Ben hadn’t heard Joe come up behind him.  Adam was teaching Jacob how to throw a lasso by trying to rope a kneeling Hoss, and Maggie was busy setting out their picnic.  The white clouds were starting to give way to gray, and the late spring day was cooler than normal, but none of them minded.  The sounds of the river, just down the embankment, were lively and soothing, all at the same time.

“Of course.  What’s on your mind?”

“Over here,” said Joe, leading the way with awkward determination.  He wasn’t used to relying the cane yet, but he was working on it.  It was better than hanging onto someone’s arm for support–or worse, just falling right over.  He’d already done that one time too many.  He was fighting for every last vestige of independence, and the battle was becoming fierce.

Six months, maybe a year.  It had already been nearly two months since Doc had made that pronouncement.  Every now and again, the thought would kick Ben in the gut like a wild horse.  Steadfastly, he clung to his belief in a merciful God Who heard and answered prayers, but in his darkest moments, he had to admit that, if God was planning to do something, He seemed to be taking His sweet time about it.  And in the meantime, Joe was losing weight and strength, and the good days were fewer and farther between. . . .

Ben shook off such thoughts.  He knew that losing someone he loved didn’t mean that God was ignoring his prayers.  The truth was that, sometimes, the answer to a prayer was “no.”  He’d received that answer three devastating times.

But still, he prayed.

Joe lowered himself to sit under a tree, out of earshot of the others.  Ben sat down next to him.  It was a reflex by now, assessing his son’s appearance, walking the fine line between allowing Joe to do as much as he could and putting his foot down when his stubborn son pushed himself too hard.  Joe looked a bit pale now, but he didn’t seem overtired.

“Pa, what would you think about Maggie and me getting married?”  Joe had never been much on small talk, but these days, there was an urgency that pushed aside meaningless chitchat.

Ben thought for a minute.  He had a number of thoughts about the idea, and he wasn’t at all certain that he should articulate any of them.  Finally, he asked gently, “Why?”

“Why am I asking, or why would we get married?”

“Both, I suppose,” said Ben.

“We’ve talked about marriage before,” Joe said.  “I tried to talk her out of it, but–well, you see how that went.”  Ben smiled as they watched Maggie spreading a cloth on the ground.  She’d been at the Ponderosa nearly every day for the past two weeks.  As best Ben could sort out, there’d been some sort of argument while he and Hoss were in Carson City, but neither Adam nor Joe had been willing to fill in the details.  Then, one day, Maggie appeared and insisted on seeing Joe.  They spent hours that day closeted in his room, and raised voices had been audible on several occasions.  When she finally emerged, her face was stained with tears, but she looked as radiant as any bride.  Whatever the issues were, they’d settled them to their own satisfaction.

“But–why now?”  Ben couldn’t help asking, but Joe didn’t seem to be offended.

“Because there’s still time for us to have something together,” said Joe.  “Not much, but something, before I get too sick.  I love her, Pa.  I love her, and she loves me, and she’s willing to do this even knowing–”  He took a deep breath.  “But we’re not the only ones this affects.  That’s why I wanted to talk to you.  She and Jacob would have to move into the house, which is fine while I’m here, but afterward, you’d have the two of them living with you, and you’d probably have to fight with her about that, because she’s worried that you’d think she’s just marrying me to get a roof over their heads, and she’s already saying that she’ll move back out after I’m gone.”

Ben forced himself to keep looking at Joe.  How casually his son said the words, with just the slightest undercurrent of passion:  after I’m gone . . . while I’m here, but afterward. . . .  He didn’t try to fool himself that Joe had accepted his impending death so easily, but in these past few days, he’d noticed something different in the way Joe was approaching the issue-calm, almost businesslike, as if it were simply a fact to be considered as he dealt with more important matters.  Almost the way I’d expect Adam to handle it, he reflected.  Even though Joe had always been the hot-headed, emotional one, Ben had always thought his eldest and youngest were more alike than they’d have countenanced.  Again, he wondered just what had taken place when he was in Carson City.

