Summary: The wealthy Cartwrights are the target of greedy, envious people or businessmen who want to make a profit. Joe gets caught in the middle.

Rating: PG      Word Count: 14600

Vesuvius

Chapter 1

The hooves pounded the sun-baked road in a steady rhythm, accompanied by Cochise’s constant snort. Only when the first white flakes of sweat appeared on his neck did I rein in my pinto. He shook his mane in protest but obeyed the bridle and slowed down. Enjoying to gallop at breakneck speed was something Cooch and I had in common.

While we approached Carson City in a trot, I had time to go over my packing list for tomorrow’s cattle drive. I looked forward to the trip. Even though I’d been on drives a few times, it still felt like an adventure, something different from the daily chores. Of course, I knew it would be hard work moving a thousand head of unruly and feisty beeves to Sacramento, but that didn’t spoil my anticipation. Remembering all the rain in the winter, I made a mental note to pack the slicker.

It would have been wiser to pay attention to my surroundings than to lose myself in daydreams.

Just after a blind bend, two riders blocked my path. At the sight of me, they pulled their scarves over their faces and drew their guns. I stared into two pairs of dark eyes and two menacing black muzzles. A hold-up. Gosh. I brought Cooch to a halt. Sweat trickled down my temple, and I felt the overwhelming urge to scratch myself, but I kept my grip on the reins. Just don’t move fast. These men don’t look like they’d mind shooting someone. 

“Remove your holster. Nice and slow. With your right hand.”

Not taking my eyes off the men, I obeyed with gritted teeth. “I have no money with me.”

“We ain’t after no money.” One man held me at gunpoint while the one with the black hat steered his horse next to me. His fist clawed into my corduroy jacket. He tore at it, ripping two buttons off. A rough hand rummaged through my pockets. “Got it!” With a triumphant twinkle in his eyes, he pulled the envelope from my inside pocket. Tearing it open, he flicked through the two pages. Satisfied with what he saw, he took a match from his vest pocket and struck it.

Only a thread of smoke and fluffy black scraps remained after the greedy flames had consumed the paper. A gust of hot wind whirled the ashes in all directions.

The man laughed. He tapped his hat, his voice full of mockery. “Good day, Cartwright!”

I yanked the rifle from its sheath, but it was too late. The horses’ hindquarters disappeared into the brush beside the road, leaving only the laughter echoing.

I clenched my fist with frustration. The men had known I’d come this way and had set up an ambush for me. I was lucky they’d only gone for the papers.

 

Sun Mining’s office was on Carson City’s main road. After stopping Cochise, I dismounted and looped the reins around the hitching rail. An immaculately dressed figure stood in front of the building. “I’d bet a month’s pay that crooks were his henchmen,” I mumbled under my breath.

Bat Moore was our biggest rival. He owned big stands of trees in the Carson Valley and was also interested in supplying Sun Mining. The growing number of silver mines required vast amounts of wood to support the shafts.

A confident smirk on his face, Moore leaned against the wall of the whitewashed house, one leg crossed over the other, his thumbs hooked into his belt. It looked like he’d waited for me. As always, he wore a silk waistcoat, a string tie, and a white shirt. I wondered how he managed not to look rumpled or sweaty. I shot him a piercing glance as he tapped his hat, and one corner of his mouth turned up.

“Ah, young Cartwright. You’re late.”

Clenching my jaw, I hurried past him, catching a whiff of his aftershave, an expensive scent from the East.

The office I entered was sparse and practical. A battered desk piled high with papers dominated the room. An empty coffee cup had left brown rings on some of the sheets. The bored-looking employee, chewing on a match, took his feet off the desk. “Howdy.”

“Howdy. My offer got, er, lost on the way over here. Got any paper and a pen?”

“Sure.” The man slid me both.

I let my gaze wander over the bare walls with the only picture, a photo of the entrance to a silver mine with some dark-clad people standing next to it. Chewing on my lower lip, I tried to remember the numbers, wood amount, and price. It wasn’t too difficult since I’d gone over the offer with Pa before I left for Carson.

I put the date and my bold signature at the bottom of the sheet and handed it to the employee when the ink was dry. I hoped my signing would be good enough, for I was under the legal age, but perhaps no one would care. “Will Sun Mining accept this?”

The man scowled at the paper and scratched his neck. “Dunno, kid.”

I rested both palms on the desk. “We can send an offer with my father’s signature. Is it possible to extend the deadline?”

“That’s not up to me.”

I blew out an annoyed breath. “Who can decide that?”

“The boss.”

“And where’s the boss?”

“Out on business. Listen, kid, I’m only paid to accept these bids. Stop asking questions I can’t answer.”

“When will it be announced who got the deal? Today?”

“No, as I said, the boss ain’t here. You’ll get a letter when you get that contract with Sun Mining.”

“Thanks,” I murmured, adjusting my holster and stepping outside.

Passing Moore, it was my turn to flash him a triumphant grin. “Did you think I’d give in so easily? Your henchmen may have burned the original bid, but that didn’t stop me from writing a new one.”

Moore widened his eyes in mock surprise, a sign to me that it had been indeed his men. “Which henchman? What are you talking about?”

“You know perfectly well.”

His mouth twisted into an angry grimace. “We’ll see who comes out on top in the end. The day’s not over yet.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You’re threatening me?”

“I do not need threats.” Bat spat, turning his back on me and sauntering to his horse.

Chapter 2

Before entering the Silver Dollar, I patted my dusty hat on my pants, wiped my face with my sleeve, and followed my father through the wing doors. “Howdy, Sam, give us two beers! You buying, Pa?”

“Sure am.” Pa rummaged in his vest pocket and tossed a coin on the bar.

“Rough day? Haven’t seen you here in a while,” Sam asked as he pushed two pints of foaming yellow liquid in our direction, then began wiping the bar with a rag.

Pa rested his elbows on the wooden surface. He looked exhausted. “We’ve been on the road for two weeks. Cattle drive to Sacramento. Joe and I just got back. We had to deposit the money.”

“Are Adam and Hoss coming?”

“No. They stayed a few more days to help a friend rebuild his barn. He lost it in flood.”

“Your friend is lucky to be alive and not have lost everything. The flood was terrible. They say thousands of animals and people have died.”

The great flood, as it was called, had dominated the newspapers for months and was the number one topic of conversation. I was tired of hearing and reading this lousy news every day on every corner. There was no other topic. “Come on, Pa, there’s an empty table. I need to rest my legs.” That was at least in part true because Pa looked like he needed rest twice as much as I did.

With a contented sigh, I sat down with my back to the wall and watched the evening go by over the rim of my beer glass. The piano player was new, an older man with a stooped back and cuffs. He played well, though the piano was out of tune. Beside us was a group of cowboys playing poker. They drank cheap whiskey and smoked hand-rolled cigarettes. The fumes clouded the room and stung my eyes, but at least the beer helped my dusty throat.

Pa set the stack of letters we picked up on the way to the saloon before him and flipped through. He stopped at one of the thicker envelopes. ‘Sun Mining Company,’ I deciphered the sender’s name and watched with interest as Pa opened it. “Good news?” My question was unnecessary, for I could see how the corner of his mouth curled into a smile and his shoulders relaxed.

“Yes. We got the timber contract!”

The timber contract! I pulled a face. “Do you think Bat Moore will cause us trouble? He was very keen to get the contract with Sun Mining. It wasn’t a direct threat, but I got a funny feeling about it.”

Pa heaved a sigh. “I don’t think he’ll go that far. There will always be envious people. We got to keep our eyes open.”

My gaze was drawn to a pretty new barmaid who was serving drinks. Her skimpy tulle dress revealed long, slender legs and the outline of ample breasts.

“Did you hear me, son?”

“Yeah, sure. Keep my eyes open,” I mumbled, distracted, trying to make eye contact with the girl, hoping she would join us. Then again, having a girl on your lap with Pa sitting next to you, shooting me disapproving glances, was unthinkable anyway. The thought made me smirk.

The swinging door opened, and a slender man in his mid-thirties entered, wearing a smooth-ironed white shirt, black string tie, and shiny gold vest. At first glance, he was recognizable as a dude from the East. His dark wool suit was well-tailored and fit him to perfection. He walked up to the bar. Sam put aside the rag he had used to wipe the bar and leaned forward to take the order. Then he grabbed a liquor bottle from the shelf behind the bar where he kept his fancy stuff. I saw the man ask a question. Sam answered and pointed in our direction. The fella in the suit nodded, picked up the bottle and three glasses, and approached our table.

“Good evening, gentlemen. You are the Cartwrights? My name is Lansbury, Bradford Lansbury. May I invite you to join me for a glass of brandy?” Unprompted, the man placed the bottle and glasses before us, and I eyed the expensive-looking label.

Pa raised his eyebrows, then stood and shook the outstretched hand. “Ben Cartwright. This is my youngest son, Joseph.”

