Summary:  After an extended absence, Adam Cartwright is returning home to the Ponderosa, but an overnight stop in a California town leads to an unforeseeable delay.

Rating: T  Word Count: 17967

Prelude Series:

Prelude #1 
Prelude #2 – Junction

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Author’s Note:  This story is an expansion of an original story, Prelude, written nearly twenty years ago and posted at Bonanza World, rewritten in 2017 for publication in the Brand library. It includes references to events depicted in “The Flannel Mouth Gun” (Bonanza, season 6, episode 19) written by Leo Gordon and Paul Leslie Piel.

 

PART ONE

Day was dying in the west. Adam Cartwright shifted in his saddle and watched the sun leaching fiery ribbons onto the hills in its descent from the lowering sky. It had been nearly two years since he’d seen a Nevada sunset, and then he reminded himself he was still in California. Though he had arrived in San Francisco more than a week ago, he hadn’t wired his family. As far as they were concerned, he was still in Boston. He was content to leave it that way for now.

His departure from the Ponderosa was not precipitated by an explosive argument or bitter disagreement as some might have imagined; instead, it was a weary accumulation of words over time, stacked like stones in a wall. Adam supposed the real problem between them was simply the fact that he and his father were just too much alike. An irresistible force and an immovable object cannot occupy the same space.

“I’m beginning to understand how the world can overcome a man,” he told his father that night. “It just wears him down until he’s too tired to fight what he can’t change. Pa, I don’t want to be that man.” That was when he realized push had finally come to shove.

As he knew they would, his brothers fought against his leaving at first, but even they eventually accepted the inevitable. At the end he could almost feel the collective sigh of relief, including his own. It had been a long goodbye for all of them.

The supreme irony of it all was how much he disliked Boston. He had always dreamed of returning one day, but after so many years the realization of that dream was cold and harsh. The damp winter chill seeped into his bones like a disease, making him ache all over, and sometimes the pain in his back set him off his feet. The sweltering summer wasn’t much better. Once so bright and full of promise to an idealistic young man of twenty, the city now appeared gray and soulless. Boston had changed, and so had he.

There had been one diversion, pleasant at first but ultimately disappointing. Jane Hadley was a handsome widow, well-read, financially independent and at times, utterly charming. Behind that bewitching smile, he discovered, she was vain, self-centered, demanding, and dismissive. It was just as well, for she would never leave Boston, and he could not stay.

The pale lights of a town dotted the dusky landscape below. With the remains of the day fading over his shoulder, Adam nosed his horse down the hill and past the weathered sign that read Junction in search of a meal and a bed for the night.

~*~

The saloon had no doubt seen better days, judging from the mishmash of worn-out tables and chairs and the dilapidated piano in the corner, but at least the beer wasn’t too warm. Adam was halfway through a mug when a fight broke out in the corner where two men were playing cards.

It wasn’t clear who was cheating whom, but epithets were swirling and fists were flying, shattering glass and toppling tables, much to the proprietor’s dismay. Adam watched with mild interest from other end of the bar, away from the fracas. It wasn’t the first time he’d witnessed a poker game gone sour, especially when tempers were fueled by whiskey. The combatants looked to be in their early twenties and pretty evenly matched, though the odds shifted when a solid left hook from one sent the other crashing backward toward the bat wing doors, where he landed near the feet of an imposing man wearing a badge.

Adam did a double take when he saw the sheriff, who bore a striking resemblance to an old acquaintance.

“All right, that’s enough,” said the sheriff, hoisting the man up from the floor. “Party’s over.”

“No, it ain’t!” said the other man, drawing his gun. “Not ‘til I get my money!”

The sheriff frowned. “You don’t want to do that, son.”

“Yeah, well maybe I do.”

“Think again,” said Adam, pressing a barrel of cold steel into his back.

The man grudgingly surrendered his weapon, still complaining about the money.

“I reckon that’s house money now, considering the damages,” said the sheriff. “Did you count it yet, Pete?”

The proprietor rifled through a handful of bills and coins he had picked up among the debris. “Looks twenty-six and two bits.”

“Well now, that’s hardly worth riskin’ your life over, is it? Once you’ve sobered up I think you’ll see things my way.” The sheriff directed his attention to Adam. “Much obliged, Mr…?”

“Cartwright. Adam Cartwright.”

“Ezra Tatum.”

Tatum. It had to be more than a coincidence. “You must be Ira’s brother.”

Ezra smiled. “That’s right. You a friend?”

“Yes, though I haven’t seen him since he left Virginia City a few years ago.”

“You gonna be in town for a while?”

“At least for the night.”

“Had your supper?”

“Not yet.”

“The café down the street serves a pretty good steak. Let me get these boys settled over at the jail and I’ll go with you. Then we’ll see about gettin’ you a room.”

Lottie’s Cafe stood in cheerful contrast to the dingy saloon. Crisp gingham curtains adorned the windows and the walls appeared freshly painted. The mouth-watering aromas reminded Adam that he hadn’t eaten anything but jerky since breakfast.

An attractive blonde in an apron greeted them with a smile as they took their seats. “Hello, Ez. You’re a little late, aren’t you?”

“Aw, I had to tend to a little scuffle in the saloon.”

“Trouble?”

“Not really, just a bad hand and some hard feelin’s, mostly. They’ll sleep it off tonight. Lottie, this is Adam Cartwright. He’s a friend of Ira’s.”

Her blue eyes crinkled as her smile deepened. “Lottie Simpson. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Cartwright. Any friend of the Tatums is certainly welcome.”

 “Call me Adam. Mr. Cartwright is my father.”

“Well, Adam, what’s your pleasure? I already know what he wants. Steak and potatoes all right with you?”

“It sounds more than all right to me.”

“Comin’ right up. I’ll get your coffee.”

“Thank you.”

Adam watched her turn toward the kitchen, and as she passed Ezra, she placed a light hand on his shoulder. It was a small gesture but not insignificant, if he was any judge.

The sheriff leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands in front of him. “You’re a long way from Virginia City, aren’t you? What’s your story, if you don’t mind my askin’.”

“I don’t mind. I’ve been away for a while, in Boston. Just arrived in San Francisco a few days ago.”

“On your way home?”

“Eventually.”

Ezra looked him over. “Not ready to get back to ranching?”

“I don’t think I mentioned anything about ranching.”

“You didn’t have to. I’ve heard of the Pondorosa. Ira mentioned it once or twice.”

“I see.” He didn’t even want to think about the ranch, and he welcomed the opportunity to change the subject. “How is Ira? Last I heard he was headed somewhere north.”

Ezra’s expression grew somber. “He’s dead.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. How did it happen?”

“Heart attack, a couple of years ago, up in Wyoming.”

“What was he doing up there?”

“He signed on with a cattle company—just sorta drifted after he lost his wife.”

Adam sighed, remembering Cynthie Tatum’s senseless murder. The intended victim was Ira, and he was never quite the same afterwards.

“He was a good man. I guess I don’t have to tell you how much you look like him.”

Ezra chuckled. “No, I’ve heard that all my life. People used to think we were twins. Ira was only fifteen months older, and we were about the same size by the time we were in school.”

Lottie returned with their coffee. “How’s Tom doing?”

“Tolerable, better than the last time I saw him.” said Ezra. “He won’t be using that leg for a while, though, and the doc told Louise it might never be right. Tom’s my deputy,” he explained to Adam. “Bull hooked him, pretty bad.”

Lottie shuddered. “It was awful. He’s lucky to be breathing.”

The steaks arrived a moment later, generous, sizzling cuts slathered with butter and braised onions with roasted potatoes mounded on the side, and a plate of impossibly high biscuits. Conversation was momentarily halted as the two men tucked in to their meals. Somehow Adam managed to find room for peach cobbler at the end.

“Lottie, that was a terrific meal,” her told he as she refilled his coffee. “I could eat here every day.”

She smiled. “I’d like that. How long will you be staying?”

“Well, actually I’m just passing through.”

“Oh.” Her smile faded, and she sounded disappointed. “I guess I misunderstood. I thought maybe you were here to help Ezra.”

Ezra raised an eyebrow at her. “Now Lottie, why would you think that?”

She turned toward him, the coffee pot in one hand and the other on her hip, and frowned. “Well, now I don’t know. I suppose I thought maybe you had decided to take someone’s advice for a change, but I see I was wrong. Excuse me.”

Ezra scratched his neck and watched her walk away before meeting Adam’s eyes. “Sorry about that.”

“No need to apologize. What did she mean?”

“Aw, she just thinks I’m spread a little too thin on the job with Tom bein’ down. You know how women are.”

“She worries about you.”

“Yeah, but nothin’ much happens around here these days beyond an occasional dust-up in the saloon. And again, I appreciate your help there.”

“Well, I’m sure you could have probably talked that young fella out of his gun eventually, but I was gettin’ kinda hungry so I figured I’d help things along.” Adam smiled. “I wasn’t expecting a meal like this though. I think those were just about the best biscuits I’ve ever eaten.” He spoke loud enough for Lottie to hear from the next table.

“Yeah, they’re almost as good as the ones at the boarding house,” said Ezra, grinning as she approached.

“Well, I’m not too proud to admit it. It’s Amy’s recipe, but no one makes them like she does, as someone likes to remind me.”

“I just like teasin’ you, you know that.”

A soft smile played on her lips as she shook her head at him. “How many meals do you need for the jail tonight?”

“Just two.”

“All right, I’ll send them over. Can I get you anything else, Adam?”

“No ma’am. I couldn’t eat another bite.”

“Where are you sleeping?”

“We haven’t gotten that far yet,” said Ezra. “I figure Amy’s got room for him.”

“If she doesn’t, I do. There’s a room off the kitchen that’s not being used right now. It’s nothing fancy but it’s clean; and it would do for one night, if that’s all you need.”

“That’s very generous, thank you. I don’t have any urgent plans, and I’m almost tempted to stay an extra day just to see what else is on the menu.”

Lottie’s expression brightened. “Pot roast and sweet potatoes. And apple dumplings—my specialty; Amy can’t touch them.”

He grinned. “Lady, you had me at pot roast and sweet potatoes.”

She laughed. “Good, I’m glad.”

“Come on, Adam. Let’s get on over to the boarding house while the lights are still on.”

“What about my bill?”

“It’s on the house,” said Lottie.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Well, thank you again.”

“My pleasure. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow. Goodnight, gentlemen.”

The boarding house was at the other end of town. Adam was grateful for the chance to work his legs after such a heavy meal.

“I haven’t eaten that much in a long time. I feel like the fatted calf.”

Ezra laughed. “You might as well know; Lottie believes the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. She’s already workin’ on you.”

“You’re not suggesting there’s an ulterior motive to her generosity?” Adam had a feeling he knew what it was.

