Summary:  A Bonanza future after Adam’s return to the Ponderosa.  Expect joys, sorrows, adventures, marriages, births, deaths, and the enduring love within the Cartwright family.

Rated: T (15,430 words)

 

Author’s Notes:  This is my first attempt at Bonanza fan fiction, although I have written in a number of other fandoms.  I have not read a great deal of Bonanza fan fiction yet, so, if anything I write here sounds like something you have read somewhere before, please believe that any resemblance is definitely unintentional.  The story below is the first part of what I plan to be at least a five-part series.

I intend no infringement on any of the characters or concepts created by Dave Dortort and the Bonanza writers.  I do claim ownership of the original characters and plots that I am creating for this series.

I am making four departures from the Bonanza series that we saw on our screens.  First, I am ignoring the post-1973 movies, while I have found some fantastic fan fiction based on the future created in the post-series movies, the movies seemed inconsistent with the television series in a number of ways and I am not going to try to reconcile the future of our boys presented in the movies with the future that I am creating here.  Second, I am allowing myself to use material from the Ponderosa prequel series, but, when the prequel appears to conflict with the original series, I am going with the original. Third, I am condensing the timeline for the TV series down to half of the number of years the show actually ran on TV, down to about six and three-quarters years:  I am assuming the events that took place on the TV series were the events of September 1859 to about May of 1866, with Adam leaving the Ponderosa in the summer of 1862.  Why I am doing this should become clear as you read on — and thanks for letting me take this liberty, and, in my defense, the timeline presented on our television screens was often inconsistent actual history and even with itself.  When an accurate historical portrayal of the events post-1858 demanded a deviation from this timeline (such as dynamite not being invented until 1865-66, so “The Other Son” could not have taken place before that) I sublimated my fiction’s timeline to real-world history.  And as for actual U.S, and world history, I have tried to be as accurate as possible.  When an inconsistency occurs between references to the story of the Cartwright family prior to 1859, and actual history, I am choosing to pretty much ignore the problem.  For example, Joe could not have been born on the Ponderosa Ranch in 1842 because, in reality, the first person of northern European descent to see Lake Tahoe and report it back to the people living east of the Mississippi was John C. Fremont in February of 1844, but my stories don’t depend on Joe’s birthdate, so I am just going to let that inconsistency rest (even though my precise, orderly, scientist’s mind is loath to do that!).  When the Bonanza scripts were inconsistent with each other, and I need one storyline instead of the other to make my fiction work, I’ll go with what I need to support my stories.  For example, Joe could not have been born in the manor house we saw on television (First Born) if Adam had designed the house (The Philip Deideshiemer Story), unless, of course, Adam designed the house when he was ten or eleven years old and the house was built by the time he was twelve, but, for my stories, I need Marie to have given birth to Joe in the house we saw on TV, and I need Joe to have spent his whole life in that house, so I am going to ask you to believe that Adam was, indeed, intelligent and talented enough to design that house before he reached his teen years (maybe Hoss’ snoring inspired the young Adam to design a larger house!).  If I see an inconsistency between two or more Bonanza scripts and my stories are not dependent on either, then I am picking the storyline I regard as more plausible and sticking with it.  Fourth and finally, in my stories, Hoss is alive and well for a long future with his family.  I just can’t write a Bonanza story without all three of the Cartwright brothers.

Much thanks to my sister, Karla, for all her help with the historical detail, to my mother, Donna, a retired registered nurse who helped me with the medical aspects of these stories, and to my very thorough beta readers, Michele and Sue.

***

A Time to Heal

June 28, 1862

Dear Pa, Hoss and Joe,

I have arrived safely in St. Louis, and have been sworn in by Colonel Traphagen of the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers1.  I am still convinced that I have chosen the best course of action for my country and my family, but every day I am struggling with the tasks ahead:  I am now a Captain in the U.S. Army, and my job is to find ways to destroy Rebel bridges, roads, and reinforcements.  I only hope that I can contribute to a speedy end to this war.

I will be heading to Boston within the week, to meet with some of the best explosive experts on the continent, and to get a quick course in handling the newest mixtures and compounds.

If little Peggy writes, please tell her that I will write when I can, but let her know that it will take longer getting letters back from me, now that I am so many more miles away.

Adam

September 20, 1862

Dear Pa, Hoss, and Joe,

I hope you received the blueprints for the new church2.

What we all knew was a possibility and yet feared to talk about has indeed happened.  When a man gives an oath to his Country, he is not free to pick his assignments. 

I will soon be going into the front lines of this fight.

I have been assigned to command a company within Col. William Babcock Hazen’s brigade and the XIV Corps, under the command of Major General William S. Rosecrans.  I will be leaving for Tennessee tomorrow.

I realize this is not what any of us had planned when I joined the Union Army, but as soon as my superiors found out that I could ride, shoot, and give orders (Joe, it is all right if you are laughing right now) they moved me to a combat assignment.

I do not know when I will be able to write again.  If you receive a letter for me there at the Ponderosa from little Peggy, I ask that you write back to her, please do not lie to her, but tell her what I tell you, my family now:  That I will do everything I can to return safely to all of you.

Adam

January 26, 1863

Dear Pa, Hoss, and Joe,

I cannot believe what I have seen in the last month.  We engaged the Confederates at Stones River in Tennessee just before the New Year.  My company, along with others’ of Col. Hazen’s forces, fought to hold a small, rocky piece of land near the River – it could not have been more than four acres in size – but it was crucial to maintaining the Union line.  The ground was covered with limestone outcroppings that provided some cover, and the cedar forest was dense, but the topography that protected us also concealed the Rebels.  Our ammunition began running low at 11 in the morning, but we received reinforcements in time to repulse at least two organized attacks before the fighting finally subsided around 4:30.

Do you remember the conflict between the Paiutes and Major Hornsby and the California militia3?  I thought the slaughter that day was an abomination, but what I saw this month made the Paiute conflict pale in comparison.  From the best anyone can tell, the Union lost over 1500 men to death, 7000 to injury, and over 3000 are missing or being held as prisoners.  Only God know the losses the Confederates have endured.

I was shot twice, but both were flesh wounds and I have largely recovered.  Many of my men fared much worse.  I lost 23 of my 86-man company to death, not counting those injured.  Those men were depending on me.

Adam

July 20, 1863

Dear Pa, Hoss, and Joe,

I hope my letters are reaching you.  I understand that I cannot expect letters from you to find me, given the difficulty in getting mail to the front lines.  Even if I don’t hear from you, it is a real comfort each time I write to you.

The Army of the Cumberland, under Major General Rosecrans, spent most of the spring resupplying, building a communications base, and training.  I spent a great deal of time mapping potential battlefields with an engineer attached to General Hazen, one Ambrose Bierce.  Bierce is a strange man — always sure he is going to die the next day and always sure that his life and death will mean nothing.  He was at the Battle of Shiloh in April of ’62, and whatever he saw, it obviously affected him very deeply.  While I can certainly understand that, I am glad his duties rarely bring him into direct contact with most of the men.  I think that if a man believes he will die tomorrow, he will usually find a way to make it happen.

We encountered Rebel General Bragg, our old nemesis from Stones River, again at Tullahoma in June.  Lacking in horses, we stole animals from where we could find them, and under Col. Wilder, we moved on Manchester; we had been ordered to destroy railroad lines toward Bragg’s rear.  The Elk River was swollen with rain, but we managed to cross it by breaking down a nearby mill and building a raft from the wood — Hoss, Joe, I was grateful for all those “engineering projects” that I made you help me with when we were boys — at least those early building attempts taught me how to work with whatever materials I had on hand – and I am equally glad that we built that mill for the Edwards a couple of years ago4 – I guess if a person can build one, they can take one apart.  Most of all, I am grateful that casualties were lower than they were at Stones River.

I love and miss you more than I ever thought possible,

Adam

 

September 25, 1863

Dear Pa, Hoss, and Joe,

I am in a field hospital in northwestern Georgia.  Once again, two bullet wounds, I may be limping for some time – maybe a small limp permanently — but I am sure to walk and ride again. The Union has suffered a very serious defeat at Chickamauga.  The Union forces are carrying seven-shot Spencer repeating rifles now — is there no end to the ways men can invent to kill other men?  General Rosecrans seemed to be shocked to the point of immobilization from the loss.  Supplies are becoming short.  I understand that General Ulysses Grant himself is coming here to take command.  We all hope it is soon.

I may not be able to write for some time.  I know you all share my fear.  Please keep me and my men in your prayers.

Adam

 

December 25, 1863

Dear Pa, Hoss, and Joe,

It is now the second Christmas that I have spent at war and not with you at the Ponderosa.  I feel fortunate to be alive but each day I find it harder to hide my growing disillusionment from my men.  I am weary of war, but we must complete this fight, end slavery once and for all, and reunite our nation. 

We finally got a reliable supply line (we call it the “cracker line”) open in October.  On the 27th, some of us under Hazen’s command built rafts and floated down the Tennessee River, aided by a new moon and low fog, and seized the high ground above Brown’s Ferry that night.  We were able to overtake the town and link up with Union forces marching up from Alabama, and open a workable supply route. In the following weeks we took Chattanooga.  I expect the city to become the supply and logistics base for a final push to Atlanta and the Atlantic.  In return for my part in opening the cracker line, I have been promoted to Major.