The heavy smell of brandy hit my nose as Lansbury opened the bottle and poured it. The liquid was smooth and golden, with a rich, woody, spicy aroma. I sipped the liquor, curious to know what the man wanted. Lansbury stroked his thin, well-trimmed mustache. His smooth hands were like a woman’s, and he wore a chunky signet ring.

Folding my arms across my chest, I leaned back in my chair and waited for the man to come out with his request. I hoped I wouldn’t have to endure a boring talk about business.

“Well, Mr. Cartwright, I understand you own the Ponderosa, the biggest spread around here.”

“Yes?”

“I work for a company that insures ranchers and businessmen against loss.”

“Mhm.” Pa looked skeptical. “An insurance company?”

“Exactly. The company I work for is a very reputable one. It was founded in Connecticut in 1819. Since they have succeeded in the East, the Vesuvius Assurance Company has decided to establish another branch in the West.”

Pa opened his mouth, but Lansbury touched his forearm. “Please hear me out, Mr. Cartwright.”

“Alright, go ahead.” Pa exchanged a glance with me, and I could see he wasn’t in the mood to discuss business or financial matters either.

“I know there’s nothing similar out here in the West yet, so this office is a test. I thought you might be interested to insure your spread against the ever-present dangers.”

“There is something like that. The city has aid organizations that support the families in case of accidents in the silver mines,” I interjected.

“My son is right. Mr. Lansbury, I’m sure you have a very interesting offer.” Pa pushed back his chair and rose. “I’d like to hear it, but not here and not now. We spent the whole day on horseback. How about you come to Ponderosa tomorrow for dinner? We can talk privately.”

Lansbury grinned, revealing a row of even white teeth. “Thank you, Mr. Cartwright. That’s an excellent idea. I’ll be on time. Besides, this brandy is on me. You are welcome to drink it.” He looked pleased as he got up, tapped his Derby hat, and walked out of the saloon. My eyes were on his slender back, which he held straight as if he had swallowed a stick.

I huffed, my irritation evident. “Unpleasant man, ain’t he? I found him intrusive. What is he trying to insure around here?”

“Oh, they cover everything in the East, mainly buildings. You can even get a life insurance policy.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “So, I can insure myself against death?”

“No, but your kin will get a certain amount of money if you die.”

I thought about it for a moment. “Such an idea wouldn’t be successful around Virginia City. Most people hardly have enough money to get by.”

“That’s why Lansbury came to us, son. He’s probably hoping the other ranchers will take our example if we deal with him. Come on, let’s ride home. I’m tuckered out.”

“Not until I’ve had another glass of this fancy brandy!”

Chapter 3

When I returned from riding fence the next evening and saw the unfamiliar buckboard in the yard, I knew our visitor had already arrived. The comfortable black leather seats were covered with a fine layer of dust, and a small metal plate on the backrest told me it was hired from the livery stable. Pa wouldn’t be back until dinner, so Lansbury was too soon.

I decided to take care of Cochise first and hang out in the barn for a while since I wasn’t eager to sit on the couch with the man, entertaining him with polite, small talk. He and I couldn’t have less in common. But my plan didn’t work. He must have heard my horse. The front door opened, and he stepped out onto the porch with a huge grin.

“Oh, nice to see you, Mr. Joseph Cartwright.”

Hoping it would pass for a polite smile, I pressed my lips together and pulled up the corners of my mouth. “Howdy, sir. We didn’t expect you so soon.” How come you’re two hours early? An intrusive aftershave, too sweet and flowery for my taste, clung to the dude.

“Well, I like to be on time and get an idea of the people I’m doing business with.”

Snooping around. “I have to tend to my horse first.” Hoping to shake him off, I tugged on Cooch’s reins and turned my back on the man. It didn’t work. He stuck to me like stubborn spruce resin on my skin.

“Sure, you don’t mind if I come with you, Joseph?”

“It’s all right,” I lied.

I took Cochise to his stall and removed the tack. Lansbury ran his hand over the smooth, polished leather. “A fine saddle. Expensive. I like all the decorating and ornamenting. Back East, we have these light English riding saddles, but these cowboy saddles are for doing rough work, aren’t they?”

I shrugged and muttered something that passed for agreement, then began to brush Cooch’s coat with powerful strokes. The fine dust and hair cloud floated toward the businessman, enveloping him. He stepped back, coughed, and wiped his suit, which was no longer as spotless as it had been the night before.

“Sorry, Mr. Lansbury, I don’t think you’re quite dressed for staying in a barn.”

“No problem, boy.”

Boy?  My free hand clenched into a fist. What happened to Mr. Cartwright? I hated being addressed as ‘boy,’ mainly when people used a condescending tone like Lansbury. But I couldn’t beat the dude, and I’d learned to control myself. Well, for the most part.

“Done!” I gave my horse a portion of hay, tossed the currycomb in the box with the grooming kit, and turned toward the house, accompanied by Lansbury. The sun was low, casting a warm golden glow over the ranch, and the sound of crickets filled the air. An evening breeze rustled through the tops of the pine trees surrounding the yard.

A glance at the grandfather clock told me it would be at least another hour before dinner. I wanted to ask Hop Sing for hot water so I could take a bath, but leaving our visitor alone would have been rude. I took my time rolling up my holster and placing it on the credenza, taking off my jacket and hat.

“Please take a seat. I’ll get cleaned up some, and then I’ll keep you company. Pa will be home soon.” I hope so.

When I reached my room, I took a deep breath. I couldn’t figure out why I didn’t like Lansbury. He reminded me of a prowling predator waiting to sink its claws into its prey. Still, I guess that was just my imagination.  With a sigh, I washed my face and upper body and opened the closet. Should I pick a smart white shirt with a string tie or a beige one? I grabbed a simple everyday shirt.

“Come and have a seat.” Lansbury flashed me a smile. His Derby hat sat on the table, his slicked-back hair shiny. I settled into Adam’s blue chair. “How old are you, Joseph?” The businessman looked me up and down, making me feel like horseflesh auctioned off.

“Almost twenty.” Relax, Joe, stay calm. He’s just a stupid dude, nothing you can’t handle. I ran a hand through my still-damp hair to hide my unease, wondering what to talk to the man about. I glanced at the grandfather clock.

“Are you nervous? You don’t have to. I won’t bite.”

“Coffee, Little Joe?” I slumped in relief when Hop Sing hurried around the corner with the pot and porcelain cup. He busily poured drinks for Lansbury and me.

“Thank you!” I grinned at him. Hop Sing nodded and rushed back to the kitchen. I glanced at the clock and cleared my throat. “Tell me about the contracts you sell, Mr. Lansbury.” My father told me I could learn much about people by asking about family or work.

“I don’t believe a young man like you is interested in what I do. What did the employee call you? Little Joe?” He sounded amused.

“I’m the youngest. Joe’s fine.”

“What do you do on the ranch? I suppose you have cattle?” He pointed to the protruding horns hanging above the fireplace.

All right, let’s talk about ranching. That was a subject I felt comfortable with. “Yeah, Pa’s got three thousand head of cattle. We just sold about half of them down in Sacramento. We also catch wild horses, bust them, and sell them to the Army. The Ponderosa has huge pine tree stands. We deliver timber to the mining companies. It’s needed to secure and shore up the tunnels.”

“I’ve heard about these mustangs being broken. You call it ‘busting?’ That’s a harsh word.”

“Well, it has to be done to get them used to saddle and rider.”

“I’d love to see that. Do you ride them?”

“Yeah, it’s one of my tasks.”

“This is the Wild West eastern folks imagine—dusty cowboys driving herds of cows and wild horses ridden by skilled men.”

I set my cup down too hard and checked the clock. “We call them steers, not cows.”

Lansbury didn’t respond to my correction. “You must have problems with wild animals attacking your livestock. Do you have wolves here?”

“Not so many. We have to shoot them. Same as cougars.”

“I can see this is a rough and wild country, full of dangers. I’m sure there are also natural disasters.”

“Sure. We’ve had bad losses—” I fell silent, not knowing how much to tell the man. Would this information be of use to him? It would be best for me to stick to general issues. “Nevada’s hot and dry. Sometimes, when there’s a drought, cattle die, or farmers have crop failures. Last year—oh, here comes Pa!” I jumped up and rushed to the front door without finishing my sentence. “Hey, Pa!” Followed by our visitor, I hurried across the yard to the barn where my father dismounted.

“Hello, Joseph. Good evening, Mr. Lansbury. I wasn’t expecting you so early.”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Cartwright. Joseph and I had a good talk, didn’t we, boy?”

To avoid the hand that was about to pat my shoulder, I stepped aside. “I’ll take care of Buck, Pa.” I took the reins from my father’s grip, pulling the horse into the stable. Buck would enjoy an extra long grooming tonight.

 

I’d tasted little of what I had for supper, though Hop Sing had done his best to impress our guest.

“Let’s sit on the settee, have some brandy, and talk business.” Pa pushed back his chair and stood. “You too, Joseph!” He wrapped his hand around my upper arm and motioned me to the coffee table.

“I wanted to check on Cochise. I got a feeling …”

“Later, son. Have a seat.” No discussion, his undertone and warning glance said.

