Summary: How might a change in an episode early in the canon of Bonanza, change the episodes that followed? This is a collection of stories to show how life in the Cartwright family and in Virginia City would reflect the difference, while you try to figure what happened.

Rating: PG     Word Count: 28534

 

What If …

Note: This was a personal challenge to create a “What Might Have Happened If …” story, where changing the ending of one canon episode, would have changed the episodes that followed (through season 6.) I’ve created “vignettes” where well-known episodes are altered to account for the change. You’ll recognize these, although they will vary from the original. You’ll quickly suspect the missing piece without knowing which episode changed things or how. This is revealed at the end.

Think of this like as a dream where everything would be back to normal in the morning.

As a hint, there are no vignettes referencing the first two seasons, because the change occurs within that period. Please let me know if, and when you suspected which ending changed. Thank You!

(A last note. Kathy Browne played Margie Owens, a love interest of Hoss in The Tall Stranger. He will reference her in this story, and I’ve made Margie and Laura cousins to account for the “resemblance.”)

Vignette One: The Death of An Interesting Man

Ben’s intention to pick up the mail, send a telegram, and get a few supplies for Hop Sing before heading directly home, was sidetracked when he noticed a crowd milling around an Overland stagecoach parked outside the jail on his way into town. Tying Buck near the Western Union office, he opted to check on what was drawing so many onlookers.

Rather than approaching from the street, where confused expressions and furtive whispering indicated folks were still unsure what was happening on the other side of the large vehicle, he made his way along the boardwalk and used his height to view the scene between the stage and Sheriff Coffee’s office.

“What’s going on?” he asked Jeb Yeager, one of Virginia City’s two undertakers who was also observing the cluster of men kneeling over a blanket on the boardwalk: its shape indicating a body beneath.

“Oh, hi, Ben,” Jeb offered as he turned to confirm the familiar voice. “The morning stage from Reno arrived a while ago and went straight here. Old Henry Ames came running for me when he heard there was a body on board, hoping he’d be rewarded if I got the job of tending to the departed soul.”

Ben took a closer look at those directly involved, and noticed that Emil Cassidy, the other undertaker in town, was already among those with the deceased, thus laying claim to the “departed soul” in question. “Looks like Emil beat you here,” he replied, carefully controlling his urge to grin.

“He usually does,” Jeb replied with a resigned snort. “He can afford better informants.”

Ben’s nod indicated his agreement with the man’s conclusion. Business was business. There were some wealthy folks in Virginia City who could pay for a good earthly sendoff, but the town’s largest population was made up of miners, ranch hands, and transients who were the most likely to die from their habits, professions, and proclivity to act rashly without regard for the ease in which guns could end an argument permanently. Such “departed souls” had no funds for a funeral. This made undertaking less than lucrative, and these two undertakers vied for city stipends paid to bury unclaimed decedents. Jeb made his living constructing storage boxes and furniture. But his boards could be rearranged for a coffin to provide an inexpensive burial.

Emil, on the other hand, had arrived in Virginia City just as silver mining had taken off. It coincided with the frequent deaths from mining accidents and claim disputes, providing a steady income to give him the upper hand. He’d made enough to construct a true funeral parlor including a “viewing and meditation” room up front with another room in back displaying satin or velvet lined caskets for those who could afford them, and glass-sided wagon to transport the casket to the cemetery. Even so, Emil had to keep those stipends coming in, and that meant being faster than Jeb.

“Do you know who’s in the blanket?” Ben’s curiosity along with his desire to finish his business made him press into his fact-finding mission.

“Not sure,” Jeb answered with a shrug. “Someone said it was Toby, the station manager from the Goat Springs relay.”

After thanking Jeb for the information, Ben made his way forward through the onlookers between him and the action. The angry, sideway glances issued from those he gently moved aside, turned less grouchy as they saw the person shoving. The Cartwrights were not “residents” of Virginia City who could hold civic office, but Ben served on committees that did far more for the citizenry than the elected officials did.

Roy was rising stiffly from kneeling on joints that had seen better days. After a groan, and stretch, he said, “The cause seems evident. I’ll allow Emil to take the body and let the stage get on its way after I make a few notes for my report. Let me grab the form and a pencil.”

Ben slipped beside his friend as he entered the office for the stationery, shutting the door quickly once they were both inside.

“Is it Toby Barker?” he asked as Roy rummaged through his desk drawers for what he needed.

“Yup. Such a shame,” he said, stopping his search to solemnly shake his head. “Toby was probably the least efficient relay men in the Overland system, and an even worse cook. But he was an interesting character that everyone liked.” He looked up at Ben. “I recall Adam often took the stage through there, and got along right well with the guy. Always enjoyed hearin’ his stories about Toby’s humorous admissions over his own inefficiency.”

Ben nodded and smiled. “We loved those too, largely because Adam was so good at recounting them. Hoss took over the client calls along that stage route when we had to reorganize, and he’s continued the stories about Toby’s mishaps.” A pause. “Did he die from a natural cause? With his scraggly beard and paucity of teeth, we assumed he looked older than he really was, but maybe not.”

“Shot in cold blood,” Roy said as he watched Ben’s jaw drop. “The Overland drivers confirmed Toby had received a cash box yesterday holding a good sum of gold coins and currency meant to go with that stage outside doin’ the Sacramento to Denver run. The box was found shot open and empty.”

“Any clues to suggest who did it?”

“Toby was still alive when the stage arrived, and told the drivers thieves showed up around 7 AM, demanding the box.”

“I’ve always wondered at the wisdom of leaving cash boxes in the care of a lone station master who has no secure method of keeping it. I once expressed my concerns to a driver who explained that only top people at Overland know when money is moving. He had no answer when I then suggested there could be unscrupulous managers who’d alert others about a big transfer.”

Roy nodded before going back to rummaging, finally withdrawing a pencil nub from the deep drawer. “Those thieves had to know that box was there. Goat Springs would have nothing worth stealing otherwise.”

“So you agree they were tipped off?”

“Most likely. They must have also known that Toby couldn’t put up a real defense.”

“Your words imply there were at least two?”

“Yup. One tall and broad-shouldered, and the other slighter-built. Andy, the lead driver, said he found a pistol next to Toby, indicating he drew on them. Makes me sad to think he might’a lived if he’d just let them have the box.”

“Perhaps he was killed because he recognized them.”

“He did, but he wouldn’t have if he hand’t fought them. Toby told Andy they had long gunnysacks over their heads reachin’ to their waists. But after the little one shot him, he must have thought Toby was dead, and let his sack shimmy up when he bent to grab the money bags. Toby recognized him from coming through on the stage. Swore his killer was Bill Enders.”

Ben’s eyes popped open as his head snapped back. “Toby was sure?”

“Andy said he was positive.”

“I don’t know Enders well, but he seems an unlikely culprit. Yet with Toby’s deathbed identification, you can bring him in.”

“I wish this was so, Ben, but it wasn’t Bill.”

“How can you know that already?”

“Mrs. Kramer and her daughter were in that crowd outside from the first, and overheard the driver say it happened at 7. Marcy and her daughter saw Bill in town around 8:30 this morning. With Goat Springs 25-miles west, and the bulk of those miles over treacherous sections of road, it’s unlikely even a good rider could have made it that fast. A strong horse could cover the distance on a flat, but not over that hilly, winding terrain.”

“That seems to exonerate Bill,” Ben agreed. “You’ll need a witness to contradict Marcy Kramer’s timeline. If not, you may never find who did it.”

“That’s the sad truth. I’ll keep my ears open and ask that others do the same. If the murdering thieves live around here, they might give themselves away by living too high on the hog, or get to talking too much when they get drunk.”

“We’ll listen too, Roy. It’s a shame losing a spirit like Toby Barker. I’ll stop by Emil’s parlor and make an offering towards the funeral. It would be another crime not to give him a nice service.”

***

Ben noticed a familiar face inside the Western Union office when he arrived after leaving Roy. “Mary,” he offered while extending his hand in greeting. “I was just with Sheriff Coffee and understand there was some excitement for you and Bill this morning.”

The young woman smiled at the man she’d known most of her life. “Can you imagine anyone silly enough to believe my Bill could kill a man over a few dollars!”

“I considered it an unlikely possibility, Mary, but a considerable sum was taken and it ended with the murder of a good man. It diminishes Toby’s death by understating the circumstances of this tragedy.” Ben observed Mary’s blush at the mild rebuff, while handing his message over to the operator. “I’m thankful the Kramer ladies were able to clear Bill so quickly. Even so, it must have caused a few anxious moments for the two of you.”

“I’m sorry if it seemed I was making light of what happened, but it was such a shock to hear that station manager had named my husband. We are also thankful the Kramers spoke up immediately.”

“I suspect some will run with the story despite it being discredited, making the gossip uncomfortable for a time. Take heart; Something will soon divert their attention.”

“Don’t worry, Ben,” she said while a lopsided, sly smile grew on her face. “We won’t be around long enough to hear it. We weren’t sure it would work out, so we’ve kept quiet, but we’re moving to San Francisco, and leave tomorrow. With Bill cleared before even really being accused, we won’t have to delay our departure.”

“That’s … a surprise,” Ben offered with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. He again marveled at Mary’s giddy state considering the death they’d just discussed. “Did this opportunity arise unexpectedly?”

“Unexpected is right! Bill’s experience setting up investments in this dirty little mining town has put him in a fine position to secure a better job somewhere with excitement and opportunity. He’s been wanting to move, and decided to do it when he saw a position in last’s week’s Chronical. San Francisco holds a future, so he replied to the offer by telegram and will speak to them when we get to the coast. If he doesn’t get that job, he’ll be first in line for the next!”

Ben grimaced over her description of Virginia City. Especially since those who had established it from the beginning had continued to keep it a good place to live—even giving their lives to do that—after silver was found. Ben and the others had refused to let it become what Mary had described. Yet he didn’t contradict. “I understand your excitement. You must be sending confirmation of your arrival.”

Mary tittered again, sounding like a little girl about to get the new doll she wanted. “Bill did that yesterday. My wire went to a housing agent, asking he have homes to examine when we arrive. We don’t want to live in a boarding house ever again.”

“It’s a big step, Mary. I wish you both the best. Please write when you’re settled and we’ll celebrate when we come there for business.”

After a peck on Ben’s cheek, given along with her thanks for being kind to her as a youngster, she was off in a festoon of bobbing feathers and a swirling swish of petticoats created by the new hat and dress she was wearing. Ben wasn’t normally observant women’s clothing, but he knew this was new because he’d seen it in Millie’s dress shop window two days earlier. It had drawn his attention because the shiny peach fabric had created such a harsh glare from sunlight hitting the store window, he’d had to look away. When he’d reached an angle where he could look at it fully, he’d taken in the bountiful, flouncy skirt including a ruffle at the lower edge, made from a peach, reddish orange, and green plaid.  Adding to the bold color, was the bouquet of brightly dyed feathers and ribbons drooping nearly to her shoulders from the top of the matching hat.

He smiled briefly thinking back to his earlier acquaintance with the garment when he’d considered whether any lady in this town would purchase it. The sign framed beside it in the window called it daywear, and carried a hefty price he assumed indicated the quality of the fabric and its construction, rather than its level of taste.

He’d never seen Mary wear anything this flamboyant, but assumed she was celebrating their evolving new life. Pretty certain that Mary had never traveled past the hills surrounding Virginia City, he wondered further whether she thought this was what the wives of wealthy businessmen wore in the big city. His heart ached for a moment as he thought about the reactions she might get, and this had him send a quick prayer that others would only see a happy young woman enjoying her new dress.

Her attire was a curiosity, but more curious were Mary’s words and actions. He was drawn to continue watching as she exited, seeing her turn towards the shops along the main street rather than towards their compact, two-room suite at a nice boarding house in the other direction. They’d lived simply until today; his assumption being that they were saving for a house. But today she was wearing an expensive dress: talking about instantly purchasing a home in San Francisco, and she’d picked up several parcels from a chair near the door where she’d left them to send her wire. Mary was on a buying spree without knowing when Bill would have a job at their destination.

It wouldn’t take long to drain a saving’s account at this rate, making him wonder if Bill had brokered a high-dollar investment that had delivered a windfall. A chill ran down his back. He wanted to wish the Enders well, while also recalling Toby’s identification of Bill as a thief and killer.

Ben decided these oddities were exactly as they appeared: coincidental, unless proven otherwise … as another chill shook his shoulders.

***

With his wire sent and money left for Toby’s funeral, Ben’s thoughts returned to the Enders’ good fortune along with their rushed plans to leave Virginia City. His uneasiness made him admit that his hope of heading home quickly was over. There’d be no harm in listening at the saloon as Roy had suggested, so he walked to the first bar in a block of drinking establishments. The street outside the jail was clear, confirming the stage had gotten on its way and a good deal of those folks were now inside these places talking about what they’d heard.

He also caught sight of Mary further up the block, leaving the millinery shop with additional boxes tied together and dangling from a ribbon looped around her wrist.

The young woman’s family had come to the area when his own sons were kids, and they’d gotten together when time permitted. A late-in-life child, her parents had passed away a few years back leaving Mary with a small stake from the sale of their homestead to live comfortably while deciding what to do next. Rumor always held that Mary would marry one of Ben’s sons, but they’d all remained just friends.

Two years ago, Bill Enders arrived looking for work in the growing town, and Mary found herself smitten. They’d married in a ceremony hosted by the Cartwrights.

The young man spoke little about himself or his past, but Mary seemed unconcerned about his hesitancy to share this. Her new husband had been hired at the bank, where as a teller, he’d watched others broker deals by gathering investors to sponsor individuals with promising claims, without money to work them. Being at the bank helped him establish which citizens had enough money to invest, and he left there to broker his own investments. On paper, his offerings looked promising enough that Adam put money into a couple.

Ben hadn’t heard his son complain about their performance, but neither had he spoken positively about them. Most telling was that he hadn’t invested further. And in one quiet admission, Adam had divulged  that when he’d sold back his shares in one of Bill’s offerings to invest in a different opportunity, he’d received only a fraction of his original buy-in. Further, in the time he’d had it—even with the mine producing silver—not a single dividend had been paid.

Adam wasn’t as much angry, as disappointed that the profit had been eaten up by “administration” cost, but he’d kept quiet since he couldn’t prove misappropriation. His son always maintained that such ventures obligated each person to practice their own due diligence, calling it “informed gambling” that usually paid out when he put good efforts into scrutinizing the product. Yet Ben also recalled Adam saying that even informed investing could result in the certainty you’d have been better off using the money as kindling to start a fire, because at least you’d have benefitted from its warmth.

The pressing concern Ben had about Bill, was that he’d heard recently about him developing a tendency to gamble … too much. This wasn’t idle gossip. His sons had seen Bill push his luck in the saloons, losing big and then using markers to keep playing. Even Roy had mentioned playing Faro with Bill, noting the young man played on long after the sheriff had walked away with his own pockets emptied.

This tendency to stay in the game on borrowed money or believing you’d beat the odds by playing on, was a sure sign that a “pastime” was becoming an obsession, where markers could add up fast and carry high interest repayment to some shady characters.

What Ben wasn’t sure about was how often Bill played against the odds, making him wonder if their simple lifestyle was about saving up or a result of nothing left after markers were paid.

Although short in details about Bill’s former life, there had been an inadvertent revelation shortly after the wedding that had left his family speechless. All four Cartwrights had been in town celebrating a ranch hand’s birthday at the same saloon where Bill was playing a “friendly” game of poker. They’d seen bills and coins piled in front of him indicating Bill was enjoying a formidable spate of luck.

All seemed fine until one of the players stood, grabbing Bill’s hand as he was about to deal himself a card, and accusing him of pulling his hand from the bottom of the deck.  He denied it and laughed, until the man next to him flipped over his already dealt cards ,and then turned the deck over, revealing the bottom card would have given him three kings over twos full house: a nearly unbeatable hand in most games. The other players, who’d been drinking steadily throughout the game, couldn’t recall if Bill had upped the pot or won most of the games he’d dealt. But a man watching the game after leaving when his cash ran out, said he’d seen Bill do some interesting shuffling before dealing that had made him wonder if he was loading the deck, as well as holding the deck oddly when he dealt his own card, making it possible to do some quick-handed tricks. He claimed he’d kept quiet about it since no one else had mentioned it.

That hadn’t been enough to formally call Bill a cheater, but the other players pulled whatever money was left in front of them and called the game.

The accuser, who saw his entire month’s wages in front of Enders, claimed that since there was a valid suspicion of funny business, Bill should return his winnings to those who’d lost to him and they’d end any further accusation of cheating.

