Summary:  The Cartwright family is forever changed when Adam encounters a wandering stranger in Virginia City.
Rating:  T  (12,420 words)

---

Bonanza – A Lost Episode

 

I, Black Bear, had decided to take a necessary trip up into the Nevada Territory. It was necessary because someone was looking for me and I did not want to be found. I’d heard snippets of information that Nevada was a booming territory and had considered it a good place to disappear in. So, I’d hopped on my all-black mare and headed out. I’d taken every side trail I could and didn’t stop in any towns or villages that I could avoid going through. It was easier to disappear in the middle of a country than the outside edge.

But soon enough, I made it to a good-sized town by the name of Virginia City. Well, it was a good-sized town to the people, I’m sure. But to me it was a small city compared to St. Louis or Nashville where I’d been before in years past. It seemed like it was a decent city since it had a sheriff, hotel, general store, and a couple of saloons. One of those drinking establishments was called the Silver Dollar Saloon, and it looked reputable enough to get a good drink at. So, I dismounted at the railing, looped my reins around the familiar rounded wood of a hitching post, and went into the saloon. The beloved smell of whiskey and cigar smoke wafted at me as I pushed the swinging doors inwards, and I felt right at home as I waltzed up to the bar. There I was addressed by the barman as he was turning around.

“Howdy, Adam,” he said, and then stopped as I looked up at him in surprise.

“Adam?” I asked perplexed. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. At first glance you looked like a feller I know, and I didn’t see your face before. Terribly sorry. What’ll you have?” he asked politely. I had a fleeting thought of ordering some Redeye, but it was quickly squashed by the memories of what I’d used that liquor for before………drowning memories. Since then, I’d spent time with an Indian tribe that had nearly been destroyed by Firewater. After that, I’d given up the bottle and stuck with just beer. But don’t think that the temptation wasn’t always there. 

“Cold beer for now,” I said slowly “How do I look like this other person?”

“Well, he pretty much wears the same outfit as you, and when you’re not paying attention, it could be an easy mistake.”

“I see. Perfectly understandable,” I said accepting the beer he offered me and looked around, taking a sip of the malty flavored liquid. There were a couple of tables filled with cowhands drinking whiskey or beer or playing small stake poker games.

“You gonna be here long?” the bartender asked behind me as he used his towel to clean up the bartop. I turned my attention back to him and coolly replied, “Depends.”

“On what?”

“Just depends,” I replied with a sigh and settled my elbows on the bartop to finish my beer. Then the barman started talking again, but to someone else that had just walked in through the swinging doors.

“Adam! How nice of you to drop in. What can I get you?” he said, and that caught my attention. I turned my head slightly to see if this Adam was the same one that was supposed to look like me on first glance. I kept my outward demeanor cool as I turned my head further towards him, but inwardly I didn’t blame the bartender for mixing us up. This Adam fellow sure enough wore as much black as me except for a band of silver around his hat. I took notice that he also toted one gun at his right side that looked to be a very decent weapon. He, in turn, glanced at me while he was talking to the bartender but stopped halfway through his sentence. He quickly glanced away when he saw that I was watching him and finished what he was saying.

“Sorry, Sam. I’ll have a beer,” Adam said trying to act as if nothing had happened.

“Don’t worry, Adam. I called her by your name when she walked in,” Sam the bartender said filling a mug for Adam. I rolled my eyes and turned my attention back to my beer. He said it so loud it was as if everything here was public information. 

“Her?” Adam questioned as he stole another glance in my direction. I shook my head ever so slightly, but the truth was that it wasn’t uncommon for someone to mistake me for a man upon first glance. Upon closer inspection though, they finally realized that all of my hair was pinned up underneath my special black Stetson with a round crown and pointed brim front. Other than that, I dressed in men’s clothes cause it was a lot more comfortable than women’s riding wear. Then as I glanced up, I noticed two other fellers with a nasty look about them walk into the saloon looking for trouble. I watched carefully from under my hat brim as they stopped behind Adam and tapped him on the shoulder. Sam, the bartender, looked frightened and backed away. Adam, on the other hand, slowly turned around and calmly looked at the two men. It was intriguing to watch the coolness just mask his face.

“Cartwright, we’re gonna get what’s coming to us right now,” one of the men said in a threatening voice.

“I’ve no doubt of that,” Adam answered wryly. “But look, both of you lost fair and square in that game and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“We would have won had you not backed Harrow’s note,” said the other, his voice darkening, and I knew trouble was coming. Straightening up, I placed my right hand on the butt of my revolver and removed the hammer thong. My eyes searched the silent faces of the other people in the saloon, assessing if anyone was on the side of the two aggrieved fellows. They all seemed to be content to watch the drama play out.

“Yeah! So, if you don’t give us what we lost in full, we’re gonna plug you right here and now,” said the first man, and his partner drew out his gun and pointed it at Adam Cartwright, who sighed a split second before he punched the unarmed man in the jaw. Both of them went tumbling around the room trying to get the advantage over the other while leaving the second man standing with his gun drawn but not knowing when to shoot. I kept my eye on him, watching his own eyes and waited. Then his pupils dilated, and I knew that he had a clear shot at Adam. As he got ready, I stepped away from the bar, somewhat into his view, and whipped out my revolver, leveling it at him.

“Hold it, you. That ain’t fair play,” I said, and he immediately froze in place when he looked straight down the barrel of my gun and dropped his own weapon. The fighting then ceased a second or two later and Adam Cartwright, the victor, hauled the other man off the floor.

“Now, I believe I heard this man tell you that you lost fair and square,” I said with a cold edge to my voice. “So, why don’t you git before you do something you’ll regret,” and I waved my gun at the entrance in a menacing way. The two men backed away, taking their guns, and fled out the swinging doors while I turned back to finishing my beer. Adam Cartwright dusted the sawdust off his hat and stood beside me.

“Thanks. You intervened just in time. I didn’t think that he had the nerve to shoot or else I would have taken care of him first,” Adam said mulling over his own unfinished beer.

“Don’t mention it. I always have hated to see such an advantage taken in a fight like that one,” I said swallowing the last bit of my beer and tossed over what I owed for it on the counter. While the bartender got my change, Adam Cartwright insisted on continuing the conversation. I know he was just trying to be friendly, but making friends wasn’t one of my favorite things to do.

“So, what are you doing in Virginia City?” he asked.

“Waiting.”

“For what?”

“Depends. There are certain times that I just like waiting until something interesting happens.”

“You looking for a job, maybe?”

“I just might be. You got one?”

“Yeah. You know cattle?”

“Like the back of my hand,” I said suddenly remembering all of the times my stepfather had taken me with the gang to “retrieve” a herd or two from wealthy ranchers.

“Well, there’s a round up coming up, and we’ll be needing extra hands to get some of the early work done like gathering and branding.”

“Sounds good to me, but there’s a condition that I usually make with everybody.”

“Oh, what’s that?”

“I don’t stay in the bunkhouse.”

“Naturally, I’d assumed that.”

“But not in the main house, neither. I stay with the herd.”

