Summary:  A trip down memory lane as Adam writes his memoirs.
Rating:  T  (1,265 words)

The Brandsters acknowledge that the authors are the owners of their stories.  Should an author included in this project reach out to us and indicate they do not wish their work to be archived in the Bonanza Brand Fanfiction Library, we will remove their stories.  We would also be happy to change the contact information for any authors who wish to continue to have their stories archived in the Library.

Revenge Leaves its Scars

Adam sat alone in his room, deep in thought as to what he would write about in his memoirs. He leaned over his desk and started to write, but then stopped. What was he doing? He didn’t have a thing to write about. He sat back in his chair and started fidgeting with his lips. Then, his fingers came to the scar that was on his upper lip and face. He winced at the memory and the pain from the whole ordeal. He leaned over his desk in the lamplight and started to write…

*****

As to how I got my scar, you might as well know. It happened many years ago, when I was only thirty. That was when my father, Ben Cartwright owned the Ponderosa. He has turned it to my brothers and I now, for his long years have caught up to him, so he thought it was time we ran our heritage.

Now, I got the scar in our own town, Virginia City. It couldn’t have been avoided. What that man did to my brothers…I just had to make him pay. It all started after a cattle drive, and we were weary men who just wanted a beer and to go home…

“Did you boys sell the cattle all right?” Sam, the bartender had asked us that night. The gleaming of success tore into Hoss and Joe, so they told him all about it.

“The best dagblasted drive we’ve been on, Sam,” My brother Hoss explained, “We made four times as much money on this herd than any other that we’ve ever sold from the Ponderosa…$50 a head!”

A cheer had gone up in the saloon for our success. We had sold 6,000 head of cattle, the money adding up to $300,000. The biggest drive we had ever done in our history. But we were bone tired. So were the men that had helped us. So, The Bucket of Blood was packed full of dusty hands and wranglers. My brothers and I walked over to a quiet little table in the back, and enjoyed our beers. But we couldn’t help but notice a man watching our every move. We invited him to our table, so he nodded politely and stood to come over. We instantly saw that he had a two gun holster on each side of his hips. He wore a black hat and a dark suit with a long over coat. He was obviously a gunman. He sat down at the table with us, and I remember the conversation word for word. He introduced himself as Peter Minger after I introduced my brothers and myself.

“What’s your line of work, Mr. Minger,” Joe had said, possibly to start conversation. Peter just looked at him and turned to me.

“I understand you made a lot of money on the drive.” He said. I’ll never forget the glare Hoss gave him for hurting Joe’s feelings and pride. But they kept silent.

“That’s right.” I replied, also feeling anger at the treatment this stranger was giving Joe.

The man reached inside a pocket and pulled out a small card and handed it to me. It read it out loud to my brothers.

“Peter L. Minger, armed guard, fast with a gun, rude to people…” I said, not exactly quoting the card. Joe snickered and Hoss smiled, while Peter snatched it from my fingers.

“The reason I have come to talk to you is because I wish to offer you a job as my partner.” He said, putting the card back in his pocket. I couldn’t say I wasn’t flattered.

“Partner doing what?” I asked. I wasn’t planning on taking the job, but I was curious.

“Bounty Hunter.” At his words, I knew there was no question.

“Absolutely not, Mr. Minger. I have a ranch to run with my father and brothers!” That seemed to have angered him. He stood and waved his finger at me as he talked.

“Now look here, Mr. Cartwright, I have been watching you handle that gun of yours for the past two years, and I can safely say that you are almost as good as me!”

He reasoned. By then, the people in the saloon were seeing what was going on. I also stood, as did Hoss and Joe.

“No you look! Like I said, I work on a ranch! So you find someone else and stop watching me!” I yelled. Peter tried to say more, but Joe grabbed him by the collar and spun him from me to him.

“He made up his mind and…” But at that moment, Peter pushed him to the other side of the saloon and drew his gun. I watched in horror as it sprit fire and lead, then my brother fell. I couldn’t stop Hoss when he went after Peter, and he was shot as well. I didn’t draw my gun and I couldn’t go to the aid of my brothers. But they were being carried out of the saloon to the doctor’s house, so I knew they would be taken care of. I also knew that they were alive and not too badly hit, but I could feel anger rising to my face, making it red. I couldn’t go anywhere, the evil man had me in place with both of his guns.

“I want to see you out in the street.” I challenged him. He had the look of surprise on his face, but he wasn’t going to argue. He gestured with one of his guns to the door, so I backed out into the empty street. He holstered his guns and we stood out there in the night, two dark figures silhouetted in the moonlight. I saw his hand twitch as it went for his gun, so I drew mine the second he drew his, and we both went down from the results. But the anger had not gone down, so I pulled out my knife and he pulled out his, and we crawled towards each other. We must have looked strange, two dark clothed men dragging our bloody selves to one another with a knife in our hand. He thrust his knife at me and grazed my left arm. I stabbed his shoulder and he stabbed at my face. I pulled away but felt a deep, burning pain on my upper left lip. He stopped, looked at me, then laid down to die. I rolled over on my back and closed my eyes, tasting the blood that ran into my mouth. The last thing I remember from that night was that I was being carried away to the doc’s to join my brothers.

We were all all right. Joe had been shot in the side, and Hoss had been shot in the leg, and there wasn’t even a bullet in me. Peter’s bullet had hit my belt buckle, but I can safely say it hurt just the same. I had a mighty bruise and I could not wear my belt for a while. The bullet I had shot at my opponent hit him in the gut. To this day, I can’t figure out how he survived long enough to let us us slash at each other.

So, that was how I got this scar.

And pa wasn’t too happy about that night.

***

Adam smiled and put the paper aside. He walked over to his mirror and looked at his scar. He saw the result of revenge.

“Mighty battle scar,” He chuckled quietly. He blew out the lamp and went to bed.

The End