Summary:  Adam wrestles with guilt over the death of a friend after rustlers set events in motion that no one could foresee.
Rating:  Teen   Words: 34,350

Sands Series:

Shifting Sands
Lethean Sands

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The Brandsters have included this story by this author in our project: Preserving Their Legacy. To preserve the legacy of the author, we have decided to give their work a home in the Bonanza Brand Fanfiction Library.  The author will always be the owner of this work of fanfiction, and should they wish us to remove their story, we will.

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A special thanks to JC and to all of my friends in the fanfic forum who commented and gave me all those reminders to keep going.

The Cartwrights and company are the property of Mr. Dortort, the Armingers and their ranch hands and friends, and the bad guys are mine.

~Cressida

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~~Shifting Sands~~

Adam Cartwright nervously fingered the band on his black hat. The warm glow of oil lamps outlined Mrs. Arminger’s slim form against the darkness of the porch. He had ridden long and hard to bring her news that he wished to tell no-one, less so an old friend.

“Adam?” she prodded gently. “Would you like to come in?”

“Yes, thank you.”

He stopped again in the small foyer of the ranch house. The home was warm and snug. Adam remembered laying the foundations, building that chimney. Tears pricked behind his eyes as he realized that his friend’s laughter would never again ring against that solid wall of rock, so like the one at the Ponderosa. But where the great room at the Ponderosa soared, this ceiling was low and heavily beamed. Gil had wanted one tamed space against the vast reaches of the west. The ranching he couldn’t do in Ohio had driven him from his home, but he missed the well laid-out towns with their squares, and the well-ordered society that he’d left behind. His home would be a refuge against the wildness of the west. In the end it had not been much of a refuge, and no protection at all as that very wildness had killed him.

Adam’s mind went back to when he had met Gilbert Arminger. He’d visited the new neighbor to extend his family’s welcome and found him struggling with the plans to the house. With his quick tongue and ready sense of humor, Gil had quickly roped Adam into helping him design and build the house. He talked incessantly about his wife, a former schoolteacher who had lost her first fiancé to typhus. They had one child, a son who had stayed behind with his mother in Ohio while she tended to her ailing father. When Emily and Peter had arrived, Adam discovered that she had a lively and informed mind, well able to hold her own against Gil’s relatively untutored, but dry wit, and the three soon became good friends.

“Em, I…” He stopped, uncertain, and unwilling to proceed.

“Let me take your coat, Adam, and I’ll fix you a cup of coffee. Sit down by the fire. You look so cold.” She took his hat and laid it on the hall table, and hung his coat in the wardrobe.

He found himself standing before the fire, warming his hands as he listened to Emily getting the coffee together in the kitchen. “Did Gil send you?” she asked when she brought the tray in. “He was worried about rustlers again and he’s been out on the range for days. He said something about riding your fence line – that he thought someone had cut it and was taking the cattle out that way.”

Adam put down his cup. “He was right. He found the rustlers.” He got up abruptly and paced the room before sitting down next to Emily on the sofa. He gently took the coffee cup from her, and she looked at him, puzzled, as he took her hands in his. He gazed at the pretty face, with its little upturned nose and generous mouth. Grey eyes were framed by blond-tipped lashes, and her curly light brown hair was pulled back into a simple bun. He saw comprehension slowly dawn in her eyes and the color abruptly faded from her face.

“No!” she whispered and she wavered and closed her eyes against the sudden sick feeling that washed over her. She felt gentle hands draw her into an embrace and for a moment, while the dizziness lasted, let her mind think it was her husband’s arms she rested in. She pushed against his chest as her head cleared and she slid her hands to his shoulders to give them a light squeeze of thanks. He winced under her touch and she drew back, startled, and wondered what she had done. As she lifted her hands from his shoulders she realized there was blood on her left hand. “Adam, you’re hurt!”

“It’s just a scratch.”

“Take that shirt off and let me see it.” He looked like he would protest, but he shut his mouth as she gave him the same look he had often seen directed at her boys. She went to the kitchen and returned with a bowl of warm water and some clean cloths. He had taken off the black shirt, but still had on his white woolen undershirt. The shoulder was stained withenough blood that she knew it was more than a scratch, but it was not enough for her to be unduly concerned. “That too.”

He raised an eyebrow, but complied.

There was a jagged tear in the wool knit and Emily thought it likely that Adam’s shoulder had merely been creased by a bullet. She helped him pull the garment over his head and gasped at the bruises that were forming over his torso. “You should have never ridden out here like this, Adam,” she scolded gently. “Did you fall off your horse?”

“No,” he said shortly. “I got off of him fast, though, when the bullets started flying.” She paled a little at the thought. Obviously Gil had not moved fast enough.

Her fingers moved gently and nimbly over the wound, washing away the dried blood and exposing clean skin. She pulled a short jar of ointment out of her apron pocket and dabbed it on the wound. Adam’s breath hissed between his teeth at the sudden sting.

“Sorry, but I think the rest of you hurts more than that. No wonder you called it a scratch.”

“Nothing broken, Em.” He gasped again as her hands pressed on a particularly large bruise that graced his ribs. “Someone kicked you.”

“Well, I won that one. That someone is on his way to the Virginia City jail.”

She arranged the pillows against the arm of the couch and made to push him back to rest against them, but he resisted. “What else are you not telling me about?” She looked him over critically and moved around to look at his back. He had a large weal forming across the middle of his back. She shook her head and touched the injury lightly.

“Gil does—” her eyes teared up a little. “did the same thing. Just be honest about where you hurt and I’ll fix you up. That’s worse than the gunshot wound. It couldn’t have been a whip, it’s too wide.”

“It was a leather packing strap. It was quite a little operation they had going there.”

She bathed the long mark and reached for the jar of ointment. Adam gave her a pleading look, which she ignored as she proceeded to dress the wound. “What’s in that stuff?” he complained. “Hop Sing’s never stings that much.”

“Well, I’m not Hop Sing, but it will work nonetheless.”

She disappeared into the kitchen and returned with bandages, which she wound around his chest and up over a pad she placed over the bullet wound. “I don’t think your back will scar, the wound isn’t deep enough.”

He merely grunted as she pulled the end of the bandage tight around his ribs below the wound and pinned the end down.

She left the room to throw the basin of bloody water out the back door and she returned to find Adam back on his feet talking to someone at the front door.

It was Eddie Drake, their foreman, and she paused at the door to the kitchen to listen to the low-voiced conference. “—him in and lay him out in the bedroom,” Adam was saying. She took a deep, shuddering breath and stepped forward.

Adam heard her and turned. “Wait, Em. Let Eddie and Slim bring him in.”

Tears started to her eyes again and she shook her head against the sudden rush of emotion. She had been able to forget her pain for a few minutes while she tended to Adam’s injuries, but now it was back in full force.

Adam crossed to her and, putting an arm around her, guided her to the sofa. He jerked his head to indicate that Eddie and Slim should bring in Gil’s body. He reached for his undershirt, but Emily forestalled him with a hand on his arm. “Don’t put that dirty thing back on; I’ll get you one of Gil’s.” She ran to the bedroom before he could protest and he stiffly levered himself out of the sofa to go after her.

His suspicions were correct. She was not just getting him a shirt. She had pulled off the counterpane and was laying a clean white sheet over the blankets. “Please, Adam, don’t interfere. I must do this.” She turned briefly from her preparations and indicated the dresser between the two front windows. “There are some warm shirts in the third drawer down. There are undershirts in the second, if you wish to wear one.”

He had an undershirt on, and was reaching for a soft white flannel shirt that resembled some of his own when Slim and Eddie entered, carrying their former employer. They laid Gil’s well-wrapped body on the bed and Emily thanked them quietly. Slim watched impassively as Adam buttoned the shirt and rolled up the slightly too-short sleeves.

Eddie made to untie the rope that was holding the tarp around Gil’s body, but Adam shook his head and he stopped. “I’ll help Mrs. Arminger with that, thank you.”

“Okay, Mr. Cartwright. Anything you be needing, we’ll be out in the bunk house.”

Adam nodded and turned his attention to the silent woman by the bed. He didn’t see Slim’s frown as the hand left the room.

Emily was starting to pull at the knots on the rope but Adam reached to stay her hands. “Let me do that, Emily. I’ll get him out of there. Is that water still warm on the stove?”

She nodded dumbly. “Yes, I suppose so.”

“All right. You get ready what we’ll need.”

She moved slowly to the door while Adam approached the bed.

She returned with the same basin that she had used to tend to Adam’s injuries, and had towels and washcloths over her arm. Gil was laid out, tarp and ropes gone, and he looked merely asleep to his wife. Adam took the basin from her quickly as her step faltered and he put it on the table next to the bed. She moved close to her husband’s side and drew a quick breath when she saw the bullet holes in his shirt.

Adam made as if to leave the room, but Emily spoke without looking up. “Don’t leave, Adam.” She leaned over and stroked Gil’s brow. He was cold, not warm to the touch as he’d been the last time her hands had caressed his face. “He was just here, complaining about the cold and having to chase rustlers. He said he couldn’t understand why they just didn’t sign on as hands someplace. Rustlin’ had to be as hard as honest work.” Her next words caught on a sob and Adam came close up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. “He worked so hard. What right had anyone to take the fruits of his labors?”

“No right, Em. Some people just want to take, to tear down what others have built.”

“Well, they’ve taken everything from him now.” Her voice broke on the last couple of words. “Except his dignity. No one is going to take that.” She uncrossed Gil’s arms and began to unbutton his shirt. Adam shifted uncomfortably. He had helped with laying out before, but never had he felt so awkwardly insinuated into someone else’s business, into what he thought should remain between a husband and a wife.

“Em, one of the women from church could help–”

“No, Adam, it’s easier done now and I want to do this tonight, before the kids are awake in the morning. They’ll be crawling all over the house and I won’t have any peace.” She turned to him. “He was your friend, Adam, and he would appreciate your help, rather than that of a mere acquaintance.”

They accomplished the task efficiently, speaking only when necessary. Adam left her alone with Gil while he made a fresh pot of coffee against the chill of the late autumn night.

When she came into the kitchen her eyes were a little red, lids puffy with lack of sleep and laugh-lines erased in the numbness of exhausted grief. Adam laced her coffee with a generous dollop of whiskey. She pushed the cup away, grimacing at the taste, but he urged her to drink it. “You need to get some rest tonight.”

She stood instead and wandered around the kitchen, running her hand over the stove so expensively shipped from St. Jo., and the pots and pans she had so carefully packed for their travel west. The makings of a home, turning an empty shell into a place to grow a family. And they’d had that family so briefly. A few short years of hard work and good reward. Two more sturdy sons, blond like their father, who followed his steps and mimicked his work in their play. Emily suddenly sank against the base of the hutch that ranged against the back wall of the kitchen.

Adam moved quickly to her side and he stiffly lowered himself to the floor and took her in his arms. She cried in great gusting sobs that she muffled against his chest, fearful of waking the children.

“He never knew, Adam,” she managed at last. “—how much I didn’t mind this place.” She sniffed and he pressed his handkerchief into her hands. “I think he wondered, sometimes, what he had done, but I love it here. I loved him.”

“He knew, Em. He thought you might be lonely, but he knew you liked it here.”

“We were so busy, I didn’t have time to be lonely.” She took a shaky breath. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to stay here, Adam.”

“Why not?

“Gil was turning into a pretty good rancher, but I don’t think I know enough to really make a go of it.”

“You have a good foreman.”

“I know. Eddie was a great help to Gil. Without him we wouldn’t have done as well as we have.”

“I think you could do it, Emily, but to be here alone, without any of your family…” He patted her shoulder. “Maybe it would be better if you moved back home.”

“Father is gone, and my sisters are so spread out there is no ‘home’ to return to. I suppose I could choose to live near one of them, but Hope is in Philadelphia and Anna is in Washington and I don’t like cities. And Jenny and her husband are talking about moving on to Oregon.”

She had calmed to the point where she felt uncomfortable caught up against Adam’s side and she pushed a little at his ribs to start him moving, forgetting the damage that had been done to him earlier in the evening. He gasped at the unexpected stab of pain.

“Oh, Adam, I’m sorry.”

He had raised his knees to be able gather her close to him and he shifted away from her to roll awkwardly to his feet, his back protesting the treatment. She was left, legs folded under her, skirts puddled around her and crumpled, apron askew. She looked down at herself. “I’m a sight, I suppose.”

He smiled gently at her. “You look fine to me, but you’re allowed to be ‘a sight’ tonight.” He reached down and clasped her small hand in his. She arranged her skirts with her other hand, but as he pulled her to her feet she swayed and would have fallen except that he had a firm grip on her. He tipped her chin up, and seeing her pale, and eyes closed, he swung her into his arms and took her into the living room to lay her on the couch.

She raised a hand to her brow and sighed.

“You’d best try to get some sleep, Emily.”

“It’s not lack of sleep, Adam. Would you get me a glass of water, please?”

He found a glass and returned to see her sitting up length-wise on the sofa. He perched on the edge and gave her the glass. She thanked him and took a sip but she was still so pale that he went to find a cloth to bathe her face with.

“Here, this might make you feel better.”

She gave him grateful look and pressed the cloth to her cheeks and forehead. She closed her eyes and lay back against the pillows that she had arranged for Adam hours before.

He stared at her sadly and she raised her eyes to his face questioningly. “Did Gil know?” he asked quietly. Fresh tears started to her eyes. “Not yet. I’m just. I was going to tell him when he got home.”

“I’ll have Slim go for Doc Martin in the morning,”

She shook her head. “No, I don’t need him. I’m fine.”

“I think he should check you out, make sure–”

“It’s not necessary.”

“But–”

“Adam, there is nothing to worry about. I’ve done this before.”

He smiled. “I guess you do know what you’re doing.”

She looked down at her lap and ran a hand over her stomach. “In that, at least.”

They sat quietly for a minute, each thinking of the future.

“How did you find Gil?” she asked finally.

He looked up, surprised in the change of subject. “He found me. We had been talking last week about the rustlers and he’d mentioned the possibility that the beeves were bein’ taken out through Ponderosa land. I was riding the fence, looking for the same thing. He backtracked to me and we continued on together.”

She looked at him, curious but afraid, though the worst had already happened.

“He was happy, Em. He figured he knew, and he was right, how those cattle were going.” He hung his head. “They doubled

back on us and started firing before we knew what was happening. I was hit first, and went down. They got Gil next. I don’t think they meant to kill, ‘cause they didn’t check on us – they were trying to ride off when Eddie shot one of them.” He bit his lip. “Gil made me promise, Em, to take care of you and make sure you didn’t suffer because of his carelessness.” He looked down at his hands. “But he wasn’t careless. He was a good man. Careful. We couldn’t see anymore in the dark, even with the moon as full as it was. Maybe Hoss could’ve, but we missed, or I missed the sign.”

“Adam, it wasn’t your fault. It was those that pulled the trigger.”

“Mebbe.”

“You were doing your job. Gil knew the risks when he moved out here.” She frowned. “What happened to Slim and Eddie?” “They hit the dirt pretty fast. Eddie got back on his horse and followed them as they tried to get away. Brave man, Eddie.” Emily put a hand on his arm. “And you stayed with Gil.”

“Yeah, I stayed with Gil.”

Adam stared over the back of the couch into the foyer, but he was seeing Gil’s face, jaw set against the pain in his chest, a light sheen of sweat against clammy skin, a froth of blood at his lips. That was something he would never share with Emily, but he could tell her Gil’s words, little comfort though they’d be.

Emily squeezed his arm to bring him back. “Tell me, Adam,” she whispered.

“He…he said to tell you that he loved you. Made me promise to help you. He hoped you wouldn’t give up, that you’d stay and make a go of the ranch.” Adam looked down at his hands and his voice shook as he said the next words. “He asked me to give each of the boys a hug and kiss from their papa.”

“Adam—“

He raised his eyes to hers and she could see they were filled with tears. “I’m sorry, Em – there was nothing I could do. The wound was too bad. He knew it, but he was calm and he was thinkin’ of you at the end.”

She put her hands over his and gave them a light caress. “Please tell me the rest, Adam, till you got back here.”

“He passed out and I couldn’t rouse him and a couple of minutes later he was gone. I…I had to leave him, Em. Eddie was taking pot shots at the rustlers and was calling after me for help – they had camped down in a draw and he couldn’t get around them to drive them out. So I covered up Gil with my bedroll and turned around to see Hoss standing there.”

She looked up from where her hands lay on his. “Go on,” she said softly.

“Hoss had been trailing behind me, come out to meet me, he said, after finishing his own work – he didn’t want me to be out there alone with rustlers around. We got into their camp while Slim and Eddie kept them busy on the other side.” He ran a hand over the back of his neck, trying to ease the tension that had built there. “Hoss took the two left alive back to town…” He stopped, leaving the rest unsaid.

“Thank you for telling me.” She patted his hands. “You know those men would have shot Gil, anyway. Or Slim, or Eddie.” “I ‘spose so.”

“Adam, I—”

There was a light knock on the front door and it opened before Adam could get up from the couch.

“Sorry, Mrs. Arminger, ta bother you, but the sheriff is here,” said Eddie.

Sheriff Coffee stepped into the foyer behind Eddie, followed by Hoss and Doctor Martin.

A look of annoyance flitted across Emily’s face at the sight of the doctor before she realized that Hoss had probably brought him for Adam.

He matched her look for look and said under his breath at her small smile of relief: “Now he can check you out too.” He gave her hands one final pat and rose to greet the men.

“Howdy, Mizz Arminger,” said the sheriff gently. “I was sorry to hear about Gil. Have ta check things out.” He looked at Adam and gave him a curt nod. “Adam. I hear you got kinda banged up out there.”

Adam shot a glare at Hoss, but Hoss merely looked at his brother impassively, as if daring him to deny it.

“Mrs. Arminger patched me up fine, thank you.”

Emily moved to get up from the couch. “May I get you gentlemen anything?”

“Stay there, Mrs. Arminger.” Doctor Martin didn’t like her paleness, so unlike her usual good color.

“There’s a fresh pot of coffee in the kitchen,” interjected Adam, as Doctor Martin came around the couch and put his bag on the coffee table.

“Later, thanks, Adam,” he said. “I don’t like your color, Emily.” He looked at the others and they took the hint and went to examine Gil and take Adam’s statement.

“Adam, those ribs are just bruised, not cracked. Do you want something for the pain?”

Adam shook his head and mutely put his clothes back on. He was as tired as he could ever remember being.

“Well, no whiskey and no brandy, then, in the evening – you have a lot of bruising starting to show on your back that I don’t like. Did something fall on you?”

“You might say that,” said Adam, grimacing, remembering the snap of the packing strap and his subsequent quick trip over the side of the rustlers’ wagon. Landing out of reach of the strap had also meant landing on his back among some sharp rocks and he wished he had stepped the other way. Another blow from that strap couldn’t have damaged him as badly as the fall had.

He sighed and held out his hand. Doctor Martin looked at him sagaciously and gave him the medicine. “Just twice a day.” He pursed his lips. “I could barely pry a word out of Mrs. Arminger, either. You two are a couple of clams tonight. Don’t brood over this, Adam. I know Gil was a friend…”

“Brood over Gil? No, I don’t think I will. I’m just tired and angry. I wish I could have done more.” He looked at his old friend and sighed. “This just dredges up all my old frustrations with how brutal people can be over so little. So unnecessary.”

“There are a lot of things that are ‘unnecessary.’ I want you to go home and get some sleep. And take it slow on the ride back.”

Hoss stared at Adam, wondering if his older brother was thinking the same thing. Another friend gone. Adam had been slow to recover from Ross’s death, but Hoss knew it was because Adam had felt guilty at not being able to save Delphine and that he’d actually had to kill his friend. “You’re not going to bring back Delphine by taking care of Emily.”

“I know,” Adam said quietly.

“No ya don’t. You got that look in your eye again, brother.”

Adam looked up wearily, wanting to tell Hoss, and himself, that he didn’t feel responsible this time, that there was nothing he could have done to change anything. He wasn’t entirely successful and he could see the answer in Hoss’s eyes.

“You did the best you could, Adam.”

“Well, my ‘best’ never seems to be enough.” He sighed. “Emily tried to tell me the same thing. But I walked out alive, again. And Gil is dead.”

“But you didn’t kill him.” Hoss tightened his jaw and swallowed. “I mean—” “I know.”

