The big door swung open to reveal a beaming giant on the threshold. With one long stride Hoss had traversed the porch and was pounding toward his father. His intention momentarily diverted. Passing by the doctor he clasped Paul Martin firmly by the hand. Leaving the man with a strained grimace and a numb limb. Paul vigorously shook the injured appendage, trying to restore the blood flow. The friendly slap that the doctor received on his back raised a layer of dust from his coat and propelled him at a faster pace toward the house door.

Snagging his fathers bag with one paw. Hoss encircled his Pa in a half bear hug. Encased in his son’s brawny arm Ben felt his shoulders being compressed.

“Yer back Pa.” Hoss stated the obvious. “sure is good ter see yer.”

“And you son.” the compression was increased. Ben did his best to free himself. Feeling sure that if he didn’t, he would have no trouble fitting into one of Little Joe’s snug jackets.

“Sure missed yer.” Hoss tightened further his boa constrictor grip. A grip which now began to deprive his father of oxygen. Seeing his Pa’s heightened colour. Hoss realised the error of his ways. Released his grip and dropped his arm. Ben gasped thankfully and staggered sideways. Preferring to use his sturdy son for support. Together they entered the great room.

Sitting in front of the fire in his fathers chair, his leg resting on the low table. The sound of the arrivals woke the dozing Joe. Seeing his big brother supporting his Pa. Joe as usual with not a seconds premeditation pushed himself from the chair. Gaining an awkward stance and seeing the colour drain from his fathers face. He increased his efforts to reach his, what he thought to be injured Pa.

Ben Cartwright’s eyes though were not for once fixed on his youngest offspring. Ben’s eyes were wild, wide and staring at the woman who had stood up from the blue chair. The book she was reading had slipped from her grasp. Ben’s legs began to go from under him. He fell sideways against the credenza. Hoss again lent a supporting arm. Etta lowered her gaze from the silver haired man. She took a step toward the man’s youngest son who was struggling to keep his balance. Joe’s encased foot had got caught against the table leg. He was beyond the point of no return. Desperately trying to stop himself form falling he made a grab for the only thing in front of him, Etta. With a combined small cry both Joe and Etta fell in a tangled heap onto the sofa. Ben with the help of Hoss had made it to his red chair. They both watched, with looks of incredulity, the flaying couple on the sofa. Joe had Etta pinned underneath him.

Ben’s voice a mere fraction of it’s usual decibel clarity broke the silence.

“Hoss, remove your brother from off of that woman.”

“Yes’m, Pa” The arm that had recently almost crushed the breath from his fathers lungs, caught the collar of his brothers shirt. In one smooth movement Joe was lifted and left standing precariously, but standing. The same arm, then helped Etta to right herself. She, now up-righted, smoothed her hands down her skirt. Joe and Etta, as like two naughty children stood side by side in front of Solomon.

Ben’s disbelieving eyes were once again fixed on the woman. The ghost of his wife. His thoughts were a jumble, his mind spun. What was it with this boy. Another relationship with an older woman. A woman almost old enough to be his mother. A woman that even looked like his mother. Looked so alike his mama as to be her twin. Ben with difficulty pulled his gaze from the face that haunted him to that of his son. Joe was starting to wobble slightly. He took in the boys lopsided haircut. The red scar on his forehead. His even thinner frame and pale face. His eyes traveled down to the heavy cast on Joe’s left leg.

“Joseph…sit down before you fall down.”

Joe mumbled a ‘yes sir’ and sank onto the striped sofa. Etta remained upright. Feeling that as she hadn’t yet had the order to sit she should remain standing, or maybe curtsey or something. She knew not what. She remained as she was. Where the hell was Adam? she thought, but dared not to shift her gaze. The group were at an impasse. Dr Martin wisely kept to the background. Hoss opened his mouth to speak. He was thankful. Adam’s sudden appearance from the kitchen, halted his words. Cursing himself silently for such in inopportune moment in which to go the outhouse. Adam had to think quickly. He had wanted to be at Etta’s side when his father arrived. He took the only action he could. An action that he was noted for. Regardless of danger, strife or argument. He took it in his stride. As if this situation was an everyday occurrence.

“Pa, your here, we’ve missed you. Good to have you home safely.”

His father made no answer. Ben could not find a voice or thought to give voice to. Seeing the doctor with his backside perched on his father’s desk. Adam threw him a nod of welcome. His bouncy, cheeriness was overflowing. “Paul, ah yes, here to do the deed and remove the kid from his shackle?” The doctor, merely nodded. Taken by surprise at this boundless, almost syrupy ‘bonhomie’ “big brother, what are you thinking? Get your father’s coat?” Nobody not even the wearer had taken it on board that Ben was still sitting in the heavy, traveling coat. The still life group took on movement.

“Oh yeah, sure. Here, Pa let me get that.” in a trance, Ben allowed his large son to assist him with the removal of the garment. Hoss pulled it from his Pa’s back. Strode to the house door, beside which the pegs were situated and hung the jacket up.

Unblinking, quaking slightly, Etta stared, as if mesmerised into the unflinching, dark chocolate eyes. Adam made it to her side and draped his arm around her shoulder. Thus eliciting a small sigh of relief from the woman and an even more wide eyed, but now questioning look from his father.

“Pa.” Adam smiled down on the blanched face of his father. “let me introduce…meet Etta, Etta Tone, my fiancee…the future Mrs Adam Cartwright.”

Ben slumped back into the chair. The wind blown completely out of his sails. His strength left him. His face showed his bewilderment. His glazed, dark eyes scanned the room. He stared hard at his youngest. Joe was chewing on his lower lip. Retaining still the look of an innocent school boy, caught up to no good. Hoss stood behind him. His beefy arms crossed in front of his broad chest. A shining blue eyed look of genuine innocence and happiness, brightened his round smiling face. Paul Martin, Ben could not fathom why, was sitting on the edge of the study desk. His gaze returned to his tall, sensible, solid, steady, deep thinking, reliable eldest son. Standing as close as was deemed appropriate and respectable…just. This son’s arm encircled, like a band of protection, around the shoulders of Ben’s dead wife…Marie Cartwright…no, no, not Marie…but Etta…Etta Tone…This, he thought, couldn’t be happening, this is a dream. This woman coming into his house…looking the way she does. It was unnatural…it was indecent. His mind screamed within him. Ben’s words descended on the room with the quality and gloom of a large, black cloud on a sunny, summers-day picnic.

“I am sorry…I am so sorry, this is not the way…this is not right”