Bill had smiled up at the man, and then sent his chair flying backwards as he stood in one smooth movement, simultaneously drawing his pistol and holding it within inches the man’s forehead. He’d accomplished this so fast; it had caused an audible gasp from the saloon patrons who’d started paying attention to the commotion occurring at that table. To Bill’s credit, he withdrew the gun from its deadly aim, although not holstering it, and told the man to leave the saloon or he’d complete the defense of his honor. The draw; the set of Bill’s stance; his tone of voice, and his deadly aim, had left no doubt of Bill Enders familiarity with serious gun handling.

Bill’s reputation as a fast draw grew with each retelling of the incident. No one insulted him after that. However, no one played stakes poker with him either. It was the likely reason Bill changed from “friendly” games to formal gambling, taking away his ability to cheat to win

Adam and Little Joe were known to have fast draws, but they’d have been no match standing against Enders. Ben even mentioned what they’d observed in confidence to Roy, who’d checked every open wanted poster and bulletin he kept in his file drawer. There was nothing for Enders or anyone meeting his description. It didn’t mean he hadn’t used his gun to end arguments. It only meant whatever he’d done had fallen under the law. Like others who came west searching for a better life, they’d agreed to let Bill “show” his character over time rather than hearing about it.

That decision had not gone as perfectly as Ben had assumed it might. Bill reined in his temper and never suggested another draw down, but he never gave any indication of his real character either.  He could be so cocky as to make others grimace at his harshness and bravado. Then the next minute he’d avoid looking you in the eye while speaking, as though he was too browbeaten to respond directly. Ben had met others in his life who acted like this: men he would never turn his back to. In this case, he could only keep an eye on Mary for evidence of things not going well. But she seemed happy.

Ben’s mind twirled. Were Bill’s oddities enough to allow deadly intent if he got backed into a corner owing debts he couldn’t pay. And, might he have become privy to information about money at Toby’s shack, and decided it was his way out of this “dirty little mining town” as Mary had said?

The thought tornado paused Ben’s hand on the swinging door of the saloon so long, those waiting behind him finally teased him that he should go in or move aside … although expressed in an earthier vernacular involving bodily functions and outhouse facilities.

What stuck in his craw most as he stepped aside, was Mary’s implication that Bill’s carefully honed business sense was “the” impetus for this rapid-fire change of life. Something whispered that this wasn’t true, and deserved a deeper look. Mrs. Kramer’s sighting would indicate Toby’s death was not connected to Bill.

Ben’s gut was saying it was.

The saloon patrons could wait. Ben set his course for more substantive information. Weems at the bank wasn’t involved in Bill’s investments but would know which mines were paying out, and whether any of Bill’s offerings supported Mary’s claims.

He was anxious to find out and share this with his sons at dinner. They hadn’t come to town today, but by this time, the hands who’d come in for supplies would be home, talking about what they’d heard when they’d stopped for a cold beer before leaving.

Ben smiled as he walked purposefully towards the bank, considering an interesting change that had come about over the last year. Hoss, who’d always had a good eye for putting pieces together when things went awry with the ranch animals, had honed that into making sense of other messy information. Adam would always be the master of this skill, but Hoss was following in his brother’s footsteps. Tackling this mess could involve some temerity because of its possible effect on Mary, but he’d face it full-on if it meant finding justice for Toby Barker, a good man who’d paid the highest price for someone’s greed.

(One month later)

Ben raised his glass to those gathered in the living room awaiting Hop Sing’s table call to the celebration feast. “A toast to Hoss Cartwright and Roy Coffee for bringing justice to Toby Barker.”

Joe, and the two men receiving the accolade, followed Ben’s lead in saluting the successful capture of the station master’s murderer.

“I appreciate your congratulations, Pa,” Hoss said sincerely, “Yet I’m sad it revealed such an awful truth out about someone we always respected.”

“That is the darker side of this, son,” Ben agreed as he took Hoss’ shoulder. “But Mary was raised to know right from wrong, and thankfully, she finally admitted she’d suspected her husband had been out at Toby’s, although sure the partner had shot Toby, not Bill. She’d blinded herself to the truth because she loved Bill, and wanted to believe he’d made good on his own, not that their money for fine clothing and a house was covered with Toby’s blood.”

“I was blinded for a while too,” Roy interjected. “What I lacked was proof to contradict the timeline exonerating Enders. Hoss is the hero who pushed for the truth.”

Hoss’ cheeks glowed a rosy pink as he squared his shoulders to stand taller with the well-earned compliment. “Shucks, it weren’t just me who helped out. Pa found the first bits, like how Bill’s deals never made him the kind of money they was spendin’ when they left.

Roy drained his glass and nodded. “Bill Enders never caused trouble, but you folks did wonder about his ease in drawing down on someone. With no one knowing his past, we didn’t know where to look for the trouble, even though it was out there. Now we know now he was jailed in New Mexico with the guy who got a job at the Overland in San Francisco and wired him about that chest’s destination after loading it on the stage.”

“That was shocking,” Ben agreed. “Then you found out Enders had used gold from that robbery to buy his house in San Francisco.”

“With his alibi, the US Marshals handling the robbery, felt he’d say he’d gotten hold of it from some client who was the real robber. He might’a gotten away scot-free instead of being charged with grand larceny and Toby’s murder, along with being investigated for Arch Stewart’s murder, after he was found dead too.” Roy pursed his lips, shaking his head. “Greed and distrust must’a made Bill afraid to let Arch live.”

“It was a long trip to justice, and Hoss was criticized and vilified during his inquiries. But he hung tough,” Ben noted with pride.

“I had to, Pa, and I done it by askin’ myself how Adam would’a gone about proving Bill was the murderer if he’d been here.”

Bringing up the missing Cartwright caused a thoughtful pause, but Hoss resumed his story. “What Adam did when doggin’ the truth, was ask questions and then listen. I started by putting out that I bet Enders could have made that ride fast enough to have done it. His cronies said I was crazy and claimed I was jealous that Bill could succeed on his own while I relied on Pa for everything. But people waited ‘til I left the saloon to take me aside and confess that they believed Bill capable of murder, and that he was in trouble up to his eyebrows with folks holding his gambling markers. Other folks said there was growing anger from people Bill had swindled through his failed investments. They were threatening to expose him and sue if they didn’t get their money back too. And finally, Louise from the boarding house said Mary let it slip that the money from her folks was nearly gone. But then she showed up with them fancy new dresses, actin’ high and mighty right after Toby was dead, like she knew big money was comin’ in.”

He took a breath, pausing to set the order of breaking Bill’s alibi. “What frayed the ends of Enders’ claim of innocence came from Freddy, the guy who goes from saloon to saloon swamping for booze, and often sleeps off the fruits of his labor in the alleys. He told me about seein’ Bill and his buddy Arch sneaking around the livery the night a horse got stolen: the night before Toby got killed. The kid who sleeps in the barn loft didn’t realize the animal was gone until the morning when Arch showed up before daylight to get his horse and rent one for a ‘friend,’ saying they was going mining for gold he heard was there for the taking if you knew where to look.” Hoss snorted angrily. “They knew where to look: in the strongbox under Toby’s bed.”

“Once  you found a strong motive for Bill needing money fast; the missing horse and the Enders being flush with cash after being dead broke; the Kramer story seem less ironclad,” Joe offered.

Hoss agreed. “The final answer came when our ranch hand Clint reminded me of that cutoff around the high-country road that lops a good half-hour from his trip between our ranch and Reno where his folks live. And then we rode that trail to prove the timing, and found the dead horse from the livery theft about half way through the shortcut. It seemed probable that Bill rode the stolen horse to Toby’s while lettin’ the rented one rest midway. The stolen horse was ridden to death from Goat Springs to the waiting one, where he changed out, rode on to town, and walked the streets, looking for someone to spot him and set his alibi.”

He puckered his lips and sighed heavily. “After we proved the ride could be made in less than an hour using the cutoff, the kid from the livery told Roy how Arch returned those two horses around noon, both worn out, lookin’ rough and starvin’, with foamy sweat still trapped under the saddles.”

Roy jumped in. “I alerted the Marshalls in San Francisco handling the case for Overland once we could put Enders at Toby’s.”

Hoss’ grin grew with Roy’s addition. “I still can’t believe Enders used them gold pieces without realizin’ they had markings from the mine they’d come from.”

“The Marshalls wired me when they started investigating, to confirm Bill’s alibi,” Roy added in his excitement over Hoss’ retelling of his story. “They never asked for more information. But with Hoss’ making Bill’s presence at Goat Springs and in Virginia City possible, they wired back that Bill had been their suspect all along. With his alibi broken, they pressed the guy who’d worked at Overland and knew Bill, and he blabbed everything. That, along with Toby’s statement, means Bill Enders will likely hang.”

Hoss’ exuberance waned instantly as he realized the larger cost of truth. “I’m sorry Mary is facing some troubling times too. But tonight we’re celebratin’ helping Toby to rest in peace.”

All four raised their glasses again in tribute to the quirky, honest little man who’d often done as little as he could as a relay employee. Yet he’d died giving all he had, which pointed to the true measure of the man’s character.”

 

Vignette Two: The Test of a Son’s Mettle

Paul Martin had banished Ben to the living room after the normally hardy man nearly passed out watching the treatments the good doctor was giving his son.

Since then, he relieved his anxiety by pacing the floorboards while Hoss looked on helplessly.

“Pa, you gotta take this down some or you’ll be sick too,” he implored. “He’s gonna make it. We just gotta put all our prayers on him right now. I’m the one who let him go alone, and wish I could go after that insane feller to make him pay for what he done. But he’s already dead and facin’ judgment worse than what I could offer.” Hoss stopped and sent a sheepish grin at his father. “I’m not sayin’ I’d want him alive just so’s I could kill him. Yet I wonder if I wouldn’t feel some better if I could.”

The weary father directed his path to the sturdy table in front of the fireplace and sat across from his son. “I wonder that too.” He reached out and gave Hoss’ knee a jab. “You tasted how good it feels bringing justice for Toby Barker. But this is a different kind of justice, where it must be left in God’s hands.”

A nod. “You know what still bothers me some about Toby’s death?”

“What’s that?”

“Toby wouln’t have lied about who killed him, specially since he was going to meet his maker! Then again, people believed that the Kramers wouldn’t lie either, so they assumed Toby was wrong instead of figurin’ out whether both Toby and the Kramers could be right.”

“But you found the truth.”

Hoss shook his head slowly. “You taught me to do that, Pa, and Adam did it too. He was yer best student and he never worried what people said about him when he was doggin’ the truth.”

“That describes Adam perfectly. But this situation is different. The man who hurt your brother was mind sick and followed his evil proclivities. The person to blame is easily determined. We’ll find out more when your brother wakes up.”

Hoss rose, pacing the same route his father had made, while thinking, if my brother wakes up, not when.

Ben turned at hearing a noise above them. Seeing Paul at the top of the stairs, he demanded, “So?”

“So,” Paul responded as he headed down. “It was a miracle you found him in time, Ben. One more day and ….” He left his thought unsaid. “The heat, starvation, dehydration, and exhaustion took everything except his will to live. He’s resting comfortably now that the sugar and saline I instilled through that tube is restoring his body a drop at a time.”

“That hose nearly did me in,” Ben replied as he blushed to deep red.

“It’s called a gastric tube, not a hose,” Paul laughed. “It gets fluids to the stomach, bypassing the gag reflex.” He joined Hoss and Ben, dropping heavily onto the couch when his tired legs gave out mid-sit. “I’d no idea he’d be this bad when Hoss came to get me. There was talk about a missed meetup between your boys on a trip home and that you’d gone to help search. What’s the whole story?”

Hoss raised his eyes and inhaled, signaling he’d answer. “We set out with a small herd to East Gate—north and east of here—after hearin’ their cattle was dying from a drought up there. My brother and me had a couple guys help us through the worst of it, but they headed home once we could take the stock into town on our own.”

Hoss gave a dry, humorless laugh. “The guy who’d wired us wasn’t lying the about the horrid conditions we’d come through. There was searin’ heat, blowin’ dust, and so much sage brush rollin’ around, it scared the beef to runnin’. The worst was the endless salt flats. Pa said to take a rest before headin’ home, and I wanted to stay in East Gate where there was a bed and restaurant, while my brother wanted to hunt and explore. We agreed to meet at Signal Rock in three days and fish Pyramid Lake together.

“This must have started a month ago, figuring a couple weeks to get there and a couple weeks looking for him?” Paul asked. Hoss’ nod confirmed it. “So you went to meet him and ….”

“He didn’t show. I waited overnight, then started searching, finding his horse, along with his tack, canteen, and camp supplies at a blacksmith in the middle of nowhere. The guy had a bill of sale to two travelers who said they’d found it wandering on the flat. Swore they looked for an owner, but there was no one out there. I rode to Salt Flats to telegraph Pa, and found the men with the receipt for Joe’s stuff, dead in the jail: killed in a shootout. Sheriff said they were known criminals, and I recognized them as men who’d been in the bar in East Gate when me and Joe were talkin’ about the sale.  It was clear they’d left Joe out in that hellish land. Pa met me at Signal Rock, and we searched.”

Paul’s eye had widened throughout the story. “What had they done?”

Ben took over. “From Joe’s meandering rants when we found him half-dead, was that they must have seen him take the beef money with him rather than Hoss keeping it in town where there was a possibility of being stolen from his room. They followed Joe, and robbed him once he’d gotten too far to walk for help.”

“He found a miner’s camp, where he was forced to stay against his will, while being starved, and abused,” Ben continued after an audible swallow. “We must have passed that site a couple times, but it was tucked under a canyon ledge and Joe was kept from calling out. We finally decided he’d either died out there or found a way to head for home, and were leaving when we saw him walking, pulling that dead miner behind him.”

Paul interrupted. “Considering Joe’s state, they must have been out of food and water for some time. Why’d they wait so long to leave?”

“Seems this guy welcomed Joe at first, giving no indication his supplies were nearly gone. After helping out two days in thanks for his food and water, Kane’s entire behavior changed to playing sick mind games to prevent him from leaving. He worked Joe like an animal, finally admitting they had no supplies. Joe finally fought back and got out of there, but if we hadn’t spotted him, well …. It amounted to kidnapping and torture, intending that Joe would die with him.”

“Had the isolation made this man go crazy?” Paul asked.

Hoss sucked a breath through his teeth. “I’d say the guy was crazy all along and jest pretended to be nice to hook Joe into helpin’. Joe said he justified the abuse by accusin’ him of bein’ a braggart who needed to learn humility.”

Paul gave a disgusted harumph. “Your family has experienced mental darkness with others, like Ross Marquet. Yet experience never makes it easier to understand.”

Hoss was looking down, wringing his hands like a penitent in the confessional about to divulge a mortal sin. “The difference was Ross had been a decent man who got sick. This Kane feller was purely evil. If only I hadn’t let Joe go off alone,” he offered quietly. “But he was set on it, and he’s grown up so much over the last year, I had to trust him.”

“You aren’t responsible for Kane,” Ben soothed. “And Joe’s growth helped him survive the unimaginable. Chances are if you two had been together, neither of you would have made it home, and I would have never known why.”

“But maybe them robbers wouldn’t of tackled two of us. Kane couldn’t have handled us both neither.”

“It’s as likely the thieves would have shot you both to get the money, or Kane would have kept you in line by threatening Joe … or vice versa. He’s safe now, and will recover.” Looking at Paul, he asked pointedly. “He will recover ….”

“His inner strength is keeping him alive while his body catches up,” Paul stated as he rose and stretched.  “How about I bunk in the spare room tonight. I’ll rest between giving him fluids, and whoever stays with him can alert me to a change.”

“Of course, Paul,” Ben confirmed. “Hop Sing in still in the kitchen, probably eavesdropping, so he has a meal warming for you.” He stood and stretched too, addressing Hoss. “How about you rest now and relieve me later. I’m wide-awake.”

***

Ben took his seat on the chair next to the wan young man with the thin tube leading from his nose and pinned to his nightshirt. He found the anger he’d been holding inside make its way from his heart to his fists, clenching them until they cramped so badly, he had to stretch his fingers to release the pain. A thought had pummeled his mind while waiting for Paul’s news, and it returned to fuel the anger.

Paul had mentioned Adam dealing with Ross Marquette. There’d been other insane people who’d come through their lives, although Adam had seemed to attract them most often: the first time when he’d been an innocent 12-year-old who’d run away from home after a misunderstanding about why he refused to call Marie, “Mother.” Although doing well on his own for the weeks he was gone, an evil reprobate named Eli had found Adam alone and had taken advantage of him: terrorizing him by playing evil “games” meant to make him think he was going to die.¹  Thankfully, he’d found his son in time to save him, but not soon enough to protect him from the evil.