But Joe was still speaking.  “I want to write a will putting my share of the Ponderosa in trust for her. Adam says that if I leave it to her outright and she remarries, her husband would get it, so I don’t want to do that, but that also means that my part of the Ponderosa wouldn’t be going to you and Adam and Hoss when I die.”  He fell silent for a bit.  “In a way, Pa, I suppose it’s just selfish. I want to be with her and I want to take care of her as best I can, but I’m only going to be here for a little while, and then it’s all going to fall to you and Adam and Hoss.”

Ben regarded his son.  The young man had aged so much in the past few months.  It’s not fair, he thought rebelliously.  His son should be able to plan a wedding, a marriage, a life–instead of talking in the same breath about love and death.

“Joe, just tell me this.  Do you love her?”

“With all my heart.”

“And she loves you?”

“She does.  I know it.”

Ben smiled tremulously.  “Then you two do whatever it is you want to do,” he said.  “And as far as the rest of it goes–Maggie and Jacob will always have family on the Ponderosa, and they’ll always be taken care of.  Rest assured of that.”

“Thank you, Pa,” whispered Joe, eyes brimming.  “Thank you.”  He reached out, and Ben caught him in a fierce hug, burying his face in his son’s curls.  From nowhere came the thought:  fair is whatever God decides it is.

“Just one thing, young man,” he said with mock sternness.  Joe pulled back, perplexed.  With his best strict expression, Ben said, “If you’re planning to get married-you’re going to have to get a haircut!”

“Well, there is something I have to do first,” said Joe.  At his father’s questioning look, he said, “I still need to propose!”

“Then I suggest you get to it–you’re burning daylight!”  Ben got to his feet, his knees creaking, and then offered his son a hand up.  As soon as Joe was steady on his feet, he called out for Maggie, and the look on her face made it clear she’d been waiting for his summons.  She set down the jar of tea she’d taken from the basket and ran to Joe, laughing with delight.  She threw herself into his waiting arms, and Ben heard him whisper, “Marry me.”

“Yes!”  Her joyous laughter rang out.  She kissed her fiancé, and then she flung herself into Ben’s arms.

“Thank you,” she whispered, just as Joe had done moments earlier, and Ben hugged his future daughter-in-law.  Whatever else the day might bring, the joy on the young couple’s faces would stay with him always.

“So, when are you two planning to tie the knot?” asked Adam after lunch, as they lounged about, enjoying hefty slices of Hop Sing’s spice cake.

Joe looked at Maggie, grinning.  “You busy tomorrow?”

“I think I could fit something else into my day,” she teased.  “What are you doing in the afternoon?”

“Let’s see–after lunch, probably a nap, then maybe a little work on the ledgers, get married, another nap–I’ve got pretty full day planned,” said Joe.

“Joseph!” Ben remonstrated, laughing.  “You have to give the bride a little time!”

“A little time’s all we’ve got, Mr. Cartwright,” said Maggie, suddenly serious.  “The only reason I’m marrying Joe tomorrow is that it’s probably too late to get the preacher out to the house today.”

Silence fell then, but Joe and Maggie didn’t seem to notice.  He was stretched out on a blanket, his head in her lap as she stroked his hair, and both of them looked utterly content, like any other engaged couple.  Ben had to swallow hard for reasons having nothing to do with the quality of Hop Sing’s baking.

“Well, as delightful as this break has been, Hoss and I need to get that last section of fence mended today,” said Adam, getting to his feet.  He nudged his sleeping brother with the toe of his boot.  “Come on,” he said.  “I want to get that fence done before it rains.”

Hoss opened a sleepy eye.  “Ain’t gonna rain,” he said.  “My corns are just fine.”

“Shut up, you big galoot!  Could you at least wait until after we’re married to start telling my bride about your corns?”  Joe sat up and pelted Hoss with grapes.  “He doesn’t really do this a lot, sweetheart,” he added.

“I talk about my corns every chance I get, ’cause I’m just plain cantankerous and bad-mannered!” announced Hoss, groaning as he got to his feet.

“You won’t get any argument about that,” added Adam wryly.  “Will we see you at the house later?” he asked Maggie.

She shook her head.  “I have to go home and get ready for my wedding,” she said.  “But I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow it is, then,” Adam said, leaning down to kiss her on the forehead.  “Welcome to the family.”

“You sure are gonna be the prettiest Cartwright,” said Hoss.  “And after Little Joe thought he had that all sewed up, too!”

