Summary:  Adam begins a new life with a ready-made family, but trouble is on the horizon. (Sequel to Shifting Sands)
Rating:  Teen   Words:  36,750

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 big thank you to all of my friends in the forums who alternately prodded me on and gave lots of positive feedback — I never would have finished it without you guys! Especially JC, who was my sounding board and chief prodder, and to Grimesgirl, who told me to get back in the saddle when I needed it most.

Just a little disclaimer here. While some of the attitudes are mine — such as the John Adams quote, you must remember that these characters are people of their time, with their own prejudices and terminology.

~Cressida

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Lethean Sands

“Pa?”

The word certainly didn’t describe him but there was an insistent tugging at his arm that kept him from sinking back into blackness. Was someone calling him Pa?

Small hands pushed at his shoulders and the word was repeated. He heard a quick intake of breath and then his head spun as the little voice yelled. “Mama, I found him!”

His head cleared some and he heard rustling and a soft gasp. “Oh, God, no.” Gentle fingers turned his head and probed, turning the dull ache above his left ear into a searing pain. The gasp came from his lips this time and the creeping darkness threatened a return. “Matt – get a couple of the hands – I think they’ll have to carry your father inside. Pete – saddle Jasper and ride to the Ponderosa and get your grandpa – tell him I sent one of the hands to town to get the doctor.”

Adam Cartwright opened his eyes finally to see a woman’s form outlined against bright afternoon sunlight. Something stirred in his memory and then was gone, skittering away like stones on a downward slope of shale. He frowned, but the movement sent a shaft of pain down the side of his neck and he groaned.

“Adam? Sweetie – let me see your eyes again – Sammy, get a dipperful of water for your papa and then go watch Gil and Libby.”

“Yes, Mama.” There was the crunch of little feet running on gravel and Adam tentatively opened his eyes again. The girl moved around to his other side and gently tilted his chin toward her.

“There, now you’re not looking into the sun. Let me see…” The girl, no – woman – looked worried. “You got a good whack on the head – do you remember who did it?”

He tried to speak, but it came out more as a whisper. “No.” He frowned, despite the pain. “Emily,” he said finally, as if something had been settled in his mind. “Emily Arminger.”

Emily smiled at him. “Yes, dear, Emily, but not Arminger, not for a couple of years.” She looked at him oddly, thinking about what he had said.

“Here, Mama.”

The little blond boy was back. He looked a lot like little Peter Arminger. Enough to be a brother. Adam frowned again. Had he missed something?

“Thank you, honey – now, you go watch…” her eyes flew to Adam’s, “—the babies.” She held the dipper to Adam’s lips and tipped a little water into his mouth. “Easy – not too much, you’ll get sick.”

Large blue eyes that were shaped like Emily’s stared at him, scared and uncertain. “Is Papa going to be okay?” “Yes, dear. Now, please do as I said.”

Adam gave the little boy an uncertain smile and reached out a hand which was taken in a fierce little grip. “Do what your mother says, boy.”

“Yes, sir.”

The boy seemed reassured and took off in a flurry of gravel. Adam smiled briefly, wondering if he ever walked anywhere.

“Adam?”

He shifted his gaze back to Emily. His head was aching and, as he tried to lift his shoulders off the ground, a wave of dizziness made him close his eyes and sink back into the dirt.

There was a light touch on his chest that gave way to strong arms catching him under his arms and lifting. “— can get him inside, Mrs. Cartwright. Slim went to get the doc.”

“He’s a big one, ain’t he,” came a voice at his feet.

“Yeah, well, I got most of it – you jest watch where you’re goin’ or you’ll be fired before ya make it through yer first week.” Adam’s world dipped and spun from the motion and he tried to keep from passing out again. Mrs. Cartwright? That couldn’t be right. What was going on?

Someone was tugging his boots off when he opened his eyes again to see a dimly lit room which somehow seemed familiar. An intricately patterned border ran along the top of the wall and he recognized the wallpaper that Emily had ordered all the way from New York. Gil had grumbled about the expense…

Gentle fingers unbuttoned his shirt and pulled the tails out of his jeans. He grabbed at the hands as they started unbuttoning his pants. “Emily!” He tried to roll away from her but the motion sent the room spinning and he groaned.

“Adam, stop it. You’re not going to lie on my clean sheets in your dirty work clothes. Now, stop fussing and let me get them off you.”

“No, don’t – please, Emily…not the– …oh, no—”

The gentle hands slipped a well-worn nightshirt over his head, carefully avoiding the aching wound above his left ear. She softly scolded him as she guided his arms into the sleeves. “What are you fretting about? Look at your poor face – it’s so burnt – you must have been lying out there for hours – whatever were you doing behind the barn? Did you need boards?”

“I…I don’t know what I was doing back there.” He closed his eyes and let Emily finish her ministrations. “Does Gil have another project going? I keep tellin’ him…” he faded off but continued at the touch of a cool wet cloth against the side of his head. “…he needs…more hands to work this…place…” When there was no answer he opened his eyes to see quickly suppressed grief and anxiety appear in Emily’s face. “What…”

“Never mind, Adam.” She turned quickly with what he thought was a sniff. “I’m going to get something to put under your head while I wash out that wound. Do not try to get out of that bed.”

There was a crash from the front of the house that jarred him awake. A toddler set up a wail and the little boy seemed to be yelling about not touching – what on earth was that other sound? A baby? It all made his head spin again and he started to feel sick.

“You kids must be quiet. Sammy, read to your brother – that will keep him quiet – and stay in the front of the house.” Peace descended again as Emily opened the door to the room next to him. Someone needs to oil those hinges – I just did that – why do they always squeak when none of the others – maybe dirt gets in them… He opened his eyes at the thought – I oiled those hinges?

Emily came into the room, a baby on one hip and a basin and towels on the other. “I’m sorry, Adam,” she said softly, “but she’ll make more noise if I try to leave her in her crib. The baby squealed and kicked excitedly as Emily neared the bed. “Aaa – Libby, you’re going to make Mama drop her things.” She set the basin down on the bedside table with a ‘thunk’ that made Adam wince.

He squinted as Emily raised a blind.

“I know the light will make you uncomfortable, but I have to see to clean out that gash.”

The baby squealed again and Emily hushed her. Adam was speechless, lips parted in shock. The baby, in the light, was very pretty. Black curls that never came from Gil or Emily formed a soft nimbus around delicate features that were lit by his smile. He reached out a trembling hand and whispered “Emily?”

“I don’t know what to say, Adam, except that it seems you’re a little confused right now. I’m trying to keep you quiet – I don’t want to say too much till the doc gets here and has a look at you, but I can’t change what is.”

Adam looked at Emily as the baby made a grab for his fingers. “Is that child…mine?”

Her lips lifted a little, but he could see the worry in her eyes. “Of course she is – and there are four others around here that call you Pa, though they’re Gil’s.”

He closed his eyes and let the baby tug at his fingers. “Five kids – what was I thinking?”

“You were thinking you wanted more,” she said acerbically. “You change your mind?”

“Don’t think I’m in… any shape… to make decisions right now,” he said faintly.

The baby objected as Emily pulled her away to plop her on her bottom on a blanket that she’d spread on the floor. “No, no – you play with your lambie while I take care of your father.”

“Mama?”

“Yes, dear?”

“I got the warm water.”

“Thank you, Matt. Watch out for your sister – pour half of it in the basin for Mama, would you please?”

Adam opened his eyes to see a boy standing next to him pouring water from a pitcher into the basin. The boy saw him watching and gave him a conspiratorial smile as he put the pitcher down. “Hi, Pa. Mama sure got you inta bed fast.” He picked up his sister and sat at the bottom of the bed. “Here, baby, you want to see Papa?” The baby patted the blankets with her free hand and smiled. “You don’t look so bad now – you feelin’ better?”

“A little,” Adam whispered, unable to take his eyes off the pair even when Emily pressed a warm wet cloth against the side of his head. “When did you see me?” he asked, confused.

“Out by the barn. I found you.” Matt frowned and looked at his mother. The baby took a well-aimed swipe at her brother’s nose with her animal and Matt shook her gently. “Libby, stop hittin’ me with that thing or I’m gonna take it away from ya.” Adam closed his eyes and said hoarsely: “Libby – that’s for Elizabeth.”

“Yeah, a’course. You okay, Pa?”

“Yes…Matthew…I guess I’m doing very well.”

Emily caught the inflection in his voice and smiled down at him, gently turning his head with two fingers to his jaw. “Tsk – that is going to need stitches,” she said after a minute of making things very uncomfortable for Adam.

“Bleh – I think Papa’s gonna be sick, Libby – let’s get outa here – you want to see what Sammy and Gil are doing….” The bed dipped as the boy clambered out, sending Adam’s world into another sickening whirl.

“Matt, don’t jump around like that,” Emily whispered sternly. “Oh, Adam.”

“…How long was he out?”

“I don’t know – we didn’t know anything was wrong until Sammy saw Sport was still in the barn – he had to be lying out there for three hours at least by the time we found him.”

The voices came into the room. Pa. He dragged his eyes open and saw his father moving toward the bed. He blinked.

Something was different…

Ben carefully sat on the bed and looked Adam over gravely. “Hello, son. Do you know where you are?” Adam dipped his chin slightly. “At the Armingers’,” he said at last.

Ben frowned. “Yes,” he said slowly. “Do you remember anything about it?”

“A boy…yelling…”

Ben smiled. “I imagine a lot of yelling goes on here, with all those boys – I mean, do you know why you are here?” “There…was…a baby – Libby?”

“Yes, Baby Elizabeth.”

“I think I’m married to her,” he said, slightly lifting a hand toward Emily.

“You think –” He patted his son’s knee. “Well, you get some rest, and we’ll talk about it later.”

“Pa?”

“Yes, son.”

“What year is it?”

“Paul’s coming?”

“Yeah. Slim tracked him down – he was at the Nowells’ place – Jason had a horse roll on him – broke his leg in a couple of places.”

“Oh. That’s bad. We’ll have to send some help over for him and Sally.”

Ben sat straight at this and laid his hand on Adam’s forehead. They sat in the darkened room, the house eerily quiet in Ben’s mind, without the energetic bustle that he so enjoyed in his son’s young family. Joe had taken the boys out to one of the corrals to watch some new horses being schooled after Adam had woken to another noise-induced bout with nausea. “The Nowells just bought that ranch last year,” Ben said eagerly.

“I remember some small things.” Adam sighed. “Other things…I didn’t ask, but I know.

…Gil’s dead,” he said after a moment.

“Yes,” Ben said quietly.

Adam blinked, his eyes reflecting a sorrow that he’d long put behind him and with a fear in them that Ben found disturbing. “And I married Emily.”

“Yes.”

“How long did I wait?”

“Six months.”

“Six months!?”

Ben watched a wave of guilt wash over his son’s face.

“Adam, there was nothing wrong with what you did.” Ben stared hard at his son. “You were hurt – Emily took care of you after Gil died. I watched your feelings change – both of you – I, and everyone else, could see you two falling in love. Just because you knew before that she was an attractive, sweet girl doesn’t mean you let yourself—”

“Doesn’t it? Let’s just say, if Gil’s dead, I’m not surprised I proposed to Emily.” He closed his eyes wearily. “Though with my luck with women, I can’t believe she said yes.”

Ben shook his head. “She loves you, Adam. I think you’ll realize that all over again, even if you don’t regain all of your memory. No one in the territory was surprised when you married Emily,” he said without irony. He patted his son’s leg. “Don’t beat yourself up over it. You, better than anyone, should know that people do fall in love again and remarry. Now, you rest, and you’ll remember everything, and you can go back to worrying about that new string of beef you just spent so much money on.”

Adam groaned. “How can I run a ranch when I have no idea of what I was doing?”

Ben smiled at this. “You’ll figure it out. Just do what you think you should be doing.” He stood. “I’m going to see what Emily is doing about dinner – something smells delicious. One thing you sure liked about Emily – she’s a good cook.” Adam sniffed tentatively and smiled. “Yeah, she is.” He blanched under his sunburn and tried to sit suddenly, then subsided at his father’s touch.

“What’s the matter?” Ben asked anxiously.

“N…nothing…I don’t know. She’s a good cook – I know that…guess I would have known that before, but it scared me – made me angry.” He raised a shaking hand and scrubbed at his forehead. “I just…can’t…think…. I don’t understand.” “ – the first thing I really remember is someone calling me ‘Pa.’ Guess it kinda stuck in my mind – I didn’t think anyone could be calling me that. Maybe I was awake before that – I remember being hot, thirsty – but it could have been when Matt was trying to get me to wake up.”

Doctor Martin wrapped the end of the bandage around Adam’s head tied it off. “Well, what’s the last thing you remember?” Adam closed his eyes, his brows puckering as he tried to pin down the last he remembered doing. “Sitting down with Charlie Fitch.”

“Charlie Fitch,” Ben exclaimed. “Who?” He looked at his son and the puzzlement in his face was replaced by dawning recognition. “Oh, no – that’s three years.” He looked at the doctor with something akin to panic.

“Ben, it’s early days yet to be worrying – we’ll see what he remembers after a good night’s sleep. He’s concussed—” “He’s been concussed before– !”

“Pa, please,” Adam whispered, his face pale and set.

“All right, out,” demanded Paul, dragging a recalcitrant Ben into the hallway. He looked back over his shoulder at Emily.

“See if you can get a little of that tea into him in a bit – I’ll talk to Ben in the parlor.”

Adam opened his eyes when the pounding in his head receded somewhat. Emily was moving around the room quietly cleaning up after the doctor.

“Hello. Better?” she asked when she noticed him watching her.

“Yeah.” He blushed as she re-buttoned the neck of his nightshirt – Paul had been unnecessarily thorough in his examination, he thought. Emily smiled at him in gentle amusement, seeming to read his mind, and he felt his ears burn in embarrassment.

He cleared his throat and she smiled more broadly at the familiar reaction to an uncomfortable situation. “Think you can keep down some tea?”

He nodded dumbly and accepted her assistance without demur. He smiled faintly as she took the empty cup. “Without anyone yelling I feel pretty good, actually. Wish Paul could give me something for this headache, though.”

Emily sat on the bed, pleased with this complaint. It sounded more like her Adam. “Later – I think he wants to see how much you’re hurting, once you stop thinking about those stitches.”

He shook his head ruefully and then winced at the pain the movement caused. “He just wants to make sure I stay in this bed.”

Emily chuckled. “Probably.” She sat next to him on the bed. “Do you want me to sleep in the back bedroom?” she asked after a moment.

His eyebrows crinkled uncertainly and she gave him a playful smile. “I don’t snore, I promise.” His brow cleared and he returned the smile. He sobered, though, as he looked at her.

One side of her mouth lifted in understanding. “I won’t disappear if you touch me – I’m not a dream.”

“Yes, you are,” he said huskily. “My life is on the Ponderosa – an endless round of contracts, cattle, timber, mines…” “You still do a lot of that – but you’ve been pretty busy here, too.”

“I can see that.”

This time she blushed.

“Yes, well, don’t let it go to your head. You’ll have a lot of work to catch up on when you get back on your feet…” She left the sentence unfinished as he stretched out one hand to tentatively cup her cheek. As if the effort was too much for him, he sighed and dropped his hand, eyelashes fanning his cheeks as his breathing evened out into his first untroubled rest since he’d woken to an uncertain reality.

“Look how he went around in a circle followin’ those horses.” “Like he was tryin’ to keep a bead on ‘em,” Roy said speculatively.

Hoss tipped his hat back on his head and rubbed at his forehead. “Yep – makes me think it weren’t exactly a friendly visit, even from the start.” Hoss knelt in the dirt and touched the dark spot that was his brother’s blood. His lips tightened in a quickly suppressed wave of anger. He’d be no good to Adam if he gave in to his feelings, but the thought of his brother lying in the dirt for hours while his kids searched for him – it made him practically speechless. He looked up at Peter, sitting so calmly on the pile of boards Adam kept for various repairs around the ranch. He saw the distress beneath the calm – like Adam had been after Marie’s death – scared and wondering why, again, but determined to keep going.

He held out a hand to the boy. Action always made these things seem more bearable. ‘Step around there, Pete, but look here – see how we pick up the sign?” He pointed to the footprints on the ground. “See the slash across that heel impression?”

Peter nodded.

“That’s where your pa came down hard on that spike a couple a’ weeks ago – remember? – skidded right off the end of it – weren’t too sm— well never mind about that,” he ended, not wanting to undermine his brother. “Anyhow – that’s yer pa – look over there and tell me what you see.”

Peter stepped carefully a few feet away and peered down at the dirt. “These prints are smaller,” he said finally. “And the heel doesn’t have the slash. The rest is all messed up – Matt’s and Ma’s prints it looks like, Sammy’s, and maybe Mr.

Drake’s.”

“That’s good, Pete. The little feller got off his horse there.” Hoss’s eyes fell on something that had caught Roy’s attention.

“Hey, Pete, what do you say to seein’ if your ma has some lemonade ready?” he asked, not wanting the boy to see what he was sure Roy had found.

Peter looked solemn, but nodded. “Yes, sir.” He shot a glance at Roy and then picked his way carefully to the side of the barn, turning back to look at his uncle.

Hoss smiled reassuringly. “Go ‘head, boy, it’ll be all right.”

Roy bent down to examine a board that had been thrown to the edge of the clearing. One end had bloody streak, the other, the broken off end of a rusty nail. “Nasty whack yer brother got – but he’s lucky this board wasn’t heavier.” He looked at the nail speculatively. “I wonder –”

“You thinkin’ whoever used it might need a doc himself, soon?”

“Yep.”

Hoss smiled grimly. “Well, we’ll be waitin’ for ‘im – he could get as far as Placerville before he needs one, I reckon, keeping off the roads.”

“I’ll wire the sheriffs out a bit further.” Roy turned around to examine the ground again. “Ya know, Hoss, what I can’t un’erstand is why on earth they were back here in the first place.”

Hoss lifted his own eyes from the ground. “Only blind spot on the ranch, Roy.” He pointed up the small rise beyond the barn. “Adam could’ve caught them lookin’ over the place. He wouldn’t be the first small-holder ta be robbed out here.” Roy shook his head. He couldn’t get used to Adam Cartwright as a small rancher. The boy’s resolve not to disrupt his new family’s life he thought admirable, but foolhardy. Even with the resources of a large ranch, there were always men ready to rob and kill, let alone on one of the smaller spreads, which were especially vulnerable. He knew Ben had pressured Adam to build a new house on the Ponderosa, closer in to safety and more conveniently placed, and rent this one out, but Adam had resisted mightily. Roy sometimes wondered if this was Adam’s way of putting distance, literally and figuratively, between himself and the life that had consumed his youth.

Hoss stood with his hands on his hips, determination in his face, as Roy took a step away, contemplating his next move as he ran his eyes across the clearing one final time. Hoss had always been a gentle man, but he was a Cartwright, and he was riled. Roy knew how Joe would react – with the quick anger and intrepid courage that always marked the youngest Cartwright. “Now, I don’t want you boys goin’ off half-cocked after these fellas – we’ll form up a posse and do it right.” “Weren’t thinkin’ of doin’ any other way, Sheriff,” Hoss said absently. He was studying the slope, frowning slightly. “What I don’t understand is why Kip wasn’t out here with Adam. That little feller follows him everywhere an’ he especially likes nosin’ around back here.”

The two men exchanged a sober look and set off up the slope, calling for the little dog as they did a slow, sweeping search for perhaps their only witness.

Warmth. He tightened his arms around it and breathed in the subtle lavender of the soap she’d made that spring. Soap?

She? The yielding figure in his arms was definitely a she. He lay, confused, but content with a situation that somehow seemed familiar, and only came to himself as he kissed the soft skin that he found beneath his cheek. He was married. He’d awoken again, not the sober, solitary eldest son of a rancher, but a man with a life that he’d never been able to have.

He remembered too, the woman he was supposed to be married to, and he drew back; very aware of what had been a friendship and nothing more, and unsettled by the sudden change.

Emily made a small sound of protest at the withdrawal of the warm comfort of his arms. “Just another minute,” she mumbled, “and then I’ll make the coffee.”

Adam sighed and moved back against her and tentatively returned his arm to her waist. She pulled the covers up to her nose to ward off the chill morning air and snuggled back against him in a search for more warmth.

This was too much for him and he pulled away from her abruptly, throwing back the covers and swinging his legs over the side of the bed in one fluid motion. He clutched at his head and groaned. “Ugh.”

He dimly heard the soft thud of Emily’s feet hitting the floor beyond the buzzing roar in his ears and he brought his head up when he realized she was saying his name.

“—was the worst thing you could have done. I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking, but you are going to have to get used to the idea that we are married.”

His vision cleared and he looked at the woman standing in front of him. Clad only in her nightgown, her soft curves were very visible, and he turned his head away, slight color rising in his cheeks.

She reached out and tipped his chin back so he was looking into her eyes. They were filled with gentle amusement. “I’ll make you some coffee,” she said softly, “but I want you to get back under those covers. And I promise to be a little more circumspect.”

There was worry behind the amusement and he took her hand in his. “I’m sorry – I guess I’m just not going to remember.”

“I think you will – you just have to give it some time.” She bent and kissed him lightly on his brow. “There, is that permissible?”

He smiled faintly and squeezed her hand. “Yeah. I guess I just need some time to get used to everything.”

“What are you doing out of bed?”

Adam swung around with a guilty start. He’d found his robe, but slippers were apparently beyond him. “Oh, uh…I, uh…” “In there,” she said, comprehending at last.

“In?—”

“Or you can still use the outhouse, which I wouldn’t let you get rid of.”

He peered through the door at the appliance in question. “Is that an earth-closet?”

“Yes,” Emily said resignedly. “You also put a shower-bath in the wash room, which actually works.”

He smiled. “I’ve taken to tinkering.”

“Yes.” She folded her arms and regarded him with a kind of exasperated indulgence that made him feel vaguely guilty.

“Pa would never go for any of my ‘new-fangled’ ideas—”

“I wonder why?”