Adam had struggled with why Eli had chosen him to harm, thinking it proved he was as unloved and unwanted as he had suspected his family felt about him. Ben’s response had been to hold Adam that entire night afterwards, answering his questions honestly. The boy had finally accepted that his father had made some mistakes, and that he had made some too. Most of all, he made Adam believe that he had done nothing to deserve Eli’s mistreatment. Some people just possessed evil natures and afflicted the most vulnerable because they were too cowardly to choose an equal.

Adam had slowly released the tightness and snuggled into his father’s chest. The long hours of honesty allowed him to move past it and resume his life. Watching the boy deal with that had left Ben knowing his oldest son would be able to survive the craziest moments of life.

When Joe was more alert, Ben would handle this experience the same way: expecting his youngest would respond much as Adam had.

His thoughts took a side road, considering how each of his sons would have dealt with Kane.

He assumed Joe’s easygoing nature kept him trying to coax the crazy prospector into a better frame of mind. It must have baffled him when nothing made a difference. He hadn’t given up, but his mind and body had suffered greatly for holding on.

Would Adam have immediately understood Kane’s intentions, or would his logical nature as an adult have made him attempt reasoning with the man, assuming everyone could be swayed by the truth. A sad smile spread across Ben’s face. Adam would have given Kane every chance to behave rationally, and it would have torn his soul and mind apart when it didn’t happen.

He then considered whether Hoss’ size would have “deterred” Kane. People intent on doing harm found ways around everything. Hoss’ sweet and forgiving character would have kept him trying to appease the man. In Ben’s mind, his middle son would have been the most negatively affected. Hoss freely offered forgiveness and second chances. It would have confused him, and eventually destroyed him to have his efforts thrown back at him until he’d have been forced to use his physical advantage to end the assault.

The ultimate drive that kept all the Cartwrights trying was their surety that as long as you were still alive, you kept fighting to stay that way. It was surely why Joe was “inching” towards recovery instead of being buried next to his captor in that forsaken wasteland.

While an interesting mental exercise, Ben returned his thoughts to his youngest son, leaning forward to grasp Joe’s hand.

Joe’s eyes flickered open at his father’s touch, and Ben bent closer to hear what he was saying.

“Pa, I need to talk to Adam,” Joe whispered. “Is he home?”

Paul had taken Ben aside before he’d come upstairs, mentioning that in his few wakeful moments during treatment, Joe had always asked for Adam. “I know there was love and respect between those two,” he’d said. “But with the gap in age, I was surprised he asked for Adam over you or Hoss.”

Paul hadn’t been around when the boys were young, so Ben explained how the age difference had made Adam a faithful and willing caretaken when Joe had come along, just as he’d been to Hoss. He had absorbed more of Joe’s care after Marie’s death. “Those were frightening times for Joe,” Ben had revealed. “And when I wasn’t here, Adam became like a second father to the boy: the one he looked for when he was frightened or confused. But as his brother, he shared secrets that he wouldn’t have with me. I understand him wanting Adam’s counsel after what he’s been through.”

Joe shifted restlessly in bed, looking towards Ben expectantly. Fearing he wouldn’t settle back to sleep without an answer, Ben said, “Adam is home, son, but Paul says you must rest for now.”

 

Vignette Three: A Broken Heart

Roy waved Ben over as he rode past the sheriff’s office on the way into town. “How are you?” he asked as the big buckskin stopped at the edge of the high-set boardwalk in front of the jail.

“Alive and kickin’,” Ben offered. “I’m grateful for that. How about you?”

“I hosted the Circle K cowhands overnight. They started toasting their payday, and if I hadn’t stepped in, there’d be no glasses left to drink from or chairs to sit on at the Sazerac.”

Ben laughed at Roy’s description. “I suppose with that many to handle, you had to sleep here with your deputy. Did they quiet down?”

“They howled like a bunch of alley cats, but drifted off fast. It was their snoring that kept me awake. Sounded like an earthquake tremblin’ away under the jail! I’m tired and a little grouchy, but otherwise fine. Marvin already delivered a bill for the damages, so if they pay up, they can leave as soon as they wake up. A few have stirred but look like their heads feel as big as tumbleweeds that are still blowin’ around some. I suspected their cash was used on more worldly pursuits last night, so I sent Clem to the Kendrick ranch with the bill.”

Roy took a long look down the main thoroughfare in both directions. “It’s a quiet morning, so if you’re not due anywhere yet, come in for a cup’a coffee and catch me up with how things are going for the Cartwrights. It’s been a couple weeks since I’ve seen any of you in town.”

“I came early enough for coffee at the International House before my meeting. Your muddy brew isn’t as good as theirs, but your company makes up for that.”

Once settled at Roy’s desk, each man blowing on a steaming mug of coffee before taking their first sip, Roy asked, “How’s Hoss doin’? I heard he went away for a while.”

Ben nodded several times. “Hoss followed the Cartwright tradition of leaving home without leaving home. With so many acres to ride, he can get lost while being close enough I don’t worry. We’ve all done it when something’s weighing on us and we don’t want sympathy … or advice.”

After a sip that proved the coffee was cool enough to allow a good swallow, Ben raised his eyes over the rim. “I suppose the gossips are still having a field day.”

“Not so much. Turns out Max Schaumberg was seein’ one of the saloon gals on evenings he told his wife he was working late at the land office. She heard he was with ‘the hussy’ the other night, and nearly broke the girl’s door down to catch them. People don’t like Max as much as they do Hoss, so they were happy to gossip about him bein’ found with his pants down around his ankles, and fallin’ onto his face when he tried to get away from Cloris.”

Both men chuckled at the thought of Max’s beefy frame sprawled on the floor in a most uncomplimentary pose.

“On the other hand,” Roy, continued, “Decent folks think what that woman did to Hoss was unforgivable and have kept the gossip from being stoked.”

“That’s a gracious outcome. I haven’t been in town lately. Not because of gossip, but with both Joe and Hoss away, I’m helping the crew more. Joe came to town for supplies before leaving on a delivery, so you must have missed him. He reported folks think Hoss dodged a bullet when Regan left town. Others can’t figure why she rejected Hoss for a penniless card player.”

“Hoss was certainly the better choice,” Roy agreed.

“He’d have fought for her, and with her to make a good life … if she’d truly wanted that.”

Ben set his cup down hard causing the contents to splash onto Roy’s desktop. He mopped the wetness with his handkerchief and grinned sheepishly at his host. “I can’t help but think back to speaking with her privately at the party Hoss gave, asking whether she would be content as a rancher’s wife. She was honest, saying she didn’t know, but she appreciated that Hoss was interested in her heart, not her looks. Seems clear she made that decision after all. Yet I’m left wondering about a few things.”

“What kind of things?” Roy asked, and then added, “You can trust what you say to me is kept private.”

A nod. “It would be nice to say them out loud instead of in my head. I wonder if she was still too uncomfortable being wanted for herself, rather than being seen as a prize.”

“That’s a sad thought,” Roy said with a shake of his head.

“Emilia told me early on that her sister might not be sincere about loving Hoss. I thought it was motivated by jealousy, but it was true. She said Regan might change one day, but now she was running away from being hurt, and even more, she was set on proving to Emilia that she didn’t have to rely on her looks to get what she wanted.” A sigh. “Then I spotted exactly what she’d warned me of.  Hoss had jumped in over his head with wanting her, and was near to drowning in it. Whereas, Regan was barely wetting her toes: taking a break from her old life: not making a break from it. Pretending she was different: not really changing. Hoss offered her something rare, yet while professing she was changed, she still used her sensuality to solve her problems and disguise her missteps.”

Ben held his cup out for a refill. “I tried broaching this with Hoss, but he was deaf and blind to anything  that threatened what he imagined his life would be like with her.”

“Probably thought he’d jinx everything if he listened,” Roy suggested.

“That’s astute, Roy.” Ben took a long swallow from his cup. “I hurt for my son, yet I wonder if his want of her made him deaf to what she was saying too. Perhaps she needed him to admit that she wasn’t perfect and she wanted to speak honestly about the things Hoss wanted to pretend wouldn’t matter. She knew those ‘things’ would smack him in the face every time they encountered someone who’d known her in San Francisco.”

“That makes a lot of sense, Ben. Hoss wanted to be her protector, but maybe she just wanted someone to love her, even if that beauty mark she had, was really a wart covered with makeup.”

Roy’s comment caused both men to laugh.

“It’s not just Hoss,” Ben said as he grew sober again. “The Cartwright men are prone to do that.”

“Do what?” Roy asked, not following Ben’s implication.

“Think we can … or need … to fix people. We’ve been blessed greatly, and often think we can fix and heal others by sharing that blessing. But as we’ve learned through trial and many errors, people don’t want to be fixed as much as wanting to be loved, warts and all, and grow as they see fit with our support. Knowing how to do that is hard, especially when we want the best for the women we come to love.”

“Do you think she hurt him as a way of getting back at him for thinkin’ she needed fixing? I wasn’t in town the day the big ruckus happened, but I’ve heard rumors.” Roy paused and cleared his throat. “May I ask what did happen?”

“You know Hoss was pushing to marry right away. All that was left was to get down on his knee and make it official. He’d planned to do so that day and get married as soon as they could.”

“So what went wrong?”

Ben moved his head side-to-side. “Early that morning, I heard a scuffle in the yard, and ran outside to find Hoss punching Clay Hepner, while hollering, ‘It  ain’t true. Shut yer filthy mouth!’ When the other men pulled him off, he swung at them too, then got this look of horror over what he’d done, and rode off like the devil was poking him with a pitchfork. Once Clay cleared his head enough to talk, he said that when the crew had been in town the night before, they’d seen Regan outside the saloon being overly friendly with a card player who’d been at the poker table all evening. He’d said repeatedly he’d come from San Francisco looking to collect his ‘gal, Regan,’ who’d left him in a hissy fit after an argument. He figured she was over it by now, and wanted to come home.”

“Was that true?” Roy asked.

“He was on the stage when she left, but she was ignoring him,” Ben replied while shrugging. “Clay said he and a couple other men took Regan aside when they saw her kissing this guy, and reminded her she was courting Hoss and shouldn’t give them any reason to report back to him. She told them to mind their own business and left with the guy. Clay considered not saying anything, but plenty of others witnessed it, so figured it was better to hear it from friends instead of noticing the sniggering behind his back.”

“From Hoss’ reaction, he must have believed Clay but decided that killing the messenger would eliminate the message.”

“Pretty much. Clay said Hoss accused the crew of being jealous that he’d gotten himself ‘the prettiest woman in town,’ before finally punching. I thought those men would be angry, but the consensus was that women can get guys pretty twisted up in the head. And the greater the prize, the worse it is.”

“Ain’t that the truth!” Roy laughed: then asked, “What did you do?”

“Joe and I headed to the Miller place and found him on their porch waiting for Emilia to get Regan. He was so red in the face I feared he was going to have an attack of some kind. Joe fully believes he saw steam coming off his head in the cool morning air. He was pacing like a caged cougar, and the twisted expression on his face looked like he was still fighting a demon. It made sense. Not only had he heard something awful about the woman he thought loved him, he’d attacked a friend.” Ben drew a hissing breath between his teeth. “There was an even sadder clue to his state of mind. Chubby was at the Millers’ hitch, covered in sweat and foam after being ridden so hard his legs were quivering. Hoss would never treat an animal like that if in his right mind, and would go after anyone who did.”

Ben shook his head and looked towards the floor. “He thought he was this close …” he held his thumb and first finger a hair’s width apart to illustrate … “To having happily ever after, when she toppled him like a hundred-year-old pine, stripping every branch of dignity from him as he fell.”

“Did she offer an explanation?”

Ben looked over to be sure the door to the cells was fully closed. “I trust you’ll keep what I’m about to say between us.”

“Of course,” Roy vowed.

Ben’s cheeks paled. “When Regan exited the door, Hoss asked if what he was hearing about her and this other man was true. She shrugged as if to convey, so what if it is. Then Hoss asked whether she ever had real feelings for him. She looked directly at him and said he’d made a nice diversion from her life on the coast. She’d found him a decent man with family money that he would have gladly spent for anything she would ever want. But in the end, he was so dull, homely, and unworldly, no amount of cash in his bank account could make her want to feel his touch.”

“Whew!”

“Then she went back inside, saying she had to finish packing. Eerily, neither of them raised their voice. They could have been two old friends talking about the weather, except we could see Hoss’ face begin to melt in agony. He’d have preferred she’d stuck a knife in his chest.”

Roy stared open-mouthed, finally asking, “Did he say anything?”

“He nodded to her when she looked back from the doorway, and left without a word. He led Chubby down the street like he was going to town for a beer. We stayed with Emelia long enough to find what more she knew, and then went looking, spotting Chubby hitched near the stage office where he’d gone to wait. Emelia had told us Regan was leaving for San Francisco on the morning stage, and I knew Hoss wasn’t planning to make a scene: just stay in the shadows to watch her go.”

“Was he able to talk then?” Roy asked.

“We knew better than to hover, and took a seat outside the saloon across the street to keep an eye on him. Regan showed up and the stage arrived. He never let her know he was there, but she had to have seen Chubby. After that, he left town in the direction of home. Knowing he wouldn’t talk about it yet; Joe did errands and I went to the bank.”

“Could he finally say something when you got home?”

“He’d been there and was gone by the time we arrived. That didn’t surprise me either.  Hoss has always dealt with his deepest disappointments and heartaches alone. Yet he’s a decent son who didn’t want me to worry, leaving a note promising he’d  stay on the Ponderosa and stop by the herds where the men were working so we’d know he was fine. Then he asked that we not come after him. I’m honoring that … for now.”

“The Cartwrights face trials better than anyone I know, and come back better for them. Hoss will too. Still … after all that has happened in the last couple of years, it must be getting harder.”

Roy glanced at the Regulator clock on the wall. “You’d think they’d send someone in for those men,” he grumbled, changing the subject. “I’d like to get the jail cleaned and curl up for a nap.” After a quick look out the door hoping to see the rancher arriving, he sighed and returned to Ben. “In some ways, I’m betting you’re grateful the thing with Hoss and Miss Miller didn’t go any further. It would have been far worse had she married him and then left.”

“I want my sons to marry and have children … with the right partner. Regan Miller might have become that, but she wasn’t ready. Yet, I have a feeling about what she did that day.”

Roy’s left eyebrow arched high. “What do you mean?”

Ben took a long, preparatory breath. “What we heard seemed evil. It surely left a mark on Hoss’ soul. But my initial judgments about it have changed. She’s been used by men her entire life, and I believe she is still at a point where she feels she doesn’t deserve Hoss’ kind of love, even while wanting it with all her heart. I think she said what she did out of kindness.”

“So Hoss wouldn’t be left wonderin’ if he could have done more to make her happy, or think about going after her?”

“I was facing her on the Miller porch, and her expression didn’t match her words. And when she boarded the stage, she looked across the street and met my eyes, nodding to me with a heartbroken smile. I think she kissed that man, knowing it would get back to Hoss and begin the ending that had to come.”

“Maybe she realized she’d met the right guy at the wrong time.”

“Perfectly said, Roy.”

 

Vignette Four: A Life Without Direction (Two years later)

Ben adjusted in his saddle, trying to find a spot where his bones rested comfortably against the leather, a condition growing harder as his age increased. He was returning from a cattle drive, and although the distance was shorter than many the Ponderosa crews made, taking a herd across the Sierras was always interesting.

In the last few hours, he’d noticed his ability to remain comfortable atop Buck diminishing to nil. Thankfully, all that was required before heading home to a soft chair and softer bed, was a brief stop at the bank to ensure payment from Fort Bragg had been received. This arrangement only worked when the U.S. government was the payor, and it sure beat traveling alone carrying a check or cash.

Since Joe had grown up enough to join his brothers in leading a crew to deliver beef, he’d turned his efforts towards brokering deals for Ponderosa products to keep the ranch growing. The decision to retire from driving cattle hadn’t come because “he” was too old to make the trips … exactly …. But results from the wear-and-tear of his physically active life had gotten hard to ignore. He still enjoyed being with the crew, but he was increasingly aware that every joint and sinew objected to spending weeks on a horse and sleeping on cold, hard ground, along with his insides being decidedly opposed to eating a diet of beans and biscuits. He got a dose of camp camaraderie by staying overnight during branding season or filling out a crew on a short-haul drive “on occasion,” which really meant, “not often.”