“Why?”

“Let’s just say I like the open sky.”

“Suit yourself. Are you ready to go now?”

“Whereabouts do you live?”

“On the Ponderosa, a good ride from here,” Adam said tossing back his drink and leading the way out.

The Ponderosa. I’d heard of it before and how big and rich it was. My stepfather once had ideas about it, but they were turned away when other rumors came in about how tough the family was that owned it. Now, I was gonna get to see what he had always wanted to see.

*****

It definitely took a long time to reach the main house of the Ponderosa, but it was a beautiful ride with plenty to look at. My stepfather would have definitely been jealous of this opportunity, and long ago I would have taken advantage of his jealousy. The house itself was a huge rambling ranch style home made out of Ponderosa pinewood. Off to one side of the house, there were two men working on a wagon wheel and greasing the axle. One of the men was a big tall fellow and the other was shorter and younger with dark curly hair. They both looked up at us as we came down the path beside the barn. Adam Cartwright and I stopped at a hitching post near the two working men, and they came over to us.

“You know for a minute there, older brother, I thought I was seeing double,” the big man said.

“Yea, me too. I wouldn’t have known the difference except for the horses,” the dark one said.

“Hoss, Little Joe, this is our new hand. I just found her in town,” Adam said. I nodded my head at each of them as he introduced us and was slightly surprised when he also added that they were his younger brothers.

“She?” stuttered Little Joe, the dark haired one. Again, my tanned and weathered skin and pinned up hair concealed my identity. My stepfather would have been pleased as it was his idea in the first place all those years ago.

“Well, she does come with a name doesn’t she, Adam?” Hoss asked trying to cover for his younger brother. Adam slapped his forehead and turned to me.

“I’m sorry; I didn’t get your name,” he said somewhat embarrassed that he’d just hired someone without asking their name.

“That’s because I never gave it, but you can call me Black Bear or just Black,” I said hitching up my gun belt into a more comfortable position.

“Hey, is that your real name?” Little Joe asked with a slight laugh.

“Perhaps and perhaps not, but you can call me that. It was a name given to me by some Sioux friends of mine, but, of course, that’s the best literal translation that I came up with,” I said suddenly remembering the kind face of Chief Wind-In-His-Hair when he saved me from a near death experience. I was leaving Minnesota territory at the time and caught a “stray” bullet. The old chief had thought me as brave and strong as a black bear from the northern mountains.

“Well, a name is a name I suppose,” Hoss conceded to end the conversation just as an older man rode into the yard on a golden buckskin stallion. The three brothers walked over to him and greeted him as “Pa”.

“No wonder this place was reputed as tough. With four related men to guard the land, it would be extremely difficult to get away with anything,” I thought thinking back to the rumors I’d heard. Adam was now talking to his father and pointing at me. I suddenly had a sinking feeling in my stomach but shrugged it off, squared my shoulders, and walked over to them. The older man looked at me strangely, a look I was well used to and which I didn’t blame him for.

“Black Bear, this is our father Ben Cartwright,” Adam said by way of introduction. I removed my hat to reveal my raven black hair, twisted and braided on top of my head, and shook his hand.

“So, I hear you’re good with cattle,” Mr. Cartwright said.

“Among other things,” I confirmed knowing that a full-on lie wasn’t going to go very far with this man.

“Oh, what else do you do?”

“I’m pretty good at whatever I turn my hand to,” I replied remembering how my stepfather taught me to be as versatile as possible.

“Well, we’re glad to have you. Although Adam mentioned to me that you want to bed down with the herd?”

“Yes, I’ve found that most men aren’t comfortable sleeping in the same bunkhouse as a woman. And I, on the other hand, wouldn’t feel right sleeping the main house more comfortable than everyone else in the bunkhouse. So, to compromise, I sleep outside or in the barn if it’s raining. Besides I really do like sleeping out under the stars.”

“Alright suit yourself.”

“If you’ll just tell me the whereabouts of the herd should be I’ll be on my way.”

“Well, the main body is currently scattered, so why don’t you just sleep in the house tonight, and then tomorrow the boys and I will show you where we plan on gathering up the cattle,” Mr. Cartwright said. It seemed like he wasn’t going to budge on the subject, and any argument was going to seem silly or suspicious. So, I agreed to stay the night and put my horse in the corral after removing the tack and giving her a good brushing. I then traipsed into the main house carrying my saddlebags over my shoulder and was amazed at how big it was on the inside. Among other things, one thing that caught my eye was the many books sitting underneath the cases of rifles. I reverently touched their perfectly bound spines as I clutched my bedroll in my other hand. Adam came up behind me and inquired, “Do you enjoy reading?”

“Never had much time for it, but I do know things,” I replied and allowed him to show me where I was going to stay for the night. It was a good size room, too, with a bed, closet, washbasin, and a window, and it was a lot more luxurious than what I’d been used to in the past. Even my childhood home didn’t seem to have as much space as this room afforded. From what I remember, it was just a small two room house, and I shared a bed with my parents. But that was before my stepfather.

*****

Dinner was good. It was made by their personal China-man cook, Hop Sing from San Francisco. There was laughter and talk as they told me about some of their adventures as a family. I shared as little about myself as possible just in case they’d already heard about my stepfather.

After dinner, I went into the front yard to get some air and gazed at the starry sky. Soon after Adam followed suit and stood next to me.

“You know we’ve been talking about ourselves all evening, and you’ve barely said two words about yourself,” he observed.

“Not much to be said. Besides you have much better stories than me,” I replied. Adam Cartwright, I could sense, was a very smart man with logical thinking. It wouldn’t take him long to figure me out if I gave him enough clues. Hoss Cartwright was the strongest and yet the most soft-hearted of the family. Joseph Cartwright was the comedic, hot tempered, lady’s man if ever I saw one. His temper could match my own any day, but I’d learned to control it far better than he had. Benjamin Cartwright was like a combination of the three. He could be smart, loving, hot tempered, and funny whenever the situation arose. I admired him and how he had built up the Ponderosa.

“Black?” Adam asked breaking into my thoughts.

“Sorry, Adam, I was thinking. I do that a lot, and it takes up all of my thinking capacity sometimes,” I apologized.

“That’s alright. I was just asking about your mare there,” Adam replied pointing to my horse.

“What about her?”

“Where did you get her? She’s a fine-looking animal.”

“She was a gift from someone. I raised and trained her from a young colt when I was young.”

“What do you call her?”

“Koko.”

“Does it have a meaning?”

“It means Night in Blackfoot.”

“You must have spent a lot of time with Indians.”

“Yes, many different tribes across the land, and I’ve learned a lot of their languages,” I said and whistled for Koko. She trotted over from the other side of the corral and nuzzled my hand. She also sniffed Adam’s face, and he petted her nose in return. Koko whinnied and trotted away.

“You’re lucky. She doesn’t like too many new people on the first go around,” I said with a small laugh. Adam laughed too.

“Well, that’s good. It’s rare a horse doesn’t like me.”

