t get medical treatment right away? Joe said a doctor of sorts stitched him up and put a dressing on the wound and said to rest but Adam insisted they push on.”

“Well, it didn’t do him any good to ride what… 40-50 miles…, but I wouldn’t borrow trouble just yet. Heart sounds are strong and he’s breathing easy. Probably senses he’s home and in his own bed.”

“I sure would like to know more about what happened,” Ben said.

“Me, too. Say, is that beef stew I smell?”

“Sure is. I’ll ask Hop Sing to sit with Adam and send up Old Charlie to keep an eye on Joe while we eat. That is, if you’re hungry.”

“Do fish swim?”

**********

A loud crash awakened Ben at midnight. When he threw open his door, Hop Sing popped out of Adam’s room and said, “Mr. Adam still sleep. Noise come from Little Joe room.”

Ben rushed down the hall and found Joe sitting on the floor amid the remains of a broken lamp and a bedside carafe and tumbler.

“What in tarnation?!”

“Sorry Pa. I tried to get up but nothing’s working really well.”

“But you can still move? Have feeling in your legs?”

“Yeah. Just really sore.”

“Stay put while I get a broom to sweep up this glass.”

With the debris in the dustbin, Ben returned to aid Joe.

“Can you put your arms around my neck?”

“Yeah.”

“Just hang on. Push with your legs if you must but let me do the lifting.”

Ben huffed and Joe groaned but together they managed to get him back into bed.

“Now what were you thinking with this little stunt?”

“Wanted to see Adam.”

“He’s sleeping, as you should be.”

“Conscious?”

“Yes. He came to earlier this afternoon. Paul stayed until he did and then went back to town. He’ll be back tomorrow to check on both of you.”

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah, you’re fine. From what Adam said, you did a lot of heavy lifting. That could account for back/chest soreness as well. You want to tell me about it?”

Joe mumbled, “not really.”

“Silence is not an option, is that clear?”

“Yessir. Can I have some water?”

Ben tilted his head back, closed his eyes and sighed. The weary father nevertheless went to the kitchen and returned with the requested beverage and a ham sandwich.

“Eat,” he said.

“I’m not hungry.”

“All you’ve had today is broth.”

“What has Adam told you?” Joe asked cautiously as he nibbled.

“That you were on your way home and had gotten as far as O’Neil’s Crossing when word came about a landslide on that new section of the California Pacific Rail Road line. Since he’s an engineer and Hop Sing has cousins building that new extension, you both felt obliged to help with the rescue efforts.”

Joe took a big bite of the sandwich and chewed thoughtfully, grateful that it gave him time to think.

“Well, that’s how we got there all right, but not all that happened.”

“Go on.”

“We left our horses at the bridge in O’Neil’s corral and rode to the slide area in lumber wagons with other volunteers. It was awful, Pa. We dug as fast as we could and kept pulling bodies out, most of them dead. We saved about 50 or 60, I guess. I don’t know. I lost count.”

“Did you recognize anyone we know?”

Joe bowed his head. “It started raining and everyone was covered in mud. They’d set up a makeshift morgue but I never went in there.” When he looked up at his father, his eyes were wet. “How could I face Hop Sing if I had?”

Ben removed the plate of food and handed Joe the water.

“You said a railroad tie caused your brother’s head wound. How did that come about?”

“Adam had sent me around the bend to see how much more track needed clearing. I looked across the river to where the regular CPRR line runs and saw rail cars strewn all about the field…some still coupled, others on their side, some all busted up.”

“My God!”

“I ran back and told Adam. I don’t know what he did next… probably commandeered men and equipment. I scrambled down slope and crossed the river to see what I could do to help.” Joe drained his glass of water. “Pa, we only knew about the men working on the new line. Why didn’t someone say something about the wreck on the old line?”

“Unfortunately,” Ben said, “in disasters there is bound to be miscommunication. Adam indicated it was late afternoon when word came to the Crossing about the landslide. Maybe no one had witnessed the wreck. Or maybe seeing the landslide distracted the engineer.” He removed the empty glass from Joe’s trembling hands. “Are you comfortable sitting up or do you want to slide down a bit?”

