As Adam spoke he watched closely for his brother’s reactions. Hoss nodded and shook his head at certain memories. It was obvious that he too was aware of these troubled years of their Pa’s marriage.

“How come Adam yer could feel, sorta like that for mama, it don’t seem right?”

“I agree brother it wasn’t right, but Marie wasn’t my mother she was no blood kin to me. She was though a stunningly beautiful Southern woman married to my, to our Pa.”

“Yeah, she was married to Pa, so how could…?”

“Hoss l was sixteen, going on seventeen, full of unexplained feelings. Brother, Little Joe was almost the same age when he had an affair with a beautiful Southern woman,”

“Yeah l know but she weren’t his ma,”

“No more was Marie my ma.” Adam repeated, trying hard to keep to his calm, deliberate nature. “I know that does not excuse me, or my thoughts. Physically l did not have an affair. l had kept my emotions well hidden or so l thought.” Adam returned to his explanation.

It didn’t take long for Pa to find out that the gambler had returned. Sometimes he went away for days on end, l knew he was looking for the man. Jacques La Roi, ‘Jack king’ the Frenchman, the fancy, long haired Riverboat gambler.

It was in fact me that found him or them at one of the cabins on the perimeter of the Ponderosa.
I was doing the routine line shack checks. You know the chore, even now nobody volunteer’s. Back then there were not so many to check, and the Ponderosa was a lot smaller. It was a chore that took me away by myself, I was happy to do it. Immediately l recognised Marie’s black stallion tied up behind one of the shacks.

There was no way l could have been accused of eavesdropping. The raised voices could be heard back in Virginia City. Which is probably the reason why they never heard me. Also the likelihood of any passers by was few and far between. They would have felt that they were having a private moment. I had no difficulty in remembering the words flung back and forth. Marie’s pleas and La Roi’s belittling, arrogant, disdain.

“We can be together, just we three.”

“We three?…What do l want with you and your snivelling brat?”

“We are so good together Jacques. l know mon petit Joseph is your son,”

His burst of laughter, which carried no enjoyment despoiled my ears. His words cut through me. As to what the effect they had on Marie was obvious.

“Marie…ma douce Marie. Your bastard is mine? oh no,” the man became almost hysterical. For a moment unable to continue, “my sweet, you have given me hours of happiness, but this, this joke is the funniest l have heard. My darling as you very well know my pistol is always ready and pointed,” once again his burst of scornful mirth split the air, “ready and pointed, but never, ever loaded. Thankfully a childhood illness rendered me seedless, barren. Let me introduce myself. Barren Jacques La Roi at your service” he roared the name. “and l have serviced you well have l not? But not that well. So my darling, my sweet little whore. Ton petit batard Joseph, if he is not of your husbands seed. He is most definitely not of mine…go fend your bastard off on one of your many other lovers. l seem to recall you have had more than a few.”

I heard the first slap, the man’s laughter increased. It was after the second slap, followed by a thud, as if someone had fallen, and Marie’s cry of pain that had no option. l flung the door open. Eagerly she grabbed at my arm as l helped her to her feet.

“What is this? l should have known, should l not? A young gigolo ready and waiting. Such handsome competition…one Cartwright in your bed is not enough for you ma douce.”

The man’s cruel, vicious taunts raised my hackles. Placing myself between Marie and the Frenchman, l grabbed him by his fancy lapels. It did not silence his vitriol.

“Ha, my young Cavalier, you and l are rutting at the same bitch are we not. This she devil she too fires your veins. You too tasted how sweet the wine from your fathers vine.”

Before l could swing my fist into his filthy mouth l saw the pistol in mama’s hand. l had no idea she even had a gun. La Roi was even more disdainful.

“You think to frighten me with that pop gun.”

As l struggled to rend the gun from mama’s grip. The man’s vicious, brutal laughter cut through me only to be silenced by the bullet that was fired from the small derringer, which was now in my hand. Marie screaming, ‘you’ve killed him,’ struck out. She slapped my face and ran to the fallen gambler. Temporarily paralysed l stood watching mama tend to the man that had moments before just verbally and physically abused her. My mind and thoughts were swirling. My arms hung leaden at my sides. l stared at the small gun in my fist. I had no idea whether l or mama had pulled the trigger. Startled out of my shock, Marie turned on me like a crazed cat .

“You wanted this. You think l haven’t seen you. You with your dark, longing looks. You think l don’t know, that you have me in your thoughts, you stupid child, you boy. Did you not think l made my moans and sighs loud enough for you to hear. My cries of passion were music to your ears. Your jealous ears and jealous eyes. You’ve killed him. Do you see what you have done.”

l knew she was hysterical. She now was laughing. A sound that in the past was music to my ears. Was now as cold and as cruel as the gamblers. Her words were as cutting as a thousand knives. She made me feel pleased and proud to have killed the man. She made me feel that she should be laying lifeless beside him. She reduced me to less than nothing.

“Do you think l am going to be yours? That l am going to leave the great Ponderosa with you? Yes that is exactly what l am going to do. Yes l will leave this place. Go back to my real life in New Orleans. l will take my Little Joe with me. l will leave. l will make a gambler or a gigolo of my handsome boy. l don’t care which, you will never see me or my Little Joe again. You or your precious Pa.”

The cruel finality of her words jerked me back to life. My emotions raw, all control lost, l screamed, l could hear the raised pitch in my voice.

“You can’t do that, you can’t it would…”

“It would what, be the death of your father…it would kill me to stay. So Adam Cartwright whose death do you want on your conscience. You who have already killed one man. Who will be next. Believe me, neither you Adam Cartwright nor Ben Cartwright, there is no one, no one who can stop me l will take my baby. Mon petit Joseph, and to hell with you all. Your father will live, he has his Ponderosa.”

This second tirade left me speechless. The man’s low groan distracted me. Instead of following Marie, l went to the man’s aid. The bullet had entered and left his shoulder. Bloody and painful yes, fatal no. With a sneer on his lip he rubbed salt into the wound.

“Say adieu to your baby brother, if nothing else that she tiger is true to her word.”

l was sorely tempted to put another hole into his snivelling loathsome hide. The sound of a horse’s galloping hooves spurred me into action.

Knowing too well l had no way of catching mama’s powerful stallion. Even if l had Sport with me it would have been a big ask. As it was l was riding Metal who, on even his best of days was not near fast enough. I had no other choice than to push the animal hard. I knew it was impossible for me to get the the ranch house before mama. I hoped that Pa maybe had gone to town. I hoped that l could talk to mama…in truth l didn’t know what l could or would do. I only knew l had to try…you know the rest…

“Yer saying you wuz chasing mama? Yer saying it was yer fault?”

Adam lowered his head and rested his chin onto his broad chest. He dare not look into those clear, trusting unsullied blue eyes. He couldn’t bare to see blame stamped across his brother’s face.

Without knowing Adams fingers found the bridge of his nose. Gently he probed and pinched at a small piece of skin. A habit that always allowed him to focus his thoughts. Selfishly he felt a sense of relief his secret, the guilty, sordid secret was no more.

As like three days previous Adam heard not a sound, not a footfall, not until his brothers beefy hand was squeezing his shoulder did he realise that Hoss had moved.

“It weren’t yer fault, yer aint got nothing to blame yerself fer,”

“Haven’t l?” Hoss continued to massage his large fingers into his brothers tight muscles.

“No brother, aint nothing more you coulda done…”