It was a trail weary, dusty, hungry group that at last trundled into the yard in front of the Ponderosa Ranch House.

It had been agreed upon, after breakfast that morning. For Hoss accompanied by Hop Sing to ride ahead. Hop Sing took Etta’s mare, Molli. The smaller and less lively animal being more suited to the Asian man’s riding abilities. Therefore when the trio of Adam…Etta astride Cochise. Reined in the pinto and sat speechless. And Joe in control of the wagon, arrived. The house was it’s normal self. Hop Sing was in his domain. A fire was blazing in the hearth. Water was bubbling in the copper. Hoss greeted them with a gleaming, fresh smile. Adam had assumed correctly. Plus with the knowledge of Candy’s last wire, that they would arrive ahead Pa. Which is exactly hat he had wanted. Adam was aware of Etta’s apprehension. Though neither had mentioned it to each other. He hoped that a day’s grace would relax his bride to be. He had also hoped the he would have seen something of Roy Coffee. He had no doubt the wily lawman was snuffling through stale and rotting debris. Rather like an experienced, old boar rooting out the tastiest truffles. The sheriff though had yet to make an reappearance.

Being ever the gentleman Adam gave Etta the privilege of the first bath. Little Joe was at first annoyed that his brother Hoss. Who was looking and smelling decidedly cleaner. Had sent a hand for Doc Martin. Having second thoughts he now hoped that he would at last have the heavy, cumbersome cast removed. But one doesn’t always get what one hopes for.

Candy returned to a full house. He as more than happy to see the boss’s boy’s almost in one piece. Refreshed by the bath, Etta wearing a more suitable garment. A tinsey, flowered, cream frock, was introduced to the ranch foreman. The first person who took her at face value. He, not ever having met Marie Cartwright. Etta immediately felt at ease and comfortable in his presence. Candy too was charmed by the beautiful woman. He was also more than pleased to have Hop Sing back in the kitchen, he couldn’t hardly wait for supper.

The sound of the doctor’s buggy brought an a grin to the face of little Joe. Which in itself was unusual, he not ever happy to see the medical man. Joe’s hopes of a long soak in hot, soapy water was quickly dashed. The doctor had not brought the specific tool to cut through the hard cast. Hoss offered the use of either the hoof trimmer or wire cutter. Paul Martin declined, saying that he found Joe’s knee to be tender and swollen, possibly due to the rigours of the journey. Another day wouldn’t go amiss. It was now Hoss and Adam who were dissatisfied. Adam grumbling that it might not be amiss for some, but that he would like to miss the stench of a certain unwashed body. Joe was less than amused and to show his appreciation, tried to throw the first thing that came to hand. Which, being Paul Martin’s closed doctor’s bag, it was quickly snatched from Joe’s grasp by the doctor. Guffawing loudly Hoss and Adam scooted from the bedroom. Leaving the doctor to placate their cussing sibling.

Paul Martin accepted the invite to stay to supper. After recovery from his initial surprise on being introduced to Etta. He spent a pleasant hour discussing medical matters with the woman. Adam had previously given the doctor a copy of Joe’s medical history. Paul Martin found, to his surprise that the woman was as knowledgeable as she was beautiful.

At the table Paul regaled his hosts with long forgotten and unspoken memories of his days at Medical College with Thomas Simms. Before he left, and as he was returning the next day. Paul volunteered to meet Ben Cartwright from off the stage. Adam was hesitant at first. Thinking that he or Hoss should be there to meet their father. But at the doctor’s explanation. That on the ride in he could acquaint Ben with Joe’s accident and injuries and assure the man that his youngest was well on the road to recovery. A nod of agreement between the brothers settled the matter. Joe’s vision of himself at last sitting in a tub of hot, soapy water brought a look of blissful satisfaction to his face. When asked what the soppy looking grin was about. He told everyone, in no uncertain terms, to mind their own business. Which much to his disgust rallied a round of laughter. Paul made his farewells. Joe reminded him not to forget the cast cutter. It was then obvious to all what was on Joe’s mind.