“I’m sure I meant well, although why I chose that—”

She cut him off with smile and a pat to his arm. “Yes, you did, sweetheart, and we’ve discussed this all before, even if you don’t remember it. You can think about it over your coffee. I suppose you are well enough to get yourself a cup. Just don’t fall off the back porch if you decide to go that way – a couple of boards near the steps are loose. I’m going to go take care of Libby.”

She was gone in a swirl of skirts and he shook his head. How had he succumbed to such a practical girl?

The boards were indeed loose, and when he bent down to inspect them more closely, he noticed a hammer propped against the lattice. That answered what he had been doing behind the barn, he supposed. The boards were too far gone to be nailed to the joist again, and even the lattice showed some rot. He looked up at the overhang and examined the awkward placement of the gutter. He’d have been better off to bring the whole thing out a few inches…He shook his head. He’d probably been through all this the day before – he just couldn’t remember it.

His looked down again when he heard what he thought was a faint whine, and crouched down in the dirt and pulled at the lattice. It came off in his hands and he looked into the dark crawl-space under the porch, his eyes slowly adjusting to the dim light. A small, black and white shape quivered and gave a short, sharp yap. Adam remembered something about a missing dog. Roy and Hoss had searched for him? He’d been too tired and confused to understand last night, but he figured he’d found the dog they were looking for.

‘Hey, boy. What was your name?”

The little tail thumped in the dirt and the trembling seemed to ease a little.

“Kip, that was it. Come here, boy.” He lay full-length in the dirt and stretched his hands out to try to reach the dog in the narrow space. The dog put his head down on his paws and whined softly and Adam came to the conclusion that he was hurt. He was trying to figure out a way to reach the animal when he felt strong hands grip his hips and shoulders and slide him back into the sunlight.

“Adam? Son?! Can you hear me? Hoss, get some water—”

Adam groaned as the hands gently but firmly turned him over. “Aw, Pa – it’s early – what are you doing here?” He sat up and dusted himself off, pulling away from his father’s grip. “Do you always do this?”

“Do I always check on my son when he’s had his head laid open – what are you doing lying in the dirt, anyway?” Ben finished defensively.

Hoss came down the steps with a glass of water, Sammy trailing behind him. “Watch it, Sammy, there’s a couple of loose boards there.” Hoss met his brother’s exasperated glance and grinned at him. “You get your memory back?”

“No. But it doesn’t make me incapable of takin’ care of a place, or myself.”

“Aw, that ain’t fair, Adam – ya just got hurt yesterday.” Hoss gave the glass to Sammy and hauled his brother to his feet. Adam staggered and Ben grabbed at his arm.

“Watch it – he’s going to go over, Hoss.”

Hoss slid his arm around his brother’s torso and gripped Adam’s almost dead-weight tightly. “See, yer none-too steady yet – don’t know watcha doin’ out here, anyway.”

Adam blinked his eyes and tried to clear his head. “I’m sorry – didn’t mean to snap your head off. I found the pup, though.

Maybe one of the kids can get under there…”

Hoss smiled and Sammy danced around, his shock at his father almost fainting forgotten in his excitement over the family dog. “Ya found him, Pa? That’s great – I’ll get him out!”

“Not by yourself – get Pete or Matt to help,” he shook his head slightly. “Pa – could you – Hoss – you organize the boys—” Ben understood the disjointed instructions and took Adam from Hoss with a quiet “Keep them busy.”

Hoss nodded and with a final worried glance at his brother, took the boy back around the porch to have a look at the dog. Paul Martin sat down heavily in the chair Adam usually inhabited, placing his bag carefully beside it. He shook his head and looked up at Ben, who had paused in his pacing to stare intensely at his old friend. “I don’t know, Ben. It’s no better this morning. It could be temporary, but Adam may have to face losing the last three years.”

“This could be permanent?” Ben asked softly, shocked.

“Same kind of trauma – same place — with his memory stopping there. I don’t know – there was no permanent damage last time…”

Ben looked pained and then angry. “That was a long time ago, Paul. You think what happened then has something to do with this?”

“I don’t know—”

Emily came down the hall from the back of the house, a tray of coffee and cake in her hands. “He’s asleep. I could have Peter sit with him…”

“No need for that – he didn’t hurt himself – just try to keep him as quiet as possible. No more rescuing dogs, although he could sit out here if he wanted.” Paul stared vaguely into the empty fireplace. “Very puzzling – Adam’s injury. He’s been hit harder in the past…” He trailed off, mulling over his patient’s condition.

Ben looked intently at his old friend. “What are you trying to say?”

Paul leaned back in his chair and put his elbows on the arms, steepling his fingers in thought. He seemed to consider his words carefully. “It could be fear – something happened out there that disturbed him so much he doesn’t want to remember it.”

Emily shook her head. “That’s not Adam – he wouldn’t give in to fear that way.”

“No,” said Ben slowly. He looked at his daughter-in-law speculatively as she handed him a cup of coffee – if there was one thing that scared Adam, it was losing another member of his family. “Thank you, my dear.”

She returned his stare, first with puzzlement then with dawning comprehension.

“You think someone threatened to harm me, or the children?”

Ben nodded and took another cup for Doctor Martin. “Something like that. The one thing he fears most.” He paused and sat down in one of the high-backed wooden chairs that flanked the fireplace, taking a piece of cake from his daughter-inlaw, and thinking of his own losses and how much he missed each of his wives.

He brought his head up. “Well,” he said positively. “Roy is supposed to meet us here with a posse – we’ll track down whoever attacked Adam, and that will be the end of it.”

Emily smiled at him. She loved his carry-all-before him nature and found him an interesting counterpoint to his more brooding and intellectual son. Although from what Adam had told her, Ben was not immune to giving in to the buffets of life. Adam hadn’t said much, but enough that she picked up on the sadness in Ben’s eyes. She often wondered why such a vital and attractive man had never married again – perhaps it was too much, even for him…

Whispering. The boys…what were those rascals up to now?

“Pa?”

He knew to answer this time. “Hmm?”

“Mama wants to know if you want to eat with us or in here.”

Adam opened one eye and Matt crowed. “Toldja – one eye. Gimme the toad.”

Sammy scrunched up his lips in disappointment and put a grubby hand in his pocket to extract the creature.

Adam shook his head fractionally and rolled his eyes. At least he hadn’t lost his nose for mischief-making along with his memory. “Put him outside in a bucket and go wash up, boys. Tell your mother that I’ll eat out there.”

The chorus of yes sirs was followed by a flurry of elbows to secure first place out of the room.

“Boys, take it—” Adam sank back into the pillows and closed his eyes again. He felt old and tired.

He dragged himself out of bed and crossed over to the mirror. He looked old and tired. What had Doc Martin said? Three years? He lifted the bandage that was wrapped around his head. Still no grey in his hair. Definitely not taking after his father. He’d somehow managed to lose quite a bit of weight, despite Emily’s cooking. Something buzzed in his head – a memory? Something his father had said? He rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed, suddenly too drained even to wash up and get dressed.

The door opened slowly behind him and Emily smiled at him in the mirror. “You don’t need to come out and eat with us – Fanny could very easily make you a tray.” She crossed the room and gently pulled him around to face her. “You look tired.

I think you ought to lie down.”

His lips lifted in a wry grin. “Do you always coddle me like this?”

“Only when you need it, which isn’t often.”

He stared down at her for a moment. She looked older too, but not much. Some of the softness had left her face, but she was still so pretty…

She saw the change in his expression and smiled. “Oh, no. You’re not well enough for that,” she said as she pulled him across the room to try to get him into bed.

“I’m sick of being stuck in bed.” He sat but kept his feet firmly on the floor.

Emily raised her eyebrows at the almost-whine. “You really think you can stand the kids?”

“Is that why you sent them in here?”

“Yes, of course.”

He gave up and got under the covers. “Devious woman.”

“Not devious – I just let them win the argument for me.”

“Somehow I don’t think I win many arguments around here.”

“You win plenty.” She shifted some pillows around and gave him another to lean against. “If you’re lonely, Joe will be by later.”

“Where are Pa and Hoss?”

“They went with the posse, remember? After Dr. Martin was here?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said uncertainly.

Her eyes softened at the frustration in his face and, perching on the edge of the bed, she reached out and caressed his cheek. “Paul said you might have all sorts of trouble with your memory, especially if you’re tired or there’s too much going on around you. That’s why I want you to stay quiet and rest up.”

“If I ‘rest up’ any more I’ll—”

She stopped him with a finger to his lips. “I’ll bring your tray in and stay with you, if you like, but I have to feed Libby first.

You can eat supper with the kids, if you feel up to it, and besides, Joe will be here then.”

He put his head back against the pillows as she closed the door. “Definitely don’t win many arguments…”

“What are you doing?”

Adam looked over his shoulder and finished toweling off his face. “Shaving.”

“I can see that.” Emily crossed the room, straightened the bed, and turned to look him up and down. She smiled. “Much better. You almost look like you could do a good day’s work.”

He grinned back at her. “Somehow I think that’s probably all I ever do around here.”

“Never bothered you before.”

His smile faded and he touched the scar just beneath his collarbone. “What’s this from?”

“You got shot.”

“I can see that.” He moved closer to her and gently grasped her upper arms. “How? And what else am I not

remembering?”

She shook her head. “There’s too much to tell. In time, if you don’t remember, we will, but right now Paul wants to see how much you’ll remember on your own.”

“I don’t want to wait – I want to know everything.” His eyes ran over her face. “I’ve missed all of it;” he whispered, “I think some of the best parts of my life.”

She slipped a finger into the waistband of his jeans and pulled him towards her. He accepted the overture and put his arms around her, although she could feel the tension in him — the earth had shifted beneath his feet and he was in a new place, and she didn’t know if she could find the words to make it better. She took a deep breath and tightened her arms around him. Was this even her Adam, she wondered all at once, or had he reverted to a younger, more untested version of himself. She thought back to how he’d been the year before Gil died. Cockier, a little arrogant, definitely less even-tempered; he’d been the good-looking son of a wealthy neighbor – very kind and surprisingly, educated, but she’d been busy building a home with Gil…

She stiffened and pulled away a little without even realizing it, but he could tell, and looked down at her, bewildered and a little hurt.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing, Adam.”

He couldn’t figure out what he had done wrong and he backed away, retreating, as he had in the past, as he rarely did any longer. He stared at her for a moment and then sighed. “All right. I want to go outside and look around. Do I have any clean shirts?”

“In the wardrobe.” She pulled herself together, whatever was wrong, and crossed the room to open the doors to a wardrobe that he recognized as one from the Ponderosa. She saw him looking at it and smiled ruefully. “Gil and I shared one. Somehow, Cartwright money buys a lot of dresses and suits…”

He stepped close to her and tipped up her chin. “I changed your life,” he said; half statement, half question.

Her face relaxed and she put her hand up to cover his. “No, Adam. My life changed, and you helped me through it.” She pulled his face down to hers and pressed a quick, hard kiss to his lips. “You always were a dear, so memories or not, you’re still my Adam.”

She was gone in a whirl of skirts and Adam put a hand on one hip, a bemused expression on his face as he brought the other to his still-tingling mouth. Now he knew where the kids got it from. He smiled to himself and pulled out a clean black shirt.

Adam stepped on to the back porch and took a deep breath. He ran his hand over his now clean-shaven cheeks, absently rubbing at the slowly fading burn. The boys had been set to finding strawberries in the mostly picked-over patch. From the kitchen window he could hear Libby giving Emily a hard time over something. That baby was a handful, he thought vaguely as his eyes went to the shed that probably held gardening equipment. He felt a start of guilt and responsibility as he remembered the baby in question was his. Was this really what he had wanted? All these kids? They probably got to San Francisco once a year, if they were lucky, and he would bet that he had very little time to read.

He stood straight as he heard Little Gil’s voice pipe up, asking his mother for ‘outside.’ He could do something about that. There was a child’s wagon, with high, slatted sides, parked in front of the shed, and he set off to retrieve the little vehicle, putting aside his doubts and questions for the time being, at least.

Joe came over the crest of the hill and stopped to look down at his eldest brother’s ranch. He grinned when he saw Adam pulling the kids’ wagon around in the yard with what looked like Little Gil and Libby in it. Adam playing nursery maid – that was a rare sight. Joe was about to urge Cochise on when he realized what his brother was doing. The wagon tracks clearly showed that Adam had made a complete circuit of the home corral and barn, and was starting on the other side of the ranch house. He probably was not supposed to be outside even, and he was busy inspecting the place. Joe squinted up at the sun. At least it wasn’t as hot as it had been, but he wondered if Emily knew what Adam was up to and where on earth that useless Fanny had gotten to.

Adam rounded the side of the house to see a familiar figure swing off Cochise, but the man who turned to greet him was not the little brother he remembered. Self-assured eyes met his on equal terms and Adam gripped his brother’s hand hard, not trusting his voice. Joe was twenty-three, he calculated quickly, and showed every year that Adam was missing. “Joe—” he started.

Joe tore his eyes from the surprise and doubt in his brother’s face to look down at the boys, who’d abandoned their baskets of berries. “You fellas help Pete put Cochise up – I need to talk to your pa.”

“Yea – Cooch!”

“Take it easy,” he yelled after them. He turned back to see Adam still watching him, and he flushed a little.

“Do I look that different?”

Adam grabbed his arm and squeezed it and grinned. “Na – you look great, Joe, and you’re a sight for sore eyes – I’m ‘bout ready to go out of my mind bein’ stuck here.”

Joe returned the grin, fully appreciating the unspoken ‘with these kids.’ Adam might enjoy his role as husband and father, but Joe knew that his heart was still with the land he grew up on. Older brother hadn’t let his brains do the thinking when he’d so doggedly pursued the newly widowed Mrs. Arminger, and Joe had the feeling that there were times when Adam felt like he’d be pulled in two by the twin demands of his family and the Ponderosa. He admired his brother’s ability to take care of his family and still keep up with most of the work he had done before, but today the drive and competence seemed to be overcome by a weary disbelief and exasperation.

Adam’s eyes crinkled up again and some of the assurance came back into his face. “‘sides, you’re the only one who hasn’t tried to stick me in bed the moment you saw me.”

“Huh, well, you look as if you could do with a cup of coffee, at least.”

“Papa – Unca Jo –”

Joe crouched down next to the wagon. “Hey, Gil. Your pa take you for a ride?”

“Yep.” Gil beamed. “Went evewywhere.”

“I can see that,” Joe said ironically, shooting a reproachful glance at his brother. He tugged on the deep peak of Libby’s bonnet. “Hey there, little lady – can you spare a hello for your uncle or are you gonna watch that horse all afternoon?” Libby’s eyes finally met his as he moved into her line of sight. “Da!” she crowed.

“Yeah, well, I don’t think your pa is ever going to let you on Cochise. How about a nice, quiet pony in a couple of years?” Adam rolled his eyes. “Don’t encourage her. That one is really going to keep me hopping, as it is.”

Joe laughed. “Yeah. Gonna be a real looker, too.”

“If there was any justice in this world—”

“I know, she’d be mine. At least you haven’t lost all of your marbles – you can still come up with the same lines.” “Do I really say that?”

Joe picked up his niece and smiled at her, tickling her tummy until she forgot about Cochise amidst her giggles. “You bet.” He followed Adam as he pulled the wagon back towards the shed.

Adam swung Gil into the air. “Out you come.”

“Thor, Pa.”

“What?”

Joe grinned. “That’s your new bull. And you got a whole new string of beef.”

Adam settled Gil on one hip and flipped back the wagon handle. “Oh, yeah, I think Pa said something about that. I sank a lot of money into it?”

Joe nodded his head towards the one line of fence that Adam hadn’t explored. “You’ve got a pasture down here that you fenced off just for him.”

There was no sign of the bull, which made Adam vaguely uneasy.

Joe saw the look and tried to head off his brother’s concern. “Aw, he’s probably behind one of those hillocks – can’t see them too great from this distance – you were talking about flattening them actually…” His eyebrows snapped together as he brought his gaze back from the pasture. “No bully today, Gil,” he said, keeping his eyes on his brother’s face. “Here, why don’t you give your pa a break and walk back with me? Bet your ma has some nice milk an’ cookies for us.” As discretely as possible, he hustled his brother and the kids back to the cool dim comfort of the house, silently chastising his brother for pushing himself too hard, too soon.

Joe pushed Adam into a chair and went to find Fanny.

Adam closed his eyes and leaned back into the high-backed wing chair. His head was buzzing again as he hazily listened to a light, dragging sound and thump that repeated several times as it got closer to him. Something wet sniffed at the hand that he’d let dangle over the arm of the chair and he pulled back, startled, as he opened his eyes to see the little dog he’d found that morning.

“Hey, pup, come to visit, huh?” He peered down at the canine’s legs, recognizing the doctor’s handiwork in the cast on the animal’s back left leg. “I see the doc fixed you up… said he double bills for animals, you know… something’ about hazard pay…” Adam let his eyes close again. “Don’t think either of us is going to be much use around here, for a while…” Joe, relieved of his burdens, came back into the parlor to find his brother asleep in his chair, Kip’s muzzle resting on his boot…

Adam leaned on the corral fence and looked out at the horses moving around lazily in the slanting rays of the still-warm summer sun. It would set in another half hour, and he felt a great deal of relief mixed in with some guilt. The kids would hopefully be bathed and ready for bed by the time he returned to the house. Dinner had been a strain, putting a crease between his brows that had earned him some uneasy looks from Peter and Matthew. Even relatively subdued, they were a lively bunch, chattering about their day and looking forward to what tomorrow would bring. The noise finally got to be too much for Adam and he’d excused himself to seek the quiet and solitude of the front yard.

One of the hands crossed to the corral. Adam had to look twice at him before he recognized the man. “Slim?” The hand straightened up, coiling a length of rope that had been left in the dirt.

“Yep.”

“What happened to your nose?”

Slim’s eyebrows rose and fell with a quick jerk and he spat in the dirt, too close to Adam’s feet to be accidental.

“Guess you’d say we had a disagreement.”

“Do we need to have another ‘disagreement’?” Adam asked, irked by the man’s insolence.

Slim looked at him impassively. “Nah. Don’t hold it aginst ya.”

Adam’s lips tightened in puzzled disapproval and he eyed the hand suspiciously, finally focusing on what Slim was doing instead. “Those kids leave that rope out here? I don’t want you cleaning up after them.”

“I left it out – was teachin’ young Pete how ta rope a steer when Sammy set up a screech that yer hoss was still in the barn. Plum fergot the rope was out here.”

Slim turned on his heel and ambled off, the rope over one shoulder.

“Old softie,” Adam muttered under his breath. His head came up at a different thought and he shouted after Slim. “You spoil those kids and you’ll make my job twice as hard!”

Slim paused in the doorway to the barn. He tipped his hat back and Adam thought he saw a brief flash of satisfaction cross the weathered face. “Yep, reckon so.”

Adam shook his head in exasperation and turned to see Joe walking towards him. He grunted and turned back to the rail.

“Nice to see you, too. What’s wrong?”

“Nuthin’.” Adam turned towards his brother with one of his wry half-smiles. “Nothing.” His eyes went over Joe’s shoulder to take in the low slung ranch house, with its deep-set, solid windows, rock façade, and heavily timbered roof. It clearly showed its designer’s hand, and Adam wondered what Emily had thought when she saw that her home would not be a primly clapboarded farmhouse, but a sprawling ranch, built to last many lifetimes, as solid as the mountains that surrounded it.

“Guess you remember drawing that up for Gil,” Joe said quietly.

“Yes. He wanted something that would fit the landscape…”

Adam’s gaze moved to the field next to the house and Joe watched in amusement. “That was supposed to be a garden. I think Emily has a secret deal with Hop Sing to supply the whole Chinese community with greens. Don’t know where else it all could be going.”

Adam’s smile faded as he looked at the tidy plot. The whole yard exuded an air of prosperity and hard won tranquility. The fences were straight and in good repair, and it looked like someone regularly raked the gravel drive. A fledgling vine that he recognized as a cutting from the one that grew over the front porch of the Ponderosa was winding up the last pillar on the porch, and tidy groups of flowers ran the length of a bed of some dark green bush that he didn’t know the name of. He rubbed his forehead as if that could rouse some memory of this life, but there was almost nothing, only a few irrelevant details. He expelled a quick breath of frustration and turned to lean his arms on the high rails of the corral. He felt a hand on his shoulder and felt comforted by the quick squeeze that Joe gave him.

“I brought some sugar out – you want to see the riding stock?”

Joe had picked something neutral, Adam thought, trying to ease him into reality. He gave Joe another wry smile for his efforts. “Sure. Who’s first?”

“Well…” Joe clicked his tongue and gave a low whistle. A big black came over, and shouldered aside a hopeful young mare that had trotted along the fence.

Adam patted the strong neck. “That’s no way to treat a lady. Get out of here.” He reached towards the grey mare. “What’s her name?”

Joe craned his neck to look up into the barn loft. It looked like the kids had been building a fort up there again, and he wondered if Adam would even notice. He tried to ignore his brother’s increasing unease, but the effort was unsuccessful. “This is Penelope and that’s Dorcas over there,” he said, pointing to two jennies. Sport brought his head out over his door, as did another big black.

Adam reached out a hand to rub the chestnut’s nose. ‘Hey, boy,” he whispered. “Bet you’d like to get some exercise.” The black whinnied and Adam laughed. “Jealous, huh?”

Joe grinned. “They get along real well, after two years. Palladin and Sport, though—” He whistled. “Those two are always trying to outdo each other…” He stopped; Adam was no longer listening, but was patting the black absently.

He smiled ruefully at his brother and clapped him on the arm. “Go in, Adam. I gotta go, anyway – don’t want to get back too late.”

Adam focused on Joe’s face and raised one eyebrow.

Joe grinned. “Well, I am three years older. And it is a weeknight.”

Adam smiled and relaxed visibly. “It really is true, then,” he teased. “Are you sure it hasn’t been ten years?”

Joe playfully punched at his brother’s stomach. “Get in there – kiss your kids goodnight and tell Emily how much you love her, memories or not.”