Hoss, Joe, remember how I used to sing to you and read to you and tell you stories before you went to bed?  Well, it seems that I am doing the same for my men now.  Whenever the fighting permits, we have been gathering together at night and sharing stories and songs.  Somehow, it helps give us the courage to face whatever tomorrow will bring.

I find myself thinking of all of you today, of the Christmas tree by the staircase, of Sport, little Peggy, Hop Sing, and the life I left behind in Nevada.  I will return to you.  It won’t be today or tomorrow, but I promise I will come home.

Adam

 

May 1, 1864

Dear Pa, Hoss, and Joe,

Hoss, I did receive your letter.  Mail has become a bit more reliable now, as we have been here in Georgia for several months.

I was so sorry to hear about Erin5.  She sounds as if she was a strong, brave, compassionate woman who could have shared all the parts of your life.  Your description of her reminded me of Ruth, and the grief I felt after I lost her6.  I love you Hoss, and I hope you can feel that love over all these miles between us.

Adam

 

January 16, 1865

Dear Pa, Hoss, and Joe,

I am in Savannah, Georgia.  Each time I think I have seen the worst that war can bring, another battle ensues, and the destruction of the new battle overwhelms the horror of the previous conflict.  I don’t want to try to describe to you the march through Georgia – through Atlanta and now to the sea at Savannah.  We were ordered to destroy civilian targets, bridges, railroads, mills, we burned cotton storage bins and crops in fields.  We were told this was necessary to kill the Rebels’ ability to wage war and to hasten the war’s end.  That said, I find myself wondering how we can save a nation by destroying it.

When we reached Fort McAlister on the Atlantic, we found that the Rebels had built some sort of explosive devices that they could bury shallowly in the ground, devices that then erupted when a man stepped on the earth above the explosives.  Three of my men were killed within 15 feet of me by these underground explosives.  I have seen far too much war.  I find myself wondering if I can ever live a normal life again.

After taking Fort McAlister and successfully joining up with the U.S. Navy, General Hazen recommended my promotion to Lt. Colonel.  In a past time, I would be honored, but now I scarcely care.  Unbelievably, the men of my battalion all assembled, without orders, to salute me as I left General Hazen’s headquarters.  I must find the strength within myself to continue to give these men the confidence they will need to see this war to an end.

I love you and, if possible, miss you more each day.

Adam

 

April 30, 1865

It is finally over.  I am sure that you already know that, but I have longed for so many months and years to write those words to you that nothing will keep me from writing them now.  I am not sure what is next for me or when I will be discharged, but I will write to you the instant I know more.

Adam

 

January 9, 1866

Dear Adam,

First of all, I want to thank you for sending me that advice on transporting explosives7.

But the main reason I am writing to you now — before you leave Boston — is to tell you that I understand why you are not coming home immediately but instead signing on with this scientific expedition to the Sandwich Islands8.

I traveled the world as a young man, so I can understand your desire to see strange places now.  As much as we all want you home, I want you to come back when, and only when, you are ready.

For many years, I have known that you never had a childhood:  I could not bear to give you a birthday celebration until you were six, when Inger had become part of our lives, and she helped me overcome the grief of losing your mother on the day you were born.  You were doing a man’s work by the time you were eight, you were my business partner by the time you reached your teens, and you were, sadly, the second parent to Hoss and Joe for most of their young years.  Perhaps that makes it all the more important to me that you have this opportunity now.

Hoss finds everything he needs here on the Ponderosa.  Joe finds all he needs on a line from San Francisco to Sacramento to Virginia City and on to the Ponderosa. I always knew that you needed a bigger world.  And while we never really talked about it, I always knew that your decision to join the Union Army was partially motivated by a desire to see new places and have some time away from the Ponderosa, even though I never doubted that ending slavery and serving your country were your first priorities.

While he dearly wants you back, Hoss seems to understand your reasons to delay your return to us.  But, as you might expect, things have been tougher with Joe.  As much as you two argued throughout his teen years, and as much as he has matured since you left, you are still the oldest brother that he adores and he wants you back here on the Ponderosa right now.

Please write as soon as your ship docks in the Islands.

I grow more proud of you each day, and I, too, long for your return.

Pa

 

June 28, 1866

Dear Pa, Hoss, and Joe,

The Sandwich Islands are even more beautiful than I anticipated. 

As soon as we landed here, I caught myself looking east toward the California coast.  I had the most clear and painful feeling that something had happened to Joe9. All my life, I have been one to think rationally and not waste too much attention on anything that my mind cannot logically explain, but somehow, I know that Joe is hurting.  Please write as soon as you can, I need to know how he is, and how the rest of you are doing as well.

I spent a lot of time on the voyage here out on the ship’s deck, standing at the rail, watching out over the water, drinking in the peace of each wave, each bird, each puff of wind10.  While I still struggle with my decision to delay my return to you, I cannot regret the time the voyage gave me to think, and put all that happened in the war into a place in my mind where I can, hopefully, accept what happened without either denying it or allowing the memories of the past to control my, and our family’s, future.

I am grateful to be here and away from the close confines of the ship.  I’ve spent plenty of time around Virginia City miners and cowhands, but the men of that ship’s crew were some of the toughest that I have known.

After we rounded Cape Horn and headed to into the Pacific, we saw many whaling boats, too many for my comfort.  I have a growing fear that we are overharvesting whales for their oil11.  Perhaps I can convince scientists who sailed here with me to look at this once we have the geological and meteorological instruments set up, calibrated and running.

I deeply regret that Ross and Delphie never saw this place.  Remember how Delphie used to despise the winter?  There are no real seasons here, it is warm all year round.  Marie might have appreciated it too — warmth without all those New Orleans moss-draped live oaks that she never seemed to like.

Write soon, and do let me know about Joe,

Adam

 

September 2, 1866, about 11 PM, in the Sandwich Islands

Adam Cartwright sat in his room, wrapping up the day’s geological stress calculations and his nightly journal entry.  He thought he heard something crying; at first he attributed it to the local shorebirds, but after listening more closely, he decided to investigate.  As he hurried down a fern-choked trail, the sounds became clearer.  They were human voices, women’s voices, raised in terror and confusion and panic.  Stopping to get a bearing on their direction, Adam took off through the forest, running as fast as he could toward the wailing cries.

 

September 3, 1866, about 3 AM

Returning to his room, Adam reached under his bed, pulled out a small wooden box and unlocked it, revealing the pistol inside.  After staring at it for a silent minute, he shut the box, tucked it under his arm, and slipped back out into the night.

 

September 3, 1866, about 4 AM

Adam stood on the beach in his jeans and boots, soaking wet, a small fire burning before him.  His wadded-up shirt lay in the sand at his side.  Mesmerized by the flames, he slowly picked up the shirt, systematically pulled off every button, and dropped the shirt into the fire.

 

September 3, 1866, about 4:30 AM

Hidden in the tropical forest, Adam stared at the small, deep hole he had dug in the forest floor.  He carefully placed his belt, the buttons from his shirt, and his pistol into the wooden box, and then lowered the box into the ground.  He picked up some soil from the forest floor, gradually releasing it from his hand onto the box, then slowly and methodically dropping handful after handful until the hole was filled.  Finally, he arranged some vegetation over the hole, concealing it permanently.

It was over.

Isabella12 and Ruth13, they would have understood.

 

September 16, 1867

Dear Pa, Hoss, and Joe,

I am in Paris, France, and will be here until the early spring14.  I promise I will return to the Ponderosa then.  I am helping redesign the structural supports for a four-century old cathedral.

Adam

 

October 20, 1867

Seated at his massive wooden desk, the silver-haired man looked up from the short letter clutched in his hands.  Why had his firstborn gone to France instead of coming home, as they had all expected?  Why had his letters become so few and far between since his first few months in the Islands?  Even the tone of the letters had changed.  During most of Adam’s absence, even in the worst of the war, his letters spoke of his fears and feelings, as much as Adam had even been willing to share his emotions.

Adam, whatever has happened, we need you to come home.  Whatever is wrong, we can help you fix it here.

 

May 12, 1868, 10 AM, the journal of Adam Cartwright.

I am writing this on the stage heading westbound toward the Ponderosa.  I should be in Virginia City this afternoon.  I usually find it easy to sleep when I am moving down a road but I have barely slept – in the stage or at any of the way stations — since I left St. Louis.  I remember returning from Harvard all those years ago – it seems so different this time.  With each mile, the weather and terrain feels more like home.  Will they see how much I’ve changed?  Can I learn to live with other people, even my family, ever again?

At our last stop, I bought some clothes, black waist overalls, a shirt, and a new Stetson.  The reflection in the shop’s mirror didn’t seem that different from the face they said good bye to almost six years ago.  How different will Pa, Hoss, and Joe be now from the family I left before the war?

 

May 12, 1868, about 2 PM.