“Oh, so modest. Well, I think I will turn in now. I’ve had a long day,” I said and walked back to the house. Little Joe and Hoss were playing checkers and Mr. Cartwright was reading in his red chair. Hoss was losing to Little Joe, who was looking mighty pleased with himself. I stopped by the table and examined the board.

“Oh, Hoss,” I said sadly with a small shake of my head.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell him. He can’t win against me,” Little Joe seemed to agree, but he had misunderstood my meaning. Hoss looked irritated at his little brother.

“Oh, no, Little Joe. That’s not what I meant. Hoss, if I may,” I said putting my hand towards one of his pieces.

“Have at it,” Hoss said. So, I grabbed the piece and jumped Little Joe’s black ones five times, thereby nearly clearing him off the board and giving Hoss back the advantage. Joe and Hoss both looked shocked, but Mr. Cartwright just laughed as I went upstairs to my room.

********

That night I lay awake, for fear of going to sleep and greeting the frightful dreams therein. Usually, I would lay there until my mind got so tired that it wouldn’t have time to dream during the night, but now my mind was racing. I’m sure that the Cartwrights were a little leery of hiring a strange woman to do their cattle work, but they did it all the same. Why? Was there an underlying purpose? Or could they be just genuinely nice people? As I thought these and other thoughts, my sharp ears picked up the sound of voices from somewhere not too far away. Quietly I got up and creeped out of my room towards the staircase. The voices got louder as I peeked around the corner, even though they were whispering. I saw Adam talking to his father in the study area off of the living room. I pulled my head back as I saw that they would have been able to see me if they’d only looked in that direction. But from my hiding spot I could still hear most of their conversation.

“Pa, it seemed like a decent thing to do. After all, she did stop him from shooting me in the back,” Adam said as if he’d said it for the tenth time that evening.

“I’m not saying it wasn’t, and I don’t doubt your hiring abilities; but I watched her this evening, and she barely said a word about herself,” Mr. Cartwright replied.

“So, perhaps she just likes to keep her past to herself.”

“That wasn’t all I noticed. I also saw her eyes looking around, calculating everything except the food.”

“Maybe that’s the way she was raised.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, maybe she’s gone through some trauma that makes her second guess everything she comes into contact with.”

“It didn’t quite look like that to me. You, Adam, were taught to assess everything and weigh every possible outcome, but her………..her method was colder and more militant. Almost as if she were assessing some evil deed that she was planning.”

“Impossible. I saw her outside with her horse, and she was as gentle as could be with it. Her mind did wander a bit while I was speaking to her, but that only goes to reaffirm my thoughts that whatever is behind her, worries her.”

“But what if she is planning something? Like to rustle the herd?”

“And what if she’s not?”

“If she’s not, then, if necessary, we’ll help protect her, especially if it means the safety of the herd. But if she is……..”

“Then I’ll turn her in myself.”

“Sounds fair enough. And I hope your suspicions are correct, Adam, for our sake,” Mr. Cartwright said, and I quietly headed back to my room. I knew that he was partially right, but I wasn’t planning anything. My calculations were old habits hard to break of evaluating the worth of the silverware, the China, the lamps, the books, the paintings – anything that might be of value for resale. My stepfather, if he sent me ahead of him, would tell me to write down everything that was of value for him so that he could read it when he arrived. Now, wherever I went, all I could see was an account book filled with other people’s possessions. I was happy that Adam thought better of me than his father did, and I desperately hoped to prove him right. Yet, at the same time, I didn’t want the Cartwrights to have to defend their own against the likes of the people that were following me.

My brain was finally tired, and I slowly drifted off to sleep thinking about the day of work ahead of me tomorrow.

********

The next morning, as I thought about the conversation I’d overheard during the night, Hoss and Little Joe asked me how I knew about the checkers’ move. Yawning, I restated what I’d said before about being good at whatever I turned my hand to, and, therefore, that skill included checkers and chess. We ate breakfast and headed out to the roundup. There was a small fire burning with a pot of coffee on it in a clearing where we were apparently to gather the cattle. About twenty other men stood about the fire, drinking the coffee, and they looked up when they heard us coming. One of them grabbed some extra cups and poured us our own coffee as we dismounted. I drank mine as Mr. Cartwright explained what he wanted done and where to go. I and another man got assigned a portion of land where we were to look for stray cattle and herd them back to the clearing.

Before remounting, I opened a saddle bag and pulled out my weapon of choice which I sometimes use in this line of work: my black leather bullwhip. I tied it to my waist with a bit of leather that was attached to my gun belt. Some of the men stared at it, including Adam and Little Joe, but the rest either didn’t notice or noticed and didn’t care. Each to their own devices, I’m sure, is what they were thinking. Then we all mounted up and rode out to do our jobs.

*****

It was a long day, but me and my partner rounded up about ten head of cattle in our section before driving them back to the camp fire at the end of the day. Whenever a bull or heifer wouldn’t come out of a corner, I just cracked my whip at its head; and they left that place in a hurry. My buddy jumped the first couple of times, but eventually he got used to the sound echoing off the rocks. By the time everyone had regrouped, there was a good-sized herd gathered and grazing contentedly.

As I dismounted, Adam came up to me, and I could tell by the way he walked that there was something definitive on his mind.

“Jim tells me that you use a whip on the cattle,” he said.

“Well, for one thing, I never touch them. Secondly, it was used to scare them out of their hiding places,” I replied as I unsaddled my mare to let her roam.

“He also said that during your break you were practicing with uncanny perfect aim.”

“Pardon me for asking, but how else am I gonna make sure that I don’t hit the cattle?”

“I’m not sure, it’s just an unusual practice that’s all.”

“For a woman?”

“For anyone.”

“Well, I suppose so, but I found the skill useful for more things than one.”

“Like what?”

“Like it doubles pretty good as a weapon if you don’t have any others. Or if something has fallen out of reach, nine times out of ten, I can get it back.”

“Show me.”

“Show you?”

“Yeah. How far of a reach does it have? After all I didn’t get to see you practice,” Adam said with a smile that had the look of slyness about it. I smiled back and pointed to a white rock off to one side. And before Adam could fully nod, I unfurled my whip and, in the blink of an eye, cracked the whip and the rock flew pretty far away. Everyone at the fire jumped at the sound, since it sounds an awful lot like gunfire.

“Wow. Now can you grab something that far away?” Adam inquired.

“It has to be something that’s able to be grabbed, like a knife or a cup,” I said.

“I have a knife,” a man offered as he came up behind us.

“Stick it in the dirt then,” I replied to him, and he threw it into the ground right where the white rock had been. I didn’t even wait two seconds before I cracked the whip, and the knife was in my hand. Adam and a few of the others whistled in astonishment. I handed the man back his knife, and he looked at me as if he were trying to remember something. I recoiled my whip and put it in my saddle bag.

“That’s quite impressive,” Adam said as the crowd dissipated.

“I suppose so. Say, how many cattle did you and Little Joe round up today?” I asked trying to get the attention off myself.

“A fair amount.”