“Yessir.”

While I headed for the blue armchair, Lansbury sat on the settee. “The dinner was wonderful, Mr. Cartwright. It’s not what I had in mind for a rustic ranch like this.”

What did you expect? That we’d throw a piece of meat into the fire until it’s done, and everyone would tear a piece off?

“Thank you. I’ll pass the compliment on to our cook.” After Pa poured brandy and reached for his pipe, the dude put his fingertips together and leaned forward.

“Your son already told me about the ranch during our pleasant conversation. I think you might be interested in what I have to offer.” He paused, clearing his throat. “Our company is named after the volcano in Italy that destroyed Pompeii in the year 79. People always think it won’t happen to them, but look at that horrible winter flood that hit California, Oregon, and Nevada. One-quarter of California’s livestock died. Countless buildings and bridges were destroyed. Imagine what it would be like if a disaster like that hit the Ponderosa. Being insured would give you less to worry about.”

Pa looked doubtful. “Please continue.”

“You need to be aware of the importance of having insurance coverage, especially when life is unpredictable, and many dangers and risks present themselves. Have you ever thought about what a terrible loss it would be if a disease hits the cattle or your house burned down?”

“You know, there’s no security in life. I put my trust in God. My faith gives me safety.”

“I am a God-fearing man, too. Still, you can’t just sit back and leave everything to the Lord. You do your best to protect your cattle from predators or thieves, right?”

“Well, yeah.”

“The possibilities are endless. You can insure against the collapse of silver mines and robbery while transporting valuables. Of course, I would make you a fair offer to insure your property, such as livestock, trees, and buildings. You see, Mr. Cartwright, people are suspicious of new things, but I consider you an open-minded man. That’s why I came to you. Surely you want to look to the future with peace of mind and know that your belongings are financially secure?”

“That sounds interesting. Tell me about the cost.” I could tell Pa looked less interested and more tired. He took deep breaths and stifled a yawn.

“The price of our insurance products varies depending on the type of cover and the level of protection you require. But don’t let that put you off. Our premiums are fair and affordable, and the benefits you receive are invaluable. Let’s assume you want to insure a herd of 1,000 head of cattle. The value is …?”

“Currently $35 a head.”

Well, let’s say it’s worth $35,000. Insurance is about three percent of the total value, which means—” He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and began to do the math. Suppressing a sigh, I gave Pa a pained look.

“$1050 a year to insure 1000 head of cattle.”

Pa crossed his legs and chewed on the stem of his pipe, then rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s a lot of money. And I may pay that amount for years for nothing if no harm comes to the herd.”

“That’s the way these deals work, Mr. Cartwright. But if the worst happens, you’re covered,” Lansbury said in what I considered a lecturing tone. He pulled a cigar out of his pocket and offered Pa and me one, which we declined. Then he lit a match. With glazed eyes, he watched the small flames creep down the wooden stem, blackening and curling it. He held it to the end of his cigar just before it went out. “A discarded cigar butt causing a forest fire, a plague, or an earthquake could bring ruin to the Ponderosa and the entire family! With insurance, you have less to worry about and financial security, even for your fine sons.”

“Thank you for your offer, but I need to think about it and do some calculations. Would the three percent premium also be for the insurance on the trees?”

“That is correct. Three percent of total value.”

“But if lumber prices go down?”

“They can also rise, which is more likely, right? Wood is always needed to construct ships and buildings or to produce telegraph poles and railroad ties. I’ll leave you this policy. Read it over.”

Pa raised an eyebrow as he glanced at my bouncing knee. I crossed my legs with a sigh, trying not to appear too bored and impatient.

“I’d like to discuss it with my eldest son when he returns in a few days. He studied in Boston and—”

“It would be a pleasure to meet your son, but I’m afraid the offer is only good for one week, Mr. Cartwright. Since the flooding on the West Coast, interest has increased, and I can’t promise that I’ll be able to keep my word on the three percent premium. All signs are that Vesuvius will raise it to four or five percent.”

“Still, I want to talk to my sons first. It’s a decision we have to make together. I’ll show you out.”

With a sigh of relief, I jumped up and ran to the door to pull it open. I could tell by Lansbury’s tight lips and the sharp crease between his eyebrows that the businessman wasn’t happy. He certainly didn’t expect my father to be so hesitant.

We stood shoulder to shoulder in the yard and watched the buckboard drive away, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake. Pa shook his head with a quiet smile. “You don’t like him, do you?”

“I thought you hadn’t noticed.”

“It was obvious. What do you think of him?”

“He thinks he’s better because he wears a fancy suit and doesn’t have to get his hands dirty. He treats us from above as if we were backwoods people.”

“Yeah, he’s not the kind of man you want to spend time with. But he just wants to do his job and make money like everybody else. It’s not unusual for a businessman to put pressure on people and scare them. You don’t have much experience with it yet, son.”

“Don’t you think he threatened us?”

“No, I don’t feel he did. How about a game of chess to take your mind off things?”

“Yeah, and let’s air out the house. I can’t stand his stinking cigars!”

Chapter 4

I was glad my brothers had finished their stay in Sacramento, and the ranch chores were back on three sets of shoulders. The evening games with Hoss were something I’d missed, too. Cleaning guns or braiding reins was less entertaining than beating Hoss at checkers.

Adam and Pa sat at the desk, putting their heads together, mumbling numbers, and adding up sums, until my eldest brother threw the pencil on the table and stood up with a groan. Rubbing his back, he made a face.

“Have you made a decision?” I was only mildly curious. Nothing was duller than discussing contracts, bonuses, percentages, and odds. I knocked over one of Hoss’ checkers and looked at Pa as he smoothed his hair. “We won’t take out insurance.”

Adam came over to the coffee table, his hands tucked in his pockets, gazing at the board. “I got in touch with a friend in Boston. The three percent premium isn’t that excellent, as he told you. It’s the top of what the companies charge. Another common practice is to set a deadline to force a decision. I assume he will extend his excellent offer if we need more time. These men use peoples’ fear to make their deals.”

Pa studied the papers in his hand. “The idea itself isn’t bad, but it’s too expensive, and so far, we’ve done just fine without.”

Hoss slapped his backhand against my chest. “Hey, Pa, do they cover people? Maybe we should get accident insurance for Little Joe? It sure would be worth it!”

“Haha. I’m gonna make sure you need insurance right now!” I jumped up and threw myself at my brother. Hoss fell backward off the coffee table, hitting the carpet with a dull thud. He picked himself up, chased me to a corner, and put his arm around my neck, clutching it in a chokehold.

“I think the kid needs a cool-down in the horse trough!”

“Don’t!” I squealed, struggling to free myself.

Adam rolled his eyes.

“Boys!” warned Pa, but I noticed the twitch at the corner of his mouth.

++++

The following day, as I climbed onto the buckboard, Hop Sing’s grocery list tucked in my jacket pocket, when Pa rushed out the door.

“Joseph! Why don’t you go to Lansbury and tell him we’ve decided against it if you’re in town today? I’m sure he’s waiting for an answer. I don’t want him returning to the Ponderosa and wasting our time.”

“Sure, Pa.”

I had picked up the mail and loaded the buckboard, but putting off the inevitable was no longer a point. With a longing look at the saloon, I crossed the street to stop in front of the whitewashed building with the new sign over the door. ‘VESUVIUS INSURANCE COMPANY,’ it shouted in black letters.  Determined not to be intimidated by the man, I took the two stairs, straightened my shoulders, and knocked.

“Ah, Joseph Cartwright. Come in! Sit down.”

Lansbury placed his fingertips on my back, urging me to take a seat in front of his desk. My gaze swept around the office. The shelf, cramped with thick leather-bound books, sagged. The desk could be described as obsessively tidy. There was one metal basket with contracts, an ashtray with cigar butts, and a pen. An oil painting of a volcano adorned the brick wall behind him. Everything was overlaid with the smell of musty books and cold smoke.

Sweat broke out on my forehead since the air was stale and way too warm. I took off my hat and held it in my lap.

“Coffee?”

“No, thanks. I won’t stay long. Just wanted to let you know my father decided against your offer.” I held my breath, watching my opposite. The wolf’s smile faded and became more of a snarl. The stuffed deer head, which looked as if the previous owner had forgotten it on the wall, stared at me with dusty, clouded glass eyes.

“I didn’t expect Ben Cartwright not to have the guts to tell me himself but to send his boy.”

“Pa’s a busy man.” My fingers squashed the brim of my hat. Not willing to be insulted, I stood and turned toward the door.

“I would have preferred to talk to him in person. I thought he was a progressive and open-minded man who appreciated insurance’s benefits and security. I guess I was wrong. But I don’t hold a grudge. My offer is good for another week if he needs time to consider.”

With the doorknob already in my hand, I faced the dude. “No, I doubt it.”

“That’s a shame. I hope your father won’t regret it. You never know when things are about to change.”

“My father’s had the ranch for over twenty years. We’ve done well so far.”