Hoss stood up to shift the logs in the fireplace and add a couple more. The two young men had decided to stay till morning. The Reverend and his lady would be by some time after ten, as was usual in these cases. Hoss frowned. They were right quick with the comfort, he thought; they’d better spend their time preventing the pain in the first place. He shook off his anger. Things were changing rapidly. Virginia City was growing, and the townships around it. He wondered how many more men would meet Gil Arminger’s fate. There was little need to ride out armed and ready to enforce a private brand of justice as his family so often had in the past. Though the law made cold comfort when faced with an immediate threat. He shook his head. Time and chance were cruel masters.

Adam stared into the fire. “It all happened so quickly. We were riding quietly — enough had been said when we met up… We all knew what we were doing was dangerous, but you never think…” He rubbed his fingers over the bridge of his nose, a gesture Hoss knew too well. “I should have told him to let Roy handle it. How many times have I told Pa that?”

 

“More ‘an he’d care ta hear, I reckon.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t follow my own advice.” Adam sank his head in his hand. “And now Gil is dead.” “What did Doc Martin give you?”

“Just something for the pain. Why?”

“Jest wonderin’.”

Adam looked at his brother from under frowning brows. “I’m not about to drop off, if that’s what you mean.” “Yep.” Hoss looked at Adam measuringly. “I suppose ya wouldn’t take it amiss if I asked Mz. A for a blanket.” “No — don’t wake her.”

“She ain’t asleep, Adam.”

Hoss returned from the back hall with a blanket, and, unknown to Adam, the sleeping draught that Doctor Martin had left for Emily. She seemed calm and accepting of her fate, and had readily given up the medicine for her friend. “I’ll sleep this afternoon, Hoss, once I have everything settled. I’m thinking of practicalities right now and I wouldn’t have a restful sleep no matter what I took.” Hoss wasn’t too pleased with this, either, but he had often seen women rise to the occasion, and he thought Emily fully capable of handling the next twenty-four hours without the doctor’s well-meaning interference.

Adam, on the other hand, did not need to be awake, but was stubbornly clinging to a consciousness that was only prolonging self-doubt and useless guilt. Hoss had no compunction in handing him the drug-laced coffee.

“What did you give me…” was the most Adam could get out as Hoss lowered him against the pillows on the couch.

Whispered voices brought Adam back to awareness.

“Shhh!”

He dragged open his eyes. His mouth felt dry and his mind clouded and he wondered where he was. The voices belonged to children, but there were no children on the Ponderosa. He took in his surroundings and the events of the night before returned to him in a rush. He was still at the Armingers’. Hoss had drugged him.

“He’s awake!”

There was a giggle and Adam noticed three little blond-haired imps peering at him over the back of the sofa. He couldn’t help but smile at their antics.

The oldest boy’s anxiety at waking their guest melted away when he saw that Adam wasn’t annoyed. “Good morning, Mr. Cartwright,” said Peter.

“Morning, boys. Where’s your mother?” “She’s in the kitchen with Uncle Hoss.”

An eyebrow rose at this form of address, but anything Adam was about to say was cut off by a gasp of pain as he tried to sit up. He thought better of the motion and sank back against the pillows and closed his eyes. Peter saw the white around his lips and ran off to get Hoss.

“Uncle Hoss, there’s somethin’ wrong with Adam. He tried to get up, but he couldn’t.”

Hoss rushed to the other room to find Adam lying with the blanket pushed down to his waist, but otherwise unchanged from when he had checked on him ten minutes before. “Adam?”

“Hmm.” Adam didn’t bother opening his eyes. “You want some coffee?”

“The same kind you gave me last night?”

Hoss put a hand on his brother’s forehead but Adam batted it away irritably. “I don’t have a fever. Would you just help me up?”

Hoss frowned. Adam must be in quite a bit of pain if he would consider asking for help. “You just stay there. I’m gonna get that medicine Doc left for ya.”

Adam opened his eyes and glared at Hoss. “Hoss, I need–”

“I know what you need,” he interrupted. “But you’re gonna have that medicine first.”

The boys followed Hoss into the kitchen, chattering the whole way. “You boys stay here with your mama while I get Adam all squared away. He’s as grumpy as an ol’ bear before his coffee in the morning an’ this morning is like ta be ten times as bad.”

The boys giggled. “No he’s not, Hoss. He smiled at us,” piped up little Samuel. “Yeah, well, he’s just tryin’ ta be polite as he’s a guest in your house.”

Emily finished mixing the medicine into a glass of water and handed the concoction to Hoss.

“He can have some coffee in a little bit, but he really ought to have some broth with that medicine. It’ll keep his stomach from getting upset.”

Hoss grinned. “I’ll be sure to tell him, but that ain’t gonna set well with him — he likes his breakfast, ma’am.”

“I’ll get him to drink some. He can have breakfast later. You get him up; I’ll put some hot water in the bedroom you used this morning.”

Hoss shook his head and went off to prepare his brother for his fate.

Adam was up and shaved, but was not interested in breakfast. He had waited too long to drink the cup of broth Emily brought him and was feeling decidedly queasy. Added to his misery was the pain his back which seemed to be intensifying, not easing, as he thought it would if he moved around. Hoss wanted to send Slim in to town for Doctor Martin and Adam was beginning to think it might be a good thing if he did.

He stood next to the kitchen table, unable to bring himself to sit in one of the chairs.

Emily turned from the stove to see him looking pale and uncertain. She’d been going through the motions of making breakfast without really thinking about it and she felt like a fog lifted from her mind when she saw his face. “Adam, are you all right?” She crossed to his side and tried to guide him into the chair but he pulled away from her, his jaw set and sweat appearing on his upper lip.

“No. I mean — I’m not really hungry. I think I should just go home.”

“Not in that condition, you’re not.” She crossed to the door and looked into the living room to see Hoss strapping on his gun belt.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

Hoss grimaced. “I’m gonna send Slim into town for Doc Martin, if that’s all right with you, ma’am. I don’t rightly know what to do with Adam. He’s hurtin’ awful bad. I was gonna ask Eddie to ride over to the Ponderosa and tell my pa we’ll need the buckboard, but I want the doc to look at him again before we try to take him home.”

Emily nodded. “That’s probably a good idea.” She frowned. “I’ll send Eddie in to town – I need him to ask Mr. Jeffers to come out, anyway.”

Adam stepped behind Emily and laid a hand gently on her shoulder. “I don’t need Doc Martin – just get the buckboard from the ranch, Hoss. Emily has things she needs to do.”

Emily turned to put an arm around Adam to draw him into the living room. “You can barely even walk, Adam. I’m not going to have you try to leave in your condition. I can talk to Mr. Jeffers with you here. Gil didn’t want anything elaborate.”

“But the people coming through the house – and you need to rest–”

“I’ll rest later. Right now I’m going to tell the men what to do and Hoss is going to get you back into bed.”

Adam’s dignity might have been ruffled by the preceding half-hour, but he had to admit that he felt better tucked up in bed. The thought of wearing more of Gil’s things disturbed him a little, but he felt cleaner and more comfortable than he had all morning. The muscles in his back were starting to relax under the hot towels that Emily had put over him and the lingering effects of the drug he had consumed the night before were lulling him back to sleep. He vaguely heard voices out in the living room but drifted off before he could place them.

Emily didn’t know what shocked Mrs. Jordan more – that Gil had died so suddenly and violently or that Adam Cartwright was sleeping in the back bedroom. She quelled her annoyance with the well-meaning woman and served coffee and scones under the baleful gaze of Adam’s younger brother.

Hoss had had just about enough of Mrs. Jordan and was impatiently awaiting his father’s arrival. He didn’t care how things looked – his brother was injured and he was staying put until the doctor said otherwise. He heard the sound of a vehicle being driven into the yard and leapt to his feet to see who it was. The doctor met him at the door, not his father, but it was a relief none-the-less to see a friendly face. Or what he thought would be a friendly face.

“I met Eddie on the road to town. I was going out to the Ponderosa to check on Adam. Why is he still here?” The doctor paused for a moment while Hoss took his coat and hat and he saw the Reverend and Mrs. Jordan sitting on the couch. “Mornin’ ma’am, Reverend. Mrs. Arminger.” Though obviously tired, Emily looked better than she had the night before. “Where is he?”

Emily rose from her chair and waved the reverend back to his seat. “He’s in the back bedroom. I’ll take you to him. Excuse us, Reverend, Mrs. Jordan.”

Adam was lying on his side, sleeping so peacefully that the doctor hated to wake him. Doctor Martin felt his forehead and then took his pulse. He drew back the covers and saw the towels laid across Adam’s back. “Was he having muscle spasms?” he asked quietly. Hoss nodded. “I was afraid of as much after seeing those bruises last night. Why is he sleeping so soundly?”

Hoss cleared his throat and looked uncomfortable. “He wouldn’t settle last night. I gave him the stuff you left for Emily to help her sleep.”

“On top of what I gave him for the pain?”

“Yes.”

“Did he have any of the pain medicine this morning?”

“Uh, yeah.” Hoss’s face screwed up in concern. “I didn’t hurt him none, did I?”

Doctor Martin grinned. “No, Hoss, you didn’t hurt him, but Adam isn’t going anywhere for a while. He’ll probably sleep all day, off and on, I’d figure. Most likely it’s for the best. When he does wake up, I want you to make him move slowly, encourage him to stretch a little – but don’t let him bend over too far. And don’t let him sleep in one position for more than an hour. I’ll come back to check on him tonight. If he seems agitated I might give him something additional to make him sleep. I don’t want him on a horse right now, and I’d prefer he not be jostled around in the back of a buckboard.”

“Yessir.” Hoss frowned. “You’re a mind-reader, Doc, we sent Slim over to the ranch for the buckboard. Wouldn’t he be better off at home? – Mizz Arminger’s gonna have a lot of people comin’ through the house today.”

“I don’t think Adam will hear much in this room, set back here as it is.”

Emily looked at down at Adam. “He felt sick this morning from the pain medicine. What can he eat?”

“Anything appetizing. No coffee. Keep up the warm towels if the muscles are in spasm. I would recommend ice, but I don’t think he’s up to that yet. Tomorrow.”

“I need to talk to the Jordans, Doctor. Is there anything else?” asked Emily.

Doctor Martin looked Emily over critically. “I want you to rest as soon as they leave. Hoss is right – soon you’ll have a houseful. I imagine Ben will be here pretty quick now. Let him take care of Adam and Hoss can watch the boys for you. I want you to stay off your feet as much as possible.” The doctor had his own suspicions about Emily’s condition, but she remained evasive and uncooperative. He hoped she knew what she was doing.

Emily gave him a knowing smile and promised to do her best.

Doctor Martin merely snorted as he turned back to his patient. “All right, let’s see what the rest of him looks like this morning.”

Emily scooted out of the room as the doctor started unbuttoning the nightshirt Adam was wearing.

Adam groaned at the pain in his back. Someone was trying to turn him over and he didn’t want to move. Movement meant pain and he just wanted to be left alone to sleep. He was so tired.

Was that Pa’s voice urging him to move?  What was the matter?  The last thing he remembered was… Emily.  Mrs. Arminger.  Hoss.  Hot towels and blessed relief from a dreadful cramping in his back.  Muted voicers and soft, clean sheets.

“Adam!”

“Mmm?”

“You have to turn over. The doc doesn’t want you to stay in one position for too long.”

That was definitely his father’s voice. Was he home again? Didn’t seem like his bed. He rolled on to his back and opened his eyes to see his father watching him worriedly.

“Pa?”

“Yes, I’ve been here for a while, son.”

“Where’s Em?” Adam asked drowsily.

“She’s resting. Is there anything I can get you?”

“Water.” He raised his hand to his head as he shifted against the pillows to sit up. “What’s the matter? Does your head hurt?”

“No, I’m dizzy. I don’t understand. I wasn’t this bad last night.” He took the glass of water from his father and drank it gratefully.

“Doc Martin said what he gave you for the pain, on top of the medicine Hoss gave you to help you sleep, would knock you out for most of the day.”

Adam set the glass on the bedside table and laid his head back against the pillows, eyes closed, and frowned slightly. “What time is it?”

“Eleven-thirty.”

“Were the Jordans by already?”

“Yes. They’ve gone now. Mrs. Fletcher and Essie Taylor will be here soon, with some food, I think.” “Mmm. Good. Somehow I managed to miss breakfast.”

Ben chuckled. “You think you can get out of that bed?”

Adam opened his eyes and looked askance at his father. “You’re kidding.”

“No. Doc said to get you up and make you stretch a little, several times a day.”

“Up and out before the ladies get here?”

His father raised an eyebrow. “Something like that.”

Adam pulled back the covers to get out of the bed. “If I can get out of bed then I want to go home, Pa. I don’t feel right imposing on Emily at a time like this.”

Ben put a hand under Adam’s arm and helped him stand. “Dizzy?” he asked.

“Not too bad. Pa–”

“Forget it. Doc Martin said you’re not to ride. He doesn’t even want you in the buckboard. You’re staying put for now.”

Adam was back in bed, half asleep, when he heard the thudding of little feet coming down the hall. There were several shushings outside the door and then a whispered conference. Ben grinned as the door slowly opened. “Hello, boys,” he said softly. “What are you up to?”

“Mama says lunch is here,” said Matthew in a loud whisper.

Adam’s lips lifted a little and he opened one eye to look at the boys.

“Hey. He’s awake.” Samuel ran over to the bed and climbed into it before Ben could stop him. The little boy shook Adam’s shoulder. “You want some lunch, Mr. Cartwright? Mama says you hafta eat. She says you can eat in bed. Are you still sick? I never want ta eat when I’m sick. But when it’s just a cold Mama lets me eat in bed. Usually it’s in this bed ‘cause this is the warmest room in the house ‘ceptin the kitchen. If we all eat good Mama’s going to take us for a walk. She says we need to get out of the house some an’ we all need to have a talk.”

Peter flushed as he watched his youngest brother bend their guest’s ear with too much ‘talk.’ “Sammy, get outa that bed. Mr. Cartwright don’t wanna listen to your jibber-jabber.”

Ben started to move towards the boy, but Adam waved him off. “Tell Emily I’ll eat whenever they’re ready.” He put an arm around Samuel and drew him against his side. “I don’t mind his ‘jibber-jabber,’ Peter; it’s been kinda too quiet in here this morning.” He patted the bed. “Sit down and tell me what you boys have been doing.”

When Emily brought the tray in a few minutes later it was to see Adam sitting up in bed, surrounded by her sons, who seemed to be holding forth on the events of the morning. For a second her breath caught – it looked too much like her husband and the boys on Sunday mornings before they got ready for church. She set the tray down on the table next to the bed. “Boys, you go get washed.” She tried to keep her words bright, but to her dismay her voice wavered at the end. “Mr. Cartwright and Hoss are waiting for you to eat lunch.”

Peter had known something was wrong all morning. His mother had put off their questions about their father, and her tears only added to the bad feeling that had been growing inside him. He slid off the bed and pulled at his younger brothers. “Come on – I want ta hear more of Uncle Hoss’s stories.”

The boys ran out of the room and Emily pulled the covers back up around Adam. “I think you’re going to need another pillow if you’re not going to spill your lunch all over yourself.” She turned to leave the room but Adam caught at her hand and pulled her down on to the bed. “Don’t, Adam. I need a minute or I’ll start again.”

He looked at her measuringly, then let go of her hand. “All right. But you come right back with that pillow – I don’t want a cold lunch!”

“Mama?” “Yes, dear.”

Peter looked up at his mother. They’d eaten a good lunch and said their good-byes to the elder Cartwright, who was going to return to his own ranch when he finished talking to the sheriff. Peter liked Mr. Cartwright, but he found his booming voice and jolly manner a little frightening. He thought the grownups were all worried about something. He didn’t know if it was because Mr. Adam was hurt – Mr. Cartwright had looked downright grim when he came that morning to fetch his son. He wondered if it was about his pa. No one would say where he was. Though afraid of what he might find inside, Peter had tried the door to his parents’ bedroom before they left for their walk and found it still locked. It was never locked.

“Where’s Papa?”

“Papa’s asleep, Peter.”

“Asleep like the preacher says?” Peter prodded, afraid of the answer, but wanting to settle the thing in his mind. “Yes, dear.”

Peter watched his brothers as they skipped along ahead, excited to be out in the chill air. Peter felt that chill seep into him as he thought about his father. “Why, Mama?”

“Some men where trying to steal our cattle. Your father and Mr. Cartwright were trying to stop them.” “Did, did they shoot Papa?”

“Yes.” Emily bit her lip, trying to keep the tears from falling.

“An’ hurt Mr. Cartwright?”

“Yes.”

The walked quietly for a minute while Peter contemplated life without his beloved papa. “Why, Mama? Why’d they have to kill him? Papa would have given ‘em the beef if they was hungry.”

“They weren’t hungry, son, they were stealing to make money.”

“Oh.” Peter’s eyes finally welled up with tears. His cry of “Oh, Mama–” caught the attention of his brothers and they turned to see their usually stoic brother crying in their mother’s arms.

Adam came awake to hear the deep rumble of his father’s voice punctuated by the softer tones of Hoss’s disagreement. They were arguing about something and Roy was out there, too. “I don’t care what the judge said, they had three hundred head of cattle with the Ponderosa brand on ‘em and a hundred ‘n fifty of Gil’s.” Adam couldn’t make out Roy’s response, but heard his father’s. “That fence wasn’t broken, it was cut. An’ beeves don’t go down into a draw like that, not so many, someone has to drive ‘em!” This last was said in a roar.

“Pa, you know the doc wouldn’t want Adam ta hear you yelling; you’re just gonna hafta calm down.” “No no-account rustlers are gonna charge my son with murder!”

“Murder?” Adam whispered. He flicked back the covers and tried, as carefully as possible, to roll out of bed. He swayed and grabbed hold of the bedpost, cursing his weakness and Hoss’s duplicitousness.

“Where do ya think you’re going?”

Hoss stood inside the doorway, arms akimbo, stern expression on his face. “You jest get back into that bed, Adam. There’s nothin’ you can do right know about anything you heard.”

“Hoss–”

Hoss crossed to his brother and helped him back into bed. Adam rolled over on to his side and brought his knees up to try to ease the muscle spasms that had started up again. “You hold on there, brother, I’m gonna get something for ya.”

“I’m sure you will,” Adam said wryly, shutting his eyes tightly against the pain.

Hoss’s booming “Pa!” made him think it would be hot towels, not drugs this time, though.

“—but that’s their story, Ben, an’ they got as much right to tell their side as Adam does his. Now, Adam’s got two witnesses that say as the other fellas got off the first shot and hit Adam, then they got Arminger.”

The two older men entered the room, and Roy continued: “Of course, as Slim and Eddie were involved in the fight the settlers are sayin’ they ain’t reliable witnesses.”

“They’re no more settlers than I’m a, a boot-maker!” Ben seethed. Adam smiled a little at his father’s expression.

“Oh, so you think it’s funny, hmm, Adam?”

Adam did think it was funny and wondered if the medicines were affecting his mind. He found listening to an irascible Ben Cartwright arguing with his old friend somehow comforting, and he could feel the tension drain out of him, his back muscles slowly untighten and the pain recede somewhat.

Ben could see Adam visibly relax, the lines of pain easing in his face. “I suppose you heard our discussion.”

Adam’s lips quirked again, but he didn’t open his eyes. “That ‘discussion’ could wake the–” He stopped and opened his eyes. “Yes, I heard,” he finished simply.

After a moment he continued: “From what I could see they were provisioned out like settlers. But some of that stuff only rustlers would have.” He sighed and let his eyelids drift closed. “Get a couple of good trackers out there, get ‘em to look over the site. It should be clear to them what happened.”

Roy nodded. “That was my thinking, too. But they’re saying they bought those irons off a man that said they’d need ‘em if they was gonna be ranchers.”

Adam grunted and opened his eyes again. “Think the judge’ll believe that?”

Roy scratched at his cheek and jutted out his chin. “Well, now, seein’ as how it wasn’t all packed away, I think he’ll have a hard time believing that yarn.”

Hoss came in as the sheriff was speaking and, with practiced ease, quickly wrapped Adam’s back in hot towels.

Roy watched the procedure with detached interest, Ben with concern at the ever-deepening hues of the bruises on his son’s back.