“Do we always keep the same partners every day?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Well, I’ve just never done that kind of team work before.”

“Oh. Well, it depends really.”

“Got it.”

“Do you not like working with Jim?”

“He’s alright. He knows where cattle would be in obvious places, but I know how to track down the tricky ones. Jim doesn’t think they’re worth his time.”

“Well, maybe I’ll switch with him so I can see you work.”

“It’s up to you. I have no objections one way or another,” I said and got down my bedroll for the night. A lot of the men stayed with the cattle for the night while the rest of them, including the Cartwrights, went back to the main ranch. I bedded down not too far away from the fire but not too close either. I wanted my space, but I also wanted the warmth of the fire before they banked it for the night. I talked to some of the others, and they all commended me on my fine work with the whip. They all said that they’d never seen anything like it. Except for the one with the knife. He still looked at me strangely, and I couldn’t help thinking that maybe he had heard of before this. And that might mean trouble’s coming.

*****

The next day Adam and I were paired up, and we headed out to the new area we were to cover. He joked as we worked and often quoted Shakespeare among other writers. I told him old Indian tales of love or war and quoted many of their sayings too.

“So, I assume from all of this, that you not only know the different Indian tribes but lived with them too?” Adam asked when we stopped to rest ourselves and our mounts.

“Yes, several times I stayed with different tribes, even those who were at war with each other. I guess they all admired my courage and cunning. Each tribe I lived with gave me a different name in their own tongue,” I replied as I dismounted Koko and let her roam.

“Why did you choose to stick with Black Bear?”

“Because I admired and respected the chief who gave it to me.”

“Do you have another name or did you choose an Indian name because you were raised by them?”

“Yes and no.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? That answer could go with either question.”

“I prefer to keep certain answers to myself.”

“Why? Are you in some kind of trouble? If so, I’d like to help.”

“Sometimes I wish there was help for me, but you can’t help me, Adam. I’m in too deep,” I said and turned away from him to hopefully end the conversation. I was letting my desperate emotions get the better of me and revealing too much. Then something caught my eye. Birds flying out of some bushes not too far off on a flat plain. It made me pause to think of what might be happening out there.

“What’s wrong?” Adam asked concerned as he dismounted to stand beside me.

“Is that area over there our section or someone else’s?”

“I suppose it’s part of ours. Why?”

“I don’t suppose a cow could have scared the birds.”

“Could be. Or some other animal.”

“Or someone.”

“Who? Someone you know?” Adam asked almost knowingly. I wasn’t sure if he was questioning whether someone was coming for me or wondering if I was setting him up as his father had suspected.

“Adam, if it’s who I think it is, then your life won’t be worth a plug nickel if I tell you anything.”

“And what about your own life? Doesn’t that have any value to you?”

“I don’t stand to lose anything I haven’t lost before. You have everything to lose.”

“Listen, my family has said it before to others, so, I’ll say it to you. Once you become part of the Ponderosa, your problems are our problems no matter what they may be. Besides we won’t stand for anything that’s not within the law on our ranch. If criminals are chasing you, then you should have the law to protect you.”

“Ha! The law doesn’t care a hoot about me. The only time they do is if I do them a good turn first.”

“Perhaps in other towns, but not in Virginia City. Sheriff Coffee is the best man I’ve ever known for upholding the law.”

“Sheriff Roy Coffee?”

“You know him?”

“In a way, but I’ve never met him personally,” I mused as I concentrated harder on the landscape before me. “Adam!! I saw something move between bushes down there! And it sure enough wasn’t a cow.”

“Come on. We’re going to have a look,” Adam said and hurried to saddle his horse. I whistled for Koko and leaped into the saddle. Adam followed suit, and together we rode down a path that led to the flat lands. After reaching the spot where I saw the figure, I dismounted and knelt down to examine the ground.

“Footprints,” I confirmed standing back up.

“Whose?” Adam asked getting down and standing beside me.

“A man’s for sure. About five feet and eleven inches tall by the look of the stride. And he wears square toed boots.”

“That’s not much to go on. A lot of people might fit that description.”

“Perhaps, but the question is where is he now?” I said and looked carefully at the land around us. There were plenty of bushes and rocks higher up for someone to hide behind, that’s for sure.

“I don’t like being down here. I feel like a sitting duck,” I said preparing to mount again.

“You know where he is?” Adam said also following suit.

“No, but I can feel his eyes watching us,” I confirmed as I mounted. Adam had barely put his boot in the stirrup when a shot rang out, and a bullet kicked up dust under his horse. The stallion reared into the air, throwing Adam to the ground. I whipped out my revolver and pointed it at the area from where the shot had come from. I couldn’t see a glint from a rifle or smoke from the powder. After holstering my revolver, I quickly dismounted and ran to Adam.

“Are you alright?” I asked helping him to sit up.

“Yeah, just a little dazed, I guess. But why did he shoot at me? I thought they were after you,” he replied getting to his feet and dusting himself off.

“Adam, if a bartender can mix us up at close range, what about a man who’s far away with a rifle and maybe a bit of sun in his eyes?”

“I guess that’s possible. Did you get a good look at him?”

“Naw, didn’t see anyone. He probably skedaddled right after making his shot. It probably looked like he hit you.”

“Perhaps, but let’s get out of here anyways. He may try again,” Adam said grabbing his horse, and we both mounted and rode back to the roundup. I kept my eyes on every possible hiding spot as we rode along just in case the mysterious hunter decided to try again.

*****

Back at the camp, Adam privately told his father what had happened while we were out. I stood a little ways away attending to Koko so I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I could guess how the conversation went. Soon Mr. Cartwright and Adam came over to me, and I took a deep breath to steady myself for whatever came next.

“Black, are you in some kind of trouble with the law or outlaws?” Ben Cartwright asked gently.

“Mr. Cartwright, I honestly wish I could tell you. But I can’t. As I told Adam, your lives wouldn’t be worth anything if I did tell you,” I replied with resolution.

“That might have been beforehand, but no one shoots at any of my sons and gets away with it.”

“It doesn’t matter what the circumstances are, the conditions are still the same,” I sighed heavily, knowing what I must do next. “Mr. Cartwright, I know round up isn’t over, and I haven’t worked for very long, but I’ll be collecting my wages in the morning and heading out. You can pay me whatever you think is fair.”

“You can’t keep running away.”

“It’s worked so far. And it’s the only way I can keep myself…and others alive.”

“That’s not going to work forever.”

“Maybe not, but I hope by then the problem will have disappeared.”

“I don’t think you really believe that. If you stay, we could help you. Tell us what’s going on.”

“Here?” I asked glancing around.

“No, come back to the house with us, and we can talk,” Ben Cartwright said, and I looked at him. The offer was very tempting, but I’d never told a white man my troubles before. It had always been an Indian chief or a medicine man before. But, Ben Cartwright was a father with sons so he might understand. At the same time, I might get them all killed for their troubles. 

This was turning out to be more complicated than expected. These Cartwrights were good people, no doubt of that, and I didn’t want to see them get hurt for my sake. But my enemies must already know where I am and running might not save the Cartwrights.