“Let’s just say she’s pretty good at gettin’ people to go along with her. She can twist your arm and you won’t even feel it until the next day—Amy too, for that matter. They’re quite a pair, especially when they get their heads together on somethin’, which they’re known to do. Don’t get me wrong—they always mean well. They’re just about the best friends I’ve got in this town, and that’s sayin’ a lot.”

Lamps glowed in the windows of Brown’s Boarding House, and a diminutive woman greeted them at the door, inviting them inside.

“Hello, Ezra. What brings you by here? Nothing wrong, I hope.”

“Evenin’ Amy. No, not at all. I was hopin’ you might have a room available for a couple of days. This is Adam Cartwright, a friend of Ira’s from Nevada. Adam, this is Amy Brown.”

Her silver hair hung in a thick braid over her shoulder, and her expressive dark eyes were set wide in a heart-shaped face. She was evidently older than Lottie but still a striking woman. Adam imagined Amy Brown must have been quite a beauty when she was young.

“Mr. Cartwright.” She acknowledged their introduction with a smile. “You said just a couple of days?”

“If it’s not an inconvenience.”

“Lottie offered to put him up if you don’t have room,” said Ezra.

“Oh, she knows I do.” Amy looked a little irritated. “Besides, he’ll be a lot more comfortable here than in that hovel off the kitchen. I can put him in your old room.”

He smiled. “That’s what I figured.”

She turned to Adam. “It’s two dollars a day. I serve a full breakfast at seven, the main meal at 12:30 and a light supper at six. I don’t do laundry, but Wang Li does a fine job and he’s more than reasonable. Also, I lock up at nine unless we make other arrangements.”

“That sounds fine, thank you.”

“Adam’s already lookin’ forward to your biscuits,” said Ezra. “He just had a sample at Lottie’s”

“We always have plenty,” she assured him. “By the way, the room is cheaper by the week, only ten dollars, if you decide to stay longer.”

Adam smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I better be gettin’ back to the jail,” said Ezra. “I’m sure those boys are anxious for their supper.”

“You’ve got company?” asked Amy.

“Just for the night, a couple of saloon rowdies, that’s all. Nothin’ to worry about.”

“I should put my horse up,” said Adam. “Is there a livery somewhere?”

“Down from the café, across from the old hotel,” said Amy.

“All right, I’ll be back before nine.”

The two men left together, parting ways at the jail. Adam installed his horse at the livery with the stableman, collected his saddle bag and a small valise and returned to the boarding house before curfew as promised.

Amy latched the door behind him. “Your room is upstairs on the left, at the end of the hall. I think you’ll find everything you need but if not, let me know.”

“I’m sure it will be fine, thank you.”

“I just put a kettle on for tea. You’re welcome to join me. In fact, I’d like it very much if you would.”

Though delivered most genteelly, the invitation was as much, possibly more, expectation. Adam smiled, remembering Ezra’s earlier comments. “I’d be delighted.”

“Good. You can put your things away while I fix a tray.”

The upstairs hall was illuminated by wall lamps, and the open door at the end revealed a pleasant room furnished with a bed, a night table with a lamp, and a small dresser. A mirrored wash stand stood in one corner, and a rocking chair occupied another. Yes, it would certainly do.

While he was waiting for her in the parlor, a portrait on the wall caught his eye. He had been right about Amy Brown. A stunning bride posed next to a tall, much older man. She entered the room at that moment and set the tray on a side table.

“I was just admiring,” he said. “I take it this is Mr. Brown.”

“Yes, that’s my Luther.” Her smile matched the one in the portrait, lifting years from her face.

“You were very young.”

“I was eighteen, and since I know you’re wondering, he was forty-three.”

“That’s quite a difference.”

“Only in numbers, and not so much as you might think. Luther was very young at heart, and according to my grandmother, I was born an old soul. I guess you could say we met somewhere in the middle.” She poured his tea. “Would you care for milk or honey?”

“No, thank you.” He waited for her to sit before taking the opposite chair. “How long has he been gone?”

“Eight years. Let’s talk about you, Mr. Cartwright. You’re here on Ezra’s recommendation, and that’s good enough for me; still, I like to know a little something about a person who sleeps under my roof.”

“Of course. I’m from Virginia City; my family owns a ranch there. I’ve been away for quite some time, living in Boston, traveling. I was making my way back home when I happened to run into a familiar looking face.”

“And you’re a friend of Ezra’s brother.”

“Yes, though I hadn’t seen Ira in a few years and didn’t know he had passed.”

“I never met Ira myself, though Ezra often mentioned him. His death seemed to affect him deeply.”

“Is there any other family?”

“He was a widower when he came here. His daughter lives with his wife’s family in Missouri. How did you find your room?”

“It’s very nice, thank you. You say it was Ezra’s?”

“Yes, the town provides a stipend for room and board as part of the job. I was happy to have him here, as you can imagine. I never had to worry about trouble from any of my boarders when they found out the sheriff was one too. But he moved to the jail last month, after Tom got hurt.”

“Why?”

“Because the town council would only agree to pay Tom half his salary after he was laid up—and they wouldn’t be paying him that if Ezra hadn’t shamed them into it. In fact, they wanted to replace him but Ezra convinced them he could manage alone for now. What they’re paying is nowhere near enough for a man with a wife and children. To help make up the difference, he persuaded them to pay Tom his stipend as well. That’s not common knowledge, mind you. Tom doesn’t even know, and Ezra wants to keep it that way.”

“He’s a good man.”

“Better than most people know. I tried to convince him to stay here anyway, but he wouldn’t have it. He’ll be here for breakfast in the morning, though. That’s one thing I was able to talk him into. More tea?”

“No, thank you. It was very good, much like a tea our Chinese cook used to make. There’s something else though, is it lavender?”

“That’s precisely what it is. I drink it every night. It helps me sleep. You’re a very discerning man, Mr. Cartwright, in more ways than one, no doubt. I think you and I will get along just fine.”

He handed her his empty cup and smiled. “I think so, too; even better if you would call me Adam.”

The corners of her mouth turned up as she rose to take the tray back to the kitchen. “Goodnight, Adam.”

~*~

At breakfast the next morning, Amy’s biscuits did not disappoint. Neither did the bacon, eggs, fried potatoes, blackberry jam nor coffee as hearty appetites attested. In addition to Ezra and Adam, there were two other boarders present—a railroad representative named Walters and a long term resident, Dr. Wynn Bradford, retired. Doc Bradford had been a close friend of Amy’s husband Luther, Adam learned. He was a tall, distinguished-looking gentleman with a generous head of salt and pepper hair, probably in his mid to late sixties, and from the way the man’s hands shook it wasn’t hard to see why he no longer practiced medicine. He was polite but spoke little, though he appeared an avid listener.

Walters, a burly, mustachioed man with round spectacles perched atop a big nose, more than made up for the taciturn doctor. By the end of the meal Adam had heard the man’s entire life story, which he surmised was for his benefit. The surreptitious grin that passed between Ezra and Doc seemed to indicate they’d already heard it.

Ezra placed his fork and knife crosswise on his empty plate and stood up. “It was a fine meal, Amy, just like always.”

“Don’t you want more coffee?” She had the pot in her hand.

“No, thanks. I’d better be going.”

“I’ll go with you,” Adam offered even as she was refilling his cup.

“Take your time and finish. You can catch up with me later.”

“That’s good advice, Mr. Cartwright,” said Doc, in a soft, measured tone. “Amy’s coffee is too good to rush through, especially the second cup.” He winked at her, and she smiled at him over her shoulder as she returned to the kitchen.

Adam liked the doctor, and while he had nothing against Walters, he wasn’t particularly sorry when the man excused himself a moment later, leaving the two of them alone.

“Amy says you’re from Virginia City by way of Boston.”

“That’s right.”

“Well, there are quicker ways to get here, but if I was young like you I might be tempted to take the long road myself.”

Adam smirked at his use of the word, since he felt anything but young. Still, youth was often a matter of perspective.

“You didn’t find it did you?”

“What?”

“Whatever it was you were looking for.” Doc leaned back in this chair, a half smile quirking his lips. “You don’t have to answer. A man’s got a right to his own story.”

“It’s not much of a story, really. I suppose I just needed to lay some things to rest.”

“And did you?”

“Some of them.”

The corners of Doc’s faded blue eyes creased with a look of empathy mingled with sadness. “Well, don’t lose heart. Perhaps in time the others will follow.”

Doc smiled at Amy when she returned to clear the empty plates. “I’d offer to help with the dishes, but you know I’d just break something.”

“You can sweep the porch.”

“That I can do.” He stood up. “Excuse me, Mr. Cartwright, while I take my leave of your most pleasant company. I look forward to seeing you at the noon hour.”

“Doc.” Adam acknowledged him with a nod before turning to Amy. “I guess I’ll head over to the jail. My compliments to the chef for a delicious breakfast.”

She smiled. “Thank you. I like to see a man eat.”

He grinned. “I’m always happy to oblige a lady.”

~*~

Adam entered the sheriff’s office expecting to find Ezra; instead, a young boy greeted him from behind the desk.

“You must be Mr. Cartwright.” He put down the book he had been reading and flashed a gap-toothed grin. “Sheriff Tatum told me to tell you he’d be back in a few minutes. He left me to watch the jail. I’m Yancey.”

The boy had a mop of unruly brown curls and looked to be about fourteen or fifteen.

“Good to meet you, Yancey. I’m Adam. What are you reading?”

Yancey held up the ragged-eared paperback. The title read Texan Joe, or, Army Life on the Frontiers.

Adam smiled. “My kid bother used to read those. His favorite was Deadwood Dick, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Yeah? How old is your brother?”

“Grown now.” He brushed back the familiar twinge of homesickness that crept up on him once in a while. “How old are you?”

“I’ll be fifteen in a couple of months.” The front door creaked open. “Hello, Sheriff.”

“Well, I see you two have met,” said Ezra.

“Yes, Yancey and I were just discussing dime novels.”

“He’s our resident expert on the subject. I appreciate you sittin’ in for me, Yancey. Think you could pick up the laundry from Wang Li sometime today?”

“Sure, I’ll go now.”

“Nice kid,” said Adam, taking the seat across from the desk. “Are those two fellas from the saloon still here?”

“No, I let ‘em go after breakfast. They were pretty mild once they sobered up. I don’t think they’ll give us any more trouble. How was your breakfast, by the way? Mr. Walters didn’t seem to have much to say this mornin’, or did he open up after I left?”

Adam chuckled.. “He left right after you did or I might still be there.”

“So it was just you and Doc.”

“Yes. He’s an interesting gentleman. I get the impression Amy dotes on him.”