“Only problem is,” Roy continued, “is that none of them beeves’ brands was changed yet.” He looked at Hoss. “I got Adam’s story last night an’ that’ll be good enough for the judge, but he wants you, Slim, and Eddie to come to town.” He shifted his gaze to Ben. “And if you can keep from yelling, Ben, I’d like to have you come in too. I think we can keep this from comin’ to trial if we lay it all out, nice ‘n logical, for the judge.”

“Trial for whom?” asked Adam drowsily.

“Now you just let me worry about that, son,” said Roy.

“How long you reckon all this is gonna take, Roy?” Hoss asked. “Someone has to be here to take care of Adam.” “Shouldn’t take more than a couple, maybe four hours.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Hoss grinned suddenly. “House’ll be filled with a bunch of women in a couple of hours, anyway.” Adam grimaced at the thought and Ben and Roy laughed.

“You don’t want a bunch of women fussin’ at you, brother?” Hoss teased.

“I think Emily said Essie Taylor would be back; she’ll defend me.”

“If she doesn’t try to stuff you full of food first. You tell her I’ll be here t’night and I want one of those meat pies.”

Adam’s smile was faint and vague. He knew Hoss was trying to divert his attention from his problems, but somehow a looming murder charge seemed more worrisome than the prospect of being fussed over by a pack of well-meaning church ladies. He directed his next words to his father. “I can move around fine; Doc Martin will be here tonight. I’ll rest easier if I know you’re in town getting this straightened out.”

Ben looked as if he would protest, but Adam continued firmly: “Go, Pa. You’re more help to me in town than here.”

Ben studied his son’s face and, satisfied with what he saw, gave Adam’s arm a light squeeze. “All right, son. I suppose if Paul is going to be out to check on you…”

“Adam. Adam?” “Jus’ wanna sleep…”

“You have to roll over, and I’m not Hoss – I can’t flip you. Wake up!” Despite her words, Emily pushed on Adam to roll him on to his back.

Adam came fully awake as he rolled over, the ache in his back intensifying for a moment and then subsiding. “How do you feel?”

“Better. Doesn’t hurt so much.” He put a hand up to cover a yawn and he studied Emily’s face while she pulled the blankets back up around his shoulders.

“Do you need anything?”

“No. Thanks.” He reached a hand out to stay her busy movements. “How are the kids?” “Peter is in the kitchen with Essie. Samuel and Matthew are napping.”

His grasp on her arm was light. “Emily.”

She met his eyes finally and spoke reluctantly. “Only Peter really understood. Samuel and Matthew are too young.” She sat on the edge of the bed, knowing that Adam expected more, but unable to put her thoughts into words.

“They are too young, but they’ll eventually understand. I did. And talking about Gil will make him live longer in their memories.”

“Not today – I can’t.” She looked down at her lap and straightened the pleats of her skirt. “How I wish my family were closer. Essie will watch the children, they’ve always liked her, but it’s not like having my sisters here.” She tried to take a deep breath, but it seemed to catch in her throat and she began to cry despite her attempt to control her emotions. She searched the pockets of her skirt for her handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes with the small scrap of muslin. She stood abruptly and paced the room, trying to calm herself.

“You need rest, Em. Go lie down.”

“I know, Adam. I just don’t want to be alone right now.” “Well…pull up that rocking chair and tell me all about Ohio.”

Essie stopped dead in the door as she went to look in on young Mr. Cartwright. He was lying on his side, turned towards Emily. Emily had her head cradled in her arms, which were resting on the bed beside him. His hand was lying on the nape of her neck, as if to comfort, but there was no low-voiced conversation, as Essie had thought at first, only the quiet of restful slumber. Essie stepped closer to the sleeping pair and sent a small prayer heavenward as a floor-board creaked beneath her feet. Adam Cartwright’s eyes opened and he shook his head slightly at her silent query.

Essie didn’t know whether to scold or to try to get Emily to bed. She settled on frowning at Adam as she started to ease Emily out of the chair and up over the edge of the bed. Adam returned the frown, but moved out of the way, shaking his head again. Emily sighed but did not wake up as Essie covered her with the comforter that had been on the chest at the base of the bed. Satisfied that her charge would sleep, she winked at Adam. He gave her an exasperated look and, after she left the room, ignoring his displeasure, he soon fell asleep to dream of irate fathers armed with shotguns.

“I want my mama!”

“Shh. Your mama is sleeping, young man. She needs her rest, and she isn’t going to get it if you set up a screech.” Samuel struggled in Essie’s arms and again cried for his mother.

“I wanna see my mama!”

“Samuel Arminger, your mama didn’t sleep last night; she needs to sleep now.”

Sammy dragged his sleeve across his eyes and sniffed. “Is she d…dead?”

Essie finally understood the boy’s anxiety. “No, my sweet, she really is just asleep. Would you like to see her?” Sammy nodded silently.

“All right, but you must stay quiet. Don’t say anything while you’re in the room.”

“Y…yes, ma’am.”

Essie carried the boy to the back bedroom and silently opened the door, thankful for its well-oiled hinges.

Heavy velvet drapes drawn tightly against the afternoon sun made the room dim, but Sammy could see his mother lying in the bed under their best eiderdown. When they reached the bed he leaned down to inspect his mother closely. She was breathing evenly. A small, scared part of him didn’t believe what he saw and he wanted to touch her and kiss her and make her talk to him, but Essie saw the impulse to touch and she pulled back and shook her head. She gave the boy an encouraging smile and pointed to Mr. Cartwright. He was lying on his back, one arm flung out towards Sammy’s mother, the other across his chest. His mouth was open and he was snoring lightly. Sammy grinned at the sight.

Essie tapped the side of her teacup as she considered whether to awaken Emily. It was five o’clock and the ladies would be arriving soon with dinner. The children were playing quietly in their room, Mr. Jeffers had done his work quickly and discreetly and Gil was laid out in a corner of the living room, surrounded by ferns and flowers. The hour Emily had spent with Mr. Jeffers would produce a fitting conclusion to Gil’s life, if there could be such a thing, Essie thought bitterly. The black dress which Emily had had M’mselle alter off the rack had just been delivered, as had the little grey suits the boys would wear for the next two days. Essie sighed. She hoped the Cartwright men would return soon; it would be decidedly odd for only Adam to be in the house, however badly injured he was.

She finished her tea and rose to her feet. Emily would have to change now while Essie got the boys ready. Essie ran an experienced eye over the living room and its silent occupant. All was ready.

Emily stirred and stretched a little as she woke up. There was another quiet knock on the door and she murmured “Kids…” She reached out to Gil and ran her hand down his back. She slid closer to him and put her arm around his waist, giving him a light squeeze to wake him up. But he seemed to be under the covers and she over them. “Adam!” She uttered a despair-filled: “Oh, no – Gil!” and felt a warm hand push aside the covers to squeeze her own. It was Gil’s nightshirt that she reflexively clutched at, the familiar scent of the sachets she made every summer lingering in the fabric hours out of the drawer, filling her heart with a tearing grief to know that the man who wore it was not her husband, and that she would never hold Gil like this again. A quick, fleeting wish that it had been Gil who’d lived, not Adam, made her tighten her grip on him in guilt, and she clenched her eyes shut in a vain attempt to stop her tears.

Adam opened his eyes to see the room dark, except for a sliver of light let in by the open door. Emily was clinging to him, and he could feel her shudder with silent sobs.

“Emily?”

“She’s awake, Mrs. Taylor,” Adam replied. “Give her a few minutes, please?”

“As you wish.” She thought she could hear Emily crying but stifled the impulse to go to her. “Remind her that there will be people in the house soon.”

“Yes, thank you.”

Essie closed the door and Emily sat up after a few moments, tears streaming down her face, her quiet sobbing checked as she took in her surroundings. “I’m sorry, Adam, I don’t know how I came to –”

“It’s all right. Essie didn’t want to wake you by trying to move you to your room.”

“Oh.” Emily put a hand to her chest and felt the looseness of her blouse and stays. “I’m half undressed!”

Adam flushed in the dark and turned away from her again. The ill-considered movement sent a flash of pain through his back and his next words came out more harshly than he’d intended. “Well, get yourself together – I can’t see a thing, anyway. I suppose Essie thought you’d be more comfortable that way.” He continued more evenly over the rustling sounds of Emily pulling her corset tight and refastening her blouse and skirt. “What arrangements did you make?”

“The funeral will be tomorrow – I wish you could come out to the cemetery – I think Joe is going to stay with you. Maybe if you feel up to it tonight you can go out to the parlor. I don’t know if the doctor will let you participate in the funeral. I wasn’t counting on it if you can’t, or if he won’t. You were Gil’s friend,” her voice broke at this, “and he’d want you to speak.”

“Yes,” said Adam softly. “I suppose he would.”

Adam was up and walking around, but only because he couldn’t bear to be in bed any longer. The pain medicine and the sleeping draught he’d been given had both worn off to leave him aching and feeling nauseous. Essie bustled into his room to find him pacing in a vain attempt to warm up his muscles and stave off being sick.

“What are you doing out of bed, young man?” “Did Joe come with some clothes for me?”

“No, little Joe isn’t here yet. And I don’t know what you’ll do with clothes, except for your own nightshirt and robe. Now, you get back into that bed and I’ll bring you some supper.”

Adam paled at the thought of food but obeyed Essie and got into bed, sitting up against a pile of pillows that Essie had fluffed while she was speaking.

She looked at him closely and didn’t like what she saw. “I think you need Doc Martin more than Little Joe. Would you like some broth or some tea?”

“I really don’t think…” He looked positively green and finally got out: “Would you bring a basin, I think I might need it.” “Oh, dearie – of course!” She hurried out of the room.

Mrs. Jordan stopped her on her dash into the kitchen. “What’s wrong, Essie?”

Essie was rummaging through the pantry and pulled out an old chipped basin. “Adam Cartwright isn’t feeling at all well – he’s been asking for his brother,” she said distractedly and somewhat inaccurately. “I wonder if I ought to send Eddie for Dr. Martin now,” she mused, half to herself.

“I thought he had engaged in fisticuffs and was merely grazed by a bullet–”

“Mmm – he hurt his back and is in a lot of pain; I think the medicine the doctor gave him is making him sick.” Her eyes finally focused on the minister’s wife with suspicion. “Have you been talking to people about him, Moira? You know I don’t hold with gossip and for a minister’s wife you have a mighty busy tongue.”

“Well, I never–”

“Yes, you have, and I don’t hold any truck with that kind of nonsense. Adam Cartwright is here because he was injured

trying to defend his and his friend’s property, and the doc wanted him to stay put. So you keep your nasty little suspicions to yourself, missus.”

“Of all the impertinent–”

“Yep, always has been a failing of mine. If I’ve wronged you I’m sorry, but I don’t have time right now to fuss about it.” She lifted the bowl and its contents of cloths, hot bricks, and warm towels and put it on her hip. She grabbed a pitcher of water and left the room and a very insulted Mrs. Jordan behind in a flurry of movement.

Joe Cartwright stepped into his brother’s room to see Adam sitting up in bed, eyes closed, brow furrowed, and almost as pale as the pillows he was leaning against. It never ceased to amaze Joe how dark his brother got in the summer and then how white his skin turned in the winter. But this whiteness was even lighter than the faded tan of two days before. “Hey, Adam,” he said softly.

Adam opened his eyes and looked so relieved that Joe wanted to laugh. “Joe.”

Joe crossed the room and sat on the bed, touching Adam’s cheek with the back of his fingers. “I hear you’re not feeling too great.”

Adam smiled a little and closed his eyes again. “You might say that.” “You gonna keep your eyes closed the whole time I’m here?”

“Don’t feel so sick when I keep ‘em closed.”

Joe’s brows snapped together in concern. “You hit your head?”

“No. I’ll feel better once I eat something.”

“There’s an awful lot of food out there – you want me to make you up a tray?”

The words had hardly left his lips when Essie pushed open the door and entered with a tray containing beef broth, thin slices of toast, and a glass of milk.

“That’s all you’re gonna feed him?” Joe asked incredulously.

Essie ignored Joe as she set the tray on the table by the bed, only answering after she had tucked a napkin into his brother’s nightshirt. “This is all he can take right now, Little Joe.” She turned gave him a stern look. “Now don’t you go riling up your brother, Joseph.”

“‘Riling up’ is part of the Joe cure, Essie,” interjected Adam with a smile. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Taylor, I know how to treat an invalid.”

“Invalid? Little Joe–”

Essie smiled as she closed the door behind her, pleased at the sight of a little color returning to the eldest Cartwright son’s cheeks, and his absentminded nibbling on his toast as his brother teased him. Joseph was just what Adam needed, apparently.

Adam finished his supper and gave his brother a lop-sided grin. “That steer charged you last winter, not today, Joe – I heard you telling Hoss about it then.” Joe blushed and started to defend himself but Adam held up his hand. “It’s all right. It’s a very funny story. But either I look like death warmed over or there is something really bothering you.” Worry creased Adam’s brow, and Joe hastened to set his brother’s mind at ease.

“You look like death warmed over,” he said with a grin. “Nothin’s wrong. Just thought you’d eat better if you weren’t thinking about how you felt. Would you like something more to eat?”

“No. Thank you. A couple of days of eating like this won’t hurt me.” He frowned, still thinking Joe was hiding something from him. “Do you think you could tell me what is really bothering you?”

“Nothin’.”

Adam inspected his brother closely. Joe had matured a great deal in the past few years, and was no longer an impulsive boy, but a responsible and able man whom Adam trusted implicitly. If something was worrying him, Adam thought he probably had very good cause to be concerned.

“Something is wrong out there, Adam,” Joe said finally. “Everyone is here, doing what’s proper, I ‘spose, and I don’t think Emily has noticed, but –” He stopped and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t think it’s that you had to shoot those rustlers, but I overheard Brownie saying something about it bein’ awfully convenient, those rustlers, and then he stopped when he realized I was behind him. I don’t know what he meant.”

Adam took a deep breath, or tried to, but the pain from his bruised ribs stopped the action short. The medicine the doc had given him had definitely worn off. His mind felt clear for the first time that day and he frowned as he reviewed the events of the previous twenty-four hours. “Joe, send Essie in here, would you. And get me my dressing gown.”

“What do you have in mind?”

Adam had looked grim, now he was starting to look very angry. “Brownie always did have a big mouth. I’m going to shut it for him.”

“Uh, Adam, I don’t think you’re goin’ anywhere. Why don’t you tell me what this is all about and I’ll go talk to him?” “Brownie doesn’t listen to words – he’s always gotta learn the hard way.”

“Well, you’re not going to do the learnin’ this time, big brother – you’re gonna stay in that bed.”

Adam put his head back and squeezed his eyes shut against a vicious muscle spasm. “Just get Essie, Joe,” he managed to get out.

“I will, but not for the reason you’re thinking, I’m sure.” Joe ran out of the room to find Emily’s friend.

He found her in the living room, up by the casket, quietly talking to one of Gil’s friends. “Essie, come quick – did the Doc leave any medicine for Adam? He’s in pretty bad shape.”

Essie excused herself and hurried through the room after Joe. “There’s some in the kitchen, but Adam didn’t want to take any more – it made him sick.”

“Well, he needs something, cause he’s –” They had reached the door to Adam’s room and Joe stopped, stunned. “—out of bed,” he finished angrily. “What are you doing up?” Several people had followed the two down the hall, but Joe didn’t care. “Get back in bed – you’ll do more damage to yourself.”

Adam glared at his brother before his gaze shifted to someone behind Joe. He took a shaky step forward and pointed his finger at the man. “You – I want to talk to you.” He advanced on the small group of people by the door and they shrank back against the walls, well aware of the young man’s fury, and strength. Adam Cartwright at close quarters, even in a nightshirt, with his feet bare and his hair tousled, and injured, seemed still to be a force to be reckoned with, and no one in the room had any wish to intervene.

“You always did have a big mouth, Brownie. Is there something you’d like to say to me, or a question you’d like to ask, before you jump to conclusions, as usual?”

Joe put a hand on Adam’s arm, but his brother shook it off impatiently.

“I’ve done it before and I’ll do it again; did you think I wouldn’t? – she’s worth a hundred of the last,” he said obliquely and fiercely.

Brownie paled slightly. Cartwright was fair shaking with anger, and pain, he thought, but despite the young man’s obvious suffering, was still ready to fight. “I didn’t say anything that some others haven’t, boy.”

Adam advanced on him and Brownie backed out of the room and into the hallway. “Which others? They come here to comfort and instead accuse?” His hands clenched into fists which Brownie watched with a sick fascination, sure that he’d be feeling them at any moment.

Emily had been gazing abstractedly at her husband’s body, numb and exhausted by the well-wishers, though it was early in the evening yet, when she heard raised voices in the back hall. She tilted her head to hear better and thought she heard Adam’s voice raised in anger. Wondering what was going on, she rose smoothly from her chair and waved the children back when they showed an inclination to rush towards the commotion. She pushed aside her guests to see a man on the older side of middle age backing away from Adam, who was stalking after him: Adam was as pale as he was angry, and Emily was taken aback by the hostility that emanated from her usually gentle friend.

Brownie started getting angry himself, and, unaware that the lady was behind him, egged Adam on. “She really worth a hundred of the last one, Adam Cartwright? She must be good.” Half the people had not been in Virginia City five years before, but those who had gasped, as they finally understood what the argument was about.

Adam growled and lunged at the other man, pulling back his fist to the sound of his brother’s loud: “Adam, no!” Joe grabbed at Adam’s arm but missed and Adam connected solidly with his tormentor’s chin and Brownie went crashing back into the living room, barely missing Emily. Adam swayed but stayed on his feet as Emily rushed to him and put her arm

around his waist. “Adam! What on earth are you fighting about? Why are you out of bed?”

“Stay out of the way, Emily.” He set her aside gently and advanced on his quarry, his legs starting to shake as the pain from his back radiated downward, making every step an agony. Brownie pulled himself to his feet, and not knowing Adam was simply going to ask for an apology, struck out at the younger man, using his momentum from rising to power a punch that laid the younger man out cold.

“Adam!” cried Emily, raising one hand to her mouth while she gathered her skirts with the other. Adam lay unmoving while she threw herself down by his side and felt for a pulse at the base of his throat.

Joe shouldered his way through the crowd and knelt by his fallen sibling. Adam was breathing, but he’d hit the floor hard and Joe cringed at the possibility that he had added a concussion to his other injuries.

He rose and turned to Brownie, who was feeling his jaw and regarding the crowd of onlookers with defensive animosity. “He started it,” the older man tried.

Joe looked at him with barely suppressed contempt, puzzled at the man’s behavior. “You just had to rub it in – you know it’s like waving a red flag in front of Adam, to repeat something like that. And you owe the widow an apology.”

“Didn’t say anything they weren’t thinking,” he said, jerking his head towards the group of mourners. “Little Sammy said–

“I don’t care what Sammy said,” Joe interrupted. “You apologize to the lady and get out of here. You know better than to say something like that at a time like this.”

Brownie ground his teeth together for a moment and then turned to Emily. He touched a finger to where his hat would be and said: “My apologies, ma’am, seems I was mistaken. An’ my condolences on the loss of your husband.”

Emily looked up at him with wide eyes, hurt and confused, and he felt the first stirrings of remorse. “Joe’s right, I have more mouth than sense, sometimes. G’night ma’am.”

“Any that has the same thought can go,” Essie said with determination. “I know what Sammy said, but he didn’t know the whole, he’s a child. Now the rest of you stop acting like children and be a help to Emily instead of a hindrance.”

A couple of the men moved forward to carry Adam back to his bed, and the women closed around Emily to help her to a chair. Joe shot a look over his shoulder at Essie as he followed the men to Adam’s room. She caught the quick glance and shook her head, mouthing ‘later.’

Adam grunted his assent and Paul twitched Adam’s drawers a little lower and started by pressing his fingers to the base of his spine.  “Tell me when it hurts.”  He was half-way to Adam’s shoulder-blades before he gave any sign of discomfort.

“—and get it up to his shoulders, Joe, and don’t raise his arms – I’ll look at his back and then we can turn him over so I can see those ribs.”

Adam felt the relatively colder air of the room hit his skin between the top of his drawers and where his nightshirt was being pushed up over his shoulder-blades. He realized he was back in bed, face down, and as his vision cleared he saw Paul Martin turning from opening a bottle of something on the nightstand. The pungent smell of liniment reached his nostrils and he groaned.