Ben glanced at his boys, smiling to himself.  Adam’s stage would be here within a half hour.  Standing at the edge of the dusty, bustling Virginia City street, Hoss had a big grin on his open face.  He had been hooting up a storm all the way from the Ponderosa into town, even singing to the horses as he drove the buckboard, assuring the team that they would get to hear some “dadburn better singin'” soon.  Buck, Cochise, and Sport were tied up behind the buckboard, casually taking in the activity of the Virginia City street.  Joe was running back and forth across the street about once a minute, repeatedly telling his father and brother that he couldn’t see the stage yet, but that it should be there any minute, and that they had better get ready for the biggest homecoming the country had ever seen.  He just can’t control all that energy, Ben thought.  Joe has been through so much — and I am so glad to see him acting like that happy, spirited young man once again.

Finally, Joe let loose a wild yelp, “He’s here! He’s really here!”

—

Hoss watched the stage pull into a halt.  The door opened, and there was his older brother, a bit puny and pale, but his older brother nonetheless, back from the war, and all those other crazy things he had to do before he could come home.

He grabbed him out of the stage door and scooped him up off the ground.

“WhooooWho Adam!!!!!!”

—

Joe couldn’t stand to wait for Hoss to finish so he came up to his oldest brother from behind, slapping and hugging and crying and not a bit embarrassed by any of it.

“You’re home, you’re home, you’re really home!”

—

Adam opened the door.  There they were, his family, beaming, not much different from the faces he had left so long ago.  He felt Hoss’ powerful bear hug around him, pulling him from the stage and swinging him through the air, with a grip so strong it would have hurt if it had not felt so damn good.  And Joe was behind him, paddling his backside and yelping and jumping up and down in unbridled joy.

Then Adam looked over at his Pa, the contented smile on his face, and the tears in his eyes.

Pa, I promise I will try to be your son again.  I don’t know if I can, but I will try.

—

Given a choice between the buckboard and Sport, Adam gladly chose his favorite horse for the ride home.  He wanted to stop often, just to look at the countryside and Sierras.  He reminded Ben of a man who gone thirsty too long and now just couldn’t get enough water to drink.

When they arrived at the Ponderosa, half of the hands, plenty of men from the sawmill, and, of course Hop Sing were there to greet them.  Adam tried to hide his discomfort.  After all of his time in Paris, he wasn’t used to being the center of attention.  He had barely touched another human being, except maybe for a handshake, since he had left —

 

The Islands.

 

Joe was talking to him.  He tried to pull back to the present.

“Adam, you okay?  You look kinda scared or somethin’.”

Shaking it off, Adam tried to cover.  “No, I’m fine”, he said, a bit more sharply than he had intended.  Then, “Sorry, Joe.  I guess I must be more tired than I thought.”

“Then let’s git you some supper, older brother”, Hoss declared.  “Hop Sing is makin’ roast beef, just the way you like it, and potatoes and peas and some of his strawberry pie, and —-”

Adam let his brothers each grab an arm and tug him inside.

—

The meal was spectacular — it was clear to Adam that time hadn’t diminished Hop Sing’s cooking skills.  After dinner, the four Cartwright men sat in front of the fireplace, sipping brandy and simply relishing the fact that they were together.  Joe started to ask Adam his fortieth question for the night, but when he glanced over at him, he was slumped on the sofa, sound asleep.

Joe thought he heard something downstairs, and went down to investigate.  Normally Joe was the soundest of sleepers and the last to shake off the night’s slumber come morning, but this was no ordinary night.  As he headed down the upstairs hallway, he heard the big grandfather clock toll 2 AM.

Adam was still flopped on the couch, with his long arms and legs hanging in four different directions, as if getting all of himself onto the sofa at once was just too much of an effort.  He was shaking and murmuring under his breath, not yelling and not whispering but clearly trying to say something.

Joe leaned over him and shook his shoulder “Adam?”

Joe had barely touched him when Adam’s hand shot out, grasping Joe’s wrist, and then sending his younger brother flying over the back of the sofa, slamming against the floor.

“ADAM!”

But Adam was on him again, shoving him with strength even Joe never guessed that he had. With Joe’s vision dimming, he tried to fight back, but the ferocity of the attack was overwhelming.

“NO YOU WON’T”! Adam’s guttural growl scared Joe more than even the thrashing had.

“Adam, Adam, Adam!” It was Hoss, from the stair landing.

With that Adam froze in place, and seemed to see Joe, his brother, for the first time since he woke him up.

Then Hoss had his big arms around Adam, holding his older brother off from causing any more damage to Joe, and Ben, who had appeared from somewhere, was helping his youngest up off the floor.

Ben looked from Adam to Joe to Hoss, hoping for an explanation.

Hoss felt Adam’s shoulders go limp.  “Joe, I’m sorry.”

“What happened?” Ben demanded.

“He tried to wake me up.”  It was the only explanation Adam could offer.  He knew that he had been having nightmares, but he hadn’t been sleeping in proximity to anyone who might have tried to wake him up in the middle of one.

Joe was rubbing the back of his head.  “Adam, I’m okay, I really am, don’t worry about it.”

“Adam, I reckon you were having a nightmare, a really bad one” Hoss said.  “Somethin’ from the war?”

“I don’t know, I never remember it once I wake up.”

—

As summer came, the Cartwrights settled back into their routine of ranch business.  Adam was amazed at how easy it was to get back into the family’s work:  It was almost as if his place had been left open for him, waiting for his return.  Within weeks he was caught up on the timber, mining, and cattle industries, and was working the ranch and settling contracts almost as if he had never left.  The nightmares continued but he found that he could, by and large, hide them from his family:  He almost never cried out when he had one, like Joe had always done when he had all those childhood bad dreams after his mother’s death.  Unbelievably, “little” Peggy was now thirteen, and she and Adam picked up their correspondence after only sporadic letters during Adam’s time away from home.  He didn’t have much interest in saloons, meeting people or calling on ladies, but Hoss and Joe pried him off his chair and saddle every now and then and managed to get him into town a least a couple of nights a month.

So, on one hot July evening, the three Cartwright brothers found themselves in one of Virginia City’s lively saloons, knocking back a few cold beers and cleaning up at the poker table. Someone was tickling the piano keys in the background, and the usual mixture of miners and ranch hands and locals were settling in for the evening.

Hoss stood at the counter and returned bartender Sam’s smile.  “You must be awfully glad to have him back.” Sam said.

“We sure are, but I reckon Pa is even happier than Joe and me.  I think he was getting really tired of handling all the deals and contracts and ledgers and such.  Joe and I never had a mind for any of that.  But Adam, he’s as good at dealing with them mining guys as he is at busting some old mustang.”

Hoss and Sam continued to look over at the poker table where Adam and Joe were taking a couple of suckers all the way up the river and back.  Hoss smiled again, and then his grin dimmed.

Now if only those dadburn nightmares would stop. The ones he keeps thinkin’ none of us know about.

Hoss’ thoughts were interrupted by a squabble from across the bar.

“Hank, leave me alone”, Junie said, “I got customers to serve”.

“Now Junie, darling, I is a customer, and I’d like a bit of service here meself.” The rough, dirty miner stared hungrily into the bar maid’s low cut turquoise satin bodice, leaving no doubt as to the kind of service he was seeking.

“Hank, let me go!”

“She said LET HER GO!” Adam roared.  He was on his feet, face twisted in rage.  Joe’s eyes went wide.

“She’s a whore, Cartwright, where do you get off tellin’ me what to do?”

With that Adam closed the distance between them, and, to the amazement of everyone in the saloon – his brothers included – swung his boot up chest high, landed a brutal blow on the miner’s breastbone, spun around in a second and pounded another kick to the miner’s chest, collapsing the digger against the barroom’s wall.

The bar was deathly quiet.  No one in Virginia City expected Adam Cartwright to fight that viciously, or that plain dirty.

Hoss grabbed his brother before he could do any more destruction.  “Adam, Adam, you got him.  He ain’t gonna bother anyone else tonight.”

“Adam, where did you learn ta fight like that?” Joe asked, eyes still wide.

“I learned that in Paris from an old Japanese man. It helped me get rid of my limp.”

“Well,” Hoss said, “It looks like you learned it real good.”

“Let’s get out of here.” Adam said.  It was more an order than a suggestion. He dropped a handful of coins on the bar. “For the damages and drinks, Sam.”

As his brothers followed Adam out of the saloon, Joe whispered, “Hoss, he woulda killed that guy if you hadn’t stopped him.”

“I know Joe, I know.  And it scares me.  Bad.”

—

Adam scanned his family’s faces across the supper table.  No time like the present, he thought.

“I was wondering, would you all mind if I spent one week or ten days at the most each month in Sacramento for a while?  You’ve probably heard that they are still building up much of the city down near the river, burying first floors of buildings and turning them into basements, to try to keep the bulk of the city from flooding so often15.  They need some engineering assistance.  I’d still be living here most of the time.”