“She does, and he on her, maybe even more. I reckon there’s nothin’ they wouldn’t do for each other, though he can’t do much anymore.”

“I couldn’t help but notice the way his hands were shaking. What’s wrong with him?”

“I don’t know all the particulars, but he was that way when he came back from the War.”

“He was in the War?”

“Yes. He was originally from Ohio, went back and joined the Union Army.”

“He seems a little too old for that.”

“He’s not as old as he looks, and besides, they wouldn’t turn down a doctor who wanted to volunteer. It was right after Luther died, and Amy tried to talk him out of it. I didn’t know him then, but she said he was in no shape to go. He was grievin’ so hard for the friend he couldn’t save, and I guess he thought he could somehow make up for it by tryin’ to save some of those boys. It didn’t really work out that way.”

“How did Luther die?”

“Tree fell on him. There was nothing anybody could have done. And Doc would tell you that, straight out. Still, he carries a lot of weight on his shoulders for things he won’t talk about.” Ezra sighed. “I guess maybe we all do, sometimes. But I learned a long time ago, there’s no sense worryin’ about things you can’t change.”

In the companionable silence that followed, Adam felt a kinship with the man he had met only a few hours before, for it seemed he had known him much longer. Maybe it was his resemblance to Ira, coupled with his easy-going manner and evident strength of character. In any case, Ezra Tatum was the kind of man he would choose for a friend.

~*~

Adam’s “couple of days” at the boarding house turned into three, then four, and then a week; after all, the rate for seven days was the same as five, so why not? It had nothing to do with money, though; and it was less a decision to stay than not deciding to go—which was a decision in itself, any way you looked at it. Truth was, Junction had quickly become a pleasant interval during his transition to home, and it well suited him to remain a bit longer where he could be just another man on the street without having to meet expectations or offer explanations.

Besides, the food was great.

It was hard to say who was the better cook, Amy or Lottie. Adam followed Ezra’s dining habits which meant breakfast and lunch at the boarding house and supper at the café. He had to admit, Lottie’s apple dumplings surpassed any he had ever tasted. (“She’s just showin’ off,” Ezra had said, making sure she heard.) In the evenings after supper, if he made it back to the boarding house in time, he could engage Doc in a chess match. Shaky hands aside, the old sawbones had a mind for the game, and his sharp eyes never missed a trick. The only problem was that he retired to his room promptly at 8:00.

Ezra laughed when he told him he’d put off leaving, for the time being. It seemed no surprise. “This town has a tendency to grow on a man. I wasn’t plannin’ on stayin’ when I came here.”

“When was that?”

“About five years ago. I was workin’ security for the railroad when they brought the track through.”

“What made you stay?”

“Sheriff got killed, town offered me the job. It sure beat the railroad. Besides, I had nobody waitin’ on me anywhere.”

“Amy said you had a daughter.”

The affable expression faded. “Evvy’s’s been with her aunt and uncle in St Joe since she was six. I’ve only seen her once since then, about eight or nine years ago. She was ten.”

“That’s a long time not to see your child.”

“Yes, I know.”

Ezra looked away and was silent for so long that Adam assumed the subject was closed. It seemed he’d hit a nerve, something he hadn’t intended. He was about to apologize when Ezra spoke again.

“After her mama died, I tried my best to be both Pa and Ma—if she’d been a boy, I think we coulda managed. Rachel’s sister Mary wanted Evvy from the beginning, and I finally had to give in. Believe me, it wasn’t easy. Mary and I never got on too well, even before; and she didn’t have to say it for me to know she blamed me for Rachel. She could hardly stand to be in the same room with me afterwards. But Evvy needed her more than she needed me, and that’s what really mattered. I knew Mary and Matt would take good care of her, and they have. I get a letter every now and then…” his voice trailed off into a sigh. “But I’ve got no reason to think I made the wrong choice.”

Adam had no idea how Ezra’s wife died, or why his sister-in-law blamed him, and he wasn’t going to ask. It was none of his business, and water under the bridge. The people of Junction were Ezra’s family now, and he was beginning to understand why.

After meeting Tom Lawson, Ezra’s deputy, Adam also understood the sheriff’s reluctance to hire a new man. Tom clearly wanted his job back, but judging from the man’s injury and incapacity, he might never be fit. Ezra acknowledged the fact privately to Adam, but he was determined to give Tom a chance. “A man’s got to have somethin’ to work toward,” he said. “That may be what it takes to get him back on his feet, and I don’t want to take that hope away. If he can’t do the job, I think he’ll be the first one to admit it.”

“Can’t you hire someone temporarily? You might need more than just a kid to mind the store.”

Ezra laughed. “I figure Yancey might make a good deputy in eight or ten years, but for now he’s pretty handy for sweepin’ up and runnin’ errands. I suppose I ought to see about gettin’ somebody temporary. Can’t be just anybody, though, and the pay wouldn’t be much incentive. It might take a while to find the right man.”

The idea had barely formed in his mind before it became words. “Well, I think I might know someone who could stand in the gap, temporarily.”

“You don’t say.” Ezra grinned. For the second time, he did not look surprised.

That night, Adam wrote to his father.

Dear Pa,

I trust you and my brothers are well. I’m sure it will surprise you to hear that I am no longer in Boston. I arrived in San Francisco a couple of weeks ago and was on my way back to the Ponderosa when I stopped for the night in Junction. Ira Tatum’s brother Ezra is the sheriff here. We spent a very pleasant evening getting acquainted over dinner. To make a long story short, he needed a deputy and I took the job.

I know you must have a lot of questions, and I don’t have answers to all of them. Maybe I never will. Sometimes I wonder if indeed I’m my own worst enemy, as you once said. In any case, I’m not the same man I was when I left. I pray you will indulge your errant son a while longer. Give me time, and I will find my way home, I promise.

In the meantime, you can write to me in care of the sheriff’s office here. Pa, you needn’t worry about me. Junction is a well-mannered town with a lot of friendly people who look out for each other. I’m content, and I say that sincerely and with a sense of relief. It seems the right place at the right time.

Yours faithfully,

Adam

And so Adam Cartwright became the duly sworn “temporary” deputy sheriff of Junction, Placer County, California. As promised, the pay wasn’t much, but room and board came with the badge, and it was more than enough.

The “right place” in which he had landed by chance began as a way station known as Griders, situated near the old California Central rail line that once connected Folsom and Lincoln. When the Central Pacific built northeast from Sacramento, the point where the two lines met was designated on the map as Junction, and Griders faded into history. New businesses sprang up nearly overnight with the advent of the railroad, some of which persevered and flourished while others languished and declined once the construction crews moved on. The roundhouse originally proposed for the site was built at Rocklin instead, where timber needed to fuel the climb over the Sierras was more accessible. The result was a small town teetering between what could have been and what yet might be, and according to its sheriff, a town where nothing much ever happened.

But in every town where nothing ever happens, something eventually does, and usually without much warning.

Adam was alone in the office when Yancey came in with the mail that afternoon. “Sheriff Tatum wanted me to drop this off and tell you he’ll be back as soon as he finishes at the bank. You got a letter.”

There was only one person who would be writing to him.

Dear Adam,

Your letter arrived this morning. As you predicted, the news of your return west was indeed a surprise, but I am delighted in knowing you are well and that the miles between us aren’t nearly as daunting.

Whatever prompted your decision to leave Boston is your own affair, and no explanations are necessary. A man has a right to chart his own course, which sometimes runs counter to those close to him. You’ve always had a good weather eye, and I’ve come to trust your judgment even when it pained me to do so. Perhaps your father isn’t too old to learn a thing or two from his son. I hope that means something to you.

Your brothers and I are well. They also send their greetings, and we look forward to hearing from you again soon. I trust the job will not be a difficult one. You remain in my constant prayers for continued good health and safety. May God bless you and keep you until we meet again.

Your loving father,

Ben Cartwright

Adam read the letter twice before putting it back in the envelope and tucking it inside his vest pocket, appreciating it all the more for what it didn’t say. It wouldn’t have surprised him to see his family ride in here any day, and he honestly wouldn’t have minded, but his father was respecting his request for time. They understood each other even if they sometimes disagreed. Any problems between them always seemed to stem from the fact that they were so much alike, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, certainly not in the long run. And time has a way of rounding the rough edges between a father and son, like water over stones in a river bed.

The gentle tug of home lulled him to memories nearly forgotten. He was thinking of his brothers when all hell broke loose outside on the street.

In the pandemonium of gun shots, a runaway wagon, screams and shouts and shattering glass, Adam didn’t stop to wonder why anyone would be foolish enough to rob a bank in the middle of the afternoon. He scooped a young girl from the path of a pair of mules gone berserk and handed her to a frantic woman, just as Ezra stumbled out onto the sidewalk and fired toward two riders turning tail. Adam wasn’t close enough to get off a shot, but the sheriff hit one of them just before he slumped to the ground.

Yancey was on his knees next to Ezra. “You’re gonna be all right, Sheriff,” he was saying, and the stricken eyes he raised to Adam pleaded with him to make it so. Adam did what he could before the doctor arrived, but the red stain marching across the broad chest quickly soaked his kerchief. Grim experience left little room for hope.

Ezra opened his eyes. “Is that you, Yancey?”

“Yes sir, it’s me. I’m right here.”

“You hurt?”

“No sir.” Tears etched the boy’s face.

“Good,” he breathed. “You stay outta trouble, and don’t give your mama any reason to cry, you hear?”

“Yes sir.”

Ezra flicked his eyes toward Adam. “I sure never figured on anything like this. Bet you didn’t either.” He groaned, clenching his fingers around Adam’s arm.

“Doc’s on the way. Don’t try to talk now.”

A moment later his grip relaxed, and he closed his eyes.

“Evvy…”

His daughter’s name took his last breath.

“Oh, Ez…” a woman sobbed.

It was Lottie, with the doctor on her heels. Marcus Grigsby, one of two practicing physicians in town, edged through the crowd in time to confirm what most of them already knew. Adam moved out of his way, feeling a little dazed.

A hand clasped his shoulder. “You all right, son?”

The question, coupled with the familiar gesture, dragged on his heart. How many times had he heard it and taken it for granted?

“I’m not injured, if that’s what you mean.” Behind Doc Bradford he saw Amy consoling Lottie as both women wept.

Dr. Grigsby instructed some men to move the body to the undertaker, but Amy stopped them. “Take him to the boarding house,” she said firmly. “We’ll tend to him there.”

The well intentioned young doctor started to voice an objection, but Doc Bradford interceded.

“Mark, if you stay here long enough, you’ll learn not to argue with Amy Brown. Besides, it’s the only thing they can do for him now, and it’s what they need to do.”