There’d been an unspoken truth in his decision. He’d wanted to walk away before his physical limitations became an issue. The men agreed he still kept up with the best of them. However, they also teased him about how his mood became increasingly foul as his “keeping up” produced discomfort, making the drive “seem” much longer that it actually was.

This trip had been come about because there’d been no other option.

Joe and Hoss had left weeks back with a big crew, moving a large herd with supply drop-offs at Cavalry posts in Arizona, Southern California, and New Mexico. However, when this drive was preparing to leave for Sacramento, Hugh, the longtime Ponderosa foreman who was to lead it, came down with gout.

The recurring, miserable condition had hit at the most inopportune moment. Ben had allowed his sons to take the most experienced wranglers with them, since he had Hugh to handle this one. With his top man down, there was no drover with enough experience to step up. Hugh had tried his best, but when his foot remained too swollen to wear a boot or walk more than a few feet, and with the cavalry contract carrying penalties for late delivery: Ben knew he was the only answer.

He’d promised the crew he’d keep his discomfort from becoming their discomfort. The saving grace was that while the herd was destined for Fort Bragg in Mendicino, the delivery was being made to a Cavalry supply farm near the state capital.

Ben had prepared for the trip with prayers and last-minute training to ensure the crew knew how to handle situations they’d face while crossing the Sierras. He’d held his breath through the first few days, then relaxed as the drive was blessed with good weather, cooperative steers, and an upbeat attitude among the crew.

They’d made Sacramento in record time, where he’d completed the paperwork and then left his crew to help at the farm until the cavalry drovers from Mendicino arrived.  He’ indulged himself and Buck with one night in the city for a comfortable rest, and then headed home.

He’d allowed his faithful, broad-backed buckskin to set his own pace and distance each day, and the sturdy animal had given his all. Mid-morning of the sixth day, he found himself at Virginia City’s western marker, making him inhale deeply with joy. A large grin formed when he felt Buck’s large chest expand, figuring he was sighing in gratitude as well.

With the Ponderosa to the south of town, he normally entered from the opposite side, passing the sheriff’s office and saloons first. A westerly entrance provided a reminder of how much the town had grown since silver had been found in the rises behind the original outpost. The population had doubled every few months for a couple of years, until holding at a comfortable plateau. Exact numbers were nebulous because of the itinerant nature of many inhabitants. Yet there was a steady core of residents who owned homes and ran businesses, creating a thriving community.

Moving down the street, Ben returned waves and shouts of welcome from friends doing errands. And as he neared the general store, previously owned by Will Cass, he noticed Laura Dayton and Peggy approaching Maxine Childers from opposite directions on the boardwalk. He was pleased to see the Dayton ladies out, and that Maxine, who ran a large farm outside town with her husband, had safely returned from a long visit with her daughter. Wanting to address Maxine properly, he headed toward the side of the street.

As he got close, he heard Maxine say, “Laura, I’m glad I ran into you!” Pulling Buck to a halt so as not to interrupt until this conversation was completed, he heard the older woman continue. “I was going to stop by once I got settled in, but this is even better. I was so saddened when my husband told me Frank had a fatal accident while I was away. May I extend my deepest condolences to both you and Peggy.”

Her words were sincere and appropriate, but Peggy’s reaction nearly toppled him from Buck’s back as he began his dismount. It seemed Maxine’s words had ignited the tip of a quick burning, short fuse stretching from her lips directly to child, causing a dynamite-like explosion! Peggy’s eyes widened as she looked first to Maxine and then to her mother, and boom! She started screaming at full volume, “Take that back!” while stepping forward to pummel the older woman’s skirt with her fists. “You’re a liar! My daddy isn’t dead! He’s on a long business trip.” Peggy’s eye fixed desperately on Laura as she continued striking out. “Mama! Tell her she’s a liar!”

The screaming and pounding continued even as Maxine took a step back and turned beet red.

Fortunately, Peggy’s strikes were buffered by Maxine’s petticoats, but the shock of being verbally and physically assaulted by a child in public, left Maxine visibly shaken. Meanwhile, Laura froze, allowing the child to continue the loud tirade. Ben dropped Buck’s reins over the hitchrail and headed towards the women, where Laura finally quieted her daughter, and then sent her inside the store to wait.

Ben’s jaw dropped a second time when instead of offering her apologies and confirming that Maxine was unhurt, Laura’s fuse ignited her verbal dynamite as well. “How dare you tell my daughter that her father is dead. Why would anyone be so cruel!”

While shaken, Maxine Childers was not a delicate flower. She shook it off and squared her shoulders, looking Laura directly in the eye. Her tone was steady but left no room for misinterpretation that this disrespect must end. Her fuse was slower burning, and the explosion was controlled, and at a volume heard no further than needed. “If I … or my husband … misunderstood what happened, then I apologize fully to you and will do the same to your daughter. I don’t think that’s the case, since Oslo said he attended Frank’s funeral and burial. His being alive would imply a huge misunderstanding or an ugly ruse Frank pulled on the entire community. Or … is it that you haven’t told your daughter that her father died?”

The wind dropped from Laura sails, leaving her deflated and humbled. “He did,” she said quietly. “But Peggy isn’t old enough to hear such awful news.”

“You’re a good mother, Laura,” Maxine said in a kindly tone. “And Peggy isn’t that young. Withholding this from her was bound to lead to what just happened.”

“It’s my right to do what’s best for my child,” Laura offered. “People in town knew I was waiting for a better time to tell her, so they didn’t address Frank’s death in front of her.” The young widow’s chin rose briefly, displaying a puff of bravado refilling her sail. “It was fine until you blurt it out!”

With the Laura’s tone change, Ben decided to intervene.

He made the last steps to where they faced off like gunslingers preparing for a drawdown. “Ladies, this must end now.” He addressed Laura first, nodding for her to look towards the store window where her daughter was observing the exchange while Rose, the store’s new owner held the girl’s shoulders to offer some comfort and keep her from charging outside again.

Lowering his voice for privacy, he continued. “From what I overheard, Maxine said nothing wrong. She offered condolences, as would be expected from a friend who learned of your loss. She is not responsible for what you’ve left unaddressed with your daughter. Further, your plan to spare Peggy from the truth, wasn’t as widely known as you believed. Oslo Childers was not aware or he would have mentioned this to Maxine. I was unaware as well, and might have exposed the truth just as innocently.”

Laura’s cheeks were reddening with what Ben assumed was a mixture of anger and embarrassment. “From what I know of town gossip,” he continued, “Peggy has surely heard murmurs from adults or their children that leave her wondering. Her outburst today was charged with this confusion, and she’s probably trying to protect you from hearing that her father isn’t alive anymore, a much as she’s trying to keep her world in order since you’ve assured her he is.”

Turning to the other woman, he continued. “First off, welcome home, Maxine. I hope your trip went well.”

Thank you, Ben. It was lovely,” Maxine replied.

“You have every right to be upset by what just happened, but you are a caring woman, and your kindness in keeping this matter between the two of you will allow Laura time to make this right with Peggy.”

“I agree, Ben.” Maxine vowed. “I won’t add to Laura’s troubles by gossiping.”

Addressing Laura, he said, “Peggy heard the truth outright, so now gently confirm that and explain why you waited to tell her. This will give your daughter the change to release her fear. She probably would have asked already except once she did, pretending her father was coming home would end. Failure to follow through now will make things far worse.”

Maxine reached for Laura’s hand, holding it gently. “May I give you some encouragement from what Ben and I have both experienced as parents. Children handle bad news with remarkable resiliency. They accept loss and can face the future as long as they trust the person who remains at their side. Knowing the truth is always better than hearing whispers that don’t correspond to what they’re being told. What just occurred was an odd blessing, Laura. Please use it.”

Laura nodded. “I will. Please forgive my slowness in stopping Peggy’s reaction. I see now that my desire to protect her, just made things harder. Once I’ve explained this to her, Peggy will make her apology as well.”

“I’ll leave you in Ben’s hands then.” Maxine smiled as she gathered her skirt to slip past the pair. “I came to do errands and get home. Oslo ‘took care’ of himself and the house while I was gone. Our home looks like a tornado hit inside, and we’re out of everything. There wasn’t anything left to even make breakfast.” The humorous smile from her confession turned warm and comforting. “I am sorry for your loss. Being a widow with a youngster and a ranch to run must feel overwhelming. We will keep you in our prayers and help however we can.”

As Maxine left, Ben pulled Laura to his side, allowing her to bury her face in his chest and cry. “You are stronger than you think you are right now, Laura,” he soothed. “You’ll get through this and life will be better for it.”

“I feel so alone,” she whispered. “Everyone liked Frank, but he was cruel to me. The ranch hands saw him as their buddy. They’d get drunk together when he was home, and he’d regale them with his exploits in San Francisco. When he’d leave again, those men laughed behind my back when I’d tell them what to do. I was afraid to discipline them since there was no one else to help, so I pretended I didn’t hear them and hoped they’d at least do some of the work.”

She hiccupped, fighting her tears. “Peggy loved her father because he was fun. I made her do school work, act like a proper little girl, and do her chores. Peggy got every bit of Frank’s love when he was around. He brought her gifts and let her have her way. I couldn’t find it in myself to tell her he wasn’t coming back. She will hate me for being the one who’s still alive.

“You are wounded, Laura, and have been for some time. People knew you weren’t a happy couple, but they also knew you both loved your child, and while she clearly loved both of you, she depended fully on you.  Even with an unhappy marriage, his death was still a shock, and you were left with great responsibility. So you convinced yourself it was kinder to keep Peggy in the dark until you felt stronger. It is understandable, but it’s also time to move ahead.”

Laura nodded against his chest. “The ranch is a shambles and I’m not sure I can ever make it better.”

“People will gladly help. All you need do is ask or accept when it’s offered. But your first job is to bring your house into order. I’ve seen children favor the parent who’s absent because they can imagine them as perfect. My own boys could imagine that their mothers would have never made the mistakes I did or that they’d have been perfectly understanding of everything they did: especially the bad things. Like you, I imposed the discipline and taught them how to work hard.  But Peggy, and every other kid in this situation, understands the best place is with the parent who is there every minute. She trusts you, Laura, but in this one thing, you betrayed her. Admit this and get back on track. As Maxine implied; you were highly blessed by Peggy finding out here … with you … rather than more publicly or brutally from someone meaning to bully her for not knowing what everyone else does.”

Laura nodded again. “I still wish I had someone to help me.”

As he continued to hold her, he saw a familiar face approaching. His nephew Will had gotten himself into big trouble out west a while back, and Ben had brought him to safety on the Ponderosa. He was similar in age to Adam, but without the “hard knocks education” his own eldest had gone through in traveling here and building a life from scratch. This made Will easily to manipulate by others when he didn’t discern their intent. Whether Will was staying on with him from gratitude or because he truly enjoyed being with family, Ben appreciated that he’d been a Ponderosa resident for a few months and was learning the ropes of ranching.

He’d given some thought to letting Will test his mettle by leading the drive he’d just taken, but even as a fast learner, the boy would have been no better skilled than the others, setting the entire crew up for failure. What he had done was entrust the ranch’s overseeing to Will while he was gone. Seeing him, even at a distance, noting the swagger in his step and easy expression seemed to indicate all was well at home and he was in for the weekly mail. His immediate thought was that Will’s presence was a godsend.

After releasing Laura, he reached to shake Will’s hand, and introduced him to the young woman.

“Laura and I have talked at the mercantile and at a picnic, Uncle Ben,” he said before extending his hand to her. “Nice to see you again.”

Ben’s interest was poked, noting the shy look exchanged between these two. “Are you about done in town, Will?”

“I came for winch pins and the mail. Got those, but still need to get a bag of hard candy and some newspapers for Hugh from the mercantile. He still can’t be on his feet all day, and he gets grouchy if he’s bored.”

“That sounds like Hugh,” Ben agreed. His eyes twinkled. “May I ask a big favor, son? How about I take your supplies with me so I can home to catch up and relax, and ask that you accompany Laura and her daughter home. They had a shock this morning, and I believe your company would be appreciated. You can trail your horse behind her buggy.”

“I’d be happy to, Uncle Ben. That’s if Laura is fine with it.”

“That would be very nice,” she admitted. “If you have time, I need a few things from the store, but it won’t take long.”

“Take all the time you need,” Will told her. “I’ll get Hugh’s candy, then hand off my purchases to Uncle Ben and get my horse.”

Ben said goodbye to Laura while Will bought the treats, and then gave his nephew a quick reprise of the situation as they walked down the dusty thoroughfare with Buck following behind.

“I don’t want you embroiled in this,” Ben cautioned when he finished. “Yet she needs someone to bolster her resolve. Your mother died when you were a teenager, so you know what it’s like to get that news.”

Will nodded. “I won’t step in unless I sense she’s freezing, and then only to nudge.” He stopped to think. “I had to see my mother’s grave to truly understand she was gone. Maybe afterwards, I’ll suggest we take a ride to the cemetery so Peggy sees his resting place, and I’ll explain how I’d go to Ma’s stone and talk to her when I missed her.”

“Good idea, son. I’d also appreciate you looking around Laura’s place to see what help we might offer there.” Ben gave his nephew’s arm a quick squeeze. “Thank you. I’ll see you at home later.”

 

All The News

Will arrived home with only enough time to clean up before sitting down to supper. However, just as he and his uncle were taking their seats, Hop Sing hurried in with place settings for the two empty chairs at the table.

“Are we expecting ‘unexpected’ guests for dinner?” Ben teased while placing his checkered napkin on his lap.

“You see,” the rushing man called back after reclaiming the serving bowls he’d brought out a few minutes earlier.

Ben eyed Will curiously as they shrugged simultaneously, and then laughed as the front door nearly flew open, followed by Hoss’ entry.

“We already washed up outside so’s we could get right to supper,” Hoss explained as he left his hat and holster at the credenza, and encouraged his younger brother to hurry up as he joined his father and cousin. “I smelled Hop Sing’s roast chicken and fixin’s for a couple miles already and my stomach’s so empty I had trouble hearin’ anything over the rumbling!”

Ben realized again his cook’s intuitive nature when it came to this family. He might have heard horses enter the yard or saw the brothers returning when he looked out the back door. But it was as likely he simply “assumed” that they would arrive today, evidenced by the large amount of food he’d prepared and began delivering to the table.

Relief and joy at having his sons home from their long drive, was reflected in his meal prayer. He’d lifted his eyes during the recitation to see Hoss with a fork in his folded hand, ready to spear a baked potato as soon as the Amen was uttered, prompting him to end his thoughts meaningfully … but quickly.

The meal was punctuated by times of serious consumption between reports from Hoss and Joe detailing their deliveries. This continued through three refilled serving bowls and platters. Sated with one helping, Ben simply enjoyed having everyone safely gathered.

They reached the end of the news from the cattle drive just as dessert was served, and they devoured the chocolate cake silently to give it their full appreciation.  Leaving the table for the comfort of the living area, Ben grabbed the good liquor from the sideboard and poured four glasses to toast the full house.

With the pressures of the last weeks dissolving, the four Cartwrights relaxed, knowing they only needed to consider “normal” ranch work for a few weeks. Ben again offered his thanks heavenward for what was occurring. Having his family “come good home” as he’d exhort them to do when they’d leave—just as his parents and grandparents had done with him—was a blessing he no longer took for granted.

He had never considered that his family would be minus a son and plus a nephew. But after bringing Will home to recover from the incident that had nearly ended his life, Ben had offered his home and heart to the young man for as long as he chose to stay. Will seemed to have adjusted comfortably to being a Nevadan Cartwright, yet he never looked fully relaxed, making Ben think the Ponderosa was a stopover for him, not a terminus. In the end, his nephew would decide to stay or go, and he’d be fine with either. Two of his sons were committed to staying put on the ranch for now, but he understood that this could change. He wouldn’t ever hold them back or make them feel guilty if they’d want to leave one day.

Will had lived a different life: simpler because their family had taken over the established family farm. It took hard work to make it prosper and provide a good income, but they’d never scratched out a life.  John had imbued his children with moral character, and Will had developed a wanderlust as he’d entered his late teens, just as Ben himself had possessed. What the boy had lacked was a plan or a goal, so he’d wandered place-to-place and was easily befriended and influenced by those seeking out the naïve kid for their own benefit. Thinking he was with decent men caused the fracas that Ben had rescued him from: being involving in selling counterfeit currency plates. Thankfully, Will’s character made him thwart their efforts, to his own peril.