“Adam, I don’t want you leaving for Sacramento, I thought you were going to stay home now!” Joe’s anger, disappointment and hurt were more than obvious.
“It would only be a week or so a month, the rest of the time I’d be here, and” — Adam turned to his father, “I won’t let it interfere with what we need to get done here before winter.  We could use the extra money to expand the sawmill, with all the timber the railroads will need to build spur lines once they get the main Pacific route done.  I suspect the Central Pacific and Union Pacific will hitch up sometime next spring16, and we would be wise to have a lot of sawmill capacity ready for them as soon as they complete the main line.  Joe, I promise I am not moving there for good.”

Ben considered this.  As usual, his firstborn’s logic was hard to dispute.  “Just don’t get any ideas about staying there” Ben’s smile belied his stern order.

“Thanks, Pa.”

—

September brought the annual Virginia City Harvest Festival, and, once again, Hoss volunteered to judge the pie contest (“hey, then I get to eat a piece of each one!”).  The first prize went to a blackberry cream pie baked by a Mary Colleen O’Halloran, a rancher’s daughter from up by Reno.  Hoss took an instant liking to the buxom, red haired, green eyed girl, and arranged to call on her and her family as soon as he could.

On that first visit, Hoss stopped at the front door of the O’Halloran home, swallowed hard, and gave the door a knock.  A middle aged lady answered, a lady who shared Mary Colleen’s kind smile.

“I’m Mrs. Katherine O’Halloran, Mary Colleen’s mother.  You’re Hoss Cartwright, I remember you from the pie contest.  I am afraid Mary Colleen is out in the barn with our youngest son Michael, her mare is foaling, it’s her first young one and she’s having a tough time.  Mary is never willing to leave any animal if she thinks she can help it.  Hoss, she asked me to ask you if you’d be willing to come in and sit down; she knows it isn’t right to keep you waiting but she says that our mare needs her worse.  I’ll get you some coffee if you’d like.”

Hoss touched his hat and smiled back.  “Well, ma’am, if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to head out to yer barn and help Mary Colleen and her little brother.  I know a bit about helping mares through birthing time.”

“All right” Mrs. O’Halloran smiled again and pointed toward the barn.  “Over there, and I’ll have that coffee and some of Mary’s fresh muffins ready when you git done with the new mother.”

Hoss entered the barn, and saw Mary Colleen bending over the palomino mare, rubbing its belly.  She seemed too concerned about the mare to be embarrassed about how she was receiving his visit.

“Hoss, she’s been straining way too long!” Mary pleaded.  “You said you knew about horses, can you help her?  This is Sunshine, my favorite mare!”

For the next hour, Hoss, Mary Colleen, and Michael worked on the mare, with Hoss reaching inside to correct a misaligned foreleg, and, in the end, they were rewarded with a strong filly, the image of her golden and cream mother.

While Michael got some fresh oats for the new mother, Hoss and Mary Colleen stood side by side, content to watch the little filly take her first bounces around the tired mare.  Shyly, Hoss reached over and took Mary’s hand.

From there one thing led to another and the Cartwrights found themselves planning a wedding, to be held on the first of December.  Mary Colleen wanted the ceremony to take place at the Ponderosa, since that would be where she and Hoss would be building their life together.  She would have her two sisters stand up for her and Hoss could have his two brothers at his side.

The day of the wedding came, and the Cartwright sons found themselves fussing over Hoss in the washroom, trying to get his black string tie right and his wispy red-gold hair to lay down against his head rather than standing straight up.

“Hoss, you never looked better, now, I know that ain’t saying much, but well -“, Joe teased.

“I have had about all I’m gonna take from you, Joe,”

“Nervous?” Adam joshed.  I have never seen him happier.

“No, I ain’t nervous, Adam, Mary Colleen is the sweetest thing God ever created and I’m the man who gets ta spend my life with her.”  There was a sudden seriousness in his voice.  “Adam, Joe, I’m just hopin’ that you two find someone who can make you as happy as I am feelin’ today.”

The three brothers closed in for a powerful bear hug, and headed out to the ceremony.

—

The day after Hoss and Mary Colleen were wed, Hop Sing announced that his aged parents needed him in San Francisco, and he would be, after nearly three decades of service, leaving the Ponderosa to tend to his family.  He assured each Cartwright that the forces in the universe had brought Mary Colleen to them so he could leave knowing they would be cared for and fed.  There was a time for everything and now was his time to return to his extended family.

—

Adam hissed against the cold wind as he pulled on the fence wire, trying to get the two pieces to match up so he could tie them off.  Joe tugged on the other line, holding it six inches back from the end so Adam would have enough room to twist the two wires together.  The two of them weren’t going to begrudge Hoss a honeymoon, but his strength sure would have come in handy about now.

“I’ll bet you haven’t seen this kind of cold for a while, big brother?”

“I don’t think it ever dropped below sixty degrees the whole time I was in the Islands17.”

“And in Paris?18”

“It got cold, but no where’s near as cold as this.”

Joe decided to test the waters. “Why did you go Paris after you got done in the Islands, instead of comin’ back here?”

“I guess I just wasn’t ready.”

“Why not?”

The kid always was as tenacious as a dog tugging on his favorite bone.  But he’s a man now, a darn fine one, and I’d better remember that, hard as it might be.   I owe him an explanation, but I can’t even explain it to myself.  “I am not sure why not, I know that isn’t a very good reason, but I just don’t have another one to give.”

“Does it have anything to do with all those nightmares?”

Damn, I thought I was hiding those pretty well.  “Joe, I don’t even remember what those nightmares are about.  I think I’m having the same nightmare over and over, but I can’t be sure.”

Joe decided to change tactics.  “When are you going to start calling on ladies again?  You are the most eligible bachelor in four counties, except for me, of course,” Joe added with a grin.

Adam sighed.  Another question he couldn’t answer.  “When I’m ready, I guess.”

There was a moment of silence between them, as they continued to work on the fence.

“Joe, I am so sorry I wasn’t here when you lost your sight19.  I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you were married to Alice20.  I wish I could have gotten to know her, and I wish I could have been here with you when she died.”

Tears welled up in Joe’s eyes, and Adam’s own heart stung as he saw the pain on Joe’s face.  “Adam, I wish you had been here, too.  I’ve changed a lot since you went away, I’ve seen things that no one should ever have to see.  Ya know, sometimes I think I couldn’t finish growing up until you left – I had to make my own way without you carrying me out of saloons, telling me to get to my chores and holding me back from fights that weren’t worth fighting – but I now I want you home, here with Pa and Hoss and me on the Ponderosa.  But you got to work through whatever is bothering you, here and now.  I don’t want you to have to leave again.  Grown up or not, I still need my oldest brother, and that goes for the bad times and the good ones.”

—

A week later and after a day at his desk in the Sacramento City Hall, Adam needed to stretch and walk, so he headed out into the city’s streets to finish his Christmas shopping.  Gazing through the window of a book store, he found himself wondering why he shouldn’t buy himself a Christmas present as well.

The bookstore must have been relatively new; Adam hadn’t seen it before he left for the war, and Adam rarely missed a bookstore.  Sacramento had grown enormously in his absence. The store had a nice selection, too, everything from history to literature to recent fiction.  As he bent over to check a lower stack, he rammed his posterior into someone else.

Embarrassed, he turned around and saw an amused young woman, tiny, not much more than five feet tall, with dark hair and intelligent, cocoa brown eyes.

“My apologies, ma’am.”

“Miss Garrson, and your apology is accepted.”

“Adam Cartwright, ma’am, at your service.”

—

Christmas 1868 came and passed, with the added joy of having Mary Colleen in the house.  A cold January day found the three Cartwright sons in town, restocking supplies.  They needed to get a fifty-five gallon barrel of kerosene for the sawmill; with the days shorter and the timber orders piling up, the men were skidding logs to the mill as fast as they could, and the sawmill was running long hours cutting railroad ties.

The trio was in Hansen’s Mercantile, with Joe holding the door while Hoss and Adam wrestled the huge barrel toward the exit, when Hoss saw Adam go white and let go of the barrel like it was blazing hot.

“Adam, you all right?”

Adam stood immobilized a split second longer, then raced past a startled Joe and out of the mercantile.

“WWWWhat?” Joe stammered.

“He just stopped dead and let go of the barrel.  Dadburnit, Joe, what’s wrong with ‘im?”

“We gotta find him, he might need help.”

Hoss and Joe glanced up and down the street.  No sign of their brother anywhere.  Then they heard some water splashing from behind the store.  Darting around back, they saw Adam leaning over a horse trough, throwing water over his face and gasping for air.  The smell in the alley told them that he had definitely emptied his stomach a minute before.

Hoss and Joe glanced at each other, at a loss as to what to do next.

Adam got up, composed himself instantly, saying, “I’m fine.  Let’s go get the kerosene”, and then strode past his brothers and back into the store.

—

That evening found Ben in his red leather chair reading, Mary Colleen studying one of Hop Sing’s recipe files while she sat next to her husband on the sofa, and Hoss squaring off against Joe in a game of checkers.  Adam had retreated to his blue chair right after supper, nose in a book.

Hoss and Joe hadn’t told Ben about Adam and the kerosene barrel yet — even though they both thought he should know, they wanted some privacy to tell him.  So they continued at checkers, neither taking much care to plan any winning strategy, trying to keep watch on their older brother without looking as if they were hovering.