“Alright. I’ll ride back with you,” I said and turned away to saddle my mare once more. I rode back to the house in silence while Adam and Ben filled Hoss and Little Joe in on what had happened that afternoon. Most of dinner was silent as they waited for me to begin. But I was very reluctant to start telling my story. I didn’t even know where to begin, and I quietly said as much when we were all sitting in the living room.

“Well, why don’t you start from the beginning. It’s as good a place as any,” Adam said from his seat in the blue high-backed chair. I stood at the fire place looking into the flames.

“Alright,” I said.

*****

I was born in western North Carolina to a white woman named Matilda Olsen and a Cherokee brave named Charles Wolf. There was also another man in the same town named Peter Black, and he loved my mother. But she didn’t love him and chose the Cherokee instead. Peter Black was furious. Soon after I was born, my parents fled with me up north to Minnesota to escape Black’s obsessive harassment. When I was about five years old, my father was murdered, and my mother had to find work doing laundry and sewing. Peter Black just happened to show up in town around that time. He was very sympathetic and charming and managed to convince my mother that he had changed his ways. My mother was tempted by the prospect of a home and a comfortable life. Eventually, she accepted him, and he moved us all out to a small ranch, miles away from the nearest town.

A couple of years passed before my mother found out just what kind of a man my stepfather really was. He would disappear for weeks at a time and always come back with extra money in his pockets. But he would never tell us where he’d gone or what he’d done. Also, he would never let us go into town by ourselves, and, on the rare occasion that he would take us with him, he would keep us firmly by his side. But one day in town, I was carelessly swinging my new bonnet around when a gust of wind tore it from my hand, blowing it in the direction of the sheriff’s office. My mother, in all her goodness, ran with me to retrieve it. When I looked up, I saw a wanted poster with a drawing that looked a little bit like my stepfather with the name “Steven Blyth” underneath it. Just then my mother went pale and stumbled backwards into the path of an oncoming stagecoach. She died instantly. I didn’t realize it then, but the poster she had seen was indeed the face of my stepfather, and the name under it was one of his many aliases. 

My stepfather grabbed me off the boardwalk and rushed us back to the ranch. By the end of the day, we had packed up everything we could and left that part of the country forever, leaving my mother to be buried by strangers. I don’t even think they knew her name and probably left her grave unmarked. Perhaps one day I’ll find it and put a fitting headstone on it. 

When we finally settled somewhere, my stepfather began my education in earnest, teaching me things I probably wouldn’t have learned otherwise. How to shoot, use a whip, change a brand on cattle, steal, and eventually even murder, although Black labeled that “self-preservation.” By the time I was fifteen, I’d been accepted into my stepfather’s gang and was working closely with them. I was so good with the whip that it became my trademark.

Then one day a couple of years later, I overheard some of his men talking. They were laughing and joking about how my stepfather had killed a no-good Cherokee to get to his wife. I didn’t really think anything of it until they said the name Ol’ Charlie Wolf, and I realized it was my father they were talking about. Now, I knew that I’d done a lot of bad things for my stepfather, and I didn’t really care either until I found out that he had murdered my father whom I had loved dearly. He had also killed my mother, although maybe not directly; but I still held him responsible for her death. I knew I would never be able to work for my stepfather again. The thought of him murdering my parents would always be with me.

So, I decided to leave under the guise of branching out and starting my own gang. I hoped to figure out a way to stop him and his gang and maybe even undo some of the horrible things that I’d done along the way. I knew it was a dangerous game to play, especially if I got caught, but it would be worth it if I could avenge my parents’ death. For two years, I managed to foil many of their plans, and as a consequence, several of his men ended up in jail.

One day I got wind of my stepfather’s plan to rob a bank in a town on the edge of Sioux country. I hurried along to warn the people there, but I didn’t know that the real plan was a trap for me. His men had found out what I had been up to, and they ambushed me. I didn’t stand a chance. They would have killed me, but my horse somehow managed to escape with me barely hanging on. Eventually it wandered into open Indian country where I was picked up by a Sioux hunting party. They took me to their village where the medicine man, not caring that I was white, tended my wounds and brought me back from the brink of death. Because I wore black, the chief called me Strong-black-bear-from-the-mountains. I stayed with the tribe for a long time and learned their language. It was then that I decided to forsake my given name and become Black Bear.

Eventually, I left the tribe and attempted to start a new life in other towns. Some people thought I was a good person, but others suspected me of being an outlaw. I fell in with other gangs in order to betray them to the law, but my past kept catching up with me. My whip was a dead giveaway, and it wasn’t long before the law and my stepfather figured out that I was alive. After that, it was all I could do to stay one step ahead of him while continuing to betray other gangs as well.

I traveled further and further west and stayed with many Indian tribes. At one time I stayed with a Blackfoot tribe up in the northern area of the Montana Territory and was given the gift of a horse. I called her Koko because she was as black as the night sky.

Eventually, I began to hear rumors that my stepfather was going to kill me for betraying him. He began spreading lies and ruining my reputation wherever I went in an attempt to corner me into his path. Several people I’d become friends with in my travels were injured or even killed in the most heinous ways possible in an attempt to get information out of them. I ran away to the Nevada Territory and came at last to Virginia City. I guess the man with the knife figured out who I was and began talking. No doubt the talk reached my stepfather, and he sent a man ahead to try to kill me.

*****

The Cartwrights were silent as I finished telling them my story.

“And that’s why the law can do nothing for me, Adam. They’d just as soon put me in jail as they would protect me,” I said.

“But you’re not wanted here,” Ben Cartwright said.

“I wasn’t wanted in several different places, but as I said, my stepfather would soon establish my reputation as an outlaw in each city till I had to leave the territory just to stay out of jail.”

“Did you actually murder anyone?” Adam asked.

“No. Not in the sense of an assassin. But if someone shot at me, I shot back, and I usually hit my mark.”

“So, what’s the worst prison sentence you would face?” Little Joe inquired.

“Life maybe. Perhaps even death if a jury was convinced those killings were murders instead of self-defense.”

“Why didn’t you turn yourself in at the beginning?” Hoss asked.

“Because I felt like I owed a different kind of debt. I needed to help rid the world of people like me. And I had an advantage. Because I had been one of them, it was easy for me to track them down and temporarily join up with them,” I answered and another silence hung over us. Ben sighed as he got up and paced back and forth behind the divan.

“So, Mr. Cartwright, if you just want to give me my wages, I’ll be gone in the morning, and so will the trouble,” I said.

“Oh, I think it’s too late for that,” Adam said and Ben nodded.

“Besides, I saw a stranger hanging around the camp earlier. He might be looking for you,” Little Joe added. Hoss nodded when I looked at him. Despite the situation, I couldn’t help smiling a little. It felt good to have someone really care about whether you lived or died, especially after what I’d just told them about myself.

“I don’t really know what to do now,” I said.

“How about we tell Sheriff Coffee?” Hoss suggested.

“Well, I can’t go there,” I replied.