“Down.”

Ben repositioned his son and placed a pillow behind his back for support. “You get some sleep and I’ll check on you later.”

A soft snore was the only response.

**********

Paul returned the next afternoon and was pleased to see that Adam was awake and communicative. Since there was no swelling, he put a permanent cast on the left humerus and right tibia. “You’re going to have to be careful to keep the arm in a sling at all times and move your fingers and wrist often.” A Cartwright seldom followed his advice to the T but this one was more likely to heed him than not.

While he was applying the plaster, Ben filled Paul and Adam in on what additional information Joe had related.

“When did you learn about the wreck, Adam?” asked Ben. Your brother was distressed the messenger didn’t mention it when he came to the bridge.”

“As far as I know, Joe was the first one to see it. How the derailment happened or when—before or after the slide—I have no idea. Did he tell you about the window, Pa?”

“Window? No, he didn’t mention any window. Why is that important?”

“It’s what drew his attention across the river… the sun reflecting off one of the cars’ windows. Otherwise, exhausted as he was, I don’t think he would have noticed the wreckage since most of it was up slope on the other side of the Truckee and hidden by boulders, shrubs and pines.”

Adam’s brow knitted together for a moment as he debated whether to enlighten his father with a bit of news about Joe that he found fascinating. His father might not be as intrigued or find it superfluous and of no consequence.

“You look troubled, Adam. Are you in pain?”

“The laudanum has done it’s work.” He paused and then said, “Did you know Joe could read mirror writing?”

“Mirror writing? I’m not sure what you mean.”

Paul said, “Writing backwards… the reverse of regular handwriting. If I were to write with a paint brush on my side of a window and you were on the other side, the letters would appear backwards and the words would read from right to left.”

“And Joe can do this?”

“Yes. There were people trapped in one of the cars that laid on its side making the visible windows effectively the ceiling. A young male passenger was able to climb up and write with a piece of charcoal from the stove on the window listing the names of the people in the car and where they were from.”

Ben said, “Why didn’t they just break the window and climb out?”

“The shattered glass would have fallen downwards on to the passengers. Some were elderly and severely hurt. Only the boy was physically able to climb up to the glass.”

“And Joe saw this?” Paul asked.

“I lot of people saw it and ignored it, including me. It was just squiggles on a blackboard as far as I was concerned. But one glance and Joe immediately knew there were survivors inside.”

Adam brought his free hand to his forehead and rubbed it. “I’d like to sleep a bit if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, son. Dinner will be ready in a few hours. You’ll stay Paul?”

“Hard as it is to believe, I do have other patients that require my services. Please apologize to Hop Sing for me. You do know how I love his cooking.”

Ben laughed. “We do indeed. Well, since there’ll be just the two of us, Adam, perhaps we’ll eat in Joe’s room. You know how stir crazy he gets when stuck in bed without anything to do.”

“Why is he bedridden?”

“That’s my doing,” Paul said as he packed up his medical bag. “He took a hard fall from Cochise the night you rode in. Bruised chest wall. Nothing broken, but mighty sore.”

Ben added, “He tried to get out of bed last night and wound up on his caboose.”

“I’ll see myself out, Ben. Adam, you mind what I said about keeping your arm in a sling.”

“Yessir.”

After Paul left, Adam said, “did I get any mail while we were gone?”

“No, but then I haven’t been to town in a few days. Are you expecting something important?”

“I ordered a Wilkie Collins book some time ago and I told Joe he could read it first. If he’s confined to bed, it might be just the thing he needs to ward off cabin fever.”

“Pa?” A voice yelled loud enough to shake the rafters.

Ben went to the top of the stairs and announced, “In Adam’s room, Hoss. Come on up.”

Hoss entered the room and took in the sorry state of his big brother with two casts and a bandage that nearly covered his head. “I ran into the doc as he was leaving and he told me Sport stomped on ya.”

“Turns out you drew the long straw after all, Hoss,” Adam said. “Although you look quiet the mess even so.”

“Gosh durn beavers.”

“Son, why don’t you get cleaned up and then we’ll have dinner in Joe’s room while—“

“—Joe hurt too? What in tarnation happened?”