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

Stepping down from the stage. Ben Cartwright had been able to return once more to the carriage. At the penultimate stop. A woman and her two small children had alighted and were met by a relative. Ben presumed an elder son, the luggage and the children were placed into the back of the wagon. Ben himself aided the tired looking woman up onto the seat. With the thanks of the lad and waves from the children the wagon took off. It was at that point that Ben took refuge in the carriage, and the minimal comfort of a seat to himself.

Using his stetson to knock the dust from his clothing. Then stretching his limbs. Ben scanned the street for one or any of his sons. They were noticeably absent. As too was Roy Coffee. The sheriff had a habit of, not meeting the stage, but being in the vicinity…there or there-a-bouts. He would take a mental note of new arrivals and any strangers, that he thought might warrant closer inspection. Much as like his youngest son did, whenever he was in town. Little Joe though would only be taking a mental note of a slim ankle, a trim body and a pretty face.

The thud of his luggage that had been dropped unceremoniously to the ground, sent a spray of dirt to decorate his already dirt encrusted boots. It turned Ben’s face upward toward the red, bearded driver. Ben nodded a not too grateful thanks and returned his attention to the street. He supposed he could wait in one of the saloons. Ben decided a cold beer would be more than welcome. He bent to catch the handle of his carpet bag. A young lad appeared in front of him. He knew the boys face but couldn’t bring to mind the boys name. Without saying a word the boy thrust a note under Ben’s nose. He stood waiting, either for a reply or gratuity. Ben opted for the latter and fished in his pocket for a suitable coin. The lad accepted it, yet remained stalwart. Unfolding the note, Ben immediately recognised Paul Martin’s hand. The boy’s parentage flooded into Ben’s memory.

“One of your brother’s Billy?” the boy stared with the fixed, penetration that only a child can achieve.

“I’m Andy…Billy fell offa the roof, gone broke his arm,” Ben nodded in sympathy. Still in ignorance he stared with a questioning look at the boy, wondering what the the next move was.

“l gotta tell Doc whereya’d be.” the boy advised, as if he was talking to his six year old brothe, who was at the moment in the process of having his fractured arm encased in warm plaster. Realistion dawned on the elderly Cartwright. He ruffled the boys corn coloured, wispy hair.

“Oh yes, over there.” Ben informed the boy, pointing to the Silver Dollar. Picked up his bag and went to meet a cold beer. Ben’s mind was already starting to borrow trouble.

The saloon was neither full nor empty. Ben dropped his bag beside one of the many vacant tables. He turned to the bar. He was halted by the raised palm of the barman. Almost before he made himself comfortable an unrequested mug of beer was placed on the table. For a brief moment Ben admired the glass. It was topped with a froth as thick and foamy as a high class ladies bath of bubbles. Sam waited and watched. In no time at all, the thirsty traveler downed the pint. He hadn’t seen any of the Cartwright’s for a while. He figured rightly that Ben had just stepped off the stage.

“Another?” this was the first word uttered by either man. Ben wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and nodded his agreement. He handed the empty glass to the man.

“Didn’t even touch the sides Sam.” the barman chuckled his way back to the bar. On his return he placed two glasses on the table. In front of Ben a second frothy pint, in front of himself a small glass of the same fluid. Sam sat, positioning himself so that he could keep an close eye on his bar and the saloon doors. Ben wasted no time downing half of his second drink. He took a breath and placed the glass back down onto the table. Pushing his hat back from his forehead he smiled his satisfaction.

“You, do not know how much l needed that.”

“Oh, l think l can guess. That stage is a dry, dusty way to travel.” Sam sipped at his own beer. His dark eyes continually darting back and forth from the bat wing doors to his usual corner of the saloon.

“Seen anything of my boys?” Ben had no reason to ask such a question. He knew from Candy’s wire that they weren’t going to be back till this week. He just had hopes that they might have returned earlier.