His nephew reminded Ben of Adam in a couple ways. Both were striking in appearance, and they drew others to them because of their strong compassion. It had been this trait Ben had tapped to help Laura through the task she’d faced today. He couldn’t help but think that if Adam had been home during this time, he’d already have noticed that Laura was in trouble. Yet, having Will in residence provided a good alternative.

With the conversation stalling after his sons’ reports, he decided to ask Will for an account of his experience with the Widow Dayton. Clearing his throat to get everyone’s attention, he said, “Your cousin and I had a little excitement today.”

Hoss had been looking sleepy following the big dinner and good brandy, but shot to attention as his father described the initial scene in front of the store. “Laura didn’t tell that poor child about her pa in all this time?” He clarified. “She must’a had her reasons, yet Peggy had to be feelin’ uneasy about things.”

Will nodded. “I thought the same thing.” He looked towards his uncle. “I’d mentioned that it might be good to visit the cemetery after Laura told Peggy the truth. But I got to thinking we’d know instantly whether Peggy already knew, by her reaction if we drove by the gravesite on the way home. Laura hesitated, but then agreed.”

“What happened?” Ben asked, inching forward on his chair.

“Peggy looked down as we neared the cemetery, turning away when I slowed to point out the lovely flowers growing around the Dayton marker. The girl’s body tensed and her fists curled into tight balls that she started pounding on her knees when I asked Laura about the plot, as though willing me to slap the reins and move faster. When I didn’t speed up, she tugged at her mother’s sleeve, nearly screaming that she needed to go home.”

“She knew there was a stone in there with her father’s name,” Joe asserted.

Heads nodded around the group as Will continued. “It seemed the perfect time to take Peggy over and explain everything, but Laura looked as frightened as Peggy so I moved on and changed the subject.”

Hoss’ voice was soft as he said, “Why do ya think it was so hard for Laura?”

“She told me she was afraid her daughter would hate her once the truth was out.”

“Why was that?” Hoss’ right cheek quirked upward with the question.

“Laura sent Peggy to play when we got to the house, and spent the next two hour talking in circles. It was a jumble of things she must have thought would explain her plight, but it was lost on me since I had no idea what she was referencing.”

“I can guess at it,” Ben offered. “Laura is a beautiful woman who would have been cherished by most men. But Frank Dayton was not most men. He only had that ranch because his parents bought it and demanded he get married and settle down there if he wanted his inheritance. He was old enough to be on his own when the family had moved here and spent most of his time in San Francisco. We only got to know what he was like from what we saw at the saloons and news that made it here from the coast. The marriage was set-up by his and Laura’s mothers, and was a terrible match.”

“She said that,” Will agreed.

“With his buddies and saloon girls, Frank was charming and easy going. But his worldliness made him expect more from Laura than an innocent young woman could know about.” Ben stalled as he blushed with the implication of his meaning.

“The situation must have seemed unbearable for Laura,” Ben began again. “But Peggy came along quickly even so. It changed Frank in some ways. He took great pride in being a father, although not so much that he stayed home to be a parent. He remained married but not faithful, and had the gall to blame Laura for having to find real women to meet his needs. Unable to change the conditions of his parents will; he centered his hate on Laura. He stripped away her dignity every time he told stories about her bedroom naivete in the bars.  He didn’t care enough to run the ranch, but criticized her decisions when he was away. My guess is that her fear of his displeasure in everything she did contributes greatly to her uneasiness making decisions now.”

Ben stopped to let this information settle. “The only grace about the man was that he was loving towards Peggy. Then again, what he loved about her were the characteristics he exhibited. He encouraged her spunk, and laughed when she’d talk back and demand her way before giving her everything she demanded. Thus, Laura became the harsh parent.”

“So, Laura had to work them bad habits out of Peggy, and do all the hard stuff parents do to make their kids grow up good,” Hoss concluded. “No wonder she thinks Peggy hates her.”

Will agreed. “It’s worse though. She thinks Peggy will wish Laura had died instead of Frank.”

Joe’s expression turned dark. “I heard Frank telling ugly things about Laura at the Sazerac last time he was in town, and told him it was no way to talk about his wife or the mother of his child. He laughed and said to mind my business.”

“Everyone here admires Laura and knows she’s raisin’ Peggy just fine,”  Hoss said and then laughed knowingly. “Most folks who talked Frank up for them fun qualities in the past, now admit the way he spoke of Laura made them feel itchy, but were afraid to say anything. They also say he was in big trouble before he died. He had gamblin’ debts here and in San Francisco and had to use what was left of his folks’ money to pay them off. His ranch crew were Frank’s buddies, so they didn’t respect him as their boss. They bragged about doing as little as possible at the ranch.” He stopped to sniff. “I’d bet ranch ain’t producing enough good beef or crops to make any income now.”

Hoss looked up at his family with a sorrowful frown.  “Frank’s drinkin’ buddies here who’d laughed with him while he was flush and generous, were laughin’ at him after he died, sayin’ how the saloon gals on the coast who’d played up to him when he had money in his pockets, wouldn’t even talk to him those last weeks when his pockets were empty.”

“I’d heard the same things,” Joe concurred.

Hoss shook his head. “He was so full of himself, he died tryin’ to show-off in front of us by jumping a horse that weren’t trained to jump. And he had no idea where that big animal would land, which is what killed him. You wonder if he wasn’t playin’ loose with his life because it was crumbling around him so fast.” Hoss blew a long breath to end his thoughts. “All that bein’ said, how’d she finally tell Peggy?”

“The child did this ‘thing’ when Frank was expected home. She’d swing and count, hoping he’d ride into the yard by the time she ran out of steam and numbers. She did that today, and Laura finally went to her. The girl must have known what was coming and the more Laura tried to talk, the louder Peggy counted, finally begging her mother to count too. Laura looked dazed, but finally did what Peggy asked, and they counted together. After a few minutes, Peggy broke down and admitted she knew her daddy wasn’t coming home, and it was over except for the tears and hugs. Honestly, it couldn’t have gone any better. It seemed the truth brought them to realizing how much they needed each other.”

“It took all afternoon for this to happen?” Ben asked, receiving a nod. “I’m proud of you, Will, and thankful for your tender handling of a bad situation. Now … how bad is the ranch doing?”

“Having never been there, I’m not sure if it’s gotten bad or was already bad. Laura takes care of the house, but there’s a neglected feel to the rest of the buildings. Her men were sitting in the shade playing poker when we arrived, and claimed all the chores were done.”

“They don’t respect her even with Frank gone,” Ben concluded.

Will shrugged. “I’d assume so. There were broken fence rails on the corrals, a stench coming from the animal pens, and no water in the troughs. But Laura walked past all those, unable or afraid to point them out. Might you go over and lay down the law, Uncle Ben?”

“My orders might get them moving, but wouldn’t make a lasting difference if Laura won’t enforce them or deliver consequences for not following them. And if Frank was indeed in financial trouble, the neglect you saw isn’t new. Frank was an absent owner, and Laura has been left without authority or capital.” He chewed his lip in thought. “She needs guidance and Maxine would be a fine choice to help her. She runs that farm with Oslo, despite her husband’s assistance. Her crew respects her because she’s fair, knows her business, and is clear about what she expects. The question is whether Laura will take directions from anyone.”

“Do you really think she’s got it in her to get that place into shape?” Hoss asked.

“That’s a good question. Maybe the first thing to ask is whether Laura would rather get out of ranching.” Ben turned to his nephew. “She trusted you today and may see you as an outsider, just as she imagines herself, and won’t bristle as much if you make a simple inquiry. That would give us a starting point.”

The conversation quieted, until Joe suddenly sat forward as though a bur poked through his close-fitting pants into his tender parts.

“We forgot something!”

“Seems pretty important,” Ben chuckled. “Out with it!”

“Cochise threw a shoe just past the south boundary of the Ponderosa when we left on that drive. Since we’d finally gotten the herd all moving in the right direction, the men decided to keep going while Hoss and I rode into Genoa for a blacksmith and supplies.”

“Supplies?” Ben asked. “Did you leave something behind?”

Hoss answered. “You hired that tall kid as a trail cook. His food is good, but he’s got big feet like a puppy, and tripped over them, dropping the crate with the big bags of coffee and flour while loadin’ up after breakfast the first morning. He didn’t have them tied right, so they spilled onto the ground, and instead of sayin’ something, he scooped it back into the bags. Next mornin’ the coffee tasted like dirt and the biscuits had pieces of gravel in them. We figured we would run short once we tossed those, so we might as well pick some up in Genoa.”

“So your big news is you prevented a mutiny by getting fresh flour and coffee?”

“Aw, Pa,” Hoss said as a pink glow brightened his cheeks. “We forgot about Sally Cass movin’ there after the mess with her pa landin’ him in the state prison. She was workin’ in the general store, so we took her for coffee while Cochise got fixed up.”

“Hoss had a second breakfast along with his coffee,” Joe added with a wink. This time without dirt and gravel.”

Ben observed the easy camaraderie between his sons and laughed before asking, “Is Sally doing well?”

“She likes being in a small town. The owner of the store hired her right off,” Joe explained. “She plans to stay put ‘til Will gets released in a couple years, and they’ll move on then.”

“Has she been able to visit her father?” Ben asked.

“The prison in Carson City allows visits all day Saturday, and a half-day Sunday,” Hoss responded. “She takes a stage those 15 miles on Fridays, spends the next day with her pa, and catches that returning stage after the church service on Sunday.”

Ben’s lips thinned as he thought a moment. “Did she say why she prefers Genoa to Carson?”

“Too many folks from Virginia City go to Carson,” Joe told his father. “Sally usually sees someone from here on weekends, but the rest of the week she doesn’t worry about it. Seems people think nothing of asking why her father did what he did, or give their opinion about the crime and the sentence. She says they either act superior to Will … and her … even though she had nothing to do with what happened, or they talk in a voice dripping with judgmental pity.”

Hoss added, “She said her pa knows what he did was wrong, but it came out’a a dark wound in his heart that never healed one bit.”

“It is a reason,” Ben said thoughtfully, “Yet not an excuse. All of us who were around back then bear some blame. We thought we were helping by sympathizing with his grief, even when it allowed him wallow in his rage. I wish I’d helped him accept that it was an accident between two young men who didn’t understand the deadly consequences of a drunken dare.”

He stopped to sigh as he felt the futility of what his oldest and kindest friend in the territory had done. “Did Sally say how her father’s doing?” Ben asked. “We write, but he asked that I not visit.”

Joe looked at his hands before speaking, rubbing them together as though he was chilled. “Remember how Mr. Cass talked crazy right after what happened, blaming Ed Payson for ‘making’ him shoot because he came to the store to flaunt that he was alive while Dave wasn’t?”

Ben nodded. “Clearly, Will’s anger over losing Dave had grown too raw to control.”

“Sally thinks her pa’s come a long way,” Joe offered. “He’s admitted he was desperate to end his agony and the solution seemed to wipe Ed Payson from this earth. He admits now to hearing Ed tell the deputy that his gun was in his bedroll, but still claims being unaware of picking up or firing the rifle until he smelled the discharge. In his mind, when Ed reached into his pocket for money to pay, he believed he was going for his gun. On the other hand, she admits her father had given evil a comfortable home in his heart regarding Dave’s demise.”

“Something about that bothers you, Joe.” Ben noted.

“If he’d given that ugly hate a secure home, it contradicts what he said about his reaction being a complete surprise. Sally forgives him for what this has done to her because she loves him. But She wonders if he really accepts that what happened that day was not Ed’s fault.”

“Something both Will and Sally wish is that someone had been there that day to intervene when her pa grabbed that rifle,” Hoss said softly. “It might not have changed Will’s mind, but Ed might have had time to try to make things better: to explain his reasons for returning to someone and to finally tell his side of what had happened the day Dave died.”

“Will had lost all perspective concerning that young man,” Ben replied. “It was only his reputation, along with the judge recognizing the extenuating circumstances of longstanding grief that kept Will from hanging for murder. A five-year sentence for manslaughter with a chance at an earlier release was a grace.”

“You’ve never said whether you thought it was a fair outcome,” Joe noted.

“It was fair for the charge. Should the charge have been harsher? You made a good point earlier, Joe.  Will claimed it happened without knowing what he was doing, but also said it was the ending he’d envisioned. The sad fact is that Will’s son paid the ultimate price for one horrible decision, and now Will is paying for his failure to forgive his son for that decision.”

Ben’s long day caught up to him, and he yawned loudly. “Thank you for a most interesting evening. I’m too tired to consider anything more than how long it’ll take to get ready for bed.” He rose and stretched with another exaggerated yawn. “Feel free to continue talking but I shall see you all in the morning.”

***

After donning a nightshirt, Ben grabbed his Bible to consider a few verses before turning down the lamp, when a knock interrupted him. He found Hoss outside his door.

“Mind if I talk to you? I won’t stay more’n a minute.”

“Something on your mind you couldn’t say in front of the others?” he asked while motioning him inside.

The big man shrugged as his nose crinkled. “Things got said tonight that got me thinkin’. Laura Dayton is strugglin’ because nobody’s been looking out fer her. We all know Laura, but shied from sticking our noses in her business. I’ve stayed clear cuz she looks so much like her cousin, Margie, and I ain’t never forgotten how bad I felt when she died after goin’ off with that fast-talkin’ feller instead of marryin’ me. I don’t think less of Laura for the resemblance, but there are times I see Margie so clear in her I have to walk away.”

“So you think we should have done more for Laura?”

“It’s not what we could a done, so much as that she might a done better if maybe just one person had tucked her under their wing after Frank died. Someone who’d’a helped her believe she could handle things and got them men of hers to do their jobs while Laura learned how to do that herself. Then Sally said kind’a the same thing about wishin’ someone had stopped her pa from killin’ Payson.”

“You’re thinking there’s a connection?”

A nod. “Don’t it seem like a single person stepping at the right moment could a helped in both cases?”

Ben took a long, deep breath. “Do you have someone in mind who might have intervened in both?”

The big man shrugged again as he paced to the window and back. “I’m guessin’ we both know who I mean. He claimed he was just observant and intuitive, but it was a gift in him to see truth better than nearly everyone, and take on the world to make sure the truth got told. I wonder if he might’a ended up in Cass’ store or saw Laura’s predicament sooner. And maybe lots of other things have gone wrong because he left before he should’a.” He grinned sheepishly. “Then again, maybe I’m makin’ excuses for not payin’ better attention to someone needing help.” He pushed back from the sturdy foot of the bed where he’d leaned. “Anyway, goodnight, Pa. I was glad to see Buck in the barn when we got home, and that we all made it back safe and healthy.  I still worry ….”

“I do too, Hoss. Goodnight, son. Rest well.”

 

Vignette Five: The Sighing Game (Over a year later)

Hoss found himself outside his father’s bedroom door with his hand raised to knock as he’d done a few times over the last months when he’d pose the unanswerable questions that continued to plague his heart. The conversations were given his father’s full attention, but usually ended with a reminder that “what ifs” can’t change a decided outcome, and worse, serve to mire us in a pit of muddy uncertainty.

He paused, wondering whether these talks might be weighing too heavily on his father, and tucked his hand into his pocket, continuing to his room instead. Sitting heavily on the edge of his bed, he leaned forward, resting his head in his hands, and sighed so loudly it would have rattled the rafters in a less sturdy house.

He was usually busy enough that these darker contemplations stayed in the shadows. But tonight, after hearing disturbing news shared by an unexpected visitor, he held his breath once again, sure that an event four years back had disrupted time. It wasn’t that he thought everything would have gone perfectly had his brother not left.

Bad things happened!

But he couldn’t shake the feeling that Adam would have made difference. Maybe just in his gracious intervention into a bad situation … offering some peace in the moment … even if it had ended similarly.

Hoss sighed again with his unsettling swirl of thoughts. He grinned at the loud vibration he’d produced by simply drawing a breath. This was preferable to punching holes in the walls. That would have hurt him as much as the plaster, since Adam had designed this house with outer walls of squared timbers and mortar. The plaster overlay in his room was purely decorative, covering the rock-solid structure behind it. He grinned at the description, a nearly perfect analogy to his brother: rock solid in who he was on the inside, and beautiful on the outside as well.

Rest wouldn’t come, so he let his mind slide back down the hill of his bother.  So many folks had faced tragic situations since the day his older brother had left. There’d been Toby, whose killer had almost gotten away with it until he himself had stepped up, using his brother’s methods. Will Cass had killed an innocent man and upended his life as well as Sally’s when no one stopped him.