“I’ve only heard bits and pieces, Hoss,” said Ben. “Right now Joe’s sleeping and Adam could use a rest himself. Go take a bath and they’ll tell us all about it tonight while we’re eating.”

**********

Ben placed the now-clean dinner plates that once held fried chicken, potatoes and green beans on a tray outside Joe’s door and called over the banister for coffee, “No hurry, Hop Sing. It will be awhile before we’ve digested this delicious meal.” He returned to Joe’s room, this time standing in the doorway leaning against the jam with his hands in his pockets. As he listened to the brotherly banter, he said a quick prayer thanking the Almighty for delivering all of his sons home safe and—for the most part—sound.

“You’re telling me little brother here could read those squiggles? Straight up?”

“Cross my heart,” Adam said.

“Well don’t that beat all.” Hoss shook his head in amazement. “Can ya write that way too—backwards I mean.”

Ben and Adam simultaneously said, “no” at the same time Joe said “yes.”

“What?”

“How?”

“Prove it.”

Joe answered, “Give me something to write on.”

Hoss rifled through Joe’s desk and found paper, pencil and an oversized atlas. “That big enough?”

“Perfect. What do you want me to write?

“Dictate something Adam. Like one of them fancy poems Shakespeare wrote.”

Adam said, “A sonnet?”

“Paper’s not big enough for a whole friggin’ sonnet,” Joe said.

“Joseph, watch your language!”

“Sorry, Pa. How about just a couple lines Adam.”

“Okay.  How about this—“

Everyone watched as Joe wrote the words and punctuation dictated sstarting at the right edge of the paper. He didn’t hesitate. When he finished, he handed the paper to his father who passed it to Adam and then Hoss who exclaimed, “That’s just gibberish!”

“Hold it up to the mirror,” Joe said.

Hoss scrunched his face up. “You’ve come up with some dang fool things, Joseph, but if you’re trying to hornswoggle me….”

“Just read it. Aloud.”

So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

 

“Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle!”

Adam said, “Hoss, hand me that mirror off the wall so I can see, too.”

Ben peered over Adam’s shoulder when he placed the paper in front of the mirror.

Astonished, Ben said. “That’s amazing Joseph. How long have you been able to write that way? Who taught you?”

“Always and no one… I just can do it. Can’t everyone?”

Ben, Adam, and Hoss looked at each other and then back at Joe.

“Well, well,” Adam said bemused. “It seems we have a Leonardo da Vinci in our midst.”

“Explain,” Ben said.

“DaVinci mirror wrote in his journals. Some say it was because he was left-handed and didn’t want to smear the ink. Others have said he used it as a form of cypher.”

“That’s funny, Adam, because Mitch and I used mirror writing as a code so no one could read the notes we passed in school.”

At that moment Hop Sing arrived with a coffee pot, cups, and three dishes of apple pie ala mode.

“None for me, thanks,” Ben said. “In fact, Hoss, now that you’re home to watch over our invalid and little genius, I am headed for bed. You make sure neither stays up too late.”

“Yessir, Pa, and I’ll take yer ice cream. No sense letting it go to waste.”

“Good night all.”

“G’night, Pa.”

**********

Hoss had been the middle child for all but six years of his life. Sometimes he served as the chalk line between two warring sides in a tug of war. Other times he walked the line between his brothers and their father.

While they ate in silence, he glanced from one brother to the other and noted the unspoken signals that passed between them—the raised eyebrow, shrug, cocked head, and chewed lip.

“All right, out with it.”

“Out with what?” Adam said mildly.

“I can read between the lines. There’s more to what happened than what you shared with Pa. Give.”

“You tell the first part, Adam. I’ll pick up after you got clobbered in the head.”

“All right.” Adam handed his half-eaten pie and melted ice cream to Hoss who accepted it gladly. “We’d worked all night and most of the next day recovering bodies from the slide and clearing track when Joe alerted us to the train wreck. From then on we were in rescue mode on the other side of the river.