“Pa, why don’t you go? You would know how much to tell Roy about what’s going on without giving Black away,” Adam recommended. Ben nodded and replied, “I’ll go into town first thing in the morning.”

“Well, while you’re doing that, I’m going to go back to look for the trail of the shooter,” I added.

“I’ll go with you,” Adam said.

“You still want to?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“After what I’ve told you.”

“Well, perhaps you haven’t done a lot right in your life, but at least you’re trying to do something about it,” he said kindly.

“Thank you, Adam.”

“Little Joe, you and Hoss should continue working so that things appear normal,” Ben said, and the two boys agreed. So, it was all settled. I’d told a white man my troubles and actually found help instead of ridicule and prison. I went to bed shortly after that, and unfortunately fell asleep immediately. I had nightmares about my stepfather, his ramrod Mel Donovan, and terrible things happening to the Cartwrights. Ben woke me up, rescuing me from my dreams. I was sweaty and breathing hard.

“It’s alright,” he soothed.

“What was I doing?” I asked shaking.

“You were yelling things and screaming.”

“Did I wake anyone else up?”

“Not that I know of. Must have been pretty bad nightmares.”

“Mr. Cartwright, I shouldn’t have told you.”

“Why?”

“I’ve seen what my stepfather can do, and I don’t want to see him do those things to you.”

“Is that what you’ve been dreaming?”

“Yes.”

“You mustn’t worry about us. We’ll be alright. You want to go back to sleep now?”

“I think I’ll get up for a bit and calm myself down. The images are still too clear for me to sleep,” I said. Ben nodded and removed the lamp he’d brought in. He went back to bed while I went down stairs and sat on the hearth staring at the empty fire place in the dark. I heard a noise and looked up to see Adam coming down the stairs. He was wearing pants and a bathrobe and no shirt. He looked like he’d been awake for some time.

“Did I wake you?” I asked turning back to the hearth. Adam leaned on the back of the blue chair.

“I was awake already and thinking. But I did hear you,” he replied.

“I’m sorry.”

“Do you have those nightmares often?”

“Only if someone is in danger that shouldn’t have to be.”

“Like us?”

“Like the Cartwright family, yes.”

“My father told me what you said to him. You shouldn’t be worried. We’ve been in worse spots before.”

“Perhaps. But it doesn’t make the situation any better,” I said with my voice trembling. Adam sat down beside me and took one of my hands in both of his.

“It’s strange that a person brought up the way you were could still be so sensitive and caring about others,” he mused.

“I didn’t used to be, Adam. There was a point in my life where I was blind and deaf to everything around me, even to what I was doing. But when I found out that my stepfather had murdered my father, everything changed, and my eyes were opened. That was when I started wearing black.”

“Oh, why is that?”

“Because I’m mourning for my parents and for everyone else that was hurt because of me. Some things can never be fixed. But I desperately wanted to make things better.”

“Has it worked?”

“Not really. The more I tried to make things right, the more people got hurt because of me. Any time I tried to help someone, they ended up in a worse situation or even dead.”

“Don’t you think that maybe your stepfather is trying to get to you through those people?”

“I don’t know. I used to know every thought my stepfather had. And now I’m not so sure.”

“I think that you scare him as much as he scares you.”

“I doubt that.”

“Just think about it. Why would he be dogging your footsteps for so long?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, I don’t think it’s because he admires you. He’s afraid because you know too much about him. You can take him down.”

“Do you really think so?”

“I don’t think. I know,” he said looking at me intently.

“Okay, Adam. I’m trusting you on that.” But worries still seemed to echo in my words. Then Adam did something I never expected him to do, and I had not experienced it since my mother died. He gathered me into a protective embrace and stroked my hair.

“You know what, Adam?”

“What?”

“I may act as strong as a grizzly bear, but on the inside I’m as fragile as a new born colt. I just never have the chance to show it.”

“Most people are that way,” he murmured, “and there’s no shame in it.”

“Thank you, Adam. Thank you,” I said softly, as silent tears fell down my cheek.

*****

The next day threatened rain, but I was determined to go out all the same. Adam and I returned to the southwestern end of the Ponderosa and tracked the mysterious man’s footprints to the river near there. As we were trying to determine if he’d crossed the river or just walked along the edge, lightning flashed and it began to rain in heavy torrents.

“Well, whatever tracks there were, they aren’t there now,” I commented.

“Let’s just go along up a ways and maybe we’ll find a clue,” Adam said. So, we put on our ponchos and rode against the wind and rain up the side of the river. It was blinding and cold since it was still spring and the weather was cool to begin with. I was about to give up when I spotted something shiny on the ground. I pulled up and dismounted to examine it. Adam didn’t notice right away that I’d stopped, but he turned back around when he realized I wasn’t with him. The object that I’d found was a silver half dollar with a bullet hole in it. Through the hole was a piece of rawhide string that was broken below a knot. I recognized it as the one belonging to Mel Donovan, my stepfather’s righthand man. He always boasted that he had made the shot and carried it around for good luck. Grasping it tightly, I was about to shout out to Adam what I’d found when a shot rang out and Adam fell off his horse and into the rushing river that was swollen from the sudden downpour of spring rain. It carried him away swiftly as I jumped on my horse and took off after him.

At a certain point I got ahead of him and jumped off my horse, plunging into the river. When I reached Adam, who was face down in the water, I held his head above the water as I struggled to get to the shore. We floated a long way before the water calmed, and I could cut diagonally to the river bank. We were both soaking and shivering with cold. Then I noticed the blood on Adam’s head. A bullet had creased his skull and knocked him unconscious. I whistled for my horse as loud as I could not caring whether or not the enemy was nearby. In the meantime, I whipped off my bandana and tied it around Adam’s head as best as I could.

Koko trotted up to us as the rain began to slacken, and I retrieved a dry shirt from the saddle bags. I didn’t change into it, though. Instead, I ripped it up to make bandaging for Adam’s head. Then I retrieved my blanket that had been wrapped in a second raincoat and tossed it beside Adam’s prone body. I found a scrap of paper from an old wanted poster and a stub pencil from my bags and wrote a note on it. It simply stated what happened, where we were, and that we needed help. Then I placed the note in my saddle bag and sent my horse back to the Ponderosa. I had trained my mare well when she was a filly to go back to any previous place she had just been to. I never particularly liked sending her away, but since Adam’s horse, Sport, had disappeared there was no choice.

The rain stopped, and I dragged Adam to a clump of trees near the river where the ground was wet but at least not muddy. He shivered uncontrollably and moved about in his unconscious state. I knew I had to get him dry and warm or else a fever would set in. After cutting off his wet poncho, I hung it on the branches above him to keep them from dripping on him. Then I peeled off his wet shirt and completely wrapped him up in my dry blanket. I laid the raincoat on top of him for extra warmth. There was some moderately dry brush at the bases of the trees, so I grabbed as much of it as I could and piled it near Adam. I had to light it the old-fashioned way since my matches and flint and steel were in my saddle bags. It took several long, tedious minutes because the brush was damp, but eventually I got smoke going and soon a small fire was burning. I quickly piled on more brush and the flames grew. I dried Adam’s shirt on a rock near the fire and huddled next to the warmth of the blaze. My hair was stringy and damp, and I attempted to brush it out with my fingers before tying the sides back with themselves. Once I’d stopped shivering, I unfurled my whip and gave it a few good cracks to make sure that it was alright from the rain. After what had just happened, I wanted to be prepared for whatever came next.