It took four men to carry the stretcher. Adam watched the solemn procession make its way down the street then started toward the livery before he remembered Yancey. The boy sat on the step near the spot stained with Ezra’s blood, his face buried in his arms, his shoulders shaking. Adam dropped down next to him and placed a hand on the tousled head.

Yancey rubbed his nose on his sleeve and lifted red-rimmed eyes. “You goin’ after those men?”

“Yes.”

“I wanna go with you.”

It was what Adam had expected, and he repressed a smile. “No, you’re needed here. Remember what Ezra said. And if anybody comes looking for me, just tell ‘em I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“What if you don’t come back?”

The tremor in his voice and the look on his face reminded Adam of another boy who had asked him a similar question many years ago. He answered as he did then.

“I’ll be back. I promise.”

With daylight burning, Adam quickly scrapped the idea of forming a posse because he didn’t want to waste a minute of it before going after the robbers. He was surprised when Mr. Walters showed up outside the livery astride his own horse.

“Figured you might need some help.”

Help he could use; what he didn’t need was a chatty sidekick, and the prospect of having Walters along made him even more determined to go alone. “I appreciate the offer, but I think I can handle it.”

“Maybe so, Mr. Cartwright, but it wouldn’t hurt to stack the odds, would it? Look, I know what you’re thinkin’ but I assure you, I do know how to use one of these.” He patted the gun on his hip. “Besides, haven’t you heard not to look a gift horse in the mouth?”

Adam studied the railroad man, who was at least willing; able or not, time would tell. “Are you sure about this?”

The bespectacled gaze did not waver, the reply quiet but firm. “Sheriff Tatum was a good man. I’d be proud to go along.”

Mr. Walters, whose name was Ted, surprised Adam once again by proving to be a pretty decent tracker. It wasn’t hard to find the wounded man, in reality not much more than a boy. He had nearly bled out by the time they reached him, and there was no point in rushing to move him.

Adam knelt next to to him. “I’m afraid there’s not much we can do for you. Can you tell us your name?”

“Bill,” he rasped. “Thirsty.”

Ted handed his canteen to Adam who raised the boy’s head to help him drink.

“Easy, Bill,” said Adam. “Who’s your partner?”

“My brother.”

“Your brother left you here?” The two men exchanged frowns above him. “What’s his name?” asked Adam.

“Orv. Orv Dowdy.” A tear trailed a line on Bill’s grimy cheek. “He said we wouldn’t hurt nobody, but I guess I shoulda known better. Oh Mama, I’m sorry….”

Ted looked away and sniffed.

“I’m sure you are,” murmured Adam, but the boy did not hear. A short life needlessly ended.

“Take him back to town,” he instructed Ted after they had secured the body on Bill’s horse. “I’m going on.”

“There’s not much sun left.”

“I figure I’ve got a good hour before I lose it completely. I’ll track Dowdy as far as I can and then pick up his trail at dawn.”

“All right, if that’s the way you want it. I’ll get some more men and we’ll catch up with you in the morning.”

“Fine. And one more thing—would you mind checking on Yancey?”

“Not at all. You watch yourself, Adam.”

“I will.” A smile formed on his lips as he accepted the handshake of his unexpected ally. “Thanks, Ted.”

The two men parted company on their separate missions, predicated on a tragic tale of two brothers. Adam couldn’t help but think of his own brothers, so close and yet so far away, even as he wondered how the tale would end.

~*~

The sun dipped and faded into a purple gloaming, and a moonless sky devoured the remnants of daylight as Adam made camp. Supper was coffee along with the smoked ham and biscuits Amy had packed for him. There was no need to rush; he had hours before first light with nothing to do but wait.

He eased his back against a boulder, chewing slowly, trying to determine which part of his body hurt the most. Every muscle seemed to be vying for the honor. His brothers would be the first ones to point out that city life had made him soft, as if he needed anyone to tell him.

The letter from Pa was still in his pocket. It seemed like days instead of hours ago that Yancey brought it to him. The kid had stuck to Ezra like a shadow whenever he could; it was pure luck he’d been at the post office instead of at the bank. One boy spared, another taken. Adam didn’t know anything about Bill Dowdy, but it seemed that his brother was surely to blame for the young man’s destructive path and untimely end. As for Orv, the botched robbery was the work of a reckless fool, and the fact that he’d left his own brother to die, even more abhorrent to Adam, proved him a man without a conscience or natural affection.

After the meal, he stretched out on his bedroll next to the fire and watched the stars wheel overhead in a ritual as old as time itself. Men come and go but the stars abide. Ancient, innumerable, unreachable. The vastness of the night made him feel small, almost insignificant, but the idea that his family could see the same stars took the edge off the pervasive loneliness. It seemed odd, but he’d never felt their absence this deeply when he was in Boston.

His reasons for not going home were different now. He had a job to do, and he intended to see justice done, not just for Ezra but also for Yancey, Lottie, Amy, and Doc; people Adam had come to know and love in a short span of time. They were counting on him, above all, as Amy had reminded him tearfully, to stay alive. “Getting yourself killed won’t bring Ezra back.”

He had no intention of getting himself killed. As much as he yearned for home, he swore to set things right in Junction before he witnessed another Ponderosa sunrise.

The hiss and crackle of flames and the trill of an owl somewhere above were the only sounds to break the stillness as Adam’s weariness ebbed into sleep.

~*~

Waking just before dawn, shrugging away the vestiges of a fitful slumber, Adam set out again at first light, over the objection of nearly every bone and sinew in his six foot frame. It was a question of mind over matter, he assured himself. But his right hip remained particularly obstinate, his back intent on punishing him for the hours on the unforgiving ground, making Adam feel like an old man at forty.

It had been a restless night filled with dreams, conjured by the fateful events of the day and more. Ezra’s life blood leaching through his shirt; Yancey’s tearful pleading; Bill Dowdy’s contrite confession; a bereft mother crying. A hand on his shoulder and a voice like his father’s. Are you all right, son?

Don’t stay away too long. Come home before it’s too late.

The morning dragged on, and Adam was beginning to question his judgment in more ways than one. He had followed the trail to a shallow creek with no discernible exit point; instinct told him Dowdy would’ve ridden on midstream before crossing to cover his tracks, but since then there had been no signs; at least none that he saw. Hoss, I sure could use your help right now.

Adam eased his mount out of the creek where it narrowed and deepened on its descent into a rocky ravine. Dowdy would’ve crossed further upstream, he reasoned. Logic dictated he should backtrack and take a closer look for what he might have missed. Before the idea became motion, a muscle spasm in his lower back set off a chain reaction that nearly launched him from his horse, and he slid to the ground, clutching the saddle horn to stay upright, as he focused on breathing through the waves of pain that followed.

It had been a while since he’d had a spell like that, and it may not have been the worst but it wasn’t far off. Gradually, the throbbing eased as the muscle began to relax; coherent thought returned. What have you gotten yourself into, Cartwright?

He was in no hurry to get back in the saddle, figured first to stretch his legs, maybe have another one of Amy’s biscuits since he hadn’t bothered with breakfast. He was refilling his canteen when he caught sight of something moving in a stand of trees beyond the creek. A horse, no rider. Time to mount up, ready or not.

Ignoring the twinge in his back, Adam turned the way he had come, following the creek around a bend before crossing to the other side. He pulled his gun and eased his horse through the trees and back toward the ravine. He didn’t know if anyone was watching, but in the interest of his own good health he would make that assumption.

The spotted gray was Dowdy’s, no question. Adam didn’t find any evidence of blood on the horse, but it wouldn’t have been turned loose voluntarily in any case, much less by someone on the run. The hapless rider was afoot, possibly injured or maybe even dead. “Your man’s gotta be around here somewhere,” murmured Adam, gathering the gray’s reins and remounting his own horse. “Let’s go find him.”

Adam’s instincts were rewarded when he checked the ravine. Dowdy was alive, but just barely. Whether he’d been thrown from his horse or merely slipped trying to lead him down the rocky slope, Adam couldn’t say. The fall might not have been enough to kill him, but the swollen black mass that had been his left hand signaled the sealing of his fate. Snakebite was often a gruesome death.

“Orv Dowdy?” The question was merely rhetorical.

The doomed man opened one eye, the other swollen shut beneath an angry red gash on his brow. “Shoot me,” he rasped. “Kill me.”

“It’s not up to me. You’ll die in your own time.” Shooting him would have been an act of mercy but Adam had no such inclination, remembering Ezra and young Bill Dowdy. “You killed the sheriff in Junction, and if I had any say you’d live long enough to hang for it. Your brother’s already dead, in case you’re interested.”

Dowdy closed his good eye. “He wasn’t worth spit.”

“Is there any kin you want me to notify?

“No.”

“Your mother?”

“Dead. She wasn’t worth spit either.”

Cursing and unrepentant to the end, Orv Dowdy drew his last breath one grotesque convulsion later. A strange sort of justice had been exacted, though it wouldn’t bring back the dead. Adam felt no empathy for this one. Not every man’s death diminishes me.

Adam removed the leather bag slung across the outlaw’s chest containing the bank funds before pulling the corpse to a more accessible spot for the horses. It was no easy feat getting it secured on the gray but somehow he managed. Dowdy wasn’t a big man but his body was hefty compared to his brother’s slight build. The ride to Junction would have to wait; though he wouldn’t sleep, the intermittent pulses in his back were warning him needed to rest.

After a light meal and an hour’s respite, Adam began the return trip with his bounty in tow. He’d ridden no more than half an hour when he met the posse, Ted and three others Adam recognized but didn’t know well.

“Well, looks like you didn’t need us after all,” said Ted. “Did he give you much trouble?”

“None at all. He was nearly finished by the time I got to him.” Adam gave a succinct account of Dowdy’s miserable end.

“That’s too bad,” said a broad-shouldered man with a shock of sandy hair protruding from beneath the brim of his hat. “I was hopin’ we’d get to use this instead.” He patted the coil of rope hooked to his saddle.

Ted looked annoyed. “Arch, I told you that wasn’t gonna happen.”

Arch Gilford had a reputation for being a loud mouth with a quick temper. So far they had not crossed each other, but there was something in his eyes when Adam addressed him that said this would have been the day if things had worked out differently.

“Ted’s right. Our job was just to bring him in and let the law handle him.”

Arch snorted and said nothing more, holding Adam’s gaze for a moment before looking away.

The other two men, a farmer named Hollander and Mills Chaney who ran a small dry goods store, were mostly quiet and seemed relieved that the job was done without their further involvement. They were good men, willing to assume the duty when asked; still, this was an unsettling event for their usually peaceful town, and Adam couldn’t blame them for wanting to go back to their quiet lives and try to put it behind them. But for him it was another reminder of how closely life and death are intertwined, and it left him longing once more for home.