“But I don’t—”

Joe grabbed his brother’s arm. “Adam — Emily and this place, and those kids, were the best thing that ever happened to you. I don’t think you’d still be here if you hadn’t a’ married her. You were fit ta bust, as Hoss would say.” He looked at the ground briefly. “You had an itch to your feet, and I think we all were lucky that you didn’t just light out one day.” Adam looked taken aback. He had never confided in his family his longing to get away and do something on his own, or the long-suppressed desire to see more of the world.

Joe moved over to the next stall and pulled his blanket off the door. Cochise poked his head out and snuffled at his shoulder. “Yeah, we’re goin’ home, if I can convince my big lug of a brother to face his responsibilities.”

Adam straightened his back and glowered down at Joe. He’d filled out some, but Adam couldn’t resist giving back some of his own. “You need help with that saddle? You’re still a mite puny – oof.”

Joe swung the saddle into his arms without warning and smiled up at him, giving him a wink. “You just keep it up, old man, and I’ll forget I offered to help you find another job for Fanny.”

Adam pushed the saddle back at his brother with a frown. “What’s the matter with Fanny?—”

“Pa?”

“Yeah, Matt?” Adam was a large dark form in the doorway of the boys’ room.

“When are you gonna remember us?”

Adam heard the plaintive note in the boy’s question and crossed the room to sit on the low, child’s bed. “I don’t know.” Matt sniffed. “It’s like you ain’t our pa no more. You don’t even want to be around us.”

Adam pulled Matt into his arms. “No, Matt – I do want to be around you kids, but too much noise or fuss just makes me sick right now.” He tucked the head of blond curls under his chin. “You know how you feel when you have a fever, or when you’re so tired you can’t really think right?”

Adam felt rather than saw the slight nod.

“Well, that’s how I felt after a while at dinner, and this afternoon, when…Uncle Joe was here. I’ll be better, probably in a couple of days even, but I might not ever remember everything.” His eyes lifted to meet the other boys’. Peter was lying propped on one elbow, Sammy was sitting up in his bed, and Gil was already asleep, thumb in mouth, tightly clutching his stuffed dog, behind the bars of his tiny bed.

“Meanwhile, you fellas are just going to have to put up with Pa being a little grumpy and quiet.”

“Like when you’re in one of your ‘moods.’”

Adam’s eyebrows pulled together and he looked at Peter. “Ma said it – ta Uncle Hoss last week. They didn’t know I was there.” He saw the look on his father’s face and tried a better defense. “I was getting’ somethin’ outa the cellar…Aw, Pa, Uncle Hoss only wanted to ask ya to do something for him…”

“I just don’t want you eavesdropping – ” Adam disengaged himself from Matt and tucked the boy back in, giving the curls a quick stroke. He turned to Peter and repeated the movements. “You never know when you might hear something bad about yourself,” he commented with a wink.

Sammy pulled his blankets up and threw himself on his pillows. Adam picked up a couple of loose feathers from the floor and tut-tutted. “Nero and Lady won’t appreciate you wasting these feathers – take it easy with those pillows.” Sammy pulled a grimace at the mention of his nemesis. “That crazy ol’ goose – I’d like to pull out all a’ his feathers. Can’t we eat him fer Christmas or somethin’, Pa?”

“Nope. Too old, too tough.” Adam tucked in the blankets that he somehow knew Emily would find pushed out and askew the next morning.

Sammy’s blue eyes glowed. “Mama could stew him – just like ol’—”

“That’s enough, Sammy. Goodnight,” Adam interrupted firmly. “No livestock decisions tonight.”

“‘night, Pa.”

Adam turned in the doorway. “Goodnight, boys.”

He closed the door most of the way and turned down the hallway lamp. He turned towards the baby’s room, pinching the bridge of his nose and then rubbing at his aching forehead. He’d have to take another of Doctor Martin’s powders or he’d never be able to sleep.

Emily was sitting in the rocking chair facing the open window. The deep sill housed a collection of home-made dolls and animals, with the distinct shape of a bull among them. Adam carefully set aside a few of the animals and sat on the sill, blocking what little light came from the window, and casting Emily and the baby in a shadow. He realized what he had done and made as if to move when Emily whispered “Stay – it’s all right – she’s nearly done.”

Adam’s eyes adjusted to the darkness and he watched Libby twine her mother’s hair around her finger. Emily had let it down and the curls lay on her shoulders and cascaded over the front of her blouse. He couldn’t ever remember seeing it loose before, but he supposed he had seen it often enough. His jaw worked for a moment. He could remember the name of that damned goose, but he couldn’t remember Emily as anything but a friend’s wife. His gaze dropped to the baby, drowsily finishing her bedtime feeding. He couldn’t even remember the existence of his own daughter. He got up abruptly, wanting out again, wanting the crazy whirl that was his mind to fix on something close to familiar ground. He paced the room twice and then stopped as Emily rose to put the baby in her crib. She hadn’t let him hold Libby at all that day, afraid there would be a repeat of the morning’s wooziness.

“Emily,” he whispered. “Could I hold her, just for a minute?”

She looked him over carefully, trying, despite the dark, to see if he was really as steady as he sounded. “She’s almost asleep – don’t jostle her.”

Adam raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think I’ve forgotten how to handle a baby.” He took Libby carefully and looked down at the sleepy little face. “She’s got Joe’s green eyes,” he said softly. “I always thought that came from Marie’s side. I couldn’t believe the resemblance when he was holding her this afternoon.”

Emily smiled. “Your father was very pleased about that.”

Adam’s arms tightened around Libby. His father would be pleased, he thought, after the continuing sorrow of Marie’s failed pregnancies. Any child who resembled Joe even a little would go some way to easing that old wound.

Adam cocked his head at the sound of horses. “Speak of the—” he said softly. “Sorry, little one – I think our getting acquainted is going to have to wait. I bet that’s your grandfather right now.” Heavy footsteps reverberated on the porch and the sound of a cautious knock wafted through the open window.

“—they’re still up – the lamps are still lit.” Ben’s voice came through the window and Emily rolled her eyes.

“I knew I should have closed that—” She took the baby from Adam, but it was too late. The green eyes were bright and curious, searching for the ‘gampa’ the mouth couldn’t articulate just yet.

“Da!”

“Yes, Da, but you are supposed to go to sleep, young lady…”

Adam closed the door to the nursery quietly, but not hopefully. If Emily got that baby down it would be quite a feat. The front doors were both open to the finally cool evening air, and Adam was surprised his father hadn’t simply walked in.

“Pa.” He looked beyond his father, searching for his brother. “Wasn’t Hoss with you?”

“He’s giving the horses a quick rub-down.”

Adam nodded and motioned his father to follow him to the kitchen. “I’ll make some coffee. I have a feeling we’ll have a little visitor. Emily was just putting Libby down when she heard your voice. Bright-eyed and bushy tailed right away—” Ben grinned. “Sorry, son – didn’t mean to do that.”

Adam caught the tail end of the grin as he looked up from feeding wood into the stove. “Huh. You’re mighty happy ‘bout that even so.”

Ben crossed his arms across his chest and beamed. “And why wouldn’t I want to see my granddaughter? She’s the first Cartwright born in—”

“Yeah, Pa, I know – ‘twenty-three years’.”

Ben’s eyebrows shot up. “You remember that?”

“Yeah.” Adam put the lid on the coffee pot and put it a little too forcefully on the stove.

“I can remember the goose,” he said bitterly, “but I can’t remember holding my child, or…” “Loving Emily,” Ben said quietly.

“Yeah.” Adam lifted his eyes from the stovetop and Ben was surprised at the pain they held.

“—your grandfather is going to tell you that good little girls go to bed when they’re told to—” Ben’s face lit in pleasure as he dragged his attention from his son. “There’s my girl.” “Paa-paa-paa-paa!” Emily clapped her hands and kicked at her mother’s hip.

“She clapped!” Ben held out his arms as he met Emily’s wry smile with one his own. “If you don’t mind my dirt?” “I don’t think she’ll go down otherwise.”

Hoss took a sip of coffee and put his cup back in the saucer. “I reckon they joined up with the road to Carson ‘cuz they knew we’d lose ‘em there. It’s a busy road and they could double back real easy if they wanted.”

Adam rubbed a hand hard into the aching muscles of the back of his neck; it had been a long day for him and Hoss’s words only added to the sense of unease that he had been feeling all evening. “I’m gonna post a guard tonight.” He looked up at Ben, who he found to be studying him closely. “I’m fine, Pa – just need to get some sleep.” He fingered the handle of his coffee cup. “There is something that’s been nagging at me all day, but for the life of me, I can’t pin it down.” He pushed the heel of his hand into his forehead and leaned back in his chair.

Ben frowned. Adam’s coffee had been mostly milk and sugar, but the warm drink had not had the soothing effect Ben had been trying for. He caught Hoss’s eye and jerked his head towards the door.

Hoss took the hint and stood. “I’ll tell Eddie, if ya like. Newsome’s the one ya want fer that – never knew a body more fer wantin’ ta talk all night.”

Ben’s mouth lifted into a slight smile. Newsome had been the one hand to follow Adam from the Ponderosa. While he liked to hear the sound of his own voice a little too much for Ben’s liking, he had an unfaltering loyalty to Adam, and had made an excellent trail boss on the increasingly frequent instances when Adam couldn’t boss a drive.

“Adam?”

Adam raised his head but kept his eyes on his cup, only bringing them up when his father repeated his name. “Hmm?” “Hoss said he’ll get Newsome to ride guard tonight.”

“Yeah, fine,” Adam said vaguely.

Hoss and Ben exchanged a worried look.

Adam took a deep breath and finally focused his eyes on his father’s face. “I’m sorry – what did you say?” “Hoss will ask Newsome to ride guard tonight,” Ben repeated patiently and slowly.

Adam raised an eyebrow at his father’s manner and stood up, stretching his neck gingerly and then holding his hand out to Hoss. “Thanks.”

Hoss took the hand and put his other on Adam’s shoulder and squeezed lightly. “You take it easy – I don’t want ta hear you keeled over an’ split yer fool head open again.”

“I’ll behave, I promise.”

Hoss grunted. “Uh, huh – jest like you were today.” He picked his hat up off the table and went to say his goodbyes to Emily.

“He’s right, you know. Emily said you were prowling all over the place today. You were supposed to at least stay inside.” Adam emptied the coffee pot and scraped the grounds into the can Emily kept under the sink. “I had to get out, Pa. I had to see…my life,” he said quietly. He pumped fresh water into the pot to rinse it out and placed it carefully on the grooved stone of the sink skirt, trying to find the words to adequately describe his feelings. He backed away from the sink slightly and leaned both hands on the smooth surface, bowing his head from pure fatigue.

“Go to bed, Adam. Things will look better tomorrow and make more sense.”

Adam smiled and slowly turned to face his father. “That’s always your solution, Pa – ‘go to bed’.

“Well, you should listen to your pa,” Ben said gruffly, as he pulled his bemused son into a brief embrace.

Emily took one look at Adam and gathered up a towel, a clean nightshirt, and Adam’s robe and pulled him back down the hall towards the kitchen.

“Emily – what—”

“Hoss said ‘you might want to put that newfangled bathing machine ta work.’”

“Emily – that’ll take forever. I’m too tired…” He drifted off as Emily opened the bathroom door to reveal a deep copper tub encased in some rich, dark wood, and a collection of bright brass pipes leading from what looked to be a boiler. A shower/bath stood in one corner, and a dressing area was richly carpeted and furnished. Adam’s eyes stayed on the boiler, though. “I’ve read about those…” He walked up to the apparatus and examined the gauges and levers closely, fatigue and stress forgotten. “You know they’re talking about central heating with these things – steam.”

Emily smiled. “Yes, dear. You have someone designing one to put in next year. You looked at a furnace for the cellar and some kind of channels to carry the hot air up here, but you said steam was going to be the most efficient.” She stepped carefully between Adam and the piping and reached up to unbutton one button of his shirt. “Adam?”

“Hmm…” He brought one hand up to stay her fingers, but continued to stare at the workings of something he’d only dreamed of installing at the Ponderosa. He finally brought his attention back to his wife and smiled with something close to his more usual manner. She recognized the look that came into his eyes and started to slide away, but he put one hand on the richly textured wallpaper to block her in. “My, but you’re a forward one aren’t you? Always in a hurry to get my—” “Always in a hurry to get something done, you mean. If you aren’t tired, I am. The tub’s filled—” she turned to point to the levers on each pipe “—and this is hot, that pipe is the cold– Adam, don’t – I thought you had a headache,” she finished, trying to pull away from the arms that had encircled her waist.

He tilted his head as if listening to an inner voice. “No – no headache – must be the doc’s powders,” he said with an sly grin.

“Uh—hum. That, the prospects of a nice hot bath and something else that you’re not going to get tonight, Mr. Adam Cartwright,” she twisted away from him and moved quickly to the door. “I’ll put another bandage on you when you’re finished, but don’t get that one wet,” she said as she made her escape.

“Yes, ma’am, Mrs. Cartwright.” He turned back to the tub and pulled out his shirttails…

“Adam?”

“Hmm?”

“You can’t sleep in that tub tonight.”

He reluctantly opened his eyes to see Emily peeking around the door. “In a bit…”

“If you don’t get out of that tub I’m going to come in there and change your bandage right now. I want to go to bed.” He sighed. “Yes, dear…” he said on a shallow, outgoing breath.

Emily’s lips pursed in irritation as the black lashes drifted down again. The door swung open silently beneath her touch and she advanced into the room, watching the steady rise and fall of Adam’s chest with growing concern. “Adam,” she whispered. “Adam?” she prodded more loudly. He didn’t respond this time and she crossed to the tub to lay her hand on his forehead. He was warm, but it seemed only from the heat of the bath. He’d run more hot water, she thought. No wonder he didn’t want to get out.

“Adam, wake up.”

The eyelashes fluttered open again, and awareness gradually appeared in the brown irises. Adam hauled himself straight with a faint groan. Emily’s hand still rested lightly on his shoulder and she gave him a comprehending smile. “Did you take that medicine Dr. Martin left for you?”

He nodded dumbly and breathed deeply, trying to wake himself up.

“That stuff will put you to sleep – didn’t you know that? It’s not what he used to give you, and you have to be careful with it,” she said as she picked up his towel. “How much did you take?”

He yawned and stretched a hand out for the towel. “Only half the dose. Out, woman – I’m awake now.”

She clutched the towel to her chest and gave him a stern look, but the effect was ruined by the amusement in her eyes.

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to give me that towel or do you want me to drip all over the place?”

This brought a full smile to her face which disappeared with a gasp as one strong hand shot out to pull her toward him. “My advantage, I think,” he said evenly.

She sat on the edge of the tub, ignoring the dampness that started to seep through her nightclothes and robe.

“Your advantage?” she said, letting go of the towel with one hand to poke at his chest.

“My advantage,” he repeated, looking at her damp braided hair and freshly scrubbed face. “I’m sure you already had a bath and don’t want another one…”

“You wouldn’t.”

The teasing light faded from his eyes as he gazed at her, taking in the wide grey eyes beneath finely arched eyebrows, the hollows in her cheeks that he knew came from the endless work of raising children, and the way one front tooth was a little turned… He moved a hand to the back of her neck and pulled her to him, ignoring her protests to kiss those oh-sotempting lips…

He loosened his arms a little when he felt her try to pull away finally. “Your advantage, I think,” he whispered. “And no, I wouldn’t.”

She shook her head at him, but the words were said with a languid warmth that made him want to kiss her again: “Too late. You did – my whole left side is wet.”

He dragged his eyes to her dripping sleeve and the damp swath of robe as she pulled away from his embrace. “Sorry.” “No, you’re not.” She squeezed the excess water out of her sleeve and leaned back in to brush his lips lightly with her own.

“At least you haven’t forgotten how to kiss.”

His retort went unvoiced as she turned and left room, shedding her robe as she walked. He grinned and made a quick grab for the drain plug with one hand and the towel with the other.

Controlled chaos, that’s what it was. Adam looked over the rim of his coffee cup as he considered his new life. His eyes came to rest on Emily, cooking another batch of bacon on the big stove, and he smiled behind his cup as he watched her— “Hey! That was my toast! Pa!”

He dragged his attention back to the table. He felt his brows lowering into a fair imitation of his father’s scowl and held his hand out for the disputed item.

Matthew matched the scowl and handed over the toast to watch Adam divide it in two. “He already had a whole piece! I had to share mine with Libby.” Matthew craned his neck around just in time to see Fanny pull a burned batch of toast out of the oven. “Aw, Ma—”

Adam shook his head peremptorily and Matthew subsided, but rolled his eyes.

Adam waved his fork at the boy. “Why don’t you watch the toast?”

“Me? I ain’t a girl.”

“Am not,” Adam corrected automatically. Not that it would help. Matthew spent too much time with Hoss for any hope that it would ever stick. “An’ you could just pretend you were Cookie.”

“He don’t make toast on the trail.”

Adam swallowed his eggs. “Sure he does, first couple a’ days. Then it’s biscuits.”

Matthew looked at him hard, not believing that clunker, but Adam merely raised an eyebrow and took another bite of his eggs.

There was a knock on the bottom half of the dutch door that led to the back porch. “Mr. Cartwright?” It was Eddie, looking a little sick and worried.

Adam took one more swallow of coffee and wiped his mouth with his napkin.

“Yeah, Eddie.”

Emily shot him a quick look from where she was dishing out the bacon to the boys. He gave her a reassuring smile and squeezed her arm lightly as he passed. Kip tried to get up from his bed by the door but Adam uttered a low “stay” and the dog merely sat and longingly watched his master go out the door.

His “What’s wrong?” came through the open upper half of the door…

Adam fought losing what little of his breakfast that he’d been allowed to eat. He rested one hand on the soft yellow hide of his ranch’s future: Thor lay on his side in a pool of blood, his soft brown eyes dulled forever and half closed. The best temperament and confirmation Adam had ever seen in a bull, and it was gone in a vicious act of intimidation. A shot to bring the great creature down and a cut throat to finish him. A narrow slice of his loin had been removed and grilled over a fire; left as a warning, but it only made an answering fire burn in his gut. It was a gruesome answer to that nagging fear of yesterday, but the fear was gone, replaced by an intense anger and determination not to be had again. Adam turned and walked away. He took hold of Sport’s reins, but paused in the act of mounting the horse. “Send one of the hands to get Roy Coffee – he’ll need to see this. And…” His lips tightened in distress. “Dispose of him – after—”

“Don’t tell me you can’t do anything, Roy!” The thundering voice was not Ben Cartwright’s, and the desk that was being leaned over was not in the Ponderosa ranch house, but to Roy Coffee the resemblance was eerie. Adam was in a passion no less than his father could ever give out, and the walls fairly shook with his anger. He took a deep breath, and made a try at being more reasonable. “All right, what did they find?”

“Fence was cut and the bull was taken out down that old trail to the McCartney place. Seemed to stay there for a few hours and then they moved on. They went to the mill road, butchered the bull and went along down that road – that’s where we lost them. Stanley Jaffrey sent his sheep over that road real early this morning.”

Adam grunted with all the contempt of a cattleman for a sheepherder. “Who would know he was going to move that herd?

He only uses that plot a couple times a year. Good grass, but too dry to keep ‘em there.”

“You thinkin’ he was in on it?”

Adam sighed. “No – Jaffrey is a good man. Never seen a man more soft-hearted than Stanley, not even Hoss. The way he tends those sheep…” Adam looked out the front window. The boys were going about their chores with dragging steps, sad that their new big yellow friend was gone. Adam would wire his friend in Tucson about purchasing another bull, but Thor had been so perfect…

“I got my affidavit for the insurance, an’ Eddie’s and Slim’s, too.”

“Yeah, thanks. Just put it on the desk.” Adam sighed again and ran a hand over his face, the fire of his revulsion and anger spent by his outburst. He turned back to his old friend. “I’m sorry, Roy. I didn’t mean to rip up at you.”

He sat in his chair and leaned back, putting an ankle up on the opposite knee. “Sit down, Roy.”

“Adam – we’ll find ‘em. It’ll just take some time.” He scratched at his chin. “Guess they didn’t need no doc—”

“Roy,” Adam interrupted quietly.

“Yeah?”

“You know they must have threatened me – ever since I came to, something’s been plaguing me about that bull. And cooking,” he finished flatly, his disgust clear in his face. He took his leg off his knee and leaned forward to pick up the affidavits. He shook his head and laid the paper atop a pile of correspondence.

There was a light knock on the open door to the foyer. “Is the yelling over?” a voice asked in gentle rebuke.

Adam smiled ruefully. “Yeah. Sorry.”

Emily carried in a tray of coffee and scones and Roy rose to take it from her.

“Thank ya, Emily – was hoping you’d made some of your scones.”

“Just for you, Roy, when Adam told me you’d be coming out. I have a nice stew for dinner, if you care to stay…Adam – what’s wrong?”

He’d dropped back into his chair, face set and a most of his color gone from under his sunburn.

“Gone off his feed – wouldn’t think he’d have much appetite for beef today – me neither, for that matter.”

“That bad?”

“Awful waste, Emily.”

“Yes, well, I’d be more worried about what they were trying to say. How are they going to know Adam doesn’t remember what they were threatening him about?”

Adam raised his eyes to hers. “You heard?”

She nodded. She thought for a moment. “You know, if they’re hid out around here somewhere they might come into town for supplies, or into Carson. Someone might want to let it drop that Adam’s lost his memory. Or next time they’ll do something worse.” She gave Adam a worried look that had Roy finishing his coffee and scone quickly.

“I’m gonna head back ta town. Best set one of the hands to a little loose talkin’ tomorrow night – natural-like, fer a Saturday night.” He shook a finger at Adam as he stood up. “You keep outa this, Adam. None a your amateur detectin’, ya hear me?”

Adam looked at Roy from under his brows.

“Adam?”

Adam sighed. “Yeah, Roy.”

Roy picked up his hat. “You listen ta me fer once – Emily.” Roy nodded. “I’ll send word out tomorrow if I find anything.” Emily came back from seeing Roy out to find Adam still in his chair, staring blankly at the top of the desk. She grasped one of the arms of the chair to swivel it around. “You’re not going to do any good brooding like that.”

