It was the day after Candy and Barney Fuller first met. He once again ran into the chubby businessman. Mounted and ready to start the days work Candy sat waiting for Griff to join him. The two men on the boss’s instructions, were off to the Northern pasture to round up strays and take a head count. The herd needing soon to be brought down to lower grazing. Candy knew, although his boss did his best to conceal it that Ben Cartwright was on edge, tense and worried. The light-heated mood and satisfaction of a job well done that had prevailed when Candy and Griff had returned, had day by day dissappeared. Ben Cartwright was bad enough when one of his sons was days late returning to the home hearth. But when all three were late and he had had not any news as to the why or wherefore of any delay. The man was the veritable bear with not just a sore head. He was a bear with a very, very sore head and hungry to boot.

The sounding approach of a buggy at such an early hour turned the Ponderosa foreman’s head and halted Griff in his stride. Emerging as he was from the barn, leading his horse bedecked in all it’s new regalia.

Barney Fuller’s cheery ‘Good Morning’ took them both by surprise. Candy wondered why the man was paying Ben Cartwright a visit. Griff was wondering just where he had seen the man before. Mounting up Griff racked his brains, but when he was still not able to recall the man he slowly walked his horse off the yard and around the barn. Candy sat and watched Barney Fuller expertly, in the given area, turn the buggy and bring it to a halt.

Ben Cartwright was already standing on the porch arms akimbo. He too wandering as to who the early visitor was. Ben’s voice boomed across the yard as he helped the obese man down from the buggy and shook his hand.

“Barney…Barney Fuller, as l live and breathe. What brings you out of your bed so early?”

Candy’s legs barely touched Scouts flanks. The horse obediently lifted it’s head and took off in walk to join Griff’s pony Tantrum. Commonly called Rum. Griff rode a pony, who like his rider, had a short fuse and was impatiently flicking his tail and tossing its mane. In no way contented to be standing around waiting for anything or anyone. Hoss, who had christened the animal, said the temperamental gelding was like a spoiled child with a permanent tantrum, hence it’s name.

They rode side by side in silence. The horses settled into a comfortable easy gait. Even Rum was calm. Walking out trying to match his stride to the longer legged Scout. The two men had their minds fixed on the same subject, Barney Fuller. Finally, for Griff the penny dropped.

“Aint he the fella you woz shaking hands with in the Silver Dollar?” Griff asked a question he already knew the answer to. Candy took his time in supplying an answer. It hadn’t been necessary for him to ponder on his reply.

“Yep.” Another pause followed, the silence only being disturbed by the soft, steady clip clopping of the horses hooves.

“What was that all about,” Griff continued the interrogation. Again the dark hared man was in no hurry to reply, and when he did he too questioned.

“What was what all about?” many more minutes passed before Griff once again picked up the conversation.

“Yer know, the handshake?” Again Candy waited longer than was necessary to give any reply.

“Oh, the handshake, you want to know about a handshake. Well it’s greeting between two people either to say hello or goodbye,” Candy explained with more than a measure of sarcasm. This time Griff’s response was rapid. His annoyance evident.

“l know what a hand shake is, you ornery cuss. l was just wondering. It sure didn’t look like a hello or goodbye handshake to me to me…What’s eating you anyway?”

“l reckon you can keep wondering an l reckon it’s my business who l shake hands with an why. I was wondering when you’re gonna get a move on. We got steers waiting to be counted.”

Candy urged Scout forward. The horse responded and took off toward the horizon at a rapid pace. For a brief spell Griff mused at the dust trail that was kicked up ahead of him. Keeping Rum on a tight rein he pondered on Candy’s fast disappearing back, as if the answer to his question was visible on the foreman’s black vest. Rum on the other hand was definitely in no mood to let Scout get away from him. Jigging on the spot, fly bucking and side stepping, he did everything he could do to convince his rider that he too wanted a stretch of the legs.

“OK, OK,” Griff scolded the animal, “ you just remember whose in charge here. Yer getting a mite uppity now that you got some fancy leather on yer back ,” giving a loud and disrespectful snort Rum took off. Showing Griff that he knew exactly who was in charge. The rider’s handsome face broke into a wide grin. He lengthened the rein, grabbed at his Stetson, and waved it high above his head. ‘Yahooing’ at the top of his voice he let the frisky animal have his head. The race was on!!