It was no surprise when the town turned out practically en masse to lay Sheriff Ezra Michael Tatum to rest with tears and tributes, while no one mourned the Dowdys. Adam spared more than a passing thought for young Bill, who had the misfortune to be born into the wrong family with a rotten brother like Orv.

After the funeral when people started addressing him as Sheriff Cartwright, it dawned on Adam that his position as temporary deputy had been upgraded by default. He couldn’t walk away in good conscience at this point, so he agreed when the town council asked him to stay on until they could hire someone permanent; a month, maybe two at most.

“Adam, I know you’re probably anxious to get back to your family, but I’m so glad you’re staying even if it’s just for a little while,” said Amy when he told her the news. “It would be harder losing both of you at once even if you weren’t the sheriff.”

Adam smiled. “I’d miss you too. And Lottie.” His smile faded. “Things aren’t going to be the same around here, are they?”

“No, but that’s life’s way. One day it’s comfortably familiar and the next day it’s turned upside down and full of sharp edges.” She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “I’m worried about Lottie. She was in love with Ezra, you know.”

“Yes, I know.”

“And he loved her, in his own fashion. He would have done anything for her, and I always thought it was a pity that he never asked her to marry him. I believe deep down he wanted to, but something held him back.”

“Did he ever talk much about his wife, how she died?”

“No, not in any detail. But in my experience it’s the stoics who tend to take loss the hardest, then they bury their scars where no one can see. Ezra Tatum, God rest his soul, was as stoic a man as I’ve ever known. I just hope he knew how much he was loved.” She grew teary again.

“I believe he did.” Adam cleared his throat, which suddenly felt thick. “Well, I’m heading to the jail but I think I’ll drop by Lottie’s first.”

Amy nodded her approval. “She’d like that.”

“You can lock up; I’ll bunk at the office.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. I’ve got some things to take care of, and it may be a long night.”

~*~

The cafe was closed when Adam arrived so he went around to the kitchen entrance and knocked. He heard the latch lift; the door cracked open. “Who is it?”

“It’s Adam, Lottie. I was on my way to the jail and thought I’d stop by to see if you needed anything.”

She opened the door wider. “Come in. You can join me in a cup of tea. Or would you rather have coffee?”

“Tea’s fine, thank you.”

Lottie turned up the lamp on the kitchen table and motioned for him to sit while she retrieved a mug from the cupboard.

“You closed early, didn’t you?”

“Slow night. If you’re hungry I can warm up some stew.”

“Thanks, but I had something at Amy’s earlier.”

“How about a piece of pie? Thursday is sweet potato, you know, Ez’s favorite. I always baked an extra one and kept it in the kitchen for him. I did the same thing today out of habit.” She handed Adam his tea without looking at him. “I know it’s silly, but when you knocked just now I thought…I mean I forgot for just a second….” Her hands flew to her face and she turned away, sobbing.

Adam rose from the table and put his arm around her, leading her to a chair. “Come and sit down.”

“I’m sorry,” she sniffled. “I really didn’t mean to do that.”

He sat down across from her. “You don’t need to apologize, Lottie.”

She wiped her eyes with a corner of her apron and took a deep breath. “I think it just hit me that he’s never going to walk through that door again. I gave up hope of him ever asking me to marry him, still, I always imagined us growing old together. Now I can’t imagine life without him.” She frowned at her teacup. “I don’t know about you, but I need something stronger than this.”

“I’ll get it.”

“Under the dry sink,” she instructed him.

Adam set the half empty bottle of whiskey and two glasses on the table and poured a shot for Lottie first. She downed it in one swallow and then held the empty glass toward him for a refill.

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

“Adam, I know my limit and this is not it.”

“All right.” He obliged her request before pouring his own and sitting down again. She sipped slowly this time; the lamplight illuminated the dark circles beneath her eyes. He waited for her to speak.

“I was married once, when I was young,” she volunteered after a few moments of silence. “He was a looker, I was naive, and after the wedding he wasn’t nearly as nice as he was before. All he wanted me for was to cook and clean and scratch his itch, if you know what I mean, and I didn’t always meet his expectations. But I wasn’t nearly as stupid as he thought I was, and I learned a lot in those three years, It was just luck that he died before he could gamble away everything we had; I took what was left and made it work for me. Pretty soon I had my own cafe, was a successful businesswoman with no use for a man except as a paying customer. I was happier than I had ever been.” She paused, sighing. “And then Ezra Tatum walked into my life and showed me how good a man can be. He was like no one I’d ever known. Nor will again.” Another pause. “We had something rare and true.”

“I know.”

“Now he’s gone, and I’ve never felt so lost.” She drained the last of her whiskey and clutched the glass to her chest, tears streaming.

Adam reached for her free hand. “The feeling is hell, I know. It comes with the territory, but it won’t last forever. I also know that’s not much consolation right now, but it is the truth.”

“I just don’t know what I’m going to do without him.”

“You’ll do what you’ve always done. You’re a survivor, Lottie. You not only survived a bad marriage and being left on your own, you thrived. You’re still that person even if you don’t feel it now. You’ll survive because that’s who you are and because that’s what Ez would want. It’s true that no one can ever take his place, but there are still good men left in the world. I’ve known quite a few.”

A thin smile formed on her lips. “Well, I know one, anyway. It was awfully good of you to come by tonight, Adam. You don’t know how much it means.”

“It was the least I could do for a friend.”

“As a friend, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“What’s wrong with your back? And don’t say nothing because I’ve seen you limping when you think no one is watching, and you weren’t doing that before you went after Dowdy. What happened?”

“It’s just old injury that flares up from time to time. That and my years caught up with me on the trail, that’s all. I’m all right.”

“Of course you are; that’s why you’ve been fidgeting in that chair since you sat down.”

He sent her a wry grin. “You don’t miss much, do you?”

“I try not to. How’d you get hurt in the first place?”

He sipped his whiskey, rolling it around on his tongue before swallowing. “Long story short, I fell off the roof of a house I was building for a woman I’d planned to marry. It knocked me off my feet for a while, quite literally.”

“Seems to me that’s two stories.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

She looked sympathetic. “I take it there was no wedding.”

“Oh, there was a wedding; though not mine. She married my cousin.”

Lottie’s mouth dropped open. “That must have been awful for you.”

“I won’t lie and say it didn’t hurt at the time, but it turned out for the best in the end.”

She leaned back in her chair and studied him. “You know what I’m thinking?”

“What?”

“Your cousin must have been quite a catch. Or maybe she was just a cotton-headed ninny.”

Her choice of words amused him. “I’d count Will among the good men I’ve known. And Laura is a fine woman.”

“But you don’t think of her as the one who got away.”

“No.”

“I suspect there was probably at least one, maybe more?”

“Could be.” He delivered his answer with a shrug but didn’t elaborate.

She didn’t press; after a moment she changed the subject.

“There’s an old man in China Garden who might be able to help you with your back. I believe his name is Chen Zhao. Amy can tell you more about him if you’re interested; she buys tea from him. Personally I don’t know any more about Chinese medicine than the man in the moon, except that it seems to help some people when nothing else does.”

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” Adam smiled. “Didn’t you say something about pie a few minutes ago?”

Lottie brightened. “Yes, I did. Comin’ right up.”

She didn’t have to twist Adam’s arm to get him to take another slice to go after he’d finished. “I don’t how I’ll feel tomorrow, but I do feel better tonight, thanks to you.”

“I’m glad.”

“If you don’t mind some advice, don’t wait too long to find a deputy. Please.”

“I’ve got a couple of prospects,” he assured her. “Don’t worry.”

“I doubt if I can help that. It’s another old habit.” She pursed her lips and looked as though she might cry again.

He placed his hand on her arm. “I know how it was with you and Ezra. And I know it’s going to take time. There’s a place in your heart that will always belong to him, but don’t be afraid to keep the rest of it open, because you never know who else might walk through your door one of these days.”

Lottie smiled through her tears. “God bless you, Adam.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you again for coming.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Say, you don’t happen to have any more cousins, do you?”

He grinned. “None that I know of. I’ve got two brothers, but I’m not sure they’re good enough for you.”

~*~

In the days and weeks that followed, life fell into a rhythmic new normal for Sheriff Adam Cartwright. With authority granted by the town council, he filled the deputy position from a short list of candidates by hiring Dan Reeves, a young man in his mid twenties with a quiet demeanor and a quick mind. Dan was well-regarded in the community and came with a solid endorsement from both Amy and Lottie, which made the decision easy. One prospect he had eliminated right away; Adam had been surprised to see Arch Gilford’s name on the list. He declined to interview him, deeming it a waste of time. His first impression of Gilford was enough to convince him he wasn’t a good fit, and instinct warned him against pinning a badge on a man like that.

Amy’s friend Chen Zhao was a cerebral gentleman who, though older, reminded Adam of Dr. Kam Lee back in Virginia City. He supplied him with an herbal compound “to bring the body into balance and harmony so the life force can flow freely. Where there is free flow there is no pain,” he explained. He also recommended a balm containing camphor and mint, along with a daily dose of safflower tea. Adam had enough respect for Chinese remedies not to dismiss them, but he was honestly surprised at how much he had improved after only a few days.

Nearly six weeks had elapsed since Ezra’s death, and the town council had made no progress toward securing a permanent replacement. Adam supposed he would have to give them a nudge sometime soon; however, his feelings about the situation were mixed. In the beginning, Junction was merely a pleasant detour on his journey home, but in the wake of all that had happened, it had become much more, and every day that passed made it harder to leave.

“You don’t usually let me win this quickly,” Doc chided him good-naturedly after he had captured Adam’s king.

“You know better than that, you old sawbones. I have never let you win.”

“Maybe not, but you generally put up more of a fight. Your mind must be somewhere else tonight.”

Amy came in with a tea tray and set it down in place of the chessboard. Adam noted only two cups. “Aren’t you joining us?”

“I have some things to finish in the kitchen, so I’ll leave you gentlemen to your conversation.” She smiled at Adam and sent a quick glance to Doc as she left them.

“Well, Sheriff, what have you heard from the council?

“Nothing yet.”

“You’ll probably have to light a fire under them if you ever want to get out of here.”

“You tryin’ to get rid of me, Doc?”

“What, and lose the best chess partner I’ve had in years? No, I just figured your family was probably expecting you home by now. But I guess they understand why you’ve been delayed.”

Adam ducked his head. “Actually, I owe them a letter. I thought I could just tell them face to face afterwards and not worry them unnecessarily, but things are taking longer than I expected.”

“Things do tend to move slowly around here sometimes.” Doc used two hands to steady his teacup as he raised it to his lips and set it back down. “I’ll wager six months ago you couldn’t have imagined doing what you’re doing now.”