“Adam?” Dr. Martin leaned over to look into his eyes. “You back with us?” “Yes,” said Adam, half into the pillow. “Don’t want that stuff – it burns.”

Dr. Martin patted his shoulder and pulled the dressing off the long weal across his back. “Yes, I know, but it works. How’s your head feel?”

Adam thought for a moment, trying to sort out his various pains. “Hurts.”

Satisfied that the long wound across his back had fared better than he’d hoped, Dr. Martin squatted down and looked into his eyes – if he’d known Adam was going to wake up so soon he’d have waited to turn him over. “Uh, hum,” he said encouragingly, pulling back Adam’s eyelids a little to see how his pupils would react.

“Jaw hurts.”

“I’m sure it does – you’ve acquired a new bruise since I was here last. You’re luckier that you deserve, Adam. No broken teeth, jaw’s intact, and you don’t seem to have a concussion. Now that the bruises on your back have all come out I’m just going to probe it a bit and I want you to tell me how much and where it hurts.”

“There?”

“Yes, but not much. It’s spread across my back, not along my backbone.”

“That’s good. I don’t think you have any nerve damage – you should heal quickly. You have some deep bruising — and I suppose you kept fighting and you pulled the damaged muscles. Did you pick up anything heavy during or after the fight? Last night’s fight, not tonight’s,” he added, looking steadily at Adam as he picked up a jar of ointment.

“No.” He closed his eyes and turned his face further into the pillow. “Well, not exactly heavy.” “What do you mean, ‘not exactly heavy’?”

“Joe – are you still here?”

“Yeah, Adam.”

“Would you go out in the hall for a few minutes? Please.”

Dr. Martin looked up from bandaging Adam and nodded at Joe.

“Sure.” He squeezed his brother’s shoulder. “You call when you need me.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Joe.”

Paul scooped out some of the liniment and started to rub it into his patient’s suddenly tense muscles. Adam sucked in air through his teeth. “Couldn’t that wait?”

“No. Now, what did you want to tell me?”

“I picked up Emily.”

“Oh. She weighs about a hundred pounds. Suppose that would do it.” He eyed Adam thoughtfully. “And why did you pick her up?”

Adam finally looked up at the doctor. “She fainted.”

“Oh. And neither of you saw fit to tell me.” Paul finished with the liniment and pulled Adam’s drawers back into place. “You know, she miscarried twice last year. If she’s pregnant–”

Adam could feel his back start to tense up again. He hadn’t known about the miscarriages. “She is.”

Paul sighed and shook his head, re-capping the liniment and cleaning his hands. “I can see not wanting to put up a public notice, but to not tell me–”

“You would have stuck her in bed. People would ask questions. She wouldn’t want all that fuss.”

“If you don’t calm down, I’m going to give you something to knock you out again. What is the matter with you, Adam? It’s not like you to get so agitated.”

Adam’s answer was mostly muffled by the pillow, but Paul could still make it out. “It’s my fault.” “What’s your fault, Adam?” Paul gently pulled at his shoulder. “I want you to turn over.”

Adam levered himself over onto his back, clenching his jaw against the pain that rippled through his muscles. He didn’t answer for a moment, but put an arm over his eyes as Paul inspected his bruised ribs. “I should have told Gil that we should get Roy. I know how dangerous it is to take on rustlers without a posse. Never should have done it. Gil would be alive. Those kids would have a father; Emily would have a husband.”

“Your ribs look fine – no more damage.” Paul pulled down Adam’s nightshirt, pulled the bed-clothes up to Adam’s waist, and pushed at the open placket of the nightshirt to have a look at the bullet wound. “Adam, I don’t know what would have happened if you had gotten the sheriff, but you and Gil would have been in that posse and he still could have been killed. Odds would have been lower, of course, but someone might have been killed. Gil was never one to hang back and let others do the work.” Paul put a fresh dressing on the bullet wound, which had re-opened during the fight. “I don’t like all the violence here. I don’t like telling people their love-one is dead; don’t like patching up the endless results of all the gunplay. Even more ‘civilized’ parts have problems, though. There seems to be no end to man’s ability to take, and harm his neighbor doin’ it. Don’t you go blaming yourself – and don’t brood on it. Gil coulda stepped on a nail next week and died of lockjaw. You’re not God an’ you don’t run things. You always did have trouble with that idea, Adam.” He poured a glass of water from the carafe on the bedside table and mixed a packet of powder into it.

“What’s that?” asked Adam, eying the glass suspiciously.

“It’s not the same medicine that made you sick.” He helped Adam sit up and watched him obediently drink the mixture. “It will dull the pain, but it is more soporific than pain medicine.”

Ben Cartwright looked down at his sleeping son and sighed. Only a slightly swelling bruise along his jaw gave evidence of the events of the past twenty-four hours. Ben hoped that the healing power of drug-induced sleep would nip in the bud a round of useless self-recrimination that Paul warned him Adam had started. He sank into the chair by the window and contemplated viscous thieves, stubborn judges, lying witnesses, recalcitrant icemen, and gossiping town-folk. Then to be met with the news that his normally self-controlled son had risen out of his sick-bed to attack Browning, further injuring his sprained back, and ultimately confirming in people’s minds the very notion that he’d tried to put paid to…

The door swung open and Emily came into the room, lamp in hand. Fatigued-shadowed eyes fell first on Ben and then on Adam, one silent question hanging in the air as she asked another. “How is he?”

“He’s fine. Whatever Doc gave him really knocked him out.”

She crossed to the bed and laid the back of her hand on his cheek and forehead. “No fever.” “No, you did a real fine job of cleaning him up. Those wounds aren’t bad. He’ll heal, despite–”

Emily continued staring at Adam, but interrupted Ben, giving voice to the matter which was uppermost in both their minds. “I don’t know what possessed him, to go off like that.”

“I do,” said Ben softly.

A faint tinge of color washed Emily’s cheeks and she shifted her gaze from Adam’s face to the floor. “To even think such a thing, and now–”

“No – it wasn’t the talk, it’s everything that happened. He blames himself.” “But nothing that happened was his fault.”

“I know that, and you know it, but Adam won’t.” Ben leaned forward in his chair. “Emily, I know my son, and I know what he has in mind. He’s going to make it his mission to see that you don’t suffer from his mistakes.” Emily opened her mouth to speak, but Ben stopped her with a raised hand. “That’s his perception, and I’m telling you, that is what he is going to do.” Ben stood and walked over to the bed and stared down at his son. “I’m asking this now, not to burden you, but to warn you and ask a favor of you.” Emily looked at him, puzzled, but he kept his eyes on his firstborn. “Take his comfort and let him be your friend, but don’t exhaust him. I did, almost, when Marie died. Talk to Essie, or Mrs. Fletcher, or any of your friends; then go to Adam. Adam’ll try to put his stamp on this place – he can’t help but want to run things… don’t let ‘im. Eddie is one of the best foremen in these parts – let him have his head.” Ben raised his eyes to Emily’s. “I’m going to be very blunt – I don’t want to hurt you, but I don’t want to see *Adam* hurt. “Don’t lead him on and don’t use him. He’s not your husband, nor ever is like to be – for the life of me I can’t understand why he’s always a day late and a dollar short, but he just never gets it right with women, and like he won’t with you.”

Emily looked very angry and Ben was pleased to see some animation in her face. Grief had not made her so numb that she couldn’t defend herself. “Thank you for the warning, Mr. Cartwright. I hope I’m the kind of woman that would never impose on anyone’s good will, let alone a friend’s. And I think Adam is very well able to take care of himself.”

Ben grunted. “Sometimes.”

“Well, that’s as may be,” she said sharply, “but I’ve taken care of a place before by myself, and I can do it again.” Ben raised his eyebrows at this. “You knew there’d be an end to that – and Gil was here waiting for you.”

Emily couldn’t stop the blush that flamed in her cheeks at Ben’s blunt words. “I’ll not act the lonely widow, Mr. Cartwright. My life is full enough.”

Ben smiled. “Good girl.” He put a hand on his son’s head, smoothing the curls that always sprang up despite Adam’s best efforts to tame them. Adam rarely faltered in his well-disciplined life. Ben hoped that today’s explosion of temper and angst would be the end of it, not the beginning of something worse.

“Where were you?”

The question was simple enough, but Adam Cartwright bristled at the implication. It wasn’t that his father hadn’t the right to ask, Adam still lived under his roof, after all, but the careful scrutiny with which his father had greeted him, and the obvious concern over his behavior, irked the thirty-three year-old. He was his own man, and if he chose to spend the long November evenings at the Arminger ranch, it was none of his father’s business.

He had made good on his promise to Gil. Emily and the boys were set for the winter. Eddie and Slim were staying on, and Adam and Eddie had let the word out that the Buckeye would be hiring come spring. If the firewood was piled higher than Gil had ever thought necessary, or if there were more winter stores in the cellar, Adam thought he couldn’t be faulted. With no one but the two remaining hands around, one couldn’t be too careful in laying to a little extra for what could be a difficult season.

Ben was worried. Emily’s entrance at church the week before had occasioned some talk. Normally he would ignore the old biddies, but his concern for his son and his anger over the previous gossip sharpened his usually dull, man’s social ear. The look that Adam had exchanged with Emily made him think that something entirely too serious was going on between his son and the attractive young widow. He all but rejected the thought; Adam seemed to have a vast talent for avoiding respectable women and Emily was one of the most straight-laced women of his acquaintance.

She seemed to have taken Ben’s advice to heart, and had kept Adam carefully at arm’s length as far as running the ranch. And the steady procession of friends through the house that his son reported appeared to be a great comfort to her. But he was left wondering exactly what Adam did during the long hours at the Arminger ranch. The boys cropped up increasingly in his conversation, reminding Ben forcefully of how much Adam had missed in his life. He wondered if his son was unconsciously seeking to fill the void by playing father to Gil’s boys. He didn’t want his son to be hurt, again, and had near reached the end of his rope waiting for Adam to be loved for himself, not for what he could do for someone, and certainly not for his admittedly very good looks, or his fortune. Emily, to her credit, would care little for either of those, though Gil had been easy on the eyes as well. If it was not simply appreciation and friendship behind that look, he thought it likely she was falling for Adam’s kindly manner and sweetness when confronted with someone in trouble.

But there was something he was seeing in Adam, an acknowledgment of something long deferred, which wanted an outlet. Emily was pretty, the way that Inger had been. Sweet and kind and wholesome, without the mischief of Adam’s mother, without the sophistication and absolute beauty of Marie, but a loving and gentle girl, firm in her beliefs and apparently able to stand on her own. Just the type of girl he might hope for his son, but only at the right time. And now wasn’t that time.

Adam looked at him from weary eyes and an attitude belied by the placid expression on his face – he would have to tread softly if he was going to get his son to listen to him. “Son–”

“Pa, please.”

Ben raised an eyebrow and waved his glass of brandy. “You want a glass?”

“No.” Adam looked up from under frowning brows. “Thank you.” The subtle disappointment that flickered in his father’s face made him think that Ben wasn’t going to lecture him, but probably just wanted to talk. He felt a pang of guilt. He hadn’t been home much in the evenings, and he supposed his father missed their conversations. Adam sighed and made a beckoning gesture with his hand. “All right, I’ll have a little, thanks.”

Ben retrieved the bottle and a glass and poured out small measure and handed it to Adam. They sat quietly, each watching the fire, and trying to think a way around the subject that was on both their minds. Ben gave up and stated baldy: “Adam, people are talking–”

Adam rose from his chair and swung his foot up on the hearth. “People have been talking for weeks! Gil was hardly cold and they were talking!”

“They don’t know Emily like we do. And they mistake your kindness for affection.” “It is affection!”

Ben’s eyebrow rose at this.

Adam looked sideways at his father and gave an exasperated burst of breath, then sat again, defeated. “That’s what they see and it’s what makes them suspicious. Again.” He put his elbows on his knees and sank his face into his hands. “Wait till they realize she’s pregnant – then they’ll really have something to talk about.”

“Emily’s… pregnant?”

Adam smiled. His old-fashioned father could hardly get the word out.

“Is it–”

“No!” Adam rubbed a hand over the back of his neck in frustration. “If you can think that…”

“Adam, you leave here at four every day–”

“I finish what little work that you let me do and then I have to get out. I can’t spend my life cooped up in this house.” “You could ride to town.”

“”I don’t want to. Paul didn’t want me drinking in case my back flared up again. I couldn’t sit in those chairs and play poker all night…” He picked up his glass and swirled the contents before tossing off the rest of the drink. “Don’t want those

saloon girls pawing all over m–; ah, sh—oot–” He saw his father’s scowl and slammed his glass down and rose to his feet.

Ben stood quickly and faced his son across the coffee table, putting his hands on his hips in an unconscious attempt to cow his oldest boy. “You will please mind your tongue in this house!” He abruptly shifted tactics, if not intensity. “Listen to me, Adam. Don’t do something you’re going to regret later. It’s only a couple weeks ‘till Christmas and we have plenty to keep us busy around here. Paul’s said that you can start easing into your usual work now — you’ll get back into your old routine and things will seem better.”

“Seem better, Pa?”

Ben searched his son’s face. Adam’s twisted smile told its own story. Dreams deferred, desires sublimated, another man’s claim worked instead of his own. Ben had seen the mounting frustration in the past year. He sometimes felt like he would lose his son completely if something didn’t change. Was he holding on too tight? Was this Adam’s way out? He took a deep breath and looked steadily into his son’s despairing eyes. “No, will be better, Adam. If what you have here is not what you want, we can do something about that. But Gil’s only been dead a little over a month. Do not take advantage of Emily’s grief and don’t let temporary circumstance push you into a decision that you wouldn’t otherwise make.”

Anger came into Adam’s eyes. “Pa–”

“I’ve gone through it three times, Adam. Give her and yourself some time, and distance.” “I’m just trying to be her friend!”

Ben just stared at his son and after a few moments had the dubious satisfaction of seeing color rush into his son’s face, and then ebb as Adam considered his words. He almost spoke and then Ben saw the mask drop into place, emotions tucked neatly behind the façade of reserve that Adam habitually maintained.

“I’m going to bed,” he said stiffly. “Goodnight, Pa.”

Ben raised his eyebrows and tried not to look smug. Adam hated to be caught out and they both knew Ben had scored some points in the evening’s argument.

Adam shook his head in frustration and turned on his heel to lope up the steps. Ben watched his son disappear around the corner, pleased that Paul’s restrictions seemed to have worked. Adam moved gracefully and easily again. If only his restless spirit would follow suit. “Goodnight, son,” Ben whispered. “Sweet dreams…”

Adam did not have sweet dreams. He awoke to twisted, sweat-soaked sheets, and images that had him running a shaking hand over his face. He padded over to his washstand and poured the jug of now-cold water over his head and shoulders. He watched the rivulets of water trickle to a slow drip, but he saw Emily’s face in the moonlit basin, not his own, and he toweled off, trying to wipe the memory of the dream from his mind. He sat on the edge of the bed, remembering the feel of his horse between his legs, straining, running hard, infected by his master’s fear. Pushing through scrub, flying through forest, and finally, being brought down just as he thought he had reached the safety of his own yard. He reached a hand out to pick up his robe and shuddered at the memory of so many hands pulling him off his horse, and so many faces, accusing and angry, ready to string him up for an un-named crime. His father’s “Guilty!” rang in his ears and Emily’s face swam before him again as she kissed him goodbye on the way to his…death? Strong hands pulling at him again, forcing them apart and then he was falling – that had been when he had woken up, suddenly rolling onto his back and catching himself with a jerk. He threw aside the robe and decided to dress instead. He started to tug on his boots, changed his mind and retrieved the old, soft, square-toed boots he had so happily put in the back of his wardrobe three weeks before when Paul said he could ride again. He and Sport had ridden most of the Buckeye’s fence-line yesterday — the horse definitely deserved his rest, and his new boots, though he hated to admit it, rubbed painfully on his ankles. He briefly wondered where his everyday boots were – his father’s explanation that they had gone missing somewhere between the Buckeye and the Ponderosa just sounded too pat and he had a sneaking suspicion that his father was still trying to keep him close to home.

 

of the crates on the highest shelf. Somewhere was a box of soldiers, long idle after endless battles, retired finally after the last of the Cartwright boys grew out of Grandpa Stoddard’s much-loved and used gift. The fort Adam had so carefully crafted during his convalescence was hidden in the base of his wardrobe. He merely had to re-paint the soldiers in the current Union blue, and the Christmas present for the boys would be ready. He supposed he could cast some more modern artillery, but that would certainly catch his father’s attention, which he had, at great cost, so far been able to avoid.

He jumped nearly out of his skin as he heard that gravely voice behind him, as if summoned by mere thought. “Do you need help, son?”

He whirled around guiltily, attempting to quell with a quick, steadying breath the flush that he could feel rushing into his cheeks. “Pa! What are you doing up?”

Ben set down his own lantern and walked towards the shelves and easily found the box Adam had missed. “This what you were looking for?” He handed the box to his son and watched him shake it gently; they both heard the rattle of the lead soldiers, but he simply waited for his son’s reply.

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

Ben smiled a little and picked up Adam’s lantern.

“If we’re very quiet, I think Hop Sing won’t mind too much if we eat some of those oatmeal cookies while you muster the company for inspection.”

There was nothing to do but acquiesce and Adam sheepishly preceded his father out of the room.

They were settled at the kitchen table, the soft glow from the fire and the oil lamps giving their late-night occupation of the kitchen an air of hominess and respectability that Hop Sing would quickly dispel if he caught them raiding the larder. Adam looked at his father in the warm light and felt twenty-five years fall away, before there was a Hop Sing, when this kitchen was one end of a cabin that served as their base of operations. The soldiers had been on the floor then, spread out on the rag rug – a child’s retreat into a romantic past, when the present seemed too full of plain hard work. They only came out when his baby brother was asleep. Ben had no wish for the well-made soldiers to be mauled by little teeth and Adam, ever practical, put aside his longing for the treasured toys and agreed to his father’s terms.

“…maybe ten years, I suppose,” he heard Ben say.

“What’s that, Pa?”

“I said, Joe hasn’t had them out in ten years.”

“’bout that.”

“I remember you playing with them in this very room, on that rug.”

Adam smiled. “I think that was a couple of rugs ago.” He picked up another soldier and held it up to the lamp that hung over their heads. He made a clicking noise with his tongue. “These uniforms are all wrong. War of 1812’s been over a long time.”

“You thinkin’ they’ll want cavalry?”

Adam’s eyes flickered to his father’s and back to the soldier again. “Yes, if I know my–” he stopped abruptly, realizing how what he was going to say would sound.

“Your boys?”

“Yes. Boys, out here, would want cavalry. I’ll paint these up, and I suppose I could cast more of the horsemen – guess I could change ‘em a little – was thinkin’ of making some modern artillery anyway.”

“You only have two weeks. You want some help? Hoss is good at casting.”

Adam looked up at his father from under his brows, not believing that he would give his blessing on the undertaking. “You want to give your soldiers to Gil’s boys. Do it right. You’ve got the fort made…”

Adam looked incredulous.

“Why do you think I made you lie on the bed in the downstairs bedroom while I bored you to sleep with all those questions on those contracts? I knew every time you went to your room you started working on that fort.”

“I thought you were just pretending you needed me around here.”

“I never have to pretend, Adam. We do need you.”

Adam tipped the box towards him again. “Maybe not as much as you think, Pa,” he said quietly.

Adam dropped his hand to the table after running it over his face and caught his father studying him over the rim of his coffee cup. His lips quirked into a slight smile as he poured another cup of the hot, stimulating liquid. There was a banging at the front door and he cocked an eyebrow at his youngest brother.

“You’re closer,” Joe mumbled, tired himself after a late return from one last check of the fencing on the winter range. “An’ you laze around all day at Mrs. Ar–”

“Joseph! Get the door.”

Tight-lipped with annoyance at the continued coddling of his oldest brother, Joe jumped to his feet and answered the door. “Mornin’ Joe. Your pa and Adam still around?”

Ben heard the sheriff and went into the great room to greet his old friend. “Well, Roy, what brings you out here so early? Not business, I hope.”

“‘fraid so. Adam – this concerns you, mostly.”

Adam exchanged a worried look with Ben. He’d not been brought up on charges for shooting one of the rustlers, but neither had the two survivors paid for Gil’s murder. There had been just enough evidence that they’d been ‘hornswoggled by the Jepsom boys’ as the judge had put it, to keep the men from even coming to trial.