Needing to break the tension, Joe rose, smiled, and gave Mary Colleen his best formal bow.  “May I enter your kitchen, Mary?”  If possible, Hoss’ bride was even more possessive of the kitchen than Hop sing had been.  Unauthorized entry was definitely a misdemeanor, and possibly a capital crime. “What would you like?”

“Some more cinnamon doughnuts?” Joe asked hopefully.

“Sure. Second breadbox up from the bottom.”

Joe glanced around. “Anybody else?”

“You can git me a couple.”  Hoss.  Food.  Good thing he married an incredible cook.  Or maybe he’s not that hungry, maybe he needs to get his mind off Adam as much as I do.  Seeing no other takers, Joe headed for the kitchen.

By the time he got back to the living room, Adam had moved over to the desk, ink and paper in use.

“Whatcha writing?”

“Words.”

“No kidding.  Who you writing to?”

“Another human being.”

Joe made a face and turned back to checkers.  “Yeah, right, I ain’t ever seen a horse pick up a pen and write.”  Adam is just being Adam.  The harder you pound on his door, the harder you jam it shut   But sometimes it feels like a part of him just never came home.

—

“Pa, I think I’d better head up to the line shacks over the next couple of days and do some restocking.  It’s early March, the supplies up there are likely getting low by now, and you never know when a crew is going to get stranded up there overnight in a blizzard,” Adam suggested over breakfast.

Ben arched an eyebrow.  “Alone?”

“Adam, you ain’t going up there alone.”  Joe said,

Ben, waiting for Adam to insist on going alone, was astonished by Adam’s response.

“Well, Joe, if you want to go with me, you’d better get your bedroll and a warm coat.  It’s going to be a long, cold ride.”

Hoss broke in.  “Pa, I gotta go, too.  I know we’ve got a lotta work to do around here, but somebody has to look after those two.  Adam probably doesn’t remember his way up there and Joe will end up in a Virginia City saloon if I don’t look after ‘im.”

Ben was about to remind Hoss that Adam had been riding the Tahoe rim since he was eight, but he caught the silent message Adam’s glance was trying to convey.

They’re worried about me, Pa, let them come.

I understand, son.

The ride up into the mountains was beautiful and quiet, with a slow, soft, early spring snowfall and no wind.  Hoss, with his tracking skills, took the lead most of the time, with Adam content in the drag position where he could watch both of his brothers’ backs as they slowly picked their way down the trail.  They decided to stop at the second shack for the night.

“You two take the bunks, I’m used to sleeping on the ground,” Adam offered.

“Then I’m taking the top bunk, it ain’t safe to sleep with Hoss up above you.”

The brothers piled the supplies into the tiny shack, fed and groomed their horses, checked over their tack for the next day, stoked up the fireplace, and set about getting some supper.  Afterwards they huddled near the fire, steaming cups of coffee in hand.

“Adam, you remember to bring a razor?” Hoss asked.

“I always remember to bring a razor.”

“Yeah,” Joe teased, “If Adam didn’t shave for three days his beard would be so long we couldn’t find him.”

“Just because you can’t grow one, Little Joe.”

“Doesn’t matter, women love my face any way they can have it.”

“You put some whiskey in that coffee, Joseph?”

Hoss sat back and smiled.  I spent a lotta years prayin’ I’d hear ‘em banterin’ like that one more time.

—

From his sound sleep in the top bunk, Joe bolted upright, barely missing the low cabin ceiling.  Adam was having another nightmare. He jumped down to the floor loud enough to wake up Hoss, who immediately understood what was happening.

“No, Joe, don’t touch ‘im, use a stick!”

Joe whirled for the fireplace tools.

“No, not the poker!” Hoss shouted.

Seizing the ash shovel, Joe stood back as far as he could, carefully gave Adam a single prod, and was greeted by Adam grabbing the other end of the shovel and hurling it across the cabin.

The bang of the shovel against the far wall brought Adam into the present. “Damn,” he said quietly and settled back into his blankets.

“A bad one, Adam?” Hoss asked gently.

“Amanda told me that a lot of war veterans have nightmares,” Damn.  I hadn’t meant to say that.

“Who’s Amanda?” Hoss and Joe asked in unison.

“A lady I met in Sacramento.”

“Is she pretty?”

“She liketa read?”

“You gonna move to Sacramento?”

“When can we meet ‘er?”

“How’d you meet her?”

Adam chose to answer the last question first.  “I bumped into her – literally – in a bookstore.  And yes, she likes to read.  Her father is a manager for the Virginia and Truckee and she works as a nurse.  She’s smart, unconventional, stubborn, she’s petite, and she has dark hair and pretty brown eyes and likes to sew and garden.  She’s plays piano and we’ve been singing together and I’m giving her shooting lessons, and she rides a dappled gray mare named Molly.”  Hopefully that will be enough to quiet them down

Hoss and Joe settled in on either side of Adam, both too excited to figure out what to ask next.

“Does she like to cook?” Hoss asked.

“Not too much, she tells me.”

“Ah, don’t worry, Mary Colleen can take care of that.”

“Do you think she’d be willing to leave the city and move out to the Ponderosa?”

“I think that question is a little premature, Joe.”

“What did ya mean, Adam, when you say “unconventional?””  Joe wasn’t giving up.

“She’s, not, well, improper, but I guess she doesn’t worry too much about what her neighbors think about her.”

‘Glad to hear she’s stubborn,” Hoss explained to Joe. “She’ll have ta be, to stand up our brother Adam over there.”

“Hoss, Joe, I think you are getting the cart before the horse.”

With that, Joe got up, pulled the blankets off his bunk and spread them out crosswise to where Adam was laying by the fire.  Hoss scooped up his bedroll, too, and spread it out alongside his older brother. Understanding what they were doing, Adam smiled softly “Hoss, I remember when you were six and you wouldn’t leave me alone at night until I told you a story.  And Joe, I remember all those times you crawled in with me after YOU had a nightmare.”

Joe settled his head against Adam’s chest. “Then let me return the favor.”

“Yeah, me too, ” Hoss added.  “Besides, you don’t need nightmares, you need a preacher.”

Adam reached over and put his hand on Joe’s heart.  Its steady rhythm reminded of him of the wagon train west, sleeping tucked next to his father in the back of the wagon and in tiny way stations and even out on the open ground.  He had never slept better than when he could feel the heartbeat of someone who loved him.

Five minutes later, all three brothers were back asleep.

—

Hoss lay on his back in bed, wearing his big green-checked nightshirt, with his wife, in her matching checked flannel nightgown, curled into his side.  Adam had left for Sacramento that morning.

“So you think he really loves her?” Mary asked.

“Yeah, I darn well know he does.  When we were talking about ‘er up at the shack, his eyes were lightin’ up like a summer storm.”

“Adam did seem a lot more relaxed when you all got back yesterday.”

“You’d never expect it, knowing ‘im, but when old logical Adam falls in love, he falls hard and fast.  I swear he knows that it’s love within a day of meeting the gal.  I remember once there was this Quaker girl – I think he thought she was the one when he first saw her walk down the street21.  And when he got hurt up once up in the mountains, and a girl who had been raised by the Shoshoni nursed ‘im back, he gave her a ring after only a couple of days22.”

“So you think he’s in love that way again?”

“Yeah, I suspect so.”

“Hoss, do you think he’s — worried – given that things between ladies and the Cartwright men haven’t always gone so well?”

“I dunno, but it would be just like Adam to do that.  My older brother always needs to be able to explain everythin’ – he needs to know why a machine didn’t work, why some particular tree didn’t grow, why somebody done what they done.  He never could just let it be.  As far as I’m concerned, we’ve had an awful lot of tragedy, but it don’t mean one bad thing caused the next or had anything to do with it.  I don’t see where it does any of us – Pa, Adam, Joe or me – any good livin’ alone and in fear for the rest of our lives.  I just don’t know if Adam can get the past behind him.  I guess I wish he could let it all go and find a way to be happy.”

—

Adam swung the ax down hard again, cleanly splitting the dry log.  He had been cutting and splitting the wood for Mrs. Carmichael’s boarding house since he first started spending a week each month there last August.  He found it a useful diversion from working over a drafting table and it kept him fit for ranch work the rest of the month.  Sacramento, he had to admit, was a bit more fascinating than it had been back last summer, but with the nightmares and the inexplicable incidents of losing his temper for little or no reason, he wasn’t ready to do anything that would give Amanda the impression that he was calling on her with engagement and marriage in mind.

From fifteen feet away, Amanda silently watched the dark man in front of her splitting firewood.  She thought about his eyes:  Green, gold and brown hazel, that somehow turned black in the shadows and amber in bright sun.  Black curling hair, strong shoulders, a broad well-furred chest, tapering into a slender waist and long legs.  There was an almost frightening maleness about him, but he always treated her with utmost gentleness and consideration.  He respected her ideas and opinions, and didn’t seem the slightest bit threatened by a woman who had read and studied as much as she had.

Her father, would, of course, ask her about the time she and Adam spent together, perhaps wanting more detail than she would willingly give.  Her father was clearly worried about her continued unmarried status at twenty-four years of age. Perhaps it would be better if she and Adam said goodbye at the door tonight; after the talk her father had given her earlier, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to see him again tonight with a gentleman at her side.