“What the-see, this is why you have to marry me,” Joe said.  “So I can have somebody on my side!”

“I’m on your side!” announced Jacob, flinging himself into Joe’s lap.

“Thank you, Jacob,” laughed Joe.

Ben sat back, enjoying the banter, his heart full.  Such a wonderful day, and tomorrow promised to be even better.  He stretched out and closed his eyes, just for a minute. . . .

“JACOB!  JOE!”

Maggie’s scream woke Ben from a sound sleep.  “What–what–Maggie, what’s wrong?”

But the girl was running down toward the river, and Ben felt his heart stop.  Joe’s cane lay on the riverbank.  The little boy was clinging to a log that was jammed against a rock in the middle of the river.

And Joe was swimming out to him.

“Joseph!”  He ran down the bank after Maggie, who was screaming, first for her son and then for her fiancé.  She clung to Ben, sobbing, as the first raindrops started to fall.

There had been a time when Joe Cartwright was the strongest swimmer in the family.  He’d known how to swim before he could walk.  Even though it had been a long time since he’d gone swimming, it was all coming back to him.  Keep kicking.  Breathe.  Work with the current.  His brothers’ voices were clear in his mind, even above the thunderous roar and incredible cold of the churning water.

It felt like forever before he reached the log where Jacob clung, crying.  “Jacob!” Joe shouted over the crashing current.  “Jacob!”

“Mr. Joe!”  The little boy was sobbing hysterically.  “I want my mommy!”

“Jacob, you have to hold onto me, as hard as you can,” shouted Joe.  “Don’t let go, not for anything.  I’m going to take you to your mommy, but you have to do just what I say.  Can you do that?  Can you, Jacob?”  He kept asking, and finally, the little boy nodded.  “Okay, now, I’m gonna tie you to me, but you still have to hang on.”  He blessed the moment of forgetfulness that had caused Hoss to leave the lasso behind, even as he struggled to get the loop over both of them.  “We’re gonna go now, but you have to hang on!  Show me how strong you are!  Hang on as tight as you can!”

He could hear Maggie screaming from the bank.  Joe wasn’t normally a praying man, but he found himself begging the Almighty for mercy:  please, God, just let me get Jacob back to her safely. Please, God, don’t do this. Don’t make her bury her son. 

He took a deep breath.  “You ready?” he shouted.  In response, the little boy he’d tied to his back wrapped his arms around Joe’s torso.  “Let’s go!”

The trip back to shore was so much harder that it was all he could do not to just give up.  Buffeted by the current, he struggled to keep their heads above water.  He didn’t know if it was the extra weight or just that he was so tired, but he kept going under, and every time he did, the boy panicked and grabbed Joe’s neck. My own fault, he thought.  I told him to hang on tight.  He tried to adjust so that he held the boy with one arm, but the current was too strong for anything but a straight-on fight.  He was gasping for air now, and he could feel himself getting dizzy.  The stabbing in his chest was building.  No, please, not here, he begged silently.  Let me get him to shore.

All at once, Joe felt something grabbing hold of him, hauling him to his feet.  He tried to stand, but his legs buckled.  He could hear shrieking and crying above the water’s roar now, but he couldn’t catch his breath.  He could hear Pa’s voice, but as he tried to speak, everything was drowned out by the screaming pain in his chest that felt as if his heart had finally exploded. . . .

And suddenly, there was no pain.  His breathing was easy and relaxed, and he felt as if he could run for miles and not be winded.  The Ponderosa had never looked more glorious–all lush and green, with sparkling waters and breathtaking blue skies.  Funny, how he could see all the parts at once–he could see the lake lapping at its shores at the same time that the snow-capped mountains beckoned.  The wild mustangs ran free, and the cattle lowed, and the birds sang. . . .

And there she stood, as beautiful as he remembered.

He stood still.  “Am I dead?” he asked finally.

“I’m not sure that’s been decided,” said Robin.

“You said that the next time I saw you, I’d be dead.”  He remembered their last encounter as if it had been the night before.  After he’d returned from San Francisco, in the depths of his depression, she’d come to him.  In the morning, he’d been uncertain whether she’d really been in his room or whether he’d dreamt her.  Now, at last, he knew.

“And you might be,” she said, not coming closer.  “I don’t know what’s happening.  They don’t exactly ask me to approve their plans.”