*****

After an hour had passed, Adam stopped shivering and opened his eyes. I’d already dressed him in his own shirt once more and donned my rain coat to keep myself warm. I wasn’t watching him at the time but instead I was gazing into the fire. The only thing that brought me out of my day dream was the sound of his voice.

“Black?” Adam said weakly. I turn my head and saw his striking brown eyes looking back at me.

“Adam,” I replied and went to him to help him sit up.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Well, just as we’d found the enemy, they took a shot at you. You fell in the river, but I managed to pull you out. Ever since then I’ve been waiting for you to wake up. How’s your head?” I asked looking at the makeshift bandage I’d made.

“It’s felt better. How long have we been here?”

“About an hour. Thankfully it stopped raining long enough for your shirt to dry out.”

“I suppose all the tracks are washed away then?”

“Most likely, but they will be making fresh tracks in the mud, and those won’t blend with the older ones.”

“I guess so. Are you alright?”

“Oh, I’m fine.”

“I almost didn’t recognize you with your hair like that.”

“I’m not surprised. I rarely let it down. It’s frustrating, and it gets in the way when I’m riding.”

“You look very nice with it down like that,” Adam said smiling at me.

“That’s the first time I’ve been called nice looking since my father died,” I said surprised but also a little pleased.

“What is your real name?” he inquired.

I hesitated as a lump swelled up in my throat, but I pushed it down and replied, “Martina Wolf. My stepfather always called me Marty, though. I guess he’d wished I’d been a boy.”

“Martina’s a lovely name.”

“Perhaps it was once. But not after what I did to it.”

“Is that another reason why you changed it to Black Bear?”

“Yes. I was ashamed to use my father’s name of Wolf. I’d pretty well disgraced it, and the Cherokee set store by names, so I decided to let it go without any further damage to it.”

“You had help you know.”

“No. Your name is yours to make, good or bad, all by yourself.”

“Well, if that’s true then changing your name won’t help any.”

“If that’s true, then there’s no hope for me.”

“There’s hope if you know how to look for it,” Adam said softly. 

I really don’t know how it happened, but suddenly he was kissing me, and I no longer felt cold. My arms went around him, and I felt his strong arms encircle me.

A shot rang out and struck the tree near our heads. We both jumped and turned to see who had fired the shot. I froze when I saw the tall, lean form of Mel Donovan standing nearby with his revolver in hand. He walked closer and closer, and I eyed my whip coiled up next to the fire.

“Don’t do it!” He shouted “Your friend dies the instant you touch it!” I slowly pulled my hand away.

“Who’s that?” Adam asked.

“Mel Donovan. He’s my stepfather’s ramrod for the gang and the most vicious of the bunch,” I answered. The man came close enough to retrieve my whip before I had any other ideas. Then he shot two quick shots into the air before training his gun back on us.

“Now I know why I missed you the first time, Marty,” Donovan sneered, “you and that Cartwright feller look an awful lot alike.”

“What about the second time?” I mocked. Mel’s look darkened for a second before returning to normal.

“Well, I wasn’t sure if it was you or not. The rain was coming down heavy like, you know. Now I see that I was wrong again,” Donovan said with a laugh just as three others rode up on horseback pulling along three horses. I didn’t recognize two of the men, but the third one was the man with the knife from the roundup.

“Won’t be the last time,” I commented with a smirk.

“Let’s go for a ride,” Donovan said coldly “We have mounts for you.” And with that he leaped into one of the empty saddles. I helped Adam to his feet, but he managed to mount by himself while I climbed onto the last horse.

*****

 We rode out to an abandoned ranch just outside of the Ponderosa border.  The house was a wreck, but surprisingly the barn was still standing, and there were five other horses tied up outside. We all dismounted, and Donovan shoved us inside. Just as I had expected, my stepfather was the first person I saw, and I put on the best mask of bravery and defiance I could muster.

“Marty!” he said smiling, spreading his arms out wide. Donovan shoved me forward and away from Adam.

“What’s wrong, my daughter? Don’t you remember me? Or has it really been that long?” Peter Black asked with insincere sweetness as he stepped close to me. When I still refused to say a word, he backhanded me across the mouth, and I stumbled to one side. Adam took a step forward but was blocked by Donovan. I could taste blood in my mouth, and I used the back of my hand to wipe it away from my chin as I straightened back up.

“I see you still persist in resisting me. Why don’t you tell me what started all of this? You never have told me what I did to make you leave and do all those awful things to me and the family,” Black said gesturing to the gang surrounding us and shaking his head mournfully as if he were the victim.

“You know what you did all those years ago. Nineteen years ago, to be exact,” I replied stiffly.

“No, I don’t know,” he said with feigned ignorance.

“What’s the matter? Kill too many innocent people to remember them all?”

“I’m gonna forget you said that. And you’re gonna remember that I’ve got the leverage here,” Peter Black said pointing behind me at Adam. I grimaced slightly but still held his gaze. Peter Black motioned for Adam to be brought forward, and Donovan held out my whip that he’d picked up. My stepfather took it from Mel’s hand and ran his fingers over its braided handle.

“Now, this is how it’s going to go. You tell me what’s bothering you, or I’m going to give this friend of yours a working over with your own whip,” Black said uncoiling it and loosening up his arms.

“Fine,” I gave in as I watched them tie Adam to a post.

“Well, what is it?”

“Nineteen years ago,” I said with intense anger in my voice, “in a little town in Minnesota, you killed my father, Charles Wolf, just because my mother chose to marry him instead of you. He was a good, faithful man, and I loved him far more than I or my mother could ever have loved you.”

Peter Black feigned sadness as he said, “Oh, is that all?” I narrowed my eyebrows at him darkly before he went on. “Well, I’d already forgotten about that,” he said waving his hand dismissively. Then he shook his head and his demeaner changed. “But the one thing that I haven’t forgotten about,” he continued slowly, choosing his words deliberately, “is the way you tried to rip this family apart. This family that I put together with your help, by the way. Not to mention all of our reputable friends that were sent to the gallows and prisons because of your betrayal.”

“I regret nothing,” I said as calmly as I could, squelching my temper. I sensed that his anger was on the rise, and that was something I wanted to avoid if possible. Adam’s life was on the line. His safety was in my hands.

“Oh, I’m sure that you don’t regret a thing. Yet. But you’re about to start right now. ‘Cause you see, I’ve still got the upper hand. I know how your mind works. Just watch,” he said grinning evilly, and with that he swung his arm and cracked the whip across Adam’s back. His shirt tore open and immediately an angry, red welt appeared. I clenched my jaw tightly as my temper flared up again. The oldest Cartwright son didn’t make a sound as the whip came down again. I looked at Donovan who smirked at me as Black handed him the whip.