“Misfortunes come unexpected.” The words hung heavy in the room. Was that supposed to be a threat? I met Lansbury’s grey predatory eyes.

“Good afternoon, Sir!”

Lansbury came out from behind his desk with a couple of quick steps and touched my arm. “Mr. Cartwright, I’m sorry. You misunderstood me. I didn’t mean to upset you. Please think again. Speak to your father!”

“I guess he’s gonna stick to his decision.” I turned around and left the stuffy office in a hurry. Before I closed the door behind me, I noticed him standing there, his limp arms dangling beside his body, his face looking crestfallen.

I needed a drink, and this time, I craved something stronger than beer.

 

“Howdy, give me a whiskey!” Sam nodded. Without commenting, he handed me a glass filled with amber liquid. I threw back the shot. “Another one.”

He poured more, then rested his forearms on the bar, willing to listen to what was on my mind.

“Sam, you know that dude from Vesuvius Insurance. Does he come in here often?”

“Yeah, regularly. Trying to sell insurance to ranchers and farmers.”

“What’s your opinion of him?”

“Not a likable fella. Nobody takes him seriously, so sometimes he seems almost desperate. He takes it pretty personally when people don’t want to sign with him. I don’t think he’s a prominent businessman, just an unimportant employee.”

“Why do you think so? He’s got expensive clothes, and he bought us some fine liquor. And he’s smokin’ these cigars.”

“I’m good at watching and judging people. He only has this one threadbare suit. The cigars are the cheapest you can buy, and he should have gotten a haircut long ago. I think it’s all an act.” Sam leaned forward with a sheepish grin. “I tried to get insurance for the big mirror behind the bar.” The bartender pointed back with his thumb.

“What?” A loud giggle burst out of me. “It breaks a couple of times a year.”

“Exactly. But he said they only cover larger properties, like whole buildings. I only understood half of the stuff he told me about loss of value, loss of use, and write-off. Do you have anything insured?”

“No, too expensive, says Adam.”

Sam pulled a pitcher from under the counter and poured himself a glass of water and another whiskey for me. He grinned. “The next time you fight and break my mirror, your pa will have to pay again.”

“Too bad for Pa.” I slapped him on the shoulder. “Well, I gotta go. Work is waitin’. See you around!” I hurried out of the batwing doors—and bumped into something soft.

“Ow!” a scream echoed. Thrown off balance, the person staggered. Just before she hit the sidewalk, I caught her. With a sheepish smile, I held the slender arm until she stabilized.

“Sorry, lady! I didn’t see you coming!” The woman reminded me of a frightened mouse with her simple gray linen dress and untidy bun. I guessed she was about thirty, but she already had worry lines carved on her forehead and around her mouth. My face burned with dismay when I noticed the cane she was leaning on. “Let me help you!” To cover my shame, I dropped to my knees and gathered the bags of flour, sugar, dried beans, and apples strewn along the path into her wicker basket. “I’ll carry your groceries home for you. Where are you staying?”

She tucked a strand of hair the color of the rag Sam used to polish his counter behind her ear and looked me over from head to toe. The smile on her face was forced. “That’s fine, young man! Above the millinery store.”

“I’m Joe Cartwright.” The name brought no response, perhaps because the stagecoach rattled past us with the driver shouting encouragement. Maybe she hadn’t heard or was new in town, for everyone knew the Cartwrights. “Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry.” Maybe Pa was right when he scolded me for always being in too much of a hurry.

“I’m Clara. It’s not your fault.”

I followed her across the street to the clothing store. Her steps were slow and dragging, and she was leaning heavily on her cane.

“An accident!” she explained as if sensing my questioning glances. “Right up here!” The woman pointed to the outside stairs that led up to the rooms above the store.

“Shall I give you a hand?” With the basket dangling from my left arm, I offered her my other.

“No.”

As the woman in front of me struggled up the stairs, clutching the railing with one hand and the cane in the other, I bit my lower lip. I could tell by her white knuckles that she must be hurting. When we reached the top, there was a fine film of sweat on her flushed face, causing me to blame myself for making her pain worse.

The living room we entered didn’t reveal much. It was shabby but practical. Only the crocheted doilies scattered everywhere showed that someone had tried to make the room more comfortable.

I set the basket down on the dining table. Even though I knew it wasn’t polite, my curiosity got the better of me. “You haven’t lived here long, have you?”

“No, a few weeks now.”

Searching for a ring, my eyes flickered over her hands. Was there a pale stripe on her ring finger?

Grimacing and muffled moaning, the woman slumped into a chair and rubbed her lower leg through her dress.

I turned the hat in my hand. “Anything else I can help with?”

“There’s a well behind the house where you can get some water. The kitchen pump is broken.”

“Want me to take a look at it?”

“No, Dave, the landlady’s son will come tonight to fix it.”

I put the full pitcher on the table. “Do you need something else, Miss?”

Closing her eyes, she shook her head. She hadn’t corrected my address. Her oval face was pale, and her colorless lips pressed into a line. “No, thank you, young man. I’ll be fine.”

Swinging myself onto the wagon seat, I took a deep breath. Clara radiated something lost and vulnerable, which made me feel sorry for her. But her curt answers and dismissive behavior made me realize she didn’t need my help.

 

“Joseph, are you all right?” Pa asked, eying me over his pipe as we sat by the fire after supper. His closed book sat untouched on his lap.

“Sure.” I sat back on the settee, crossing my legs. “Lansbury wanted us to reconsider the offer. He was pretty rude. He gave us one more week.”

Pa raised his eyebrows and puffed on his pipe. “He should take it easy if people don’t want to do business with him. That’s part of his job.”

“It must be hard to be stuck in the office all day with paperwork or out in the saloon trying desperately to catch customers. He might have imagined the whole thing would be easier.”

Hoss plopped down on the settee next to me. “How about a game of checkers to take your mind off things?”

“Yeah, good idea.”

Chapter 5

“Fire!” yelled Pete, one of our hired hands, when he tore his mount to a halt next to us. It was apparent he’d pushed his gelding to top speed. Foam flecks dripped from his neck, and he breathed hard. “The forest behind Buckhorn Meadow’s burning!”

Hoss and I, riding fence, exchanged worried glances. A fire could turn into a catastrophe if it weren’t caught in time. We drew our horses around. “We’ll ride to the lumber camp. It’s closer than the ranch. We’ll get axes and saws, and the men can come along. Maybe we can hold it!”

As if sensing the urgency, our horses gave it their all. A dozen lumberjacks from the nearby camp armed with tools followed us, and we galloped up the slope toward Buckhorn Meadow. My heart raced as I saw the menacing clouds of black smoke billowing into the sky. The air shimmered with heat, and an eerie roar was heard.

“The wind’s from the West. Let’s try cutting a swath to stop the fire!” I shouted over the roaring flames and cracking branches as we arrived. A large swath of the forest was ablaze; if we did nothing, the entire wooded hillside would burn down.

Hoss reined in Chubb, his voice filled with determination. “Joe’s right! Let’s find a good place, men!”

We turned our backs on the blaze and rode like hell to the East. The forest was bordered by the meadow to the south and the rocky mountainsides to the north. If we were lucky, we might be able to stop the fire.

Phil, the lumber camp foreman, raised his arm. “Wait! This is where we’re going to try. There’s very little vegetation here, and it has to be removed entirely. You got that, fellows?”

The answer was a general nod. “Yeah!”

“All right, let’s get started. Spread out. The path has to be at least one hundred fifty feet wide. Hoss, Joe, you cut up the felled trees and move them aside.”

The experienced lumberjacks shouldered their two-men-saws, iron wedges, axes, and turning hooks and gathered in pairs around the few pines on the strip. Hoss, me, and the other men gathered dead wood, cut bushes, and cleared the sparse dry grass. Working our way east, we began on the side facing the fire.

Soon, my back ached from the bent position I had been working in for what seemed like hours. The roaring wall of flame approached, drowning out the chopping, sawing, and occasional cursing. The arid stench made my eyes water, and smoke clogged my throat. I had long since removed my shirt and jacket, my torso bathed in sweat. The flames ate their way through the forest, hissing and growling, making the air swell with heat.

“Whoa!” I jumped aside as a herd of deer, with their eyes twisted in panic, almost ran over me. I’d have liked to join them, as the temperature got unbearable. Coughing, I eyed the cleared strip. It was only ninety feet at the most, and the fire was already close. Sucking the hot air into the lungs began to hurt.

I’d never seen our men work so fast, but their jobs were at stake. Without wood, there would be no need for lumberjacks. My forearms and chest were scratched, and my hands were caked with resin.

“Timber!” One man yelled, and the last pine fell, crashing to the ground. Hoss and I rushed with saws and axes to cut up the trunk.

The raging wall of flames was close. That’s how a chicken feels baking in Hop Sing’s oven. I tried to catch a glimpse of my back, whether the skin was already blistering.

As I pulled the saw with all my strength through a thigh-thick branch, the sweet smell of fresh pine was masked by thick smoke. Rusting teeth gnawed into bark and wood, oozing golden resin. Then the saw got stuck. No, not right now! I pulled at the handle. The blade snapped. With a muffled curse, I let go. “I need a new saw!” I shouted and glanced around.