“But they let you come anyway. . . .”  A thought crossed his mind.  “They know you’re here, don’t they?”

Her laughter was beautiful, musical.  “Well, it’s not exactly a place you can sneak around, you know,” she said.  “He knows everything, remember?  Omniscience, omnipresence, and–I forget the third one.”

“Omnipotence,” said Joe, surprising himself with his recall from some Sunday morning sermon.  “All knowing, all present, and all powerful.”

“Well, what it all boils down to is that they all keep a pretty close eye on things,” said Robin.

“Especially the likes of you, I’d imagine,” he teased.  “You’ve already finagled one visit.”

“If there’s a list of the ones to watch closely, I suspect I’m probably on it,” she agreed with that breathtaking smile.

“Is that why they won’t tell you what’s happening with me?” he asked.

“You’ve got such an earthly mind,” she said.  “The fact is that what’s happening with you is only one piece of a very, very big puzzle.  I don’t know whether they’re going to let you stay with the love of your life or not,” she added.  “They don’t tell me that type of thing.”

“Wait–what are you talking about?  What do you mean?  They might not let me be with you?”  He looked around wildly, as if someone were about to grab his arms and drag him away.

“Not me, silly,” she said.  “I don’t mean me.”

“Then who?  You mean Maggie?  I–I don’t understand–” he stammered, trying to sort out her meaning.  

Robin smiled gently.  “Joe, did you think I didn’t know the truth the whole time?”

“What truth?  What are you talking about?  It was you–it was always you, I swear!”  Frantically, he tried to run to her, but somehow, he was unable to gain ground.

“Okay, stop,” she said, and he did.  “Listen to me.  I never questioned that you loved me.  I never doubted you for a second.  I always knew how much you loved me–because I knew what you did for me.”  Her blue eyes held his with infinite seriousness and love.  “But I wasn’t the love of your life, not really.  No woman could be.  I could never have competed, and I’d never have tried.  And yet, you gave up it all up for me,” she said quietly.

Slowly, the realization dawned.  “You mean–“

She nodded, and again, he could see it all. The lake and the mountains, the pastures and the streams.  The cattle and the horses, the chipmunks and the rabbits.  The well-worn trails, and the underbrush so thick even a snake would have a hard time getting through.  He could hear the splash of clear, cool water over the rocks, and hoofbeats along the dusty road, and the mooing of new calves in the meadow.  He could smell the pine and the vanilla and the fresh, sweet scent of new-mown hay.  And he could hear the shouts of laughter and quiet statements of love that were as much a part of the Ponderosa as everything that nature herself had put in place.

“But–no, that can’t be right–it’s just land–it’s not–“

“I’m not talking about ‘just land,'” said Robin.  “I’m talking about everything-everything you’ve all put into it, everything it is, everything it means.  The Ponderosa isn’t just a spot on a map.  Believe me, if you stick around here, you’ll see that boundaries on earth don’t mean anything anyway.  It’s what you all built, and what you’ve done–and who you are.”  She smiled gently.  “The Ponderosa was your first, best love, and I knew that.  It was always in your music, from the very beginning.  All your best work–that was what you were playing.”

He said nothing.  It was true.  From the very first time he’d tried to play his own music–all he’d ever wanted was to recreate the sounds and feelings of the Ponderosa.  And the time that she’d sung and he’d played–it was the three of them together, a seamless and perfect whole.

“When you chose me, you walked away from all that,” Robin said.  “You gave up the Ponderosa, and you did it for me.  Why did you think I wanted to take you home for Christmas, silly?  I wanted to give it back to you.”

“But we were just going for a visit–” he began, but she was shaking her head.

“No, darling, it wasn’t going to be just a visit,” she said.  “If you and your father had been able to work matters out, we were going to stay.”

“But you never said anything about staying–what about your singing?”

“That’s exactly why I never said anything about staying,” Robin said.  “You wouldn’t have gone if you’d thought it meant the end of my singing.  Besides, I didn’t want to get your hopes up, just in case you and your father were still a couple of stubborn mules.”

“You’d always wanted to be a singer,” Joe protested.  “You were willing to give that up?”

“You’d already walked away from the love of your life for me,” she said.  “It would have been a small thing to sacrifice in return.”