Even he’d faced Regan’s dismissal, and had realized he would have benefited from someone hitting him upside the head with the truth that she wasn’t ready to be his wife. It wouldn’t have been easier. Yet Adam had seen her in San Francisco, and he’d have realized Regan wasn’t handling her life well enough to change just then.

Thinking he’d reached the bottom of the slippery hill, he dug in and started to crawl back up, taking a precarious toehold at other thoughts. There was hearing about Laura Dayton not doing well with her daughter and ranch. Will had stepped in to help, but something had gone wrong there too. Now it was clear Laura had ended up in even worse problems.

He lingered here, remembering how Will’s visits to check on Laura after his help with Peggy had left him attracted to her. His cousin had told the family about this a couple of months back.

“Uncle Ben,” he’d begun. “You must know I enjoy being with Laura, and she feels the same. We’re talking about marriage, but a few things will prevent that for a while.”

“What things?” Pa had asked.

“Laura’s concern for propriety. It’s too soon for an engagement for fear of gossip tarnishing it.”

Pa had chuckled, then said, “People will be happy for her. I can reassure her of this if you’d like.”

“We’re not in a hurry, Uncle Ben, so I won’t push. There’s also the issue of money: I don’t have any,” he’d said, followed by a knowing laugh. “Laura is broke as well. She talks of selling, but that’s her money to keep for Peggy. I want a nest egg before a formal proposal, so would you be willing to pay me to tackle some of the renovations you need after regular work hours? I can fix the barn shingles, build that addition to the feed shed: things the go undone for lack of time.”

“That’ fine, Will, but you’re one of us. Whatever money you need is yours.”

“I knew you’d say that, but that isn’t how I want to do it. My father worked hard to get the farm profitable, and I left before I became an asset to that operation. You and my cousins worked miracles to get this ranch and timber business going. I’ve been helping while I stay here, but I have no stake in it yet. I need to earn this so I never take having money for granted or think it comes easily.”

“As you wish, Will. But all you need do is ask, even if you offer to repay it.” Pa’s cheek had pulled to the side. “I assume from your statement that Laura isn’t making progress with the ranch?” They’d all seen Will’s uneasy look, so Pa had added. “I’d thought she might look to your experience at least for guidance with the cattle after she refused to seek Maxine’s advice.”

Hoss recalled Will’s face turning beet red. “Laura sees any suggestion as judgment that she’s not doing a good job. The trouble is … she’s not doing a good job … and truly needs direction. I get that her husband criticized everything she did, leaving her to second, third, and fourth-guess every decision she makes. That leads to her putting off any decision until it’s an emergency. She’d prefer someone take over the ranch completely, but she doesn’t see me as that person. She’s looking for a knight errant to show up on a white steed, wearing a flowing cape and feathered hat, and kneel at her feet in pledge of his liege to her. Then he’ll fix everything. What I fear is that her lack of experience in recognizing which men are scoundrels in tin armor rather than actual knights, makes her a prime candidate to be deceived.”

Hoss’ sigh this time, came from knowing his cousin’s prophesy had been fulfilled.

Will and Laura’s steps towards marriage had fractured soon after that dinner conversation, when a stranger had arrived bearing a $10,000 check in Laura’s name for a life insurance policy Frank had purchased in San Francisco. This knight in question was named Ward Bannister. He was smooth talking, mysterious, and handsome, and became Laura’s designated champion.

She’d taken an instant liking, and without evidence to uphold the quality of his words, intentions, or character, she’d believed in him fully.

Hoss recalled his father had often used a phrase from a story about the Trojan Horse: Beware of Greeks bearing gifts. It meant that if an unexpected situation seemed too good, you should think hard before bringing a giant wooden horse into your life. Odds were in favor of that horse being loaded with everything needed to destroy you.

Bannister seemed the perfect example of a Greek bearing a gift, and Laura eagerly invited him onto her ranch and into her heart. This felt too familiar, since Hoss had seen the exact thing happen when Laura’s cousin, Margie Owens, had welcomed a tall, slick-talking stranger into her life.

Hoss had been ready to propose to Margie when he’d showed up, gushing about his worldly adventures along with overreaching promises that she had consumed as pure truth. It was the perfect poison to infect a girl who had always dreamed of romance and drama: not a stable life with a decent man. She’d married the storyteller instantly, and regretted it from the moment his lies had crawled out of his empty belly to destroy her, just like the Greek soldiers had crawled from the horse and destroyed Troy.

He’d been left wondering why sweet women were such easy prey for these hollowed-out men hiding evil inside that vacant space. Mary Enders had chosen Bill because he was her mystery man. Margie married her Greek bearing gifts and ended up dead. Mary had married Enders and nearly ended up in prison. And after hearing the news from tonight, it was clear Laura had been sieged by the evil hidden inside the hollow frame of Ward Bannister.

His memories slowed over the weeks after Will’s announcement, when things with Laura had begun to fray like a cut edge on fabric.

While Laura still professed “caring” for Will, her actions proved otherwise. His cousin was working hard to lay that nest egg, so his visits to the Dayton ranch were fewer, and Hoss had soon noticed the aggravated look on Will’s face when he’d return from one of them. Further complicating things, Will had fallen from the barn roof, spraining his knee and ankle and breaking a few ribs. This had kept him confined, first to bed, and then to the ranch to prevent dislodging a rib while riding a horse or driving in a buggy.

Laura had visited twice, spending her time gushing about how much Ward was doing for her. She’d soon decided he should run the ranch: the only quick decision she’d made in years.  She’d also seen him as a miracle worker with money, and after putting some of the insurance payout aside for the ranch, she invested the rest in a railroad project promoted by Bannister, supposedly paying huge dividends.

The promise of doubling her funds in months had seemed like another Trojan Horse to the Cartwrights, leading Will to advocate that Laura check its validity. She’d consulted Mr. Weems at the bank, whose inquiries into the information from the brochure, produced results planted by Bannister and his partner, who was playing the part of the broker.

In addition, the news his family had heard tonight, made it clear that Laura hadn’t been entirely honest about how much power she’d given Bannister.

Further complicating things was that her infatuation with Bannister’s counsel had soon turned to loving him. They’d found this out the day Will had been cleared to ride, and he’d gone to surprise Laura.

Hoss had seen Will return quickly, looking poleaxed, and his announcement at supper that night explained why.

“I’ve come to a decision about my future, Uncle Ben,” he’d said as they’d waited for dessert.

“What sort of decision?” Pa had asked.

“The other day I received letter from a friend in San Francisco, with a job offer. I’d written him about my experience with those counterfeiters, and he’s now working with a federal banking agency and wants to hire me. He’ll teach me to spot false and outdated currencies being used in the mess created by the Civil War. Banks, especially smaller ones, are suffering losses because their employees accept it all as legal tender. Once trained, I’ll go to those banks, examine what they’re accepting, and teach them to spot the bad bills. I’ll also send confiscated currency to reserve banks to be destroyed.”

A smile had replaced his father’s frown. “That sounds exciting. Will Laura sell her place to go with you?”

“I assume she’ll be marrying Bannister and staying put,” he’d replied with a discernable edge of anger.

“I don’t understand,” Pa had said with a head snap like he’d taken a jab to the jaw.

“I found out they’re in love when I stopped today. It explains why Laura became so distant.”

“They told you this?” Pa had clarified.

“The place seemed deserted when I arrived today, but the barn door was ajar. As I approached it, I heard their voices inside proclaiming their love for each other. I should have left, but took a quick look through the opening to make sure I hadn’t misheard. They’d moved from talking to groping.” He’d given an ugly laugh. “I shouldn’t say this, but those stories about Laura’s concern for propriety and her naïveté’ about worldly expressions of lovemaking, must apply only to Frank and me.” His cheek’s had blistered red. “Please don’t repeat that. I sound bitter, but what I observed shocked me, and I’m no saint.”

“What’d you do?” Joe had asked.

“Nothing. I slipped away, thankfully without seeing Peggy. Laura may eventually wonder why I don’t show up anymore. But she’ll be grateful to hear that I’m gone.” He’d groaned miserably. “She took Bannister’s bait and is hooked to the gills. If she ever tries to get free, she’ll be gutted like that fish. I don’t wish harm on her, but she’s set herself up for it by thinking he’s perfect. From my experience, real men aren’t ever perfect. We make mistakes, and that makes us try harder. This man is like a painted glass decoration: looking great on the outside, but hollow and fragile.”

“Believing someone is perfect is sure to disappoint, and glass ornaments shatter when pressure is applied,” Pa had said with a low laugh. “You actually seem relieved more than upset about this.”

“I was hot as I rode home, but after seeing what I did, it was clear she never wanted me in the way she wants Bannister. Once I realized I’d escaped Laura’s constant drama with nothing more than a momentarily bruised ego, I felt like I’d had a long prison sentence commuted to time served. My decision to leave comes only from the need to try something new. This family gave me a home with no obligation to pay you back for any of your kindness. I like ranching, but this job suits me better.”

He’d finally smiled, looking relaxed while starting to grin. “Having the Cartwright name in this part of the country, carries high expectations too. I’ll keep that in mind while doing my best.”

The family had sent Will on his way within that week, leaving them a trained man down. To make up for that, the entire family had pitched in to keep the work on track. It also meant that the Ponderosa work force had spent little time in town.

News gleaned by ranch hands who had ventured in for a few drinks after paydays had been tame. Will hadn’t become well known during his tenure, and few had been privy to his relationship with Laura, so they hadn’t expected gossip.

They only realized what had been happening, when Roy Coffee had stopped by on his way back from Carson City. The first clue of something off should have come with his visit. The Ponderosa wasn’t reached on the way home from Carson without a detour. Then again, Roy was never shy about showing up at mealtime if he was close by.

As the four of them had gathered for a pre-dinner drink, Roy had broached the real reason for his stop.

“I ain’t seen any of you in some time, so I’m wondering if you’ve heard the news about Laura Dayton,” He’d said after a long sip of Pa’s good bourbon.

“Did she announce her engagement to Bannister?” Pa had inquired with a sly grin.

Roy’s pinched expression showed his confusion. “You were aware they were involved?”

“Will became aware of it shortly before he left.”

The deep chuckle coming from Roy’s chest came not from humor, but irony. “There’s no engagement, Ben. What Mr. Bannister did was run off, leaving Laura Dayton in a mess up to her eyeballs.”

“Out with it, Roy,” Pa had demanded in an instantly concerned tone.

“Bannister turned out to be a scoundrel of the worst kind. That insurance check was real, but the rest was not. He had gotten friendly with Frank in Frisco and knew about the policy, so when Bannister heard Frank died, he saw a way to profit. He faked a letter from Laura to the insurance company, making him her agent, but had to get Laura’s signature on the check with a witness and notary stamp. He might have faked that as well, but I believe he was curious, wondering if there was more to get besides the insurance. From what we knew of him, Frank was a braggart who spread cash around liberally in San Francisco until towards the last of his life, so Bannister may have thought he’d find treasure here. There was none, but he found a woman ripe for his kind of manipulation, needing both a shoulder to cry on and the guidance of a man she believed had her best interests at heart. With care, he was able to get the full ten-thousand, along with a whole lot more.”

Roy had paused while Pa had asked Hop Sing to hold dinner until the story was finished. Since there’d been no agitated retort from the cook, Hoss had assumed he’d been listening in and understood the serious nature of what was being shared.

“Maybe the guy did developed feelings for Laura.” Roy had continued. “She’s a nice lady who clearly needed help!”

“Enough preamble! What happened?” Pa had demanded.

“He promoted that railroad investment to Laura with another guy he was in cahoots with, and then shot him. Bannister claimed he’d been delivering the draft for the investment, when the guy demanded cash from him, saying he wanted to make more than a commission. When Bannister refused, the guy pulled a gun on him demanding more money, and they exchanged gunfire. I didn’t know they were a team then, and the evidence in the hotel upheld his story, so I had to call it self-defense.”

“How’d you find out Bannister was a crook?” Pa had asked. “We suspected it, but with Will no longer in her life, we stayed out of her business.”

“It weren’t nothing big. Just something sat sour about that story. I finally wired a broker in San Francisco Adam had suggested back when I decided to invest my earnings instead of wasting them on Faro. The guy got back to me the next day, saying the stock wasn’t registered with any exchange, making it bogus. He even investigated the bank supposedly holding the funds like that pamphlet claimed. The account was in Bannister’s name, not a business. With evidence of fraud, the bank could reveal that there was a pattern of money coming from one place for a couple months, then switching to another and another. It had been going on for a couple of years already. Current deposits were coming from Virginia City.”

“What does that indicate?” Pa had asked.

Hoss had watched his father’s face stretch taught, letting him know Pa already suspected what Roy would say.

“Firstly, this was an ongoing fraud. Those two must have been tricking vulnerable people in multiple places before coming here. Worse was that he was transferring money from Laura’s account directly to his. He’d sent in the voucher for the investment first, and slowly cleaned out the remainder she’d put away for the ranch.”

“How could he do that?” Joe had asked.

“Laura was so beguiled by Bannister that she made him her legal executor for the ranch, giving him permission to pay bills and sign for credit purchases in town.”

“How bad is it, Roy,” Pa had asked softly.

“Bad, bad. He wrote bogus invoices and paid them from the ranch funds, while ignoring Laura’s real bills. Now … you’d think someone at the bank here would have told Laura her account was goin’ down fast, but she’d taken Bannister around, expounding on her complete trust in him. This allowed everyone to accept what was happening.”

“So, Bannister was emptying her accounts by paying his bogus invoices, but you implied it was worse than that,” Pa had offered for clarity.

“While cleaning out the bank, he also purchased supplies on credit, running up big tabs that he wasn’t paying. Sadly, Laura only learned this when Rose’s mercantile wouldn’t allow groceries on her tab  until she paid on the account. She assumed there was a mistake, and stormed over to the bank, where the truth knocked her back into last week.”

Hoss remembered hearing a sickening groan and realized it had come from him as his heart shattered for the young widow.

Roy continued. “He must have suspected he’d played his last hand, and took off while she was in town that day. Here’s what Laura is facing: Bannister bought building supplies on credit, but when Weems and I went to her place hoping to find those materials to return them, we found nothing! Not a board nor nail. I threatened to arrest her entire crew unless they told me where the stuff was. Finally, some who hadn’t benefited as much, said Bannister paid his best cronies in the crew to pick up the supplies in town and move them out to a place where another wagon met them and took it all away. See, he was was selling everything he’d purchased to another scammer at a discount. He profited while Laura was left owing for it. The crew finally confessed that when they’d threatened to tell Laura the truth, he’d ‘given’ them each a big increase their wages to stay quiet.”

Roy shook his head and laughed. “They were too dumb to figure their wages came from the same account he’d already cleared out. He handed out those big checks the day he left, to keep them quiet a little longer, but they found out they were worthless  when they tried to ash them, and they realized they’d worked a month for free! Serves them right.”

Little Joe stood and slapped his hand on the mantle. “Laura never suspected he was tricking her?”

“I heard about it after she fainted at the bank and Weems sent for me. When she started feeling stronger, she claimed there was a mistake because Bannister would never have done this to her. She accused Weems and the shopkeepers for conspiring against her, and Ward only left because he feared he would face false charges.

“But we found a note from him at her house promising he’d contact her once he was safely settled. He suggested she be ready to leave Virginia City as soon as she heard from him, and stiff everyone she owed. After all, those people had always liked Frank better and judged her harshly”

“She believed that?” Ben asked.

“She did … up to the point where the note suggested she send Peggy to live with the aunt she talked about in San Francisco, so they wouldn’t be tied down with a kid. He sort of implied Laura would be better off without her, since she wasn’t an easy kid to handle.”

“Holy cow!” Hoss remembered offering while experiencing physical pain in his chest at this news. “She wouldn’t do that, would she?”

“That finally opened her eyes. She admitted what he’d done, and agreed to work things out. Weems gathered all the paperwork and brought it all to the house. Once she saw the evidence of his deception in black and white, she accepted a plan.  She must sell the ranch; pay off the debts, and then get a job and live frugally at the boarding house until she decides what to do.”

“How’d she handle that?” Pa had asked.

“Having her own plan broke Bannister’s spell and she made decisions fast. She listed the place with the land office that same day. She fired the crew and had Weems arrange an overseer to get the ranch cleaned out and auction off what he could. Then she wired her aunt Lil near San Francisco, asking she come help her move there.”

Joe had cleared his throat. “Can’t she sue Bannister?”