“Not in a million years.”

“It’s funny how things work out, isn’t it? Amy’s one those people who thinks everything happens for a reason, but I’ve seen too much in the world that doesn’t makes sense to go along with that. So whether it was some great plan of the Almighty or a just cosmic roll of the dice that brought you to Junction, I couldn’t say; though I can’t discount the timing, the fact that you were here when this town needed a man like you. Now the folks know they’ve got a good thing, and they’re in no hurry to see you go. Can’t say I blame them. You’ve made quite an impression on this town.”

“It has made an impression on me too.”

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that it’s gonna be up to you when to leave, whether it’s next month, next year, next week, or tomorrow. When you’re ready. It’s the town that owes you, Adam; not the other way around.”

“I appreciate that Doc, more than you know.”

The two men rose and shook hands. Amy returned for the tea tray as if on cue. “You’re leaving?”

“I think I’ve already kept Doc past his bedtime,” Adam grinned, noting the clock. It was a quarter past eight. “Thanks for the tea and the company. I enjoyed both.”

“Adam, I don’t know why you pay me for a room when you don’t even use it anymore.”

“I like to keep my options open.”

“A wise man,” said Doc.

“You sound like Ezra,” said Amy.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Adam smiled. “See you at breakfast.”

~*~

He heard the door when he was in the back room washing up and assumed it was Yancey with the laundry. “You’re just in time,” he called to him. “I could use a clean shirt. Come on back.”

The footsteps didn’t sound like Yancey’s, and when Adam looked up the person standing in the doorway was definitely not Yancey.

“Excuse me,” she said, averting her eyes. “I didn’t mean to…”

“No, it’s my fault. I thought you were someone else.” He threw on his least dirty shirt and fumbled with the buttons. “Have a seat; I’ll be right out.”

A moment later he stepped into the office to find a smartly dressed young woman standing before him, twisting a handkerchief in her hands.

“I’m sorry, Miss. I had no idea there was a lady present. I hope I didn’t startle you.”

A nervous smile played at the edge of her mouth. “No, I just wasn’t expecting you. I was looking for Sheriff Tatum.”

“Oh…” He drew out the word, considering his next words carefully. Whoever she was, she hadn’t heard the news. Her attire suggested she’d been traveling; perhaps she had come in on the train. “Are you a friend of Ezra’s?”

“I’m his daughter. Evelina.”

“You’re…Evvy?”

Her features relaxed a bit, lifting her smile. “No one has called me that for a long time. You must be his deputy.”

He didn’t correct her when he introduced himself. “Adam Cartwright. Please, Miss Tatum, won’t you sit down?”

Adam swore silently at this unexpected revelation. He knew Amy had written to her, but it was clear she hadn’t received the letter. There was no good way to tell a girl who had come halfway across the country that her father was dead, but that’s what he was facing when Yancey walked in with his laundry.

He held up his hand before the boy could speak. “Hold on; I’ve got another errand for you. Excuse me,” he said to his visitor. He took the bundle of clean shirts and set it on his desk before ushering Yancey outside. “I need you to go to the boarding house and tell Mrs. Brown that Sheriff Tatum’s daughter is here, and to please come as quickly as she can. Then go the to cafe and get Lottie. Hurry.”

Adam took a deep breath before stepping back inside. With any luck he might be able to postpone the inevitable until reinforcements arrived.

“So you came all the way from St. Joseph?”

“I took the train from Omaha.”

“It must have been quite an adventure for a young woman traveling all alone.”

“The biggest of my life, so far.”

“Can I offer you some coffee, a glass of water?”

“Water would be nice, thank you.”

He took a moment in the back room to make sure the glass was clean, and when he returned she was standing by the desk.

She murmured her thanks but drank only a little.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to sit down?”

“No, I wouldn’t. But you seem to want me to, and I believe it’s because of something you haven’t told me.” She set the glass on the desk, picked up a small slip of paper and held it toward him. “Or am I wrong, Sheriff Cartwright?”

The laundry receipt bore his name and title at the top in Wang Li’s pristine lettering. Adam accepted it from her like a schoolboy enduring a well-deserved reprimand.

Her dark eyes were fixed firmly on his, her voice quiet but firm. “Where is my father?”

“Miss Tatum, I’m very sorry, but your father is dead.

She blinked. “When?”

“About six weeks ago. He was killed during a bank robbery. Obviously you never got the letter. I’m sorry for that too.”

“I think I will sit down now.”

“Of course.” He helped her to the chair and glanced out the window. “I’m going to step away for a moment but I’ll be back with a friend, and we’ll tell you anything you want to know, I promise.”

Adam paused at the door but she didn’t look up; her head bowed, her handkerchief pressed to her lips. Poor kid. The biggest adventure of her life had ended in heartache, and there was nothing he or anyone could do. He went outside to wait for Amy.

 

PART TWO

“You’re in room six, Miss Morgan. I’m sorry it wasn’t ready when you arrived, but it’s one of our nicest rooms and I’m sure you’ll be comfortable. Your luggage is already there.”

“Thank you.” Evelina finished signing the register and took the key from the hotel clerk.

“The ladies bath house is available if you’d like a tub. Is there anything you else need now? Miss Morgan…?”

She shook the numbing fog from her brain, lifting her eyes to him. He had a kind face. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you all right?”

“Yes, I’m just very tired. I’ll make arrangements for the bath later. Right now I think I’ll just go upstairs and lie down.”

The room was small but clean and looked as though it had been newly papered. It was more than adequate, especially since it appeared her stay was going to be short one. Evelina removed her hat and set it on the bureau staring at her reflection. Who was that woman? She didn’t know anymore. Not yet twenty, she felt much older.

She was already a ghost even before that day, having slipped away slowly in pieces so small that she was unaware. The fact that she was a living, breathing physical presence fooled everyone, including herself, because a mirror’s only truth is what the eye can see. And there she was each morning, the girl who had been taught to stand up straight, carry herself with grace, and not laugh too loudly in mixed company. A convincing illusion while it lasted, one that had been shaken and finally shattered with her arrival in Junction.

Her father was dead. In spite of the fact that she had given up his name and hadn’t seen him in years, she had somehow remained his daughter. Now she belonged to no one.

Though unprepared when tasked with breaking the news to her, Sheriff Cartwright had been kindly attentive, and the women who came with their condolences and tearful hugs did their utmost to make her feel welcome. Mrs. Brown offered her a room at the boardinghouse free of charge for as long as she wanted; the cafe owner, Lottie, made a similar offer. But it was all too much, too soon. Evelina was thankful she had already secured lodging at the hotel and declined the sheriff’s offer to escort her there. She just needed to be alone.

Alone now, she lay on on the bed and waited for the tears to come. But they didn’t. She felt nothing.

~*~

A rapping at the door roused Evelina from a dreamless sleep. She opened it just wide enough to peer out. “Yes?”

A ginger-haired boy who looked be around seven or eight shoved a folded piece of paper toward her. “Message for you, Miss.”

“Thank you.” Evelina opened the door wider to take the note, and he turned to go. “Wait.” She got a coin from her purse and dropped it into his palm.

Hie grin revealed a row of perfectly crooked teeth. “Thank you!”

She watched him bound down the stairs with the carefree exuberance common to boys of that age, and she envied him.

Evelina closed the door and read the note.

Miss Tatum,

I would like you to join me for dinner this evening at Mrs. Brown’s. She is an excellent cook, and I think you will appreciate the quiet atmosphere of her home over that of the hotel. I will call for you at 6:00 unless you send word otherwise. I sincerely hope you won’t.

Your friend,

Adam Cartwright

Brows knit together, her first inclination was to send her regrets immediately. She had neither the will nor the energy to make small talk with strangers this evening, even if they were her father’s friends. Her annoyance with the invitation seemed unreasonable even to her; she knew they were only being kind. But she had no desire to be pitied or fussed over and treated like a lost child. She had seen it in their eyes, heard it in their voices, behind their words.

Her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. It was nearly five o’clock; no wonder she was hungry. After all the mediocre to wretched dining stops on the train, she decided it would be foolish to pass up a home cooked meal even if Mrs. Brown was only half the cook the sheriff claimed her to be.

After a bath, Evelina was feeling more confident when she went downstairs an hour later. She spotted Sheriff Cartwright in the lobby waiting for her. Somehow she knew he’d be early.

“Miss Morgan.”

She pivoted toward the voice behind her. “Yes?”

A well-heeled gentleman with a pencil mustache tipped his hat, smiling. “John Ashton. We met on the train, remember?”

“Yes, I remember.”

“I was just about to get a table for dinner. Would you care join me?”

No, she would not, but at least she didn’t have to invent an excuse. She glanced over at the sheriff, watching them. “I’m sorry but I already have dinner plans.”

“Well, I suppose I shouldn’t expect a lovely young lady to be available on such short notice. Perhaps another time. How long will you be in town?”

“I’m not sure.”

“I see. Well, since we’re staying at the same hotel I’m sure we’ll run into each other again.”

“Perhaps.” Though not if she could help it.

He waited as if he expected her to say more, but she didn’t. His smile abated as he took his leave. “A pleasant evening to you, Miss Morgan.”

“Goodnight, Mr. Ashton.”

Was that amusement on Sheriff Cartwright’s face? She couldn’t tell.

“Good evening, Miss Tatum; or should I say Miss Morgan?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters if you have a preference. Names are generally important.” He held the door for her as they exited the hotel.

“My aunt didn’t think so, and I was too young to argue. It’s been Morgan for most of my life.”

“Morgan it is then.”

The boarding house wasn’t far, he said. She didn’t mind the walk, and he didn’t seem to be in a hurry. He was mostly silent, and she didn’t mind that either, though she sensed him watching her again.

“Is something funny, Sheriff?”

The smile quirking his lips revealed a dimple. “I was just thinking of the way you deflated that man at the hotel.”

“Did I?”

“I don’t know what you said, but I could see the wind go out of his sails from where I was standing.”

“I was very polite, I assure you. I merely told him I had a previous engagement.”

“Would you have said yes if you hadn’t?”

“I suppose it would depend on how hungry I was. I guess that doesn’t sound very nice, does it?”

“It sounds honest. I figured that’s why you accepted my invitation.”

“I almost didn’t. But you’re right. How did you know?”

“I came west on the transcontinental a few months ago; if the food is anything like it was then, I told Amy you’d be hard pressed to say no. And she is an excellent cook.”

“And I’m a practical girl, so here I am.”