“The Greasleys are back in town.”

Adam hunched one shoulder against the memory of the pain the men had caused him. “I thought you told them to clear out of town.”

“They tried. The stage came on them pretty high up – their wagon slid off the trail and cracked up on some rocks. Gave ‘em a ride back here. Don’t expect they’ll be going much anywhere till they can get that wagon down and fixed. I want you to stay outa Virginia City, Adam, till they leave again.”

“That could be weeks if there’s a bad snow, sheriff.” Hoss’s brows scrunched together. Adam had been grouchy as an old bear during his recovery, prowling around the house as soon as he felt better, chafing against the restrictions the doc had placed on him. The prospect of having him tied to the ranch for a few more weeks had Hoss considering helping the Greasley brothers, much as he’d just as soon pound them into the ground.

Adam smiled a little at the dismay on Hoss’s face. He knew he’d been difficult. “I think I can find enough to keep me occupied–”

“Like spendin’ the day ridin’ fence over at the Armingers’ like ya did yestaday?” Adam colored a little and dropped his eyes to the floor.

“Ridin’ fence!–” Ben shook his head in disgust and jerked a thumb towards the dining room table. “Have seat, Roy, while we finish breakfast. Hop— ” He stopped as he realized Hop Sing was already behind him with another place setting and a plate of donuts.

Roy grinned at the sight. “Don’t mind if I do. Already et, but I won’t miss the chance to have one of Hop Sing’s donuts.”

Adam toyed with his cup, feeling his father’s gaze on him, and unwilling to face the question in his eyes, and the concern. He hadn’t lied about where he’d been, but he hadn’t been explicit about what he was doing, either. He cleared his throat and turned to Roy.

“You trying to protect me or them, Roy?”

“Both, I ‘spose. Now, I don’t want none of you thinkin’ there’s anything left to be done. I just want them ta get out and over those mountains, peaceful-like. You stay away from them, Adam.” He waved his spoon at Joe. “You, too, Joe, or I’ll lock the lot o’ you up in jail till they’re gone.”

Ben glowered, but after Adam’s reaction to simple gossip, he thought Roy’s warning appropriate. He nodded to his two younger boys. “Hoss, Joe – you want to get started on those chores?”

They looked at their father’s grim face and suddenly decided the chores seemed very urgent. “Sure, Pa.” Hoss’s stolen glance at his older brother only confirmed his feeling that he was getting the easier end of things.

Adam broke the silence first. “You have someone following me, Roy?”

“Yep.”

The bald statement brought Adam’s head up.

“You been mighty busy over there.”

“Eddie just needs someone to tell ‘im that what he’s doing is right.”

“Yeah, weeell, it seems like you’ve been doin’ a lot a tellin’. Folks is talkin’.”

“Let ‘em talk.”

“They hear you’re mighty quick with a gun, and good at turnin’ a lady’s head.”

Ben sat straight at this and glared at his old friend.

“Anyone who knows Adam–”

“That’s just it, Ben. There’s a lot a new folks in town that don’t know Adam that well.”

Bright, clear blue. A chill breeze across his face. A dull ache that seemed to spread from his hairline to the back of his neck. Adam realized he was flat on his back on the ground. What was he doing lying in the middle of the road? He groaned and raised a hand to the back of his head.

“Here, I wet my ‘kerchief for that.” Gentle hands pressed a cold wet cloth against the ache and Adam groaned again. He opened one eye and squinted to look up at the familiar face that went with the voice.

“Clem…your turn today? Kinda fell down on the job, huh?”

“Funny, Adam. If you hadn’t been playing games I would have been closer.”

“Shoulda taken another detour, ‘cept I guess it wouldn’t have kept me from eventually riding into that wire – that’s what it was, wasn’t it?”

“Yep.” Clem sat back on his heels. “You didn’t break anything that I can tell, but that’s a nice sized knot yer growing.” Adam rubbed at his temples in a vain attempt to relieve the pounding ache that had settled there. “How long was I out?” “Couple minutes, near as I can tell. You weren’t that far ahead of me.”

Adam tried to sit up and Clem extended an arm to steady him. “I know where you were going – when were you supposed to be there? She waitin’ for you?”

The scowl that he got in reply made him want to laugh. “Adam, there’s more than me that knows you’re courtin’ the widow, no matter if you stay off the roads.”

“I’m not–” The gasp that followed the explosive words made Clem pause in pulling his friend to his feet. His eyes narrowed as he watched Adam take stock of his condition and dust himself off.

“I know — you ride over here every day for the fresh air and exercise,” he said dryly.

Adam gingerly settled his hat on his head and made his way over to his horse and dragged himself onto Sport’s back. “Yeah, well, you keep this quiet for me and I’ll stop making your babysitting duties so hard.”

Clem grinned as he swung into the saddle. “Somehow I can’t see you lettin’ me hold your hand on the way over here every day. Why don’t you just marry her – then Roy can just post a guard near the Buckeye. Heck – Mz. Arminger’s got a mighty fine bunkhouse–”

“Clem–” Adam interrupted. “Yeah, Adam?”

“Shut up.”

Clem grinned and urged his horse to match Sport’s faster pace.

Adam hadn’t in the end been able to hide his fall from anyone. The very real fear behind Emily’s scolding, Ben’s yelling (that only made his head hurt all the more,) and the sheriff’s quiet conference with Clem, gave him little pause. Despite the doctor’s insistence that he stay quiet for twenty four hours, he was out the door that night right after dinner, saddling Sport with a dogged determination to return to the Arminger ranch. Roy and Clem didn’t expect him to leave the Ponderosa and hadn’t assigned anyone to watch him that night.

“You gonna tell me what’s been bothering you? Are you still upset about this afternoon?”

“No. But you’re an idiot for riding over here again.”

“There’s something not right about those miscreants bein’ back here. I don’t believe that wagon ‘fell’ off that mountain.” “I have Slim and Eddie, Adam. You can’t be here all the time in any case. You’re not–” She stopped and looked away.

“I know,” Adam said softly.

Emily stared out at the darkness for a moment. “I still can’t believe he’s gone. I keep expecting him to ride up and kid you again about wasting his wife’s time with Shakespeare when she’d be better off feedin’ the chickens or tending the goats.”

Adam smiled a little at the memory. The night was cold, and his head was hurting again: he supposed he should go home, but they were taking a few moments to sit by themselves. The lights were dim in the house behind them, and one solitary lamp glowed on the porch of the bunkhouse. The sky was still clear and the stars glittered brightly against their black velvet backdrop. He looked over at Emily, sitting so still and self-contained in the darkness, and wondered if her words meant something more than a simple reminiscence. “As I recall, the chickens were in their coop and the goats were in the shed, the kids were in bed, and Gil was supposed to meet me here.” He reached out a hand to hold hers and bring her to her feet. He looked down into her face, trying to read her expression in the faint light of the stars.

“Do you wish you hadn’t ‘wasted’ time with me?”

“No! It wouldn’t have bought me any more time with Gil. You filled a moment, here and there…made me remember that there was a world out there beyond cows…” She smiled suddenly. “You even got that homebody husband of mine to take me into Virginia City a few times when I know he didn’t really want to go. I never properly thanked you for that, Adam. I think Gil enjoyed it…” she looked at the ground and her voice broke “–once he was there.”

Adam stood very still, wanting to take her in his arms, but unsure as she seemed to draw into herself and away from him again.

“What is it, Emily? Something else is on your mind tonight.”

“I…it’s nothing.” She turned and walked around him, only stopping to lean her arms on the empty corral. The animals were all bedded down in the barn, drowsing in the cozy warmth of the well-built building. Another thing that Adam had helped them with. She felt, rather than heard, Adam come up behind her.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

“I don’t know.” She turned to him and looked up into his face, only a shadowy outline against the night sky. “I don’t know if it is something that needs saying. Maybe there are some things you should know, but I think I just need time to work things out in my mind, and my heart.”

He remembered what his father had said the night before and thought he understood. “Do you want me to leave?” “No.” She turned from him again and looked over the yard to the trees beyond.

“I know I should have expected something like this, but somehow you’re never ready, ever, are you?”

“No,” Adam whispered, closing his eyes against the vision of an arrow piercing calico fabric, blood and tears, and a still face that would never again light his morning or comfort him after a hard day on the trail. The trill of laughter and energy that was Marie, so abruptly cut off one bright day in a rush of hooves, a scared whinny and the impact of his step-mother’s slight form on the ground, shattering their family just as surely as her body.

“You’re never ready.” He took a deep breath. “You just find the wherewithal to go on – kids, life – pulls you back.”

She turned to him, hearing the pain in his voice. She thought about his losses, and the strength Ben described in his son, even as he tried to protect him. “Are you life, Adam?”

Something flickered in the dark-shadowed eyes. “Yes,” he said softly.

She thought for a moment that he was going to kiss her, but he rolled his shoulders straight and pulled back. “When you’re ready.”

She gazed up into his face, a small part of her ready for what he was offering, but knowing it was Gil that filled her thoughts, not the man before her. He knew it too, as much as he might wish differently. She shivered, finally feeling the cold air, and the careful distance his words had put between them. She realized she had never answered his question; but that could wait. She put a hand out in silent agreement, wanting more, but accepting that he was right.

Adam took her hand and pulled it through his arm, guiding her towards the house. They stood in the pool of light from the porch lamp. He wanted to take away the loneliness and grief he saw in her face, but he knew it would only be a temporary palliative against the pain. His deliberate movements carried a purpose that his father would have approved of and he turned to seek his own home with a clear conscience.

Emily leaned against the closed door and listened to Adam’s retreating footsteps. Adam. She raised a shaking hand to where he had stroked her cheek. Just as Gil had so often. Gil was gone, though, forever. Her body shook as she fought tears. She felt Adam’s arms around her again, the light kiss on her forehead, and the gentle touch on her back as he propelled her through the door before they did something they’d both regret. She wanted to fling open the door and run after him – catch him before he retrieved his horse. She didn’t know if she could face another night alone. Another morning with that empty place at the head of the table. She straightened and pulled off her cloak. Adam was right, and he deserved more than to simply fill an empty space in her life. She had promised Ben she wouldn’t use him to run her ranch; she promised herself that she wouldn’t use him to dull the ache in her heart.

~~

Joe’s wild giggle and Adam’s shout rang through the first floor, bringing Ben around the corner from his bedroom to yell at his boys. ‘Boys,’ he thought. ‘Not boys. Now what are they up to?’

“What are you doing now?” he shouted, relief at the sound of his eldest son’s voice warring with the desire to laugh at the sight of Adam heavily dusted with a white powder. A light cloth was lying on the floor next to what appeared to be the balance of the powdery substance, and he tried not to smile. Bored, and going a little stir-crazy from being trapped inside much of the time, Joe had taken to tormenting Adam, who was bearing up under the teasing remarkably well. There was a suppressed excitement about him lately that had his brothers nonplussed, but it took Ben back fifteen years to when Adam had known he would be going back east for college. After breakfast every morning he headed back up to his room and worked on something very secretively. When possible, the sleigh, looking better taken care of than it had in years, came out, and Adam headed out to give Emily a break from her three little bundles of energy. Not another word of censure crossed Ben’s lips as he watched his son’s more temperate actions over the weeks. His enforced exile from town didn’t even seem to bother him and there had been no further ‘accidents’ with Roy keeping the Greasleys practically on house arrest and Clem’s prescient shadowing of his movements. Ben started to resume his descent, but changed his mind, shaking his head as he turned to go back up the steps.

“Joe! You are just asking for it–”

There was a crash and another giggle. Hop Sing came out of the kitchen and yelled and Ben headed for the sanctuary of his bedroom.

“Dad-blame – would you two–” Ben closed his door against Hoss’s rumbling complaint. There was a thud and Joe’s giggle was cut off abruptly as he was ejected from the house.

“Hey! Let me in!”

Ben sighed and wished for spring. He picked up the ledger he had been studying and wondered what Adam had found – he had plans that he thought would please his oldest boy, but needed to know how the herd stood. There was a light knock on the door and he heard a low “Pa?”

“Come.”

He smiled as he looked at Adam. His usually calm and self-contained son’s face was flushed, and he was looking decidedly pleased with himself. The black hair, despite a good brushing, still showed traces of flour, and the black-shirted shoulders looked as if he had been on the trail for weeks. “How’d things look?”

Adam closed the door and leaned against it. “Good. If this weather holds, I think we’ll have a very good year.”

“Good, good,” Ben said a little too enthusiastically.

Adam looked up from under his brows. “Roy was with Clem today.”

Ben looked down at his ledger and grunted. “Oh?”

Adam stared at the top of his father’s head, too tired to play games. His malicious satisfaction with putting Joe out of the house was fading and he’d used up on his brother what little patience he had left after a long hard day. “Pa?”

Ben very carefully did not look up. “Hmm?”

“If I’m to be bait I’d like to be told.” He ran his fingers through his hair and looked at the resulting flour on his hand with disgust. He had just had a bath the night before and Joe knew it. “I didn’t much like having the two of them trailing after me without a word about why they both were there. I mean, what’s the point? If the Greasleys want to take a shot at me, having them two along ain’t gonna help. ‘Cept they could get the doc quicker.” He crossed his arms high on his chest. “I’m thinkin’ Roy let it be known he wouldn’t be in town today–”

“He had his reasons, son,” Ben stated firmly, hoping to allay his son’s inquisitiveness. Roy had wanted him to be subtle when he sent Adam out to survey the herds, and as the request had fit in with Ben’s plans, he had controlled his own curiosity as he dispatched his eldest on the errand.

Adam’s eyes narrowed, but he saw little guile and no fear in his father’s eyes. Whatever he was keeping back seemed positive, not threatening, so he relaxed a little and started to wonder what his father was up to. Roy was another matter. He was inclined to break his quarantine and pay his old friend a visit. Maybe on his own turf the old codger would let something slip. Or maybe there was some talk in town that would give him some idea of what he was up against. He realized that he’d been in his own little world for almost two months, effectively putting out of his mind anything beyond the Ponderosa and the Buckeye. He pulled himself away from the door and shrugged his shoulders. “All right. I’ll let it slide for now…”

Ben grimaced. “Let Roy do his job, son.”

Adam froze in the motion of reaching for the door. His face still and taut, he raised his eyes to his father’s. “Yeah,” he said softly, “I suppose I should do that, for once.”

Ben stood abruptly, but Adam was gone. “Adam” died on his lips and he mentally chastised himself for phrasing the issue so clumsily. Adam had reached a kind of acceptance that there was little he could have done differently the night Gil died. He no longer seemed driven to make up for his self-perceived error, but Ben wondered how much it would take to tip him back into the sadness that had marked his first few weeks back home.

Adam seemed to have shaken off his megrims by supper-time. Even rounding the corner from getting a snack in the kitchen to find his father in a quiet conference with Roy hadn’t shaken his good mood. Roy (and Clem, he assumed), were long gone when he heaped a third helping of mashed potatoes on his plate under the amazed gaze of his father and brothers. He’d been ticking along through the conversation with the same good humor that had marked the previous few weeks when he realized that everyone was watching him, and he paused with his fork half-way to his mouth. He swallowed what was already in his mouth and raised his eyebrows. “What?”

Joe snickered and waved his own fork at his bigger brothers. “You keep on like that, Adam, and you’ll be as big as Hoss, an’ I don’t mean you’re gonna gain a coupl’a inches that way,” he said, waving the fork up and down.

Adam grunted. “Food’s good. Almost as good as–” He saw Hop Sing come around the corner and shut his lips firmly.

“Almost as good, bah. You never here to eat – you like her food so much, you go there and eat,” Hop Sing grumbled as he ran his eye over the table one last time before starting on the kitchen clean-up.

“Hop Sing, you know I like your cooking–”

Joe cut in with a crack of laughter. “You just ain’t as pretty as that cook they got over at the Buckeye.” “Joseph!”

Joe smothered a giggle and Hoss kept his head down except for a quick look at Adam’s reddening cheeks. Darting a glance at his father, he lifted his head in surprise at the worry he saw there.

Hop Sing sniffed and retreated back into the kitchen, shaking his head at the youngest Cartwright’s artless truth-telling.

Adam glared at his brother and then shifted his gaze to his father, catching the end of the worried look that crossed Ben’s features. He took another bite of his roast beef, but the meal seemed suddenly tasteless. He eyed his father speculatively as he reviewed the partly overheard conversation he’d interrupted between Roy and his father. What he had shaken off before as his imagination made him come to a conclusion he didn’t like, and he forced himself to speak evenly to test the

unwelcome theory that was forming in his mind. “You know, Pa, I was thinkin’ that we might have Emily and the boys over for Sunday dinner. They haven’t been anywhere in a couple of weeks, with Matthew having that cough.”

Ben raised his eyebrows and continued to chew his roast beef.

Adam cleared his throat and tried again. “I thought maybe we could meet at church and bring them home…” He trailed off as his father frowned.

“Roy didn’t say you could go back to church and under the circumstances, I don’t think you and Emily–”

“Aw, Pa. Adam cain’t stay outta town forever,” said Hoss, not wanting to interrupt and not waiting to see what exactly his father was getting at, but seeing his brother’s body tense up and his fingers tighten on his glass reflexively. “Nothing can happen at church.”

Ben looked at Adam, startled by the anger he saw in his son’s face. Adam shoved his plate aside and stood abruptly. “Emily and I what? What exactly did Roy tell you, Pa? I have to keep skulking over there mid-week? I can’t take the boys to town and pick up the mail? I can’t show my face in town and find out what’s really going on? What are they saying? That I maybe wasn’t so careful with Gil’s life as I should have been? The more Christian ones are thinking that and the others that I just out and out set the whole thing up? And what magic power does Emily have that I would do all this? Is it the baby?”

Joe’s mouth hung open at his brother’s outburst, but Adam wasn’t finished. He could see the confirmation of his suspicions in his father’s face. He threw his napkin down. “I guess I don’t need to go to church; it’s written all over your face.”

“Baby?” Joe whispered, confused. Hoss shook his head and Joe subsided, fearful that the storm would break over his head next.

“Yes, baby, Joe,” Adam hissed. “And apparently it’s mine.”

Adam turned from the table and headed for the front door, anger and exasperation rolling off of him with every quick step. “Adam–” Ben started, rising quickly from his chair.

“Leave me alone, Pa. I doubt if I’d…” Their voices faded to an indistinct shouting as Ben closed the front door behind them.

Joe sat, pole-axed by the news that his brother was going to be a father. He whistled. “All of Pa’s jawing at me and then Adam goes and–”

Hoss looked up from examining his fingernails and cut off his brother. “You watch yer mouth, youngin’. You don’t know nothin’.”

Joe’s cheeks colored and he jutted out his jaw. “I know enough that it ain’t–”

Hoss rubbed his fingernails on his vest and interrupted his brother again. “Little brother, you say that agin, an’ I’m gonna make sure you don’t say nothin’ more tonight.” He stretched and called out for Hop Sing. “Where’s that coffee and pie?”

Hop Sing came shuffling down the hall, muttering again. He’d nearly dropped the tray he was preparing when the front door slammed. “Yelling, yelling, always yelling.”

Hoss grinned and helped himself to a slice, ignoring the Chinaman’s complaints. “That’s a fine lookin’ pie, Hop Sing. Good meal, too.” Somewhat mollified, Hop Sing handed him a cup of coffee. “Thanks.”

Joe watched this byplay, incredulous that his middle brother could be so calm in the midst of such goings on. He frowned uncertainly. Even Hoss wasn’t that imperturbable.

“Hoss, what’s going on?”

“Well,” Hoss said, snatching another piece of pie, “I’d say that our brother is making his will known. Don’t think he’s gonna take this one lyin’ down.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Ol’ Adam’ll be just about fit ta bust if he don’t get what he wants this time.” ‘We’ll just see if he’s man enough to stand up to Pa and Roy and get it,’ he thought privately, not wanting to encourage any similar rebellion in his younger brother. There was a time and a place for everything, and this was Adam’s time.

“And what’s that?”

“Huh?” Hoss asked, his thoughts still on his older brother. He focused on a bewildered Joe. “Oh. Mz. Emily.” “He’s already got her. I mean, I guess they have to get married–”Hoss shook his head. “If you don’t keep off that, Joe, I’m gonna–” “What’re ya all mad at me about? I didn’t go and get a baby–.”