“I’m not brooding, I’m worryin’.”

“Oh,” she teased, “that’s all right, then.”

He compressed his lips and looked up at her, and, seeing the concern behind the teasing, drew her into his lap. “You going to give me the ‘let Roy do his job’ lecture, too?”

“No – because you would, now.”

Something flickered in his eyes. “Yeah – guess I would, at that. Nothing like havin’ a bunch of kids ta focus the mind.” His expression softened and he gave her a small smile…

“Hey, Ma, Fanny says – aw, they’re doin’ it again—”

“That was my toe – wachit, would ya, when yer backing up – an’ close the door…”

Emily emerged from the kiss pink cheeked and self-conscious. “Adam – the kids.”

“Door’s closed,” he said, one dimple appearing as he pulled her back toward him. “You wanted me to quit worryin’….” Adam snapped the ledger shut and got up from the desk. He might feel like his old self, except for the darned stitches which were starting to itch, but apparently numbers were still beyond him. He stuck his head out the door of the study and listened for Emily. Hearing nothing, he stepped across the foyer to find her at her secretary in the parlor. “Emily?” he said softly.

She continued transcribing her accounts. “Yes, dear.”

This didn’t seem promising, but he tried again. “I can’t seem to get my numbers to add up – and there are some contracts that I was wondering about. Some of it is Ponderosa business.” He crossed the room to lean on the chair that was set out a little from her desk. “Why am I still doing so much of that work?”

She finally looked up at him and he sensed that this was a subject that had come up before. “You always have, Adam. You work here in the mornings for a couple of hours, then head over there, or wherever you have to go.”

He stared at her for a moment, a slight frown between his brows. “Can that wait?” he asked, nodding towards her paperwork.

She shut her account book and rose from the desk. “Yes, I suppose. Let’s go see what has you in such a tizzy.” “This will bring us up to 11,000 acres. I don’t know how, but it looks like we have the capital to do it.”

“You sold your railroad stock.”

“Why would I do that?”

A flash of guilt mixed with something else Adam didn’t understand crossed her face. “You thought it had gotten too speculative, so when you had the chance to buy the Timmerman place you sold out and used the money for that. You wanted something set for the boys. Look–” she pulled another file from the bottom drawer of the desk; “the other half of the money was from Gil’s uncle. Gil never counted on that money, but when he died Mortimer decided to settle it on the boys. He was very pleased to hear that you were using it to build up a ranch for his grandnephews.” She dropped the file on the desk and turned a little away from him, head bowed.

“You didn’t have to do it,” she said softly, “but you did. I know, if you hadn’t married me, you would have kept those stocks, and probably would have made a lot of money on them.”

He pulled her into his arms and tipped her chin up, wanting her to see he was being perfectly truthful. “If I sold the stock, ‘probably’ not. I imagine I thought there was something fishy going on.” He moved his hand to her shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly. “Besides, it only made sense – that and those last few properties will make a nice-sized ranch for them to split whatever way they want.” Something itched at the back of his mind. He had said that before, he thought with sudden clarity. His vision tunneled as the memory rushed back at him. They were his boys, too. He closed his eyes tightly and put his hands to his forehead to rub at the mind-fuzzing rush of blood behind his temples. You’ll regret it, Cartwright…“Adam?” Emily’s voice seemed to come from a great distance and he felt her push him gently into the chair.

“Fanny…Fanny!…dratted girl…” She was gone, and then there again, pulling his hands away from his face and forcing his arms down and away from the top of the desk.

“What…”

“Drink this.” She tipped bitter-tasting water down his throat.

“I don’t want—”

“You turned white as a sheet. You are going to go lie down for a bit, and if the doctor says you are all right, you can finish your exploration of your finances, or whatever you’re snooping around for.”

“No!”

“I’m not under your roof anymore—”

“You’re still my son. When you can go a day without keeling over, maybe then you can get on a horse!”

Paul Martin stood in the narrow foyer, considering that it was the one mistake that Adam had made in designing the house, while he counted to ten to damp down his anger at his old friend. Ben didn’t mean to add to the strain his son was under, but that booming, emphatic expression of parental concern could only make things worse. He nodded at Emily and they made their way down the center hall towards the back of the house.

Adam was sitting in bed, propped up against pillows, a cloth clutched in his hands, angry exasperation written on his face. “Ben, Adam.” He nodded carefully to each of them, saying nothing about the very loud exchange they knew he must have heard. Ben looked shame-faced, Adam now belligerent and sullen.

Emily chuckled and Adam turned his attention to her, still miffed. “That’s where Libby gets it, I suppose,” she said with some amusement.

“What’s that?” Ben asked, reluctantly ceding his place to his old friend.

Paul lifted Adam’s wrist to take his pulse and Adam transferred his resentment to the doctor.

“That look she gets when someone takes something away from her.”

Ben smiled. “He’s always done that.” His eyebrows went up. “Well, the apple doesn’t fall—” “Certainly doesn’t,” muttered the doctor under his breath.

Adam smiled at this and closed his eyes and put his head back against the pillows.

“What was that?” Ben asked suspiciously.

“I said, it sounds like you woke her up.”

“That’s not what you said, but I’ll go.” He stepped closer to the bed to lay a hand on Adam’s lower leg and pat it gently. “You listen to the doc—” He stopped, compressed his lips, and shook his head as the doctor made a throat-clearing noise. “Gotta a little temper, huh?” he asked Emily as they made a right turn out of the room.

She looked back at Adam and winked, getting a smile for her efforts. If anything could distract Ben, it was his granddaughter.

“I promise I won’t raise my voice.” Ben sighed and turned to face the doctor. “He wanted to go out then and there. I don’t know what to do with him. He’s being so difficult.”

“You two have been having problems for months.”

Ben sat down heavily. “That’s between me and him, Paul,” he said depressingly.

Paul looked at his watch and then sank into the chair opposite of Ben. He rubbed a hand over his mouth and looked at his old friend, carefully considering his next words. “Ben,” he started quietly, but firmly, “if you were having quite a bit of difficulty, I should know. He seems to have accepted Emily, mostly, although she says when the powders wear off he gets a little distant with her. We’ll see how he does today without them.” He cleared his throat and decided to continue. “Whatever is behind all this seems to be tied up with you somehow. He let fall a few pretty bitter comments, which is not like him.”

“He’s being so rigid; impatient, even,” Ben said finally.

“He’s had a head injury.”

Ben’s jaw set. “No, it’s more than that.”

“I don’t know, Ben. He’s less inhibited, and will be more prone to say what he thinks. You’ll probably get more truth out of him this week than you have in the last three months.”

“Too bad he doesn’t remember—”

“Doesn’t remember what?” came a low, even voice from the opening to the foyer.

The older men twisted in their chairs to look over the sofa at the tall straight figure in the doorway.

“What don’t I remember?”

Ben stood. “Adam, you should be in bed. You’re not well—”

“I’m fine,” Adam snapped. “What are you talking about?” He went around the sofa and stood opposite his father over the coffee table, arms akimbo. “What don’t I remember?”

Ben bristled. “You address me with a mite less hostility, boy, if you want an answer.”

“You promised, Ben,” said Paul, aggravated, but Adam was gone, whirled on one foot, clutching at the back of the sofa, and then out the front door.

“Where do ya think yer goin’?”

Adam glared at his brother. “What are you doing here? Don’t you people give me a moment’s peace? You come on my honeymoon, too – hold my hand through that?”

Hoss followed Adam to the barn. “There’s no call fer you ta be so blamed ornery, Adam. Just come over with Pa to check up on ya. An’ to answer your question, I reckon we’re over here quite a bit – but seein’ as yer smack-dab between the Ponderosa and Virginia City, just how often do you think we oughta stop by?”

“Don’t see how you can get any work done,” Adam muttered as he started to saddle Sport. “No wonder I’m still doin’ so much of it.”

Hoss put one large hand on Adam’s saddle, effectively keeping Adam from pulling it off the stand. “I don’t know what you got stuck in yer craw, but you ain’t riding any more today – you fall off yer horse and you’ll jest make yer troubles worse.” “Let me have the saddle, Hoss.”

“No.”

Adam’s jaw set and he feinted left and took a swing at his brother. “Gimme the saddle—”

“Now I know there’s somethin’ wrong with ya,” Hoss gasped out as he managed to wrap his arms around his older brother in an attempt to restrain him. “You ain’t tried ta take a swing at me in a couple a’ years—”

“What’s going on in here?”

Adam stopped struggling and Hoss let his hold relax slightly, but kept his brother firmly in his grasp.

“Adam’s wantin’ ta take Sport out, an’ I’m not lettin’ him.” “Where you going, Adam?”

“Town.” Adam broke away from Hoss and grabbed the saddle.

“Adam, you misunderstood. I’m not keeping anything from you,” Ben said, laying a hand on Adam’s shoulder.

“Aren’t you?” He fastened the cinches and pulled down the stirrup. “You won’t tell me…” He shook his head as if to clear it and, giving up, leaned his forehead on the saddle. “Always trying to manage…you and Roy…you and Roy…keepin’ me outa…town?”

Ben was increasingly disturbed by this and met Hoss’s worried gaze before looking to the doctor for enlightenment.

“There he goes agin – catch ‘im, Pa.”

Paul moved quickly to Adam’s side and took his arm as he reeled out of Ben’s reach. He was almost pulled down by the bigger man before Hoss made it from the end of the stand to take his brother, this time unresisting, in his arms again. “Clean out, this time,” Hoss said grimly. Adam was a dead-weight as he caught him under his shoulders and knees to carry him back into the house.

Paul stayed him with a hand on his burden. “Wait.” He pulled back Adam’s eyelids and checked his pulse. “This is what’s been happening…,” he said, half to himself.

“What is it?” asked Ben.

“Okay, Hoss, go ahead and take him in.”

Adam stirred and opened his eyes and Paul stopped Hoss again. “You with us, Adam?”

“Doc – he’s getting’ awful heavy,” Hoss complained. “Cain’t you do this inside?”

Ben shot an irritated glance at his middle son, but Paul ignored them both. “You remember where you are, what you were doing?”

Adam’s eyes were closed again. “Yeah,” he said faintly. “In the barn; fightin’ with Hoss.”

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

Adam frowned with the effort, and finally spoke. “Got the saddle…that’s it. Musta passed out.” He turned his cheek into Hoss’s shoulder. “Sorry, Hoss…you were right…”

Ben looked even more frightened as he realized Adam was missing a minute, at least.

The doctor looked at him, shrugged, and shook his head, mouthing ‘later,’ as Hoss set off for the house.

Adam shifted and pushed on Hoss’s chest as they crossed the yard. “Let me down – don’t want the kids to see – they’ll be back in by now,” he finished, his voice stronger.

“Too late,” Hoss murmured. “Pete’s got the door.”

Adam closed his eyes in frustration, but opened them when he heard Peter’s yell for his mother.

“Ma – Pa passed out again!”

Adam grimaced as Hoss finally set him down right inside the front door. This bald, matter-of-fact announcement of his troubles both amused and maddened him. “Shout it from the roof-tops, why don’t you, boy.”

Peter’s eyebrows wrinkled in puzzlement. “Don’t you want Ma to know?”

Hoss kept one arm around Adam’s waist to support his still faltering steps as they made their way to the back of the house. Adam shook his head slightly. “Your mother, yes, but—”

Emily appeared at the nexus of the three halls as the little procession reached the center of the house. “What happened?”

She took in the grim face of her father-in-law and the long-suffering humor in Hoss’s expression and decided the truth was somewhere in between. The worry that had never completely left her in the past few days returned as she stepped closer to the little group. She looked at the doctor and then back at Adam. She took in the weary frustration in his eyes and suggested a change from the dark, north side of the house. “Instead of trooping back and forth to that bedroom all the time, why don’t you let him rest in the parlor?”

Paul gave Adam a measured look when he seemed to perk up at the idea. The doctor nodded his permission and Hoss swung Adam back around.

“I can walk, Hoss – would you let me go?”

“No.”

Hoss maneuvered Adam to his favorite chair and Adam relaxed against the back of the chair, more shaken than he’d cared to admit to his family. The doctor pulled up one of the wooden chairs and took his pulse again.

“That’s good,” he said after a minute. “Not as fast, and stronger. Hoss – get him some water, please.” Adam opened his eyes and gave the doctor a wary look.

Paul grinned and shook his head slightly. “Just water this time.”

Emily turned from opening the french doors that led to the side garden and Adam’s lips lifted a little in thanks as she crossed to stand by his side. “Better?” she asked.

Adam nodded and Paul raised an eyebrow as he tested his reflexes.

“He won’t feel so shut in,” Emily explained.

Ben sank into the sofa, watching and waiting, not happy to be proved right, and biding his time before he started asking questions.

“Besides these episodes, any dizzy spells today?”

“No.”

“How do you feel, generally? More clear-headed than yesterday?”

“Yes. Noise doesn’t bother me as much. My neck’s not as strained – guess my head hurts less and I’m less tense.” “Hmm. That could be the medicine I gave you.” He began to unwind the bandage. “Having any other trouble remembering things that just happened?”

Adam grimaced, thinking of the morning’s events. “No.”

“Any other symptoms I should know about?”

Adam blinked at the doctor. “Couldn’t add some numbers today. Just couldn’t concentrate, somehow. Everything else seems fine. Don’t think I’m acting any different, but you could ask them.”

Emily smiled at this dig. “A little grumpier than usual, but otherwise…”

Adam scrunched up his lips and then let out an “Ouch” as the bandage caught on one of his stitches.

“Mrs. Cartwright?”

Emily pulled her eyes away from her husband’s face, the laughter in them turning into the beginnings of impatience.

“Yes?”

“Your stew is drying out.”

“Add some water, and put the vegetables in it, please,” Emily requested, bringing her gaze back to Adam.

Fanny looked confused.

“I left everything on the—” Emily sighed and left the room with a speaking glance at her father-in-law.

“Where were you going?” Ben asked after a few moments.

“Was going to ride over to the Timmerman place – thought it might make me remember…”

Ben’s head came up at this. “Why? You think that sale has something to do with this?”

“I don’t know, but I aim to find out.” He drew in air sharply between his teeth as Paul’s fingers probed his wound.

“Just trying to see if I missed something – your pulse was so rapid and light…” The doctor lit the lamp that stood on the side table. “Ben, close the blinds, would you please?”

He brought the lamp close to Adam’s face and then drew it back, keeping a careful watch on the action of his pupils.

“Where is Hoss with that water?”

Ben paused in the act of resuming his seat and looked at the doctor with ironic comprehension. “I’ll get it – probably got pulled into the doing’s in the kitchen…”

Paul pulled the blinds back up. “Now, tell me exactly what you remember last, and how you felt right before you passed out…”

“Don’t coddle him. You’ll just frustrate him.” The doctor’s advice echoed in Ben’s ears as he came out the kitchen door and sat in one of the wicker rockers. The doctor had also said to call truce for a while; the last thing Adam needed was a continuation of the quarrel with his father. Paul had pointed to Ben’s immediate bristling as exactly what he had meant.

‘Percipient fussbudget,’ Ben thought to himself, ‘s’pose he’s right…’ He looked over at Adam and quietly handed him a glass of lemonade, considering how to answer his son’s curiosity about the conflict without starting it up again.

Adam sipped at the cold drink, lost in his own thoughts. He sighed finally and looked at Ben. “I’m sorry I lost my temper.” Ben didn’t say anything, just raised his eyebrows and stared out at the garden.

“Hoss was right.” Adam sighed again. “How am I going to get anything done, though, if I can’t ride?” He stood abruptly and crossed to lean against the porch railing. “I felt so much better today…” His eyes changed and he drained his glass and moved back to put it on the small table between the chairs, shifting his weight onto one hip and crossing his arms high on his chest. “If I promise not to lose my temper again, will you tell me what we were arguing about?”

Ben looked at him speculatively, taking in the oh-so-casual posture. He abruptly remembered that this was not his older, time-tempered son, but the man he’d been three years before. He quickly catalogued what had happened in the interim. So much. What to explain and what to leave out. What would this Adam understand?

“Chewin’ over old problems wouldn’t be the best thing for you right now, son—”

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”

“Because you’re not yourself!”

“Just because I can’t remember the past few years doesn’t mean I’ve changed in here,” Adam said in frustration, tapping his chest.

“Yes, you have.”

Adam’s eyes probed his father’s face. “What happened to me that no one will say anything about it? I remember this,” he rubbed his hand over the spot low on the left side of his belly where an Indian had shot him, keeping to himself his reaction to seeing the recently-healed wound turned suddenly to an old scar. “But I don’t remember getting shot in the chest, or being bound so tight it left scars.” His hand went involuntarily to the opposite wrist.

Ben paled beneath his tan as he thought of how close he’d come to losing his son in each instance. He set down his own glass and moved to look over the backyard, unwilling to meet his son’s intense scrutiny.

Adam’s lips tightened in irritation and he moved back to the rail to confront his father. “Stop treating me like some infant, Pa! I’m a grown man. I’m going to have accidents, gonna get shot if I’m not careful, and whatever else providence has in mind for me.” He thumped the railing with his fist. “You might be scared stiff you’re gonna lose another member of your family, but I can guarantee you that you’ll lose me if you don’t stop smothering me!” He watched his father’s jaw work and knew he still hadn’t gotten through. “I’ll pack ‘em all up and pull out,” he growled. “Got enough money to drag them halfway ‘round the world, if I want to.”

“Providence,” Ben said bitterly. “You sound like your mother. You make your own destiny. Why do you think I’ve been so strict with you boys?”

“I just – ! Ach, I don’t know, Pa,” Adam finished quietly, his anger spent. “Maybe because you were left to make your own way in the world.” His eyes came up to meet his father’s. “And since when did you lose faith?”

“I didn’t, but it has to be tempered by wisdom!”

“Don’t you think I have any?” Adam’s expression reflected his frustration and hurt.

“Of course I do.” Ben’s eyes shifted under Adam’s challenging gaze.

Adam’s breath caught in his throat, and he clenched his fists.

“I think you’d better leave, before I say something I’ll regret.”

“No.”

“Your father can’t leave, Adam – dinner is ready, and Hoss brought the kids in, so I’d suggest you stop arguing or you’ll scare them.”

The look Adam gave Emily was filled with all the irritation he would feel at the interference of a stranger, and she knew it. She turned away from the door silently, and Adam gave a little moue of annoyance and rolled his eyes.

“Adam—”

“Stay – we can finish this later.” He bridled at the look his father gave him. “I know I hurt her feelings – I think I know how to handle my own wife, Pa.”

Adam jerked the door open, leaving Ben shaking his head. So much for not getting Adam riled…

Emily kept herself carefully turned away from Adam as he watched her pull biscuits from the oven. He could hear Hoss and Fanny getting the children settled around the table in the dining room, and realized his father had come through the door behind him.

“Sure smells good.” Adam felt the familiar hand on his back and heard the whispered “Stop scowling,” as Ben walked by him.

Emily smiled at Ben as he passed her and Adam took a moment to school his features into something more acceptable for an attempt at an apology. He seemed to be doing a lot of that today and wondered if his father was right. Maybe he was missing more than just some memories.

“Emily?”

She ignored him as she scooped the biscuits out of the pan and into a bowl. He put his hands on her shoulders and tried to turn her around to face him, but stopped when he felt her stiffen under his touch.

“Please, don’t, Adam. That isn’t a solution this time. You don’t remember anything about us, and it’s not right when there’s no love behind it.”

“I’m not trying—”

“Yes, you are. That’s one thing about you that’s still the same.” She took a shaky breath and finally turned to face him. “I thought we could just go on as before, that we should try to keep things as normal as possible.”

He tried to speak again, but she put a finger on his lips to still them. The touch turned to a caress and he could see tears forming in her eyes. “I love you, Adam, but you are not my husband. You’re Adam Cartwright, all right, but not my Adam.” She dropped her hand from his cheek and took a step backwards. “You should sleep in the guest room tonight.” Adam felt like another prop had been kicked out from under him and he brought his hands up grasp her waist, as if holding on to her physically could make it all better. He searched for the words that would change her mind. “Em… Emmilove – don’t —”

Her eyebrows drew together. “Don’t call me that.”

“Call you what? ‘Emmilove’?”

Color tinged her cheekbones and she turned her face away as he pulled her to him, more sure of his ground again. “Why?

Does it remind you that I am your husband, and,” he tipped her chin up and lowered his voice, “that’s what I call you when—” he lowered his lips to hers and kissed her until they both were left breathless.

She laid her head on his chest, against the fast thudding of his heart. “You’re not playing fair,” she murmured, despite the obvious knowledge that he wasn’t unaffected.

“Not playing fair?” He loosened his hold on her so he could see her face. “Just because there are some things I do remember?”

She blushed a deeper red at his words and buried her face in his chest to hide her discomfiture. He sighed as she stopped trying to push him away and instead slid her arms around his waist and relaxed against him.

“Oh, Adam, what am I going to do with you?”

He kissed the top of her head and tightened his hold on her again. “I don’t know, but you could start by feeding me.” She tried to wrench herself from his arms at this. “Of all the arrogant – I haven’t even forgiven you – stop that!” He carefully wiped the half-smile from his face and eased his embrace. “I’m sorry. I was joking. And I’m very sorry if I seemed uncaring and unappreciative.”

Disappointment showed in her face and she seemed to give up. “I need to get these biscuits out on the table—” “Forget the biscuits,” he growled. He looked at her intensely, eyes wide and anything but teasing. “I’m sorry if I seemed dismissive.” He searched for the words that could explain what had happened. “One second something familiar flashes through my mind and the next the past three years are completely gone. You just caught me at a bad moment. I don’t know what else to say, Em. I know I belong here. I remember the odd detail, but, you’re right, not much about our marriage. You were a friend, perhaps one I wished I’d met under different circumstances,” her eyes dropped from his at this, “but one of the first things I asked my father was how long it took me to ask you to marry me. Do you really think I don’t care? That my situation is completely unexpected? Or unwelcome?” he finished softly.