“A lawyer could make a case for fraud, but she gave him the keys to her kingdom. Sadder still is that Weems telegraphed the other bank as soon as he knew the truth, and Bannister’s account is empty. And although they could arrest him for the fraudulent investment, they’d have to find him. Chances are he’s hidden that money good so an arrest might give her some personal satisfaction, but no collection of the funds she lost.”

“The ranch sale should clear her debts and leave some,” Pa had suggested.

Roy had responded with a grimace. “There’s more. Bannister brought Peggy a wolf pup after the ranch hands shot the mother. It was cute, but already wild-natured and big enough to kill their chickens and acted twitchy around people. Peggy was set on keeping it, and Laura didn’t want to deal with Peggy’s unhappiness, so she let it stay. The thing  got under Mrs. Freeman’s skirt when she stopped by with a dress she’d sewed for Laura, got spooked, and took a good chunk outa the poor woman’s leg. Paul Martin says it was so severe, she’ll always have pain and a limp. Lizzy Freeman already staked a claim against Laura’s negligence, so she’ll be line for money remaining after the other debts are paid.”³

======

Thinking over Laura Dayton’s tragic outcome, Hoss recalled the Trojan Horse story, considering why women walked away from good men to chase after scoundrels with no credentials other than their mystery.

Maybe it was like a woman living an “ordinary” life always thinking vanilla pudding was a special desert. Then one day they tasted Boston Cream Pie with its spongy sweet cake, creamy custard filling, and chocolate frosting. While it was too rich to eat a lot of or regularly because it could make them sick or fat, an “ordinary” dessert like pudding would never satisfy them after that.

His thoughts moved forward again. Laura’s troubles weren’t the only bad thing that had happened lately. Her experience was “life-changing,” but other incidents had been “life-ending.”

A deep sigh rocked him back and forth.

Hilda and Johann Brunner were killed during a robbery on the way home from town. Not to speak ill of the dead; it was widely known that Johann kept a tight grip on his money pouch. He was rigid in his estimation that no one should benefit from the coins he’d worked to accumulate. He probably said this to the thief, failing to appreciate, that the thief was just as hard-headed and would kill for that purse. Johann had died for a few coins, but his inflexibility had ended his innocent sister’s life as well.  With the remote place it happened, the guilty party was long gone before the bodies were discovered.

Around that same time, a card sharp arrived in Virginia City and befriended Sue Miller at a town dance. Hoss leaned back with a groan as he realized this was again a story of an innocent woman falling for the dark, mysterious, smooth talker. Sue had been easy prey for Tom Wilson, who’d instantly pegged her as wanting the drama of forbidden romance, with a protective, wealthy father who might be convinced to part with cash to ensure his daughter stayed unsullied.  Unfortunately, Sue’s father was another hard-headed man who recognized a liar and scoundrel when he saw one. No one had seen the exchange between Miller and Wilson, but Sue’s father had ended up dead.

As with Laura and Bannister; Margie and the tall stranger, and Mary and Bill Enders, Sue believed the handsome, manipulative Tom really loved her. He’d used this, convincing her to confess to accidentally shooting her father while wresting his gun away when he’d threatened Tom with it.

The fabrication freed Wilson, and he’d left town with the cash Sue had given him to hire an attorney for her defense, believing he’d return to exonerate her before they’d ride off to live happily.

Confronted by his abandonment, Sue confessed her lie. Posters were issues for Wilson, advising he be held for questioning. Despite the betrayal, Sue maintained her belief that Tom had acted in self-defense in the death, and that he’d send for her one day. She’d finally faced the truth after a saloon girl name Matilda told her how Tom spent days “courting” Sue, but nights with her in his hotel room, engaging in carnal activity while laughing about his plan to clean out Miller’s banks accounts.

Hoss sighed a final time as he finally donned his nightshirt and crawled under his covers. He settled in bed while settling in his mind that bad things happened to good people. Their own family was proof that lightning could strike multiple times in the same household. He also renewed his certainty that a steadying force had left this community far too soon.

That force had occupied the room next to his, and that room had been empty and silent for four years.

Hoss turned to his side and pulled the quilt over his shoulders, as the chill of “what if” passed over him.

“Adam,” he said softly into the darkness. “If I’d known that last time seein’ and talkin’ to you was gonna be the last time, I’d of held on tight and begged you to stay on a little longer. So much seems wrong with you gone. The only thing that keeps me from screaming out and bashing walls, is that I know you’re safe from all the dangerous situations you got into out here. You’re happy where you’re at, and you’re with folks who love you as much as I do, and that makes me happy. I can’t wait to see you again one day and hear all that’s been goin’ on where yer at.”⁴

 

*** (Four years earlier)

 

The Shipwreck

“Good morning Mr. Cartwright,” someone called as Adam exited the door from the guest cabins located on the main deck. “I hope you rested well your first night on the Celestial.”

Adam made his way to the helm for a closer look at the man overseeing the wheel. Four stripes on his epaulettes indicated this was the captain of the clipper ship, so he stuttered out, “I’m afraid … I don’t recall your name, Captain. Might I have been drunk when I arrived to explain suffering this memory lapse?” Adam’s laugh was strained more than humorous. “I don’t recall arriving here either, and was pretty confused when I woke up in a ship’s cabin.”

“You arrived late and were extremely worn out, so I postponed your welcome.”

“I recall being exhausted. Cold and wet too. Had it rained?”

“There was rain along your way, but we got you settled immediately and you slept soundly.”

Recalling now the heavy rain he’d ridden through, he was surprised to note that his clothes from yesterday, seemingly having served as his sleeping attire, were perfectly dry and pressed. Looking around, he was struck by the cleanliness and nearly new condition of the three-masted ship. What he didn’t see was a crew. With full sails catching a solid wind, the ship was slicing through water like a well-honed knife. Perhaps with perfect sea conditions, the captain had allowed his men to grab a meal and would signal if they were needed.

The sun felt warm on his head and he looked upwards, noting the brilliant blue sky. Bringing to mind the color of Hoss’ eyes. “It’s a lovely Day,” he told the captain.

“It is for now.”

“For now?”

The captain pointed to the horizon. “There was a distinct red glow to the west with sunrise.” He  waited for his guest to recall the adage this condition implied. He finally prompted, “Does that bring anything to mind?”

“I recall my father’s rhyme from childhood while traveling west. Red sky at night. sailor’s delight. ‘Red sky at morning, sailor take warning.’ When I got older, he showed me the Bible passage where Jesus used that same adage to shame the pharisees after they demanded a miraculous sign to prove his identity, saying they’d witnessed many signs from him already that would lead them to the conclusion of who he was. Are you referencing one of those?”

“Both. Matthew 16 is your Biblical reference and your sailing family members would have dreaded a red morning sky because it indicated that clouds coming from the west have a higher moisture content that absorbed all the sun’s prismatic colors except for red. This usually means rain and perhaps storms will arrive later. We’ll know whether the proverb holds true in a few hours.” The captain smiled. “I already see a western darkening through my spy glass, so I’d encourage you to enjoy the sunshine while you can.”

“I’ll do that. With your permission, I’ll tour the deck.”

“You can go anywhere you’d like, Adam. The ship is yours.”

Adam gave a smart salute and turned to leave, but stopped when he heard the captain speak again.

“By the way, my name is Brendan.”

Adam turned back. “Like the patron saint of sailors?”

“I was told you are an intellectual man. Yes: that Brendan.”

Adam chuckled over the captain’s reply, and was going to ask how he’d known about his father and grandfather’s sailing heritage, but the captain was once again checking the horizon with his spyglass.

A few minutes later, while rounding the last turn of his walk, he noticed he was breathing heavily and felt his legs quivering. This distance was shorter than taking a lap around his own yard, making this physical response “concerning.”

Concerning in a different way, was the continued absence of crew on deck.

And most concerning, was that even with fresh air, he was unable to recall why he was on this ship, even though he’d clearly been expected. Whether he’d pushed himself to extreme exhaustion or consumed too much liquor last night: the result was a type of amnesia. His hope was to find something in his luggage to poke his memory.

Other oddities came forward as he moved toward his cabin. He couldn’t recall eating anything, and with the sun’s position indicating midmorning, he should be starving.

He felt no hunger.

Another incongruity was despite the day being clement, not hot, his short walk left him wet with sweat. That condition was instantly replaced by shivering when he entered his cabin: not because It was cool. Just the opposite! His teeth chattered even as warm, stale air closed in around him, leaving him struggling to fully inhale.

His porthole had a latch, making it operational rather than decorative, and he quickly released it pushing the window wide open.

In an unexpected about-face, the shivering ended and the heat returned, making sweat slip from his hairline onto his forehead and cheeks.

The heat dried his throat, giving him a sensation of glass shards embedded in the soft tissue along his esophagus, and making each swallow painful. Spotting a water pitcher on a shelf next to his berth, he tipped it straight back into his mouth, disappointed to find the water was an optical illusion of shadow and light. His berth called him like a Siren from an island, tempting him to sleep and forget his troubles.  While looking for his valise, the Siren’s song grew louder, with lyrics about nothing being required of him and no one caring that he was asleep during the day. He heeded the call, deciding to disrobe and crawl beneath the covers.

He was startled again, when expecting to remove his suit; he noticed his bare legs protruding below the hem of a nightshirt. Too tired to puzzle further, he crawled into the berth, curled onto his side, and pulled the covers to his neck.

His worldly awareness diminished slowly, but he jerked awake when noticing his heart beating out of rhythm, making his chest nearly rock with the erratic pounding. That subsided, but was replaced by a pace so fast, he felt lightheaded and breathless even though lying down. “Get a grip, Adam,” he told himself. “Maybe the liquor last night was tainted.”

***

He had no idea how many hours he’d slept, but gray, shadowy light was filtering into his cabin when he cracked open one eye. A shiver rippled along his spine after a breath of air blew through the small porthole, and he noted he felt worse than before he’d rested. An attempt to sit up brought pain in his muscles and joints from his jaw to his toes. Any movement sent waves of pain along that same stretch of nerves and bones. Adding to the difficulty rising, the ship was now bucking like a half-broken bronco, indicating the calm seas had given way to a growing tempest. The effect made his head spin in tight, visually unnerving circles, like sitting on the center post of a merry-go-round.

Nothing felt right. The temperature of the breeze was mild against his face, but he was freezing along his torso from that same draft. Checking that the blanket still covered him, he felt the reason for his chill. Desperately wanting to believe the dampness was from rain entering the porthole, it was absurd to think the  trajectory of the drops could have been horizontal and strong enough to blow across the room and dampen his berth to this degree. Moving the covers allowed the odor of urine to waft to his nostrils, leaving him with the true source of moisture. His embarrassment over wetting himself fell aside as that erratic beat and race of his heart began again. The struggling pump in his chest seem to be readying itself to either explode from his ribcage or climb from his chest by way of his trachea.

He rested the back of his hand against his forehead, and was startled by the near forge-like heat he felt. It seemed impossible, but his heart beat even faster when noting the spongy feel of his skin. A quick look at his hands revealed they were so swollen; his fingers were splayed in a fan shape.

Was I Shanghaied? They might have drugged me to get me on this ship? That would explain why I feel so strange.  This probability ended with his realization that he wasn’t being guarded or prevented from moving around.  More likely I consumed something fouled that must filter from my body.

Mustering every ounce of strength, he pulled himself up and swung his legs off the side of the berth. His bare feet resting on the floor, he felt the vibration of an explosion of thunder and lightning that sent shockwaves through the ship’s wooden frame. The red-sky prophesy was being fulfilled.

Expecting the crew would be busy battening the cargo and working the sails, he listened for the shouts and clatter of work. Yet he heard nothing but howling wind. Wait! He strained forward to hear pieces of a nearby conversation indicating someone was very ill after being exposed to a fever before arriving. Aha, he thought! A contagion could account for the crew being too ill to work.

He kept his breathing shallow which helped slow his pounding heart, and listened again.

Pneumonia and coma wormed through what felt like cotton in his ears. Poor devils, Adam thought when he noted the anxious tone of the speaker.

The last thing he heard clearly was, “Doc said to sit him up and spoon a little water in his mouth. If he swallows, keep doing that. And keep wiping him down with cool water.”

The prescribed treatment made Adam realize how parched he was. He grinned, thinking he would appreciate a few spoonsful of water himself.

Making a herculean effort, he stood and bobbled toward the window like an arthritic tortoise after a night of drinking. At the porthole, he felt cool water from the raging sea splash against his cheeks, and gave thanks for the relief.  Funny though. It felt more like a wet cloth dabbing his cheeks than ocean spray. His view from the porthole was limited to straight forward, and the ship’s movement made standing there difficult. Seeing no one from this vantage, he determined he must return to the deck to know more.

Feeling around for his clothes in the deeply shadowed room proved fruitless, prompting the decision to go out as he was. Pride be damned! Anyone out there wrestling the wind and waves would have no concern over his state of dress or odor.

His cabin was compact, yet the ship’s thrashing made getting to the door possible only by securing handholds on furnishings along the way. Unfortunately, there was nothing to grab for the final steps, and as he let go of the dresser, the ship lurched in a side-to-side roll, followed by a front to back pitch, sending him sprawling face first on the floor. He lay there while pain cascaded through his body as though following a map to every tender spot. Attempts at rising to his knees failed as his musclerefused to hold his joints in position. And then, his heart began its irregular chug-and-thud again, leaving him breathless and resolving to rest, just a couple of minutes …

 

The Storm Continues

He awoke on the cabin floor. The ship’s sway and rock had added yaw as well, creating the sensation of being a cork in a whirlpool. His attempt to stand brought him back to the floor with his head spinning on the same axis as the ship. At this juncture there was only one option. He inched to the deck door like a soldier crawling towards the enemy.

It was dark now, and he shivered, not from cold, but in realizing that there was still no post manned by crew even amid this weather melee.  Sails were unsecured and flapping like frenzied birds stuck in the ropes. Untethered cargo boxes slid with the ship’s wild gyrations, and the once clean deck was littered with splintered mast poles, ripped canvas, and detritus awaiting deposit in the depths when the ship sank. The situation warranted the assumption that he would become part of that flotsam.

His head pounded in the same odd rhythm as his heart, causing a severe headache to accompany the clenching pain in his chest. Worst, was the feeling that sea water was being forced into his mouth, nearly choking him until he finally just swallowed gulp after gulp. Strangely, it tasted sweet like the water from the Ponderosa wells, and brought momentary relief to his parched throat.

He realized too that he’d seen no lifeboats lashed to the deck or rails during his earlier walk. As he considered other options to use as a raft, he saw Captain Brendan walking towards him without a single bobbled step despite the wild gyrations keeping Adam pinned to the planks.

“Are we going down?” he shouted over the howling wind.

“Not yet, Mr. Cartwright,” He replied in a soft voice Adam heard clearly over the roar. “This storm is nearly over, but another is coming. You should rest.”why d

“Where’s your crew?” Adam shouted

“We don’t have one. You and I can handle this, and someone will be along later to help you complete your journey.” With this statement, the officer turned to leave.

“You’re leaving me?” he asked in a panicked pitch.

“For a while, but all is well.”

Adam was too tired to clamber after the captain, and too weak to do more than pull himself to a wooden box that was still tied to rings in the deck; pull up into a sitting position, and lean his head back. The wind seemed to ease, and somewhere deep in his brain, he began to think he was dreaming. He recalled again his exhaustion on what he assumed was the previous night, and he’d always been prone to very colorful and active dreams when in that state. It seemed best to take his phantom captain’s advice. Closing his eyes, he fought to sleep again, hoping it would lead to him waking up.

As he dozed, eased by the calming winds and sea, he heard voices again: this time, not from anyone on the ship, but a conversation he was listening to as a non-contributing participant, yet clearly being the subject of concern.  One voice belonged to his father. The other … a doctor … but not Paul Martin. Maybe Dr. Smith, a physician the Cartwrights used when Paul was away.

***

“Let me go through this again, Ben. You say Adam was fine when he arrived home last evening, except for being tired and having a throat tickle that eased with some honeyed tea. And he mentioned exposure to an illness while he was away?”

“That’s it,” Ben confirmed. “He was overtired, and he got clobbered by a storm about halfway home from town. He was expected on the evening stage, but there’d been talk of storms along the route, so we left Sport at the livery to get home if he arrived and wanted to make the trip.  According to Adam, it wasn’t raining in town, so he headed out. The storm hit half-way, and he’d made the decision to keep going rather than outrun it back to town. He’d even laughed that he’d have gotten soaked no matter which decision he’d made.”

“Describe what you mean by overtired.”