Maybe bound and gagged wasn’t a bad way for Joe to play a nice, calm game of checkers. At least it was harder for Joe to cheat, Hoss reflected, although he didn’t know about that last move. Seemed like Joe might be just as adept at a quick nudge with his nose as with his fingers.

Adam stalked away from his father, his long strides eating up the space between the house and the barn. He retrieved his tack in silence, his mind on which horse he would take, and blocking out what his father was saying.

“— you going now?”

“Gettin’ a horse, Pa.” He rifled through his pockets in frustration as he crossed to the paddock where some of the horses had been left out for the night. He’d brought nothing for the mouth that would take the bit, and settled for making clicking noises that would hopefully lure one of the horses over. Palladin moved toward him and he was glad he’d spent so much time with the horse while recovering from his back injury. “Hey, boy, you thinking I have something for ya? Nothin’ tonight – just work.” The big black was almost a match for Chubb and his thick winter coat was smooth under Adam’s hand as he fastened the throatlatch and gave the horse a quick stroke down his neck. The horse backed up a step as Ben stepped closer to his son to pick up his scolding where he’d left off.

“Don’t take him – he’s still too skittish,” he said automatically.

“I been working with him – Joe, too,” Adam said, settling the saddle over the soft blanket he’d put on first. “I was thinkin’ of selling him.”

“No!”

Ben raised an eyebrow.

Adam finished fastening the girth and muttered, “I’ll take him with me if you don’t want him. I’ll buy him from you.”

Ben reached out and laid his hand on one stiff shoulder. “You don’t have to buy anything from me,” he said, his voice husky. “When the time comes…” He stopped, his words sounding hollow even to his own ears. That time was now. His boy was going to leave, tonight, whether he wanted him to or not. He realized that he was the one that wasn’t ready – he’d built the last few years on sand, and it was shifting under him, even as he tried to walk the same old path. Things often changed, he acknowledged with a shake of his head, so quickly, in the blink of an eye almost – no one should know better than he.

Adam finished adjusting the saddle and Ben pulled his son around into his arms and hugged the surprised boy, putting him away from him after a moment to smile ruefully – up? – when had it become up? – into the gold-brown eyes. “You be careful – you’re my only oldest son. An’ I don’t want to have to raise that boy of ‘yours’ for you – I’ve done my time.”

Adam’s expression softened and he smiled slightly. “If he could come now, that would solve half my problems – he won’t look a thing like me, if the others are anything to go by.”

“Positive proof?”

Adam nodded. “Negative proof, more like, but not soon enough. I need to put a stop to this right now. The Greasleys don’t know enough about me an’ Emily to start such a rumor. Roy can take care of them, but Emily and I are gonna have to live with these people, and I don’t want there to be any stain on her name, *any* question about our marriage.”

“You asked her to marry you?” Ben asked, surprised.

Adam looked down at the reins in his hand. “Not in so many words, but yes, she knows what I want. Has since a coupla weeks before Christmas.”

Ben mentally reviewed the past few months and realized that things had been much more serious than even he had thought. “Adam –”

“The rest is between Em an’ me,” he said firmly, and turned to swing into the saddle. He reached down to grasp his father’s hand. “Thanks, Pa. And don’t worry so much. I’ll be back tomorrow some time.”

He pulled the horse around and urged him forward, going at a canter around the side of the barn, leaving a suddenlybereft Ben behind.

Adam’s defiant “Let them talk” of two months ago rang in his ears as he galloped Palladin toward the Buckeye. He’d let himself be lulled by distance and isolation into accepting Roy’s dictates, and trusted in people’s innate fairness to erase the whisperings of a malicious few. It was one thing to accuse him of being too quick to comfort Emily, or even that he’d let Gil get killed, quite another to accuse her of being a loose woman. The snatches of conversation that he’d overheard – “—keep him out, or he’ll use a gun to repair that reputation –” made him angry all over again and drove him to push the horse hard through the dark night. He pulled up a little when he realized what he was doing. He’d be no good to Emily dead. He began to wonder if such precipitous action was warranted, but then decided that it must be tonight, before Ben had a chance to warn Roy. But first, he needed Emily’s permission…

It seemed to him forever before he pulled up at the edge of the yard. It was late to be calling, and he didn’t want to startle Slim or Eddie into taking a shot at him. He made sure he made plenty of noise as he approached the pool of light from the bunkhouse porch lamp. Tying Paladin to the rail in front of the bunkhouse, he mounted the steps to the porch and knocked on the door. “Eddie?”

The door swung open cautiously. “Mr. Cartwright?”

“Yes – I need to talk to Mrs. Arminger – just wanted to let you know I’ll be here for a while.”

Eddie stared at him for a moment and then seemed to come to a decision. “You want me to put up your horse?” Adam looked at him coolly. “No – just loosen his girth and put him in the barn.”

“Adam?” Emily stood on her toes, looking over Adam’s shoulder to see if there was anyone with him. She had on a white nightgown and robe, a startling change to Adam’s eyes after months of unrelieved black, and small curls were escaping the loose braid that hung down her back. “What’s wrong?” she asked, her eyes running over him in concern.

He smiled briefly. “I’m fine. I’m sorry to bother you so late. May I come in?”

She unconsciously clutched the lapels of her robe together and backed away from the door, nodding her puzzled assent. “Yes, of course.”

He stood for a moment, feeling over-large and awkward standing over her in the small foyer, and it suddenly came to him that this is how Hoss must feel always. He realized she wasn’t wearing any shoes, or slippers for that matter, which made their height difference all the greater. “You really are short stuff, aren’t you,” he blurted out against sudden shyness, all at once afraid that his errand wouldn’t be successful.

“I am not,” she said emphatically, but relaxing a little. Maybe he hadn’t come with bad news, but something was obviously bothering him. “You’re just overgrown. Seems a common Cartwright failing. Come back to the kitchen. I’ll give you something to warm all that up,” she offered, waving her hand to indicate his size.

He wrinkled his nose at her, disposing of his hat and coat. “First Joe gets on me for eatin’ too much and then –”

She looked over her shoulder, smiling. “Hush – you were the one who called me short. Now you sit down right there,” she said, “and I’ll start a fresh pot of coffee.”

He caught at her hand. “Emily, I need to talk to you.”

She smiled down at him gently. “I know, Adam. But whatever has you in a tizzy will seem better after you’ve had a nice hot cup of coffee.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but she ignored him and turned to prepare the beverage.

He got up and paced the room, finally stopping by the window to look out at the field at the side of the house. In two weeks it would have to be plowed and he vaguely wondered if Emily had someone lined up to do it. She had always taken care of the home garden, but Gil had done all of the heavy work. Spring was almost on them and he realized that he would have had to make some move soon anyway. Their winter idyll couldn’t last, no matter what was going on in town. He turned from the window to watch Emily work. Her movements sure from long practice, she prepared the coffee with the efficiency that he had always admired.

about you use all that bulk to add some wood to the fire while I go find my slippers? It’s getting chilly in here.” “Yes, ma’am,” he said meekly.

She took longer than he had thought she would, but she finally appeared, flushed and annoyed, hair looser than ever. She ran a hand over the escaped curls and, taking a deep breath, waved an obviously chewed slipper at him. “This is all your fault. ‘I’ll get ‘em a pup,’” she mimicked. “‘— it’ll give ‘em somethin’ else to think about…’”

He grinned, and, stepping close to her, gently pulled the damaged slipper from her grasp. “I’m sorry. Shall I buy you another pair? I hadn’t realized I’d introduced a thief into the house.”

“Thief, beggar, and he seems to bring most of the yard in with him. Whatever possessed you to–”

He smiled indulgently and pulled her into his arms. “Crosspatch,” he whispered, bending to place a light kiss on her lips. “I didn’t come here for a scold.”

She pushed against his chest, but he merely tightened his hold on her. “What did you come here for, Adam?” she asked, her eyes searching his face. He had appeared worried and unsure earlier, but her scolding seemed to have settled him into his more usual self-possession. He’d never been dishonest about his feelings and had kissed her a few times, letting her know that he meant more than simple friendship, but he’d never been this aggressive. The patient reserve and unwavering kindness of the past three months was gone: she read determination in his face as his lips returned to hers, and her stomach did a flip that had nothing to do with the baby.

When he released her at last it was only to hold her tightly to him. It seemed he was seeking comfort and she laid her head against his chest, leaving her query unvoiced. She ran her hands up his back and sighed to catch her breath. Richard had certainly never kissed her so, and Gil had been gently passionate. Adam was as forceful as his family was boisterous, and she vaguely wondered what she had gotten herself into. He wasn’t Gil, and never would be, but neither had Gil been poor Richard. ‘Poor Richard.’ How often had she thought of him that way. He’d never had a chance at all: his life had been snuffed out before he’d had any chance to make his mark on the world. She remembered what Adam had said about life. It must go on. Here was the living, breathing epitome of life beneath her cheek. Gil was gone, as Richard had been for years. She had loved them both, but she knew she loved this man also, one who had been her friend and from whom she now wanted more…

Adam put her away from him slightly and looked seriously into her eyes. “I need to ask you something. I need your permission to… to say that we are courting, and,” he cleared his throat in embarrassment, “that we are not having an affair—” He stopped at the sight of the slow, gentle smile that spread across her face.

“Is that all that is bothering you? Haven’t they found anyone else to talk about in all these weeks?”

The world righted itself and things no longer seemed so grim in the face of her calm acceptance of his news. “No. Apparently we’re the winter’s entertainment.” His answering smile faded. “Would you be serious for a moment?”

She straightened her features into a semblance of sobriety. “Yes, sir,” she said, too meekly. He gave her a look of such exasperation that she giggled. “If I don’t care – ”

“You should care. You don’t know what it is like to live your life under a cloud. I won’t have our marriage start out that way.”

“Marriage? Who said anything about marriage? I thought I would keep you around just as general household help.” “Emily!”

She sobered and ran a finger across his cheekbone and down to his jaw. “You will not go to town, Adam Cartwright. I do not intend to lose another fiancé, or husband. You do not have my permission to speak to anyone about us. I suppose six months mourning will have to do — then you may marry me, if you still wish it, but I won’t be a party to you getting yourself killed, and that’s what will happen if you go into Virginia City.”

“Emily, you don’t understand.”

“Yes, I do, Adam. I understand your pride and your stubbornness. You’ve been given a full measure of those Cartwright failings, and I won’t see them destroy what you’ve been working so hard at these past few months.”

He smiled ruefully at her, taking in the loose curls glinting in the light of the fire, and her determined grey eyes. “And what is that?”

“Building a family,” she whispered. “Lifting me out of despair. Loving Gil’s boys and turning their hearts to you.” She pulled away from him and he let her go, sensing a real seriousness in her.

“I never told you,” she started, staring into the fire, “what it was I kept from you…” He stepped close to her, but kept his hands at his sides, waiting for her to continue.She took a deep breath and tried again. “When I woke up next to you that first night, I…I wished Gil hadn’t died, that if it had to one of you… And then I felt guilty, all those weeks, taking your help, especially when your father told me not to…”

He took her in his arms then and kissed the top of her head. “That’s what’s been bothering you?” he asked softly. He tipped her chin up to make her look into his eyes. “Those feelings are natural. I had no children, no attachments that you knew of, and you loved Gil. As for my father, well, I wish he would stop meddling in my business, but why I ever expected him not to —”

She laughed through teary eyes. “Oh, Adam, when did a Cartwright ever think something was not his business?”

“You needn’t catalog all of the Cartwright character deficiencies in one night…” He groaned at the invitation in her eyes and pulled her closer. “I promised myself I wouldn’t take advantage of you – ”

“Who said anything about ‘taking advantage,’” she whispered as his lips came down on hers.

Adam shrugged into his coat and lifted his hat off one of the hooks. “No more arguing, Emily. I don’t like it – but I gotta do it. Some fights you just can’t back down from, and this one has to be in my time, and in a place of my own choosin’, or I’m likely to wind up with a bullet in my back.”

“Adam –”

“Enough. I’ve made my decision and it’s final.”

“Ooooh! Adam Cartwright, you are the orneriest, most stubborn –” A quick, hard kiss stopped her tirade and Adam placed his hat firmly on his head.

“Yep. Better get used to it,” he said with a wink and a grin. He opened the door and was off the porch in three quick steps.

“You get yourself killed and I’ll never forgive you!” she called after him. She watched him shake his head and stared after him, scared that she’d never see him again and wishing she could take her harsh words back.

He walked Paladin out of the barn and she ran to him. “Get back in the house,” he hissed, and his eyes flew to the bunkhouse window.

“They’re long asleep.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” he said wryly.

She shivered and he put a hand under her elbow to guide her back to the house, leading Palladin behind them. “Go back inside and go to bed.”

“I won’t sleep, Adam, till I know you’re safe.” She stopped and looked down at her clenched-together hands. “I can’t let you go thinking I’m angry.”

He looked impatient and she put a hand on his arm. “Let me say my piece, Adam. I’m afraid, but I’ll just have to respect your judgment and hope I’m wrong. I didn’t want you to leave not knowing that and that… that…I love you. And there are three little boys who love you too, so be careful.”

“I’ll be careful. I haven’t forgotten about this one, either,” he said, running the back of his fingers over her stomach. “Oh, Adam,” she breathed, throwing her arms around his neck.

Paladin stepped back nervously and snorted as Adam rocked back on his heels. “Emily, you’re gonna get us both stomped ”

She stopped his words with a kiss and he slowly brought his arms down and around her for a long deep kiss that left them both shaking with desire. “I think,” he said slowly, “that I’d better marry you, or stay away from here.”

“Mmmm. Definitely the former.” She reluctantly pulled away from the warmth of his arms, and looked up into his face as if trying to memorize it. “You take care – ”

“I know,” he said, swinging onto the horse’s back and settling himself carefully into the saddle. “Get some sleep, Emily.” “I’ll never sleep now,” she whispered as he rode away.

 

“I’m not trying to interfere with your lawin’ – an’ I don’t expect those boys to go to jail, but, one way or another, I need them out of here.” Adam rose from the bench that ran along one wall of the Virginia City sheriff’s office and took a quick turn around the room.

Roy tried to put aside his own anger as he watched his young friend pace the floor. Adam was getting himself into a real lather and Roy was afraid he’d do something rash – exactly what Roy and Ben had been trying to avoid.

“Don’t look at me like that, Roy. Would you have wanted Mary’s name dragged through the dust?”

The sheriff leaned his chair forward and put his forearms on the desk. “No, I reckon not,” he said seriously. “What do ya aim ta do about it? Put up a public notice that you haven’t touched the girl?”

Adam’s cheeks flamed for a moment, then paled. “No, but I need to be able to bring her to church or help with errands. It looks odd for me to be helping her at the ranch and then – ”

“That’s yer own fault.”

Adam looked pained. “I promised Gil,” he said softly. He paced once more, then stopped and crossed his arms in front of his chest, looking as stubborn as Roy had ever seen him. “I’m not hiding out like I’ve been – people don’t know the Greasleys are what’s keepin’ me out of town.”

“Enough know.”

“No, Roy. The ones I serve with on the school board, or town council – their wives – they think,” he looked down at his hands, clutching his hat tightly, “they think the babe Emily’s carryin’ is mine, and that we’re too ashamed to show our faces in town. This kind of thing,” he said, remembering Marie, “you have to nip in the bud – come right out and tell people they’re wrong, an’ hold your head high, or people will believe the worst. And I can’t do that with those two still in town.”

“It ain’t going ta do you any good if you’re dead – and that’s what you’ll be, boy, if you keep steppin’ into Greasley’s crosshairs. I can’t protect you all the time. They’re not going anywhere till they get their stuff off that mountain. Now, you go on home. If I catch you in town again I’m going to put you in jail till your pa can come and get ya. You can come back when they’re gone.”

Adam sighed and ran a hand over his face, dropping disgustedly into a chair. “Them leavin’ is no guarantee against them killing me. Probably makes it worse, even. You won’t know where they are.”

“Well, maybe I’ll just have to escort them all the way to Placerville. You just leave that up to me. B’sides, Jackson’s the dangerous one. Jody don’t have an ounce of mean in ‘im.”

Adam’s eye’s narrowed. “Do you think he’d come after me if I killed his brother?”

“I don’t want ta hear anything about you killing nobody, Adam! That’s premeditation which makes it murder and you’re gonna wind up with a noose around your neck an’ I’m gonna hafta put it there!”

Adam held up his hands in the face of the sheriff’s onslaught. “All I’m sayin’ is if it comes to that, Roy, nothin’ more – if he pulls a gun on me I’m gonna shoot back.”

Roy rose and got the cell keys off their peg.

“What’re you doing?” Adam asked, taken aback by Roy’s sudden move.

“I’m lockin’ you up, Adam. You’re a danger to yourself and ta the peaceful folks of the town.” Adam stood hastily and put his chair between himself and the sheriff. “Please, Roy, don’t –”

“No more of your jawin’, Adam – you could talk the rust off a wheel an’ yer not talking me inta lettin’ you put that noose around your neck. Now, you just walk on in there and I’ll send someone for your pa…”

Adam pulled his arm off of his face and stared at the ceiling. The closed doors only muffled heavy steps and a “Where is he?” that made him wince. He couldn’t make out Roy’s softer tones. “I told him – ” “ …What do you mean ‘makin’ threats’?” “…Shoulda sent someone out last night.” “I can’t take him – I got a cattlemen’s meetin’ to go to. You arrested him, you keep him!” Adam sat up at this. Revenge, that’s what it was; his father was gonna let him –“Pssst!”

He swung his eyes to the small window that had been the source of an uncomfortably chilly breeze that kept him on the edge of wakefulness all night. He’d have to talk to Roy about doing something to make the prisoners more comfortable.

“Joe?!” He frowned at the sight of his youngest brother. Joe and Hoss were supposed to be repairing a section a damaged fence he’d found the day before. “What’re you doing here?”

“Just a little ol’ jailbreak, brother,” said Joe with a grin.

Adam scowled and, shaking his head, covered his eyes with one hand before rubbing absently at his bristly cheeks. “Just what I need. No thanks, I got enough problems as it is.”

“Hoss,” Joe whispered.

“Shhh,” said a second voice, and his other brother’s cheerful face joined Joe’s. “You’ll bring Roy down on us.”

Adam rolled his eyes. “Hoss, you, at least, should know better. Git outta here, wouldya? I’m in enough trouble as it is.” “But we gotta plan, Adam. All sorta legal-like.”

“And what sorta plan would that be?” asked a low, even voice from behind them.

Adam glared balefully at his brothers. “You two geniuses have any other ‘plans’ I should know about? I might have talked Roy into lettin’ me ride home with Clem. Now I’m gonna be stuck in here all day.” A sudden thought struck him and he rolled off the cot to shake the bars and yell for Roy.

Roy came in finally, holding a cup of coffee in his hand. “What’s all the commotion in here?” “Would you do something for me, Roy?”

“Well, that depends. What is it you want?”

“Would you send a rider out to the Buckeye to tell Emily I’m tied up in town?” He ignored the snort from behind him and looked at the sheriff with pleading eyes.

“Already did. She said she was gonna be visitin’ with Essie and that she might drop in ta see ya later.” “No!”

Roy backed away, surprised by Adam’s vehemence.

“I don’t want her anywhere near me while I’m in town. Too dangerous.”

“Now, Adam, don’t you go worryin’ about Emily. I got the Greasleys sewed up nice an’ tight working at the livery stable today. Emily will be fine for a little visit. But don’t you get to thinkin’ you can wander around town anytime. It’ll be tomorrow an’ the next day, an’ the day after that when they’re runnin’ loose – ” He saw the calculating look in Adam’s eye and he poked his finger at the young man. “I don’t want you throwing extra salt in the soup when I got it goin’ the way I want. You’re gonna go back to the Ponderosa real peaceful-like an’ stay away from them Greasleys.” He ran a practiced eye over the young men in the cells. “You boys comfortable?”

“Yeah, just like home,” muttered Joe.

“Well, you could be home, couldn’t ya, if you had’na stuck yer long noses in yer brother’s business.” He shook his head. “That’s fine then. You just behave till yer pa comes.”