He lifted a hand to push back the errant curls that always seemed to spring up to frame her face. “What I want, more than anything, I suppose I can’t have, but please don’t push me away. I can’t go back. We’re married, I’m gone from home, and I guess I’m in the middle of some dispute with my father. I imagine he’s doing his best to bring me back under his thumb.”

He waited a beat, watching the emotions play over her face. She was as easily readable as ever, he thought, and then wondered how he knew that.

Libby shrieked in the next room and Adam couldn’t help a grin. “The troops are getting restless.” He released her a little sheepishly. “Am I forgiven?”

She shook her head at him. “You could talk the cheese away from a mouse, Mr. Cartwright.”

One side of his mouth lifted into smug assurance. “I wasn’t all talk.”

She danced out of his reach and hung her apron over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. “You behave and take that bowl of biscuits to the dining room, mister. I haven’t said that you’ve gotten back any priv—”

Hoss looked around the table and sighed. Adam and Emily had to be done with their argument. There hadn’t been one little murmur of sound from behind the kitchen door in five minutes. He rolled his eyes at his father to see if he would make a try for the biscuits, but Ben gave a slight shake of his head. Hoss sighed again and took another helping of stew, giving up on the idea of the one thing he liked best with his dinner.

Ben watched his son with some amusement. As ever, he seemed to have been able to talk his way out of his troubles with his wife, and if they had eventually made to the table both flushed and slightly disheveled, Ben wasn’t going to quarrel with Adam’s methods. But he wondered how much had really been settled between the two – no woman would let a man be, and felt not a little concern. Adam didn’t need to be worrying about his marriage when he had so much else on his plate. He’d left the topic alone, though, when they’d retreated to the back porch after dinner. Adam seemed to be content to watch the boys playing a game of hide and seek as Fanny and Emily cleaned up after supper.

Adam stood finally and waved his father to follow him around the porch to the front door.

Ben followed him silently as he entered the study. “Look at these letters.”

Ben looked at the paperwork on the desk. “Yes?”

“You know about all of this?”

“Yes. Some.”

“Is this what we’ve been arguing about?”

“Yes.”

“And I suppose I said it’s because I’m tired of going into the cattlemen’s meetings and having no vote.”

“You can buy a membership—”

“Not if I don’t have clear title to land, I can’t; and I don’t. I put the Buckeye in trust for the boys. It’s not in my name.” Ben crossed his arms over his chest, still cradling his pipe in one hand. “I didn’t know that. Why’d you do it?”

“Because of all the talk about our marriage, from what I can gather. ‘spose I didn’t want people to think I’d married Emily to get my hands on something that wasn’t yours.”

Ben frowned. “Adam, you were there, beside me, all the way. You earned that land…and your share of the mines and timber, let alone the third you’ll get.”

“People don’t see it that way. And it’s only gotta be worse now.”

Ben shook his head. “I don’t think—”

“Pa!” Adam stood impatiently. “Don’t you see? It’s the same old thing. I have a family, I’m running my own place, and folks are still looking over my shoulder for you all the time.”

Ben didn’t say anything as he puffed on his pipe. Of all his boys, though he didn’t show it like Joe, Adam chaffed most at the silken ties that bound him to his place at his father’s side. Ben had ignored it for years, hoping that his son’s wanderlust had been satiated by his trip east for college. Apparently not.

Adam paced in front of the desk, his energy and drive clearly back. “I have to do something of my own.”

“Having something of your own is going to kill you, Adam.”

Adam stared at his father. Something was niggling at the back of his mind, just out of his reach. He put it aside with a sigh. “I don’t want to re-do what you did, but I have to have something set for the boys. The Buckeye is not mine, it’s Gil’s sons’. It was his money, his hard work that built it.”

“You helped.”

“I only did what any neighbor would have done.”

“I don’t see—”

“Pa, it’s the boys’ inheritance. Most of what I’m adding will be the Buckeye – it will be enough for all of them to split, eventually. I set a thousand acres aside for myself. That bit by Tinker’s Drop.”

Ben looked at his son hopefully. “That butts up against the hollow. You thinkin’ of building that house, finally, and moving back to the Ponderosa?”

“No, Pa,” Adam said, rolling his eyes. “It was for simplicity’s sake and something else that I’ll get to in a minute. I need a token parcel of land to be in the association and if I want to expand – say for my own sons – that will make a lot of sense when I tell you what I have in mind.”

Ben eyed his son warily. “And just how many sons you planning on having?”

Adam flushed and ducked his head.

“Oh, Adam, not again?! I told you to talk to the doc—”

“Pa!” Adam turned to the desk and looked through his papers, ignoring his father’s dismay.

“Look at this.”

“You sold all of your stock in that railroad?”

“I don’t want to invest in California. I want to invest here.”

Ben relaxed, pleased at the comment, and looked down at the property description he pulled out of the pile.

“That’s the Timmerman place.” His eyes widened. “That’s the property you bought? That’s a big ranch in itself.” Adam flattened a large roll of paper. “Look at this map. With the CP coming along the Truckee and then the Humboldt – any spur that goes down to Carson City is going to have to go right through the Timmerman place and the Buckeye, then the Ponderosa. And I have the lot.” He ran his finger in a line through the Ponderosa to emphasize his point.

Ben whistled.

“It gives us both easier access to any spur you want to put across the Ponderosa.”

Ben tapped at his pipe, trying to improve the draw. “That’s a big risk. What if they try to go around both ranches?” He shook his head slightly and stared at his son, rehearsing all the arguments of the past month, and realizing that Adam was in much deeper than he had ever thought. “I knew you were interested in the railroad deal, in fact–” Ben stopped himself and grew suddenly intent on getting his pipe to work right. “And I thought you were worried about your string of beef,” he muttered in a half-hearted finish.

Adam frowned, puzzled by his father’s behavior. “I should have been worried. Shouldn’t have done the beef this year.” He ran his hand over his face, feeling all the weight of his, to him, suddenly-acquired obligations. He dropped into one of the chairs that faced the desk. “Wiped out most of my reserves. Guess I thought the pay-off would be worth it – get the investment back quicker if I had a herd ready to ship in two years instead of waiting another year and playing it safe. And I want the right-of-way to skirt the edges of the ranch – it’s easier for the railroad, and better for us. I’m not going to hold their feet to the fire with this – I don’t want to make a killing out of this – just encourage the railroad to go where I want it and where it’s best for the valley.”

Ben shook his head. “You always did have a tendency to let your education interfere with your thinking. You know, a lot of times I didn’t let you do things on the Ponderosa not because I didn’t want to try something big, but because I didn’t want the complications. You’re taking on some mighty big interests with this project.”

“That never stopped you.”

“I was in the right place at the right time, and made some judicious purchases. This…” He shook his head slowly. “A lot of people are going to lose everything by the time this nation gets its railroads. I trust Huntington implicitly, but some of the others… That big money from back east…”

Adam picked up a pencil and toyed with the end of it. “You trust Huntington because of my mother.”

Ben slapped at the desk. “I’ve known Huntington for twenty years. I trust him because he’s a good man, and could outthink and out-work even me. I know he won’t stab you in the back, but there will be others who won’t have family ties, or a conscience.” Ben stared at his son and the anger drained from him. Adam was stubborn, and as driven as any in his family, extended or not. But sometimes Ben wondered if it was all worth it. Would the men who tamed a continent be happy when all was said and done? He’d suffered, as had Adam, in the pursuit of his own dream. He didn’t want his son and his family to repeat the experience. “You’re trying to do too much, too fast. It’s not fair to Emily or the children.” Adam raised his eyes from the pencil. “As I recall, you were busy carving out the Ponderosa from the wilderness when we were kids.”

“But I only had three. The way you and Emily are going you’ll have more than ten kids by the time you’re done.” Adam flushed under his father’s direct stare and blunt words, and shook his head stubbornly.

Ben raised an eyebrow and shook his head against the sure knowledge of what Adam’s expression meant. “I

suppose…you’re not even well – ah, it’s none of my business, if that’s what you want,” Ben said gruffly, “but you need to think about it and use some wisdom about raisin’ them.”

“Emily’s not some hot-house flower—” Adam stopped abruptly and moderated his tone. “That’s what I’m trying to do – get the boys set with something that will be theirs and leave the whole area with something that will benefit—”

“You’re running yourself ragged doin’ it.”

“It’s only temporary, Pa. Once I have this finished, I can turn my attention to some of the other things that need to be done.”

Ben shook his head. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“What’s the matter with you, Pa? You’re always talking about building up a legacy, and leaving something for the future.”

A slow grin started over Ben’s face. “Oh, I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that, son. Just don’t forget to take time to look around and enjoy what God gave us – a lovely summer evening, the beauty of the mountains,” he said, nodding at the window.

Adam stared at him as if he had gone mad. “You okay, Pa? Maybe you need to see the doc…” Ben turned at the sound of his grandson’s voice.

“Told ya, Pa. It’s Grandpa!”

Ben watched the boy dart across the busy street and clasped Peter’s shoulder to keep him from rushing headlong into his arms. He grinned down at the glowing face that was raised to his. “Watch it – you’ll knock your old grandpa over.” “Aw, you’re not old – well, not that old. What’re you doin’ in town, Grandpa?”

“Oh—” The amusement faded from Ben’s eyes and he looked rather uncomfortable. “Just come in fer some supplies.” Adam looked down the street to where Buck was tethered outside the lawyer’s office. “Without the buckboard?” Ben glanced over his shoulder and colored a bit. “Eh?” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “Oh – uh – gonna place an order, uh, well…”

Adam rolled his eyes.

“Well, Hoss did ask me to take a look at the new hayer Charlie got in – and wipe that smirk off your face, Adam. I’ve got legitimate business here in town.”

Peter looked at both men, confused by the exchange. “Ma said I could skip my chores today and watch, uh, help Pa out.” Adam shook his head at this and leaned back against the pillar. “You know, Paul did say I could ride.” He grinned and stood straight. “Does your chaperonage extend to lunch at the International?”

Peter’s eyes lit up. “Yeah! Ya hungry, Grandpa? I’m hungry.”

“You’re always hungry, young man. You watch it or you’ll be as big as your Uncle Hoss.” Ben took Adam’s arm and turned the two younger members of the clan towards the International House.

“No, I don’t think so,” Peter said seriously. “Ma thinks I’ll be as tall as Papa was – maybe as big as Pa. But not Uncle Hoss.

That’ll be Matt. Sammy calls him ‘Moose’…”

Ben blinked at this matter-of-fact estimate, and smiled over Peter’s head at Adam, who merely shrugged his shoulders and tried not to laugh.

“Now, Libby – Ma says she was the biggest born, but she ain’t gonna…”

Down the street, a man stepped out of the Silver Dollar and watched the confident stride of the two big men, and the boy between them who unconsciously mimicked their movements. His eyes lingered on their carefully tailored work clothes, and the child’s well-cut knickers and expensive hat. Rich. Ranchers? A frown crossed his harsh features. Enemies. He elbowed his companion. “Who’re the tall fellas with the kid?”

“Cartwrights, Simmons, Cartwrights. You’d best leave them be. They come even bigger than that, and that Adam and his younger brother will out-draw any hired gun you could find.”

“I know about Adam Cartwright. Beckett already worked him over.”

“You don’t want ta get tangled up in that. ‘sides, I heard Adam ain’t all here anymore.” The man tapped the side of his head. “Beckett shouldna’ started in on him neither – probably’ll just make him meaner. Them Cartwrights practic’ly run this country and turn right nasty when you try take somethin’ from ‘em.”

“Money makes people soft,” Simmons said, half to himself. “And a family can make a man slow to draw his gun…” He laughed softly and clapped the other man on the back. “I’m not gonna take on the Cartwrights, Otis. I’ve got something else in mind…”

“Adam! And Peter – aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” Essie Taylor exclaimed. “Come in, my dears.”

Peter pulled off his hat and blushed as Essie folded him into an embrace. “You are getting to be a big boy, aren’t you?

Don’t like my hugs anymore.”

“No, ma’am. I mean, yes… ma’am.”

Adam smiled at this tangled attempt at good manners and took off his own hat as he stepped through the door.

“I shouldn’t tease you, Peter.” She smoothed back his hair and put her hands on his shoulders to turn him towards the kitchen. “I think you’ll find some milk and cookies on the table in the kitchen that will keep you busy while I talk to your father for a bit. And if you have a mind to, you could test the swing – Charlie claims to have fixed it.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

Essie smiled at Peter’s retreating back and looked up at Adam appraisingly. “Good thing you sent that note – Charlie was going to wait till Monday to fix that swing. How are you?”

“Well,” he said simply.

She looked as if she didn’t believe him.

“As well as can be expected,” he allowed. He twirled his hat in his hand. “Haven’t gotten much of my memory back, if that’s what you mean.”

She took the hat and hung it on the hall butler and then grasped his arm confidingly and pulled him towards the parlor.

“Why don’t you come sit down and tell me what’s on your mind.”

Adam sat awkwardly in one of the stiff horsehair-stuffed chairs that current styles favored. He abruptly realized that Emily was right – they needed a more formal parlor, and a living room that they could be comfortable in, maybe towards the back of the house… and a real room for Fanny, or whomever he hired to help her…

“Adam?”

Adam brought his mind back to the present with a mental shake and a certain amount of disgust. Why he continued to remember the least important aspects of his life…

He shook his head and politely enquired after Essie’s health.

“Well, Fanny is a gentle thing, but you know she just wants to do the dairying. And she’s going to up and marry some nice young man and set up housekeeping on her own in a few years. I don’t know why you’re so dead-set against hiring one of Hop Sing’s cousins. Little heathens, all of ‘em, but they’re good people for all that; clean and they work hard, and won’t run off and get married on you.”

Adam bristled at this speech. “Why shouldn’t they?”

Essie looked at him blankly. “Why shouldn’t they what?”

“Why shouldn’t they get married?” he asked brusquely. “And why should I perpetuate system that I abhor?”

“They want the jobs, Adam,” Essie said gently.

“No – they need the jobs. And then to be treated as they are— I don’t want to be a party to it.” “You are a party to it. Who does your laundry?”

Adam’s face flamed. “Can’t get a washerwoman – all the girls want to work in town.”

“Well?”

Adam’s flush stayed and he looked silently at the floor.

“You have a need and they fill that need. There is nothing wrong with good honest work. Most who came to this country didn’t come as Pilgrims, or as prosperous yeomen farmers – and don’t give me that look. I’m not saying you don’t know what hard work is. My great-grandmother came as an indentured servant, and worked her time for an angry and cruel master. It was years before she married and moved west. Hop Sing is not bound, to your father or anyone else. He could take his savings and send for a girl and move to San Francisco.”

“He likes it here,” Adam muttered.

“Well, I suppose he ‘likes it here’ more than he wants to get married and live among his own.”

“It’s not just that.”

“I know, Adam. I know what goes on. It isn’t Christian, what some do, but you can’t change the world overnight. You have to work with what you’ve got, and do your best by people, and that means not puttin’ everything on Fanny, and especially not on Emily.”

Adam sighed and ran a hand over the back of his neck. “That’s why I’m here, Essie. I was wonderin’ if maybe you know of some girl…”

He stopped as she shook her head. “No – it’s as you said. Except for the girls who want to learn small farming, like Fanny, there’s too much need in town for a good girl for them to be wantin’ to do the housekeeping on a ranch, let alone taking care of all of those babies.”

Adam flushed again.

“Yes, she told me. Seems to me that you’d be a sight better keepin’ your—”

“Essie,” Adam growled, his face coloring again. He stood and turned to the fireplace, putting his hands on his hips and toeing the empty grate. He ran a hand over his face and swiveled to face Emily’s friend. “All right. I’ll ask Hop Sing, I suppose.” He smiled. “He has an endless supply of cousins, it seems.” He ran a finger over his jaw. “But he gets Wednesday afternoons off, and if he wants to get married—”

“You can build him a cottage,” Essie finished for him.

Paul leaned back in his chair and stared at his old friend. There was little comfort in cold facts, facts which weren’t even certain. How much hope could he give Ben that he would ever have his son complete and whole again? He cleared his throat and fiddled with his watch chain and chose his words carefully. “I wish I could be more definite, Ben. You have to give him more time. The two of you – so impatient.”

Ben stood and paced the room. “He must remember, Paul, don’t you see? He knows it, and I know it. Whatever the reason for that assault, it isn’t going to go away just because Adam has managed to put it out of his mind. He’s not living in some protected Eden – he’s just as vulnerable as he was last week. I’ve been trying to get him to move back to the Ponderosa—”

Paul snorted. “And the size of the Ponderosa has always kept Cartwrights safe—”

Ben banged his fist on the top of Paul’s desk. “I know it hasn’t! But to be out there all alone…”

Paul took a deep breath. “It doesn’t feel like ‘out there’ to Adam, Ben. It’s his home now. He’s up to his full compliment of hands, and that’s plenty of men to back him up, if he needs it.”

This sounded like it came right from Adam’s mouth. “You’ve been talking to him,” Ben said suspiciously, and sank down into the chair at the corner of the desk.

“Yes.” Paul stood and put a hand on the older man’s shoulder. “He’s looking for answers, too, Ben. He’s not consciously trying to run from anything, but underneath…something is eating at him.” He moved away and leaned against his desk. “Is there something you’re not telling me?” he asked, regarding Ben steadily.

Ben frowned and shook his head. “Nothing — just our argument over that railroad deal.”

“Does he remember that? It was a pretty big blow up.” Ben barely acknowledged the question and didn’t answer. Paul sighed. It was like getting blood out of a stone. “Well, perhaps it is just his circumstances. He seemed a little overwhelmed a few days ago, especially when he realized that Emily was expecting again—”

Ben’s lips thinned in irritation. “I told him—”

Paul pointedly ignored the interruption. “— but he seems to have settled down now. He’s not behaving erratically—” He caught the look of disagreement Ben shot at him. “Is he?”

Ben shook his head and took his time answering. “He’s been much calmer – hasn’t tried any more stunts like the other evening. But I’m afraid…” He brought his head up. “I know he was reliving the night he proposed to Emily. He said almost the same words – that Roy and I were keeping him out of town. It…it almost seems like when he sees or does something that triggers a bad memory – that’s when he has one of his spells. But it didn’t happen all weekend.” Ben sighed. “Perhaps he is getting better…”

A frown creased Paul’s brow. “He didn’t tell me that. That means his symptoms are partly emotional. Could be dangerous,” he mused. “He goes into mild shock…” His eyes met Ben’s. “If he’s alone when it happens…”

Ben leaned forward in his chair. “That’s the thing; he won’t acknowledge that he needs help. Says he ‘feels fine’ and to stop pestering him. Like he thinks nothing he can do will change if and when he has another of these attacks. He was so adamant yesterday – we were arguing again, about him moving back, at least temporarily, to the Ponderosa… I accused him of being careless of his life, and too willing to give in to ‘fate’.” Ben shifted uncomfortably in his chair at the memory.

“It was something we started Friday. He seems so fatalistic, and I…tried…to correct his thinking.” Paul stared at his friend, wondering where this was going.

“Let alone his health, I wanted him to think about his life. Someone is out to get him. He said he, of all people, knew he could die at any time. He could try to avoid it, but one can’t command others’ actions, but he ‘would always command’ his own.”

Paul frowned again, the words setting off a warning bell in his mind. “That’s not good. Those are the words he used—” “After Kane,” Ben finished quietly.

“It took him months to come to terms with that,” Paul started. “If something reminds him…” He looked hard at Ben. “Tell him now – it will at least prepare him. Tell him everything.” Ben’s eyes shifted away from his and Paul thumped his desk with his index finger. “Everything, Ben. Is he still in town?”

Ben nodded. “He and Pete were headed over to the land office after lunch.”

Ben stood and crossed the room to pick up his hat from the foyer table. “I can warn him, Paul, …and…explain, but… how long?” he asked cryptically.

“I don’t know, Ben,” Paul said quietly, understanding his friend’s question. “I can’t make any promises.”

“We were supposed to leave for St. Louis in a few weeks, Joe and Hoss and I. How am I gonna leave him like this?” Paul shook his head and sighed. “I can’t give you any guarantees.”

Ben straightened his shoulders and paused as he pulled open the door. “Well, I can give you a guarantee – I’m not going to run off to St. Louis if he isn’t better, I don’t care how much it hurts the ranch.”

Paul watched his Ben stride up the street. That was one thing he knew for certain. Ben’s boys came first and ranch business would just have to wait.

“What do you mean it’s not in my name? Forty of my fifty was to go to the boys, and all of Mortimer’s money. The ten left over was for a thousand acres in my name. No, I’m not paying the transaction fees – you made the mistake. Re-file it now.

…I can’t wait eight months. Who puts it in escrow for eight months, anyway?… It’s my money!”

Peter Arminger (or Cartwright, as the folks in town had taken to calling him) kicked at the cross-piece on the old rickety chair Mr. Murphy had stuck him in. He’d rather be in the office watching his pa give Mr. Murphy the what for. Pa in a rage was a sight to behold, best so because Peter knew it would never be directed at him. When Pa got mad he didn’t tear inta ya – he might snap a quick rebuke, but you’d be more afraid of what waited for you in the barn than ever gettin’ a real taste of his temper. Peter grinned to himself and got out of his chair to press his eye to the gap in the green blind Mr. Murphy had pulled down to cover the window to the office.

Pa was standing across the desk from ‘the little snirp’ – ‘snirp’, Peter repeated to himself, relishing the word his Uncle Hoss had applied to Mr. Murphy when he hadn’t known Peter was listening. Pa had his hands on his hips and Mr. Murphy was almost twitching as he cowered in his chair. Pa jammed his hat on his head and looked at Mr. Murphy again. “I only gave you this business as a favor to Clyde Healey. Straighten this out, Murphy, or you’ll have a hard time practicing law in this town – I’ll make sure of it.”

“But, but, Mr. Cartwright; once the papers are filed—”

“Fix it,” came the emphatic retort and Peter bolted away from the door to regain the seat he’d been told to stay in. Pa looked at him suspiciously as he tried to unsuccessfully even out his breathing. “Come on, boy – we’re done here.” “Pa?”