“I’m glad.” There was that dimple again, but only briefly. They had reached the boarding house; he stopped and turned toward her. “Miss Morgan, I know you must be feeling overwhelmed after what you’ve learned today, and I doubt you’ve had time yet to think about your plans for the future, but right now your being here is important to Amy, and especially to Lottie. To them, your father was someone very special, and that makes you special too, like it or not,” he said gently. “Be patient with them if they seem a little too eager at the moment. It’s a hard thing, letting go.”

He had undoubtedly recognized her discomfort with their attentions earlier, and she had misjudged him, perhaps all of them. She almost felt ashamed.

“I understand. Thank you for telling me. It’s helpful.”

“I hoped it would be.” He touched her elbow lightly as they ascended the steps. “And you won’t regret coming tonight, I assure you.”

The sheriff didn’t bother to knock before escorting her inside. He unbuckled his gun belt and placed it on the credenza, next to his hat. A tall gray haired gentleman greeted him in the foyer.

“Evening, Adam.”

“Hello, Doc. I’d like you to meet Miss Evelina Morgan. Miss Morgan, this is Dr. Wynn Bradford.”

He bowed slightly in acknowledgment before meeting her eyes with a smile. “I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Morgan.”

“How do you do?”

Their hostess appeared and ushered them into the dining room where a veritable feast adorned the table. Evelina’s mouth watered at the aroma of freshly baked bread. “Thank you for inviting me, Mrs. Brown.”

“Please, call me Amy. And you’re most welcome. We’re delighted to have you.”

Lottie had just come from the kitchen with a plate piled high with rolls, which she set in front of Evelina. “You have no idea what it means.”

The two women regarded her with an almost unbearable kindness. Evelina glanced at the sheriff as he took his seat next to her before replying. “I think maybe I do.”

The food was every bit as good as it looked and smelled. Evelina was mindful not to let her appetite get in the way of good manners; after all, she was a lady, as Aunt Mary had always been quick to remind her, lest she forget. ‘A lady doesn’t ask for seconds.’ Apparently, Amy Brown didn’t know any better, because Evelina had no sooner finished her plate than saw it filled it again.

“Oh, I couldn’t.” It was a feeble lie that fooled no one. Amy acted as though she didn’t hear.

“Make sure you save room for my apple dumplings,” said Lottie.

“Well, this is a special occasion,” said Doc, grinning in anticipation.

“No question,” the sheriff agreed.

They made small talk around her, engaging her enough to be polite while allowing her time to enjoy her first decent meal in weeks. It was only after the last bite of dumpling went down that she became aware of their eyes on her.

“It was a lovely dinner, Mrs. Brown; I mean, Amy. And the apple dumplings were delicious,” she said to Lottie. She meant it.

Lottie smiled. “Your father always enjoyed them.”

In the following silence, Evelina felt the weight of expectation. What was she supposed to say? These people, her father’s friends, were more like a family to him than his own daughter. She could barely remember him, had no idea what he liked or didn’t like, or what had shaped his life since he left her in Saint Joe, and yet her presence was somehow supposed to be a comfort to them?

The words came from somewhere unbidden, and they tasted bitter. “You knew him better than I did.” And then, to her mortification, she began to cry.

Uncontrollably.

She was vaguely aware of arms around her as the two women gently guided her into the parlor to a comfortable chair, where they graciously left her alone to recover. Lottie reappeared a few moments later with a glass of water which Evelina accepted gratefully.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

Lottie shook her head. “You have nothing to apologize for. I’m sorry that you never had the chance to know your father, because he was a truly wonderful man, and he loved you very much, Evvy. When I first met him you were all he talked about.”

Evelina watched her eyes fill with tears. “You were in love with him, weren’t you?”

“I guess it was no secret.”

“Then I’m sorry for both of us.”

Amy joined them. “Doc asked me to say goodnight and that he hopes to see you again soon. Adam had to leave but said he’d be back in half an hour or so to take you back to the hotel. I told him I was hoping I could persuade you to stay here tonight.”

“That’s very kind of you, but I don’t think so. Not tonight.”

“I think I understand. But the invitation is open for as long as you’re here.”

“Are the dishes done?” asked Lottie.

“They’re soaking. I’ll finish them later.”

“Let me do them,” Evelina offered.

“Absolutely not,” said Lottie. “You’re a guest. I’ll help Amy.”

“Please. I’d like to do something that feels normal right now.”

Amy smiled. “All right. You wash, Lottie can dry, and I’ll put everything away.”

Evelina was grateful for the task; it was one she knew well and required nothing but muscle memory. Though she did little more than listen and smile, she found the cheerful prattle between Amy and Lottie soothing, as it revealed much about their friendship.

The front door creaked open just as they finished. “There’s Adam,” said Amy, hanging up her apron.

“I see I stayed away long enough to avoid kitchen duty,”

“I had plenty of help tonight,” she assured him. “And you’re just in time to walk Evelina back to the hotel. She’s had a long day, and I think it’s catching up with her.”

Evelina covered a yawn. Amy was right. The day and the meal were both catching up with her, and all at once she felt extremely tired.

Sheriff Cartwright smiled. “It’ll be my pleasure.”

“I’ll walk with you if you don’t mind,” said Lottie.

The evening was crisp but not cold, and Evelina found the walk refreshing in spite of her fatigue. No one spoke much; Lottie left them at the corner.

“Good night, Evvy. ‘Night, Adam.”

They waited until Lottie reached the cafe, where she turned and waved before going inside.

“So, which is it, Evelina or Evvy?” asked the sheriff.

“I don’t know.” Evvy was a lifetime ago, and Evelina was the girl in Saint Joe. She wasn’t sure who she was anymore.

“Time will tell, if you’ll let it.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve got decisions to make, but not right now, not when you’ve just had your feet knocked out from under you. Things that seem right today may look different tomorrow. Let the dust settle. Time is your friend in this case. You have others, too, you know.” He paused. “Besides, if you leave now, you’ll never know your father. Isn’t that why you came?”

It was too late for that now. Her father had left her once again, this time for good. She felt the sting of tears but shook them away, not trusting her voice to answer.

The sheriff continued. “I know it’s not the same, but no one is ever really gone as long as someone remembers. And there are plenty of people here who won’t forget Ezra Tatum. They can help you find him, if that’s what you really want.”

All she really wanted at that moment was to lose herself in sleep where she wouldn’t have to think about anything. It was a relief when they reached the hotel. She thanked him for his kindness.

“Not at all,” he replied. “By the way, Amy serves breakfast at 7:00. I can pick you up unless you’d rather sleep in.”

She took a moment to consider his offer. “I know the way.”

A corner of his mouth crept up. “Of course you do.” He lifted his hat. “Goodnight, Miss Morgan.”

“Goodnight, Sheriff Cartwright.”

~*~

It was few minutes past the hour when Adam arrived at the boarding house for breakfast the next day. Doc was the only person seated at the table, looking like the cat that swallowed the canary.

“Morning, Adam.”

“Doc.”

Evelina emerged from the kitchen, coffee pot in hand. “You said seven. You’re late.” She poured Adam a cup before refilling Doc’s.

“She was early.” Doc grinned.

“Is that so?” Adam raised an eyebrow toward her. “Well, well.”

“I told you I was a practical girl.”

“Indeed. I was counting on it.”

It was the first real smile he’d seen from her since she arrived, and it suited her. Yes, it suited her very well, he decided.

During the course of the meal he was pleased to learn that she had accepted Amy’s offer to move into the boarding house, but only on the condition that she be allowed to help with the household duties. The girl was determined to make her own way, and Adam admired her for it. Ezra would have been proud.

“I’m glad you decided to stay,” he told her afterwards.

“At least until the dust settles, like you said.”

“Fair enough. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Actually, there is. I’d like to see my father’s grave.”

“Of course. I’ve got some business to attend to this morning, but I can pick you up around 1:00, and on the way back we can stop at the hotel and get your things.”

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

~*~

She didn’t say much on the drive to the cemetery. Adam supposed it was only natural under the circumstances, but then Evelina Morgan hadn’t shown herself to be much of a talker. Silence didn’t seem to bother her. He found that an unusual trait in a woman.

She placed the flowers she had brought at the base of her father’s headstone, erected by the town. The inscription read Ezra M. Tatum, 1828-1870, Sheriff and Friend. Adam stood nearby as she remained for several minutes, silent, her head slightly bowed and her back ramrod straight, as if in defiance of the weight she bore on her young shoulders.

She spoke without looking at him. “It’s a lovely memorial.”

“Your father was a good man.”

“No according to my aunt. But my uncle had a much more charitable opinion, and that’s the one I chose to believe.”

“As you should. Bad things happen to good people through no fault of their own, and hard choices have to be made. Your father made the most difficult one of his life, leaving you with them, and he said he had no reason to think he made the wrong choice, in spite of knowing how your aunt felt about him.”

She turned toward him, surprise registering in her expression. “He told you that?”

“Yes, though he didn’t say why she blamed him for your mother’s death.”

“It’s complicated, but not hard to understand when you know the whole story. Aunt Mary raised my mother from birth, when my grandmother died. She was barely thirteen. It was a hard life; she had to give up a lot of things, including school. Fifteen years later, my father came along – twenty-two, handsome, and, according to Uncle Matt, her worst fear. He said it broke her heart when my mother ran off with him. When she died, Aunt Mary said he’d all but killed her himself by taking her away to a life she wasn’t prepared for. I think it was easier for her to blame my father than to accept the fact that my mother chose him over her.”

“Choices have consequences. Your aunt made a choice of her own.”

“Yes, and though the fact that my mother named me after her might be considered an atonement, it wasn’t enough to overcome her bitterness. They never saw each other again.”

“You’re named for your aunt?”

She nodded. “Evelina is my middle name, for my grandmother.”

“Mary Evelina.” He smiled. “It’s pretty, almost lyrical.”

It was her turn to smile. “I think my mother would have appreciated that. She was always singing.”

“How old were you when she died?”

“Five.”

A memory of his five year old self nudged a tender spot within him. “It must have been very difficult for you. And for Ezra.” He could see it in her face before she looked away again.

“Yes, it was. One day my mother was there, the next day she wasn’t. And the father I knew was gone too, I guess I never gave up hoping…” Her voice sounded small and far away as it faded to breath.

“I’m sorry.” The words didn’t seem adequate for the empathy he had for her in that moment.

“No, I’m sorry. I don’t usually talk this much.” Her laugh was short, without humor; she seemed embarrassed.

“No need to apologize. I’ve enjoyed it.”

“I think you must be a good listener.”

“I am when I’m interested.”

She held his gaze and took a moment to reply. “You’re very kind.”

Though cordial, there was something in her tone suggesting their conversation had ended. The matter was settled when she proceeded to the buggy, and he followed.

~*~

“So, what about you, Sheriff?”

They were on their way back to Amy’s from the hotel, and Evelina had hardly spoken since they left the cemetery.