The booming voice of our foreman filtered through the smoke that rolled along the lane, irritating our throats and making it hard to see. “We gotta get out of here, men!”

“He’s got a point!” I whispered in a harsh voice, staring at the wall of flames consuming bushes and tree trunks. Sparks and flakes of ash swirled through the glowing air. I felt numb and drained.

“Come on, Joe!” Hoss yelled, griping my bare upper arm and pulling me behind him, away from the blaze.

“Wait, my jacket!” I tore myself away.

“Leave the jacket!”

“Watch out!” one of the lumberjacks shouted.

A scrawny tree covered in a sea of flames leaned over me. Hesitantly at first, then it came rushing at me. I grabbed my shirt and jacket and jerked my arm up to protect my face. Smoldering pieces of wood poured over me as I stumbled backward. Hoss was next to me. He yanked me to the side out of harm’s way. “Dadburnit, what kind of stunt was that?”

“My jacket!”

“Is that darn jacket worth your life?”

“No, but the locket with Mama’s picture!”

Hoss rolled his eyes and dragged me back to the waiting loggers, muttering something about a stubborn fool. Still grumbling, he moistened his kerchief and placed it on the blisters on my right shoulder. A rough, felt-coated canteen was pushed into my hands with an order to drink, but I didn’t react. As if under a spell, I kept staring at the fire. It paused at the edge, behaving like it was a living creature. It hesitated, pondered, threw some long, slender flames forward, testing how far to jump, sending sparks through the air to explore the area in front of it. The anger at being robbed of its food was almost palpable. It raged, roared, changed color from yellow to a furious red, and then collapsed with a resigned sigh.

Another sigh, a collective one of relief, could be heard from the group of men. Leaning on axes and saws, their sooty, scratched, and exhausted faces covered in sweat, they patted each other on the back. “We made it!” Tense shoulders relaxed, clenched fists opened, and a smile or two could be seen. “It’s over!”

My legs felt weak, and I dropped to the needle-covered forest floor, resting my head against the rough bark of a trunk.

Hoss took command. “You all right, men?”

Howard, one of the loggers, stepped forward. “The darn axe slipped and hurt my hand. I’m going to need a doctor.”

Hoss and I looked at the handkerchief wrapped around the man’s hand, which dripped with blood. I knew the lumberjacks were no wimps. If someone went to the doctor willingly, he had at least cut off a finger. “I’m going to town with you. I want to check something out.” Without waiting for Hoss to answer, I got up, put on my shirt, and slung my jacket over one shoulder.

My brother brushed his sleeve across his brow. “Alright. The others stay here. We’ll widen the gap and keep watch all night. Pete, I want you to ride to the Ponderosa and bring us some grub and water.”

Pete was a young, shy lad who grew visible with the responsibility. He puffed out his chest. “Yeah, you can count on me.”

 

Riding next to Howard, I rolled my shoulders when the fabric chafed against the burns on my upper body. “What do you think started the fire? You believe it was arson?”

Howard scratched his shaggy beard, which reached down to his chest. “I saw a rider on the road to Buckhorn Meadow this morning. Strangers wouldn’t have any reason to ride that way. It’s rough terrain, and the road ends at the top.”

“Did you get a good look at him?”

“Nah, he was too far away.”

The loss would be hard on Pa. The stand was one of our most valuable, with hundred-year-old pine. We had planned to cut them down soon. Now, we’d lose thousands of dollars worth of lumber and might be unable to fulfill further contracts.

The image of Bat Moore’s sneer flashed through my mind. He might have been behind the fire to put us out of business, but I suspected someone else. While Howard, now looking pale as a sheet, rode on to Doc Martin, I reined in Cooch before the Vesuvius office. A volcano. Fire. Everything fitted. It could have been Lansbury. I still remember his words as he stared at the burning match. I would poke around some.

I knocked on the insurance company’s door.

“Little … Mr. Cartwright, good to see you!” Lansbury greeted me with eagerness and took my hand to shake it. Then, he noticed my appearance. Frowning, he took a step back and looked me up and down. He took in my ruffled appearance, the soot on my face, and the smell of smoke from my clothes. “What happened to you?”

I made a threatening step forward and glared at him so as not to miss his reaction. “This is what I wanted to ask you, sir. Someone saw you on a horse near Buckhorn Meadow this morning, just before the fire broke out!”

His eyes widened in surprise. “What? That’s a lie! I know nothing about a fire. I’m not good at riding, and I don’t have a clue where this place is. I’m new to Virginia City, remember?”

“Well, I’ll check with the livery stable anyway.”

“Be careful with your accusations!”

“I’m going to ask around! And if there’s any evidence you’re behind this, I’ll ensure you end up in jail. Trust me, prison in the West is no fun! A fella like you wouldn’t survive it!”

The man crossed his arms. “I don’t know what you have against me, but it wasn’t me! Feel free to snoop around.”

I turned to leave. “I will.”

Lansbury hurried after me and grabbed my elbow. “Mr. Cartwright, wait! Has your father decided …?”

I stared at his hand until he noticed my gaze and let go of me. “What don’t you understand about the word NO?” I asked, struggling to suppress my boiling-up anger. “Leave us alone. And if I find out you’re behind the fire …” I let the threat hang in the air.

Slamming the door shut behind me, I walked on the street, breathing hard. I couldn’t stand that man, his pushy attitude, his groveling behavior.

Next on my list was the mercantile. A brisk stride brought me through the door. I recognized Miss Clara as soon as I entered the store. Gray linen dress, dishrag-colored hair, her cane leaning next to her. She carried a basket of apples on her arm and slid a bill across the counter to Jake Hill, the storekeeper. I stepped beside her and tipped my hat. “Howdy, Miss Clara, Mr. Hill.”

Her absent gaze flitted over me. Did she even remember me? “Hello, young man.”

“How are you? Want me to help you with that basket?” The words slipped out without thinking, and I tried not to show my relief when she declined.

“No, thank you. You look indisposed.”

“You could say so. We fought a fire. Mr. Hill, did anyone buy kerosene?”

Only now did I notice another figure standing in the corner of the store. It was Dave. His mother, widow Susan Wilson, owned the millinery store. “Howdy,” I greeted him, even though I didn’t like him. Last year, we hired him for his mother’s sake, but he was lazy and unreliable. After some cattle disappeared, we suspected him of rustling and fired him.

He studied the merchandise on the shelf with his hands in his pockets. “Hiya, Joe.”

“People buy kerosene all the time.” Rubbing his nose, Mr. Hill faced me. “What happened?”

“Forest fire.”

“Damn. You lost a lot of timber?”

“Yeah, but we were able to contain it.”

“Dave, can I help you? What are you looking for?” Hill shouted across the store.

“I’ll come back later. Need a new sealing for the kitchen pump in the rooms above the store, but I forgot my money.” Dave pushed past me.

The woman who now stood by the door, undecided and waiting, followed him out into the street.

Jake Hill shrugged. “As I said, I sold a couple of kerosene cans, but you know it needs only one match to start a fire. I’m sorry I can’t help you further, Little Joe.”

“Thanks anyway. See you.” Stifling a yawn, I tipped my hat and stepped out into the street. Despite my best efforts, I’d come up empty. With a sigh, I rubbed my stinging eyes. All I wanted to do was take a bath, lie on my bed, and sleep for a whole day. Grimacing, I climbed into the saddle and steered Cochise out of town.

Chapter 6

Tired and dusty from a long day of repairing fences, I entered the living room. My stomach growled. The smell of fried chicken and Pa’s pipe tobacco hung in the air.

Chewing on the stem of his pipe, my father sat in the leather chair behind his desk. In front of him was a sheet of paper with rows of numbers, some crossed out. His usually neat hair stood on end as if he’d scratched his head several times.

“What are you doin’? Did something happen?”

“Bat Moore was here.”

“What? He dares to come here? What did he want?”

“He heard about the fire and wanted to make a deal with me. He offered me wood, he thought we couldn’t fulfill the contract.”

I sat on the edge of Pa’s desk with my eyes on the paper. “So, can’t we?”

“I’m not sure. The foreman still has to assess the damage. We might be able to cut down pines on the hillside near Lake Tahoe, but the trees there aren’t big enough yet.”

“You’re not thinking of accepting Moore’s offer?”

“Only if it comes down to it. Sun Mining may insist that I fulfill the contract. If we can’t, we may have to pay a contractual penalty.”

“That insurance would come in handy now. It’s funny that this hillside just burned down. I still think either Lansbury or Moore had something to do with it. Moore would be glad to see us ruined.”

“As dry as it is, it could have been an accident.”

“Supper ready!” Hop Sing’s announcement interrupted our talk.

“Alight. I’ll get cleaned up real quick. Just give me a minute!”

Chapter 7

One week passed, but I’d found nothing about the fire. There were no empty kerosene cans or whiskey bottles near Buckhorn Meadow. The hoofprints up there could have belonged to any horse, and Lansbury hadn’t rented a mount or a buckboard at the livery.