“But I can’t even work the ranch–not any more–I messed everything up–”  

“You certainly did,” she agreed.  “But you tried to make it right.  You did what you could to make the place run, even when you had to do it from a desk.  And now Maggie will raise her son there, and you’ll leave a legacy on the Ponderosa after all.”

He stood before her, with so many emotions swirling inside him that he couldn’t name any of them.  “It’s really over, isn’t it?”

“I think so,” she said.  “To be honest, love, I tried to suggest something, but it doesn’t look like–wait a minute.”  She turned as if listening to something–or to someone.  After a bit, she nodded.  “Of course,” she said, apparently in response.  “Thank you.”

“What is it-are they telling you something?  Am I really–”  He couldn’t finish.

All the love he’d ever known in her glowed as she smiled.  “He hears the prayers of a righteous man,” she said.  “I’ll see you later, my love.”

And she was gone.  In the next instant, the light and warmth and beauty of the Ponderosa vanished, replaced by cold, wet darkness and searing pain. . . .

Something pressed along the side of his neck.  “He’s got a pulse!  Hang on, Joe, hang on!”

He could hear the frantic desperation in his father’s voice.  It’s all right, he wanted to say.  Don’t worry so much.  I’ll be fine.  He could feel something wet pelting his face.  So unbelievably cold.  He’d have given anything for a blanket.

“Don’t leave us, son, just hold on, we’re going to get you home.”  His father was commanding and pleading, all at once.  He could hear someone crying-a high, thin voice, like a child.  Don’t make him bury his son, Doc had said.  I tried not to, he thought in response.  I did my best.

Slowly, other sensations made themselves known.  Strong arms holding him close as they were bumped and jostled.  The faint smell of bay rum and pipe tobacco lingering on Pa’s shirt.  Overwhelming weakness.  Agonizing pressure in his chest, pain radiating into his arms, and even his jaw.

It’s not so bad, he wanted to say, but he couldn’t make words come out.  He couldn’t make himself move.  It’s all right, Pa, I’m fine, he thought as hard as he could, but no one seemed to hear him.

Finally, mercifully, the bumping and jostling stopped.  Deep voices surrounded him, and he felt someone else beside him, fingers resting on the side of his neck.  More voices, and he was being lifted and carried through the rain.  Then the rain was no more, and instead he heard boot heels on the wooden floor. Home.  He wanted to smile at the sound of Hop Sing’s distinctive voice, loud and strident over all the others.  Just do what he says, he thought.  It’ll go easier for you, believe me.

Even with his eyes closed, he recognized the unique comfort of his own bed.  Sodden clothes were stripped away, and soft, warm towels caressed his frigid skin.  Someone was rubbing his hands and arms, and someone else his legs and feet.  A work-hardened hand stroked his brow so tenderly that he knew without opening his eyes who touched him.

“Pa,” he breathed.

For a moment, all the sounds stopped.  Then, there were scuffling feet and excited voices, and Pa’s rich, gentle voice in his ear.  “I’m right here, son,” he promised.  “You’re going to be all right.  You just hang on.  You’re going to be fine.”

I know, he thought.  He felt something wet fall on his face.  Rain in his bedroom.  So confusing.  He tried to speak, but he couldn’t summon the energy to make a sound, and so his lips parted silently.  Pa.

“I’m right here, Joe,” said Pa, just as if he’d heard.  “I’m not going anywhere, I’m right here.  You just rest now.”  His father’s voice broke then, and another drop landed on Joe’s cheek.  He felt his father wipe it away.  “Just sleep now, Joe,” said Pa.  “There’s nothing to worry about.”

He hears the prayers of a righteous man, Joe thought, as he felt himself slip away into blessed, healing sleep.

* * *

“Well?” Joe said impatiently.  “How does it sound?”

Four Cartwrights watched the doctor as he listened to Joe’s chest and then sat back.  Doc looked from one man to the next, his patient last.  Then, he exhaled, shaking his head.

Nearly three weeks had passed since Joe’s heart had stopped after he’d pulled Jacob from the river.  Even though his recovery had been slow, he had felt no anxiety this time.  The pieces had fit together too well, all of them.  The crowning touch had been learning that the doctor had stopped at the Ponderosa to take shelter from the storm, just minutes before Maggie drove their wagon into the yard, with Jacob beside her and Ben and Joe in the back.  Now, the young man knew with absolute certainty what the doctor would say, but he wanted to hear the words spoken out loud.