“Roy, I need to talk to you. I want to know why —”

“Don’t you worry about nothin’ – I got everything under control – includin’ you, Adam, an’ that’s just the way it’s gonna stay. You’re gonna go home with your pa, do your regular work—”

“No, Roy. I want to know why you trailed me…” Roy shut the door on him and he dropped back on to his cot, frustrated and bemused, and more tired than he cared to admit. It hadn’t just been just the cold that had kept him awake the night before, but a driving urgency to clear Emily’s name and a fear which he didn’t quite understand.Hoss grunted, half asleep on his stool. Roy had sent a boy in with coffee and the checkerboard and he and Joe were playing checkers between the bars, the board on his side, for fairness’ sake. Adam was huddled under his blanket, apparently asleep.

“Gimme your blanket – Adam looks cold.”

“Cold? With that stove goin’ like it is?” Hoss asked as he stretched and got up to retrieve the blanket.

“Joe?” Adam said sleepily, as his brother gently spread two additional blankets over his long frame. “Pa here?”

“Na, go back to sleep.” He finished pulling the blanket up around his brother’s shoulders and briefly laid the back of his fingers against Adam’s temple, shaking his head at the unconscious gesture – that was what his father would have done. He drew back, startled when he found unexpected heat, and then gently laid his open hand on his brother’s forehead. He clicked his tongue. Adam had probably picked up the cold the boys had had a couple of weeks before. That would keep him tied to the ranch – he rarely got sick, and if he was, he wouldn’t see the light of day for a week, if their father had his way.

He jerked a thumb over his shoulder as he re-joined Hoss. “I think he might be sickening – he feels kinda warm.”

Hoss grunted. “Don’t know ‘bout you, but I ain’t too keen on bein’ around when Pa catches on ta that.” He looked over at the now well-wrapped form of his older brother. “Come ta think of it…that’ll keep older brother out of trouble fer sure.”

Joe grinned briefly. “Just what I was thinking.”

Hoss stared at the checkerboard absently. His father’s mutterings about not wanting to waste a day hauling Adam back from town had moved him to let Joe talk him into rescuing his older sibling, but this put a whole new spin on things. He secretly agreed with Adam, and perhaps knew it better even than he, from what he had heard in town over the past months. Jackson Greasley was not a man you wanted to turn your back on, and he had a very real fear that once in California, and out of Roy’s sight, he’d return for his revenge, whatever the consequences. If Adam was ill, that would be another couple of weeks for Greasley to brood and plan. Better to lance the boil now…. He just wondered if his brother would be up to it.

“Adam?” There was a light, cool touch on his forehead that felt wonderful. He took a deep breath and smiled slightly as he picked up Emily’s perfume.

Joe’s voice drifted over from the other cell. The other cell? He rolled over and blearily opened his eyes to see Emily bending over him. “Emily? What are you doing here? Thought I told Roy—”

“Shhh. I know what you told Roy, but I’ll be fine. I wanted to check on you. A fine pickle you’ve gotten yourself into,” she continued with a smile, eyes dancing with laughter. “So much for ‘taking the bull by the horns.’” She pulled the blankets straight and perched on the edge of the cot. She sobered as she took in his flushed cheeks and over-bright eyes. He might be safe for the moment, but he had apparently picked up whatever had laid her boys low for a week each. “You should be home in bed.”

He hauled himself to a sitting position. “Stop fussing, Em, it’s just a chill.”

“And it left Matthew with that cough – just as it will you if you don’t take care of yourself.”

He shivered, hunching his shoulders against losing the extra warmth of the blankets, and Emily picked one up and draped it around him, pulling it together and tucking the ends under his legs. “Why didn’t you get this?” he grumbled.

She smiled gently at his peevishness. “I had a scratchy throat one day last week – I suppose you’re just going to have it w—” She stopped as she realized he was no longer listening. She looked over her shoulder, following his gaze to see Slim standing right outside the door to the office, a sour, censorious expression on his face. She was surprised to see such disapproval directed at Adam, and wondered at the cause even as she rose to ask Slim to wait for her outside the jail.

She turned back to see Adam on his feet, meditatively rubbing at his unshaven jaw.

“I’ve never seen him so unfriendly. I wonder what has him upset. Did something happen last night that I should know about?” she asked.

“No,” he said slowly, considering this new piece of the puzzle as he stared blindly at the wall opposite. Emily touched his arm and he dragged his gaze back to her face. He looked over at his brothers, who were apparently deeply absorbed in one of their endless games of checkers, and pulled Emily to the far corner of the cell. “Why’d you come into town?”

“The weather is clear, and the boys were better. I thought I would pick up the mail and visit with Essie. She invited us to dinner. I even asked Roy—”

“Emily,” he interrupted, “I don’t want you in town tonight. Please go home.”

She looked up at his face, surprised at his intensity. “Why don’t you want me here? What are you going to do?” she asked suspiciously.

“Nothing,” he said, morose as he considered his options. “I just don’t want you here.” He gave a short burst of breath, frustrated by a stubbornness that he realized matched his own, and, taking hold of her arms, looked down at her seriously. “Will you promise me to stay at Essie’s and then go home at a reasonable hour, at least?”

“Why? Please tell me you’re not going to try to do something stupid, like tackle Greasley head on. You know Roy is determined to keep you two apart. He’ll never let you out without your father being here, and that means at least another hour. And he wants you out of town before the Greasleys get off work – it’ll be much harder to keep tabs on them then and he can’t guarantee—” She could almost see his mind working as she spoke. She laid a hand on his chest, concerned

that his judgment might be impaired, and afraid his fever might make him careless. “Not now, Adam, not like this. If it was dangerous to be snooping around town when you were well…”

She trailed off in surprise as he retreated to his cot and sank wearily into it, drawing the blanket more tightly around his slumped shoulders. He sniffed and tentatively cleared his throat, pinching his nose against the all-too-real headache that was beginning to form behind his eyes. She stepped toward him, concerned, and briefly glanced over at his brothers. Hoss was looking at Adam worriedly and she returned her gaze to Adam, missing the grimly knowing look which settled on Hoss’s face.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, crouching down in front of Adam. “Do you need to see Paul?”

He sighed and raised his head. “I don’t know. I suppose I at least could use one of his headache powders,” he answered truthfully, putting aside the guilt he was feeling at deceiving her about his plans.

She rose and crossed to the locked cell door. “Roy?”

“Yeah,” he called from the other room. She heard the scraping of a chair and he appeared at the door. “Would you send the boy for Dr. Martin? Adam seems to be ill, and I’d like the doc to look at him.”

“Sure ‘nough, Mz. Arminger. He’s not startin’ one a’those chest things he gets, is he?” he asked, unknowingly taking on Hoss’s part.

“‘Chest things’?”

Hoss cleared his throat and did his bit for his brother. “Uh – every couple a’years seems Adam gets this uh,” “Congestion,” interjected Joe. “Was laid up for a month last winter, remember?”

Emily had only been vaguely aware of that, having been ill herself after a miscarriage. “Oh, no. And you left him in this cold cell all night?”

Roy bristled. “It wasn’t cold a’tall – stove ran hot all night.”

“That,” said Adam, pointing to the small window high on his cell wall, “let in a draft that kept me awake half the night.”

“That itty-bitty window couldn’t let enough air in ta cut the smoke in the back room at the Bucket ‘o Blood,” Roy said gruffly. He eyed the Cartwrights with suspicion. They were laying it on a bit thick. “Since when have you been that soft, Adam, that you’ll run to the doc fer a little case of the sniffles?”

“Roy, please send for him. It can’t hurt, after all,” pleaded Emily.

Roy grunted. “They’re up ta somethin’, I just know it.” He looked from Adam, shivering miserably on his cot, to Hoss and Joe, who, to Roy’s mind, looked about as innocent as miners in town on Saturday night. “Oh, all right.” He shook his head and went to look for the boy who ran errands for him.

Emily turned back to Adam. “Do you need anything else? I really need to get back to the children and Slim has the rest of the afternoon off – I don’t want to take any more of his time.” She reached out and caressed his cheek. “You poor dear. I’m sure Paul has a powder which will help. And when you get back to the ranch, Hop Sing will make you something warm and soothing and tuck you up in your bed.”

There was a definite snort this time from the other cell and Emily turned her gaze on the perpetrator. “When you get this, which you will, I’ll bring over one of my nice possets – there’s one I make with bitter herbs – it is very strong and it works quite well.”

Joe held up his hands. “No ma’am. Hop Sing makes some real nice teas. You just take care of ol’Adam there. He’s gettin’ a mite aged and the ague hits him somethin’ awful.” He went off into a giggle and Adam glared at him, determined to get him back before the evening was over.

Roy came back in. “Don’t know that he’s there, but he’ll get the message, anyways.” Emily finished tucking the blankets around Adam. “There you go. You just rest till Paul gets here. And Joseph, you leave him be.”

Roy and Emily could hear the bickering start as soon as the door was closed – the “aged” one holding his own against the guffaws and lighter teasing of his brothers. Emily’s heart lightened a little. That should keep them busy and out of trouble for a while, at least.

Joe paced the cell restlessly, his eyes on Adam, lying quietly asleep in the other cell. Too quietly, he thought. Adam wasn’t one to nap that long, even if he was catching cold. He was considering yelling for the deputy who’d been left to watch the office when he heard voices arguing, and the clatter of boots on the office floor.

“You jest get in there an’ give us all some peace. I never heard a fella give so many reasons fer bein’ so wrong about something. If Mrs. Schreiber says you did it I’m gonna have to take her word for it. An’ the rest of you – I got a sick man in there and I don’t want ya makin’ a lot o’noise.” Roy opened the door and stepped up to the cells, unlocking the doors. “Joe, Hoss, I’m gonna put you back in with your brother. How’s he feelin’?”

Joe gave Roy an irritated look. “How should we know? You left us both over here when Mrs. Arminger left.” Roy guided his prisoners into the cell and motioned Hoss and Little Joe out, locking the door behind them.

He unlocked the other cell and told Hoss to check on his brother. “Doc Martin should be back soon, someone said he went out to the Bartlebys’ place.” He watched Hoss gently turn his brother over, not really listening to their whispered conversation as he ran his eyes over the cell. His scrutiny finally fell on the small window between the two cots, and as he stepped further into the cell he could feel the cool breeze coming between the bars. He frowned; Ben wouldn’t thank him for letting his boy get pneumonia — maybe Adam would be better off at the doc’s house.

“Sheriff?!”

The shout came from the street entrance and he moved quickly to lock the door and see what the problem was. “Dang near a Saturday night, this much trouble,” he muttered to himself, frustrated at the chaotic turn the day was taking.

He was back after a minute, and looked worried. “Here, you two take him ta Doc Martin’s – an’ no detours. Things are mighty riled up this evenin’. I’ll send your pa down there when he’s done with his meetin’.”

“Come on, Adam, ya gotta get up – we’re gonna take you to Doc Martin’s,” Hoss tried. “Don’ wanna get up.”

Joe crouched down by the side of the cot. “Come on, Adam, you’re sick and you have to see the doc.” He winked up at Hoss. “You want Hoss to carry you?”

This elicited a groan and Adam opened his eyes. “Pa here?”
“No – the meeting’s gone late again. You need a hand up?”

“No.” Adam pulled himself to a sitting position and massaged the space between his eyebrows, shielding his eyes from the light as he tried to wake up. “What time is it?”

“Four thirty. Why you keep askin’ that?”

“No reason,” Adam mumbled. “Did you say something about the doc’s office?” “Yep – Roy says ta take you down there.”

Joe thought Adam looked pleased, but then thought he must be imagining things. “Come on, up you go.” Adam looked at him, and he caught a flash of humor in his eyes, quickly masked by a groan, probably for Roy’s benefit, Joe thought. “This is gonna be fun, holdin’ your hand till Doc Martin gets back. Why can’t you fake a mighty thirst instead and we can go get a couple of beers?”

Hoss chuckled at this. “Now, that’s a mighty appealin’ thought. What do ya think, Adam? Can you muster up a craving for beer?”

Roy heard the last of this as he closed the door to the jail block. He shook his head. Their brother was ailing, and all they could think about was a draft of beer. With any luck, Paul would be back in town soon and the boys could get their brother doctored and home. He sighed. If Ben would get out of that meeting, it would be once less thing to worry about…

Home was the last thing on Adam’s mind as he stepped into the street an hour later, adjusting his gun belt and unhooking the tie down. “Regular miracle worker, the good doctor. I feel up to a trip to The Bucket of Blood.” He ran an eye over his two shadows. “How about that beer?”

“Hey, Adam – haven’t seen you in here in while. Hoss, Joe.”

Adam nodded at the bartender. “Sam. Beer for them – I’m buying,” he said, waving a hand at his brothers and putting some coins on the bar. He pulled Sam close. “Give me the end of that bottle, but slip some water in it,” he said softly.

Sam raised an eyebrow, but obeyed. He set the bottle down, a query about the unusual request dying on his lips as he took in the flush high on his friend’s cheekbones. He shook his head. “You’d best have only one of even that, Adam, and then take yourself home ta bed.”

Adam smiled gently. “There’s no place I’d rather be right now, Sam, but there’s something I gotta do first.” He took a small sip of his whiskey and grimaced at the taste. Definitely not what he wanted. One of Hop Sing’s teas sounded good right about now, he thought, or especially Emily’s posset, which wasn’t bitter at all, of course, but sweet and warming and relaxing and just the memory of it made him ache to be back in—. He cut off the thought abruptly. That was what had gotten him into this mess in the first place. He leaned on the bar, nursing his drink and directing his thoughts to more useful channels. He knew Slim was two tables behind him and one over, seated along the wall, playing poker with friends. The Greasleys were at the table in front of Slim, to Adam’s right as he faced the bar. He kept his eyes down, closed even, away from the mirror and any provocation. Joe was frankly watching the goings-on in the saloon, and Hoss’s eyes flitted often enough to the mirror to make him feel secure for the moment.

Hoss made conversation about their prospects for a good increase in the herd and he answered absently. They both knew where this was going, and he appreciated his brother’s efforts, but he was beginning to feel somewhat detached from the activity around him. He was starting to wonder if it was such a bright idea to combine even watered down whiskey with the medicine the doc had given him when his attention was caught by loud laughter behind him.

“…A’huggin’ and kissin’ in the yard bold as day…”

Adam’s eyes narrowed. That sounded suspiciously familiar. How could anyone know about that… He didn’t like the only inference he could draw, but it jived with everything else he knew.

“Well, she’s a pretty little armful, maybe…” The rest was lost in a burst of laughter around the same table. Adam tensed and gripped the glass hard. Knowing what had been said in town was bad enough, but hearing for himself was making the careful planning of that afternoon fly out of his head. His world steadied a little as he felt his brothers move closer to him.

“That’s as nice a ranch as the missus is pretty – betcha he’s tired of takin’ orders from his daddy and ‘e figgered it would make a mighty fine place fer him ta light.”

There was a mumbled question Adam couldn’t make out and then: “Yeah, fer years, and she ain’t ever been heard ta say no – I might have a go at her if she’s that willin’—”

Adam whirled around at this and settled his hand on his gun butt. “Watch your mouth, Mister, you’re crossing the line.” He took a step toward the older man’s table and loomed large over the men as he carefully enunciated the next words. “You’ve been pretty free with the accusations the past few months, making me into a murdering wife-stealer. But don’t spread your filth to Mrs. Arminger or you won’t be doing any talking for a long time.” He glanced around the saloon, ready to throw down the gauntlet. “And that goes for any of the rest of you that’s doing the same. And you all should know better – Mrs. Arminger wouldn’t do what they’re saying any more than I’d draw on an unarmed man.”

Jackson Greasley eyed him warily. He’d heard that Adam Cartwright was good with a gun, that he could outshoot professional killers, and his ideas of revenge had none of them included facing the wrong end of Cartwright’s gun straight on. But the fever-bright eyes made him think he could take him in a head-on fight tonight, and he wasn’t about to give up the chance to settle the score on fairly even terms.

As Cartwright turned back to him he spread his hands placatingly, waiting for the right moment to catch the younger man off guard. “Well, that’s the thing, Adam – I don’t know you. And you might say our first meetin’ wasn’t exactly on friendly terms.” A few of his friends laughed and he grinned, trying to keep calm and gauge the readiness of his opponent. “We was out there mindin’ our own business and you all come ridin’ in shootin’ us up when we wasn’t doin’ no harm—”

“You were stealin’ my cattle,” Adam said, dismissively cutting into Greasley’s speech. “Trespassin’ and rustlin’. A man has a right to defend what’s his, anything that’s his.”

Greasley laughed and looked over at his friends, trying to keep the conversation going until he was ready to make his move. “There – straight from the man himself. You killed my brother – never asked what we was doin’ there, then high­tailed it back to yer woman.” He looked back up into the strangely-glittering eyes and the cold ache of real fear began to grow in his gut. That last had better been left unsaid, he realized. Something had snapped in the young man before him – his body was held differently somehow, his breathing steady and his stance relaxed, one shoulder dropped slightly as if he could smoothly and easily draw and turn quickly to be the smallest target possible. His brothers had moved almost imperceptibly closer, flanking him not to prevent what was happening, but to stand with their older sibling,

There was no laughter this time as the patrons realized both men were deadly serious. Several began to ease their chairs away from the table and the men behind them, including Slim, stood and moved carefully along the back wall of the saloon.

Adam took a deep breath, not taking his eyes off of Jackson Greasley, but aware that Jody Greasley sat still and pale next to his brother, looking suddenly like a boy in a man’s world. Adam placed him at about Joe’s age, but without Joe’s strength, which gave him pause. Weakness in a man could make him lash out unexpectedly, and he didn’t want to face two guns when he’d rather be facing none at all. He damped down his anger – much as he’d like to smash in Jackson Greasley’s smart mouth things were on too deadly a footing between them to give in to the impulse. The only good to come out of any killing would be to destroy the rattler before he struck, but he wanted to avoid even that. There was enough grief on both sides already.

“I didn’t come here aiming to clear my name or Mrs. Arminger’s with a gun, Greasley. There’s been enough killing – three little boys with a father they’ll never see again, someone without a son, you without a brother.” He lifted a finger toward Jody. “You want to leave him all alone in the world?”

Greasley’s gaze flitted to his younger brother for a moment and then returned to Adam. Barely suppressed hate and frustration seethed beneath his calm exterior. “You gonna hold that over me Cartwright? – seems you’ve got the same problem. Yer gonna leave those kids without a pa agin.”

There was motion at the door, but Adam kept his eyes on the man in front of him. “I won’t be the one to die – but I don’t want to kill you. I just want you to understand that I didn’t have a choice that night. Your brother pulled a gun on me after one of you had already shot me and killed my friend.”

Slim stood straight from where he was leaning against the wall and frowned, but Adam didn’t see the gesture. His entire attention was on the two men before him.

“What will it be, Greasley? Truce? By rights the lot of you should’ve been hung already for the murder of G—”

Jody Greasley jumped to his feet. “You’re the murderer! We weren’t doin’ no harm – nuthin’ ta kill over.” The boy had somehow managed to get his gun out and was waving it around.

“Put the gun away, boy, before you get hurt.” Adam had drawn his own gun, but he lowered it a little, matching its position with his other hand to show he would make no aggressive moves.

“I’m not a boy,” Jody snarled. “ – an’ that didn’t keep you from killing Tracy. Just ‘cause you’re somebody you think you can get away with it – well, this time you ain’t!”

It seemed almost like the world had stopped spinning to Adam. He could see the end of the boy’s barrel come up – he could match the movement, but he knew he’d be killing for no reason – it would be too late. His quick twist and the shove he gave Hoss started to move them both out of the way of the uncertain aim but no one could out move a bullet and he felt the impact as Jackson shouted at his brother to stop. Too late, he thought as he was spun around by the force of the bullet. Hoss was grabbing at him and Joe was yelling. Roy had been wrong. It was the kid. He slid toward the floor and strong hands came up under his arms to ease him on to his back. Hoss’s worried face appeared as a blur above him and then he saw Ben. Pa? Oh, that was you at the door. Roy can’t be far behind. He laughed softly. A conspiracy of two – I outsmarted you this time. Hoss’s hands were covered in blood. Where had all that blood come from? Pa? It’s over… They won’t want any more – can’t take any more…

Ben was ripping Adam’s coat and shirt off and shouting orders. “Sam, give me some of them towels. Someone get Doc Martin, I left him back at his house.”

Hoss rolled up his own coat and put it under Adam’s head, watching his father try to save his brother’s life. He wordlessly took the towels Sam handed to him and folded one into a pad to press down on the wound. Too high to be lungshot, he thought, but his brother might have a busted collarbone. The groan he got when he pressed down on the wound made him think it was the latter.