“Hmm?”

Peter struggled to keep up with the long stride, and he dearly wanted to stop by the general store to see if there was a new shipment of his favorite candy. “Can, uh, we look in and see if they got some of those caramels in?”

The quick, knowing smile accompanied a slowing of the rapid pace and some of the irritation seemed to fall away from the tall man in black.

“Yeah – let’s see if they have some peppermint sticks for your old pa.”

“Aw, you ain’t old…”

Matthew was up on Dorcas, dragging an old wooden beam around the yard, smoothing the gravel dampened by the night’s rain. Adam watched the sturdy boy carefully guide the jenny around the lone tree that gave some shade to the corner of the house. He really ought to plant some grass there, he thought. Would give Libby a good place to play out of the afternoon sun… There was a sharp crack from over his left shoulder and Sport shied, his nature reactive as always. Pete’s pony remained steady under the boy’s careful hands and Adam turned in his saddle to look for the source of the noise.

“Pa – Matt!” Peter spurred his pony to where Dorcas lay on the ground, Matt a dazed and puzzled figure lying in the now disturbed perfection of the front yard.

Adam slid off his horse and commanded a sharp “Pete, keep down – that sounded like a rifle shot—” He turned to see Dorcas give out one shuddering sigh and then lay still. Something fuzzed at his vision and he saw a donkey down in drier ground – his best hope to get out…Why’d he do that? He’s nuts!

“Pa?!”

Pa? Joe would start looking for him soon. Maybe already was. He’d done what Kane asked; it seemed a reasonable, if hardnosed deal—

“Pa? Can ya give me a hand with— Ma!”

The yell partly penetrated the fog that had settled on his mind, which had sapped his will and scattered his wits. He wasn’t going to work for the obsessive— he’d seen it before. Men who wouldn’t give up on a claim, no matter what, and almost went mad in their determination. He heard the clatter of a woman’s heels on wood. That distinctive clackity-clack – the red veil over his vision parted a little. He was in VC? He shook his head. He was in a yard – his yard. That was his wife. Those were his sons, huddled in the moist earth beyond the dead jenny.

“Emily! Stay back!” He ran to pick up the still-disoriented Matthew and urged Peter into a run for the house. “Get inside – someone shot Dorcas. Emily, get down!”

“You’re going, and that’s final.”

The never-weak line of her jaw firmed in defiance of the edict. “Don’t push me away! Don’t you think I knew we’d eventually face something like this—”

“Yes! But that doesn’t mean I have to keep you here when I have time to get you out.” His expression softened and he sat on the bed where Emily had been confined for the past day. “You could have lost the baby,” he said in a low voice.

“Whatever is out there I’ll better handle without worrying that you or the kids will get hurt.”

“But you don’t even remember what they want. You need me here – I know what your plans were…”

He shook his head slowly, knowing his decision was the right one, and more than ready to defend it. The rush to the heavy oak doors yesterday was a memory that wouldn’t fade anytime soon. Peter had run fast, but he’d had to grab Emily around the waist, Matt almost a dead weight in his other arm. His hard push to the floor knocked the wind out of her, and in that fierce moment after slamming the doors shut he’d seen the same knowledge on Emily’s face that he remembered in Inger so many years before. He saw the same shocked surprise at the impact and the fear that something wasn’t quite right within – and the sudden lack of color that preceded a swoon. Emily’s eyes had quickly fluttered open again, but not all of the doctor’s later assurances could assuage his fear. Emily and the children were going to Sacramento in the morning.

“Roy and Clem, and Pa and I will get this sewn up soon. Joe’s been scouring the records in the land office and Hoss and Clem have a good idea where the shooter came from. If you’re here it will only limit what I can do – removing you will remove any leverage they might have over me.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed.”

He smiled. “Not if I can help it.” He patted her knee and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “You’ll have a nice visit with the Huntingtons, at least.”

“Not if I’m worried about you. And they’re your friends, not mine.”

He cast around for a way to ease the haunted look in her eyes. “They’re not my friends, they’re my family, and yours, now.” He ran one finger down her cheek. “You’re not alone out here, and neither am I. We have friends and family to back us up…” His words trailed off at her lifted eyebrow and the quickly-suppressed quirk of her lips. He dropped his hand from beneath her cheek as the feeling grew that he’d lost an old argument.

She didn’t say a thing; just looked at him like the cat that had gotten the cream.

“All right. Give.”

She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him close, the sudden change whip-sawing his thoughts in unwelcome directions.

“Why do I have the feeling I’ve just given in to something I didn’t mean to?”

“I don’t know, Adam,” she said into his shoulder. “But it makes me easier about leaving you. You’ll just have to think about it while I’m gone.” She pulled her head back to look into his eyes. “If it makes you feel better, you’re not ‘giving in’ to me.” He tightened his hold on her, mindful of the bruises he’d left on her day before. “I wish you’d just say what you mean—” She stiffened in his arms. “I did say what I mean – it’s just not up to me to make you do one thing or the other, Adam. I’m not trying to push you into anything, but there are some things,” she lowered her eyes to look at the open neck of his shirt, “…that I wish you’d believe, or not worry so much about.” She raised her eyes back to his. “But you have to learn that yourself.”

“Emily—”

“If I’m going to leave, let’s not argue.” She pulled his face down to hers and kissed him lightly. “Don’t have time to waste, anyway, if you want me to catch that stage in the morning.”

He tried to put aside his irritation and returned her kiss perfunctorily.

The eyebrow rose again and he gave in. “Em! Just once – just once I’d like to feel like I’ve won one of these.” She grinned. “See – your memory is coming back— Oh, no, no – I need to pack…”

“That’s a mouthful – I can’t go around calling him ‘Doguoping’ all the time. Isn’t there something shorter I can call ‘im?” Hop Sing tilted his head slightly in thought. “Just call him hu lai.” He ignored the brief flash of anger that crossed his nephew’s face and nodded his head. “Means “nephew of venerable Hop Sing.”

Adam looked suspiciously at Hop Sing, and knew he was right at the smirk that he caught on Joe’s face.

The rebellious set to Guo Ping’s jaw brought Joe’s attitude of his mid teens forcibly to mind, and he began to wonder what had prompted the young man’s removal from San Francisco. He’d have to get the true meaning of the nickname from Joe later, but right now he had bigger things to worry about.

“All right, Hoolay – your uncle can tell you what most of your duties will be around here. Can you handle a gun? My wife and children are away because of some trouble we’re having…”

Joe watched Adam lead Guo Ping away and turned to Hop Sing and put his hands on his hips. “Why’d you do it, Hop Sing?

Don’t you think he has enough troubles?”

Hop Sing rubbed his hands together and finally clasped them together tightly against his stomach. “Guo Ping good, brave boy when little. But his mother worry all the time how things look, not how boy grow to be man. Too wild, too free in big city.” Hop Sing struggled to find the words in English, knowing they were better than Joe’s Mandarin. “No father – just busy uncles and cousins. Here he can learn to be a man…from your brother…just like you learn. How that bad for Mr.

Adam? He good worker – just like the girls too much – and poker.” “Poker, huh? You gonna teach to him to stay outa poker games?” Hop Sing looked miffed at Joe’s crack of laughter.

Joe sobered and patted his old friend’s shoulder. “Sorry. Are you sure you want him here? I hope he’s a good shot…”

Adam put his hands on his hips and leaned back on his heels, studying the two men who’d been badgering that weasel Murphy. At least the weasel had squealed to him this time. He had a feeling they weren’t too pleased at having to lay their cards on the table, and briefly wondered why they hadn’t come right out and made a counter-offer months ago. Whatever the reason, their plan would never work, if they were even telling him the truth now. He looked Reig up and down. The skinny Mormon was sweating nervously. It was hot, but not that hot. What was bugging him? Going against a Mormon’s conscience in a matter of business was a hard thing indeed, when they were dealing with a ‘gentile’, but this fella looked like he had something to hide. And Beckett – well, he just plain made Adam’s skin crawl. There was something…he tilted his head slightly as something tugged at his memory. Whatever it was it told him that he couldn’t trust these men.

When he figured he’d let the two stew long enough, he spoke. “You can’t run an operation that big in the valley – you’ll ruin the land. Why do you think the Ponderosa is so big? It has to be to support the number of cattle we have. We shift ‘em around, irrigate, use every trick we can and we still only have about 10,000 head. You can’t have ‘em any denser than that – this ain’t like the east. An’ if you’re counting on the silver, that’s gonna run out – got maybe ten, fifteen years. I’m talking about puttin’ in a branch line – you try to drag the main line down here to service your stock yard and you’ll delay the whole thing by another…five…months…” Delay the whole thing…months. Adam paused and dropped his hand to his holster. This could be bigger, much bigger than he’d thought. Surely the UP wouldn’t get involved in something dirty…

“Mr. Cartwright—”

“The answer is no, gentlemen. Can’t convince you you’re making a mistake, I reckon. I have work ta do so I’d be obliged if you’d get off my land – you see my lawyer – Clyde Hickes – you got the wrong man in Murphy – he was only working the Timmerman deal. Hickes will work with you if ya still want that bit o’land for a spur – anything else an’ you’re just askin’ for trouble – I’m tellin’ ya – that idea of yours just ain’t gonna work out here.”

Beckett’s eyes hardened and Adam resisted the urge to brush his hand across his mouth. The pressure on his lips wasn’t really there, he told himself, and no one had his arm twisted behind him. Beckett? His head began to pound and he suddenly felt as if he couldn’t breath. ‘Oh, no, not now,’ was chased by ‘Why now?’ The question cleared his mind and he forced a bland smile to his lips, hiding a deep, steadying breath as he turned to his horse. “You fellas talk to any rancher around these parts and he’ll tell ya the same. Shoulda looked inta things before you did those surveys.” He swung up on Sport and nodded. “Gentlemen.”

Reig scratched at his neck as he watched the tall man in black ride away. It was hot, more than hot. Maybe the man had a point. “You think he knows?”

Beckett nodded. “He knows. Don’t let that dumb rancher—man of the earth act he just laid on us throw ya. He’s just as sharp as his old man, went to Harvard, has his finger in half the railroads in northern California, and three mines that I know of. He’s an engineer, and he’s got Collis Huntington’s ear – some kind of cousin or something.”

Reig’s head snapped around at this. “Collis Huntington?! Why didn’t you stop me? Is that why you didn’t want me to lay out our plans? What are we going to do?!” he finished with a whine.

Beckett’s expression shifted to something that made the softer man’s skin crawl. If Cartwright regained his memory, trying to make a deal with him would be a moot point. Reig could leave what little scruples he had behind. Cartwright would have to die.

Adam paused beneath the trees near the crest of the hill, hunching his shoulders against the breeze that dried the sweat from between his shoulder blades. The two men had remounted and were turning their horses towards town. Beckett.

More than the breeze chilled him now. Beckett had been there behind the barn, he was sure. Why would a railroad man stoop so low as to physically take on a rancher? And what was a Mormon doing working so closely with such a man? Beckett, for all his polished manner and fancy clothes, was a brutal bully. Hired muscle. Hired by the UP? Not likely. Adam shivered again and wondered if he was coming down with something as he pulled Sport around. It was time to let his father catch up with him. Ben could have his little ‘talk’, and Adam would get him to ask Henry Worthington to do some snooping around in Washington.

The pressure of a hand over his mouth was stifling. He ignored the pain of his arm being twisted up behind his back to try throwing the man over, but a stunning blow to the side of his head rendered him limp in the man’s grip. “Watch it – ya almost hit me, you little rat.” A small man? The man that held him was big – bigger than Hoss. A big man and a small man. Not hard to finger. “Think about my proposition, Cartwright. I think you’ll change your mind.” Adam fought to focus on the now blurry scene. “Mighty fine stock you have here.” Beckett leaned back in his saddle and squinted into the sun.

“Guess that prize bull of yours could find its way to some cook fire just a mite too soon to be any use to you, if this ain’t warning enough.” He brought his eyes down to meet Adam’s clearing vision. “Or I might just take something a little more valuable – like that pretty little wife you got. Even for a Cartwright a woman has to have a little more value than a piece of land.”

‘No! Never again!’ Adam heaved his shoulders against the broad chest behind him, but the giant’s grip was unbreakable.

Beckett nodded at the smaller man. “Lay ‘im out.”

There was another explosion of pain in the side of his head and he knew no more…

He knew it was dawn as he came awake, his sweat streaked body twisted in the sheets, hands clutching at Emily’s empty pillow. He took a deep, shuddering breath as he struggled to pull back from a swirling abyss of rage and terror. Rage at some still unseen tormentor, and terror at what he had done. He’d killed. Not with the cold, detached efficiency of his gun, as he’d done too many times even in self-defense, but with his bare hands. Did Beckett inspire such fear and anger? No.

Someone else. Some other enemy. Something he didn’t quite remember. Perhaps the something his father had been dogging him for days about. He hadn’t killed anyone behind the barn – that memory was clear now, at least; the paralysis of sleep had reinforced the sensation of the powerful hold Beckett’s henchman had had him in.

He let go of the pillow and rolled onto his back, rubbing one hand across his eyes and then covering his face with his hands. What did it mean? The violent images were not a coherent memory, and had only appeared in his dreams after Dorcas had been shot. The nightmares had provided the final impetus for banishing Emily and the children before he did something to endanger them. If he’d acted on the almost irresistible impulse to kill… He shuddered and swung his feet to the floor. He was going out of his mind, he thought. He couldn’t have murdered someone – he wouldn’t be walking the streets, mad or sane.

He dragged himself to the kitchen and grimaced, unready to face even Guo Ping. The smell of coffee was steadying, and righted the world, at least for the moment. He abandoned his cup after a few sips, though, curious about the stream of shouted Chinese invective that came through the open half of the kitchen door, and grinned at the sight of Guo Ping prodding the business end of Emily’s best milker. The cow had apparently escaped her pen, and was contentedly munching the tender tops of the turnips Emily had growing in the last row of the garden. He’d tangled with the creature enough times himself that he knew it would take nothing short of an earthquake to get her away from that garden. Or Fanny. Fanny could talk that cow into anything. He let loose a soft curse. Fanny was in Sacramento. He left his anxieties behind as he stepped off the porch, and fervently hoped that no one would ride up to the ranch to see its half-naked owner and Chinese houseboy trying to wrangle one stubborn cow.

“Adam.”

Ben’s brief nod and tug at his hat set off warning bells in Adam’s mind. The serious cast to his father’s expression was one that he only saw when something very bad had happened. “Pa? I thought you were headed over to Carson today.” “May I come in?”

“Yeah. Sorry.” Adam opened the door wide and led the way back to the kitchen. “You want some coffee? I just made a new pot.”

Settled in the study with the coffee tray between them on the round table Adam used for business meetings, the two men sat in awkward silence.

“What’s on your mind, Pa? You’ve been chasing me around for days, just itchin’ to say something.”

“Sure is quiet around here.”

Adam eyed his father over the rim of his coffee cup, deciding it really must be something big if Ben was dancing around it this way. “Yep. It was nice the first day, but—” He shrugged his shoulders. “Had kinda gotten used to the… commotion.

Again, I expect.”

Ben grinned. “Yeah. Took a fair bit of gettin’ used to, all this.” He laughed. “Don’t think you knew what you were in for when you married Emily. Those imps were always so well behaved when you were courting her.”

Adam sobered. “They still are. Too well behaved for young boys.”

“They took everything to heart a little too much, I suppose. Like someone else I know.”

“Is that what this is about, Pa? Something I took too serious?”

Ben carefully examined the bottom of his coffee cup.

“Pa…” Adam said softly.

Ben grimaced and raised his eyes to examine his son instead. “You have another ‘spell’?” “No.”

Ben waited, knowing this wasn’t the truth.

“I didn’t pass out,” Adam muttered. “I met Beckett and his…associate yesterday afternoon. I remembered…part of what happened behind the barn.” He paused, trying to find the words to fit the images from his dreams. “Beckett was there.

Guess I shoulda sent for Roy, but I don’t want him to move on ‘em yet.”

Ben leaned forward eagerly. “You remember being attacked?”

“It’s still kinda fuzzy. Beckett was on a horse. A little fella kept takin’ swings at me with a board – big one got me from behind.” He shook his head. “I don’t have it all, still. I dreamed it, last night… Just not real clear.”

Ben tried to conceal his excitement, and his impatience. “Tell me what you remember.”

“Nothin’ about them comin’ up on me—” He clenched his eyes shut and gave Ben the details of the dream, trying to give him every last nuance and impression.

“You should send for Roy. He’ll take your word—”

Adam stood impatiently and crossed to his desk. “No – I think Beckett is only part of the problem. He’s in partnership with a Mormon, of all things. They want to put a stockyard in down towards Carson – and have it served by the main line railway.”

“That ain’t gonna work – don’t they know that? And who would feed them stock? Who’s this Mormon?”

“Reig.”

“Josiah Reig?”

“Yeah, you know him?”

“Twenty years and more. He cloaks everything he does in respectability – skirts just this side of the law, but he’s mighty busy filling his pockets, and any of his family’s, at the expense of any right dealings. Wouldn’t get involved with him at any price.”

“I told them their plan wouldn’t work.” Adam unrolled a map and pointed to the route the railroad would take. “Told ‘em I was going to put in a branch line – it’ll serve the valley fine. Even Virginia City—”

Ben waved his hand to stop Adam’s discourse. “Yes, yes. What did they say?”

Adam let go of the map and turned to face his father, crossing his arms high on his chest as he leaned back against the desk. “Didn’t say much of anything. Beckett wasn’t taking no for an answer, though – I could see it in ‘im. Reig was just plumb scared. Don’t know what of, though.”

“Of you,” Ben said softly.

“Me?”

“Probably wished they’d used a third party to acquire the land they need.” He answered Adam’s raised eyebrow with a small smile. “Son, you know more about these railroads than just about anyone out here.” He eyed his son carefully, seeing him as others saw him, and not knowing quite how to put his thoughts into words. “And you can be…intimidating.” Adam pursed his lips. “That’s something I’ve had to cultivate, and you know it.” He sighed. “I don’t want to be that man anymore. I think I took on all this—” He waved his arm to indicate the ranch “—to leave all that behind. Why can’t I just have a nice little spread and a family – be like other folks and just keep my head down?”

“Is that what you want – to be able to forget all that you are, all that you’ve done? You’re throwing an awful lot of good out with the bad.”

“I know, Pa.” He rubbed a hand over his eyes. “That’s not what I meant. I just want it all to end – I want to be able to put off my gunfighter’s black – to not have to try to intimidate every stranger that might be a threat to me and mine.” Ben put one hand on his shoulder and Adam knew he was in for one of his father’s quiet lectures. “John Adams once wished the same thing, son, but I think he was wrong. We can never give up ‘the study of war’, as he put it, because there will always be someone trying to steal from his neighbor. If you don’t do it, someone with no principles will.” He took a deep breath and leaned forward. “Asa Moran should be fresh in your mind, hmm?”

Adam nodded and his hand went unconsciously to the site of the long-healed stitches, too close to the ones Paul had just taken out of his scalp.

“He was willing to step up, all right, but he didn’t have the strength of character to handle the responsibility.” He gave his son a hard, considering look. “You have that strength, Adam, always have, I ‘spose… and I’ve used it. I’m sorry for it – I know it marked you, but you haven’t done so badly, have you?”

“No, Pa, I guess not,” Adam replied softly.

“Good, I’m glad we agree on that.” Ben slapped his shoulder lightly, bringing Adam out of his reverie. “Now, there are some things we need to discuss…”

Adam stared at the heavy green velvet curtains that hung at the open casement windows. He could hear the sounds of the ranch hands going about their morning business, and Guo Ping’s hectoring interrogation as he strove to find out who’d left the gate open on the dairy side of the barn.

His dream made sense, now, and he shifted his gaze back to his father, one question left burning though the halfremembered pain. “Did…did I have to be confined?”

“No! You were ill and exhausted, not crazy.”

Adam clenched his hands tightly as if that could erase the memory of Kane’s stubbly throat beneath their blistered and bleeding grip. So dry – parched throat, skin taut from too little water, stomach shriveled from too little food – then to see there’d been food and water the whole time, that it was all a game. And the indignities – the madman’s control had extended even to the greatest intimacies – dissecting his prisoner’s mind even as he dictated every movement in the crazy dance toward death. A dance Adam had abruptly ended – choosing to no longer be hostage to a deferred end… He let his head sink into his hands. Well cared for again, he thought ironically, the calluses smoothed as much as could be, their strength used more often now to caress than to hurt, and never again in anger. He drew a shaky breath. “I’d always thought I could handle anything another man could dish out.” He shook his head slightly. “I’d tested my mettle against all manner of men. But this – this was different. I failed the test.”

“No you didn’t. You won – you lived.”

Adam’s head jerked up. “Don’t say that,” he snapped. “That’s what he made it – a contest – who would break – who would kill – and I did – I strangled him—”

“You didn’t! You tried to save his life. After he tortured you.”

Adam rose and went to the window. Guo Ping had found his man and seemed to be in the middle of an extended harangue. ‘Must run in the family,’ he thought irrelevantly. He started a little as he felt his father’s hand come down on his shoulder.

“You’re a good man, Adam. You stayed true to your convictions. You didn’t kill Kane – he killed himself with his hatred and bitterness. You were everything he wasn’t, and he wanted to take you down with him.”

Adam watched the young cowboy take his slumped shoulders off towards the bunkhouse in a dejected shuffle. He was only a kid. He’d have to have a talk with Guo Ping… When he was that age…he’d had the whole of the Ponderosa on his shoulders. And because of his father, he’d been able to meet the challenge. One of the times his father had ‘used’ him.

More like clung to him when life seemed its blackest. “Did I, Pa?” he whispered, half to himself. “Maybe I really did have everything given to me. How much is a good father worth? Or a good mother? Mothers?”