“For the life of me, I can’t explain it,” Doc said.  He looked Joe straight in the eye.  “Your heart sounds as good as any I’ve ever heard.  Strong beat, even rhythm, no murmurs, nothing else.”

“Wait–are you sayin’ he’s cured?” asked Hoss incredulously.

The doctor smiled.  “I can’t say that,” he said carefully.  “What I can tell you is that, for the first time since Joe’s been back from San Francisco, his heart sounds like a normal, healthy heart.”

“Well, is there any reason to believe that there’s anything wrong with it?” demanded the ever-skeptical Adam.

“The past two and a half years,” said the doctor.  “But that’s the only reason.  His color’s good, his breathing is fine, and I hear no problem at all in his chest.  If he walked into my office as a new patient, I’d say he was perfectly healthy.”

“But?” Ben prodded.

“But I still think we should take things slowly,” said Doc.  “A little bit at a time, don’t overdo, see how it goes.”  He looked again from one man to another, knowing the question in each of their minds, and he smiled.  “Yes,” he answered.  “Not right away, of course–like I said, you still need to take it slow for a while, but–assuming that everything stays as good as it sounds right now–yes, Joe, we can talk about getting you back out doing ranch work.”

“Yeee-hah!”  Hoss whooped, throwing Joe’s pillow into the air.  The others burst into relieved laughter.  Adam clapped his youngest brother on the shoulder.  Joe winked at his father, and Ben squeezed his hand.

“You did it, son,” he said, under the din.

“It wasn’t me,” countered Joe.  “It was the prayers of a righteous man.”  At his father’s questioning look, he laughed.  “I’ll tell you all about it someday,” he promised.

* * *

Music, light and laughter proclaimed that the party was still in full swing.  Hop Sing had been running back and forth from the kitchen all night, refusing all offers of help.  This was the biggest event the Ponderosa had ever seen, and he was not about to have anyone say that he hadn’t done the family proud.

Inside the house, the main room was crowded.  Hoss had been dancing all night with Emmy Lou Becker, and Adam was engaged in serious-looking conversation with Amanda Hopkins, the new schoolteacher.  Ben and Doc Martin stood by the fireplace, sipping punch as they watched couples swirl around the room.

“Well, Ben, it looks as if you got your miracle after all,” said the doctor.  Watching Joe Cartwright dance with his beautiful bride–well, that was something he’d have once sworn that he’d never see.

“Doc, I got a whole wagonload of miracles,” said Ben.  “And a lot of them are thanks to you.”

“I’d love take the credit, Ben, but clearly, you’ve got some friends in very high places,” said Doc.  “It’s hard for a man of science to admit it, but the truth is, there’s just no earthly explanation.  Not for this,” he added as the newly-joined Mr. and Mrs. Cartwright waltzed by.

“No, I suppose there’s not,” Ben agreed.  “I’m going to get a bit of air.  Care to join me?”

The doctor shook his head.  “If I don’t dance with Rose at least once more, I’ll never hear the end of it,” he chuckled.

Ben slipped through the crowd to the front porch.  The crisp autumn air carried the distinctive smell of dried leaves, woodsmoke, and apples.  The night sky was as clear as Ben had ever seen, as if every star in the universe had come out for the occasion.

There’s no earthly explanation, Ben mused.  It was true.  By all rational accounts, they should never have had this day.  And yet, in spite of all their flaws and failings, their limits and mistakes and doubts, they were here, all of them, celebrating their love for one another.

Did you see him, my love? Ben asked silently.  Did you see our boy?  You’d be so proud of him, cheri.  And you’d like her.  She makes him so happy.  He loves her so much.  They’ll be good together, the way we were.

“Pa?”

His youngest son’s hand rested on his shoulder.  Ben turned, smiling.  “What are you doing out here?” he asked the groom.

“Maggie went to check on Jacob,” Joe said.  “You sure you want to watch him for two weeks?  He can be a handful, you know.”