Amanda refocused on Adam and the present.  His shirt was off, even on this relatively cool day, showing a magnificent set of muscles but also a horrifying collection of scars.  The scars around both of his wrists were the most puzzling.  Amanda had seen them before — Adam took no pains to hide them, he often went about with his sleeves rolled up — but she knew it would be impolite, and possibly even hurtful, to mention the scars and risk bringing up terrible memories.  Had Adam been held as a prisoner, in manacles, during the war?  Still, she hoped the time would come when she was important enough to him for Adam to feel the need to explain them to her — but it would be his decision, not hers.  Keeping her eyes on his shoulders, she allowed herself another minute of pleasurable observation before she decided that she really should make her presence known.

She cleared her throat.

Adam glanced up, with an expression that told her he was trying to act annoyed even though he really wasn’t.

“Do you always sneak up on men like that?”

“No, I just didn’t want to interrupt you.  I know I am early.”

“I know I was supposed to call on you at your house around two.  This is my residence, and it’s only half past noon.”

“My father was truly annoying me, I needed to get away from him”, she replied, exasperated.

Adam couldn’t refuse her that.  She had told him that father was continually badgering her to stop her work at the hospital, saying it wasn’t proper for a young woman of her station, and instead to concentrate on the things a single lady of twenty-four should be doing — before she got any older.  He grinned back.  “Okay, go wait inside.  I’ll be in in a few minutes and I’ll get cleaned up.  And please stay in the parlor — Mrs. Carmichael will throw a fit if she has an unaccompanied young lady roaming her premises.”

“All right”, Amanda replied, pretending to pout but winding up smiling instead.

It was rare that Adam had a Saturday free in Sacramento, so they made plans to take full advantage of it, with a fast-paced ride, some shooting practice, and a quiet dinner at one of the city’s ever-growing number of restaurants.  Then perhaps, a long, slow walk back to Amanda’s home.

As they strolled toward the restaurant door, Amanda gazed up into the sky and asked, “Would you show me those three stars, the ones you were telling me about, the ones that you say remind you of your mothers?”

He took her arm.  She loved the way his dimples always showed when he smiled.   “I think we’ll need to go down to the corner to see them.”  When the cluster of three stars came into view, he pointed them out to her.

“I can’t quite see what you mean.”  In spite of trying, she couldn’t find a group of three stars, of equal brightness, in the direction where he was aiming.  She wanted to be able to find them.  They were important to Adam; she had worked out that he had been talking to those stars since his second stepmother, Marie, died when he was teenager, and that even when out east on the battlefield, he had looked for them in the night sky.

Adam leaned over her, trying to line up his arm and hand with her line of sight. “Right up there, Amanda, about one Big Dipper’s length to the right of the handle end of the Little Dipper.”  A beat later, as if disturbed by their physical proximity, he pulled back.  Amanda tried not to show any outward reaction, and kept her thoughts to herself.  Why do you always seem to run toward me and away from me at the same time?

—

Hoss and Joe pulled up to the supper table just as Mary Colleen was setting down the last serving dish.

“Where’s Pa?” Hoss asked his wife.

“He came back from town early today, he said he wasn’t feeling well, just a little tightness in his chest, he thought he was maybe getting a cold.  He said he didn’t feel like eating now, that he’d rather take a nap, but I thought I’d bring a tray up to him later.”

“Should somebody go check on him?” Joe asked.

“Naw, Joe, let it go for now, give him a chance to sleep.  We’ll check on ‘im right after we eat.” Hoss replied.

A half hour later, Mary headed upstairs with a tray of dinner for her father-in-law.  She hoped he would eat now, and was feeling better; none of the Cartwright men were particularly easy to deal with when sick or injured.

She knocked on his door lightly, and, receiving no response, she balanced the tray on one arm and quietly opened the door.

“HOSS!”

—

Adam and Amanda were standing outside her door, starting to say their good nights when a young boy came sprinting across the street, yelling, “Colonel Cartwright, Colonel Cartwright, telegram for you, it’s marked urgent!”

Adam took the telegram, tipped the boy, and quickly unfolded the paper.  Amanda saw the color drain out of his face.  “My Pa”, he whispered.

“You need someone to go with you” Amanda hesitated, “even if you don’t want it to be me”.

Adam stared at her, taking in her words and their meaning.  There it all was:  I love you enough to risk my reputation, my standing in the community, and possibly my entire future to go with you now.  I know we aren’t married, or even engaged, but I want to help you, support you, and I will gladly handle any associated risks.

“Would you be willing to?”

“Yes.”

—

Amanda watched silently as Adam steered the carriage down the last mile of road to his family’s ranch, the Ponderosa.  He had talked little on their trip from Sacramento, speaking only to point out a few locations along the way and to give her an idea of the time remaining in their journey.  In their earlier times together, he had told her about his father; and his brothers, the big, wise, and gentle Hoss, and the slender, agile, and volatile Joe; about the beauty of Lake Tahoe and the endless but rewarding hard work that went into running the ranch.  She wished her first visit could have been under other circumstances.

In the absence of conversation, Amanda found herself contemplating her own life.  Her father was an ambitious man — Henry Garrson had begun his career with the Union Pacific in Omaha, where Amanda and her three older siblings spent most of their childhoods.  Being the smallest and a full seven years younger than her next older brother, Amanda had spent much of her childhood alone, mostly in the company of their Lakota housekeeper, who her parents had called Hannah.  Whether Hannah had an Indian name, she never said – indeed, Hannah talked very little about what her personal life was like before she came to work for the Garrsons, but she often told little Amanda about the legends and ways of her people.  Amanda remembered sitting in the kitchen alone with Hannah, enthralled by her tales of the original people of the northern prairies.

When she was seventeen, her father took a position with the Central Pacific and moved his household to Sacramento, the city that housed the Central Pacific’s great train-building works and was destined to be the western end of the Pacific Railroad, at least until an extension to San Francisco and the ocean could be built at some future time.  They expected Hannah to make the journey with them, but she quietly said no, explaining for the first time that she had family in the Dakota Territory and would instead return to them.  Meanwhile, her parents placed Amanda in a finishing school in St. Louis, but she was unhappy there, and persuaded them to allow her to join them in Sacramento after only one semester.  Almost as soon as she arrived in Sacramento, she began volunteering at the hospital, and now, over seven years later, she was content in her work as a nurse, having learned much about healing people’s bodies and souls.  Her only real sorrow – and it was a great sorrow – since coming to Sacramento was the death of her mother some five years ago, from a respiratory infection that no one’s medical skills were able to counteract.  Since that time, she had lived alone with her father, who, almost as soon as it was organized in early 1868, saw a fresh opportunity with the newly incorporated Virginia and Truckee, and was now serving as a buyer and shipping manager, as well as a liaison between the Bank of California financers in San Francisco and the crews building the new short line between Reno and Virginia City.  And while Amanda loved her father, and respected his business skill and hard work, as time progressed it seemed as if every conversation between them made its way around to her continued single status.  Her father had introduced her to a number of managers in the mining, railroad, and shipping industries, but none of them had been the man of her dreams.  She had admitted to herself that one day, possibly soon, she might have to let to go of at least a portion of those dreams, and settle into married life with a man who with whom she could build a good, if not ideal, life.

And then had come that day last December when she met Adam Cartwright.

—

Guiding the carriage down increasingly familiar roads, Adam was grateful that Amanda understood his silence; she was perceptive and did not try to reassure him or cheer him up on their ride back to his family’s home.  For the most part, Adam felt numb.  He would need to run the Ponderosa now.  While he knew that Pa’s will divided all his assets equally, he knew that he would be in charge.  Yes, Hoss and Joe would be his partners, but there were things that only he could do.

When he had left for the war, he was ready to leave:  Somehow, the conflict between the Union and the Confederacy had served as a justification, almost an excuse, for leaving.  It was as if, for all the years and work he had put into the Ponderosa, the ranch was still his father’s dream, and he had to leave to pursue his own future.  After being gone for six years, he was more than ready to return, but he still had not committed himself to stay forever.  Each time he had contemplated staying permanently or leaving the Ponderosa once again, one question kept flowing through his mind: Was his family truly better off with him here, having to cope with his bossy, unpredictable, and brooding nature?

Finally, they pulled up to the house, where Hoss, Mary Colleen, and Joe waited.  Adam dropped from the carriage seat to the ground and into the arms of his brothers.  Nothing needed to be said.

—

Amanda stepped off the wagon and embraced the woman she knew to be Mary Colleen Cartwright.  She held her close and whispered into Mary’s red tresses “I’m so very, very, sorry.  Let me help”.  Just then Adam seemed to notice that he had left Amanda alone in the company of strangers, and turned to introduce her “Mary, Hoss, Joe–this is Amanda Garrson; Amanda, this is my sister in law, Mary Colleen, and my brothers Hoss and Joe.”