Ben stepped to Adam’s side and looked into his face. “I don’t know, son. But you did right, always have, always will, I expect. You came through the fire – still what is Adam Cartwright at your core – a decent, honorable man who wouldn’t be pushed into murder even when it meant he might lose his own life. You chose that path – I didn’t choose it for you. No father can.”

Adam kept his eyes down, away from his father’s penetrating stare. ‘Choose.’ The doc said he had to choose. To stop running away from his memories – as if that could wipe out his former life, letting him start anew. He closed his eyes tightly. He couldn’t force himself to remember, could he?

“Adam?”

“Yeah, Pa.” He sighed. There was no time. He had to be ready now; had to remember everything, and had to be able to as strong as he ever had been—

“You look a little pale, son. Why don’t you go lie down—”

“I can’t!”

Ben looked taken aback by Adam’s outburst. “What—”

“It’s time, Pa. Beckett’s going to make his move – he has to know that I’ll remember him. He’ll have to kill me to get what he wants, and I can’t let that happen.” He rubbed a hand over his face, as if another repeat of that action would wipe the cobwebs from his mind. He moved over to the locked gun case that ranged along the outside wall. “I seem to have a penchant for collecting dependents lately, but I think I can put it all to use…” He turned back to Ben and grinned. “You know, when I saw that ridiculous contraption I hooked up in the bathroom, I knew I’d really gone around the bend.” Seeing his father’s frown, he smiled a little. “Windmills, Pa, windmills.”

Ben put his hands on his hips and returned the grin, comprehending. “Yes, you got your windmills. I still think—” “I know what you think, Pa, but they’re my windmills. And they’re going to stay mine. And I’m gonna build more.” Ben shook his head and approached the gun case, but he was pleased all the same. This sounded more like the old Adam. “I expect so. What can I do to help defend them?

…You will let us help, won’t you?” he finished softly.

“Yes.” Adam sighed. “Look, Pa, I know we’ve had our disagreements lately – I mean, I think I know – an’ I think you did something to mightily tick me off, but for the life of me I can’t remember what it was…yet.” A flush stained his cheeks and he looked down at his boots. “Em near squeezed the life out of me when I said we had family to help—”

Ben laughed a little at the idea of his slender daughter-in-law squeezing the life out of anyone, let alone Adam, but sobered as he listened to his son continue.

“—so I suppose there was some wrong on my side as well…”

Ben uncharacteristically dropped his eyes from Adam’s gaze and seemed to hesitate over what to say. He gave up and laid his hand on Adam’s shoulder. “You know I only want to do my best by you boys—”

Irritation, impatience, and finally exasperated acceptance played across Adam’s dark features. Whatever his father had to say, it wasn’t going to be today. “Yeah, Pa, I know,” he said softly. He pushed aside his irritation and changed the subject.

“Hoss and Joe say anything about what they dug up?”

“Only what you thought was true. Beckett filed a claim – just one of many – The Homestead Act is opening things up like never before.”

Adam grunted. “Folks around here will be able to make a go of it, but they’ll never get people on that land – not permanent. Too dry. A lot of this out here – a couple of years of no rain… Even Reno will never amount to anything – ‘cept as a watering place for the railway, let alone trying to do something like what those fellas are talking about.” He leaned one arm on the gun case. “What I’d like to know is what they really want.”

Ben lifted his head and looked at his son. “Reckon you’ll know before I do. What’re you thinkin’?”

“I think it’s a diversion for whatever their real plans are. Seems almost like they want to delay the CP and have the UP gain more ground. More ground means more revenue. Dunno. They might actually want a stockyard.” He brought his hand up to squeeze his father’s arm. “There is something you could do for me, Pa, if you would. Would you wire Henry Worthington and see if these fellas lobbied him – I can’t see why they’d be out here unless they already tried and failed there. He might have some idea of what they’re really after.”

“He might.” Ben could almost see the wheels turning in his son’s head. “What is it?”

“You know, Pa, I wish I’d talked to you last week, ‘stead of getting’ all riled up – some things would ‘a made some sense.

Hoss tried to tell me—” He shook his head and sighed. “If they don’t want to link to the main line, we might just run a railroad from Virginia City to Carson – service the mines. I made up a proposal for Porter Meredith and had a meet—” “Merry?”

“Yeah. Why? He seemed pretty cool to the idea – except he seemed to understand what I had in mind…” Adam trailed off and paled, and then slowly raised his eyes to meet his father’s suddenly uncomfortable gaze. “That’s what I was so angry about! You knew it. Just now you could have told me!” His fists clenched in agitation and he took a step towards his father.

“You went behind my back and said something to him – was it in one of those smoke-filled rooms – you trying to make some money on the deal too?”

Ben looked aghast at the harsh accusation. “No, no. Son, I was trying to help—”

“Help?!!” Adam turned and smashed his fist into the table hard enough to make the coffee service jump. “You nigh on got me killed – no wonder he didn’t seem too enthusiastic – I bet if I do some digging he’s the one behind this – with his eastern investors.” He whipped around to find his father on his heels. “How could you – can’t you keep your nose outa my business for one min—” He raised his hands to his head as a blinding pain shot around his skull to settle above his eyes.

“God,” he gasped. “Pa…” He sagged and Ben caught him under his arms and eased him into one of the chairs.

“Hop – Guo Ping!” Ben, never one for cursing, sent up a prayer instead as he wet his kerchief from the carafe of water Adam kept on his desk. He dabbed at his son’s white face, concerned by Adam’s unresponsiveness.

“Yes, Mr. Cartwright?” Ben’s bellow had the young chinaman running.

“Get one of the hands to ride for Doc Martin and another in here to help me with my son.” Ben laid the handkerchief over Adam’s brow as Guo Ping fled the room. “Paul, my old friend, I should have listened to you…”

“He wouldn’t want this.”

Joe’s voice. Angry. Uncertain. Scared.

“It’s got to be done, son.”

Hoss’s rumbling undertones were overlaid by Doctor Martin’s clear commands. “Get that pillow behind him – I want his head elevated a little higher. Ben, bring that lamp closer over here.”

His eyes didn’t seem to want to cooperate. He felt something – a cloth? – go around his arm and get tied tightly into…a tourniquet? He shifted away with a whispered “no!”

The doctor cursed under his breath. “He’s coming around. Hold him down, Hoss.”

There was a hard squeeze to his shoulder and his eyes finally seemed to want to work. “Pa?”

“I’m here, Adam.”

“What…what happened?”

“You passed out again. It was bad this time. You need an operation Paul doesn’t want to perform, not here, at least. So he has to try something else.”

“Adam! Hold still!” Doctor Martin’s voice was sharp with tension. “None of your nonsense now, you hear me?”

“Yes.” He felt too weak to fight them all, in any case. What would be, would be, and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. The doctor’s fingers skillfully manipulated his veins and he looked down at his arm in time to see the sharp instrument execute its designed function. He’d had better reactions to some of his messier injuries – he let his head drop against the pillows as he watched the blood well up in the wake of the multiple blades. “Damned mechanical leech,” he muttered.

Paul’s eyes flickered up to his at this and he smiled wryly. “Yes, but it’s the best I can do right now. Betsy knocked over my jar.”

Adam shuddered and turned his face away. “Someday they’ll find this ain’t right.”

“Yes, well, meantime, I need a way to get the blood away from that little ding you took to the head. Unless you want me to drill—”

This time it was Ben who paled. “Paul—”

“He wants some plain speaking and I’m gonna give it to him. Adam, I think you have a hematoma, a bruise, under your skull. In theory, I know how to drill in and drain it, but I’ve never done it before, an’ I’d like not to learn on you, so I’m tryin’ a little bloodletting to see if we can get your pressure down. Sometimes these injuries resolve themselves.” “If you know how—”

The doctor answered the unspoken question. “Inflammation, Adam – it’s too much of a risk, so I’ve made it a rule not to trepan – this is safer.”

Adam turned his face into the pillow and grunted. “So says you. Hoss?”

“Yeah, Adam?”

“Get off a’me – I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

Hoss looked sheepish as he took one arm away from where it rested on Adam’s chest and the other from pinning his brother’s hip to the bed.

“Sorry.”

“S’aright. I’m sure I’ll return the favor sometime…like next spring.” He managed a slow wink and Hoss grimaced.

“If yer strong enough to hold me down next spring I promise not to argue with the tonic. You jest get better.” “Yeah,” Adam breathed, as he lost the battle to keep his eyes from drifting closed. “Get better…Paul?”

Paul looked up from his work. “Yes?”

“If I don’t…?”

“We’ll send for Emily. Do you want her now?”

“Yes. No.” His head rolled back and forth on the pillow. “Too dangerous. Don’t tell… Pa?”

“Yes, son?” Ben’s hand tightened again on the solid bare shoulder that should have been hard at work at this hour.

“I’m still mad at you. I ‘member. You tell ‘em…tell them I’m gonna fight ‘em…”

Adam sighed and Ben dropped his head, unable to meet Joe’s questioning gaze, or the doctor’s quick glance of displeasure, and praying that Adam would pull through to be able to yell at him.

“My territory, my railroad – no land-grabbing strangers… Gonna ram it down their throats – gonna run it up ta Reno, just…to…show ‘em.” Adam continued, almost too quietly to hear.

“Adam, calm down. You’re not going to do anything but end your life with a massive fit if you fight now. Save it for next month.” The doctor loosened his hold on Adam’s arm to momentarily check his pulse.

“Month? Don’t have a month…”

Joe averted his eyes as the doctor emptied one glass cup into the bowl and applied the next. “You’re going to have all the time the time you need, big brother. We found enough on Beckett and Reig—”

“What about Meredith?”

“He seems clean. He’s been looking for investors to run a rail line down to Carson – didn’t really seem to understand that Beckett was after something more.”

Hoss broke in. “Someone’s putting pressure on the small ranchers to sell out.” He caught the look the doctor shot at him and glanced down at the rising reservoir, tempering his next words to suit his brother’s condition. “Roy’s got what we found, so you jest don’t worry none. He’ll do what’s needed. He said you’ll just need to testify that them two threatened you—”

Adam opened his eyes. “They’ll go to ground – he’ll never find ‘em, not once they know someone’s been snooping around their business.”

“Well, fer sure Roy’ll think up a way to smoke ‘em out,” Hoss said, not liking the glimmer of interest that he saw in his brother’s eyes. “An’ you’re gonna stay in that bed or I’ll tie you to it and don’t you go thinkin’ anything different.” Joe grinned and patted Adam’s arm. “He’ll do it, too, Adam. He’s got a nasty habit of trussin’ up a feller nice and tight when he doesn’t do what he’s told.”

Ben smiled and then sobered as he remembered the fear that had been in him *that* night. He looked down at the bowl that the doctor had been steadily filling. “Paul!”

The doctor gave him another fierce glance. “Not even half, Ben,” he whispered. “Just keep him talking…”

“Blasted… – Joe!” The crash that followed the bellow brought Joe running from the kitchen.

“Now what did you do?”

“Nothin’ – can’t seem to do anything, still. Would you please get me a new pitcher of water?”

“Get back in bed. I’ll shave you.”

“You?! You ‘bout slit my throat last time – where’s Hoss?”

Joe sighed and rolled his eyes as he shoved his brother back towards the bed. “He had some chores to do at home. Now get back in bed or I’ll tell the doc you’ve been misbehavin’ again.”

“Joe – I’m better – I can tell! No headaches, no dizziness. Ask me something, anything, and I’ll remember it!”

“Uh, huh. You sound like me when I’m tryin’ to talk Hoss inta something. Get in bed.” He held the covers back and patted the bed as if that would tempt Adam back into it. He didn’t like the calculating look that crossed his brother’s face. “Forget it. You can’t even lift that pitcher properly.”

Adam gave in. Joe had consistently been the hardest to talk into anything. “Don’t know where you got such a hard head.

No sympathy. I feel sorry for your future family.”

“I have plenty of sympathy – except when you ain’t doin’ what you’re supposed to.” He looked his brother over critically.

Adam’s color was still off a little, and he’d lost weight, but he did look stronger than he had the week before. The doctor had bled him to the point that Joe was afraid for his life, but the procedure seemed to have indeed worked. He pulled the covers up around Adam’s shoulders. “Guo Ping just about has lunch ready. You wanna eat?”

“No.”

Joe crossed his arms over his chest. “You gotta eat, Adam.” He tugged at one of the curls that lay against the nape of Adam’s neck and smiled. Emily would moan over what he was going to propose, but she’d never know what she’d missed.

“I’ll make you a deal, big brother. You eat for me today and I’ll see if we can talk Emmett out here to give you a nice shave and a haircut. How would you like that?”

“Stop patronizing me, Joe. I’m not crazy. Not yet, he finished under his breath as he rolled away from his brother’s touch.

“I’m not – Aw, cut it out, Adam. You’re grumpier than a bear with a toothache. Why don’t you just send for Emily – you don’t give her this kind of trouble. And wipe that grin off a’ your face!” Joe whirled and stomped out of the room. “You’re gonna eat, and you’re gonna stay in bed…”

Adam rolled over on his side and looked out the window at the limited view of his ranch. “I would if I could, Joe,” he whispered, shivering as he contemplated the next who-knew-how many weeks without his wife and the probably dangerous alternative.

“What’s this I hear about you giving Joe a lot of trouble?”

“Doc?” Adam dragged his eyes open. He still spent more time sleeping than he wished to, and he pushed away the irritation sparked by finding the doctor with his wrist already in hand. He hadn’t even heard him come in. “No trouble – just a little disagreement about shaving—”

“And eating, and staying in bed, and sneaking out of your room.” He thumped his patient’s chest, listening closely to see if any problems had developed since his last visit. “I want you to do some calculations for me – how about multiples of 18?” “Huh? Oh. Um, 18, 36, ow, Doc!, 72…”

The doctor listened absently while he checked Adam’s reflexes. “Very good. Tell me about your ranch – how many acres – that irrigation arrangement you put in last spring—”

“What irrigation?”

Paul smiled. “That’s right – you haven’t done it yet – you remember telling your pa and me about it a couple of days before your injury?”

Adam’s brow crinkled in confusion. “I don’t know, Paul, we talked about a lot of things that night.”

The doctor patted his leg and smiled again. “That’s all right. Normal for you not to necessarily remember it. Here, stand up, and tell me about the Buckeye…”

“Well?”

“I’d say he needs a good dose of his family about now – and I don’t mean you three. He’s lonely, bored, and worried, but he’s definitely not ready to do any work around here yet – I’d give him about three more weeks before he’s back to normal.”

Ben looked offended, then amused at the comments. “Well, I’m sorry we don’t quite measure up, but Roy still hasn’t found Beckett and his men, and no one will say if they’ve seen Reig. I can’t imagine Adam letting Emily come back here under the circumstances.”

Paul shook his head. “He needs to do something, or he’s going to get into trouble. Bookwork, his drawings – I’ll let him sit in his study and the boys can let him sit on the porch – only when it’s warm enough – no early mornings and no evenings, and keep him covered up.”

“How do we get him to eat more?” asked Joe.

“If we let him out of bed it might improve his appetite. Bring Hop Sing over here. He likes Hop Sing’s cooking. And he’s gotta eat more beefsteaks. No bread, no more soups.”

“Maybe Hop Sing could give Guo Ping some cookin’ lessons,” Hoss said hopefully.

Joe laughed softly. “Maybe Adam could hire a real cook and let Guo Ping do what he really wants.”

Ben looked puzzled. “And what’s that?”

“To be a gunslinger, or at least a cowboy.”

“A gunslinger!”

Joe nodded. “I found him practicing. Does it everyday, he says. And Eddie’s been teaching him to ride and rope.” “That so…” Ben started.

Paul snapped his bag closed and crossed to the door. “Just get some food into that boy, Ben. I told him he needs it to get better…”

“Here, you’re holding it wrong.”

Guo Ping jumped, startled that his employer had come up behind him unawares.

“Mr. Cartwright. You supposed to stay on the porch.”

Adam raised an eyebrow and held out his hand. “Give me the gun – Stop – uncock the hammer. Boy, you really don’t know how to handle a gun, do you? Why didn’t you ask Joe – he would’ve been happy to teach you.”

Guo Ping dropped his eyes, afraid to admit his jealousy of the younger Cartwright, and Adam smiled in apparent comprehension. “You’ll never learn anything in life if you’re afraid of lookin’ like a fool. Now look here…”

Guo Ping watched the large hand as it cradled the gun easily, uncertain as to how his own small hand could be so sure with the outsized weapon. Mr. Cartwright seemed to sense this and said: “We’ll have to get you your own gun, but the principle is the same. Relax. Feel the weight of the gun, but make it an extension of hand and arm…”

Guo Ping took a deep breath and tried to focus on the gun and the instruction, marveling at the easy way the bigger man moved, even ill, and wondering if he’d ever be able to match such skill.

Hoss stretched and scratched at his chest. “Can’t say as I like chasin’ Hop Sing over here just for a good meal, but it sure is worth it.”

Adam grinned behind his cup. “And here I thought it was my charming personality that brought you.”

“Charming! You couldn’t charm a sack of flour out of Jacob Kraus with a twenty dollar gold piece right now. A more ornery—” Hoss stopped and his expression softened into kindly commiseration. “Aw, I know you don’t like bein’ hemmed in when there’s work ta be done. You read those books Miss Abigail sent over?”

‘Yeah. Read, played the guitar, braided reins, sat on the porch till—”

“Worked with Guo Ping on his shootin’…”

Adam’s lips compressed in irritation. “Yes. If I sit any more, I really will go barmy. Besides, he needs to know how to handle a gun. He’s downright dangerous armed.”

“And not armed, yer thinkin’. You still gonna to send that drive over to Utah? You know those fellers are just lookin’ for their own breeding stock, don’tcha? They’ll never buy another thing from ya?”

“Yeah, I know. But I’d rather have them buy from me than someone else. They’re just as like to buy from Texas and bring up the fever.” He shook his head. “Never knew a bunch for driving such a bargain – don’t think they’d even realize what they’d done till it was too late.”

“Yep – but yer fine philanthropy is gonna empty the ranch of all a’ your hands.” Hoss looked at his brother suspiciously.

“You ain’t tryin’ ta draw out Beckett, are you?”

Adam didn’t answer, but instead reached out to pour himself another cup of coffee. His hand was steadier, and he was able to lift up to a certain weight, but he still was weaker almost than he ever remembered being. “Can’t think as how I’d need to.”

“Can’t think…” Hoss repeated, frowning. “You get to talkin’ like that and I know yer up to somethin’.” He slapped his hand on the table, making Adam jump. “We all can’t be over here all the time! How do you figure you’re gonna get them to come in when you want? And remember what happened the last time ya did somethin’ like this? You got yerself shot.

Emily will string us all up by our heels if it happens again, so don’t you get any bright ideas.” “I want you to take Guo Ping into town and buy him a good gun, Hoss,” Adam said quietly.

“Adam! You ain’t listening right! That boy don’t have any more sense than a two day old calf.” He gave his brother a considering look. “Who else is stayin?”

“Slim.”

“An’ usin’ Eddie instead of Newsome. When’s the last time he bossed a drive? Three years ago? …You got any other young’uns yer thinkin’ of using?”

“I know what I’m doing, Hoss.”

Hoss shook his head. Adam had set things to have a clear zone of fire around the Buckeye, unlike what their father had done with the Ponderosa, but Hoss didn’t think even he could defend it with only four men. “You are barmy. At least we could take turns over here—”

Adam smiled. “One man can stay. You all just keep an ear out for something big. You’ll know it when you hear it. I don’t think they’ll make their move for a bit – they don’t know why I’m laid up – yet. But they will. Then they’ll move.” He finished his coffee and put his cup down. “Just come when I ask, hmm?”

“Adam, if you wasn’t already knocked silly, I’d…”

“Did you get what I needed?”

“Yep. You want me to lay it for you?”

“No. I’ll do it after you leave.”

“You ain’t exactly got a steady hand yet.”

“I know.”

“You blow yerself ta kingdom come and the missus is gonna blame me.”

“Thank you, Eddie.” Adam shifted in his chair, swiveling around to look up at the foreman. “Here’s the bill of sale for the drive. This is the price we agreed on — don’t let ‘em tell you anything other. I don’t care if they say you drove too much meat off of ‘em. If they won’t take ‘em, you drive them back.”

Eddie’s eyes narrowed at the unusual directive, but Adam stared at him evenly, as if daring him to question it.

“I think some a’ your brains–”

“I know what you think, Eddie. Just do as I say.”

Adam closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair as he remembered his last conversation with Eddie Drake. He was gone, with most of the rest of the hands, taking his worries with him. The battle was inevitable now and Adam’s careful preparations would have to be enough. He rubbed a hand over his eyes and tried to shake off the weariness that seemed to be his constant companion. Lurching out of his chair, he steadied himself against the edge of the desk before setting off for the gun rack. One last step before he was ready. “Guo Ping! Come in here, please.”

“You make entrance hall small to trap enemies and then you not want to use it,” Guo Ping grumbled. “More room in house.”

“More to break — when I designed that I wasn’t living in it.”

“You try to please your wife too much. Why American men do that?”

Adam looked up from wrapping a rifle in oiled cloth and shrugged. “Dunno.” He thought for a moment, seeing that Guo Ping was curious, as ever, about what made this vast territory work. “Guess it comes from the Good Book.”

“Good Book?”

“Yep.” Adam looked at Guo Ping’s height and reconsidered the hiding place for the gun. “You know — ‘do unto others’… um…” He trailed off, briefly considering how other cultures treated women. The ‘Good Book’. He was starting to sound like his father. How was he going to explain this one? “… I don’t know. Our God sent his son, and he talked to women like they were equals. Pretty revolutionary, considering the times he lived in.” He picked up a bucket and put it in front of the rifle, adding a crate of bent nails for good measure. He shrugged his shoulders at the confused expression on the younger man’s face. “And we added to it — we have a lot of fancy words for it — we put it in a contract — our constitution. Our rights come from our God, not from any king. We just fought a war to give those rights to the Negro, and our women mostly get those rights, though I expect they’ll want more. Probably has to do as much with our way of life, too — ”

“Your women — they give you so much…trouble.”