“Well, I think I have a little bit of experience with small boys who are ‘handfuls,'” said Ben.  “I’m pretty sure that, between us all, we can manage one more.”  He raised an eyebrow, and Joe chuckled.

“Fine,” he conceded.  “We really appreciate you doing this.  Of course, don’t be surprised if we end up coming back early.  Maggie hasn’t been away from him since he was born.”

“You sure you want to go away now?  We can watch him any time if you’d rather go later.”  The honeymoon trip to Sacramento had been planned in detail, but Ben didn’t recall any part of it that couldn’t be rescheduled.

Joe shrugged.  “She says she wants to go, so we’re going to try it,” he said.  “I don’t care either way.  I just want to be with her.  I don’t care if it ends up being two weeks in town at the International House.”  He yawned.  “Oh, I meant to tell you–I finished breaking those last few horses.  They need a little bit more work to smooth them out, but you can tell Major Jenkins that they’re just about ready.  Give me a week or so after we get back, and they should be all set.”

Ben wrapped his arm around his son’s shoulders.  Never in a million years had he truly expected to see this day, with all its joys.  He was about to speak when Joe straightened, as if startled by an unexpected visitor.  He looked out into the yard, and a slow smile spread across the young man’s face.

Perched on the hitching post was a bird.  Unusual at this time of night, to be sure, but not completely unheard of.  Ben peered more closely.  This one hadn’t joined the others in heading south.  Its distinctive red breast flashed in the porch light.

“There you are!”  Maggie came outside, her ivory satin gown swishing as Joe turned to her.

“How’s Jacob?” he asked, drawing her close.

“Sound asleep,” she said.  “And you look like you’re not far behind.”

“Oh, and you’re fresh as a daisy!” teased Joe, kissing her forehead.  “Pa, I think we’re going to call it a night.  Thanks so much–it’s been an incredible day.”  His eyes glowed with such happiness that Ben’s heart overflowed with love and gratitude.

“Thank you so much for everything,” echoed Maggie.  She stood on tiptoe to kiss Ben’s cheek, placing her fingertips by his eye so casually that she could have been unaware that she was brushing away a tear.

“It’s been my great pleasure,” Ben said, controlling his voice with some difficulty.  He cleared his throat, adding, “Now, why don’t you two go and get your things.  I’ll be in in a minute.”  As the young couple turned toward the door, Ben saw Joe look back for just a moment.  Over Maggie’s head, he winked at the bird.  Then, he turned his attention back to his bride, and with their arms around each other’s waists, the newlyweds strolled into the house.

Ben stood on the porch after the door closed, regarding the little winged visitor.  Its eyes seemed to be fixed on him.  He felt foolish even thinking it, and then he whispered, “Thank you–for everything.”

And he watched as the robin flew away, into the night sky.

THE END

* * *

Author’s note:  Thank you so much for reading my story.  I’ll be delighted if you’d like to leave a review, but if you do:  please, please, please-don’t give away the ending.  If you want to tell me what you think of Joe’s miracle or his marriage to Maggie, feel free to send me a PM or e-mail.  Thanks!

Acknowledgments:  

 “The French Piano Player” was the first story I ever posted.  Posting the conclusion to that series is a bittersweet experience.  Many, many thanks to everyone who has encouraged me throughout this series-you’ve all been so generous in your praise and enthusiasm.  Thank you for embracing the idea of Joe Cartwright in this very different world, with abilities and flaws and loves that were outside the scope of the series.  

 Special thanks to those who have graciously provided assistance with this story:

 Debbie-Thanks, as always, for your support and encouragement from my very first story.  You were the one who suggested that there could even be a sequel to “The French Piano Player.”  And, of course, extra-special thanks for recognizing that Joe needed a miracle!  

 Rose-Thanks so much for your wonderful comments and insights, and especially for suggesting that Adam and Joe make music together!  

 Wrenny-Many thanks for your enthusiasm throughout this series-and for advising this English rider about western tack!

Confession:  Although Joe’s primary diagnosis was alcohol-induced cardiomyopathy, I freely confess to having taken liberties with the manner in which the disease process manifests itself, as well as with the extent to which medical science would have been able to diagnose and manage this disease in the 1860s.  As always, I thank those who have been willing to suspend their disbelief on these and all other matters as to which I have taken liberties for the sake of the story.