*******************

Barney Fuller waited until Hop Sing returned with a fresh plate of hot biscuits which he placed at the man’s elbow. A dish of fluffy scrambled eggs accompanied strips of crispy bacon. Ben mused at man’s smile of contentment. It was as if his son Hoss was sitting at the table.

“Dang best cook in Nevada. Tried to lure that China man away from the Ponderosa many times Ben” Barney mumbled through a mouth of egg.

“l know Barney, l know,” Ben nodded, his face wearing it’s own smile of contentment. If it had been Hoss or Little Joe with him Ben would have scolded the boys for talking with their mouths full. Adam of course would never resort to such bad manners. As it was, Ben sat back. Enjoying his third cup of coffee and allowed Barney to eat the breakfast that the diminutive Asian man had whipped up as soon as he spied the visitor. Barney wiped his mouth on the napkin provided and shouted his praise and thanks into the direction of the kitchen. Hope Sing scurried out, removed the now empty plate and bobbed his head in satisfied thanks..

“Hop Sing happy Mr Fuller eat at Hop Sing’s table.” with these words Hop Sing returned to his domain with a smile of pride cresting his small face. Ben refilled Barney’s mug the man had declined one of the small pink cups, saying that there use was only for a woman and a small one at that. Or maybe a child’s fingers.

“l am sure you haven’t come all this way to praise Hop Sing’s cooking and criticise my crockery?” Ben took his and Barney’s drinks and walked over the hearth side. “more comfortable over here.” Barney hauled himself from the dining chair and followed.

“Long as l don’t have to sit on that dang itty, bitty sofa. My backside and thighs need space not the refinement of a …a what is it? l always wondered? A French design bench of some sort?”

“Yes Marie was fond of her French heritage. l am sure Adam’s chair will suit your ample rotundity.” Ben chuckled as Barney without needing any direction. seated himself in the upright blue chair.

“Must be damned small people them French. Now this is what l call a comfortable chair. A man’s chair.” The firm downward slap of his palms onto each arm of the blue upholstered seat raised a puff of dust, which once disturbed, silently settled back from whence it came. Ben cup in hand, a bemused look on his face patiently waited for the reason and purpose for the man’s visit. Barney though was not as yet ready to reveal its nature.

“l can understand very well Ben you hanging on to Marie’s furniture and tableware. Over the years l have wanted just one memento. But what didn’t go up in the flames was damaged, charred and left beyond repair”

Ben had never seen Barney Fuller in this light. Many times they had locked horns. Bandied words and even, yes, socialised at various business and fund raising functions from Virginia City to San Francisco. On reflection, he thought Barney, even in his cups had never disclosed any part of his private life. Ben suddenly realised he didn’t even know if the man had ever married. There was, at any event he attended, always an attractive woman on his arm. But now that Ben put his mind to it they were never the same one. But then a respectable escort for the evening was an easy thing to arrange for any man of means. Something that Ben had never felt the need to resort to. What fire Barney was referring to Ben didn’t know. Only that it couldn’t be Barney’s substantial property on the Southern side of town. Ben would no doubt have heard of any such catastrophe.

“Barney l have many memories. Whether stored in the mind or on display. They are always a joy.”

Ben’s words seem to have struck deep into the man’s soul. Barney sunk his large, bullet shaped head into the cushioned chair back. The man needed not to close his eyes. Even after these many years the picture of his burned out house and those three charred bodies haunted him still. A picture that he knew would never leave him. It would follow him to his grave.

“Ben not all memories are a joy. Even you must admit to that.”

The two elderly men stared at each other. The fire already burning in the hearth seemed to quieten not wanting to remind the man of the wanton destruction that the controlled comforting blaze, could if left to its own devises, make of a man’s life.

Barney’s eyes had long dried of tears. Blankly he stared into the man sitting opposite him. In a monotone voice he recalled his tragic past. It was Ben Cartwright’s coal black portals that brimmed. His shaking hand rattling the cup in the saucer as he steadied it with his palm, and then placed the crockery onto the low wooden table. He had no idea of the man’s heartbreak. He had known Barney Fuller for a good and bad fifteen odd years and he had not an inkling of the man’s pain.