“Aint seen no one from the Ponderosa Ben. Seems like every ones out of town.” Ben offered an explanation that the boys were delayed returning from a drive. And that Candy was Ranch minding.

“So where’s Roy Coffee?” Sam’s question furrowed Ben’s brow in puzzlement. Sam continued. “last l see of him, ’bout two weeks back. He was headed out of town. Not toward the Ponderosa, sharing a seat with your China cook, Hop Sing aint it.”

“Yes, yes it is.” Ben’s loan of trouble increased.

“Duty calls,” Sam finished the dregs in his glass and returned to his occupation. That of sating the thirst of cowboys, miners and whomever graced the offside of his bar. The three men were already scanning the room, their eyes glazed in expectancy.

Roy Coffee…Hop Sing…sharing a wagon seat. Over two weeks ago. Where would they be going if not to the ranch? Why weren’t one of his boy’s at the stage to meet him? The loan doubled. Ben was still deep in thought when he suddenly realised someone was talking to him. Paul Martin stood before him holding Ben’s luggage. Ben hadn’t even heard or seen him enter the saloon. He had no idea what the man had said and he didn’t care.

“What’s going on Paul?” the question went unanswered. Ben’s patience was sorely being tested.

“Keep your hide on Ben. Come on, we can talk on the way.” For his trouble the doctor received a glare that could halt a herd of buffalo at ten paces. Ben snagged his bag from the doctors hand and followed the man from the bar. His eyes burned holes into the back of the dark coated, medical man.

“Well?” he was barely seated before he attacked.

“Settle down, here, read that,” Paul handed his friend Dr Simms report. “there will be somethings you might want to have explained. You will though be able to understand the gist of it.”

They journeyed in silence. To his credit, although there were a number of medical terms he was unfamiliar with. Such as Latin names and phraseology. Ben could and did understand most of the contents of the document. He left the pages rest on his knee. His arm had lost it’s strength.

“Why wasn’t l told? I should have been there. I should have been told?”

“How exactly would that have been possible? You were in San Fransisco. The telegraph lines were down for over a month, and even if they weren’t, you would never have got from where you were to Turner’s Town, before now.” Ben knew that Paul was correct but it did nothing to ease his mind. It did nothing to placate his thoughts. Little Joe had been critically injured. He had suffered a serious head trauma. Adam and Hoss had to cope with this without his comfort and help. His boy’s, they had all needed him and he wasn’t there. Paul could well read his friend’s thoughts.

“Ben, even you cannot be in two places at one time. You are not God.”

“I know l am not God.” Ben spat the words. “I don’t pretend to be God. I am their father. I should have been there…with them.” Ben grumbled into his chest. He knew within him he as being irrational.

“It is no matter now. I saw Joe yesterday. He is fine.” Paul flicked a grin at Ben, hoping he would pick up on the doctor using his son’s favoured words. Ben was not in a mood to make light. “he really is Ben…l am taking the cast off today. A few good meals. Some light exercise, and l mean light. Etta will see to that….”

“Etta? Do you have a new nurse?” Paul bit his lip and cursed under his breath.

“No, Etta is not my new nurse. Although she is a fine woman and has enough experience to qualify as a doctor. I wouldn’t hesitate. I would be happy to employ her.”

“Well, who is she then? Who is this Etta? Fortunately for the doctor they had arrived at the Ponderosa. The doctor pulled the buggy to a halt.

“Good, we are here. I always say that this old journey is made much shorter with someone to talk to. Don’t you agree?” Whether Ben agreed or not Paul didn’t wait to find out. The cutting sidelong glance he caught from the corner of his eye set him striding to the opening ranch house door. Ben was of the opinion that Paul Martin, when he wanted, could be as annoying as one of the itchy, scratchy infections he regularly treated.

Now who the hell was this Etta? Was it not enough that Joseph had to break a couple of limbs and crack his head open. Was he now to find out that the boy had also taken a wife.!!