“Well, ya done it now, brother.” Adam’s eyelashes fluttered open again. “Yer gonna be in bed fer a month, if yer lucky.” Adam seemed to focus on what was going on around him and he looked at their father.

“Pa?” he gasped. “I thought I’d imagined you.”

“No, you didn’t. I don’t suppose you could have imagined stayin’ at Doc Martin’s like you were told to?”

“Na – I told you last night – I had something I had to do.” He coughed and his faced whitened against the pain, sweat appearing on his upper lip.

Ben took his coat off and, ignoring the blood, draped it over his son’s chest and Hoss’s large hands pressing another clean towel against the steadily bleeding hole in Adam’s shoulder.

“Th…the kid,” Adam tried, stuttering, shock starting to set in.

“He ain’t goin’ nowhere,” Hoss started and then, comprehending, “He’s fine. Jest settin’ there – Roy’s got ‘im back at that table.”

Adam closed his eyes.

“Adam,” said Ben fiercely. “Stay with me, boy – I want you to stay awake.” He squeezed Adam’s hand and put his other hand on his son’s forehead.

“Em,” Adam whispered. “Someone should tell her…”

“I’ll go, Pa,” Joe said softly. Ben looked up at his youngest. Joe could have easily killed Jody Greasley, but had instead sent him to the floor with a whirling kick that Ben had only distantly been aware of in his sprint toward his injured eldest son.

“Yeah – I suppose – maybe meet us at Doc Martin’s,” he said, vaguely thinking that a respectable woman couldn’t come into the saloon.

But someone had already sent for Emily.

‘No good is going to come out of that boy’s mouth this time of night,’ Essie thought grimly as she let in the orphan who did odd jobs for Roy Coffee. The little boy bobbed his head. “Ma’am, Mz. Arminger – they said to tell ya – Adam Cartwright’s shot.”

Emily clutched at the edge of the kitchen table and closed her eyes. “Adam,” she whispered.

Essie was more practical. “Emily, you set for a minute – I’m going to see if Mrs. Neilson can watch the boys.” She went to throw on her shawl and bonnet and was out the door in mere seconds.

The boy hungrily eyed the heaping plate of cookies that the women had baked that afternoon. “Go ahead, Billy,” said Emily; sorry all at once for the child who’d had to work to help support his family after his father had died in a mine accident the year before. Her boys weren’t the only ones who suffered, by any means, and she pulled herself together at the thought. “Where is Mr. Cartwright?”

“He’s at The Bucket o’Blood,” he said indistinctly around the cookie, most of which was stuffed his mouth.

Emily’s lips compressed into a thin line of anger and she patted the boy on the head. “Here, I’ll wrap some of those up for you. Did the sheriff tell you to go on home when you’d delivered your message?”

“Um, yes, ma’am,” the boy said, looking down at his well-worn shoes.

“Well then, you take those cookies home to your brothers and sisters and don’t worry your mother. She’ll likely know something has happened and will be worried about you.”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you.” The boy was gone with a bang of the door and Emily turned to find her own boys. She wouldn’t tell them what had happened, but Peter, at least, would know something was going on…

Adam’s shirt lay in tatters and his chest glistened bright red, washed to his waist with his own blood. Emily had seen, and treated, bad injuries before, but nothing prepared her for the sight of Adam in such a condition. She was just grateful that she wouldn’t be doing the sewing this time. At the moment she didn’t even know if she would manage to stay on her feet. Ben was at his son’s side, holding one hand, listening to him gasp something Emily couldn’t make out. Paul was alternately staunching the flow of blood and examining the wound.

Ben saw her and frowned, jerking his head from Hoss to the door. “Where’s Joe? Get her out of here.” Hoss stepped toward Emily and took her elbow. “Mz. Emily, you shouldn’t be in here.”

Emily shook off his hand and rounded on him angrily as Joe pushed through the swinging doors. “You! The three of you. Mendacious—” She clenched her fists and then crossed her arms tightly across her breast against the shuddering that she found she couldn’t control. “Was it worth it? Was any of this worth a drop of anyone’s blood?”

Hoss made another gram at her arms as she whirled to take an unsteady step towards Adam, but he was stopped by a light touch at his back. He turned to see Essie standing behind him. “Ma’am,” he said, surprised. “You shouldn’t be here neither.”

Essie frowned at him. “And just where should I be?” she asked tartly. “Emily?”

“Yes, I’m here.”

Ben stared at his son’s hand for a moment, so tightly gripped in his own, before he realized that Adam was pulling away from that grip and reaching for Emily. He sat back on his heels as she knelt by Adam and took the questing hand in both of hers.

She shook her head slightly. “Oh, Adam, you just had to do it, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” He gasped as Paul pressed hard on the wound to start binding it up for the move to the surgery. She ran one shaking finger down Adam’s cheek. “He’s burning up, Paul.”

“Yeah. I’ll deal with that later – right now – Emily, lift his head, Ben lift him a little –” Paul passed a bandage around Adam’s chest. “Adam? Stay with us here.” He patted Adam’s cheek lightly. “Emily, talk to him.”

“Had to do it,” Adam mumbled. “Don’t know what might have happened. Sometimes you just have to—” The rest was lost in a gasping cough as Paul tied his left arm to his chest.

Emily raised her eyes to the doctor’s. “Paul?”

“Broken collarbone. Won’t know how bad until I can get in there better. He’s lost a quite a bit of blood and he’s going to lose more.”

Emily eased Adam’s head on to her lap and held one end of the bandage while Paul wrapped another one over the top of Adam’s shoulder.

Ben slowly became aware of an argument taking place over his shoulder and even Adam seemed to realize there was a commotion at the other end of the bar.

“We didn’t shoot first.”

Jackson Greasley pulled against his bindings.

“He shot Morton and he killed my brother.”

“Eddie shot Morton straight off. Mr. Cartwright was already down – he never had a chance to get off a shot.”

Jackson shook his head defiantly. “That didn’t keep him from shooting my brother back at the camp. There was never any harm in that boy – there was no call to shoot him – he wasn’t even armed—”

Slim eyed Greasley distastefully. “Boy takes up a gun – he’s gonna get shot, just like a man. He was armed, all right, but Mr. Cartwright didn’t shoot yer brother – I did.”

“Slim?” The query was faint and surprised.

“I saw ‘im drawin’ a bead on you when you rolled off’a them rocks. Yer shot went wide.”

Adam closed his eyes, trying to remember back. Had there been a second shot? Eddie had been somewhere off to the right, trying to get at Jackson. Hoss somewhere behind him on the left… He remembered the shock of hitting the ground hard, and then his wild grab for his dropped gun… A wave of dizziness washed over him as he tried to pull up from Emily’s lap and he subsided at her soft “Adam, be still.” He gave up – he’d never remember those few seconds when he’d acted more from instinct than plan.

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” Roy asked Slim suspiciously. “You was right there when we put the facts in front of the judge.”

Slim shrugged. “Didn’t think it mattered who shot the boy.”

Roy eyed him doubtfully but Slim simply looked back with a steady gaze that defied Roy to think differently. “All these months,” Adam said faintly. “I’m gonna kill ‘im.” “You’re not going anywhere for a while, Adam – and I think Emily and your father are ‘bout ready to lock up your guns.” “I won’t need a gun.”

Slim pulled away from the bar and looked down at Adam. “Man should be mourned proper,” he said.

“He was my friend,” Adam managed between gritted teeth. Paul finished pulling the bindings tight and started gathering his things.

“Yeah,” Slim said simply, and picked up his hat.

Jackson Greasley turned to Joe. “Let me go.” Joe looked at him like he was crazy.

Jackson looked down at the floor and muttered: “I want to say something to your brother – I don’t wanna hurt him none – I didn’t know – I made him suffer – and he wasn’t even the one…I guess it was our own foolishness…”

Jackson pulled away and stepped toward the little group on the floor in front of the bar. “Wait—” He took a deep breath and looked down into the face of the man he’d dogged for months. “I held a grudge agin’ you, an’ it wasn’t right.” He looked up at his younger brother, the only one left of his family. “None of us was right, that night,” he said, glossing over his theft, “ta settle such a thing with guns.

An’ Jody didn’t know what he was doin’. He was so riled…”

Adam closed his eyes, exhausted and in too much pain to make any allowances.

Emily looked up, tears in her eyes, unable to believe it was over. If Adam would get well….

Adam Cartwright looked down at the newest Mrs. Cartwright and smiled – a slow, secret smile that soon lit his whole face. Emily held his gaze and returned the smile, but the moment didn’t last. Two small forms rushed at them and held on. “Are we married too?” asked Sammy.

Matthew gave his brother a poke in the shoulder. “We’re not married, stoopid – we get ta call Adam ‘Pa’ now.” “We’s married,” Sammy insisted stubbornly.

Peter looked up at his new father seriously. He wanted to cry, he missed his father so badly, but he loved this man who loved his mother, who he knew loved him and his brothers as if they were his own. His eyes filled with tears against his wishes, but he raised his chin and stepped toward his family. He held out his hand and Adam took it and pulled him close. “You don’t forget,” Adam whispered….

 

Fini

 

Just as a note — Brownie is inspired by the character by that name from No Less a Man by Jerry Adelman, although he really could stand on his own annoying but necessary merits.

 

---

ALTERNATE ENDING

 

Shifting Sands: The End of Everything

This story is for fun, not profit. Emily and the boys are my invention.

Hot sun on his back. Roy’s grin turning to suspicious concern. The same knowledge in Emily’s eyes and her quick shove that couldn’t move him, and her, out of the way fast enough. His father whipping around at the sound of a shot and his heels finally catching the gravel beneath his feet as he staggered back, away from Emily. Some great, unseen hand hitting her hard in the back, spinning her around and sending her crashing into his arms…sending his world crashing down on his head… Had it only been minutes before:

The June sun was warm on Adam’s back as he loaded the buckboard with supplies. Emily was in the general store picking out some candy for the boys – a reward for good behavior that had Adam chuckling as he listened to the bickering over who got more. So much for good behavior.

Roy Coffee ambled up as Adam swung the last sack into place. “Ben, Adam. This a family meetin’ or can anyone join in?”

Adam grinned at Roy. “Wasn’t supposed ta be – Pa says he and Hoss ‘just happened’ to be here to pick up the mail.”

Roy laughed. “That so? Well, Adam, good to see you in town. How’s things with the family? Emily well?”

Adam smiled and nodded to the open door of the store. “See for yourself.”

Roy cocked his head and his face split into a grin. “Nah – sounds like a family quarrel in there – I like ta stay outta those.”

Roy chuckled. Adam rarely left anything for anyone else to ‘handle.’ He wondered if just a month of marriage had begun to mellow his young friend.

“Sheriff!” Adam’s middle boy launched himself at the sheriff with a squeal; the elder stood in the door quietly and the youngest pulled on his mother’s hand.

“Easy, Matthew. Samuel,” came the automatic rebuke, “be careful with your mother, you’ll pull her right over.”

Emily blushed and looked at Adam reproachfully at this indirect, but obvious reference to her front-heavy state. Hoss guffawed and then turned red himself under that same gaze when it was directed at him. Samuel let go of his mother’s hand and looked quizzically up at the adults. “What’s so funny, Uncle Hoss?”

“Nothin’ Sammy,” said Hoss cravenly. “Why don’t you show me Blackie? Your pa says he’s a good match fer Palladin, and a good goer, too.” Sammy and Hoss started to move off –

White, shocked little faces. Roy moving fast out of his line of sight, gun drawn, shouting Jackson Greasley’s name and something about drop the gun. Pa shouting for help as he gathered Peter and Matthew to his side, looking to him with a question in his eyes. Sammy, where was Sammy? Hoss had Sammy. A whispered “Adam” and he looked down at his wife. He could feel the warm moistness of her blood seeping into his jeans. High on the left side of her back, he thought vaguely. He reached around awkwardly to his back pocket and pulled out his clean ‘kerchief. Her eyes were strained with pain, but held no fear that he could see. He shifted the folded material to his other hand and pressed it, unseen, to the wound. Maybe it was just high enough, he thought, that the bullet had gone up into her shoulder and not into her heart, she was still alive, after all – where had they all been?… His mind considered trajectories even as he started to move to lift her, to rush her to the doctor, but she put a hand on his arm. “Don’t, Adam. I won’t make it.”

“No,” he whispered fiercely. Not Emily, not so soon. His tears fell on her face and her hand came up to caress his cheek and he turned his face to accept her gentle touch for the last time.

She closed her eyes for a moment. “Let me see the boys.”

“No.” His voice shook. “You’re not saying goodbye – you’re not going to leave us.

“Adam, please do as I say.”

He tore his eyes from hers and nodded at his father and Hoss, and the boys came over in a rush. “Mama, Mama.”

“Shush, darlings. Let me see you. My big boys. You know I love you.”

Three sets of wide blue eyes stared, and the boys each nodded. Tears ran down Peter’s face and his younger brothers looked at him, unsure of what was going on.

“You mind your papa. He loves you –” She raised hers eyes to Adam’s. “—and he’ll take care of you—”

Adam nodded numbly and in the periphery of his vision saw two figures running towards them. Two more interlopers. When had anyone not thought they should interfere… His vision narrowed, turning dark at the edges. Oh, Paul?

“Lean back, Adam. Let me see. That’s it. I don’t think…it must be lodged near the heart. Yes, probably. Emily?”

He heard a whispered request that he didn’t understand. His mind was reeling, his head spinning. No. No more death. They didn’t deserve this…if he hadn’t married her…

Paul ran a hand expertly over the wound, fabric ripped – she had gone back to her black silks, the day after they were married. A public demonstration that she hadn’t forgotten Gil, despite their marriage. She would be with him now. No. You can’t have her back. She belongs here with me… “Adam, my sweet – don’t cry. Remember… life…” “…Emily? Em? Em…Em— ” He pulled her more tightly to him and kissed the lips that would never answer. His world spun as he buried his face against the still-warm skin of her neck, rocking all that was left of his wife, of his life. ‘Life?’ ‘Yes, when you’re ready.’ Why had he waited? Why had he married her at all? Never again. “Watch him, he’s shocky. Let’s get her…” His head swam and in the darkness he heard his name and hands took her from him. A strangled “No!” was all he managed, but someone said they might be able to save the baby. Baby? Em was having a baby…Em would never have the baby now, and he would never add to their brood… His mind slid back three months. Paul had been so pleased with this pregnancy and said Em could have as many babies as she wanted, within reason. Reason was over-rated, he thought bitterly; all of Pa’s determined counsel, Roy’s fussing, what had it done in the end? Paul’s quiet logic had most thoroughly convinced him…and now…Paul had taken Emily – she would be all right. She preferred Paul, not the all-business Dr. Hickman, but their friend, who had looked forward to this babe as much as they… Light came back as blind tears rolled out of his eyes and he felt strong arms pull him to his feet. “Come on, Adam, we’ll go along to the doc’s – he thinks –”

“He thinks!” he snarled. “Everyone thought— ” His eyes came to rest on Roy, further down the street, taking a bound Jackson Greasley to the jail. His hand moved to his gun butt and he unhooked the tie-down, dizzily taking off away from his father with steps that gradually became more steady.

“Hoss, take the boys,” Adam heard Ben say. “Adam—” His father, catching at him, still young, still powerful. How old would he be when he finally had a son of his own? Never, now. “Papa?” drifted after him. Peter. Solemn little Peter…was him at much the same age. Strong, with the weight of the world on his narrow shoulders. Peter knew… Adam stopped, turned around, looking for his boys. His boys. As much as he had loved Inger, and then, after too long a time, Marie, he loved those boys. They would be his sons. Were his sons. His eyes went beyond Hoss and the boys to the red stained gravel. Emily. His head spun again. Vengeance is mine… Emily… Doc Martin had taken her to—

He took one slow step towards the doc’s office, then another, finally breaking into a run. One last horror…and hope. His mind whirled with conflicting emotions. His life was one long twisted mess of horror and hope. When would it ever end? He stopped abruptly and turned around slowly. He’d sworn to himself that if the worst ever happened, he wouldn’t crumple, wouldn’t close up like he did. One strength he didn’t have. His mind cleared as he took a deep breath and straightened, feeling, and hearing, the bones snapping back into their more usual place. What had the boys seen? He knelt on one knee in the dirt and opened his arms. “Come here, boys.”

They rushed him and he had to whisper an “easy, easy.” He gathered them in his arms and placed a kiss on each little cheek. Emily’s eyes stared at him out of Sammy’s face and his voice broke at the realization. “I want you to stay with your grandpa.” He shushed their protests gently but firmly. “I have to go be with your mama for a while.” His eyes shifted to Ben. “Take them to Essie’s – it’s the best place for them right now. You’ll have to tell her…”

Ben nodded. “Of course, son.”

Fresh tears started to his eyes as he squeezed the boys tightly to him. They smelled of dirt and candy and little boy sweat. Joe had smelled like this. Joe was in Genoa. “Someone should go after Joe…” Hoss. Big, loving Hoss with his plain, honest good sense, and his steady support, whatever happened. He could always count on his brothers, both of them.

Sammy clung to him like a limpet. “Come on, baby, go to your grandpa.” “I’s not a baby.”

“That’s right, you’re my little man. Now behave like one, till Papa gets back. Essie will feed you some of her nice pie.”

He watched the boys walk hand in hand with his father. Peter looked over his shoulder at him to catch the tears running down his ‘papa’s’ face. How would he do it, he wondered. They’d had so little time to become a family. Peter knew…

Silence. That meant…no— He sank into the chair behind Paul’s desk and put his elbows on the cluttered surface, rubbing a shaking hand over his face. She’d been so beautiful, lying in his arms that morning, accepting his kisses with confident amusement, happier than he’d seen her in months, no longer haunted by Gil. Now she was lying on a cold table alone, as Paul tried to redeem one life from death’s grasp – to retrieve that which his wife still had left to give. His head spun again as he relived the gross violation of their life. He shivered and wrapped his arms high on his chest, tucking his chin down as he fought tears. Why? Why Emily? Why did he survive, when those around him—

A door opened in the foyer and he heard the firm tread of his middle brother. He dashed away his tears with the heel of his thumb and started to move out of the chair. One large hand came down on his shoulder, keeping him firmly in place. “Don’t move – you look like you’re gonna pass out again. I’ll see if I can rustle up some tea or somethin’ back there,” Hoss said, nodding at the back of the house.

Tea. She had teased him about cowboys and their coffee. She’d bought more; he’d loaded it into the buckboard fifteen minutes ago. Fifteen minutes? A lifetime. No, no, no, no. That gut-wrenching sob came from him? He stood abruptly and, head still spinning, crossed the room to the closed door that concealed his life, his love and perhaps something else… The door opened in front of him and a surprised and displeased Paul Martin came through the opening.

“Where do you think you’re going? Not in there.” Paul closed the door firmly behind him and indicated the bundle he held in one arm. “I have someone who would like to meet you, but you have to sit,” he said, guiding him to a deep leather chair.

Adam stood swaying in front of the chair. He couldn’t bear any more – he couldn’t face Emily in the person of this new little life. What he had prayed for just a minute before—

“Sit down, Adam, before you fall down. I don’t even know if I should let you—”

Adam sat and took a deep breath. He gave Paul a slight nod and the doctor handed over the baby to his father’s now steady hands. Adam pulled back the edges of the soft swaddling and looked down into the face of his son.

He laughed. A soft, mad laugh. He had taken everything from Gil now. The child in his arms had dusky black curls, a cleft in his tiny chin, and, as his father stroked the little face, a small dimple appeared on each side of the new-baby yawn.

A usurper. One brief act of comfort when they were both in too much pain to care for consequences… A confirmation of what had really never been. His mind skittered away from what he knew were the implications, of what lay with his wife…

He laughed again, handing the baby to Hoss. “Once,” he spluttered manically. “It was only once, after Gil – just once…” Someone pressed a hot cup into his hands and made him drink the hot, sweet brew. It had a bitter aftertaste. Drugged, again. He laughed softly to himself. That was how this had all started…

“Get your father, Hoss,” was the last thing he heard. “I don’t think he’ll be able—”

No, he wouldn’t be able to face any of it. He shook off the drug for a moment and knew that he would, he always did. Life goes on, and finds a way. He spun into darkness knowing he would find a way…