As I steered the supply-laden wagon along the road to the Ponderosa, I found myself scanning the sky for menacing plumes of smoke. Squinting against the sun, my gaze swept over the dark green hillsides and lush pastures. The sky was a deep azure without a trace of a cloud, and the air smelled of pine and summer, not of smoldering wood.

My shoulders slumped, my hands on the reins relaxed. Maybe Adam had been right, and I was wrong. He said I was stuck in something, but I wasn’t. I just had a strange feeling about the whole thing.

When I drove the wagon around the barn into the Ponderosa yard, I was surprised at the hustle and bustle. Grave-faced ranch hands raced their horses past me. A queasy feeling knotted my stomach. “What happened?”

Adam steered Sport beside me, who paced and tossed his head, sensing the tension. “Several cattle died. We must take a closer look. We’re heading to the north pasture. Are you coming too?”

“Yeah,” I shouted as I slammed on the brake and jumped off the buckboard. “I can unload the supplies later. I’ll saddle up and go with you!”

 

The awful sight made me clench my hands into fists. Dead cattle, some of them bloated and swarming with flies, lay scattered between waving grasses. I approached one steer that was still alive. He stared at me with dull, cloudy eyes, convulsions running through his body like waves on a lake’s surface. His drooling mouth hung open while he struggled for breath. My hand reached for my gun. The animal was in agony. There was only one thing left to do.

Holstering my smoking pistol, I saw Hoss riding across the pasture, his upper body bent far to the side, studying the ground. If anyone could find something, it was my big brother. There were plants such as Death Camas or Loco Weed that could cause this sort of sign in cattle, but we never had any problems with them in our meadows.

Adam was hunched over a steer Pete had lassoed, gloved hands examining its mouth. I steered Cochise over to him. My nose was assaulted by the foul stench of decay from one of the carcasses. I took my canteen from my saddle horn and drank the last lukewarm sip. “Do you have any ideas?”

“I think it’s something they ate. The animal is apathetic. It doesn’t seem to have a fever, and I can’t see any signs of mouth or hoof disease. There are no parasites either.”

“I’ll take a look at the waterhole. I need a drink anyway.”

After circling the pond once, I got down on my knees. Everything looked fine. I scooped up a handful of water and sniffed, then took a small sip. It smelled and tasted normal. Opening my water bottle, I filled it to the top. With closed eyes, I enjoyed the feeling of the cool drops against my heated skin as I splashed water over my face and neck.

Cochise lowered his snout to the pond. As he inhaled, I saw his nostrils flare. Then, without making any effort to drink, he took a step back and snorted. Before I could make sense of it, Hoss raced toward me in full gallop, dragging dust in his wake.

He waved an arm and yelled something I couldn’t understand. “Joe …  don’t … oison!” I caught a few scraps of words. Did I hear “poisoned?” My throat closed up. Hoss stopped Chubb, jumped off the horse, and ran toward me. “Arsenic!” he panted, grabbing my shoulder. “Tell me you didn’t drink that!”

“No, just a little sip.”

Hoss snatched the canteen from my hand and threw it to the ground. “Stick your finger down your throat! Go on!” he said with such urgency that I obeyed without question.

Gunshots made me cringe as I leaned forward and choked. Hoss had the Colt in his hand, piercing my canteen like he was shooting bottles. He holstered the gun and looked at me with a concerned expression. “You okay?”

Acid burned in my neck, and I cleared my throat. With a grimace, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “The way you feel when you just puked your guts out!”

Hoss looked furious as he pulled a dented metal can out of his saddlebag and handed it to me. The label had a skull and crossbones symbol.

“Darn it. Come on, let’s go tell Adam!”

Adam looked up as we approached. “Well?”

“Hoss found out what it was! Someone dumped arsenic in the water hole!”

“What?” My brother’s eyes widened, but he soon overcame his surprise as his mind began working. His gaze went blank, and he rubbed his chin. “The first thing we must do is move the cattle to another pasture. Then some of the ranch hands will fence in the water hole.”

“Joe drank from it!”

“Drank it? Gee, Joe, will you ever think before you act? How much did you have?”

“I didn’t have a drink. It was just a tiny sip to test it out. It’s all out. I’m fine. Don’t worry.” I said with a pinched face at Adam’s dismissive remark.

“Dadburnit! What kind of man would let a whole herd die a miserable death?” asked Hoss, looking pained.

Adam adjusted his hat. “We should ask ourselves who has a motive to harm us!”

“Lansbury!” I blurted out, earning an irritated look. “You have him in your sights, Joe, don’t you? The other day after the fire, you claimed it was him. Be careful who you blame. You’ve got no proof!”

“No, but he does have a motive. He wants to sell us the insurance. He threatened us with things like fire or disease.”

Adam gave me a piercing look. “We have to report this to Roy. And I want you to see a doctor, Joe. Hoss, you ride along. Pa will bite my head off if anything happens to you. Poisoning is not to be taken lightly.”

“Okay!” I didn’t miss the surprised glance my brothers exchanged. They probably expected a protest. I suppressed a grim smile, turned Cochise’s head toward the city, and urged him into a fast pace. “Coming, Big Brother?”

 

When I entered Doc Martin’s office, my mind was on Hoss’ absurd suggestion to insure me against accidents. “Howdy, Doc!”

“What’s the matter, Joe? You’re lookin’ pale.

“Someone poisoned one of our water holes with arsenic. A dozen of our cattle died. I had a tiny sip, barely enough to wet my mouth. But it’s all gone. I’m fine.”

“How big was the water hole, and how much arsenic was used?” The doctor did the math after I gave him the requested information. “You shouldn’t be in trouble.”

“What about the cattle? The ones that are still alive—will they recover?”

“That depends on the dose. Eating these animals is not wise, but I’m not a veterinarian.”

“And there is nothing to treat the livestock with?”

“I would have given you an emetic and charcoal to bind the poison, but for a steer? It only works if the poison was consumed recently. I’m afraid I can’t help the animals, Joe.”

“All right.”

“Come see me if you get any symptoms like diarrhea, dizziness, or a racing heart, but you should be fine.”

“Thanks, Paul.”

As I stepped outside, I noticed how thirsty and tired I was. The grasp for my canteen came to nothing. Cursing under my breath, I mounted and steered Cooch toward the mercantile. Afterward, I would join Hoss in the saloon. I could already hear the beer calling me.

“Wait here, I’ll be right back.” I patted Cooch’s hip, then I hurried into the store. That lady again! She seems to be following me. Apparently, she got the same idea.

“Are you following me, Mr. Carter?” Miss Clara asked, clutching her basket in front of her.

“My name’s Cartwright, not Carter, but please call me Joe. We just seem to shop at the same time.”

“Cartwright?” My explanation drew a frown. Clara looked me over as if she was aware of me for the first time.

The storekeeper winked at her, moving colorful fabric bundles from a wooden box to a shelf behind the counter. “The Cartwrights are my best customers. You don’t have to worry about Little Joe. What do you need, Miss? Apples?”

“I’ll take a look around. Go ahead and serve the young man.”

“I need a new canteen. Hoss used mine for target practice,” I tried a joke.

“Sure. Everything all right on the Ponderosa?”

“No. Someone poisoned our cattle, and I have an idea who did it. Say, did Mr. Lansbury buy arsenic recently?”

Clara gasped. Her cane tumbled to the floor.

“Are you all right?” I reached for her arm, but she stepped back until a molasses barrel stopped her. She let herself sink onto it. Her face was pale.

“I’m all right. It’s my leg. It gave way.”

I bent down for the cane and handed it to her, then turned back to Mr. Hill, who stroked his graying mustache, thinking. “Lansbury’s that insurance man, isn’t he? No, he won’t buy from me.”

“Anyone else who bought arsenic?”

“Let me think. Dave Wilson needed it for a rat plague in the backyard. Food and Grain had problems with mice eating their wheat.”

Clara rose from the barrel, smoothed her dress, and approached the counter. I saw the color had returned to her face, but something about her eyes bothered me. They were a light blue-grey like the lake on an overcast day. I gave her a polite smile and tipped my hat to the storekeeper.

“Thanks, Mr Hill, you helped. I guess I need to talk to Dave.” I took the new canteen, slid a coin over the counter, and turned to leave.

The woman’s voice stopped me. “Mr Cartwright, would you mind carrying my shopping to my place?” She followed my confused glance to her empty wicker basket. The pink on her cheeks turned into two frayed red spots. “Oh, I haven’t bought anything yet. Where am I with my mind?” Embarrassed, she brushed a non-existent strand of hair from her face. “Get me twenty pounds of wheat flour please, Mr. Hill.”

I exchanged an amused look with the storekeeper, who tossed the sack onto the counter, stirring up a cloud of flour.

“Let’s go.” Slinging the bag over my shoulder and the strap of my new canteen over the other, we walked across the street. I kept up with Clara’s slow pace as she took labored steps.