“Everyone that worked digging out the railroad workers was exhausted and we had to wait for reinforcements and medical supplies before we could do much about the train wreck victims. I was sitting on my heels thinking about how we were going to get all the passengers across the river, up to the lumber road and transported back to O’Neil’s. Some were laying on the ground, some walking around helping others. Others crying or screaming in pain.

“In all the commotion, there was one lady that caught my attention because she was different than everyone else. She was wrapped in a long, white cloak with mother of pearl buttons down the front about the size of a small sand dollar. In the misty fog it appeared almost silver with frost. The lady was tall and slender and carried herself well. Attached to her hat was a thick veil and I couldn’t distinguish her features.

“She moved slowly, threading her way among the injured weaving her way back and forth with a certain detachment when, to my surprise, she stopped in front of me and sat down on a rock facing me. She sat quite still with her head down, and I wanted very much to see her face as there was a long, red curl hanging from beneath the veil which I found fetching— ”

I am afraid, sir, that l am a most unwelcome intruder for I have interfered with your musings.

“As she spoke, she lifted her veil, and, upon my life, Hoss, I have never seen so striking a face. It was a perfect oval, set with beautiful soft, brown eyes, very delicately traced eyebrows above them, and long lashes that rested on her cheek when she looked down. The only fault of her face was perhaps that her cheeks lacked color, although perhaps rouge is not the fashion where she lived.”

“Or you’ve been spending too much time with ladies on D Street,” snickered Joe. “Sorry,” he said when Adam gave him a stern look.

“At any rate, I have seldom had a more witty and intellectual companion. She could talk knowledgeably on every subject conceivable and we continued conversing until reinforcements arrived and the work of transporting the injured began.

“By that time it was quite dark as there was only a sliver of a waning moon and cloud cover. Only the torches of the searchers and the lanterns that had been lit around the scene enabled me to see her and even then only the soft outline of her figure and the paleness of her face. Before taking my leave, I reached for her hand and noticed a wedding ring. To my surprise, the hand was streaked with blood. I said, “Madam, I am afraid you have hurt your hand.”

I am not hurt, she said.

“and she did not attempt to move it or to change her position.

“I sat looking at it and at the wedding ring and wondering what her history was. I thought it must have been a mournful one, for she never once smiled— not even the shadow of a smile — all the time we were talking, though our conversation was witty enough as I mentioned.

“When Joe came to collect me, I kissed the back of her hand and bid her farewell.”

“So you meet her, Joe?” Hoss asked.

“I did some time later after Adam had bored me to tears talking about his lady in white. I’d been searching for him because there was a disagreement among some of the men on how to proceed dismantling the wreckage and there I found him dallying with the lady when there was work to be done.”

“Your language was rather colorful, if I recall,” said Adam.

“I apologized,” Joe said defensively, then he paused. “You know that feeling you get sometimes … like you’ve done this before?“

“Deja vu?” Adam said.

“Yeah, deja vu, like you know exactly what’s going to happen next. Only it was something more than that. A feeling of dread. I tried to shake it off by talking to the lady. Adam hadn’t exaggerated about her conversational skills, Hoss. We were deep in conversation when this tremendous explosion happened. There were railway ties and timbers and yellow car siding, seats and luggage all flying through the air. It seemed like the whole world was going to pieces.

“I was momentarily stunned by the concussion from the blast and when I came to my senses, there seemed to be nothing around me but mass destruction. I mean trees were down, brush fires burning near the railroad cars. People were running everywhere, some carrying water from the river in whatever they could find to put out the fires.

“After a time I found Adam. He’d been hit by a nine-foot railroad tie and was lying bleeding and unconscious. A greater pile of debris however was where the lady had been seated. I groped my way to where she had been sitting all the while shuddering to think what I would find there.  I asked how badly she was hurt.

Not at all, I thank you. How is your friend?

He’s my brother and he’s unconscious. I will need some men to help me pull him out from under that tie. Can I assist you until they arrive?

Do not mind me. Go at once to find assistance for your brother.

“I didn’t know how she could breathe under the weight of the debris. I couldn’t leave her like that.

My hand is trapped. Help free it and then go. You cannot help me otherwise.

“I managed to create an opening through which she passed her bloody hand. I took hold of it to pull it through. It was icy cold.”