Adam grinned. “Yeah, ‘spose so.” He grunted as he shifted a cart of hay into a more defensible position. “But ya can’t just write off half your resources, can you? I mean, I’ve seen women pick up a gun, think, plan, ‘bout as good as a man –” “Women too emotional, too much talk, too much afraid. Need to know their proper place.”

Adam shook his head. “Not always. I think you’ll find western women to be very brave. Not all, but not all men are brave, either.” He looked around the low-ceilinged, dairy portion of the barn. “Now, where does Fanny keep the–” he started, half to himself.

“Fanny keeps tools all in confusion — not orderly. Like a women’s mind.”

“Ah, but it makes sense to her, Guo Ping, which is the important thing…” He lifted a tarp and found the box of lye. “And you’ve got a lot of learnin’ to do about women’s minds and I’m gonna insist on a more respectful tone when you address that young lady. Americans don’t really like thinking of their employees as servants — they’re other people’s kids doing a job. We all have a job do, no matter how lowly you might think it is. You might consider that next week, when you and I have a little ‘ol chore to do.”

“Chore?”

“Uh, hum.” Adam poured the lye into a shallow box. “Work for the general upkeep of a place — we all use it, an’ we all gotta take care of it.” He wedged the box over the back entrance to the dairy barn. “Now remember — don’t use this door.

I want them to use it.”

“What chore?” the young man repeated.

“Time to move the outhouse.”

Guo Ping gaped at him and then trotted to keep up with Adam’s long stride as they made their way back to the main part of the barn. “But — you have other men to do that work — more suitable–”

Adam latched the big barn doors behind them. “And who would that be, Guo Ping? Who’s the newest hand — not even a hand yet?”

Guo Ping kicked at the dirt. “I am,” he admitted.

“Uh, huh. We all have to start somewhere and it’s usually at the bottom.” Adam turned, chuckling under his breath. And you’re certainly going to start there, young man — I’m gonna shake you free of that too-good-for attitude if it’s the last thing I do…

“…and then he says ‘but that critter weren’t there before!’

…Boss?”

The only answer was the brief deepening glow at the end of a cigar.

“Boss — you hear? He said–”

“I heard.” The faint glow lowered to below waist level, and the fence creaked as Adam shifted his weight to one foot.

Newsome nervously fiddled with his gun belt. “You figure they’re comin’ tonight?”

The cigar glowed red again, and a soft curse echoed between the two men and Adam coughed. “Me’be. Moon’ll be up in another hour and a half. Then you can get some sleep.”

“When are you gonna sleep, boss?”

“When this is over.”

Newsome shook his head in the dark. “Them cegars ain’t worth a whole ‘nother man.”

“They serve their purpose. …Joe’s gonna spell me at two.” Adam brought a hand down on Newsome’s shoulder. “When you finish your circuit just give me a flash from the bunkhouse lantern. Don’t come back here.”

“You trying to get them to come in now?”

“I’m trying to get them to turn tail and never try it in the first place. They know I’m watching, know I’m waiting. Maybe they’ll think better of trying to take me on.”

Newsome shook his head in the dark. “Not that bunch. Ain’t nothin’ gonna make them feel righter than you laid out, permanent.”

“Well, we’ll accommodate them, if it’s a fight they want.”

“Accommodate, is that what they call it now?”

Adam chuckled. “I’ll see you in the morning, Newsome.”

“Yessir.”

Adam took another pull on his cigar and grimaced at the taste. Nothing more likely to ruin his palate than a cheap cigar… “You think he knows we’re out here?”

Beckett dipped his chin impatiently and glared at his scrawny cohort.

“Yep.” He slipped the strap off of his gun compulsively. “And he wants me to know he knows.” Reig stared at him blankly.

“He’s telling me he’s ready for us, you fool.”

“Then why–”

“Aw, shut up, Josiah. Let’s go. Mr. Adam Cartwright can stay up all night, if he has a mind to — I’m goin’ back to the hotel.”

“He came in at about two. Why’d you want to know, Adam?”

Adam bit back a yawn as he looked down at the officious looking little hotel clerk. “Just getting the measure of a man, Morton.” He slipped a coin across the counter. “When he comes down, send a boy over to the Silver Dollar.”

Adam buttoned his jacket higher than usual across his chest and shoved his hands in his pockets as he left the International House. The way he felt, he’d be better off taking his ease at the doc’s house, but he needed to get some business squared away…

Adam threw his cards down on the table, stretched, and brought one hand down to remove the cigar stub from his mouth.

“That, gentlemen, is the game.”

“You won all the money.”

“Yep. Gotta work on that poker face, Guo Ping.”

“I have good poker face; had bad cards.”

“That’s what they all say, young man. You just gotta know when to fold–”

“Well, look’ee here, boys. I thought I smelled me a Cartwright. Adam — that cheap…cegar is enough to stink up half the territory.”

“You would know more about that than I would, Beckett.”

Beckett’s lips tightened in quickly suppressed rage. He held up two fingers at the bartender and then pointed at a single malt bottle of scotch Sam had at one end of the bar. “A drink for my friend, bartender. Maybe you’re a little confused about the quality of your vices, hmm?”

“Certainly not about the quality of the company.”

Beckett laughed at this, putting aside his irritation at the ready jibes. He waved Guo Ping away, doing a slight double-take as he realized the slender young man in cowboy’s garb was an oriental. He pushed the observation to the back of his mind and turned his attention to the figure still lounging behind the table. Adam Cartwright still did not look quite right, but there was something in the easy drape of his body that made Beckett think of a snake on a sun-warmed rock.

Apparently his friends thought so, too, as they melted away from the table with quickly muttered goodbyes.

Beckett settled heavily in the chair opposite and barely noticed the arrival of the whiskeys. “Now, Adam — this should all be water under the bridge. You know Roy couldn’t hold me on the word of a confused man.”

“You mean you bought a judge.”

Beckett clicked his tongue. “Just full of accusations, aren’t you, Adam? I’m a legitimate businessman.” He eyed the untouched shot glass. “What’s the matter — can’t hold your liquor? Oh, that’s right — I suppose something that strong just might make you fold in two–”

The words were cut off as one strong hand closed over his throat, dragging him to his feet.

“I wouldn’t count on it, Beckett.” The low growl was soft enough that others couldn’t hear, but the intent was obvious. He felt his teeth rattle as the hand gave him a good shake. “The law might say I’m confused, but we both know I’m not. If you come gunning for me I’m gonna kill you, and that little weasel you’re lettin’ leech off of you. I suggest you turn tail and go back to whatever hole you crawled out of. If it’s one thing a Cartwright don’t like, it’s someone takin’ what’s theirs, an’ you come to the table too late — I got the whole pot, and no one is dealing another hand.”

Beckett found himself unexpectedly loosed and shoved back into his chair. He gasped great lungfuls of air as he watched the younger man gather his winnings and retrieve his hat. The whiskey went with a quick tip of the glass. A nod and a “Gentlemen” and the man in black was gone.

Beckett gingerly felt at his throat and stretched his neck as Reig materialized at his side.

“It isn’t worth–”

“Shut up, Josiah.”

A deep, rumbling boom reverberated across the ravine, bringing Ben’s head around with a jerk. “What was that?” Hoss’s lips compressed into a thin line, and he gave his father a sober look. “Adam.”

Ben doused the fire with a quick kick and ran to tighten the cinches on Buck’s saddle. “Could he tell me, for once, what he was up to?”

Hoss followed with the light grace which always seemed so unnatural in such a big man. “Reckon he just did.”

Ben tried to keep the anger out of his voice but wasn’t successful. “What are we supposed to do — bring in the cavalry?” “I think we’re it, Pa. C’mon — he wanted us to come in from the west.”

“What other way is there from here,” Ben muttered, regarding his son suspiciously.

“There you are. What are you doing sitting out here in the dark?”

“I don’t know.” One corner of his mouth turned up. “Guess I thought you’d come out here to find me.” “Uh, hum.” She let him pull her into his lap. “I think this is how we got in trouble last time.”

“Is that what they call it now?”

“Adam–”

He reluctantly lifted his head when he heard a plaintive ‘Mama?’ from over his shoulder somewhere.

“Out here, Sammy. Adam, let me go.”

The bottom half of the door banged shut and two towheads reflected the soft light of the kitchen lamp. “Gil an’ me had a bad dream.”

“Oh — Gil and you, hmm?”

Sammy crawled into his lap and Adam readjusted his plans for the evening.

“Yeah. We dreamed you was shot. Gut shot. Like this.” Sammy pointed to Adam’s Sunday-best white shirt. A dark stain spread from where his little finger touched the starched fabric.

Gut shot? Strange, it doesn’t hurt. Emily spiraled away as his vision blurred and turned to black.

“Pa, Pa. No, Pa.” Two little hands tugged at each of his.

“It’s okay — you boys will be all right. Your ma–”

“I’ll take them, Boss. Boss?”

“Boss? They’re coming.”

Adam lurched forward in his chair. He hadn’t even heard the signal — he’d fallen asleep again! He took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes, trying to shake the emotions left by the dream.

He was more than grateful he’d thought to keep one of his best shots back from the trail. He rose quickly and stretched the tight muscles in his back. “Thanks, Ellis. Out to the barn with you — and keep your head down. I don’t want to be writing a letter to your mama tomorrow.”

“Yessir, but I don’t much like being bait.”

“Take one out, boy — we’ll take care of the rest. Now, go.”

An irreverent grin was all the reply he got before the young man scrambled away, keeping low to the ground and out of sight of the men who would soon be coming up on the rise behind the barn.

“It took you long enough to get back here.”

“Beckett left a guard.”

Adam frowned at this development.

Guo Ping grinned. “He is in smoke house.”

“He’s in the…” Adam shook his head slightly. “I told you not to try to take on any of them!”

Guo Ping shrugged. “One more, now one less.”

“I wasn’t countin’ on him hiring extra men.” Extra pieces on the board. Adam mentally reviewed his preparations. “I want you to let Kip out at the back of the house instead of the side. It’ll give me a little more time–”

“Time to get shot in the back. You crazy man.”

Adam arched one eyebrow as he checked his weapon one last time. “Not crazy, Guo Ping, just determined to win.” He put a hand on Guo Ping’s shoulder. “You know what to do?” Unsatisfied with Guo Ping’s nod, he went on. “No improvising, you hear?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Guo Ping twisted away and slid out from under Adam’s hand and muttered softly under his breath. “Crazy man. Gonna get shot. Missus Cartwright gonna shoot me…”

Adam walked across the gravel yard with a studied casualness. He had about ten minutes, he thought, before the men came over the crest of the hill, but they might have sent someone on ahead. He was gambling that Beckett’s pride would push him to do the deed himself, though, just so Adam would know who was the better man.

The shot, when it came, echoed across the yard. Adam pulled out a cigar, cut the tip, and blew through it. He struck a match on one of the seat of his pants and narrowed his eyes against the glare of the flame. The yard was eerily quiet except for the soft brush of his movements. He pulled on the cigar and took it out of his mouth to look at the tip. With one continuous, smooth movement he crouched down and touched the lit end of the cigar to the ground and stood up again.

“Cartwright?”

“Yep.”

“All right, you got one of mine. In a minute I’ll have one of yours. How about we end this now?”

“Nope. ‘less you want ta turn yourself in.”

“That’s not going to happen, Adam. I haven’t done anything wrong. Just trying to make a business deal. Why don’t you come out of the shadows and talk to me straight?”

“Can talk fine like this.”

“You only got three men–”

A muffled yell came from the back of the barn.

“An’ you have one less, now, Beckett. I’d suggest you go back to Chicago. There’s nothing here for you.”

Adam risked a look around the corner of the barn and got a cheek full of splinters for his trouble. The shot had come from behind the bunkhouse and told him what he needed to know. He threw a rock across the yard and melted into the barn as the man next to the bunkhouse responded to the noise with a blast of gunfire.

“Put the gun down — slow — that stuff’ll burn you if you go through it.”

“I shoulda hit you harder.”

“You hit me hard enough — twice, as I remember it. You’re lucky I didn’t pull that whole box down on your head. Now put your hands up and edge on out of there.”

Adam took a length of rope off of a shelf to his left. “Turn around.” He pulled the ropes tight, giving them an extra jerk to check for strength. “Set down there next to that post.”

Hate-filled eyes glittered in the darkness and the shorter man ignored the request.

“Mister, you almost killed me. I’m going to give you a chance at a fair trial — no thanks to you it won’t be for murder. Now you set down there or I’ll return the favor and tie you up anyway.”

“Never saw a body for bein’ so stubborn.”

Adam pulled his gun and swiveled and dropped to one knee.

“Kinda jumpy, ain’t ya?”

Adam sighed and rose to both feet, dropping his gun back in its holster. “Newsome, that’s a good way to get shot. What are you doing in here — you’re supposed to be in the milk house.”

Newsome wagged his thumb over his shoulder. “The two that’s left — they’re havin’ a conference, like, trying to figure out what happened to the little one. Ellis got the big ‘un right off. Never seen a man so set on dyin’ as that Beckett — he’s gonna try again in a bit.”

“You get lonely or something, Newsome? Get back in the milk house.”

Newsome leaned back on his heels and considered the order. “You got Ellis on the roof — all safe like, Guo Ping in the house, where they know you’re not, thanks to them stinkin’ cigars, and me in the milk house — thickest built on the place. You in the barn — flimsy walls n’all — settin’ up ta get Beckett to come on in here and face you alone, time you get rid of the rest.” He kicked at the dirt floor that was at this end of the barn. “Your pa and Hoss gonna come up and take care of Reig there in the bushes.”

Adam walked back towards the shelf where he’d hidden a rifle. “Newsome — I know what I’m doing, and it doesn’t include getting killed.”

“You had two extra men out there you weren’t a countin’ on — I can watch your back better from here.”

Adam unrolled the gun and thumbed down the trigger guard to drop a cartridge in. “I need you in the milk house — Kip’ll run for it if he thinks he’s going to get the usual.”

“Kip’ll hide under the porch and yap at yer pa and Hoss. You got him so rattled with yer dynamitin’ that it ain’t gonna work.”

“He wouldn’t have heard that–”

“Half the county heard it–”

“Cartwright!”

“Go!” Adam whispered, and he pushed Newsome out of the side door of the barn.

He hefted the big Sharps to his shoulder and strode out to meet Beckett.

Adam stepped out of the shadowed entrance to the barn. Beckett stood straight in the center of the yard, one hand hovering near his gun, the other slack at his side.

“Doing your own dirty work now, Beckett?”

“If I have to.” Anger settled on Beckett’s heavy features and he punched one finger at the space between the men. “You’re killin’ yourself. We could have come to an agreement, Cartwright — if you’d let this deal alone you could’ve had something down the line.”

“And leave the Carson Valley to your tender mercies? I don’t–”

“Who made you God, Cartwright? You and your father! All of his talk about preserving for the future. Look around you!

Who’s gonna plant when they can take? The miners, the cattlemen — they’ll use the land and then move on. I saw a chance and I took it. Porter Meredith can get all tangled up with your father — I got better fish to fry.”

Adam’s lips tightened and Beckett laughed. “That rankled, didn’t it? Your own Pa. We’re all in this to make money, boy — even the mighty Ben Cartwright.”

“Shut up, Beckett.”

“Going behind your back, tryin’ to shut you out. That’s Ben Cartwright — he’d undercut his own son to make a deal with the devil himself.”

Adam jerked the rifle up slightly and he shifted his weight to the balls of his feet. The movements where subtle, but Beckett knew he had scored his points. He wasn’t so sure of himself over the next few seconds, though, as a calm seemed to come over the younger man. Adam’s eyes narrowed and eventually the rifle dropped.

“No, it’s not, and I should have known that.” Adam let the rifle rest against his leg, barrel down, and ran his left hand beneath his hat brim. “I thought this kept me from remembering…but I was blinded — stubborn and determined to do something on my own. My father would never use his power and influence to do anything to hurt this land, or his family.” He flexed his right hand and splayed his left to show that he wasn’t going for his gun, and reached around to put the rifle over his left shoulder. He made sure the tie-down was off of his Colt. The .36-caliber ball might not knock Beckett off his feet, but Adam was more worried about the man at his back.

Beckett tried again, this time less sure of himself. “You’re blinded all right. What can I say to get through to you, boy? How you can still be loyal to a man who only does for himself–”

“No,” Adam whispered. A thousand memories flooded his mind. His father reaching for him, bringing him down from the hard seat of their wagon on the long trail west. Love, and life with Inger. His father’s face buried in his neck as he hung on to what was left of his family, crying. Long years of toil, alone with his two boys. Even Adam’s sullen refusal of Marie couldn’t dim his father’s love. And the ultimate sacrifice of letting Adam pursue the one thing he wanted in life, no matter what it cost. That man would only stand with his son, and never against any of his family.

Adam shook his head. “It won’t work. I know my father. He’s gonna come riding around that corner lookin’ to see who’s doing what to his son. I’d suggest you leave, and leave Nevada, and think more ‘an twice before you try to take on a Cartwright again.”

“He’s right, Beckett. ‘Cept I’m off the horse.”

Tears started to Adam’s eyes at the sound of that much-loved voice, and he relaxed his stance. This was one battle that was over.

“I got your man, and Reig. Hoss?”

The squeaked protest brought a contemptuous curl to Adam’s lips. That had to be Reig.

Kip ran around the side of the house and ran up the porch steps to paw at the front door. His sharp yips made Adam laugh and he sank to the ground, suddenly dizzy and drained in the face of, to him, unwarranted victory.

There was a commotion in front of him and a muffled shout from Newsome. A “Where do you think yer going?” he assumed applied to Beckett, but somehow he didn’t care anymore.

“Adam? Son?”

He opened his eyes against the glare of the sun. He’d lost his hat? “Pa.” Broad hands gripped his shoulders and the glare was replaced by his father’s shadow.

“I got you, son. Let’s get you into the house.” He was hauled to his feet and teetered a bit before the strong grasp was shifted. “I told you that you weren’t ready to take him on–

When had the yard gotten so wide? “Yeah, Pa, I know. ‘We’re stronger together…’”

Epilogue:

Adam slid Emily’s letter into his breast pocket and shrugged into his coat, somewhat comforted by the presence of the missive, though it was a poor substitute for his family. He was alone, having convinced his father that he was recovered enough to let the Cartwright men make their long-planned trip to St. Louis. He sighed as he opened the door to find that one of the hands had brought out Sport and tied him to the rail. He really was well enough to saddle his own horse, but the hands persisted in treating him with kid gloves.

There would be no Emily standing at the door, no Peter and Matthew and Samuel to run next to him until they reached the end of the fence that enclosed the now deceased Thor’s pasture. He wasn’t even at home, but at the Ponderosa, holding things down while his father negotiated contracts that would keep the Ponderosa in business for decades. He didn’t know how it would all end, this seemingly eternal push to expand, to try to see beyond lumber, cattle, and silver and gold, but he knew it was necessary for the ranch to survive.

He tightened Sport’s cinches and swung himself into the saddle. It wouldn’t be recognizable as a ranch, he thought, in a generation. The Cartwrights would not be immune to the same buffets of fate that would afflict all of the Washoe and this trip was part of his father’s efforts to diversify against the inevitable crash in the cattle market, something they’d had long discussions about over the last winter.

He clicked his tongue at the horse. “Come on, boy, I’ve got some arguments to make, much as I’d rather be here today.” Defusing a potentially violent disagreement had not been how he had thought he’d be spending these weeks alone, but the trouble between the small ranchers and the large operations was too dangerous for the Ponderosa to not get involved with. He still didn’t trust Alf Simmons, and wondered what he was really after. He shook his head. Old problem, new players, but still the same game. Trying to figure who the enemy was and keeping one step ahead of him. He was tired of fighting. He pulled up at the bend in the road and looked back at house in the meadow. No longer a meadow, he mused. Trees had grown up around the dwelling in what had been carefully cleared so long ago, anchoring it as surely to the land as the great pines that his family so carefully stewarded. He took a deep breath and straightened in the saddle, well aware that he wasn’t quite back to his former strength, but suddenly ready to fight again. This was worth fighting for, his family and the land — the past and the future twined together, making a legacy that would be Cartwright.

 

 

~fin~

Notes:

Re: The house in the meadow — I think that phrase is from a BeckyS story, or maybe LissaB’s. Or maybe Becky’s background and it was part of the original setting that TPTB created for the series. If someone knows the source, would they please e-mail me? I would like to attribute it properly.

I compressed time a little for a sub-plot that I never really developed (this was long enough!) and used Alf Simmons from The Flannel Mouthed Gun. He appeared in the VC environs a couple of years before I have him in this story, and would have been more familiar with the Cartwrights than I have him. Thanks to Leo Gordon and Paul Leslie Wilkes for their terrific script, and to the great group of guys who brought the episode to life. I would replace Alf with my own character, but this is the Adam I had in mind while I was writing, and bits and pieces of the final version of the story hinge on FMG coming next. The Lawmaker was written by John A. Johns and Dick Nelson. The Crucible by John T. Dugan. Adam’s scars and some of the rest of his angst come from Jeanie Cartwright’s excellent The Scars Will Fade. My thanks to her for letting me use them!

When Adam finally got it together (in my mind without his father’s ‘help’ — Ben can bend, too!), he and his fellow investors became very wealthy from their investment:

From the California State Railway Museum site:

The Virginia & Truckee Railroad Company was organized in Nevada on March 5, 1868 to connect the Comstock oreproducing mines with quartz-reduction mills located along the Carson River, approximately three miles east of Carson City.

The twenty-one mile standard-gauge line between Carson City and Virginia City was completed on January 29, 1870. A thirty-one mile extension south from Reno through Franktown, Washoe City, and Steamboat Springs connected the Comstock with the Central Pacific Railroad in August 1872.

The wood-burning Genoa was outshopped in January of 1873 by the Baldwin Locomotive Works of Philadelphia. For nearly thirty years No. 12 hauled passenger, mixed and occasionally freight trains for the Virginia & Truckee Railroad between Carson City, Virginia City and Reno, Nevada.