Adam raised an eyebrow her direction. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve heard my life story, I think it’s only fair that I hear yours.”

“I think there’s more to your life story than the little you’ve told me, but all right, what do you want to know?”

“You said you came west on the transcontinental a few months ago. Where were you before that?

“Boston.”

“Amy said you had family in Nevada.”

“My father and two brothers. We have a ranch near Virginia City.”

“What’s in Boston, if you don’t mind my asking – why were you there?”

“I’ve asked myself the same question. I went to college there and always intended to go back someday. I guess I waited too late.”

“It wasn’t what you remembered.”

He shook his head. “No man steps in the same river twice, for it is not the same river, and he is not the same man.”

“Heraclitus.”

“You know Heraclitus?”

“Uncle Matt loved philosophy, and that was one of his favorite quotes. Mine too. It made me think of my father and all the rivers he must have crossed.” Her smile faded and she grew quiet. “I used to wonder if he ever found what he was looking for.”

“Some people don’t know what they’re looking for until it finds them. I think that’s probably how it was for Ezra when he wound up here.”

“And how did you wind up in Junction?”

“It was an overnight stop on my way back to Nevada, and one thing led to another…” He recounted how he met Ezra, their connection through Ira, and the friendship that followed; how he had assumed the role of sheriff, agreeing to remain until the town hired a permanent replacement.

“You don’t seem in any hurry to go home. Is it because you’re waiting for something to find you?”

It wasn’t an impertinent question, but an honest query. They had reached the boarding house, and she was looking at him intently.

“Well, I don’t hold any expectations, but I will say, and you may discover, there is something about this place that draws people in. Besides, I seem to be here for a reason, at least for now.”

“Then I guess we’ll both be here until the dust settles.”

“If you’re so inclined.”

“I wouldn’t mind it.”

He smiled. “Neither would I. Now let’s get you settled.”

He deposited her luggage inside and offered to take the bags up up to her room but she declined. “You’ve done more than enough, Sheriff Cartwright. Thank you for everything.”

“My pleasure. And if there is anything else you need, just let me know.”

He hadn’t yet closed the door behind him when she stopped him. “Sheriff, wait. Actually, there is something.”

“Yes?”

“I’d like to know more about my Uncle Ira. Whenever you have the time.”

“I think that can be arranged, on one condition.”

“What?”

“That you please stop calling me Sheriff. My name is Adam.”

There was the smile he’d seen that morning, the one that showed in her eyes. “All right, Adam. And you can call me Evvy.”

~*~

That night, ensconced in her cozy room at Amy’s, fragments of Evvy’s childhood filled her thoughts. Memories loosely formed retreated into dark corners where light fell only occasionally; others blurred at the edges like watercolors. The smell of bread baking and her mother singing in the kitchen; her cheerful humming as she brushed and braided Evvy’s hair; the two of them picking wildflowers and making clover chains to wear around their necks. The stomp of her father’s boots on the porch; the tickle-scratch of his beard on her cheek when he hadn’t shaved. The way he made her mother laugh; their soft murmurings on the other side of the curtain as she drifted to sleep at night.

Then there was the morning her mother didn’t get out of bed. People were in the house. A baby was coming, someone said. Only it didn’t. Her father pulled her onto his lap and told her everything was going to be all right, but his voice sounded funny and he was holding her too tightly. Later he carried her into the room where her mother lay sleeping, her face as pale as Evvy’s china doll. Someone came and took her from his arms, and her mother never got up again.

The time after that was like waking up from a dream. Evvy was left in the care of neighbors while her father worked. In the evenings she would go home with him, but the house felt empty with just the two of them.

Something woke her late one night, a muffled sound in the dark, beyond the curtain. She sat up in her bed to listen, but it had stopped; she didn’t hear it again. She must have dreamed it, she decided. The only person on the other side of the curtain was her father, and fathers didn’t cry. She went back to sleep. And the next day she took her first carriage ride all the way to St. Joe.

But she’d been wrong. There were so many things she hadn’t understood, and even fathers cry sometimes. She only saw him once more, when she was about ten years old, and that wouldn’t have happened without Uncle Matt’s intervention. He looked so much older than she remembered, and when he left she didn’t know whether to feel sad or glad.

None of that mattered anymore. Her father, Aunt Mary, and Uncle Matt were all gone now, and Evelina Morgan, whose life had been orchestrated through the suffering and bitterness of others who thought they knew what was best for her, was buried with them. Evvy Tatum had been resurrected in her place. And though she hadn’t found what she had expected when she arrived Junction, she wondered if she, like Sheriff Cartwright – Adam – might be there for a reason. As he’d said, perhaps time would tell.

~*~

Weary of staring at the ceiling, Adam threw off his cover and pushed up from the cot. Sleep had been pressing earlier, but the act of preparing for bed had pushed it into the realm of restless thought.

He put on a shirt and went to his desk, pulling a bottle and a glass from a deep drawer. It was kept mainly for medicinal purposes, especially when his back was giving him trouble. But it wasn’t his back keeping him up tonight. He poured two fingers and sat down, hoping the indulgence would help unwind the day.

The letter he owed his father remained unwritten. He had put it off long enough, and he knew it would be a disappointment. He could have taken Doc’s suggestion to “light a fire” under the council to hire his replacement, but he didn’t. The choice to do nothing was, again, a choice in itself. It was up to him, as Doc said, when to go. But the truth was, he didn’t want to leave. Not now, anyway.

Adam was glad Evvy had decided to stay. He was sure that’s what Ezra would have wanted. The girl could probably go most anywhere she wished with the means provided by her uncle, but Junction was where she belonged, with people who truly cared for her.

He thought about her for a long time that night before he finally picked up his pen.

Dear Pa,

I trust this letter finds you in good health, and I ask your pardon for the delay in receiving it. You can be assured that I am well, but there has been an unfortunate development in Junction that prohibits my departure for the near future…

The bulk of the message was an account of events surrounding Ezra’s death and the subsequent arrival of his daughter, influencing Adam’s decision to stay.

…I know this isn’t the news you were expecting, and I’m sorry to disappoint you. But I feel you would do the same if you were in my place under these circumstances, so I’m sure you understand. In any case, you know where I am and how to reach me. And know also that I would come quickly if you should need me.

Tell my brothers if they are ever near Placer County, I wouldn’t mind seeing their ugly faces. In all seriousness, I do miss them, and you. There are people here I would love for you to meet, and if you did, I think you would understand why I feel as I do.

Faithfully your son,

Adam

 

EPILOGUE

“More coffee, Adam?”

The new waitress at Lottie’s Cafe paused at his table. She looked especially fetching today, he thought; maybe it was the peach calico that warmed the bloom in her cheeks.

He returned her smile. “No thanks, Evvy. I’ve had enough. The pie was delicious, by the way.”

“I’m glad you liked it. Lottie said apple was your favorite. I’ll get you a slice to go, on the house.”

His eyes lingered on her as she walked toward the kitchen, and an involuntary sigh escaped him. Luckily no one was around to hear.

No one except Lottie.

She spoke over his shoulder. “You know there’s a dance Saturday night.”

“Yes, I heard. Amy already mentioned it. I know what you two are up to, but you can forget it.”

Lottie came around the table and sat down across from him. “Why, Sheriff Cartwright, I don’t know what you mean.”

“Spoken like a seasoned female,” he chuckled.

“I might take that as an insult if I didn’t know better. Honestly, Adam, I don’t know why you won’t at least consider asking her. She’d go with you in a heartbeat. Besides, you could use a little fun yourself.”

“Apart from the fact that she’s half my age, let’s just say I have my reasons and leave it at that.”

“Fiddlesticks. Age is just a number, and unless you’ve got a wife hidden away somewhere, which I know you don’t, those other reasons are just sorry excuses. I’ve seen the way you look at her, so don’t pretend you’re not interested.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just what I said. Why else would you come in here every day when you’ve got meals at the boarding house?”

“Maybe I like the food here.”

“The fact that you seem to like her pies so much should be points in her favor. Adam, if you can’t be honest with me, at least be honest with yourself. Otherwise, you could be letting something wonderful slip through your fingers. Sometimes a person doesn’t know what he’s got until it’s gone, and then it’s too late to do anything about it. I’d hate to see you make that mistake.”

Raucous laughter erupted from a nearby table where where Evvy was pouring coffee for two cowboys. One of them leaned back in his chair and tipped his hat with a lazy grin and a long look after her when she moved on.

“Arch Gilford has been making his interest quite clear, if that means anything to you. He’s been here more in the past two weeks than all last year.”

Adam narrowed his eyes in the direction of Lottie’s furrowed gaze. “I thought he had moved on.”

“He’s like a bad penny, and every time he turns up he seems meaner than before. I warned Evvy about him, but I think you should speak to her.”

Evvy returned with the pie. Lottie excused herself with a pointed glance at Adam.

“That looks like more than a slice.”

“You don’t have to eat it all at once. It should keep for a couple of days at least.”

“Well, thank you very much. I know I’ll enjoy it.”

“I hope so.” Evvy brushed a damp curl from her forehead. “Adam, could I talk to you for a minute?”

“Certainly. What’s on your mind.”

She sat down across from him. “Arch Gilford.”

“Is he giving you trouble?”

“No, not now. He asked me to the dance Saturday night.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I told I already had a date. With you.”

“You did?”

“I only did it it so he would stop pestering me. I hope you don’t mind. Lottie said you wouldn’t.”

“Was this her idea?”

“Yes. She said it would make more of an impression on him, with you being the sheriff.”

“I see. Well, Lottie is pretty smart; I have to give her credit.”

“So you think it was the right thing?”

“Under the circumstances, absolutely. What time should I pick you up?”

Evvy’s face flushed as she stammered, “Oh, I didn’t mean…of course, we don’t actually have a date. I would never obligate you…I don’t even care about the dance, honestly. I just wanted him to leave me alone…that’s all.”

“It wouldn’t be an obligation. I’d be honored to take you.”

She smiled, but only a little. “Adam, you’ve already done so much for me, and I could never thank you enough.” She hesitated, biting her lip. “But…I think I’d rather not.”

She stood up and so did he. If he had asked her first, properly, she would’ve said yes, he was sure of it. He was sorry he hadn’t.

“Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

Adam was still on the sidewalk outside the cafe when she called to him.

“You forgot your pie.”

She held it out to him. Her upturned face was still flushed and there was flour in her hair. He resisted the temptation  to brush it away.

He smiled. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she replied softly.

It was a moment interrupted as Arch Gilford slouched past them alongside his snickering companion.  Adam and Evvy both frowned after them.

Adam took the pie from her hands.  “I’ll pick you up at seven.” 

“I’ll be ready.”

 

tbc…?

 

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