Now, go. You can do no more for me, and your brother’s life may be at stake. Go!

“I knew I couldn’t move 200 pounds by myself so I reached under him and clawed away as much dirt and shale as I could to take the pressure off Adam’s head and chest, and then I set about to find help. Everything was a mess and I didn’t know where to look first. There were torches visible in the fog and people running madly up and down, and amidst the broken timbers you saw mangled and bleeding bodies, hopelessly entangled.

“Fortunately,  I found Curt, Felix and Simon, some of the fellas I’d worked with on clearing the landslide. They each had spades and I asked them to start with Adam. Meanwhile I climbed over the debris and found the lady as I had left her.

“Hurry,” I  said, “the lady is still conscious.”

“What lady?” said Curt, coming towards me. “There is no one here, Joe, but you and Adam.”

He started waving his torch back and forth so close to us I thought the lady’s cloak would catch the flame.

“Back off,” I yelled. “You will set her cloak on fire!” I moved closer and held out my hand to her. ‘Can you rise now, ma’am?’ I said.  And as I touched her cold hand, she rose to her feet casting off the debris like water.

“By this time Adam had been extricated, and with the assistance of a man I didn’t recognize we carried him across the river and up the hill to the lumber wagons. The lady walked noiselessly by our side. I don’t know if the other man was aware of her presence.”

“I knew she was there,” Adam said.

“I thought so,” said Joe. “Unconscious or not, I suspected you felt her presence because the expression on your face changed as she came to your side.

“It was a slow walk, but we reached the wagons at last and I found a place for you in the tent that was being used as a surgery. The lady stood by your side, like a tall statue, still wrapped in her white cloak. While we waited for the doctor, I asked her to rub your hands.”

Is this likely to warm them? she replied, softly, laying her icy hand for one moment on mine. Her touch almost paralyzed it.

You are ill yourself! What can I do? You need to rest.

Oh, heavens no, she answered, waving me away, Do not think of me. I cannot rest. Attend to your brother.

“Adam’s head was bleeding again and I knelt down beside him and tried to staunch the flow of blood. The lady stood a little distance from us, her arms folded, an expression of intense agony on her face.

“The tent flap opened and a heavy-set, middle-aged man hurried towards us demanding to know who the lady was as she resembled a woman he had treated some years before. I turned to introduce them, but she was gone. I went outside and asked everyone which direction  the lady in the white cloak had taken. Some admitted to seeing her but no one knew where she went.”

Adam said, “I told the doctor—his name was Hurley, I think—that I had found her among the other survivors of the train wreck. I asked him how he knew her and he repeated he wasn’t sure it was the same woman at all.

“The doctor was stitching Adam up when I returned,” said Joe. “I asked him what became of the woman who resembled our lady.  He merely said she died.”

“That’s some mystery,” Hoss said, thoughtfully. “Was your lady real?”

Adam shrugged. “I kissed her hand. It was real enough then.”

“I freed her hand when it was pinned under the debris. And a few people at the site acknowledged her presence.”

Perplexed, Hoss’s brow wrinkled. “But not everyone.” He studied both Adam and Joe as they traded glances and he pounded his knee. “Confound it! You’re doing it again… making me read between the lines. Spit it out!”

Adam said, “You might as well tell him, Joe.”

“Because the doc had seen her, right?” Hoss asked excitedly.

“Easy, Hoss,” Adam said. “He again professed not to know our lady exactly but had been struck by her similarity to a woman he had known before…. a woman whose husband had been killed in a railway accident near Cal Pacific’s Tunnel No. 8, not far from where we were.”

Joe continued, “While the doctor stitched Adam’s head, he told us the whole story.

She confided to me on her death bed. It appeared she had married a wealthy financier many years older than herself. Her brother was an inveterate gambler who incurred substantial losses. In order to save him from disgrace and ruin, she had forged her husband’s name to checks for an amount which cancelled her brother’s debts. The husband, however, had discovered the fraud and put the police on the track of the brother.

They were traveling to San Francisco where he intended to take his wife to the bank on which the forgeries had been drawn. They had a frightful quarrel on the train. He reproached her with her dishonesty, and she fiercely upbraided him for wishing to deliver her brother to justice.