Ben too had know what it was to bury a wife. Three times he had experienced that agony. But Ben Cartwright had his boy’s, his sons, his life’s joy and legacy were with him still. Regardless of the time of the day Ben poured two stiff brandies he pressed one into the plump, numbed hand of his business rival. The man’s lifeless eyes registered surprise. Ben kept his hand pressed against Barney’s glass until he felt the man’s grip tighten. Ben prayed that this was not some macabre message or warning. He hoped against hope that his sons were safely on their way home.

As if a plug had been pulled Barney snapped back into his usual gregarious self. Declining a top up he slapped a palm on his thigh.

“Cartwright l fear trouble is heading our way.” Re-seating himself, Ben called for Hop Sing asking for a fresh pot of coffee.

“How so?”

“The lumber contracts are up for renewal by the end of the month are they not?” Making no reply Ben nodded his agreement. It was no secret that Ben and Barney were supplying the same company with timber for railroad ties and bridge construction Each man supplying suitable timber either pine, fir or spruce. Although it was true that over the years, and in fact when ever an offer was tendered the men vied with each other for the contract. Equally they could and did work well together as the lucrative deal they were now both contracted to was proof.

“Adam should be leaving by the end of the week.” Ben offered the information.

“Not soon enough Ben, he must get there as soon as possible. l am leaving on this afternoons stage to Carson City and then onward to San Francisco. Get your boy ready, we could travel together .” Barney suggested

“Why, what have you heard?”

“’Turner, Larson and Rawston’, name mean anything to you?” Ben slowly shook his head, stroking and thumbing his temple as he tried to place the names.

“l know of a…a…Mitchell Rawston, no not Mitchell…was it Miles or Milton…that’s it Milton Rawston, but he was in mining. Could be the same man?”

“That l couldn’t say,” digging a bear like paw into his inside pocket Barney withdrew an envelope and handed it to Ben. “what do you make of that?” Ben’s brow furrowed into a puzzled frown.

“Are you selling up?”

“No Ben l am not, but l won’t deny l have it in mind to retire. Not today, not tomorrow, but soon. I want to take things easy. ”

“Barney Fuller, take things easy,” Ben blew out his cheeks in a gasp of incredulity. “it’s a mighty fine offer. One that merits consideration,”

“There is no denying that,” Barney agreed and leaned toward the silver haired man. His elbows resting on his knees. His round face clasped between his palms in thought. Suddenly he pushed himself back his shoulders spanning the width of the chair.

“l don’t have to tell you Ben, l’ve been in business a good few years. As you have, and one thing l have learned One thing Cartwright among many others is there are no co-incidences not in business…not in life. Things come together for a reason or a purpose and that is what is sticking in my craw.” Ben returned the letter into Barney’s outstretched hand he took it and shook it “this Ben is trouble, l feel it in my gut,” Barney patted his large expensively clothed stomach, “l have a big gut. Took a lot of money…a lot of time…a lot of experience and trouble to get a gut like this. When my gut speaks l listen. My big gut says trouble and trouble there will be.”

Barney was done with the theatrics. As far as Ben was concerned Barney Fuller acquired his ‘big gut’ from years of over indulgence and a gargantuan appetite nothing more.

“Barney what exactly are you saying?”

“l’m saying Ben we need to get those contracts signed sooner than later, not wait until the 30th. These back stabbers are going to under cut us Ben and somehow use my business to do it. That’s what l am saying. You get that boy on the stage or it’s goodbye to another three years business and profit.”

Thumbing his chin, Ben chewed on his lower lip. Rubbed one long finger along his upper lip and gripped his cheeks and chin between his four finger and thumb. Even if the boys made it back by this afternoon he wouldn’t expect Adam to get the first stage out of town. Oh yes, knowing the circumstances his boy wouldn’t hesitate, Ben had no doubt about that. He had no other option.

“The Carson stage still leaves at six doesn’t it?”

Barney nodded “You get Adam on that stage, l’ll meet him there.”

“The boys aren’t back from the drive, l’ve had no news.”

“Well that’s hardly surprising that storm a few weeks back took down every line from here clear to the coast. Say it’s gonna take a month of Sundays to fix.” Ben signed with relief. As much as he didn’t relish the journey Ben knew now it was unavoidable.

“Six’O’clock it is then,” Both men stood and warmly shook hands.