I placed the sack on the worktop next to the pump when we reached her home. The stove had heated the room to a sweltering temperature, and I broke into a sweat. I removed my hat and wiped my forehead to keep my hands busy.

We stood facing each other until the heavy silence became awkward. The woman plucked at her earlobe with a thoughtful expression and gave me an unexpected smile. “How about coffee? Why don’t you take a seat?” She gestured toward the dining table.

“Coffee?” I flashed her a crooked smile. Where did this change in mood come from? “My brother’s waiting for me in the saloon.”

“Please, I want to thank you.”

“All right, one cup.” I placed my hat and the canteen on the table and sat down, letting my eyes wander around. The door opposite led into another room, next to a shabby light blue faded settee with a small coffee table. My eyes darted around the room, looking for a photograph of kin or something that would give me a better picture of the woman.

Clara turned, limped to the stove, and took two chipped porcelain cups from the buffet. She poured coffee from a waiting enamel jug, glancing over her shoulder at me. “Sugar and cream?”

“Yes, please!”

She stirred, set the drink on the table before me, and sat across from me. Clara seemed nervous. Studying me, she fingered her cup, causing some liquid to spill onto the saucer. “Is the coffee good? Sorry, I’m out of pie. I bake apple pie all the time.”

It felt inappropriate to have coffee with a woman I didn’t know. To mask my discomfort, I took several sips. It was chicory, thin, and way too sweet. I suppressed a grimace. “May I ask you a personal question? What happened to your leg? We’ve got an excellent doctor in town. Perhaps he can help you.”

“I’m from New England. On the way here, we had a stagecoach accident at the foot of the Rockies. A wheel cracked, and it toppled over. I broke my leg, and we had to stop our trip for two months until it was healed. The treatment cost us all our savings.” The corners of her mouth turned down as she peered into her cup.

“Our?”

“Yes, I traveled with my husband. Would you like some more coffee?”

“No, thanks.” I drank the last sip and yawned as deep tiredness flooded my body. It had been a long and exhausting day. If I’d had any sense, I’d have had a beer with Hoss and then gone home. Instead, I sat with a married woman I didn’t know and who didn’t want my help and drank awful coffee.

Blinking, I rubbed my face to clear the mist from my eyes. There was no reason to stay any longer. “I’d better leave.”

“Wait. You mentioned someone poisoned your cattle. Who do you suspect?” She shot me a vigilant glare.

“Dave Wilson,” I wanted to say, but my tongue felt heavy and far too thick. I rested my elbow on the table, my head in my hands, and closed my eyes to wait for the dizziness to pass. When I realized I was about to slip off the chair, I tried to hold onto the edge of the table, but my hands refused to obey. I hit unyielding floorboards. Everything went black.

 

My head was a sea of dense white fog that wafted through my brain, leaving a vague pressure behind my eyes. Sluggish thoughts sloshed around inside. I forced my eyelids to open, but it wasn’t much use because it was dark. Faint moonlight shone through the window. How long had I been out? Not very long, I guessed. I could make out the blurred outlines of furniture, two armchairs, and a wardrobe. There was a hard wooden floor underneath. One of the boards creaked as I tried to move, but I didn’t get far. Someone had tied my wrists behind my back, and I had a gag in my mouth that had absorbed all the moisture. I couldn’t spit it out because a strip of cloth secured it around my head. The corners of my mouth were sore, and I was nauseous and dizzy. It felt like I’d had a bad hangover. Did I drink too much in the saloon? Wait. I hadn’t been in the saloon, had I?

With a muffled groan, I tried to sit up, but my feet were bound as well, and my hands were secured to one of the legs of the heavy iron bed behind me. Someone wanted to make sure I wouldn’t move. Strangely, my gun holster was still around my waist, but I couldn’t reach the .38.

What had happened? I forced my mind to produce the memories I needed—the coffee. I drank coffee with Clara, and I got sleepy. Arguing voices from next door stopped my musing and drew my attention. They belonged to a man and a woman yelling at each other. I closed my eyes, concentrating on my hearing.

“… do with him? What the hell were you thinking?” the angry male voice, which sounded familiar, shouted.

“I just meant … ” a sob interrupted the words. “Joe snooped around and asked questions in the store. I was scared he’d found out something.”

“Found out WHAT? Clara, what have you done?”

“I was just trying to help you close a few deals, Bradford! The job was so important to you, and I thought if the Cartwrights suffered some losses, they’d be more likely to insure … ”

“Have you lost your mind? Did you set that fire? Do you know how quickly whole areas can burn to the ground?”

“I didn’t know. I wasn’t thinking!”

“I realized that. Damn, Clara. You drugged him and tied him up. What should we do with him? We can’t keep him here.”

“I just wanted him to stop nosing around. Could we try to ransom him? Then we’d be rid of our money worries!”

“For God’s sake, woman! In the West, they make short work of crooks! No, I don’t want anything to do with criminal activities! To fib over an insurance policy is one thing, but kidnapping is quite another!”

“I’ll ask Dave. He’ll know what to do.”

“Our landlady’s son helped you?”

“I hired him to set the fire. He would do anything for money. To pay him, I had to sell my wedding ring. He’ll know where to hide Cartwright until the ransom’s paid. Or how to get rid of him. We can’t just let him go, right?”

“Getting rid of him? Are you talking about murder? People get hung for that! Clara, what have you gotten us into? Those painkillers have dulled your mind.”

“No! I only did it for you! I wanted you to succeed. That was your dream!”

“I should have spent more time with you, honey! I only worked this hard to afford an operation on your leg.  So, you wouldn’t have to live in pain.”

I swallowed hard to fight off the nausea in my stomach. Even though I was in a daze, I had understood enough to know that I had been suspecting the wrong people the whole time.

Stifling a groan, I turned to look at my wrists. They were trussed with strips of red floral fabric that had been part of a tablecloth or curtain. Had Clara dragged me into this room alone and tied me up?

I brought my feet close to my hands and began to pull up my pants leg. There wasn’t much room to move, but I could reach the knife in my boot. A cramp tightened my leg muscles into a hard knot, making me grunt.

As I writhed back and forth, I realized that the restraints weren’t as tight as I’d first thought. I bit down hard on my gag, sucking air through my nose. My fingertips touched the handle of my knife. Yes! I clamped it between my index and middle fingers.

The door was flung open. My spark of hope died. Lansbury entered, followed by his wife. He carried a lamp and a large kitchen knife used to cut meat. My body slumped. I hadn’t been fast enough. The light from the lamp made the steel sparkle, and the blinding glare pierced through my eyes and into my brain. As the insurance man knelt beside me, I tried not to show my fear but to stare back with defiance.

“When I take the gag off, you won’t scream, understand, boy?”

I nodded, happy at the prospect of getting rid of the uncomfortable rag.

Lansbury brought the knife to the back of my head and cut the strip, then grimaced with disgust as he used his pointed fingers to pull the wet lump out of my mouth.

“Thanks!” My voice sounded slurred. What was wrong with me? All I’d had was coffee. Wait. They had said something about being stunned. Was I hit on the head? My musings were interrupted by the man.

“Suppose I untie you, kid. Will you go home and not tell anyone what happened?”

I blinked several times to understand what he wanted me to do. “Huh?”

“You won’t tell anyone?”

I shook my head. What should I not tell?

“Look, it was all just a big misunderstanding. My wife takes strong painkillers. Sometimes, she’s not quite in her right mind.”

“Bradford!” protested Clara, who had remained in the background until now. She limped a few steps forward.

“Hush, darling! Let me finish. It’s the only way to get out of this.”

“Poison,” I muttered. Did the poison make me so dizzy?

“Poison? What do you mean, Cartwright?”

“In the water hole. Many cattle dead.” Slowly, the fragments began to fall into place.

Lansbury stood and grabbed his wife’s upper arms. “Is this kid right, Clara? Were you involved?”

“Yes. Dave did it for me. I thought if some cattle got sick, Mr. Cartwright would be more willing …”

The man buried his face in his hands and began pacing. Nothing about him reminded me of the arrogant, confident salesman who had visited us on the Ponderosa. “Oh God, what am I supposed to do?”

The decision of what to do next was taken from him. Someone banged at the door, loud enough to wake a dead man.

“Open up! It’s the Sheriff, Mr. Lansbury!”

Help was close at hand. Relief flooded through my body.

Lansbury ruffled his hair, a look of panic on his face. “Hell, I wanted to think it over. Wife, you keep the boy quiet. I’ll try to get rid of the sheriff!”

Clara knelt next to me, one hand in my hair. With the other, she tried to force the soaked piece of cloth back into my mouth, but I clenched my teeth and turned my head away. From the front room, I could hear the loud voice of our sheriff. He’d search the house, right? I opened my mouth to yell. Clara’s flat hand smacked my cheek, knocking my head sideways.

“Quiet!” she hissed.