“Well, that’s enough for me. You see, I’m not as young as I used to be,” Black said pretending to rub the sore muscles in his arm. I knew he was a strong man, but at the same time I knew Mel Donovan was stronger. I looked at Adam, and I knew he wouldn’t be able to last long against Donovan’s hand. As Donovan let the whip fly, I barely knew what I was doing as I leaped forward and placed my forearm in the whip’s path. A familiar feeling of lightning shot through me as the black leather curled itself tightly around my arm. Desperately, I ignored the pain as I grasped the whip and pulled it out of a stunned Donovan’s hand.

“You won’t be doing that again if I can help it,” I said unwrapping the whip’s coils from my arm, tossing it into the hayloft high above. I figured I could get it back later if we survived this meeting.

“Well, we do have to settle this…one way or another,” Black said sitting down on a barrel.

“Here’s a way. Untie Adam and I’ll fight Donovan,” I offered. Black laughed, and Mel chuckled at the thought.

“With what? Your fists?” Mel mocked.

“I was thinking of knives. We’re both experts in that area,” I replied not taking my eyes off of my stepfather, with whom the decision lay. Donovan glanced at Peter Black, who looked at me steadily before nodding his approval and motioning to his men. They cut Adam free and stepped away once more. I eyed my stepfather warily, but I knew that he would keep his word. Peter Black always did what he said he would do, whether good or bad. Turning to Adam, I placed a hand on his cheek and looked into his eyes.

“Why did you do it?” he asked taking my injured forearm in his gentle hands.

“I know Donovan’s strength. Even without your head injury, you wouldn’t have lasted long.”

“And what about his knife skills?”

“Better than my stepfather who taught me. But I can beat him. I learned more about knife fighting living with the Indians, than he knows. Things he could never understand,” I said kissing Adam’s forehead and turned to meet Donovan. The man with the knife that I’d met a couple of days ago gave me his knife to fight with. The other men spread out to give me and Donovan plenty of room to fight.

I crouched down in my fighting stance and lunged at Mel before he could prepare himself properly. Perhaps it was a dirty move, but I knew I had to keep him off guard or I was a goner. We wrestled and fought this way and that, losing our knives and retrieving them in almost the same breath. Then I shoved Donovan though the wall of the fragile barn and out into the open where we stumbled onto the muddy ground. He tossed me over his head as he fell down, and my knife flew out of my hand. Donovan stood over me in triumph, and his knife gleamed threateningly. But I was ready as soon as his arm came down. I kicked up at his midsection with my feet and grabbed his shirtfront with my hands, propelling him over my head as I did so. I tried to turn my head away from his knife as it sailed by, but I felt the burning sensation as it tore a path up the left side of my face.

I have no idea what sound I made or if I even made any sound at all because all at once there was a hail of bullets hitting the barn behind me. I turned onto my right side and pressed my hand to my face. It came away sticky and covered with blood. My vision was hazy, but I was able to see several horsemen riding up at a quick pace. Donovan tried to run, but he was soon captured by someone that looked a lot like Little Joe. I looked back at the barn and saw Adam stumbling out of the hole I’d made in the side of it. I felt his strong arms hold me tight as the rest of the Peter Black gang was captured, including the top man himself. I could vaguely see Hoss holding him tightly by the arms as he struggled fiercely against the huge hands that grasped him. Within a few minutes, Ben Cartwright came up to us.

“What happened?” he asked gently touching Adam’s back.

“Oh, Peter Black had the idea to use me to break his step-daughter. But she put a stop to that and then proceeded to protect me by fighting that man,” he said pointing to Donovan “with knives.”

“I see,” Ben nodded with raised eyebrows.

“Did you bring a doctor?” Adam asked.

“Yes, and Sheriff Coffee. I’ll go get the doc,” Ben said and was back quickly with the doctor. Adam insisted that the doc inspect my injury first, and I was too tired to argue through the pain. The doctor said I was lucky that the knife was clean and sharp or it would have done a lot more damage. He also said I was lucky that it had missed my eye. My arm was bandaged, and by then I had the strength to insist that I was alright. I watched my stepfather and his men struggle to mount their horses with their hands tied as the doctor inspected Adam’s head and back. Peter Black glared at me as I walked over to him.

“You planned this didn’t you?! You set up your own father!” he accused.

“No, but it worked out that way all the same. I’m gonna produce enough evidence to put you behind bars for the rest of your life,” I informed him calmly.

“If you do, you’ll be putting a rope around your own neck,” my stepfather warned.

“No, she won’t,” said another voice coming up behind me. It was Sheriff Coffee.

“I won’t?” I asked surprised for I knew my stepfather had a point.

“No. Ben Cartwright put in a good word for you to the Territorial Governor, and he says that as long as you behave yourself in this territory, you shan’t be going anywhere,” the sheriff explained, and Ben came up behind him to confirm it.

“You mean, I’m free?” I asked almost unwilling to believe it.

“Well, yes, in a way. And you are welcome to stay on at the Ponderosa for as long as you want,” Ben offered.

“Thank you, Sheriff Coffee. I won’t forget it,” I said shaking the man’s hand. The Peter Black gang was led away, and Adam stood beside me to watch them go.

“What will you do?” he asked putting an arm around my shoulder.

“I think I’ll stay. There’s so much here that I’ve always wanted but could never have because of that man,” I answered.

“Like what?”

“Friendship. Family. Love. And a place to belong.”

“Well, we’ve got that if you want it.”

“More than you could know. But,” I paused hesitantly, remembering some of my past experiences, “I don’t know if I’ll fit in here. I’m not sure if I’ll know how to behave in a regular town around regular people. It takes a long time to change old habits.”

“Don’t hurry,” Adam said smiling at me, “I like you just the way you are.”

*****

I carried the scar on the side of my face for the rest of my life, and I stayed on at the Ponderosa for many years, sharing in many of the Cartwrights’ adventures. Ben became to me like a father I never had, and Little Joe and Hoss were like long-lost brothers. But Adam became much more to me. It hurt me to see him take to other women that struck his fancy over the years, but in the end, when they had turned away, it was me who was always there for him.

Eventually, we got married and left the Ponderosa to travel back East. We even made a couple of trips to Europe. But on a return trip to the Ponderosa, we learned that Mel Donovan had broken out of jail and was gunning for us. It was impossible for the warden to discern how Mel had gotten out of jail for his cell mates had not been left alive.

In a private showdown in the wilderness, Adam was killed as he attempted to buy me some time to escape. I fled and became the hunted once more. But I resisted the urge to return to the Ponderosa lest more of them die. I went to the only place I could think of that wouldn’t bring harm to others. A sod hut in the middle of nowhere with a single well. There I mourned and fell back into old habits. I had lost the only person who had truly loved me, and I found some comfort in drowning my sorrows with a bottle. I would have died out there had an extraordinary thing not have happened.

But that’s a story for another time.