The next morning was filled with an endless stream of people who stopped by the Ponderosa to drop off food and deliver their condolences — by the appointed time for the funeral arrived, the gathering must have numbered over 300 souls.  The brothers had decided to lay their Pa to rest up on the Tahoe overlook next to Marie; it seemed to be the best spot for him to sleep.

As Reverend Watson23 finished his graveside eulogy and motioned for the pallbearers to lower the casket into the ground, Adam stood frozen, Hoss and Joe to each side.  Pa, my God, Pa!  I’m just not ready for a life without you.

As Adam stared down at the wooden casket, and as he scooped up a handful of Ponderosa soil and stepped forward to place that first handful of dirt over the box that held his father’s remains, memories of his Pa flooded over him:  The wagon train west, that terrible day in Ash Hollow, coming home to find his father staring dull-eyed into the fire and Marie’s broken body laid out upstairs, of leaving and facing the war, of this last, last, year back on the Ponderosa with his brothers and Pa, of his present grief, a pain so deep and raw and bitter that it seemed the whole world had frozen around him, and of the dirt he would now place on his Pa’s grave and — and — and in that moment, Adam finally and totally remembered: The night in the Sandwich Islands when he followed those women’s cries down that tropical forest trail, the men in that shack, what those men had done to him, and what he, in turn, did to them.

“Adam?”  It was Hoss, touching his arm, bringing him back to the present.  Mechanically, Adam spread the dirt over his father’s casket, and then watched in shocked silence as his two younger brothers did the same.

—

Later that day, Mary and Amanda were in the Ponderosa’s kitchen, trying to bring order to the huge quantity of leftover food and dishes covering every flat surface in the room.  The neighbor women had helped out plenty during the day, to be sure, but Mary thought it was time for the family to be alone now.

“Mary, do you have plenty of jars and lids?”  I’d be happy to help you put up some of this food in the morning24.”

“Thank you, I could really use the help.”  Mary studied the woman who had entered her life only the day before, who had spent the whole day making sure everyone had enough to eat, making sure guests were greeted, and making sure the brothers and Mary, herself, had enough time just to sit and keep total exhaustion at bay.  “Amanda, I want to thank you for all you did for us today.  I don’t know how I could have made it through this day without you.”

Amanda was consolidating three bowls of apple butter into one large jar.  “It was the least I could do.”

Mary looked bit embarrassed.  “Amanda, I had heard a lot about you, but a part of me was still expecting a society lady from the city.  I’m glad to see that you’re not that way at all.”

“Well, my parents did try to send me to finishing school in St. Louis, but I hated it and persuaded them – believe me, it wasn’t easy — to let me come home after the first semester.  I was more interested in healing wounds than pouring tea.”

Mary decided to take things a bit further.  “We sure could use a trained nurse out in these parts.”

She could see the tears welling up in Amanda’s glossy brown eyes “Mary, I don’t know if you should plan on me ever joining this family.  I love Adam with all my heart, but he seems to keep me at arm’s length – it’s as if he wants me close but not too close.

“He is a hard person to get to know.”

Amanda sighed.  “The brothers are nothing alike, are they?”

“They grew up in different worlds.  Adam first memories were in a covered wagon, heading west.  He knew cold and hunger and fear.  Ben didn’t really get over the loss of Adam’s mother until Adam was five and Ben met Inger, Hoss’ ma.  Adam was only six years old when he watched Inger get shot in the back and die.  He was holding Hoss when it happened, and he’s been taking care of him ever since.  Hoss doesn’t remember his life before the Ponderosa, and Joe was born here in this house.  For most of their lives, Adam was Hoss’ and Joe’s second parent.  They got to have a childhood.  From what I understand, Adam never did.”

“That explains a lot, Mary, Adam told me that Inger died only a year after marrying Ben but he never said how.”

“Hoss thinks Adam believes that the Cartwrights have a family curse – that all the woman they love either leave before their wedding day or get married and somehow die young.”

“It doesn’t look as if you believe that, Mary.”

“No, I don’t.  I don’t think we can understand everything about life and death and God.  I think we just need to live, love, and do our best.”

“You’re a very wise woman, Mary Colleen Cartwright.”

Mary managed a small smile.  “How are you at cooking?”

“It’s not my best talent” Amanda admitted.

“What about housekeeping, sewing, and such?”

“I’ve been taking care of my father’s house since my mother died five years ago.  And I like to grow vegetables.  I’m not afraid of work, if that’s what you are asking.”

Mary’s smile grew a bit. “So, if, well, maybe I could be in charge of the kitchen, and you could manage the rest of the house and garden, right?”

“That sounds good, Mary.  But I’m just not sure if we can ever get there.”

“Hoss wants you in this family; he told me so today.  Joe seems to have taken to you already as well. Don’t give up, Amanda.  I really want you to be my sister.”

With that, the two women hugged, cried for the twentieth time that day, and returned to their kitchen work.

—

Still in his white shirt and black pinstriped dress pants, Adam quietly made his way down the stairs.  He hadn’t even tried to sleep; the nightmares had moved into his waking consciousness, and the thought of sleep – of giving up control of what his mind and memories might combine to do – was deeply terrifying.  He looked at his father’s desk.

My desk, now.

Slowly, he moved behind the desk and sat down.

Time passed.  He was not sure of how much.

Hoss and Mary Colleen came downstairs, lit a single lamp, and wordlessly moved to the sofa.

More time passed.  The clock tolled eleven times.

Amanda appeared next.  She settled in Adam’s blue velvet chair, stroked the chair’s arms once, and then sat motionless.

Finally, Joe silently emerged from the upstairs landing and joined his family.

“I once thought that being held and tortured by that madman out in the desert was the worst that one man could do another25.” Adam said softly, staring at the scars on his wrists.  Why am I talking?

“And then the war came.  We killed each other and shot men and made widows and orphans and burned whole cities to the ground.  All to preserve the Union.  I ordered my men to burn a young mother’s barn full of cotton, she screamed for us to stop, that her husband was dead and she needed to sell the cotton to feed her children.  I ordered them to burn it anyway.  To preserve the Union.”

“And then I sailed for the Islands – a beautiful place where I could forget about war, about all those evil things that men do to each other.”

“I was so damn wrong.”

Adam considered his family, the looks on their faces, the concern in their eyes. They clearly wanted him to continue, but on his own timing.  Do I tell them?  What will the truth do to them?  What will them knowing the truth do to me?  Tell them.  Tell them.

“One night, I heard a noise, it sounded like women crying, I went to investigate.  I found a shack deep in the forest.  A half dozen of the crew from my ship were there, they had captured some Island women, and they were – mistreating them.  I yelled for the men to stop.  They were drunk.  They laughed.  I ordered them to stop again.  They didn’t.  I shot one in the leg.  The women screamed and ran out.  Another deckhand came up from behind me, slammed me flat, the gun was knocked from my hand, they grabbed me.” Adam stared at his wrists again, as if he was seeing them for the first time.  His voice was eerily calm.  “They tied my wrists to the two heaviest objects they could find, put me face down over a barrel, and they – took me – all of them – for over three hours.  Drinking and hooting and grunting all the time.  Then they finally cut me loose and let me go.  I walked back to my room, got another pistol, went back to the shack and shot every one of them dead.  Then I plunged myself into the ocean, I suppose I was trying to wash — everything — away.  I built a fire, burned my clothes, buried my belt and whatever else I couldn’t burn, told myself it was over, and went to bed.  The next morning they found the bodies, the women told their leaders about what those men had done to them, and their ruling council agreed that justice had been done and no further investigation was needed.  And I truly forgot it.  All of it.  Until I was watching them lower Pa’s casket into the ground today.”  Adam quietly stood up, and calmly stated “I don’t see how I can be what any of you need me to be, I have to go.”  He started for the door.

During his whole story, Adam’s family had sat hypnotized, immobile.  Adam had taken three steps toward the door when Joe finally cried, “NO!  You aren’t going anywhere!  First you go to college, and we had to understand that, because you wanted an education, and then you left for the war, and we thought you were going to be an engineer, and I was back here cracking jokes about the Ponderosa losing its Shakespearean scholar26, and then we find out you are really in the fighting, and we spend years not knowing if you are alive or dead, and then you go off to the Pacific and the Atlantic and the Islands and Europe, and then you finally come back, and now you want to leave again!  Don’t go!”

Hoss stood up, shaking from head to toe, his huge fists clenched in fury.  After a moment he looked up, gradually released his fists.  The rage melted from his face. “Adam, I’ve spent a whole lotta years wishing you would come home ‘cause we needed you so darn much.  Now I think I had that all twisted up.  I dunno, but I think you need us as much as we need you.  Gettin’ over this will be a lot easier if you let us help.”

Adam had halted mid-stride, but he kept his back to his family.  He couldn’t walk out the door, but he couldn’t turn around and face them either.

Amanda rose, and moved to within three feet of Adam’s back.  She paused, and walking around in front of him, and slowly reached for one of his hands and then the other, gently running her fingertips around the scarred wrists, then kissing each one, and finally pulling him into a comforting embrace.

And suddenly his whole family was around him:  Hoss with a big arm around his neck, pulling his older brother’s head to his shoulder; Joe, burying his face into Adam’s other arm, his hands pressed against Adam’s chest and back, Mary Colleen, one arm around Hoss and the other hand resting on Amanda’s back as her new sister whispered “I love you” into Adam’s chest over and over again.