I saw the blade sparkling. It touched the soft skin under my jaw and pressed into my flesh. I swallowed hard, my eyes wide open, and my heart beat fast and hard. That, and the blow to my face, drove away some of my sleepiness. I felt blood trickle down my neck, but it didn’t hurt. Strange. Instead, I realized what was odd about Clara’s eyes. Although it was dark in the bedroom, her pupils were as small as two tiny black pearls. I had seen that look in a Chinese opium user once. Why hadn’t I noticed it before?

The voices grew louder. “Little Joe?” someone shouted.

That was Hoss! My eyes met Clara’s, and she shook her head, her lips tight. I saw from her bloodless knuckles how firm she held the knife in her trembling hand. A slight movement, and she’d slice the vein in my neck.

We heard a scream and a crash, and then the door flew off its hinges. Hoss hesitated only for a split second, then he was on top of the woman, wrestling the knife out of her hand. She let go of the weapon without a struggle.

At the same time, Roy and Lansbury, his hands cuffed in front of his stomach, also entered the room. Hoss pulled a scarf off his pocket and pressed it to the wound under my chin. “Are you okay, Joe?”

“Yeah. ‘ntie me.”

“You sound weird.” Hoss leaned over me and gazed into my face, then sniffed. “Are you drunk?”

“Just coffee.”

“What happened? Talk to me.”

“Can’t concentrate. My mind’s a merry-go-round. Didn’t know she’s Lansbury’s wife.” With Hoss’ help, I stood up. His supporting arm was around my waist, which I was grateful for because the world spun. My stomach did a flip. “I need some air!”

Clara still crouched on the floor where Hoss had left her. Roy approached and pulled her to her feet. “Mr. and Mrs. Lansbury, I’m going to lock you up. There will be an investigation and trial. Kidnapping, arson, assault, maybe even attempted murder.”

With me leaning against Hoss, we followed the sheriff and his prisoners into the street. I took several deep breaths as I rested against the building wall. A few curious people gathered to watch the spectacle.

“Get a room at the hotel, boys. Little Joe doesn’t look like he can ride. Come by my office tomorrow,” the sheriff said, directing the couple toward the jail. “Go home, folks. The show’s over.”

“Roy’s right, little brother. Come on, let’s go get a hotel room.”

As my body sank into the soft hotel bed and Hoss bent over to remove my boots as if I were a little boy, a giggle burst out of me. I was filled with a weird happiness. Except for slight nausea, I felt great! My brother shot me a puzzled glance as he continued to undress me. Hoss was just about to tuck me in when someone knocked.

Paul Martin walked in. “I wanted to check on Joe. Roy gave me a summary. I guess the boy has been drugged. Mrs. Lansbury takes opium for pain. Did you eat or drink anything with her, Joe?”

Hoss frowned. “He mentioned coffee.”

Paul glanced into my eyes and felt my pulse. “Make sure he gets a good night’s sleep. Looks like he got a good dose, but it doesn’t seem life-threatening. The effects should wear off by tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Doc!” Hoss escorted the physician to the door while I curled up into a ball, glad to be left alone. What was all the fuss about? I was fine!

Chapter 8

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Hoss greeted, handing me a coffee.

“Breakfast in bed? Where are we anyway?”

“Palace Hotel.”

The sun streamed in through the open window, bathing the room in a warm light. On the wall hung a painting of the snow-capped Sierras, a potted plant stood on the dresser by the door, and the sounds of the busy main street, voices, the rattle of a passing wagon, and hoofbeats could be heard.  I scratched my head and sat up, realizing I had nothing on. I grabbed my covers, which were about to slide to the floor. “Hey, where are my clothes?”

“Remember last night? You were with Mrs. Lansbury.”

“Here?” God, no! For a horrible second, I thought Hoss had caught me in bed with a married woman. My face blushed, and my heart wanted to burst out of my chest. But then the memory of last night seeped into my now clear mind. “Hell, yeah. She spiked my coffee and tied me up! Hoss, that woman is behind all of this!”

“I know. We’re going to see the sheriff later. You need to tell him what you remember.”

“How did you find out anyway?”

“After I told Roy about the poison, I waited for you in the saloon. When you didn’t show up, I went to Paul’s and then found Cooch outside the mercantile. It’s a good thing you have such a striking horse. Hill said you went with that lady and wanted to talk to Dave Wilson. I knew he had a beer in the saloon and got Roy to come along. It took little convincing on my part to get Dave to talk.” Hoss rubbed the bruised knuckles of his right hand. “He said the lady hired him. He also bought her the opium tincture she took for her busted leg.

“Dave Wilson. That fits.” I knew he would do anything to make money and held a grudge against us.

Hoss and I stepped out onto the busy street and went to see Roy. A slender figure came out the door as we passed the Vesuvius Insurance Company. Another man in a silk vest and suit stepped out of the office behind him.

I nudged Hoss with my elbow. “Look! That’s Bat Moore. What’s he doing here? Business with Lansbury? I thought he and his wife were in jail?”

“They were last night. C’mon, let’s go ask Roy.”

 

Upset, I approached Roy Coffe’s desk. Hoss closed the door I had pushed open so fast that it hit the wall. “Why is Lansbury running loose?” I blurted.

Roy put down his pen, crossed his arms over his chest, and leaned back in his chair. “As long as you’re yelling, I’ll just continue going through my paperwork.”

“Little Joe.” I felt Hoss’ heavy hand squeeze my shoulder and heard the mild rebuke in his voice, causing me to take a deep breath.

“Sorry, Roy, but we saw Lansbury out there. Why is he free? We’ve lost forty acres of valuable timber and at least twelve head of cattle.”

“Sit down, boys. Coffee?”

I shook my head.

“Mrs. Lansbury has confessed to everything. Her husband is innocent. He didn’t know anything about her business. I want you to tell me what happened yesterday, Joe.”

“Yes, sir.” I drew up a chair and told him everything I remembered while he took notes and asked questions. After Roy finished his report, I signed it.

“Will I have to testify at the trial?”

“The circuit judge will decide whether there will be a trial. He’ll arrive at the end of the week.”

“That woman is crazy. She should be locked up.”

“She increased her dose of opium because of the pain. That confused her. She didn’t have a clue what she was doin’, said Paul.”

“But that’s not right. She gets away with it just because she’s supposed to be confused? What about the damage she did to our ranch? People might have died, too.”

“I know, Little Joe. Sometimes it ain’t fair.”

“Did you lock Dave up as well?”

“Yeah. He’s in the cell next to Mrs Lansbury. Go home now. I let you know when the trial takes place. You must testify.”

Chapter 8

As I drove my team past the sheriff’s office, the iron-barred windows reminded me of last week’s court hearing. Dave Wilson would be in prison for the next couple of years. I would have liked his sentence to have been higher, but the jury considered the damage caused by the fire was not as bad as first thought. Most old trees survived the fire, and we could still use them.

“Joe Cartwright!”

The voice ripped me from my thoughts. I yanked too hard on the reins and brought the horses to a sudden stop in front of the Wells Fargo office. As the dust I’d kicked up settled, I gave Lansbury a curt nod, who brushed off his suit. I knew the court ordered him to send his wife to a sanitarium to overcome her habit.

My gaze wandered from the pile of luggage on the sidewalk to Lansbury’s face. He looked content and at ease with himself. “We’re leaving today.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Leaving?”

“Yes, to San Francisco. Dr. Martin has arranged everything. A surgeon is going to operate on Clara again. There’s a good chance she’ll get rid of the pain. Deputy Foster is accompanying us to keep an eye on my wife.”

‘Who would pay for it,’ I wondered, picturing the shabby furnished home, which revealed the couple had little money. Lansbury noticed my doubtful expression.

“Not all people are as averse to new ideas as your father, Joe.” He flashed me a triumphant grin. “The fire convinced some of the surrounding ranchers to insure their livestock. Dutton of the Bar-D Ranch and Miller of the Double-M Ranch took out policies with Vesuvius. And Bat Moore insured his timber last week. At the time, no one knew it was arson. I can’t stay on a horse and rope cattle, but it’s not always physical strength or skill that counts in life. You have to have flair and talent with people, too.”

I pressed my lips together. “There’s your stagecoach coming. I wish you and your wife all the best.”

From Roy’s office, Mrs. Lansbury stepped out into the street, accompanied by Deputy Clem. When she noticed me, her face twisted into a hesitant smile. She raised her hand to greet me and gave me a nod, and then she let her husband help her enter the coach.

Relieved to be able to close the Lansbury chapter, I drew in a deep breath, snapped the reins on the horse’s hindquarters, and steered my team toward the mercantile. The stage rushed past me, accompanied by the whip’s crack and the hooves’ clatter.

As I passed the empty insurance office on my way home, I wondered who would move in next. Someone may come up with the idea of selling wood-cutting machines or self-propelled plows. Chuckling, I cheered the horses on and steered the team out of town.

The End

 

The Great Flood of 1862 was the largest flood in California, Nevada, and Oregon’s history. It was caused by weeks of continuous rain and snowfall that began in November 1861 and lasted until January 1862.

Insurance companies were founded in Connecticut in 1819, offering fire, life, and annuity insurance.