She said to him “may we never reach our journey’s end— may I see you dead at my feet.”

The husband rose up, saying he would no longer travel in the same car with her, and opened the window to check how close the train was to their destination. He stood with his head and part of his body, out of the window.

The next moment there was a blow — a crunch, and her husband’s headless corpse fell heavily across her lap.

“A truly tragic story” said Adam. “How she traveled miles in the darkening afternoon with that dead body on her knees, her fair hair stained by his blood. How when they found her at last, she was almost paralyzed to idiocy. How she lingered but a few weeks after him and then faded away a prey to the deepest remorse, time and space failed to explain.”

Joe added, “Both Adam and I were numb.  We wanted nothing more than to get home as soon as possible so we ignored the doctor’s advice, retrieved our horses and started riding. You know the rest.”

“Except for this,” Adam said. He pulled from the pocket of his robe a mother-of-pearl button and place it on the bed.

They each stared at the button but didn’t…couldn’t…speak as words failed them.

**********

“Mail’s here!” Hoss called out the next day when he returned from Virginia City.

“Is there a package for Adam?” Ben asked.

“Yessir. Looks like a book.”

“That’s good. He’s been waiting for it to arrive.”

“How are our invalids holding up?”

“Your older brother is already antsy. I think we’d better move him to the downstairs bedroom soon. At least then he can go outside in the wheelchair.”

“Yeah, but that would leave Joe alone upstairs alone.”

“Joe can walk, just not sit up, lay down, or pull his pants on without assistance. I think we can help him with the stairs, don’t you?”

“Sure thing, Pa.  Oh, hey, I almost forgot to give you this.” Hoss reached inside his vest and pulled out a sheaf of newspaper clippings. Dan DeQuille over at the Territorial Enterprise thought you might like to have these. Seems the landslide and the train wreck made the news in every major paper from San Francisco to New York.  Some nice things said about Adam and Joe.”

“For instance?”

“Adam’s engineering and organizational skills. Joe’s ‘dogged tenacity’—I think is the way it was put—in recovering the bodies of men buried in the slide. And that he spotted the wreck when no one else had thereby saving lives.”

“I’ll look forward to reading them. Why don’t you go ahead and take that book up to Adam.”

“Yessir.”

**********

Adam’s door was open but Hoss knocked anyway and said, “Special delivery! You been expecting a book?”

“Indeed I have.” Adam carefully untied the string and methodically removed the brown paper.

“Oh, for pity’s sake,” said Joe. “Just rip it!”

“Patience, dear boy.” Adam set aside the brown paper and began removing the inner wrapping.

“Is it the Wilkie Collins’ book?”

“Yes, and yes, you can read it first.”

Adam handed it to Joe who said, “You’ve got to be kidding,” and started to laugh.

Bewildered, Hoss asked, “What’s so funny?”

Joe passed the book to Hoss, who read the title aloud, “The Woman in White.”

Downstairs, Ben paused his reading of the newspaper clippings to enjoy the sound of his sons’ laughter. If, despite the tragedies they’d witnessed and some dark hours over the last week, they could still laugh, then they would be all right.

The End

Author’s Notes:

• Written for the 2022 Ponderosa Paddlewheel Poker Tournament.   The game was Five Card Draw and the words and/or phrases I was dealt were:

landslide
mirror writing
bloody clothes
button
newspaper clipping

2     In 1852, Henness Pass Road was a wagon toll road from Nevada to the gold fields of California. Between 1860 and 1868, traffic was so heavy at times that freight wagons traveled by day and stagecoaches drove at night. The road continued to be used until the completion of the transcontinental railway in 1868.  The Crystal Peak bridge was built in 1860 by Felix O’Neill. it was located at the last natural crossing of the Truckee River before the Henness Pass Road began its climb over the Sierras.  O’Neill had the first station on the river hence the spot became known as O’Neil’s Crossing.

3     Could Joe have crossed the river on foot?  Yes. The Truckee River runs 3-4′ deep with occasional side ponds at 20′.  It is very rocky, which is why a bridge would be needed for lumber wagons and stagecoaches.