—

Adam woke up shaking; it was the nightmare again, but now he remembered it, every color and detail of the shack, the women’s torn clothes and tear stained faces, the cruel leering expressions on the men.  A second later he realized Amanda, wrapped in a thick bathrobe, was sitting on the desk chair in his room, not two feet from his bed.

“What in God’s name do you think you are doing here?”

“I figured you would have another nightmare, and I wanted to be here with you when it woke you up.”

Adam couldn’t argue with that logic.  Too spent to stay shocked or even angry, he closed his eyes again.  “I don’t know what to do.”

Amanda moved to the other side of the bed, laid down on top of the covers, and huddled into Adam’s side, taking in the familiar scents of bay rum and leather.

“What do you think you are doing?”

“You told me once that you slept best when you could feel the heartbeat of someone who loved you.”

“I’m not going to use you like a bottle of laudanum to kill the pain and get through this.”

“I wouldn’t mind that.  I love you, Adam.”

No point in hiding the truth.  Not that I could even if I wanted to anymore.  “And I love you, Amanda.”

“I could be happy living out here on the Ponderosa, assuming that’s what you want.”

She certainly can be forthright. “It’s not like Sacramento out here, as soon as this silver boom ends – and it will – Virginia City will be nothing but a small cattle outpost in the middle of nowhere.  And it’s rough out here, Amanda, I know there’s plenty of trouble in Sacramento, but not like here.”

“Sacramento will never be that far away.  And I’d have Mary Colleen, your brothers, a big vegetable garden, and, most importantly, I’d have you.”  The corners of her mouth twitched.  “Besides, from what your family says, it sounds like the Comstock could really use a good nurse.”

“People get shot out here, Amanda.  I’ve shot more men that I’d like to remember, and I don’t mean on the battlefield.”

“Then I am glad I asked you for those rifle lessons, Adam.”

“You had this all planned, didn’t you?”

“From the first time I laid eyes on you.”

“I’ve been with other women.  More than one or two of them.”  She has the right to know.

“Is there anyone you’d want to go back to?”

“No.”

“Then they don’t change anything between you and me, Adam.”

Adam stared at the ceiling.  “You should go back to Sacramento, until I can get this all sorted out.”

Amanda shook her head in an emphatic no.  “Your family can chaperone us, and, more importantly, don’t you think we could “sort it out” better together?”

I can’t argue with that, either.  “I need to be sure that my place is really here on the Ponderosa before I plan a life with you.  When I first left for the war, it was to end slavery and serve my country, but I also needed something else that I could not find here.”

“The Lakota people of the northern plains have a belief, a conviction that sometimes one person must go away for another person to truly come into their own.  And they believe that it is foolish to fight the changes in the universe, the things that are out of your control, but instead it is best to look for the opportunities that those changes present.  Now I know that you give anything to have your father back here now, but I think that as you grew into a man, hit thirty years old, and were still living under your father’s roof and authority, that that was not the life that you were meant to live.”

“You’re right” Adam whispered. “I loved Pa with all that I am, but I was ready to be the one in charge.”

“And you still are.  Now is your time.”

“Amanda, I’m moody; I always want to be in control; I always want my surroundings perfectly organized; I get going on a project and I practically forget the people around me; I don’t let people close to me and push them away at the moment I need them most.”

Amanda smiled softly and shook her head.  “Adam, that’s all true.  You will not be the easiest person to live with but I wouldn’t be here right now if I didn’t think we could do it.”  Amanda hesitated “But I get to keep my wardrobe and vanity as messy as I like, and you only get to brood for one hour each night.”

Adam snorted.  She’s knows who I am and she’s not afraid of it.  He silently counted through his concerns and realized he had come to the last one.  “I’m cursed.  Maybe my whole family is.”

“Mary Colleen told me about that, but she doesn’t believe in curses, and neither do I.”

“Amanda, my Pa married three times, and the longest he had any of them was five years.  Joe’s Alice died four months after their wedding.  And that doesn’t count all the other ladies that Hoss, Joe, and I loved, and even proposed to, who all left or died before we could be married.  I can’t escape the feeling that I’d be signing your death warrant.”

Amanda remained silent for moment, thinking.  “There may be only one way to get from here to there, she silently concluded.   Propping her head up on one elbow, she considered Adam’s face in the room’s soft light.  She wasn’t going to give up.  She gently placed a hand on his wrist, and was pleased to see that he didn’t jerk away.  “Adam, if I understand this right, your “family curse” says that if a Cartwright man proposes to a woman, she will either not make it to her wedding day or she will marry, but die tragically and young, right?”

“That’s right”

“I know your father has just died, but I need to work through this, Adam.” He nodded for her to continue.  “If we cannot ignore your evidence or refute your conclusion, then maybe we need to change your initial premise.”

Now that was intriguing. He turned so he was facing her as well. “What do you mean?”

Amanda quietly took his hands in hers.  “Adam Cartwright, will you marry me?”

For a second, Adam was too shocked to respond, but then, as he considered all that he felt, knew, and had heard over the last few days, he made his decision.  I guess that’s one way around the curse. “Yes, Amanda, I will marry you.”

The kiss was long, tender at first and then hungry.  Adam slowly pulled away. “Amanda, you must do me one more honor.”

“Anything.”

“Go back to your room, right now.”

—

A half hour later, Adam slipped out of the house, to take a deep breath of fresh air and to talk to his stars.  As he found them in the night sky, a soft smile played over his lips.

“Mother, Mama, Marie, I want you to know I am really getting married.”

Then, for a second, Adam spotted a fourth star, juxtaposed between the other three, flashing bright and then disappearing as quickly as it had come.

“I know, Pa, I know you’re happy, too.”

 

References, etc.

1 “Patchwork Man”, season 6.

2 “Mighty is the Word”, season 7.

3 “The Paiute War”, season 1.

4 “The Mill”, season 2.

5 “Erin”, season 10.

6 “The Savage”, season 2.

7 “The Other Son”, season 7.

8 “Home from the Sea”, season 7.

9 “Forever”, season 14.

10 “Home from the Sea”, season 7.

11 “Home from the Sea”, season 7.

12 “Homeland”, from the Ponderosa prequel series.

13 “The Savage”, season 2.

14 “The Unwritten Commandment”, season 7.

15 Severson, Thor (1973). Sacramento: An Illustrated History: 1839 to 1874. California Historical Society.

16 What we know now as the Transcontinental Railroad (it was called the Pacific Railroad in 1868) was completed on May 10, 1869.

17 “Home from the Sea”, season 7.

18 “The Unwritten Commandment”, season 7.

19 “The Stillness Within”, season 12

20 “Forever”, season 14.

21 “The Hopefuls”, season 2.

22 “The Savage”, season 2.

23 “Mighty is the Word”, season 7.

24 Canning of foods as a preservation method was pioneered in France in the 1790’s. Home canning of foods as a preservation method was available to homesteaders in 1869.  The Mason jar was invented in 1858.

25 “The Crucible, season 3.

26 “The Spotlight”, season 6.

 

My knowledge of the civil war, its battles, and the strategies employed by both the Union and Confederate commanders has grown over time; I don’t think I could ever track down sources for everything I know, but here are a few good civil war references:

Bush, Bryan S. The Civil War Battles of the Western Theatre. Paducah, KY: Turner Publishing Co., 1998.

Castel, Albert. Decision in the West: The Atlanta Campaign of 1864. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 1992.

Catton, Bruce. The Centennial History of the Civil War. Vol. 3, Never Call Retreat. Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1965.

Catton, Bruce. This Hallowed Ground. New York: Doubleday and Company, 1956.

Connelly, Thomas L. Autumn of Glory: The Army of Tennessee 1862-1865. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1971.

Daniel, Larry J. Days of Glory: The Army of the Cumberland, 1861-1865. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 2004.

Editors of Time-Life Books. Echoes of Glory: Illustrated Atlas of the Civil War. Alexandria, VA: Time-Life Books, 1992.

Eicher, David J. The Longest Night: A Military History of the Civil War. New York: Simon & Schuster, 2001.

Hattaway, Herman, and Archer Jones. How the North Won: A Military History of the Civil War. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1983.

Kennedy, Frances H., ed. The Civil War Battlefield Guide. 2nd ed. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Co., 1998.

Welcher, Frank J. The Union Army, 1861-1865 Organization and Operations. Vol. 2, The Western Theater. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1993.

Ambrose Bierce was a real person, check him out on the Internet if you are interested.

And yes, troops under the command of Coronel (later General) William Babcock Hazen did indeed participate in all the battles I described in Adam’s civil war experience. 

For the signs of a heart attack, I recommend the American Heart Association’s web site, www.heart.org .

The Lakota tradition that Amanda describes to Adam – about how sometimes one person must go away for another person to truly come into their own – I am part Lakota, and I can’t say where I first heard about this belief.  It has been a part of my life for many years.

Lastly, I’d like to thank the people who, every day, help me in my ongoing journey out of my own personal darkness and into the light.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.