“Exhaustion is a common malady after a long stage ride, even though you sit for days. You doze off but don’t sleep well; any overnight stops are done at relays with minimal facilities to encourage true rest, and your body wearies with the constant tensing to keep from jarring into others while in the coach. But he ate a sandwich and dessert before bed, and spoke about the trip to the ranch where the men were sick. He’d stayed alone in a bunkhouse; they delivered his meals to limit his exposure to the men, and they let him check the pastures on his own. That was three weeks ago, and he never got sick. The cough didn’t really concern me. Adam has always developed that throat tickle when he’s overtired. But this morning, Hoss couldn’t wake him up.” With a break to breathe, he added, “What do you think is wrong?”

Adam felt something cool against his bare chest even in this dream, assuming it was a stethoscope.

“I won’t know until I examine him. When Joe came for me, he mentioned you all heard crackling when Adam breathed. I can confirm rales in his chest: the term for that crackle. It suggests inflammation and fluid in his lungs. From the warmth of his skin, I’d say there’s a decent fever. Give me a few minutes alone, Ben. You tend to hover, and I need complete quiet and concentration now.”

Adam heard another familiar voice. “You don’t think there’s anything bad wrong, do you doc?” It was Hoss’ voice.

“There’s something bad going on if he’s not waking up,” the doctor replied. “But I don’t know what’s causing it yet.”

After footsteps left the room, Adam experienced the normal prodding and poking associated with a medical exam, accompanied by long sighs from the practitioner. He wanted to ask what was happening, but the words he formed in his mind wouldn’t exit his lips. It felt like dreaming while fully awake.

After a time, he heard the door open, and his father’s, “Doctor: please ….”

“Adam’s a very sick, boy, Ben. There’s no point in hiding the truth. It’s out of my hands.”

“What does that mean?” Ben demanded quietly.

“He’ll reach a point of crisis tonight. If he passes it, all will be good. If not …. I’ll stop by in the morning. Stay with him, Ben.”

Hoss and Joe must have returned as well, immediately volunteering to take the night watch so Pa could rest.

“I’ll stay with him,” Pa told his brothers firmly to dissuade any further discussion. Then, as Adam heard evidence of the doctor packing his medical bag, he also noticed the impatient throat clearing his father did before demanding answers. “Is it pneumonia? You didn’t say what’s causing this.”

“It might be.” The doctor admitted. “But there’s a greater concern.”

“What’s that?”

“Adam’s heartbeat is irregular, and his heart sounds heavy and sluggish. The heart is a pump, and in this case, that pump isn’t effectively moving blood. That means it’s not sending oxygen out to his body, and the sustained effort of trying so hard to accomplish so little, is evidenced by his swollen appearance. Even his fingers and face are puffy. These manifestations are what I witness in older patients with heart failure … shortly before they die.”

“How can that be? He’s healthy and active. Dr. Martin checked him out when he twisted an ankle last month, and found nothing amiss.”

“I wish Paul was here to verify what I’m hearing and seeing. Especially since we just talked about an article from three prestigious medical institutions back East, describing an illness going around where most people got sniffles and maybe a cough lasting a week or two. But others, with initially mild symptoms, died within a week or two from heart failure.”

“Is it two different illnesses that hit together?”

“They suspect what causes this ‘cold’ makes some folk’s bodies overreact to destroy the kind of muscle found in the heart. Where was Adam when he was exposed to that illness?”

“The ranch was in Stockton, but the men had been in New Mexico where a crew had delivered stock from further east. But Adam never caught it.”

“The article said those experiencing this worst outcome often notice only a sneeze or mild headache they put off as normal. Adam may have done just that, and assumed he’d avoided the illness completely. Outwardly, they’re fine. The damage is happening inside. I’ll send news of this to Mass General at Harvard Medical School. Do I remember correctly that Adam attended college there?”

“He did. Did those articles say how to treat this?”

“Sadly, there are no medicines to reverse what’s happening. Autopsies reveal severe scarring, but they can’t show why it happens. As I said; the next several hours will show whether this is just an odd pneumonia or this more serious outcome. All you can do is keep him company and pray.”

Fair Skies

Adam had dropped into a deep sleep despite hearing that conversation within his dream, and “awoke” on the deck, still leaning against the crate: apparently still embroiled in the dream. The dark storm had been replaced by a golden halo of sun above the ship’s rail. The wind no longer chilled his heated skin, and his clothes were clean and dry. Taking in a deep breath of air, he looked around, amazed to see the masts and sails repaired and the deck orderly again. The crew was still absent, but then he recalled the captain saying there was none. He put that worry aside to take an inventory of his other problems. Even with what must have been hours of sleep, he still ached, and most concerning, his chest continued to feel heavy, making it hard to breath from the internal weight.

“Time to take control of this, mister,” he told himself while pushing through the pain of crawling up the side of the cargo box like an aging spider until he could stand. During his unsightly maneuver, he noticed the captain at the helm and shuffled over to him. “Looks like the storm is over,” he said as cheerily as possible.

“For now,” the captain replied, pointing towards the horizon as he had the last time Adam made a similar weather comment. “Clouds are building again. We’ll be in fair weather for a few hours, so it’s best you take care of things before the final storm hits.”

“What kind of ‘things’ do you mean?” Adam asked as his cheek rose, followed by a shaky chuckle. “This situation is unlike any I’ve experienced before. And this is unlike any ship I’ve been on. Then again,” the chuckle returned, “I’ve only sailed twice and I think I’m dreaming.”

The brief conversation left Adam winded, requiring him to bend over, drawing a deeper breath to stop the darkness that was closing in at the sides of his vision.

“Have I been ill? He asked when he could step a little closer to the wheel. “Or is feeling like I’m breathing through a water-logged sponge normal after spending the night on deck in a storm?” He breathed a raspy breath to demonstrate. “Each breath I take makes my heart pound harder too. I don’t understand what’s happening.”

“I think you do, Adam. You heard the truth during the night. Your heart is failing. However, your devotion to your family has been recognized with a special grace, and it’s time to receive that.”

He was about to ask if his family was aboard the ship, when he suddenly awoke in his own bed in his room on the Ponderosa. As his eyes adjusted from the blurriness of overly sound sleep and crazy dreams, he saw his father sitting next to him; chin on his chest, breathing shallowly in a dozing sleep. Pa’s presence confirmed that he was seriously ill. As he adjusted his head more comfortably on the pillow, the tired-looking man looked up, smiled, and assured him everything was going to be fine now.

Focusing better, he saw his father holding the Bible that had been Elizabeth Stoddard’s, and entrusted to him so many years ago.

“Was it a long night, Pa?” he asked with as much volume as he could muster.

“Not too long, son. I had company.”

Adam watched as his father placed the Bible next to the music box that had also belonged to Elizabeth, and passed on to him as a memory of the woman he’d never met. He noticed the picture of his mother on the table as well, and sighed, “Memories?” suspecting it was thoughts of this beautiful woman that had kept his father company. “I had memories too that were all kind of mixed up. I was on a clipper ship in a dark and black sea. All of a sudden, the sun came out. Guess it was from all the stories you told me as a boy.”

“Memories and dreams are precious things, Adam. They’re always there when you need them most.”

The bedroom door opened before Adam could respond, with his brothers entering quietly and moving to the foot of the bed when they saw he was awake.

“How is he, Pa?” Joe asked

“He’s going to be all right.”

Too weak to carry on a further conversation, Adam gave Hoss and Joe a feeble wave.

Hoss took a step closer to the bed. “I’m proud of you, Adam. Welcome home.”

     The Tear In Time (Please note that this section will have a different ending than the original that may be hard to read. But again, it is not meant to change canon permanently, or remove a character before their actual departure from the show. It is simply  what began the “what If” story  premise…)

Adam slipped back to sleep after the sweet reunion. Thinking all was well, Ben allowed his son to rest while he went to clean up and have a bite to eat.

Dr. Smith returned as promised while the family was finishing breakfast and accompanied them to Adam’s room while listening to the astounding news of his awakening and recovery. But as the group entered, Hop Sing looked over at them, his face pulled into a tight grimace as he said quietly, “I come up, check if hungry, and find him like this. Fever back and breathing worse.”

The concerned caregiver’s diagnosis was easily seen and heard. Sweat soaked Adam’s forehead and hair, and the loud rasp of his breathing was audible all the way to the door. Even more worrisome was that his head and upper chest were arched back, with large, ropey blood vessels visible along his neck.

Dr. Smith hurried to the bedside, stethoscope in hand and applied it to several areas of Adam’s chest before turning to Ben and shaking his head.

“What’s going on?” Ben asked as he, Hoss, and Little Joe looked on from the foot of the bed.

“Adam may have experienced a moment of consciousness, but it was a false reprieve. The rhythm I hear from his heart indicates permanent and fatal damage! It is so irregular that there is little blood being pumped now. That causes blood to pool in his lungs, making it feel like he’s drowning. Even if he would live through this, he would be an invalid, confined to bed or a chair for the remainder of his life.”

“So … how long ….” Ben asked in a soft rasp.

“How long will he remain alive?” Smith clarified, receiving a nod. “His fever is climbing, making his heart try to pump harder, and it has no capacity to do so.”

A quick look at Adam’s hands and legs, brought further bad news. “The overall swelling and the mottling of his legs is pronounced. This points to Adam’s other organs shutting down from lack of oxygenated blood.”

Ben dropped onto the chair where he’d spent the night praying his son would find fair seas and return safely to his family. It seemed impossible that something causing little harm to those who had transmitted it to his son, would kill him. In Adam’s life he had been wounded by arrows and bullets that had left him fighting to heal. He’d survived deadly infections and miserable effects from tick bites, venom, and allergies. But those things were visible. They knew what he’d been fighting.

This … had entered his body silently, left its wound invisibly, and  would soon silence its host forever. A secret assassin: like being shot with a poison-tipped dart you never felt pierce your skin, but leaving it’s deadly load to slowly kill.

“There’s nothing more to do?” Ben asked with the last bit of hope he could raise. One look at the doctor’s tortured expression made the answer clear.

The Shipwreck

The storm had returned with a vengeance. Blue skies had turned dark and high winds shrieked like the souls trapped in hell, while waves tall as trees battered the ship. Adam had made his way into his cabin somehow, and with the brief respite was able to do a drunken sailor walk back outside hunching over to catch enough air in his lungs. He looked up from the doorway to witness the main mast crack at the base and topple over. The weight of that along with sails becoming sea anchors as they filled with water, pulled the ship decidedly portside. The drag increased when the entire upper workings of the ship began falling like a house of cards as masts and riggings gave way.

The ship was foundering, leaving Adam to scuttle to the starboard rail. The tilt was becoming too dramatic to keep from sliding towards the water with the rest of the ship’s equipment, and whatever was affecting his heart and lungs left him with the strength of an infant. The slide into the sea was so smooth, he didn’t realize it until he was underwater, unable to breathe. He broke the surface, arching his back and neck to gulp air.

In his mind, a spark of understanding flickered into a bright light. He was dying. This “dream” was his way of easing through what was happening back in his own bedroom. It made sense. As sailing men, his father and grandfather had told stories of friends and ship lost at sea when a rogue wave or storm hit with enough force to capsize a vessel in the blink of an eye.

Still feeling submerged, he clawed his way to fuller consciousness, where he heard familiar voices amid the waves and darkness.

It was another conversation between his father and the doctor who was explaining that his earlier wakeful period had not come from a recovery but rather a short time of grace.

His chest clenched in a painful spasm, confirming the assumption that his death was imminent.

Trying to speak proved fruitless. There was not enough breath in his lungs to make a sound. Above the conversation, he heard the heavy thud of his heart slowing until there were several seconds where it ceased between each contraction. He heard the agony in his father’s voice, Hoss’ growl of pain, and Joe’s quiet sniffles over what was occurring, but he was helpless to tell them he was fine about this, other than hating that his leaving would cause their grief.

He’d always expected his death would come from some physical assault: a bullet to his gut or an accident where his body was damaged beyond repair. He’d come so close to death a few times, but he’d recovered and had been restored in miraculous fashion. To die from a silent illness made him shake his head: figuratively if not literally. Rather than experiencing panic, he was being bathed in an overpowering sensation of peace. He could “feel” a transformation beginning in his heart to a completely different method of nourishing his changing body. There was a glow emanating from him as he changed from flesh and bone to a nearly translucent shell where emotions like absolute joy and unending love overrode fear and concern. He felt welcomed and safe as he ceased struggling against his earthly body.”

He’d long ago secured his salvation in faith, and had lived his life accordingly. But one thing not contained in scriptures was knowing what happens at this moment.  He was torn in only one way: leaving his beloved family behind. But then a voice whispered, assuring him this was a passing to a new  beginning, not an ending, and he would be gathered to his family again one day.

He longed to tell his father and brothers all of this, but the whisper assured him that they would be comforted until they could one day think of him with only joyful memories. He was also assured that he should feel no anxiety or regret over things unfinished. Each slowed heartbeat brought more peace; more welcoming; more excitement.

Darkness began to close around him and he was no longer aware of any earthly ties. The voices of those in his room were replaced by voices he’d known in the past. His Grandma Cartwright was saying she loved him. Inger and Marie’s sweet voices were saying he’d be with him soon and they couldn’t wait. Suddenly, the darkness broke and he was blinded by light so bright, he assumed it had to be an opening to eternity. He’d shut his eyes against the stabbing brilliance and was startled when he felt a hand on his cheek, with a woman’s voice telling him he could look now without pain.

The light around the person touching him was softer … inviting … and when she spoke again, he realized he knew this voice too, but in a different way. He remembered this woman talking and singing to him before he was ever born. Then he was looking up from a cradle where the same voice belonged to a beautiful woman who was proclaiming him the most wonderful baby ever. She’d touched his fuzzy cheek in the same way she was doing now, and finally said his name. He took in the woman’s soft, comforting eyes: the same brown with green flecks as his. He saw dimples as she smiled in the same spots as his, and her dark hair held the same wave and color as his. Accompanying the peace, joy, goodness, gentleness, and love he was being bathed in, was his added thankfulness for finally meeting the woman he’d held in his heart and dreams his entire life.

***

Hoss, Joe, and Pa kept vigil following Dr. Smith’s condolences and departure.

Adam’s breathing settled into short gasps, until the arduous tightness in his facial features gave way to a look of serenity, giving Ben peace amid his gathering grief.

He knelt on one knee at the head of the bed, leaning over to speak his last words of love, pride, and joy that had come from being his father, while Hoss and Joe sat on either side of the bed holding Adam’s hands … watching … holding their breath along with their older brother’s lapses in breathing.

Following a final deep, easy breath, Adam smiled, and said most clearly, “Mother.”

The three Cartwrights waited, and when Adam’s chest remained unmoving, Ben recited several passages of hope, ending with Psalm 23 to mark his son’s passing.

Little Joe slipped to the floor as his spine turned to jelly, too stunned to speak, while Hoss still held his brother’s cooling hand, weeping silently.

When Ben placed Elizabeth’s Bible on the bedside table, he retrieved the frame with his first wife’s picture, and took in every feature that he’d loved: the same ones he’d seen each day in their son’s face. “Thank you for the amazing child we created,” he whispered. “Sounds like you came to meet him. He waited so long to call you by that name.^.5 I thank God I was privileged to hear him have the chance.” Removing his handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped away the tears wetting his face, and added, “Take care of him, Elizabeth. Elizabeth, my love.”

The End.

(I now return you to the actual Bonanza Canon. Thank you for the chance to reimagine.)

¹ From my prequel Sacred Promises/Malicious Games,

² Margie Owens was a character played by Kathy Browne in an early episode called, The Tall Stranger. I’m making Laura and Margie cousins, to account for their resemblance.

3 Personal injury lawsuits gained popularity around 1850: from A History of Personal Law.   By the 1860s, Americans began pursuing financial court claims for personal injury. For example, successful claims from the 1860s involved: A man who sued after swallowing a fish bone and a man who was blown over by a gust of wind.

 ⁴ The thoughts I give to Hoss as he thinks about Adam, come from a song called Scars in Heaven, by Casting Crowns. If you are experiencing grief following a loss, you might want to look for it on YouTube.

⁵ In my stories I always had Adam refuse to call Inger and Marie, “Mother.” Not because he didn’t love and respect them, but because he held this name sacred to Elizabeth. Since he’d never been able to speak that name to her, he wouldn’t use it for anyone else. Both women understood and allowed him to use words of respect: Mimi (a Scandinavian nickname for mother) for Inger, and Marie by her actual name after they worked out what would be best. Although seeming casual for the times, Marie knew the respect it carried in this young man, and he never doubted her role in their family.